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lumilasi · 1 year

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Updated Kouya slightly for his new story. I decided to keep his hair blue after all, though in dog-form he's gray/black with just blue glowing details (he's a dog spirit now in this new story)

Kouya's bio below:

Name: Kouya Garou

Name translation: desert/wilderness & hungry wolf

Nicknames: Kou (Yoruga, Kiyoi) Doggy (Youko), Hound/pooch (Hanma, when he's annoyed at him)

Age: 22

Height: 180 cm

A child/puppy of a fighting ring, searching for his idol to defeat him in battle.

Family: He was adopted by the fighting ring he grew up in, later he's allowed to stay at the Murasaki mansion, as their adoptive child Kiyoi grows fond of him.

Love Interest: Kiyoi, a forest witchboy

Friends: Yoruga, Youko (a small chimera kid). He also ends up acting as a big brother figure of sorts for Yago, the honorary grandchild of his new masters. He does manage to form sort of a friendship with Yaguro and Chouma as well, even if he sometimes annoys the former moth spirit with his need to fight him.

Powers:

He is physically very strong and durable, able to withstand quite the beating. He's also able to break trees and rocks with just a kick, and a really good close combatant with his blades

He can summon and elongate his claws, and also can make his teeth/jaw sharp and strong enough to tear someone’s throat open. Y know, like a wolf/bloodhound.

He’s very cold resistant, meaning he’s mostly immune to ice-based magic. You can't freeze this good boy in place.

Has the excellent hearing and smell sense of dogs, can also howl loud enough to break things, though this attack makes his voice hoarse afterwards and gives him a sore throat.

Can summon/hide his dog spirit features, and he reminds a gray wolf-dog with glowing yellow patterns on him in full animal form.

WEAKNESSES:

Kouya can sometimes lose control of himself if he hasn’t treated his wounds properly/eaten properly, which basically switches his brain into an animalistic fight mode, where he attacks anything and everything indiscriminately. Typically he needs to be knocked out for this to stop.

He can be socially awkward, where he doesn’t know how to act in certain situations, resulting in being rude/too brash when he doesn’t mean to be. He’s also bad at expressing his feelings, which leads to a lot of awkward moments with Kiyoi (and sometimes with other people too), which do frustrate him and make Kouya self-conscious about himself.

His need to beat Yaguro can sometimes make him frustrating to deal with, and can be used against him to trick him into doing things he shouldn't. (He always regrets it once he realizes he was duped)

PERSONALITY:

Kouya is seemingly a hot-headed and aggressive fighter with dramatic flare and ego to match. He’s also a very protective and loyal friend, willing to put his ego aside if he needs to protect someone/retreat because someone he cares for/respects tells him so.

While he sees nothing wrong with violence due to how he was raised, Kouya does care about what Kiyoi, or his new master Hanma especially thinks of him, so he tends to try and hold back/behave around those two even if he's itching for a fight. He also enjoys listening to Kiyoi ramble about things he's passionate about, as Kouya is actually quite a curious person and more intelligent than people give him credit for. He is just often hindranced by his hotheaded nature, and obsessive need to fight his idol...

He’s pretty chill outside battle, and often lazes around the mansion/the yard. Sometimes he helps little Youko hunt some wild boars (if her bestie/main babysitter Chouma isn't able to go). He's also kind of mischievous, liking to tease people or pull small pranks.

FUN FACTS:

Kouya is somewhat afraid of Hanma, but also deeply respects the man for his strength, and genuine kindness towards those weaker than him.

While its kind of natural for his kind and Kitsune to clash, Kouya is respectful towards Hanma's wife Rikka as well, and genuinely admired her swordsmanship. He tends to be more blunt towards the daughter Kouka, but is aware and wary of her strength and makes sure not to cross a line.

His first meeting with Kiyoi was dramatic, as he accidentally crashed through his wall while fighting Yaguro, who was visiting the Murasaki mansion.

He finds Yoruga weird, but funny. (Don't they all?)

Unlike Kiyoi where it took some time, Kouya pretty much instantly decided he liked the blond witch boy, but chose not to show it too much at first, sensing Kiyoi was a bit intimidated by him.

Kouya doesn't mind if Youko chomps him for his blood (think of it as an insect bite, its not that dangerous lol) and might just pretend to yelp in pain/act surprised for fun.

he tends to manifest his (wagging) tail around kiyoi, something he's actually a little embarrassed about. Normally he controls these things at will, but his tail likes to betray his feelings towards Kiyoi

Kouya's coat is the champion's robe from his old home, but he feels like he hasn't earned it until he's defeated the previous missing champion, Yaguro.

Kouya's blades are also the old ones Yaguro used in fights and left behind once he left the area. Kouya picked them up and began training with them.

Yaguro and him didn't really interact much at the time, other than him once bringing him a towel and getting a head-pat as a thank you.

Kouya is technically mostly blind on his right eye, but being a dog spirit he tends to rely more on his hearing and sense of smell naturally, so it doesn't affect him that much.

BG STORY:

Kouya grew up in an underground fighting club that also gave him his name; he was found as a puppy by the owner, who took pity on him and also generally liked dogs. He initially just ran small errands both as a dog and a human, with only the owner and select few knowing the gray dog and the blue haired boy were the same person. While the place was rough, the fighters and owners treated him fairly well, being quite fond of the small scraggly kid/the puppydog running around, and even punished anyone who attempted to bully or harm either version of him needlessly.

As a child, he witnessed a fight between a challenger and their reigning champion Yaguro for the first time, being completely awed by the said champion's skill. He had not interacted with the man before, as he tended to be reclusive and avoid others outside his fights, but he did give Kouya a head-pat after the fight, as he brought him a towel to wipe off the blood.

From that day, Kouya wanted to become as strong as the moth man, and began training himself furiously, watching almost every fight Yaguro did. They did interact once more - unknowingly to Yaguro - as he ended up saving Kouya from being swept by the raging river during a storm, while he was in his dog form. This further strengthened Kouya's idolization of the man.

Then, years later as Yaguro vanished all of a sudden, he was quite upset over it.

Some days after that however, Kouya finds his blades Yaguro had left behind however, and decides to learn how to use them. Over the years, Kouya becomes quite the formidable fighter himself, known as the place's "born and raised" champion, being the only one who'd been actively raised there since he was a toddler.

Then, one fateful day the ring was essentially destroyed due to the owner ending up in deep trouble with the local gang, which burned the place down, killing the owner and his family; this incident caused Kouya to be blind in his other eye. Enraged by this, Kouya hunted down the gang and killed them as revenge.

After this incident, he decides to go and hunt down the original champion of the ring, feeling like defeating him is the only purpose he has left in life now, that his home was completely gone, and he didn't know what else to do or where to go.

#artists on tumblr #oc reference #character reference #oc info #lumi’s art scribbles #lumi’s chaotic creations #lumi's chaotic creations #kureshima bathhouse #lumi's art scribbles #Kouya Garou #dog boy #wolf boy #anime #manga #comic style

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lakesandquarries · 3 years

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Tangled Up - Chapter One

for I am a tardigrade, and I'll stay at home

Benrey's spent 26 years living in a tower - 27, tomorrow. When a thief breaks into his tower, he finds his chance to escape and takes it.

Alternatively: Tangled, but the AI is self aware.

(featuring art by @kenas-artstuff )

Notes: check ao3 for warnings and tags! “kane radio” is just gordon using a fake name. fic title from “tangled up” by caro emerald, chapter title from “tardigrade song” by cosmo sheldrake.

Happy valentines day!!! hope you enjoy <3

AO3 Link

This is not the first time Kane’s come to tied up. It’s not even the first time this week. However, it is the first time he’s come to tied up with ropes made of human hair, and the first time he’s come to with a fucking raccoon shoving its nose in his ear.

So maybe he screams a little. Anyone would! It’s a reasonable reaction.

The hair around his wrists is a shiny blue-black, tough when he pulls at it. Is all hair like that? Is it one of those things that’s fragile individually but super tough all together? Seems like it, because it’s not even budging.

He’s so caught up that he doesn’t notice the person in the shadows until they’re holding out a crowbar, tilting up his chin.

“Yo,” they say, quiet and monotone. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Kane screams again.

They’re weird looking. Pale, really pale, to the point that Kane wonders if something is wrong with them, and with a dark shadow around their eyes like a bruise that makes him sure. They’ve got on a long dress, all dark blues and lace and fancy embroidery, the kind of thing you’d either have to be rich to buy or have a lot of spare time to make. Their eyes are a bright, bright yellow, almost glowing, sclera a pale blue, and their hair is the same blue-black as the hair around Kane’s wrists - oh, it’s the same hair, isn’t it? Fuck, it’s long.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the guy says again. “You got, uh. ID? Passport?”

“Passport?” This is - this is insane. This cannot be happening. “What the fuck,” he mumbles, repeating it to himself a few times, “what the fuck, who - who are you?”

The man tilts his head up with his crowbar. "No, no. I asked you first. You're in my house, I ask the questions." His eyes narrow, almost translucent in the light. "What're you doing here? How'd you find me? You gonna steal shit?" His hand goes to his hair, tugging on the blue-black strands. "Gonna steal my hair?"

"Steal your - why would I steal your hair?" The crowbar is cold against his throat, pressing harder every time he speaks. "And aside from that, I'm not here to steal anything. I thought this place was empty so I could use it for - as a shelter! Happy now?" His tone stays steady, confident even, but his hands clutch at the armrests desperately.

“You - huh?” The crowbar pulls back, just enough that Kane’s head can drop, and he sucks in a deep breath while he still can. The crowbar moves away entirely for a moment, as the stranger steps aside to have a whispered conversation with his pet raccoon.

Yeah, this day is weird enough for that to seem normal. Between stealing the prince’s royal helmet, ditching his partner, getting chased by a guard dog, and now this - it’s certainly been a day.

While the guy’s busy, Kane glances around, taking in the sights of the tower. It’s small. Homey. There’s a bed, a kitchen, a couch, bookshelves full of video games and a handful of books. The walls are covered, floor to ceiling, in paintings. When he looks up he realizes it’s not just the walls, the ceiling is painted too. Even the furniture has tiny doodles and carvings in it.

The crowbar slides against his throat again, cutting off his train of thought. "Is it just you?” the stranger asks. “No, uh. Backup? Not gonna...." he trails off, looking at his raccoon again, then back to Kane. "Who are you?"

He gives the man the best smile he can manage, under the circumstances, and says, “I’m Kane. Kane Radio.”

“Kane,” the man repeats. There’s a long pause where the two of them just stare at each other, before he finally adds, “Benrey.” Suddenly he tugs on his hair, pulling Kane closer to him and pushing the crowbar aside. “I wanna make a deal with you.”

“Uhh, yeah, could you get me out of your...hair, first? If that is your hair.” He doesn’t have time to make deals, and he doesn’t like the way Benrey repeated his name. Could he….? No, there’s no way. Kane’s been careful to erase any trace of Gordon Freeman. Of all people to blow his secret it’s not gonna be some random hermit living in a tower. He swallows, appreciating the lack of metal at his throat. “To be honest, I’d rather -”

Aaaand there goes the crowbar again. Shouldn’t have gotten confident. "You're lucky I'm gonna let you leave," Benrey says, voice low. Suddenly he doesn't seem like just a weird guy in a tower. Suddenly he seems like a threat. A choked yelp claws out of Kane’s throat as Benrey tugs on his hair again, pulling Kane close enough that he can see his unnaturally sharp teeth. "Wanna try that again?"

He barely processes the words, focused on the man - man?? - in front of him, the sharp teeth and glowing eyes and the crowbar pressing his throat shut, or maybe that’s just anxiety. It occurs to him that maybe this guy isn’t human.

His smile is nowhere near its usual confidence, but he tries to grin anyway. “S-so, uh, what...what was that deal? Benrey?”

Benrey’s face splits into a grin, and suddenly he’s just...a guy again. A weird guy! A weird, unsettling guy, with eyes that are too bright and teeth that are too sharp and hair that is way too long, but a guy. The crowbar is lowered and Benrey steps back, clambering up his fireplace and pulling back a red curtain. Behind it is...a painting? Still semi-fresh, from the looks of it, in the same style that all the other paintings are. This one depicts the floating lanterns they do for the prince's birthday. There’s all sorts of colors, blue and silver and pink and green, and below the sky is a hill with a small figure on it with long black hair.

"You know what these are?" he asks, pointing a finger at a pink light.

Kane exhales slowly. Benrey’s gonna push that crowbar against him again any second now, so he might as well enjoy breathing while he can. Fuck, he’d almost rather go back outside and deal with the guard dog that chased him here. “Yeah,” he says, voice shaking, and he clears his throat before he continues. “The lanterns for the lost prince.” Is Benrey fucking with him? Everyone knows the lanterns. Kane’s never even been to a lantern ceremony himself but he still knows what they are. He’d need a serious head injury to forget that, and while his head hurts a bit it’s certainly not that bad.

Benrey does not seem to be fucking with him, because he does a little cheer and fist pump. “I knew they weren’t stars,” he mumbles to himself, before turning back to Kane. Louder, he says, "I want you to take me there. To see 'em." He pulls the curtain back over and jumps down from the mantle, landing on the floor with a heavy thud. "Think you can manage that? Just there and back and I don't, uh. Y'know." He glances at the window. Kane follows his gaze, picturing Benrey launching his body out of it, and shudders. "Pretty good deal, I think."

Kane’s breath comes out in a panicked hiss.”W-well, that's not really a good idea right now, since I shouldn’t show my face in the kingdom right now considering I -" oh shit. "Oh shit. My satchel! Where is my satchel?!"

Benrey raises an eyebrow, smirking at him. “Oh, the bag thingy? I hid it. Mine now.” His smug face is the most infuriating thing Kane has ever seen, and he’d be throwing a punch if he wasn’t fucking tied to a chair. Benrey continues, "If you want it, you gotta earn it. You take me to the lanterns, I give you your satchel. Deal?"

Hid it. He said he hid it, so it’s….somewhere in here, probably, and once Kane realizes that it’s easy to figure out. He nods his head at a flowerpot. “It’s in there, huh?”

Benrey raises the crowbar again.

Oh, shit. “W-wait, no no no, no need to hit me!” He shuts his eyes, wishing he could move his arms to protect himself. He does not need any more head trauma, thank you very much.

This guy really won’t hesitate to kill him, huh? This stupid deal is his only real option. Kane sighs, keeping his eyes shut. "L-look, I'll keep my eyes shut like this? And you can hide my satchel somewhere else. No peeking. I'll agree to the deal. Just - my head already feels like splitting."

A pause. Kane almost considers opening his eyes but keeps them shut. Finally he hears Benrey’s voice again. “No peeking,” he repeats. There’s a series of shuffling noises, bare feet and raccoon claws against the floor, and then a moment later: “Okay. You can open your eyes.”

The satchel is nowhere to be seen, without even a hint to where it might be hiding. He sighs, head dropping forward before he looks up at Benrey again. "If I'm gonna agree to this, let me ask at least one question. Why do you wanna see them so badly, and why would you need an escort for that?"

Benrey’s face goes blank. “Uhhhh,” is all he says, followed by a long pause, leaving Kane worried he broke him somehow, but finally Benrey continues. "That's, uh. None of your business. 's just - it's, uh, dangerous. Out there. For me. Need a....need a guide."

Huh. Sheltered, maybe? Benrey seems...well, a little off, to be blunt. He can’t be much younger than Kane is, but he doesn’t even know about the lanterns. Overprotective parent seems a likely answer, but whatever the reason, now’s not the time to pry. “Alright, yeah, none of my business. Okay. We go see the lanterns, come back, you give me the satchel, yeah? Deal?”

“Deal,” Benrey agrees.

“Okay. Does that mean you can untie me now?”

-----

The thing about spending 27 years in a tower, knowing that this is where you’re going to spend your entire life, is that when you get the option to leave it’s kind of the scariest thing imaginable.

Kane’s already climbed down, leaning against a tree while Benrey stands on the ledge. Physically, he’s ready. He’s got his hair wrapped around the lever, ready to swing down, ready to go, to get out of the stupid fucking tower and out into the real world, except -

Except -

“You are never leaving this tower.” Zeki’s hands are on his shoulder, nails digging in. “Do you understand?”

Benrey reaches back, trying to grab at the closet. “But -”

“The outside world isn’t safe for you. You aren’t safe for it. If you went outside, you know what would happen?”

“Huh?”

“Look at you.” She grabs his hand roughly, pulling him over to the mirror. “They’ll take one look at you, and they’ll know, and then what? You’ll fight back. You’ll hurt people. You’re dangerous.”

It’s nothing new, but. He thinks about the man he has stuffed into his closet. He didn’t hurt him. He’ll be fine! “But -”

“This isn’t up for discussion. You. Are not. Leaving. Ever. Do you understand me or not?”

He stares at the mirror, looking between himself and Zeki. She’s looked the same as long as he can remember, brown hair always pulled into a bun and dark green eyes, pale skin but not in the same way Benrey is pale. She’s human. He’s not. And she’s right, that anyone who looks at him is gonna know. That’s why he’s up here, where it’s safe. Where no one can hurt him. And, more importantly, where he can’t hurt anyone else.

“I understand,” Benrey mumbles.

“Good.”

“I, uh. I thought of - I came up with something better. For a, uh. Birthday thingy.”

Zeki turns away from the mirror, towards Benrey. “Oh?”

“You got me that - the paint. Last year. The white one?”

“That’s a long trip,” she says, pursing her lips.

“I won’t ask about the. The stars. Or going outside. Or anything of that. I’ll, uh -” He glances at the dresser, the one where she keeps her lab coat. “I’ll make up for it.”

There’s a glint in her eyes, sharp like her favourite knife. “Fine. I’ll get you the paint.” Her face softens as she places a hand on Benrey’s head. “I’m only doing this to protect you.”

“I know,” he mumbles, as she steps away to gather her things. “I know.”

“Benrey?” Kane yells. “Are you gonna move or what?”

He jumps.

The fall is intense. Wind in his hair, sun on his face, watching the ground get closer - oh that’s close. Oh that’s very close. He stops just a few inches off the ground, hesitating once again. There’s no going back from this. The grass is so much greener than he expected, bright and shiny in the sun, drops of dew still lingering, and before he can spiral further he puts his foot down. When nothing happens - no monster appears, no pit opens up and swallows him - he puts both feet on the ground, the blades of grass tickling him.

A quick tug, and he pulls his hair down from the lever, watching it fall to the ground, and then joins it. The grass is still damp underneath him, but the sun above is warm. He’s getting covered in dew and dirt and bits of grass and he can’t find it in him to care, busy savoring the feeling he’s dreamed of for so long.

It’s not until he stands up that he realizes the bulk on his hair landed directly on Kane. He starts shoving hair aside, Jefferem lending a set of tiny hands as extra help. “You good?” Benrey asks, as Kane’s head becomes visible.

Kane huffs, struggling to stand. “Apart from being attacked by your mane, yeah, I'm fine. Can you help me out?”

