#i also believe he was relatively 'normal' up until the death note sent a lot of that shit spiralling

[dominote]

i think light yagami is "socially adept" in terms of being able to reason out relatively well what to say and do to come off as a harmless and good and polite young man who is likeable to be around. however i do not think "socially adept" (or "neurotypical") typically comes with having to preface every other normal-passing action and statement with a minor crisis of "ah shit. quick, what would i say/do in response to this if i was light yagami, a normal and nice and respectable young man?"

everyone likes to talk about him talking about kira in third person but can we acknowledge that he also talks about LIGHT in third person. i'm not adding manga panels at 3:57am but y'all know exactly which ones i mean

#light is decent at masking but he is NOT coming off as perfect to anyone who looks at him with a critical eye. like L or near #it's just that a lot of people take him at face value #he's handsome he gets top grades his dad is the police chief his family adores him girls like him etc #and he gets to skate off of that a lot until someone comes around and questions the mask #he unravels so fast once he gets closer to L. he fucks up the misa thing so badly even HE has to admit to L's face #that kira probably didn't think things through with the second kira and kind of panicked #ughhhhhhhhhhh i have so many thoughts about him. he works very hard to come off as socially competent. it's a learned skill not innate #i firmly believe there is some shit going on w light in terms of mental conditions. HOWEVER #i also believe he was relatively 'normal' up until the death note sent a lot of that shit spiralling #lots of mentally ill people live pretty normal lives it turns out! a lot of us can get by and sort of manage! #even if it means masking and coping as needed #i don't think you have to be mentally ill to react to the death note the way light did #i do think it oiled some clockwork that was already ticking though #anyway. light is socially competent to some degree because he tries to be. sometimes it backfires. sometimes he misses. normal stuff #trying to say he is objectively socially adept or inept is futile though #but ig what is death note without black and white thinking and what is the dn fandom without diving into the nuances under the surface layer

[imasimpforshanks]

Heyyyyyy hiiiiii hope your having an awesome day drinking that water getting hydrated 😗. I was wondering if you could do a Law Angst alphabet please. But only if you feel up to it and have time. If you don’t feel free to ignore or do it later here now have a cookie 🍪 because your awesome 😊

Angst Alphabet - Trafalgar Law

a/n: HI HI!!! thank you for your kind words!! I hope you are looking after yourself <333 here is the law angst! Please enjoy 🥰

A-Accident (would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?)

He would only blame himself if any of his actions led to the accident that caused your death (we’ve seen him blame himself for that very reason about Rosinantes death). If his actions weren’t directly correlated to your death in any way then he would not blame himself, though he would kick himself for not being able to help you in time. Other than that, Law is painfully aware of the harsh reality that is life.

B-Break up (How would they break up with you?)

Law would break up with you in a seemingly emotionless way. He’d mask his true feelings, while telling you a whole bunch of excuses why the two of you could no longer be together. He doesn’t believe any of them, but he’s got to do what he’s got to do.

C-Crying (how would they make you cry?)

I feel like I’ve used this one in a few other character alphabets but it really applies to Law too. He would cause you to stress and panic so much over his health and wellbeing. He’s a literal doctor. He should know to take better care of himself, but he just doesn’t seem to care about himself the same way you do. So it isn’t until you’re crying in front of him, spilling your heart out about how concerned you are for his safety that he realizes his health is important to more than just himself.

D-Death (how would they react to your death?)

My god, if Law was to lose another person that he loved, he literally would never want to let himself get close to anyone ever again. Your death would be it for Law. He’d basically be on the verge of giving up himself. What other reason does he have to go on.

E-Emotion (what is one emotion they would try to hide the most and how would they do it?)

He tries to hide every emotion. Law doesn’t like to be too open, out of fear of people using it against him or it simply being too much of a sign of weakness. So, very rarely does he let his emotions show. He also tries to divert attention away from himself in hopes that people won’t focus on him or his emotions for too long.

F-Fight (do you two ever fight? How big are the fights? What do you fight about? Etc.)

This was covered in his fluff alphabet! But here it is again:

Your fights tend to be pretty short lived resulting in forgiveness and apologies from both sides relatively quickly. He really doesn’t like to stay mad at you for too long – he’d much rather have you two on the same page.

Most fights are caused by stress and concerns of health and safety, so Law does a lot of eye rolling and using his title as a ‘doctor’ as justification that he knows what he’s doing so you just need to chill – but like I said these fights are very short lived.

G-Guilt (what is the biggest thing they feel guilty about?)

Law will never forgive himself for Rosinantes death. He will forever feel responsible for his death – it was all his fault. If only he hadn’t given that note to Vergo, then Rosinante would still be alive. He died because of Law’s incompetence (at least that’s what he tells himself).

H-Heartbreak (what would cause them pain in the relationship? How would they deal during a break-up?)

During a break-up Law would act pretty normal. He wouldn’t behave any differently until he’s left alone. Only then would he let himself go and truly feel that heartbreak.

I-Injured (how would they react if you are badly injured?)

Thanks to the doctor in him, Law is able to remain calm. He can keep his composure until he administers whatever treatment necessary. That’s not to say he isn’t worried though. He’s just capable of focusing on the injury right in front of him.

Only once he is certain that you are stable does he (or potentially his crew) go and hunt down the cause of your beating.

J-Jealousy (what do they do if they are jealous?)

When Law does get jealous (which is rarely), he gets quiet. His fists clench a little more, and his frown deepens. He also speaks less than usual (which is already pretty hard to beat). He only gives you short snippy replies until he eventually gets over it.

K-Kill (would they kill for revenge?)

Law would kill for revenge, yes. He literally wanted to kill Doflamingo as revenge for Rosinante. However, it was in Law’s plan that Kaido would be the one to kill Doflamingo (after they fought) – so I believe that is how he’d kill for revenge as well. He would devise a fool proof plan (okay maybe not fool proof, bc if the straw hats are involved who knows what could go wrong).

In short, yes. Law would kill for revenge.

L-Loss (what is their greatest loss?)

This poor man has suffered so much loss in his life that it’s actually really difficult to choose which would be his greatest loss. He lost his entire family as a young boy while also having a shortened lifespan himself. Losing his family, and the realization that he only had a few more years to live, really made him lose his will to live a good remainder of his life. Young Law literally became a pirate.

However, he did meet Rosinante (Corazon) and he gave him another reason to live. Furthermore, Rosinante actively sought out a cure for Law so that he could continue to live a long life. Basically, Rosinante became a father figure/older brother to Law. So, losing him – another ¬person he loved so dearly – would have been beyond devastating.

M-Mistake (what is the worst mistake they ever made with you?)

There was one day where he spent the entire day ignoring you. It was completely unintentional. His mind was swarming with plans and all this other information that has just come in. He got so immersed in it that he didn’t talk to you or tell you what was going on for a whole day.

N-Nightmares (how often do they have them? What are they about? How do they deal with it?)

Nightmares are one of the many reasons Law hardly ever sleeps. He’s haunted by his family’s and Rosinantes deaths. His nightmares get particularly bad around the same time each year (that is, around the time of year that they died). He wakes up trembling and on the verge of tears (but he never lets them fall). Instead of even trying to go back to sleep, he’ll make himself a nice hot cup of coffee and immerse himself in a book or work of some kind – anything to avoid going back to sleep and risking a re-run of that horrible nightmare.

O-Outrage (how and why would they get mad at you?)

Sometimes his exhaustion catches up to him and other times its all the stress building up that finally he snaps and all the emotions are too overwhelming that he just directs it to the nearest outlet, which just so happens to be you.

P-Past (what has happened in your relationship that changed the way you saw each other?)

You walked in on him absolutely breaking down over Rosinante. One evening Law retreated to his room while you and the rest of the crew were eating and drinking. He didn’t think you had noticed him leave, but soon you were following after him. You opened the door and found him breaking down in the middle of the room. You completely forgot that it was the anniversary of Rosinantes death. It was the first time you had seen him this distraught and it broke your heart.

It really cemented into your brain that no matter how tough he may look, he still suffers (probably more so than anyone). But, you were also grateful that you were able to see him like that, as it allowed him to start relying on you a little more.

Q-Quality (what is their most dangerous/toxic quality?)

His inability to openly express his emotions. Sure, now he will share with you how he is feeling, but that is with you and ONLY you. He still insists on keeping everything else bottle away from the rest of the world which is a really unhealthy way to deal with things. It’s not that you dislike being there for him, in fact, you appreciate how trusting he is with you. It’s just, what if there comes a time where you aren’t around and he’s in desperate need of someone to confide in?

R-Rejection (how would they react to you rejecting their confession (or the other way around)).

Law would wait until he was 100% certain you returned his feelings to confess to you. So, if you were to reject his confession he would be really confused for a while. He’d let it go because well, everyone has their own reasons – its not his place to tell you how you feel. All he can do is tell you how he feels and then the rest is up to you.

S-Scars (battle or self-inflicted)

He has no self-inflicted scars, and to my knowledge he has no battle scars either. But, his arm did get cut off and then reattached during the Dressrosa arc, so it actually is likely that there is a remaining scar from that (although I’m not certain).

T-Trust (have they ever broken your trust?)

Nope not at all. In fact, the only instance in which he would possibly break your trust, or lie to you, about is when he went to Punk Hazard and sent his crew to Zou. Some would assume that he wouldn’t tell you his plan out of fear of your safety, but that’s not true. He had to tell you. You taught him to be open and honest, and to trust. So that’s exactly what he did.

U-Urge (how badly do they want to see you after you guys separated?)

Law has gotten so comfortable around you that whenever you aren’t there, he gets unbearably anxious. Your presence is soothing, even if he can’t see you, even if he can only hear your voice echoing throughout the Polar Tang, it’s enough to put his mind at ease. So, if you are separated for a while… oh boy does he want to see you badly.

V-Vicious (what do they do when they lash out on you?)

He tends to yell at you. He tells you to “piss off” and that “you’re only being a nuisance right now”, despite you only wanting to help him.

W-Weak (what makes them feel weak how do they try to avoid it?)

Not being able to control things makes Law feel really weak. Weak may not be the right word, but it definitely makes him feel unprepared. He doesn’t like when things are out of his control and he can’t account for things. Which is usually why he always does extensive research and preparation before constructing a well thought out plan.

X-X-ray (what do they hate and show it most obviously?)

Well, I mean other than his obvious hatred of bread, Law also really hates when he works extremely hard on formulating a plan only for it to be completely thrown out of the window by a reckless straw hat wearing captain and his entire crew. (and somehow everything still ends up working out!!! That is the part that frustrates Law the most HAHAH).

Y-Yearn (what is one thing that they want but can’t have?)

One of the only things he’s ever really wanted was for Doflamingo to be taken down. He’s been partially successful in that sense, seeing as Doflamingo is in prison now. However, he wants more than that. He wants Doflamingo to suffer the same way he has.

Z-Zero (what do they do/say in your dying moments?)

It may seem a little out of character but… I believe Law would be borderline desperate/inconsolable. There would be a lot of clinging on to you, begging you not to leave him like everyone else he’s ever loved. He can’t handle another person leaving him, it’s too much. It’s far too much.

He wouldn’t cry (just yet), but his voice would tremble, and his hands would be shaking. His mind would be racing with all sorts of theories and possible ways he could save you. How could he possibly prevent the inevitable?

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d. water law #angst alphabet #one piece alphabet

[ask-sou-hiyori]

Important Lore!

This post will contain very important details about this blog. It’s highly recommended that newcomers read this in order to understand aspects that will be mentioned throughout the blog!

It may be long since so much has happened and Mod Soup wants the audience to understand as much as they can, but also lore is very tasty so there’s that too.

Everything will be listed underneath the Keep Reading as to not clog up the current events, but will remain pinned and be updated when needed~!

(MAIN: @soupietime )

(Disclaimer: if you've seen and read before I was involved in the Takeover event and all that, please note that the previous Dad Midori stuff is NON-CANON to this blog, it makes me, the mod, quite uncomfortable. thank u and here's a snail 🐌 \^o^/)

(...Catboy Shin event was pretty funny though not gonna lie)

(Added fact: I HAVE NOT PLAYED 3-1B YET-)

(Added ADDED fact: I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED PLAYING 3-1B)

(Keys: MILL / More Information Listed Later)

BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Shin Tsukimi / Sou Hiyori (previously)

Age: 22

Height: 5’5”

Weight: 106 lbs

Sexuality: Bisexual (male leaning)

RELATIONSHIPS

Gin Ibushi (@askgin-ibushi) - Familial love. His only son, officially adopted before the beginning of the “#up the tower” (MILL) HE LOVES HIS EPIC SOOOOOOON.

Sara Chidouin (@ask-chidouin-sara) - Didn’t pay much mind at first due to lack of trust, but soon developed a protective nature towards the girl. Adoption material?

Sou Hiyori/Midori/Spark (@ask-sou-midori) - Unaware of his new name (Spark). He has heavily conflicting feelings due to the effects of “#event: blended” (MILL) but currently does not forgive him for his actions due to the amount of trauma caused to both him and his family. He’s afraid of this man, yet misses him greatly. Seeing him brings him immense pain, but also a strange comfort. He is unaware whenever he relapses with Hiyori.

Zinnia (@askgin-ibushi) - Strong security guard lady… kind and protective. Good for comfort and cuddling. Soft.

Leidora Margarati (@askgin-ibushi) - Resident Doctor. Helped Shin realize that Midori/Spark gave him severe brain damage with the “blending” and everything in his blended life was a lie. Shin is grateful for her in telling him the truth, but as a result Shin has many conflicting feelings about everything and himself, plenty of migraines and headaches to go along with it all. Leidora is the one helping Shin heal from the severe trauma caused.

Shin Tsukimi (literally me) - ……

(There are various other blogs out there, but Shin has not made much of a relationship with them yet. These blogs are who Shin has interacted with relatively a lot and thus formed relationships and thoughts about them)

CHARACTER CONNECTIONS

Every character from these blogs are from their own YTTD universe. Through the power of Tumblr and ask blogs, a rift was torn and brought these characters together.

Though… Gin and Midori/Spark have been known to be from the same universe.

Revealed during “#hospital arc”, Shin is from Gin and Midori’s universe as well. It’s been believed he perished due to an act to save Kanna in the second main game, and then killed after an escape attempt. However, that was proved false after a conversation between Shin and Spark, Shin showing him his abundance of gunshot scars from how he was “killed” in the second main game, Spark immediately recognized the scars, and thus… the reveal has been made. Gin is aware of this fact as well after Shin returned to the hospital, the two now closer than ever.

There had been a Sara in the three's universe. Gin had taken his own Sara with his sacrifice win, but she had eventually offed herself, leaving Gin as the only survivor before finding out that Shin survived as well.

Kanna is a sister to Shin. Shin is a brother to Kanna.

Gin and Shin are family :) Father and son

EVENTS

(NOTE: If you are going to read through the tags of the events, MAKE SURE to read through the notes of any interactions, as very important parts of the events are played out through interactions between the blogs. It’s not only through the asks of the audience. Plus it's easier than scrolling through to find every single interaction reblog)

#event: takeover (@askgin-ibushi)

The event that brought us together

Part 1 synopsis

Part 2 synopsis

You may read these synopses on the event in the links above, or you may read through the whole tag on Gin’s blog :D

#event: blended

(TW: mental manipulation and toxic relationships)

After the events of Takeover, Shin was found by Gin in… well, Gin’s room. Midori manipulated Shin before getting chased away and told Shin to stay in the room until he came back. Obviously, Midori did not come back. Shin only left the house after getting a few answers from Gin (who came up to his room shortly after Takeover) about what happened, and Gin falling asleep. Snzz.

Soon after, Shin gets a call from Midori again, and… surprise surprise… Midori manipulated Shin once again and got the man to follow him into a warehouse, putting a machine (that was similar to the one Midori put on Gin previously) onto Shin’s head despite the man’s loud and frantic protests, “blending” his brain and turning him into his own “perfect Shin”, which was a Shin that absolutely loved and adored the man, doing anything he would tell him.

Midori, using Shin’s totally real love and adoration to his advantage, sent him to Gin with the intent to lure and kidnap him. After all… Gin was part of Shin’s “family”, it would be wrong to just leave him alone… While Shin had a “family” mindset, Midori wanted to kidnap the kid solely due to the fact that Gin was the “winner” of their death game via sacrifice. Midori had the job of collecting the winner and making them join Asunaro. Shin and Midori’s plan succeeded, the two kidnapping both Gin and Hinako (she was there too with Gin. Asuga was also there but she was knocked tf out so yeah).

After kidnapping Gin, Midori had blended him as well, finally creating their “perfect little family”.

...All was going “well” until Gin decided to fight Midori to protect Hinako. That soon resulted in Gin getting stabbed by Midori, and Midori’s head getting bashed onto the ground. Due to the blunt force trauma, Midori developed something similar to a conscience, now realizing what wrong he’s done and a will to assist Shin after seeing him panic over a bleeding out Gin.

They eventually arrive to a hospital, Gin getting the treatment he deserves, Shin getting observed by Leidora and figuring out what Midori has done to Shin’s brain, Sara getting blended as well, but only to erase her memories, and Midori leaving after Shin confronted the man about what Leidora has told him. Midori finally leaves Shin’s life…

...Or does he?

#up the tower

(TW: suicide attempt)

Days after entering the hospital, Shin constantly has headaches and conflicting feelings about everything he’s ever known. He thinks about what was fabricated, and what’s real. At times, he even has trouble differentiating the two. Shin’s blending had made him basically addicted to Midori like a drug. With the lack of Midori around because of Leidora’s advice, Shin goes into a withdrawal over the man, and soon develops hallucinations over him. The hallucination is tame, but starts leading Shin out of the room, making him follow him all the way up to the roof, ignoring those who stand in his way.

In reality, the hallucination had only left the room, disappearing right after. It was Shin himself who had decided to make his way to the roof. Before he had left the room, Shin was on a call with Midori… Midori found out about the hallucinations and took that as Shin missing him dearly, his “error” fixing temporarily and the man driving over to come collect Shin. When Shin mentioned over the phone about walking “up the tower” to wait for Midori, then jumping off to land in his arms in a false fantasy, Midori’s error picked up again and panicked, now rushing to the hospital.

Once reaching the top, followed by Sara and Leidora, Shin stood over the edge, remaining there as the others spoke to him, trying to convince him not to jump. Shin revealed he's been having so many problems with himself: He's weak, he's awful, he's a horrible parent, he could've prevented all of this, and various other bad thoughts about himself, and then the constant pain he's felt since the blending, which has only gotten worse overtime, was the breaking point for him, he just couldn't handle it anymore. The pain was unbearable.

It had only calmed down once Gin made his way to the roof, bleeding due to opening his injuries up again while walking up to the roof after anons told him about the situation. The moment Shin took notice of Gin and heard his voice, he realized why he's still here. It would make him even more of an awful person to jump and leave him alone once again. Soon enough, Shin staggered off the edge of the roof and embraced Gin.

This arc ended with Shin, Gin, Sara, and Leidora going back into the hospital. Midori had been watching this entire time, the sight of Shin's suicide attempt making him leave once more, realizing it was his fault that the attempt even occurred.

#hospital arc

Several months had gone by since Gin, Sara, and Shin had entered the hospital. Gin's being cared for his injury while it scars up, Sara is there due to her blending, and Shin is mainly there on a close watch due to his suicide attempt, while also there healing from his blending.

Shin relapses, and escapes the hospital to go see Midori again, breaking his room's window and hopping out and landing on mattresses that an anon laid out during "#up the tower". The whole hospital is in a panic at his disappearance, especially since Shin was in the mental ward.

Shin goes to Midori's place, and all seems normal until Midori figures out Shin broke out to see him again. Midori wants to take him back, but Shin asks for Dunkin Donuts first, something to eat since the man hasn't been eating right since the hospital. They get their food, and thanks to an employee commenting about the two being "lovers", Midori quickly pays and drives away as fast as he could, ending up in the woods. The two lay down on the ground for a while and have a few talks. Only when some anons give Shin steps on how to run away, Midori brings Shin back into the car and starts driving back to the hospital.

...They don't get that far, as some teasing occurs and Midori's "error" fixes itself for a brief moment, and harasses Shin. Shin eventually kicks the man in the nuts which led to Midori threatening not to take Shin back. Shin, of course, freaks out.

Eventually the error returns, and only with a few words of encouragement from Shin does Midori start driving Shin back. Once they arrive, Midori gives Shin a piggyback ride since the man's body is in immense pain. Once they get close enough to the hospital, Shin gives Midori a goodbye hug and a thank you for being relatively good, and finally returns to the hospital.

Shin had reached the hospital, but his legs had quickly given out, causing him to fall face first onto the ground. A security guard, Zinnia, was the first to find him and carry him back into the hospital, where they were met with an upset Leidora, demanding that Shin speak about his whole breakout. Shin... couldn't speak, he was too tired and absolutely exhausted. After Zinnia managed to temporarily make the doctor leave, she brought him back to his new room (no windows this time) and let him rest.

Soon, Gin had peeked into the room, both him and Shin glad to see each other again. They had a comforting moment before Shin decided to talk to Gin about what happened during their game. Gin, still thinking he's the only survivor, asked Shin about his own game. Eventually, Shin revealed to the boy that he was not the only survivor after all. When Shin showed Gin his gunshot scars, Gin finally realized his dad was his own Shin all this time, and soon ran out of the room in a panic, in despair over the fact that he had "killed" Shin's Kanna, whom was a little sister to Shin, because of his sacrifice win, even though Shin nearly died in order to protect her. Shin's act to protect Kanna was futile.

Zinnia to the rescue! She caught the young boy in her arms, as well as Shin, who had been chasing after Gin. She brought the two back into Shin's room and told them to talk it out like normal people. And so.. they did. It ended well, and now the two are sleeping so soundly together in each others embrace like father and son. Zinnia sits with the two, watching over them to protect them. Snzz.

#event: shin ai

//ONGOING EVENT//

After returning Shin back to the hospital, Midori had a mini breakdown over the situation. In order to attempt to cope, he went back home and brought out something he found in his closet before… a monitor. After hours and hours of trying to fix it back up, it finally worked, and what appeared on the screen was an AI. An AI of Shin, in fact. At first it was incredibly awkward and highly uncomfortable for the AI, since all Midori did was stare at him. But after asking question after question, Midori finally spoke to the AI.

The two conversed and became friends! More "interaction points" were programmed into the AI, per AI's request, and all was chill until an anon started trying to tell the AI what Midori has done in the past. Shin AI knew the man had did bad things, he's lived through so much of that before he had shut down for a long time. But… Midori caught on and finally told the AI what he's done. The AI was mortified at the blending and kidnapping and the like, but had grown some sympathy towards the man. After all, the AI knew about Midori's "error", and how he wanted to change, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to.

The AI kept on reassuring Midori, supporting him the best he can from now on. To pull him away from being Sou Hiyori and allow more room for change, the AI even gave him a new name… Spark.

Spark intended for his gay thoughts to lessen after turning the AI back on but y'know. That only caused him more gay thoughts.

Not too long after… the AI received an email, glimpses of Sou Hiyori flashing every so often on the email, as well as text telling the AI that He'll see him soon. The AI is panicking… but what more could he do about it?

//To be updated soon//

APPEARANCES

Start of the blog

After "#event: blended"

Festival event :) (#event: festival)

"#hospital arc"

(I do not have a sprite made just yet, however, he's wearing an oversized hospital gown with small shorts underneath, as well as the scarf he always wears. There are some eyebags under his eyes, and his eyes themselves still has remnants of the swirls, caused by the blending)

"#event: shin ai"

(Disclaimer: All art/edits shown in this post belong to me)

#ask blog #shin tsukimi #masterpost #important #long post #yttd #sou hiyori #your turn to die #synopsis #...long synopsis #soup SPEAKS #to be continued #will update #soup art #edit #sprite edit

[chocochar]

ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ? | ᴅᴀʙɪ/ᴛᴏᴜʏᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1: ʙᴀᴄᴋ ʜᴏᴍᴇ

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Valentine’s Special | Part 6: TBA

(AN: feel free to skip this first part of the AN, slight spoilers for the story ahead!: Okay so before we start some quick notes: 

Reader and Dabi are 25 presently, Dabi is the eldest sibling with the others being their canon ages.

(I’m mentioning this next part here because I couldn’t figure out how to add it to the title eue) Reader and Touya went to school together since their first year of middle school.

She had gotten pregnant at around 15 with Touya’s baby (this all gets explained!) but given this follows the Touya theory he ‘died’ so she’s a single mom.

I was sorta iffy posting this fic, because I wasn’t sure if it would get any attention, but I’m also excited to do it so... Here you go? lol

Reader’s quirk: Mirror: The ability to make a large force field spanning up to 30 feet or smaller force fields to protect people within it/them. When projectiles hit the fields they are deflected, when non ranged attacks hit them they bounce off. )

[F/n’s POV]

        It’s been 10 years already, since I last saw Touya Todoroki. Even now it feels like almost yesterday his ashes were found in his room at the Todoroki house. I still remember Fuyumi calling me in tears, sobbing nearly to the point she was inaudible and she had to repeat herself more than once. I was 15, pregnant, and finding out my boyfriend for a little over a year had cremated himself, I went into shock before I broke down. My mom was there fortunately, and held me as I shook with sobs.

        “I didn’t even tell him, mom!” I remember screaming over and over until my voice gave out. It was a bad dream, it had to be right? I hoped that every night for a year that I’d wake up to a call from him telling me to get up, that he was outside my house waiting to walk to school.

        But the calls never came, I only saw and talked to Fuyumi and later Natsuo after that; like me they seemed so numb, after all their mom had been sent to a hospital shortly before, their little brother was a complete stranger thanks to their father, and then Touya was gone… I was there for them as much as I could; my mom shortly after Touya’s death moved us a few cities away too, resulting in me changing schools to attend a normal high school. UA became a far away dream along with my future as a hero; this baby became most important to me, it was going to be the last connection I would have to Touya.

        After Kaoru was born it became hard to focus on school and homework, but I pushed through, my mom and older sister Rina helping me with him along the way, and soon enough I was graduated and working towards a career in the police force. Becoming a hero then… It stayed a faraway dream, plus I still wanted to help people.

        “Are you sure about this? Rina and I have already said-”

        “Mom,” I stopped her, smiling while I fed a then 3 year old Karou,”It’ll be fine, plus my quirk will help with hostage situations and raids no matter what. I’ll be a hero in a way still even if it isn’t a pro.”

        Even with my words and smile I don’t think she believed me, but she helped me either way. She was a single mom young, raising Rina and me by herself, so she understood.

        I eventually told Natsuo first about Kaoru and let them meet so long as this big news was kept from his father. Fuyumi was next, and while she tried to convince me to let Kaoru meet his grandfather (if you can even call him that, much less a father) I told her I wasn’t comfortable with it. Especially when Kaoru’s quirk came in: My force fields along with his father’s powerful fire? Not an easy combo when your son wants to try out his new powers. Last to meet him was Rei, and surprisingly Shouto who was visiting his mom, last month; Karou by this point was 10, and while I was surprised to see Shouto so grown up from the pictures I saw (and feeling bad it took so long to bring Kaoru to finally meet his other grandma) they were even more shocked by the little redhead clinging to my leg.

        Kaoru… Looks just like a mini version of his dad: messy, wild red hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin (with a slight mix of my (skin color)), just like Touya. The only thing resembling me is the streak of (hair color) in one of his bangs. Rina and Natsuo have taken part in jokingly calling him ‘Chibi’ but it doesn’t seem to bother him much; he’s a calm little guy, a lot like his dad in personality too although he gets his brains from me.~

        Now 25 I’m a police officer, working mainly on tracking cases and hostage situations. Kaoru and I moved back to Musutafu two weeks ago due to me transferring to the station there; with his problems handling his quirk I was hesitant but it made it easier for him to see his other family and I’ve considered asking Shouto if he or one of his friends can help his nephew learn to conquer this power.

        Things seem… Okay. But moving back I can’t help but get this feeling something will change. I just can’t place my finger on it.

[X][X][X]

        “Alright, Kaoru, do you have your bag?”

        “Yes mom.”

        “All your books inside? Did you double check?”

        “Yes mom.”

        Smiling I hand Kaoru his bento to also slip into his bag after I tuck mine into my own. 

        “Good, I made some yummy stuff this morning, there’s some extra so if Hari-chan wants to try any of it you should share a little,” I tell him while slinging my bag over my shoulder. I watch his cheeks turn pink at the mention of his best friend/crush and bite my lip so I don’t giggle. So cute.~

        The two of us leave the apartment and start walking to the stairs, the morning peaceful at least as we head down the steps and start on our way. People pass the two of us as we weave our way through the crowds, people going to their jobs or schools just like Kaoru and me; it’s silent between us, although Kaoru doesn’t talk much normally but Natsuo has been trying to get him out of his shell. 

        “What do you want for dinner tonight?” I ask him, glancing down while we wait to cross the street. He shrugs, meeting my eyes.

        “I don’t really mind anything, I guess oyakodon?” He replies, the crossing light changing and the two of us following the crowd.

        “Oh that sounds delicious! Alright then, I’ll pick you up from Hari-chan’s house after I get off work and we’ll head to the store to get anything we need, okay?” I tell him, Kaoru nodding while the breeze blows through his crimson locks. Looking down at him I sigh, patting his head feeling his hair. “I keep telling you to brush it, Kao,” I smile, the little guy tilting his head away from my hand and scratching the back of it.

