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andreafmn · 3 years

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Collision - Chapter 4

Word Count: 3,821

Characters: Female Reader Uley Character, Sam Uley, Allison Uley, Charlie Swan, Bella Swan, Seth Clearwater, Billy Black, Jacob Black, Emily Young, Paul Lahote, Harry and Sue Clearwater, Leah Clearwater

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Twilight, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Stephanie Meyer and Summit Entertainment. The only thing I own is Uley Reader insert, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 4/?

A/N: Don’t know if I ever mentioned it, but the story takes place before New Moon but after Twilight. It starts at the end of May after the dance, so it’d be the summer before Bella’s birthday in September. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 4

The next time she awoke she was back in sight of the blinding hospital lights. Her head was heavily pounding and the clothes on her body felt alien to her. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the white lights of the sanitized room, but they were suddenly off.

“Back again, Miss Uley?” She recognized the voice, Dr. Cullen. “I’ve already turned the lights off so don’t worry about that.”

Her eyes finally opened to reveal the smooth pale face of the doctor. A wave of calmness rushed over her as soon as her eyes connected with his golden ones.

“What can I say?” She chuckled. “I just couldn’t stay away.”

“Well, it seems you’ve been having a recurring headache, insomnia, memory lapses, and a lack of appetite. It looks like post-concussive syndrome. Your mom told us you were feeling like this for a few days, why didn’t you come back?” Carlisle questioned. He was trying his best to look like he was breathing but if he took even a single breath all his years of self-control would be over in an instant.

“I thought if I could just make it to at least seven days it could clear me from coming back to the hospital, at least as a patient.”

“What do you mean?” This comment had perked the interest of the man. Thoughts raced through his head faster than he could analyze them.

“I was thinking of applying for a medical assistant job here in the hospital. I recently got my degree in biology, and I’ve been thinking of going to medical school after.”

“That sounds like a plan, but let’s work on getting you better first.” It did sound like a good plan to Carlisle. He wanted to be as close as possible to her every single day, but it also meant he would have to work triple as hard to control his thirst. “We’d like to keep you for the next few days and make sure you’re in good health before you can go back to business as usual.”

“How long would a few days be?”

“About four to five days, just to make sure that the symptoms don’t worsen, and we can give you an all-clear.” It would also give him a few days to grow accustomed to her smell. “We can work over that application for medical assistant, make sure it’s something you want to do.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” She smiled at the man in front of her, her heart fluttering with every breath she took. “Thank you, Dr. Cullen.”

“Please, call me Carlisle,” he smiled. “Now, why don’t you continue resting, and whatever you need just call. My office is right down the hall, I’ll be here in no time.”

The girl stared at the retreating form of his body and covered the heat that was rising to her face with her pillow. The butterflies in her stomach had made her uneasy and had her hands shaking. She didn’t understand why she was feeling this way. It had only been a week since her first encounter with the doctor, but those few seconds were enough to have her drooling over the man like a lovesick schoolgirl.

A few days had come and gone quickly. (Y/N) had grown attached to Carlisle, seeing and talking to him every day had felt like a dream. In his free time, she would go over to his office and pick a book to read, which they talked about the next day. They spent hours talking about nothing and everything.

It had been a long time since Carlisle had felt this way, centuries. Being around her had gotten easier each day that passed. Her smell becoming comforting instead of a trigger to the endless hunger for human blood – he’d never had a simple drop of it, but nothing could explain how much he wanted to have hers. Getting to know her had been a welcomed activity by the young doctor. He could spend days upon days listening to the sweet sound of her voice, admiring her curious-filled face when she started a new book – which she read swiftly, taking only a couple of hours to finish most of them.

“Can’t believe you have so many first editions, and you leave them at work.” She ran her hand across the spine of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment. “I would keep them in a well-preserved chamber, and no one would be able to even breathe on them.”

Carlisle smiled as the girl gawked once again at his book collection. It wasn’t hard to acquire first edition novels when you were alive when they were published. “If you’re impressed by this collection, you’d be completely astonished by the one I have back home.”

“You have more?!” He nodded. The girl shined like a kid on Christmas, her eyes gleaming at the thought of a big library. “Oh, that sounds like a dream.”

“You’re more than welcome to come over any time. It’s always refreshing to meet a literature aficionado such as myself.”

“Really? That’d be amazing!” She grinned brightly. “I could spend all day reading, forget about work.”

The duo laughed. “Too late to withdraw the application but you’re always welcome to pass your downtime in my office.”

“Sounds like a plan,’’ she smiled. “Now, doctor, what will you ever do now that I’m not going to be here every day?”

“Oh, how will I ever go on?” He chuckled. “But if you ever need help during that time, just come by. My office is always open. And hopefully, you’ll visit from time to time on personal time.”

“I’m sure it’s something that can be arranged.”

If there was still blood rushing through his veins, the capillaries in his face would have widened. He felt like he now understood Edward; how being with her made him feel human again. And there was nothing more that he wanted than to take their friendship to another level, but he wasn’t sure if she would ever feel the same. Carlisle knew that she was unaware of the supernatural since (Y/N) had allowed him to be in her life. But what would happen once she knew everything? How could he ever come between her and her family?

“Miss Uley, your mother is here,” a nurse spoke up, peeking her head through the office door. “Discharge papers have already been filed.”

“Thank you, Nurse Dalen. She’ll be out in a moment.” Carlisle smiled.

“Well, the time has come.” (Y/N) took her phone out of her back pocket and handed it to the doctor. He looked at her with a question-ridden gaze. “I’m gonna need your phone number so we can arrange any future endeavors.”

“Right,” he laughed, typing his number into her directory. “I’ll be waiting for that call.”

“I’ll be making it soon enough,” she grinned. “I’m gonna go now. I’ll see you around, Cullen.”

“I’ll see you, Uley.”

She left the office with a huge smile on her face, holding her phone close to her chest. For the first time, she was experiencing something she had heard of most of her teenage years. Once she had met Carlisle all she wanted to do was get to know him better, spend her time with him, just being near him would suffice. It was the first time she was learning what falling for someone was, and even though it was scary, she was jumping in headfirst.

“Hi, honey. Ready to go home?” Allison hugged her daughter for the first time in five days. (Y/N) nodded, truly ready to finally sleep on her own bed.

“So, how are you liking Dr. Cullen?”

“MOM!” Allison laughed at her daughter’s reaction. It was easy to see that (Y/N) had taken a liking to Carlisle Cullen, and vice versa.

“What, darling? If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck.”

“It’s not like that, mom.”

“But you’d like it to be like that.”

“I’m not talking about that with my mother.” (Y/N) placed her cold hands on her cheeks, trying to cool down the warm blood that had rushed onto her cheeks. The cool air of the car’s A/C was only helping her so much.

“I just want you to be careful with that, honey. He’s older than you, technically has kids, and rumor has it he is married.”

A breath hitched in her throat. Married? She knew he had adopted five kids, most of them her age, but not that he was married. Had she read the situation wrong? He didn’t wear a ring, he didn’t mention any relationship, he had no pictures of a woman in his office. Then again, they had only spent five days together at the hospital. She didn’t know what he did when he went home at night, who he went home to at night. (Y/N) shouldn’t feel betrayed—they weren’t anything, and they weren’t on track to become anything.

“Don’t worry, mom. I’ve just been picking his brain about working in the hospital, and he’s been helping me with what I’m gonna be doing this summer.”

“Oh, have you decided what you want to do?”

“I’m gonna get my medical assistant certification. It’s a three-month course then I can work at the hospital.”

“That’s great, honey.” Allison smiled at her daughter from the driver’s side. “Is that where you’d see yourself making a career?”

“Not sure. I want to take this time to see if life in a hospital is truly where I’d like to work – see if medical school would be it for me.”

(Y/N) hadn’t taken the time to focus on her future. In her high school career, she spent her time focusing on the present and piling on as much as she could, and now she had no sense of direction. She would take every day as it came, hoping one day she would find her purpose.

Finally, back home, she hopped off the truck and stretched out her limbs, stiff from the days on a hospital bed. Taking a deep breath of fresh air and basking in the afternoon sun. The cold that had seeped into her bones from the hospital melted off, and she smiled feeling the warmth surround her.

“Why don’t you go upstairs, honey?” Allison told her daughter. “There’s a surprise waiting for you in your room.”

(Y/N) smiled and quickly made her way up the stairs to see what her mom meant. Opening the door, tears forming in her eyes. Her room had done a 180-degree turn. The walls had been painted a light beige color, and plants hung from the walls bringing warmth to the room. The bed was adorned with a white cover, and a fluffy duvet to keep her warm at night. A wooden frame sat atop the bed dressed in white linen and ivy vines. A bookcase lived in the corner of her room, filled to the brim with her collection of hardbacks and peppered with potted plants. Opposite the bed was a small desk with a dark green suede chair, her laptop set up in the workspace. Her room finally felt like hers.

“Do you like it, honey?”

“Mom, did you do this?”

“I wish I could take credit, but your brother and your friend Paul came over when I was at work and redecorated. I was actually surprised that they even came over.”

“I’ll have to thank them,” (Y/N) grinned. Even though their relationship was strained at the moment, and she had yet to see Paul since coming back, she was glad that they had taken time out of their days to do this for her. “I’ll go over to Sam’s house for a bit, maybe now he’ll have time to see me.”

“Why don’t you go tomorrow, honey? You should take it easy.”

“I feel a lot better, mom. You don’t have to worry too much.”

“I’m your mother, I’ll always worry. If you’re gonna go out, go see Jacob. He was really worried about you.”

“I will.”

(Y/N) kissed her mother’s cheek and grabbed her bag to head out. Her first stop was to the Black residence. Jacob saw her coming down the street and ran out to wrap her in a hug. When she collapsed last week, he had been very concerned when she collapsed in his garage. Jacob was glad that she had made a full recovery and was now back home, with minimum side effects showing. The visit was short, only a quick hello to ensure the boy that she was okay.

After spending some time with Jacob, she walked towards Sam’s house – she hoped to catch Paul there too since she had heard he now spent his time there alongside Jared Cameron. It hadn’t clicked in her head why Paul would ever hang out with her brother and Jared. Even when they were back in middle school, he never paid them any mind, having a separate friend group. She had only become his friend by spending time with him away from school, and her brother had always disliked them together, claiming he was a bad influence.

Outside of the small house, (Y/N) could hear the low chatter of manly voices, a higher-pitched one joining after. There was no mistaking that Sam was home. She started feeling nervous as she raised her hand to knock on the door. The shaky limb was able to make contact with the blue door twice before it opened wide open, revealing a shirtless Paul Lahote.

“(Y/N)?” He questioned. Paul knew she was back, but Sam had given him clear instructions to stay away from her due to their situation.

“Hey, Paul. Long time no see, huh?” The girl smiled at her friend that now towered over her. A few years ago, they were still of the same stature, but too much time had passed since then. She went in for a hug, and Paul cut it short – worried she might note his burning temperature. “Is Sam home?”

“Uh, yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, turning towards the kitchen. “Sam! (Y/N)’s here.”

The older male appeared in front of them, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Hey, (Y/N). Good to see you’re doing better. What brings you around?”

“I just wanted to thank you both for what you did in my room. Mom told me you worked on it while we were away. It’s a dream.” Sam smiled at his younger sister and shared a hug with the smaller girl.

“I’m glad you liked it, (Y/N). We wanted to give you a place where you could rest better after the accident. It’s the least we could do.” The alpha could hear the duo that was left in the kitchen had grown curious about who was at the door. “Do you want to come in for a bit?”

“Are you really inviting me in?” (Y/N) was taken aback – the last thing she thought was that she would get that invitation.

“Yeah, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Sam responded, keeping his doubts of the encounter to himself.

(Y/N) walked through the threshold and instantly felt the warm aura that emanated from inside of the house. It was a welcoming environment that she had grown to love from her own mother’s house. She walked behind Sam, Paul following behind them. `There was nothing that could prepare her to the sight she was met with.

In front of her stood a beautiful woman. She had tan skin, long black hair, and a beautiful smile. But there was something that stood out to her, something she was sure stood out to everyone – three long gashes ran through the front of her face. Yet, they didn’t distract from the alluring atmosphere that surrounded her. Sam moved to her side, and (Y/N) quickly connected the dots and figured that was Emily Young. The Uley girl wanted to be indifferent to her presence, knowing how one of her friends had been hurt by the union in front of her, she couldn’t help but note the love that radiated from the pair. It had been a long time since she had seen her brother as happy as he looked as he stared at his fiancé.

“(Y/N), it’s an honor to finally meet you.” Emily stretched out her hand towards the girl, which (Y/N) gladly took. “Sam has told me so much about you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” (Y/N) joked. “Hopefully, we’ll have a chance to get to know each other more. I’d love to get to know the woman my brother is set to marry.”

“I’m sure we’ll have enough time now that you’re back.” Emily smiled and grabbed a basket filled with muffins, offering them to the girl. (Y/N) gladly took the baked good in her hand, picking at it and placing the piece in her mouth – a wonderful taste that quickly melted in her mouth. “You’re welcome over any time. Any family of Sam is family to me.”

“Thank you, Emily. I’ll be sure to take you up on that.”

Not much time passed before Sam had cut the meeting short, claiming there was something important the duo had to do. “We should do this another time, (Y/N). Paul and I have to go.”