Benrey holds out an arm. Pulling Kane up proves easier than he thought, and he pulls a little too hard, almost slamming Kane into him, the two of them pressed together for a moment before Kane coughs and steps back. Benrey takes a moment to half-heartedly brush some dirt and grass out of his hair and off his clothes, looking at Kane. “Guide time?”

Kane blinks at him, not bothering to clean off his clothing. “Uh - yeah. Guide time. Let’s go!” His steps are loud as he walks away.

Benrey’s footsteps are almost inaudible as he follows, crowbar gripped tight in his hands. The initial adrenaline is starting to fade, doubt settling in. Maybe this was a bad idea. It’s not too late to turn around and go back.

He shakes his head. Lost in his own thoughts, he’s fallen behind, and he has to sprint to catch up. Hoping not to zone out again, he starts talking, letting the first thing he can think of fall out of his mouth. “The lights - the lanterns. You said they were for a...prince?”

They enter a small stone tunnel as Kane answers. His voice is soft. “Every year, on the prince’s birthday, the kings - and the whole kingdom - release a swarm of lanterns,” he explains, voice echoing. It turns theatrical as he continues. “See, their little boy was snatched away as a baby, by an evil wizard! Or...something like that, at least. They’re hoping the lanterns will bring him back.”

“On his birthday?” Benrey echoes. Weird coincidence. A moment passes while Benrey busies himself with touching the walls of the tunnel. “And they still haven’t found him? Why’re they still doing the lanterns if it doesn’t work?”

Kane’s voice is softer, more subdued when he responds. "The kings still have hope that their baby boy will return someday. It's a very human thing in my opinion."

Ah. Human thing. That explains why Benrey doesn’t understand.

Kane pokes his head through the ivy, waiting a moment before ducking back and lifting it to let Benrey through. “We’re clear.”

Raising an eyebrow, Benrey repeats, “Clear?” Is something following them, or is Kane just paranoid? Or maybe Benrey is reading too much into things. Maybe it’s normal to check for stuff like that. Not like he would know.

"Ah - well, I told you earlier, didn't I? The kingdom and I aren't... quite buddy buddy at the moment." As they walk, he keeps looking around, eyes darting back and forth. "But don't worry, it shouldn't be a big problem for our objective."

Oh. Maybe he should’ve paid more attention to what Kane was saying earlier. Too late for that now, though. “So I was right? You a little - thief boy, huh? Stealing shit?” It’s mostly a guess, but he can’t picture this guy doing any real crime. His satchel probably had some stolen shit in it and that’s why he wants it back so bad. Well, better to team up with a criminal than a guard or something, considering all the rules Benrey’s breaking.

“Why do you keep insisting I steal shit?” Kane asks, looking away from Benrey. He doesn’t even give him time to answer, immediately following it with, “Hey, you hungry?”

Immediately changing the subject, huh? Now that’s suspicious. Admittedly he is a little hungry, and curious about where they’d be getting food out here. “Only if you’re not gonna steal it.”

Kane’s mouth screws up, eyes narrowing with a scoff. “I know a good place to get food. On our way, too. My friend works there.”

Oh shit, other people. He hesitates a moment before nodding. “Sure. Sure, yeah.”

Kane squints at him again. “You're not really an outside person huh? Have you...Have you ever been outside before?”

Damn, okay, just gonna straight up ask. Benrey opens his mouth to answer and then stops. “You answer my question first.” He’s not looking at Kane as he talks, eyes on the road ahead.

A groan in response, and then, “Fine, neither of us get an answer, then.” Kane picks up his pace, quickly getting ahead of Benrey.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Benrey mutters, rushing to catch up again. Kane’s anger surprises him. “I don’t care if you are. I’m breaking like....every rule possible just being here.” He pauses, scuffing at the dirt. “‘s all cool. Y’know. Be gay, do crime.”

Kane bursts into laughter, stopping in the road for a second. “Real rebel, huh?” he asks, shooting Benrey a grin that he returns nervously. “Fitting, then, for you to break out with a thief.”

Benrey’s grin widens, delighted. “Hah! I was right.”

“Yeah, yeah, congratulations, Blueberry.” The smile twists at the corners, as Kane leans closer to Benrey. “But that means we’re in my business now. So what about yours? You said you're breaking every rule right now. So... you weren't allowed outside that tower for some reason?”

That same empty expression makes a return as Benrey freezes. Twirling a strand of hair around his fingers, he clears his throat, forcing himself to start moving again. Walked right into that one, huh? And he’s not a coward, he’s not gonna refuse to answer after he finally got Kane to admit something. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “I, uh. Yeah. Not allowed. Very not allowed.”

If Zeki knew what he was doing right now - she’d kill him. Worse than kill him. Beside him, Kane’s gaze is soft, head tilted and eyebrows furrowed.

“Well…” he starts, “sometimes, you just gotta do what feels right, even if it hurts or makes someone mad. Trust me on that, I know from experience.” To punctuate his last words, he nudges against Benrey’s arm, almost affectionate. Benrey jumps for a second, hand darting to touch the spot Kane had brushed against, almost expecting it to feel different somehow. But no, it’s just his arm.

“Experience,” he repeats quietly. “Uh, yeah. I mean - I’m here.”

“That you are, Mr. Independent.”

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #benrey #gordon feetman #frenrey #benrey hlvrai #cora writes #tangled au #tangled up #adventures of cora

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dawnrider · 4 years

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Since most of the votes were for the Modern AU, I bring to you, the spicy part so far of a college AU I’ve been writing off and on for a long time. I promise there’s more plot and emotional development before this... but I’m guessing y’all don’t care about that right now. XD Had to split it into 2 parts since it was long.

1 | 2 |

Spitfire:

I'm not sure what woke me, exactly, but I was suddenly wide awake. Judging by the darkness, it was the middle of the night. My hands shifted restlessly under my pillow for a moment before I realized that I could feel someone watching me. Not the best feeling to wake up to in the middle of the night in your apartment alone... A soft noise, maybe a rustle of clothing, drew my attention and I nearly screamed. Standing near the window, the moon not quite reaching him, was Yash.

I had never seen him look so intimidating before. While nothing about him was outwardly antagonistic or aggressive, he loomed over me in a way he'd never done. “Yash?” I whispered. “What are you doing here?” I pulled the blanket in my hands closer, somehow feeling like it was protecting me from him. Despite the fact that he was hanging back in the shadows, I could easily see that it was him. No one else filled a room the way he did. No one made me fight a constant quiver in my knees the way he did. I wasn't even standing and I could feel my patellas twitching. He still hadn't responded to my question and it was making me even more nervous than I was already. How the hell had he gotten into my apartment? "Yash?" I tried again.

"I... had to see you," he murmured. There was a growling tone to his voice I was unfamiliar with. Was he sick? He stepped into the light from the window and I felt my head tilt in confusion of its own volition. He looked different somehow. The phrase “animal attraction” quickly came to mind and I found myself lowering the blanket and slipping from the bed. The wood floor was chilly under my toes, sending a shiver up through the soles of my feet. But as he drew closer, I realized the chill wasn't causing the shiver at all.

His eyes, usually a pale brown, absolutely glowed golden in the moonlight. His hair, which I had always considered blond was clearly a platinum silver. Most startling was the way his eye teeth seemed longer than was normal... or even slightly abnormal for a human being. I mean, mine were a little lengthy. I had repeatedly discovered this the hard way when I used to bite the inside of my lip in the same place consistently. Yash's were nearly deadly looking. He seemed to be breathing through his mouth deliberately and I couldn't tell why until he took a deep breath through his nose and winced. "Geez, do I smell bad?" I half-joked in a weak whisper. He barely reacted at first, closing his eyes. I didn't have time to react myself when he suddenly grabbed my arms, pulling me against his chest. "Are you alright?" I questioned him, when I really felt the question should have been going the other direction.

"I have never smelled something so delicious in my entire life." I froze at his words. Was he serious? Was he seriously playing some kind of prank on me? The whole sneaking into my apartment in the dead of night thing, the looming in the darkness and barely speaking, looking at me like he wanted to devour me... Was this supposed to be some sort of Halloween, vampire, scare the crap out of Kagome thing? If it was, it wasn't funny anymore.

"That's sweet, I suppose. You still haven't told me what you're doing here... in my room... in the middle of the night.

"Don't you feel it?" I gave him a blank look. "I'm drawn to you, Kagome. I know you're drawn to me." I couldn't deny that and he seemed to know what I wasn't saying. "You're it," he growled. I flinched and I heard what sounded like a whimper in response. "Don't be afraid of me, Kagome. I would never hurt you."

"I-I know that," I whispered uncertainly. I did know it, but I wasn't sure why he felt like he needed to tell me that. The reason came in the form of a rough kiss I most definitely hadn't expected. Despite the way I had felt about him for several years, never in a million years did I think he would ever return my feelings. But again, maybe he didn't and this was some strange prank. The way he was kissing me certainly didn't imply that he was joking. His lips were firm and insistent, urging me into kissing him back with equal enthusiasm. When his kiss changed from a firm but relatively chaste one to fierce and open-mouthed, I followed right along without a thought. His tongue traced mine carefully at first, then with more confidence when I didn't pull away.

I found myself reciprocating until I brushed one of those deadly looking incisors with my tongue and felt a sting of pain. So not just "deadly looking," actually dangerous. Yash flinched himself, clearly stunned by the taste of my blood in his mouth. It took him several moments to pull away, his tongue tracing his own teeth and then his lips. He seemed more focused than before, his eyes really taking me in. “Kagome? Shit, I'm sorry,” he growled, stepping back and switching on the floor lamp I had next to the armchair in the corner. The light made him look normal again, the same Yash I had known for years. I stood frozen, watching him, as he went to my bed, pulling the blanket I had been gripping earlier up and around my shoulders. “I shouldn't be here,” he told me. I started to protest but stopped when he spoke again. “But I can't leave now. I... I need to explain.”

“I should think so. How the hell did you get into my apartment?” I asked again. He looked sheepish before pointing to the window. I raised an eyebrow. “I live on the third floor Yash,” I said in a tone that attempted to remind him I was expecting a truthful explanation.

“It's a brick building. These help,” he muttered, slowly presenting me with fingers clad in blunt but very tough looking nails. Looking from his hands to his face, I frowned, taking one hand in my own to study it. The tips were not sharp, but certainly could do damage if applied properly. I'd always admired how strong his hands looked. Hands that could fix things, solve problems, protect things. The nails were real. It took me several moments to realize that they in fact grew like any normal fingernail, just thicker and tougher. I looked into his face again and saw the nervousness in his eyes. Why was he afraid of me? He was the one with the claws. As I stared, the way I had seen him in the moonlight seemed to become clearer, the way I usually saw him fading as I distinguished the features I normally didn't notice. The fangs were back and his eyes looked more like molten gold than light brown. Why had it never occurred to me that his eye color wasn't really normal? His hair, almost platinum blonde in my previous opinion, was clearly silver. The last thing I noticed was the pair of animal ears twitching in agitation on top of his head. I felt the stretch of shock on my face.

Yash's fingers gently curled around my wrist as my hands went numb and almost dropped from where they had been holding his. “Yash...” I whispered, completely baffled.

“Don't be afraid, Kagome. I won't hurt you,” he repeated. He seemed so sure that I was going to be afraid of him, that I was going to start screaming at any moment. Alright, maybe letting out a little scream had entered my mind for a moment, but it wasn't there now. I felt the shock slowly wear off to be replaced with faint wonder. “You needed to know the truth,” he murmured, stepping closer. His steps were light and as non-threatening as he could manage.

“Shippo too?” I whispered. A tiny smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

“Not exactly. He's... He's a full-blood. A fox.” I frowned for a moment before tilting my head in confusion. “Youkai. The English word Demon doesn't quite fit, but it's the best translation.” Nodding slowly, I started to sit, squeaking when Yash caught my elbows. He steered me back a few more feet so I actually landed on the bed. He knelt in front of me, staring up into my face plaintively. “My mother was human, my father an inuyoukai. A dog demon. My given name is Inuyasha.”

I fought the quirk of a smile. Not completely unfamiliar with my parents' native language, I guessed the translation of his name. “Dog forest spirit? A bit literal.” A tiny hopeful smile twitched his lips. “Then how is...”

“I saved Shippo from a couple of weather youkai a long time ago. He was too young to protect himself and they had just killed his father. Runt's been following me around ever since.” The fact that he had taken my best friend under his protection made me smile, my heart warming even more to him. My head was spinning a little but his warm hands on my arm and knee kept me grounded somehow.

“Why... why share this with me?” I wondered aloud.

His eyes dropped a moment before looking back at me with the quiet determination of a man with a goal in mind. “I know you think I've never paid you much attention, that I didn't notice you.” I froze, my eyes widening in embarrassment. “I've always been very aware of you. I noticed you even before you became friends with Shippo.” Trying not to panic, I held my breath. “Kagome, you don't have to be afraid. Your interest has always been welcome,” he whispered, leaning closer and toying with the blanket that draped across my arm. Was he reading my mind? “I wanted Shippo to become friends with you to make sure you were safe and... You seemed so alone then.” His voice had remained a soft comforting murmur, almost hypnotic in its tone. “Then you were all he could talk about, the best friend he could ask for.”

He was referring to when I'd first arrived at school. I hadn't known anyone, my family lived nearly five hundred miles away and my roommate at the time was an antisocial, angry girl who eventually tried to kill an ex-boyfriend at home over a school vacation. Needless to say I hadn't been upset she didn't come back to school after Fall Break. Shippo had bumped into me shortly before Thanksgiving, a surprising and welcome friendly face. He was a little younger than me, but he'd been accelerated through school since he was so brilliant.

“The letters and emails from you when you were in Brazil... They weren't for Ship, were they?” I asked suddenly, putting things together. There was no reason Shippo would have needed to hear from his older brother so often and certainly not for him to have read every single one to me unless they were for me to hear what was going on. He gave a small sheepish smirk, but nodded to affirm my assumption. “Why didn't you... approach me?”

His eyes glowed faintly in the bright light of the nearly full moon and I saw some strange emotion in them. “I'm not a risk-taker.” I knew he didn't mean that he wasn't a thrill seeker. The man had bungee jumped, sky dived, base jumped, cave dived and swam with sharks. He wasn't afraid of anything. Except me apparently. “Shippo never told you about my ex, did he?” he said quietly. No he hadn't and I was a little afraid to hear it now. I shook my head and bit my lip. I had assumed he'd dated a lot. He was intelligent and extremely good looking and I'd seen at least a few girls throw themselves in his path in hopes of getting his attention. “It was a long time ago. Long story short, we met at a time when things were really rough between humans and youkai. There were a lot more youkai then than there are now, at least out in the open.” Stretching up to his full height, I felt my awe of him return for a brief moment. He was tall, broad and almost otherworldly in his appearance. I found that my feelings for him hadn't changed at all.

