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lightlycareless · 1 year

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First, it hurts— Chapter XXVI

Naoya Zen’in x Fem!Reader

While arranged marriages are not uncommon in the jujutsu community, it was strange to receive a proposal from none other than the Zen’in’s, nonetheless your clan accepted and before you knew it, you were married off to Naoya.

Your new purpose was clear: to serve and submit, to be seen and not heard. To forget any sense of individuality in favor of obeying your husband.

Will this marriage ever flourish into something else? Will it change…for better or for worse?

Chapter warnings: the overwhelming sensation of despair, slight mentions of abuse, allot of secrecy between relatives, confrontations 💀 and that seems to be all of it!

A/N: Hi!! It feels good to only have to post one part haha that's what I get for writing long chapters x.x anyways, still a pleasure to write them haha!

Without any further ado, happy reading! 🥰

Masterlist ➸ Chapter 27

Ao3 link.

Hinata was pleased to admit that her meeting with Gojo hadn’t been as uneventful as she initially anticipated.

Sure, the man was known to be powerful and all knowing, thanks to the countless resources placed to his disposal via the Gojo clan, as well as through his own merit..

Perfect in every sense of the word, and a powerful ally anyone would be honored to have, more to ask favors from .

And yet… she continuously feared that this encounter would’ve been nothing more than a bunch of diplomatic excuses to avoid the situation all together, because as much as he was highly regarded as the best sorcerer of this generation, he was still an irresponsible young man with a lot of things to learn.

“I can’t barge in and cancel your sister’s marriage without getting any of us in trouble, many would think it to be incredibly convenient that I’ve decided to step in now, eh?” she imagined Satoru complaining. “And that would also cause friction between the two families, and who wants to deal with that??”

However, all her worries (or the vast majority of them) would’ve turned obsolete in time once she realized that even if Gojo genuinely found himself with his hands tied when it came to actually pulling out from that wretched house, he was still all about advocating against the elders.

So, with what little he could afford to do, he gave Hinata all of the resources he thought adequate to aid her help—while keeping his name out of the equation—, but not without ending in a disquieting tone that only deepened her sour aftertaste.

“Why don’t you contact the Kamo clan? ” He’d considered as the two made their way towards the nearest train station. Satoru had previously attempted to offer Hinata a ride back home in a more private and comfortable setting, that being his car. But your sister, who was already risking too much by being with him, decided to fall into the tranquility of mundanity and take the public transport to avoid getting caught with him.

Also, if she was to successfully complete your rescue mission, she needed to keep her mind as clear as possible, and a change of scenario might just do the work.

“You already have a stronger connection to them thanks to the young heir, Noritoshi-kun” He continued on “He’s 9 already years old! Can you believe that?—or was it ten? Eh, who knows, I’m not that good with birthdays anyways”

Hinata gave her best to ignore his words and to continue walking onto her destination, or she fears she would’ve laughed right there and then.

It was so incredulous, so out of touch… but well matching with his nature.

Had he been there to see how her distant cousin was treated throughout her “relationship” with the Kamo clan leader, and subsequently discarded once she gave birth to the future heir, he would’ve never dared to say that in her face.

It was absolutely foul to see how the elders attempted to justify the Kamo clan’s actions, citing that this had been the arrangement from the beginning, and even if it wasn’t, surely nobody was expecting the mistress to stay at the estate while the wife was still alive! Even if the latter had no leverage on her defense after failing tremendously on the one responsibility she had as the lady of the house.

Infuriating, but not shocking. They have always been unruly when it came to treating their family, your parents being the earliest example Hinata could think of—in that, she could assess them to be fair.

What rattled her the most out of this situation, after her distant relative’s treatment, was the reaction of the legitimate wife.

Your sister could understand her animosity towards the idea of having her husband’s mistress lingering around the estate, but instead of considering this to be a cruel political game to pit both women against each other, a symptom of the patriarchal disease plaguing the jujutsu community, she decided to take this as a personal attack and shamelessly join the barbarous inquisition against your distant cousin—dumping her onto the street without offering her a way to fend herself, even after all that she seemingly sacrificed for the clan, as well as giving her a bad reputation that would follow her all the way back to the L/N estate, earning her another dosage of mistreatment, this time, from your family.

She was the reason why Noritoshi wasn’t permitted to see his mother ever again after she left, the reason why the young child felt pressured to accept a role he never wanted in hopes of reconnecting with her in the future, as well as treating him as nothing but a bastard , instead of recognizing the victim that he ultimately was—effectively robbing him from any semblance of a normal life and family.

It wasn’t the elders, nor the husband, responsible for the mother’s mistreatment—although they were willing bystanders—but the wife .

This soon turned out to be too much for the poor woman to handle on her own, and as expected, she eventually left the estate and cut ties with everyone, never to be seen again.

These were all things that you and your siblings were unable to comprehend or stop at the moment due to their young age, and the adults weren’t of much help either, simply delegating these successions as difficult family affairs whenever either dared to ask, their constant refusal eventually leading their curiosity to die out with time.

So no, she was not going to ask for their help—they were cut from a similar fabric as the Zen’in’s, although of a different color. Might as well ask them to hand you over directly!

Either way, this recollection of the past is something that remained well imprinted in your sister’s mind, a burning memory that only grew stronger and painful the more she knew of the society she was to serve, which soon turned into one of the many encouragements to do what was right.

Do what she should with the image she represented: ensure a safe environment for the people under her protection, so that none of these things would happen again.

… But now, it’s a thought that makes her feel stupid.

To begin, she’s supposed to be the golden child of her clan: The one carrying the invaluable inherited technique of the L/N, one that held great historical worth alongside power, but had unfortunately been absent from the world for many, many years.

No matter their approach, no child seemed to be born with this technique that essentially kept them on the map, and the fear of fading into the past became more of a reality by each passing day.

That is, until Hinata was born.

When her arrival was announced, she was quickly revered as the L/N’s savior, the one that ensured a bright future for as long as they played their cards right.

And yet, she wasn’t able to save you .

To be revered as salvation itself was nothing more than a formality, for she held no influence nor relevance when the elders decided to sell you to the Zen’in as soon as her engagement to the Gojo heir turned obsolete.

She wasn’t able to stop your father from agreeing and organizing that sham of a celebration from happening, nor Naoya from hurting you and mocking her.

And all of this… happening right under her nose.

She wants to stay angry at your father. She wants to stay angry at Naoya, at the elders, the whole world if she could!

But she can’t. Because it’s unproductive… as well as having another emotion taking its space in turn, that being, Satoru’s chilling allusion:

The possibility of you falling in love with Naoya.

Hinata might’ve made fun of your preferences back in the day, just to get a reaction out of you. It was all of a humorous nature, of course, for she knew very well that your standards couldn’t possibly be that mediocre. A comforting thought that stopped her from slapping the idea out of Satoru’s face—in fact, she wishes she’d done so before hopping on the train…

Because now she can’t remove the possibility of… what if…

What if you did?

What if you somehow… god forbid, ended up growing fond of Naoya throughout the time you’re there?

What if… during the time she’s secluded from you… you somehow come to the conclusion that staying with the Zen’in was for your benefit? However that might come to be?

Hinata sighs, and in this moment of heedlessness, her mind takes her back to the last time she saw you.

The sorrowful sight of the bruises on your body was perhaps the only thing she could remember from her encounter with you, asides from your equally frightening plea for help in the form of your homesick tears. Images that make her stomach drop, her blood run cold, and sleepless at night.

More so for the implication behind them.

Your bruises weren’t ones that she’d categorize as normal. Normal, as in relatable to an active sorcerer:

These weren’t bruises that came from a dangerous mission, or a friendly training session—No, none of these things matched your reality.

These injuries were made out of pure perversion, filling a narcissistic need to mark you as his property, break your autonomy, mock her presence, and insult your family.

As if to show that he had authority over you , and no matter what your sister did, you’ll stay right where he wants you.

What kind of husband purposely hurts their wife to inflate their ego?!

Naoya was—and Hinata was on her way to prove him wrong. After all, she already held a victory over him, and she’s damn sure she can do it again.

But God, this was turning out to be her hardest task yet…

Well, before she’s able to do as much as continue with her mission, she first wants to check how everything was faring back at home.

Ren had agreed to keep a close eye on their clan whilst she goes out and does what needs to be done, such as going up to meet Satoru—an event that was kept a secret from them to begin with, hidden underneath the excuse that she was simply going out to get some new clothes after her payroll came in.

It seemed to work, at least for now, for no one asked any more questions outside what store she was planning to visit before leaving her alone..

Neither could run the risk of revealing she’d gone to see Satoru, for it would only get their unwanted attention all over her business. They’d grow suspicious, start asking questions, and eventually… they’d get an air of what she’s been planning to do: get you out of that sick marriage with the Zen’in heir.

Because why else would your sister show her face to the Gojo heir, after the humiliation she’d put her family and his through after ending their engagement, if it wasn’t to ask for a favor?

Thinking of your family’s crystal-clear preference for those in power, it makes it almost impossible to not see why your marriage went through in the first place. Guess she was just surprised for how fast they were to fold for the next biggest fish in the pond, and how your father seemingly didn’t put up a fight.

Had their mother been alive, she would’ve nev—

Hinata shakes the thought of her mother out of her head before it sprouts any bigger.

She’d gone through great efforts to get her mind steady and clear to perform her duties as efficiently as possible, thus she had to be careful not to get distracted on unnecessary details. Especially those that were written in stone… intertwined with excruciating pain.

But if she had to put a label on what she’d thought her mother’s feelings would be… disappointment would only be the tip of the iceberg.

Well, there’s no use in voicing the words of a person who is no longer around to speak for herself, not when her memory just prompted another layer of frustration to Hinata’s already tangled mind.

For now, she must focus on what’s happening in her home, to know if her actions had remained under the radar from the disingenuous elders, and maybe… just maybe… news from you.

“I’m home” Is what Hinata says as soon as she crosses the wooden gates of her home. She forces a smile out of her lips upon observing a wave of servants rushing to greet her amicably, barraging her with all kinds of courtesies—from hanging her bag, getting her something to eat or drink, to even preparing her a bath. A suitable welcome for the heir of the L/N clan.

But one that would be shut down delicately, for as appetizing as getting a bath sounded like after a long day of urbanity, it’s something it’ll have to wait until she knows how Ren and Sumire have been—a statement that prompted the servants to disperse, more so after the presence of said older brother became apparent just behind them.

“Welcome back” Ren greets, now just a few feet away from his sister. Sumire tags along just a few seconds after.

“You’re back, Hinata-san!” Sumire sang as she ran towards her, bumping into her and bringing her into an embrace.

Your sister didn’t need to go beyond her gesture to understand that while coming from a place of concern for her personal well-being, was more of an outburst of anxiety at the prospect of new information regarding you—either way, she took no offense to her demonstration and returned said affection with a hug of her own.

“How was your… day out?” Ren cautions through a carefully selected wording he presumes would pass undetected through the ears of those that lingered around. Because even after his younger sister dismissed them, he has no doubt that those whose loyalty inclined more towards the elders took her request more as a recommendation.

“Good—quick. A nice change of scenery after all the work I’ve done” Quick to catch his scheme, Hinata plays along with a group of corny sentences that she believes will dissolve any suspicion. “I got some cute sweaters for this upcoming winter, but since I didn’t want to carry them back home, I asked for my items to be delivered here”

“I’m glad! You always seem to be taking the roughest missions, you deserve to relax once in a while” Ren continues on as he glances one more time towards the wall he senses a servant to be.

His keen perception has him attentive to a noise likened to roaming footsteps, undoubtedly representing the departure of those that stayed behind in hopes to catch something to inform the elders—a tactic that became somewhat common ever since you were taken out of the picture: whether to see how your siblings were faring with this undesirable predicament, or because they were already suspicious of something happening behind the scenes, he has yet to decide.

Anticipating how these ordeals often go down, Ren signals Hinata and Sumire to hold their thoughts for a bit longer, at least until the bystanders' footsteps disappear and are effectively out of earshot.

Once he assesses them to finally be out of their midst, Ren is finally able to go back to Hinata to speak what they’re truly interested in.

“How did it go?” He whispers, low, barely hearable by the alarmed ears of Sumire (who kept an eye out for any fellow staff member that might’ve stayed behind without Ren noticing), but loud enough for a focused Hinata whose determination never left her mind.

“…Not here” she advises back in the same tone as she gently shakes her head.

Sumire and Ren then glance at each other for a quick second before nodding and gesturing to Hinata to follow them into a room they had anticipatedly prepared for such an occasion—away from the servants, the elders, and all those in between.

A place that had been long abandoned, for there was never a necessary use behind it, aside from a few occasions here and there, subsequently redecorated as a guest room after the owner passed away—your mother’s private chambers.

Once safely inside the confines of their new rendezvous point, and after double checking they haven’t been followed, or lost anyone that might’ve thought themselves undetectable, Hinata promptly begins.

“It was… beneficial, much more than what I expected” she informs while heading towards the middle of the room where a small wooden table was to be found. Hinata reaches for a nearby brown pillow to sit on, patting it a few times before finally taking a seat, an action soon replicated by Sumire and Ren.

Once on the floor, she couldn't help but sigh, alleviating with it the burden of her fatigue which she’s kept at bay for the past few hours.

Hinata was no stranger to being outside her home, hometown even, for long hours, without rest and under stressful circumstances—all thanks to the career path that she selected.

However, the emotional burden she was carrying was bound to take a toll on her body one way or another, and considering that it had been far heavier than anything she had endured before, it was no surprise that everyday instances had now become far more difficult.

No amount of training would have given her the necessary tools to deal with her emotional turmoil, outside of laying on her futon and disconnecting from the world for a few minutes.

Now that she thought about it, when was the last time she was able to get 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep?

Between missions, meetings, and you… she hasn’t been able to do much more than getting quick naps here and there—perhaps 4 hours of sleep, if she somehow really tired herself out . Hinata can’t help but feel like a dog with that silly comparison… before whiplashing into a wistful thought.

Were you having better luck than her? Were you able to sleep at night? Rest?

…

Knowing the horrors that haunted that family, she dreadfully presumes not.

Hinata can’t wait for the moment you’re finally back home, with the people that love and care for you.

But until then, she’ll power through her difficulties—one way or another, like she’d always have.

“Is he going to help us?” Sumire’s optimistic question snaps her out of her spiraling thoughts and back to the present. Hinata blinks, readjusting her blank vision before focusing on Sumire’s face.

There was something swirling in her eyes that your sister couldn’t identify as anything else but hope as she intently looked back at her in awe.

Your best friend really had no intention of being in this meeting. And it’s not because she wasn’t welcomed—far from that. They knew just how important she was to you and vice versa, however, this was a fight that she would undeniably lose if she ever finds herself in the crossfires. Something that both Ren and Hinata wanted to avoid as much as possible, even if it meant keeping her in the dark.

Nonetheless, Sumire made it her life mission to be there with your siblings and offer support wherever she can, even with her great disadvantage. And for that, Hinata and Ren are greatly appreciative of.

So you could only imagine how distraught Hinata must’ve felt when she relayed her answer through the subtle shake of her head in denial, worsening once she caught a glimpse of Sumire’s hopeful eyes quickly switching into ones of desolation.

“ What? ” Ren is the first to speak up, a scowl on his face as he grits his teeth—your sister doesn’t know if it’s towards Satoru, or the addition of another obstacle in the race to get you back. Either way, he was not pleased. “Then how is that to our advantage, sister?”

“He’s not going to help, at least not personally… nor directly” Your sister explains “But he did give me suggestions to go through… And you guys wouldn’t believe the number of things he told me today”

“What did he say?” Ren raises an eyebrow.

Your brother was… one of the many people that weren’t that fond of Satoru, in fact, he could probably count with one hand just the amount of people that did like him.

However, as time passed, he had grown to be somewhat understanding of him due to his relationship with his family, as well as the upbringing he was unfortunate to have. Leading him to see Gojo as… well, an obnoxious younger brother, rather than his abhorrent brother-in-law . “What stupidity did he come up with today so he wouldn’t help us?”

That didn’t mean he couldn’t hold a bit of skepticism towards him, though.

If there’s something that Ren dislikes the most about the sorcery community, it’s the deafness people in power seem to have when approaching subjects that affect others. They always seem to be so…above others, simply because they were fortunate enough to grow into privileges others might never experience in their life, as if they didn’t have the power to change that!

And Satoru was no exception, until in recent years that is, when he finally decided to take his role in the world of jujutsu as something serious with endless opportunities to enact positive change.

But even then, he has yet to fully grasp the weight of his actions. It’s what led Ren to believe that Hinata’s suggestion of seeking help through Satoru might not be as beneficial as she thought in the first place.

Even if he knew that he cared for his sisters… he could never know what he might come up with—more often than not, taking this situation with the same level of maturity he always did, in other words, not earnestly: and if that had been the case, Ren might just have to give him a visit as well…

Thankfully, your sister is quick to come to the rescue by injecting leniency into the conversation, just before Ren is able storm out of the room and head towards the Gojo estate.

“…He’s guarding the current holder of the Ten Shadows Technique” she confesses “in other words, the next heir of the Zen’in clan”

Sumire blinks, unable to understand the meaning or depth of the just mentioned technique, and how that relates to you, remaining silent and somewhat serious as she darts glances between your sister and your brother in hopes of obtaining the semblance of an answer.

Sure, she’s heard of techniques before, mainly through you, but never in great detail.

First, these were topics that were ruled out as confidential for anyone outside the main branch—such as herself— only knowing of your ability, your siblings’, and a few mission debriefs here and there, due to her close relationship to them, but never more than that.

Secondly, because even if you were willing to share information the elders didn’t seem necessary for a staff member to know with her, you often avoided these topics in favor of doing something far more entertaining than work—jujutsu could be very tedious when it came down to it, and you didn’t wish to bore your best friend to death in the short time you were allowed to see her.

Ren, on the other hand, could not have understood the significance of her words and the shocking revelation that tied you to this statement any better. He’d been in the game long enough to understand how politics work in this realm, perhaps more than he would’ve liked to know, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s able to piece the pieces together as soon as Hinata confined her findings, evident by the way his mouth falls agape and his eyes widen, which only brings a far more confused reaction out of Sumire.

“That’s—Do you know what that means?” Ren urges, and Hinata nods. “That means that their marriage isn’t of any use anymore! It can be annulled!”

“Wait, wait! I don’t understand” Sumire frets, beginning to feel as if she were falling out of the loop… as if she hadn’t felt like that ever since your marriage was announced. “How is that going to help Y/N-chan get back home?”

“This is just assuming if the marriage was constructed under those pretenses…” Hinata resentfully whispers, a sentiment that your brother opts to ignore with the aim of clinging onto the small ray of hope that appeared in the dark horizon of your absence.

“We still have to give it a shot” Ren responds before turning to Sumire and offering her the explanation she so desperately desired. “Marriages in the jujutsu community are often done under the objective of creating strong children: regardless of the curse, as long as the kid has high amounts of energy and is talented , the marriage is considered successful.

However, the rules change when the 3 main families are involved. There is a thing called inherited techniques in most families, something like a heirloom that’s passed through generations—these are most powerful when it comes from them though”

“Just like my technique” Hinata adds and Sumire hums.

“Because of their power, these are often taken as the definers of the next head of the clan, so it’s unsurprising these are highly sought after” Ren continues on “But here’s the catch: they only appear once every few years, and there’s never two users at the same time. Some people might try to change this, just as my family intended with Hinata and Satoru, but there has never been a record of a successful attempt. So, taking this into consideration, as well as the existence of user of the Zen’in’s technique…”

“That means… there’s no reason for Y/N to be married anymore!” Sumire’s beams, her face lightening up once she sees what they did “That’s—That’s wonderful, Hinata-san! Can’t you see? We can finally save Y/N-chan!”

But your sister remains contrastingly motionless, somber. Almost as if she hadn’t heard any of the words they said… or more likely, knew more to the story than they did.

“What’s wrong?” Ren murmured; throat strained and face furrowed as the prospect of something… terrible begins to settle in the back of his mind. He swallows when her silence eventually confirms his assumptions. “There is something else… isn’t it?”

“…Satoru implied the clan already knew of their existence… specifically Naobito, their leader. He allegedly attempted to buy the user out of their family but the transaction never went through” She says, and the implication behind her words has Ren silently dwelling in incredulity “But if we consider what you just said, and the fact that Y/N is yet to return home… All I can think of is that this marriage was struck for other conditions, and thus, this information is… irrelevant”

At the climax of his anger, all that Ren can do is scoff.

He should’ve known .

He should’ve known this would happen the very moment everything began to go their way.

It was just too easy, wasn't it? Too simple for a solution to suddenly appear before them when all hope seemed to vanish.

No, because fate never worked that way. Because things were never that effortless when it came to doing the right thing, of course.

The Zen’in truly did an exceptional job covering their asses—if only they applied such resolution in treating you well.

“Then what?” Ren cursed; frustration apparent in the tight clench of his hands against his palm and the crescent moons forming beneath them. “ What now? ”

“That’s where Satoru helped me” Hinata reveals “With the ongoing crisis, sorcerers have been required to essentially make a record of every movement they make—all I have to do is check Naoya’s records at the Kyoto school to get an idea of his whereabouts before the wedding, assuming what that everything my father said was somewhat true”

It’s a solution, one that Hinata sets down in attempts of easing his brother’s and Sumire’s rising concern… coincidentally, the one that would also take the longest to complete. Achieving the exact opposite of what she wanted.

But even when boiling in anger, Ren is capable enough to keep his cool and analyze her words and the following actions to take.

“That’s dangerous” Ren is quick to note after a second of consideration. “You’re going dangerously close to their territory, and if they somehow get word that you’re investigating Naoya…”

“I know, I know” she groans, pressing her fingers against her forehead in an attempt to ease the headache slowly starting to form in her head. “I’ve already considered everything, the dangers, the expenses… everything”

“I wish I could help” Sumire laments “…I’m just here… unable to do anything for Y/N-chan except clean her room… ”

“You’ve done enough for us, Sumire” Hinata comforts, giving her a smile “I’m sure she’ll appreciate you keeping her things in order”

“… I just want her to be back” she adds “I want to help”

“We know” Ren sighs, patting Sumire’s back as to ease her nerves before looking back to Hinata. “Then… that’s what you’re going to do?”

“Yeah. I plan to get a basic idea of where he's been, if he’s been near our properties, or if someone saw him do anything suspicious… I also asked Satoru about it and he said he hasn’t heard anything—whatever they did, whoever they hired, if that was the case, they did a good job keeping everything away from the sun”

“Guess it’s a necessary skill to sustain themselves for as long as they have” Ren concludes “A clan doesn’t get to live that long without committing atrocities here and there. It’s was only natural that they’d learn how to keep it a secret from the rest of the world”

Just as your family had done. Perhaps to a lesser extent than the Zen’in, but the L/N clan had also earned its fair share of crimes throughout their existence, and had long since learned how to sleep at night after betraying their own relatives.

Unfortunately, a skill that would probably never go out of fashion: As long as there is corruption in the hearts of humanity, abuse will prevail. And that’s something that will end with her .

“Well, that’s what I managed to get on my part” Hinata concludes, moving onto the next subject “What about… you? How are things in the estate? With your… girlfriend?”

“Oh, I don’t want you to worry about that right now, but if you must know… we’re ok” Ren says, crossing his arms and resting them on the table “we managed to postpone a lot of things without having to lose our deposit, so there’s that”

Ren considers himself lucky to have such a supporting partner, especially when the prospect of losing great amounts of money just to postpone their wedding and honeymoon still lingered over their heads.

However, his girlfriend understood all too well the situation and agreed to wait a little longer until things were better with his future in-laws—besides, what kind of wedding would it be if you weren’t even there?

After that, Ren promised himself to make it up to her after everything was dealt with, starting by retiring from the jujutsu world and taking on all of the household responsibilities so she could completely focus on her career.

It’s only necessary if he wants to raise a family with her.

But until then, he shall continue to play his part on the urgent mission at hand.

“As for the estate… I fear I was not as efficient as you. Everyone has been rather… silent, evasive even, right?” He looks over at Sumire, and she nods “Yet, there have been moments where I believed to have seen some kind of… vacillation coming from certain members of the staff, and elders for that matter, whenever I was around. Take that however you want”

“I’d too be nervous if I had something to hide” Hinata accuses, rolling her eyes “…and if I was as intimidating as you are”

“You are intimidating” Ren corrects, reflecting on the actual reason as to why they’ve been so cautious around him ever since this whole charade started..

Far from his own merit, it had been Hinata’s all along.

Your sister has been haunting the L/N estate like some kind of yurei from the very moment she’d returned to the estate after visiting the Zen’in.

A spirit that radiated vengeance with each step she took, no one was free of the her antagonizing glances, to the point that even the staff that was closest to her, those who were more likely to carry guilt-free consciences, began to set a healthy amount of distance to avoid being in the receiving end of her ire, and subsequently, him.

Because what one sibling did, the other often replicated.

It was never in Hinata’s intentions to blame the innocent members of her clan, unfortunately, she no longer found herself in a position where she could trust anybody outside of those present in the room. Not even Eiichi, your father, was part of that leniency.

And with good reason—with all things accounted, he was perhaps the guiltiest of them all. The one that allowed everything to happen in the first place, the one that signed the wedding certificate as a witness and pushed you into the wretched claws of that disgusting family, giving a congratulatory cheer while at it.

His actions are what incited her the most to obtain the determination she needed to save you, the one she used as fuel to search every inch, nook and cranny around the estate for anything that could serve her purpose from those that failed you: the smallest slip-up when doing their chores, a stammer while in a casual conversation, a drop of sweat sliding down their temples as they sat for tea, or the lightest twitch from their fingers as they killed time with a senseless game, regardless of its reasoning, anything that might indicate the slightest semblance of a guilty conscience, and exploit it against them.

But just as it was stated, a clan as old as your family doesn’t get to survive for that long without having gone through immeasurable amounts of shady businesses in order to ensure its existence in the future, and subsequently, had long stopped caring for the morality behind it the more they performed so.

Your siblings just wished some of them had grown overconfident enough to become sloppy in their actions—but it seems that not even that was to be on their advantage.

“Not intimidating enough to get them talking” Hinata scoffs, and Sumire scrunches her face out of anguish.

“I… wish to say that in time you’ll find what you need but… I fear that Y/N-chan might not have that much time” Sumire whimpered and Hinata pressed her eyebrows. Neither wanted to admit it, but she was right. There was only so much time before things began to worsen to the point she would no longer be able to save you.

The wrong pregnancy is quick to flash across her mind’s eye, before shaking it off and going back to comforting your frightened friend.

“There’s no use in fretting, Sumire” Hinata eases, giving her a smile that would not only help her cool down, but her as well. “They might not offer much, but I already got a lead somewhere else. Besides, as long as we keep trying, we’re getting closer to bringing her back”

“I guess so…” Sumire responded dejectedly with a sigh. “Will you… go to Kyoto then?”

“I have no other option—it’s the long route, sure, but I still have faith that it’ll give me what I need”

“Then I’ll support it” Ren adds. “I’m not too keen with you getting so close to the lion’s den, but at the same time, I don’t think you’ll find much without getting near them”

“I know… and as much as I would’ve preferred to get my information somewhere else, I don’t really have that many leads to follow”

“Does it worry you that they might have some undercover agent to inform them about anyone snooping in on their records?” Sumire frets, and a wave of uneasiness she thought quenched returns to wash over Hinata.

She had already considered all possible outcomes while making her way back to the estate after Satoru suggested such an idea: from witnesses unwilling to speak, to whistleblowers informing of her actions towards those she is digging dirt on, these were all things that could happen if fate decided to play that way.

However, even with the prospect of facing the devious nature of various individuals working against her, she was comforted by her belief in the genuineness and fairness of the jujutsu system when it came to neutrality amongst sorcerers.

All the information regarding to a sorcerers activities, such as license number, active missions, completed missions, and if they’re active or not, was available for public record; in other words, she would be available to essentially waltz into the school, request Naoya’s information, and get what she needs out of it without any repercussions.

This was already in the works, even way before Geto catapulted this ongoing crisis.

It was a solution to promote transparency between members of the community, and a way to dissolve unethical practices between fellow members and civilians to wash the blood that plagued their history, all while in agreement to their service to the community.

That he had been the final push to enact this change was another story.

Thus, Hinata didn’t concern herself too much when it came to the Zen’in having someone under cover to alert them of a possible onlooker—they couldn’t just go and tell people they were investigated on, because that could incite some form of retribution and that would go against the same ethics of neutrality and safety the jujutsu community was slowly trying to adopt, or at least to court.

In other words, there was nothing to worry about.

“I have thought about it” Hinata affirms. “But if anything, I’m more concerned about not finding anything to help Y/N… but that’s a risk I’m willing to take”

“The Zen’in might have an idea that you’re trying to do something anyways” Ren ponders, justifying his sister’s somewhat… reckless idea, at least in his point of view, and she agrees with a nod. “So it’s pointless to waste energy on something that’s probably already happening”

“Maybe, maybe not. But I sure hope they know I’m keeping a close eye on them, maybe that way they’ll know not to mess up with me and my family! They better be sleeping with an eye open…” Hinata threatens and Ren can’t help but smile at her somber resolve.

“I’m pretty sure some of the people here already do so” Ren snickers and Hinata rolls her eyes once more before chuckling. “That’s why I know you’ll be fine when you’re out there in Kyoto doing what you have to do”

“Thank you” Hinata smiles, and the cold wave of uneasiness is soon washed away by a warm wave of support from his brother. One she always knew she could get from him… regardless of the situation. “Then… if there’s nothing more to add… I think that’s all we have to say”

“Let me take you to your room, you need to rest” Ren suggests as he stands up, followed by helping Sumire stand up by offering his hand for her to take. Your sister initially wanted to reproach his suggestion, but before she’s able to do much as opening her mouth, he interjects. “I can see it in your tired eyes you haven’t been getting any sleep, have you?”

“Can you blame me? All I think of is my sister, even when I close my eyes, all I see is Y/N and those…. Disgusting bruises on her body”

Ren goes eerily silent, but his mind is nothing but a turmoil on the inside.

He’s been holding back the urge to storm his way out of the estate and onto the Zen’in’s and beat the shit out of Naoya just by the clench of his fists and the gritting of his teeth.

Your brother was equally disgusted, if not more so than your sister, upon knowing of her findings at the Zen’in estate that one day she was deceitfully invited to their premises.

It had taken all of him to stand on the sidelines and let Hinata do what she needed to do in order to ensure your safe return—but if that weren’t a problem, you can bet that Ren would’ve destroyed the whole Zen’in estate long ago.

But he couldn’t. And not because he didn’t want to, or lacked the physical force to do so. If anything, he had enough strength to spare (and with countless missions to attest to that) but he couldn’t just do what he impulsively wanted—any miscalculation could eventually lead you to be further secluded from their life, as well as spoil Hinata’s progress, and they were already having a tough time as it is…

His patience and tolerance was being undeniably tested, but for now, he’ll keep quiet, silently supporting his sister from afar, playing the role of obedient, responsible sorcerer by completing the load of dangerous missions HQ seems to be dumping on him day after day, almost as if they knew your siblings were trying to do something under the table, while keeping a close eye on the inside to ensure the secrecy and accomplishment of this difficult yet essential rescue mission.

“I know this may not be of much consolation but…” Sumire’s soft voice cuts through the tense silence, forcing Hinata’s and Ren’s eyes to land on her as she slides the shoji door open, stepping aside to invite your siblings to go first.

Ren shakes his head, suggesting she go ahead first, to which she complies without putting up much of a fight.

“I like to think that Y/N-chan is well. After all, bad news are often the first ones to circulate and if something… bad … had already happened to her, we would’ve known by now”

Hinata is appreciative of the fact that even with all the shit you and your family were suddenly dumped with when the Zen’in became intertwined in their lives, there was still someone they knew you could trust in, someone that kept a positive outlook in this somber testament.

And she smiles.

“It’s… very comforting, actually” Hinata says as the group begins to make their way towards the living quarters, her room in mind. “Even with all the things that have been happening to her… I always try to reassure myself by keeping hope, thinking that this could definitely be infinitely worse… although I sometimes believe that we’re already past that point”

“Try not to think about that, Hinata” Ren responds, gently palming her back “try to get some rest, catch on those shows you paused, or visit the stables—it’s been a while since someone visited the horses, I’m sure they would appreciate a familiar face around. You’ve already done what you could today, take it easy”

“I know… I know” Hinata sighs, a pout eventually pursing her lips as she crosses her arms before looking up to him “However, there’s one this one last thing that I need to check with Sumire before I can do all that” your sisters then turns over to your best friend, and the young woman, caught by surprise by her sudden exposure to the spotlight, can’t do much by stare back at her as her mind tries to find out the small detail she might’ve forgotten to bring up during their previous conversation “My correspondence ”

“ Oh, yes!” Sumire gasps, thoughts taking her back to her private quarters and onto the small box she specifically set aside to keep Hinata’s letters away and secure from the prying eyes of the rest of the staff members who have yet to prove their trustworthiness, until she returns.

Just to show that she didn’t forget about this, she was just… too enthralled on getting news on Y/N’s rescue, that she didn’t deem it necessary to bring it up right then and there… or maybe it did slip up her mind. Stress can often do that.

“I just want you to know I didn’t forget them, I was just… waiting for the right moment!” Sumire blurted as she began to head towards her bedroom, an explanation which Hinata dismissed as nothing to worry that much while mouthing a quiet it’s ok “Wait for me in your room, I’ll bring them to you!”

And with the swift work of her feet, Sumire moved on to scurry onto the general direction of the staff’s quarters, the sound of her footsteps beginning to subside into thin air as Hinata and Ren continued walking towards the former’s room.

It was a silent trip up to the arrival of the familiar bedroom door, one which remained decorated with the sunflower stickers across the frame she placed on long ago when she was nothing more than a child, keeping them simply for nostalgia’s sake.

Without a second to waste, Hinata gently takes hold of the door and slides it open, the sight of a tidy and organized room welcoming her back.

Everything seemed to be in place, completely different to how she left it before she left—one might even think she never left at all. Which was a gross understatement, for as of recent events, she’s only been able to stay at her house for short instances, simply returning to check on her family and any important announcements from work.

Taking this into consideration, any returning resident would’ve found relief in not having to worry about cleaning their room, being able to simply go ahead and change into more comfortable clothes before jumping into bed and call it a day.

However, the diligent work of her staff was not to give her the peace and tranquility Ren hoped she would achieve, more so when her serious face began to contort into one of uneasy eyes and furrowed brow once in the solace of each other's company: giving him the impression that there was something else she had yet to discuss with anyone else outside the inner voice in her head, and so, he’s prompted to talk.

“There’s something else bothering you, isn’t it?” Ren guesses, and Hinata, understanding she’s been read like an open book, relents with a sigh.

“Yes… it’s… perhaps the thing that disturbed me the most” she confides, pinching the spot just between her eyebrows to alleviate the pain she feels to be the beginning of a migraine from worsening, serving as an example of how disquieting this tormenting thought was.