“Go where?” (Y/N) questioned. “It’s already night, not much to do.”

“I can’t really tell you, sis. But it’s important.”

“So still guarding secrets?” Sam shrugged. “It’s fine, Sam. I’m growing used to it.”

“(Y/N)…”

“I can take a hint, Sam. I know when I’m not wanted,” (Y/N) smiled. “Thank you for the muffins, Emily. They were divine. I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer and visit sometime soon.”

“Of course, (Y/N). I’m sorry we had to cut this short.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you guys.” (Y/N) took her bag and exited the house. She was confused on why Sam had welcomed her in only to have her leave soon after – there was something big he was hiding, and she needed to find out what it was.

“(Y/N), wait up!” Paul jogged up to her, turning her around. “Look, I hope you understand that we’re not trying to push you away on purpose. There are things that Sam is protecting you from.”

“Like what, Paul? What danger could possibly be surrounding us that he would stray from his family?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s not my place to tell you, (Y/N). As much as I hate keeping this from you, Sam would not allow it to come from anyone but himself.”

“Are you serious? What kind of power does he have over you?”

“PAUL!” Sam shouted, gaining the attention of his beta. “Let’s go.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I hope one day you’ll forgive us.” Paul kissed her forehead and went to meet up with his alpha.

(Y/N) stood still as she watched their bodies disappear into the woods. She debated whether to follow them for a brief second, but she was exhausted. She left back home with a million questions running through her head. The pair of Sam and Paul was a strange view, and she was determined to get to the bottom of things.

When she got home, (Y/N) noticed her mother asleep on the couch, the tv in front of her still playing. The years that passed were clear on her face, the worry that she carried for both her children plastered in the lines of her face. She could see the exhaustion that she held, years of caring for two kids by herself taking a toll on her. (Y/N) grabbed a blanket and laid it on top of her mother’s body, making sure that she was warm during the night. She left a kiss on her cheek, thankful for everything her mother had sacrificed for her.

After showering the day off, (Y/N) changed into her pajamas and laid in bed staring at her phone’s screen. She thought if she stared at it long enough a message would magically pop up. Minutes passed and her phone kept silent, not a single notification appearing on the screen. She scrolled through her directory until it landed on the newest listing. Carlisle Cullen, it read. Her finger clicked on it and selected new message.

Her fingers danced atop the keyboard of her phone, no words coming to her mind to send to the doctor. Should she even send him a message? What if he truly was married? She would never want to come between a couple. But her fingers did not follow her thought train. Unconsciously, they started typing away a message and before she could analyze her actions, she sent the message.

Hi, Carlisle. It’s (Y/N). I made it home okay and don’t have any symptoms, seems like you fixed me up! Anyways, wanted to know if you possibly had some free time this weekend to join me for some dinner at La Bella Italia. Hope you had a good rest of the day at work!

Her jaw fell when her screen read message sent. There was no way to delete it now. It was out there, and it would make its way to his phone. (Y/N)’s head fell onto her pillow and muffled a scream that escaped from her throat. This feeling was alien to her, and she was learning what steps to take to grow closer to the astonishing man. Minutes felt like an eternity to (Y/N), thinking that she had imploded the friendship she had built with the man over the past week.

Beep.

The sound from her phone caught her attention. She scrambled for her phone and quietly shrieked at the words on her screen.

Hello, (Y/N). I’m glad you’re feeling better, hopefully, no symptoms will arise once more. And I did have a good day at work, although I missed our afternoon book chats. I have a free day on Sunday. Tell me a time and I can meet you in Port Angeles. Hope that day is good for you.

“He said yes. If he were actually married, he wouldn’t have said yes,” she thought.

So, she typed back.

I’m glad you had a good day, and the book chats have an easy fix. I’m just a phone call away. As for Sunday, it’s a perfect day. I think around 5:30 would be a good time for dinner. Let me know if it works.

Sent.

Seconds later, another beep.

I’ll make sure to schedule those calls then. 5:30 sounds perfect. I’ll see you there. Have a good night, (Y/N).

See you then, Carlisle. Good night. 😊

(Y/N) smiled at her phone, joy wanting to burst from her body. She was reveling in this new feeling and the happiness it brought her. If it was Carlisle, it was worth it, she believed.

That night she went to sleep with the biggest smile she had experienced in her life. Unbeknownst to the life-changing moments that were to follow this meeting.

Tag List: @daniallh @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @imaginetwilight2704 @jessicas-undrground @hey-you-therexo @mauvette268 @mxyee @beefwhobarksandisalilmadalot

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ranaiki · 3 years

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Split Apart | Chapter 1 - Meeting

wc: 1.4k

warnings: swearing (reader is called a bitch), fighting/assault. Reader is not good at fighting sorry.

a/n: this took me a little while to write because I was very unsure of how to introduce the characters. Once again, this is not beta-read since I’m a fairly new writer and have no writer friends, so I apologize if it isn't up to standard. If there are any spelling errors or grammatical errors, I’ll probably notice later on and fix it? Anyways, without further ado, I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

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Silence blanketed the Hyogo prefecture.

The air was thick with smoke, a grey haze hanging heavy over the cracked and collapsed buildings that lined the streets. The smog scratched at your throat and burned your eyes, the scarf that covered your mouth and nose providing little protection.

How long has it been now? A day? I’m so hungry...

As if on cue, your stomach growled loudly, sending sharp pains up through your ribcage. You gave a soft groan, breath puffing into the damp cloth wrapped around your face.

I gotta find something to eat, somewhere to rest.

Your whole body ached, feet sore from the non-stop walking and climbing you had done since last afternoon.

Dirt, blood, and oil were caked onto your clothes and skin, though at this point, you hardly minded. All you could focus on were your exhaustion, hunger pains, and the constant dull throbbing in your left arm where a deep gash had been made.

Most of the buildings around you were in tatters. Few had completely collapsed, but many had the roof caved in, or had been burnt in the fires that had followed the earthquake to the point where nothing inside would be salvageable.

Your hometown was almost unrecognizable.

Maneuvering through the streets was a difficult task, with rubble blocking the path every several meters, forcing you to climb over it.

More than once you had lost your footing and smacked against the broken pieces of tile and concrete, scratching up your legs and arms, and leaving your school uniform in tatters. It only added to the litany of things that were wrong at the moment.

As you continued on, you lifted your head, and the sight you were met with felt much like a miracle.

The convenience store that resided near your school was almost completely undamaged - scorch marks licked near the base of the cement structure, one of the walls was broken and crumbling, and the windows had all shattered - but it was still standing.

The idea of finding food put an extra spring in your step as you walked, helping you navigate the ruins around you and reach the front doors in record time.

Your feet crunched over the layers of broken glass as you entered the little shop, the bell that hung above the door giving a broken ring. You were amazed it was still intact.

Excitement burst through you as you spotted the shelves of food, all there for the taking. While it looked like it had already been sifted though, you didn’t linger on the thought for long. You lurched forward, snatching cans of meat and other foods, bags of chips, some of the bentos and pre-made meals resting in non-functional freezers, several bottles of water, and medical supplies.

It was like a shopping spree.

Everything that you deemed could be useful went into your once empty school backpack, filling the unused pockets to the brim. You went as far as to grab mini sewing kits and firestarters, lighters and utensils.

You filled your bag till it could be filled no more, before letting yourself collapse to the floor, with your backpack coming to a rest at your side.

The exhaustion that had been hanging onto you all day finally tore in, and you let out a breath of relief as your legs and feet got their much needed break.

Gingerly, you grabbed medical supplies you hadn't managed to fit into your bag, and cleaned and dressed all of your scratches, taking special care with the large wound on your arm and wrapping it up rather sloppily. It would do for now.

You let one of the bottles of fresh water run down your throat, quenching your unbearable thirst and soothing the painful scratchiness that had been caused by the smoke. You tore into packages of melonpan and onigiri of questionable freshness, but with the pangs of hunger that rushed through you, you didn't have the mind to complain.

You spent several long minutes refreshing yourself, filling your stomach with food and water, and making sure all of your wounds were patched up to the best of your ability.

As you were finishing, the broken sound of the bell in the doorway rang through the store. You paused in your ministrations, turning towards the front, and listening to the sound of heavy footsteps as they slowly approached.

A man stepped out into the end of the aisle you rested in, bulky and large, with soot covering him from head to toe and a ravenous look glimmering in his eyes.

You gave him a timid smile, wary of the way he held himself and looked at you.

He was still, not making a sound nor moving, and you gently pushed yourself to your feet, turning to face him with your bag still sitting on the floor next to you.

“I was just leaving.” You began, eyeing the stranger, still cautious and unsure of how to proceed. “Feel free to help-”

“You bitch!”

The man’s angry cry rang out. You had no time to react before he was in front of you, his body slamming you to the ground with brutal force.

You hit the cold tile of the convenience store floor, pain shooting up your spine. You coughed, eyes watering slightly as sharp aches blossomed through you. The shock that washed over you was only momentary, before the adrenaline kicked in, and you began struggling against him.

“Get off of me!” The man’s fingernails dug into your skin, scratching across the surface and reopening the wounds that littered your arms and body. You kicked your legs upwards, using your hands and feet to try and push him away. Sticky blood trickled down your arms as the gashes you had so meticulously wrapped and cleaned were torn open once more.

Anger rolled off of the stranger in waves, permeating the air around you. Fear crept up your throat like a sickening bile, making it hard to breathe.

You managed to land a knee into his gut, the hit solid and hard. He spluttered, breath knocked from his lungs, and scrambled off of you to regain his bearings.

You used the opportunity to get back to your feet, snatching your bag and sprinting past him.

His hand darted out, encircling your ankle, and dragging you back to the ground with another painful thud, the impact sending dull aches up your already battered and bruised frame.

Your lack of knowledge in self defense was suddenly painfully apparent.

Kick after kick and punch after punch were dealt to you as you tried to dodge and fight back, each of your own blows easily blocked. New bruises blossomed across unmarred expanses of flesh, soreness setting into your bones from each hit.

He was screaming at you in fury, his words slurred nonsense as his anger took over.

“This was supposed to feed my family for the next two months!” He screeched, split flying from his mouth in a disgusting spray.

The two minutes the man had been attacking you had felt like an eternity, time dragging on as pain seared through you.

A flash of silver just behind the stranger’s head caught your eye. There was the sound of two objects colliding - a solid thunk - before the man’s barrage of words came to a stop.

He froze above you, still for a second before his eyes closed, and he fell forward. His body landed in a limp pile just at your side, a tangle of limbs pinning you to the floor.

You cried out, pushing his arms off of you and scrambling away, breath heaving in your chest and eyes blown wide. The man was passed out cold on the convenience store’s floor.

Whoever had knocked him out was standing a few feet away, silently watching.

“Thank.. thank you.” You mumbled softly, breaking the stillness that had followed. Your knees were tucked up against your chest, gaze fixated on your attacker. You hardly even noticed the person standing a few feet away, hardly acknowledged him besides your meek expression of gratitude.

“Y/n?”

You blinked. Who knew your name? The way the person spoke, their voice, was oddly familiar, like a word sitting at the tip of your tongue.

Your head lifted, turning slowly towards your savior.

You were met with a young face and blond hair. Recognition melted over you, melded with confusion and relief.

“Atsumu?”

Taglist:

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chick-from-nz · 4 years

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Paper, Scissors, Rank (Ch: 7)

CHARACTER/PAIRING: Modern!Carrillo x Army!OC (eventually)

WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, military slang, more military talk, spelling and grammatical errors. Flippy floppy points of view and tenses. Could be very OOC/AU for some. Carrillo may not be narcos accurate as this is an AU. Some OC x OC

AUTHORS NOTE: ok so idk how good this is, kinda just word vomited onto the page, tryna generate some emotion in there but lets see how it goes, thanks for reading peeps. I know I said I wasn't gonna post but middle of the night inspiration stuck so imma keep writing this

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

CHAPTER: 7 OF ?

TAG LIST(OPEN): @girlpornparadise @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @nicke0115 @allalngthewtchtower @lettherebrelight

The drive to the teams new base of operations was by no means short. While still being on defence land they were nearly three hours away from the main base, located in a flat valley in the hills and surrounded by greenery and training equipment. Ash had been here once before during a cadets course many years ago with her father, but it was vastly different now. The house had changed drastically from what used to be multiple cabins to what was now a single stand alone one story place. However while the accommodation had changed the grounds had stayed the same. There was an assault course set up that flowed into the trees to the south of the house and there was a pool to the west of the house, all in all, it was nothing to complain about.

The house itself was relatively modern, having been rebuilt within the last few years or so. The entrance was sealed by heavy wooden doors that required a pin in order to access. Upon entry Ash took in the place, it was actually really nice. It was open plan living, the kitchen was directly to the right as you came in the doors, nice wooden benchtops and crisp new appliances. Directly in front of the breakfast bar sat the living room. Three nice couches surrounded a rather large square coffee table, laden with maps. The fireplace that the couches faced was made of a slate grey stone and sat underneath the rather large tv. To the right of the fireplace was a door that she had been informed led to the only bathroom in the house that held a shower, while to the left of the fireplace was the door to Ash’s room.

Across the small hallway was the Colonels room, which was attached to his office that was on the far end of the house. At the end of the small hallway was an open archway that, from what she could see, led to a gym. Stepping further into the house and left from the kitchen Ash noticed another two sets of doors. One that led to the boys room, containing four single military style pits and separate draws for each of them, while the second door opened up onto the workspace for them all, which had a door in the back right corner that opened up onto Carrillo’s office. All in all, Ash couldn’t find a single fault to the house, okay perhaps one bathroom to share was gonna be a little tough.