He looked to me for permission before sitting next to me on the bed. I curled my legs under me, tucking the blanket more tightly around my shoulders. “Go on.”

~~~~~~

“Holy types, priestesses and monks, tended to destroy first, ask questions later. Which, considering the way youkai were then, was a completely fair way to handle themselves.” Her eyes widened slightly at my easy acceptance of such brutality. “More than once I almost got my ass fried until I learned the hard way that getting purified didn't mean I was dust like a normal youkai.”

“You become human...” I nodded, a grim smile on my mouth, pleased that Kagome was so quick to understand. “But your...”

“Youki. My youkai blood...” I supplied.

“Youki then. It comes back obviously.” Again I nodded. “Well that's lucky.”

My face must have displayed open shock at her easy words. “Lucky?” I choked out, staring for a few moments. “I... I guess I never thought of it that way.”

Kagome let out a small laugh. “Why not? A full-blooded youkai would be purified and die whereas you can survive a purification attack. That's pretty neat.”

“Neat?” My head tilted in surprise at the word. That definitely wouldn't have been the description I would have chosen. What I would like to choose in that moment was to kiss Kagome again. The soft, playful smile on her lips made me hunger to capture them with my own all over again. Of course, I knew I wanted a lot more than just a kiss. I wanted a lot more than just a moment too. “Kagome,” I purred, tugging her against me and pressing my lips to hers. She accepted my kiss without complaint, her soft mouth moving against mine in a way that left no room for doubt that she wanted me too. It was almost more than my beast could handle, forcing me to pull away to calm myself. I had been explaining something to her, something important. Damn if I could remember what it was.

“You were telling me about mikos and youkai,” she reminded me gently, her voice reflecting her slightly aroused state. It was a continuous struggle, but I managed not to go in for another kiss.

“Right. The first time I was purified, it was a miko named Kikyo.”

“Wait, Kikyo of Shikon no Tama fame?” I jumped. Kagome knew of her? Obviously the stories were written in history books but I had never anticipated that Kagome would remember those stories. I nodded. “Wow. I mean... wow! You're the half demon they talk about. My family comes from the Sunset Shrine in Tokyo, the same Shinto shrine that was built to replace the one from the warring states period.” She chuckled softly. “Small world.”

Having read the stories enough times myself to know them by heart, I knew what they said about me. What I was curious to know was what Kagome's interpretation was. “Pretty conniving and diabolical.”

Kagome scoffed. “I don't know which stories you've been reading, but the way my grandfather has always told it, Kikyo lost her life and the love of her life the day the jewel disappeared.” I couldn't miss the moment her face changed as she realized more completely that the person she was talking about was right in front of her. “I'm sorry, I...” I shook my head.

“It was, obviously, a very long time ago.”

“More than five hundred years a long time ago.” Her mouth twisted in a motion that told me she wanted to ask something. “The hanyou in the story... he was pinned to a tree in the forest forever. Obviously you disappeared and they just had to end the story.”

If only that were the truth. “No, I was pinned for almost five hundred years.” Kagome's mouth dropped open. I smiled a little. “I didn't know what woke me until a few years ago. I was in the woods somewhere, woods surrounded by buildings that were so obviously not of my time.”

Kagome's face became sympathetic. “That must have been very disconcerting.”

“More than a little. I stayed in those woods as long as I could stand and then started prowling the city at night, listening to what I could, watching humans live their lives. Eventually I knew I would have to find a way to blend in.” I shook my head. “An old man found me in the woods that very night. He was obviously as surprised to find me there as I was to see him. But not for the reason I expected. He said he had never expected me to wake up and that his family had been guarding the land around where I was imprisoned for hundreds of years.” I looked Kagome over. “He told me that he knew of a miko who could help me hide my features, and brought me to her to learn the illusion you normally see.”

“He... he was never frightened of you?”

I laughed. “No, which confused me more than anything. I asked him why he wasn't.” I took a deep breath. “He told me that he knew that my life had been stolen from me by a trick and he smiled at me strangely. 'I believe your new life was born only two months ago. Wait for her, she will find you.' It was the oddest thing anyone had ever said to me, and I didn't understand what he meant until a few years ago.” Nothing I could do or say would make the next part of my story less weird or creepy sounding, so I plunged on. “He helped me get acclimated in the city before leaving me on my own in the forest. He never told me his name, or how he knew what had happened, but I had a feeling I would see him again eventually.”

“When did you find Shippo?”

“A couple years later. I guess it would have been... 1987? I ventured into the woods a lot to clear my head. I would go further out from the city to find quiet and one day I found the Thunder Brothers, as they liked to call themselves, about to kill a fox youkai kit. He was only... three or four.”

Kagome gaped at me. “Shippo is only a few years older than me? When you were talking about finding him, I thought for sure he was... Wow. So them accelerating him through school isn't completely off.”

“He's just puny, so it's easier to explain him as younger than he really is.” Kagome pushed my arm playfully. “He'll hit his next growth spurt soon and then there'll be no living with him.”

Kagome mused over what I had told her so far. “So you learned all about the modern world in a few years, put yourself through school and what? How did you end up here?”

That's where it got creepy. “The man who helped me told me that the city was taking my forest and making it a public park, so I couldn't live there anymore. His family was moving, he said, across the ocean. His son had died and his daughter-in-law had gotten a job offer in California to teach Japanese to high school kids.”

“Huh, my mom teaches Japanese at the University of...” Kagome's face widened again in shock as she slowly turned to face me more fully. “My grandfather helped you. He knew that you were there the whole time.” I could only nod. “What year did you wake up, Inuyasha?” she whispered. “What month?”

“September of 1985.”

Kagome simply blinked at me for a long moment. “That's... that's when I was born.”

“I know.”

TBC

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thegreatpikminzx789 · 4 years

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A Gathering at Jail Rock - Etrian Odyssey Mobile Mythos - Chapter 2 - Thrice the Additions

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Summary: Chimo leads Eli and Sothym to where her friends were waiting, and introduces them to the prince and medic. But even after the introductions, their little plight from hours earlier catches up...

"Ugh, this crowd is so tough to see through! Move it already!"

Chimo groaned in disgust after trying for several seconds to see if her friend was in the crowd, or beyond it. The sounds of the conversations between explorers waiting in line were quite loud, as the lines were separate, but altogether, it was quite hard to hear any single individual. One would have to be very close to another just to hear them.

The prince and Sothym can see many variety of classes and races here than in the carriage. Some with canine-like ears, bunny-like ears, anthropomorphic animals, people with pointed ears longer than anyone else, and a couple of them having some sort of large coffins associated with them. Then, some classes like medics, hexers, and even some sovereigns were among them. A lot of what the white haired prince saw, were completely new to him. He wished he had the time to look more into their classes in books.

The pink haired landsknecht tried several more times to get people to move out of the way so she can see through. Despite her persistence, they hardly budged, only moving when someone way in front of them moved up.

"I don't think they can hear you, Chimo..." Eli concluded, after her last attempt of trying failed.

"To be fair," Sothym began. "It is kind of hard to hear anyone above the chatter here..."

Moments after she spoke, the three of them heard barking, but whereas Sothym and Eli were unable to determine where it came from, Chimo seemed to determine where it was coming from.

"Ah, that must be Flow!" Chimo gasped, jumping a bit in joy as she can still hear Flow's barking.

"Flow?"

That's the name of my pet!" The landsknecht responded, moving two people aside to make room for Sothym and Eli to follow her.

"Come on!"

Not wanting to question her means of getting around a crowd as big as this, the medic and prince followed her through, eventually getting to an area less crowded and noisy than the building inside. Chimo knelt on one knee as a blue wolf approached and licked her cheek, causing her to giggle with glee.

"H-hey, cut it out, Flow!"

Eli had to take a few seconds looking at the beast before being blunt with what he was about to say. "I...thought that was a dog, not a wolf."

After all, all he ever saw in the kingdom were dogs, not wolves. His mother told him that wild wolves don't make for very good pets, because they kill livestock. Hell, even a few cases his father had were regarding this case alone when he was young, so he had no idea that such a possibility existed until now.

"Well, there are such things as pet wolves." The black haired medic began. "There's also pet bears, pet tigers, and even pet pandas. People say that they're not tamable, but in my opinion, they just flat out never bothered to try having one for themselves."

"Whaaaaaaa-?!"

Sothym couldn't help but giggle in response to Eli. "I know it sounds weird, but those exist. Those are the Beast Classes, to be precise."

"O-Okay... That's something I didn't know." Eli gulped, taking a deep breath so as to recompose himself a bit.

Beast classes... At least it only applied to those four, but who the hell knows what else could've fallen under that class category had more found their way into that category. Before he could flick aside his hair again, he felt something cold touch his right hand, seeing the wolf he saw earlier sniffing it, before circling around him and Sothym. He noted that the wolf seemed to be wearing a shield of some sort on its back.

"This is Flow, my pet wolf." Chimo introduced, seeing Flow circle around the two of them. "He's quite the protector to boot. I've even given him a custom-made gun that he can use to fight back."

A custom-made gun? For a wolf? For something that already has a class?

"W-Why would you do that?" Eli questioned, very much worried about his safety with trusting an animal with a gun.

Chimo patted her leg a few times to get Flow's attention and got him to sit down. "See, Flow lost his sharp claws when I found him wonderin' about my hometown." The landsknecht pointed to Flow's paws, seeing that they were clipped off.

"So in order to compromise for it, I made him the gun for him to use. Unfortunately, he has to stand still to precisely aim and shoot at something, but we're workin' on shooting while moving." Chimo continued, showing the prince and medic the custom-made mechanism for using the gun.

Thankfully, there wasn't any gun placed anywhere visible beyond what the shield hid. Some of the strings that were dangling far above the ground seemed to indicate that when placed into position, will fire upon being pulled. From the marks of teeth that seemed to indent the gold ring the string is attached to, it seemed that Flow had to pull with his head to shoot at a single target. All of this was hidden beneath the shield he had on his back.

A most impressive feat, in Eli's eyes. Perhaps when they gather more people, they could help with developing a way to make Flow be able to move and shoot without being a standing target.

"Most interesting... How long did it take you to make?" Sothym inquired, as the landsknecht placed the shield back on Flow's back and stood up.

"It was a very expensive project, but it happened about three years ago, back when me and Flow first met." Chimo explained, groaning not long afterward. "My wallet was feeling pretty damn empty just trying to replace the parts that kept breaking."

As if the wolf wasn't already striving to get to know Eli, he felt his hand getting licked by Flow, looking down to see the wolf doing his thing, as if he was trained like a puppy.

"I think Flow likes you, already~" Chimo's voice reached Eli's ears, as he looked up to see her smiling at Flow and Eli, as the prince slowly rubs his hand through Flow's fur. The wolf panted as he allowed the prince to do so.

"Took you awhile, Chimo."

A quiet voice that Chimo was all to familiar with, turns to see a Vessel with red hair, eyes, and black skin approach him. He also had a scythe placed on his back, but thankfully, due to its machinations, the blade part is tucked away. "Sorry, things happened and..." Chimo scratched the back of her head, almost as if apologizing for being late.

Which, to be fair, she was kind of distracted by trying to grab some Pugilists' Ental away, ended up being saved by Eli, and was roped into being part of a guild by the very same man who saved her. Honestly, time can fly whenever things go unexpected.

"Well, looking for guild members didn't go exactly as planned. But these two are looking for more members!"

The landsknecht motioned to Sothym and Eli, as the Vessel's eyes turned to gaze to the white haired hero and black haired medic. He seemed to scan them for what seemed like an eternity, before seeming to nod at what Chimo was able to find. Even if it was entirely random luck that she just so happen to ran into the two of them to the Vessel's point of view.

Chimo grabbed the Vessel's hand and brought him over, surprising the man from his silent pondering. Sothym, upon noticing Chimo bringing someone over to introduce them to, tugs at Eli's cape and gets his attention, as Flow quickly retreats back to Chimo's side.

"Eli, Sothym, this is Tenma; a Vessel who came far away and we ended up bumping into each other one day and becoming friends." She introduced, letting go of Tenma's hand as she spoke.

Eli had to scan Tenma top to bottom to make sure it wasn't his eyes playing tricks when it came to seeing how much muscle Tenma had in his arms. Even the weapon of choice seemed a bit off to him.

"He looks...a bit frail. Is carrying that scythe any good for him?" The prince had to inquire, to which the Vessel immediately took as a sign to counteract.

"Hey chump." Tenma huffed. "Just because I look weak doesn't mean this scythe is for show. I can handle holding a scythe all on my own; I've practiced ever since I was entrusted with this scythe."

"Tenma, believe it or not, is remarkably strong in terms of physical strength. Which is quite a rarity among the Vessel race, if I must say so." Chimo added, hinting that what Tenma said was true, and that Chimo has seen that strength before.

Tenma grabbed his weapon and activated it for the sake of a demonstration. His stance was firm once the blade was unsheathed, posing there with the scythe open for a few seconds before deactivating the scythe and placing it back on his back. "See? Perfectly capable of wielding a scythe." The Vessel sighed, flicking the hair in front of his left eye, only to have it fall back in place.

"Most interesting..." Sothym mused to herself. "If I was a researcher, I'd jog that down, but I'm not, so..."

Looking over to Sothym like she had something to say for a moment, Eli outstretched his hand to Tenma. "Well, would you like to join us, Tenma?"

"Not like I got any other choice in the matter. If Chimo trusts you, then I'll stay by her side." Tenma groaned after thinking about it for a bit.

"But," The Vessel continued. "If you so much as think of betraying us, this scythe will have your head."

Eli shuddered and gulped from the threat the Vessel had proclaimed to him. "Heeeey, maybe we shouldn't resort to threats, Tenma. They wouldn't betray us, I promise." Chimo exclaimed, wanting everybody to get along without issue.

Tenma relaxed a bit as he turned to Chimo. "I know, but you never know what kind of thoughts people hide until they tell you in the act." The Vessel tried to explain himself before he was approached by Sothym.

"Anyways, it's a pleasure to meet you and all that jazz. We should get our tickets before we forget." Sothym hummed, pointing back to a line that was running out of explorers in a line.

With a nod from the group, they head over to get their tickets without issue.

"Thank you for your purchase. The boat heading to Jail Rock will arrive in two hours, so please standby." The man giving out the tickets explained, which made Chimo groan as they left the line.

"More waiting... What're we supposed to do, now? We've done, like, every introductory thing in the book!"

Tenma glanced Chimo a confused look. "Are you sure about that, Chimo?"

"I dunno, Tenma, don't quote me on that..." Chimo placed a hand on her chin, trying to think of something to do to pass some time.

Well, two hours would easily go by with a nap, from Eli's perspective. But there had to be something to do. Standing around, easily won't accomplish much, aside from hurting their legs from standing up too much.

"Well, grabbing some food to snack on while we travel on boat isn't a terrible idea. I assume all of us must be getting hungry." Sothym addressed, seeing Chimo quickly look through her bag to find nothing small she stashed away to eat.

The prince had ran out of his food supply hours ago when he was running away from home, and although he hadn't felt hungry in some time, he was getting to that point of needing food. The walk from the food district and buying enough food- within their budget, should be more than enough to stall some time before they have to head back. Anything to waste a potential full day of waiting around.

"Everyone! To the food district!" Chimo exclaimed as she ran past the group.

Tenma sighs before yelling at the landsknecht, "Other way, Chimo!"

Luckily, she did hear that, and stopped to turn around, walking past the group in the direction that Tenma pointed.

"Oops, my bad." She chuckled, as Tenma mumbled about something incomprehensible to the princes' ears before the group followed the landsknecht to the food district.

.....................................................................................................

Sothym looked at the food supplies the group gathered once they spent enough time looking for fresh food. "Meat, vegetables, fruits, bread... Not too bad for our first outing, though I wish you would've helped with the Ental payment, Chimo." Sothym noted, since she noticed that she was paying very little when it came to buying food.

"Hey, I have an important reason why I'm saving up my Ental, Sothym." Chimo responded defensively, to which the medic can only sigh in annoyance, not wanting to discuss it any further. She turned to see Eli, who had a...bag of sardines?

"...Eli."

"Yeah?"

"...Why do you have a bag of sardines?" Sothym inquired.

Eli shifted his arm that carried the bag as he looked at Sothym. "Cause I wanted to try and cook fish. Plus, it's our food backup supply!" He explained, being at least honest with trying to do more than just the constant training he had growing up.

"A food supply that may not last for all of us..." The red haired Vessel argued, not seeing how a bag of sardines would be a good enough backup supply.

"Trust me, it'll totally save the day one of these days. You never know what the power of fish may bring." Eli hummed, totally confident sounding to himself, but sounding completely ridiculous to the others.

Flow turned his head in confusion, and Chimo could only shrug in response to Flow's confusion. Whatever was going through Eli's head on what he believed and didn't believe, Chimo found it strange that he'd think fish can do anything as remarkable as that. If it was a fish monster, totally. But these were just regular fish from the ocean, not monsters from the labyrinth.

"Eli, you sound like a child who just believed some random thing his friend told him that totally isn't a thing. Just how ridiculous can you get?" Sothym groaned, as she and Eli began to argue back and forth.

Chimo placed her arms behind her head as she leaned up against a building, making sure not to have the bags of food be behind her. "Those two are quite the pair." She commented, hearing Tenma huff a bit.

"Yeah... Just as long as they don't argue in their sleep..." He started, but trailed off as he wanted to listen in.

"Eli, for one, a bag of fish at that size-"

"There they are!"

Sothym, Eli, and Chimo freeze up as they turn to see both Ira and Gori coming right at them, moving aside any ignorant people that were in the way. It hadn't even been two hours yet, and here they are, looking for more trouble. And from the looks on their faces, they were quite mad.

"Ack! They're back!" Eli screamed, nearly losing the bag of sardines as he catches it and held it in his arms. Sothym shook off her flinched state, and made sure Eli was following her.

"Make a run for it!" She exclaimed to Tenma, who was completely confused on what was happening.

"Wha-Whoa!" He tried to ask, but didn't had any chance to continue as his hand was grabbed by Chimo, who wanted to get the hell away from the Pugilists as fast as she can. Flow ran beside his owner, who had to be wary not to turn sharply and possibly trip on him.

"Where do ye think ye're goin' punk?!" Gori shouted, which started to cause a little of a panic in the food district as everybody scattered around, thinking they were after them. Tenma soon felt his hand be free from Chimo's grip, as he looked at the black haired medic, questions running through his head.

"Who the hell are they, and why are they chasing us?!" Tenma questioned, seeing Sothym look back behind her before glancing at the Vessel.

"I'll tell you later! Right now, we gotta lose them somehow!" Sothym insisted, wanting to focus on escaping again and answering questions later.

Glancing ahead, she spotted three paths that branch off to different areas. "Everyone! Split up and try and lose them!" The medic explained loud enough for everyone to hear, seeing them nod in response.

Sothym continued forwards, while Flow, Tenma, and Chimo turned right. Eli turned left, purely because he didn't want Sothym to end up taking the brunt of the Pugilists' rage, too. The twins soon arrived, but upon looking upon the three paths, they were a bit thrown off until Ira spotted Eli's cape vanishing behind a building. He notified the other Pugilist with a silent point in direction and the twins headed down the same path Eli took.