        “Natsu-oji said it looks cool, he said it’s how dad started to do his…”

        I go stiff immediately, remembering him again. My eyes watch ahead as my brain swirls with memories I had pushed to the back of my mind a while ago; I keep him in my thoughts of course, it just is painful to regularly remember Touya. Kaoru looks more and more like him as he gets older, from his messy crimson locks to the way he smiles, which makes me both happy and a bit depressed. He never got to see him, he’ll never get to see him grow… My chest tightens thinking about this.

        “Mom?” I stop abruptly and meet my son’s eyes, surprised and coming out of my stupor. He’s pointing to the left at another crosswalk and says,”We need to go this way.” I glance at the street sign realizing I was about to pass where we need to go while so lost in thought. Shaking my head I step next to him and wait, my mind steadily repressing those feelings and thoughts. Kaoru seems to have noticed my shift in mood as I feel his smaller hand take mine and hold it, my (eye color) eyes peering down in surprise. He doesn’t meet mine but I can tell he’s trying to comfort me as best he can while we’re waiting and giving his hand a squeeze we begin to cross when the light changes. 

        We reach his school first and kissing his forehead goodbye (much to his embarrassment) I wave as I hurry off to work.

[X][X][X]

        “Heyyy (F/n),” a voice that makes me inwardly groan speaks up. I stop what I’m typing to look up at Nanaka-san, another officer who’s only been here a few months more than me. He’s younger and seems to know what he’s doing, his quirk giving him the ability to suck in gases and fumes and use them to his own advantage, but he also, from what I’ve seen and heard, has done a few shady deals in the past. I try to steer clear of doing anything more than talking to him while at work. He grins down at me and turning in my chair to face him, he continues,”We’re all goin’ out drinking after work today, you free to join us?” ‘He knows I’m not…’ I think, rubbing my neck and shaking my head.

        “Nanaka, I told you not to ask,” Ira-senpai says, coming over as well. “(L/n)-san has a kid, remember?” 

        Nanaka, while trying not to show it, I can see he’s annoyed she even came over, replying,”Well he has other relatives, right? Can’t they pick him up and watch him?”

        “They work and stuff so I try not to bother them. Maybe another time, okay?” I smile, hoping he gets the hint this time. Fortunately he sighs, shrugging and going off to talk to another coworker. A sigh I didn’t realize I was holding releases while I sit back. “Ira-senpai, thank you. I can’t seem to get him to understand,” I tell her, the older woman’s arms crossed and a chuckle escaping her lips.

        “Just ignore him or let his words go in one ear and out the other, alright, (L/n)-san? He set his sights on you the moment you entered the office but as long as you deflect his advances he’ll move on,” she replies, patting my shoulder. “Tell Kaoru-chan I said ‘hi’ alright? I have to go check out some things on the League of Villains case.” With that she heads off to her desk and I watch her go before turning back to my work. The League of Villains… I too have also been looking into them but given my being new they’ve kept me a lot out of the loop. I only really know their names and appearances and the like, pulling them up in the database I glance over the information that’s accessible to me and read through them.

        ‘They’re kind of like boogeymen,’ I think, getting a look at the photos we do have of them. ‘Powerful yet elusive, they give nightmares to parents and children alike, and people are starting to wonder if they’ll be caught…’ I reach one specific person of interest who stands out: Dabi. His name, ‘cremation’, most likely derived from his quirk which… Uses bright blue flames allegedly powerful enough to cremate. The rest, for the most part, have their true names as well as their villain names but no one seems to know who he is. No crimes beyond the work with the league, no age but appears to be early to mid 20’s, no image but a description of black hair, messy, blue eyes, and scars lining his body along with staples seeming to keep his skin in tact maybe? After reading all of this I decide to check out any articles pertaining to the League, but all I find are mostly discussing ‘Tomura Shigaraki’, the attacks on the UA students, their involvement in the Shie Hassaikai situation, and All Might’s retirement. 

        I do find some murder cases where the victims were burned alive, including the hero Snatch, but they’re unsolved and there’s no suspect yet. Still, I keep it bookmarked for later.

        Standing I sigh as I pop my back. Sitting for most of the day can really take a toll on your body sometimes, especially when you’re used to going on missions regularly. Seeing I have about an hour left before I can head home I go grab some coffee before jumping back into filing case notes. I get halfway to the break room when my cell phone starts ringing and furrowing my brows I see it’s Hari’s mom calling me, which is a bit odd given she knows what time I’m off.

        “Hello?” I answer, pressing it up to my ear.

        “Oh (L/n)-san, thank goodness you answered!! It’s Kaoru, he’s having trouble controlling his quirk again!” Her voice is panicked and my eyes widen.

        Ever since his quirk came in he’s struggled to control it, and hearing Hari yelling trying to calm him down in the background I say,”I’ll be over soon!” I hang up and hurry to my boss’s office, knocking on the chief’s door. He luckily isn’t busy as I almost barge in and I’m guessing he can read my expression as he immediately looks worried. “Sir, am I okay to leave early? I hate to ask, b-but my son is in trouble!”

        Luckily he understands, this isn’t the first time Kaoru has had this problem since we moved here, but he replies,”Yes, you’re fine to leave now. But (L/n)... You might want to find a way to help him control it, before something happens.” The way he says it I look away and slowly nod, knowing better than to reply in case I say something I shouldn’t. Shutting the door I rush to my desk and grab my bag, logging off my computer, then running out of the station going as fast as I can to Hari’s house.

        When I get there it seems like things are under control again but I clearly see the damage; not only is Kaoru burned on his fingertips and hands but a wide circle of dead grass sit in their yard. Hari and her mom are rubbing his back when I arrive, all three on the front steps of their house and looking up when I'm jogging up to them. My son looks terrified, hiding his hands and having trouble meeting my eyes. 

        “... I’m sorry, mom,” he mumbles, the crack in his voice leaving a tightness in my chest. I quickly lean down and pull him into a hug, rubbing his back.

        “It’s okay, Kao, go get your stuff okay?” I tell him pulling back and getting him to look at me. He nods and turns, going inside to grab his things while I step back and run my fingers through my (hair color) locks. “Tsuachi-san, I’m sorry.”

        “Don’t worry, (L/n)-san,” Hari’s mom smiles sympathetically. “We’ll get the yard taken care of, I’m more concerned with Kaoru but he wouldn’t let me bandage him up.” I sigh, glancing at the ring again, knowing there’s nothing I can do but still trying to think of a way to fix that. “But (L/n)-san, I’m worried for when he’s at school,” she continues, and turning back to her I’m confused for a second. “Has he gotten any sort of training or something to help him learn to control it? I hear many kids struggle so have you thought about getting him maybe help from his dad’s side of the family.”

        “Of course, I’ve talked to his uncle about it, but he’s just in high school… He said he’d help him when he has the time, but lately he hasn’t…” I trail off, crossing my arms and looking down as I start to get lost in thought. Maybe I’ll go visit Shouto again or text him, see if he has any availability or if a friend of his is willing to help. His friend Midoriya offered too when I was talking to their group, maybe I can go talk to him too. I blink out of my thoughts and look up to see Kaoru is saying goodbye before facing me. He’s still having trouble looking at me, and I ruffle his hair as we start walking away, saying goodbye.

[X][X][X]

        The walk home is silent, people passing us and the streets not as busy since many people seem to still be at work. I glance at Kaoru a few times, not knowing what to say while he trails a step or two behind me still looking upset about earlier but trying to hide it. I rub my neck in thought, looking up at the sky and humming.

        “So how was school?” I ask, looking at him again.

        “It was okay,” he mumbles. I nod, and again the awkward quiet settles.

        “Did you like your lunch?”

        “Yeah.”

        “Kaoru, you know… Hari and her mom weren’t mad at you,” I say, deciding talking about earlier can’t be avoided. I catch the way his brows furrow and continue,”They’re just worried.”

        “I can’t help it mom,” he says back, making me go quiet as he finally starts to say more than a couple of words. He looks at his hands as he continues,”I-I keep trying, and trying, b-but it’s so hard, I don’t want to hurt anybody, a-and I’m scared…!” His voice cracks again and I can tell he’s trying to stop himself from crying. My brows furrow and I pet his hair, giving a soft smile.

        “Kaoru-” I go quiet when my phone buzzes and I pull it out, checking it while I keep walking. I hear my son stop in his tracks a few feet behind me.

        “A-are you really going to ask Shouto-oji to help me?” he asks. I halt too and look back at him, nodding.

        “Yep, in fact he just text me back,” I let him know, looking at my phone again. Luckily it looks like Shouto may be available this weekend so I start texting him back, telling him thanks and letting him know what times I’m open to meet and ask where he’d like us to go to do the training. “Uncle Shouto said he can probably do some training with you this weekend, what do you… think…” 

        My voice trails when I look back at Kaoru; he’s standing next to an alley between two shops and staring up at something. While that is already a bit alarming the expression on his face is what I notice the most. His blue eyes are wide and while he does look stiff he doesn’t look all that scared, more like he’s looking at something that’s left him frozen in place and curious. My brows furrow, my motherly instincts kicking in immediately as I start to come back over, asking,”Kaoru…?” But he blinks and looks at me suddenly, replying,”O-Oh really? I miss Sh-Shouto-oji, his ice is fun to slide on…”

        I don’t say anything for a moment and move in front of him, peering into the dark alley, hands ready to use my quirk if needed, and looking around. Notably I see the black marks almost like a fire had recently burned here, but other than that nothing. I’m confused, my eyes scanning over everything for any movement but again, nothing. That doesn’t stop me from taking Kaoru’s hand and saying,”Yeah… I’m sure he misses you too, honey…” I pull him away from the alley, wanting to hurry home.

        I don’t know what it was, but even if I couldn’t see anything in that alley… I could feel us being watched. I just hope my gut feeling earlier about moving back isn’t a bad sign.

(AN: Part 2 is already halfway done (Dabi comes in too!) so if this does well I’ll post that too. I have a looooot of ideas for this, and WARNING it is going to follow canon like.... Only a little. Like mentions to activities going on in the universe will happen but given this is about Dabi/Touya, (F/n), and Kaoru it’s obviously gonna stray from canon lol 

Anyways I hope you guys enjoy! Let me know if you wanna see more, maybe?)

#dabi x reader #mha dabi #dabi is a todoroki #dabi is touya #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #non canon #bnha dabi #dad dabi

[tired-fandom-ndn]

I love all your thoughts on Hazbin! Would you mind sharing some of your headcanons on everyone's favorite disaster deer?

Honestly, my headcanons mostly fit everyone else’s so far but here they are!

His kill count was. Really fucking high. Even he doesn’t know how many people he killed when he was alive because they didn’t matter to him; they were just meat. A slaughterhouse worker doesn’t count how many cattle they kill, and a cannibalistic serial killer doesn’t count how many people he kills.

He didn’t keep trophies from his kills unless you count the meat. Like a traditional hunter, he used every part. He ate the meat and any organs he could, fed “unwanted” organs to the wildlife, made tallow from the fat, turned blood and bones into fertilizer for his garden, and burned things like hair. He was a very efficient killer.

On a similar note, along with hunting and cooking, he also liked to garden! His azaleas were the loveliest in town.

He worked in New Orleans, but lived in the rural parts near the bayou. He liked the isolation and privacy, and the house was inherited from his mother.

He’s white on his dad’s side but black and Choctaw on his mother’s. He never knew his dad, but adored his mother and was very close to her; she’s the one who taught him how to hunt, garden, and cook. She also did her best to pass on Choctaw traditions to him, like traditional hunting practices and beadwork, but that was a hard and scary thing to do back then. He was mostly white-passing and that saved him from a hell of a lot of trouble.

(If anyone gets upset at me for headcanoning a cannibal as Native, fucking fight me. I’m allowed to see myself in my favorite characters, even if they’re ~problematic~)

He’s a big ol’ mama’s boy. He and Angel definitely bond over that. His mom isn’t in Hell though, and part of him broke a bit when he found out about that, even though the rest of him was happy that she wasn’t suffering there.

Deer are his favorite animals! A lot of people thought that that’s funny because he liked hunting them, but he found it to be the highest sign of respect, to kill something, then eat and display it in his home.

(That’s one of the reasons why he didn’t keep trophies from his victims. He didn’t care enough about them to keep anything, and definitely not enough to display those things. The humans he killed were lower than any other animal in his eyes, and most of that disdain was from how easy they were to hunt; they came to him instead of him tracking them, and it genuinely disgusted him.)

He wasn’t a virgin when he died, but he never married and never had any serious relationships. When he thinks about it, he finds it funny that he didn’t actually fall in love until he was literally dead.

He figured out that he found sex disgusting pretty quickly, and didn’t think much about his sexuality beyond that. He’s biromantic though.

He’s touch-averse, like I’ve mentioned before, and is really only comfortable with being touched by Angel, Rosie, and sometimes Mimzy.

He’s slightly sex-repulsed, but that’s mostly because he’s a neat freak and thinks that sex is incredibly unsanitary. Otherwise, he’s mostly just neutral about it and doesn’t care much either way.

He doesn’t like modern technology but isn’t ignorant about it. He’s a firm believer in being prepared, and so he’s made sure to stay in touch with changes in Hell. Vox and the other modern overlords underestimate him, and that’s going to be their downfall.

He and Mimzy knew each other when they were alive, and she knew about his special little hobby. She took that secret to the grave, but part of her resents him for it because she thinks it’s why she was sent to Hell.

He still hunts a lot in Hell, but doesn’t broadcast his hunts very often. His ~special~ broadcasts are his extreme massacres or torture sessions, and that sort of activity tends to fuck up the meat too much for him to eat it.

He teaches Angel how to butcher demons (and sometimes humans, the I.M.P team owes him some favors) and they both find it a very relaxing bonding activity, especially afterward when Alastor helps Angel wash the blood out of his fur. They both love to cook and they’re damned good at it too.

He can sorta control the laugh track and other sound effects in the sense that if he’s putting a conscious effort into it, he can stop them entirely. The rest of the time though, they’re 100% based on his mood.

His voice in Hell is mostly permanent; the only time it sounds relatively “normal” is when he’s singing, and that’s because the music is obviously the most important part of any broadcast.

He wants more radio towers in Hell, but doesn’t care about actively going after any overlords for the space. He’s this 👌 fucking close to killing Vox though. That guy just pisses him off.

His station is mostly music from his time period (1900s-1930s), but sometimes he branches out. He really enjoys the darker music of the 50s and 60s, the songs with a heavy focus on death and impending nuclear war and all that. Sometimes he plays Tic Tic Tic by Doris Day when he knows Angel is listening, a sweet little love note that only they’ll understand.

He loves “providing” for Angel in literally any way he can. Angel’s bedroom and wardrobe are filled to the brim with fur from Alastor’s hunts; his favorite piece is a white fur stole made from a fox demon they killed together, and he wears it when they go out dancing.

He has a great sense of humor but doesn’t understand memes at all. Angel, who is way more in touch with modern things like that, fucking loves it and likes to mess with him using memes.

Edit: I can’t believe I forgot this but he absolutely knows about the “can I speak to your manager” meme because every up-to-date demon jokes about him with it and he had to figure out what was so funny. He’s started developing a twitch from it.

And that’s all I have for now. Hope some people enjoy these!

#hazbin alastor #radiodust #hazbin hotel #Anonymous

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 13: Forward

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Thirteen: Forward

Notes: Sorry this one was a little late! I had company over, and we were having such a good time that I forgot to upload the chapter! My bad!

(-~-)

Time seemed to flow a little differently in the quiet chaos of the hospital’s intensive care wing. Drifting in and out of consciousness lent him a skewed sense of what was actually going on around him and, as such, he didn’t truly understand the gravity of the situation that he found himself in. And in a way, there was a part of him that was eternally grateful for that, because he could only scarcely imagine the horrors that must be occurring within his vicinity if the sounds were anything to go by.

All around him, the sounds of machinery humming and people shouting and yelling over one another filled the stagnant air, most not taking the news of the demise of their loved ones lightly. And there was no definite reason that anyone could give them as to why it had happened in the first place. It was simply one of those freak things that no one could really adequately prepare themselves for, like an earthquake or other natural disaster. Only this was different because should there have been an adequate police presence present at the time or some other form of armed response, they might still be alive. You couldn’t fight a tidal wave, but you could shoot an idiot with a knife who was trying to stab your mother to death. And while you couldn’t do anything to nature for sweeping your house away in a mudslide, you could sit in a courtroom and face the evil individuals who killed your family.

V felt fortunate at that moment that he had no one to lose. As much as he cared for Morgan, especially in the moments when he wasn’t sure they were both going to make it, they weren’t family in the way these other people were. He’d liken them to friends, maybe even good friends now. But he could only imagine what kind of damage losing your mother or father or even your grandparents to something like this could do to you. And as V drifted in the semiconscious state that he found himself in, he couldn’t help but feel the agony of the space around him. It was as if the hospital had a presence of its own and it was weeping in sorrow from what it had lost. What had been lost within its sterile walls despite the best attempts of those who sought to do the best they could by those who had been sent there to be cared for by them.

More time than he could adequately acknowledge in his hazy state passed, and soon he found himself awake. It was a strange sort of hyperawareness that he rarely felt, and it was somewhat akin to those rare mornings when you woke up and sat up in your bed only to realize that you were wide awake somehow. In truth, V had never been a morning person. It wasn’t so much that he was a night owl as it was the fact that his mind tended to wander into the late hours of the night, keeping him awake when all he craved was the sweet embrace of a deep slumber. But at that moment, he was very much awake. And he was very much aware of where he was.

Judging by the conversations that he had heard bits and pieces of, he was somewhat surprised that his leg wasn’t in some form of traction. In truth, he couldn’t actually feel anything that might be wrong with it. In fact, he hadn’t been able to feel it at all when he’d first realized that they were talking about him. But in that same vein, he was just glad that he still had it. Talk of hypothermia claiming a part of him like that was a phobia he hadn’t realized he’d had until that day, and it was one that he wasn’t keen on helping come to fruition. But at the moment he had more pressing matters to attend to.

There was a doctor there to see him, and they looked utterly and totally perplexed.

“Hello, young man. I apologize, but your medical chart doesn’t reflect your name, and I don’t think you’ve been treated here before due to a lack of other forms of identification or other records in our system.” He pulled up a chair, plopping down with a much friendlier look on his face than he’d previously possessed. He seemed somewhat intrigued instead of confused. “I’m David. I was just coming to check on you, and here you are, awake and coherent! Wonderful. You’re doing spectacular, all things considered. It’s actually slightly unbelievable.”

V tilted his head to the side slightly, admittedly taken aback slightly by the statement. What did he mean by that? Did they expect him to be doing poorly? In truth, his memory of what had happened recently was somewhat spotty due to his prolonged period of inactivity and semiconsciousness, but even still, that was enough to cause him a great deal of concern. The most he could remember was bits and pieces of him somehow reaching the road and then collapsing. What exactly had happened to him after that was a mystery, as far as he was concerned, so this was all news to him.

“I get the impression that you didn’t expect me to recover from…” He paused for a moment, trying his best to recall what had actually happened that could have injured him. Unfortunately, he came up empty. “Actually… what did happen to me? My memory is a little bit hazy at the moment. Did I hit my head or something?”

“No, but your vitals were all wrong when you arrived.” The doctor took a moment to leaf through the papers on his clipboard, shaking his head as though he himself didn’t believe what he was reading. “Your internal body temperature was at 90 degrees, and you were suffering from Acute Tachyarrhythmia. You’d also somehow managed to walk what we estimate was around 5 miles in soaking wet clothing during a blizzard with a major impairment to your right leg. At first, we thought your femur was broken, but all of our follow-up X-rays have come up inconclusive. I can’t say anything as to the rigidity of your bones, or your ability to actually walk at the moment, but the fact that you are sitting here breathing and seemingly just fine is nothing short of a miracle.”

If he’d been able to look at himself, V probably would have found the absolutely gobsmacked look on his face amusing. Despite the fact that he didn’t understand the implications of what most of those terms meant, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t somewhat shocked to hear that he had apparently nearly died and yet didn’t feel any different. “That condition you mentioned… acute -what was it- what does that mean?”

David looked at him for a moment as though he were attempting to remember what he was talking about before looking upwards again, seemingly jolted back to reality. “Oh! Acute Tachyarrhythmia? It’s a form of arrhythmia or heart palpitation. Essentially, your heart rate was far above what it should have been. Well into the 300s, and nearly at the 400 mark at its peak, which is irregular, to say the least! We had to administer anti-adrenaline, but much to our surprise, the normal dose didn’t seem to do much of anything. Four injections later, we were finally able to sedate you, but the entire situation was deeply strange, to say the least. That might be why you don’t remember much.”

Looking over at V, he paused for a moment to see how he was reacting to the news before continuing. Giving him a stress aneurysm after he’d managed to survive such extraordinary circumstances was relatively low on his list of wants, and the last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm him. “Are you alright? I can stop now, if you’d like. I understand that this is probably a bit much for you to take in so soon after waking up. You have been out of it for quite some time now.”

The white-haired teen immediately went on alert at the statement, his pupils dilating in slight apprehension and shock. What did he mean by that? “Please tell me that I haven’t been in a coma for several weeks or something like that. Even if you have to lie.”

David smiled sympathetically, shaking his head. “Oh, no! It’s only been about four days, young man. Nothing that serious. And that was mostly due to the sedatives we had to give you. I suspect that if your chart is anything to go by, that will be just fine.” He took another quick glance at the chart, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked over something. “You may have some arrhythmia issues in the future, but nothing that should impair or limit you. You’d need a follow-up appointment to look into that, however. I don’t have the authority to diagnose you with anything. I’m just a general medicine doctor, and that is my opinion on the matter. Nothing more, though I do hope you do well. You’ve been through an awful lot for someone so young. What a terrible shame.”

V resisted the urge to nod in agreement. Yes. He had been through entirely too much in his young life. As far as he was concerned, that was a fact. Still, he was surprised to find that he couldn’t make himself look at the situation with an entirely negative outlook. He’d never been through something so physically dangerous, but this was far from the first time he’d ever been in peril, and he was sure it would not be the last. That was just a fact of life. Or at least it was a fact of the life he lived, but what reason was there to be splitting hairs about it at this point?

“Yes. Yes, it is.” He lingered on the words that the doctor had spoken for a moment, turning to look in the direction of the window. He needed a moment to himself to think and take in the gravity of the situation that he found himself in. It was admittedly more than he could properly process all at once, but at least he knew for the most part that he was alright and that everything would be okay. But in all honesty, he didn’t know where he was going to go from there. Back to the town to pack, maybe. But after that, what would he do? “I realize that I still haven’t given you my name. You can call me V.”

The doctor looked at him as though he was going to question him further, but decided to drop the matter for the time being. After all, they weren’t going to be billing any of the survivors, and he was probably slightly dazed and overwhelmed at the moment. There was no point in pushing him to reveal information that he didn’t feel like discussing. And for all the doctor knew, that could very well be his name. People tended to give their children unusual names nowadays.

“Well, I’ll give you a little while to collect your thoughts and think of anything you’d like to ask. From what I can tell, your free to go, but there isn’t a rush.” David stood up and straightened out his coat, looking towards the door to check and see if he was needed. “Your one of the last people from Lympha that’s still here, so we’re not short on rooms or anything.”

A thought occurred to V as the doctor spoke those words, a low undertone of dread rising up from the pits of his gut. He knew the answer to his question long before he actually asked it, but he was hoping to be pleasantly surprised for once. Sadly, he received the usual brand of disappointment and anguish that he was so used to. It seemed that wherever he went, disaster followed not long after. “The rest of the townspeople… did any of them make it?’ 

Gods how he hoped his gut feeling could be wrong, but he knew.

David shook his head slightly, looking down at the floor for a moment. He fell silent, grief overtaking him for a moment before he responded. “Sadly not many of them did. So far of the two-hundred and thirty-seven residents that are currently known to reside in the town, we’ve only managed to locate about six of you so far. Thankfully the other three-fourths of the town were gone for the season at the time, so the damage was somewhat contained. I shudder to imagine what would have happened if everyone had been home for the season…”

V closed his eyes for a moment in contemplation, still facing the window. The warm sun wasn’t something he normally relished in. In fact, he was much more at home in colder climates. But in this particular instance, he couldn’t help but feel lucky to be able to feel anything at all. He didn’t want to know how many of those who had perished had been children or elderly people. None of them had deserved their fate. While everyone in the town hadn’t always been the kindest to him as a general rule, they had never been overtly unkind or hostile, and none of them had done something to merit the horrible end that they had been granted. At least not his knowledge, but he could scarcely imagine what they could have done to incur such insurmountable wrath, especially from such a seemingly random opponent.

“… What about the people who attacked us. Has anything been said about them?”

A sigh of something akin to contentment escaped David’s lips. V could tell that he was tired, and probably new to the job. Most of the doctors that he’d encountered in his life were a bit more adept at hiding how they felt. If he was willing to bet, he’d be willing to wager that David might be a resident or an intern of some sort. But his heart was in the right place, and he appreciated the honesty, especially in a situation like this. It didn’t matter to V in the slightest. Everyone had to start somewhere.

“Thankfully I can give you some good news there. Or, at least something a little bit better. It’s more strangeness, sadly.” The doctor leaned against the doorway, straightening his posture as best as he could. “That’s where they got the other survivors from. They were held up in the woods somewhere. The people who attacked your town had taken them into the woods to do some kind of ritual. Anyway, there was a huge shootout, and most of them were killed. Their accomplices in the next town over were arrested, and part of the town actually got buried under a snowdrift during the incident. Karma, maybe? Anyway, there hasn’t been given much of a reason yet, just something about how their “lord wished this of them” and “the prophecy has to be fulfilled”. They all sound out of their minds to me, but the one upside to this situation is that the people involved will be looked up for a long time, and they will never be able to hurt anyone else again. That’s the best outcome you can hope for in a situation like this if I’m being honest. It’s shades of grey, not black and white. And sometimes you have to find the brightest light in the darkest room, so to speak.”

Just as the doctor seemed to be about to continue, but didn’t get the chance. Just before he could speak, his attention was drawn away by a small head of messy hair poking through the doorway. Neither of them got the opportunity to speak before Morgan bolted into the room, running over in a teary-eyed mess to see if V was okay. David put his arm in front of her in an effort to stop her, but V waived him away, unwilling to allow her worries to be dismissed. He could tell she had been through an awful lot during his absences. Her eyes said it all.

“No no, let her through. Please. It’s fine. I know her.” V moved to sit on the edge of the bed, not entirely sure what his intention for doing so really was. If he was willing to guess, he’d say that he just wanted to show her that he was alright, but in truth, he didn’t really know whether or not he was or what he was so eager to come to her aid. There was just something about the look of absolute heartbreak on her pretty little face that struck a nerve with him. He never wanted to see her like that again.

“Oh thank- your okay! You haven’t been awake in like four days, V! I was worried sick about you!” Morgan looked as though she wanted to strangle him, but there was no anger in her face. Only relief, sorrow, and exhaustion. He got the impression that she probably hadn’t left the hospital, slept, or ate much in the time since he’d arrived. It was understandable, but he hoped it wasn’t the case. “I’m just glad you’re okay. You looked absolutely terrible when they brought you in. I thought you were gonna die! Had me worried sick there for a while”

Realizing that they needed time alone, the doctor waived politely to them both before quietly exiting the room and closing the door behind himself. Both V and Morgan watched him as he went, relieved to see one another again. He noted that as he tried to put weight on his right leg, he felt a persistent burning sensation and he had a bit of difficulty putting weight on it, but aside from that, he was sure that he could and would manage just fine on his own. Maybe that was the best place for him right now. Morgan would return to life with her family, and he would go elsewhere. Maybe just pack his bags and go. It was worth a shot.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing alright as well. I presume you’re going back to stay with your mother?” V asked, not entirely sure what to say or do at that point. It was a lot to take in.

Morgan nodded. “Yea, she’s waiting for me in the lobby. She came up to see you and thank you for helping me, but you were off getting an x-ray or something, so she couldn’t. Said to thank you for her. She’s too upset about my grandparents to really say much right now.” Morgan looked distant for a moment, more than likely sharing her mother’s sorrow. He knew that it had to be a lot for her. “What are you going to do now? Supposedly all of us are going to be getting some kind of huge payout for having to go through all of this nightmarish crap. I know your not just going to move back into that town and pretend that none of this happened. Any plans for the future, or is it too early in the morning for that.”

V smirked. He really did like this young girl. She had a certain tenacity to her that he didn’t see very often in the people he interacted with. And he was willing to admit that he thought he understood that sentiment. But he lacked the nerve, and that was something that she had in spades. 

“I think I’m going to pack my things, put them in storage, and catch the first train that goes as far as possible from here. Once I’m on board, I’ll ride it until I see someplace that catches my eye or until I reach the end of the line.” He shrugged slightly, unsure of what else to say. “If that happens, I’ll board a different train and keep going. And when I’m ready, I’ll contact you. I don’t know how long that will be, but I promise that I will.”

Morgan a hand on her hip, shaking her head. “Call me crazy, but I’m willing to bet you’ve done this before. Just a hunch.”

V nodded, smirking again. She was smarter than she looked, and that was truly saying something because she didn’t look the slightest bit stupid. “If you need me, contact me. Please. But I have to leave here. I’m sorry.”

She held up her hand to hush him. “I understand, V. Just knowing you’re alive is enough. Don’t’ you dare tell me your sorry. I don’t’ want you to be. I want you to leave here and live your life and be happy. I’m going to try and do the same. We both deserve that.”

He looked back at the window again, feeling the morning sun on his face. That was something that he was willing to agree with her on. After all, he’d always wanted to travel. And now that he had nothing to tie him down, why waste the opportunity. If there was one thing that the entire experience he’d just gone through had taught him, it was that he never knew when he could wake up and it could be his last day. He didn’t want to squander that. Not while he still had breath in his body.