She was startled from her thoughts and exploring when Carrillo called out to her while making his way to his office. “There's some food in the fridge and everything is pretty easy to find so make yourself at home, the boys should arrive in around about five weeks. You’ve got the single room closest to the bathroom” Ash nodded in thanks and watched as he disappeared into the teams workroom, no doubt going to his office to work through the enlistment papers for the rest of the team. Ash didn’t waste much time going to her room, she could eat later when hunger eventually struck her, she was miles too tired from the drive here and sore from moving about so much. Her room was nice. A large double bed sat in the middle of the room encompassed by grey side tables, each sporting a small lamp. In front of the bed sat a tall set of drawers and a small bookcase. Very homely indeed, thankfully, cause god only knows how long the team would be confined to the house doing research and/or planning and training for future raids.

Ash barely gave herself any time to get changed, haphazardly pulling on an oversized shirt and a pair of comfortable gym shorts, before she all but launched herself onto her new bed, grunting in pain when her left side made contact with the bed a little too harshly . She moved onto her back sinking deep into the comfort of the mattress. The bed was like heaven for her after sleeping on either a creaky army pit or the ground for the last twenty some weeks. If this is what she had to look forward to everyday her enthusiasm for work was about to increase ten fold. The moment her head touched the pillow she was out like a light. Thankful for her own space and a bed big enough to move around on and toss and turn how she used to.

-------

As much as Carrillo enjoyed the rank he was and the respect that followed his name, the paperwork at this level was a nightmare. Especially due to the complaints Sinclair had lodged against him due to the incident at the base hospital. Having to describe in detail the events that occurred between that despicable man and the young officer a mere few rooms over made his blood boil, yet again. He was starting to understand the warnings that came with being posted here, apparently work affairs between ranks wasn’t a condemnable act like it was back home in Columbia. An odd world indeed. Still, within his team he would not tolerate any kind of fraternization, hence his decision to cram the boys into one room together and give Greyson her own room, partly for her own privacy but also for his peace of mind.

Pushing the paperwork to the side of his desk, he sighed. That damn soldier might well be the best thing for the team but she sure came with some complications. He’d done extensive research into his team members upon his arrival to the base, most came from non-military backgrounds, a solid high school education or higher, and most but not all had been serving for at least four years and had seen some kind of fire fight. Then there was Greyson. Military background with files upon files that had been redacted and unable to be accessed by anyone in the force, no matter how hard he’d tried. Only the most basic of information could be found about the young soldier; graduated school with honors and received many scholarship proposals but turned them down, participated in many extracurricular activities before and after her education, applied to join the army as both a regular soldier and an enlisted officer as her father had served but yet again, any information surrounding him and his career or rank had been redacted. A Lot of mystery surrounded this soldier, a mystery the Colonel found himself wanting to solve, even if it did go against his own rule.

------

When Ash awoke the room was bathed in light from the full moon outside, the sounds of the bush were a welcome homely feeling for her, nature was her comfort. She went to sit but was struck with immense pain. Both her stab wound and head injuries were sending waves of pain throughout her body, making her vision temporarily blurry. The need to puke was high but Ash pushed it down as far as she could. She was hungry, in pain and now cranky, she just hoped her medication would be easy to find in the kitchen. Stumbling like a newborn deer she tried to shake the dizzy feeling from her head, this concussion was a pain in her ass, but the medics did say the symptoms should be gone within the next few weeks, until then Ash would have to put up with feeling sick and dizzy sometimes. Celebrating when she finally made it to the kitchen without falling on her ass, she then struggled to find the lightswitch, now that was one thing she really should have paid attention too when scouting the house when they arrived.

Having located the switch and turning on the lights she winced, they were just that tad bit too bright for a tired concussed brain. It was when she turned to grab a glass of water to quench her thirst that she noticed a glass already laid out on the bench, with what looked like her meds already measured out beside it and a note beneath the glass. Either she was hallucinating or the stoic Colonel had laid this out for her. Gripping the bench as tight as she could as another wave of nausea overtook her sense she moved closer to the glass, there were her meds. Perfectly placed atop a piece of paper that was covered in a rather elegant script. Each pill had the name and the purpose written next to it and at the bottom of the note were the words “Dinner is in the fridge, eat first. That's an order”

Ash scoffed a little at the note, of course he’d write that, seemed the man was more by the book than she thought. She was silently thankful for his detailed note explaining her meds, if she had to pick them from the bottle she wouldn’t have known what to take. Opening the fridge and grabbing out the only covered plate she was surprised to find that the meal looked home cooked, Did this man really cook dinner? . It was safe to say she was shocked by the thought but proceeded to microwave her dinner anyway, leaning against the bench to keep herself upright, lest the Colonel come into the kitchen later in the day and find her sprawled out on the floor.

Ash all but devoured the food when it was ready, not waiting for anything to cool down, she was far too hungry. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate, or the last time she ate this good. She never would have guessed that Carrillo was this good at cooking, like sure she’d guess he cooked, but this was some next level stuff. Finishing her meal and cleaning up any mess she’d made was an effort at best, the dizzy feeling was getting worse every time she moved. Quickly she gathered the pills from the bench and downed them in one gulp, chasing them down with water, she hoped at least one of them would help with the horrible dizziness and the nausea that accompanied it. The need to sleep was beginning to overtake her again, something she figured would be common while she was recovering, as much as that might annoy her she’d be thankful for the rest.

Like clockwork she yawned, stretching her arms above her head in an attempt to shake the sleep from her body, only to regret the motion a few seconds later. The stitches in her side had pulled impossibly tight at being stretched, her side felt like it was on fire. She reached down to grab her side in pain and pulled her hand away at the warm feeling. Glancing down she noted the rapidly growing red spot seeping into the gauze pad. Of course she had ripped her stitches, she'd been warned by not only the medics but also Carrillo to not move around too much due to her side. Seems she really hadn’t been listening to the warnings. Deciding that she was entirely too tired to deal with the result of her stretching Ash just walked as calmly as she could back to her room and clambered into bed. There was always tomorrow to fix this. And with that, Ash was quick to fall back to sleep, her medication no doubt aiding her plight.

------

It was the smell of freshly made coffee that had Ash climbing from her bed and shaking off sleep the next morning. Her medication had definitely kicked in, she could feel no pain from anywhere in her body and the nausea had disappeared finally. To her surprise, Carrillo was standing in the kitchen, dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and simple white t-shirt that was entirely too tight, not the Ash was complaining cause the view from her vantage point was amazing. If Ash believed in a higher power she woulda thought that the gods had gifted her with the man standing in the kitchen. No man had the right to look so sinfully delicious in a simple white shirt like that. It was so tight that it clung to his sculpted upper body and left very little to the imagination The thin shirt was stretched thin across his chest, pecs struggling to stay contained. The fabric was stretched tight across his broad bulky shoulders, his biceps straining against the confines of the sleeves that were sure to tear if he were to flex just the right way. He reclined against the bench facing her but was wrapped up with whatever was on the tv. Ash was obvious in her gawking so it was only a matter of time before his eyes fell to her. When they did, his eyes widened comically in shock. Ash wasn’t sure why until his eyes travelled down her frame and landed on her side before a look of realisation overcame his face.

He took a few quick paces towards her before turning to his right and disappearing into the bathroom with a look of determination on his face. Ash paid him no mind and made her way to the kitchen counter to pour herself a coffee before taking a long pleasant sip. It was a mere minute later that Carrillo was standing in front of her, a med kit laid out on the bench and an expectant look on his face. She looked at him long and hard before realising he was speaking, she gave him a questioning look, tilting her head to the side, before she heard him huff and repeat what he said.

“Greyson, I asked you to take of your shirt”

It was Ash’s turn to gape at him, the audacity of this man, why would the most by the book man she’d ever met be so unprofessional. “Excuse me?” the disbelief in her words made him roll his eyes, if she wasn’t so confused right now she probably would’ve gone off at him for that.

“I don’t know what activities you got up too last night, but you’ve obviously torn through your stitches, despite the warning from both the medics and myself” He said with a small amount of annoyance while pointing at her side. Now that Ash looked down she realised he was right. Blood had well and truly soaked through her bandage and through the shirt she wore to bed, She was unsure how she didn’t notice this sooner because now that she was seeing it with her own two eyes, it was pretty obvious.

Begrudgingly she pulled the shirt over her head, unsure as to why she had to take it off completely before coming to the conclusion that the shirt probably should be washed. She had a second to drop her shirt before Carrillo was standing a mere few inches in front of her, slowly peeling the bandage from her skin before inspecting her wound, Since when was he a medic?, that thought had her laughing silently, or so she thought. Being this close meant that he heard her laugh so she was met with a raised eyebrow and a bored expression on his face, that surely ended her laughter. She was silent while he worked, wincing occasionally when he prodded a little too hard to see her reaction.

“You’ll be fine if you rest for the next few days, you tore the bottom few stitches. Don’t do anything stupid and the wound will be healed on time” His tone was definitive and the order was clear.

Ash groaned and rolled her eyes, a brave thing to do this close to the man. He handed her a bandage then turned around to pack away the supplies from the kit. She quickly fixed the bandage and took off toward her room, coffee abandoned on the bench, she was well and truly awake now. New shirt now acquired and covering herself she returned to the main room, Carrillo now vacant from the space and probably in his office working. She snatched up the tv remote and flicked through the channels, settling on an old war movie before curling onto her side to relax.

She woke hours later, the movie long since ended and the daylight now darkness. A blanket had been draped over her in her sleep and her dinner was sitting on the coffee table with a glass of water and her medication beside it. She would forever be grateful for the subtle ways the Colonel looked after her, even if he would never admit to it. She at least knew he cared enough for his team that he’d go out of his way to make her feel comfortable and like she belonged, even if she was new to the force.

-------

Aside from the incident in the kitchen the rest of the week went pretty smooth. They’d developed some semblance of a rhythm. Both woke early, whoever made it to the kitchen first put the pot of coffee on and poured a cup for the both of them, conveniently they preferred their coffee the same way. Black with no milk or sugar. Then they usually sat at the kitchen counter to eat breakfast, cereal for Ash and whatever Carrillo cooked himself for breakfast, Ash really wasn’t one for a big meal in the mornings. After breakfast the Colonel usually disappeared into his office to work and the younger officer would clean up their dishes and then hog the shower for as long as possible, soaking in the opportunity to have a warm shower all to herself without limits. Ash would spend most of the day watching tv or reading one of the many military inspired books that occupied the wall mounted shelves on either side of the tv.

Carrillo would emerge from his office around sixteen hundred hours each day, and proceed to cook dinner for the both of them. Ash had tried once but burnt the steak and been deemed too inexperienced and untrustworthy in the kitchen, something she was silently glad for cause the Colonel was a better cook than she ever could’ve hoped. Again Ash did the clean up, a fair trade off for not cooking, while Carrillo once again disappeared, this time to the gym or for a run around the perimeter of the property along the treeline, a sight Ash loved to enjoy. Only twice he had stayed to converse or silently watch the news beside her. Then like clockwork they would bid each other goodnight and retire to their rooms.

Everything was going perfect, the routine now something established and easy to work through, even if Ash did complain about being on couch/bed rest until either the medics cleared her or the Colonel deemed her fit enough to begin easing her way into training. It wasn’t until the Wednesday of their second week together that something changed between them, something Ash looked back on with a smile on her face and made Carrillo have conflicted feelings and wish he had just stuck to their schedule they had so easily adapted to around each other.

#horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio Carrillo x oc #paper scissors rank #modern au #chapter 7

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keichanz · 4 years

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Koi no Yokan | 2

just a couple notes before the chapter this time.

first, i want to emphasize that the chapters will remain about this length, give or take a paragraph or two. i find that it’s immensely easier to write if my chapters aren’t like 10k each heh. so yeah, sorry, they’re gonna be short. *shrug*

updates will be at least once a week, sometimes twice.

yes, i’m still working on You Rescued Me. y’all know me; i just can’t control myself and i had to share this lol.

because i’m a lazy fuck and didn’t describe Inuyasha’s attire, he is wearing his firerat, however the design is more similar to how it was in the stage play. i feel that it looks a bit more formal for his status. the only difference is that instead of the suikan being one piece, it’s still a robe that he can take on and off with ease like in the manga/anime. oh and he’s also wearing boots lol.

Inuyasha is wearing armor, though i didn’t write in that he was. his armor is similar to that of his father’s [x], but on a smaller scale. i thought about using Sesshomaru’s armor, but the more i thought about it, it just doesn’t really fit for what i had in mind.

okay sorry for my rambling, enjoy the chapter!

AO3

The sound of approaching thunder cut of his thoughts but it was familiar thunder so Miroku merely sighed and turned his attention back to the scene before him. The mood amongst the men was light, perhaps even jovial and it was a strange sight indeed to hear laughter and joking as blood covered and battle-weary men tossed lifeless bodies of demons into piles before setting them ablaze.

But, he supposed, not dying was reason enough to be in a good mood so he couldn’t really blame them.