Eli could hear their huge steps, each step feeling like an earthquake was slowly approaching him. He tried to look back to see if he can see where the Pugilists were, but soon hits something solid and and grunts in pain, before looking to see that there was a huge wall in front of him. And there wasn't a single path along the way that he noted of.

"Uh oh..." Eli gulped, turning as he hears the Pugilists fast approaching. The two of them stopped just short of a couple of feet away, panting and breathing from all the running they did, before recomposing themselves menacingly.

"Alright you brat. You may have escaped us the first time..."

"But there's no way you're doing it a second time!"

Eli pressed up against the wall, seeing them take a few steps closer towards him. He had to think of some way to get out of this... Maybe trying to convince them would work?

"Uuuuhhh... C-Can't we just-"

"If you're thinkin' of tryin' to convince us, it ain't gonna work, buckaroo!" Ira interrupted, seeing what Eli was attempting to do from a mile away.

Well, that plan clearly didn't work if they can predict it. Thinking back on his words... He looked at his bag of sardines, then, gathering the strength to throw something, grabbed onto the bag and threw it at Ira.

...Who catches it rather easily. Eli stood there looking like he was befuddled and confused.

"...I was...honestly hoping you'd just take the hit and fall..." Eli blinked, leaning back against the wall now that his only means of defense was in the hands of the enemy.

The twin Pugilists had a look of confusion upon looking at the bag full of fishes. "Sardines...? You think something like this will do us any harm?" Ira questioned, before ripping open a part of the bag with his finger, big enough for the two of them to grab at least a handful of fish.

"Well how about you try them for a spell?!" The Pugilists threw a few sardines at Eli, as he couldn't dodge them in time. He got pelted with sardines for a little bit before they stopped.

"D'ooooh, come oooon... I just BOUGHT these clothes...!" Eli groaned, smelling the fish that were around him. Though maybe it could've been the garbage they were next to...

"Well boohoo! A couple o' fish ain't gonna do HARM to you!" Ira mocked, before throwing the bag behind him, as a few sardines fell out from the bag, all but a few amount remained in the bag.

The pugilists then cracked their knuckles and readied their gauntlets. "Not unless we beat you up for intervening in that fight earlier!" Gori yelled, as they approach him.

"C-Crap... what was that Hero cloning spell again...? Um..."

As Eli tried to remember, a robed figure lands in front of him, stopping the Pugilists in their place. He seemed to be a bit taller than the prince himself...and he wasn't sure why.

"Huh?"

"What now?" Ira growled, as Gori stepped towards the figure.

"Come on, this is just gettin' pretty annoy-"

Before the Pugilist can finish, the robed figure threw some jars at them, as the two of them recoiled and stepped back from the jars exploding on them. The green haired Pugilist began to yawn. "...Actually, I think it's time for our scheduled nap, Ira."

"I think... you're... right..."

With that, the twin Pugilists fell to the ground, sound asleep. Eli cautiously approached the robed figure, standing beside them as he looked down on the pugilists. He glanced at the figure looking at him and struggled a bit to find the words to say.

"Oh... w-well, um... Thank you, sir?" Eli thanked, a little confused on if he was going to reply. The silence between them was getting a little too tense for the princes' liking. "I-If you'll excuse me, I'll-"

Eli tries to leave past the Pugilists to get his bag of sardines, but several spears appear from nowhere and pin him to the nearest wall. "W-What's the meaning of this?! What's going on?!" He yelled, as he tried to move around to no avail.

The figure's robe moved all on its own, seeming to change into a long cape of sorts, as the figure's appearance was made clear. A tall man wearing black clothes, almost akin to that of royalty, white hair, and red eyes. He also noted that his skin color was much like his own.

"I must say, I have to thank these bumbling Pugilists for leading me right to you. Saved me the trouble of huntin' you down on that boat in broad daylight." The man began, looking down on the Pugilists that he put to sleep earlier.

Hunting...? Who exactly was...

"W-Wait, y-you're a-!" Eli soon gasped at the realization. He was quite literally staring at an assassin. Who seemed to be quite highly of spears.

The man smirked a little. "So, you do have some knowledge about assassins... Fairly knowledgeable, for a runaway prince." He scoffed, as he stood before the pinned prince.

"I am Ragna De Valvatorez. But just Ragna would suffice..." Ragna began, introducing himself to the white haired prince.

"...Not that it will matter to you anyways. I've come to claim my prize, and just trying to think of the ways I can kill you was so tough to decide, I couldn't decide on just one..." The man continued, snapping his fingers as he made a spear appear in his hand; much akin to a Highlander's spear than the spears that pinned Eli down.

Eli knew he was in danger, but he couldn't muster the courage to scream for help. Even if he did, it would've been in vain. And he thought he'd meet his end by his guards, not by an assassin... All that was on his mind was escaping, somehow... Perhaps this man would be more swayed than the Pugilists...

"So, farewell, Prince Eli of-"

Something stopped Ragna from fully striking Eli. Something about the smell felt...off, to Ragna. He tries to home in on the smell, getting close and getting a whiff of the smell emanating off of Eli. Although he was getting rather uncomfortably close to Eli's personal space.

" U-Um, what are you doing...?" The prince questioned, seeing him open his eyes and noticed how close he was, before backing away a few steps.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I just...caught whiff of a familiar smell." Ragna replied, trying to pinpoint something that smelled familiar to him. "Something like...sardines..."

Eli blinked a few several times, before recalling the thing he was attempting to reach earlier before being pinned. "Well," The prince began. "I tried to smack those Pugilists you put to sleep earlier with a bag of sardines, and-"

"A...bag of sardines?"

That apparently was all that Ragna needed to know. The man followed the smell a bit more, seeming to be a bit aimless in his search, before Eli tapped his shoulder and pointed to the bag near the Pugilists. Ragna's expression beamed with delight, immediately rushing over to the bag, picking it up in his arms.

"Oh, delightful day indeed!" His voice, suddenly more cheery and delighted than the intimidating cold, haughty voice he had seconds earlier, echoed through the alleyway. He quickly vanishes for a few seconds, before appearing near the pinned prince, with small plate of food on a miniature table that appeared to fold its legs inward. The plate, filled with meat, vegetables, and the sardines from the bag he swiped, had such a delightful aroma, Eli tried to move towards the plate himself, before remembering that he was pinned.

The assailant began to eat the food in front of him, leaving Eli to stay in place, pondering how the hell he could turn this situation around before he goes back to killing him for real. Gulping, he asked, "Um... are you...a big fan of seafood, or...?"

Ragna swallowed the food in his mouth before he turned his slightly towards the prince. "Nonsense! I just love the taste of sardines whenever I combine it with food! It's a rather great substitute than drinking human blood, these days..."

"Human...blood...?" Eli gulped, trying to desperately to remember the name of those who turn into bats, and drink from human blood. It took about several minutes, but he recalled back on his fathers' words, when he was still alive... The red eyes, fangs, the clothes that Ragna bore; there was no shadow of a doubt that Ragna is a vampire.

He had only seen them in certain books; each records of the vampire kind having reports of different hair color, yet their eyes, attire, and fangs were the only key indicators to identify a vampire. It wasn't until his great great great grandfather's age where one can identify a vampire merely by seeing smoke rise from the vampire when they are exposed to the sun's rays. Still...there must be something Eli can do to survive another day.

"W-Well, um... I-If I may suggest, there, there could be something we can discuss, i-if you're up to it...

"Oh do you...?" The vampire sharply turned his head, glancing at Eli with a stare that the prince could only describe as a paralyzing glance, as he seemed to stop moving when he looked at him. Ragna stood up, grabbing his food as he took a bite of it as he approached the prince.

His cloak seemed to form a makeshift chair, as the vampire sat down and continued to stare at the prince. The way the cloak moved reminded Eli of several Hexers that he had seen on his way out of his kingdom. "Normally, when a target tries to bargain with me, they usually end up getting away and not fulfilling their promise, giving me all the more reason to kill them the next time we met. Why should you be the exception?" The assailant continued, taking another bite afterward.

"Just listen to me, please..." Eli pleaded with every ounce in his voice, seeming like it had no effect on the vampire. Ragna scanned Eli from head to toe, seeing that he wasn't really moving all that much, as he expected the runaway prince to be doing so right about now. Was this man bold enough to attempt to convince that his life was worth living for than the bounty that Ragna undertook?

It was interesting to the vampire, as he crossed his legs and leaned back against the makeshift chair. "Very well, then." Ragna declared. "Explain yourself, runaway prince."

"First of, it's Eli." Eli sighed, getting rather tired of the vampire assassin addressing him by his runaway status. "Second...perhaps I can give you something that you haven't accepted before, e-even if it's a higher Ental ratio!" He continued, seeming to blurt out, at the time, a dud idea that was doomed to fail.

Ragna raises an eyebrow as he places the fork down, his full attention being on the prince and whatever the heck the prince said. "Explain yourself, prince." He demanded.

"Well, what if we made a...a promise, of sorts?" Eli gulped, a little nervous to continue on. "Y-You let me live, a-and in return, we can explore Jail Rock and get you the biggest supply of sardines the world has ever seen?"

Silence filled the air for what seemed to be an eternity, before Ragna laughed at Eli's mere suggestion. "That's just rich," Ragna sighed as he settled back to being serious. "You, trying to get the biggest supply of sardines in the world? That'd be the entire population, mate!"

"I know," The white haired prince groaned. "But I don't know what else to give you. Some of the items I have are personal belongings that my family gave me, and-"

"Uggh..."

The sound of Ira's groaning seemed to indicate that they were waking up. Both Eli and Ragna turned to look at the twin Pugilists, seeing them using each other as a means of standing up. Before long, they noticed Eli and Ragna.

"Oi, who the bloody hell are you?!" Gori questioned Ragna, who seemed to remain silent.

"Never mind him, Gori. That meddlesome prince is pinned and ripe for the punishment!" Ira pointed out, as Gori grinned with delight.

Where they intending to finish off Ragna's job for him...?

"Meddlesome pests!" With a sudden declaration from Ragna, the spears removed themselves from the wall pinning Eli, turning his attention to the Pugilists and throws a lot more spears towards them, sending them flying to the faraway building, pinning them and catching them off guard.

Eli was stunned at what Ragna had done. At least he was relieved that his life wouldn't end then and there. After checking for any holes in his cape, he stood up and approached Ragna. "R-Ragna... T-Thank you."

Ragna merely huffed a sigh, finding it pointless for the prince to thank him. "Don't mention it. Just keeping a promise." He replied, as Eli lets out a silent gasp in surprise to his last sentence.

"A-Anyway, we better find my friends. They should still be around here somewhere." Eli exclaimed, as he heads back through the alleyway that he had went through, as Ragna puts up a hood of sorts and followed Eli, passing by the two pinned Pugilists.

"Oi! Get back 'ere!" Ira yelled, struggling to move from his position.

"You know, when ye really think about it, this isn't that bad." Gori began.

Ira growled as he tried pulling his arm forward, only to have it be restrained to the wall. "Can it, Gori! We're never gonna catch them in time!"

"Hey, hey, relax, bro! We'll get them!" Gori insisted. "...Just probably less stealthy than last time."

That sentence only threw Ira into a fit. "LESS stealthy?! What the bloody hell do ya mean 'less stealthy'?!"

The twin Pugilists begin to argue, hardly even moving from the spot they were in to give chase to Eli and Ragna, more intent on trying to figure out their next move...if they ever stop arguing, that is.

.....................................................................................................

"Where the hell did that fool go...?" Tenma groaned, looking around with Chimo, Flow, and Sothym in an attempt to find the white haired man.

Chimo placed a finger on her chin as the group stopped moving. "I honestly thought he was right behind us..." She pondered, more than likely doubting her thought process several minutes ago.

Sothym was a bit quiet, almost as if in deep concentration. "You don't think those Pugilists could've-"

"Heeeey!"

A familiar voice rang in everyone's ears, stopping Sothym mid-sentence. Eli, along with a robed figure, approached the group as Chimo hugs the prince. "Thank the gods you're OK!" Chimo breathed a sigh of relief.

A smile came to Eli's face, glad that the friends he made so far weren't the ones to just abandon him after what he nearly went through. Sothym tried to decipher who the robed figure is, hearing Flow growl a bit. "So uh, mind introducing your robed friend to us?" Sothym inquired, as Eli heard the man beside him sigh.

"I suppose this robe does feel to boldish to wear in the shade of the sun." Ragna scoffed, snapping his fingers as the robe begins to contort and move on its own, forming back to the vampire's cape.

"What the-?!" Sothym, Tenma, and Chimo exclaimed at once, quite surprised at the reveal. To think that Eli had found a vampire in a city like this...

It didn't take Chimo long to recover from her shocked expression. "Holy crap Eli! What can't you do?!" She beamed, excitement flowing in her voice.

"Never mind that," Sothym began, her gaze fixated on the prince. "How the hell did you manage to escape from the Pugilists?"

With a groan, Eli explained how he brought the Pugilists into the alleyway he was in, and how Ragna, after some last minute decision making, tagged along and pinned the Pugilists to a wall as a means of stalling for time. The red haired Vessel tried desperately to grasp the situation the prince had described.

"So," Tenma started, having some time to comprehend Eli's story. "In exchange for keeping you alive, you're not only bringing him with us, but are going to get more sardines for him...?"

Eli nodded in response. "Apparently it's his favorite food topping." The prince commented, hearing Ragna exclaim 'hey' in response, not liking that little fact to be blurted aloud. Of course, Eli couldn't help but chuckle.

"Well...it's certainly nice to meet you, Ragna." Sothym began, her more serious side coming out again. "The name's Sothym." She introduced herself properly to the vampire, shaking his hand before moving aside as Chimo took her place.

Although Chimo outstretched her hand first, it took Ragna a few seconds to decide if he wanted to shake hands again or not. He merely did one out of mere instinct, so Ragna didn't understand why he was suddenly hesitating now. But knowing that it'd probably be rude to leave someone without shaking their hand, the vampire lets out a sigh as he begins to shake the landsknecht's hand.

"I'm Chimo, and this is Flow, my pet wolf!" Chimo introduced, as Flow took several seconds to sniff Ragna, before letting out a bark. The two separated from the handshake as the vampire glances over to the Vessel.

Noticing the attention, the Vessel glanced up a bit, staring at the vampire assassin. "And I'm Tenma." Tenma introduced, looking back at something he was seeing in the corner of his eye. "A pleasure to meet you, I guess." He continued, starting to sound a bit cold to the vampire in front of him.

The vampire would've snapped at Tenma for not paying full attention to him, but he let it slide just this once, given that they are just introducing each other. "Well, it certainly is wonderful to meet the runaway princes' friends." Ragna spoke aloud, unaware of what he just declared, as Chimo's gasp of realization quickly made the vampire regret it quite quickly.

"Ohmigosh, nobody told me that Eli's a pr-!!!"

Chimo was silenced by Sothym and Ragna, as both of their hands covered the landsknecht's mouth. "Keep it down for fucks sake." Sothym whispered, wanting the landsknecht to be more quiet on how she spoke that sentence. Once she and Ragna got the landsknecht's assurance that she'll keep her voice down, they moved their hands away, permitting the landsknecht to speak again.

"E-Eli's a prince...?" Chimo whispered at a volume the group can hear, without having other people eavesdropping in on.

"I'll be honest," Tenma began. "He doesn't seem to be a prince with the get up he has."

Sothym placed a hand on her hip as her eyes gazed at the red haired Vessel. "Exactly what I had said to him earlier when we met." She recalled, back when Chimo was also on the same carriage as her and Eli. "We tried to make him blend in with the general public, but I guess it was just crazy enough to have an assassin join us."

Ragna could only smirk at the Medic's comment. "Just as long as nobody else with ill intent knows about Eli's status, things should be relatively fine." At least, the vampire had hoped no one else would dare to kill his original target. If they did, they'd have to go through him, first.

"Attention; the boat to Jail Rock will arrive soon. Please head to the port as soon as possible."

The announcer's voice rang through several speakers, catching everyone's attention, especially catching the shopkeepers off a bit. "Repeat, the boat to Jail Rock will be arriving soon." The voice repeated, before seeming to hang up, as the other explorers started to hurry up whatever they were doing prior to the announcement.

"Ack, it's getting close! We better go!" Chimo yelped, rushing off in the wrong direction at first, before recalling the path to the dock.

Tenma gained a surprise face as he notice Chimo almost spilling the bags of food they bought, as he began to run after the landsknecht. "Wait a second Chimo, don't spill the food we got!" He yelled, as Flow began to tail the Vessel and its owner.

"Well, a sixth guild member isn't what I expected," Sothym pondered aloud. "But unless we get four more, I wouldn't say that we'd have enough for a set of ten explorers for our guild." She continued, positive that there would barely be the time to get some other guild members before they enter Jail Rock.

Eli gave the Medic an assuring pat on her back. "It'll be fine, Sothym. Everything will work out all on its own...in due time." He said, starting to doubt his own word choice at the end.

"And here I thought I was the most serious one of the group..." Sothym groaned, face palming and shaking her head, before taking a deep breath and began to follow everyone else, who were quite ahead of them. "Come on, you two; that boat won't wait all day."

No need to tell them twice. Eli began to walk beside Sothym as Ragna covers himself with his robe and followed the two of them. Jail Rock was calling, and they didn't want to try and keep it from being as delayed as possible.

#etrian odyssey #eom #etrian odyssey mobile #eo #writing #story based on an obscure game

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mythicamagic · 5 years

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Terracotta Teeth - Chapter 6

During a long drive to Tokyo, Kagome’s car is totalled by a monstrous silver dog. She now finds herself stranded in a remote village, where the residents appear kind, if slightly distant. However something or someone seems a little too keen on making her stay, permanently.

Rated M for later chapters

Horror/Romance/Drama

You can read this story on Ao3, Fanfiction.net or Dokuga

Chapter One - here Chapter Two - here Chapter Three - here Chapter Four - here Chapter Five - Here Chapter Seven - here

Warning: Smut (yeah I know the policy is changing on tumblr but until a post of mine gets flagged I’ll post smut on here. Viva la revolution!)

Porcelain Skin ~

Slow breaths. In and out. Inhale and exhale. Kagome repeated this to herself like a mantra. She lay on her side as though dead, back exposed to the door while inwardly trembling under the covers. The icy grip of fear held her throat. She dared not move, praying he'd leave again. But her ears strained for noise, trying to find the slightest shift of weight on the hardwood floor.

She jumped. Something like hot, sticky vapour fanned over the nape of her neck. It came again and again in gentle pants. Kagome's hand clenched into a fist- swinging her arm numbly behind her. A warm palm caught her fist.

Trembling, she turned over slowly, meeting hooded gold.

"Tell me...what was it that you just saw?" The demon asked softly.

Her mind raced with alarm, feeling the mud caked on her feet. She must have trailed it through the house in her panic. Stupid!

"I-I don't know," she murmured. "And you won't tell me, I know that much." She panicked upon feeling her arm be drawn closer to him. "What are you going to do?"

His attention shifted from her hand to the frightened blue eyes that stared at him, entranced. "What do you want me to do?" He asked in a hushed tone.

Those eyes widened. She didn't know. Loneliness clung to her like a second skin, but the dangerous situation she was in couldn't be overlooked. Unless...

Unless she used it to her advantage. Kagome swallowed thickly. The pale demon stared, braced slightly over her. The rich iris of his eyes shifted, burning tawny until flecks of red swirled in, shifting like a kaleidoscope. It was both unnerving and thrilling to stare into red eyes. Clandestine hunger glowed, bright and fierce.

"You were...waiting outside my door a lot of nights. Why?"

Sesshoumaru remained silent for a moment. His jaw clenched. "You will not approve of the reason."

Kagome raised a brow, eerily reminded of when they'd first met. How awkwardly he'd said his name.