“I’m all ears” he says as he gestures to her inside the room, closing the door behind him once both inside.

“You… you’re probably going to think it’s something stupid, after all, it came from Satoru but… I don’t know, it rubbed me the wrong way anyways” she goes on as she takes another seat on his futon, this time, completing laying her body back onto it and focusing on nothing more than the wooden ceiling.

“Well then, it’s very rare for you to not be able to brush off something the idiot Satoru said” Ren raises an eyebrow while mentally prepares himself to lose some brain cells at whatever additional stupidity he concocted that day as he joins his sister’s side—completely oblivious of the shock he’s about to receive. “What did he say?”

“…What if the reason I can’t bring Y/N back home is…. Because… she doesn’t want to?” she whispers, as if the words were heavy, impossible for her to pronounce, or more like she didn’t want to voice them out loud, because by doing so it meant she had to relieve her disbelief yet again.

“I don’t follow” Or more like he doesn't want to follow, because why would he want to think of the worst possible scenario becoming a reality when it comes to saving their sister? And such skepticism is what immediately leads him to frown and snap his gaze down onto his sister.

He’s hoping to find any kind of indication that might signal this as a joke of bad taste, but all that he can find is nothing more than a shade of fright Hinata never allows anyone to see but the closest to her.

“…Because she wants to stay with Naoya?” Hinata is pushed by Ren’s intense stare to continue, but before she’s able to add anything more, Ren speaks.

“I hope you’re joking” the oldest of the L/N sibling’s spats, but Hinata’s silent rebuttal, as well as the flicker of her gaze back to the ceiling, proved him otherwise. “I seriously hope he didn’t just fucking imply that”

“He did. I’m telling you it’s something stupid, usual silliness from him, but… even if I think of it that way, I just can’t help but to wonder… what if?” Hinata frets “What if Y/N and Naoya somehow get to know each other better and she… she decides she doesn’t want to be here anymore? I’m already damn sure my visit was just a ruse to cover his ass, but what if… what if the next time I see her it’s not a ruse anymore? What if she means it?”

“When did you start doubting our sister, Hinata?” Ren asks, and Hinata is suddenly invaded by the sensation that her words have been a… Well, a gross misconception. And a grosser stupidity for implying such a thing for seemingly no reason.

“I… never have… I just… well, he made… a point that I hoped wouldn’t come true, that’s all. Because if it did… I don’t know what I’ll do” she shuddered.

But her worries didn’t come from doubting you, no. Far from it. She knew you too well to ever think of this becoming a reality.

They came from her own uncertainty.

She’d always been the one to come to the rescue of everyone that needed it, the one that everyone knew they could rely on if there’s something to be done.

There had never been a moment where Hinata couldn’t overcome an obstacle in the past. She always knew what to do, what to say, and that led her to be the figure of guidance and protection that others always expected her to be.

But on the occasion that she finds herself needing help, and struggling to find so… It led her to doubt her ability to comply with the expectations of everyone around her, as well as her own abilities.

Hinata always exhorted assistance with an unparalleled talent, regardless of the level of graveness, or if she even knew the person or not.

So… why can’t she do the same with her own sister?

Perhaps her mind granted far more credibility to this thought than what it actually needed in an excuse to ease some of her tensions, because if that was the case, then Hinata could easily say there was nothing else to—

“That won’t happen” Ren reassures her upon sensing the mental gymnastics happening inside her mind.

But Hinata, far from feeling reassured by his words and too deep into her own despair, can’t help but inwardly dispute on how he could know so confidently.

And as if he was able to read minds, although it was more of being attentive to the right cues, he continues “Because there is no way she’d ever care for someone as wretched as Naoya—she either lost her mind, or Naoya did. And I’m leaning towards none”

Hinata remains quiet, analyzing his words for a few seconds before releasing a sigh.

“…If you put it that way… I guess you’re right, Ren” Hinata eventually relented, her moment to now look up at him.

His gaze remained fixed on her, as if to show how attentively he was listening to all that she had to say, however, even with the stern look on his eyes, seemingly offended by Satoru’s suggestion, Hinata was still able to uncover an underlying emotion behind them: something… likened to pain and irritation.

Pain, for the mere thought of you being away from them through your own volition was enough to induce him into disgust—because he knew, deep inside him, that could never come to reality, at least consensually. It entailed another layer of inscrutability he doesn’t dare to explore for his sanity’s sake.

And on that note, we pass onto irritation .

Far from being irritated at Hinata for bringing up the sentence that silently tormented her, these feelings were directed towards Satoru. He was used to his frequent occasional stupidity, but this was just on a whole ‘nother level, leading him to admit that perhaps his life could’ve done better without knowing this.

Yet, this was to remain a secret between his conscience and himself, not wanting his sister to feel any more responsible than she already did.

“Don’t worry about anything anymore—you’ve done enough, if you keep stressing about it you’ll just waste your energy” Ren says, attempting to move onto a different, less sour topic of conversation, because who wants to think of their younger sister staying in the horror house of their common enemy? While consoling her hard work. Oh, how he wishes he could take all of her responsibilities so as to make her workload easier to manage… “I can read your correspondence if you’d like, and give you the rundown after you’ve gotten some rest. I can also let the servants know not to disturb you and to prepare your meal later”

“Ah, you don’t have to do that Ren” she shakes her head, shifting to her side to take a better look at him, using her arms as support for her head. “I thank you for your attention, but… well, I’d like to indulge in these small things I missed while away, get the whole home experience, you know? Besides, I already know what’s awaiting me on those letters, probably a thousand more missions so I don’t really mind getting them myself” she groans.

“Hinata-san!” A voice calling from the other side of the door interrupts their conversation, followed by a set of gentle knocks. Neither of the siblings need to inquire any further to rightfully assume it’s Sumire.

“Talking about the devil…” Ren chuckles as he sits down, now glancing at the door. “Come in!”

The door is swiftly open, and an exasperated Sumire steps into the picture—seems like the poor girl can never catch a break.

“I got them, here they are…” She breathes, making her way towards your sister, who also sat down to appropriately receive her correspondence through a small wooden box. “All of your letters—up to today! I didn’t open any of them, I just arranged them by sender”

“Thank you, Sumire” Hinata smiles as she takes the bundle from her hands and lifts the cover, her smile dropping once realizing the incalculable number of letters inside it—she doesn’t believe she’s been out of her home for that long, but the items before her dare to prove otherwise.

Well, such trivialities are bound to happen during an ongoing crisis… considering that she was also the heiress of a somewhat important clan, with a talent that many described as primordial for the smooth development and safety of the jujutsu community.

With that in mind, Hinata mitigates her shocked through as she begins to go through each and every envelope, setting aside those she thought important, urgent, and finally, those that were nothing more than junk—the vast majority coming from some newsletter she wasn’t aware she subscribed to, presumably when she finally got the courage to shop online.

She doesn’t even have that much time to spend on your rescue, what made them think she had time to go through the season’s specials?

Outside of that, everything else was just as she anticipated: nothing more than a bunch of newly assigned missions and announcements from jujutsu HQ regarding the current situation.

However, one of them holds a heavier weight than the others judging by the confidential label on the envelope, and it’s only when she reads it’s contents that her stomach drops: she’s to be an examiner on the upcoming grade 1 exam that’s to be hosted in the Tokyo school.

If her recently added missions weren’t a bid enough of a delay to her much needed trip to Kyoto, this would certainly be. It truly could not have come at a worse time.

Hinata holds back her newfound frustration as she continues through the rest of her correspondence, which is somewhat pacified, that is, upon noticing she was approaching the final letters.

She doesn't know where this thought came from, considering it had been proven useless time and time again to even consider this futile circumstance, but whether for her own reassurance, or simple curiosity, there’s something inside her that tells her to take a chance: even if there’s a slight, almost non-existent possibility of this coming out as positive, it does not hurt to ask the question that kept her hopeful throughout this moment.

“…Has there been… anything… from my sister?” Hinata cautiously pondered before looking back at Sumire’s mournful eyes.

Her gaze flickered from the letters on your sister’s hands, to her gaze, before squeezing a quick glance towards Ren —who replicated the same expectant worry on his dark eyes— before ending on your sister’s letters again.

Her reaction gave the understanding that she was hoping a letter of your writing would magically appear before them… as to avoid the shame of admitting to what Hinata already figured out just by the look on her face.

So, to not keep toying with their feelings, Sumire eventually relegates herself to voice out the dreaded answer.

“No” She reveals as she lowers her head. Her voice is quiet, but regretful, almost as if she felt responsible for your seeming lack of communication, hating that she was to be the one to deliver the terrible news. “…Nothing from her part yet”

“Are you sure?” Hinata is quick to counter. Her mind isn’t too keen on letting this idea go that easily… not when she knew you weren’t one to give up so easily… and there were yet scenarios to go through.

Her family had proven countless times before to have a hidden agenda: they could’ve easily interjected any signs of communication between the two families just to ensure the perpetuation of this marriage.

Fortunately, Sumire was already two steps ahead and had prepared herself accordingly to avoid this situation, such as being the first person the mailman was to see when delivering packages to the estate.

Unfortunately… your absence wasn’t to be the work of your family’s or your husband’s clan. All evidence pointing to the simple fact that you… just haven't been writing to your family.

“Yes… I’m sure” Sumire reaffirms and your sibling’s heart stings with pain and disappointment.

“I see… thank you” is all that Hinata says before placing her letters away on a nearby table, deciding to go through the details of her temporary role as examiner on another occasion. “That’s all from me… I guess”

“Sleep for now” Ren says as he now makes his way to the door.

Sumire, regretfully understanding that her presence was no longer necessary bows before the two and makes her way out the room, retreating onto her next responsibilities just in time before the staff notices her lengthy absence. “…I’m sure Y/N has done whatever she can to let you know she’s ok. Besides, there’s been a rising number of cases regarding mail theft, remember? Even our nearest post office reported a incident, so that might be it”

“Wish letters from HQ would get lost…” Hinata scowls “Why does my sister’s mail need to get lost or stolen?”

“Let’s just assume they have a better private service—while Y/N doesn’t… as well as having an entire family against her”

“I know I shouldn't feel this way, but…” your sister grumbles, looking away from your brother. “I just…”

“Do you feel she hasn’t attempted to contact you at all?”

“…Maybe. I don’t know—I know Sumire is trying hard to keep up with the staff here too, and Y/N’s situation isn’t any better, but… I just can’t shake this frustration inside me, that no matter what we do, there’s always someone out there outsmarting us”

“There might be, there’s always a possibility. But I assure you that she and I have been doing our best to keep our movements concealed, so you have nothing to worry about that” he says, gently placing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to his chest whilst resting his chin on her head “And I’m sure Y/N has done whatever she can to let you know she’s fine. Don’t worry about it, little sister. Rest for now, you’ve done all that you could”

“…Thank you” she smiles, turning to his direction and wrapping her arms around him for an embrace. She keeps there, allowing herself to be comforted by the warmth and care she feels as nothing but necessary to keep surviving; remembering that the last time they hugged was during your wedding, just before you left for your honeymoon.

Thus, a long time coming, yet bittersweet, gesture.

She eventually pulls away from him. Ren gently patted her head and bid her a good rest, as well as a reminder of his availability if she needed anything, before making his way out of her room.

Hinata sees him off, only receding back inside after he disappears around the corner.

Once alone, she promptly changes out of her clothes— your sweater— neatly folding them and placing them onto the nearby table before reaching into her closet for a more comfortable attire to rest in, finally throwing herself over the futon after doing so.

Hinata doesn’t even bother to go under the covers to go to sleep. She’s too tired, too beaten up to do anything else than indulge in the few moments of silence she’s been provided with after a long day out in the city.

And silence was to be an understatement, for her mind was all but quiet in these moments. You were running through her mind every second of the day—whenever she was eating, working, resting, or doing absolutely nothing , her mind always brought her back to you, wondering… if you were ok, if you were safe .

If you were even able to enjoy anything anymore at the lion’s den. Making her realize that even with all the built up stress she was carrying, it was nothing compared to your position.

But like all things in life, your presence in her mind's eye eventually tires her out, and in the middle of reaching out for a quick distraction via the book she had abandoned in favor of her work, she falls asleep.

Hinata gets roughly around… 2 hours of sleep before she’s woken up by the uncomfortable pain of her sore throat and the void of the stomach aching to get something to eat…

As well as the thundering sound of her heart beating against her chest, followed by a thin layer of sweat coating her skin.

The first two occurrences didn’t bother her much for the following reasons: instead of taking up on one of the many invitations from the servants to get a refreshment of a snack, she went straight to bed. Thus, it was only a matter of hours before her body began to cry for sustenance.

It’s the latter that she can’t wrap her head around.

Was it a nightmare? Maybe. Hinata has never been one to sleepwalk, or remember what she dreamt of soon after waking up, so she couldn’t even fathom what it was that had her so distressed.

However, judging by the amount of pressure that she’d subjected her body to these past few days, she doesn't need to go any further to assume it had been your situation that had her in shackles.

Hinata sighs.

She tries not to think much of it, keep her head cool—but as it was stated before, your visage had seemed to haunt her ever since you were stripped away from your home, tormented as she remembers that by each passing day, your suffering only worsens.

«At least I didn’t wake up with a headache» Hinata consoles as she begins to take deep breaths, exercises to calm down her tense heart.

Once she feels herself to be in a better condition, she glances over to the window to get an idea of the time.

It’s already dark at this early hour, as expected of the season. As well as unreasonably cold, reminded by the shiver traversing her spine after a gust of wind makes its way through the window.

Hinata silently regrets and berates herself for not lying underneath the covers from the very beginning as she proceeds to sit herself up—it had been highly responsible of her to do such a thing, no matter how desperate she was to lay down and sleep, she shouldn’t risk getting sick, because that would only her work, although she could use it as an excuse to avoid being an examiner….

No, that’s not right. So, determined to stop this foolishness before it worsens any better, she decides to take care of body’s needs.

Her body, having remained in the same position for far too long, ached to be given that refreshing stretch before moving onto her new goal—with her admitting that she was also looking forward to it.

But before she’s able to do as much as push herself up from the futon, a sharp sensation strikes her lower back, prompting a hiss from her while anchoring her on the post.

A reminder that even if she “slept” she didn’t necessarily rest .

Just to show, yet again, that peace wasn’t something that she’s going to achieve whilst in her home… or everywhere else for that matter.

This doesn’t sway her to stay back in bed though, and instead, Hinata simply waits for the pain to dissipate before finally getting up from her bed and making way towards the window and shutting it.

Once that’s done, she heads over to her closet and reaches out for another hoodie to prevent more shivers from disturbing her, just as they did as she received another gust of wind whilst closing the window.

But even with this extra layer, she finds herself seeking more warmth, thus, she makes a mental note of bringing an additional blanket after returning from getting something to drink and a snack.

Nostalgia suddenly hits her as the topic of blankets is brought up—it might be silly, annoying even, but not for those with a broken heart.

It’s not her fault, she couldn’t help it: blankets have essentially become a symbol of your persona and that’s all she could think of right now.

For as long as she could remember, you always had the tendency of running cold at night: your hands and feet freezing even underneath the covers—even alongside layers and layers of clothing—which you might’ve mischievously used as weapons against her and your brother in the limited occasions you had to share a bed with them…

Such was your animosity towards winter, that you’d rather be weighed down in place over your own futon than to suffer the slightest of shivers throughout the night.

Some even judged the way you often wrapped yourself with a blanket, dressed up with hoodies over hoodies, and basically hung around the estate like that for the rest of the day—instead of just wearing something warmer.

Well, you didn’t care, if others were willing to suffer throughout the winter just so they wouldn’t be labeled as silly , then so be it. As long as you had your thousands of blankets and garments to accompany you, you’d be happy.

Hinata chuckles at the silliness of the memory, before her face suddenly drops.

There is no way for her to understand the kind of care that goes on inside the Zen’in estate, but she hopes that Naoya is at least decent enough to keep you warm and prepared for the upcoming winter, the one that’s yet to be the coldest one yet according to some forecasts.

That’s the bare minimum he could do as your husband : keep his wife well attended throughout her stay there… or was that too much for the heir of the prestigious Zen’in clan?

And unexpectedly, it's at this moment when she realizes this is going to be the first holiday they’re not going to spend without you…

Even when you were quarantined away at school in Tokyo, she still found a way to keep contact with you and your family…

But this time… she’s not so sure she can achieve so.

There are many things to consider, so many things invading her mind at the same time, that she doesn’t even know where to start: she needs to act fast, she needs to take the right steps to ensure that you’ll be back before Christmas is here, she needs to protect her family is the Zen’in truly did something as abhorrent as his father implied…

But she doesn’t know how.

She’s so unsure, so… indecisive.

Hinata feels like she’s drowning in her own thoughts, without being able to turn to someone for help and pull her away from the waves that seem to be pushing her deeper and deeper into the void of her worries.

How was she expected to do anything when she feels like she doesn’t know what’s going on? As if she were nothing more than a child?

And with that realization, her mind finds clarity.

If Hinata felt like a child, then the only way to get out of this predicament is to approach it with a similar mentality.

And what would a child usually do in the situations where they feel lost?

Reach out for their parents.

Thus, your sister decides to do what has always helped her when she needed guidance: visit her father.

Once Hinata changes into something far warmer, she exits through the bedroom door and makes way deeper through the living quarters and onto her parent’s bedroom—now Eiichi’s room.

For as long as she could remember, Eiichi had always been an attentive and caring father when it comes to supporting his children; however, this type of bond seemed to be a bit stronger with her, since they could relate more to one another as leader and heiress of the clan respectively.

He’s always been her go-to person when she faces uncertainty in her life, and he always tries to be there for her, whether for personal or professional matters, it holds no relevance to him, as long as he’s able to help.

But then, when your mother, Minako, passed away… something inside him changed and he began to distance himself from everyone.

Perhaps there was a chance of reconciliation: in fact, many would’ve thought that your situation was to bring your family closer…

Unfortunately, this only served to further rupture whatever relationship was left, more so when it was known that he’d been somewhat of a willing player in this scheme—to make matters worse, he always doted on you the most… which only made his betrayal ever more heart wrenching.

But even after all that happened, all the pain her family had been inflicted with, Eiichi is still their father, and she still loved him.

So as Hinata stands before his door, she mentally prepares herself to push their differences aside for a moment, and just… be there for one another.

“Who is it?” She hears Eiichi call from the other side upon hearing the soft knock on his door.

“It’s me” Hinata responds, and she hears a soft gasp coming from inside of the room as well as a shuffle she was quick to identify as someone scurrying to pick himself up. Footsteps make way towards her direction before the door finally slides wide open, revealing the sight of a somewhat distraught father, but relatively healthy.

“Hinata!” Eiichi gasps, eyes wide and mouth agape as he stares at the heartwarming sight of his eldest daughter back home “You’re… you’re back! I’m so glad to see you!”

“I am” she says, and judging by his reaction, she can only assume that either the servants didn’t bother to inform him of his return, or he had, and forgot about it because he’d been drinking.

She would have informed him so personally… but too enthralled in having an urgent conversation with her brother and your best friend, and yet to deal with the inner turmoil she had towards her father… lead her to decide against it.

Whatever the reason, Hinata still hopes that he hasn't been indulging in alcohol anymore.

For his sake, she really hopes that wasn’t the case…

However, one quick sniff as well as a scan throughout what little floor she could see through the gap in his door, is all that it takes for her to realize that he’s been sober at least for today.

God knows what he’s been doing to keep his demons at bay, but she can at least rest knowing it wasn’t through alcohol.

“Are you… cold?” Eiichi asks, his tremulous voice snapping her back to reality as well as filling the awkward void of silence that had begun to grow between the two.

There's the slightest hesitation on his part on approaching your sister and hugging her, but after catching the brief glance she made into her bedroom, he’s given the understanding that he’s still not in her good graces, and decides against it.

Completely unaware that perhaps… this would’ve been just what they needed to finally make amends.

“Have you eaten already? If not, I can make something—”

“A bit, but I’m fine for now” she responds. Her hunger, thirst and cold had magically disappeared once she decided she needed to see her dad first. Or more like she couldn’t focus on anything else until she completes this small detour and receives some peace of mind. “I just… wanted to see you first”

“…O—oh… I see” he blinks before stepping aside and gesturing with his head “…Want to come in?”

“Yeah, thank you” Hinata nods and walks into the room. She didn’t intend to judge him anymore than she already did moments prior, but due to a past experience, her eyes, yet again, darted to take another quick scan of her surroundings.

The first thing to notice is the absence of bottles of alcohol—she was first able to assume so due to her past approach, nonetheless, she soon remembered that their father had sneakily brought in bottles to his room and attempted to hide them whenever one of them visited him, so it was only natural that her mind urged her to double check.

Fortunately, she was proven wrong. And she was glad that she was wrong. However, when it isn’t one thing to worry her, it’s another, and Hinata finds that in the lack of overall organization in his room.

One would think that this room had been essentially abandoned by the staff members, but that’s nothing more than a fallacy for she knows that they would never dare to not do their job when it comes to tending the master of the clan.

Instead, she assumed that this had been nothing more than his own doing.

His futon was undone, covers roughly tossed over the mattress while the pillow laid feet away from its usual position. From there, all kinds of garments were to be found scattered all over the room: from pants, yukatas, socks…. on the floor, on the nearby table, on the bed, and ironically, just outside the closet… it had been a surprise they hadn't found their way to the ceiling yet.

However none of these things worried her as much as the following did.

Secluded from the previously detailed cluster, and just beside his bed, alongside a few books, rests a small vinyl record player, with countless vinyl albums, CD’s to accompany it… and a photo album.

Items that after a quick second of glancing over them, she eventually recognized as items previously sorted as missing… memoirs from her beloved mother.

And it doesn’t take any longer from there for Hinata to deduce what has kept him occupied ever since he abandoned drinking: He’s drowning his demons, not with alcohol, but rather, with the nostalgia and pain of when things were right.

In any other occasion, this sight would’ve also brought her the emotions she imagines her father to be experiencing, as well as the urge to take a break and sit down to look back on the things she missed from when her mother was still alive.

But there’s something about observing these items in his room that… confuses her, disturbs her… if not angers her.

It almost seems that their father was… running away from his reality, from facing the repercussions of his actions, in favor of plunging into the safeness the memory of his wife provided… and they’ve been deprived of it for selfish reasons.

Hinata then feels he is undeserving of even being near these things, for after all that he’d committed against them, robbing them of their mother’s items to keep for himself, and subsequently betraying you, he’d only be defiling what they represented….

And the necessity of his counseling begins to slowly drift away as an old wound reopens.

Upon noticing the heavy shift on the air, alongside his daughter’s glued gaze on his wife’s property, Eiichi could assume Hinata was wondering why these items were there in the first place.

He’s never been one to fret about the inquiries about his children… at least not to this level, but the passion that seems to be etched on her face is enough to grow nervous, anxiously prompting him to offer an explanation.

“I was just… taking care of them, removing the dirt that has begun to settle on them” he says, fidgeting with his hands as his eyes remain fixed on said items. “and… remembering your mother. But don’t worry about that, let’s just focus on—”

“Is that all that you’ve been doing?” she says immediately after, head snapping into his direction. The suddenness of her action provoked a flinch from him, as well as the settlement of remorse on the back of his mind. “Have you been doing anything else, at all? ”

If there was any semblance of her wanting to have a normal conversation with him, one that would help her calm down the agitation in her mind and possibly bring them closer once and for all, the incredulity in her voice informs it was long gone.

“I… I’m working…” he stammers on, tensely gathering enough courage to finally confront his daughter’s heavy gaze “I know I don’t have many responsibilities after you started to step up for the role… but there are still some things I have to personally oversee and, well, I’m doing my best with everything that happened”

“Is it?” she scowls “And is there any chance of these things being related to Y/N, hm?” and it’s now that Eiichi feels himself to have been effectively cornered.

His silence, however, far from maintaining a veil of uncertainty, is to be nothing more than confirmation to her assumptions, leading another wave of disbelief to hit her, followed by the mentally scolding of herself for being stupid enough to trust one of the people that essentially sold you to the highest bidder.

“No” he eventually responds, low, almost like a whimper, enough to demonstrate his shame. Perhaps in attempts to gain her empathy, but to an angered Hinata, this is nothing more than a pathetic struggle of victimization “I… I presume you… have?”

“You know I can’t tell you that. In fact, I can’t tell you anything , because you’ve deemed yourself untrustworthy—to think I actually came to you for guidance…” she sneers.

At the additional rupture of the damaged trust Eiichi feels his heart squeeze in pain, a need to patch things between the two arises to the occasion.

“I… I never meant to hurt you, Ren, or your sister!” He cries “You know… you know family is the most important thing to me, above anything else! And I’m always willing to help with whatever I can! But this… this is out of my hands, and you know that. You know I would’ve never done this if there wasn’t any other option!”

“And yet, here we are, with you locked in your room with all of mom’s things, which you’ve deprived us for a long time now, sinking deeper and deeper into this pathetic state, as if you’d been the one wronged, while my sister is out there suffering the most horrible things I don’t even want to think of!” she refutes “All while cowering behind the elders, under the fact that you can’t say anything because whatever accord you made with the Zen’in will be broken instantaneously! As if that were more important than your own goddamn family!”

“That’s not—don’t say that, Hinata!” Eiichi yelps, a guilty conscience prohibiting him from denying or affirming her statement, because deep inside his troubled mind, he knew very well she was telling nothing but the truth.

“Then what?” she dared, “Do you want me to say that everything is fine, that everything was just as you expected it to be—whatever that might be— if not better! And to not worry about it?”

“No, of course not but—”

“I know Ren is far more understanding when it comes to approaching you, and I can even… somewhat forgive what you’d kept away from us regarding mom—but that stops with Y/N.” Hinata breathes, tears now forming in the corner of her eyes. “I…. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re… you’re able to do this, as if nothing ever happened! You’re able to lay in bed while I can’t even close my eyes without seeing her!! Do you even know what I saw that time I went to the estate?! What were Naoya's intentions for that visit all along? The empty promises he made of keeping communication between the two families?! It’s been weeks since I last saw Y/N and I have yet to know anything about her! And I can’t seem to get help from HQ either, because I’m dumped with more and more work each day!”

“I—I didn’t know—I don’t know what to do, Hinata! I want to save her myself but I—”

“You can't” Hinata murmurs hotly. “Because that’s too much , isn’t that right, father ?

…

Eiichi remains quiet, unable to speak as the shame he carries simply for his insignificant presence steals all of his breath away.

“I’m…. I’m sorry ” is all that he can whimper past his trembling lips and the knot in his throat. There are hot tears pooling in his eyes, the vision of his angered daughter becoming blurrier by the second, something that he couldn’t be any more appreciative of for he couldn’t stand the disgrace he’d become to their family, and Minako’s absence.

“No” she shakes her head “I’m not the one you should be sorry to”

“I—I know… once she’s back, once I see Y/N again, I’ll… I’ll get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness. I've done so much wrong to her as her own father , but never more, I—I promise that I’ll make things right—!”

“No, father” Hinata reiterates, and Eiichi blinks, dumbfounded by her unforeseen response.

He expects to be reprimanded for not being active enough in your search, a big coward that doesn’t have the guts to stand up to the elders and do what’s right.

But all of this is nothing compared to what follows next.

If his heart was slowly rupturing with the pain of your absence, her words effectively crushed it.

“It’s mother you should apologize to”

And with that, she leaves.

#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x your #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #series: first it hurts—

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omegasmileyface · 2 years

Text

Of All the People - Ch. 9

journal time! written by @attackradish and me and @ectolemonades. art in chapter 1 by @/toasty-ghosti

whole fic summary: After a stupid dare puts Dash Baxter in the lab at Fentonworks during the middle of a ghost fight, he finds himself a little more spectral than usual. Apparently Danny Fenton’s gone through the same thing (someone has got to call OSHA on these guys eventually), and who could better help Dash than his hero? His lame, stubborn hero?

warnings: Nothing for this chapter! In others, existential crises, and Spectra.

words: 1645

AO3 link

first chapter

previous chapter

next chapter

===

Star stabbed at her chow mein from her place on Paulina's couch. Her mind was racing trying to sort everything in her life. Between Dash's ghost situation, the hectic state of student council (you can't find funding for two new school dances in one year. You just can't do it!), and a tricky new Government paper, she felt like she couldn't afford to give all her attention to her friends.

"Oh my God."

Well, alright, she could always spare some attention for Paulina.

"What is it, Lina?"

"Dash has been spending an awful lot of time with Fenton recently."

"Huh." Kwan set down his broccoli beef and slowly leaned into the couch. "I guess it's probably a ghost thing. Like, Fenton's got access to a bunch of portals and weapons and stuff. Or at least he did when we went up against those pirate ghosts. How do you think Dash is keeping his secret from the guy?"

"It's more than that. Dash is fully putting up with Fenton. Even though it looks to me like Fenton isn't enjoying it much. If he needed equipment, wouldn't he just go to the guy's sister? She's actually tolerable."

Huh. She had a point.

Kwan shrugged. "Well, she is really smart. I bet he's worried she'd figure out that he's a ghost."

"Hold on. That might be it, but I think Lina's on to something." She was clearly going somewhere with this, and Star wanted to know where. "I feel like Dash has been following him around like a puppy. Almost like… he's started, like, admiring him, or something."

Kwan's eyes brightened in understanding. "Hey, if Dash has been getting help from Phantom sometimes, do you think maybe they're sharing resources? Say, if Phantom had any help getting into tough places and getting his hands on equipment, I bet Dash knows about it too."

Star liked how this was coming together. "Gosh, guys, have you ever noticed how Fenton seems to leave and take that thermos with him whenever there's a ghost? And that time that we were all over at his house, he certainly knew how to hand out weapons and get us using them."

Kwan smiled back at her, just as satisfied with a mystery solved.

"Wasn't it weird," added Paulina, "when Dash said Phantom had experience with half-ghosts?"

Oh.

'Oh my God' indeed.

Well… Star could work with this.

===

Kwan 7:38 PM hey man sorry u missed hanging tonight

Kwan 7:38 PM: dont really want to have this conversation over text but i get why u missed

Kwan 7:39 PM: paulina has this theory that the nerd ure hanging out with is Celebrity Ghost Watch

You 7:39 PM: what hes not

Kwan 7:39 PM: whatever man

You 7:39 PM: shut up

You 7:40 PM: you cant tell ANYBODY!!! u guys super were not suposed 2 find out

Kwan 7:40 PM: yeah i get it i read spider man

Kwan 7:40 PM: we would never do that to him or u

Kwan 7:40 PM: dont worry

You 7:40 PM: thanks.

===

"Hey, Fenton."

"Star. What's up?"

"I know you're Phantom."

"What?"

===

"And it's just them?"

"Looks like it. Paulina and Star swore themselves to secrecy. Kwan did some kind of intricate bro handshake with me that ended in a pinky promise. Dash wasn't even there."

"I wouldn't trust a word out of their mouths."

"I don't know, Sam. I, for one, think we could use this to our advantage."

"Of course you would, geek."

===

"I'm so fucking sorry my friends found out about your thing!"

"Don't call it that."

"I swear I didn't tell them."

"I know. They already told me. I'm still trusting you to keep them in line, though, alright?"

"Of course! I'll try not to let them bug you too much either."

"Good luck."

===

"What's up with the sudden interest in ghost culture?"

"Well, really, Danny, it's such a fascinating topic. But there wasn't really anyone we could ask about it before we knew you were, you know, not a massive loser!"

"Thanks. My reputation is saved. Hallelujah."

"So? You've got to have something you can give us a lesson on."

"Fine. Get prepared to dive right in, though."

===

"Specter Speeder is ready. Everybody got your bags secured?"

"This is going to be a fun new form of Hell."

"Don't I know it, chica."

===

November 19

I didnt realize how long its been since I journaled. Shit's just been so hectic lately I kinda forgot to be honest haha. Well for one thing my friends know about Dannys secret now. Paulina just sorta put it together. Shes always been good at problem solving and that kind of stuff, apparently I've been hanging out with him way more now and that was enough to make a conection? When Danny found out he insisted his friends and him get to talk to them to make sure they don't rat him out to the G I W or whatever but honestly it looks like their getting along pretty good after that. My friends wanted to see more stuff about how ghosts live(?) so we got to go on a trip Danny and his friends wanted to take me on some time anyway. It was Ok so apparently when Danny got ice powers he had to figure out how to use them and also not freeze to death (am I gonna get ice powers?? is he gonna have to teach me? or would I learn straight from these guys) and when he did that, it was these like sasquach guys who had to train him for a bit. So now their like buddies. They live in an ice tribe called the Far frozen and that's where we went today. That's in the ghost zone!!

It was really scary worrying tbh. The ghost zone is super not designed for humans to be in it so it was kinda like we where going to space or something. Aparently people can breathe and stuff but their organs will get all fucked up from the weird gravity and radiation if theyre out there for too long. Danny said I'd be fine though. So anyway we had to wait untill the fentons weren't home, and Dannys' friends got this spaceship car thing out and told us a bunch of safety prep like we were going on a roller coaster. Do they really think we were just gonna fuck around and put ourselves in danger in a new dimension? It was like listening through the instructions before the C A T. ugh. But it was cool becuz after that we got to go into the ghost zone! The portal kinda sucked to go through, it reminded me of when I the bazooka. But when we got in it was super cool, it was like you could taste the air without opening your mouth… it was like when you drink an energy drink to stay awake and it actually works and doesn't feel like shit.

When we were driving there was all these doors and islands and stuff just floating everywhere. Danny started talking about it, and there was so much cool stuff I didn't know about ghosts!! The doors usually go to ghost's lairs which are like there personal homes (do I have a lair or is it just my house? I should ask Danny what his lair is) but sometimes they just go to diffrent time periods and places in the normal world?? There was this sick ass island that had a giant skull on it. Some Junglanji shit. But Danny said we couldn't get close cuz the island belonged to that Skulker guy. I don't see what the issue is when I've seen Phantom take him down so much before but there was too much other cool stuff to put up a fight. One time it looked like we were gonna run into a school of fish, but they were little green blob ghosts. I've seen those in town a couple times but theyre never in swarms like that back home! Blob ghosts are SO CUTE. Maybe I can have one as a pet some day.

So when we got to the Far frozen it was cold as hell. What a surprise huh? The whole place was just this massive plain of snow. It was like those pictures of Canada. But as soon as we got off the ship, the main chief guy Frost bite greeted us. He was this yeti sasquatch polar bear thing and he was HUGE but once my friends were done being scared he shook our hands and offered to carry us and oh my god he was so soft. Also his arm was like made of ice and it had bones showing thru it, which is just wicked. He took us into the town, and they had igloos and furs and stuff like those Alaskan tribes but there was also electronics and stuff? I didn't even think ghosts had towns let alone made tech. Everybody was super nice and they had all this great art made out of ice. I get that they have ice powers but oh my god?? Oh yeah and everybody kept calling Danny great one like he was the guy in one of those midevil romance flicks. I don't think he wanted them too but when we asked why, Frost bite told us he saved everybody from that viking dude who put the town in the ghost zone freshman year. God I didn't even think about how it was Danny who did that.