(-~-)

I hope you all enjoyed this ark! It’s basically over now, so I’m excited to hear what you thought of it! See you all next week, and stay safe out there! To the comment section! Away!

#V' #Vitale #V's Backstory #Hiraeth #Devil May Cry #Post Devil May Cry 5 #Post Devil May Cry V #DMC #DMCV #DMC5 #Post DMC5 #Post DMCV

[dawnwave16]

Not what I expected

Please note there are mentions of suicide in this chapter,  please don’t read it if this makes you uncomfortable!

8; 9(here); 10

Chapter 9

Having said that she turned on her heel and walked a little way away from the group and dialled the bakery.

Sabine was the one who answered the phone and she quickly confirmed that the four adults with them were there to help. Upon hearing this Alix relaxed and the rest of the teens followed suit. After heading onto the Liberty and settled in for what promised to be a long conversation. The teens told the BAU team as much as they could about Lila arriving at the school and everything that followed. How she had targeted Marinette almost immediately, how she had been making suggestions about what they class could do that would supposedly help them “make it big” but from what their group could see, it was slowly making them destroy whatever chance they had of achieving their dreams. They spoke about how they had taken a good look at their own actions when they had realised what was going on and realised what they had done to Mari was not right at all and so they had each gone to her and apologised.

Marc, Nathaniel and Alix all explained how they kept all of Mari's art supplies in their lockers in the art room as they were worried that someone might get the bright idea to destroy them. The list just kept going and throughout it all, they made sure to keep an eye out for Akuma's as they knew they would be prime Akuma bait with everything being spoken about and none of them wanted to deal with that. Once the teens were done it was the BAU teams turn. They admitted that they couldn't reveal everything yet but did fill the teens in on what they could. It was nightfall by the time they were done talking so the team agreed that it was time for them to head back to the hotel. The teens decided they would have a sleepover instead as Luka had the boat to himself that night. So, after saying their goodbye's the four of them headed back to the hotel.

By the time they reached the Hotel they had worked up quite an appetite, so they called the rest team and asked what they wanted to eat, placed the order for room service, then headed up. When they got to the room they were surprised by how quiet Garcia was being however before they could ask Garcia spoke.

“Two things, firstly I will give you the details of what I found after we've eaten as if I start now, none of you will want to eat. Like at all. We've had bad cases but what I've found makes those cases seem so normal it's scary. Also, Jack is still in the room and I don't want to give him the same nightmares I know I'm going to be having. Anyway, the second point is more of a question for Emily.”

“What's the question, Garcia?” Prentiss asked as her friend stopped to take a breath. 

“Do you still have your contacts in Interpol?”

The team gasped at the question. While Jack wouldn't understand the implications of it the team did, what they had originally thought to be a case of getting rid of a bully was so much bigger.

“I'll call and ask if any of them are in Paris at the moment and get them to meet us here in an hour if you'd like?” Prentiss answered.

“Please do.”

The next hour passed relatively quickly, they had eaten and tried to keep themselves distracted and it worked for the most part. As soon as Jack was in bed and the Interpol agent, Clyde Easter, had arrived Garcia knew it was time to start.

“If I could turn your attention to your tablets you will see the files of three other girls have been sent to them. I know this seems random, however after going through our little Mari's old phone and looking at how 'Lila' had basically convinced all of Mari's friends to join her in what amounts to cyberbullying, I knew I had to look deeper. My first point of call was looking into Lila Rossi specifically only to find that she didn't exist prior to joining Collège Françoise Dupont, like at all. If we look at the school records the day she first joined Mari's class she was actually enrolled as 'Nekane Layla Kelly' originally from Basque. About the only thing Nekane hasn't lied about is that her mother is an Italian diplomat. Anyway, she was born in the Italian Embassy in Basque and attended school there until she was 10 when her mother was transferred back to Italy as Nekane's grandmother was dying. They spent two years there before heading to Spain for two years and finally came here to France. She didn't change her name until she came to France as she felt that it would stand out too much here. Now I know it's normal for diplomats to move but except for the first one there wasn't a reason given for the change. 

Anyway, I looked at her old classmates and found something weird. If you look at the files for Aisha Robinson; Tamiko Norris and Amara Mogami you will see that not only are they similar in looks to Marinette but they also have multicultural parents with one being Europian and the other being Asian. This may seem minor at a glance but all three girls were in the same class as Nekane and two of them committed suicide shortly before Nekane moved. Aisha attempted to commit suicide too however her babysitter got concerned when she didn't respond to the call to come down to eat and went to check on her then called for emergency services who were able to save her. In each of the girl's cases, they were fairly popular at school until Nekane joined their class were upon their classmates turned on them and started bullying them. Aisha doesn't talk much anymore but she has had to be changed to homeschooled as she can't handle being around people her age anymore. In her case her parents supported her however in Tamiko and Amara's case, the girl's parents believed what everyone was saying about their daughters.”

The team was silent as they listened to Garcia, JJ had tears running down her face at the thought of what could have happened if Marinette's friends hadn't rallied around to support her. Emily had closed her eyes, as a diplomat's child herself, she knew that frequent moves happened, but that they always had a reason. Clyde had also closed his eyes, he'd dealt with a lot of nasty things while working for Interpol but this was something he never thought he would see. He looked at the age that Nekane Kelly would have been at the time of each of the other girl's suicides and realised that she would have been about 10 for the first 12 for the second and 14 for the third. He looked up as he realised this and repeated his thought out loud so that the rest of the team could hear it too. Reid made the connection first.

“She's targeting Marinette as her fourth victim. Unlike our other unsubs, she get's her satisfaction from playing with her victims' lives and destroying them without having to kill them herself. I think the deaths are inconsequential for her, she just likes seeing her target suffer. Marinette is suffering but she isn't letting Nekane get her way. She's speaking out more and hasn't let herself be isolated, she changed her phone number but rather than let her old number be reassigned she kept her old phone to help get evidence of what's going on. Do we know if the other three girls were targeted at school the same way Marinette has been or was their's only cyberbullying?”

“According to Aisha's parents it was at school as well,” Garcia replied. “I only looked into the cyber side thanks to Marinette's phone. I saw several messages telling her she should just kill herself and spare the world, among other things. They all started when Nekane rejoined the class.”

“According to the group of Mari's friends we spoke to earlier, the bullying from the class started at around the same time. They mentioned that one of the more aggressive girls still calls herself Mari's 'bestie' but is the first to put her down if 'Lila' even looks like she's even mildly upset. The girl seems to think that Mari is jealous of 'Lila' being interested in the same boy as Mari, yet according to her friends Mari and the boy, Adrian, have agreed to just be friends until the boy completes at least another year of councilling. They didn't say what he needs that for but it does show that those that truly know Mari know the truth. They also mentioned that the two might not date at all and that it depends on how they both feel at that time.” Morgan commented before he and the other three who had met with Marinette's friend group told the team what they had found out. Hotch followed Morgan's example by telling the team about what happened in the bakery.

“Before the three of them left I got the mother's name and said I'd like to speak to her, Nora said she'd stay up and talk to her parents when they got home. Hopefully, I'll hear from them soon as I have a feeling there's more to the babysitting story then we know,” Hotch concluded.

It was then that his phone rang, apparently they would be hearing from Mrs Césaire much sooner then they had thought.

@northernbluetongue; @wargraymon0709; @moonlightstar64; @winter-gardenflower; @bee-wrecker; @starsshineandgivehope

#mlb #criminal minds #lila salt #not what i expected #au bio dad for marinette

[alegacyofmikalsons]

The Act of Living Chp.1: Back in the Crescent City

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! I’ve been lurking on my main Tumblr @adrianadmirer in the Originals and Legacies tags for several months now since I got into these shows (I finally got Netflix and was able to watch) and I’ve been working on this story for a while as well. I’ve had a version of this first chapter on Wattpad for months and now it’s finally at a place where I’m happy with it enough to share on here as well. Please feel free to leave comments, I want to know what you think as the story progresses and if there are things I can improve on. This is my first time writing for anything TVD/Originals/Legacies and I'm relatively new to these shows so, any feedback will be much appreciated!

Rating: PG-13

Series summary: Klaus and Elijah were supposed to die, but fate in the form of new friends Serafina Hewitt and her sister Stevie intervened. A year later Stevie is dead and Sera returns to New Orleans to see her friends and investigate her suspicions about what happened. When it's confirmed that a powerful hunter group is responsible, she realizes a much bigger threat is coming, one that threatens all of New Orleans. As they race to stop it, she gets more than she bargained for, finding the truth about who she is and a growing attachment towards a certain Mikalson.  Most importantly, they all get answers to the biggest riddle of all: what the act of living really means.

Visiting New Orleans should be a good thing, the place I'm from and still consider home despite having to leave it at sixteen. It's a lively place with the warmest people where even death is celebrated with a party. But currently, it reminds me of everything I've lost. Walking through the familiar streets, I find myself consumed with guilt and sorrow from the latest person to be taken from me. 

My sister. Not by blood since our parents chose to adopt me five years before Stevie was born. But, that little detail didn't matter. It still feels lonely, a part of me gone forever.

The moment I found out, only several hours ago replays in my mind for the hundredth time.

"You need to come down here," Rebekah Mikalson exclaimed.

Stevie and I met her and the rest of her family a few years ago when I helped my sister move back there and we slowly became closer friends through the handful of trips I've made since including the last one barely a year ago where a vision of mine and my blood kept them together.

The hoarseness in her tone and the faint sniffling grabbed my attention, a cold shiver running down my spine. 

This was no ordinary phone call among long-distance friends. 

"Why? Is something wrong?"

There was a moment of silence as she struggled to compose herself. "It's Stevie. She's...she's..."

The mention of my sister sent my heart thumping hard against my chest. No, I thought. It couldn't be. As painful silence ticked by, I became irritated from impatience as a sinking, awful sensation of dread swirled inside my gut. 

"Rebekah, just say it." 

Even though I had a feeling of what was coming, I had to hear it out loud. 

"She's dead Sera!"

There they were. I had braced for them yet, they still took the air out of my lungs. 

"What?" 

"She was killed last night outside of a bar just outside the Quarter. I just found out myself."

The truth finally hit fully, shattering the numbed shock. 

Gasping, my knees gave out and I sank to the floor, letting a mix between a scream and a wail. My worst fears had come true. I thought that she'd be safe here, away from me and all the dangers and problems I carried just for merely existing. This was New Orleans, home of everything that goes bump in the night or is out of the realm of normal humanity. But, it didn't matter. The people close to me always left, one way or another. 

As the sobs subsided, I shook my head, staring out at the drizzle that constituted a typical Oregon morning. I already had a good idea of who might be responsible. The same people who took the rest of my tiny, adopted family from me. All because I had a stubborn ability to survive what others couldn't. But, I needed details to be sure. To see if they left anything behind. If my suspicions were correct, they definitely would. 

Putting the phone on speaker, I set it down on the floor next to me. "What happened? Do you know?"

"Not really," she replied. "Her body was discovered a few hours ago, just as the sun was coming up. There's some bruising from a struggle of some kind and then a f-fatal cut across her throat. They're saying it was probably a random incident but..."

"You don't think so." 

My heart lept into my throat. The description matched those of other victims I had seen both in person and in newspaper descriptions. 

"No. You know as well as I do she...she would've been able to defend herself it was. No one will believe me though, not even my siblings. They all think I'm being unrealistic, and I can't blame them."

As she continued to rant about how her brothers never took her seriously I leaned my head against the kitchen cabinet and drowned her out. I already knew they didn't. Rebekah was known for thinking with her heart and not her head. But, she was just as smart and calculating as her more well-known siblings. Something they often forgot until it came out abruptly. 

"The only thing that looks weird is this...symbol." The statement brought my attention back, picking it up with my sensitive hearing. "On the side of her neck. Maybe you know what it is?"

My breath caught. A symbol was the exact thing I was searching for. 

"Describe it to me."

"It's some circle with a...lion in the middle. And some language that I can't make out. Greek I think. Why?"

It matched the symbol of the group I had in mind perfectly. It couldn't be a coincidence. Their explicit threats against her--verbal and written, the way she was killed. They had to be responsible. And if they were in New Orleans, I doubted they would be leaving anytime soon. It was too big of a target to pass up--the biggest place they've appeared so far. If the results were anything like they've committed here, hundreds would be dead. Supernatural and regular human alike. 

"Because, it tells me exactly who killed her," I murmured.

After a moment of deliberation, I sprang to life again and rushed over to where my laptop was sitting. Suddenly, New Orleans was the place I wanted, no needed to be. I missed my old home and seeing the dysfunctional family I called friends in person. But, it was more than that. I felt a sense of obligation to protect the city. And I couldn't quite do that from a phone call or video chat. 

"Listen, I'll be on the earliest flight out I can manage," I told her, my fingers dancing on the keys. Finding one that worked, though it was a bit pricey, I became resolved in my decision to leave. Just like last time, everything screamed that this was worth it."

I heard her gasp. "You're coming here? I thought you were busy"

"I am." It was an exhaled response. "But, suddenly I have new priorities. You guys have been wanting me to visit for a while anyway. Make sure no one touches a thing on her body or tries to move it until I've had a look. I don't care what you or your siblings have to do."

"Does that mean you think I'm right?"

"Yeah, Rebekah, I do. I'll be there by late afternoon, hopefully, earlier than that." 

After an hour's drive to Portland, a cross country flight and renting an expensive taxi into the city, I've finally made it with still plenty of the day left.  Pulling out my phone, I look at the address Rebekah sent and sigh.

At least I have one thing to distract me. I briefly close my eyes and memories swirl in from the people on the street, too many for my mind to focus on one for long. Some are happy, others not so much. All contain the private thoughts and feelings I have no business experiencing. But, I can't control it, much like the other abilities I inherited from faceless people. The only thing I know about what I am comes from my blood. Closer to black than red. Able to sustain me yet kill everything else.

Demon. 

I don't know what type or how saturated it is or even what side it’s from. There are too many in the books I've read to narrow it down to one and I’ve never met my birth parents. I only know what powers it gives me and that it comes with a lot of destruction, both internal and external.

I also know that my visions--both of the past and the future--aren't normal for any kind of demon. This and other strange powers I’ve discovered mean the blood of something else flows in my veins as well. But, it's been nearly thirty years and I've yet to figure out what.

Blinking open, I resume my steps and shake my head, putting away everything I've seen. I can't forget it, or any information really but, I have ways to pretend and set them aside.

Soon, the bar I'm looking for, Rousseau's, is in front of me and I pause. I know seeing Stevie's body is going to be hard but, if I don't manage my emotions, it won't be pretty. This usually helps.

After a minute, I step around the brick building, finding Rebekah with her platinum blonde hair crouched over a covered white sheet. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I close the gap between us until she looks up. 

"You're here," she whispers, springing up to engulf me in a hug. "Thank god."

She squeezes me so tight that I struggle to catch my breath, coughing out a short reply. "I've missed you too."

Letting me go, she stands there silently, with a slightly apologetic look before her gaze drifts to the concealed figure next to us. My sister. The crying has stopped for now, but the tears are still fresh. The redness around her eyes and frown point to how she's really feeling which is anything but fine. 

I look around and quickly realize that we're alone. I expected to see at least one of her siblings with her.

"Where are...?" I ask.

"It's just me. Klaus left soon after I got here. He did chase everyone off, just like you asked."

I can't help the snicker that comes up. "I don't need to know the details about how that went."

"Actually, there was no actual blood spilled this time, just the threat of it," she comments.

I don't particularly care or judge him for his impulsive acts of violence since I've succumbed to it countless times. But, it's not the healthiest form of anger management or dealing with emotions so, I'm glad about this small piece of info. 

"So he is taking my advice then," I tell her.

She nods after a minute. "Sometimes. I doubt he could ever stop completely." Then, her smile falters, and she clears her throat. "Anyway, Elijah's been home figuring out arrangements. It looks like we’ll be able to have the funeral tonight. That is unless you want to take her back to Mirebrook. He wanted to make sure you had the final say."

I haven't even thought about that. Most of my family's ancestors are entombed here, including our grandparents. My parents are the only exception, instead of being buried in the little cemetery in Mirebrook. But, I've been planning on moving them down here too eventually. Even from the start, they promised me our move wasn't going to be permanent. New Orleans is where we truly belong. That's why Stevie decided to return when she was old enough. So, while I appreciate having the choice, it only takes a minute standing here to decide.

"No, this is fine. She's a Hewitt...not just in name like me but by blood. She belongs here."

She nods once more as we continue to stand there silently for a moment. We both know what I came here for. Answers. I need to be sure but at the same time, neither of us wants to see her like this. 

Eventually, I gesture to my sister on the ground, mustering up enough emotional strength. "Can I?"

She blankly looks at me before blinking with a start. "Oh...um, of course. Sorry, I'm a bit out of it right now."

I know exactly how she feels. She bends down once more and delicately grabs ahold of the white tarp before meeting my gaze. At my nod, she pulls it back to reveal Stevie's lifeless stare. It's a punch to the gut seeing her skin already a pale gray from decay and a gasp catches in my throat. 

"Stevie..." Reaching down, I touch her ever so slightly, the coldness another shock to the system. 

I bite down on my lip hard as I feel the energy within me stir and a sudden breeze tickles the back is my neck from it. Sometimes it gets agitated when my emotions run high. I hesitate and wait for everything inside to calm. 

Breathe deeply. Quiet. I'll be fine. 

The mantra is one I've memorized from when my mother's soft voice repeated it as a little kid to stop my destructive blowups. After a few minutes, I'm comfortable enough to continue. I have to know if they're responsible.  

I turn to Rebekah. "Where did you...see the symbol?"

Swallowing, she mumbles, "Right side of her neck. By her ear."

Brushing her hair back I quickly find it. A circular symbol in black ink stands out against her fair complexion, the lion's face and handwriting staring up at me. Everything seems to stop as a chill of fear and extreme anguish runs up my spine. 

"No." 

"Sera?" Rebekah asks, noticing my reaction.

I ignore her as angry tears slip down my cheeks. 

Nemean found her. In the one place I didn't want them to touch. And I know them well enough to realize they aren't leaving anytime soon. The city is a perfect location for the attacks that terrorized Mirebrook every couple of years.

"I'm sorry Stevie. This is all my fault."

They went out of their way to hunt her, just like our parents and my friends. Because they chose to raise and love me. Suddenly, the power arouses inside once more and the wind picks up around us. I'm too volatile, if I stick around, no amount of controlled breathing will matter. I grab the tarp from Rebekah and quickly covered my sister once more. 

"Sera, what's wrong?"

Standing, I simply shake my head, unable to get any words out as I fold my arms around my heaving chest. I spin around and hurry out of the alleyway. Stopping a few feet away, I close my eyes and take more deep breaths until I steady myself.

"Sera, what the hell?" Rebekah exclaims and I open my eyes to see her frowning at me.

Seeing her concerned expression, I sigh. "Sorry I just needed to get out of there."

"Does that mean you know what that symbol is?" Her brows furrow in confusion.

"You don't?" My pitch rises a couple octaves. 

Surely they would've heard of such a notorious group of hunters by now. 

But, she shakes her head adamantly. "No, I've never seen it before in my life. I did take a picture of it though. Why?"

"Because,” I reply. “It belongs to her killers. The Nemean brotherhood." 

Her eyebrows lift off her forehead. "So this was on purpose then."

"Yes, by hunters called the Nemean Brotherhood. I don't think they’re done either. In fact, I imagine they've just gotten started."

"You think something else will happen," she murmurs catching on immediately. "What exactly? More hunts?"

I hesitate, folding my arms tightly. Knowing that they could be here, maybe even watching me I can't help feeling a bit paranoid.

"Yes and no," I finally tell her. "They don't just hunt Rebekah. They massacre.” 

This only makes her more confused. “What does that even mean?” 

Sighing, I finally confess what I’ve been suspecting since the phone call this morning. “Everyone in the quarter is in danger. Maybe even the entire city."

....

#the originals #elijah mikaelson #originals au #elijah x oc #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson

[pastryseungs]

On Children (2018)

Creator: Wú Xiao-le

Dir. Chen Wei-ling

⚠️ Spoilers !! ⚠️

very long post ahead~

i recently watched this Taiwanese show on Netflix and it gives me Black Mirror vibes as well! i relate to this show so much that some have made me ugly cry lmao. its so weird and entertaining that some leave you silent and zoning out for a few minutes after each episode ends :<

Ep. 1 Mother’s Remote

dude this episode was honestly so sad and infuriatingggg. believe it or not though, some parents just actually want the best for their children and their future, but some actually take it too far.. like this one.

Pei Wei’s parents are going through a divorce where Wei (Tzu-Chuan Liu) ends up living with his mother (Yu-Xuan Wang). after forging the signatures on his report card and manipulating his grades, Wei’s mother restarts his day with a remote to give him the chance to “fix” his mistakes. he is eventually pulled out from school to attend cram school.. ten times to pay for what he did. eventually, when it slightly goes back to normal, he meets a girl named Lan (Hsin-Yu) and the two immediately became friends because of their love for art.. which also immediately blossomed into puppy-love after a month.

Wei’s mother eventually catches the two at the library and treats them out to lunch, before banning Wei from seeing the girl again. he fights back, which sends him back to the day before he was about to meet Lan for the first time. but Lan doesn’t recognize him at all, which led him to countless suicide attempts which were all reversed by his mom’s remote. the line, “How many times do I have to do this?” hurts me so much, he just wanted to be free and happy and his mother just can’t give him that all because of bad grades.. damn..

the scene cuts and changes to a few years later with Wei as an adult.. at first i thought he actually was still with Lan but it turns out it was another woman :< that night, Wei is asked by his mother to go out for dinner and he meets Riley, the daughter of his mother’s friend. the two talk for awhile, Riley revealing that she was actually in a relationship that her family knows but doesn’t accept and Wei revealing that he’s also in a relationship as well.

Wei then buys an airplane ticket for his mother, and went to his mother’s house to retrieve the remote. with his mother forgetting her passport at home, her taxi goes back to her house and sees Wei across the street, holding the remote.

this scene was actually so sad for me, because the last part was Wei going back in time when he met Lan. i actually felt like Lan’s the person that gave Wei a sense of freedom when he felt suffocated/drowned by his mother’s strict attitude towards him. you can actually see the longing in his eyes when he went back there.. gosh i was so sad when this episode ended. this one’s actually one of my favorite episodes !! the open ending led me to believe that Wei and Lan actually ended up together and lived happily ever after~ 😤💗

Ep. 2 Child of the Cat

after failed attempts at getting good grades, Guo-yan (Hsiu-Fu Liu) meets a girl named Lo Chih-Wei (Yu-Ping Wang) after seeing her having a nervous breakdown and harassing another student, she then tells him about some sort of parallel universe and that it offers them something to kill in exchange for intelligence. Guo-yan then develops this delusion after killing their house cats with cat food mixed with rat poison.. he then starts succeeding in his academics, even announcing his perfect score in his mock exam during his grandfather’s funeral.

the line, “Why must you impose all you want on me?” was so sad.. his parents were putting him under so much pressure, even extending his tutoring hours just to make him study harder and try to pass the exams. but at that point, it was too late, his tutor informed his mother that he needed to see a psychiatrist since he might be going through something, but his mother was indenial, thinking that his son was alright and that he was probably just the typical lazy teenager, which was not the case. he was already asking for help through his actions !! even going as far as making his mother find a non-existent noisy cat to take care of during his exams because he couldn’t concentrate.

this episode kind of frustrates me because Guo-yan’s mother listens too much to their relatives/in-laws advices and criticisms that she doesn’t listen or even bat an eye when her son is literally going through something. the ending was somewhat happy though, with Guo-yan learning how to do carpentry and building their own shop maybe?

Ep. 3 The Last Day of Molly

to be honest, this one made me ugly cry :< you’ll never really know until its too late, huh? Molly’s mom (Ivy Yin) probably won’t know that she was the reason behind Molly’s demise if it wasn’t for that machine/gadget.

Molly (Gingle Wang) had a lot to offer in their world with her writing talent. sadly, in order to save face, she was too obedient about the fact that her mother wanted to enroll her to Medical school and make her get a degree in another country. she was the highest-ranking student in their school, which made her mother have high expectations for her. she disapproved of everything she did, saying that a job wouldn’t be suitable for her and that she has to work hard in order to work a certain job. it just baffles me how much some parents think its their choice to choose their child’s career path .-.

the saddest part was when Molly’s mother found out that she had caused this mess. the guilt literally made her feel like she should be behind bars for the rest of her life, and that Molly would want that too. her demise was probably the best revenge she could think of, since she resented her mother for making her study and focus on things that she thinks will make her rich in the future.

i felt so sad for Molly’s sister, Kelly, because she was already expected to follow in her sister’s footsteps, even going so far as extending her tutoring hours while she was still dealing with grief. personally, i wouldn’t be able to do so until i already feel better and moved on a little. its hard to deal with grief especially when you’re so used to seeing that person all the time, which is why i somehow understand their pain.

honestly though, i can’t help but ugly cry during the part when Molly says, “Mom, I love you and I’m sorry.” if it wasn’t for Molly’s death, her mother wouldn’t realize that she was taking her children and their family for granted.. damn.

Gingle Wang is such a great actor !! she also kinda looks like Minnie from G-Idle too! :>

Ep. 4 Peacock

always be careful what you wish for. tbh, this episode was really weird and scary for me. Qiao-Yi (Yu-Xuan Wang) was ready to risk it all just to get everything she had always dreamed of, which included her sight, her talent for painting, seeing colors, and her appearance. she was literally turning into a peacock just to get help her family stay afloat and help her enter a good college and stay in school to be rewarded as their donor.

her school, Victor, was really weird as well. students were not allowed to ask questions during class, which led to students literally isolating another student in class because she was curious.. no wonder some are having a hard time in their class. the school was full of self-centered, snobby brats that only cared if you’re rich or have something luxurious to offer, it was honestly so weird for me. i’d hate to experience that kind of environment, i probably wouldn’t last three days.

if i was in her situation, i’d probably want to fit in with the others as well if it meant being less lonely and having someone to talk to even if everything you talk about is too shallow for your liking. it was just so sad that they were willing to trade anything just for a good life and financial stability, which led to Qiao-Yi’s mom (Chiung-Hsuan Hsieh) as the peacock in exchange for Qiao-Yi’s and her brother in their parents’ (or maybe just her mother?) dream schools.

Ep. 5 ADHD is Necessary

it was just so wrong for the Ruo-wa’s mother (Chuan Chen Yeh) to make her daughter fake a mental illness to help them continue living a lavish lifestyle, which eventually led to Ruo-wa’s (Frances Wu) demise.

Ruo-wa’s mother wanted nothing but for Ruo-wa to achieve and maintain a high-rank in terms of intelligence. but, you see, Ruo-wa isn’t exactly the best in terms of academics, the girl was so focused in school that she doesn’t even know what she’s really great at! her mother was so desperate for both of them- mostly her, to stay afloat that she would make her daughter detailed and organized notes to help her study, to help them keep the lavish lifestyle, because she couldn’t accept the reality that they had to live at the Pigeon Cage because of Ruo-wa’s intelligece. she also did this for her late son, which caused her to be awarded for having a high-ranking son, which also led to his demise. all this time, she thought that her son had died from a car crash, but he was actually destroyed for having a low rank and wanting to be a carpenter.

also, i can’t help but point out that they look like characters from the movie Divergent (2014). they literally look like they belong in Abnegation/Candor/Erudite lmao. and people who are being sent to the Pigeon Cage were Amity/Factionless/Divergent, since they were all special and talented in their own ways and they knew how to farm; sadly, they don’t belong in the real world. i was also so happy when i saw Wei, Lan, Guo-yan, Kelly, and Qiao-Yi !! like, at least they were saved from their parents’ grasps and they’re now free to do whatever they desire.

i was so sad when the police went there and trashed everything, killing the children that weren’t even bothering anybody just because they were low-ranking and weren’t doing their part in the community. in the end, it was Ruo-wa’s mother that had the last laugh and it was just so infuriating for me.. i wanted her to have the karma !! not Ruo-wa’s demise !! 😤

the place in order and everyone was at peace and getting along, why did she have to ruin it all for them? and why did Ruo-wa had to be destroyed ??? i feel like i could compare this to Divergent people ?? since they’re different and they’re being destroyed for not belonging somewhere.. like a Divergent person.

wellll that ends my post !! also, if this is what eventually happens to technology, then imma head out ✌️😗

#netflix #film review #netflix series #film reviews #black mirror #on children #taiwanese series #taiwan #sci fi #anthology #must watch

[pineaberry]

Fictober 2019: #17

Star Wars: The Old Republic.

Inspired by all the Quinn love on my dash, here it is:

The Transponder Station Pt. 4: THE THRILLING CONCLUSION

Pt. 1 Found Here: [X]

Pt. 2 Found Here: [X]

Pt. 3 Found Here: [X]

________________________

With some difficulty Malavai managed to focus on the present. The vibroblade handle had skittered across the floor meaning the blade was still inside her. Her belt had tightened around the wound keeping it closed, she must have loosened it. His mind scanned the crew. He would need help, who could he trust to remain calm regardless of whatever dark turn this took?

Broonmark was out of the question. The creature was all fur with claws were too clumsy for something so precise, plus he wouldn’t put it past the savage to try and eat his fallen leader or something equally primitive. Pierce had seen blood before, he might be the least squeamish. Though the bruiser about as dexterous and intelligent as the Talz, he would no doubt recognize the blade and put two and two together. No, that was a confrontation he didn’t want to have while Tremas bled out on the table. Jaesa could help, if she could avoid distress long enough to not to trigger her powers. He wasn’t sure he wanted that kind of observation or that it wouldn’t cause her to do something rash.