"Very well," he sighed, leaning a touch closer. "This one desired to be let in. Your warmth, scent...” nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. “I lie sleepless craving it every night, knowing you are under the same roof."

She stared, cheeks heating slightly while pushing herself up on her elbows. "No one invited you in tonight and you're still here."

Kagome should not have taken her eyes off him, because the moment she did, Sesshoumaru pounced. Shoving her down with one hand, firm lips pressed to her throat. "Perhaps you should not have spied then. If the thought of us together is displeasing, then demand for me to leave," he rumbled quietly, scraping flushed skin with his fangs.

Exhaling, her hands twisted in the sheets. Stomach dissolving into butterflies, she shuddered. "Alright...please leave then."

It was like the fire's in the backs of his eyes had been doused. The almost ardent expression on his face was instantly replaced with an unreadable one as he leaned away. Sesshoumaru turned and stood, touching his mouth briefly. He then began to leave without another word, but soft hands enclosed around his arm. He froze- gaze shifting to the woman at his side, who quietly stared.

His fangs were embedded in his knuckles. Dried clay was still caked up to his forearms.

It occurred to her how tenuous his control was at that moment. The whites of his eyes kept flashing a deep red, breathing picking up. Slowly, careful fingers pried his hand away from his teeth. Kagome could feel the youki in the air now, rippling and hissing like sharp burning static. The puncture holes were bleeding, and Kagome leaned down, pressing her lips to the marks and dying her lips red with his blood. He tasted like iron and earth.

Fear did her no good, so she banished it. No more hiding under the covers from monsters. Sesshoumaru had turned deathly quiet.

She lifted her head, revealing her bloodied mouth. "I meant...please leave- but take me with you. Your bed is probably a thousand times softer than mine."

He stared intently, completely enthralled. Kagome didn't understand what it was about her that commanded his attention so strongly, but his fingers flexed- curling around her own in a tight grip. A white orb enclosed around them and Kagome pressed closer just as the arm suddenly around her waist brought her flush against him.

When the white orb dissipated, they were standing in a new room. She assumed it was his room, judging from the swords on the wall and traditional decor.

Sesshoumaru leaned down, and this time Kagome met his lips halfway, easing up on her tiptoes. Though she'd banished logic and her conscience for now, it felt embarrassing to admit heated excitement was already racing through her veins. She didn't need to fake any reaction. Her body responded like an instrument in his hands, strings plucked by lithe fingers. Kagome kissed him hard, digging her fingers into his shoulder as her free hand buried itself in silver locks. Her heart thundered in her chest, lungs inhaling sharply when his claws dragged down her thigh, hitching it to wrap around his waist.

Turning on his heel, the demon shoved her against a wall, grunting into her mouth. Blunt teeth latched onto his bottom lip, nipping. He brushed his tongue inside her mouth in retaliation. Their bodies shuddered and rocked slowly, hands exploring everywhere.

Stroking the silver hair, she caressed the shell of his curious pointed ear. Everything about him felt foreign and exotic. When her touch moved to his cheek, rubbing her thumb over a magenta stripe- a shuddering growl rumbled out from his chest.

Kagome pulled away from his mouth, blinking. Sesshoumaru attacked her neck with kisses instead. Her back arched and she gasped, rutting her hips forward just as a dim thought occurred to her. Picturing the bag sitting innocently in her room, Kagome shuddered.

"I-I forgot to take my pills today- ah!"

Sesshoumaru's claws tore at her pyjamas, nicking her skin. "Put them out of your mind."

"But I need them. I forget...why exactly but I know they're important."

His head rose, face inches from hers. Pulling the tatters of her clothing down her shoulders and leaving her half naked, his knuckles brushed down her arm. "Focus on this one," he said in a soft rumble, stepping back slightly. Taking her hands and bringing them to the front of his hankimono, he focused on loosening his obi tie enough for it to part. She blushed, tugging the clothing enough to expose the pale expanse of his chest.

Goosebumps kissed her skin just as he did, bringing her hand to the space over his heart. The strong beat of his heart thrummed against her palm, so she splayed it wide, feeling his lips at her neck. It occurred to her suddenly why he always dismissed the pills.

"You know...what the pills do, don't you?"

The Daiyoukai lifted her up, arms wrapped around her waist as he lay her down on the bed. She noted it was made up of furs that brushed her skin, cushioning her back.

"Yes," he leaned over her, silver hair falling forward to spill around them like a waterfall. "They fog your memories. Make you forget a certain thing that happened a few years ago."

Cold fear washed over her, and Kagome looked at him sightlessly, trying to search her mind for what it could be. His warm hand on her cheek startled her out of the daydream. His lips were thin as they peeled back, flashing sharp fangs. "This one has watched and wanted for a year, miko. Do not think of what occurred before. All you need to know...is that it makes you similar to myself. Rin asked for a miko mother and I found one, but I did not expect to be endeared to you by your fortitude. It is why I will mate you."

Kagome jolted, hands going to his shoulders. "A-and, what does that mean?"

"I suppose it could be seen as a form a marriage-"

"Wait a minute!" She barked. "That isn't what's happening, buster. We're having sex and that's it!"

"Call it what you will. Sex is a form of claiming."

"Well maybe I'll claim you," she growled, pushing herself up with all her strength to roll them, landing atop him. Straddling his waist, she grit her teeth. Something hard was already pressing between her legs. A sweet ache flared to life in her lower stomach. The demon looked up at her with a raised brow, as if doubting her resolve. Instinctively, she rocked her hips against his, eyes flashing.

Sesshoumaru inhaled sharply, giving a low growl as he gripped the back of her hair, tugging her head down.

Mouths melding, he worked her into a panting mess by shifting his hips in rhythm with hers, pressing his rigid, aching erection against her heated skin. Fingers teased, scratched and caressed, neither relinquishing their hold on the other.

She met his lips again and again, panting into his mouth. He lulled her into a sense of dizzying lust, and she took the initiative to slide her hands over the strong plains of his body. Pushing the red and white silk off his shoulders bared more magenta stripes. They began on his hip and slid suggestively down his pelvis.

Sesshoumaru reached down, curling a clawed finger inside her slick folds. She jolted when it scratched her, quivering at the mix of pain and pleasure. She moaned into his mouth, breaking away to pant heavily as he thrust another digit deep with her. Yet he seemed precise with his claws, careful to rub or slightly nick her slick flesh but not seriously harm. Kagome's knees tightened on either side of him. He continued to lick and press hard lips against her as she trembled and quaked around his fingers, gripping his shoulders tight.

Bravely, she reached down and tugged at his hankama, blushing bright red.

"Careful, miko. If you're set on a claiming, you'll have to take all of me."

"I-I can do that," she fibbed.

Sesshoumaru's lips curled up. His fangs scraped her nipple- nipping sharply. He raised his now slick knuckles to his mouth, languidly licking them clean and watching her with half lidded eyes.

Arousal coursed real and fast through her veins as she gasped, freeing his cock in response. Sesshoumaru shifted out of the white material, gripping her under her thighs and rutting their bodies together.

Once his bare skin touched hers, Kagome’s body flamed alight. A wetness and tightening need swelled inside her core.

He rubbed his length against her dripping entrance- and gold met blue. Suddenly the adrenaline died down a little, and the reality of what she was about to do settled on Kagome's shoulders. She couldn't deny her attraction, nor vague fear of this man. This demon who had stolen her away. But their skin blazed together, and the pleasure felt good after days of worry. Exhaling, she guided the head inside her. Her sex stretched to accommodate him, and Kagome held onto him, gritting her teeth. She sank her hips down just as he guided her, and a low sound escaped him. Lips parting in a silent scream, a moan built from the back of her throat, spilling out into the room.

Kagome tried her best to set the pace, but as a virgin, she had little experience with how exactly to best move. She winced and shuddered, growling and trying to keep Sesshoumaru down when he shifted. Gold flashed, and a deep snarl escaped him.

Gripping her hips, he toppled her easily, yanking her down beneath him.

He moved slowly at first, pulling in and out, her folds making wet, obscene sounds when he slammed back into her. Her back arched, nails digging harsh rivets into his shoulders.

"Y-you jerk. I said I was- gn- claiming."

"You're doing a poor job, so this Sesshoumaru has decided to take you instead. Except..." he thrust hard and deep, ripping a moan from her. "We'll be doing this my way."

Not understanding his meaning, Kagome squealed when he yanked her again. In a swift movement he flipped her over, earning a yelp as he angled her hips up and knelt between her knees.

He braced himself over her, inhaling the black hair that spilled over her shoulders and making a strange, rumbling purr. Her body quivered and she panted for breath. She gasped as his fingers teased her again to the point where she was bowing her back and panting.

Suddenly he was thrusting behind her. The striped hips moved hard and fast in merciless bucks. Kagome cried out each time, face flaming. All she could do was cushion her chin on the furs and try to move with him. But it felt impossible. His sheer strength and power made his grip on her uncompromising. The solid thrusts made him pound into her deeper and deeper. Her body jolted every time. Kagome's mind bled away into pleasure, until she didn't recognise herself. The miko became a mewling, needy thing, practically begging as saliva dripped down her chin.

As the ache inside curled her toes, white hot heat coxed her pleasure higher, and higher- until ravenous, teeth splitting need drowned out all thought.

Mine.

The thought firmly entrenched itself within her heart.

When the pleasure had died down, they'd lain together in a mess of sprawled limbs. His scent was comforting, warmth making her relax against him. She'd dozed contently in the arms of the demon. Long, deadly fingers had stroked her hair, a sated laziness in his mannerisms. She felt it when he kissed her forehead.

After an hour, he seemed truly asleep. Chest rising and falling, magenta lids remaining shut, lips slightly parted to reveal the hint of a fang. Kagome's eyes peeled open tiredly, and she stared at him for a long moment. He was kind of...beautiful up close. Her fingers twitched with want to touch. To trace a thumb over his lip.

Carefully untangling herself from him, she pulled herself up- wincing. Everywhere felt sore and slightly sticky with old traces of sweat. In between her thighs ached and pulsed, as though wanting to be filled again. Kagome blushed and clothed herself a dressing gown- the size dwarfing her. She resisted the urge to inhale his scent, hurrying out of the room with quiet steps. After quickly washing between her legs and dabbing a sponge over her damp face and collarbone, Kagome looked at her reflection tiredly.

She needed to find his car keys. The only problem was, she had no idea where they were. The only person who may be willing to tell her slept down the hallway, but Kagome's stomach turned at the thought. She wanted to leave Rin out of this escape, but...

She'd waste time by searching downstairs. Who knew how long Sesshoumaru would sleep for.

Dressing in jeans and a thick sweater fit for Autumn, Kagome put her sneakers on inside the house despite breech of manners. In what felt like seconds, the miko found herself bathed in shadow, standing outside Rin's room.

Sliding back the door, she stepped inside, finding the little girl asleep in her bed. The decor was oddly...sparse from what Kagome could see. No toys. Many paintings hung on the walls though, with a large desk near the wall where various sketchbooks were sprawled.

Kneeling down, Kagome steeled herself. Ever since Sango, she was cautious. Covering Rin's small mouth with her hand, she whispered: "Rin, wake up."

Brown eyes fluttered open and she started, hands coming up to hold Kagome's.

"Shhh," Kagome quickly soothed. "I need you to be quiet, okay? No loud noises. I just want to know where your father keeps his car keys."

Peeling her palm reluctantly away, she watched Rin stare up at her. "The...keys?" She asked in a hushed tone.

"Yeah. I'm...I'm going to buy a surprise for him from the little shop in the village. So, let's not wake him, okay? Just tell me where they are."

Rin shifted, unblinking. The miko fought not to glance down at her arm, wondering. Surely Rin was loyal to Sesshoumaru. Perhaps this was a mistake.

But the girl surprised her. "They're downstairs on the top shelf in the cupboard. The one near the irori."

Kagome breathed out with relief, smiling. "Thank you Rin, that's great. Go back to sleep now." She stood, lifting her bag onto her shoulder and turning.

"You're...coming back. Aren't you, Kagome?"

Not facing her, Kagome's hands folded, gripping her fingers tight. She didn't want to lie to the child, but it was necessary. "O-of course, silly. Be back in a flash!" Her voice wobbled slightly, but Kagome hurried out, closing the door behind her.

Trying to keep the remnants of her bravery together, she padded carefully down the hall. Passing Sesshoumaru's door, she held her breath as though it would help. Shifting down the stairs, she side-stepped any steps that creaked, having memorised them over the days. Her body curiously hummed with a continuous sweet ache. The place where his teeth had buried in her neck during his climax stung a little, pulsing. Deciding to try and ignore it, Kagome opened up the cupboard- snatched the keys and made her way outside.

The first stage of victory was in her grasp the moment she lay eyes on the black car in the driveway. Hurrying closer, she opened the car door and hastily sat in the drivers seat, slowly shutting it behind her to try and make as little noise as possible. It closed near silently. Kagome breathed out with relief.

"So what surprise are we getting?"

Jumping, Kagome whipped her head violently to the side. Rin sat primly in the passenger seat.

"H-honey, you can't be here right now. Why don't you go back to sleep? It's a school night, right? We don't want your father to worry."

Calm brown eyes stared back at her, nonplussed. "I think he'd be more worried about you sneaking out and trying to escape again."

A cold chill rattled Kagome's spine. Her knuckles turned bone white as she gripped the steering wheel. "What...are you?" She asked in a subdued voice. "You're not a child."

Rin sighed, adjusting her bed hair. "Not really, only in appearance. I don't really know what you'd call me, but it doesn't matter," she muttered, much more collected. The way she held herself, back straight and eyes steady reminded Kagome more of an adult. "Kagome- don't leave."

Turning the engine on, she shook her head. "Please just get out. I-I can't deal with this anymore."

The girl didn't budge, brows drawing together. "He's getting better slowly, he really is. If you just give it time, I really think Sesshoumaru will calm down-"

"Rin, I'm sorry, but I don't owe him anything." She grit out, even as her neck pulsed, the marks burning on her skin. "Or...you, for that matter. You asked him to fetch a miko mother. Y-you were there that night!" Blue eyes widened as it dawned on her. "Y-you lied to my face when he drove me to the village, played pretend by telling me you'd been travelling all day!"

Rin's hands met in her lap, eyes turning downcast. "Yes, I know. I can't go out of the barrier for too long but I wanted to be there. Wanted to see the woman he's become so...attached to." Those warm brown eyes rose up to meet hers. "It's a big deal. Kagome. Him, taking an interest in something outside the village. He can delude himself all he wants by saying kidnapping you is for the village, or for me. But he does genuinely...like you."

Kagome stared at her until the child winced. "He'd been watching you on and off- and I know how overbearing he is. Believe me. But you're the only chance we've got now. You can save us all-"

Putting the car into reverse, Kagome released the handbrake and turned the car around to face the exit of the drive. Hard blue eyes filled with tears stared hard ahead of her. "Please get out, Rin. I don't want to hear any more. He got in-between me and my family. My grandpa is sick, and who knows what else has happened while I've been gone. I can't let myself feel anything for Sesshoumaru, so just please. Please leave me alone."

Rin settled down in her seat, putting her seat-belt on in answer. Kagome sighed, "I'm forcing you out once I get to the border of the village."

The car pulled away, speeding out of the drive and along the pitch-black road through the heavy woods. The night sky remained dark and cloudy, blocking out the moon. Kagome drove in silence, biting her lip hard enough to make it tremble. Rin's gaze shifted to look up at her, noting the silent tear that rolled down her cheek.

"S-so long as you're here, you might as well answer some questions." Kagome sniffed, clearing her throat. "How old are you?"

"500 years. Um...give or take a few decades," Rin rested her cheek against the car door, staring up at the dark window.

"R-right," Kagome exhaled. "I saw your arm. What are you then?"

"I was originally human, but really that part doesn't matter." Rin mumbled, drawing her knees up and hugging them. Sensing it was a sore subject, Kagome sighed, leaving it be.

"Okay, so something I don't get; Why would Sesshoumaru ever say that stealing me will help the village? How would it?"

"The barrier around the village could be strengthened enormously with the input of your powers. If they joined with Sesshoumaru's when harnessed by the Halloween moon, it would become a real force field. Sesshoumaru thinks it's why I chose a miko mother. To protect the village and cut us all off from intruders once and for all."

"And why did you chose a miko?" Kagome asked in an acidic, turning at a corner.

Rin's lashes fell shut. "I figured if anyone could stand up to Sesshoumaru- snap him out of his need to protect us- it would be a miko. He needs...to let all this go, Kagome. Let me go.” Her lips bent up painfully. “So, yes. I did kind of twist things to get you here. But I'm doing this for my family," her smile turned rueful.

Kagome was about to reply when a loud noise rose up from beyond the trees. It echoed into the sky, roaring long and harsh, like a strangled snarl had been ripped from his throat. The sound buried itself inside Kagome's heart and made her teeth chatter. Slamming her foot down on the accelerator, the car sped down the road with a scatter of leaves dusting into the air behind it.

The tires bumped into the curb of the forest road, but she hardly cared. Fear pounded inside her skull. He was angry. For some reason, she could feel the thunder of his paws. They thrummed over the bite marks on her pulse. The sleek black car screeched. Kagome forced it to speed through the village.

"Where now, Rin?" She barked, disoriented. "Which road do I take to get out of here?"

The girl hesitated, and Kagome turned to her with wide eyes. "Rin!"

"I-it's that way," she pointed, wincing when the car lurched. Kagome turned the wheel, gunning the engine and willing them to go faster. The car ripped down the leaf infested road, and Kagome listened out for the snap out jaws- watched for the slightest hint of silver.

She gasped as they were sent into the air briefly- underestimating the size of a dirt mound on the road. The tires crashed into much cleaner, smoother black tarmac as they ripped through the village barrier and out onto the clean public road.

Kagome gasped, looking around at the very road where she'd first crashed. "I-I made it," she breathed, turning. "Alright Rin, you need to get out now so Sesshoumaru can-"

She stopped dead. The girl was pressing her small hands to her cheek, cupping it together.

"R-rin? Oh no, did you get hurt?" Forgetting her escape, Kagome ripped her own seat belt away to lean closer. "Let me see," she said gently.

A tired brown eye drifted to her listlessly. Kagome was struck by the utter apathy within it as Rin peeled her hands away.

Kagome's breath lurched and skittered to a stop. Cracks were spilling out of her small cheek like spiderwebs. A chipped pot crumbling. The indents were crumpling up into Rin's eye, threatening to collapse inwards.

Stumbling out of the car, Kagome sprinted around it to the passenger side. Lifting Rin carefully into her arms and pulling her from the vehicle, helplessness weighed down heavily onto her shoulders. "I-I don't know what to do. Tell me how to fix this."

Rin rested her good cheek against the miko's collarbone. "End this Kagome. Please, that's the only way you can help. Break the power binding us to this world. Sesshoumaru...will fix my body. He always does. But it's not helping me...I don't want to feel nothing anymore."

Her head lifted so that their eyes connected just as Rin's damaged one caved in, revealing a darkened, hollow shell for insides. There was no blood or eye socket. Just an empty vessel.

"Please free me," Rin whispered.

Kagome stared at her, frozen stiff with horror. She heard numerous things approaching then. The sound of paws and the rev of an engine.

Sesshoumaru arrived first, bursting out of the undergrowth. Leaves and twigs were lodged into his fur, red eyes crazed. He practically foamed at the mouth, jaws snapping as he stalked closer, panting heavily.

Her breath stilled and Kagome jumped when something else burst into the road from behind them. A large green truck skidded to a halt, the driver door slamming open. "Kagome! Get in, now!" Koga called.

Floundering, she looked between the two. Biting her lip, tears blurred her vision. "S-sesshoumaru," she murmured, bowing her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for her to get hurt. P-please just take her," she held Rin out from her body, not looking up.

Silence engulfed them. A shadow fell over Kagome’s face.

Something breathed hotly in her ear. The suggestion of teeth scraped her cheek.

"...Father, it hurts." Rin's small, childish voice piped up, drawing Sesshoumaru's attention away from the miko. "Take me home, p-please?"