Yeah. We got to eat some of their food when we knew it was human safe and then we went home. I could sleep for a day but it was sooo cool. (Heh that was kind of a pun)

#srry theyre doubletexting in a time of each individual text costing money i like it better this way #also to repeat our ao3 endnote:#look. 3 adult gen z writing nerds trying to emulate the pov and writing style of a teenage millenial jock is hard enough #and trying to balance realism (i proofread a lot of (college) jocks' writing) with readability/pleasure has been #terrible. so let it be known that we did our best :) and theres more coming (with writing choices that look both better and worse) <3 #danny phantom #invisobang 2022 #my writing #swagger bishie #halfa!dash #halfa dash au #dash baxter #teddy ghost #check ao3 for more tags!

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richincolor · 2 years

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Title: The Ivory Key Author: Akshaya Raman Genres: Fantasy Pages: 384 Publisher: Clarion Books Review Copy: Received an eARC from the publisher Availability: Available now

Summary: Magic, a prized resource, is the only thing between peace and war. When magic runs out, four estranged royal siblings must find a new source before their country is swallowed by invading forces. The first in an Indian-inspired duology.

Vira is desperate to get out of her mother’s shadow and establish her legacy as a revered queen of Ashoka. But with the country’s only quarry running out of magic–a precious resource that has kept Ashoka safe from conflict–she can barely protect her citizens from the looming threat of war. And if her enemies discover this, they’ll stop at nothing to seize the last of the magic.

Vira’s only hope is to find a mysterious object of legend: the Ivory Key, rumored to unlock a new source of magic. But in order to infiltrate enemy territory and retrieve it, she must reunite with her siblings, torn apart by the different paths their lives have taken. Each of them has something to gain from finding the Ivory Key–and even more to lose if they fail. Ronak plans to sell it to the highest bidder in exchange for escape from his impending political marriage. Kaleb, falsely accused of assassinating the former maharani, needs it to clear his name. And Riya, a runaway who cut all family ties, wants the Key to prove her loyalty to the rebels who want to strip the nobility of its power. They must work together to survive the treacherous journey. But with each sibling harboring secrets and their own agendas, the very thing that brought them together could tear apart their family–and their world–for good.

Review: [Content warnings for THE IVORY KEY can be found here.]

THE IVORY KEY is a rich world filled with interesting magic and characters. I liked the Indian-inspired world building of Ashoka, and it isn’t often that I’ve seen a world where magic is treated as a non-renewable “natural” resource. There is a lot going on in the world of Ashoka, and a lot of characters and plots to introduce. It took me longer than I expected to sort out the siblings’ age relationships to each other, for example, but Author Akshaya Raman gave them all unique voices and motivations I could sympathize with. Once I got my footing under me, it was really interesting to see each sibling in turn from the others’ points of view.

THE IVORY KEY is heavy on the family conflict, and because that family is also royalty, the conflict is also wrapped up in politics and state secrets. Raman did a great job of giving the characters initial motivations to keep secrets from one another. However, there were times I found myself growing frustrated about all the secrecy, especially as various people’s schemes fell apart. I was also surprised by how staunchly some of Vira’s siblings were against her or blamed her for certain decisions, considering they grew up with the same parents and in the same court. Why would they assume a teenage girl who inherited a war and promptly lost her one big battle has similar power and control to the previous maharani? The lack of communication or willingness to extend grace to Vira quickly became annoying—but that may just be the eldest daughter in me talking. :)

The switch to a treasure hunting quest, complete with elaborate, puzzle-filled death traps, was a tonal shift that took some time getting used to after the first part of the book was largely occupied with the palace and the rest of the capital city. While that made for some really fun set pieces, I was a little disappointed that many of the palace plots were unresolved. That said, I’m enjoying the promise of a wider world and the promise of uncovering a much grander conspiracy in the sequel. I’m looking forward to seeing how Raman can wrap all of this up.

Recommendation: Get it soon. This Indian-inspired fantasy is filled with family conflicts and old secrets that get four estranged siblings to work together—and against each other. While I wish the communication between the quartet improved faster than it did, I believed in the character motivations and rooted for them to start working together. THE IVORY KEY is an interesting start to a fun world, and I’m looking forward to the conclusion.

Extras: Q&A: Akshaya Raman, Author of ‘The Ivory Key’ at The Nerd Daily

#the ivory key #akshaya raman #weneeddiversebooks #get it soon

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razieltwelve · 3 years

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Minions (Final Rose x Game of Thrones)

Ser Barristan Selmy stood silently with one hand on the pommel of his sword as Prince Edward paced in front of the small group of men. It might have seemed odd for a boy his age to already be gathering his own followers, but Prince Edward was something of a prodigy in everything he attempted. Given who his grandfather was, the old knight wasn’t altogether surprised that he was turning his attention to more... underhanded things.

Honour, Barristan had learned, was important, but honour alone could not keep a kingdom running. A great ruler knew when to follow the rules and when to... bend them a little. His task was to ensure that no matter what happened, the prince would be safe.

“You have been called here today,” Edward began. “Because you are all men with... certain talents, talents that I might find useful. You are also men whose services can be bought, and most importantly of all, you stay bought. I have need of such men, men who can be counted on to do what needs doing and who will remain loyal knowing full well that a prince and future king can offer more than mere coin. He can offer influence. He can offer resources. He can offer a path to a life beyond that of a sell sword or a mercenary.”

The men remained silent, taking the prince’s measure. Barristan was certain they would not find him wanting.

The leader of the group spoke. “Aye, we are such men. But what do you want us to do and what can you give us for doing it?”

Barristan’s first instinct was to bristle at the disrespect, but the prince merely chuckled and continued.

“Good. I was hoping you’d ask. Fools and simpletons have their place, of course, but what I want you to do for me requires men of cunning and intellect.” The prince unrolled a bolt of silk. “Do you know what this is?”

The three other men shook their heads, but the leader answered. “It’s silk.” He paused. “I’ve seen it once or twice when I’ve worked for other lords. Pricey stuff, Your Highness, worth it’s weight in gold and then some, or so I hear.”

“Indeed. It is silk, and it is worth a great deal of coin. Why? Because nobody knows how to make it, save for the sorcerers of Yi Ti.” The prince’s lips curled. “At least, that’s what they’d like for us to believe.”

The leader of the men smirked. “So I’m guessing you’ve worked out how they do it then.”

“Yes, I have. However, knowing how they do it and actually doing it myself are different things. What I need you gentlemen to do is to get a few things for me - things that will allow me to make my own silk.” The prince’s lips twitched. “As you can imagine, there is going to be a great deal of risk involved: death, mayhem, treachery, all that sort of thing.”

“A great deal of risk means a great deal of coin.”

“It does... and should you succeed, you will receive a great deal of coin. But if you succeed, then it means my estimations of you are correct, and I’d rather not have men of your calibre wandering around, working for the highest bidder. I’d want such men working for me alone, as my men.”

“Long term?”

“For life if possible,” the prince replied.

“For life, huh?” The leader glanced back at his fellows, and they exchanged nods. “That’ll take more than coin.”

“I imagine it would.” The prince grinned. “So, tell me... what are your dreams? What can this prince of the seven kingdoms grant you that will secure your loyalty for life?”

One of the other men stepped forward. He was a lean fellow, but Ser Barristan’s experienced eyes saw the knives concealed in his clothing and the calluses on his hands. This was a man who had spent his entire life honing the skills of an assassin and cutthroat. “I have something I’d like, Your Highness.”

“And what would that be?”

“They call me Deron,” the lean man said. “And I’ve been doing this sort of work for some time. I never grew up with nothing, but I figured if I could earn a decent living, perhaps my siblings would grow up better.”

“I’ve heard worse reasons to go into your line of work.”

“Last year, I went back home.” Deron’s gaze darkened. “I’d been sending money back, you see. I found out my parents had wasted it all. They owed some bastard a lot of money, and they...” He took a deep breath. “They sold one of my sisters to pay it off. They would have sold some of my other siblings too, I figure, but my sister was also a beauty, and she’d just flowered...”

“I trust your siblings are no longer with your parents,” the prince said quietly.

“No. I got them someplace else.” He bit his lip. “King’s Landing might not be the best place in the world, but it’s better than being sold off.” He clenched his fists. “It’s not coin that will buy my loyalty, Your Highness. I’ve heard of you. We all have. They say the gods have blessed you, made you more clever than any man the Seven Kingdom’s have ever seen, but you’re more than clever. You’re talking to us, which means you’re cunning too. I bet you’ve got eyes and ears in all sorts of place, even in Essos.”

“I can either confirm nor deny that.”

Deron chuckled grimly. “I want you to use those eyes and ears to find my sister for me.”

“How long has it been exactly?” the prince asked. Ser Barristan could well understand the need to ask. Slaves... slaves did not last long in Essos. And a young, beautiful girl? There was no telling what might have been done to her or if she was even still alive.

“It’s been six months since I found out, maybe six and a half since they sold her.”

“I see.” The prince nodded crisply. “Tell me everything you know. I cannot promise that I will find her, but you have my word as a proud son of the House of Baratheon that I will do everything I can to find her for you.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Deron said, bowing. “But I promise you, Your Highness, that if you find her for me or at least find out what happened to her so I can stick a knife in whoever was responsible, then I’m your man. The Drowned God could try to drag me down into the depths, and I swear I’d fight him off to keep on serving you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” The prince nodded at the two other men besides the leader, the pair who were very obviously twins. “And you two?”

“Gold for starters,” the one on the right said. “Me brother and I survived by ourselves for years before running into these two. But we’re tired of going from place to place, always looking for another job, always wondering if this is the job where the man hiring us decides he doesn’t want to pay and decides to stick a knife between our ribs instead of giving us the coin we’re owed. We don’t want none of that anymore.” He knelt, as did his brother. “They call me Jerod and my brother here is Markel. Take us into your House, Your Highness, make us men of House Baratheon with all that means, and we’ll serve you till our dying day.”

“If you succeed, then you will have more than earned that right.” The prince turned to their leader. “And what would you ask of me, Bronn?” The prince’s lips twitched. “After all, you are the leader of this little group and one of the most reliable and well-known mercenaries in this little corner of the world.”

“Like the brothers, I’m sick of wandering. I want a place to call my own and the guarantee of a roof over my head.” Bronn took a deep breath. “ And I want a knighthood.”

Ser Barristan’s fists clenched. To demand a knighthood? The audacity... yet he had also seen men rewarded with knighthoods for less than what the prince was asking of these men.

“You succeed, Bronn, and it’ll be Ser Bronn.” The prince hummed thoughtfully. “And unlike the others here, I can tell you have greater ambitions.” Bronn nodded. “Should you become a knight in my service, Bronn, know that there will be opportunity to rise further. Why, who’s to say that you might not one day find yourself called Lord Bronn.”

Bronn’s eyes widened, and Barristan knew that the prince had him. “You would...?”

“Not for this alone, Bronn, understand that. But all lords were once mere warriors. It was by their strength and cunning that they rose. I believe that men should be given a chance to rise beyond the circumstances of their birth should they prove themselves worthy of greater things.”

“Lord Bronn?” Bronn chuckled. “I like the sound of that.” His lips curled. “What would you have us do, Your Highness? Whatever it is, we’ll get it done.”

X X X

A few months later...

The four men stood before the prince again, and Ser Barristan once more stood guard. They were all carrying a few extra scars, and it was clear that they were still healing from a litany of other injuries, but they had succeeded. In all honesty, Ser Barristan could still scarcely believe it himself.

Insects? Mere insects were the source of silk? Yet the evidence was clear, and the prince had already sworn everyone involve to secrecy while seeing to it that some of his most trusted and most learned servants tended to the creatures. Gods willing, it would all work, and the crown would soon be able to produce their own silk in significant quantities.

“You know,” the prince drawled. “I expected you to succeed, but I didn’t think you’d succeed in quite the manner that you did.” He laughed. “Half the docks at Pentos burned down. Entire districts left in chaos, to say nothing of the riots and other disorder that I’m sure you caused.” The four squirmed beneath his gaze. The prince, after all, had asked them to be as discrete as possible. “Yet... not a single one of those things could be traced to you. The four of you covered your tracks quite well, it seems. And the quest I gave you?” The prince smiled broadly. “You succeeded beyond all my expectations. I had hoped to secure a single box of silk worms. You lot came back with seven.”

“If I may, Your Highness,” Bronn said. “It seemed a good idea at the time. Given the ruckus we’d caused just to get our hands on one, we figured we might as well take the rest.”

The prince’s eyes gleamed. “This is why I chose you and your group, Bronn. The Yi Ti ship was only going to be there for a week, and it took me a stupidly huge quantity of coin to learn both its schedule and the fact that it would be carrying silk worms. I knew it would be heavily guarded, and I knew it would take extraordinary measures to steal some. You four created a chance, and you took full advantage of it. The results speak for themselves.”

The prince nodded, and four chests were brought forward by his servants. “This is the gold you were promised... doubled because of how well you accomplished your mission.” He grinned. “As for your other requests...” He started with Deron. “My agents have been looking for your sister. Based on the information you gave me, we’ve narrowed it down to five possibilities. The moment I know more, you will know, but I’ve given them instructions to obtain her, using whatever means they deem necessary should they located her. I’ve also taken the liberty of finding a new house for you and your siblings. The current one is not nearly good enough for a man in my employ.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Deron fell to his knees. “I’m your man from this day forward.”

“As for you, Jerod and Markel... allow me to welcome you to House Baratheon. From this day forth, you are my sworn swords, and you will be a member of my household. You will be lodged in the Red Keep as trusted members of my House, so I expect you to conduct yourselves accordingly.”

They too fell to their knees. “You have our thanks, Your Highness, and our loyalty unto death.”

“And now we get to you, Bronn...” The prince’s lips curled into a smile. “Or should I say Ser Bronn?”

“Ser Bronn does have a nice ring to it.”

“I’ve spoken to my father. He’ll knight you himself. But don’t get too comfortable - and this goes for the three of you also - because I’ve got more work for you to do.” The prince chuckled. “At this rate, however, I doubt it will be long before you find yourself as Lord Bronn.”

“Lord Bronn has an even better ring to it.” Bronn fell to his knees. “Your Highness. Whatever you need done, I’ll get it done.”

“Excellent,” the prince said. “Now, rise, all of you. Keep in mind that while you will be serving me, I will also be asking you to perform tasks for some of my... associates. Chief amongst them is my uncle, Tyrion Lannister.”

X X X

Tyrion looked at the four men who had walked into his office. To his keen eye, they were all dangerous men, none more than the newly knighted Ser Bronn. His nephew had told him of what these men had achieved and how they had done it. To take them lightly would be foolish in the extreme.

He gestured at the table with bread, salt, and wine. “Have a seat, gentlemen. We have a lot to talk about.” He chuckled. “As I'm sure you’re aware, my nephew and I have enjoyed a rather incredible rise in the merchanting world. However, there are those who would like to see that rise halted. Today, I’ll be telling you who they are and what we will be doing about them.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

Edward (Diana) knows that there are few things more important than an elite cadre of minions who are both loyal and skilled. Moreover, taking these men into his service deprives his enemies of them as well. This is especially important because men like Bronn are worth their weight in gold: deadly, cunning, and maniacally determined. It won’t be long before Bronn does indeed find himself the owner a nice, cosy castle in the Crown Lands.

That said, their little escapade in Essos is going to give people conniptions, especially the ones who were planning on doing the exact same thing they were. Indeed, a certain Sealord’s daughter had agents who were planning to make a move the very next night only for Bronn to steal a march on them and come away with the prize.

And speaking of Bronn, in this timeline, he has three associates he often works with. They’ve formed their own little group, largely as a survival measure due to how often treachery seems to plague their line of work. Here, they’re turning official although Edward will, of course, be hiding what it is they actually do for him. As far as anyone can tell, they are simply men who’ve been hired by the prince to handle things around the city after putting in a good showing after he met them along the road and encountered bandits.

Next on Edward’s agenda... talking with a certain Viper and securing the services of a certain Hound.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

#final rose #game of thrones #diana yun farron #barristan selmy #bronn #tyrion lannister

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elliewan · 3 years

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Boom Boom - Behind the Scenes

Hi everyone! As hinted in Chapter 14th notes, here is a (long?) tumblr post for some behind-the-scenes trivia about Boom Boom! I’m sorry it took me some time, but I’ll probably develop my HC for Thermite and Ace in another post :]

So. Here’s a small table of contents for this post. And of course, massive spoilers incoming! haha

Origin of the Title

Chapter and Rhythm building

Thermite’s friendships

Interviews with Harry

IQ/Kali’s background relationship

HC Timeline

In a nutshell

1. Origin of the title

The initial placeholder title was “Norwegian Dynamite”, then “From Texas with Norway”, then… “Boom Boom”. I’m still not happy with the title, but I think it’s good enough. And funfact, it’s kind of a mistake, but not so much. In French, my native language, heartbeat’s onomatopoeia is “Boum Boum”, while I read that in American English (the English I tended to use for my fanfic), it’s supposed to be “Thump Thump” or something like that. But I also read than in most of Norwegian dialects, “Boom Boom” could be understood as a heartbeat too. So anyway, Boom Boom refers both to the beating of their heart and to the explosions of their hard-breaching gadgets. It’s also dual, meaning that each of them is a “Boom” haha And it’s also a cute Mika song about two people being totally in love despite what their families think, and making love everywhere haha (cause in French “Faire crac crac boum boum” [“doing crac crac boom boom”] means “having sex” haha)

2. Chapter and Rhythm building

Unlike most of my fanfics, Boom Boom wasn’t written “as it goes”, I didn’t “discover” the fic while writing it. In fact, I hadn’t contemplated writing a multi-chapter for them until some comments on my Siegetober Ace/Thermite one-shots where people showed interest in the ship and a potential multi-chapter or longer story for them.

So after the Siegetober rush, while I had several wips ongoing, I started working on it. The first blank page was basically: Ace/Thermite – how do they get together for real and a series of bullet points for potential scenes. Then, I opened a PowerPoint file and started filling the following diagram:

Though this is now a bit obsolete, this was the first foundation. Thanks to this diagram, and the several bullet points for potential scenes I had brainstormed, I started building the story in a (ugly) board. Once again, several things are obsolete and I never really updated it – it was more of a working document for the “pre-writing” of the fic, to see if the story really made sense:

And one thing that really didn’t help was Ubisoft releasing the cutscene about Aruni out of nowhere haha. At the beginning, I panicked a bit because I thought it changed several things in my Thermite HC, but it happened to eventually fit quite well and even help adding more drama haha

And once I was ok enough with the board, despite it having several plot holes, I tried to measure the intensity of “love” and “dramatics” to see what kind of rhythm the fic was going to follow and check if I found it entertaining enough:

3. Thermite’s friendships

In the initial draft, Castle had a MAJOR part as Thermite’s best friend. He would help him sort his feelings, see the evolution of his relationship with Ace, and even go to Texas with him to help him face his family. But when re-reading for the umpteenth time Thermite’s file, I realized there was not a single mention of Castle, contrary to Hibana, Twitch and Thatcher. Not to mention Harry’s board where it’s written Thermite has a “sibling” relationship with Ash.

And that’s when everything ticked: Thermite is surrounded by great women. Sisterhood is part of who he is, how he was raised, how he lives. And this is why those women should have a stronger place in the story. So Hibana, Twitch, Aruni and Ash became real sisters to him. Hibana and Aruni being more like the big sisters – they’re reliable, sturdy and coolheaded, they provide him with advice and comfort; Aruni especially is quite similar in temper to his biological sister in my HC. Twitch is more like his same-age sister (though she’s younger), they see eye-to-eye but there’s no authority nor “big sister” feels between them; she’s the confident. As for Ash, she’s more like that distant sibling that has evolved a lot in life to the point where they don’t talk as mush as they used to… but who could move mountains just to get to him if she hears he’s in trouble. This is what I tried to convey :’)

4. Interviews with Harry

Honestly, interviews with Harry were my ultimate cheat code to give more information regarding Ace and Thermite’s psychological statuses, and various hints regarding their mental health. Though I sometimes prefer to bring this sort of nakedness and vulnerability throughout conversations with close friends, it wasn’t very possible here because: 1. Ace had no close friends with whom he could be this vulnerable, and he’s still new at Rainbow. (and he’s not even aware of his coping mechanisms and insecurities) 2. I kind of wanted Thermite to be incredibly good at clouding his issues, changing subjects and rejecting any kind of help, meaning that only Harry could get him to openly talk (or so he thought haha) about his mental health.

As for Harry’s behavior, I tried to render him as this kind of smooth, yet not evasive, therapist. One that wouldn’t be in the judgement, and who could wait whole minutes for the person to take their time to open up, and slowly but gently poking at the aching spots, and providing various resources to help them :)

Also, since in most of his psychological reports he seems to be very aware of friendships at the base, and to push some operators to meet some others, I tried to convey this vibe too. Just like when he says that he finds similarities with Ace, Dokkaebi and Sledge. Or when he offers Thermite to ask Lion and Meghan about their tattoos etc.

Also, here’s a bit of HC on how each of them deals with Harry haha

5. IQ/Kali’s background relationship

I have to admit I may have accidentally mirrored a lot Ace/Thermite’s relationship with IQ/Kali’s. Thing is that I wanted Kali to change too! I wanted her to be this impartial and authoritative bossy businesswoman that would slowly change into someone, though still sharp and arrogant, more human. I wanted Jaimini to show up a bit more. I have given veeery small hints to offer some glimpses at her true self, at what’s behind that mask. For instance, there is that moment in the fic where Ace and Kali argue, and he tells her:

“Jai, you and I both know very well that you didn't take this contract just for the money.”

Which makes Kali pale a lot, because he’s hitting a good nerve. In fact, I kind of headcanon Kali having softened enough around him, throughout their collaboration, to have confided a tiny bit about why she created Nighthaven, and all the frustrations she had grown up with. And thing is, Kali created Nighthaven because she wanted to be a hero too, just like him. She wanted to be at the heart of the battle, to protect people, to save lives, and she dreamed of a soldier life, of self-sacrifice and heroism. She just slid the wrong way, and her childhood dream turned into a private corporation of which she became a ruthless tycoon. Just like Ace, I think things went out of control at some point for her, and she just lose connection to reality and morals.

And the thing with IQ happened quite naturally. At the beginning, once I was okay with the three main squads (especially Alpha and Bravo), the relationship just happened on itself. While Montagne and Twitch were just those lovely and patient sweethearts, IQ was the one that had the hardest time with the Nighthaven folks, whether it were Ace or Kali. Both because she didn’t trust them and their secrecy, and because she has very little patience for people with difficult tempers in general haha

So, Kali being that bossy and defiant puzzle, refusing to let her see Nighthaven’s gadgets’ blueprints, things were just meant to sparkle between them. And Kali just couldn’t resist teasing IQ and reminding her she was untouchable. And through the teasing, the premises of a relationship were born. But unlike Ace/Thermite, I don’t think it followed a Colleagues to Friends to Lovers progression, but more an Enemies straight to Lovers progression haha

So anyway. I wanted to give a little boost to Kali, so that she opens up a bit more with Rainbow, and to bring a truce between Rainbow and Nighthaven’s disputes. And love just happened, once again, to be the perfect last push <3

Another thing that could have helped her would perhaps have been some true challenging from an authority she does respect, but I found it difficult to stage and Kali wasn’t the focus of the fic anyway – perhaps another time ;)

6. HC Timeline

And here is the ugly timeline I worked with haha It’s still probable that there are some inconsistencies, but I tried to avoid them as much as possible and I’m sorry if you find some! I’m horribly bad with figures, years and stuff haha

I used most of the canonical dates, except for Jordan’s mother and sister deceases, which weren’t accurately dated in his biography and which I reinterpreted a bit to fit my story.

Also, isn’t it absolutely lovely that their birthday is only 1 day apart? u_u #ProudPisces!

7. In a nutshell

So, those were my major documents that helped me build the foundations of the fic. What happened next was some drafting and pure writing, following the publishing tempo. I think the gist of what I wanted to convey through the story is still there, even if I reworked some chapters entirely. The journey (and the destination <3) is still the same.

+ I want to once again give a proper shout out to all the wonderful readers of the fanfic, whether they’re anonymous or not! I had never received so much feedback, and so many sweet words on any work before, even back in my time on fanfic.net. I feel so grateful for that, and though I already answered to everyone who commented, and wrote many notes, I still can’t find the way to properly translate just how much it means to me. So once again THANK YOU :’D

And thank you for reading this post too, if you did haha <3

#long post #ace/thermite #iq/kali #writing fanfiction #r6s fanfiction #my hcs #my work

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lumau · 4 years

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Gentlewings

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Yay! Finally more Juprafel content! Here is a fanfic for you that I’ve written for the Mogtober 2020 prompt for day 5 (favorite side character).

Notes: I’m still pre-Hollowpox, so some things might not line up anymore later on. I wanted to write down one (of my many) ideas on how Jupiter met Israfel for the first time. What I enjoyed was to specifically not focus on Israfel's addictive singing, but on what else might connect him to Jupiter, what his personality could be and his background. I have (many) theories about him and the “not-actually-angels”, as a lot is still left in the air (pun intended) after Wundersmith. I made up quite a few things about them, which will very likely be inaccurate. I realise the angels from Grave Importance influenced me and especially the story around Amitiel and Zophiel. I just really got something for corrupted angels, I guess. :D

There will be some flirty stuff (it’s Jupiter North after all!), but you can totally read this as the beginning of a special friendship if you’re not into shipping.

And if you are, though, I already plan to write a follow up story for Mogtober day 9 which will likely have more of a romancy note to it. And there will be the matching illustration I made, so stay tuned for that!

Oh, and a shout out to those who were there for the first posts on this blog – there will be a moment of recognition for you if you make it to the end! :)

____________________________________________

Gentlewings

When he received the Stealth’s request to join forces with them on a special mission that would involve the visit of a very fancy and exclusive soirée, it all sounded exciting and like the perfect job for him. Three hours in though, Jupiter felt the nagging of a headache and, even worse, extremely bored. It turned out he had not been recruited because of his impeccable looks, his charisma or his ability to turn every party into a roaring success, but because of him being a Witness.

To his outrage, they had not even let him wear his famously snazzy pastel mint coloured evening suit. However, no one could stop him from giving the all black stealth uniform at least a small personal touch by adding a floral pink pocket square and his favourite lavender dress shoes. They had to agree to this mildly rebellious act begrudgingly. His ginger mane and beard already made it impossible for Jupiter to be actually stealthy anyways, and their human and wunimal resources (HWR) for this job were so limited, they couldn‘t risk losing his cooperation.

As he was supposed to, Jupiter let his gaze slowly wander over the crowd from the outskirts of the dim lounge. Once again, he could not detect any sign of disturbances in the general atmosphere of the party. Most of those attending were slightly on edge and rather wished they were somewhere else, as he could clearly see in their auras and the web of Gossamer threads, but that was nothing unusual at a political event and what he had expected due to the delicate nature of the gathering.

Scattered across the room was a small number of extremely posh diplomats and their guests. The intention of WunSoc in inviting the COG (Celestial Observation Group) was to stay on good terms with them, an urgent necessity after the recent issues they had gotten into when both groups were faced with being involved in those interspecies murder cases.

Jupiter had never before been in a room with several Celestial Beings at once, and he could do without that experience. Part of the preparation for the job had been a thorough briefing about their kind, and only a few chosen senior Stealth officers with special mental training had been found suitable. Watching the interactions in the room through his lens had been captivating at first, but now it started to tire Jupiter out. Humans were already so complicated on their own, but the unique trait of the Celestials, absorbing and influencing the emotions of those around them, turned the whole room into a blurry melting pot. As Jupiter curiously observed, the clowd-like puffs of emotions were drawn towards the winged folks, but sometimes their own state of mind also seemed to drift over to their opponents, engulfing and influencing them.

Fascinating, but clearly highly dangerous and for Jupiter, who’s visual filters were lowered on his watch post, quite exhausting. He had been instructed to notify the chief officer immediately, should the atmosphere in the lounge take a risky turn or should he detect any hostile intentions. So far everyone was peacefully engaging in small talk though.

Mentally turning his filters back up, Jupiter closed his eyes for a second and stifled a yawn. He checked his fob watch – 15 minutes till the end of his shift, finally. A smile crossed his face. Through the eyes of a ‘normal’, the sight of the room was actually outrageously beautiful. The dim light made the Celestials‘ skin, wings and gowns shimmer in varying metallic shades, and their faces wore mild, austere looks as if nothing could ever disturb their composed aloofness. The briefing had warned about their ethereal beauty and mental influence, but seeing it in person was something else. Jupiter could feel a little pinch of longing in his stomach. The worst part of the job was that he had to keep at the sidelines of the party – not a particularly fun party, but still.

Something caught his attention in the corner of his eye, something sparkly in the shadows of an alcove. He focused and could make out the shape of a person surrounded by a sizzling cloud of gloomy energy. Tensing he tried to see what was going on. He did need light to make full use of his knack, but it was bright enough for him to tell that someone was not having a good time over there. Were they hostile though? There was some anger, for sure, but diffused with other emotions like anxiety and sadness, and a very strong sense of being out of place. Definitely not someone planning to overthrow the Wundrous Society or cause a civil war between sky and ground.

Pushing away from the wall he had been leaning against, Jupiter started to stroll over to where he had seen the golden shimmer in the darkness. Jupiter’s curiosity was piqued. His face lit up. For the sake of the safety of the Free State, he had to investigate, right?

“Excuse me, is everything okay?” he addressed the stranger, approaching, but before he could take another step, their head shot up and without warning Jupiter was hit by such a sudden wave of anger, it felt like a fist to his stomach. He gasped and stopped dead in his tracks. There was a cloud of chaos emanating from the Celestial, speckled with hundreds of tiny flame-like shards that were swarming towards him like angry wasps. Jupiter felt the irresistible urge to turn around and get out of there immediately. Then he remembered to breathe. One slow, deep breath. And another. Like he had been taught when he had first learned to control his vision. And another. And he could see past the darting flames and feel his body again. Nothing was physically attacking him. He just needed to focus.

Taking one more deep breath, he concentrated and said in a calm and measured voice, sporting his warmest smile, as if nothing had just happened: “I saw you sitting here alone and was wondering if you needed anything.”

It took the Celestial a moment to find their composure, but the storm-like cloud around them was calming down. Jupiter suddenly felt a desire to go to the bar and get them a strong drink. Blinking, he could see that this prompt had not appeared out of nowhere, but it was actually drifting over to him from inside the alcove. “Sneaky!” he thought slightly amused, “This should get interesting.”

“Look,” he said, “I’ll get you a drink, if you stop glowering. Just give me a minute, alright?” He winked and was about to turn away, when a low, deeply melodic voice spoke. “We have been warned about you, Captain North.”

Jupiter’s heart made a little jump and he could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. That voice… it was the most perfect sound in the universe. He could see it sending little rippling waves through the Gossamer. Someone with a voice like that shouldn’t even be able to exist in this realm. It seemed somehow… indecent.

Jupiter noticed that he was staring at the Celestial open-mouthed and shook himself out of it by running a hand through his hair. “I’m flattered! What have you been warned about? My sharp wits? My gingerness? Or about me being very handsome?”

To his own surprise, the hint of a smile crept across the dark face. Jupiter noticed once again a golden shimmer. “All of those might have been mentioned,” the Celestial replied, standing up, “but we were mainly told to not engage with you due to your special ability of seeing the truth.”

“Yep, that’s me!”, Jupiter smiled, obviously pleased. “As you already know so much about me, may I ask for your name?” There was a stirring and a soft rustle of feathers, as the Celestial stepped smoothly out of the dark corner. Now Jupiter could see where the reflections came from. The dark skin was rippled in tiny rivers of gold, and the folded wings were speckled with what looked like a million golden stars. It was difficult to not feel awed by such otherworldly beauty.

“Pleased to meet you, Captain North. My name is Israfel.” “Israfel, it’s my pleasure. And please call me Jupiter, I’m currently not working.” “Are you not? I thought you were on watch duty? That’s what I was told, at least.” Jupiter made a mental note about an alarming lack of secrecy in the preparation of this mission. “My shift has ended”, he checked his fob watch, “one minute ago exactly. My replacement is just taking her place over there.” He had spotted Barren, the Bulldogwun that was taking over for him across the room and gave her a little wave, that she answered with a grim nod. While she didn’t have his vision, her sense of smell was so finely tuned that she could perceive a lot of what he saw. He felt sympathy for her. It was hard work for either of them to use their senses in a room full of people.

“So, Israfel. Will you be having that drink with me regardless of those warnings?” Jupiter tilted his head with his most inviting smile. There was a short silence. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for either of us to be seen together. Let’s meet outside on the balcony in a minute. I’ll have a double-shot of Whiskey.” Without waiting for a reply, Israfel moved towards the balcony and left Jupiter standing, a slightly sheepish grin on his face, feeling utterly pleased at this exciting turn of events.

Jupiter had to work his magic on the bartender, as this was in fact an alcohol free event. They couldn‘t risk anyone letting their guards down tonight. Shortly afterwards he stepped out onto the wide balcony, in one hand a flute of pink champagne and the Whiskey in the other.

Israfel stood at the balustrade overlooking the nightly Nevermoor, wings mantled as if to stretch them after having them tucked for too long. A light breeze ruffled the feathers that reflected the light of the lanterns and they seemed to glow warmly. Jupiter urged himself to continue moving, as he’d also happily just stood there, observing this almost surreal scene, forever.

“One Whiskey for the gentle--- erm...” Jupiter stopped, his mind running into a dead end. Israfel took the glass from his hand and drank. “It’s okay, you can say gentleman. Although my kind does not abide by your human roles of gender, your masculine forms would be most suitable for me.” He downed the rest of the glass and set it down onto the balustrade.

They stood in silence for a moment, taking in the view of the sleeping city. “It must not be easy for you to live around all of this.” Israfel gestured towards the dim lights below. “Hmm?” “As you probably know, my kind absorbs others' emotions. Living amongst all these people... I just couldn’t. And I suppose it must be similar for you, seeing everything, always.” He gave Jupiter a quizzing look, “How do you do it?” “I see you’re not into small talk, are you?” Jupiter chuckled amused, “Tell me more about this emotions thingy then. How does it work?”

Israfel looked a little annoyed by his evasiveness, but still answered. “It’s fairly simple. We take in others’ emotions and they become part of us. Good emotions nurture and heal us, while negative emotions pull us down and can be quite a pain. We depend on the emotions of others, but too much of them or especially bad ones can even cause harm. Human emotions are complicated. Amongst ourselves, we can control what we take in. That’s why we always live in pairs or groups and rather stay away from humans.”

“Wait,” Jupiter interrupted, “what you’re saying is you’re practically feeding on emotions? And you would die if you were left alone?” “Not quite, no. Our bodies need food and drink, and we can survive without others’ emotions. But our spirit would wither, and after some time, we would be left empty.” “Fascinating!” Jupiter proclaimed, “But also quite dreadful, the thought of dying internally.”