The thunder faded to a gentle rumble before stopping right beside him, however it took a bit longer for the heat of the flames to diminish. Not surprising; he was still probably riled up from battle but after a few rumbled assurances from his owner and some pats on his strong neck, Entei finally calmed with a quiet snort. His fiery mane and tail dimmed until the flames extinguished and, in their place, his regular bright orange hair appeared.

“Area is cleared,” the figure atop the massive white horse grunted and directed his gaze toward the men. “Swept the entire perimeter and I don’t think any of ‘em got past the bridge. Did a quick run through the village just to be safe and everything seemed normal with no signs of demons wreaking havoc so looks like we got here just in time.”

Miroku frowned and glanced up at the man.

“You think this was an attack.” It wasn’t a question.

“I think it wasn’t a coincidence,” the figure returned grimly. His blood-smeared helmet concealed his eyes, but Miroku could see his lips turn down into a thoughtful frown. “It was too close and these fuckers have never bothered human settlements before. So why now out of nowhere? This is the third horde we’ve encountered in the course of a week. That’s not normal, Miroku.”

“But it doesn’t make any sense,” Miroku countered. “These are thoughtless, baseless creatures that are driven by hunger and a thirst for blood. They lack strategy, plotting, or anything that would suggest a higher brain function. To put it simply, they’re too stupid to group together and invade villages.”

“So then what the hell do you call this?” The figure growled and swept his arm around him. His mount snorted and shifted his weight before shaking his head.

“They didn’t get to the village,” Miroku pointed out.

“Because we stopped them before they could.”

Clearly frustrated, the figure growled and abruptly whipped off his helmet so he could rack clawed fingers through a fringe of messy silver bangs. Amber eyes glared hard at the destruction around them, eyeing the burning pillars of dead demons and watching as his men chatted amongst themselves, glad to be alive. With a grunt he brushed back his thick silver braid so it fell down his back, brow furrowed in aggravation.

“What are you suggesting, your highness?” Miroku asked lowly, violet gaze steady on his friend and leader. “You can’t possibly be thinking—”

“That they’re being controlled,” Inuyasha finished with a rough sigh. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

Miroku was silent as he digested that.

Then, “Fuck.”

“Yep.”

<<Prev || Next>>

Chapter Index

#koi no yokan #2 #inukag #inuyasha #keizfanfiction #fanfiction

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w-ngs · 4 years

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all the light we cannot see ; anthony doerr

genre: historical fiction

it’s been a while since i’ve done one of these. but what can i say? i just have high standards.

lol jk i just haven’t been reading for shit. but here we go.

if i were to start anywhere, i’d have to begin with how i absolutely adored werner and marie-laure. they’re babies!!!! children!!!! adorable little ones who had their entire childhoods ripped out from under them because of nazi germany!!!! i saw this one quote, i don’t remember if it was from the book or not, but it went something like: the first country hitler invaded was germany itself. and honestly, facts. hitler really said: sexism, racism, ageism, classism, heterosexism, xenophobia—need i say more. it’s the way america is doing the exact same shit right now for me

the characters. i’m saying it now, and i’ll say it again. werner and marie-laure and marie-laure’s dad and jutta and frederick and volkheimer deserved better. especially, especially werner, with his curious and brilliant and constantly growing mind, who was always trying his hardest to be a better person, struggling against the the literally law-enforced status quo, who was kind enough to befriend a boy whose only friends were the birds, whose love and thirst for knowledge and music saved someone who might possibly have been the love of his life. and yet… i guess a happy ending for everyone isn’t possible. but you know what tore my heart apart more than werner’s grossly abrupt death? when volkheimer told jutta that while they were in saint malo on what would be their final mission, he thought werner had fallen in love. that. that. it stomped on me, ripped me apart, called me a worthless piece of shit—just absolutely destroyed me. because of all people i expected to hear that from, it wasn’t volkheimer. and of all things he could have said about werner’s feelings for marie-laure, that wasn’t one of them. but as soon as my eyes read those words, i knew in my heart he spoke the truth. although so painfully brief, what marie-laure and werner had was almost magical. they were connected by nothing more than a voice, but somehow, within the midst of death and destruction, they managed to find and save each other—in more ways than one.

a character i wished we got more of was daniel leblanc. he was such a sweet, dedicated father whose love for marie-laure exceeded anything and everything, more than death itself. even when he wasn’t there, i could feel the extent of his devotion towards his daughter. when he got arrested, i literally jumped out of my seat in protest. reading daniel’s letters hurt my heart. because as someone who’s grown past childhood and now knowledgable about how much parents sacrifice for their children, i knew exactly what he was trying to hide. as more and more time passed, it became obvious that he wasn’t coming back anytime soon. but if there was anyone else i wanted a happy ending for other than my baby werner, it would have been daniel leblanc. what an amazing man and father.

the characters, in my opinion, were what made the stories truly come to life. how we got to see inside multiple perspectives, even the ones that we were supposed to dislike. speaking of dislike, i definitely did not like major von rumpel. and i know why i didn’t like him—he was a greedy nazi who didn’t give a shit about the people he was stealing from. and i was pissed when he got cancer, when he described his daughters, because i knew it was all on purpose to make us sympathetic towards him. and i didn’t like myself for feeling bad for him, because he simultaneously did and didn’t deserve it. so when werner killed him i thought, at least one more terrible person has been put to rest.

let’s talk about the writing. holy shit. this writing: the prose, the vocabulary, the description—this entire book sums up the reason why i read. it is so goddamn beautiful. this is the type of writing i hope to be able to emulate one day, but really doubt if i ever will. i marveled at all the impossible details doerr included about werner’s life as a hitler youth; i wondered just how much research must have gone into studying radios and their inner workings and all the different marine life marie-laure was so enchanted with. every detail, no matter how small, fed my hunger for escapism, and who doesn’t love that. this book made me want to go to saint malo and explore all it has to offer. i looked it up—it’s a beautiful little town. seeing it now, no one would assume such a quaint little place would have such an immensely tragic past.

one writing technique i simultaneously loved and hated was the flip-flopping timeline. i hated it because i had to wait an excruciating number of chapters to see what would happen in the next moment, but i loved it because it literally kept me on the edge of my seat, consequently reading into the wee hours of the night (that’s how you know it’s a banger). i know many probably find issues with it, maybe because it’s a bit jarring, but in this case, i think it was very well-executed. if switching timelines hadn’t added anything to the book, i would have had an issue with it as well. but it increased the suspense multiple times over to the point where i really thought i was going to go into cardiac arrest over how anxious i was about the lives of our protagonists. i had to physically tear the book out of my own hands and force myself to actually do what i had to do for the day. and if a book makes me feel that way, i know that it has more than exceeded my expectations.

i loved reading all the light we cannot see. i think i want to read it again, maybe when i’m on break from school. i felt like i missed so much, even when i know i really took my time reading and absorbing it. and i don’t buy books often, but for a few moments after finishing it, i considered buying it because of how much i refused to let go of our little protagonists. it was also a good reminder that there’s always light at the end of the tunnel, no matter how dark or long the night may be.

#all the light we cannot see #anthony doerr #fiction #historical fiction #werner #marie-laure #world war 2 #ww2 #france #germany #saint malo #romance #book review #book #reading #love #reading this book was so painful but would i do it again? yes

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allketakism · 4 years

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A Strange Transmogrification

Preface-An ecologist wakes up in the middle of a night one day after her expedition trip exhibiting strange behavior. Ignoring all these weird symptoms, she tries hard to live normally. Little does she know that her life's about to change. After a series of mind boggling incidents, she discovers that she has elevated her sapeins' species.

Chapter 1

It was almost past midnight and Kyra was woken up by a sudden cold feeling. She got goosebumps all over neck, her nose blocked and her eyes weary of tiredness and sleep. She felt her quilt was wet and realized there was ice all over the bed foot forming little puddles of water making her feet numb. Puzzled, she woke up and decided to deduce this out of ordinary situation. Something hurt, inside her and she struggled to move and sit up. Thirsty, she tried reaching for the water on her nightstand. Strangely, the water didn't help much with her thirst. This feeling was quite ominous. Suddenly, she remembered she had forgotten to finish a report which she was supposed to hand in the next morning at work. She quickly sprinted out of the bed and started typing out in her laptop. "Case Study: Ectotherms and their living habbits', read the title of the report. Being an ecologist has its own challenges. She had to volunteer for an animal observation sanctuary for four months in Tanzania. She was studying how amphibians who are cold blooded hunt and survive in the wild. She went on writing her findings, '...such nocturnal amphibians have their metabolism slowed down and have the ability to store energy without feeding for months! Their unusually sticky tongue helps them to prey. More often, they are reptilian'. However, this was interesting work to her. She liked studying other beings and relating their biotic and abiotic phenomena by drawing comparisons against humans. She believed there were far too many things that we still are unaware of. Finishing up the report, she decided to get some sleep before she showed up at work. Adjusting the thermostat to a bare minimum, she tried to lie down and fall asleep. But it was dawn already and she decided to just call it a night and prepped herself to freshen up. After a long shower, she felt better and forgot about her discomfort. She felt lighter and warmer and decided to have poached eggs for breakfast. They tasted a tad stale and she decided to skip it and take a cab to work. Double checking that she hadn't forgotten anything, especially the report, she grabbed the keys and left for work. The sun shone brightly over her head making her sweaty and agitated as she walked down the street. The humidity can be annoying. Finally, getting into the cab, she instructed the driver, "77th St". She wondered whether her boss will like her research and what her feedback would be. Last couple of days at work were rough. Especially when there wasn't any novel research that she had contributed for the past few expeditions. Crossing the two signals, she had reached the building and she waved off the driver with a tip.

Before she could punch in, she felt uneasy and dropped down, multiplicatively feeling unconscious while she saw the watchman summoning help as she collapsed.

Chapter 2

Kyra opened her eyes in an emergency room a few hours later. She could feel the prick in her veins while the nurse pierced a needle. She was feeling extremely pale and dreadful. Her saliva dried up, hunger satiated. The nurse still insisted on her eating some fruit and wore a faint smile handing her a file. Astonished, but not-so-thrilled, Kyra learnt that she was infact pregnant!

How was this even possible? She thought. She hadn't been with someone in a long while and her life kept her busy and locomoting to different places leaving her no time for social interactions. After a few minutes, they let her friend Maurice from work, in the room. Her friend informed Kyra how she had admited her and met with the doctor. Maurice told how the physician reckoned some abnormal symptoms and complications in her pregnancy. Her muscles had grown oddly meek and her blood tests revealed that her blood pH was too low with fluctuations in HPT secretion resulting in fatigue. She was discharged soon and her friend accompanied her home. The office had made arrangements for her working from home given her condition for a next few months. Kyra didn't have a family so Maurice was the only one tending to her.

As days passed, it became exponentially difficult for her to eat or work. She felt dismayed all the time and her sleep cycle reoriented drastically. She felt bitterly cold in the nights and blazingly warm during the day. Her health deteriorated radically and she noticed her eyelashes thinning and skin slowly wrinkling. Maurice now started staying with her friend to nurse her. The routine checkups didn't look much promising and there was a good chance that Kyra wouldn't survive during the delivery.

One night almost after a month, Kyra felt frosty and the quilt was again wet. Only this time, her water broke. But what was doomy, was that, her sheets had an absurd blob. She instantly had an instinct to put ice and keep this sticky looking globule cold. It was morning and Maurice came in the room for her wonted check-up routine on Kyra. Frightened, she discovered that Kyra was covered in blood at her bottom with a gummed egg covered in an ice bed just about to hatch! Petrified, she simply stood there helpless. The egg had hatched a scaly being! Demon! She gasped. She called the facilities to trap this reptilian creature as well as medical help. But Kyra couldn't survive.

After running some tests, they realized that Kyra had experienced genetic alternation due to exposure to exogenous nectar at her expedition in Tanzania. Her eukaryotic cells underwent division and her body hybridized exhibiting nocturnal features. Her skin became scaly and efflorescent. The reptile being was dead too, after a few weeks, but the serum was still preserved at the lab where Kyra worked.