A low, guttural growl hissed against the side of Kagome's mouth. The slight weight in her arms was taken away.

Kagome swallowed and turned on her heel, fleeing to the truck and not looking back. Climbing inside, she held her arms, leaning forward slightly and trying not to fall apart as Koga sped away with her.

The green truck sailed down the empty road, carrying them further and further away from the lonely, desolate village.

#sesskag #Sesskag fanfiction #kagome higurashi #Sesshoumaru #sesshoumaru x kagome #inuyasha fanfiction

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blackjacketmuses · 5 years

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hc; sparda 4

DEVIL ARMS

Sparda is in possession of 10 Devil Arms, as well as a pair of guns forged by Machiavelli himself, Luce and Ombra (demons have an odd sense of time compared to humans, so they have/had all sorts of weapons without regard for if humans do at the time). After his imprisonment, his Arms were also locked away and imprisoned, and the guns were eventually given to Trish right before Mallet Island; she still has them.

His Devil Arms are as follows:

Paimon

Powerful demon; former lieutenant in Sparda’s army, allowed himself to become a Devil Arm to support his liege after Sparda lost his power in sealing Temen-ni-Gru.

Weapon form: A very large, wicked glaive with a blade on the bottom end, has sonic powers when swung or spun, can also affect time.

Demon form: A monstrous equine with beige fur and claws instead of hooves, a long neck, no mane, and a lion’s tail.

Human/Disguise form: A very handsome European man in his thirties, blond, vaguely androgynous, always wears a suit. Pretended to be one of Sparda’s “business associates”, Mr. Patrick. Serious and a bit sarcastic, a bit of a flirt when he likes to be, very teasing.

Stolas

Powerful demon; former lieutenant in Sparda’s army, allowed himself to become a Devil Arm to support his liege after Sparda lost his power in sealing Temen-ni-Gru. Nevan’s brother.

Weapon form: A large black halberd with an extra-big bladed head that can be wielded as a closer-ranged weapon, has lightning based abilities like his sister.

Demon form: Large, black, obviously demonic owl-bird-thing with hot-coal-red eyes and a toothy beak. Has a crown of leaves and thorns.

Human/Disguise form: Small normal sized black owl or a thin, bespectacled, red-haired, Irish-leaning human in his thirties. Tended to keep to the owl form, much to his chagrin and amusement --- became little Dante’s favorite stuffed “toy”, Howly, because of this. Cheerful and friendly and playful.

Camio

Powerful demon; former lieutenant in Sparda’s army, allowed himself to become a Devil Arm to support his liege after Sparda lost his power in sealing Temen-ni-Gru.

Weapon form: A cutlass-type, curved blade with a red tassel, connected to the fire element.

Demon form: A huge, three eyed, monstrous crow with razor sharp feathers and humanoid, clawed arms with the wings attached.

Human/Disguise form: A normal sized crow, or a thin, dark-haired Latino man in his twenties with black eyes. A warrior type, but dramatic and a bit of a theater-kid type. Tended to keep to crow form around the family.

Agares

Powerful demon; former lieutenant in Sparda’s army, allowed himself to become a Devil Arm to support his liege after Sparda lost his power in sealing Temen-ni-Gru.

Weapon form: Wickedly spiked gauntlets and greaves and a ornamental breastplate, comes with poison elemental abilities.

Demon form: Huge green-grey demonic crocodile beast with six legs and a second set of jaws inside his mouth.

Human/Disguise form: A pale, older gentleman that looks like he should be someone’s butler. Wise and a bit of an Alfred type, older than Sparda and mildly fussy towards him, acts like an old uncle at times. One of Sparda’s “business associates”, Mr. Augustine.

Vepar

Powerful demon; former lieutenant in Sparda’s army, allowed herself to become a Devil Arm to support her liege after Sparda lost his power in sealing Temen-ni-Gru.

Weapon form: A spiked and wicked chain whip that almost looks like seaweed, water based abilities, whip can stiffen into a polearm.

Demon form: A monstrous mermaid beast with a shark’s tail and wild tentacled hair, grey skin, and a shark’s teeth filled mouth.

Human/Disguise form: A young woman in her twenties with a penchant for gauzy sundresses, with long dark hair that looks almost sea-green in a certain light. Teasing and friendly and free-spirited like any good water nymph would be; held a candle for Sparda for years, was jealous of Eva for a long time but eventually got on well with her. Was also one of Sparda’s “business associates”, Miss Vera.

Dantalion

Powerful demon; once an enemy of Sparda, he was defeated long ago and submitted to becoming a Devil Arm.

Weapon form: A large mace with a head that resembles his demonic form, large enough to swing two-handed, has earth powers and the head can be swung like a flail.

Demon form: A twisted goliath with many, many faces and arms atop two reptilian legs, speaks in the voice of a multitude.

Human/Disguise form: A very average, unassuming, brown haired man in his thirties, almost forgettable in appearance. Very blunt and plain spoken, good-natured, though, and very chill. One of Sparda’s “business associates,” Mr. Daniel.

Leraje

Powerful demon; once an enemy of Sparda, he was defeated long ago and submitted to becoming a Devil Arm.

Weapon form: An elegant crimson longbow that almost looks like bird’s wings, fires arrows made of pure energy, can shoot multiple at one and do other tricks.

Demon form: A two headed vulpine beast with crimson fur and the legs of a bird of prey.

Human/Disguise form: A handsome blond man in his twenties, tends to dress in green, has a British accent. Very joking and teasing, very much a classical Robin Hood or Zorro type, loves pranks. One of Sparda’s “business associates”, Mr. Leslie.

Grendel

Powerful demon; once an enemy of Sparda, he was defeated long ago and submitted to becoming a Devil Arm. Beowulf’s brother.

Weapon form: A huge sledgehammer whose head can be altered in size, has ice powers.

Demon form: A huge, fleshy, blue demon, vaguely man shaped but with a head/face that looks more like some kind of underwater creature, with no ears and nose and big fishy eyes and a needle-tooth filled mouth.

Human/Disguise form: A Scandinavian looking man, big and burly and slightly irritable, missing an arm thanks to Sparda. Grumpy and snippy and very bad at being human, so doesn’t get out much.

Sitri

Powerful demon; once an enemy of Sparda, she was defeated long ago and submitted to becoming a Devil Arm.

Weapon form: A rapier that also forms armor up to the shoulder, has wind based abilities, can allow flash stepping.

Demon form: A huge feline beast with avian features and wings, with patterns on its fur that move and swirl confusingly.

Human/Disguise form: A woman in her thirties, very beautiful, short blond hair with dark streaks, very businesslike, or a marmalade tabby cat. Businesslike and neat and very, very much like a cat in personality; appears occasionally as a “business associate”, Miss Simone, but mainly likes to be in cat form, because little Vergil would spoil her.

Orthrus

Powerful demon; once an enemy of Sparda, he was defeated long ago and submitted to becoming a Devil Arm. Alpha from which the Cerberus tribe descends.

Weapon form: A weapon able to shift between a pair of katar, a pair of hook swords, and a ranseur --- the katar are light-based, the hook-swords are dark-based, and the ranseur is spatial magic.

Demon form: A huge, three headed dog, bigger than any Cerberus.

Human/Disguise form: A big dog, a huge wolf-dog type with grey-white fur. Remained always in dog form, practically the family pet.

#;hc: sparda

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diavalcorbeau · 4 years

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Diaval Corbeau was just spotted coming out from the tree near Thoresby house, with Cage the Elephant, Ain’t no Rest for the Wicked; playing as a constant tune inside their head, it might as well be their song. easily noticed by their sharp smirk just waiting to surface, scrutinizing eyes trailing and nearly silent steps. Diava is not one to be forgotten.

Name: Diaval Corbeau Age: 23 DoB: April 11th Pronouns: He/him Sexuality: Vastly questionable/apparently raging pansexual Distinguishing features: Several tattoos, scars across his ribs left side, tends to squint his left eye to focus it from an old injury. Hometown: None, was born in the Boston area though. Studying: General law (2nd year) Housed: Thoresby

+quick-witted +observant +loyal +adaptive -Vain -sneaky -sarcastic -unpredictable

Diaval is a creature of chaos, or so he's been told. His very birth an ill-planned result of happenstance, his place in an already strained family not a welcome addition. And starting out on shaky ground it's little wonder he depends on little else but himself. When the ones biology itself encouraged to look after you always had their own agenda how does a person ever learn to have faith in anyone? Once there was a little girl who was kind to him, she was an almost-friend, but that was a lifetime ago.

He's no tragedy though, and will tell anyone that in no uncertain terms; he's a creature of his own design. A gorgeous design, all in all, brilliant and with such sharp claws. Sharp tongue too, if you ruffle his feathers. If you make the mistake of asking why he's so blunt, didn't his parents ever teach him any manners? He'll laugh because that's not what parents teach; they teach you to lie, steal, cheat, they teach you to survive so they don't feel guilty walking away.

Find him admiring himself in the mirror, sure, but mention it and he'll snap back with a sarcastic remark, you're better off just leaving him to his own devices. Unless something comes up missing, or you might need something a bit questionable because Diaval has an eye for shiny things.

His soft side is trapped fluttering in the cage of his ribs; never cross him or the few he nests with. He's a possessive one, with his trinkets and his people, and every underdog recognizes their own. Love him or hate him, it makes no difference, but don't ever lie to him about it; nothing earns his torment more than false intentions.

Once upon a time he wanted to be more than he thinks he is now. He stares at the raven tattoo across his shoulder and wishes freedom came that easily. He might just envy the people whose family speak of them with kind words, or even at all, those with siblings still alive and homes to return to. But it's fine, he's fine, in fact he's better than fine. Because he doesn't need any of that. Diaval grew up too fast and was far too old for fairytales long before he was alone in the world.

History

Death tw, child abandonment tw, child neglect tw

The world is a strange place when you live on borrowed time. It's not any looming grim visage that Diaval knows lurks though, simply the past; because he has always been the master of his own destruction.

It didn't start that way. But when a person is born into nothing, meant to be nothing, how can they reach beyond it? His mother and father already had a brood of two when he arrived, he was a mistake. But a mistake with big eyes and a sweet smile, a beautiful child. The perfect distraction really. When the family legacy was grifting it only took some creative thought to turn a mistake into a profit; who could say no to an innocent little boy when he was lost? Couldn't find his mommy?

He was taught to lie, to lure, long before he learned to read. Because his mother couldn't curb her want for a drink other than when she had a child on the way and his father had wild ambitions of great wealth that he was certainly going to take more than earn and a weakness for gambling. For all the early years he never knew anything else existed. It was fun, never staying anywhere long, living in hotels and cars; it was an adventure.

The shine wore off as he reached his youth, when the teachers he saw for classes a few weeks until they moved on stopped bothering to keep track of him. While his peers, never friends because friends lasted longer than a month, played games and talked about their excitement over upcoming holidays Diaval loathed the coming cold and sparse days it brought. He'd go to bed hungry often and he knew that. His little sister was born in the winter, that was the nearest to ever feeling like Christmas he knew.

It was a few summers later that his elder sister left the nest, an old family saying for the truth that the family went on without her. Some little town in the middle of nowhere was the home she picked, and he never spoke to her again. The next year his mother and father disappeared in the early morning hours, only a note left behind and a trio of their puzzled offspring. Sometimes he still hopes things turned out better for them than it did him.

His older brother was realistic, having both a teenager and a toddler in tow made life more difficult. But it was all any of them had left, all he had left; big brother Dainial and little Maeve.

They came to an unspoken agreement. Diaval stepped in and turned a blind eye to his brother's increasingly risky actions; Maeve became his focus. He likes to think he did well enough keeping her happy, teaching her what he could, watching her grow with an increasing amount of pride. Then one day Dainial didn't come back to the hotel, one day another life ended and two left behind never said goodbye, one day Diaval was seventeen with a six-year-old looking at him like he knew all the answers.

He spent their last day together visiting her favorite places, bought her everything he could, then he left her standing in a hospital waiting room with the promise of the best surprise ever. He hopes it was, he hopes people were kind and the family she found was enough to forget the one she began with.

The years afterward Diaval survived, just as he was taught. It was the only gift his parents had ever really given him. He thrived, actually, but it wasn't a lifestyle made to last. Tiny crimes built up, small arrests began to trail him from state to state. The irony that the breaking point was in the crime he didn't commit is a bitter one. The shock that followed came just as swiftly in the form of an uncle he never heard mention of. Some rich guy related to his father that managed to track him down by police records? Diaval didn't really buy it but the alternative was much more abysmal, so being bailed out? It could have been worse.

Except he didn't think the guy was going to toss him into some high-class, preppy university and expect that to make up for the family's blind eye all those years. It's by no means ideal, Diaval knows his uncle's good graces are more a threat than an offer of help; make something of himself or he'll call off the lawyers working on his pending trial. Shape up or be locked up. He's not sure what the guy's angle is yet but college is still marginally better, while it lasts.

He's already a ghost, chains wrapped tight and just waiting for the lock to shut. But how is that anything different than what it's always been, his wings have always been snared but they're certainly not clipped yet.

Sherwood

Diaval doesn't want to be at Sherwood. But he wants less to end up on the bad side of the uncle who gave him the ultimatum of school or airing his transgressions. Birds don't do so well in a cage; he'll take classes to prison any day. Mostly.

Since he has to study, and he enjoys the irony of it, he's studying law. At least until his uncle finally gives him up for a lost cause. Might as well know how the other side lives, right? Those lawful, useful sorts; it must be dull. So he drifts through class, far too smart to fail but far too bored to put up more effort than needed to get by. He could excel but what's the point? It all ends up the same place in the end, an education isn't going to change his past. And that always catches up.

But he's a common sight in the social spots, networking, because everyone knows if there's something you need to get your hands on? Diaval is the one to go to.

He resides in Thoresby, again thanks to his uncle, but it suits him just fine. Some of his housemates aren't the brightest crayons in the box so they're fun to get stirred up. But it's all harmless, usually

Headcanons

Diaval would be a loner if he wasn't so determined to prove he's not limited to any label. He settles himself right in the middle of any situation that catches his eye and makes himself at home. If there's a bigger dog in the fight? He's got teeth. But, honestly, for the most part he feels like life is just going through the motions anymore. When it comes to most people he's hardly malicious. Snarky? Without a doubt. But he's rarely out for blood without a reason.

Maybe it was his upbringing but he's not a fan of the dorms. He has a bed and his collection of trinkets lying around, his stash of possessions that is in constant change, but Diaval is rarely there at night. He might hop to whomever might hold his interest and invite himself along to their room for the evening, in either a platonic sort of way or not depending on his mood, or he might wander outside. He enjoys sleeping in trees, loves that high vantage point on the world.

He never felt much in the way of honest kindness growing up so he covets it more. With his intense amount of confidence he could be a real jerk to those who aren't as bold, but he tends to mother hen them. Maybe they remind him of the little sister he'll never see again, or maybe he just hates the way the world destroys good people. But for all his snapping commentary he'll step in when it's obvious someone isn't fighting fair, he might not care to be involved in most of the foolishness around him but he's not a bully, nor does he like them.

#sherwood.intro #diaval intro #child abuse tw #child neglect tw #child abandonment tw #death tw

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sian22redux · 7 years

Text

He followed me home

Title: He Followed Me Home

Pairing: Chris Evans/Reader

Rating: T for tooth rotting fluff!

Setup: Ok..so in a rash moment of weakness I bet @theycallmebecca that my beloved Cleveland Indians could best her Boston Red Sox in the latest series. Whoever won got a drabble. It was close and an awesome game but unfortunately an L for Cleveland. So here is her choice: Chris and Reader adopt a puppy and have to decide on its name: from the Patriots. Bosox or Disney. Aannd because I can never write short it’s more of a fic. Enjoy!

Summary:

The whole world gets involved when you and your new boyfriend, Chris Evans, adopt a friend for Dodger but then can’t settle on a name.

Thanks so much to @mypatronusismrpricklepants and @arizonapoppy for their awesome help.

Chapter 1: Surprise, March 2018

“He followed me home…”

As defenses for impromptu madness go, it’s a little bit predictable. You’re standing, sheepish and flustered, with an armload of wriggling, wagging tricolor fluff while your boyfriend Chris leans against the front hall closet door.

His arms are folded across his chest. His deep ocean eyes are bleary and amused at once. It is technically his Laurel Canyon home, although your socks and books and curling iron moved in two months ago. Long enough to feel a bit like they belong, but not long enough to be certain if you’ve erred.

“Oh really.” The sound of Boston twangs as one skeptical eyebrow raises.

It was just the first thing that popped into your head. Chris pauses to take in the mammoth paws, the blunt short snout and drawls, “So SuperPuppy jogs a cool tens k’s?”

“Maybe,” you squeak. It’s not easy to shuffle one’s feet while juggling a possible hot potato in canine form.

Chris laughs and shakes his head as much at the sound as the ridiculousness of it all.

On the scale of crazy spur-of-the-moment things you’ve done this falls somewhere between late night skinny dipping in his mother’s pool (scary but fun) and filling La Jolla High’s atrium with foam (fun until you all were caught).

You sincerely hope this is closer to the first.

“Y/N, you are so full of shit.”

Behind you the door is still ajar—open to the bright spring day that lies lazily golden and blue under California sun. It’s ten o’clock and only seventy degrees. Dry with just enough heat to remind you summer will be soon, just enough breeze to lift the sweet scent of Sierra Salvia blooming beside the walk.

Perfect weather for a mid-morning jog (or a mid-morning nap if one is desperately jet-lagged two days after crossing eight time zones from damp and windy London).

Chris yawns and rubs at his eyes. His hair is mussed; his t-shirt’s askew and you can tell from the creases on his cheek that he’s been crashed on the man-eating white leather couch. Probably with Dodger on his chest.

While you’ve been out burning off the prickling excitement of reunion after two weeks apart, the pair of them, inseparable since the moment Chris walked through the door, have been busy catching zzz’s.

You smile wanly at the dark smudges under those dark and ridiculously heavy lashes.

He so needs it. The press for Red Sea Diving has been brutal tacked onto Avengers 4.

“Dodger missed you while you were away,” you offer by way of explanation.

This is true, but not perhaps entirely the whole point. The pair of you had talked about the problem just the night before. How Dodger pined terribly for Chris while he was in South Africa. How you two had whispered the word ‘airport’ but still Dodger had gone crazy when he saw the latest suitcase coming out. That it might be a good idea to get him another friend; a constant pal when he has to shuttle between L.A. and Massachusetts; crashing for months at time with Chris’s sister’s kids.

At least the heavens had aligned for the latest trip. You’d dog sat and watched the house, spoiled him with lots of love, but still Dodger moped, ignored his ratty favorite blanket and had to be coaxed to eat. Change was hard for animals.

But even so, this follow through might be just a teensy bit premature.

How do you explain? You’d finished breakfast, thought it a good idea to give the two best buds space to chill and took yourself off for a longer run. Turned right instead of left along Mulholland and wound up outside Ace of Hearts with its ‘Dog of the day” sign plastered on the window. So cute, and so in need.

You’d given in, asked to see their featured rescue and wound up outside puppy’s cage, getting a hopeful shy wag and your fingers licked through the metal bars.

How could you resist? Puppy looked small and alone and so very sweet.

Isn’t this supposed to be one of the things Chris loves about you?? That you are ridiculously spontaneous while he struggles not to overthink every little thing?

“I didn’t plan it,” you admit. “It just kind of happened.” Chris’s eyebrows rise even higher.

“Y/N.”

You lick your lips nervously and try again. “I…” you start but don’t get a chance to explain because fifteen pounds of black and white and brown fluffball wriggles harder in your arms. You’re standing in runners and shades, long brown hair pulled up under a sweaty baseball cap. At your feet are two shopping bags from Village Pet and in the waistband of your jogging shorts are the rumpled adoption papers