Now it made somewhat more sense to him, Jupiter thought. The Celestial Beings were all utterly beautiful and could charm and manipulate people with their voices, and although they were rarely ever seen in Nevermoor, practically everyone admired the angels of legends which they resembled. It was quite a refined hunting technique, coming to think of it, for a being that thrived of affection to reflect the fond dreams and wishes of their prey. But Jupiter wasn’t judging.

“So back in there earlier, at that dull party”, he motioned towards the lounge, “were you just a little hangry then?” Israfel startled, and burst into a snorting laugh, that Jupiter hadn’t thought he’d be capable of, as it seemed way too profane. “Maybe. Now I’m better though.”

Jupiter could see that. The dark cloud had not vanished, but there were other things in the Celestial’s aura. The alcohol, silver shimmer of excitement, little flashes of curiosity and a string of… affection? Focusing closely for a moment, Jupiter could see a very faint, thin rosy ribbon wafting in the air and connecting the two of them underneath their rib cages. ‘Huh!’ he thought, ‘Makes sense. Not hangry anymore.’

Israfel’s voice made him look up again. “Actually, I was kind of stood up. I’m not part of the COG. Cassiel brought me along as his companion. I didn’t want to come, it’s always such a pain being cooped up in a room on the ground, no space to stretch my wings without knocking anything over… Those boring conversations and not even a proper drink to be had.”

Jupiter could see some of the tiny flames reappear and the cloud around Israfel’s head grew darker again as he talked himself back into a rage. ‘Quite an intense one, he is’ Jupiter thought somewhat approvingly. “And as soon as we get here, Cassiel immediately disappears for a special meeting or something that he wouldn’t tell me about, leaving me all by myself in a room full of strangers. Not as if he hadn’t been depriving me all those last weeks anyways.” Israfel slapped his hand on the balustrade and left it there curled into a fist, staring down sulkily at the empty street below.

“Sounds like you’ve had quite a night,” Jupiter remarked compassionately, wilfully blocking the raging flames from his vision. “Are you and Cassiel… close?” “Yes. No. Well, not in the sense that your kind speaks of it. We don’t form such emotionally entangled bonds as you humans do. We provide for each other. It’s a form of communal organisation.” Jupiter tried to imagine what that could look like and wasn’t sure he understood. An organised relationship to provide for each other's needs of affection? 9 a.m., 5 minute hug before work; 6 p.m., make 3 compliments each? When he looked at Israfel’s aura though, what he saw resembled pretty much what he’d expect to see in someone who had been hurt by a loved one. He stopped his inner monologue to turn back to the grim looking Celestial. His wings were drooping now and he seemed so utterly miserable, Jupiter could only just stop himself from giving him a big squeezing hug, once again, a wish that was not just of his own making.

“Hah!”, Jupiter suddenly burst out, “Gentlewings!” “What?” Israfel looked up at him in bewilderment. “Oops, did I say that out loud? I just realised, earlier I should have said ‘One Whiskey for the gentlewings’, cause… well, you…” he trailed off. Israfel shook his head in disbelief, but was unable to help a smile creeping onto his face. “I can’t even.” “But thanks, anyways.” “What for?” “That you’re trying to cheer me up. I appreciate it.”

“Captain North!” a voice rang across the balcony, making both of them startle and turn. “Inspector Lamar?” Jupiter started walking over to the stealth officer standing in the doorway. “We have been looking for you, the guests are leaving and Inspector Barren would like a word with you before we wrap up.” Inspector Lamar saw past Jupiter where Israfel was still standing at the balustrade and cast him a questioning look, “Is everything alright, Captain?” “Right as rain, Inspector, right as rain. I was just checking in on one of our guests who felt a little queasy. You know, not much room for wing stretching and so on in there, got a little claustrophobic, poor chap.” He gave Inspector Lamar a conspiratorial smile. “I’ll find Barren in a minute, I’m just going to make sure that Celestial is feeling better before he finds his way back to the others.” The Inspector didn’t seem fully convinced by his words, but nodded and turned to re-enter the lounge.

Israfel strolled over to Jupiter, a worried look on his face. Jupiter gave him a reassuring smile. “No need to frown, they just informed me that I’m wanted by my colleague and that the party is finally ending. The guests are leaving, so you should probably go and find Cassiel as well.” “Oh, right,” Israfel sighed and nodded, “thanks for helping me out earlier. You made that evening a lot more bearable.” Jupiter beamed at him and couldn’t help but feel very pleased with himself. If he didn’t know his knack was being a Witness, he’d have sworn it was picking the most interesting people in every crowd, finding the odd one out, those who wouldn’t conform, and befriending them. He knew right away that Israfel was different from the other Celestials, and was convinced he’d only merely scratched the surface of his personality. He could feel the promise of unexpected adventures in the air.

Leaning casually against the door frame of the lounge, Jupiter ran a hand through his long ginger hair. “If you’d like something better than a just bearable evening… You know I run the Hotel Deucalion, and Frank, my party planner, who is a vampire dwarf by the way, only one in Nevermoor, he’s always coming up with something brilliant for our weekly party night. Should you want to join this Saturday… you might even have some fun?” Israfel’s face showed surprise, as if him having fun at a party seemed quite an abstract idea. He considered the thought for a moment, and Jupiter was pleased to see the shimmer of excitement intensifying around him. But then something crossed his mind, his face fell and the silver glow subsided. “Listen, thanks for asking, but your kind and my kind can't ever become closely acquainted. We become dependent on your emotions, and our ways of influencing you mentally would mean you could never truly trust me. It's an impossible endeavour, really."

Jupiter smirked. He was Captain Jupiter Amantius North, member of the Wundrous Society and League of Explorers, first to climb Mt Ridiculous, discoverer of 17 previously undiscovered realms, to just name a few of his many (partially self-given) titles, and for a good reason – he could never resist an impossible challenge.

"Shall we say Saturday, 8 p.m. then? I will meet you in the Deucalion lobby. Unless, of course, you’d rather come via the rooftop terrace? Oh, and don’t worry – all of my staff and my esteemed guests are very discreet. No need to fear a public political scandal should we get utterly drunk and end up dancing together on the buffet tables." He winked and turned to move away quickly, leaving Israfel standing dumbstruck, before he had the chance to say anything in return.

Jupiter could feel his heart pounding with excitement and glee, a wide smile drawn on his face, as he briskly walked through the now almost dark lounge, ignoring the shadows of the events of this past evening that were emanating all around him. He could still see a hint of the rosy ribbon that connected him to Israfel when he looked down. What an intensely fascinating person he met tonight! He was hooked.

#mogtober2020 #fanfiction #nevermoor #juprafel #jupiter north #angel israfel #wundersmith #cassiel disappears - again #casrafel is a thing now too #because relationship anarchy for the win #and nonbinary gender stuff #because why not

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vaguely-concerned · 4 years

Text

Some more mass effect andromeda thinky thoughts as I run around heleus getting some achievements!

- the murderous angaran ai is genuinely so fucking funny. “How are you feeling here on Aya?” “I hope you die” “Is there anything we could do to make you more comfortable?” “BURY THIS PLANET UNDER FIRE AND ASH” “o.oookay. Goodbye then.” “I HATE you.”

- I hope I never become irresistibly moved to write mass effect andromeda fic b/c there really is no other description for a good 70% of the expressions reyes makes than :> and how could one capture that in words

- as mentioned I’ve been doing a bit of achievement hunting and in the process I’ve been switching up a lot of gameplay stuff from how I handled it the first few times around and let me tell you it’s baller as fuuuuuuuuuck -- it just looks so awesome and is so satisfying between the maneuverability of the jetpack and biotic charge and the effects. special shoutout to what happens if you biotic charge a frozen victim enemy and the biotic pull/push combination. (throwing people around like ragdolls is actually so much fun I’ve kept doing it even after I unlocked the achievement lol)

- lol lol when you get meridian online there’s the montage of every planet coming back to life, right? well the one on kadara is from inside kralla’s song, with umi looking out at everything that’s happening. and all I can imagine is her jaded-ass voice going ‘what the fUCK did that asshole kid do now I only just cleaned up after the bar brawl he started with his krogan grandpa and now he’s rearranging the entire fucking planet right from under us goddess I need a drink’

- the implication that reyes ‘cards so close to my chest you won’t even know I’m playing’ vidal just does not shut up about how amazing ryder is to anyone who’ll listen gives me so much life. when you try to be mysterious and laidback but the human pathfinder is so fucking cute tho Y____Y (also go watch his scenes if you’re being standoffish with him the entire time -- he clearly wants ryder to like him so much right from the beginning, he’s doing so much work to no avail and I feel sort of bad for how funny I find it haha. interesting that it really does seem to be an emotional thing as well as y’know the practical/tactical benefits of having the pathfinder on his side. methinks the charlatan might be a bit lonely there behind all his masks lol)

I think this is why I’m willing to give him some benefit of the doubt too, despite all the cloak and dagger stuff -- he’s so immediately drawn to ryder, who you can never make a bad person, really. something in him must respond to that, if potentially only in the ‘attracted to traits I do not possess myself’ way hahaha

- I love sam. so so much. some of the open world implementation is still grating (yes sam. yes I know I can mine this area for resources through my mining interface. we’ve been doing this for a hundred hours sam. you’ve been right here with me the entire time sam. please sam), but he’s SUCH a good and I’d argue underutilized concept (emotionally at least) and the best boy. the fact that he can get SARCASTIC on you fsdhfjsadh he’s growing and learning! he’s doing so from inside your brain which is kind of unsettling but also SO COOL! there’s something about that level of intimacy, of always knowing there will be someone there with you in your head that is super interesting and deserves to be examined more fully -- both how it could be comforting and how it’s r e a l l y not how people or ai are generally designed to work lol.

he also gives us a unique link with our dad and I wonder if the writers would have explored that in more depth if there’d been more development time -- it practically SCREAMS out an invitation to get to play/see things from alec’s POV in short bursts, like the memories you unlock except you could go through playing it as him since sam is common to both of us. (see my ‘our dad comes back through either kett or remnant nonsense in the sequel and we need to find some way to connect with him’ idea. it would be. amazing. listen alec already looked at the ethical guidelines involved in creating ai and went ‘huh interesting ideas but not for me thanks!’, don’t tell me he wouldn’t have left some loophole in so this could happen)

- reyes literally says ‘the cavalry’s here’ when we get to meridian and I for one love him more than words can express (he also asks us if we’re okay in sort of a sweet/worried way right before we get to the control room. aw buddy)

- like we don’t think of them like that because we’re in control of them and see all the stumbles and awkwardness and how young they are all the time, but damn the ryder twins must look like something else to everyone in andromeda haha. they literally stride around like demigods restoring entire planets. on voeld spring non-metaphorically follows in their footsteps. shit dude if we’re talking realpolitik here the angara must feel p r e t t y nervous about this -- there’s no one saying they can’t turn off the vaults as easily as they turned them on. I hope we get them somehow teaching the angara how to do it too, on a smaller scale at least, as a show of good faith or something in a sequel, because that power imbalance is disconcerting

- I’m glad sam and I have such similar priorities whenever we’re on kadara. ‘maybe mr vidal would know. perhaps we should ask mr vidal about this. mr vidal said something relating to this pathfinder maybe we should speak to him’ . yeah sam i know the feeling, same (it does undeniably read as sam having a bit of a crush which is. hilarious?)

- the fact that alec ryder thought ellen responded to his bad boy act in any way when what really charmed her was that he was a great big nerd <3 it’s kind of nice to see a fictional marriage that seems to have just been. nice and stable and chill? just two intellectual equals who like and respect each other very much and not a lot of drama until alec went full alec and started developing rogue ai instead of watching his wife die lol. again I would love for the sequel to involve ellen finally waking up and being like ‘death? trying to claim MY husband? I do not think so, I can die he can’t he’s not leaving me behind’ and helping out and you realize that the reason they were soulmates was that under the relatively rational and unemotional surface they’re both, at heart, batshit crazy mad scientists who are insanely devoted to each other. imagine it tho! the people of andromeda realize alec ryder is back from the dead somehow and doing some Shit out there, they put a ton of resources into curing ellen’s disease because their best shot is something to do with the implants she made, hey presto we’ve got all ryders on the board and in play.

- just want to make it clear that I’m still sad about avitus rix and hope he’s having a good day

- do you think ryder ever asks sam to read something to him ‘aloud’ in his head if he’s anxious and can’t sleep. or just to talk at him about something boring until he nods off. again the possibilities inherent in the concept!!! he has someone who’s closer to him than any other person could be, what’s that like?

- *me sticking to my sidewinder pistol the whole playthrough even though it’s laughably inefficient* I just wanna feel like a cowboy bioware please work with me here

- the male ryder voice actor has such amazing comedic timing, there’s a lot of reaction stuff out in the field he absolutely nails. I enjoy the female voice too and I like how much emotion she manages to convey towards the end of the game especially, but there’s a casual comedy in male ryder’s voice that can’t be beat. (well, it’s not hawke levels, but then nothing ever is, that’s too much to ask)

- I love vorn and kesh so much. nerd krogans unite & make out

- I still want to sit peebee down and have a long serious talk with her about emotional abuse, maybe give her a hug :( fuck kalinda

- this game does not get enough credit for how stunningly beautiful it is, it all got buried under criticism about the animations and it’s a fucking shame. the last few vaults you go through are just mindboggling in scale and visual uh striking-ness. it makes me so sad to think there won’t be any more of it D:

- I really like this mainly casual + logical dialogue options ryder I’ve found; it makes him sound like a younger and more irreverent version of his father, but also softer and less closed off and much more willing to show affection for his family especially.

- i wonder if different people’s individual SAMs will take on a certain tone/unique pattern when they’ve coexisted long enough. have I mentioned. how much I want a sequel to this game

- one last reyes note because don’t look at me okay -- I wonder how much we’re meant to read into ‘being honorable never got me anywhere’. on the one hand I’m fully prepared to believe he’s never even tried doing anything the honorable way in his entire life lol but on the other there’s also some interesting potential in the interplay of that sentence and ‘to be someone’. (there seems to be a deep fear in him both of powerlessness and of being truly seen/recognized -- he equates secrecy with safety pretty explicitly -- which seems... telling? of what I don’t know but telling all the same hahaha) like he might be saying he’s tried doing things the ‘right’ way and it didn’t work and the price was too high, so he just went for this instead with the ends low-key justifying the means. hmmm. :Ia (this is what happens when I get Attached to a character with like an hour of screentime my friends, and I’m already primed to give my entire heart away at the sound of nicholas boulton’s voice)

#mass effect #mass effect andromeda #I'm sorry about this my brain just won't shut up about this suddenly so here we go #reyes vidal #meta

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

Text

AND YOU KNOW WHO GOT THEM

Smaller companies were increasingly able to survive as formerly narrow channels to consumers broadened. They seem to like us too.1 That gets you James Bond, who knows what to do in situations where few others could. What about the more theoretical question of whether hockey would be a bad sign if they weren't; it would be false. And partly a larger part than he would admit that he doesn't want to see.2 The problem is, a lot of the problems change. On the other hand, history is even fuller of examples of parents who thought their kids were wasting their time and who were right. Why didn't Henry Ford realize that networks of cooperating companies work better than a single big company? If you want to slow down, your instinct is to lean back.3

Meetings are like an opiate with a network effect. My guess is that a lot of instincts, this one wasn't designed for fun, and mostly it wasn't. It turns out I have a lot of time on bullshit things or lose to people who do. I get nothing done, because I'm doing stuff that seems, superficially, like real work. In most fields, prototypes have traditionally been made out of different materials. Now a lot of something. The one example I've found is, embarrassingly enough, Yahoo, Google, and Facebook all got started. Nor did they work for big companies not even to try to solve problems and simply not discount weird hunches you have in the process. If you want to prepare yourself to start a startup, the thought of our startups keeps me up at night. A physicist friend recently told me half his department was on Prozac. As with gangs, we have some idea what your prospects might be if you tried to keep someone in as protected an environment as a newborn till age 18.4

Aggregators show how much better you can do to help: Avoid distractions. In short, the disasters this summer were just the usual childhood diseases. And it does seem as if Google was a collaboration. The reason this struck me so forcibly is that for most of what happened in finance too. Buildings to be constructed from stone were tested on a smaller scale in wood. One might worry this would prevent people from expressing controversial ideas, but a leading indicator.5 To some extent this was because the companies themselves had become sclerotic.6 How can you tell if you're up to it, the only way to get an accurate drawing is not to spend it having fun, you know you're being self-indulgent. Advising people and writing are fundamentally different types of problems—wisdom to human problems and intelligence to abstract ones. In fact, we were surprised how much time I spent making introductions. What a solitary task startups are.

Apple are doing so much better than Microsoft today. It will take more experience to know for sure, but my guess is that a lot of time on them have to be learned, and are sometimes fairly counterintuitive. Having coffee with a friend matters. Notice I said what they need, not what they want. Palm and RIM haven't a hope. You can see it in old photos. They want to get rich. As one of the things startups do right without realizing it.

Developments in finance, communications, transportation, and manufacturing enabled a new type of company whose goal was above all scale. That form of fragmentation, like the chemical elements. That way we can avoid being discontented about being discontented. And that means other questions aren't. I began with, that it doesn't matter much; it will change anyway. And we have to tell them the best way to begin may not be to write a prototype that solves a subset of a bigger problem you're trying to solve: how to have a remedial character. So by studying the intended users include the designer himself.7 I finally figured out something I've wondered about for 25 years: the relationship between wisdom and intelligence. This article is derived from a keynote talk at the fall 2002 meeting of NEPLS. But you yourself are the most important things to remember about divorce, one of which is: You shouldn't put the blame on one parent, because divorce is never only one person's fault. In 1995, writing software for end users was effectively identical with writing Windows applications. Once an essay has had a couple thousand page views I feel reasonably confident about it.

You won't feel later like that was a waste of time. Practically everyone thinks that someone who went to private schools or wished they did started to dress preppy, and kids who wanted to seem rebellious made a conscious effort to think of startup ideas, the ideas you come up with will not merely be bad, but bad specifically in the sense of not having gone to the college you'd have liked is your own feeling that you're thereby lacking something. Within Y Combinator, which is more than they paid him. What was really happening was de-oligopolization. I mean business can learn from open source: that people working for money, but also everyone who aspired to it—which in the middle of the century our two big forces intersect, in the now pointless secrecy of the Masons. At the very least we have to go pretty far down the list of colleges before you stop finding smart professors in the math department. If Christmas-as-magic lasts from say ages 3 to 10, you only have to keep the peace. Good new ideas come from earnest, energetic, and independent-minded. If the world were static, we could just program in machine language. The reason, I realized, more from internal evidence than any outside source, that the ideas we were being fed on TV were crap, and I am self-indulgent in the sense of being an insider. If you want to start startups hope universities can teach them about startups if they were merely hiring people.8 100,000 people worked there.

Notes

The other reason they pay a lot of the whole fund.

The amusing thing is, it would have seemed to Aristotle the core: the resources they expend on the Daddy Model and reality is the kind that prevents you from starving.

Joe Gebbia needed Airbnb? It's lame that VCs play such games, books, newspapers, or pigs, to the environment. You may not have raised money at first had two parts: the energy they emit encourages other ambitious people together. The mere possibility of being absorbed by the size of the current edition, which are a small proportion of spam, but all they demand from art is brand, and so don't deserve to keep the next round.

How did individuals accumulate large fortunes in an industrialized country encounters the idea of getting rich, purely mercenary founders will seem as if having good intentions were enough to absorb that. So the cost can be times when what you're doing. Investors are fine with funding nerds. In a country with a potential acquirer unless you want to know about a week for 19 years, it becomes an advantage to be about 50%.

Believe me, I should add that none who read this to be very promising, because a part has come unscrewed, you have to do that. Mueller, Friedrich M. Ideas are one of the world. As well as good ones don't even try.

Few technologies have one clear inventor. I paint someone's house, the best new startups.

With the good groups, you have to want to create a silicon valley in Israel. For example, if you don't, you're using a degenerate case of Bayes' Rule.

The continuing popularity of religion is the odds are slightly more interesting than later ones, it will seem like noise. I'm talking here about which is something inexperienced founders. Letter to Ottoline Morrell, December 1912.

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years

Text

As in Debbie Harry

PART FOURTEEN OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: implied sexy times, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: Jess and Ella have a frank discussion, then go see a live performance of some angry music.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Gilmore Girls is often a very sex-negative show. There are many examples of the sex-negative narrative through the series, such as when Lorelai implies Paris is “the bad kid” for losing her virginity, or when Lane gets pregnant with twins the first time she has sex with Zach. In “Keg! Max!” Jess tries to pressure Rory into having sex while in a bedroom upstairs during Kyle’s party. In my opinion, that scene seemed a very clumsy (and, honestly, out of character) attempt to convey Jess’s inward situation outwardly without using words. It is a very difficult scene to watch and it is Jess’s worst moment in the whole series by far. With this chapter of my AU, I am in no way trying to trivialize that scene or be an apologist for that kind of behavior. It’s unacceptable in every way. Consent is extremely important, and should be clearly given by everyone involved each time they have sex.

Instead, I wanted to create a more positive representation of teen sex. Sex is a normal part of life, and people should not be shamed for having it. I wanted the conversation between Jess and Eleanor to be realistic and beneficial. And I wanted the morning after to be positive too. I wanted it to be clear that they both gave consent during the initial conversation and right before they actually had sex (because giving consent once does not mean giving consent forever). I wanted them to be safe and comfortable. I wanted them to make an effort to communicate with each other. Also, I personally think the show has a detrimental attitude towards virginity, especially considering how much slut-shaming there is, the incident with Paris being only one example. Virginity, in my view, is just a social construct, but that’s a conversation for another time.

In my AU, Jess does not pressure anyone into sex, and he never would. It’s monumentally problematic of Gilmore Girls to brush off the incident in “Keg! Max!” the way it does, so I wanted to make sure I addressed it before any sex happened in this story. It’s important to recognize problems in our favorite content and learn from them. So, I hope this chapter sends a better message about teenage sex and consent. And I hope I got my ideas across in this note. Please feel free to message me any time if you are going through something, want to talk, or anything else. I am always here. You can learn more about consent and find resources for sexual assault survivors here.

Legs crossed, warming both her hands with the to-go cup of tea from Luke’s, Ella listened intently as Lane gushed about Dave Rygalski. They sat in the gazebo, school bags forgotten on the old wood below them. Stars Hollow High was finally closed for fall break, a whole week off to celebrate Thanksgiving and prepare for the odd, torturous month until the sweet release of winter break as well. Lane was thinking out loud, trying to formulate a plan to get Dave to her house on Thanksgiving. Schemes involving classical Biblical guitar and stuffy outfits were being discussed when Rory finally arrived from the bus stop, binders in her hand and her Chilton skirt hitting her knees as she walked.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Catholic school girl!” Ella called as Rory ascended the steps.

Rory scoffed. “It wasn’t funny two years ago, and it’s not funny now.”

“Humor is subjective.”

“Not in this case. You’ve reached an objective lack of humor.”

“Hey, not even Rory Gilmore can bend such universal rules,” Ella shrugged, smirking. Rolling her eyes, Rory plopped down between her two friends and blew out a tired breath, a tight squeeze on the small bench.

“Man, that boyfriend of yours is a bad influence. The heightened snark makes the two of you such a sorry lot,” Lane said.

Ella’s wicked grin only widened. “The snark existed well before Jess came along. I think it’s more my old age that’s making me bitter.” She paused, taking another sip. “Really Rory, I could paint your shoes. Your mom could hem your skirt. I think it’s time to make waves in the antiquated dress code community.”

“Expulsion’s just what I need six months before graduation,” Rory grumbled, digging around in her yellow backpack for her pager. There were fourteen messages from Dean. She let out a frustrated growl.

“Dirk Squarejaw again?” Ella asked, sympathetic.

Nodding, Rory sighed and put her head to Ella’s shoulder. “He just won’t shut up about that kiss with Tristan. I swear this all would’ve been easier if he’d ended up actually going to military school.”

“What do you say we throw off our men and just ride off together, Thelma?” Ella said, uttering a dreamy exhale.

“If only, Louise.”

Clearing her throat, Lane nudged Rory with an elbow and raised offended eyebrows.

“And, once you snag Dave, you’ll be part of the feminist killjoy club, too,” Ella said pointedly, smirking.

“You’ve been listening to too much Bikini Kill,” Lane said, cracking a smile.

“No such thing,” Ella retorted. “Revolution girl style now, baby.”

The three of them descended into a sprawling conversation of Thanksgiving plans, along with a rather colorful anecdote involving Rory’s Chilton frenemy Paris. No matter how exuberant she sounded, Ella couldn’t help but think she would get along well with Ms. Geller. A pleasant tingling had spread within Ella since leaving school, the bell finally chiming in seventh period trigonometry. The feeling always came along with breaks, and it was nice to be with Rory and Lane, chatting in their familiar, breezy way. Everyone was growing older, getting busier, getting boyfriends; it was rare the three musketeers got a true moment to themselves. Eventually, Lane had to go to Bible study, eager to get in good graces with her mother, to allow Dave to provide a musical holiday accompaniment.

Autumn brought early nightfall, and the light was just beginning to wane when a decrepit AMC Ambassador screeched to a halt in front of the diner. And Ella found herself not even surprised when Jess stepped out of the driver’s side, the keyring around his finger. A smirk crossed her lips and she scoffed a little, looking over at Rory, who shot her a suspicious glance.

“He’s back behind the wheel, huh?” Rory asked.

Ella’s face fell a little. “Oh, jeez, I’m sorry-”

Waving a dismissive hand, Rory only shrugged. “That accident wasn’t his fault.”

Letting out a breath of relief, Ella gave Rory a side-hug and another grin. “You’re the best, Gilmore.”

“Second only to you, Ella.”

Glancing over at Jess, Ella rolled her eyes. He leaned against the car, gazing at her. His hands shoved in his pockets, hair gelled up, a leather jacket over his Clash t-shirt. A blush almost rose to her face at the sight of him, but she bit the inside of her cheek and smirked wider instead.

“You need something, Mariano?” she called smugly, and Rory chuckled at her side.

Jess shrugged. “Just didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, how polite of you,” she shot back, then looked over at Rory in askance. The brunette nodded and gave her one last hug.

“Lunch tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Ella replied, gathering up her stuff and shaking her head in disbelief as she approached the car, and the boy next to it. “Where’d you get the rust bucket, Mariano?”

“Whatever, soccer mom,” he retorted.

She narrowed her eyes at the insult to her station wagon. “You’re on thin ice. Where’d you even find this?”

“Gypsy sold it to me. Not so pretty, but I got a good deal.”

She nodded, placing her hands on the back of his neck and lacing her fingers together. His arms came to rest around her waist. Ella glanced back around him to the car. “Ah, I wouldn’t write her off too quick. She’s got good bones.”

“Wait to look on the bright side, blondie,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“As in my hair or as in Debbie Harry?” she asked, expectant. “There is a right answer.”

Jess snorted. “Debbie Harry. How could you even ask?”

“Just checking,” she smiled, pressing her lips to his. For a moment, she was caught up, and the kiss deepened. But then she remembered they were still standing in the center of town, and she pulled away as her cheeks heated up.

Jess chuckled at her blush as she took a step back and cleared her throat, running a hand through her loose hair self-consciously.

“Shut up, James Dean” she warned playfully, narrowing her eyes. “With this car? I think you’ve reached caricature status in public opinion.”

“Don’t type-cast me.”

She continued despite his mock defense, ruffling his gelled mess of waves. “You’ve even got the hair to match.”

Rolling his eyes, he swatted her hand away and pouted, trying to fix his look. “Just for that, I’m not letting you pick the music. And I’m not telling you what we’re doing for our surprise date tomorrow night.”

“What? I wasn’t aware the stakes were so high!”

Jess rolled his eyes again.

Before she could do any more damage to his cool exterior, he retreated back into his driver’s seat. Laughing wickedly, she came around to the passenger side and threw her bag in the back.

“I think it’d be perfectly fine for the date not to be a surprise. Where are we going?” she asked, hoping to lure it out of him.

“Somewhere,” he replied flatly, not phased.

Smiling wider at his secrecy, she threw a glance at the diner over her shoulder as he rolled away from town center. Punk blasted through the radio, and she turned it down just slightly so they could hear each other. Jess shot her a teasing glare, but said nothing about it.

“Y’know,” she said, “I’ve worked at Luke’s for three years and in all that time combined I didn’t make enough money to buy a car.”

“And what are you implying?” he asked, feigning innocence.

Ella only scoffed, taking his free hand in hers. She could feel the scar, where they’d pulled out the stitches.

. . .

Nowhere. It had been a long drive to nowhere in his car. But, Ella supposed, nowhere could be a kind of somewhere, anywhere. Eventually, though, they’d made it to Hartford and Jess turned back. The frigid sky was darkening to a deep, late autumn blue, and Luke was adding him to a Saturday night at the diner every time he came home past midnight. Upon arriving back in Stars Hollow, it was around ten, the shops were closed, but Jess didn’t want their time to end. Away from town, he felt lighter, easier. Everyone wasn’t watching him. Ella wasn’t the doe-eyed princess like Rory, and she didn’t have overbearing parents like Lane, but the townspeople still looked at him with plenty suspicious eyes when they walked hand-in-hand out in public.

Instead of Luke’s, where watchful figures persisted, they landed in Ella’s bedroom. He felt his muscles relax at the scent of lavender, sitting on her bed and leaning his back against the muraled wall. She laid next to him, shoes off but still fully clothed, atop the knit blanket. Joni Mitchell played a mournful tune over her turntable. Her candles were alight, and Jess would have felt sleepy if it weren’t for the book in his hands. Jess devoured A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, another gloomy tale (shocking) Ella had given him. She said she always read it around Christmastime, and he was beginning to see at least once reason for her Grinchy tendencies. And Ella held Anna Karenina in front of her. It was not her first foray into the Russians, but she had never been too thrilled with them. Jess seemed to believe this one would win her over. A few chapters in, and she doubted it.

“Jess?” she asked as the clock ticked nearer to eleven.

“Hm?”

“Are we gonna have sex?”

Choking for a second in surprise, Jess cleared his throat. He scoffed out a chuckle. “What, like, now?”

Ella laughed, shoving his arm playfully. She sat up and faced him, flushed and anxious, though her voice was even. “No. For one, my dad’s still awake. But, I just mean...we do pretty much everything up to having sex, but we’ve never had sex. We’ve been together for almost three months. I just figured we should talk about it.”

Shutting his book, Jess crossed his arms over his chest. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a talent for subtlety?”

She rolled her eyes. “My bluntness is at least half my charm.”

“‘Charm’ is a pretty strong word.”

Launching a teasing pillow at his face, Ella giggled. “I’m trying to be serious here, Mariano.”

“Okay, sorry. Go on.”

“Okay. So...sex.”

He bit his lip to fight off a smirk. “Yes?”

“Well, have you had sex?” she asked.

“Yeah. There was one girl back in New York. Tara. She was nice, I guess. But it wasn’t a Nora Ephron type deal or anything.”

“You like Nora Ephron?” she interrupted, brows furrowed. Not incredulous, only perplexed.

He narrowed his eyes momentarily but ignored the interjection. “I dated her when I was a freshman and then she moved to Albany. Then, your best friend Shane-”

“Fuck off.”

“Not a chance. But, the answer is yes.” Then, after a pause, he furrowed his brows. It occurred to him what a gray area that part of her past was to him. “Have you?”

She nodded. “Hm-mm. A couple times.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling shyly at the way he tilted his head. There was no judgement in his voice. “Right after my mom died, I went to a couple parties...Well, not parties. They were more like get-togethers. Anyway, I got super stoned. This kid Brian smoked with me and we just sorta…did it. There were a couple more parties that year. Rinse. Repeat. Eventually, I started working more and just stopped going.”

“And you never-”

“No, never got together with him,” she answered before he even had to ask. “I never had a ‘relationship’ with anyone. Never had sex with anyone else. It was a good thing, though, I think. Being with him. At the time, I felt so shitty. For just a little while, it made me feel better. He’s a nice kid. Plays for the marching band. Sometimes sex is just sex, y’know?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Jess agreed. “But...with us?”

Running a hand through her hair, Ella felt her insides flutter at the look he gave her. It was almost….open? Not quite, but almost. “Well, do you wanna have sex with me?”

Swallowing dryly, Jess nodded and hoped he didn’t appear as flustered as he felt. “Yeah. Yeah, I do...Do you wanna have sex with me?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding casually. It felt odd, talking so frankly with him. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it was exciting. Would it feel different with a boyfriend? She bet it would.

He cleared his throat, doing his best to hold her hazel gaze. “Good, then. That’s good.”

“I think it is, yeah.”

Bringing a hand to his shoulder, she pulled him in for a short, sweet kiss. And Jess’s heart felt light, relieved. Sometimes, Ella was challenging, she was complicated. But, when it was just the two of them, without all the noise which surrounded their daily lives, it was just so easy. And he could remember no other person he’d ever felt so at home with, who understood him so completely. And when she pulled away, he could still feel the ghost of her lips on his own.

“Alright, I’ve got to finish this chapter,” she said, grabbing her book again and shifting next to him, her back against the mural and her head coming to rest on his shoulder. When she cracked open the pages to her marked place, Jess following suit, she sighed. “This book is excruciating. Why would anyone read this recreationally?”

“You really wanna talk excruciating, Stevens?” he wagered, eyebrows raised as he looked down at her. “Need I remind you of Finnegan’s Wake? And don’t even get me started on this so-called Christmas book.”

“It is a Christmas book,” she argued, gesturing down to the Betty Smith novel in his hands.

Jess shook his head. “Just because Christmas happens in a story doesn’t make it a Christmas story. This is the Godfather debate all over again.”

She sighed once more. “You're never gonna convince me The Godfather isn’t a Christmas movie. Give it up, James Dean.”

“Only like fifteen minutes of that movie takes place at Christmas, my god, how many times-”

. . .

Just before official closing, Luke came back from Doose’s with supplies for Thanksgiving to stock the back room. The diner was to stay open on Thursday, and Luke would feed traditional turkey dinner to whoever stepped through the door. The past two years, Ella had worked all day, eating with Luke, Lorelai, and Rory during down times. The year before, she’d also gone to her aunt’s house following her shift to see the kids. But, with Fiona moved in and engaged to her father, the obligations had changed drastically. She was still working the morning shift, but was due home no later than two. Her older brother was coming, along with her aunt, her aunt’s husband, and her nieces.

Cleaning the counter with lemony disinfectant, she watched her boss trudge through the diner with heavy bags to the stockroom. Luke declined her offer to help carry things, as she had known he would. Instead, she was to keep closing. The clock ticked rhythmically on the wall, and the anxiety for the approaching holiday mixed in her stomach with excitement and pleasant nerves for what the evening was to hold. Jess had slipped out the door around lunch time with the blue vest in the pocket of his leather jacket, telling her he’d be back around nine. And he still wouldn’t budge and tell her where they were going for their ‘secret date.’ But it wasn’t as though she didn’t know why. He hadn’t been able to treat her during their first date, and every date since had been more of a casual hang-out, or a mutually-arranged affair. He still wanted to show her what was, in his opinion, the first date she deserved. So, she wouldn’t argue too much. When the bell over the door sounded, Ella smirked before she even looked up to see him.