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rokubirai · 7 years

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louis de sade’s malnomen

louis de sade really hits home to me as a character. to those who’ve shared in vnc with me, it’s no secret that he holds as dear a place in my heart as vanitas does, possibly even dearer because i see myself in him in many ways, which makes his story all the more tragic to me and it also means i like to think about him a lot........

i have a lot i could say about louis, but in the interest of Not Writing An Essay, i want to put out something that came to me yesterday as i was rereading his flashback chapter:

i want to posit that his malnomen would have been tantalus: hunger that can never be met.

my fellow greek myth buffs would know the image of tantalus: the man cursed for his crimes to be eternally hungry and thirsty in the underworld, standing in a pool of water that recedes whenever he tries to drink from it, just beneath a branch of fruit that moves out of reach whenever he tries to take food from it.

what does this have to do with louis?

his entire story is really one of impossible desires that can never be met. we see early on that he longs for companionship, for family, for a normal life: he comes just shy of telling domi “when you’re older you’ll see how much better your life is than mine”. upon finding out the truth of his existence, he asks teacher “is that why father and mother had domi? because i’m a curse-bearer, and they wanted to forget about me?” stunned and deeply wounded by learning the truth, he tries to reach out for help, asking teacher “what are you trying to make me do?” in hopes of direction and guidance. teacher, of course, does not provide the emotional anchorage and validation that louis desperately looks for, simply telling him that he wants to watch what he’ll choose to do, like an experiment. louis realizes that no one is going to help him, that he’s alone, from that moment on, and even noe tells us that, from that moment forward, “he started to avoid talking with teacher”.

even after he begins to isolate himself, though, ( “from that day on, little by little, louis started acting strange” ), we can see he still desperately wants someone to understand and to help him. i believe that the early scene with noe where he explains what a curse bearer is and then asks “even if there was a curse-bearer right in front of you, would you still think that blue moon is beautiful?” is his way of trying to clue noe in to what he’s suffering.

in the same way, his carving of stakes is the most noticeable way he cries out for help. he openly does it in noe’s presence -- we see in almost every scene that they’re together after louis finds out about being a curse-bearer that he has a half-finished stake in hand. noe notices that the “something” was never finished, but that he “seemed to be sealing some uncontrollable emotion inside that something”. it’s no stretch of the imagination to say that the ‘emotion’ is in fact a range of emotions, all encompassing and revolving around louis’ desperate wish for love and understanding: despair, loneliness, rage, longing, restlessness. ( i also believe that the ease with which he self-harms stems from the same idea. ) i argue that if louis really wanted to remain keep everything from noe, he never would have let him see him carving the stakes, particularly given how curious he knows noe is, and how likely he is to ask about it.

when noe finally understands what’s going on and recognizes the call for help, he reaches out: “louis! is there something i can do? what can i do for you?” he physically takes louis’ wrists, stops him from that stake-carving, pulling him back and grounding him -- for all of us who love to think about the gravity imagery, there’s another one! of course, this is the moment that louis has been hoping for, however consciously. we can see that he’s about to tell noe everything in the next moment, but unfortunately the timing is poor. even his angry outburst regarding mina shows us his desperation -- even as he’s adamantly pushing away hope because rejecting it entirely is easier than the pain of entertaining it ( “you can’t save her! there’s nothing you can do!” ), he’s simultaneously asking to be proved wrong: “are you saying you could do it? in that case, go on and try! here! right now!” he’s goading noe because he knows salvation is impossible for himself, but can’t help but hope beyond hope in that moment that it wasn’t.

as he’s looking for noe and domi moments later, charlatan finds him. notably, charlatan, who finds different ways to manipulate different people ( providing warmth for amelia, manipulating guilt for noe ), targets louis through his desires, which at that moment are at an all-time high. it says to him that it’s been “waiting for him to want something very badly”. what is this something? i think it’s partially a need to protect noe and domi, knowing what they’re getting into at that moment, but coming off the previous scene where he had come very close to getting that understanding he’s been yearning for, and seeing firsthand the reaction and response to the appearance of a curse-bearer, his desire for help is overwhelming, to the point where he’s willing to accept charlatan for it. ( tho i think his easy acceptance of charlatan’s influence is also in part due to his self-perception; he probably thought this was inevitable, as charlatan also tells him, but that’s for another day. )

infected by malnomen, what does this translate to? an insatiable thirst for blood that can’t be quenched no matter how many he kills and drinks from, as is shown in the subsequent panels and through his cursed dialogue. this is where the parallel to tantalus becomes clear, though as i’ve argued, it derives from emotional hunger that is then turned into physical hunger upon the awakening of the symptoms. in a final twist of irony, noe, from whom he had been seeking validation and support to satisfy his emotional needs, is the last one he ends up drinking from under the grips of the malnomen.

of course, the comparisons fall apart when we consider the rest of tantalus’ story where he was 100% a jackass and totally deserved the punishment that was coming to him, but he’s most known for said punishment in the myths, and that’s what i couldn’t stop thinking about when reading the end of the flashback chapter again. since mochizuki seems to draw her inspiration for malnomen from fairy tales and nominal idealogy, i thought it would be fitting. anyway, we’ll probably never know the exact nature of louis’ malnomen, so i’m proooobably safe haha!

#vnc #the case study of vanitas #vanitas no carte #louis de sade #rai musings #me: in the interest of Not Writing An Essay #hundreds of words later: fuck

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fuzzballsheltiepants · 7 years

Text

The Forging of the Wolf, Chapter 2

Chapter 1 is here.

It was the aching of his empty stomach that dragged Aedion reluctantly from sleep. He had been dreaming of following a voice through trees in the dark, a laughing child’s voice that he could barely hear over rushing water. No matter how fast he ran, the voice kept getting farther and farther away, until it disappeared entirely. And though his heart was breaking at the loss of that voice, just as he was about to throw himself into the water after it, another came and made him pause. A mature, female voice, that merely said, “She lives.” The dream had shifted then, to Rhoe and a dream he had had many times in the past months. This one had a basis in memory, the two of them sparring, Rhoe pausing occasionally to correcting his footwork or his grip. As always, the dream ended with Rhoe asking, “Do you know what your most important weapon is?” Every time, he woke with that question on his lips, but the answer never came. Now he had that second voice, the one that give him a tiny spark of hope, echoing behind the question. Even if he knew that any hope was false.

Something smelled wrong. Though the musty smell of canvas mixed with mud and piss was universal in the war camps, there was a different note to it. As that intruded onto his consciousness, he wondered why everything hurt. Then he shifted and the shackles connecting his ankles and wrists clanked and pulled and he remembered. He kept his eyes closed, sorting through the various sounds and scents drifting towards him. He was alone on a slightly too short cot in a tent. There was a guard outside. Faint sounds of people beginning to stir were audible, and he thought he might not be imagining the distant warm scent of coffee. Stifling his groan, he pulled himself into a sitting position and scanned his surroundings. The rosy light of dawn came through the gap in the tent, which was so small he wouldn’t be able to stand upright in it. The other cot was empty and looked as if it hadn’t been slept in at all. In fact, there were only the barest traces of scents other than his own. He wondered who the prior occupants had been, what had happened to them. If either of them had been among the people he and Quinn had killed before Quinn had dropped at his feet and he had been taken. With a surge of bile in his throat he remembered the feel of his sword plunging deep into a belly, the reverberation when the blade had barked against bone. He rubbed his hands over his face, though his chains were short enough he had to bend his head to do it. Pressing his fingers into his eyes, he took a deep breath and felt stabbing pain in his ribs. The nausea subsided and with that his hunger and thirst surged. They had fed him the previous night, a little meat and bread, but it was scant fare given how long he had gone without.

He got to his feet slowly, not wanting to hit the dirt if he rose too quickly while this light-headed. There was a pitcher of water on the small table between the cots, and he poured a glass, then struggled to drink it due to the shortness of his chains. Bastards. He finally figured out that if he curled up on his cot he could manage to drink with only a little spillage. After draining the pitcher his head cleared and he shuffled to the tent opening. The guard turned, hand on his sword hilt, as he pushed through the flaps.

“The prince emerges,” the man said sarcastically. Aedion straightened to his full height and looked silently down at the guard. The smaller man snorted. “Lord Breiner requests your presence, Prince Ashryver.” There was a distinct sneer in the tone. “Follow me.” He strode off at a rapid clip that Aedion struggled to match with his shackles. Curious eyes turned to him as they passed by the ordinary soldiers who were going about their morning business. The camp rhythms were no different than those he was used to - people eating, cleaning weapons, bantering, just as he had been a few days prior with a different flag overhead. He glared at the crimson and gold wyvern that flew over the largest tent, the one they were heading to. They passed by a tall fence, spiked on the top, and he could hear people moving and murmuring on the far side. Prisoners. He wondered why he was not among them.

As they approached the big tent, its guard nodded to the man he was following. “He’s expecting you, you can go right in.” Aedion ducked into the tent behind his guide and straightened when he recognized the man from the night before. The man who had been willing to torture an innocent girl just to get Aedion’s name, but who had vomited his guts up afterwards. He didn’t know what to make of that, of him.

“Well, puppy,” the brown-haired man said, gesturing to a chair. Aedion sat down, eyeing the man warily. “We just received word that the Terrasen Lords have surrendered and are suing for peace. Your country now belongs to Adarlan.” The words hit him like a physical blow. For Darrow to surrender to the man who had killed King Orlon, for his countrymen to now be subjected to the whims of the monster in Rifthold… “This means,” Breiner went on, “that you now officially belong to Adarlan. General Paget just left to go aid in the negotiations of the surrender, but he ordered me to write to the King and ask what to do with you. Technically, you may be considered next in line to the crown, since Rhoe Galathynius had no siblings and no surviving children.”

No surviving children. The words hit him like stones, and for the second time that morning, bile stung Aedion’s throat. That voice he had been following in his dream… He rallied his strength, willing his agony not to show in his face. “My understanding,” he forced out, “is that in the absence of a Galathynius ruler, the leadership of the country is turned over to the Lords. I am not heir. I am nothing to anyone who remains in Terrasen.”

Breiner’s face was skeptical. “That seems hard to believe, given the lengths they went to try to get you out.”

“Only because of my age. Lord Darrow didn’t want me there at all but we needed every available sword.”

“And yet it did your people no good in the end.”

Aedion clenched his teeth and counted to ten to keep from rising to the bait. “What am I to do here?”

“Sir.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are to address me as Lord or Sir. You are a prisoner of war and a member of my camp now. Don’t make me remind you with another demonstration.” He turned his attention to the papers in front of him in dismissal.

Taking a deep, painful breath, Aedion asked, almost managing to keep the insolence out of his voice, “What am I supposed to do here, sir?”

Breiner did not look up from his paperwork. “Iain will show you. You will help with camp maintenance, and you are expected to join us for training. You may go now.”

The guard - Iain, he supposed - gestured to him to follow, a smirk on his narrow face. He hesitated for just a moment before obeying. Thankfully, Iain said little as he brought them to the camp mess and removed the chain linking his hands to his feet, though he left the shackles on. Aedion laid into the porridge, salt pork, and bread like a man starving. Which, he supposed, he was. When he finally surfaced for air, he realized Iain and several other soldiers were staring at him, mouths agape.

“What?” he asked, spraying a few crumbs.

“Leave some food for the rest of the soldiers,” Iain said.

With the edge finally taken off his hunger, Aedion leaned back a little, stretching his long legs out in front of him with minimal clanking from the shackles, and took a leisurely bite of an apple. Looking the guard up and down as he chewed, he allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. “I’m twice your size, midget,” he drawled, “it makes sense I should eat twice as much.”

Iain grinned and flicked his eyes to Aedion’s groin. “I’m not sure you want to go comparing sizes there, whelp,” he replied, “at least not till your balls have dropped.”

This was familiar, no different than the usual verbal sparring that took place at every camp. “If you wanted to see my balls, you should’ve just asked. Though I’m not sure you’d even recognize real ones if you saw them.” Everybody chuckled, and one of the soldiers - the shorter guard from the night before - gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. A part of him hated them for their easy acceptance of him after they had been involved in the destruction of his kingdom. A larger part of him hated himself for seeking it.

His job for the morning was helping clean up the mess, a task that would have been much easier were he not still restricted by the chains, which kept catching on the tables and chairs. Iain then fetched him and showed him the way to the weapons master to join a couple of the other boys in cleaning the weapons. The sight and smell of the dried blood of his countrymen embedded in the blades and hilts made him want to use these blades to destroy every single one of the soldiers in the camp. The master watched him closely as he stood staring at them, nostrils flaring, trembling fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to gain control of himself.

“It’s all right, son,” the man finally said. “How about you oil the clean ones.” The other boys were pretending not too be paying attention, but their eyes kept flicking to him over their task. Gritting his teeth, he picked his way over to the end of the bench and sat, picking up the freshly cleaned blade the boy next to him had just set down. The master set down a bottle of oil and a cloth, and Aedion stared at it for a moment before taking a deep breath and reaching for them. He ignored the other boys, concentrating on the familiar task, ensuring the right amount of oil coated each fresh blade. When the bell rang for lunch, the other two leaped to their feet and ran to the mess. Aedion finished the dagger he had been working on and carefully placed in on the designated rack before looking towards the man who had been studying his work.

“Nice job, you know how to properly care for a blade.” He shook his head, disapproval spreading across his wrinkled face. “Most boys want to swing them but don’t want to bother with making sure they’re fit for the job. You’ve been trained well. Go ahead on to lunch, now. You look like you could use some food.” Aedion nodded, his stomach growling loudly in agreement. As he passed by, the man dropped a gnarled hand on his arm. “It gets easier,” he said quietly. Aedion shot him a questioning look but it was ignored. After a long moment, he turned and shuffled towards the mess, and when he glanced over his shoulder the weapons master was just standing there, head bowed, staring at nothing.

After lunch, he was sent to the training area. There were half a dozen other boys there, the youngest probably twelve, the oldest maybe sixteen or seventeen, and a few older men. He was surprised there weren’t more given the size of the camp, but then recalled this place was not intended for training, but for an extermination. Likely the boys were all sons of the higher-ranking warriors. Not able to do anything with his hands and feet still shackled, he sat on the slope overlooking the area and watched the warmup. The men ignored him, while the boys kept glancing his way. He scoffed at their lack of concentration. Rhoe would’ve had his head for it. Pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them, he studied their sloppy footwork. He felt a man come up next to him. He could smell it was Breiner, but deliberately did not acknowledge him.

“What do you think?” came the older man’s tenor voice.

“They lack discipline,” Aedion replied. He waited a beat, then added, “Sir.”

There was a pause, then, “Would you care to elaborate?”