Dodger, that pure soul of joyousness, is not helping things. He’s excitedly jumping up on his hind legs, pawing and yipping, trying to get closer to the pup. The little guy whimpers mournfully. You lift your shoulders, struggling to hold him a little higher, crooning softly to reassure. The smells and sounds are new. There’s a strange dog who is trying to say hi and a big, broad, bearded man who is leaning over to inspect him.

It’s overwhelming and a bit startling to go straight from a 2x4 metal cage to an open expanse of cool and white.

And Dodger’s idea of friendly can sometimes be a little much

“Come on pal, leave off.” Chris grabs at the red collar in tawny fur, pulls the mutt back, clamps his knees around the wriggling and whining, overly enthusiastic host. The ghost of a beginning grin on his handsome face fades quickly to a frown of concern.

Puppy is still scared. He’s shivering silently in fear, trying to hide himself underneath your chin.

You can almost hear Chris Evan’s enormous heart melting on the spot.

“Hey, it’s ok… don’t be afraid,” he says, softly, hunching his huge shoulders down to make himself a little less imposing. “Don’t mind this big, crazy lug.” A free hand that knows something about anxiety reaches out to stroke the black wavy fur, caressing it slowly, in time to slow easy breaths, resting gently against the little warm body until the shivers ease.

Chris, thrilled at his feat, smiles wide and looks up underneath your brim. “Boy or girl?”

“Boy. He’s a Bernerdoodle...” you say as if this explains everything.

“A what?” Chris is chuckling, quieter than usual so as not to startle the poof of dark wavy fur. He snickers, clutching lightly at his pec, imitating Ned Flanders nasal accent perfectly. "Homer, I can see your doodle…"

“Chris!”

You roll your eyes elaborately, thinking not for the first time that omg this man is such a kid. Yes doodle is slang for penis. It is also a recognized crossbreed.

You shake your head and very very carefully shove him with your hip. “Shuddup. A Bernerdoodle is a Bernese Mountain Dog and Poodle cross. You shouldn’t tease the little guy. He’s had a really rocky start. Was just busted out of a puppy mill. He’s the last of his litter. No one wanted him because his markings aren’t symmetrical.

They aren’t. Puppy has two white paws, one fore, one aft; a white blaze on his chest and a white stripe down his nose. His eyebrows are tan, as is half his muzzle. Quirky and utterly adorable. You give him a gentle hug and a small pink tongue licks at the bottom of your chin.

Chris leans close and wrinkles up his nose as he too, gets a lick. “Awww. Sorry dude.”

You shift the warm furry load at your hip. A moth flutters past and Chris looks up, startled, realizing belatedly you are still standing in front of the open door.

“Whatever he is, he’s a cutie that’s for sure. Bring him in.”

He lets Dodger go and swings the white oak door shut, picks up the shopping bags while you walk over to the couch, balancing the awkward bundle of big paws and floppy ears and tail. So much for cardio, it is suddenly resistance day.

You lower yourself gingerly to the deep expanse of butter-soft, not-claw-proof leather as Chris slides across, dropping the bags to one side. The space is light and bright and so relaxing: white walls and furniture, low rough wood tables and dark grey carpet. A haven from the bustle and noise of life.

“You, too. Sit,” Chris says, pointing a finger until Dodger finally masters his inner zen to settle down beside your knee. The older dog is upright, tongue lolling and one ear cocked. A picture of controlled enthusiasm. His amber eyes keep flicking from puppy back to Chris.

Puppy nestles into your lap and makes himself at home, sniffing at the air and taking in members of a new pack. You are clearly alpha female, chief cuddler and source of safety. Chris is the alpha male: one pat and the little guy rolls over to show his belly for a rub.

Chris obliges; bends down to tickle warm pink spotted skin and gets licked excitedly on his chin for his efforts. “Ow.” he announces, laughing and holding a hand across his nose

The white milk teeth are sharp. And curious. “Watch it little fella.

You smile because obviously Puppy’s starting to feel a little braver now but the sight of him mouthing earnestly on Chris’s offered fingers makes you wonder: how does one keep a puppy from chewing up the furniture? You hadn’t thought beyond getting him safely home. The expensive designer to-the-trade originals do already have a few puncture holes--Dodger is rambunctious but he wasn’t a baby when he came home. It’s been years since you had a pet. Your old dog, a white heinz 57 collie-samoyed mix with the honest-to-goodness name of Buck passed away your second year of college. He lived to be seventeen. You can’t even remember what it was like to break in a puppy but there must be somebody around to give you tips.

“We need to set some water out for him and the new wee pads.” you note. He has been so good. Didn’t piddle once on the Uber ride home, or even when he was scared.

Chris nods, unerringly reaching to scratch behind soft and silky ears. Puppy cocks his head and whines. “Check. In a sec. Does he have a name?”

“No,” you admit. “The breeder had shitty records. At Ace they called him by his number. They think he’s about ten weeks old, just enough to be separated from his dam. I bought some food and stuff.” you add, waving in the general direction of the bags. There’s a blue collar to match Dodger’s and a new leash, a comb, smaller steel bowls. Hopefully they show you weren’t completely off your head, totally mesmerized by dark liquid eyes and a cute as a button nose.

You blush, remembering the excitement of signing for him, holding him for the first time: all pink toe beans and soft silky fur and new puppy smell. Pure heaven. And the right thing to do, give a home to a poor little abandoned soul in need of loving.

(No ticking clocks, here. Nope. None at all.)

Puppy whines and sits straight up. Coughs once. Then twice. It’s a huffing, wheezy sort of hack that shakes the little dark body shake from pink nose to white tail tip.

Chris looks over at you alarmed. “Is he ok?”

This time it’s you that melts a little. Chris worries. Always. Empathy, wrapped in caring, wrapped in genuine unselfishness.

“He will be,” you explain, biting nervously at your lip. “Just needs a little time. He’s a rescue from a puppy mill. The whole litter had pneumonia and he almost didn’t make it.”

“Oh fuck.” Chris’s growl is quiet but you know he feels about animal abuse the way you do. Enraged.

You pull the adoption papers out and pass them over. Chris scans them, turning them over and checking the certificate from the shelter and its vet. All is in order. Case # A201206 has been dewormed. Had all shots. Weeks of Baytril for infection and supplements. Has been off his feed because of illness. Is paper trained.

“He’s done his shots and antibiotics, but needs a special diet ‘til he’s all better.”

Chris is nodding, taking it all in, trading the pages back to you for a now braver little guy. You reach down to pull a water bowl and a new blanket and Kong toy out of the first paper bag.

Puppy sits on the soft grey flannel of Chris’s sweat pants and leans against his chest, raising up one enormous paw to ask for attention. Chris catches it in his own equally enormous hand and lets his blue gaze slide to the rubber chew toy that is easily twice as big as your fist.

“How big is he gonna get?”

You flush. This is the tricky part. “Ummm, the lady said they don’t think he’ll get much bigger than seventy pounds.”

“Seventy pounds?!”

Incredulous, Chris looks down at Dodger obediently flopped on the floor and back up to the pup. Dodger is lean and wiry, all muscle and energy; straight flat fur. Puppy is a small mountain of dark wavy coat, paws not quite like dinner plates. Hefty and solid. He’s sitting placidly, taking up a good half of Chris’s lap at less than three months old.

“Dodger’s only thirty pounds,” he frowns.

“I know,” you nod, “but his father was the Bernese. They’re more than a hundred.”

Chris chokes. “Jesuz, Y/N, that’s a pony not a dog!”

You hold your breath. This is a gamble. Chris is obviously a bit thrown by how big the pup will grow. You can see the doubt begin to whirl like a cyclone in his head. “I don’t know…”

You slide closer, up underneath the long, ridiculously muscled arm laid along the couch’s back, reach out to stroke lovingly at his cheek. A big dog is a big commitment, but from everything you know it fits with his big, golden heart. “Chris, I feel like this meant to be. You’ve said yourself that if you were an animal you’d be a St. Bernard. He’s like your kindred spirit. Bernese are also big and loyal and loving. They adore kids. But they get a little anxious in new and different settings.”

“So you’re just like me, hunh?” he says, a little skeptically, lifting the little guy with a firm grip around the middle. “Seventy pounds. I’d be doing curls with you…”

Puppy, oblivious to the moment, tries to gnaw on his largest knuckle.

Doubt starts to curl low below your heart.

Usually if Chris is into something new, your bouncy, exuberant Labrador of a boyfriend will be all over it. Keen on it right away. This time there’s an unsettled crease of worry between his brows and Chris is frowning. Perhaps you hadn’t thought this through? This a puppy and a larger dog. Perhaps you hadn’t considered how much more work one seems. There’s a press tour to do for Avengers 3 and 4. US press for Red Sea Diving. Possibly another Broadway run. There’s a lot on Chris’s plate in the coming year but you’d just felt so bad for Dodger missing his big guy while he was half a world away.

And, if you had to be honest with yourself, you admit a needy pup would keep you little more occupied too. Your job, back-of-house production, keeps you mostly in L.A, tied down and unable to go on tour. It’s out of the Press’s eye which has its good and bad at once. As far as much of the world knows you don’t exist. You’re a name on the end credits. Known as a studio employee, someone no one bats an eyelid to see Chris with. A colleague. No biggie.

For the first months of your relationship it was actually kind of great. Chris, beyond tired with the relentless attention messing with romances, treated it like a game. You can go out and no prying idiots think you’re his date. No one’s calling you a bitch on Twitter. No one’s staking out your house. Above the table top you are talking about scheduling and below his toes are running up your calf. Hidden. Secret. Just for you two. It’s a thrill and nervous making all at once.

You’re happy to have found the one awesome, caring, gorgeous guy in Hollywood who doesn’t brush his hair more often than you do. Doesn’t tell you to keep out of his better side. Who isn’t jealous and gets your irregular, have-to-stay-at-the-last-minute schedule. Who shares your manic love of baseball and the Pats.

But you’re a little unsure of where this is going. Sure he asked you to move in, but both of his best friends have been missing Chris so much. The frequent long distance trips make it hard. Each time you are together it is as if you are on vacation: a treat, easy and relaxed but it’s also always reset mode. Constantly catching up. Two steps forward and one back. Texting every day is great but it’s hard to properly communicate. Case in point: today, when you made a snap decision without discussing first, without thinking that he’s about to go on tour for weeks.

“Sorry….” you admit in a tiny, plaintive voice. “We do have a week to take him back,” You start to pull away, thinking you’ve overstepped the line.

“Hey…hey, no it’s ok.” Chris grabs your hand to pull you closer. Plants a kiss on the top of your sun-faded Bosox cap. He sighs. “This was a really good idea. I might be crazy but I’ll make an appointment tomorrow for him to see Dr. Beltran.”

“Really?” You sit straight up. Dr. Beltran is Dodger’s veterinarian. He experienced and no-nonsense. A pro. You’ve met him once, taking Dodger in for heart-worm meds

“He can stay? You’re not mad at me?”

“Of course I’m not mad, Y/N.” Chris’s spare hand reaches down to play, as it always does at home, with your long ponytail. Relaxed. Easy. Intimate. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“How can anyone resist this face?” he says, tickling Puppy under the chin. It’s true. The little guy’s face is the sweetest thing—a black nose with a pale dot in the middle, bright dark eyes and the most adorable pink tongue sticking out. You’re lost, the both of you.

Chris offers Puppy a thumb to chew and grins. “I was just surprised. Needed to think it through is all. Next time you decide to add to our world, can you give a guy a little warning?”

“You seemed so tired and I didn’t want to wake you,” you start to explain, but then suddenly his words sink in.

Our world.

“What do you….?”

You stop and take in the pure unfettered delight on Chris’s face. He knows he has surprised you. ‘Our world’ means this is for keeps. Serious. He wants you to be an official couple. It’s overwhelming, and unexpected. Perhaps the constant roadblocks are wearing on him too.

Your heart does a heavy flip, somersaulting with giddy happiness.

Chris smiles, drops a gentle kiss to your lips, holds it until the pup begins to squirm.

“Babe, this last tour, oh fuck, I missed you so so much. London’s great but I couldn’t wait to get back and be with you. Knowing you and Dodge and this little guy are happy and at home, here,—that will mean the world.”

You pull away but not too far, lay your head down upon his shoulder, so choked up you don’t know what to say. Going public seems like a giant step. Your bosses, the Russo brothers, know about it, as do both families and close friends—but they’re sworn to secrecy. Chris is gunshy of the media this time—how Jenny was treated really hurt and he wanted things to grow away from the harsh glare of publicity.

You take a deeper, unsteady breath. This is truly what you want but can you make it work?

Chris, as always in tune to you, gives you a soft quick hug and elects to change the conversation. He stretches, holding one big warm hand under puppy and the other up toward the ceiling. “Man you were right about the tired though. Shit. I am getting old. The flights are getting harder.”

“If you’re old, what does that make me?” you ask. You are almost, not quite, two years ahead.

“Ancient.”

He ducks a tastefully neutral, well-used, toss cushion that flies past his head. Dodger’s head pops up. If pillows are flying and his human is stretching then a game of tag might be just ahead. He gets to his feet, yips excitedly but instead of playtime he gets wobbly curiosity. Chris sets the puppy on the floor. The little guy promptly lunges for a shoe, trips over his own feet and tumbles snout-first into deep grey pile.

You all laugh. Puppy looks up at the sound and you could swear he grins. This new development is surprising but not scary. He sneezes, rights himself again, sits down with a blink and barks.

“Woof!” It is a surprisingly deep sounding voice.

“Ho boy, has he got a set of lungs.” Chris is laughing. Puppy seems very pleased with himself. A few minutes cautious exploration brings him over to the wide back windows. Outside the morning is clouding over. It will keep the heat from climbing and for a miracle it might just rain. Puppy wags his tail and barks at a passing bird. Dodger stands sentinel behind, tail waving slowly, resident expert at communing placidly with the neighbourhood.

Pup looks to him and back. “Boof!” Nope, the new kid on the block isn’t going to get a rise out of Dodger. Birds and bees and butterflies are people, too.

They seem fine to let be left alone for a just minute, so you rise and set about getting organized. A second dish of water goes beside Dodger’s in the kitchen. Pad are laid beside the back door. The new blanket is draped beside Dodger’s wicker basket. You set the ingredients for puppy lunch on the countertop and pull the rudiments of a sandwich from the bursting fridge

From the couch you can hear Chris’s stomach grumble loudly. He may be exhausted but his stomach thinks it’s almost time for English Tea.

“Come on, you never ate,” you say, pulling him up and guiding him over to the kitchen. “Lets get the little guy’s space all set. He’ll need to eat soon and then go out. We can play with him outside and then it will be time for a nap.”

Over by the windows Dodger has brought puppy a bedraggled, one-eared teddy he uses for a friend. They play tug of war, shaking their heads and mock growling at each other, the pup repeatedly losing his grip but bouncing forward to catch a leg again. It’s hilarious and sweet. Big brother playing with the little guy, but just when you think they’ll start another round the little guy plonks down on his butt, opens his jaws wide and yawns. And coughs.

“Hey…”

He’s scooped up into Chris’s big strong arms and nestled against that wide, sleep-inducing chest. A whine turns into another mighty yawn, the baby is getting tired. It’s been a busy day and he isn’t quite over his sickness yet.

You wrap your arms around them both and Chris drops a kiss onto your head. He smells like spice and soap and Dodger and the warm-cinnamon-bun perfection of new puppy smell. Intoxicating.

As you brush your fingers lazily across his back he grins, folds you under his shoulder where you fit the best. There’s a twinkle in his eye. One you’ve missed for two whole weeks.

“How long does a puppy sleep?”

#@theycallmebecca #chris evans x reader #I lost the bet #but this was so much fun #puppies #dodger

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silhouetteofagirl · 7 years

Text

Cat (from a Study in Synonyms)

Or why one needs to be very precise about descriptions to avoid categorical mistakes. Featuring a dog whose name roughly translates to Fartlord.

A humorous explanation as to why a ranger warden gets a bear and a wolf to follow them around. Still team dwarves are not short humans and have tapetum lucidum.

Read on AO3

“You’re rather feline, you know,” Alistair says one night as they are sitting around the campfire.

“I’m rather what?” she shakes her head in confusion.

“Feline? Like, you know, a cat?” Alistair clarifies.

Sigyn gives him a blank stare, her eyes reflecting back the light of the fire. “A what?”

“A cat,” he repeats himself. “You don’t know what a cat is?”

She frowns, her eyes shifting as she tries to remember, but then she shakes her head. “Grew up in Orzammar. Unless cats live in underground caves, no. What is a cat?”

It’s his turn to frown, “Well they are—” how does one explain a cat? “They are like Mabari, but smaller and they have longer tails. They also tend to be much grumpier than mabaris.”

“And that is why I am like a cat?” she asks coolly.

“Oh no, no, no. There I go with my words. It’s your eyes! They glow. Like a cat’s. In the dark.” he finishes awkwardly.

“Oh. I will have to try to meet a cat,” she says and it might just be a trick of the light, Maker knows he doesn’t have as good night vision as her, but Alistair thinks he sees her smile.

Alistair forgets that evening and that conversation entirely until one day he is horribly reminded of it. To be fair, the only person who doesn’t seem to be shocked is Morrigan, even Sigyn’s dog will not stop growling when she tells him to, but they all sit and stare at her unsure of what to say. She looks triumphant about the creature that has followed her back to camp.

“Alistair, I finally found a cat,” she says proudly. There is a long moment of silence.

“That isn’t a cat,” Sten finally says bluntly.

She cocks her head and pets the damn animal behind its ears. He repeats himself at her questioning look, “That isn’t a cat.”

“Alistair said cats have long tails, reflective eyes, and—” she explains.

“Why has it not bitten you?” Leliana interjects.

“He told me cats are grumpy, it tried, but I was patient.”

“Yes, but—” Alistair says and then he finds he has no words. It has all the qualities he had described to her. Its green eyes reflect in the dark much like hers, it has a long tale, and this one is technically smaller than a mabari. Though, this one is very small for what it is.

“That’s a wolf,” Sten says. Morrigan can no longer contain her amusement and lets out a soft chuckle.

Sigyn’s face falls. “Oh, but—” she bites her lip, but her hand is still entangled in its fur. “Ancestors tits, I spent the past three nights—” she sighs.

“Cats are much smaller than mabaris and have shorter fur than a wolf. Though it’s still longer than a mabari’s.” Leliana explains calmly, though she has a hand on her bow in case the wolf decides to bite Sigyn’s hand off. “Really Alistair, some cats don’t even have tales.”

“Next time we are in town, we’ll find you a cat,” Alistair says as Sigyn continues to pet the wolf who seems to have taken a liking to her.

She frowns at the beast and ponders her choices. “What should I do about her?” she asks as the wolf looks up at her, mouth slightly open as it pants, sharp teeth very, very close to Sigyn.

“Let her go?” he suggests.

“Can’t. She won’t be able to the bindings off.”

“Oh Maker’s breath!” he swears. Sure enough, one of the wolf’s hind legs has been carefully wrapped. Red blood has seeped through the bandage and Sigyn has miraculously kept her all remaining fingers. “Sigyn, tell me you didn’t walk up to a wounded wolf and tend to its wounds.”

She lets out a short sigh, “I thought it was a cat.”

“I don’t want to know,” Alistair says, as he pinches his nose.

“I do.” Leliana says with a smile.

“We still have a wolf in our midst,” Sten comments. He stands up and crosses over to Sigyn and the wolf. He doesn’t get far before the wolf starts to growl. Sten pauses, “Curious. It does not seem to be actually tame.”

“She’s grumpy,” Sigyn replies.

“She’s a wild animal,” Alistair retorts. “She should really go back to her pack.”

“Pack?”

“Yes, wolves travel in large groups called packs. We’ve fought them before, I—” He pauses, there’s no point in continuing that thought. Sigyn had made an honest and terrifying mistake. “She should really go back to her pack.”

“Do cats also have packs?” she asks. The wolf is still in their camp.

“No, cats tend to be solitary. A few will travel together at any time. But that is normally when they are kittens and their mother is watching over them.” Morrigan finally speaks. She, at least, seems to have a wealth of patience for, or maybe a lack of fear of, Sigyn’s mistake. Sigyn tilts her head and takes a moment to consider this new information.

Then she nods and smiles, “Anything else I should know about cats?”

“They have sharp claws, not blunt like a mabari,” Leliana says hesitantly.

So they end up with a wolf that hangs near their camp. She comes in handy because she seems to get awfully protective of Sigyn and takes personal offense when she notices Sigyn is being attacked. She’s not a permanent fixture; she comes and goes, but she seems to come around whenever Sigyn whistles. And while the appearance of the wolf makes her whistling a bit less soothing, Alistair can’t deny he find her whistling rather endearing.