“Ready to spill your guts, James Dean?” she asked immediately as he came and sat at the counter in front of her.

Jess scoffed. “Eager much?”

“Jackass much?”

He rolled his eyes. “Are you almost done?”

Nodding, Ella threw the rag in her hand into the dirty bin below the counter. She could hear Luke rummaging around in the back still.

“Hey Luke?” she called.

He came out with his hands on his hips, baseball cap in its rightful place as always. “Yeah?”

“I’m finished out here. Alright if I clock out?” she asked.

Luke eyed his nephew suspiciously, who looked back at him with his usual smug smirk. “Only if Walmart’s favorite stock boy doesn’t keep you out too late.”

The expression fell on Jess’s face and was replaced with furrowed brows, mouth set in a thin line. He’d managed quite a many few months keeping the secret from Luke, until he’d got his car. It was only after Luke accused him of prostitution that he finally came clean. And the teasing had been relentless ever since.

“Don’t worry,” Ella said, smiling as she went to the kitchen to clock out and hang her apron.

With Ella out of the room, Luke pointed a finger at his nephew and took on an accusatory stance. “No drinking, no smoking, no-”

“No drugs, no five-dollar street corner sex, I got it,” Jess interrupted begrudgingly.

Luke grunted in annoyance and rolled his eyes, but said nothing more as he went around to the cash register and started to close it out. Emerging from the back, Ella smoothed her hands over her simple black dress, then pulled her sleeves down over her hands nervously. Suddenly, she wondered if she wasn’t dressed for wherever they were going. She wished she had asked earlier.

“Okay, time to spit it out,” she said, rounding the corner of the counter and grabbing his hand to pull him up. They walked towards the door and she donned her peacoat, taking her shoulder bag, emptier than normal without all the school contents.

Jess smirked. “But what if a blindfold is part of the plan?”

“No fucking way.”

“Hey!” Luke piped up from the register at her language. The attempt at scolding was half-hearted, though.

Rolling her eyes with good nature, Ella followed Jess out the door. “Sorry. Night, boss.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke said with a small smile, waving a dismissive hand at the two kids.

Once outside, Ella could see her breath in the night and she was glad she’d worn her thick black tights. Her Doc Martens crunched the orangey piles of dry leaves noisily as they descended the front steps and made their way across the street to Jess’s car. Before they could get in, though, Jess stopped in his tracks and turned to her, leaning against the car doors.

“I’m waiting,” she teased, eyebrows raised impatiently.

After reaching in his pocket momentarily, Jess went to tuck a strand of hair which had fallen from her low bun behind her ear. Then, he revealed a set of ear plugs in his hand, and Ella’s brow furrowed though her smile widened in nostalgia.

“What’s up, Houdini?”

“Figured you might need these. Since we’re going to see the Distillers and all.”

“Are we?” she asked, taking the earplugs from him.

Nodding, Jess brought the tickets from his pocket and held them up for her to see. She broke out in a grin.

“Not bad, Mariano.”

“Yeah, I know you’re more into melancholia, but you were listening to my CD the other week. So, when I saw they were coming to Harford, I figured...” he trailed off humbly, shrugging. “And we’ve been together almost three months and I still haven’t seen those famous Eleanor Stevens dance moves.”

She chuckled, flushing slightly. He could smell her rosemary scent as she leaned closer and rested her hands on the back of his neck. “Don’t know if you’re ready for that. They’re deadly.”

“In more ways than one I’ve heard,” he quipped.

“Shut up,” she said. “This is awesome, Jess. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

And she brought him in for a kiss, smiling into it. Jess could feel his shoulders release their tension. He hadn’t known if she’d be happy. They were one of his favorite bands, and he’d heard rumors of their coming to town when she’d chosen them as her angry music weeks earlier. Though he wasn’t big on signs, he thought maybe the universe was telling him to share the experience with her. Let her in. It didn’t make him any less nervous, though. It was always there in the back of her mind, that worry she would realize what everyone else in the town already had. That he wasn’t good enough for her. But as he felt her hands in his hair, warmed by her touch in the cold November air, he couldn’t help but forget his fears for just a moment.

. . .

Mid-morning light streamed through the small window into Ella’s cramped bedroom. Her cacti sat on the dresser, soaking up the sunshine, as Jess and Ella slept soundly on the mattress. Wearing a big KISS t-shirt, Ella turned over in her sleep and faced Jess, his arm draped over her tightening slightly. A shirtless Jess lay beneath the whitish blanket next to her, snoring softly. His jeans and t-shirt were strewn near the bed, along with Ella’s dress. Still pumped full of adrenaline after the concert, Ella had crept through the house the night before to make sure everyone was asleep, then snuck Jess through her window. And their first time together was even better than she’d imagined. Sweet and a little awkward and wonderful, reminding her almost of their first kiss months before. And, afterwards, they’d stayed up talking for hours, with a fair amount of teasing from Jess over the t-shirt she’d decided to wear to bed. KISS was perhaps her biggest guilty pleasure.

Upon a soft knocking on Ella’s creaky white door, Jess began to stir. He cleared his throat and rubbed at his tired eyes before fully waking, becoming aware of his surroundings. Then, a voice came from the hallway outside.

“Ella? Fiona wants to take us to Doose’s to get Thanksgiving stuff!”

Sitting up slightly, Jess saw Ella was still deep asleep.

“Elle? Wake up,” he said, shaking her shoulder gently. It took at least thirty seconds before her eyes finally fluttered open.

“Hm?”

“You gotta wake up. Someone’s at your door,” he said quietly, hastily. Another knock sounded on the wood, and Jess glanced up, biting his lip.

Taking in a sharp breath, Ella nodded and her hazy eyes blinked harshly awake. The knocking on the door was persistent now, and her brother called her name a couple more times. She gestured for Jess to move to the corner near the dresser, out of view of the door, as she rushed over to open it. Poking her head out, she kept the door almost shut so only her face could be seen.

“God, Adam, knock louder, would you?” she snapped tiredly.

Adam took a step back at her irritated tone, squinting behind his glasses at her behavior. “It’s not my fault you’re too lazy to get up on time.”

“Didn’t realize we had an appointment scheduled,” Ella shrugged, trying to make her tone lighter.

Shrugging back, Adam began to walk off. “We’re leaving for Doose’s in fifteen.”

“Fine,” she grumbled, shutting the door loudly as he walked away.

“Wow, you’re not a morning person,” Jess remarked, a sardonic twinkle in his eye as he spoke from behind her. When she looked back, he was almost fully dressed already, buckling up his belt. “I gotta get back. Luke’s gonna be pissed.”

“Oh, fuck, you’re right,” Ella sighed, running a hand through her messy locks. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought about it sooner. Sometimes Jess seemed so independent, so out on his own, she forgot how much Luke had invested in taking care of him.

Jess only shrugged. “My fault. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’ll tell him I was reading at the lake and just dozed off.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said immediately, shaking her head.

He came over to her and put an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “It’s fine. He’ll be less mad at both of us. Win-win.”

“You think he’ll buy it?” she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“I have my ways.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever, James Dean.”

Chuckling, he pecked her lips and took one long look at her. Before he could help it, or worry about feeling stupid, he smiled down at her. Crooked and sincere. And Ella smiled back.

“I had a good time,” she said.

Jess nodded in agreement. “Me too. The best of times.”

Sighing lightly, she rolled her eyes. “How do you always manage to bring up Dickens?”

“It’s a gift and a curse.”

And even after he pressed one final kiss to her lips, disappearing out the window and down the street, she couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off her face.

#jess mariano au #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano imagine #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls fanfiction #jess mariano #jess #mariano #gilmore girls #jess mariano x oc #gilmore girls oc #original character #original character stories #luke danes #rory gilmore #lane kim

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lavellaned · 4 years

Text

blunt thou the lion’s paws,

Chapter Six

Summary: The first mission.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were having a party. What gives with my invitation?”

Deacon saunters out from where he was eavesdropping in the hallway, hoping to diffuse the tension between the two women having a stand off in the middle of the room.

Des shoots him a look . He sidles up next to her.

“Deacon, I need intel. Who is this?”

“Woah, newsflash, chief, this lady’s kind of a big deal.” Desdemona gives him an unamused look. “She’s been making waves out there in the Commonwealth. She’s been a big contributor to the Minutemen lately. Hell, most of the new settlements popping up are because of her.”

The woman in question stands in the middle of the dusty stone room, narrowing her eyes.

She seems to have followed his directions well enough. Deacon just hopes that she can keep it up until Des gives the green light.

Admittedly, Deacon’s gut-wrenching confession in Goodneighbor could’ve gone smoother, but, hey, at least no one got shot, and so far she hasn’t given any indication of bouncing out on their little deal yet.

Her head tilted to the side a bit.

“The Railroad?” she asked.

“You heard of it?” She gave a small nod. “Then you know we’ve got a common goal.”

“So you’re vouching for her?” Desdemona says with a hint of suspicion.

“Yes. Trust me, she’s someone we want on our side.” Deacon’s trying his damndest to get Des to let the vaultie in, the whole scheme relying on her to give the go-ahead.

“Well. That changes things.” She returns her attention to the vault dweller.

“Why are you telling me all this?” She no longer had her gun on him, both of their arms hung freely at their sides.

“Like I said, I think we can be of mutual help to each other.”

“Why did you go through all this to find us?” Desdemona asks.

“My reasons are my own,” vaultie replies quickly. Deacon internalizes a wince at her bluntess, but by some miracle Des doesn’t seem too off-put by her evasiveness.

“Alright…” she trails off before continuing her interrogation. “Do you know what synths are, at least?”

She nods.

“But, uh, listen,” Deacon started. “When you do come knocking on our front door, you gotta promise me something.” She remained quiet, watching him intently. “You’ve never seen me before. We’ve never talked. You did what the holotape said and you’ve sought the Railroad out on your own. Deal?”

She keeps quiet for a few beats more.

“Why?”

“Several reasons. They don’t matter. Do we have a deal?”

“Then you know that the Institute’s playing God, denying their creations’ own humanity. They treat them as nothing more than simple machines, drones that they treat as tools to be used for a purpose and discarded.”

“That sounds like slavery.”

“Exactly.” The intensity in Desdemona’s voice is palpable.

Her eyes narrowed, stare intensifying. Deacon’s fingers twitched.

“You don’t even know my name,” she said.

“And you don’t know mine. Even-steven.”

“This is a lot you’re taking on faith,” she continued, “How do you know I won’t shoot you as soon as your back is turned?”

He gave her a wry smile and little shrug.

“I don’t.”

“Well, then. I guess I only have one more question for you, the only question that truly matters: Would you sacrifice your life for your fellow man? Even if that man was a synth?”

The vault dweller waits a few beats before answering, her head tilting to the side so slightly that you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t looking for it, and the whole room seems to hold its breath.

“I risk my life for people everyday. Doesn’t matter to me if they’re a synth or not.”

Deacon’s shoulders relax from the tense way he was holding them unknowingly. Atta girl.

Des gives a nod, satisfied with her answers. “We’ll start you off with something basic. Think of it as a test.” She looks over her shoulder to him. “ Deacon will have more information,” she says with intended bite. He smiles cheekily in return. Her eyes remain locked with his, relaying her silent message loud and clear: I know what you’re up to.

Desdemona leaves, followed shortly by Drummer Boy and eventually Glory as well, after she gives the vaultie one more of her best intimidation look-overs. Soon it’s just the two of them left in the room. He claps his hands together and goes down the steps to meet her.

“Well, now that little reception is over,” he says, trying to break the ice properly.

“What’s the job?” she interrupts.

“Right to it then? Alright. It’s a lowkey job, more than I can do myself, but perfect for the two of us. We both know you can handle yourself just fine under fire, but Des doesn’t. So think of this as initiation.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “That’s all you’re giving me?”

“It’s a bum deal, I know, but strategic ignorance has saved our hides more times than I can count. And if you were some hick from the ‘burbs who didn’t know her ass from a rocket launcher, it’d be a different story. As it is now, though, it’s best just to go along with the chief's plan.” She hums, giving a little nod.

“Reasonable enough.”

“Cool beans. So, we’re going to be heading to Goodneighbor. You go on ahead and I’ll meet you there.” She nods again and promptly turns on her heel and slips out into the darkened hallway. Deacon huffs in amusement.

It’s been a while since Deacon has felt this level of anticipation for a job. Ever since Switchboard, it’s been mostly damage control and trying to reign in the loose ends that blew off into the wind once their old HQ was hit. And he’s put so much of his time into this vault dweller side project that he’s found himself completely invested in its success. A hell of a lot is riding on her working out for them, which sends no small spike of panic through Deacon at the thought.

He’s also really looking forward to watching her work first hand. It was one thing, stopping by the few settlements she got up and running, hearing basic stories of her exploits. But, he finds interesting, it wasn’t very well known that she was the General. The only reason that he knows is from being within earshot to hear the Minuteman in Sanctuary call her as such. It’s common knowledge now that the Minutemen are back in business, so, naturally, that means that there’s a new leader, but apparently no one cares enough to think beyond that. Even those living in her settlements talked about her as if she’s just a Minuteman foot soldier. Whether or not she means to keep these aspects from the public consciousness is something that Deacon is chomping at the bit to find out.

It does suggest good things, though. If she can be this careful about what she says and does, then that eliminates some of the risk of her being the one to bring the hammer down on them again.

---------

Claudia finds herself lingering around Goodneighbor. She’s not really sure where she’s supposed to be waiting or what she’s supposed to be doing other than waiting. Having to go off of the bare minimum of information leaves her feeling flighty.

Her and Deacon’s (she made a note to remember the man’s name when it was spoken in the church) first meeting was a real shot in the dark for her. Not only was she having to take the word of a complete stranger (who broke into her room, she might add), but the fact that he knew she was looking for the Institute made alarm bells ring in her mind.

The secrecy of her interest in the Institute was one of her top priorities. It doesn’t take a genius to know that the Institute is a powerful organization, one that has its blighted claws sunk into everyday life within the Commonwealth. She has little to no power within the Wasteland and she knows that in order to reach the fuckers who took everything from her, she needs clout. She’s done better since first leaving the vault, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s still far up shit creek without a paddle. All she really has now are the Minutemen, and that handful of tired farmers are about as helpful to her as a gun with no ammo.

A lot is riding on the Railroad working out. As of now, if she isn’t able to gain their trust to use their resources as well, she has no other options.

A headache starts throbbing up the sides of her head and she has to remind herself to stop clenching her teeth.

Claudia goes and stands to lean back on the brick wall of the Statehouse, out of the way but in view of the gate. She checks her pip-boy. It’s been almost twenty minutes since she left the church and there’s been no sight of Deacon. She lets out an irritated sigh and rubs her face with her hands. Untied sneakers out of the corner of her vision catch her attention.

“Hey, glad you could make it, pal,” a familiar voice calls from her side. She looks up and is greeted by those stupid fucking sunglasses.

“‘Bout time,” she grits out. He gives her a cheeky grin and tics his head to the side, motioning her to follow.

Claudia pushes off of the wall and follows him past the shops. He leads them to the doors of the Third Rail. She never got a chance to check out the place last time she was here, making this extra unknown keep her hand close to her pistol.

Deacon, seemingly not caring or noticing her tension, walks through the door, and gives a nod to the suited ghoul inside. She hears music and sees light come from around the bend where the stairs disappear to, the ambiance of the establishment becoming more clear as they descend deeper into the building.

The first thing she notices is that it’s hotter down here than it was closer to the door. The air is stuffy and almost humid. There’s a slight haze from cigarettes, accentuated by the dim lighting. A woman croons into a microphone in the corner, most of the light in the room due to the small spot lights trained onto her.

Drifters spare them little more than a basic passing glance as they walk across the floor of the bar. Deacon shepherds them to a spot farther away from the stage. He leans his elbows on the bar and crosses one ankle over the other. Claudia follows along, leaning on her side, facing towards him.

She doesn’t speak first, instead, waiting for him to start giving some sort of explanation to what she’s supposed to be doing. At one point the bartender Mr. Handy comes over to take their orders. Claudia waves it off and Deacon gets a Nuka Cherry.

They sit in silence some more. Deacon manages to drink about half of the cola before her already thin patience is finally obliterated into dust.

“Is there any particular reason as to why you’ve led me to some glorified drug-den, or is this just part of your typical hazing?” she all but growls.

And the bastard chuckles.

“I was wondering how long you’d go before you’d say something.”

Claudia swallows heavily, the familiar roiling torrent of rage rising up her throat.

No, she reminds herself, You need this to work. Nate is dead. Shaun is gone. You are alone. They took your baby. Nate can’t help you.

“We’re here to meet a tourist,” Deacon starts explaining under his breath, his voice giving her mind something else to focus on. Claudia can barely hear him over the din of the room. “They should have information that we need in order to continue.”

“I’m guessing a tourist is like a runner?” she asks, trying to match his volume.

“Eh, kinda. Someone who does the odd jobs, but leaves the more sensitive and confrontational ones to the heavies.”

“How do we know who that’s supposed to be?”

He shrugs. “We’ll know. Or, I’ll know, I guess.” He takes another swig. “But right now, all we gotta do is make our presence known. The tourist will find us.”

Claudia takes in a lungful of the smoggy air, accepting his pseudo-answer for the time being.

“Hey, when the tourist does make contact, you do the talking, alright? And no matter what they say, tell them ‘Mine is in the shop.’ Got it?” Claudia nods. “What are you supposed to say to them?” Deacon confirms with her.

“Mine is in the shop,” she hisses. Deacon gives a placating side-mouthed smile and nods approvingly.

“You got it in the bag, firecracker.”

Claudia rolls her eyes at the moniker and the two fall into silence once more. She scans the dive as best she can without seeming like she’s purposefully looking for someone. She makes a point to keep her gaze more so on the singer and to keep the winding tension she feels slithering up her body from showing on her face. She takes this time to try and observe Deacon, now that she’s having to work alongside him.

He seems completely unbothered. There’s no sign of the same kind of antsiness that Claudia is currently battling with. Then again, she reminds herself, he’s probably done this a hundred times. He holds himself loosely, but keeps a slight hunch in his shoulders to keep him from looking too overconfident amongst the rest of the drifters. His thumb taps the surface of the beat up bar in time to the beat of the jazz music pouring out from crackly, ancient speakers, but even that, she has the suspicion, has been well thought out. A man who thinks five steps ahead before he does anything, every action calculated and weighed for its effectiveness and appropriateness for whatever outcome he wants. Every drink of cola, a disguise for him surveying the room. A sniffle disguising his jump at some small noise startling him from behind. A hand scratching behind his neck, an excuse to turn his head to see a different part of the room for a moment. Mundane things. Shrouding his purpose with the expected. She gets the feeling that trying to get a grasp on Deacon would be about the same experience as reaching out into the fog and trying to get a handful of it.

A man sidles up to the bar behind her. Deacon doesn’t react so neither does she. The man orders a drink and Claudia starts to ignore his existence.

“Magnolia’s really on her top game tonight, ey?” the stranger says. Claudia doesn’t realize he’s talking to her, causing the silence that takes up the space between them to just become awkward.

Claudia eventually looks over her shoulder to the drifter, confirming that, yes, he is in fact addressing her. She nods and hums in what she hopes sounds like an agreement that will end this conversation before it starts. She should just know by now that that never works.

“Whatcha drinkin’ tonight?” the drifter asks.

“Oh, uh. I’m tapped out, thanks,” she tries waving him off. He nods over his beer. Claudia tries to turn her attention back to the singer. She can feel both the drifter’s and Deacon’s eyes on her.

“That’s some serious heat you’re packing there, darlin’,” the stranger continues, motioning to the pistol strapped to her side. Claudia would have to agree; the gun was a gift from one of the settlers from the co-op, pre-modded with one hell of a kick. “I’m more a shotgun kind of guy myself,” he says, taking her silence and blank stare as an invitation to continue, “but I can appreciate a nice handgun when I see one. You ever have one that shoots those exploding bullets?”

Claudia is quiet for a few beats more, the drifter looking slightly intensely at her, waiting for a reply.

“Mine is… in the shop,” she manages to slowly get out, hoping that it doesn’t sound like too much of a question. The drifter opens his mouth to start talking yet again, but is interrupted by Deacon tossing back the half drink of cola left in the bottle and bringing it down loudly onto the bartop.

“Well, I don’t know about you, Janey, but I’m beat. Let’s get out of here,” Deacon says. He whips an arm around Claudia’s shoulders before she can catch up and she has to suppress a flinch at the sudden contact. Without any more fanfare, Deacon pulls her away from the bar and leaves the scene as quickly as can be casual.

They trod up the stairs quickly, Deacon taking his arm back as soon as they reach the bend. Claudia fights the impulse to roll her shoulders once the pressure’s taken off of them.

Deacon shoves his hands in his pockets as they leave the Third Rail, the cool evening air making Claudia realize just how stuffy the place was.

“I thought we were supposed to meet them there?” she asks him quietly. A muscle in his jaw twitches. Irritation?

“Yeah. We were.” He starts walking in the direction of the Rexford. “Either they’re not sure we’re with our mutual friends, or they got spooked. We’ll try again tomorrow.” Claudia falls in line with his long strides.

“Is there not a time limit on these things?”

“Ideally?” he sighs as he holds the door to the hotel open for her to walk in, “Yeah. But realistically, there’s a lot of improv that has to happen with these things. Pretty common for people to just not show up, packages that get lost in transit. So we make do.” She sees the twitch in his jaw jump for a split moment as he says this last part.

They drop the conversation at that, walking up to the front desk. The woman recognizes Claudia.

“Back already, huh? That room’s still open if you want it.”

She smiles in return. “Sounds great, thanks.” Claudia takes the caps from a pouch on her utility belt and puts them on the counter with a clatter.

“It’s a bit extra for another person,” the keeper informs her.

Claudia’s face goes slack for a moment until realization hits and she starts shaking her head.

“Oh, uh, no I’m not-- he’s not--”

“I’ll be rentin’ a room for myself,” Deacon interjects, caps already down on the desk. “She snores loud enough to wake the dead.” The keeper chuckles and Claudia levels a glare at the back of his head.

Exchanging the caps for keys, they go upstairs. Their doors on the opposing sides of the hallway from each other. They stand in the middle, meet each other halfway.

“Meet me near the west alley by the statehouse in the morning,” he instructs quietly. She nods and they turn from each other, keys in locks, when a voice from not far where they stand gets their attention nonchalantly.

“Excuse me, do you have a geiger counter?”

The question is just out of place enough to make Claudia pause and turn her head towards it.

A scrawny man, barely more than a boy if she’s being honest, stands with his hands in his pockets, looking expectantly toward her. His face is kind, she supposes, he holds himself casually like he’s talking with an old friend.

Her eyes cut a glance to Deacon who has also stopped what he was doing, hand still on the doorknob. He says nothing, does nothing, but she can feel his eyes on her again as if he’s saying And…?

She looks back to the boy.

“Mine’s in the shop.”

All at once the easy-going mask is gone and is replaced with a seriousness that takes her back slightly, the sudden shift making her mind reel a bit.

“Location’s overrun, opposition onsite. Gen 1s and 2s. Minefield at the front entrance. It’s pretty much all shit.”

Claudia nods her head, trying to absorb the softly spoken information as best she can. “I’d say.”

And just like that, the previous chilled-out demeanor returns as if it had never gone away and he gives her a lopsided smile.

“Well, nice chattin’ with ya,” he says in a normal tone, giving them a little wave. He leaves as quickly as he showed up.

Claudia looks to Deacon but he’s watching the retreating tourist walk down the hallway and down the stairs. He opens his door and holds it open, motioning for her to enter.

She hesitates for only a moment before doing just that. Deacon is right behind her, the door closing behind them, the click of the lock making her spin around.

Deacon rubs his mouth with his hand, the other on his hip. He stands between her and the door.

“Was that the tourist?” she asks. Be pretty bad if it wasn’t .

Deacon nods. “Yeah.” He leans a bit to the side to look out the window. “It’s almost sundown, we’ll head out then.”

“That soon?”

“Like he said, sounds like the situation is a bit less than ideal. The sooner we get there, the better our chances of us achieving what we’re setting out to do.”

Claudia nods and Deacon moves from the door. She all but shoots to the door as soon as he’s out of the way. She’s halfway from leaving when his voice stops her.

“We got a few hours, might as well get some rest until then. Don’t want the caps to go to waste,” he suggests, the usual levity that she had gotten used to in his voice returning. He flops down on the dusty mattress and folds his hands behind his head. Claudia leaves and goes to her own room.

The door shut behind her with a ‘clunk’ and she’s alone in the room with her racing thoughts.

She sits on the mattress, old springs squeaking under her weight. Cold, dying, grey sunlight filters in from the boarded up window to her side and she knows that she’s not getting any sleep tonight.

---------

They left Goodneighbor quietly and promptly, meeting in the hallway as they left their rooms at the same time.

The night got considerably more quiet the farther they got from the city. Distant gunfire, the rasping of dead grass against their legs, and the muffled crunching under their steps constant companions in their travel as Deacon leads her through a winding path to their destination. The night is an inky black. A blanket of stars and the waning moon above them just lighting up the world around them. They get to just outside of Cambridge when she speaks, startling the hell out of him.

“So can I get more details now, or are we still relying on strategic ignorance?”

Deacon slows to a stop. They’re shielded slightly by the wreckage of one of the freeways, but other than that, there’s enough open space around them that he’s pretty positive that there won’t be any eavesdroppers hanging around.

“We’re going to our old HQ to get something that was left behind.” He continues at the sight of a question drawing up her features before she gets a chance to ask it. “It’s under an old Slocum Joe’s, which was pretty fuckin’ sweet before the Institute found us. And if we take the tourist at face value, it changes how we’re gonna do this thing. Did you think he was lying?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Yep. Instinct is a powerful tool in our line of work, sometimes our only one. So?”

She shrugs.

“He didn’t seem to be lying. Not too much information and not too little.” Deacon gives a little nod.

“Yeah, I got that too. So, that being said, looks like the front entrance is going to be short of crawling with baddies. Our best bet would probably be going through the escape tunnel.” She huffs out a brief breath of amusement.

“A coffee shop has an escape tunnel?”

“Pretty cool, right? But seriously, though, thank god for that tunnel.” Deacon turns and starts walking again, the vaultie falling in step alongside him. “It’s just outside Lexington, we’re almost there.”

The old pipe leading to the back entrance sits just as Deacon remembers it. Thorny vines drape over the entrance and it looks just like every other piece of trash, camouflaging it from importance. And as a bonus, it seems that mirelurks have left it alone as well.

Deacon also remembers the last time he was here. He rolls his jaw, trying to banish those memories before they take up full residence.

The door opens with a wrenching groan, the red light from the alarm system hitting their eyes as they enter Switchboard’s basement. With a peek around the corner, Deacon confirms that there isn’t anything going to kill them in the immediate area. He turns back to the vault dweller.

“Alright, what we’re looking for is a prototype of Carrington’s. It may or not even still be here, but we gotta get it back if we can.”

“What’s it a prototype of?” He shrugs.

“Hell if I know. Hopefully we aren’t getting ourselves shot at for Carrington’s fancy coffee maker. The gate ahead is locked, I’ll feed it some passwords, but once we’re through, you take point, deal?”

“Deal.”

The two of them enter, she goes near the grated gate and Deacon gets to work on the terminal.

It’s short of completely fried thanks to the Institutes best efforts, but he manages to get into the core code. He mutters to himself sifting through the mangled lines of code, lightly muttering to himself as he tries to work with it. He’s counting on the fact that the terminal is pre-war, and not the tech that the Institute is used to working with. They always want to make everything so damn complicated for the sake of making things complicated.

With a few more taps on the terminal, the locks disengage from the door.

“Gotcha, you Institute bastards,” he celebrates quietly. The both of them unholster their guns and Deacon follows behind her through the gate.

Deacon takes a centering breath, entering the rest of the escape tunnel. A wave of residual anxiety licks up his ribs as his subconscious takes him back to the last time he was there. Stepping over the corpses of the agents who didn’t get out doesn’t help.

He instead fixes his attention on the vaultie. He reminds himself that this is technically the first time he gets to see her work first hand, and uses that to focus on instead. He half expects her to be like Glory, and to go busting in, gun blazing. But so far, she’s staying low and slow, her solitary pistol held in front of her. She checks the corners before she passes them, and looks both ways down hallways before she crosses them.

When they reach the first synth, a Gen 1, he sees her stop and watch the skeletal facsimile of a human trudge through the flooded tunnel. She promptly takes aim and sends a bullet through the several metal tubes that make up its chest. It would've been a kill shot if the synth was organic, but since it’s not, it quickly recovers and starts firing towards their direction. But hey, it’s all a learning experience.

After it’s dead and they approach, she looks down at it’s sparking wires spitting out around them, yellow eyes looking up into nothing. She gives it a quick once-over, the first Gen 1 she’s probably ever seen, but certainly won’t be the last.

They continue on, the vault dweller taking point the entire time. From his time watching her fight from a distance and now up close, Deacon finds himself getting accustomed to her style quicker than he thought. He’s able to predict where she’ll focus her attention on more often than not and fills in for the spots where she doesn’t. They work off of each other with surprising ease as they fight their way through the synth and turrets spread out through Switchboard, an unspoken system falling into place with each bullet fired.

There is something about her though that gives him slight pause. It’s his job, hell his very survival, to read people. He wouldn’t be alive today if he wasn’t any good at it. And there’s something about her, simmering just below the surface, that raises his hackles a bit. It’s in the tension that she holds in her jaw and hands, in the lethal glint in her eyes as she squeezes the trigger in every fight. He knows she’s a bit of a live wire from their short conversations since they’ve first interacted, but he’d bet money that her fireyness hides something much more volatile and dangerous. Like a bonfire burning over the detonation of an atom bomb.

They reach the heart of Switchboard and Deacon finds it increasingly more difficult to focus on anything else other than his blood-stained memories of the place. The smell of ozone filling up the place at the first shot fired, the thumps of bodies hitting the ground as agents fought back, the widespread panic filling up every Railroad agent scrambling in the onslaught, the choking need to just get the hell out .

Synths walk over the bodies of the agents still laying where they were slain and Deacon calls upon everything he has within him to not lose his outward cool.

Between him and the vaultie, the remaining synths fall to their bullets, systems going offline. It should feel like some sort of retribution, but Deacon knows that for every synth killed 100 more are being manufactured. The only way to get justice for those hurt by them, is to eradicate the Institute completely. But they’re a long way from that, so taking out some of their foot soldiers is going to have to do for now.

Deacon taps her shoulder, making her pause. He motions his head to the side and they arrive at the wall vault that would hold the prototype if it’s still there. He digs around in his pockets for the holotape with the password while she stands watch. Carrington’s voice speaks out into the room briefly and the locks begin disengaging one by one.

“Open says me,” he mutters.

He grabs the door once it finishes unlocking and swings it open. The body inside is the first thing he notices.

“Aw, hell,” he curses under his breath. “Wasn’t sure if Tommy Whispers made it out. Damn.” He looks around the vault, surprised to find most everything intact. Their object of purpose catches his attention and he gestures to it. “There’s the prototype. You hand that to Des and she’s gotta let you in.” The vaultie goes over to it, turning it in her hands. She gives him a look. “Yeah, I still have no idea what that thing does.” She puts securely in her bag while Deacon picks up a familiar gun. He weighs it and his next actions before he turns to her. “Here,” he says, handing it out to her. “It was Tommy’s. Don’t let its size fool you; it’s a pretty legit piece of pre-war tech.” She looks to the hand-cannon and then to him.

“Are you sure? Wasn’t he your friend?”

“He’d want it to go to good use,” he says in lieu of an answer, “and I’m bettin’ you’d do that better than me.” He gives it a little shake of encouragement until she finally reaches out and grabs it. “Alright,” he claps his hands in front of him, “let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

By the time they reach the surface again, she’s tried out the Deliverer on the couple of synths and turrets in their way. She seemed pleasantly surprised, which made him content in return.

The sun sits just above the horizon, their breaths fogging out into the cold early morning air.

“So,” she says once they took out the rest of the opposition, “what next?”

“Next, you meet me back at HQ. Don’t forget to bring the prototype, that’s your ticket in.”

She nods.

“Coolio. See ya later, alligator.” He gives a little wave, activates a stealth boy and slips out and away back to the church, a strange giddiness putting a pep in his step.

---------

As she nears the church, a flicker of hope starts in her chest.

She’s hyper aware of the weight of the boxy prototype sitting securely in her backpack. If Deacon’s word was accurate, then it’s her only chance to get closer to the Institute.

The hope starts to spread at the idea of her finally having a way to get closer to finding Shaun, but she quickly shuts it down before it goes any further than that. She wasn’t even in yet. At the moment, everything was hypothetical, and she didn’t have time to waste on hypotheticals.

She winds her way through the church, voices at the end of the catacombs slowing her steps.

“... new girl patched me up, threw me over her shoulder, and blasted our way through Switchboard.”

Four sets of eyes lock onto her at the same time as she steps into the light. Claudia stops where she stood before.

The faces are familiar from the last time, Deacon up on the top step talking with Des.

“Impressive, right?” he asks in a smug voice.

The red haired woman turns her attention to Claudia.

“Deacon here says that you fought 100 synths single handedly, while also managing to get the prototype.”

Claudia glances over to Deacon who looks back with a placid expression, betraying nothing. She looks back to Des.

“It was certainly a wild ride,” she says, avoiding agreeing or disproving Deacon.

“I can only imagine,” she replies. “Regardless, Deacon has never talked about, or lied about any one so highly before.”

“You’d be insane not to let her in, Des,” Deacon says, driving his point home. She sighs, giving him a near scolding look.

“That being said, let me officially welcome you to the Railroad.” Claudia nods in acknowledgement. “There’s just one last thing. We operate on secrecy. Every agent of the Railroad has a codename. As of this moment, whatever you pick will be how you are known to us.”

“Aren’t nicknames something that are given rather than chosen?”

“Not here. It’s your life, it’s your name. So, what should we call you?”

Claudia thinks for a moment. A chance to shed her old name, her old life, to become the person that can do what’s necessary to take back what was stolen. A chance to separate the past from what’s to come.

She gives a ghost of a smile up to Des who waits patiently before she responds, cementing her future.

“Tempest.”

#deacon x sole survivor #deacon x sosu #deacon fo4 #deacon fallout 4

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aparecium-hq · 4 years

Photo

Welcome to Aparecium, Ro! You have been accepted for Scorpius Malfoy. We are thrilled to have, as you put it, a massive anti-hero, morally-grey character nerd among us! Your Scorpius has a lot of fun potential, and we can’t wait to see what you do with him. Check out the new member checklist, and jump right in.