He snorted and gave a shrug. “They keep gaping at me like I’m some exotic animal. If they can’t concentrate here, when it’s quiet, how will they manage it in battle? Plus their footwork is terrible.” His mind flashed to the memory of the ground slippery with blood, the screams and groans of dying men around him, and how it felt to let all that become just a faint buzz as he brought his sword down on the shield of an unknown Adarlanian soldier. How automatic it had been to keep his feet moving, to attack and retreat as if it were all a well-learned dance.

Breiner sat down next to him. “It so happens I agree with you. It can be a challenge to keep so few boys disciplined. I think it’s easier when they’re in a training camp with large numbers.”

“There were but a handful of us when I was training.” He didn’t add that for the year before the assassinations it had been just he and Ren working so closely with Rhoe and his men. Dark-haired, angry Ren, now also gone to the chopping blocks with the entire Allsbrook family. The boys below moved on to working with practice swords, and while they paid better attention, their footwork still made them vulnerable. He shook his head in disgust, and then noticed Breiner was studying him rather than the practice.

“If I undo those shackles, will you go down and train with them?”

Aedion sorted through his thoughts for a moment. He knew why Breiner was asking rather than ordering, that the camp lord was hoping to use him as a means of pushing the boys to work harder. He didn’t know how he felt about making his enemy better. At the same time, he would need to keep working or he’d lose ground. Most of his body still hurt, not as fiercely as in the morning, but likely the increased movement would do nothing but help. He also needed to figure out the dynamics here, what type of a leader this man beside him was. “What happened to that girl?”

“What girl?”

He was a bastard for not remembering. “The girl you were willing to torture to get me to talk.”

“She’s back in the corral with her family, I assume,” he said indifferently.

“Who are the prisoners? Why was she among them?”

Breiner shrugged. “Most of them are villagers we took as we marched to battle. I would guess she was one of those. A few are soldiers who lay down their arms.”

“Why take the villagers?”

Another shrug. “They were in danger where they were, should the battle be pushed back, and we wanted some leverage. Plus now it lets us sort through who might be a danger to us at our leisure. The rest will be released.”

“When?”

“Eventually.”

Bastard, bastard, bastard. “I’ll train with the others, if I can check on the prisoners personally.”

Breiner looked at him, nonplussed. “I can order you to train.”

“Yes, but if you are looking for me to show these fools how to work properly, you need me to want to cooperate.”

“Or I can just throw you back in the pit.”

“You could do that.” He slid his gaze back to the boys fumbling around on the turf in front of him. Gods, they were terrible. How the hell did Adarlan conquer everything if they couldn’t train better than this?

Breiner’s voice intruded on this thoughts. “If you do as I ask, you can go and check on the prisoners. With a guard.”

Aedion did not reply, merely held his hands out for Breiner to unlock his shackles. The camp lord pulled a key out of his pocket, then looked at him before unlocking them. “I want you to go through a basic warmup, then spar with whoever they order you to. Show us what you can do.” He inserted the key into first one manacle, then the other; they thudded to the ground, and he began rolling his wrists, then his shoulders as the lord freed his ankles. He tried to hide the tightness of his muscles as he stood and walked down the slight hill, pausing at the edge to begin stretching. A glance up the hill showed Breiner’s focus pinned on his every movement. He’d have to make this good.

*****

Erik watched the gangly boy shake off his stiffness, his movements slowly becoming more fluid. He was a clever one, to not just leap at the chance to be free of his shackles, but to negotiate to see the prisoners. Erik wished he hadn’t told the general the prince’s true identity. While he still believed every man could be broken, he had realized the night before as he had vomited in the woods that he didn’t want to break this one. He wanted to convert him. He had watched him surreptitiously all day as he quickly found a foothold with the men and did his work efficiently and well despite his shackles. Talking to him now, seeing him put his finger so adeptly on the weaknesses of the young trainees, only served to strengthen his belief this boy could be made into Adarlan’s greatest general if he could be won over.

Unfortunately, now that the King would learn who the blue-eyed, golden-haired young giant was, he doubted he’d have a chance. It was only a matter of time before the King either took him to be broken or killed. Ashryver began footwork drills, and now the boys blatantly stopped their work to watch him. Even the instructors did. Erik couldn’t blame them. Despite his lanky height, the boy moved as if he was dancing, every step precise, clean. It suddenly struck Erik that the boy hadn’t had a chance to get cleaned up or even gotten fresh clothes; his own were filthy and torn, and it was difficult from here to tell what marks on his face were dirt and what were bruises. He’d have to make sure the boy got a chance to bathe, and he’d have to find him some clothes.

Just as he’d asked, Manas, the main instructor, paired Ashryver up with Burr once he was warmed up and ready to get to work with his wooden practice sword. He was surprised to see the boy handle the sword with his left hand; he hadn’t paid attention when he’d come in at the end of the boy’s stand over the fallen Terrasen warrior’s body, but the way he did his footwork he would have thought him to be right-handed. Burr was not quite as tall as the prince but much thicker and more muscled, having just turned seventeen. He was also their most aggressive fighter, and the least likely to be interested in finesse. Manas had expressed concern when he had recommended the pairing, thinking the age and weight difference might pose an issue, but Erik had merely replied, “It would do Burr good to get beaten into the dirt,” and Manas had let it go.

The two boys circled each other, then Burr moved in, as usual his aggression destroying his footwork and with it his balance. Aedion simply stepped to the side, deflected Burr’s blade, and then smacked him on the ass with the flat of his own as the boy blew past him. Burr was furious, whirling on the taller boy, trying to get the wooden blade into his neck, but Aedion dodged with ease and used his momentum against him, dumping him in the dirt just as Erik had predicted. Manas and the other instructors were covering their mouths with their hands. Erik could see Burr saying something to Aedion as he rose from the dirt, but couldn’t hear what the latter replied. Whatever it was, it must have been good, because Burr launched on him in an all-out assault. Aedion met the charge, blocking the blow and twisting his weapon so that he forced the blade out of Burr’s hand. When Burr stupidly lunged at him, bare-handed, Aedion simply stepped into the rush, jabbing with an elbow just below the sternum. The older boy hit the dirt again, gasping like a fish, the wind knocked out of him. Aedion loomed over him, looking down in disgust, and Erik thought he heard him say in that still-changing voice, “Now this time, stay down.” Sitting up on his hill, Erik began to grin.

Ashryver went to Manas, dipped his head respectfully, and thanked him for the match; Manas told him next time they’d find him a better partner. He returned the sword to the rack, and walked up to where Erik was still sitting. “I didn’t realize you were left-handed,” Erik said.

“I’m not,” the boy replied. “Now, when can I see the prisoners?”

*****

An hour after the sparring match that was so pathetic it barely counted, Aedion was finally clean and was wearing some of Breiner’s old clothes. They were a little big in the shoulders and the waist, but at least they were long enough. The short guard from the night before, Deaghall, had replaced the shackles on his wrists and ankles and now brought him to the gate of the prisoner’s corral. As they walked over, the small man asked, “So, is everyone in there going to go all ga-ga because there’s a bona fide prince among them?”

Aedion snorted. “Hardly. None of these people are going to have any clue who I am.”

Deaghall looked at him in astonishment. “The people won’t recognize a prince of their realm?”

“I’m not a prince of their realm,” he replied. “I’m technically a prince of Wendlyn. Here I’m just a relative of the massacred royal family. Maybe if we were closer to Orynth I might at least be recognized, but out here?” He shook his head.

Deaghall nodded to the two fellow guards who opened the gate, and then followed Aedion through. Most of the people were sitting on the ground in small groups, some leaning against the fence. The low murmur of voices hushed when Aedion and Deaghall were noticed, and the people largely seemed to shrink back. Aedion strode as boldly as his shackles would allow, keen eyes looking for any signs of the people being mistreated. The slop buckets were overfull, the stench pronounced enough his eyes watered. There were no cots or bedrolls, but there was a well at the far end with a bucket and ladle. “Are they being fed?” he asked in an undertone. Deaghall bristled. “Of course they’re being fed. We’re not monsters. Ask any one of them.”

One of the older men, grizzled and bent, met Aedion’s eye. He crouched down close to him. “Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice. The man nodded, his still-clear eyes tear bright. “Are you getting enough food?”

“Yes, Prince,” the man said in a husky voice. Aedion dropped his head at the honorific. He had sincerely not thought he would be recognized, and the hope in the man’s face broke his heart. He was powerless to help these people, they were at the mercy of Breiner and Adarlan now, and while he might have some reason for faith in the former, he had no trust in the latter. Even with Breiner, he knew these people’s lives were worth less than his own cooperation. He raised his face to the man again, and took his outstretched hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Around the corral he went, chins dropping all around him, some pressing fingers to their lips. There were tears in his own eyes now. Pausing here and there to say a few words of sympathy, to squeeze a shoulder, he went to nearly every person in that pen. One woman stood up and wrung his hand, crying “Thank you, thank you.” He opened his mouth to ask her why, but then saw sitting behind her, cheek bruised and eyes wide, the girl from the night before. Pulling away from the woman he assumed was her mother, he knelt before the girl and gently took her hand.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked softly, and the tears rolled down her face as she shook her head. He touched her bruised cheek gently, the moisture wicking onto his fingertips. “I’m sorry,” he said. He wanted to say more, but didn’t know what. Then everyone around him was reaching for him, just brushing fingers against his arms, his hair. He didn’t understand. He was just as lost and trapped as they were, just as conquered. He had failed to save anyone who meant anything to him but these people, these prisoners of war…he could see hope flare in their eyes as they touched him.

When Deaghall cleared his throat and the prisoners backed away, Aedion stood slowly. He felt the guard’s hand on his back, guiding him through the gate, then back to his tent, but he wasn’t really seeing his surroundings. Sitting on his cot, all he could think of was Aelin, his tiny cousin, crackling with flame and passion and joy. If only he had ridden out when Orlon had been assassinated, maybe he could have saved that bright flame from being drowned in the river. Maybe in doing so, he could have saved Terrasen. But she was gone, small body lost to the icy water, and his heart and hope with her. Still, somebody had to stand for Terrasen. Somebody had to protect his country, even now that its lords had given up, even now that it belonged to Adarlan. For those people who had pressed gentle hands to a fellow prisoner who maybe somehow still represented the glory of a kingdom, he would have to try.

He had not been allowed anything sharp, so he sank his own teeth into his palm until blood welled. Clenching his fist, he allowed three drops to hit the dirt between his feet, and he swore his vow to Terrasen, to Aelin, to Rhoe and Orlon and Evalin and Quinn. To the old man and the young girl now a mere hundred hards away. He would do whatever he had to to protect its people, their people. His people. If he had to sell himself to Adarlan, he would do so. If he had to lie or kill or steal, if he had to become another person entirely, he would not fail them as he had failed his family. He would find a way.

#aedion ashryver #aedion #tog #prequel

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mveloc · 7 years

Text

Pure Radiance

Chapter 25: Epilogue

Author’s Note: Here it is! It’s finally finished. What a bittersweet feeling. I’ll be taking a bit of a break from this universe before I jump into the sequel, but I’m happy to have it finished... for now ;) In the meantime, I’ll be tackling my other fic, Days of Why and How. Thank you all so much for the overwhelming support with this fic. I know vampire stuff isn’t everyone’s cup of tea (it isn’t even really mine), but you all took a chance with the concept and I’m glad you’ve all come to find as much joy in reading it as I have in writing it. A heads up that this chapter will be NSFW--I mean, this one sort of has to go out with a bang, huh? As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. I hope you’re all satisfied with the conclusion :)

“Congratulations, Doctor Cormier.”

I smile, zipping my bag closed and slinging it over my shoulder as I prepare to call it an evening. Somewhere in my quiet chest I feel a jolt of sheer anticipation—of exhilaration—as I allow my previously denied fantasies to play out in full inside the safety of my head for the very first time.

You see, fantasies are dangerous things.

They distort the truth and fill you with a false sense of hope; they lead naive girls to dark men and longer, darker nights; they leave you peering through a window, chasing light like a weary moth. I had thought I’d learned my lesson about entertaining my fantasies long ago, but then one day I miraculously found myself on the other side of that window with a little flame of my own that I was desperate to keep alight. Now that flame is a great, raging fire and instead of shying away from the inferno, I lean into its heat.

“Thank you,” I reply, offering my colleague a nod.

I try to remain humble.

I have every reason to boast, to declare my genius to the world like Aldous did at every given opportunity, but instead I keep my excitement to myself, bottling it up tightly for now so it can be saved for later; there is only one other it can be shared with, after all.

“Eager to try it for yourself before it hits the market?” Marcus asks with a knowing smile, removing his frames from his face to clean his lenses with his lab coat.

“Well, I’m still waiting on board approval—”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” he winks.

I know he’s right.

I know the process will be a long and drawn out one full of much bureaucracy, but no one can deny that I’ve been able to accomplish what Aldous could not. Once the board learns that I’ve effectively neutralized the sun and opened up the entire world to our kind, I suspect even more doors will open for Cosima and myself.

But none of that matters to me now.

This isn’t about the board, about feeding them the news they’ve spent years anxiously waiting for. This is about fulfilling the promise that I made to Cosima and I could weep with joy just knowing that she’ll walk in sunlight again, that I’ll see her skin illuminated in its light with my own eyes for the very first time.

“You know, Doctor Leekie also used to insist on testing each batch himself,” Marcus comments.