However, they completely forgot about finding Sigyn a cat the next time they are in town. They do remember when she returns to camp one night, once again cheerfully carrying a squeaking baby animal that is distinctly not a cat.

“I found a cat!” she reports, echoing her words from a little over two months ago. Zevran lets out a surprised string of curses, Wynne clutches a hand to her heart, Leliana starts looking for her bow, and Alistair can only sit and stare in shock. Sigyn’s face falls immediately at their reactions. “This isn’t a cat.”

“No, that isn’t a cat,” Alistair feels a chuckle start to form in his stomach. It’s certainly smaller than a mabari. It too has eyes that glow in the dark. Its claws are sharp, unlike a mabari’s. And surely this creature would be grumpy. It, however, doesn’t have a tail. The chuckle escapes him and he ends up laughing out loud as he points out the lack of tail.

Sigyn sniffs and hefts the beast up higher onto her chest. Alistair notices a blush start climb up her cheeks. “Leliana said that some cats don’t have tails. And this one would technically be a kitten, seeing it’s a baby.”

Alistair laughs again at that, even though he feels a bit bad about doing so. She’s so earnest in her discovery of the surface world and it's refreshing to see her be open about the fact she is learning.

“Where is its mother?” Leliana asks, locating her bow and inching towards it.

“Dead. I found her fussing over her mother's body.” The bear isn’t struggling against her hold, merely looking around and wiggling in the process.

“Well, at least we won’t have to worry about a full grown bear crashing our camp.” Zevran says wryly, “Let it be known that you, my dear warden, are full of surprises.”

Alistair finally manages to contain his laughter. He asks, “You going to keep her?”

“She’d die,” is the blunt response.

Raising a baby bear takes some doing, but if having a transient wolf is useful, the bear proves invaluable after she grows up a bit. However, Alistair once again forgets to introduce Sigyn to a cat. It ends up not really mattering because in a small town being sieged by darkspawn, Sigyn finally meets a cat… of sorts.

“That’s a cat?” Sigyn asks flatly, pointing to the cat who is sitting and whipping its tail around in unamused.

“It was a cat.” He clarifies, it at least looked mostly like a cat.

“My eyes do not glow like that.” she says, giving him a look.

“That’s the demon,” he says. Kitty sits there, purple eyes glowing in the dark, looking distinctly displeased. “Please don’t try to adopt this one. You already have a mabari, a wolf, and a bear.”

She rolls her eyes, they have had this conversation before. “I have a mabari, the bear and the wolf aren’t mine. They’ve just taken a shine to me and won’t leave.”

“I only want the girl,” the demon, Kitty, cuts across their discussion. Alistair and Sigyn exchange a look and then she glances at Wynne and Morrigan. Wynne nods and Morrigan looks aloof.

“Do as you will, I have no opinion,” Morrigan responds to Sigyn’s silent question. Sigyn smiles and nods.

So they set to freeing the demon so they can free the girl from its clutches. When they take a break from trying to undo the old magics by recreating the circle from the scattered floor tiles, Alistair notices Morrigan is missing. It’s not uncommon for the witch to wander away when she was bored with their proceedings, so he doesn’t think twice about it. Besides, Wynne is more experienced with summoning circles.

It’s only after they have finished fighting the recently released desire demon trapped within the now very dead cat without the assistance of Morrigan that Alistair starts to wonder where she is.

“Where’s Morrigan?” he asks as they walk back through the caves. Sigyn is helping support the shaken girl and leading the way.

“She said the caves were making her antsy,” Wynne says, “I’m sure she’s just getting some fresh air. Don’t worry, she’s a very competent young woman.”

He supposes that is true, but he’s never known her to not like caves. Maker knows Sigyn had found quite a few of them to use as camp sites early on when they had been avoiding soldiers and darkspawn alike. Morrigan had never complained about their hideouts and this was before he and Morrigan had developed a begrudging respect for each other when she was more prone to complain.

He doesn’t have the time to ponder that train of thought because there is a joyous cry from the girl as she sees her father. A tearful reunion, a wealth of thanks, and the payment of the correct dwarva words activate the golem later, they find themselves back in the village green. The air isn’t exactly fresh as many of the building are still smoldering, but there is no Morrigan enjoying the air, regardless of the quality of it. There is, however, a black and white cat sitting on the fence of the green. It is lazily tapping its tail and, while its eyes do not glow like Kitty’s had, there is something uncanny about its eyes.

“Sigyn, there’s a cat.” Alistair gestures. The cat stands up and before Sigyn has time to get a good look, dashes away. “And it’s gone.”

“I’m sure I will meet more cats. I now know what they actually look like,” she says and pats his arm.

“Just no more bears or wolves,” he says hopefully.

“Not intentionally,” she nods. Alistair hears the distinct lack of promise, but before he can press the matter she says, “But shall we get a golem?”

He nods and they turn to face the large figure. “What do you think will happen?”

“They’re dwarva, but your guess is as good as mine.”

It turns out that Shale, golems have names, is more snarky and jaded than anything else. Sigyn takes it in stride though, she has a lot of experience dealing with snarky. He frowns, thinking about snarky, Morrigan is still missing.

Sigyn lets out a soft gasp of surprise and it’s enough to break him out of his thoughts. The cat from before winds itself around her ankles, chirrups, and then, noticing Alistair looking at it, aloofly stalks off. Sigyn turns to him, eyes wide with something close to joy, “Alistair? Does that mean anything?”

“Maybe, but who knows. Cats can be very finicky like—” his heart plummets— “Morrigan.” He sighs and says her name.

“Whatever have I done now?” Morrigan walks towards them from the building the cat had just disappeared behind.

“Are you telling me that wasn’t you?” he asks incredulously.

“I assure you I have no idea what you are talking about,” she says with a smirk.

“The cat! It had your eyes!”

“Ah, but cat’s eyes glow in the dark, do they not. I am lacking glowing eyes unlike one of our party.” Her smirk widens.

“Do they usually quibble?” Shale asks flatly. Sigyn look up at them and nods. “Delightful.”

“You get used to it,” she reassures the golem.

“Right,” they say.

Alistair catches Morrigan alone a few days later, “Why didn’t you just show Sigyn what a cat looked like?”

“Twas not asked and one does not simply do magic to show a woman the form of a cat,” he scoffs at her words and she gives a smile that could almost be described as fond. “Besides, she is quite talented with the wild for being a child of the stone. It would be a disservice not to foster her exploration of the world.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he snips back, though there is no real anger or malice behind his words.

“Then we shall count our many blessings that Sigyn is a dwarf,” he laughs despite himself. Still, her words give him pause. Despite the confusion over what a cat truly was, Sigyn does have a gift.

Later that night as he sits and pets the Lord of Farts, he watches Sigyn go from chatting with Shale to laughing with Leliana and Zevran and it is obvious. She might not know exactly what and who she was always dealing with, but she manages to find strays just like herself and bring them together. Although, hopefully, any new additions will not take the form of large wild animals.

#brosca #alistair #ranger warden #warden brosca #also like if you all want to get a better notion of chronological order of these things check ao3 #my fanfic

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fangirlmomentsandmytwocents · 7 years

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The Wolf of Winterthorne by Tracy Goodwin #FREE

Title: The Wolf of Winterthorne Series: Scandalous Secrets #4 Author: Tracy Goodwin Genre: Adult, Historical Romance Published: August 23, 2016

Logan Ambrose has endured a tortured existence. After learning how to fend for himself at a young age, he eventually amassed power and wealth. His fortune came at an extreme cost, as rising from poverty often does. Branded, he wears his sins on his marred flesh. Each scar represents a past he doesn't wish to remember, the ruthless man he holds at bay, the tortured soul who would do anything to survive. Bruised, battered and bloodied, Arabella Sutton is a woman lost. With no recollection of who she is or what terrors she suffered, she stumbles onto the imposing Winterthorne estate running from those who hunt her, haunted by the memory of her bloodied hands holding a blade and wearing a bracelet monogrammed with the initial S. When she stumbles into Logan’s arms, he recognizes her instantly. She is one of two women he once knew: Arabella or her twin sister, Sybil. One he dared to love years ago, though he now despises them equally. Logan recognizes her bracelet as belonging to Sybil … the last woman he wished to see. While Arabella must overcome the loss of her memories, she is drawn to the brooding and menacing master of Winterthorne who knows much more about her past than he is willing to admit. Meanwhile, Logan is assailed with memories of his lost love while offering protection to the woman he believes to be her vicious twin, the woman who once reveled in making his life miserable, all the while fighting against the strong attraction that pulls him towards his charge and the reminders of Arabella that she rekindles in his hardened heart. As Arabella pieces together her past, scandalous secrets come to light and Logan will stop at nothing to save his beloved from the dangerous machinations of her evil identical twin. Together, Logan and Arabella rekindle a romance they long thought extinguished. Meanwhile, they concoct a grand scheme to unmask Sybil and rescue Arabella from her sister’s misdeeds. Can they protect Arabella from peril and assure their future before it is too late?

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"Every time I read one of Tracy Goodwin's beautifully written novels, her words and unforgettable characters steal a little piece of my heart. Her books are exquisite and totally addictive." --SUSAN DUERDEN, AWARD WINNING FEATURE FILM/TELEVISION ACTRESS AND NARRATOR "Tracy Goodwin is a promising new voice in historical romance." --BARBARA DAWSON SMITH, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR "Tracy Goodwin is definitely an author to look out for. She writes a sensual and clever novel that makes for an enjoyable read." --WW BOOK CLUB BLURBS, PUBLISHER'S WEEKLY, BARBARA VEY BLOG

The Wolf of Winterthorne © Tracy Goodwin 2016 Chapter 1 1851 Northamptonshire, England Her lungs burned as she raced farther into the darkness, the stench of decaying leaves and brush assailing her nostrils until she thought she might retch. Help me … The words wedged in her throat, which was raw from a mixture of sheer panic and dehydration. Had she screamed? Why couldn’t she remember? Her mind was muddled in a murky abyss, helped none by the ominous clouds sheathing the moon, casting foreboding shadows across her path. Recollections she couldn’t decipher haunted her in the form of shapes she couldn’t comprehend and occurrences she couldn’t quite piece together. Swallowing hard, she attempted to speak but, again, no words formed. Panic rose as the ringing in her ears heightened to a shrill crescendo. She struggled to breathe, her corset constricting her airflow, reducing her panting to swift, shallow breaths. Why couldn’t she breathe? Why couldn’t she remember? What did she recall? Being hunted. Yes, men who wished her harm were chasing her. That was her reality. As was the fact that her predators must be close. What if they overheard her trudging through the woods? What if they, too, could hear her ragged lungs as they strained to inhale, though with little success? The possibilities sent her senses reeling. Clutching a low-lying branch, she wrapped her fingers around its rough, spindly bark. Leaning against it, she allowed herself one moment to gather her wits. Swooning in the forest wouldn’t save her life. No, it would hasten her demise. Breathe. She silently instructed herself. Breathe then run. Run for your life. She shoved herself away from the branch and sprinted as fast as she could before stumbling on a protruding root. Pain radiated from her hand as she clumsily righted herself against a large tree trunk. Her palm was wet and sticky, the thick, rugged bark having slashed her skin. Grinding her teeth, she grabbed her skirts then propelled herself farther into obscurity. Do not trip. It was her silent command as she veered across the uneven terrain, hard from the early freeze. Ruts and indentations challenged her at every step as did the thick roots, sturdy and unrelenting, that stretched across the landscape. Stalking her. Like the men who sought to kill her. She could not evade them. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how careful she was. The roots, like those men who chased her, continued to hound her, continued to creep towards her, surrounding her at every turn. Again she tripped, this time landing on her knees with a loud grunt she could no longer suppress. Dear God, it is cold. 3 She wore no cloak. Just a simple muslin gown and skirts. No boots, just slippers. Her toes, which once ached, were now numb. The frigid temperature seeped into her body, into every limb and muscle. Nature appeared to want her dead as much as those in pursuit. Choking back a sob, a puff of air swirled like vapor from her mouth into the icy shadows. The bitter cold and damp night enveloped her. The more she knelt on the ground, the more the frost assailed her body, causing her to sway as she tried desperately to stand. Every joint stiffened, as if frozen in place. Her teeth had begun to chatter as she crawled to the silhouette of what appeared to be a tree trunk. Or perchance a log? The closer she got, the smaller it appeared. White spots blurred her vision as realization set in. She was close to losing consciousness. God, please help me, she prayed in silence. Don’t let them catch me. They will kill me. Managing to stand on shaky legs, she staggered forward. A sharp limb clawed at her face and a wet, sticky substance began a slow decent down her cheek. Blood. Her blood. It trickled into her mouth, the thick, metallic taste causing her to gag. Another root grabbed hold of her foot, causing her ankle to give way as she collapsed against the frozen dirt, entwined branches and bark. This time, no grunt escaped her lips. Instead she lay still, mouth agape. Help me … In addition to a searing pain in her ribcage, her ankle now throbbed as she leaned against her arms until they gave way under her weight. She flopped on her side, the waves of pain crushing against her ribcage, her ankle, her cheek, her every limb. The thought of lying on the frigid ground beneath her, remaining in this very spot, became overwhelmingly tempting. Stay still and die – before they find me. Yes, perhaps she would freeze to death. Perhaps she would simply fall asleep and the pain would cease. But what if she was discovered before the cold spindly fingers of death clung to her? Her heart pumped faster, harder, at the thought of the pain they would inflict. Those faceless men, whose blunt, menacing voices she would recognize until the moment she inhaled her last breath. What had they said? That they wanted her dead … that they would kill her. Yes, they sounded excited at the prospect. That she remembered, along with their many questions. She shivered. Those men demanded answers to so many questions. About a man she did not know, whose name she could not recall. She possessed no answers and that made them more eager to kill her. Clutching her side, she managed to rise and stumble farther into the black abyss of night. Tripping again, her feet becoming more and more entangled as she bumped into tree trunks, unable to keep her bearings. What direction did she come from? Where was she heading? She squinted in an attempt to clear her vision. Her eyes darted, unable to discern her path. A dog barked in the distance, the sound causing her to jump and head in the opposite direction. Though she was now limping, she continued to wobble forward. Don’t look back. 4 Never look back. Wiping her cheek, her blood flowed freely onto her palm. It was a welcome distraction from the pain as she found a clearing up ahead. Though cast in an intimidating gloom, it appeared to be a straight path. Her pace quickened as she hurried forward, one step at a time. Gritting her teeth, she gained momentum by reminding herself of the imminent danger. They are coming for me. They will kill me. Run! Dashing past one tree, then weaving past another, she was almost to the clearing when she ran straight into a solid mass. Strong, firm, he clutched her shoulders as her pulse pommeled against her temples. They caught me! They will kill me. She struggled to free herself. Though the man had a firm grip, it wasn’t the least bit excruciating. Her predators would wish her pain. They would be rough, violent – they would have already blindfolded her as they did once before. Was this man one of them? Searching the stranger’s face, she noted the hard, angular jaw and cheekbones, deep-set onyx eyes and a deadened slash of skin spanning his cheekbone. Even cast in a dark silhouette, the scar was discernable. The stranger clutched her shoulders, studying her with a mixture of concern and … Could it be recognition? “Bella?” he whispered. The voice was unfamiliar – it belonged to no one she had heard tonight, but that didn’t mean that he was not one of her abductors. Perhaps he had remained silent … Or perhaps he was her only hope of safety. Perhaps this man was the difference between life and death. Again, she tried to form the words. Though her mouth remained dry as ash, she refused to relent. After another failed attempt, her voice ignited at last from the cinders. Hoarse and no louder than a whisper, her words were audible nonetheless. “Help me,” she managed before her knees buckled. Collapsing in the stranger’s arms, her eyes blurred as she heard him mutter, “Bloody hell.” His was a low baritone, smooth, even in his present predicament. Drifting in and out of lucidity, she could feel the man lift her in one fluid motion, her head now resting against his chest. Though her eyes refused to open, no matter how hard she attempted the once simple task, she knew that he wore a greatcoat because its buttons pressed against her uninjured cheek. She was certain they left impressions in her flesh. Struggling to open her eyes, her head bobbed to the rhythm of his quick strides. It wasn’t until her head swung backwards that she managed to peer through narrow slits. It was dark, the sky thick with murky clouds. There were too many clouds tonight. Too much darkness. She wished there were stars. She liked the constellations. She missed the comfort they provided. The man whistled and the patter of paws approached from behind. The dog was panting, though the man who carried her proceeded to wherever he was headed with no labored breathing. In fact, it was as if she were nothing more than a flimsy piece of fabric in his hands. 5 This man was physically fit. At least she knew something about him. He was also calm under duress. Now she had unlocked a second clue to her savior’s personality. Though he showed no signs of physical exertion, his timbre was strong, composed. “Adolphus, fetch someone from the house. Run, boy. Bark and get their attention. Go!” His instructions were issued in a quick staccato. This man was familiar with issuing commands. Something in the recesses of her mind suggested she must keep track of these clues and wished she had paper and ink. Though it was an urgent thought, it soon became overpowered by her racing heart and the searing pain slicing through her temple. Dear God, her head hurt. Ensconced in a bleak reality, her eyes drifted shut again. What if her attackers were following her? She opened her mouth to warn her companion but coughed, choking on her blood. “Steady,” he assured her, holding her closer against his chest. “We’re almost home.” Home? Again, she managed to open her eyes, though only slightly. Squinting to right her blurry vision, she managed to discern the menacing outline of a massive estate. The closer they approached, the more sinister it appeared. Eyes watched from the rafters. Whose? She struggled to adjust her vision. Wolves. Yes, wolves were perched on the pediments, carved in the stone of the parapets. Their eyes glowed white, even in the dead of night. Their gaze bore into her soul, following her. Ever watchful. Ever menacing. Could this truly be her safe haven? The profile of a raven perched atop a spindly tree limb grabbed her attention. It cawed, its warning quite clear. Beware. The sleek bird with its foreboding message added to the commanding illusion of the house. Large, made with dark stone, illuminated in a ghostly hue cast by ominous clouds. Where am I? What is this imposing place? She was reminded of an Edgar Allan Poe poem – how could she remember the macabre works of a poet and nothing about herself? Still, remember she did. This world she had entered was filled with the watchful stare of wolves, ravens, and a scarred man whose appearance was perhaps even more daunting than the structure in which he resided. A fine mist began to fall from the overcast skies as her stomach churned, a knot of apprehension coiling in her abdomen. She feared that she had unwittingly stepped into more danger than before. Drifting into unconsciousness, she managed a silent prayer. Dear God, protect me…

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Tracy Goodwin is an international bestselling and award winning author. Throughout a career spanning a decade, she has achieved both traditional and Indie publishing success. Her works include a series of sweeping historical romances fraught with passion, hope, danger, and redemption. In addition, she has penned page turning young adult urban fantasy and paranormal novels. Though the genres may be different, each story delivers her unique blend of poignant emotion, suspense, action, humor, and unforgettable characters that steal readers’ hearts. To receive the latest news and information about upcoming releases, please sign up for Tracy’s newsletter at tracygoodwin.com or join Tracy’s Lantern Ladies Facebook group where you can chat with her and have the opportunity to win exclusive swag.