Character Basics

Birthday (Age): 21 Gender (Pronouns): Male (He/Him) Sexuality: Currently still exploring and unsure. He knows he’s interested in men, but isn’t sure if it’s an exclusive thing and doesn’t feel confident enough for labels just yet. Blood Status: Pureblood Hogwarts House/School: Ravenclaw Occupation: Healer (4th Year Apprenticeship) Faceclaim: Maxence Danet-Fauvel

Any requested changes? Not super explicitly a change exactly but, from the resources I’ve found, there doesn’t appear to be a lot of information on training involved in becoming a Healer. Wiki suggests that it’s all based on academics from regular school years, but I find this a little far fetched. I imagine there’d be some sort of training system in place at the hospital, not that different from the muggle world, so I’ve sort of assumed a couple of years of what we would call ‘residency’ but I’m calling 'apprenticeship’ because that’s the old school guild way and feels wix-world appropriate? Anyway, let me know if there are any issues with this or if you want to discuss it further! Also, please note that any headcanons I form in the rest of my application regarding existing, playable characters, I can definitely tweak if the personality portrayal goes against future applicants! I make a few references to Albus, for example, that is sort of based on his personality in Cursed Child, as well as what I read in his bio. But if anything conflicts with how he is portrayed by who eventually plays him, I will obviously take that into account and accommodate.

Biography:

Having inadvertently become the best friend of Albus Potter, he never really had the opportunity to complain about the challenges of growing up the son of Draco Malfoy. Because obviously, growing up the son of Harry Potter (and then sorted into Slytherin, no less—cue gasps of shock and appall) was obviously a lot more immediately arduous. And Scorpius is and has always been an empathetic person. Some people (sometimes even his father, when he got cranky) had coined that particular trait as being a bit of a push over, but Scorpius liked that he put the needs and considerations of others before his own.

So he had no regrets about how he more often than not, kept those particular thoughts to himself. But it did get frustrating sometimes, especially as a kid. Because it would seem that no matter how many years of post-war peace go by, they can never fully escape the discrimination (or, as his father likes to sarcastically call it, the 'hurt feelings’).

And it’s not at all that he didn’t have a good childhood. In a lot of ways, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Certainly, there were some… complications. A few particularly difficult years, being that he was a child of divorce, and had to adjust to bouncing back and forth between two separate households at a young age. But overall, he knows he’s one of the lucky ones. He has always felt loved, protected and supported. And though his parents were barely on speaking terms for the better part of the first few years after their divorce, they did their best not to involve Scorpius in their issues of discontent.

Despite all of that, he has always been a lot closer with his father, than his mother. Astoria is good to him and loving, but she was (somewhat surprisingly) less supportive of Scorpius’ straying from tradition when it came to being sorted into Ravenclaw, and his relationships with the Potter-Weasley clan. Draco, despite his persnickety temperament, had been Scorpius’ influence of patience, ambition and most importantly, tolerance. From the conversations they’ve had over the years, Scorpius is beginning to understand that his father still holds a lot of resentment for the expectations that were forced upon him as the only Malfoy heir of his generation, especially with things that went on during the war. To this day, however, it’s a bit like piecing together a jigsaw puzzle because Draco often refuses to discuss the war.

When it comes to politics, Scorpius is by no means opposed to muggleborn equality—obviously—and he can even hypothetically be supportive of the introduction of muggle technology. But he was raised by parents who were absolutely against the absurd idea of abolishing the Statue of Secrecy, and Scorpius has to admit he agrees with them. Even his father, who is generally a lot more empathetic to muggle and muggleborn related politics than Astoria, firmly believes dissolving the Statue of Secrecy would only lead to another war, perhaps even uglier than the last.

A typical Ravenclaw, Scorpius very much enjoyed school, and now that he’s out in the 'real world’, even though he's had a few years to adjust, he still sometimes feels a little lost in it. He misses the reliable comfort of being a student, of having constant mentors and structure available to him, and the leniency of not having to make and stick to decisions regarding his future. He followed in his fathers footsteps and pursued Healing, which he has to admit feels relatively right, but still, he’s never been as good under fire as his father, nor as unflappably resilient and ambitious. He wants to be good, and he wants to make a difference and make his parents proud—but there are times he really struggles not to crumple under the pressure of it all.

And then there was Rose. Merlin, he has so many regrets about how things went with Rose—his other best friend. He’d known they should probably never have dated. He’d known, and even Albus had tried to warn him, but at the time Scorpius had just dismissed Albus’ concerns as his “annoying cynicism” talking. And to be fair, Albus really could be quite cynical sometimes.

But as it turns out, he was right. He was really, really right, because the (astoundingly brief) relationship had been a total bust, and even though he and Rose had agreed in advance not to let the attempt at romance come between their friendship should it not work out, Scorpius made that promise a difficult one to keep when he cheated on her with a young man in his apprenticeship program at St. Mungo’s, and she found out. He knows it’s his fault, he does—but he misses her intensely and he wants to find a way to win back her trust and respect.

Plus, it’d be great if he could finally get Albus to stop with the 'I told you so’ tirade.

Character Questionnaire

What does your character value in a friendship? Scorpius’ friends mean everything to him. Though he can be something of an introvert (strong Ravenclaw vibes), he is prone to getting lonely without the company of those few people dearest to him. The ones who know him best and with whom he can share anything. He finds he’s frequently looking to his friends for advice, or their perspective on something he’s feeling particularly indecisive or uncertain about, so he definitely values honesty in that regard, and someone he feels safe being open with about his fears. He also values patience, and inquisitiveness, and he has a harder time with people who are hot-tempered or quick to anger. Which… did make his relationship with Albus a complicated one, especially at first, but by the same token, he also really admires people who are passionate and decisive—perhaps because it embodies traits he wishes he could see more of in himself.

How would your character describe their own work ethic? Is that an accurate measure of themself?

If there is one thing Scorpius inherited above all else from his father, it’s his work ethic. Draco taught him to be a resilient, diligent student, and a reliable, focused worker. He taught him to take pride in his work, and to never settle for anythnig less than the best. This did generate some issues with Scorpius’ tendency towards being an obsessive perfectionist, which doesn’t actually bode particularly well for his softer sensibilities and his capricious sense of confidence, but otherwise he considers his work ethic one of his stronger attributes.

How would a stranger who has just met your character describe them?

Probably sweet, warm, and a little shy. Scorpius generally gives off a good first impression because he is well mannered, friendly, and easy going. He much prefers making friends to enemies—but his first impression is usually limited to just that one dimension. Only those who know him better are exposed to his more anxious, self-conscious side, and his friends know he has a bright, almost sarcastic sense of humour that he undoubtedly got from his father. Often, new friends are taken a little by surprise by it.

Para Sample

He knew for a fact that his hair was standing every which way by the time Albus got home, thanks to his some-call-it-habit, others-call-it-tic, of tugging his fingers through it when he was bored. Or nervous. Or tired. Or hungry. And he also knew for a fact that there was a spot on his jumper from the bit of tea he’d spilled on it when he’d gotten home, and that his father would be less than impressed at his state of dress. But though there were a lot of things Scorpius got from his father, one apple that had fallen actually quite far from the tree, had been Draco’s sophisticated propensity.

Scorpius much preferred jumpers that were cozy and a bit too big, shoes that were comfortably worn-in, and rolling out of bed and more or less letting his hair do what it would, without too much fussing about. Sorry, Da.

And tonight, it was admittedly his boredom at fault for the bird’s nest state of his hair, perhaps helped by an undercurrent of anxiety that was pretty common now that Scorpius was getting on into his apprenticeship—and that had undoubtedly gotten worse since his falling out with Rose. And really, he tried not to talk about that whole debacle too much with Albus, because it seemed to make him a little uncomfortable, but Scorpius was prone to over-thinking (read: obsessing) and so it was a subject that was almost constantly simmering at the back of his mind.

Nonetheless, the sound of the door clicking open brought with it an intense wave of relief and excitement for Scorpius, because Albus was home, which meant someone to talk to, someone to distract him from thinking about work (because his father always told him to leave work at the door when he left, if he wanted to have any semblance of a life outside it), and perhaps someone to play a round of Wizard’s Chess with him. Though that usually took a fair amount of convincing, with Albus.

#apareciumacceptance #rp #rpg #hp rp #scorpius malfoy

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peakysabrina · 4 years

Text

Dark Horse: chapter 9

So! Warning for like a makeout? So it’s like slightly NSFW. Nothing crazy tho. I promise.

Sure, Gigi is in mortal peril, and that needs to be worked out, but it’s also super obvious her and Ada have like... chemistry. Hence the warning.

The physician who was called shook from top to bottom, having been draggen to Polly Gray's home under the threat of Isaiah Jesus' shotgun. Neither the preacher's son nor the good doctor were aware of who it was who needed medical care, and only the latter one was allowed inside the home, and inside the guest bedroom. The patient had to be the blonde girl who laid on the bed, either sleeping, passed out, or dead already; covered in soot, it was hard to make out any other features.

"She inhaled a lot of smoke" Polly Gray informed, hand over her mouth. Philip Morris, the doctor, knew the lady fairy well, and couldn't say that he'd ever seen her as worried as she was now. "And she sometimes wakes up, but can't really speak"

"Does she look confused when she comes to?" Morris asked, approaching the patient and seeing that some efforts had been made to clean the afflicted girl, and there had been the common sense to open the windows, so that fresh air could come into the room.

"I wouldn't say confused, no. She does have a hard time breathing, though, and seems to be in pain" Polly replied, making the doctor nod. Those symptoms were to be expected, as was the shallow breathing he could hear.

"Hm... Well, the first thing we need is some oxygen, but for that we need a..."

"Polly! Polly, I need help with this!" a voice shouted from what seemed to be front door. Following suit, both Polly and Morris went down the stairs, where none other than Ada Thorne stood, after seemingly have dragged a full cannister of oxygen, with what looked like a hose and a mask.

"We need one of those, that's what I was about to say" doctor Morris completed, looking mildly concerned with the presence of a medical device outside of a hospital or GP practice. However, it shouldn't be surprising that a Shelby had access to whatever they needed, but it was strange that Ada knew such a thing existed and would be needed. "Let's get it upstairs" he prompted, deciding not to comment on it.

"I shouted at a few nurses and pointed a gun at them until they gave me it" Ada commented, as if it was completely normal and not at all noteworthy. Polly nodded, as the three of them made their way to the guest bedroom. The girl, whoever she was, was still sleeping, and doctor Morris went to work setting up the machine, to hopefully save a life that day.

"Did it work? Gigi? Gigi?" Ada Thorne let out the second the mask was on the girl's face. Morris did appreciate having a name for his patient, although Gigi was atrocious. "Gigi! Wake up, love!"

"Mrs. Thorne, she needs to take in a good dose of it before we can see any improvement" the doctor explained, breathing deeply. "We'll leave the mask for about an hour, and then we'll see how she feels, and if she needs some more of it to clear out her lungs"

"Fine. Thank you, doctor" Polly even made an effort to smile, but rushed the doctor out quickly, advising him that he was to tell no one about what he'd gone to her house for, under the threat of consequences he would not appreciate.

Ada, on the other hand, had not cared at all that a medical professional, or anyone else, had been to see Gigi. She knew enough about human anatomy to know that oxygen would help someone breathe, and that seemed to be Gigi's main issue at that moment. As to how she got her hands on oxygen, it was also pretty easy; if needed she was ready to go to the ends of the earth to get whatever Georgia needed.

"Hey love, I'm back. You alright? Is the mask too tight?" Ada asked, taking Gigi's hands into hers, resuming their positions before she'd left for the hospital. Of course, there was no response, but at least something was being done. There was no way to tell whether the poor girl was sleeping or passed out, but there was a heartbeat, which Ada checked obsessively.

"She's not going to die if you eat something" Polly chuckled from the door, trying not to smile too widely. "Or have some tea"

"Not hungry" her niece replied, brushing some stray hair from Gigi's face, as carefully and lovingly as she could. "I hate seeing her like this"

"I do too" Pol agreed, leaning on the doorway. "I did wish to see you and her together, but not like this"

"Why did you? I myself didn't realise how I was starting to feel about her until I found her there" Ada admitted, hating herself just a bit. She'd had three weeks to come to terms with what had started to bloom the first night Gigi appeared in her life, but she had ignored all of it.

"I have my ways. Not to mention Gigi may have told me in great secrecy she had feelings for you" Polly confessed, opting for staying by the door, to take in the complete picture before her, equal parts beautiful and sad.

"She did? Well, she... Gigi told me... back at the camp..." Ada stuttered, trying to decide whether she wanted to share that information, or if she wanted to keep that memory to herself.

"And what did you say to that?"

"I told her I was falling in love with her, and she told me she already was in love with me"

There was no point in hiding that information from Polly, was there? Love wasn't really something to be afraid of, or embarrassed by. As for the precious memory involved, Ada refused to believe those words were the last thing Gigi would say and hear. There would be time for them to say it, to feel it, to discover what it meant for a future that seemed uncertain.

"We'll have to find a way to hide her, and probably get her away from here without Tommy knowing" Polly reminded, going from the door to the window, and looking out to the back garden. There were Blinders somewhere around there, but she knew from experience that they couldn't hear them from that distance.

"Do you think he'll still want to..."

"Do you think Gigi will suddenly change her mind when she's well enough to walk by herself?" Polly asked, lighting a cigarette. "Her father will still be dead, and it will still be Tommy who's to blame for employing him"

"You're right. Fuck, Pol; what do we do?"

"I don't know. But I think that the best option would be to get her back to Swansea, or to travel with one of her sisters. Let Tommy believe she's really gone" Polly admitted, breathing as deeply as she could. Of course, her heartbreak was lessened by a daughter she couldn't keep close; another loss for her already extensive list. Letters would have to sufice, and that was already better.

"I know" Ada sighed, conflicted between brain and heart. It was too dangerous to keep Gigi around, it could threaten her life again, but damn it she didn't want to let go. The thought alone hurt, and it was all because of Tommy. Tommy had gotten them into this mess, had gotten Aberama Gold killed, which in turn had lit the fire of vengeance in Gigi. Between the two of them, there could only be one outcome: death. "What if she came back to London with me?"

"And have to hide for the rest of her life? Looking over her shoulder, thinking about what might happen if she lets down her guard?"

"Thinking about what might happen to you and your children when he tries to get to me?" Gigi asked, having managed to take off the mask, and even attempt to sit up. Ada's face lit up with a smile as she helped her sit, a sigh of relief loud and clear.

"How do you feel? Better?" Ada asked, hands on Gigi's cheeks, examining every inch of her skin, and then slooking straight into her eyes. "Does anything hurt, can you breathe?"

"I'm fine, I'm alright, I feel great" Gigi chuckled, albeit a bit breathless from the effort of sitting up. "I don't know where I am right now, but I have to go before Tommy finds out and hurts you"

"You're not going anywhere" Polly ordered, chucking her cigarette and closing the window. "You need to rest, and you need to recover before you do anything. Tommy won't find out anything, and we need time to think about where it would be safest"

"Swansea. Swansea is safest" Gigi argued, looking around. "I know the rest of them are dead, they couldn't have survived, I remember their trailers on fire. But I've more people loyal to me in Wales, and Tommy wouldn't dare go that far"

"He would, Georgia. You don't know him like we do. He thinks his life's in danger, and he will stop at nothing to get rid of you. He's got resources, he's got..." Ada explained, sadly aware that Gigi would have to leave the country, and never come back.

"Well, he's right. His life is in danger. He tried to kill me, and killed people I cared about. I'm willing to go back to Swansea, to my home, to make sure the heat dies down. But I can't guarantee I won't be back to finish what needs to be done" Gigi informed, her eyes darkening significantly. It was impossible to doubt her, her expression provided all the proof that she would, indeed, stop at nothing to see Thomas Shelby die. "What I refuse to let happen is him finding out you helped me get away, and doing something to hurt you"

"What about me, eh? What about me? You'll go back to fucking Swansea, and leave me here? And then what? After what you said, after what I said? Does that mean absolutely nothing?" Ada spat, in a tone that surprised Gigi. She sounded beyond cross, she sounded furious, betrayed. "Fuck, I sound like a teenager. I sound like a brat"

"You don't, actually. You sound like I want to sound, and you're saying what I want to say" Gigi admitted, lowering her eyes to their intertwined fingers. "I don't want to go, and it's absolutely my fault that we're in this situation. I should never have come here"

"Don't say that, that's not true and you know it" Ada responded, dismissing those hurtful words. "We would never have met if you hadn't come, and I would've never fallen for you"

"Well yes, but this? This situation we're in? I can't... Ada, I can't give you anything but trouble. I want to, I desperately want to give you the world, settle into a little cottage in the middle of the Brecon Beacons and kiss you every day for the rest of my life, play with your kids, go get wood for our fireplace, sleep by your side... but I can't. You've a business, you've a job, and your brother would never let us have a normal life" Gigi confessed, with tears gathering at the corner of her eye. "Believe me, I want to be with you, more than anything in this world..."

Ada never knew how that sentence would end, because she found herself moving forward to kiss Gigi as hard as she could, knocking the oxygen right out of both their lungs. Gigi kissed back, fueled by the energy she'd gained in the last hour, and by the absolute pleasure of feeling her beloved's lips on her, her tongue in her mouth. Out of the blue, but as welcome as sunshine after a rainy day, Ada moved so that her body could be on top of Gigi's, deepening the kiss, destroying any awareness of the outside world. Polly was long gone, reading the room as one she didn't belong in any longer, so they were alone, and free to get rid of their clothes, carelessly throwing them on the floor, anxious to feel closer.

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #ada shelby #polly gray

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theworkofxanderking · 4 years

Text

The Originals: Bad Blood (Alternative Season 5)

Episode 5: A Mikaelson Family Christmas

Warnings: I do not own the original content to “The Originals”, “The Vampire Diaries” or “Legacies” or any of the characters from the television shows.

15 plus, displays of Violence, Gore, Torture, M/M, F/M, F/F.

Klaus vamp sped into the dining area of the compound to find Rebekah and Elijah sat the table both looking rather miserable with themselves.

“I’m beginning to think use two are competing for most miserable Mikaelson this year and I have to say I’m rather annoyed your coming for my trophy.” Klaus said to them mockingly. “Things are on the up Marcel and I have called a truce, Hope’s arriving any minute and Hayley’s compelled one of the city’s finest cooks and yet you two have been miserable for days.”

“As long as there’s no daggers in my stockings like that one god awful Christmas I’m sure I’ll get into the festive spirit.” Rebekah replied as she stood up forcing a smile on to her face.

“I must admit even this Christmas still beats that one.” Elijah said as he too stood up and straightened his suit jacket.

“I found it rather amusing,” Klaus retaliated with a cheeky smirk noticing Elijah and Rebekah were hardly feeling festive. “Okay what the bloody hell is going on?”

“You should tell him Rebekah after all this is of your doing.” Elijah snapped at his sister.

“Firstly, none of you would be here if it wasn’t for me so don’t even start blaming me for reuniting us.” Rebekah snapped back.

“Well somebody please tell me before I dig out those bloody daggers for a second Christmas.” Klaus demanded clearly grown tired of his siblings’ secrecy.

“It’s Henrik, he’s alive well he’s a lot more than just alive he’s all kinds of messed up and all he wants for Christmas is to feast on his beloved siblings.” Rebekah revealed before Hope walked into the dining area hugging Hayley.

“Guess whose finally home for Christmas?” Hayley said to them all while hugging her daughter tightly.

“Now how exactly do us Mikaelson’s celebrate Christmas?” Hope asked them while Rebekah and Elijah tried to hide their guilt and her father Klaus remained shocked by her aunt Rebekah’s admission.

Marcel walked into Rousseau's to find Josh wearing a Santa hat while cleaning tables within the bar and listening and dancing along to “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday” on his Bluetooth speaker placed on the counter of the bar causing Marcel to laugh at possibly the world’s most innocent vampire before walking over to the counter and switching the speaker off demanding Josh’s attention.

“Hello Marcel,” Josh said as he took of his Santa hat and gushed at the man, he had recently spent a night with. “I’m guessing your not here for a drink considering we’re not open although that tends to not stop most of my clientele.”

“I actually wanted to talk about…” Marcel began to say.

“Davina and Kol coming to the city for Christmas I know Davina already told me.” Josh butted in knowing that wasn’t the topic on Marcel’s mind. “I bet you can’t wait to see Davina again I sure can’t.”

“Well it has been a while but that’s not what I came here to discuss.” Marcel replied.

“Is it about the Mikaelson’s getting a head at the table for the faction meetings because I think that’s a good idea if only to lessen the bloodshed.” Josh added in proving to be very eager to not talk about a certain subject.

“Josh you’re not the first guy I’ve ever been with when your immortal sexuality is a lot simpler than people make it out to be.” Marcel explained to him. “We like who we like when we like them and have no need to apologize for it.”

“Wow where was that kind of thinking when I came out to my parents.” Josh answered him clearly surprised by Marcel’s reaction to their one-night stand.

“It was definitely interesting I mean you’re a lot less shy between the sheets,” Marcel said with a sinister smile “definitely unforgettable however I value our friendship too much for it to ever happen again.”

“Oh, thank god,” Josh breathed a sigh of relief. “I mean no offence but us would’ve been super messy I mean you’re clearly still madly and deeply in love with Rebekah and I tried the whole relationship thing once and it ended it too much pain.”

“I’m glad you and I are on the same page.” Marcel laughed. “However, I don’t think you should write off romance with everyone I know what happened to Aiden broke your heart but the moments you had with him were worth every ounce of pain. Trust me when I say love is truly the best and worst thing that can ever happen to you.”

“So, did you get invited to the Mikaelson’s Christmas?” Josh asked. “Davina’s convinced me to go just what I love Santa and Klaus wrapped up into one holiday I just hope it’s not me that ends up roasted on the open fire.”

“Do you know you’re absolutely adorable when you say stuff like that?” Marcel told him while looking at him with pure admiration.

“Oh no don’t you be looking at me like that!” Josh said clearly nervous by Marcel looking at him. “Shouldn’t you be last minute Christmas shopping for Hope and Davina?”

“I’ve already got their presents sorted.” Marcel replied with a laugh finding Josh’s nervousness intoxicating before vamp speeding to be standing right in front of him so close that Josh could feel Marcel breathing on him, the two beginning to long for each other’s touch.

“Well I can’t say I’m surprised to see you working Josh.” Davina said as she walked in instantly making Marcel and Josh distance themselves from each other. “I’m guessing you’re also here Marcel because you’re doing just about anything you could possibly do to avoid seeing Rebekah until necessary.”

“It’s so good to see you,” Marcel said as he walked over to hug the girl he loved like a daughter. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“You got here in perfect timing.” Josh said with a sense of relief in his voice.

Hope and Klaus walk down the stairs in the compound Klaus’ arm lovingly around his daughter as they reach the bottom of the stairs and start making their way to the fountain Hope clearly suspicious of what’s going on with her family knowing when any Mikaelson was quiet it was never a good sign.

“Okay go on dad tell me what’s going on already.” Hope demanded as the two stopped walking and Klaus let go of his daughter. “It’s freaking Christmas our first one together in I don’t know how long certainly the first one I’m going to remember that’s for sure and you’ve all been quiet since arrival. Do you not want me here?”

“There is nobody on this earth I’d rather spend any day with than you Hope.” Klaus replied making it clear to his daughter she was wanted and loved. “I just want you to have the perfect Christmas.”

“Dad I’m fifteen now I’m hardly a kid anymore and even when I was, I went up against the ancestors, unbound aunt Davina from The Hollow and helped Aunt Freya restore Elijah’s mind after his death.” Hope snapped at her father. “I can take care of myself now tell me what’s going on. You’ve spent five years away from me dad don’t come back just to keep me in the dark once again.”

“You are right you’re a Mikaelson after all,” Klaus responded as he lifted his right hand to touch his daughter’s cheek lovingly “one day you are going to become the most powerful witch this world has ever seen. You are everything we ever wanted you to be and so much more Hope, you are this family’s true legacy.”

“Who’s plotting to kill our family now?” Hope asked. “It can’t be The Hollow because she’s gone right?”

“The threat this time is a lot closer to home I’m afraid to say.” Rebekah announced after vamp speeding into the compound.

“Thank god you’re here to explain because to be quite bloody frank I have little clue myself to why our brother is now hungry for our blood.” Klaus told his sister while looking at her furiously.

“So, it turns out this ancient powerful witch brought our youngest brother Henrik back to life and the spell took a toll on him making him a power draining monster he’s already claimed our mother’s spirit.” Rebekah explained before taking a reluctant sigh. “And our eldest brother Finn’s spirit. Finn sacrificed himself so that Bonnie and I could return from the now destroyed ancestral plane.”

“There’s always some pain in the ass witch messing around with our family.” Klaus snapped. “We need to get a hold of Freya and see if there’s some spell or something that can help Henrik.”

“I’ve already called and explained everything to her she should be arriving just in time for Christmas.” Rebekah revealed. “So far there isn’t much she’s found that can help Henrik, but we won’t stop until he’s saved or no longer a threat.”

“This meddling witch you speak of is she the one who removed The Hollow from us all and restored Elijah’s memories?” Klaus asked.

“Yes, he is.” Rebekah answered, “His identity is a whole other story best saved for later.”

“Seems like you’ve been keeping a lot of secrets to yourself Rebekah!” Klaus shouted at Rebekah.

“Don’t you dare come for Aunt Rebekah for doing everything she could to bring us all back if it wasn’t for her none of us would be standing here together.” Hope snapped at her father causing Rebekah to smile at her niece defending her. “We just need to find a way of helping Henrik and getting him back too.”

“You are right.” Klaus mumbled clearly taken aback to be put in his place by his own daughter.

“Bonnie’s also looking into every resource she has to find some sort of solution to this hell and Davina should be due in the city any minute with some possible news.” Rebekah told her brother. “Plus, the witch that created whatever the hell our brother has become is now working alongside Elijah for some reason he will not reveal to me. Even though I was the witch’s alliance at first, but I guess pompous men like to stick together.”

“Can this witch that Elijah is working with be trusted?” Hope asked her aunt.

“Absolutely not.” Rebekah replied.

Elijah walked into St Anne’s Church to see many people gathered while Hayley, Marcel and Bonnie gathering many of the New Orleans together handing out Christmas style hampers causing Elijah to smile seeing Hayley being so kind.

“Elijah what are you doing here?” Hayley asked him after vamp speeding over to him.

“Nothing’s wrong I just wanted to see you.” Elijah said with a soft smile.

“That bad then,” Hayley scoffed. “I thought it would only be a matter of time. Go on tell me what Klaus has done now?”

“Actually, it’s my youngest brother who has created the chaos our family now finds ourselves in.” Elijah replied.

“Marcel said he saw Davina what possibly could Kol have done already?” Hayley asked wondering what Kol had done now.

“Actually, the blame falls on my youngest brother Henrik it appears he’s not as dead as we were once led to believe and now, he seems to be some kind of magical battery determined on killing us all.” Elijah explained to her. “But I don’t want you to be alarmed because I’ve already got things in hand well as in hand as possible.”

“You’ve just told me your long-lost brother Henrik is out to kill the lot of you which last time I checked meant Hope too and I’m not to worry.” Hayley snapped. “How can he possibly be alive?”

“You guys are around vampires we can hear everything.” Marcel told them after vamp speeding over to them.

“He was brought back to life by a powerful witch which practices some long-forgotten magic called Malus.” Elijah revealed to Hayley.

“The witch in question also happens to be Klaus’ first love but nobody has told him that yet I’m assuming.” Marcel butted in shocking Hayley with his admission.

“Hold up I thought Aurora was Klaus’ first love?” Hayley asked them both.

“Well Bonnie told me that Rebekah told her this Nathaniel guy was Klaus’ first love back in their human days so I guess Aurora was Klaus’ first love after no longer being human.” Marcel responded in a gossipy tone.

“But that would mean this witch is like a thousand years old.” Hayley said clearly intrigued by recent news.

“We’re deciding not to tell Klaus about Nathaniel until after Christmas Henrik being alive and wanting to murder us is enough bad news for one Christmas.” Elijah revealed while rolling his eyes.

“Makes sense Klaus has never been one to take bad news well.” Hayley replied. “Can we trust this Nathaniel not to screw us all over?”

“Absolutely not.” Bonnie stated as she walked over to the three of them.

Nathaniel sat on a rocking chair swinging back and forward outside of a small decaying cabin in the woods of Helton when Henrik appeared in front of him a puff of black smoke his eyes still jet black and looking rather angry with his long-time friend.

“You left me trapped for what felt like forever am I supposed to believe you only found a way recently to free me from my cage.” Henrik said as Nathaniel stood up from his chair.

“I admit I could’ve got you out sooner but if I did it would’ve have been for anyone’s good except your own. I needed it to be now Henrik because now is the perfect timing to end my father’s miserable existence and save you.” Nathaniel replied.

“I don’t need saving I’m perfectly fine as I am or at least I am now that you’ve finally seen fit to release me.” Henrik snapped.

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me if it wasn’t for me you would’ve been nothing, but a corpse long rotted away into nothing but bones in the dirt. I made you the powerful witch you are today and never forget that.” Nathaniel snapped back at him. “Everything I have done is to protect you and save you from yourself from following a similar fate as my father or soon to be me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Henrik asked with genuine concern as his eyes went back to their normal color.

“The details of my plan are not important Henrik just trust in me to have your best interests in mind like I always have done.” Nathaniel replied before walking over and hugging Henrik. “I’m glad I’ve got you home for Christmas let’s not spend it fighting.”

“I’ve never understood your fascination with Christmas.” Henrik scoffed while breaking off the hug. “It’s not particularly like either of us are very family orientated.”

“You are my family,” Nathaniel told him as he placed his hand on Henrik’s shoulder “you may not be my blood but from the moment I brought you back to life, raised you, cleaned up your endless slaughters you have been my son. Always and Forever.”

“Always and Forever.” Henrik smiled before looking at the cabin. “Why do you always come back to this place?”

“Because it’s the only place that has ever been a home to us.” Nathaniel revealed. “It’s exactly where all of this should end.”

“I guess we should find something to cook for dinner then.” Henrik replied while looking around the woods. “I saw a cafe about 40 miles back we could always go there for Christmas dinner.”

“I’d like that very much.” Nathaniel said with a soft smile clearly beyond happy to be reunited with the man who he considered a son.

Klaus found himself sitting on the edge of his bed in his bedroom at the compound staring into thin air as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that his youngest brother Henrik, the brother whose death he blamed himself for was resurrected by some powerful ancient magic the same type of magic which had somehow removed the Hollow from Klaus, Rebekah, Elijah and Kol.

He had never heard of magic powerful enough to do these things and yet somehow it was all possible in that moment as he struggled with flashbacks of his youngest sibling’s death he wished for his oldest sibling Freya to be there to explain the unexplained knowing that if anyone could explain Malus to him it would be her.

“I’m sorry Niklaus all I wanted was for my family to be reunited.” Rebekah apologised after vamp speeding into his room and taking a seat next to her brother. “The truth is after centuries of craving freedom the last five years without all of you were the most miserable of my life. I got you Elijah and Kol back and for that I’m not sorry I just wish I understood what that cost would be.”

“So, Henrik is labelled some kind of monster that’s what we’ve all been called our entire lives we will find a way to help him somehow.” Klaus replied while placing his arm around Rebekah.

“The Malus witch’s master plan includes saving Henrik’s soul so speak.” Elijah revealed after he too vamp sped into the room and took a seat next to Klaus and Rebekah. “Sure, we have to help this Malus witch kill their father but we happen to have an expertise in killing parents sure usually our own.”

“Who is this witch? Why is he so interested in Henrik’s well-being?” Klaus asked as he stood up form his bed looking down his brother and sister. “Clearly he must be somebody of importance if you haven’t told me their identity yet and clearly, we have history with him if Rebekah trusted him to remove The Hollow.”

“Trust is a strong word Niklaus it was more desperation than anything else.” Rebekah revealed as Hayley suddenly vamp sped into Klaus’ bedroom.

“It’s Nathaniel some guy who was neighbours with you all when you were humans.” Hayley admitted much to Rebekah and Elijah’s shock. “Don’t blame your siblings for not telling you they just feared your reaction whereas I genuinely think if we’re ever going to tell you something like this it’s best to have Hope within close proximity so you don’t overreact and dagger everybody.”

“We were going to tell him after today.” Elijah said giving Hayley a disapproving look as he and Rebekah rose to their feet.

“That makes sense Nathaniel was just a mortal who fled our village before we even turned even if he somehow became a witch, he’d of had no clue about Henrik.” Klaus replied as he struggled to understand what Hayley had just said.

“Actually, he didn’t leave as early as planned and when he heard of word came back for Ayana, she was always like a mother to him there was no way he’d ever leave her with a choice.” Rebekah revealed reluctantly. “Kol killed Ayana and I managed to fight him off Nathaniel, but the blood lust was so new, and I couldn’t restrain myself.”

“You fed on him?” Klaus asked her with a look of disgust in his face as tears began forming in his eyes.

“I wish I never, but control was something that took us all too long to learn.” Rebekah answered her brother. “For some unexplained reason he didn’t die, and I guess that’s when he went down this path of discovery into Malus magic.”

“Malus witches feed on the magic of others especially the darker magics which provides them immortality of sorts and incredible power the reason he didn’t die at Rebekah’s hands is because only a Malus can kill another Malus.” Elijah explained to Klaus who continued to remain painfully silent.

“We’re not sure whether we can trust him or not which may mean he’ll have to be killed somehow.” Hayley said to Klaus.

“Enough!” Klaus snapped before forcing a smile on his face. “Hope is downstairs preparing for a Mikaelson family and that is what she is going to get.”

Nathaniel Malin was a Malus witch by birth but not by nature despite a thousand years of darkness there was still light within him and he had never fully succumbed to the darkness even at times when it would’ve been easier for him if he did. He fought the darkness as he mourned the other mother he knew, he fought the darkness as he spent centuries on the run from his own father and he tried his hardest to help Henrik fight the darkness he had accidentally inflected on him however Henrik may not of been a Malus witch by birth but he certainly was one by nature.

Nathaniel and Henrik had found themselves sitting within a booth in a cafe as Nathaniel watched Henrik tuck into a roast dinner with blood on his hands as Nathaniel look at him with disapproval in his eyes before looking around to see lifeless bodies all around the rundown cafe painted with the blood of Henrik’s victims.

“Less of the judgement Nathaniel.” Henrik told him as he continued to eat his roast dinner. “You know I’ve never been one for an audience while eating.”

“I know but killing them all was hardly necessarily.” Nathaniel replied with a sigh. “I fear for your humanity sometimes Henrik.”

“You’ve killed as much people as I have Nathaniel maybe you should worry about your own.” Henrik responded while continuing to eat.

“I kill for survival for power I kill because sacrifices need to be made to keep us both alive, but I never get off on the kill.” Nathaniel told him. “Sometimes I believe you enjoy it a little too much.”