I know his words are meant to reassure me, that he doesn’t know the history or the circumstance behind Aldous’s demise, but any comparison to my late sire leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

“Oh, this isn’t for me,” I say, gesturing toward my bag. “Well… not entirely.”

Marcus smiles again.

“Ah, that’s right,” he nods in understanding. “Send her my regards.”

“I will.”

+ + + + +

The peace that we’ve established is still something I’m not quite used to.

After removing Aldous from the picture, I wasn’t sure what to expect from Marion or the coven. I had maintained my end of our bargain by assuming my sire’s role and continuing with his scientific endeavours, but a part of me had still expected Marion to go back on her word and for the coven to come after us.

Instead, I’ve been met with nothing but accommodation.

I know better than to trust it or to rely on Marion and the coven, but for now, I welcome it. So long as I continue to provide for them, I’m granted as much freedom as I could hope for in my current position. My interaction with the coven has been limited, much to my delight. I deal with Marion directly and she’s demonstrated a surprising level of respect for the boundaries I’ve erected; I’m contacted only when a status report is required and our relationship revolves strictly around our business. She’s even provided me with a generous new living arrangement—a bid to buy into my good graces, I’m sure—but I could hardly refuse the gorgeous penthouse suite upon seeing Cosima’s reaction to the glorious view of the skyline from behind the tinted, floor-to-ceiling windows.

As I ascend to our apartment in our private elevator, the anticipation becomes almost unbearable. I shift and twitch beneath its pressure, trying my best to keep my pokerface. I’ve dreamt of this moment, plotted the entire thing out in my mind, and I don’t want my eagerness to spoil it.

The doors chime open and I emerge into the home we’ve made for ourselves. The low hum of deep, mellow electronic music plays out over the speakers and fills our apartment, signalling to me that my lover is, in fact, home. I grin, unslinging my bag with its precious cargo from my shoulder and hanging it on the coat rack near the door. I divest myself of my coat and boots and begin my search—a search which is cut short the moment I notice the multiple books and papers strewn all across the rug on the living room floor.

My smile stretches.

She has access to her own office and yet she still insists on sprawling out across the floor when she works, same as always. She doesn’t seem to notice my approach or if she does, she says nothing, her nose buried in a textbook.

“Bonsoir, mon amour.”

She pauses upon hearing my voice, tearing her eyes away from her book for the first time in hours. A satisfied grin adorns her immaculate face as she rolls from her stomach onto her back, tucking her hands behind her head and looking up at me with a hint of amusement.

“Oh. Hey.”

I lower myself to my knees, straddling her waist and matching her expression. She chuckles, gently stroking my thighs until I lean down in search of her lips. I’m greeted halfway, our mouths connecting softly. I teasingly run my tongue along her bottom lip and elicit that tiny groan I’ve come to expect, trying to coax her desire out of dormancy.

“You’ve been busy, I see,” I comment, gesturing to the chaotic state of our living room which is littered with her books and notes.

She nods, giving my thighs a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah. I have a lot to catch up on.”

She stirs beneath me and I move to accommodate her, allowing her to slip out of my grasp. She rolls back onto her stomach, gathering some of the notes within her immediate reach into a pile. She tucks the pile into her textbook, using the papers as a bookmark before closing it.

“Now that I know I’m not gonna eat my classmates, I figured maybe I can start school again—maybe take night classes or something,” she shrugs.

Even though she’s been out of school for some time, a mind as inquisitive as hers simply cannot be subdued and now that we’re both confident in her ability to control her hunger, she can be reintroduced to the world properly.

“That won’t be necessary,” I tell her, unable to conceal my widening grin.

“Hm?”

She turns onto her side to spy me out of her periphery and arches an eyebrow in my direction, caught in confusion. I smother it quickly, covering her petite body with my own. I twist her onto her back and press her gently beneath me, the plush rug absorbing our combined weight. I bring my lips to her ear, nibbling gently at the shell as she tries to suppress the tremor that rolls through her.

“I have a surprise for you,” I whisper.

“Mmm… what kind of surprise?” she plays along, running her fingers through my hair.

I have many surprises in store for her this evening.

I have even more in store for her in the morning.

“It’ll have to wait just a little longer—the timing’s not quite right,” I tease, pressing a kiss behind her ear.

She whines, though I quickly rectify her disappointment.

“In the meantime…,” I begin, my pale hands with a mind of their own finding the waistband of her pants.

She giggles, her hips bucking in anticipation as I quickly tug the drawstring of her lounge pants loose.

“You know, I could use a study break.”

Her playfulness spurs me onward and I growl, digging my teeth into the tantalizing flesh of her neck. My fangs only prick the surface, not nearly deep enough to drain her—merely to tease, to remind her who owns her heart… not that she needs any reminders if the wetness that’s already beginning to gather between her legs is any indication.

She sighs as I run my fingers through her heat, urging her to shimmy out of her pants. I fasten my lips to hers again and she reaches to her side, fumbling blindly, knocking her book out of the way to clear space for us. The bed would surely be more comfortable and I’m certain that we’ll make it over there eventually, but the thought of taking her on the floor in front of the glow of the fireplace preoccupies every corner of my mind until my thirst for her becomes downright biological.

She struggles against me—not in an act of defiance, but rather the opposite; she knows how deeply I adore this game and she willingly plays the ocean to my moon, allowing me only brief tastes before she’s pulling back again, daring me to stretch her even further next time. I grow deliciously frustrated each time our tongues connect, each time she turns her head away and breaks our lips apart just as I find myself sinking into our kisses. She denies me all momentum, denies my burning hands as they wickedly seek out her most revered parts only for her to capture my wrists and relocate them.

“You’re driving me crazy,” I groan, my body nearly quaking with restraint.

“You love it,” she dismisses me, her fingers working at the buttons of my blouse while she peppers my jawline with feather-light kisses.

She opens the garment and pushes it down my shoulders. I shift, shedding the blouse and tossing it aside. I watch her do the same, pulling her own sweater over her head and exposing herself to me. I’m immediately greeted with an eyeful, grateful I don’t have to find my way around her bra, as well. I pause to take in the sight of her sprawled out beneath me in nothing but a flimsy pair of underwear and I feel my center pulse achingly.

“I do,” I admit with a tint of laughter to my voice. “But if you keep teasing me like this, I can’t be held responsible for what might happen.”

“And what’s going to happen?” she goads, eyebrows raised and smirk half-cocked. “Cause from where I’m lying… it looks like a whole lot of nothing.”

She wriggles her hips, mocking me further and calling my bluff.

Only it isn’t a bluff.

“What’s going to happen,” I begin, my voice low as I find my fire again and pin her wrists down on either side of her head. “Is that I’m going to fuck you.”

Her seduction, while magnetic and all-consuming, still remains tinged in a playfulness that’s a product of her youth. Like a child with a secret too big to keep, her desire shines through in the subtlest of hints; an arched brow, dancing fingertips, a tongue poking out from behind her teeth once it’s retreated after a witty jab. I find myself completely lost in the gestures, desperate and aching for more.

She strains against my grip, craning her neck forward until her lips are ghosting over mine.

“Then you’re gonna have to work a little harder,” she dares, her voice husky.

I can taste the words.

They’re hot against my lips despite their absence of breath; perhaps it’s the mischievous glimmer in her eyes which fuel them. Her lashes flutter and her grin continues to spread when she realizes she has me ensnared.

I throw my full weight into our kiss, pressing her into the soft, forgiving fibres beneath us. Her giggles turn into sighs which elevate to moans the second my lips abandon hers in pursuit of greater sweetness. As my lips begin to trail down her neck, over her collarbone, finding her breasts, she rakes her claws down my back and I hiss, bucking into her.

“Is this hard enough?” I purr.

I thrust my hips into her again, grabbing one of her knees and prying her open even wider to receive my attentions. She arches up to meet me, grinding her barely-clothed center against me.

“You can go harder.”

I freeze.

Looking down and searching her gaze, I maneuver my way through the fog of her desire until I’m faced with the true intent behind her words. My own eyes twitch slightly at the realization and she teases me again with a quick flash of her tongue from behind her teeth. She presses a kiss to the corner of my lips, confirming my suspicions.

I release her.

“Stay.”

My voice is gruff and strained as I stand and when I stare down at her on the floor, she twists her body in anticipation, dragging her fingertips down the valley of her breasts, her stomach—teasing me. I hurry into our bedroom, anxious to resume our activities. I shed the rest of my clothes as I make a beeline toward the dresser, crouching to reach for the bottom drawer and pull it open. I remove the discreet black box and pull the lid off, my lips twitching upward into a smile when I find what I’m looking for.

Amongst the rest of our toys I find the leather harness, the silicone phallus. It takes me a couple of minutes to get myself situated—usually Cosima helps me in this endeavour, but I’m a grown woman with a PhD and the current head of the DYAD Institute, so I’m certain I can figure it out with a little bit of effort.

My mind wanders back to the day we made this purchase; it was something we had talked about before, something she was far too eager to try. She’d never had a man before—never even knew if she would like it—but the budding scientist in her was unable to dismiss the thought from her mind. She had cheerfully dragged me to the store and on the clerk’s recommendation, we had picked out the most expensive harness they carried and a suitable toy—smooth and moderately-sized.

It was as good a place as any to start.

I had been reluctant at first, my fear being that I would find the experience too disjointed, though on the contrary, I find it to be strangely intimate; watching her eyes widen and glaze as I fill her to the brim, feeling the resistance as I plunge into her, hearing her keen as she clenches around the sturdy piece of silicone… it’s enough of a reward to pay for the equipment a hundred times over.

When I reappear in the living room with my new appendage, I find her sprawled out on the couch, underwear removed. She smiles when she notices me, her eyes shifting between my gaze and the toy, her fingers wandering the plains of her body.

“Brat,” I mutter, approaching her slowly. “You don’t listen very well, do you?”

She stands, attempting to close some of the gap in our height.

“You didn’t say Simon says,” she teases, her hand finding the appendage.

She grips it tightly, giving it a firm tug and causing my eyes to nearly roll back in my head.

“You don’t want to play games with me, Cosima—not now,” I growl, my hands finding her hips.

“Wrong,” she laughs, wrapping her arms around my neck and bringing her lips to my ear. “I wanna play all kinds of games with you.”

I pounce, her words taunting the beast into action. She’s grown strong enough now that she could put up a more challenging fight than before, but I’m met with no resistance as I pin her to the ground. She seems to delight in my aggression, a deep and throaty laugh escaping her as I walk head-first and willing into the trap she’s set for me. Gripping her hips roughly, I maneuver her body until she’s perched on all fours in front of me. Her head hangs low until I trail my lips down the column of her spine and she sighs blissfully, lifting her head again so that I can catch her gaze in the glow of the fireplace, our eyes locking in the glass doors.

I grip the sturdy toy which dangles from between my legs, using the tip to tease at her entrance from behind. A tremor tears through her as I coat it in her wetness and I find my lips pulling into a smile once more.

“But this is what you want the most, isn’t it?” I ask.

Once I’m lined up, I grip her hips tightly and leave her dangling on the precipice. As aroused as I am in the moment, I refuse to continue until she learns the rules of my game. I chuckle as I watch her try to hold out, to prolong the seduction. I reach up the length of her back with one hand, finding her braids and forcing her head back.

“Tell me,” I command, my voice harsh in her ear.

“Yes!”

She backs herself into me and I allow her to slide all the way down the length of the toy until her ass is nestled snuggly against my groin, the pressure sending a shock straight to my core. We both pause for a moment, satisfied groans slipping out of our mouths in unison. I never feel so complete as when I’m buried inside of her, evoking such sweet sounds from her lips.

When we’re both ready to move again, I begin with a steady rhythm; I dig my fingers into her hips deep enough to leave crescent-shaped marks in her skin and work my way in and out with long, languid strokes that I accentuate with a swivel of my hips each time I feel the toy reach her innermost depths. She clutches the pile of the rug beneath her and quivers like a leaf in the wind every time I hit her sweet spot.

I work her slowly and surely like this until I sense a crack beginning to form in her demeanour. While I’m perfectly content to carry on like this for hours—until the sheen of sweat which coats our bodies begins to drip from the exertion and the sound of our skin slapping together deafens us to all other noise—I know that our bodies will break long before our wills do. This night is supposed to be about fulfilling promises and so I know it isn’t right to draw out the exquisite torture for longer than necessary.

And I’d say we’ve reached the point of necessity.

“Harder,” she pleads.

My thrusts become more hurried, more forceful as I continue to slam into her from behind over and over, giving her no time to recover or prepare herself for my onslaught. Her moans grow louder until she can no longer support herself on both her hands and knees; her arms wobble before she forfeits, burying her face in the rug with her ass still raised to receive me. There’s something so visceral about having her this way that I can’t help the low growl that emanates from my throat; my eyes bleed black and my fangs unsheathe themselves. Even though she’s unable to see me from her position, she can sense my shift and she matches it with her own, forcing herself back against me to grind against the toy so that the base presses against my burning sex.

“F-Fuck…,” I hear her drawl.

I find more resistance each time I enter her and she clutches me every time I pull out, as if she’s desperate to be filled—her body hungry to be whole. I abandon my grip on her hips to stretch myself over her body like a brand new layer of skin, hugging her from behind as I continue to plough into her with a little less grace each time.

“Tu es—tu es mon monde,” I tell her, nearly choking on the words as I feel a white heat begin to spread through me.