Selfish, a voice echoed in his thoughts. She’s dying and all you can think of is keeping up the charade.

Shame filled him but still, coward that he was, he hid behind the fact that he had to save Lord Tremas. If nothing more, he needed to undo the damage he had caused. He turned to the crew exuding the very image of military detachment.

“Everyone out! Vette, you’re with me. Remove her armor while I prep a kolto drip,” he ordered. The Twi’lek was the only one who would allow him to keep breathing should she decipher the truth. Worst case scenario, she was the one easiest to subdue should things go south in the medical bay.

He worked quickly using his medical scanner to find the internal damage. The blade was deeply wedged, but it had thankfully missed her vital organs. He clenched his jaw as the kolto drip mitigated some of the blood loss. The blade would have to be extracted, thankfully the oscillation module on the blade’s handle had been severed quickly by her lightsaber rendering the vibroknife a relatively less deadly knife. He had Vette clean the burn-mark on her face with a kolto infused bandage before going through the painstaking process of removing the blade. Blood streaked metal soon emerged from the tear on her side. 

Unbidden memories of rainy days at Dromund Kaas filtered past his emotional shield as he saw the blade emerge from Tremas’ form. He’d been on his way to procure supplies, a simple enough venture back when there had been only three passengers on board, when out of the blue she had declared that they were all of them going shopping. No doubt their exploits on Nar Shadaa had provided a windfall of credits for her. His Lord had given what had been, in his opinion, an obscene stipend to her Twi’lek slave. He remembered noting how generous she was with her money in contrast to other Siths who had a tendency to hoard their riches. He had attempted to remain calm and professional throughout the trip though he did crack a smile when she saw Tremas’ eye the purple kyber crystals excitedly. His own military stipend allowed for little more than the purchase of an extra uniform, and perhaps an upgrade module for his blaster. His recent promotion and its boost in salary had been stalled going on two cycles, no doubt held up by someone with an ax to grind. And so he had whiled the hours away following his two shipmates and carrying their purchases.

Tremas had insisted on taking them to an expensive bistro high atop a skyscraper overlooking the Imperial Citadel. He'd learned of her taste for green fire sauce, and she of his fondness for Trammistan chocolates and Kopi tea. It was the first time he had felt completely free of the ever present stress after Drukenwell. 

At the end of the day, after setting a course for Tattooine, he'd found a black glossy storage case in his quarters. Upon closer inspection he came to see“M. Quinn” was etched on the side in silver script. After inspecting it for explosives or similarly unwelcome surprises, he opened it to find several sets of clothes and a pair of heavy boots. They were not the standard military issue, but luxury items reinforced with armor, weapon, and even cooling modules. Not only that but there was also a new high end blaster, field medical kit, even a new datapad and to top it all off, the vibroknife he had been eyeing longingly while she’d been bartering for purple crystals. 

She smiled when he mentioned it, of course, as though it were all just a game. He hadn’t wished to be a burden, and he had every intention of supporting himself.

“I’ll not have my Captain traversing the galaxy in rags and tatters.”

It made sense of course, to give him the best tools for the job. He would have believed it was only that, save for the knife. He had no use for it on the field.

“The vibroknife is unnecessary, my Lord. I will not require it to serve you.”

“But you wanted it, Quinn. That’s reason enough. It’s called a gift, welcome aboard.”

He wanted it. That was the only motivation. He wanted it, so she provided it with no strings attached, no ulterior motive. It was such a pure, simple thing, and yet it struck a chord deep inside him that his throat constricted. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had spared a thought about what he wanted.

“I am… overwhelmed, my Lord...”

The memory was cut short as he heard someone sniffling. Vette had begun to cry. Her blue fingertips smoothed dark locks back from ghostly white skin. The stench of blood and kolto was everywhere.

“Please hang on…” she sniffled and it took all of Quinn’s willpower not to break down and cling to Tremas' form like a frightened child. It was his doing. This was what he had strived for since he’d left Balmorra. Yet all he wanted to do was die of shame and guilt.

He sprayed a layer of kolto to seal the wound on her side stemming the blood flow and starting the healing process, before preparing the tank. His hands shook as he prepared her for immersion. He’d done this to her. Every fragile breath, every weakened heartbeat was evidence of his betrayal.

My Lord... my love. Please don’t die.

Idiot. He was an idiot. She could have killed him any number of ways, quick and efficient. Instead she had vented her rage on the droids, allowing him to wear her down to this state. Even then she hadn’t attacked. She could have executed him at once and she didn’t attack.

Even lunging at her should have been easy to block but she… she allowed him near. She had allowed him to wound her to the point of death. Meanwhile, here the traitor stood with only a few minor scrapes and bruises to show for the exchange. He’d mutilated her and in turn, she’d given him his life back. 

Nausea turned his stomach as he felt the slickness of her blood on his hands. Her skin was ice cold and wrong. She who always held his hands and thawed them now lay on a medical bed drained of warmth. Vette was trying to hold back tears as she stood by the Kolto tank.

“What happened out there?” she asked quietly, looking at the Sith Lord floating inside.

He felt a lump in his throat and the prepared words didn’t come. Instead he turned away and attempted to wash his hands wishing his sins could be so easily erased. Vette looked down and saw the ornate blade coated in her friend’s blood. She may have been a lot of things, but she wasn’t stupid. Her gaze fell on the man currently looking as though he were about to retch. Her blood stained his uniform, a fitting image for the things he had done.

“Baras… Baras happened,” the words were like acid on his tongue. Not entirely a lie, no. But his part in the entire sordid affair made the next few words feel like hot coals against his heart, “my Lord was caught by surprise.”

 "You're her tactician! You led her into a trap  and then you just left her? She was bleeding out when she came in! You are supposed to be her support! What kind of field medic just leaves?!"

"My lord ordered me back to the ship before I could analyze her wounds," he said and his words were tainted with the realization that she had probably thought he would take advantage of her wounded state. His heart felt as though it were being crushed under the weight of his guilt. "Even after my failure... my Lord protected me from Baras. This is my fault..."

Until her last breath. Her last words had been spent clearing him of any fault, securing his position with her crew. He was unworthy of her. Whether it was his defeated posture, or the obvious remorse in his voice, his reply was enough to quell any more questions from Vette.

“Yeah, that sounds like her,” she said with a sad little smile, “you know, when I first met her, I thought she looked exactly like what a Sith is supposed to look like. Tall, proud, like she’d never had anyone tell her what to do. I resented her, I hated her... even when she went out of her way to be kind. 

"Then his Tubbiness sent us into a creepy tomb to recover a relic or something. I’d tried to go there myself before and it had been nearly impossible, but with her… it was like taking a stroll on the beach. She kept talking to me even joking but I kept treating her like she was just another weird Sith. After she got the thingie, I hoped to give her the slip. I lagged behind, but got jumped by a pair of crazy Sithlings before I could get very far. I was done for, I knew it. But then she was suddenly there in front of me. Tremas took a lightning blast to the chest to protect me. Shook the pair off like it was nothing, and told me to not to wander off because it was too dangerous. 

“She acted like it had been normal, but I saw the damage at the next medical station. I saw what it’d done to her. She'd taken that blast, and didn't even punish me. When I asked her why she’d saved me said: ‘Because you were afraid.’ Can you imagine it? A Sith stepping in front of a blast of lightning just because some slave girl is scared. I told her she was crazy but after that, I don't think I ever felt safer than when she's around. There’s just something about her. She puts herself in danger constantly for us, I think, we take it for granted sometimes. Everyone sees an undefeated Sith Lord, the Emperor's Wrath, I think... sometimes... we see her like that too and we forget she's a person.”

“I would be a fool to forget,” he said barely above a whisper. He monitored her vitals and avoided Vette's eyes. Hopefully, she would interpret his guilt as a result of his inability to support her properly. “There is little else we can do. You should go inform the others.”

“What about you?” Vette asked obviously trying to determined if he was injured.

“I'm fine, I'll stay here and monitor her progress.”

 Vette eyed him for a moment before reluctantly leaving Malavai with his thoughts. The crew was waiting just beyond the door, and far too late did she realize her clothes were stained with blood. They bombarded her with questions most of which she wasn't sure herself.

For all of its miraculous properties the kolto was working far too slowly for his tastes. She couldn't die, not now... not after having spared him... not after everything they'd done together... not by his hand... His fingers were curled into tight fists to keep himself from shaking.

How little you must think of me. Exactly how stupid did you think I was?

She had known all along and still accepted him. She had known and still had hoped that he would ultimately make the right choice. He had failed her.

It all became too much and he ran to retch in the refresher.

________________________

Read More About Tremas HERE!

Original Fictober Promp List HERE!

#Malavai Quinn #Vette #SWTOR #SWTOR OC #Tremas Cidran #fictober19

[cori-writes-fanfic]

Don’t Go Gently

Summary:  Sora wasn't dead, she kept saying; he was just missing.  (But she wasn't fooling anyone, not even herself.) Or: Kairi grapples with the aftermath of Sora’s sacrifice.

Rating: K+

Note: This fic explores some aspects of grief/death, so keep that in mind if those might trigger you.  (Also, let me know if there’s anything I might need to tag or extra warnings I should throw up here.)

(Cross-posted on FF.net)

________________________________________________________________

          Kairi stood outside Sora’s house and wondered why, why she’d insisted on coming here.

           (She could remember the conversation clearly, though.  “I should be the one to tell her.”

           Riku had given her a look that suggested he’d thought otherwise.  “You don’t have to.”

           “I was closest.  I was there.”  It’s my fault.  “I should tell her.”

           And Riku had still looked like he’d wanted to argue, but he pulled away with a sigh, looking forlorn and tired.  He looked like that a lot lately.)

           But now she was here, standing in front of the door, wringing her hands and biting her lip, unable to bring herself to even knock.  You could just go in, some voice whispered.  You and Riku spent most of your childhood running in and out of here without asking.  I’m sure Hikari wouldn’t mind now.

           Kairi lifted her hand, took a deep breath, and knocked once.

           Bustling sounded behind the door.  Something sounded like it toppled.

           I can’t do this.

           But then the door was swinging open, Hikari releasing a breathless, “Sor—” before she actually seemed to notice Kairi.  She stared a few moments, blinking blankly, and Kairi tensed, expecting her eyes to darken in disappointment, or to be sent away in frustrated anger.

           (If she looked close enough, did she see the guilt hidden in Kairi’s face?)

           But then Hikari’s shoulders relaxed and her mouth softened in a smile.  “Kairi,” she said, and if she didn’t sound as relieved as she had when she’d been about to say Sora’s name, her voice was no less warm. She opened her arms for a hug, which Kairi accepted stiffly.  Hikari pulled away, holding her arms gently, and her expression drifted slightly towards concern.  “Come inside.”

           It was an order more than an invitation, and so Kairi obeyed, stepping into the hallway and allowing herself to be guided to the living.

           Hikari settled her on the couch, bustling towards the kitchen.  Kairi’s eyes drifted over the familiar pictures lining the mantle and desks, the fishbone carvings Sora’s father had made when he was still alive, the surfboard Sora had begged for sitting unused in a corner.  The couch was the same as it always was, a dull green with an old knitted blanket thrown over the top, and Kairi found herself picking at one of the threads.

           Clanging sounded in the kitchen.  “Sorry it’s a mess, dear!” Hikari shouted.

           (It’s not, Kairi, thought, because she still remembered Sora’s propensity for tracking in sand from the beach and dropping shells and sea glass and shark’s teeth onto the tables to sort them, his tendency to just drop his beach ware and towels in the hallway and Hikari’s shouts of, “Sora!  Pick up after yourself!”)

           Hikari poked her head into the room, asking, “Is tea alright, dear?”

           “I—yes, that’s fine.”

           Hikari smiled, but it seemed tense, and she disappeared back into the kitchen.

           In the relative silence, Kairi had the time to consider what she was going to say.  She didn’t really remember much about what happened, or coming back, despite what she’d told Riku—she knew Riku had found her, crying and hardly moving, on the Paopu Tree, and had taken her home early.  (She vaguely remembered begging him to stay the night with her, because she couldn’t be alone, she couldn’t, and Riku had looked guilty and like he was about to say yes until his Gummiphone had buzzed, and he’d sighed and pulled away.)  She knew Riku hadn’t told anyone anything, but the island had been abuzz about her return.

           Three days, her mind supplied.  It felt like an eternity.

           Hikari appeared, carefully carrying two mugs.  “I haven’t had guests in a while,” she said sheepishly, setting one in front of Kairi with a quiet clack.

           “Not even Claire?” She took a careful sip.

           “No, no, she’s been busy. Besides, if I’m going to see people, I usually go to their house anymore.”  This house is too empty, remained unspoken, but the words hung in the room like ghosts.

           Kairi cleared her throat and set her mug down.  “I’m here about Sora.”

           Was she imagining it when Hikari’s breath caught?  “I wondered as much,” the older woman murmured, brushing aside a lock of brown hair that had escaped her bun.  “Riku told me that you’d gone missing.”

           (Missing felt like a Keyblade striking her back, she hadn’t been missing, she’d been—)

           “That’s right. And—and he told you Sora went to find me, right?”

           “Yes.”  Hikari looked into her mug, stirring the tea absently. “It’s alright, dear.”

           Kairi stiffened. Her fingers tightened around the mug. (So what if it was too hot?  If it weren’t for her, Sora wouldn’t—)  “What do you mean?”

           Hikari smiled gently, but she still didn’t lift her eyes.  “You came back a few days ago.  Sora didn’t.  I know what that means.”

           “He’s just missing,” Kairi said in a rush, slamming the mug hard enough that some tea spilt onto the coffee table.  “Whatever he did to get me back—it did something to him.  But he’s still out there.  I know it.”

           (Some part of her whispered, Is he missing like you were?)

           “Kairi.”

           She might’ve argued further, but Hikari’s tone gave her pause.

           The older woman sighed, her shoulders falling, and suddenly Kairi regretted doing this, maybe she should’ve just let Riku handle it, he’d been handling everything pretty well—

           (But she knew that wasn’t true.  She’d seen the heavy slump to his shoulders, the shadows under his eyes and how he’d pour tireless over books on magic, how he’d almost start crying and then blink away the tears and continue reading.  She wondered when he’d leave her behind again.)

           Hikari continued, “I’m tired of being given false hope.”  She removed her spoon and tapped it against her mug.  “I don’t blame you.  I know this isn’t your fault—any of you.  But it’s hard to watch your child run off into danger again and again, knowing they might not come back.  At some point you have to come to grips with the reality that you might lose him.”

           Kairi forced herself to inhale slowly, hold it, and exhale just as carefully.  She could feel her eyes burning, and she didn’t want to cry.

           “He might be alright—but I’ve seen the way you and Riku have been after you came back.”  She finally tilted her head upwards to give her a gentle look.  “You wouldn’t leave your house for an entire day.”

           Kairi stood abruptly. “Sora’s fine,” she said, and if it was a little clipped, well, she wasn’t going to worry about it now. “He’s just missing.  I wanted to tell you that myself, since—since it happened because he rescued me.  Riku’s going to go and find him.  Soon, probably.  That’s all.”

           Hikari sighed and shook her head, but her eyes were still gentle.

           Kairi offered a stiff bow.  “Thank you for the tea.”  She left, feeling like the ghosts in the house were watching her all the way out the door.

                                                            ~*~

             -Kairi had forgotten about school until her father had presented her with a uniform.  “First day,” he’d said, smiling sheepishly.  

           (Kairi had taken the uniform and tried it on, and it was weird how normal it had seemed, after everything.  She might’ve stared at her reflection blankly until the day had ended if Naminé hadn’t burst in, panicking about her schedule and comparing it to Kairi’s and worrying about the fact that it was different, and Kairi forced herself to relax and worked to calm her newfound sister down.)

           When she’d entered the classroom, she’d stiffened, and blurted without thinking, “That’s Sora’s desk.”

           The boy who was sitting there (he had the same brown hair, but it was flat, and his face was too wide, the clothes all wrong) gave her a puzzled look.  “No?  It says right on the seating chart that this is mine.”

           Someone tugged on Kairi’s sleeve, and Kairi looked down to see Selphie.  “New school year, remember?”

           Kairi nodded, face heating.  She checked the seating chart herself, trying not to feel like a dozen pairs of eyes were staring at her, making the hair on the back of her neck lift.  She walked stiffly between the rows and desks and slid into her own, refusing to lift her head and look at anyone.

           (How could she expect anyone to plan for someone who’d been gone for years?  Maybe Sora had been missing to the islands for longer than a few weeks.)

           The room grew abruptly quiet, and Kairi looked up to see Riku hovering at the front of the classroom. She frowned in confusion, until she remembered: Riku had been gone, too.  Riku rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, then lowered it to tug awkwardly at his school uniform.  Whispers gradually started, and Kairi caught snippets of, “Riku?” and “Where’s he been?” Riku seemed to sink into himself, seeming so much more out of place than he did when he was wielding a Keyblade.

           Kairi’s frown deepened and she started to stand.  Halfway up she hesitated.  Does he want defending? she wondered.  And how am I supposed to do it?  He’s not quite the same person he was two years ago.  Neither am I.

           (She still remembered that night she’d come back, when he’d left her to face her demons on her own.)

           She sat back down.

           The teacher entered a few moments later, and seemed almost as surprised to see Riku as the students did.  She recovered much quickly, however, muttering something about, “Administration never tells us anything.”  She cleared her throat.  “Riku, I believe there’s an empty desk behind Tidus.”

           He nodded and moved to the back of the class, seeming to shrink away from the desks.

           “Now, as for the rest of you.”  Their teacher planted her hands on her desk, giving them stern looks.  “I don’t want to hear that any of you have been harassing each other.  That includes Riku and Kairi.”

           Her skin prickled as eyes turned her way.

           “I know they’ve been gone a while, but what happened is their own business leave them be.”  With a final sweep around the room, she lifted the seating chart for roll call.

           Kairi released a heavy breath.  She turned, looking at Riku.

           He caught her eye and flashed an embarrassed, almost-sad smile.

           She allowed herself to smile back.

           Homeroom passed quickly, and Kairi had just finished packing up her supplies, scrambling for her schedule to try and figure out what class she had next, when her teacher said, “Kairi.  A moment?”

           (She didn’t want to give her a moment, because she knew what her teacher was going to talk about, and Sora was just missing, didn’t anyone understand that?)

           She took a deep breath and smiled. “Yes?”

           The corners of her teacher’s mouth were downturned slightly.  “I may not know all the details, but I understand that you and Riku must still be struggling a great deal.  If you ever need anyone to talk to—”

           “That’s alright,” Kairi said, a little too quickly, throwing her backpack haphazardly over her shoulder.

           Her teacher didn’t look entirely convinced.  “If you’re sure.  Just know that we have counselors for a reason.  Use them.”

           Kairi knew she was just trying to be nice (she just didn’t understand), so she gave a nod and forced herself to smile, and she squeezed past without further incident.

           In small schools, as with small towns, news doesn’t take long to travel.  It was especially true when grade levels often mixed in classes to help fill them, and soon all Kairi could hear was people whispering Riku or Kairi with the occasional question of Sora? and then someone would shush them quickly and glance her way.

           She’d tried to catch Riku at lunch, but found him already surrounded by students.  “Is it true?” one was asking.  “Did you really travel the world in a raft?”

           “No?  Who even told you—”

           “Sora said you guys had this weird sword-key-thing.”

           “Keyblade.”

           “Where is Sora?”

           “Dude.”  Someone clocked him.

           Riku’s eyes had gone wide, and his breath had hitched.

           (He hadn’t noticed Kairi yet, and if maybe Kairi had considered trying to get through before, to talk to him, the mention of Sora had left her frozen, because if she saved Riku from the question then they’d all know, they’d see her and realize it was her fault that Sora wasn’t here, that Sora was gone—

           So she stayed silent.)

           “He’s—something happened. He can’t be here right now.”

           There was some discontented mumbling, but they seemed to understand by the stubborn set of Riku’s jaw that he wasn’t going to budge, and conversation moved on to other things.

           Kairi turned and left to find Naminé, wondering why her mouth tasted like bile and her chest felt heavy.

                                                            ~*~

             -The island had never felt small until she’d come back.  Now, the buildings felt claustrophobic, the people too-familiar and yet not familiar enough, each day blurring into each other with the same normalness that somehow just didn’t feel right after Xeh—after everything, and she desperately wanted to leave for a little while because she just couldn’t breathe.

           She’d made the mistake of texting this to Lea, because the next thing she knew he’d arrived with a Gummi ship at her school.

           “Axel, what are you doing?” she asked, exasperated, ignoring the gaping mouths and wide eyes surrounding them.

           “Well, hello to you, too,” Lea drawled, surveying the area.  “Man, no wonder you guys wanted to leave.  This place is tiny.”  He fixed his eyes on her.  “So? We going?”

           Kairi hesitated, and maybe there was a part of her that still remembered the last time Lea had come to find her on Destiny Islands, but she needed to get away for a while, so she walked into the Gummi ship with Lea in tow.  “No Isa?  Or Roxas and Xion?”

           “They’ll meet us there. I didn’t figure they’d be too anxious to come back after—well.”

           Kairi ignored the comment, and was infinitely grateful when Lea continued, “Anyway, how’s Naminé?”

           Finally, finally something Kairi could talk about without guilt, and when she smiled it felt right.  “She’s great! She was really nervous about school at first, but she settled in quickly.  She’s joined art club.”

           “Really?  Never would’ve pegged her for the type.”

           Kairi shoved him, and he laughed.  “You know,” Kairi said, “if you’d given me a little warning, I might’ve been able to invite her, too.”

           He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.  “Ah. Whoops.”  Abruptly his hand returned to the wheel, steering them around a Heartless that had gotten to close for comfort.

           Speaking of. She pulled out her Gummiphone and sent a quick text.  With Axel. Going to Twilight Town for a bit. Need anything?

           A few moments later her phone dinged.  I could use some more colored pencils, if you have the time.  Mine keep disappearing.  Have fun!

           Kairi smiled and tucked the phone back in her pocket.

           After a while the indigo expanse of space faded into the golden orange glow of Twilight Town’s sunset. Lea steered them to an open area where three figures stood waiting.  He waved in greeting.

           Isa gave him a long-suffering sigh.  “Must you always be so impulsive?”

           Kairi asked, “You didn’t tell them, either?”

           “He did,” Xion said, looking like she was fighting back a grin, “but it was mostly, ‘Taking the Gummi ship.  Be back in a second.’”

           “See?  I told you.”

           Isa said, “That hardly counts,” but his smile offset his words.

           Kairi snuck a glance at Roxas.  The boy was smiling, but there was a tension around his eyes, an edge to his grin that somehow felt familiar.

           (She wondered if, should she look hard enough, she’d see anything of Sora.  She wondered if maybe visiting had been a bad idea, after all.)

           They wandered around Twilight Town, dipping in and out of shops.  Roxas—who’d been quiet at first, keeping a careful distance between himself and Kairi—brightened a little when they ran into Hayner, Pence, and Olette and was encouraged to show off some of his skateboarding tricks.  Hayner quickly turned it into a competition.

           “Show him how it’s done, Roxas!”

           “Hey, I thought you guys were on my side!”

           They stopped by the bistro, and conversation eased, Lea gesturing wildly about some crazy story and Xion asking about Naminé, Roxas interjecting occasionally to ask questions of his own.  (His face was relaxed, but there were still dark shadows under his eyes, something hiding there that Kairi didn’t want to look too closely at.)  At the mention of Naminé, Kairi asked about an art supplies store, and Xion was happy to lead her to one.

           At some point Kairi realized that she was flashing real smiles instead of fake ones, and that the suffocating feeling that had followed her the last few weeks was slowly slipping away.

           (She also knew the day was ending, and she’d need to get back home soon—it was already night on Destiny Islands—and a part of her dug her feet in to stall, because she couldn’t go back, not yet, couldn’t stand the pitying looks and normal monotony and the space between her and Riku where Sora had once stood.)

           Lea extended a stick of ice cream in front of her nose, startling her out of her thoughts.  “Ice cream?”

           “The icing on the cake,” he said with a grin.

           Roxas and Xion snorted, and Kairi had the feeling there was some sort of inside joke she was missing. She accepted the ice cream, and Lea led the way up to the clock tower.

           They settled into their spots, Lea making a swipe at Isa’s ice cream that missed, Roxas and Xion laughing at his attempts.  Kairi sat uncertainly on Xion’s other side, trying not to think about how far down the ground was.  She turned her attention to the sunset, only half-listening to the conversation beside her. Her ice cream dripped onto her knees.

           (She wondered if maybe they’d be willing to have her another day—it wouldn’t hurt that much to miss school, Sora and Riku had missed so much, after all, and they were going to be missing more, she could take some time—)

           Someone nudged her. “Kairi?”

           Kairi blinked and looked at Xion.

           “Are you okay? Your ice cream’s melting?”

           “Yeah—yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.”  She took a bite of her ice cream and absently dabbed at one of the sticky spots on her knees.  “Sora would’ve loved this.”

           Out of the corner of her eye she saw Roxas stiffen.

           She wondered if she’d said something wrong, but Xion smiled easily.  “Yeah, I guess he would’ve.”

           “Maybe he could come up here, too, after he comes back.”  She thought of bringing him and Riku up here, of bantering and hanging out like they used to (like the family she was visiting was doing now) and smiled a little.

           “He’s not coming back.”

           The words were quiet, with a little edge to them, and came from Xion’s right.  Kairi blinked at Roxas, leaning forward to get a better look at him.  “What do you mean?  Of course he is.  Riku’s going to find him.”

           “With the Power of Waking?”  Roxas’s fingers tightened around his ice cream stick.

           The world had gone strangely quiet.  A part of Kairi felt like she shouldn’t continue, but the rest felt like she could clear up the misconception.  “No, or he’ll just go missing, too.  He’s going to find a different way.”

           “Missing?”

           She didn’t miss the edge to Roxas’s words, the hunch to his shoulders, but the words made an old, frustrated anger bubble up inside her.  “Yes.  Sora’s just missing, and when he comes home—”

           “He’s dead, Kairi!”  Roxas turned on her, face contorted in grief and anger and a hopelessness that looked almost too familiar.

           (And looking at his face, at the furious hardening of his eyes and the snarl twisting his lips and the frustrated tears running down his face, Kairi wondered how anyone had ever thought he looked like Sora.)

           “Roxas,” Xion said, lifting a hand.

           “Hey now,” Lea added, almost simultaneously.

           But Roxas, propelled by anger or grief or some other emotion, barreled onward.  “It’s like there’s the hole in my chest.  I used to feel him, but he’s just not there anymore. He’s gone.”

           Kairi reeled, floundering to grasp the anger from before, hoping to ground herself on some sort of solid conviction.  “That’s—that just means you miss him, it’s what everyone’s feeling—”

           “It’s not the same.”  He shook his head, but his fingers found Xion’s and squeezed, his free hand touching Lea’s on his shoulder.  “I’m his Nobody.  I’ve always felt him, even when I didn’t know it was him, but I don’t feel it anymore. And it’s not fair, but what are we supposed to do?  Without the Power of Waking—he’s gone, Kairi.”

           Kairi wasn’t sure how to answer that because she hadn’t found an answer herself, and so she looked helplessly at Lea.

           Lea frowned, shifting a little uncomfortably.  “I think maybe I should take you home, Kairi.”

           She nodded, uncertain about what else to do, and left Roxas there with Xion and Isa.

           The walk back to the Gummi ship was quiet.  Lea kept paced with her, his attention occasionally flicking her way.  “Are you alright?” he asked finally.

           “Fine,” she said, a realized she might’ve been a bit more curt than intended.  She softened her voice and added, “I’m sorry.”

           “Nah, it’s not your fault.  We’ve all been dealing with it in different ways.”  Lea shrugged, his head tilted skyward.  “Roxas—well, he doesn’t handle grief well.  He’s always needed to take it out on something.  It’s nothing really to do with you.”  He paused, looking like he was about to say something, then sighed instead.

           They didn’t speak again until they arrived back at Destiny Islands.  Lea called, “Hey, Kairi, listen.”

           She stopped as she was about to get off the Gummi ship, already feeling the crushing weight on the island folding around her, tugging to pull her down, down, down into a life that felt almost too normal and people who had no idea about what they’d done or seen.

           “Just be careful, alright?  I know what it’s like to get so wrapped up in losing someone that you end up hurting yourself.  And others.” He met her eyes.  “I don’t want the same to happen to you, alright?”

           Kairi swallowed and curled her fists slowly.  She nodded, suddenly unable to speak, and stepped onto the sand of the island.

           Roxas texted her an apology that night, but she couldn’t bring herself to respond.

                                                             ~*~

             -“Do you think Sora’s dead?”

           Naminé started at her question.  She lowered her drawing pad slowly.  “Why do you ask?”

           “Roxas does.” Kairi gripped her Gummi phone, her attention flicking towards the window.  From here she could see the beach, the waves brushing languidly across the golden sand.  “I think Axel and Xion do, too, but they won’t say anything about it.”

           Naminé sighed and absently brushed some pencil shavings off the page.  “I think,” she said carefully, “that if Roxas believes so, there’s a good chance it’s true.  He was his Nobody.”

           “I asked what you thought.”

           Naminé sighed again. “Does it matter what I think? You’re convinced of one thing already, whether I tell you or not.”

           “He’s not dead,” Kairi said firmly.

           “See?”

           Kairi slumped. “I’m sorry.  I really do want to know your answer.  I’ve just—I have to know what everyone else thinks.”

           Naminé gave her a tired look.  Her eyes turned sad, and she clutched her sketchbook a little tighter.  “Yes,” she murmured.  “I think so.”