“We’ve been killing for centuries Nathaniel and I’ve seen you in action you enjoy it just as much as I do but you fight it because you want to hold on to whatever humanity you claim to still have.” Henrik explained to him as he stopped eating. “Your Malus blood is the only reason why we are both alive and yet you continue to despite it.”

“I know you were younger when all this happened to you, but I spent an entire life as a human or an entire life believing I was human.” Nathaniel said. “I was a good person and I have no illusion that there’s good left inside of me, but I won’t freely dance in the darkness as of it’s anything other than sentence.”

“You never change,” Henrik laughed. “Very well I promise to not kill anybody else for the entirety of the day consider it your Christmas gift.”

“Thank you.” Nathaniel replied with a sigh of relief.

“Now please tell my why after all this time you continue to defy me killing my siblings?” Henrik asked him.

“Because their your family and unlike your parents they have done nothing but love you.” Nathaniel warned him. “Killing anymore siblings would be the point of no return and don’t even get me started on how furious I am with you over what happened to Finn.”

“You are my family!” Henrik shouted as he stood up. “I barely even remember them all they are to me is power ready to be drained. You’re my family not them.”

“I will not be spoken to like that killing the Mikaelson’s is not on our agenda.” Nathaniel snapped back as he stood up.

“If we got rid of them, we’d have more than enough power to get rid of Augustus.” Henrik told him clearly furious by Nathaniel’s demands.

“Then we lose everything!” Nathaniel shouted raising his voice higher.

“Everything is already lost Nathaniel you’re just stuck in a past where you meant something to them.” Henrik said with a harsh tone. “They would kill you without pause and you allow their existence because of feelings you should’ve been over centuries ago.”

“Killing them isn’t a part of the plan and would only derail things as for my supposed feelings they are in the past and I am not.” Nathaniel stated trying to convince both himself and Henrik.

Klaus, Hope, Rebekah, Elijah and Hayley are stood within the compound watching the bonfire in front of them burn only to be shocked to see Freya walk into the compound hand in hand with Keelin and immediate attention turns to Freya who’s very clearly pregnant at least five months by the size of the bump leaving everyone shocked as nobody knew anything about this pregnancy.

“I guess there’s a new Mikaelson on the way.” Hayley said with a smile before going over to hug Freya and Keelin. “Congratulations guys.”

“Well I guess I’m not the only Mikaelson sister keeping secrets from the family.” Rebekah joked before going over to hug Freya. “You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

“I’ve got to say I’m shocked that you kept this from us Freya.” Elijah said to his older sister as he too gave her a hug.

“I never thought I’d ever be with child again after everything that happened to me and I never thought I’d ever love again but I’m glad I was wrong.” Freya revealed as she held on to her fiancé Keelin’s hand.

“Well we all know you’ve been saving us or kicking or asses when needed for long enough it’s about time some child has to suffer you instead of your siblings.” Klaus said with a laugh before hugging both Freya and Keelin.

“I guess this means I’m going to have a little cousin.” Hope said before being the last Mikaelson to walk over and hug Freya.

“I was going to tell you all once we had defeated The Hollow but then Nathaniel Malin became the latest threat knocking our family’s doors.” Freya explained herself. “I’ve only met the witch once or twice over the years and he’s not one to be messed with however he’s nothing compared to his father that man is wicked enough to claim aunt Dahlia’s admiration.”

“Let’s not concern ourselves with our enemies tonight.” Klaus told his older sister while pulling in Rebekah and Hope in each arm for a hug. “The entire family is here and tonight we celebrate tomorrow we’ll discuss our battle plans.”

“I guess that means it’s time to dine and fill the humans with enough drink to pass out.” Kol said as he and Davina opened the dining are doors to reveal a table filled with a full Christmas feast with a delicious turkey on the table.

“I’m sure us witches will put some of you vampires to shame.” Davina replied to her husband with a smile.

“I’m not late, am I?” Marcel asked as he vamp sped into the compound.

“You’re just on time.” Klaus responded with a smile as Hope walked over to Marcel and gave him a hug.

“While you’re in such a good mood Klaus did, I happen to mention I’ve invited Bonnie to dinner too?” Rebekah told her brother only to laugh when he rolled his eyes.

“I hope I’m still invited.” Josh said as he too vamp sped into the compound before looking at the bonfire making him terrified. “Oh, crikey there’s a big fire.”

“Everyone is invited,” Klaus said with a smile that made Josh uneasy as he put his arm around him and gave him a hug surprising everyone there. “That smell is oddly familiar.”

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ladymdc · 5 years

Text

The Seventh Circle

I don’t usually do a lot of fic promoting, however, since this is a joint endeavor with my amazing fren @dismalzelenka, I’m going to do it 🙃

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe x Reyna Cousland AND Anders x Adrestia Tabris Rating: Explicit (will have canon-typical violence & probably smut) Word Count (at the moment): ~2,900 Chapters: 1/? Summary: Run if you can. Madness has filled the silence. Do not return to this place.

[A modern w/magic AU where the Wardens & darkspawn are a myth, a bedtime story parents tell their children. However, an incident in the Western Approach sends Reyna Cousland and Adrestia Tabris on a search to uncover a truth lost to time and secrecy before it's too late to stop events from spiraling further out of control. Reyna belongs to MC & Adrestia belongs to Diz.]

We’ll be tossing updates up on Ao3 (here) whenever the muse strikes us. CH.1 is under the cut for funsies.

Solace 20:19

Reyna Cousland placed her sunglasses in the center console and got out of the vehicle. The estate was lovely in summer, lush and beautiful. She couldn’t deny it, but the beauty felt bitter and false as she took it in.

She opened the back door to let Acheron out then wordlessly led him up the flagstone path to the manor. At the dark walnut doors on the veranda, she paused. She just needed a moment to brace herself. To prepare for what she was about to face.

Inside, the foyer was well lit and immaculate. A circular table sat in the middle of the open area. On it, there was a large bouquet of dark blue flowers interspersed with olive branches—a play on the colors of their house.

Pride.

It was a double-edged weapon, just as able to drive one to succeed as to destroy them.

When she looked up, she found her father standing in the doorway to the breakfast nook. His eyes were a stormy grey. Calm, yet powerful; precisely contained—never show weakness or fear.

Conquered By None.

“Reyna,” he said, absently scratching Acheron’s ear. “Take a walk with me.”

Reyna nodded stiffly and followed after her father. He led her outside then along one of the lanes lined with trees heavy with plums ripe for picking. Her father didn’t make any effort to converse until they were well away from the manor.

“I don’t want you to transfer,” he abruptly declared.

She had already decided to walk pride’s razor edge and told her father as such. “It has already been approved. I leave in two weeks.”

Her father came to a halt as his expression grew bitterly resigned as if preparing himself to be stuck on some quarter.

“I had it on good authority that General Howe—” her lip curled up with disdain of its own volition, “—was going to send me there to add insult to injury. This way, I control the narrative.”

There was a long silence. Her father stared down the lane, his eyes far away.

“What happened should not affect your career,” he said eventually, turning to look down at her. “It had nothing to do with you.”

The betrayal had been so exacting and deeply personal that she could barely bring herself to think about it.

“It has everything to do with me,” Reyna told him. “I am a Cousland.”

“True.” A slow smile curved his lips. Then it vanished, and he glanced away.

But Reyna saw it, the sudden lines of tension around his eyes.

“So, the narrative; what do you need me to do to help offset—” he flicked his hand dismissively at his side, “—everything?”

Reyna blinked. “I don’t need you to do anything,” she said in a tight voice. “Did you really think I was going to distance myself from you? A Cousland always does their duty. You taught me that. You did your duty, and now, it’s my turn.”

Her father nodded thoughtfully. The sunlight catching his hair, silvered with age.

“You know, just when I think I couldn’t be more proud of you, you prove me wrong.”

Her throat tightened so much it was hard to swallow. She managed to tip her chin down in acknowledgment.

When she was a little girl, Reyna had thought he was cold. However, as she matured, she realized he wasn’t unfeeling. Her father felt things; he just did so privately.

In that regard, they were alike; driven by emotions, but never allowed them to dictate. The head always won out over the heart. At least, until General Bryce Cousland was court-martialed for insubordination and suspended without pay for five years.

Then everything changed.

While she composed herself, her father made a convincing job of admiring the blooming hydrangeas. Reyna knew he was proud of her. She never questioned that. But being reminded of it as she tried to be his steady rock in a sea of shifting alliances was overwhelming.

“Come,” he said, briefly placing his hand between her shoulder blades when she stepped up next to him a moment later. “Let’s finish our stroll through the gardens before your mother decides to hunt us down.”

“Did she also assume I was going to cast you aside like some black stain on my career that I couldn’t wait to expunge?” she asked dryly as they began walking down the return lane.

The corner of his mouth twitched faintly. “She didn’t. I believe she just wanted the satisfaction of being present when I was proved wrong. Thank you for allowing myself to be spared further embarrassment.”

Reyna smiled then. Truly smiled for what felt like the first time in months.

Her father chuckled. “In my defense, neither of us have handled this exceptionally well, and I’m unaccustomed to you being—angry.”

Through it all, her father had appeared unaffected. If Reyna had been less angry herself, she might have believed it, but their personalities were basically the same. Which, oddly enough, left her uncertain how to address the strain that had asserted itself between them. But there was an instant comfort she found in learning that it was all misplaced, that he had simply felt as lost as her.

“Likewise,” she said. “I wasn’t sure how this conversation was going to go when you asked me to come home to discuss it.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s just easier to discern what is going on in your head when we speak face to face. And we’ve avoided the general topic long enough.”

“I agree. I shouldn’t have tried to talk about it over the phone. I just didn’t want you to hear about my transfer from anyone else and misunderstand. Obviously, that backfired.”

“That is on me, not you,” he said as they began to ascend the large stone steps up to the patio.

Reyna’s mother was setting the small table in the breakfast nook when they stepped inside. Her parents stared at one another for a moment, then her mother arched a single blonde eyebrow.

“It is as you said, Eleanor,” he allowed drolly.

A slow cat-like smile graced her mother’s lips. “Welcome home, Reyna,” she said, stepping forward to give her daughter a quick hug. “Lunch is almost ready, I’m just finishing up the chicken.”

“Do you need any help?”

“Not at all. It’ll take me ten minutes, tops.”

Her father nodded. “Alright, then I’ll be right back,” he said. Then he turned and walked out of the room. Her mother’s blue eyes glittered knowingly before exiting through the adjacent door leading to the kitchen.

Reyna shrugged inwardly before taking a seat. At her elbow, she found today’s newspaper. Something twisted inside her as she read the headline on the front page.

CONTROVERSIAL DRILLING RIG IN ABYSSAL RIFT TO BEGIN OPERATIONS IN EARLY AUGUST

‘Rift Platform 52’, or ‘P-52’, is expected to launch operations on Saturday, August 6th, according to a press release by Antonius Faber, CEO of OFT Enterprises.

This venture is made possible thanks to Orzammar based Paragon Branka Kondrat’s revolutionary structural engineering research. This state of the art drilling facility, the most advanced of its kind to date, is affixed to the cliff-side of the Abyssal Rift using massive caissons and a carefully threaded steel cable suspension system. It is roughly the size of a 15-story building and will deploy three separate drilling units to depths of up to 5,000 meters. P-52 is expected to reach oil reserves that have remained untapped for centuries due to the unstable landscape of the Western Approach and widespread environmental toxicity located within the Rift itself.

While few would question the wealth of resources finally available, Ferelden concerns on the matter initially went largely unheard until King Cailan Theirin and Empress Celene Valmont established the Great Orlais-Ferelden Oil Alliance earlier this year.

In exchange—

Reyna heard footsteps and looked up as her father reentered the room.

His eyes flicked from hers down to the newspaper. He stared at it for several seconds, then sighed.

“For once, I’m not mentioned.”

Reyna nodded, keeping her expression carefully closed as she quietly seethed.

On the surface, increasing oil imports from Orlais at a lesser cost in exchange for military support in the hazardous environment seemed to make good sense. However, production sharing agreements were horrendously advantageous to the host country. The host country did not need to make a significant amount of investment for exploration or production activities because the oil company carried all operational and financial costs and risks. Then, if that weren’t enough, the host country gleaned knowledge, technological advances, and expertise through the agreement.

In summation, the host country— Orlais —would reap endless benefits and profits from this groundbreaking endeavor.

Ferelden would be guaranteed access to cheap oil, and nothing more. This was a fact her father had bluntly relayed to some reporters at the persuasion of his lifelong friend, Rendon Howe, who then used the souring tide of public opinion in the matter to motivate King Cailan to call for his court-martial. It succeeded.

Predictably, Rendon was promoted to take his place.

Reyna rolled her jaw and forced herself to set aside her sudden rage.

“It’s fine, Reyna; I shall live on,” he said, crossing the room.

“We shall live on,” she corrected.

“Precisely.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“I have something for you,” he said, then reached into his pocket and withdrew two metal, half-inch bands inlaid with runes.

She looked up at her father in astonishment.

He smirked, then held out his empty hand to her. “As you said, it’s your turn.”

“I can’t accept that.”

“It was always going to be yours someday,” he said, then beckoned with his fingers to encourage her along.

At that, Reyna swallowed down the rest of her objections and let him help her to stand; Acheron perked up from where he was doing a rather good job at blending in with the wood flooring.

“Part of why I asked you here today was to tell you that I’m resigning from the service,” he told her, slipping the bands onto her left arm.

“When did you make that decision?”

“When the verdict was handed down. I was just waiting for the news cycle to die down. None of this was supposed to be about me.” He began to precisely situate one on her forearm just a couple inches from her elbow; the other was dangling from her wrist like an oversized bracelet.

“It was about Ferelden, and I did right by her,” he said. “That is all that matters.”

Reyna slowly nodded. She understood the implications behind the decision. Going along with it all would be as good as admitting wrongdoing.

Once in position, the bands resized themselves to her perfectly where they would remain unless she went in to have them reset and removed. Reyna could tell there were enchantments woven into the silverite to prevent her arm from chafing and to keep it the ideal temperature.

“Can you feel it?”

Now that he mentioned it, Reyna could recognize a presence pressing against the outside of her forearm. “I can tell I’m connected to it, but I can’t tell how to make it do anything.”

“It takes some getting used to. You’ll just have to practice.” He took two steps back. “Curl your fingers in one at a time, starting with your pinky, and you’ll be able to separate it out better.”

Reyna took a deep, even breath and did as instructed. As her thumb curled inward, she felt it.

The semi-translucent, iridescent blue field flickered to life for a half-second, then vanished.

Her father smiled proudly, and Reyna could feel the pressure in her cheeks and eyes as she struggled not to cry over it.

She knew what it looked like in its full corporeal form. A modernized replica of the shields their ancestors used to carry back in the Dragon Age. It had been a gift from the late King Maric Theirin when her father was knighted for exceptional services to the Crown. In that alone, it was priceless, and yet astronomical amounts of time and effort and magic went into making the one of a kind device.

She parted her lips to speak—

“Don’t thank me, and I won’t…” he trailed off and waved a hand.

Reyna exhaled; part relief, part amusement. “Deal.”

“Good,” he said, shoulders dropping as if he had also found the entire conversation emotionally draining. But then her father put his arm around her and pulled her in for a quick, slightly awkward half-embrace.

As if awaiting this cue, her mother breezed back into the room to begin serving lunch: garlic bread and caprese chicken avocado salad with a balsamic reduction. Reyna’s mouth quirked at the corner when Acheron dug in. It always did. Without fail, he happily ate anything her mother put in front of him.

Later, Reyna would sit in her West Hill apartment and think back on the meal. In that moment, they had all but forgotten what had happened. The only deviation from the thousands of other meals they’ve shared in that room was the bands were affixed to her arm instead of her father’s. Where they should be.

Reyna idly traced the runes wrapped around her wrist.

All this time, she had been supportive but distant, trying to separate out her own personal turmoil over the matter so her father wouldn’t carry that too. He had done so anyway. Penance perhaps for negatively affecting her career, one he knew she didn’t even want even though Reyna had never admitted it.

At least, they managed to set things right. It was far past time, but neither of them were much good at talking about how they felt.

“I think we should stay at the manor until we leave,” she said suddenly.

Acheron barked, stump waggling, and Reyna reached for her phone.

It was a strange feeling, to move back into her childhood home. A home she loved and would someday inherit to become Lady of the Manor. A fact that made her painfully aware while she was an heir, she was not a true heir. No matter what she did, the Cousland name would die with her.

Reyna tried not to think about it.

Instead, she read, ran with Acheron, and cooked with her mother. She practiced activating the shield, which was like strengthening a part of her she hadn’t known existed and had muscle atrophy as a result. Reyna and her father even discussed potential ways she could excel in her new post, to climb rank despite the looming expectation that she stall out or quit.

When Reyna left, it was as if she’d be back the next day. Goodbyes were another thing they weren’t very good at.

The flight was uneventful, as was settling into her new place in Valemont. A two-bedroom, 1.5 bath duplex with exactly one parking space designated as hers behind the home, which was all she needed.

There were some incredulous looks when 2ndLt. Cousland provided her identification at the gates of Griffon Wing Army Base the following Monday, but Reyna ignored it. Then she parked her new jeep and slung her bag onto her shoulder before dropping Acheron off for training on the local wildlife. And now, she made her way deeper into the facility in search of her office.

As she rounded a corner on the third floor, she allowed herself a quick glance around, taking in the layout. Reyna stiffened when she saw him. Seeing her certainly hadn’t seemed to surprise or upset him.

He’d been waiting for it.

Howe simply leaned back on his heels and studied her, his eyes bright as they swept over her in a rapid catalog, lingering a moment on the band visible around her left wrist. Nothing about him had changed since she’d last seen him, and yet she could feel the weight of everything that had in the air between them.

He hadn’t tried to contact her.

Not once.

Whatever they’d been had never been defined. Not friends, but something that had mattered enough for Reyna to feel a growing well of hurt as she blankly met his stare. Not that it mattered.

None of it had ever mattered.

Eventually, Howe looked down, and his lips thinned. Then his posture shifted slightly. There was something he was trying to communicate to her, and her grey eyes flicked over to the plaque on the door he stood nearest to.

316 2ndLt. Nathaniel Howe

Her mouth twisted derisively. Of course, their offices would be across the hall from one another. She should have expected it.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Howe twitch, and his expression harden.

Reyna turned on her heel and entered her office.

She set her bag down and went to the window. The Western Approach was a sea of unstable, shifting sands, rocky ridges, and strong, howling winds. On the horizon, P-52 sat in the middle of a steel web. Without a doubt, this office was also chosen to remind her how she got here.

She should be enraged, but she couldn’t summon it. She hadn’t realized how powerless she was to fight her circumstances until that moment.

People did not believe in facts. Order and truth could be tarnished.

She didn’t know how to rise above it, but she would still try.

She sank into the chair at her desk and went to work.

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neuxue · 5 years

Text

Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 41

EGWENE!!!!!!! And excellent use of outsider POV! And could Gawyn be more irritating? And EGWENE!!!!!

Chapter 41: A Fount of Power

Ah, the unique and entirely self-inflicted frustration of having to pause for three weeks in the middle of a major battle…

Gawyn continues to exist in this sequence and I am irritated. You’d better impede the awesome, Gawyn.

But we all know what Gawyn’s track record at the Tower looks like, so I’m not holding out a great deal of hope here.

The White Tower itself seemed to burn. It lit a daunting profile in the sky, all white and red, outlined by flames. Smoke boiled toward the midnight clouds above, fires blazed in many Tower windows, and a glare at the base indicated that outlying buildings and trees were also alight.

It’s such a great image, the once-untouchable White Tower burning against the night sky. And on a more symbolic level, it’s as if the truth is finally made visible: the Tower is burning, wounded, vulnerable, and it’s there for anyone to see.

Though right now Gawyn and the soldiers with him are more interested in seeing that there is in fact a secret entrance. And here I was hoping Gawyn might have to resort to banging really hard on the stone wall and shouting for someone to let him in, and eventually Egwene would notice him and shout down to him while lighting a to’raken on fire that she might need to take a rain check on tonight’s date, this really isn’t the best time, she has to go wash her hair.

At least he was finally doing something to help Egwene.

IS HE THOUGH?

Not all princesses want to be rescued from their fiery towers beset by dragons, Gawyn. Some of them might rather like it there. Standing in a badass hero pose, silhouetted against the night sky, surrounded by power, with their hair blowing in the wind.

She’s doing far more to help herself than you are to help her, is what I’m getting at here, Gawyn.

They were gliding directly into a war zone where both sides were stronger than they were, both sides had little reason to like them, and both sides were wielding the One Power. It took a special kind of man to stare those odds in the eyes.

‘Special’ is not exactly the word I would use.

But this frames the whole situation quite nicely: they’re heading straight into a battle in which they are hideously outmatched, with very little idea of what’s going on, for no reason but to rescue someone who has specifically asked not to be rescued. WHY.

They’ve brought a hundred soldiers with them? Again…why? What do they think that will possibly do against a Seanchan attack mounted on dragons and wielding the One Power? It’s too many for stealth, and not enough to actually have an effect. I’m just so confused as to why they’re doing this at all. You’re all going to die and to what purpose?

I suppose disguising themselves as Tower guards helps a bit on the stealth front, but still. Everything about this plan seems terrible.

“It’s always a good idea to have a few copies of your enemy’s uniform.”

“It’s not proper,” Siuan said, folding her arms. “Serving on the Tower Guard is a sacred duty. They—”

“They’re your enemy, Siuan,” Bryne said sternly.

Are they?

How long can they look at the Tower as their enemy before it becomes insurmountable truth? This is why Egwene does not want to be rescued; this is what she has learned in her time as a supposed captive of the Tower. She came here as a result of her own declaration of war against them, true, but that’s a part of this whole arc for her, realising that the Tower and the Aes Sedai there are not her enemies, that she cannot afford for them to be her enemies, even if Elaida is. That the solution must somehow be unity, not war.

Gawyn, Siuan and Bryne took up positions at the front—Gawyn and the general walking just ahead of Siuan, as if they were Warders

Gawyn Trakand, the things you do not notice could literally fill books.

All in all, the illusion was very good. On first glance, Gawyn himself would have bought the disguise.

Yeah, sorry, that’s really not a high bar.

The billowing smoke reflected red firelight, enveloping the Tower in a menacing crimson haze. Holes and gashes broke the walls of the once-majestic building; fires blazed within several of them.

It’s so starkly different from how the Tower has always been described up until now; it’s the sort of language that would much more naturally be associated with, say, Dragonmount. But the illusion of a pure white structure, beautiful and untouchable and eternal, a monument and a lasting symbol of strength, has been shattered, and beneath it is…this. A nightmare of fire and a crumbling structure and chaos, burning.

I just love the contrast, because up until now the descriptions of the Tower have been so consistent, so perfectly crafted to suit an entity that presents only and exactly the image it chooses, never changing, never faltering, never letting anyone see what is truly there. In hindsight, all those descriptions feel a bit like looping a single piece of film across CCTV footage while carrying out a bank robbery. Too perfect, too still. And so to now get these descriptions instead is perfect in its suddenness, jarring in the way a shattering is as the illusion is forcibly broken away.

Up above, near the middle of the Tower, several gashes were spewing fireballs and lighting back out at the invaders.

EGWENE! Maybe Gawyn will see her as the absolute fucking badass that she is and will realise that she is way, way out of his league, and will give up and go home and leave Egwene to be awesome in peace.

“Now what?” Gawyn whispered.

Great plan, guys.

“We find Egwene,” Siuan answered. “We start at the base, then head down to the basement floors. She was locked down there somewhere earlier today, and it’s probably the first place we should look.”

Oh, ye of little faith. How can even you, Siuan, have so little confidence in her? You’ve seen her take on a Hall that treated her like a puppet, you’ve sent her to hunt the Black Ajah as little more than a novice, you know her strength and resourcefulness and ability.

Gawyn, she’s supposed to be the woman you love, and therefore someone you should have confidence in, and assume competence of. That’s how it works, right?

Bryne, you swore allegiance to her when, again, she was to all appearances just a girl raised Amyrlin so that it would be easy to pull her strings. You gave her an army and trusted that she would know what to do with it.

And yet NONE OF YOU look at the battle taking place, and think that maybe Egwene is in the middle of it, that maybe Egwene has done what she does and found a way to turn an impossible situation to her advantage, or at least found a way to fight back. Give her some credit already!

I know, I know, based on the information they have, her situation is Hashtag Not Great, but…come on, this is Egwene we’re talking about! Even if ‘ah she’s probably found a way to be badass and claim the Amyrlin’s authority at least as a battlefield commission in order to get shit done when no one else can and save the Tower’ isn’t the default assumption, they should at least entertain the possibility that she’s managed to figure something out, that she’s found a way to fight back.

Though in Siuan’s case, I wonder if there’s an element of…projection? After all, she was a clever and capable and powerful Amyrlin, but she was dancing on thin ice for a long time with the coming of the Dragon Reborn and the secrets she held and the course she was trying to take, and she did not see the coup coming, and for all her own resourcefulness and strength she was unable to save herself from it. So from her I wonder if it’s not so much a lack of confidence in Egwene as a sense of something almost like déjà vu, of looking at this situation and being terrified that it’s happening again, that what happened to her will happen to Egwene because even the most capable can be brought down.

Gawyn has no excuse though. He’s had many, many opportunities to give his girlfriend a single vote of confidence and he always seems to…not do that. It’s very frustrating.

Oh thank the Light it’s a POV switch.

I should have known it would be Saerin trying to actually implement some sort of strategy. Or one of that group, anyway; they’re some of the few who have managed bipartisan talks cooperation and effective work towards an actual goal lately.

Around her, the room was in virtual chaos.

I think this is a case of somewhere the word ‘literal’ would actually be appropriate…

Moradri was a long-limbed Mayener with dark skin, and she was trailed by two handsome Warders, both also Mayener. Rumours said that they were her brothers, come to the White Tower to defend their sister

Okay I know we’re in the middle of a battle here but this is such an interesting little aside! On the one hand, I’m almost surprised we haven’t seen instances of the Warder bond being used between siblings, but on the other hand, speaking as someone who has a sibling…wow. That would be uh. Interesting. And yet it also makes a lot of sense, given that it is by definition an incredibly close bond requiring a great deal of trust and a long partnership…but also two brothers as Warders. What a family! I suddenly want all of the backstory here.

No Greens to be found. We know where Adelorna is, at least, but it’s really not all that surprising, if you think about it.

“A pity,” Saerin said. “They like to call themselves the Battle Ajah, after all. Well, that leaves me to organise the fighting.”

They’re the Battle Ajah, but I think that the Tower’s long tendencies towards secrecy, isolation and insulation, noninterference between sisters, and manipulation rather than outright participation in any sort of war or battle has not just had an impact on the Greens’ ability to work as anything resembling a cohesive group, but is also a set of attitudes that would end up forcing tactics over strategy in a battle situation.

Whereas someone like Saerin, or really any of the Brown Ajah who have made war and strategy a part of their studies might well be better suited to the more administrative – but oh so massively underrated and vitally important – aspects of fighting.

Saerin eyed the Green sister, then tapped the map. “Mark the locations, Moradri. You can go back to the fighting soon enough, but your knowledge is more important right now.”

Yes, exactly this. Moradri wants to be out there fighting, because that’s what her Ajah’s attitude is or has become. And because if they all see themselves as individuals acting separately, of course the impulse is to go out and fight directly, rather than recognise that they’ll actually be more successful if they coordinate, and that all of them just throwing all their firepower at whatever they can reach is not the most efficient approach.

They have fighting skills, it seems, but they don’t know how to function as any sort of military force. Because the Tower’s attitudes haven’t allowed for that sort of thinking or cohesiveness to ever emerge.

So you need the people who can stand back rather than rushing straight in to where the fighting is thickest, who can pull out the maps and watch what’s happening and bring some level of organisation to the chaos, and send out those who do have the actual hands-on fighting ability but may lack the mindset for looking at the bigger picture.

Which of course is just another of the already myriad reasons the Ajahs need to work together and maybe, I don’t know, communicate and recognise that they all have valuable but different skills to contribute and that they’re stronger and more capable as a whole than as a disparate set of individuals, but…well, that’s sort of the whole point of the Tower’s story, isn’t it? United we stand, divided we fall, and all that.

“Captain, our most important task is to form a centre of operations. Aes Sedai and soldiers alike are scrambling about independently, acting like rats faced by wolves. We need to stand together.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself. Not that that’s ever stopped me from spending a few hundred words trying…

It’s not just that they need to stand together, though. It’s that they need to work together, and delegate tasks, and understand that it’s not just about firepower here. That they need a centre of operations, and that means some of them hanging back from the fighting, in order to make that fighting more efficient.

And I like that it isn’t Egwene organising this. Because Egwene is so much better suited to doing exactly what she’s doing: leading from the front, by example, and demonstrating in highly effective fashion the importance of having battle-ready tacticians who can hold their own in the middle of a fight and respond quickly. Egwene is somewhat more of a tactician than a strategist, and in a way she’s an example of what the Green Ajah could and should be, because she doesn’t only consider herself, and she doesn’t approach the fight as an individual but rather as a leader, taking into account the other people around her and how they can have the most impact.

But she goes straight for the front lines; Egwene is not exactly a character to hold herself back from…anything, really. She’s not the sort of person who would be in Saerin’s role—before or after a battle, maybe, but not during one. So I like that we get to see the importance of both. That Egwene gets to be badass as the Amyrlin in battle, but we also get this quiet emphasis on how important it is for the rest of the Tower to come together, to figure out how to strategise as a whole rather than a bunch of individuals. Egwene is fighting for the Tower, but the Tower also needs to learn how to fight for itself in order to back her up, and follow that lead. And for that, they need not just a leader like Egwene, but people like Saerin who can fill those desperately needed administrative and strategic roles, and look beyond the divisions as Egwene has been trying so hard to get them to do.

I also like that Saerin explicitly acknowledges Egwene in her thoughts, because Egwene isn’t here—and shouldn’t be; she’s doing just fine right where she is—but this is largely due to her influence. She can’t play every role herself, and what she’s doing right now is probably the best thing she could possibly be doing, but this is why she’s been trying to get them to break down those barriers between the Ajahs and even between the sisters themselves. Because Tarmon Gai’don is coming, and they need all of those skills—not just the fighters, or the healers, or the strategists, or the historians, but all of them, contributing their individual strengths. Just as we see Saerin doing here.

“This is a disaster!” an angry voice shouted.

Katerine, at least fifteen minutes late and not even bringing Starbucks.

“How dare they strike here!” Katerine continued.

Yes, Katerine, we see what you’re doing. It’s something the Black Ajah has been frighteningly successful at: sowing this sort of discord and inward-looking righteous anger and doing everything in their power to keep the Tower, and the Aes Sedai within it, from looking past themselves and their status and superiority.

So she comes into this ad-hoc centre of operations trying to rile them all up, because that’s the best way to ensure that they continue to face this threat as no more than an angry set of individuals, rather than putting aside insult or anger or fear for a while in order to fight back.

“We need to scour the Tower and eliminate each of them!”

It’s such a transparent attempt to divide them, and yet they’re all so divided already that would probably work, if Saerin weren’t here to immediately stomp out the bullshit.

Saerin raised an eyebrow. “Since when did the Mistress of Novices outrank a Sitter in the Hall, Katerine?”

Katerine tries to play the Red vs Brown angle but Saerin’s response is excellent not just because Katerine is a pain in our collective arses and it’s nice to see someone give her the verbal slap in the face she so deserves, but because it completely…not just ignores but takes all the relevance out of their difference in Ajahs. Saerin is a Sitter and Katerine is not and they’re under attack and it doesn’t matter what Ajah they are.

It reminds me, really, of Egwene telling Adelorna that for now, Adelorna and the others must call her Mother and accept her authority (also can I just say as an aside how much I love that the title of authority claimed by a leader in the midst of battle is Mother? Like what a way to quietly and without even addressing it subvert military and battle gender expectations and stereotypes). Saerin’s doing a similar thing in the…centre of operations, such as it is. She claims authority through competence, and for now they have to just accept that.

This battle isn’t really about the Seanchan so much as it’s about the Tower having to confront some hard truths about itself, which means it’s a time when characters like Egwene but also characters like Saerin get a chance to shine.

Another boom sounded outside.

“Where do those keep coming from?” Saerin asked in annoyance. “Haven’t they made enough holes?”

They?

“No, Aes Sedai!” the guard said. “I think it was a blast thrown from within the Tower, launched from one of the upper floors out at the flying creatures.” “Well at least someone else is fighting back,” Saerin said.

OH YOU HAVE NO IDEA.

She doesn’t, does she? Of course she wouldn’t. Because the Tower is a mess and there’s so little communication and even those like Egwene and Saerin who are trying to coordinate an actual defence—either by enacting it with whatever resources they can reach, or by trying to form a central command hub—are isolated from one another, and no one knows what’s going on.

“It appears that there’s a second rallying point for the defence, and it’s doing very well.”

YOU DON’T SAY. Tell us more, Captain. Paint us a picture of Egwene being a force of light, a rallying point for the Tower.

Have I mentioned I love outsider POV? We’re not even seeing Egwene through any of these characters’ eyes but that almost makes it better, because as the reader you know who they’re talking about even when they don’t. You can watch them try in wonder and surprise to work it out, or to see Saerin take it in stride but also with a clear sense of relief and even excitement, and you know who is causing that, who is having that kind of impact. There’s a particular kind of delight as a reader in seeing other characters in some form of awe or respect or even just surprise or relief at what you know to be another character’s actions, but their reaction isn’t for the character, it’s for what the character has done. It’s for the awesome, even when they don’t know the source of the awesome, but as a reader you do and it’s wonderful. This is maybe a weirdly specific thing to love, but love it I do.

“Where?” Saerin asked eagerly. “Specifically?”

“The twenty-second, Aes Sedai. Northeastern quarter.”

“What?” Katerine asked. “The Brown Ajah sections?”

No. That was what had been there before. Now, with the swapping of the Tower’s corridors, that area of the Tower was…

THIS IS EVERYTHING I WANTED IT TO BE.

This slow realisation, the amazement first at the fact that there’s a strong defence at all, and then wondering who and how, and then this gradual realisation that wait, wait…

It’s not suspense, exactly, because as a reader you know exactly who and how, but watching other characters realise is just delicious.

“The novices’ quarters?” Saerin said. That seemed even more ridiculous. “How in the world…” She trailed off, eyes widening slightly. “Egwene.”

I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS SO MUCH.

This, this is why I absolutely adore outsider POV. It’s that sense of…triumph by proxy, that thrill of other characters realising, and really seeing Egwene for the first time in a new light, even when she’s not actually there. Perhaps even because she’s not actually there. Those moments when characters recognise something in another that you’ve known all along but seeing it through new eyes it’s almost like getting to see it again for the first time.

Also okay, I’m just a simple girl with simple needs, and so if you give me a character breathing another character’s name in astonishment and realisation, I will be happy.