I sink my fangs into the flesh of her trapezius and she cries out, the sound of her voice filling my whole world before the heat overtakes me completely and I collapse into her.

The universe stalls.

It takes me several minutes to regain my bearings and once I do, I press a lingering kiss to site of my lover’s bite and roll off of her, joining her on the floor.

“Mmm… how do you do that?” she asks me with a weakened grin, turning her head towards me ever-so-slightly so she can read my expression.

I laugh.

“I was about to ask you the same question,” I say honestly.

She inches closer, pressing her lips to mine to remind me that we’re both still here. I luxuriate in the moment, suspended, until she pulls away again. I whine as I watch her find her feet, somehow pulling herself to a standing position.

“How can you even move right now?” I ask, looking up at her both amazed and amused.

She positions herself over me, a foot on either side of my waist. She beams down on me with her head cocked to the side.

“Don’t tell me you’re a one-and-done,” she teases. “I know you can do better than that.”

She’s right.

We’ve certainly had much longer nights of passion and while I have no intention of calling it an evening just yet, I need another minute to find my bones and will them back into solid form.

“You sound quite confident for someone who was just fucked into the floor,” I throw back at her.

It’s her turn to laugh.

“Maybe I have my own surprises for you,” she winks.

My attention piqued, I sit up.

She laughs once more, sauntering away from me towards our bedroom.

“Come to bed.”

+ + + + +

“Mmmm… tired,” she groans, rolling over onto her side to bury her face in a pillow.

She looks so blissful and relaxed that I have half a mind to let her depart into her well-deserved slumber, but I will not miss my grand opportunity.

“Not yet,” I whisper, planting kisses along her shoulder blades.

“Hm?”

“You can’t sleep just yet.”

She rolls over, prying an eye open to regard me curiously.

“Why not?” she asks. “It’s nearly dawn.”

I grin back at her.

“Exactly.”

Both eyes open this time. Her brow furrows and she sits up.

“You’re gonna have to cut it with the cryptic talk. I have no idea what you’re getting at.”

I fight the urge to pull her face toward me and shower her with kisses.

“Come for a walk with me,” I say softly.

She pauses.

“Very funny,” she deadpans.

I could try to explain to her what I mean, but words seem too modest to describe what it is I’m offering. Instead I drag myself from the comfort of my bed, finding my robe hanging on the closet door and wrapping myself in it.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

I ignore her, vanishing into the living room in search of the bag I discarded earlier. I dig through it, finding the plastic receptacle which houses my gift. With trembling hands, I carry it back to the bedroom to deliver it to my love.

She has found her glasses, her face illuminated by the glow of the bedside lamp.

“Here.”

I hand her the receptacle and she stares at me, completely lost in her confusion. She accepts my gift anyway, inspecting it closely.

“What is this?” she asks.

I open my mouth to explain, only the words escape me. Emotion finds me instead and my lower lip quivers; I watch her open it, revealing two syringes and a vial.

“This is our future, Cosima.”

It takes her a second to reach realization but once she does, her eyes widen and lips tremble, as well.

“Do… do you mean…?”

She desperately searches my expression for answers and when I respond with a reassuring smile, her eyes begin to swell.

“Hold out your arm,” I instruct, retrieving the vial and one of the syringes.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she presents her elongated arm to me. I fill the syringe with the liquid from the vial—the culmination of my life up until this point—and inject a generous dose into her.

Once I’m done with Cosima, I use the other syringe and repeat the process with myself.

“Is it working?” she asks, shooting up from the bed. “I don’t feel any different.”

She’s pacing around the bedroom now, staring at her arm expectantly.

“It is,” I say, trying not to laugh at her eagerness. “I promise.”

Aldous has spent years working on this serum and I’ve spent the last eight months perfecting it. I wanted to wait until I was completely certain that I was successful before presenting it to her; I couldn’t bear to raise her hopes only to smash them to pieces if my efforts were in vain.

She waits another minute, running her hands along her skin as if she’s waiting for something incredible to happen.

“Are you sure?”

I crawl from our bed, walking purposely toward the balcony. As I reach for the handle to the sliding door, she nervously retreats deeper into our bedroom.

“Delphine, wait!”

I pull the door open and the world seeps in.

It’s light is gentle.

I take a bold step over the threshold, crossing over onto the balcony.

I look up at the sky; the sun is just beginning to crawl above the skyline and I close my eyes, allowing its warmth to embrace me.

There are no flames this time, no searing pain.

There is only silence and a great calmness.

“Come,” I call to her.

She follows in my footsteps, crossing the threshold and stepping out into the world like a fawn finding its legs for the first time. She’s weary at first, but the moment she realizes that I’m unscathed—that her skin isn’t being stripped from her—everything shifts.

It’s the most glorious thing I’ve ever seen.

The sun washes over the gentle curves of her body, basking her in its glow like a firefly along the lake at night. Her expression shifts many times over the span of a few seconds—from fear to relief to utter joy to something that’s unnameable to me.

“D-Delphine… I’m…”

Apparently the feeling is just as unnameable to her, as well.

I seek her out, closing the distance between us. My hands cup her face and I lean forward, pressing my forehead to hers. We both close our eyes, both allow ourselves to slip into the moment and stay lost.

“I never thought… I never thought I’d see it again,” she admits through silent tears.

I brush them away with the pads of my thumbs.

“I knew I would.”

There was a time I felt the same way.

My nights had grown so long that I had given up on morning altogether… and then she appeared. Suddenly, my impossibly long nights became far too short as she filled them with a sense of purpose that simply refused to expire with the break of dawn; stars filled my skies again and wonder returned to my world.

That’s when I knew that our nights would never be enough.

That’s when I knew I would find the light again, no matter what the cost.

If only to see her shine.

#cophine #cophine fanfic #fanfiction #pure radiance #vampires #vampire au

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twins-luxan-er · 6 years

Text

Twins [chapter four]

Dead or Alive

////-----------------------------////

Ryan remembered dying, even if just for a moment. He remembered the feeling of thirst and hunger dissipate from his body, not being able to speak and losing his vision. He felt the pain of hitting the ground at a high velocity for a few seconds before his body went numb. He couldn’t hear anything anymore and he couldn’t taste any of the food he had eaten earlier. Ryan a brief moment to think about Tyler and what would happen to him, but then he felt relaxed and his mind went blank.

He died.

He was fully aware of that…

So why did he wake up?

When he had awoken, he heard multiple men talking nearby. His hearing wasn’t that great, but he could make out a few words here and there. “.... If unsuccessful… undead… exterminate… failure again…” He had begun to regain his senses, after a while, he began to feel the cold of the metal below him. Ryan mustered the strength he had regained and sat up on the metal table. His head was spinning and his vision was blurry. He was in a hospital gown. Am I in a hospital…? He looked around the room and tried to make out the furniture in the room. He saw grayish, rectangular blobs with a bright light emitting from the middle of it. A… monitor?

Ryan attempted to stand up and failed. His legs were weak and his chest felt sore. “H… He…” He couldn’t speak at the moment, his throat too was dry. The brunette started to bang on the metal table as loud as he could. He heard faint footsteps coming from his left; they kept getting louder and louder until they stopped. Ryan saw large feet next to him. They kneeled next to him and tapped his shoulder. “Hello, little one,” The muffled male voice said, “Where’d you come from?”

The brunette tried to say something, but all that came out was small croaks and hums.

The man chuckled. “Can’t speak… Do you know sign language?”

Ryan shook his head.

“Morse code?”

Ryan tried to recall if he had ever learned morse code during his life. Once he had recalled he and Tyler learning it during camping, he nodded slowly. The man sighed. “I’m guessing you have some questions…?”

The brunette lifted his shaky hand and began to do the morse code for the one major question he had on his mind. Ryan watched the man’s expressions changed as he tried to decipher the Morse code he had laid out. Once he had figured it out, his eyes widened and a grin had begun to form on his face.

‘Why am I alive?’

To the rest of the world he was known as Zander White’s adopted son, Svante Stefansson, but to the scientists of Nico Global, he was known as their one success. Ryan walked the earth as a resurrected teen. He was supposed to be dead, he knew that much. The reason to his being alive was still not very clear. He knew the gist of it; Zander was experimenting on the possibility of resurrecting one after death with seven other people. Ryan was their only success out of fifteen corpses.

In order for them to figure out what they did differently to Ryan, they kept him here. Nearly three years and they still haven’t figured that out. All Ryan wanted was to go home, but he couldn’t. They couldn’t know he was alive. As Zander puts it, they can’t know until they can perfect it.

Ryan has been posing as his adopted son for nearly three years. Posing as Svante Stefansson. He hates it. Ryan hates it. He just wants to go home. He wants to see his family. His brother. He wants to be Ryan Godfrey again.

“Svante? When did you decide to come back from boarding school in California?”

That’s right. Zander brought him and his daughter to some big interview on the White family. Ryan put on a fake smile. “Well, I had heard that my little sister had finals coming up, I just had to be here to support her. And while I’m here I wanted to finish high school locally.”

The reporters nodded and wrote down what he said in their notebooks. They turned to his adoptive sister. “Nicole, how did you feel when you heard your brother was coming home?” The teen clapped her hands happily. “I was ecstatic! I hadn’t seen Svante in a nearly a year, so when Dad told me that he was coming home, I cooked his favourite meals and prepared a bunch of things for us to do. We had so much fun!!”

Ryan glanced at Nicole and sighed. “I did indeed have fun, Nicole.”

Photographers were taking pictures, interviewers were writing things down and asking questions left and right. Ryan was tired of this. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to listen to some music and lay down. He hated the flashing of the cameras, the indistinct voices, and the fake cheerful voices and smiles.

When it was done, Zander took his ‘children’ home. Zander went to his office because he still had another conference with the other scientists that experimented on Ryan. They had conferences often. Sometimes they asked Ryan to go in there, as well, but most of the time he wasn’t included.

“Ryan?” Nicole was standing in front of him with her hands on her hips and her reading glasses on. “Did Dad give you your class schedule?” Zander had enrolled Ryan in the same high school Tyler was in. Ryan asked to put in classes that Tyler wasn’t in. If they were in the same class, Ryan would want to talk to him and that would present so many problems.

Ryan nodded. “Yeah, he said he put it on my desk. I’ll check it tonight.”

Nicole adjusted her glasses and left for her bedroom. She was in college now, so the only times Ryan ever saw her was when Zander scheduled interviews or something. The brunette watched her as she entered her bedroom and sighed angrily. This was tiring.

The teen heard a faint ding coming from his room. He walked into his room and opened up his computer. On the top left corner of the screen was a small rectangular box that read Liverpool Aquatics Centre. Clicking on it, Ryan listened to the audio that emitted from the computer’s speakers.

“Ryan did that same thing.”

That was Tyler’s voice. Who was he talking to?

“Excuse me?”

Who was that?

“Ryan could tell when I was annoyed or uncomfortable and he's got me out of it if he could…”

Ryan smiled at the memory. They may have been twins, but people always found Tyler the slightest bit more attractive than Ryan. Girls were always trying to flirt with him. When Tyler and Melissa started dating, she was always trying to get Tyler to ditch Ryan. He never did cave though; he was true to his word.

“Ah… You don’t seem to like her y’know.”

“I do, it’s just… She keeps on trying to get me to do things for my birthday. ‘Get over it’ she says… Well, it’s easier said than done.”

Melissa was always so pushy. Even when they were kids. She always bossed the two boys around, trying to get them to do what she wanted. It’s annoying, even now.

“Sounds annoying.”

There’s that other voice again. Who was that?

Ryan heard Tyler laugh. “It is.”

The brunette said nothing and listened to the muffled shouts and laughs that were in the background. Neither voices spoke for about three minutes before Ryan heard Tyler sighed heavily.

That other voice spoke first. “What’s up?”

Tyler sighed again. “I’m getting tired…”

Ryan chuckled. He always got tired in the weirdest places. Once at a concert, then at Comic-Con, then in a multitude of places. When he used to ask Tyler why he got tired in the places with a whole lot of noise, he’d always say the same thing, ‘I find it calming’.

“How can you even be remotely tired with all this noise?”

“No idea… Ryan used to tell me how weird it was that I could fall asleep nearly anywhere.”

A shiver went down Ryan’s back. He muted the conversation between Tyler and that mystery voice and went to find his sneakers. He put them on quickly, not bothering to tie the laces. He grabbed a sweatshirt and ran out the door of the White residence.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

He ran as fast as he could to the aquatics center. It wasn’t too far from Zander’s house, but he wanted to be there as quickly as possible. When he got there, he dashed through the hallway, looking from the room that had the most people in it. He heard multiple voices coming from a room around the corner. Running into the room, he pushed past the people sitting the locker room and slid to a stop when he reached the pool.

Tyler was on the floor on the other side of the pool.

Ryan knew something was wrong.

He had to force himself not to run over there. He couldn’t be seen by him. Ryan put his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and watched the scene from the opposite side of Tyler. People were trying to help him up, help calm him down. They were asking what’s wrong.

Ryan wanted to stay and see if he would be alright, but Tyler looked up at him.

He could see his green eyes widen at the sight of him. It caused him to pass out. Before Ryan left, he took a picture of the people over there. One that caught his eye was a blonde. He had his hand on Tyler’s shoulder and looked genuinely concerned for his brother. Something told Ryan that was the voice.

He’d ask Zander to identify him later.

For now, he needed to leave.

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