           The rest of the afternoon passed in silence, the only sound the quiet scratch of Naminé’s pencil.

                                                             ~*~

             -Maybe a week later Riku knocked on their door.  

           Kairi met him there, noted the bag slung over his shoulder, and asked, “You’re leaving.”

           She’d phrased it as a statement, not a question, but Riku answered anyway.  “Yeah.” He shifted the bag a little.  “I’m going to bring him home.  I promise.”

           “Do you think you can?”

           She hadn’t meant to ask the question, and Riku gave her a long look before saying, “Yeah.”

           (Sora had brought her home, after all.)

           Kairi nodded.  “Stay safe.”

           “I will.”  He smiled, but it looked tired and guilty and not quite right on his face. “Don’t worry.  We’ve been doing this a while, after all.”

           (She didn’t ask him to take her with him, and he didn’t offer.  Maybe, a lifetime ago, he would’ve, and maybe, a lifetime ago, she would’ve accepted. Now she just returned to her empty room and sat on her bed and wondered why her chest felt so hollow.)

                                                             ~*~

             -Water lapped against her cheek, and for a moment Kairi thought she’d fallen asleep on the beach.  But when she opened her eyes a wide expanse of water and clear, blue sky stretched as far as the eye could see.

           (She remembered this place, vaguely, somewhere in her scattered memories after Xehanort had attacked her with his Keyblade.  It had felt like pieces of her were breaking away, pulled into that sky, and she’d been so confused and afraid but knew she couldn’t go, because Sora and Riku would be worried about her—

           And then warm hands had found her, and a familiar voice had whispered, “I found you,” but had sounded as sad as it had relieved.)

           It felt like she was walking in place, her footsteps making quiet splashing sounds as she moved. Occasionally she caught glimpses of stars, barely there, but looking at them too long gave her a headache, and so she kept going.

           Then—

           “Kairi?”

           Her heart leapt into her throat.  Her words caught behind it, and she sucked in a shaky, ragged breath.

           Sora stood in front of her, looking like he’d been made from the water that pooled under their feet, his mouth parted in a surprised gasp.

           Kairi crossed the distance and crashed into him.  He didn’t feel like he was made of water; he felt warm, solid, real, and she sobbed into his shoulder, sobbed for the first time since he’d brought her back to the islands, sobbed because he was here, and he was okay.

           Arms slowly wrapped around her and his chest shook with a quiet laugh.  “Right.  Chirithy mentioned that people could cross over in their dreams sometimes.  For a moment, I thought…”  He trailed away and hugged her tighter.  “It’s good to see you, Kairi.”

           “Where have you been?”

           “I’ve, uh.”  She felt him shrug.  “Away?”

           She sobbed harder. “I’m sorry,” she wailed.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought I could do it, I’m sorry—”

           “Hey.  Hey.” Sora pulled away for a moment, and Kairi wanted to protest, wanted to drag him closer, but he held her arms gently and gave her a small smile.  He wiped a tear away.  “This? This isn’t your fault.  It was Xehanort’s, for—for making you come here in the first place.  And I chose to come after you.  No one made me.”

           “I should’ve been stronger.”

           “It was your first real fight!  I mean, we kind of did just throw you into a war headfirst.”  He smiled, awkward and sad.

           (She wondered if he blamed himself for what happened to her, too.)

           “Riku’s coming to find you,” she said.

           “What?!”

           “Not—not the way you found me.”  She smiled a little.

           Sora relaxed. “Whew.  That’s a relief.”  He gave the world around him a glance.  “Guess I should wait here a while longer, then.”

           “Were you going to leave?”

           Sora looked like he wasn’t sure how to answer.  His attention shifted skyward, and Kairi was suddenly aware of how it seemed like the world was growing brighter.  Sora’s shoulders slumped.  “I think it’s time for you to wake up.”

           Kairi clung to Sora’s arms tighter.  “I don’t want to.”

           Sora gently detached himself from her.  “It’s okay, Kairi.”

           The light grew brighter. Kairi reached for him, but it felt suddenly like her limbs were made of lead, the water beneath slowly dragging her down.  “Sora!”

           Sora smiled, and tapped his chest, and his lips moved in silent words.

           “Sora—Sora, I can’t hear you, what are you—”

           And then she was falling, the waves crashing over her head and dragging her down.

                                                              ~*~

             -When Ven showed up on Kairi’s doorstep one morning, she could only stare.  Ven rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.  “Uh.  Hey?”

           The little cat Dream Eater beside him—Chirithy, if she remembered correctly—sighed and shook their head.  “Oh, boy.”

           “What are you doing here?” Kairi asked, wondering distantly if maybe Naminé had asked him to come.

           “I wanted to visit.”

           Kairi stiffened, waiting for the same platitudes that she’d come to expect from her classmates, for the same sad looks she’d get from Lea and Naminé.

           But Ven didn’t look sad. A bit awkward and uncertain, maybe, but his eyes were bright.  “The Destiny Islands were Sora’s home.  I kind of saw them when I was in Sora’s heart, but I didn’t really see them, you know?  I was curious.”

           Curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, “So, why come to my house, instead of Sora’s?”

           Ven made a face, and it reminded her so much of Sora that she had to take a moment to focus again. “It’s weird.  Like, I’d have to explain how I know her and how I’m connected to Sora, and, uh—there’s no good way to explain any of that without freaking her out.”

           Kairi gave a small smile. “I suppose not.”

           “I’d like to explore the island, if you don’t mind showing me around?  Naminé, too, if she wants to come.”  He smiled brightly.  “I never really got the chance to really meet you guys, either.  I mean, I kind of did, but not—you know.”

           Kairi laughed. “It’s fine.”  She stepped out of the house and closed the door quietly. “Naminé’s spending the day with some friends from school, though.  I hope you don’t mind if it’s just me.”

           “Of course not!”

           As Kairi led Ven around the island, he’d alternate between talking to her, asking questions about whatever they saw, and occasionally drifting away to check something out, much to Chirithy’s chagrin.  His enthusiasm was contagious, and the heaviness that had settled in since Riku left (since Sora left) eased a little.

           Ven looked towards the Play Island when they reached the beach.  “Can we row out there?” he asked.  “I know we visited once, when…”  He trailed away, suddenly looking guilty.

           Here it comes, Kairi thought, stiffening.  She braced herself and said, tersely, “He’s not dead.”

           “I know.”

           She whipped towards him. He didn’t look like he was patronizing her; his eyes were still bright, eyebrows furrowed in faint confusion, his mouth pulling down in a confused frown.  He looked sincere.

           (It didn’t matter that Chirithy seemed strangely subdued, looking down at their pouch with their eyes scrunched into little slits.  If someone else believed it—if someone else thought that Sora was just missing, then—

           Maybe it was true.)

           Maybe it was that confirmation that gave her the courage to say it, or maybe it was how much Ven reminded her of Sora, or maybe it was just the restless emptiness in her chest that finally spilled over: “Want to go look for him?”

           Ven’s expression morphed into surprise.  “Isn’t Riku looking already?”

           “Two groups are better than one.”  She glanced back towards the Play Island.  “And I can’t sit around waiting anymore.”

           The surprise faded into something more serious.  Ven seemed to consider it a few moments, his hand resting over his heart.  “I’ll have to let Terra and Aqua know,” he said. “If I disappear after we all just got back, they’ll be worried.”

           Kairi whipped towards him, and for the first time in a long time, her chest didn’t feel quite so empty.

           Ven grinned, and it was as fierce as it was bright.  “Let’s go find him.”

 _______________________________________________________________

…Ven and Kairi team up when?

#kingdom hearts #kh fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfic #kairi #ven #sora #riku #lea #namine #roxas #xion #isa #listen i have a lot of thoughts about this #and even though i probably don't have time to write out a whole novel-length fic #i will probably try and post more ideas about it at some point

[hamburgergod]

stay out of the cold with the latest orange and grapefruit verse where Dean and Cas are roommates and Cas happens to be a human-harpy hybrid! In this installment, Charlie and Jo deal with a broken heater and Dean and Cas offer a solution. ~2.5k 

[AO3] [dreamwidth]

“The heater at my place broke again,” is what Charlie says instead of a normal greeting.

“Hey to you, too,” Dean replies through a mouthful of rice and chicken. “Again?”

“Yeah.” She’s wearing the full gear—mittens, earmuffs, a scarf, the whole lot. She slumps over the cafeteria table. “This is how I’ve been sleeping.”

“Are you serious?”

“No,” she replies and Dean starts to laugh, but she only grows more grim. “I also wear ski pants on top of one of those fuzzy pajama bottoms and these super thick socks that I can’t fit into my boots. Also two sweaters and my coat.”

“Oh. Shit.” Dean forgives her for stealing one of his chicken pieces, if only out of pity. “That sucks, man. Did you tell the landlord?”

“Yeah, but he hasn’t done anything yet.” She chews on the piece mournfully. “He said he would, but he hasn’t. On a completely unrelated note, our lease includes all utilities, so. You know how it is.”

He can relate—it wouldn’t be the first time a college student had a dick landlord. “Dude, that sucks,” he says, more for consolation than anything since there’s not much he can offer.

She shows him the pictures she took of her windows this morning, which are completely frozen over—not with frost, but covered with bumpy ice, and the sides almost like thick icicles that are seen on tree trunks during winter. Jesus Christ. Dean adds a mental note to pick up some insulation film for their own apartment, although that might be overdoing it this year.

“This winter hasn’t been easy on anyone from what I hear,” she says, nibbling on a piece of green pepper from his lunch. “So how come you’re fine, Kansas boy?”

“Stereotype.”

She laughs. “But seriously,” says Charlie, “last year you wouldn’t shut up about how cold you were. How come this time you’re so—” She waves at him, half-disgusted at his well-being, “content?”

She has a point. Around the same time last year, Dean thought freezing to death in his room half-delirious from staying up the night to finish his report was how he was going to go. He shrugs. “Maybe ‘cause I have a smaller place now?”

“Like hell,” Charlie replies, and Dean laughs. “Maybe your landlord actually cares about heating this year.”

Dean snorts. “Maybe.”

It took him a little while to understand that it wasn’t the heater that’s been extra productive but another fairly new constant in his life. Said fairly new constant that’s currently walking into the living room wearing an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants, yawning up a storm.

“Good nap?” Dean asks, looking up from his phone. Cas nods, still somewhat out of it, and joins him on the couch. The heat from his body radiates towards Dean soon enough, and it’s such a perfect amount of toasty that Dean’s about to break out the marshmallows and the graham crackers. Dude’s like a walking heater.

Dean can’t help but let out a content sigh. The otherwise frosty living room soon thaws, and Dean loosens his grip on the blanket he was clutching at.

“What’s for dinner?” Cas demands sleepily. Dean huffs, and tells him it’s mac n’ cheese. “Stovetop or from the oven?”

“Which one would you rather have?”

“Oven-baked. Obviously the superior version.”

It’s a bit more work, but Dean’s up for the challenge. “Okay, then I’ll make that one.”

Pleased, Cas smiles. Maybe Dean imagines it, but the heat radiating from Cas becomes a little more intense for a second before it flares back down into a steady source of warmth.

Good mood means more heat. Cool.

Dean helps to shake the snow off the top of Charlie’s bobble hat. She gives a full-body shiver in return, her nose red and her cheeks icy cold.

“God,” she says. “I’m going to die. Straight up freeze my ass to death.”

“Heater still not fixed?”

“F-fucking—nope.” She shoots a grim smile. “But Jo and I sent our landlord an email briefly mentioning the HUD, and he replied saying he’s booked a repair guy. Right away! Can you believe this guy?” She sniffles. “Except today is Friday, so repair guy won’t be here until Monday at the very least. I just know that my ass is out of that house as soon as the lease is up.”

“How long’s your lease for?”

“…Until the summer. Ugh.” Charlie shivers up again. Dean pities her. “Apparently it’s supposed to snow tonight, again. I’m going to die, Dean.” Her voice sounds slightly blocked from having a congestion, and Dean touches the tip of her nose. It’s completely frozen.

“You guys don’t have a couch to crash at until then?”

“Nope,” Charlie replies miserably.

So miserably, that Dean doesn’t think twice about it when he whips his phone out to text Cas.

Charlie almost cries when she steps into their apartment.

“I have never been more glad to be in a dude’s apartment than I am now,” she says tearfully, and Dean snorts, directing her to the couch. She gladly takes the offer, and snuggles up against the blanket that’s already bunched up on top of it. Dean makes them both a cup of hot chocolate while she boots up her laptop, making cooing noises at it all the while.

“Jo says she’ll head here as soon as she’s done work,” Charlie says. “God, do you know how nice it is to feel my toes again?”

Dean laughs.  “Did you want anything specific for dinner?”

“You’re feeding me too?! Oh my god, dude.” Charlie sends the blanket flying as she hugs him. “Best temp roommate ever.”

“Alright, alright.” Dean gives her a firm pat on the back with a smile. “Don’t get too used to it.”

“I’ll treat you guys tomorrow. I promise.” Charlie holds up a hand to Dean’s protest. “Dean, you’re already providing us so much. It’s the least I can do.”

It’s then that Cas shuffles out of his room stretching and takes a moment to blink at Charlie in split second confusion before his smile breaks through. “Hello, Charlie.”

“Hey man!” Charlie gets up to hug him too. “Thanks for this. Jo and I are super grateful.”

Cas frowns. “The living condition at your place doesn’t sound very accommodating.”

“Don’t get me started on that.”

Jo joins them after work as Charlie’s promised and soon enough everyone’s piled up in the living room being warmed to their very core. Charlie dozes off a few times and Jo pokes her awake just long enough to have her finish her essay. Dean makes quesadillas and passes plates of it around, smacking Jo’s hand away from grabbing the plate near her.

“Ow! What’s your deal?”

“That’s Cas’s,” Dean replies. At Jo’s eyebrow quirk, he adds, “He doesn’t like chicken.”

Cas’s head perks up from between his textbook and gives Dean a blinding smile. Dean flushes hot under his collar at the sight; it’s not that big of a deal for Cas to look so pleased that Dean remembered that Cas doesn’t like eating chicken (“Is it like… borderline cannibalism for you guys?” “Not so much cannibalism as it feels… wrong for me to eat. Would you ever eat a monkey?”). His face is warm as he hands him his plate and he still doesn’t cool back down when he’s sitting in his spot with his own plate.

“Is it hotter in here or what?” asks Charlie.

“What?” Dean clears his throat. “No. What?”

“No, it definitely got hotter,” says Jo. She fans herself, her own face slightly red. Oh. Temperature-wise, they mean. Duh. “It went from 0 to 100 real quick all of a sudden.”

Charlie rolls up her sleeves and Jo ties her hair up into a ponytail while Cas pretends to not notice any of this is happening, his face slightly red also probably from his own body heat, and Dean tries to contain his own smile. Dude must really like his quesadilla or something, geez.

The rest of the weekend goes by relatively event-free and Charlie and Jo are more than happy to go back to their house after their heater is fixed. Though the apartment feels much bigger after those two leave even though they only stayed for two nights, Dean’s also secretly a little bit relieved to have his and Cas’s space back. He especially feels worse when, as soon as Charlie and Jo walk out the front door, Cas lets out a mile long groan and his wings shudder out full-force, twitchy from having been crammed in without an opportunity to stretch them.

Dean winces. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” says Cas, even though this must’ve been harder for him than anyone else in the apartment.

“Was it? Really?” Dean pokes the side of Cas’s wing and Cas yelps. “Sorry!”

Cas huffs as he relaxes his wings down again, and rolls his shoulders with a crane of his neck. “It was still nice to have their company,” he says graciously.

Cas cranes his neck with a wince and look, Dean feels bad. He really does. So he offers the only thing he can think of. “D’you want a massage?”

Cas’s head snaps to Dean, wide-eyed. “What?”

Dean blinks. Well, that was a response. “A massage. For your wings.” Dean shifts his weight on his feet, slightly unnerved by Cas’s sudden upped intensity. “I feel bad, y’know? My fault you couldn’t stretch them out.”

Cas’s wings twitch in place like he’s trying to hold them very still just like how he holds himself right now as he stares at Dean with disbelief. His face grows more and more crimson until the tips of his ears are bright red.

“Did… I say something wrong?”

“Um.” Cas blinks rapidly. His tongue quickly pokes out to lick his lips. “No. Just.” He coughs. “You don’t understand what you’re offering to do.”

“Huh?”

As if saying that out loud was more to confirm it to himself than to inform Dean, Cas relaxes as he watches Dean’s cluelessness grows. “Humans… hold hands and, and touch each other as an act of intimacy typically when they’re romantically involved. Wing grooming and such for harpies…”

“Oh.” So Dean basically offered to… He flushes. “Oh.”

“It’s alright,” Cas says quickly as if he understands how painfully embarrassing it is to misunderstand one’s cultural aspect and make a fool out of himself. Oh, wait. Ha. “You didn’t know what you were saying.”

“Right.” Dean laughs awkwardly.

Cas offers an awkward smile in return and suddenly the living room is more stuffy than ever, a thin layer of something hovering over them as they stand there like dumbasses without being able to look each other in the eyes for some reason.

Dean can’t take it. “Do uh, do you only wing groom your partners?” he asks with the sole purpose of academic interest. Someone’s gotta ask these questions, right? “Like, this is strictly romantic?”

Cas thinks about it. His face contorts in an interesting way as he thinks, his eyes screwing up as his eyebrows move up and down and his mouth pursed into a thin line. “No. Not always.”

A sliver of hope. “Oh?”

“No,” Cas says slowly, like an old computer rebooting itself after it blue-screened. “A baby harpy would have their wings groomed by their parents, or close friends would help each other with hard-to-reach places. No,” he repeats, “there’s a platonic aspect to it. It’s circumstantial.”

“Oh.” Dean’s shoulders sag with relief and he laughs, more genuine this time. “Then why’d you make it so weird when I offered, dude?”

Cas frowns down. His wings twitch again. “I don’t know.”

Thank god. Thank god it was just Cas being his socially awkward self and not Dean having crossed a line. “Well, hey, offer’s still on the table if you want.”

Cas flushes and rubs the back of his neck. His wings flutter slightly. He sighs. “It would be nice,” he admitted.

They sit down on the floor since the couch is too small to accompany Cas’s wings while he’s sitting up. Dean thinks about suggesting Cas to lie down but thinks better on it. Now that he actually has Cas’s wings sitting in front of him, he’s not sure where to start.

“Should I…” Dean experimentally digs his fingers upwards into Cas’s right wing, watching with fascination as his fingers disappear into the feathers. Cas stiffens for a split second before he relaxes with a big breath. “You okay?”

Cas nods though he’s still a little stiff. “Yes.”

Dean sort of… kneads his fingers into Cas’s wings by moving up against the feathers like Cas told him to, until he reaches between Cas’s shoulder blades and gently presses a few times. Cas groans into the touch and yep, okay, he must’ve done something right. Dean grows more confident as he kneads back down each wing, doing his best to not hurt Cas’s joints by mistake and Cas’s feathers become more lax.

He works himself up a sweat moving up and down on his knees—he’s boiling hot— but Dean’s starting to really get the hang of this. Cas seems like he’s responding better too, with the way his back arcs slightly and the way he lets out a sigh every once in a while as his wings shudder under Dean’s touch. Cas’s wings flutter out of Dean’s grasp then, standing up abruptly and almost leaving Dean with a handful of feathers.

“Thank you, Dean.” He clears his throat. “I think that’s good enough.”

“Yeah?” Dean grins. “Feel better now?”

“Yes.” Cas shuffles his wings before he puts them away in the blink of an eye. Dean still can’t get used to the transition. Cas’s face is still red so Dean’s not the only one feeling the temperature. “I have a—I remembered that I have a thing to work on, so.”

“Yeah, sure man. Let me know if you ever want another massage,” he says to Cas’s retreating back, who gives him a thumbs up without turning back and goes straight to his room.

Well, that wasn’t so bad. Everyone got off that pretty happy, and hey, Dean’s pretty proud.

Dean yawns and gets ready for the rest of the day.

Castiel, meanwhile, face-plants onto his bed and lets out a long, quiet groan of frustration into his pillow, the sensation of Dean’s touches still ghosting over his wings.

Now he has to live with knowing how that feels.

#destiel #my writing #spn #orange and grapefruit verse #stay out of the cold by cuddling a phoenix harpy near you today

[mst3kproject]

517: Beginning of the End

When I think of the kind of movie that belonged on MST3K, Beginning of the End checks all the boxes: it’s got a silly premise, a lousy script, bad acting, laughable special effects, obvious stock footage all over the place, continuity errors galore… and of course, Bert I. Gordon, the garbage king of bug movies!  I couldn’t possibly ask for more, whether I’m watching with Mike and the bots or all on my lonesome.

Somehow the town of Ludlow, deep in the mountains of Illinois (this movie takes place in an alternate universe), has been utterly destroyed overnight!  Reporter Audrey Aimes takes up the story and it leads her to a lab where Dr. Ed Wainwright and Dr. Frank Johnson are using radiation to grow giant vegetables.  Turns out, a swarm of locusts ate some of the super-crops, causing them to grow to enormous size, and now they’re on the move looking for prey!  Will the government be forced to nuke Chicago in order to destroy them, or can Wainwright and Aimes find another way before it’s too late?

Wikipedia has far more information on how they worked with the insects in this movie than I ever wanted to know.  Apparently Gordon bought a box of grasshoppers from Texas, after some poor bastard from the Department of Agriculture carefully went through all two hundred or so to make sure they were all males and therefore couldn’t breed.  Then I guess somebody forgot to feed the bugs on their way to California, because they ate each other.  The reason you never see more than a handful in any given shot, despite the characters talking about swarms of the things, is because those were the battle-scarred survivors.

The idea of growing giant food in order to end world hunger is something I’ve seen in a couple of different movies from this era, and it always makes me snicker a little.  For one thing, it’s misguided: people don’t starve because there’s not enough food, but because either they can’t afford it, or it can’t get to them.  For another, it’s monstrously impractical: what are you going to do with a tomato that looks like it should be sitting outside a Target?  How will you transport it?  What will you make with it?  What happens to the leftovers?

My theory is that Wainwright said ‘end world hunger’ in order to secure funding – his actual motive is simply to grow bigger tomatoes, perhaps to show up some neighbor who took home a prize at the county fair every year and then gloated about it, no matter how hard the Wainwright family worked on their garden.  I like this idea because it lets me picture Peter Graves bent over a Mad Scientist Kool-Aid Bar, muttering things like, “I’ll show you, Mr. Williams.  I’ll show you.”

Leo G. Carroll, on the other hand, just really liked tarantulas and wanted one big enough to sleep at the foot of the bed.

Time to talk about the actual movie, though.  It’s got a number of things in it that I really like.  For one, there’s no drawing out of the ‘nobody believes in the giant grasshoppers’ thing.  In a lot of movies, the soldiers sent to investigate the grain elevator would have found nothing at all.  In The Beginning of the End, they encounter giant insects almost right away, saving us from a lot of pointless dawdling around.  I can think of half a dozen movies that would have done well to follow this example!  Their plan to destroy the giant bugs is pleasantly free of technobabble or bullshit like ‘mesonic atoms’, though I would dearly like to know how they actually captured that giant grasshopper and got it into the building.  The script also gets around the problem of a monster that can easily be heard coming by establishing that victim Dr. Johnson is deaf.  No Tiptoeing Tyrannosaur Syndrome here!

Furthermore, both the disabled Johnson and the woman-in-a-man’s-job Aimes are mostly treated with respect – even the military men standing in Aimes’ way remark on how she’s at the top of her field.  Captain Parker invites her to hang around because he trusts her to make the army look good in a situation where they could easily be accused of shady dealing and coverup.  Johnson and Wainwright have their own separate areas of expertise and each pays attention to what is appropriate for his, and Johnson’s disability never gets in the way of his job.  The dialogue implies that Wainwright went out and learned sign language just so he could continue working with Johnson after his accident, which speaks eloquently to the depth of their bond without any clunky lines about how ‘he’s also my best friend’.

The mental image I described above, of Graves muttering over his revenge tomatoes, sounds pretty mad-sciencey, doesn���t it?  That’s another kind of neat thing Beginning of the End has going on – the character of Ed Wainwright actually fits the part of mad scientist very well.  He’s a man working in secret in the middle of nowhere with a disabled assistant.  They Tamper in God’s Domain, creating things nature never intended, which escape their control and run off to break stuff.  That could be a description of Victor Frankenstein, in his lonely castle making a monster with Igor the hunchback!  Beginning of the End tones everything in the scenario down from the gothic to the everyday, the castle to a garden shed and so forth, but all the elements are still present, and nobody is more aware of this than Wainwright himself.  When asked if he ‘bred’ the locusts, he replies, “in a sense, I did.”

The difference is in how Wainwright responds to the monsters he has created.  Dr. Frankenstein is so horrified by what he has made that he disavows all responsibility for it.  Wainwright, on the other hand, immediately steps up and takes responsibility.  Throughout the rest of the film we see that he feels keenly responsible for the existence of the grasshoppers and for every single life they take – not only his friend and partner Dr. Johnson, but complete strangers as well.  If the army is forced to nuke Chicago, he will consider this, too, his own fault.  He stays in the city not only in the hope of finding a solution, but because he truly believes that if Chicago has to go then he deserves to go with it.

I like this idea, of a mad scientist realizing he’s a mad scientist and trying to deal with it.  It’s got a Manhattan Project, I am become Death vibe to it that could have been really interesting and relevant to the 50’s Atomic Age zeitgeist.  Sadly, I think it comes far more out of how Graves plays the character than how Fred Freiburger and Lester Gorn wrote him.  The biggest problem is that none of the other characters recognize Wainwright’s self-destructive guilt for what it is.  Aimes, who is supposed to have fallen in love with him, offers to stay in Chicago at his side until the bitter end – I think this is supposed to be a romantic ‘die-in-each-other’s-arms’ gesture, except that mutual suicide is not romantic and a far more caring and natural thing to do would be to find this man a therapist!

What Bert I. Gordon himself actually seems to have been trying to accomplish was adapting H. G. Well’s The Food of the Gods and How it Came to Earth.  I suspect this was Gordon’s favourite book – he would use it for inspiration again in 1965’s Village of the Giants and 1976’s Food of the Gods.  In the book, scientists create a ‘superfood’ that causes anything that consumes it to grow to six or seven times normal size – unfortunately, this effect is passed on to anything that eats the giant animals and plants, and so forth.  Wells’ book was social satire, exploring the problems created by unchecked population growth in Victorian England.  Gordon, however, is much more interested in the story's relatively minor motif of an infestation of giant pests, and in his favourite bit of movie magic, making small things look big.

Beginning of the End does note that the grasshoppers aren’t the first bug to get into the experimental farm, and this makes me wonder if he had a series of sequels planned.  If so, it’s a pity he didn’t get to make them.  I would give blood to see that giant snail movie.

As an attempt at a good movie, Beginning of the End tries some interesting things and even though it fails you can see enough of the outlines to have an idea what it was getting at.  As a bad movie, it succeeds spectacularly!  Despite what Dr. Forrester said about it picking up just before the end, it’s not badly-paced.  The opening sequence with the destruction of Ludlow tries to create a sense of mystery, and once the clues are lined up it doesn’t waste time on people not believing in what the audience has already seen.  There’s lots of grasshopper action and it’s all appealingly ridiculous.  The one that wanders off the side of a building into empty space is a classic, but there’s also that ludicrous moment when the grasshopper appears to be spying on the woman who just got out of the shower.  Nor can we forget poor Dr. Johnson trying to scream as the giant bugs close in on him!

Beginning of the End is everything I enjoy about Bert I. Gordon movies.  It’s made with love, by people who are terribly proud of what they’ve created even if it really didn’t amount to much.  I honestly don’t think Gordon cared whether his movies got good reviews just so long as they entertained people.  Some filmmakers whose work as featured on MST3K, like Joe Don Baker or Sandy Frank, were bitter about it for years, but I suspect Gordon absolutely loved that the show brought his work to a bigger audience.  I really need to get on with seeing more of his stuff for Episodes that Never Were, and I hope it features in Season 12, as well.

#mst3k #reviews #beginning of the end #tw: suicide #that guy from the university of minnesota #mister big #50s #giant arthropod hours

[savrenim]

Of Wolves And Ravens: As Told By Three Letters Sent From Cloudfall Fort

For those of you have been following gay murder elf bachelorette campaign (In Their Footsteps We Shall Follow), we recently finished Book 2: Of Wolves And Ravens, and I have A Lot Of Feelings about it. Because I am Extremely Extra, I tend to write in-character letters to NPCs that I then send to my DM. The three letters written for this book tell a complete and self-contained story--at this point, nearly a novella--and it’s not quite fanfiction, as it is canon in-universe; certainly not my own work, as all of the brilliance behind it was written by Jeremy, I just lived it and was moving around one little pawn; but together these letters been far more than just a game to me. so after checking with Jeremy, I decided to post them here. If you are a fan of my writing and want a window into the world that is right now one of the stories that I care about the most, well, here is what I have been doing with my heart and with my time. No prior knowledge is necessary and actually I’m not sure how you would have prior knowledge what are you doing listening to my skype calls?