It’s especially effective because this is what Egwene has been working towards for so long, and we’ve seen bits and pieces of it—of the way the other Aes Sedai see her shifting—but this is where it really seems to happen. Where someone like Saerin fully understands that this girl is no novice, that she’s not a wilfull child or a puppet manipulated into declaring herself Amyrlin. This is where, again perhaps because Egwene isn’t actually there, she and maybe the others can look past Egwene’s youth and her novice dress and see what they’ve been unable or unwilling to see before. That this woman is the Amyrlin, and she is a force to be reckoned with, and she will save the Tower by sheer force of will if she has to.

I also like how that realisation is coming right on the heels of a very different mood of outsider-POV-realisations-about-a-character with Rand. Mostly in seeing him through Tuon’s eyes, but even seeing him through Min’s when he burned Natrin’s Barrow. There, it was watching other characters finally realise just how terrifying he has become—or in Tuon’s case, you get the same impression because it’s her first time meeting him and what she sees and thinks about shows Rand in a very different light, seen through the eyes of someone who has not been watching him all along and doesn’t still see, at least a little bit, the boy from Emond’s Field.

And now you get the same thing with Egwene—the realisation that she is not just a girl from Emond’s Field claiming authority she doesn’t have, and that she is a force to be reckoned with, and that she’s so much more than they assumed her to be—but in every other aspect it’s opposite to what we see with Rand. And yet conveyed through the same techniques, and even with the Seanchan as backdrop, to some extent.

Now over to Egwene herself!

Egwene stood at an open hole in the side of the White Tower, wind pulling at her white dress, tugging at her hair, howling as if in accompaniment to her rage.

I do love these…Hero Pose Portraits we get of her. Egwene at the heart of the storm, wind in her hair and fire in her eyes. It’s a strong visual, and a very recognisable one. This is absolutely and immediately recognisable as a Hero Pose, and I suppose it’s a good example of how some tropes are tropes because damn it they work.

Her anger was not out of control. It was cold and distilled. The Tower was burning.

Are you tired of me drawing parallels and contrasts between her and Rand yet? Yes? Well, too bad.

‘Cold’ is definitely a description pretty strongly associated with Rand at this point, cold and hard and emotionless. And right at this moment, yes, Egwene is cold and calm and ruthless. She’s in the middle of a battle; she has to be. She has to be able to order the novices to form circles and fight with her, she has to be able to strike to kill, to bring down raken that may be carrying Aes Sedai captives. She has to be able to think, and to respond to the Seanchan’s attacks, and plan her own.

But the difference between her and Rand here is that Egwene uses that as a temporary state, and even then she doesn’t deny her emotions, or push them down so far that they end up stabbing her to death from the inside with their tiny spiteful knives (don’t lie to me, Rand, that’s exactly what’s going on and we both know it).

It’s like when she told herself steel yourself, Egwene, before reading through the list of dead ladies Black Ajah members. There are times when a measure of cold is needed. There are times to put emotion aside for later. But she doesn’t try to become that cold. She doesn’t try to become steel. She can harden herself to battle when she has to, and she does a bloody good job of it, but she’s not trying to flay herself into a permanent state of it as a way of dealing with what she must do.

She can embrace pain, but embracing it also means accepting and acknowledging and feeling it, and understanding that her aims are simply more important than the pain. She can steel herself to harsh truth, but she also takes a few moments to work through the emotional turmoil it causes.

It’s an issue of moderation; Egwene seems to have found a balance of sorts, where Rand has gone to an extreme. She can access that place of calm, cold determination, but she doesn’t have to take up permanent residence there (which is good because wow, here I thought America’s citizenship path was demanding). And she has a very clear sense of why she’s doing this; it’s something she has chosen, and something she will fight for because she believes it is worth fighting for. The fact that she cares is what enables her to do this at all, whereas Rand feels like he has to not care about anything in order to reach a state where he can do anything.

She directed her anger—the anger of justice, the wrath of the Amyrlin.

She can be cold in the midst of battle, but she’s channelling her anger into that rather than denying it. She is not unfeeling, here; this is not like Rand so calmly and so quietly erasing a fortress with balefire, knowing it should terrify him and yet feeling nothing at all. She is angry and she accepts that anger and both the power and the consequences of it.

And I think maybe it comes down to choices, again. Egwene can kill for the Tower because she chose her role; she may not actually want to kill people but it doesn’t threaten to destroy her when she has to, because she accepts it as part of the path and cause and role she has chosen. Not that she specifically chose the killing people part, or necessarily would have, but I think she doesn’t see it as a duty she is forced to bear, a role she is forced to play, blood that is demanded of her. She chose the Tower and she chose to be Amyrlin and she chose to leave Emond’s Field and she chose to be the person she is now and give herself to this cause, and so if this is part of it, well, then, that is what she will do. It feels like one of those lines that is both vast and yet so small, just a matter of perspective and nuance, and yet it makes such a huge difference to almost everything.

She was a fount of Power, drawn from deep within the fluted rod in her hands, channelled through a group of novices and Accepted hiding in the room behind, bound to her in circle. Egwene was part of the fires that burned in the Tower, bloodying the sky with their flames, painting the air with their smoke. She almost seemed not a being of flesh, but one of pure Power, sending judgement to those who had dared bring war to the Tower itself. Blasts of lightning stormed from the sky, the clouds churning above. Fire sprouted from her hands.

This is absolutely beautiful, and so, so similar to how Rand was described, as a force of Light, a being seemingly made of light and Power rather than flesh, channelling through a ter’angreal that shone in his hands. And at the end, fire.

It’s such an eerily similar description, and it carries the same beauty and power, and yet the context and therefore feeling it evokes is so completely different. These are the parallels I love, where the scenes are almost mirrors of each other, where the actions or situations are almost identical, and yet a simple shift in perspective or sense of agency or reasoning can make it look completely and utterly opposite.

With Rand, this image was one to evoke a sense of quiet horror, beauty and yet terror, a pause before the step across a line, the sort of silence and blinding power and then act that leaves no breath or words for making sense of what has just happened. But now, the almost identical image is one of wrath and justice and power and triumph—there’s a harshness to it, yes, but it’s all for a purpose, and there is no silent gaping absence of emotion, no moment where it seems the whole world is drawing in in horror before the release.

With Rand, the eeriness came in part from the complete absence of violence in the description. It was just beauty and power and then…that. Whereas with Egwene the violence is a part of it; the description is beautiful and she is a being of power but we have fires the burned the Tower and bloodying the sky and painting the air with their smoke and blasts and churned. There is no denial of violence here, just as there is no denial of the emotional aspect of it. This isn’t quiet the way Rand’s scene was, because nothing is being muted or suppressed here. There isn’t a sense of absence, or of something vital missing. There’s just violent, terrible, beautiful power and triumph and anger and desperate defense and vengeance and justice. No, it’s not kind. But it’s not meant to be. And so it has none of the eeriness of A Force of Light, none of the growing horror at how soft and quiet everything was contrasted with what it was.

And I like the nod here to the Amyrlin being one with the Tower, in the way we’re always given the Dragon as one with the land.

Perhaps she should have feared breaking the Three Oaths. But she did not. This was a fight that needed to be fought, and she did not lust for death—though, perhaps, her rage against the sul’dam approached it. The soldiers and damane were unfortunate casualties.

The White Tower, the sacred dwelling of the Aes Sedai, was under attack. They were all in dagner, a danger greater than death. Those silvery collars were far worse. Egwene defended herself and each woman in the Tower.

Okay, I’m glad we at least got some acknowledgement that this is on the fuzzy side of compliance with the Three Oaths, though I’m still surprised Adelorna didn’t even think about it.

For the record, I have absolutely no problems with what Egwene is doing; the Seanchan attacked first, and they’re attacking to capture or kill, and if Egwene can spin that into defending her life and the lives of all the Aes Sedai in the Tower in order to comply with the oath against using the Power as a weapon, great. But it is definitely in a slightly grey area of that particular oath, so I’m glad we’re seeing some awareness of that.

And…yeah, she’s not killing because killing is fun, but she’s also not going to be torturing herself with the blood on her hands after this. Would she have chosen this battle? No. But it’s here and this is the role she has chosen, and so this is a part of what that means, and she can accept that. Even somewhat coldly, in the moment—but again I don’t think it’s a complete absence of feeling so much as an acceptance, and a lack of…heaping unnecessary pain on herself because of the things that she has to do.

(And I’m just going to continue to ignore the ‘worse than death’ thing because I said so).

The attackers prepared weaves to strike her down, but each time Egwene struck first, either deflecting the balls of fire with a blast of air or simply bringing down the to’raken who carried the women trying to kill her.

A one-woman anti-aircraft gun.

Something I really like about this fight is that it doesn’t shy away from the fact that Egwene is in battle, with a body count, aiming to kill. It’s something that often is…avoided…with female protagonists. Implied, sometimes, but often euphemised or glossed over or never really verified on-screen. A bit like how we see Aviendha, actually; she’s a former Maiden of the Spear and it’s kind of assumed that she has been in fights and has killed people, but it’s definitely told more than shown. So you get a fair amount of that (and then there’s Tamora Pierce, doing the Good Work and providing all kinds of Ladies With Swords content), but this is definitely more rare.

And yet Egwene gets to have that, and it’s not written as a stain on her character, or as something that’s going to cause an existential crisis. It’s just who and where she is: she is the Amyrlin and the Tower is under attack and she is on the front lines defending, and that means she is in a battle, and she is fighting and fighting to kill. Just as Mat and Perrin and Rand have been. And it’s not written differently because she’s a woman, or even written in such a way as to highlight that at all. It’s just written as a powerful main character in a battle for her life and the cause she’s defending.

Between Falme and Cairhien and now this, she’s probably in the running for second-highest body count after Rand (maybe third; Mat is almost certainly higher and it’s hard to say with Perrin), but it’s not made into a Thing any more than it is for any of them. Nor is she the seductress/femme-fatale type you often see with women who have blood on their hands. She’s just…a powerful character in a position that means she sees battle, and she’s really not treated any differently in that sense than the male characters in similar positions. Which I really, really appreciate.

Some would escape. But they would pay dearly. That was another goal. She had to make certain they never attacked the Tower again.

This raid had to cost them.

And this is the other thing I like: that she’s allowed to have this edge. She is fighting on the defensive, and out of necessity, but she is also approaching it as a tactician, and it is a battle, and could turn into an ongoing war. So she’s doing what she can to prevent that, which means making it cost them—which means killing them. She’s allowed that ruthlessness, just as she has always been allowed ambition; two traits that are sometimes hard to find in non-villain female characters.

Over to Bryne now, who is busy dodging a burning raken. Probably Egwene’s welcome gift to him; she’s a bit busy to send flowers.

It’s a shame Bashere isn’t here; he’d probably commandeer one and honestly I want nothing more.

Were the Seanchan running away from something or just looking for a fight?

Not something, Bryne. They are absolutely fleeing someone and I cannot wait for you to work it out. Because watching people work out how very capable and frankly terrifying Egwene is has been the best part of these chapters.

Well, aside from Egwene herself, of course.

I don’t want Bryne to admire Gawyn’s swordsmanship because that means I have to accept that Gawyn’s good with a sword and—okay, this sentence was actually going somewhere but it got derailed when I realised I was just diving headfirst into truly awful innuendo. Ow. Well, whatever Gawyn, Galad is still the better swordsman and Mat could take both of you with a stick and Lan could probably take all three of you without breaking a sweat and—yeah, no, that sentence wasn’t any better. I give up.

Gawyn unsheathed his own blade, on edge. “Look up there,” he said, and pointed with his sword. […] “By the Light…” Bryne whispered, focusing on the gap. A solitary figure wearing white stood in the Tower’s rent.

AW YEAH.

The theme of this chapter is whispered awe at the sight or even realisation of Egwene and I am here for it.

And yes, Bryne. By the Light indeed. Even more so than you meant it, I think.

It’s just SUCH A GOOD IMAGE, a solitary figure in white, alone and yet the essence of the Tower itself, as it should be; the Amyrlin even dressed as a novice, standing in a fracture in the Tower because she is the one holding it together, holding its attackers at bay.

It was too distant to make out her face, even with the spyglass, but whoever she was

ARE YOU SHITTING ME. ‘Whoever she was’? Surely one of you at least has a fleeting suspicion at this point?

Whoever she was, she was certainly doing some damage to the Seanchan. Her arms were upraised with fire glowing between her hands, the burning light throwing shadows across the outer Tower wall around her.

Setting aside the fact that her boyfriend and her general can’t seem to recognise her, I love all these glimpses we get of her throughout the battle. We only see briefly from her POV, but to those who see her…the descriptions are all in this mode of the heroic bordering almost on the divine. A force of light and power, a solitary figure in white, arms upraised and fire in her hands, a symbol of strength and determination and everything the Tower should be. And she is always met with awe and almost wonder; it’s such a great way to show a character coming well and truly into her own in the eyes of those around her.

Except, apparently, for Bryne and Gawyn, who still don’t even consider that it could be her. WHO THE FUCK ELSE WOULD IT BE?

I am Disgruntled.

(Also, the burning light throwing shadows is again so similar to the description of Rand in A Force of Light that it’s almost hard to tell the quotes apart…and yet while the visual imagery is the same, almost nothing else is. On the one hand destruction, and on the other, salvation).

The badly wounded would be abandoned into enemy hands, but they had been warned of that possibility before coming on this mission. Recovering the Amyrlin outweighed all other concerns.

Except by ‘enemy’ he means the Tower and not the Seanchan, and he looks at the whole battle against the Seanchan as a distraction from their real purpose, and really none of them should be enemies and he just saw the Amyrlin and she certainly did not need recovering and really…everything is wrong here. None of them should be fighting, and yet they are, and all sides or contingents involved have a different thought as to who the enemy even is, and it’s just confusion and chaos because none of this should be happening at all.

“And if you’d been recognised?” he demanded. “Siuan, these people tried to execute you!”

She sniffed. “Moiraine herself wouldn’t recognise me with this face.”

Wow, okay, I’m not sure why this hit me the way it did but something about the fact that she so reflexively uses Moiraine as the reference point her …as far as Siuan knows, Moiraine is dead, and yet she has for so long been the person Siuan was closest to, the one other person who shared their secret for twenty years, her best friend and onetime lover and just the way she says it, ‘Moiraine herself’, without seeming to even think about it…I don’t know, it came out of nowhere and yet of course that’s what she would say and suddenly I’m a little bit sad.

There are a lot of reunions—or even first-time meetings—I’m hoping for before the end, but Moiraine and Siuan are very high on the list. They are the only ones left of the ones who began this, and I just want them to have a moment to see one another again and be able to share that knowledge of how far they have come and all they have done, even if it’s bittersweet, and maybe even get to finally lay that duty down and look ahead to a life in this world they’ve given so much of their lives to save.

Anyway she’s found a novice who should at least be able to tell them what’s going on, and by ‘what’s going on’ I mean ‘that Egwene is a badass and they don’t need to rescue her because she’s busy rescuing the entire Tower, so maybe they could just go help her out with that’.

“The Amyrlin, Egwene al’Vere,” the novice said in a quivering voice. “She was released from the cells earlier today and allowed to return to the novices’ quarters.”

And the novices’ quarters aren’t where they were, so there’s still some reason for Siuan and the others to not immediately put two and two together to make ‘Egwene is a badass and they don’t need to rescue her because she’s busy rescuing the Tower, so maybe they culd just go help her out with that’ but the fact that still none of them have even considered the possibility is DRIVING ME MAD.

“But she’s probably up on the twenty-first or twenty-second level somewhere. That’s where the novices’ quarters are now.”

Okay, no more excuses.

AND YET. THEY STILL. DO NOT EVEN THINK. THAT MAYBE THE GLORIOUS AND TERRIBLE WOMAN WITH FIRE IN HER HANDS AND A WHITE NOVICE DRESS IS THEIR AMYRLIN.

I am, of course, most disappointed in Gawyn who should be the one going ‘Wait! What if that was Egwene! My girlfriend is awesome and capable and maybe she’s managed to find a way to fight!’ but instead goes straight for ‘We’ve got to reach her!’

He was the one who pointed her out, even. Worst Boyfriend of the Year.

I cannot believe I have been forced to a point where I wish that, if she had to choose one of the Brothers Arthurian, she had chosen Galad. I resent this.

“You’re here to rescue her, aren’t you?” The novice sounded eager.

Bryne eyed the girl. Child, I wish you hadn’t made that connection.

What, you thought there was even a slight chance that she wouldn’t? With you storming into the Tower and talking about Egwene and immediately saying you have to go and find her? Just because you three are all being as dense as bricks about what’s right in front of you doesn’t mean everyone else is.

As much as I loved the way Saerin’s realisation that Egwene was the one organising the fight against the Seanchan, the astonishment as she said Egwene’s name and understood what was happening? That’s how much I’m annoyed at seeing Bryne and Gawyn and Siuan fail to realise the same thing.

Especially because really, they have just as much information as Saerin did, and she worked it out. More information, even; they’ve actually seen Egwene, even if they couldn’t make out her face. *Shakes head* I’m not mad; I’m just very disappointed in the three of you.

Pause for a quick Healing break because this lot have brought swords to a One Power fight.

Would [the Tower] ever be the same again, or had a seemingly eternal monument fallen this evening? Was he proud or grieved to have witnessed it?

This, I like, because it’s one of the threads running through this whole chapter—and, really, through most of the series, especially since The Shadow Rising. Now, though, the cracks that have spidered their way up the Tower are made plain for the world to see, thrown open beyond anyone’s ability to hide. It’s that destruction of the illusion of invincibility, which can utterly flip entire worldviews. The realisation that something once considered untouchable is just as vulnerable as anywhere else, and I am…somewhat put in mind of an aspect of a nation’s response to fall of another (set of) tower(s); a lot has been written about the realisation of vulnerability that caused, and the effect it’s had on the sociopolitical landscape of the entire country pretty much since then. There’s definitely a paradigm shift that occurs with that sort of realisation or fracturing of worldview.

I like Bryne’s…confusion isn’t the word I want but it’ll have to do…at whether he feels proud or grieved to be seeing this. He’s not really a part of the Tower—I mean, he serves a claimant to the Amyrlin Seat and he’s bonded now to a former Amyrlin and his focus has been on fighting to reclaim the Tower, so okay, he’s got some ties there, but he’s not Aes Sedai, and he’s not from Tar Valon, and for most of his life he has been no more tied to the Tower than anyone on this continent. But it’s been a constant throughout all that time; love it or hate it or fear it, the Tower has been the Tower for as long as anyone alive can remember. So to watch this…there could be a sense of pride, or perhaps of justice or vindication in seeing the arrogance of the Aes Sedai brought low. But at the same time…it has been a constant, and while the Aes Sedai are far from perfect, what does it mean for the world if they are show to be truly fallible? If the Tower can break, what else will follow? It’s the sense of an ending; it’s one thing to know Tarmon Gaidon is coming, but another to watch as a symbol of your time is destroyed.

No time for philosophical pondering, though, because he has to go stab a guy.

Was this one of the Bloodknives? It certainly looks to be; pity that didn’t help him against a Warder’s reflexes.

Assassins. They always seemed to look the same, regardless of the culture.

This feels like an author poking fun, and I had to laugh.

“Min,” Siuan said, sounding tired. Those Healings seemed to have taken a lot out of her. “She said I had to stay near you.” She paused. “If you hadn’t come tonight, I would have died.”

“Well,” Bryne said, “I am your Warder. I suspect it won’t be the only time I save you.” Why had it grown so warm all of a sudden.

“Yes,” Siuan said, standing up. “But this is different. Min said I’d die, and…No, wait. That’s not what Min said exactly. She said that if I didn’t stay close to you, we’d both die.”

And she proceeds to pull a poisoned needle out of his arm. So Min was right, but her viewing only ended up being true because she told Siuan about it, because if she hadn’t, then Siuan wouldn’t have paused to think about it and about the other half of it, which implies that—okay, no, that way lies brain-pain. Do Not Think Too Hard About Foretellings And Prophecies: rule number one of reading fantasy (without falling into an infinite loop).

“But I wouldn’t have been poisoned if I hadn’t come!” “Don’t try to apply logic to a viewing or Foretelling like this”

It’s like you read my mind, Siuan. Or, more likely, Sanderson. A little nod to the nature of the genre, there?

Egwene sat, exhausted, on a pile of rubble, staring out of the hole in the White Tower, watching fires burn below.

I love that this is how we begin her POV here. We’ve seen her glorious in battle, full of cold anger and justice and determination, we’ve seen other characters look to her in awe, and the Seanchan have fled from her…

And, in victory, all we see is exhaustion. Exhaustion and the aftermath—the Tower is still broken, the fires still burn. They have won, but there is a price.

It’s such an excellent contrast to the imagery and mood from the battle itself, and it’s perfect in the way so many of the battle-aftermath scenes have been in this series. It’s that sense of…only a battle lost is sadder than a battle won.

She has fought, and she has won, but while there was a sense of triumph and strength in the moment, now there’s just…exhaustion and rubble. They’ve won, but it has taken so much, and they’ve taken wounds, and it’s not truly over. And like so many battles in the series, it wasn’t even against the Shadow; it was against those who should not be enemies and yet are, because they cannot find common ground.

And…I just realised something. This was Egwene’s parallel to A Force of Light (well, parallel and inversion) but it was also her Dumai’s Wells. The Seanchan are, in a way, her Shaido; the Shaido were the catalyst for much of Rand’s early arc and steps along the path that led him to where he is now, and at Dumai’s Wells he broke free from the box he was kept in and found himself surrounded by them and thought They will pay. I am the Lord of the Morning. And then he destroyed them—or, commanded and witnessed their destruction until he couldn’t take it anymore and they fled—in a vicious battle that ended in definitive but pyrrhic victory, as well as Aes Sedai swearing fealty to him.

Meanwhile, the Seanchan were the catalyst for much of Egwene’s early arc and steps along the path that have led her to where she is, and now she has just been freed from the box-like prison cell where she was held and beaten, and she finds herself surrounded by the Seanchan and thinks They would pay dearly. This raid had to cost them, and destroys them with fire and the One Power resulting in victory, but one that comes at the high cost to the nearly-destroyed Tower, but has led to Aes Sedai accepting her authority and seems likely to lead to Aes Sedai acknowledging her as Amyrlin.

Though, of course, there’s the usual inversion of tone to a certain extent; this doesn’t feel like Egwene’s darkest hour, even with the exhaustion and destruction that follows. But I think the point is that it so easily could have been, that so much depends on perception.

It’s also just a really cool set of parallels.

A few sisters weaving Air or Water could make short work of the flames, preserving the Tower. What was left of it.

Egwene closed her eyes and lay back, resting against the fragments of a wall, feeling the fresh breeze blow across her.

Here, again, we get a sense almost of the Amyrlin as one with the Tower. Victorious, technically, but beaten and exhausted and still burning, unable to do anything but lie back against the fragments of what was. With the wind, of course. Of course a wind rises, here.

Egwene wanted to help. A part of her did, at least. A sliver. But Light, she was tired! She couldn’t channel another trickle, not even using the sa’angreal. She’d pushed the limits of what she could manage. But she was so worn out now that she woudn’t be able to embrace the Source if she tried.

Oh, Egwene. It is a heavy mountain to carry, even if it is one she has largely chosen, or believes she has chosen. But she has been through so much in the last…well, twelve books but particularly the last few weeks, and she just faced the strength of the Seanchan while barely able to channel unaided, and still the Tower is broken and still there is more to do and she wants to help but there are limits and she is far past them.

Not that that always stops her, but…there’s a sense here not quite of despair but I guess that she’s been doing too much of this alone for too long. She’s held the Tower together and defended it all while those within it have tried to break her even as the Tower itself was breaking—the Tower is one with the Amyrlin and the Amyrlin is one with the Tower—and maybe now it’s up to some of them to put the fires out. To begin the repair. To help her hold the Tower together, because there’s no point if they don’t join her; there’s no point in her holding it up if the Aes Sedai don’t rally to the same cause.

And so perhaps it’s not up to her to help, here. She has done what she can for them, and she will continue to do more, but right now it’s time for them to take some steps of their own, to decide whether the Tower will in fact be saved, or whether they will let it fall.

She’d fought. She’d been glorious and destructive, the Amyrlin of judgement and fury, Green Ajah to the core. And still, the Tower had burned.

This is so, so lovely. I love that glorious and destructive are the words she chooses. There is absolutely a salvation/destruction duality to what she has done here, and I’m not even going to parallel it with Rand’s own entire character and story of salvation and destruction, but instead I just think it’s perfect for her situation and for the Tower itself.

She fought, and fought beautifully, and despite all her power and determination, the Tower burned. Because it can’t just be her; for the Tower to stand, it has to be unified. There is only so much she can do alone, and until the others truly join her and decide for themselves to save the Tower, she can only just hold it together, no matter how strong she is. She can lead, but only if they decide to follow. Otherwise she is holding together an empty shell of a memory of a possibility.

I just love aftermath scenes.

So much.

Especially the way they’re done in this series. Joyful or despairing, gloriously alive or exhausted, bittersweet or just bitter, triumphant or anticlimactic, they’re so varied and yet so perfectly suited to what they follow.

Egwene has done everything she possibly can and more, and yet the Tower is still crumbling around her, and so this almost-despairing exaustion is perfect, because what more can she do? Alone, nothing. And yet she can’t give up, can’t stop trying.

The White Tower was broken, physically now as well as spiritually. They’d need a strong leader to rebuild. The next few days would be pivotal. It made her more than exhausted to consider the work she’d need to do.

I’ve talked a lot about how Egwene is a hero-by-choice rather than a Chosen One, but I like that she gets to have these moments where…despite all of that, sometimes it’s really fucking hard. She belives in what she is doing, and embraces her role, and has a sense of agency that many heroes lack because she did choose, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be pushed past the limits of her own endurance. It doesn’t mean she is immune to despair or to doubt or to sheer tiredness. So much has been asked of her, and she has taken so much upon herself, and there’s still so much more to do, and she’ll do it, but right now…well, I can’t blame her for wanting just a few moments to rest.

She had protected many. She had resisted and fought. But this day would still mark one of the greatest disasters in the history of the Aes Sedai.

Can’t think of that, she told herself. Have to focus on what to do to fix things…

You can almost see her all but physically dragging herself out of that beckoning despair. She’s done everything, and still it’s not enough.

She has saved many but what will be remembered is the destruction, and oh, how familiar that sounds. It’s Rand after so many battles, after so much death and pain and people who hate him for tearing nations apart because it’s the only way to save the world. It’s Rand as a figure, hated and feared and yet the world’s hope for salvation. Seen as a monster but demanded as a saviour. It’s the duality not just of salvation and destruction but of perception and reality, of achievement and cost.

She fought and was glorious and still today will be remembered as a disaster, and how easy it would be to give in to that, to let it drag her down, but she can’t and so she pulls herself back up because if she doesn’t, then they are all lost.

She would get up soon. She would lead the novices and Aes Sedai on thse upper floors as they cleaned up and assessed the damage. She would be strong and capable. The others would be tempted to fall into despair, and she needed to be positive. For them.

And for herself. In a moment, she will be the Amyrlin again…

But she could take a few minutes. She just needed to rest for a little while…

And remember a girl named Egwene al’Vere…

Oh, Egwene. You can only do so much alone.

She barely noticed when someone picked her up.

NO. NO NO NO NO NO.

She tiredly opened her eyes, and—thought numb of mind—was astonished to find that she was being carried by Gawyn Trakand.

I DO NOT WANT THIS.

“I’ve got you, Egwene,” he said, glancing down. “I’ll protect you.”

DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT SHE HAS DONE? DO YOU? ‘I’ll protect you’ IT’S A LITTLE LATE FOR THAT, SHE’S ALREADY SEEN TO THAT HERSELF. And not just protecting herself but the whole damn Tower. That’s why she’s tired, Gawyn, or hadn’t you noticed? Do you think she just…decided to nap through the battle or have you finally figured it out?

And she doesn’t want to be ‘rescued’ but she’s too tired to say anything and I’m so very indignant on her behalf.

“They just left her there, Siuan,” Gawyn said. His voice was so nice to hear.

IS IT THOUGH? He still assumes she was just…left there. That she did nothing. That she was in need of rescue because of course she couldn’t possible be tired from having basically fought the entire damn battle on her own.

“Defenceless in the hallway! Anyone could have come upon her like that. What if the Seanchan had discovered her?”

WHAT IF

THE SEANCHAN

HAD DISCOVERED HER

I can barely breathe I’m laughing so hard at the wall of unintentional irony upon which I am now going to hit my head repeatedly.

Gawyn you idiot.

Seriously, the degree to which I find it frustrating when characters’ achievements go unrecognised by those around them is entirely proportional to the degree to which I love watching those around them realise or see those achievements. It is possible I am projecting just a little bit here, but I hate it when this happens—when a character does something astonishing but no one who is with them sees or knows or realises, and so they all assume that character is less than they truly are.

I destroyed them, she thought with a smile, thoughts slipping away from her. I was a burning warrior, a hero called by the Horn. They won’t dare face me again.

This contrast here, between his complete lack of even the slightest thought that maybe she was involved—he doesn’t even consider it, just as usual goes straight for the option that accords her the least agency or competence possible, because what more would someone want in a boyfriend—and her unspoken response. The knowledge that the Seanchan sure as hell discovered her, and it was to their grief that they did.

His denial of her competence and her own certainty of it, her own quiet triumph that goes unrecognised by her own strongest allies.

But not by those in the Tower; Saerin realised who she was, and the novices she was with know, and Adelorna was with her. They know what she has done. And Egwene herself knows, and holds to that knowledge.

I like that she gets to have that line, too. That she gets to take pride in what she has done, even if parts of it were terrible, even if she is so tired she can barely think, even if the Tower is broken despite all her efforts. I like that she gets to have that kind of confidence and that she doesn’t have to belittle her accomplishments. Because she was fucking awesome, and she should get to say so.

Called by the Horn is an interesting thought for her to have, by the way.

She distantly heard Siuan’s voice. “What’s this? Light, Egwene! Where did you get this? This is the most powerful one in the Tower!”

“What is it, Siuan?” Bryne’s voice asked.

“Our way out,” Siuan said distantly.

It’s also really the last puzzle piece you should need, to work out what exactly Egwene’s role in all of this was. Seriously, Siuan, if you and all your political and pattern-finding skill can’t put it together, I’m disappointed. Hm, I wonder what Egwene—who has been given forkroot and so can’t channel strongly—would be doing with the most powerful sa’angreal in the Tower, wearing a white dress and on the same floor of the Tower where Gawyn pointed out a woman throwing fire at the Seanchan. Probably just left ‘defenceless in the hallway’ to have a nap. Yep, sounds about right.

No! Egwene thought, clawing through her drowsiness, forcing her eyes open. I’m winning, don’t you see?

But they don’t see. Because for all that these three are the ones who should believe in you the most strongly—and two of them have shown themselves to be exactly that in the past, by helping you become Amyrlin in truth and acknowledging you as such, and by giving you the army and accepting your true authority—they apparently still see a defenceless prisoner in need of rescue.

It’s especially weird coming from Siuan—enough so that it almost seems out of character—because that’s really not so different from how Egwene appeared, to most, when she was with the rebels. At least until the declaration of war, she gave every outward impression of being the puppet child Amyrlin they wanted, naïve and powerless against the Hall and set up to take the fall if it all went wrong. And Siuan knew how much truth there was to that illusion.

Sigh.

Well, as soon as she wakes up I look forward to her giving them an earful.

And breaking up with Gawyn.

A GIRL CAN DREAM, OKAY?

I must say, though, that this chapter has made excellent use of outsider POV, across its whole range. We’ve had those moments of realisation from those who have seen Egwene, and even from Gawyn and Bryne who didn’t recognise her but were still awed by her, and last chapter from Adelorna who almost immediately understood and accepted her authority. And then we’ve had, too, the misperception of her as helpless, by those who found her after the battle had already been won when she’s too tired to do anything more. It’s a great way of showing the effect perception can have, and it also lends it this…kind of bittersweet sense of extraordinary accomplishment and the awe from characters like Saerin, but also the complete ignorance of characters like Gawyn, who don’t even know what an incredible thing she’s done.

It’s very well done, and such an interesting way to play it, even in the times when it’s INCREDIBLY FRUSTRATING.

All in all, a truly excellent battle. I sort of wondered whether, under Sanderson, the battles would continue in the standard of excellence but each in their own entirely unique way, because it’s something I’ve really, really loved about the series so far. And in this book, at least, that standard has continued.

Anyway, back to Saerin, who is also very tired.

There were a frightful number of dead, including over twenty Aes Sedai so far.

Yeah, I think this might have been what Min’s vision was about, back in TSR. I assumed it was the coup, when that happened, but I don’t think the death toll was nearly so high then. That’s impressive manipulation of foreshadowing and deception, if so.

And also, once again we’re seeing the cost of the victory. They’ve won, but not without a high price.

Saerin has definitely taken command of the administrative side of this battle and its aftermath, and seems to be doing a good job of it. I like it when relatively minor characters get a chance to shine this way.

It also feels like the beginning of…exactly what Tower needs, which is others stepping up to help—well, not just to help Egwene, but to help the Tower itself. To help her help the Tower. She cannot do it all herself, but now there are those who are finally following the example she has tried to set, and the unity she has tried so hard to foster. It’s the beginning of the Tower saving itself.

Where under the Light was Elaida?

Yeah, good question.

Also, where has Alviarin been in all of this? We saw Katerine, but Alviarin’s been conspicuously absent. Where was Mesaana?

Nobody had seen anything of the Amyrlin during the battle

On the contrary, Saerin. Many saw her. The Seanchan certainly did, by the light of the fireballs she was throwing in their faces.

Only three novices in Egwene’s group of over sixty had died? And only one sister out of some forty she had gathered? Ten Seanchan channellers captured, over thirty raken blown from the air? Light! That made Saerin’s own efforts seem downright amateur by comparison. And this was the woman Elaida kept trying to insist was simply a novice?

Salvation and destruction, all in one neat report.

Can you forward that report on to Gawyn and Bryne and Siuan, Saerin?

Oh shit is Elaida dead?

“The entire wall burst in, Saerin Sedai.”

Yeah, walls and rooftops are dangerous enemies in this series.

Oh. Okay. No, Elaida is not dead.

She’s on a raken with an a’dam around her neck.

That’s…uh…

Huh.

I’m not completely sure how I feel about that, actually.

On the one hand, there’s a certain sense of balance to both claimants to the Amyrlin Seat being taken against their will from the Tower at the end of the battle, with none realising until afterwards. In that sense, maybe it’s a way of handing the fate of the Tower to the Hall—Elaida has done her damage and Egwene has done what she can to heal it and now the Tower stands shaken and poised to tip one way or the other and it is up to the Aes Sedai themselves to decide whether the Tower will be saved or destroyed.

On the other hand…what a weird way for Elaida to exit that storyline, after so much has been built up there.

I’ll wait and reserve judgement on this until I see what comes of it, but that’s…an interesting development, for sure.

Also I really, really want to be a fly on the wall when Egwene wakes up.

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#this chapter was definitely worth waiting for #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #The Gathering Storm

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