Iria Stell, the author of the letters, is a 17-year-old soldier of the Caedic army; writing first to a scientist Vennikus Callo whom she had encountered a few months prior who gave her a potion to test with only the instructions of “it will be useful in a fight, just like the previous one”; second to Maldai Varricon, her mentor and commanding officer since she joined the army at age 14; and third to Arcadia Dominus, her rival-turned-crush-turned-maybe-girlfriend, whom she left behind at the Surrian front when Varricon sent her and Talvus back to the Capital to take the Trials in the hopes that they would climb to higher military or public office. It is perhaps significant to mention that Talvus is also barely more than a kid, being only about 22 himself, and became Iria’s first and arguably only friend, ever since she arrived in Varricon’s unit, he was delighted he was no longer the youngest, and immediately nicknamed her ‘Stoneface Junior’, and thus began their unbreakable friendship. All other characters are new to this book, and will be introduced as they appear. Iria Strell is played by me. Corporal Dante Maxim is played by my brother, Eddie, who was a guest PC in this arc. Everyone else is played by Jeremy. A number of the cool descriptions are Jeremy. And all the gorgeous battle descriptions are all Jeremy. He’s really damn good at fight choreography. 

It is worth noting: this is a story about war. Told from the side of the bad guys, who are kind of brutal. Trigger warnings of violence and death. There is not really any gore outright described in detail, although there are a few times that rather nasty wounds are received and reported clinically. If that sort of thing bothers you, I would not recommend reading!

Otherwise, with no further ado, presenting, Of Wolves And Ravens: As Told By Three Letters Sent From Cloudfall Fort.

____________________

To Vennikus Callo, Black Lotus Labs, Insul

I have made use of the potion that you left me with, and am writing to report the results.

I took it at the beginning of a fight against Highland Rat Clan orcs. The potion kicked in instantaneously, and it lasted a substantial amount of time: the entire duration of the fight, and a few minutes afterwards as well. I would estimate about four minutes total.

The effect to my vision was by far the most noticeable. I immediately began to see lines in the periphery of my sight, patterns of footwork from weight distribution and momentum of my enemies, which allowed me to move more quickly than I would normally in a fight, and allowed me to perform maneuvers that I would not otherwise attempt, as I could instinctively predict—literally see faster than I could have calculated on my own—the locations in which their stances were weak. Secondly, there was a dramatic increase in my strength. I would say that easily under the influence of the potion my strength doubled, and when I concentrated to push to fight at my full capacity, I was striking at thrice what my normal abilities would allow. I was able to kill three Rat Clan orcs and one Salamander Clan elf, holding off an ambush party of over a dozen with only one companion, before Caedic reinforcements arrived.

However, when I took it, I felt hunger beyond any hunger I have felt before in my life; I would describe it as starving to the point of pain equal to that of taking an indirect but substantial wound. Past the initial shock and blow of it, it did not affect my ability to fight nor was it a severe distraction; however, I would caution you that I have trained to ignore pain and exhaustion during a fight, and if you hope to eventually release this potion for wide-scale consumption, this might be a considerable drawback. The hunger did not go away as the other effects of the potion wore off, and it took rations equal to about two and a half standard meals, eaten in under five minutes, before I felt normal again. There were no other persisting effects to the best of my knowledge in the hours or days that followed.

I am sixty-seven inches tall and a little over nine stone, and seventeen years seven months aged, so I do not have the proportions of an adult soldier; you can discard this if the information is useless to you, but perhaps the relative body mass to the potency of the potion could have caused the side effects to emerge. I did not take it on an empty stomach; I had eaten standard issue hard biscuit rations but ten minutes before. I believe the composition of those is primarily flour and water; the exact recipe should not be hard to look up if mundane chemical interactions are a consideration. I had no active spells or enchantments on me at the time of consumption, nor do I make regular use of such things; I have not been poisoned or sickened recently, nor have I taken a potion, either magical or alchemical, since a standard issue healing potion during a battle at the Surrian front a month ago, and the one you gave me at the Fae font before that.

If there is any information that I have unwittingly omitted, please write immediately that I might rectify this. I am currently en route to the Capital to take the Trials and attempt to join the clergy, so any letter addressed to me ought to be sent to the Strell family estate there.

With sincerity, Iria Strell

____________________

Sergeant Major Maldai Varricon, Specialist Unit c.Varricon The 3rd Legion, Serae

Dear Maldai,

I am writing, as a friend, because I could gravely use your guidance right now. It has been a trying week; I have nearly died multiple times, I have watched a unit of good Caedic soldiers slaughtered before my eyes, helpless, and I am full of doubts about things I had previously considered certain. Second Lieutenant Vitan of the 8th has submitted a full official report about the incidents that transpired, but I am not sure that any report could capture…could capture what I am to write below.

The journey to the Capital was fairly uneventful until about half a day’s march from Cloudfall fort. We had made good time in the prior month; I’d kept up practicing my forms every morning and evening, which meant that Talvus and I tired at about the same time every day, and I managed to persuade him to teach me basic arcane theory as we walked so that if I am ever consulted for tactical planning, I might have more insight into what a single mage or an arcane unit can and cannot do.

(Managed to persuade. More like we ran out of conversation topics about banal matters by the end of the third day, and Talvus leapt at the opportunity to talk about something even marginally related to his research projects. I think I’ve picked up the basics acceptably; I was able to keep up with him. He is a fine teacher, although he spoke very fast, and I only had so much time at night to write down notes and attempt to memorize the shapes of needles. Ample practical demonstrations, though. Including one in particular with exploding biscuits. He lost biscuit privileges after that. Regardless, I hope to reach the level where I can actually contribute to the things he is trying to do someday, as I appreciate it all the more now that I know some of the theory behind it.)

We were ambushed by a group of Rat Clan orcs, and an Owl Clan elf, who had been waiting off the main road, presumably for Caedic troops to pass. The two of us were vastly outnumbered—there must have been at least a dozen of them—and I managed to strike down four before they were in turn ambushed by a Caedic patrol that had been tracking them. I suppose that was the first time my life was saved by the pure luck of coincidence, although I did not consider this at the time, as I had not taken any overly threatening wounds during the fight.

Second Lieutenant Venus Tarquin, who had led the patrol, informed us of the situation as we made our way back towards the camp of the 8th—the Unbroken. In recent months, rebel activity in Altae had increased dramatically, to the point in which our journey would be interrupted by more than just an ambush. Shortly past Cloudfall, there was a pass spanned by a single bridge, which had recently been destroyed by Salamander Clan rebels. The journey around the pass would take more than a week, and repairs would be about finished in that timeframe. We were welcome to spend our time waiting at Cloudfall, or we could speak with Captain Piso about whether or not the 8th could use two extra pairs of hands for the interim. I was eager to volunteer my services, and Talvus agreed, and so we settled in with the Unbroken in the converted Raven village in which they had made their camp.

I delivered the papers that you had left us with to Captain Piso, and Second Lieutenant Tarquin informed him of our situation. Talvus and I offered our services, and Captain Piso said that the unit could always use another two good soldiers, especially a mage. Then he dismissed Talvus, but asked me to stay. He looked at the papers again. Then he said: “Strell. Your family had some sort of connection to the recent heresy, is that correct?”

I told him yes, that I had been close friends with one of the daughters of the main family.

He said that he had very little access to information, to that sort of news from the Capital, and that he would like to know any details, if I had them. There was not much I could say; I told him that I did not know any details until the night that the Tandus family planned to escape.

“To break out the one that was imprisoned, is that correct?” he said.

It was, yet I knew only where to find Peia because we’d hidden in alleyways together all throughout our childhood. I told him such.

“Do you know anything more about the original heresy that initiated the situation?” he asked. “Anything more about what was actually found to incriminate Scaevola Tandus? Before the whole…breakout situation?”

“I knew that he was convicted of necromancy,” I said.

And there Captain Piso’s interest seemed to end. “I imagine you’ve had to deal with quite an uphill climb with that mark on your record,” he said.

“I am loyal to the Empire and I have always been willing to spill the blood of our enemies to prove it,” I told him. “I have spent the last two and a half years fighting beside those who have understood that.”

He dismissed me.

I was immediately folded into the roster of watches and patrols, and had patrol with Corporal Dante Maxim and Corporal Specialist Marcus Tyrol the next morning. Corporal Maxim was also fairly new to the 8th, being the sole survivor of an ambush by the Heretic Raven that wiped out the 22nd only a few months prior, but he and Corporal Tyrol were already fast friends, so I followed behind them and did not interject myself in their banter. The patrol proceeded uneventfully until we stumbled across the still-warm corpse of a Caedic guard. Corporal Maxim was the one who put it together in the moments that followed: the wounds of the guard were too eccentric to belong to warriors of any one clan, and we were near the route of a supply wagon that was expected to arrive today. In fact, the route had been changed, in secret, at the last minute, as prior supply trains had been ambushed, yet somehow the Heretic Raven and their company had no trouble finding it.

Fearing the numbers of the enemy, we sent Corporal Tyrol to run to the nearby Stag Clan warcamp to muster the Stag Clan loyalists, while Maxim and I vaulted over the slope and into the battle to buy time. Sure enough, the Caedic guards were outnumbered: eight of them to ten of the Heretic Raven’s warriors. It was not just numbers determining this battle; the guards were vastly outclassed, from what could be gathered of the smoke and screams. Corporal Maxim and I charged towards the fray. A woman-elf with pale skin, dark hair, and a large scythe, Anye the Huntress of the Wolf Clan, called out something to alert the others of our presence, then disappeared into the smoke. Another elf, blonde, his face covered in black warpaint—the Black Stag, a traitor of the Stag Clan—turned to hold us off while Anye tried to attack us from behind. Their mage was throwing fireballs around; one of which hit me, another that I dodged. Corporal Maxim and I held the two warriors with relative ease. Then the moment the fight seemed to be turning, the Anye the Huntress disappeared back into the smoke, and the Heretic Raven themselves, distinguished by the scar across their forehead and the left arm of a Caedic uniform jacket sewn into their Highland war garb, stepped forward to take her place.

They were a formidable foe; combining both Caedic footwork with Highland two-bladed style. Corporal Maxim and I fought them together, as Corporal Tyrol and the Stag Clan forces appeared over the hill and charged into the melee. The Heretic Raven wasn’t fighting to kill, they were fighting defensively, covering the retreat of their people. The Stag Clan loyalists turned the tide of the engagement, as the rebels were then vastly outnumbered; although they focused on the traitor of their tribe, killing him and allowing the others to escape. The Heretic Raven slit Corporal Maxim’s throat before retreating, and I stayed back to stop the bleeding and stabilize him rather than continue the fight into the woods. The supply train was not damaged, so we loaded the wounded onto the wagon and proceeded as quickly as possible back to camp, where proper healing could be distributed. Corporal Tyrol and I delivered the report, as Maxim was mostly unconscious, and then I spent the rest of the afternoon with the Stag Clan warriors, attempting to learn more about their fighting style and seeing what I could pick up of their language. The question of how the Heretic Raven managed to find the new supply route was unanswered and thus somewhat upsetting to the camp, but the supplies had been properly delivered, so it was not dwelled upon.

Next came the animal attacks. A patrol came back attacked by wolves; and a bear wandered into the center of our camp during breakfast and attacked myself, Corporal Maxim, and Lieutenant Sorus as we exited the dining building. Upon killing the bear, its conjured nature was revealed. Recalling ravens that I had seen both during the initial ambush along the road as well as at the outskirts of camp two days prior, I suggested that conjured animals might be spying on us, which could perhaps explain how the new supply route was known to the Heretic Raven. As such, Corporal Tyrol, Corporal Maxim, and I decided to stop during our patrol at the Stag Clan camp, to  ask War-Leader Tairn of the Stag Clan if Highland Shamans had such abilities. Tairn was neither able to confirm nor refute my theory, so we decided to bring it up to the arcanists when we returned to Unbroken, as this was still the best explanation we had for the increasing ambushes. We continued on the patrol. Tyrol spotted some rabbits, and proposed we pause for some fun: he’d been taught basic augury before he dropped out of the academy, and offered to read our fortunes. He read mine first: in the entrails, a troubled event from my childhood, and death in the past; nothing that I didn’t already know. In the heart, fragile, which turned frustratingly accurate, as I ended up unconscious for one reason or another (most often that reason the injury from the foundry acting up) in or after every fight I engaged in since. Success, power, and upward climb for the future, not that I put much stake in it. For Maxim: in the past, humble origins, high ambitions; in the present, strong, powerful, respected among peers, and oh, owes Tyrol twelve silvers from when he lost that bet; and then the rabbit had no liver. There was no future. Maybe you just found a fucked up rabbit, Dante said.

We did not have much time to dwell, as we were immediately attacked by wolves. Luckily, I had been fighting wolves of the conjured variety for nearly a month, as I had grown bored with merely repeating my forms, and had convinced Talvus to materialize various fighting companions in the evenings of our travels. We found most interesting the fact that the corpses of these wolves did not disappear, which meant that if this was a planned attack and not unfortunate happenstance, it was by those who could control animals, not merely create magical constructs of them. We hurried back to camp to report the incident.

That had been the first clue. The biggest one. And I missed it.

When we returned, the camp was abuzz with the news that Caedic forces had discovered the hideaway of Rat Clan, one of the largest remaining holdouts of rebels. Captain Piso, with knowledge of my prior experience, engaged me to design the plan of assault; Corporal Maxim was to assist with the planning and the assignment of men; and Second Lieutenant Tarquin was to oversee the both of us and provide guidance if necessary, and make all final calls. I immediately had the following idea, for I had been working with Talvus to reverse-engineer the arcanum cannons from the battle at the Surrian front: he had been stuck upon the fact that the the burned out cartridges with a repeating rune pattern would have contained more magical energy than is stable to force into an object, and I suggested that perhaps the design was not to contain then release the energy into a spell, but only to contain, then a physical destruction of the runic pattern could release all of the energy at once, as an explosive. As such, Talvus was able to develop a delayed explosive stick, one which contained power comparable to the fireballs that had been shot, which would be released within about six or seven seconds of the destruction of the runes. The plan that I submitted to Second Lieutenant Tarquin was the tactical usage of these delayed explosives, sent in on invisible runners to the barracks of the hideaway as the Rat Clan warriors slept, then with our Caedic forces waiting by the entranceways to slaughter the disoriented survivors as they were smoked out.

Our planning was cut short by an attack on the camp of animals of many shapes and sizes; this time, both controlled and conjured. Corporal Maxim and I handily took care of a boar, then I began picking off wolves with arrows as Maxim rushed to the aid of Captain Piso, who was on the ground, poisoned by a giant scorpion. When Maxim went to summon Second Lieutenant Vitan, he saw that the back of the medical building had been blown out, and Second Lieutenant Vitan was nowhere to be seen. He sought the assistance of myself, as I was a known tracker in the camp, and Second Lieutenant Tarquin, to follow the trail that we might return with Vitan before the Captain died. The tracks of the attackers were not particularly hidden, and there were marks as if someone struggling had been dragged off, which indicated that Second Lieutenant Vitan had been taken alive. We began pursuit, first encountering a blindfolded Wolf Clan orc with two bestial wolves, whom we dispatched of, then further along the main road a blindfolded Wolf Clan druid dragging the bound Second Lieutenant away. We were also able to prevail in this fight, although it was far more severe: a summoned leopard bit a sizable chunk from my side and nearly took down Second Lieutenant Tarquin, and Corporal Maxim had trouble piecing the druid’s defensive spells until he thought to free Second Lieutenant Vitan, who stared at the orc directly, rage in her eyes, then brought a dagger across her own throat; and the same cut opened up on his neck, blood pouring down in sheets, as Corporal Maxim dealt the final blow.

We were able to return to the camp in time for Second Lieutenant Vitan to treat Captain Piso. The rest of the animals had been fended off, upon their deaths revealing about of half of them conjured and half of them real. The entire setup—from the fact that Lieutenant Vitan was just dragged off, not killed, and her attackers did not cover their tracks, to how there were no casualties on our end, to how both the warrior-orc and the druid were blindfolded—I could not make sense of it. As we were still preparing in earnest for the assault on the Rat Clan hideaway, I’m not sure if anyone bothered to make sense of it.

Development of the delayed explosives proceeded faster and more successfully than expected; Talvus spearheaded the project, and I helped where I could, mostly just checking his diagrams in places. He and Lieutenant Sorus were able to make the first prototype within two days, and we carefully warded a field against any divination and ensured that there were no small animals nearby before we set up the delayed explosive stick on one side, and from forty feet away, Second Lieutenant Tarquin speared it with an arrow. The explosion was a bit sooner than planned—five seconds, not seven—but its size and intensity were as desired. Talvus and Lieutenant Sorus turned to producing the explosives that we planned to use in the attack, and Second Lieutenant Tarquin and I returned to planning a scouting mission, that we might better know where to deploy these explosives.

The scouting mission was to proceed as follows: Second Lieutenant Tarquin, Lieutenant Sorus, Talvus, Corporal Tyrol, and another scout of the Unbroken, Private Specialist First Class Kia Passienus, and myself were to make our way to the edge of the woods in the heart of night under the cover of mist, to the hideaway of the Rat Clan. There Lieutenant Sorus would prepare four focus-stones for Corporal Tyrol and I to take, and Talvus would cast invisibility on myself, Tyrol, and Private Passienus. We would have a little more than five minutes to run to the tunnels of the hideaway, Tyrol taking the northern side and myself to enter on the southern side, while Private Passienus stayed closer to the outskirts both to keep watch and to investigate lightly the entrances on the upper levels of the hill. If we did not find the barracks ourselves, the focus-stones would allow Lieutenant Sorus a direct line to scry within the hideaway. The night came. The six of us left. Lieutenant Sorus gave us the foci, and Talvus turned us invisible.

I encountered no one until I found what appeared to be their main war room, with a number of orcs, including War-Chief Black Eye Sadbh, gathered around a map on a central table and discussing plans. I debated whether or not to sneak through to room to one of the adjacent tunnels, as I had not yet found any sleep-chambers, or to go back are try some of the side passageways that had been barred with closed doors; I decided that I was both quiet enough, and the room was large enough, for me to drop a scrying stone in the room then sneak through to one of the open passageways.

The moment I set foot into the room, an orc mage who had been watching the door shouted and yanked a rope, a large wooden cover fell across the entrance to the passageway I had come through, and Rat Clan warriors leapt into action, closing and barring all of the doors. I was unarmed, save for a single dagger; I decided to make best use of my remaining time of invisibility by hiding the dagger in my boot then making an appropriate scuffle such as to seem that I had nothing up my sleeve. I tried to open the doors to no avail; there were simply too many warriors in the room, blocking the passageways bodily, and before long I was pinned. I saved my breath rather than struggle as the invisibility wore off.

I was beaten, which was expected; bound, which was expected; then I was taken to a small room, tied to a post, and rubble and stones were carefully piled around me. Black Eye Sadbh watched, smiling, the entire time. Small piles of tinder were built up around the room. I was prepared to be tortured: I was prepared first not to crack, then second, that my final acts might be more useful if I fed the Rat Clan misinformation instead of just defiance. No questioning came. I tried whispering it was a trap, that they knew we were coming, over and over—so that if Talvus were to try to scry me, the Unbroken would be warned—and I was gagged for my trouble.

They lit the fires a little before dawn.

Captain Piso, leading the same team that he had been allocated in the original plan, burst into the room where I had been left just as the heat was enough to threaten me with unconsciousness. I was freed, despite the precious time it wasted, and given a spare scimitar, and we moved as a unit to cut off a tunnel where Black-Eye Sadbh was escaping with her warriors. She put up a significant fight, single-handedly holding the tunnel while her warriors ran from sight. I maneuvered such that I was behind her, cutting off her own escape, but when she deemed she had stalled long enough, she turned to me and brought first her fist, then the hilt of her weapon, to strike me directly in my old injury. She met my eyes and smiled as she did, for she knew something that we—that I—did not. I awoke to a combat medic standing over me, and the news that a chase had occurred. I ran as fast as I could to the end of the tunnel; and Captain Piso was fighting against Black-Eye Sadbh as his men cut down her remaining warriors. I was able to strike Black-Eye Sadbh from behind her flank, still angry that I had previously allowed her to escape, and I struck true: she spat blood then she died.

Corporal Maxim and I reported to Captain Piso the final results of the attack, as a combat medic saw to his wounds; and I learned that Private Passienus had been buried similarly to myself in a small storage room to the top of the hideaway, and Corporal Maxim had put out the fires around her and left her with a potion before continuing past to the shrine of the Rat Clan, where he had killed all four of the clan shamans before they could make their escape. Corporal Tyrol had been bound to a post rigged to trigger a cave-in, and Second Lieutenant Vitan and her team had been trapped trying to release him. Some of the Rat Clan warriors had been killed, but many had escaped, as had all the noncombatants. All boxes in the storerooms that might have contained supplies were decoys, filled with dust.

Captain Piso said that killing the war-chief and shamans of the Rat Clan was like cutting off the head of a snake; that we had severely crippled all resistance that the Rat Clan might be able to put up in the future; that this was a major victory. It did not feel like one. Then we found a letter on Black-Eye Sadbh’s body. It was written in orcish, of a dialect Tairn did not know, but one thing was abundantly clear: there was an exact replication of the runes of the delayed explosives in the letter, the ones that Talvus and I had developed. We had done all of our research inside, under Divination wards; and the only ones who had seen those runes were myself, Talvus, Corporal Maxim, Second Lieutenant Tarquin, Lieutenant Sorus, and Captain Piso.

I could think of no means or motive of any of those listed above to have betrayed the Caedic forces; but worse, while the repeating pattern in the middle was fairly simple, the capping runes were complex and subtle. I could produce them exactly. Talvus and Lieutenant Sorus, who had manufactured the explosives, would also have been able to draw them in the detail that they were depicted. As for the others, I heavily suspected that they would not have been able to freehand the runes as such they had appeared, but would have needed to copy them down. At that point, it seemed more likely that the Highland orcs had the same idea of sending invisible runners as we had to copy the runes in the dead of night, than any of those officers might betray us.

In order to better understand the situation unfolding around us, the command at Cloudfall deigned to send the Traitor, a Bear Clan orc loyal to the Caedic forces who served as a linguist for them, to translate the letter. Captain Piso was about as happy with this decision as you were when Captain Galseii summoned us to fight in the battle of the guns, as the Highland rebels had been trying to kill the Traitor for years, and recent ambushes had been increasing in frequency and efficacy: there was little chance that the Heretic Raven and their allies would not attempt to kill the Traitor. Captain Piso ordered the 8th to begin march immediately, and split us into three groups: one to search for ambushes to the left of the road, the other to the right, and the final to reinforce the Caedic soldiers from Cloudfall who would be escorting the Traitor. I was assigned to the group to the right, led by Second Lieutenant Tarquin, as was Corporal Maxim. I suggested that we not leave the four delayed explosives sitting around in our empty camp, and Captain Piso agreed, distributing them to myself, Corporal Maxim, Talvus, and Second Lieutenant Tarquin.

We indeed found the expected ambush—in a thickly wooded area, with the slope leading up to the road, all in all a fairly terrible place to wait in ambush. The enemy forces appeared surprised at our presence, but the Heretic Raven, amongst them, let out a war cry to which they rallied, and the fighting began in earnest. I moved to kill the Heretic Raven’s Rat Clan shaman, but was diverted as Anye the Huntress dropped from a tree and brought her scythe down on my shoulder, shattering my collarbone. I exchanged blows back and forth with her until I noticed that the Heretic Raven had stepped forward to fill break in the rebel line, and was fighting Corporal Maxim. I moved forward to support Maxim, but my wounds were severe enough that I was knocked out of the fight. While I was unconscious, the Caedic soldiers successfully cut down the Wolf Clan orcs, and the majority of the Heretic Raven’s warriors fled. Yet the Heretic Raven and one more remained, and made towards the slope, just as the Traitor and two Caedic soldiers burst panicked through the trees from the road. Corporal Maxim rushed to the Traitor’s defense, and tackled the Heretic Raven to the ground. I awoke to a combat medic patching me back together, and to see the Heretic Raven break free from the convergence of Caedic soldiers, sprinting past everyone else into the woods.

I knew that in all the years that the Heretic Raven had been fighting, the Caedic Empire had never come so close to bringing them down. So I sprinted after them.

I was able to keep pace with the Heretic Raven, but it was several hundred feet, well out of sight of the rest of the unit, before they stumbled and I was able to make my move. I leapt forward but they sidestepped, pivoting on one leg to throw me over their hip.

What followed, I am not proud of.

“You made the wrong call, chasing me alone with those injuries,” they said.

“I was prepared to die for the Caedic Empire since the day I joined,” I said, and I cracked the delayed explosive. They recognized it instantly, and they kicked it from my hand.

“Then do,” they said, and their blade stabbed downwards.

I rolled out of the way, but not fast enough; the blade grazed my good shoulder, opening up a wound that, while it would not slow me, still bled heavily. I forced myself to my feet, and drew my blades, for the Heretic Raven was injured as well, and I had prevailed in fights with similar odds; and even if I were the fool, even if I were to die, I would not go down without making them pay for their victory.

The Heretic Raven met my eyes as I glared at them. Something unreadable passed across their face. Then faster than I could move, they brought their knee to my gut and as I doubled over, their elbow to the back of my head, and all went black.

I awoke to Second Lieutenant Vitan standing over me. The moment she determined I was in no immediate danger of dying, she hastened to return I assume to treat injuries amongst the rest of the 8th, leaving me alone on the ground.

I still do not know why the Heretic Raven did not simply kill me then and there, or what—if anything—they realized when they saw my face that gave them pause. Whatever it was, it did not hold them back in our subsequent encounters. I have very little doubt that they would come to regret it, considering that I would be directly involved in both their death, the death of two of their companions, and the downfall of the Wolf Clan. I owe my life to some passing fancy they were struck by, and I do not know what it was. I realize now, of course, that I was perhaps overzealous in chasing them, that such a risk would have only been worth it if I had been in slightly better fighting shape at the start instead of injured and barely clinging to consciousness, I had just—I had wanted to do something, to make up for my failures during the assault on the Rat Clan hideaway.

The Caedic forces had taken heavy losses during this ambush. While our company has killed Cú, the Heretic Raven’s warrior who had remained, and a number of Wolf Clan orcs, the group that had gone to the left had been ambushed by Wolf Clan forces waiting even further left and had taken many casualties, and those along the road had also been ambushed. Lieutenant Vindix, the leader of the 10th, had been killed, along with all remaining members of the 10th who had joined us. Talvus told me of another of the blindfolded Wolf Clan warrior; this one managed to take down eight Caedic soldiers alone, and retreated without taking a single blow. We had walked straight into a trap, one that Second Lieutenant Tarquin’s squadron alone was able to avoid.

The Traitor translated the letter, as was the ultimate goal of this whole endeavor. And it was far, far worse than we had imagined.

As suspected, the letter warned that Caedic forces would be attacking, and that we had developed a new weapon, a stick of wind and fire that would detonate when cracked. It warned that we planned to use the delayed explosives to collapse tunnels in on them in their sleep, but that if they captured our spies, we would fear to send more in the same fashion. They knew we were coming twice—first magically concealed from sight on the second night of the new moon. That was why they were waiting for us. They knew what tunnels our forces had knowledge of, and which ones they could escape from. The letter predicted, rightly, that Captain Piso would order to assault to be pushed up immediately to the morning after the scouts were captured. It described all of the notable warriors and their assignments in detail: Tyrol’s ability to transform partially into a snake, and the difficulties they would face holding him, that Captain Piso was quick and agile, Second Lieutenant Vitan could draw rivers of blood from foes just as easily as she could heal, that Talvus was skilled well beyond his years in magic and that they would know him by his unbuttoned coat, it spoke of the spells favored by Lieutenant Sorus, and the ambush planned by Second Lieutenant Tarquin over the tunnels to the west, so their best chance of escape was to head to the eastern side of the hideaway to exits which we did not know. Of myself, ‘the woman spy with the two blades will fight with great fierceness, enough to rival any Highland warrior: Strike her just right of the center of her chest and she will fall to an old injury,’ which was how Black-Eye Sadbh escaped past me through the tunnel.

They knew everything of any worth pertaining to the assault in nauseating detail. It was signed by The Wolf of Ears Eyes and Hands.

My collarbone had been shattered severely enough that it required surgery before any magical healing could be applied. It was not pleasant to lie still on the table while Second Lieutenant Vitan cut open my upper chest and shoulder to dig out the bits of bone, but I did not break. The pain was irrelevant, there was too much else on my mind; the only thing that mattered was discovering how the Wolf of Ears Eyes and Hands had stolen the information from us. I cannot emphasize enough how upset the fact that they had the runes of our delayed explosives made me: if Highland casters could make such delayed explosives themselves, Talvus and I in our brief tenure here would have handed the insurgent forces on a silver platter a weapon they could use to cause great devastation to supply trains or patrols with minimum danger to their own warriors. I did not know how I would live with myself, if my greatest contribution in the Highlands had been supplying enemies of the Empire with a tool that could expedite the deaths of many good Caedic soldiers. I asked Talvus whether or not he thought one might be able to recreate the delayed explosives with just the runes, if they were unfamiliar with Caedic casting, and he said he did not know. I did not sleep easy that night.

The next day, Talvus caught me in a private corner of camp. “Do you know how you look?” he demanded, and I knew that I was still bruised from the fight and healing from the surgery, but I did not think I looked so beat-up as to justify the intensity with which he spoke, and told him such. “No,” he said. “You do realize—if there’s a spy within our ranks, it’s you.”

His words sunk in even as he began to explain. “We’re the two outsiders. You were involved in all the planning, and you knew how to make the explosives. They’re—“ He gestured, scratching out a needle that exploded into white sparks that floated around us before fading. “I don’t like being watched. Captain Piso’s been having Sleepy” (Lieutenant Sorus, and for once this was not a flattering nickname that Talvus had bestowed upon a superior officer, but rather what Lieutenant Sorus was colloquially known as around camp) “keep tabs on us, but there’s no Divination magic around us now.”

The purpose of the sparks, I realized.

“There’s something else,” he said. “I’m pretty sure that Sleepy is higher-ranked in the clergy than he’s been letting on.” Which, in conjunction with the fact that Captain Piso was, well, a Captain, yet only in command of a single unit, was strange.

“Why are we even still here, if they think we are spies?” I asked.

“Probably because the ambushes were going on long before we got here, that’s the only thing we’ve got going for us,” Talvus said. “And we are being watched.”

Then an even more chilling thought struck me. “Could I be the spy?” I asked. “Could—could the Rat Clan or the Wolf Clan have put some sort of spell on me that allows them to see through my eyes? Hear through my ears?”

Talvus shook his head. “It would have shown up in my Divination detection,” he said, and he appeared confident, but I was not convinced, as the enemy clearly had some method of knowing our every move that was beyond our ability to detect, and perhaps there was a deeper magic, some sort of Highland spirit magic, at play. After all, at the center of the camp of the Unbroken was a sealed Raven shrine, from before the clan joined the Empire and was sent to the west as Raven Legion. As I was not particularly inclined to go marching around camp spouting far-fetched theories that contradicted the conclusions of our arcanists, when I was already suspected of treason, I deemed that the best thing I could do was to stay as much out of the way as I could, so that if they were seeing through my eyes, I would cause no more harm than I already had. I am aware now that this course of action was not spurred by logic, and I know this is no excuse, but I was—I was hurt, and exhausted, and shaken by how disastrously my plans for the assault on Rat Clan had fallen apart, unsure as to why I was alive, and frustrated over how perfectly the events of the past week had framed me for a treason I would never willingly commit.

There was another ambush by the Heretic Raven.

It was on a larger supply train, near Cloudfall, and while the Heretic Raven was long gone by the time the news reached us, Captain Piso saw it as his chance. There were three trackers in the unit and at his disposal—myself, Tyrol, and Second Lieutenant Tarquin—and working together, we might finally be able to find the Heretic Raven’s hideaway where any one of us could not, and gain the upper hand. The trail was not easy to follow; it doubled back on itself, went through streams, across rocks, and it took all of our skills combined to follow it to its end. The sun was setting over a gathering mist as we reached a hillside with a large opening, perhaps twenty feet wide, with a fairly shallow overhang. Within it there was a large pair of doors, carved from stone, worn down but the images of wolves and ravens evident upon it. The trail led through the doors, which appeared to have been opened recently, and Second Lieutenant Tarquin gathered us to return to Captain Piso with the news that we believed we had found the hideaway of the Heretic Raven.

We returned and reported, and Captain Piso ordered the entirety of the Unbroken to prepare to move out first thing the next morning; and I did not voice my concerns, that we still did not know how they were getting their information on us, we could be walking into just as much of a trap as we had—as I had—in the assault we had planned against the Rat Clan; but everyone except me had viewed the assault against Rat Clan as a rousing victory, and I was alone in my doubts. I was nothing, just a Private, and one under suspicion of treason at that, and no one wanted to lose the chance of ending the threat presented by the Heretic Raven for once and for all, so I did not speak.

We marched to what we assumed to be the hideaway of the Heretic Raven. There was no one guard posted outside the entrance of the cave. Captain Piso sent a few soldiers in advance to check the doors, and they opened inwards and were not locked. Beyond the doors was a long hallway with writing on the walls, iconography, carved stone ravens and wolves both. We came to a spiraled staircase that we could only climb one by one, and we did, carefully, but the antechamber above was empty. Here natural light shone in through windows cut from thin stone walls on one side of what must have been a hill we were beneath, and huge stone doors with intricate carvings barred our way further into what was now clear to be an old temple of the Wolf and Raven Clans. Captain Piso, Lieutenant Sorus, and Talvus began discussions on whether or not the six delayed explosives we had would get us through the stone doors. Our other option would be to send a team through a side passage, who would have to navigate a series of challenges devised to test the worthiness of Wolf and Raven Clan warriors in a coming-of-age ceremony. I was called over by Talvus to offer my opinion, as I had seen the delayed explosives detonate twice. I was utterly useless in this task, as I could not deduce the thickness of the doors nor had I seen the explosives act against stone, and I did not wish to give a false answer solely to appear more intelligent. Unable to offer anything else, I suggested that a team be sent through the smaller door, then if the team failed to prove themselves capable of the same feats as worthy Wolf-or-Raven Clan warriors, the explosives be used as a second resort.

Captain Piso agreed, and appointed Corporal Tyrol to lead the team for his knowledge of traps, Corporal Maxim for his cleverness and the strength of his shield, Talvus for his expertise and arcane mastery, and myself I suspect because I am small, fast, and good at climbing things, despite my status within the unit. He gave us explicit instructions to turn around if we encountered any dangers severe enough to threaten our lives. I was rather grateful that the composition of the group was one with a rather narrow definition of ‘severe enough to threaten our lives,’ thus we proceeded through the door and down a small, roughly stone-hewn corridor to face the challenges.

The first room was a corridor perhaps thirty feet long with tiled floor, the tiles about a foot square, with orcish writing in black and white on each of them. Corporal Tyrol carefully put pressure on one in the first row, and a spear shot out of a hole in the wall. Upon closer inspection, the walls were covered in these holes. As none of us spoke or read orcish, there was little hope of us solving the puzzle in a reasonable amount of time, so Corporal Tyrol took off running across the floor, dodging what traps he triggered. I ran after him, using as much as I could from his run to plot my own path. Corporal Maxim made use of the strength of his shield. Talvus cast a protecting spell on himself, closed his eyes, and ran as fast as he could straight down the center.

The second room contained a single ornate set of scales aligned against the back wall, which Talvus identified as having some sort of magic on them, and an inscription in orcish above them, which once more did us no good. There was a locked door beside the scales. Talvus noted that he had a delayed explosive on him, and suggested it as a way to get through the door and circumvent the puzzle entirely, but I cautioned against this plan, as if we failed the challenges, Captain Piso may have had need of all six explosives to get through the stone doors. After a moment’s inspection of the scales, Talvus said that he could remove the magic, but that there was a mechanical aspect to the contraption; so Corporal Maxim and I smashed through the wall behind and I fiddled with some of the gears there, grateful for my experience fixing the mill of Stonemill Keep as you had assigned me to for familiarizing me with such workings, and Corporal Tyrol and Corporal Maxim were able to pry open the door.

The third room consisted of a giant pit, with spiked stone at the bottom, perhaps forty feet across, thirty feet wide, and a little more than thirty feet to the bottom. I threw down a rock, but it triggered no traps. We had a single rope between all of us, just long enough to reach the floor of the pit, and started arguing as to whether or not we should simply climb down and up the sides, trusting the ability of one to stand and hold the rope each way, or if we should turn back and admit defeat. This argument was just starting to get heated when I asked Talvus whether or not he knew the needle for the feather-fall effect, and he said something along the lines of “huh, I do,” and cast it on all of us, and we jumped down safely.

We indeed triggered no traps and picked our way across the floor without difficulty, as the stone spikes were only particularly dangerous to anyone falling. On the other side, Corporal Maxim pointed out a handhold that he spotted—perhaps a remnant of the mechanism meant to solve this challenge instead of literally resorting to scaling the walls—but lo and behold, I had absolutely no trouble literally scaling the wall. Supporting Corporal Maxim’s weight on the rope was a bit more of a challenge, but after a failed attempt I asked Talvus if he might be able to make me heavier, that I could be a better counterbalance, and he summoned me an ape. This worked to get Corporal Maxim up. It did not work to get Talvus up, although the problem was not on our end, to phrase it generously. I asked Talvus if he would like to simply tie himself to the rope and have Dante and I haul him up, and he readily agreed to this offer; he was quite lucky that while this had been a joke, it had not been a bluff about the combined strength of Corporal Maxim and myself. Tyrol climbed the rope like a normal person.

We proceeded through the door at the end of the room and discovered that we had completed all of the challenges, we were officially worthy adult warriors or whatever that was supposed to be a test of for the Wolf and Raven clans, and more importantly, we could now open the barred stone doors from within. Before making our way into what was clear now to be a second antechamber, I requested that the others wait out of sight and Talvus turn me invisible first, lest the Heretic Raven had set anyone to watch the entrance of their hideaway. None stopped me as I lifted the thick stone bars from the doors. Captain Piso and the rest of the Unbroken filed into the room, then there was a final set of doors before what I assumed had to be the ancient temple proper. Talvus and Lieutenant Sorus checked the doors for magical traps and found none; then I volunteered to open the doors in case there was an ambush waiting on the other side, as I was still invisible.

No ambush awaited us, at least none that I could see, although the chamber was large, cavernous even, and the only lighting was what spilled through the doors from behind me. The darkness towards the edges and to where the ceiling tapered in the back could not have hidden any significant force, which I reported back to Captain Piso. “Then we move,” he said.

As the Unbroken filtered into the room, they brought torches, and light revealed what the darkness had hidden. There were large pillars in what was indeed the back of the cavern, perhaps twenty-five feet tall, with great statues of a wolf and a raven perched atop them. There were religious ornamentations upon the walls, some metal and silverwork instead of just stone. There was a figure sitting at the foot of the two pillars, and she turned and pushed to her feet with slow movements that bespoke a confidence: Anye the Huntress, the foster child of the Raven Clan raised within the Wolf Clan, and daughter of both, covered in warpaint across her face and her bared arms and holding the scythe which had caused me such injury.

The moment she saw us she charged us, screaming; and she targeted Captain Piso in particular. I sidestepped her charge and took a flanking position behind her as the one last advantage my invisibility could offer, then in the resulting melee I delivered first a blow to the base of her spine which brought her to her knees, her back sliced open to the point in which bone was showing, yet she did not let up in her assault on Captain Piso.

So I beheaded her, screaming, as she knelt before me. Then there was silence.

We turned back to the rest of the room to see if perhaps there were any more members of the Heretic Raven’s company that might have an opinion on what had just transpired, but we were alone in the room. I caught it first, a glint of light, a faint greenish blue that flickered to red, from the eyes of the statue of the Raven, then of the Wolf. Then there was a surge of light and motion, a torrent of glowing blue-gray from burst like a waterfall from each of the pillars and wove around one another before striking the ground. I had just enough time to realize that this was perhaps the most obvious trap we could have walked into, that there was almost certainly some sort of spirit-curse on this place against spilling Wolf or Raven Clan blood in the temple of the Wolf and the Raven, when the ancient spirit-curse on the temple of the Wolf and the Raven roared fully to life, a strong wind began to blow seemingly from nowhere, mist poured from the back wall, and a massive Wolf, seven feet to the shoulder composed of the mist and the glowing gray light, stepped forward, and a Raven of similar form, perhaps three times the size of a normal bird, landed next to it.

The Unbroken readied their blades as the mist steadily advanced across the room towards us, some holding their positions defensively, and some (Dante. Just Dante.) already leaping forward into a charge. I caught Talvus’s eye. “Let’s see if they burn,” I shouted. He understood immediately, and cracked one of the delayed explosives, and threw it deep into the mist. Heat and sound rolled over us as it detonated, and the mist was pushed back, and with it the Wolf, bits of smoke whipping from it as the force rolled over it. There was a growl, seemingly emanating from the entirety of the mist and echoing across the high-ceilinged chamber, and I buckled at the knees. Then the Raven took flight, and the mist pushed forward again, continuing to spread until it filled the room.

I ignored the manifestations of the Wolf and the Raven, and ran straight for the pillars across the temple. I tried to climb one, and got about halfway up before the stone was too smooth to continue. I shimmied down and shouted for Talvus, then the Raven cawed and the world went black. I could still feel the pillar behind me, and hear the clashing of weapons against stone and metal and the screams of Caedic soldiers echoing throughout the room, so I held my position and waited. In a few moments, I blinked and could suddenly see again, not that it did me much good: the entire room was so full of mist that I could not perceive anything more than six or seven feet ahead of me. Talvus must have heard my shouts, because he appeared, and I asked him to cast the same spell he had prepared for Salo and Corporal Laenas to scale the walls during the assault on Stonemill Keep. With the help of his magic, I was able to reach the top of the pillar easily, and found myself face to face with a stone carving of a raven. There were no gemstones in its eyes, as I had initially assumed when I had seen the gleam of light from across the room, but I nonetheless brought the hilt of my dagger down across it. The Raven-spirit screeched, and I could feel the wind of its wings across my back, the press of its mind into my own, then I could only think one thing, my body moving in obedience of its own accord: to fall.

I landed on my back and it knocked the wind out of me, but nothing seemed to be broken. I shouted for Talvus, because it was clear that the Raven did not want me to harm its effigy, and Talvus had delayed explosives on him that would do a bit more damage than the hilt of a dagger; but he did not appear from the mist. Captain Piso shouted for all of the Unbroken to retreat, but I could not give up, I scaled the pillar a second time and I smashed my dagger one more time into the crack, widening it. This time teeth materialized from the mist and latched around one of my ankles and I was pulled from the pillar, hurled once more to the ground. As it was evident that I would not be able to destroy the thing with my dagger alone before the spirits in the mist killed me, I retreated, joining the rest of the Unbroken in the second antechamber.

The mist was nowhere near as strong, and I caught sight of Captain Piso immediately. I rushed over to him, and begged him to give me a delayed explosive, to let me run back and destroy the pillars and end this. He told me not to make assumptions that would cause troops to die. I protested that none of his troops would be at risk, that only I need return, but with fury in his voice he snapped “Yes,” then pushed past me in clear dismissal.

I was—I had been right, we would later see the Raven’s eye was cracked just as I had cracked the stone, we were right there, we could have destroyed those statues, and then—it doesn’t matter, it didn’t matter, I would have never made it to the statues or even if I had it wouldn’t have helped what came next because if anything I did could have mattered we wouldn’t have been in the situation in the first place, but—but I had been right. I could have ended them. I can run fast and I’m good at climbing and that’s all we needed. I could have tried.

There were teeth within the mist, snapping at us as we retreated to the first antechamber, then I could see nothing at all as the Raven-spirit pushed once more into my mind. First I was suspended in a memory of you shouting at me for losing my head in a fight, then it shifted, and I was suspended in the moment of my—in the moment I received my injury, back at the foundry, except instead of blacking out as I did then, the pain stretched on as I stared at the blade sticking out of my torso, burning through my back and my lungs as did the knowledge that I had failed our mission, failed Arcadia—but it snapped me back to something closer to myself, as I knew you had trained me to be stronger than this, better than this, and with pain came clarity. I pushed through the pressure of the false despair to open my eyes once more. The mist was pouring closer to the second antechamber, and the line of soldiers to my left and right covering the retreat of the rest were doing little better than I had been moments prior. In a burst of both inspiration and strength, I leapt forward and pulled the massive stone doors closed. My injury flared from the exertion, and I blacked out.

When I came to perhaps a few seconds later, it was to shouts from the single spiral staircase that one by one the 8th had begun evacuating down: there were enemy troops lying in wait, cutting off our only exit. In the desperation, I forgot my rank, and shouted out of turn at Talvus to throw one of the delayed explosives down the stairwell, cutting off our enemies below, and another on the wall of sheet-thin stone, to give us a new method of escape—but I suppose protocol was not on Captain Piso’s mind as he helped the last of the soldiers clear the stairwell, then motioned at Talvus to do as I said. We gathered as far from the opposite wall as we could, set up another near the thinnest stone, and it detonated, but it was not quite enough to open a route of escape. Lieutenant Sorus did not hesitate, he cracked and threw another, and with that the entire wall blew out. The mist was starting to breach through the stone doors, so the moment that the smoke cleared to reveal a gaping hole into the ravine outside, the entire unit sprang forward, and ran out.

They descended on us like a jaguar from its perch onto its prey, they were waiting for us in the hills above, forty Wolf Clan orcs, perhaps more, and the Heretic Raven and their entire remaining crew of warriors. It all happened so fast, we were outnumbered, outflanked. I could barely see what befell the others, as I was cornered against one of the stony walls by two Wolf Clan orcs, both blindfolded. They slipped past my initial blows, dodging almost as if by accident, as their footing was uncertain from the charge down the hillside, then one buried their axe in my shoulder and the other swung past me, embedding his axe in a chunk of rock behind me; and when pulling it loose, slammed the rock into my other shoulder, opening a gash and jolting the bone that had been shattered mere days prior, nearly causing me to drop my weapon. I swung once more, but I could not for the life of me hit them, and despite employing the best defenses I knew, one after another after another their blows hit me.

The rest of the Unbroken were doing little better. It was chaos, but I caught what little was happening near me. Tyrol was frozen in place by magical means, trembling as the Heretic Raven’s Rat Clan shaman held a single hand to his chest, slowly rotting his very flesh. Lieutenant Sorus was sketching one needle after another into the air, but every time he would try to thread it, the Heretic Raven’s Salamander Clan mage would snap her fingers, and the needle would collapse. Second Lieutenant Vitan was being buried in vines by the Heretic Raven’s witch. And Talvus—the Heretic Raven’s Bear Clan orc, called just the Bear, as in his war-garb, there seemed to be very little difference—was holding him up, several feet off the ground, by his throat alone. He had ceased struggling.

It all—it all happened so fast. Corporal Maxim charged the Rat Clan shaman, who lost his concentration, freeing Tyrol. Tyrol threw a knife, which hit one of the blindfolded orcs, who let out a shout, then like a spell had been broken, all of my attacks were hitting. They both blindly swung, and blindly missed.

I didn’t pause to think, I didn’t—I tore through them, straight towards Talvus. I know that I—I threw myself at the Bear, I think that Tyrol was attacking him too somewhere in there, I don’t—I think I might have gotten hit, I remember blacking out for a few moments, I think that I was on the ground, I have the vaguest memory of a medic standing over me, or maybe I got back up on my own, I just know that I threw myself at the Bear again and this time caught him under the arm, ripping open and up through his side and forcing him to drop Talvus, I slipped under the blow that he returned, and as he turned to—Tyrol must have been there, because he turned to hit Tyrol, I cut once through his gut, another across the back of both of his legs, ripping tendons, dropping him to his knees, and a final slash across his throat, and he collapsed.

Talvus was breathing. He was still breathing. He had no wounds on his person, it had just been—he had only been choked, but he was still breathing. I reached into his pocket, the one on the left side, because he always keeps a healing potion on his person, and sure enough it was there. I hesitated for perhaps half a second—across the field, Second Lieutenant Tarquin was bleeding from a severe wound to the gut, cornered by three heavily armed Wolf Clan orcs, her bow snapped in two; Lieutenant Sorus was trapped in a cage of the Salamander Clan mage’s fire, burning alive; Captain Piso was holding off the spirits of the Wolf and the Raven alone behind us all, and he was bleeding heavily—to any one of them, it could have been the difference between life and death, or I could have taken the potion myself and re-entered the fight—but they were far from me, and to leave Talvus’s side would have been to risk his life, and all I could think of was not here, not today, I could not lose Talvus, not like this, no, no no.

I poured the potion into his mouth, and he coughed himself awake. The battle was practically over, Wolf Clan forces were mopping up the last of us. Lieutenant Sorus was still alive, although barely, Second Lieutenant Tarquin was still alive, Captain Piso was still alive, and Corporal Maxim, Corporal Tyrol, Corporal Doraius, and Second Lieutenant Vitan had rallied and were fighting still—but Talvus was—there was a weak point in the chaos, as even as Talvus indicated it to me, I was running forward, clearing the way as he kept close behind me. I caught sight of one or two other Caedic soldiers ahead of us fleeing as well, but they were cut down by Wolf Clan warriors waiting past the treeline. Still, we ran.

Perhaps twenty feet from the battle, and into the woods, Corporal Maxim, Corporal Tyrol, Corporal Doraius, and Second Lieutenant Vitan had begun their own retreat, and we attached ourselves to their party. We ran, we all ran, with no direction in mind but the single directive: to get as far from the battle as possible. To run was to survive. And even when we could run no longer we kept going, as fast as we could, we kept going until our wounds caught up with us and we were forced to stop in a clearing for breath.

I…I think I must have been babbling at that point, to Talvus, that we needed—we needed to keep moving, we needed to cover our tracks, we needed to go back to the camp of the Unbroken because Talvus had left his research there, and I know I said at least that part out loud because Talvus tapped his forehead, said his research was all in there, but it wasn’t enough because he had written notes that could have fallen into enemy hands, or if—if Captain Piso kept notes or orders from Cloudfall or just—I didn’t—I couldn’t think. I think I fell silent eventually, or maybe none of this had been happening out loud, but I know that—I’ll never forget how we all just sat there, speechless, staring blankly into space, as it all sunk in. We were the last of the Unbroken. We were all that was left.

Eventually, Second Lieutenant Vitan addressed the rest of us: “Alright. The Private’s right. We need to keep moving, cover our tracks. Right now, it doesn’t matter where we’re going, we need to get further away from here. They’re going to be looking for us.”

I…I spoke again, even though it was out of turn, that if we were looking for a place to spend the night, the two obvious places we would head to would be to Cloudfall, because it was safe, we could find shelter and food and medical supplies and other Caedic forces, or our own abandoned camp if only because we still had the food and medical supplies there as well as the Stag Clan war camp nearby, which means that those are the two places that they would search for us along the trails out so perhaps we’d want to head in some other direction.

We would travel over land, we’ll head for Cloudfall, Second Lieutenant Vitan said. That we needed to make a report as soon as possible, although for the moment, the most important thing was putting more distance between us and them.

In which I…I didn’t stop talking, I said I still thought that Cloudfall was a bad idea, that it was the logical place for Wolf Clan to go to cut us off, and even as Vitan said that there were too many routes through the woods, nowhere reliable that they could could cut us off as long as we kept away from the main roads, that it didn’t matter, we needed to start moving—I tried to say that we didn’t know how they’d been tracking us and it took her shouting “PRIVATE, SHUT UP” for me to finally….to finally just stop and do my job.

Tyrol and I looped back and covered the tracks leading up to the clearing where we’d been sitting, while everyone else gathered themselves; Corporal Maxim had been bleeding fairly severely to a wound to his foot, and it was bound so that he could both keep walking, and would travel without leaving a trail. Then we all set out, Tyrol in the lead and plotting the path as I obscured what evidence we left from behind.

Talvus lingered towards the back of the party, and after a minute of collecting his thoughts, spoke: that he did not understand, although he was down for most of the fight, how the enemy forces were able to bring down Lieutenant Sorus.

Their Salamander Clan mage was counterspelling him, I told Talvus, spell for spell, he would drawn the needle and she would snap her fingers and destroy it, which is—which should have been impossible, from what Talvus had taught me so far about arcane interactions, and I expressed such. Talvus confirmed that counterspelling was exactly as difficult as I had assumed it to be: either she would have to know exactly the needle that Lieutenant Sorus was casting as he was casting it to know where it was most vulnerable to disruption, or she could have been trying to employ more general counterspelling tactics, but against a caster of the caliber of Lieutenant Sorus they would have failed entirely.

And she was doing it from across the hill, I said.

And she doesn’t know Caedic casting, Talvus said.

We both paused in silence for a minute.

Then Talvus realized what we all should have realized days prior, as all the little details had been adding up: they had not been spying on us. They had not needed to, they had never needed to, they did not merely know our actions, but knew the decisions that we had not yet even known—in the assault on the Rat Clan hideaway, that Piso would move the attack to the next morning; in the ambush against the Traitor, that Piso would bring the 8th to flank on both sides of the road, and precisely where the Traitor would flee down the hill, that the Heretic Raven might lie properly in wait; and in the fight we had just fled from, that we would think to blow out the thinnest wall and escape through the hillside. There was prophecy at play, not divination; true foresight of the future, the sort of thing beyond mere spellcasting. An exception to the rule. Even the blindfolded warriors—everything went exactly their way, Talvus said, that if someone had perfect foreknowledge, if they could arrange the situation down to the second, down to every last blow, they could just run the chances. Adjust it to precisely the one they wanted, just put on the trajectory such that everything goes exactly their way.

I know that this all sounds so—far fetched, like the madness of desperation, but it—it made sense, so much sense, as Talvus and I went back and forth, listing the growing evidence, filling in bits and pieces and gaps that had frustrated us so much but this—this could actually explain what—what had befallen us. The only question that remained was how were we alive, how did we make it out when no one else did? The other Caedic soldiers, the ones that made it away from the battle, they were cut down by Wolf Clan orcs, waiting in the woods for precisely where they would run. And when Talvus didn’t speak immediately, I continued, that I had fought two of those blindfolded orcs before I got over to him, and it was impossible to hit them, and they kept—that one of them, their weapon, went past my head, embedded itself in rock, and then the rock hit me, how readily they should have taken me down. To strike and not be struck, kill and not be killed, yet I was still standing.

“What did stop it?” Talvus asked. “You were fighting them, you said—“

Tyrol’s knife, I told him, and Tyrol had been in a sticky situation of his own, the Rat shaman of the Heretic Raven’s group had him in magical hold until…until Dante rushed over. And then I realized, again too late. These attacks on the Highland Caedic units that have been going on for the last six or so months, the final one would usually wipe down the unit to the very last man.

It sounds like it’s happened a couple of times, Talvus said.

Except for the ambush on Dante’s unit, in which, they were wiped down to Dante, I said. That the first patrol, on the first day, Dante, Tyrol, and myself had gone out, the supply train had just changed routes and we found a dead Caedic guard and Tyrol and for Stag Clan backup and Dante and I held the Heretic Raven and their warriors off long enough but it was—

“If you hadn’t been there,” Talvus said.

“Not only would the supply train wouldn’t have arrived — but also when Piso split us up into three groups, it was just the group that I was in, which was the group that Dante was in, that surprised the waiting orcs, and Dante wasn’t in the translation of the letter from the Rat Clan. Every single one of the leaders of the groups, every single notable warrior was listed out, as well as what group they were going to be in and their positioning, but Dante wasn’t in that letter.”

“Dante, what… when that fight started, the ambush, just now, what happened? Where were you?” Talvus said, as Dante had started to lag behind towards us.

“I was behind everyone, I came out of the hideout and saw everyone in their various struggles,” the Corporal said.

“But there was nothing waiting for you,” Talvus pressed.

And then I realized the final thing, the first thing, that I had missed. “The augury. With Tyrol, remember? The liver was missing from the rabbit.”

“I thought that was just a fucked-up rabbit,” Dante said, true to his original observation.

“Or, there’s something about your future that makes it impossible to see,” I said.

“Why me?” Dante asked.

“I don’t know,” Talvus said, “and right now, I don’t know if it matters, but it means that we might have a chance to do something about this. We can’t go back to Cloudfall.”

“It doesn’t work when there are big enough groups of people,” I said, echoing Talvus’s logic. “You couldn’t have shielded an entire unit—“

“But if there’s just a few people—“ Talvus said.

I quickly did the math. “There were thirteen soldiers besides you in the ambush where we surprised the Heretic Raven,” I said. “That has to be it, this has to be some kind of actual prophecy, and Dante can protect the people around him as long as it’s a small enough group of people.”

“Then why didn’t I protect my unit? The 22nd?” Dante asked.

I decided to excuse him for not keeping up, as Talvus and I had been speaking very fast, and over one another in our excitement. “Too many people,” we said simultaneously.

“Just like the ambush on the Unbroken,” Talvus finished.

“So why did you survive?” Dante asked.

“It would have been just you, except that then you interfered, with all of their perfect plans,” Talvus said.

“You helped Tyrol,” I said. “Who helped me, and it started a domino effect, because the things that are disrupted can disrupt further things. The effect has to stop somewhere and somewhen, or else we all would have been safe—but the people directly around you are shielded by it. Which means that even if we make it back safely to Cloudfall, they’d be able to see us there.”

“We have an opportunity here,” Talvus said. “We need to take it while they’re still dark, before they—it’s only a matter of time before they come to understand all this as well.”

“The Heretic Raven was there for both of the times Dante messed up their plans,” I pointed out. “The second one, the ambush against the Traitor, Dante grappled with them for nearly a minute before they got away, they certainly know his face.”

“They’re starting to figure it out then,” Talvus said.

“They would be stupid not to,” I said.

At this point, Second Lieutenant Vitan stopped walking, although she did not turn towards us. “Prophet, huh,” she said.

“Sounds like it might be,” Talvus said.

“Corporal Maxim, do you have any idea why they might not be able to see you? Anything that might have happened, anything that has—anything about your existence that might render you hidden?” she asked.

“I’m just a soldier in the Highlands, there’s nothing special about me,” Dante said.  

“Then we use the tool that we have,” the Second Lieutenant said. “Sergeant Zhale, I agree with you. We go back to Cloudfall, we may be giving up the small advantage that we’ve managed to gain for ourselves out of this disaster. We need to regroup, by ourselves, find a place to stay, and figure out what we’re going to do next. The worst case scenario is that they find us, they figure out what is going on, that they can locate us using conventional methods before we can take advantage of the situation. That means, Private, I agree with your earlier assessment, we need to prioritize keeping away from locations where they might be looking for us.”

The Rat Clan hideaway, I suggested. It was empty, there were beds there, it was defensible, and there were traps that we had disabled that we could set up again to make it safer.

Easy to stay hidden on the approach, too, Second Lieutenant Vitan said, and so we changed our course.  

It was less than an hour’s hike to the abandoned Rat Clan hideaway. Tyrol and I continued to cover our tracks most carefully, and prayed that would be enough. We found a room that was defensible. We set up what we could for a funeral. Stones, marking what would be graves for all who fell. Fires lit over tapers. Second Lieutenant Vitan spoke the prayer, then we cleaned it up, moved the stones back to where they were, so that no one would know we were there. We set a watch schedule. Second Lieutenant Vitan and Corporal Doraius healed what they could of the more critical wounds, then we went to sleep.

I dreamed. I only report it here because the ending was noteworthy. It was a familiar scene. From when I was fourteen, in the weeks after—after Peia. I was holed up in my room, it was late, but—but neither my parents nor my grandmother were worried about keeping their voices lowered, so I could overhear it all. The shouting that had become so much of a staple in my house, my grandmother that I should be sent to the army, and my parents that I wasn’t old enough. Except then—mist began to pour under my door, interrupting the memory, and I was woken for my watch just before it overtook me.

There was nothing of note in the hours I stood watch, and I fell into a dreamless sleep afterwards, then a little before dawn, Corporal Tyrol shook us awake: for he had seen a scout of the Wolf Clan nearby, and though they had not approached the hill directly, it was clear that we were no longer safe here. We arranged the room such that no trace of us remained, then we set out.

A low mist hung in the air as we made our way away from the Rat Clan hideaway and through the woods, once more moving just to be moving; and while the mist itself was not abnormal, as the climate in the Highlands lent itself to morning fog, the sun did not burn it away. There was a strange whistling of the wind, then solid smoke jaws manifested in thin air and clamped down on Dante’s arm, as the Wolf-spirit and Raven-spirit had found us, and the fighting began in full. I shouted to Talvus that he might try to dispel the mist with wind, but it was too heavy, so we resorted to hitting them with swords until they went away. Towards the very end, the Raven-spirit once more entered my mind and moved my arms and my body, took from my pouch one of the two remaining delayed explosives that Talvus had trusted me with, and forced me to detonate it. Dante rushed over and kicked it from me before it could injure any of us, but the explosion was large enough to undoubtedly attract attention. We rallied together and finished off the Wolf and Raven spirits both, and the mist dissipated—at least temporarily. We were not so foolish to think that it would be so easy to break a blood-vengeance curse.

We started moving immediately; between the explosion and the howling of the Wolf, any scouts nearby would be alerted of our position. But the fight had given me hope: for across the Raven’s eye had been a large crack, the precise crack I had made in the stone of the statue, which indicated that there was a way to strike them at their core. I relayed this to the others, even as it was evident that it would be sure death to return to the original temple, as they were at their greatest power there. Corporal Doraius spoke, for he had studied Highland spirits, that they were all one, so that any effigy powerful enough of a Wolf and a Raven would do to destroy. We would need to locate alternative effigies; and we knew, at the very least, where we might find our first one.

It took us but an hour to get back to the camp of the Unbroken. We entered it somberly, as it was silent, untouched, everything precisely where it had been left the day prior by those who would never return. As the camp was situated in an abandoned Raven Clan village, there was a small building in the center, their shrine, which had remained sealed for the duration that the Unbroken had occupied the area. Talvus had one delayed explosive left; there was a brief discussion as to whether or not the speed of using such a device was worth the potential attention an explosion would draw, if Wolf Clan warriors were combing the woods nearby searching for us. As we had little other in alternatives for getting the door open, we placed the explosive at its foot, and piled rubble from the blown-out back of the medical building atop it to muffle the sound and flash, then Talvus triggered the explosive remotely. It worked as planned: the explosion was neither loud nor bright, yet the door was blasted open.

The building was fifteen, perhaps twenty feet across, and it was octagonal. The walls were decorated with small woodcarven objects, and there was a light breeze whirling throughout the room. There was a chain hanging down from the ceiling connected to what seemed fairly obviously to be a trap door, and Tyrol but walked to it and grabbed it before he started shaking and spasming, fell to the ground screaming, and scurried to the corner, pupils dilated and knife out. Talvus examined the chain without touching it and determined that there was a curse or spell of sorts, and that the more people who grabbed the chain at once, the more the load would be distributed and more likely all would be to resist it. Knowing that we could not risk Dante, the other four of us grabbed the chain and pulled together, and were able to successfully open the trapdoor and pull down the rope ladder without being effected so. We left Tyrol cowering in the corner, and we climbed.

The next chamber once more octagonal, but larger than the first, though it should not have been, as the building had tapered from outside. There was a heavy wind whirling throughout it, another hatch in the ceiling, six rectangular holes surrounding the hatch, and six stone ravens precisely the size necessary to be placed in the holes. Putting two and two together, we moved to place the statuettes in the holes above. Some provided more trouble than others: one started flying, although Corporal Maxim quickly stopped it from flying by throwing an axe at it. Corporal Doraius picked up what turned out to be an unnaturally heavy one. I spent a while chasing around one which had turned invisible, tossing sand in the wind until I could catch hints of where it was. Talvus worked steadily on one that had fallen to pieces on the ground, fitting the bits together as a puzzle. Second Lieutenant Vital held one up unflinchingly, even as her hand turned to stone. We finally had five of the six in the ceiling, despite a few mishaps along the way, but the sixth would invoke the one who picked it up to attack their nearest companion, as Corporal Doraius had discovered at the hands of Corporal Maxim the hard way. So I placed all of my weapons on the other side of the room, picked it up, and ignoring the telltale push into my brain as it had nothing to latch onto, placed it in the final slot.

The third room was the largest, it must have been twenty-five feet across, impossibly sized for the building we were in, and the wind here roared in nearly a cyclone. Small ritual objects had been lifted from their shelves in the windstorm, dangerous at the speed with which they could pelt us. There was a detailed carving in wood, perhaps two feet high, against one wall, and we knew that this was the effigy we sought. It was confirmed as the Raven-spirit screeched and dug into our minds; I saw blood trailing from Dante’s ears, and reached to feel a similar wetness along my own. Dante and I fought against the wind to make it to the statue. Corporal Doraius had instructed us precisely what to do: first, the effigy would need to be anointed with the blood of three Caedists, then cut with eleven strokes from ritual knives, and finally destroyed in a cleansing fire. Dante managed to get his blood on the effigy, then I mine; Talvus was pushed up against another wall, unable to make his way through the wind; as Second Lieutenant Vitan entered the room, the Raven-spirit manifested and swooped at her, cutting into her face, but she pushed past it, reached the wooden statue, and wiped one hand across her forehead then smeared it on the thing, completing the first step. We began to cut at it with ritual knives, and the manifestation of the Raven, seeing as it was not foiling our efforts, dove into the statue, and at once, the thing began to move. Talvus, having finally made his way across the room despite the wind, was standing nearest to it with his ritual knife; it mauled his back as it took off and began flying. I took the knife from Talvus and through the combined efforts of Dante and myself, we began to strike the thing, over and over, until Dante delivered the final blow and Talvus immediately shot a fire-spell from across the room saying, “alright, we’re doing this the fast way,” and as promised, the thing exploded into chunks of charcoal. The wind vanished instantly, the ritual objects that had been flying through the air clattered to the ground, and there was ringing silence.

The Raven was gone.

When we came down, Corporal Tyrol had recovered. We knew we had to leave quickly, as the original explosion, despite its muffling, had made noise. Upon my suggestion,  as it would already be clear that we had entered this camp from the lack of door on the Raven’s temple, we grabbed water, and rations, for we had not eaten since the morning of the day prior, and bandaged the worst of the injuries we had sustained with supplies from the medical building. We ate as we walked. Second Lieutenant Vitan knew of an abandoned Wolf Clan settlement, one of their initial homes before the Caedic Empire began expanding into the Highlands, and directed us, as we had no other places to start, that we begin to march towards it. We checked carefully upon entering the village for scouts, and found none, a sign that the Wolf Clan had not yet caught wind of what we were doing; a sign that we might still have a chance. There was a shrine in the center which appeared small enough that the Wolf’s manifestation inside might not kill us immediately, but large enough to contain an effigy suited to our purposes. We paused a moment as we realized that we did not have any more delayed explosives for the door; then Second Lieutenant Vitan simply wrenched them open, discovering that they were not locked. The shrine was one story, squat, and square. Inside, small carved objects lined the walls once more, and in the center, there was an intricately carved wolf’s mouth with sharp teeth and hinges and joints upon the thing, placed directly over a trap door. Having learned from our previous attempt in the Raven’s shrine, Talvus checked it for magic, and found none: this test was entirely physical in nature. I attempted to jam the mechanisms while Corporal Doraius reached into its mouth to pull the handle, and yet he could not budge it against the locked gears. I determined that the contraption would open only if the jaws were allowed to snap closed; so we tied a rope to the handle, and pulled upwards, sparing any of our party from being forced to sacrifice a hand that we might go forwards.

The second chamber I assumed was larger, although we could not quite make out the walls in the slowly drifting mist. In the center, there was another rectangular hatch, this one with four large levers built into its base, each perhaps two feet tall and with large metal rings looped through the top. We explored the room and quickly found the walls: at the center were large hooks attached to a chain that disappeared into the base of platforms atop which were life-sized stone statues of wolves. Considering the prior challenges we had faced, and the fact that we were not fighting the stone wolves right then, I hypothesized aloud that the statues would come alive and attack us when the levers were pulled, and the entrance to the next chamber would only open when all four were down. Second Lieutenant Vitan agreed, and asked Corporal Doraius to stand guard by the furthest statue while Corporal Maxim and I together hauled the hook next to it. It took us significant effort to drag the hook across the room, and the moment we attached it to the lever, the lever was pulled down by the pressure, and the stone wolf indeed came to life. Talvus and Second Lieutenant Vitan attempted to pull one of the other chains, and it became evident that they did not have the strength to do so, so Corporal Maxim and I took care of the remaining three chains together as fast as we could rather than waste time engaging with the wolves, while the others protected themselves. As soon as the fourth lever was pulled, the wolves froze, and the trapdoor opened, and so we descended.

The third chamber was filled with a mist so thick we could not see but a few inches from our faces. The floor was dirt, and there was a howl that echoed through the air almost as if we were outside. I suggested that we split into three groups, walk until we hit a wall, and proceed to all walk sunwise, that we might methodically search our surroundings. As the attacks of the Wolf so far had been physically skewed, we broke such that one heavy warrior was in each of the three teams: Corporal Doraius with Talvus, Corporal Maxim with Corporal Tyrol, and myself with Second Lieutenant Vitan, with the three ritual daggers distributed evenly amongst us. Then we all set out in our separate directions to search the room. Second Lieutenant Vitan and I reached a wall after perhaps thirty feet, and even as we began to walk along it, we heard a resounding howl and a shout. We circled faster, and soon enough, we came across Corporal Maxim and Corporal Tyrol, fighting a manifestation of the Wolf, and behind them was a statue of a wolf carved out of bones that had been bound together, and on it already stains of both Corporal Maxim’s and Corporal Tyrol’s blood. I ran forward, dagger in hand, to add my own blood to the mix. We began to cut the thing as quickly as we could, even as Corporal Maxim stood strong to hold off the Wolf, but it did not leap into the statue, and as we were not forced to chase a moving target, we were able to swiftly finish delivering the final blows. Yet Talvus and Corporal Doraius did not appear from the mist, leaving us no sorcerous manner to set the thing on fire. Corporal Tyrol was trying to get at it with flint and steel, but it would not light; I suggested he pull out his rope, wrap it around the base, and see if he could get that to catch. The manifestation of the Wolf had pinned Corporal Maxim to the ground, and Second Lieutenant Vitan was trying desperately to get it off one him; I threw myself into the fight, protecting Corporal Tyrol’s actions, and the Wolf bit deeply into my leg for my trouble. It roared and we all fell prone to the ground, but I forced myself up once more, as Corporal Tyrol had not get gotten the thing to catch.

We fought, and we fought, and we fought, Second Lieutenant Vitan barely keeping us all standing, until there was the light of fire from behind us. I turned, and the effigy was burning, then the Wolf lunged at the Second Lieutenant and brought her to the ground and I could wait no longer, I swung both my blades into the bone and it splintered beneath my blow, a great howl echoed across the expanse and dozens of jaws and teeth erupted out of the mist at all of us, and then it all abruptly disappeared. We were in a small underground chamber, and Corporal Doraius and Talvus were wandering, confused, at the other end of it. They quickly hurried over, Corporal Doraius to offer us all his healing abilities, as the fight with the Wolf had gone long and bloody. I am not sure how we all remained standing at that point, just that desperation had long since sharpened the pain into something that could keep me on my feet.

We climbed back to the ground floor, and Dante and I immediately caught sight of movement before we exited the temple. There was an orc, in Wolf Clan shaman garb, walking across the village with scrolls in his arms, who appeared the be alone. We had not yet been seen. We quietly pointed him out to Second Lieutenant Vitan, and she told us “Take him, keep him alive.” We needed no more direction to spring into action, and we moved, two as one: I swept out the orc’s legs with one of my blades, Dante slammed the flat of his axe’s blade across his face, I brought the hilt of my other scimitar up to break his nose, and Dante slammed him with his shield directly in the face, undoubtedly breaking his cheekbone and knocking him from his knees to the ground, unconscious. Second Lieutenant Vitan stalked forward, radiating a combination of fury and satisfaction. Dante and I moved to each shoulder of the fallen shaman, pinning him, as Second Lieutenant Vitan took Corporal Doraius’s waterskin and splashed its contents across his face, forcing him back into consciousness. The Second Lieutenant grinned. “I have something I would like to try, that I’ve been working on,” she said. And then brought both hands down, glowing with a dark red energy, one to his forehead and another over his heart, and they began to sink within the skin, the energy gathering and shifting and shapes began to flicker in the red mist that had formed above where she had reached into him, shapes that Second Lieutenant Vitan’s eyes followed even as ours could not. Then she released both of her hands, pulled her ritual knife, and sunk it straight into his heart, and he sputtered and died.

She turned and stood, facing the woods. “We have them. This way. The current Wolf Clan camp,” she said.

“Do we want to get Stag Clan backup? Or Caedic backup?” I asked. After all, we knew Dante could shield up to thirteen besides himself, and there were only five of us.

“No, too big of a group,” Second Lieutenant Vitan said. “We press our advantage. We’re ending this.”

We began to walk, swiftly, quietly, and I was grateful for it, grateful that we were not going to seek help, because I was clinging to the last dregs of my own energy, and I needed to move to stay on my feet. Talvus moved next to me. “She—she ripped his bloodline out of his blood and looked at it,” he said. “She found his next of kin.” He looked equal parts impressed and terrified.

Another game-changer for the war in the Highlands, if we were to survive.

We kept walking.

The location that Second Lieutenant Vitan had discerned was not terribly far away, and we reached it close to when the sun was falling, the deep orange illuminating everything and the shadows cast long. There was a wooded ridge looking down upon it, and we remained hidden within the treeline, looking down. It was clearly a nomadic camp, consisting mostly of tents, although there were some other constructed temporary structures. The most notable of these structures was a sod building, with a pair of orcs standing guard outside its doors. There were three other orcs visible sitting around a campfire on the other end of the camp, although undoubtedly more within. Considering that we had but one chance, and this building seemed most likely to hold what we sought, we moved with speed and with silence: Corporal Tyrol and myself approached the two guards from behind, and killed them before they could make noise. We dragged their bodies from sight, and entered the building.

The first room appeared to be some sort of antechamber, or perhaps a waiting room, with a small hallway and door that opened on the other side. We had gotten but a foot into the room when the door opposite to us opened, and for a moment I caught sight of greens and browns and perhaps what looked like a person sitting inside, before the Heretic Raven stepped out, looking just as surprised as we were to suddenly run into them, before their face schooled into a deadly determination. They kicked the door closed behind them even as I was leaping into action, desperately trying to get to them before they could make a noise, but they let forth a great whooping battle cry that must have rang like an alarm through the entire camp, dropped the cloth covering their double-ended sword, and planted their feet. When they spoke, they spoke in Caedic,

“I won’t let you through.”

“Then die,” I spat back at them. Corporal Doraius, Corporal Tyrol, Second Lieutenant Vitan, and Talvus took to the door to hold off what would now be the entire camp of Wolf Clan warriors, and Dante and I stepped forward to face the Heretic Raven for the last time.

I drew first blood, drawing my blade down their left arm, through the remnant stolen Caedic sleeve that they still wore in spite. Dante followed quickly behind me with his axe. The Heretic Raven swung at both of us, but we held our ground. There were two of us, one of them, we could win this fight if we fought carefully, smartly. And then their footwork changed, their grip on their blade changed, they threw their arms open and snarled, “Come and get me,” leaving themselves fully undefended as they launched the most ferocious offense I have ever witnessed.

I slipped behind them, opening huge cuts across their front and their back as I secured myself in a flanking position, but took a deep cut into my side from their suicidal counterattack. Dante slammed into them with his shield and must have broken one of their ribs from the force of the blow, following it by driving his axe into their gut, and took a sharp strike as well for his trouble. It was clear at this point that the Heretic Raven was not fighting to win, they were fighting to take us down with them by any means necessary.

From behind us, Talvus wove something into the air, and pushed power through the needle and into our weapons. Never once did our concentration falter, as the stakes of what we were fighting for was ever apparent: those behind us would only be able to hold off Wolf Clan for so long, and if we could not prevail and kill the Wolf of Ears Eyes and Hands before they fell, all would be lost. I launched myself forward into an attack, and one of ends of their blade caught me in the side, cutting through deeply. Dante swung down with his axe, cutting their off-arm through clearly at the elbow, but they were already driving the other end of their blade through the center of his torso, impaling him, and ripping it out. Blood and viscera began to spill from the wound, and I alone remained standing even as I screamed, whipped one scimitar across their upper torso, and drove the other straight through their heart.

I kicked them to the ground as I drew my sword from their chest, and they laid there, in a pool of their own blood.

Thus fell Thrang, deserter of Raven Legion, traitor to the Empire and bane of the Highlands. They fought relentlessly and furiously to the very end; never once did they hesitate, never once did the fear of death enter their eyes. I feel a great respect for them, for that; that I do not feel shame of. They fought as I would have fought, they died as I would have died, had our places been reversed. Their blood has been spilled for glory of Empire, and so they are gone.

I shouted for healing, and Corporal Doraius ran towards us, pressing his hands against Dante’s wound even as exhausted as he was, and warned us that he may not be able to cast again. Still, Dante began to stir, then he stood. We had both survived. “Let’s see if we can end this,” I said.  

Talvus, Dante and I pushed through the door and into the next room. It was furnished like a bedroom, a small cot, a table, cloth in dark greens and browns. There was velum scattered across the table and pinned to the wall above it, and drawings in charcoal, and a woman-orc sitting calmly, facing us. She was young, or at least she wasn’t old, in her thirties, perhaps her early forties. She crossed her arms and stood as she looked at us, and her eyes focused in on Dante first.

“You,” she said. “You’re the hole, the piece that is missing. I—I see now, you are the one who will bring it down on us, the servant of the servant, born from death, born from death!”

Then she looked at myself and Talvus, and her expression shifted from disgust to pity to horror.

“Y—you,” she said. “What is this future that…you—you want it? You seek it? What kind of—no, no, get away!”

She pulled out a small knife. I pulled forth my scimitars and leapt forward. “Get away, anyone but you,” she said, her last words as I drew both blades across her throat and blood rained down, soaking through the entire top of her shirt. The knife slipped from her hand, and she collapsed to the floor.

I turned to Talvus, and I told him to grab the papers on the walls and on her desk. If we survived this, they could be useful to the Caedic forces, so I believed. Then I returned through the door to support the others, and fight to the death if we so needed to, for at least our mission had been accomplished and the prophetess was dead. I was met with the sight: Second Lieutenant Vitan, knife in hand, fell upon a Wolf Clan orc, and stabbed them over, and over, and over, blood splattering against her face. Corporal Doraius was frantically bandaging Corporal Tyrol in a corner. And then there were just—eight corpses of Wolf Clan warriors on the ground, and none standing.

“Is it done?” Second Lieutenant Vitan asked.

“Whatever prophet they had, we killed her,” I told her. “Talvus is gathering all the pages with writing on them now.”

She nodded. “Then it’s done. Let’s get back to Cloudfall, and report what happened.”

I saluted and then I passed out face first on the ground.

I came to not much longer afterwards, as Corporal Doraius was still bandaging Tyrol on the ground, and I pushed myself up, despite what strain fighting had placed on my injury that I had not realized, or the new injuries that still bled. It was not an easy march back to Cloudfall, not when Tyrol could barely walk. We arrived well past when the sun had set. Second Lieutenant Vitan gave her report immediately. Talvus, Dante, and I gave a short report of finding the orc prophetess and killing her. We received medical attention from the infirmary at Cloudfall. And then it was over, we were given cots, and told to try to sleep.

There are many thoughts—too many thoughts—that tear through my mind. What the prophetess said, what she saw—Talvus and I had the chance to glance over the papers what we gathered before we handed them in at Cloudfall. There were many to be expected—of blindfolded orcs; of the large wooden cover of the door and trap that I walked into in the Rat Clan hideaway; the runes of the delayed explosive; the animals attacking the camp of the Unbroken; and of the Traitor fleeing down the hill from the road directly into the ambush. Some that I didn’t understand: a woman with a tattoo on her jaw; a severed finger and three severed ears, two human and one elf, on a string; a head that looked like a circle had been cut clean through and around it, then stitched back together; a strange symbol almost like an eye, but abstractified; cockroaches crawling everywhere, one top of one another, in a great pile; someone in full armor with flames emanating from behind them; three hearts woven together in the veins above, dripping blood. There was one of—it looked like a map of the Caedic Empire, but as if a good portion of Serae was swallowed by the sea. Then there was—another symbol, this one like a triangle, but it curled inwards, or perhaps outwards. It was in four of the charcoal drawings total, some of them—darker, like the implement was driven into the paper, one in shadow and smudged such that it almost looked like a great serpent rising from the mist. I have attached a sketch of the original symbol, and it—I had seen it a single place before in her drawings. After the death of Black-Eye Sadbh, Captain Piso had taken a fairly severe cut to his back, and was being seen to by a medic, and I noticed upon his left shoulder what was…not a tattoo, but certainly not a scar or a brand, of precisely the same symbol, such that its outermost edge and point was directed towards his spine. I don’t know what it means, I don’t—I don’t know who to ask. I do not wish to disrespect one who lived and died in service of the Empire as Captain Piso did. We handed the papers over with no comment on any of this.

There is more. More that I almost fear to write. Four drawings in particular that were amongst those that we collected. One was of a cup, of carefully burnished gold with mosaic-like patterns carved into it, filled nearly to the brim with—with what I knew was supposed to be blood, bright and glowing; and two of a man, the same man, with sharp but wide features, dark hair, and burning golden eyes—the only color in any of the drawings was the gold of his eyes. I had seen both the chalice and the man before, in a dream, months ago. I did not—I do not believe that these drawings need be specific to me, it was—the dream was a strange one, one that I had when I was very near death, and I am not sure if it was meant for me to see at all. The final picture was unmistakable, though. An explosion, a column of fire through the sharp shadows of the trees cast, the last and only thing I had caught sight of between being struck down at the foundry, as I was being dragged off by the Surrian guards, before I fell fully unconscious. Arcadia was already unconscious at the time, and the four Surrian guards are dead, I am the only one left alive who could have seen that sight, and perhaps the only one who saw it in the first place, as its perspective matched exactly that of my memories. That vision was mine, and mine alone, yet it was pinned to the prophetess’s wall with all the rest.

I do not know that these images mean, or why, amongst all the things the prophetess could have seen and drawn, there were four that would pertain directly to me. I can only feel, considering both the pictures and her reaction to me when we faced her, that if she had known who I was, that I had been in the Highlands from the beginning, this—this is one more reason that I should have been dead. I have not spoken to anyone of any of this, for I have a—a feeling, one that I cannot shake. I do not know what I fear, only that I fear it. I do not want to—I do not know what series of events speaking of the dreams or images might bring, or if it might trigger such a thing at all, but there are forces well beyond my present comprehension at play here and I hesitate to make a move in a game in which I understand neither the rules nor the consequences. I—I sound as if I have gone mad, I know I sound as if I have gone mad, but we have spent the last week and a half fighting against an enemy who knew our every move before we made it, before we even thought it, and I cannot stop looking over my shoulder, I cannot—I cannot convince myself it is over. I cannot—I cannot sleep, I keep seeing mist, and the faces of the Unbroken, of Anye’s head hitting the ground before I called down the curse on all of us, of Talvus hanging in the air, choking, of—of the bodies lying lifeless on the ground as we just ran. The Wolf of Ears Eyes and Hands is dead, the Heretic Raven is dead, the spirits are gone, Rat Clan and Wolf Clan are scattered and still I cannot sleep.

The question of what the orc prophetess said also plagues me, although to a lesser degree than the drawings on her walls. I worry for Dante, ‘the one who will bring it down upon us’; perhaps she spoke of the destruction of the Wolf Clan and Caedic victory in the Highlands, but what would that have to do with ‘servant of the servant, born from Death’? And when she faced myself and Talvus, what did she see that disgusted her so thoroughly? We want what future, that we seek it out? I know that there are—there are plans that Talvus and I have discussed, weapons that could be designed both arcane and otherwise that I will not document here, ones that take advantage of inherent Caedic strengths and could be used against all of our enemies, but they are simply thought experiments, nothing has come of them as yet. I do not know if she spoke of one of these—perhaps one going right, and raining wretchedness and destruction to enemies of the Empire, or perhaps one going wrong, backfiring on us, and bringing down the rest of the world with us. I do not know whether Talvus and I should stop pursuing these avenues of thought—why would you seek it—or if to allow ourselves to be struck with fear and hesitance would be the last great act of resistance that the prophetess could cripple the Empire with. Or maybe she wasn’t speaking of that which Talvus and I have been developing at all, maybe there is something else that we will encounter, some new idea that will take root in our heads and I know that I’m thinking circles around myself but I cannot stop the torrent, what if this means that—could it have been related to the drawings, the symbol, the man with the golden eyes and the foundry, or it—what if what we’ll do, what we’ll seek, is heresy?  

I have—more unanswered questions, concrete ones, ones that might actually have answers. Directly after I gave him our papers, as I have written, Captain Piso recognized my name. That he would so immediately associate Strell with the Tandus heresy, I—I wondered at first if it was a bigger incident than I had known when I had left for the front, but I now am not so sure. Salo had a conversation with me shortly before the assault on Stonemill Keep that indicated that he only learned of my involvement after he submitted and requested reports about the ghoul and the sickness during our two weeks with the 33rd. Perhaps as Altae is closer to the Capital, Captain Piso was more informed of the day-to-day news, but he said he had little access to that when he was asking me for anything that I knew of the heresy. And he did not seem to care about my connection to it; the moment that he learned that I knew nothing of Scaevola, he dismissed me. He never brought it up again, nor did he treat me unfavorably for it; in fact, he allowed me to take point in planning the assault on the Rat Clan hideaway, and he both watched and advised Dante and myself sparring, and demonstrated practically what he meant against us, just as you might have.

I’m not sure what it could mean, that he was interested in Scaevola Tandus. There were rumors amongst the troops that the reason why he led only a single unit as a Captain was because he had been adjacent to some heresy scandal himself, but I find that so difficult to believe, they were just rumors passed around by bored soldiers and they speak so contrary to everything that I saw and that I knew of the Captain. Corporal Doraius said that Captain Piso remained a unit commander because he refused transfer, even after his promotion. I worry that somehow—combined with Talvus’s suspicions about Lieutenant Sorus being of far greater rank in the Church and far more powerful than would be expected for a unit’s arcanist—perhaps there was something important in this area in particular that required close attention. I cannot help but wonder if it had anything to do with the mark on his back, or if the mark is connected to any of the other drawings of the prophetess, or the dreams. Or if the knowledge of what was of such utmost importance that he stay there be lost with his death.      

Second Lieutenant Vitan put in a recommendation for both myself and Corporal Maxim to receive promotion at the end of all of it. I feel as if of all those who survived, I am the one who deserves it the least, because she—she saw the moments when I was of use, perhaps, the observations I was able to voice that helped Talvus figure out we were dealing with prophecy, or how when all else failed, your blades did not fail me; but she did not see how quickly—how quickly I left her and all of my other superior officers to die the moment that I saw that orc’s hand around Talvus’s throat, how—Corporal Maxim went back for Captain Piso. If I had gone back as well, instead of immediately running with Talvus, perhaps seven would have survived that battle instead of six. But I did not. I did not even look back. She could not have seen, she could not know, because how could she see me as worthy of the stripes on my shoulders if she had.

I do not think that I will pass the Trials, not after this. I am not—I am not nearly the soldier nor the strategist that I thought I was. Perhaps there was never a chance of doing anything different than exactly what I did, that everything was so perfectly orchestrated that I would never have done better than the manner with which I conducted myself, but that responsibility must remain solely on my shoulders. I fundamentally failed, and if left to my own devices, I would have failed everyone. I do not know what to expect in the Trials, if there are tests of strength or of knowledge, perhaps I could bluff my way through those, but if there is a test of character, I know that I will be found lacking. I doubt that my family would want me to remain with them in the Capital if I do not pass, they made their position on that clear enough three years ago. Besides, my blades never failed me, only my heart; I can always re-enlist. Even with my injury, I’m still good for fighting. If you will have me back at the Surrian front, or think that I could contribute there, I would gladly return; but there is a hole within me that sings that I have unfinished business in the Highlands, that even with the blow that we struck against Wolf Clan and the Heretic Raven, we still bleed from the blow they struck first, that I owe it to those I left behind to hunt down every last one of the Heretic Raven’s fighters and the Wolf Clan orcs and the Rat Clan warriors we let escape and every other rebel—every other rebel that there are now thirty less good Caedic soldiers to stand against.

If this at all appears disordered or if my thoughts seem contradictory, I apologize sincerely; I began writing immediately after we returned to Cloudfall. I fear that if I had not said everything now, I would be too conflicted to speak it; too ashamed to disclose any of the parts which testify of my failures to adhere to the standards you taught me. I know the importance of presenting myself with confidence and showing not my throat bare when I reach the Capital; for I know the world that I am returning to. These words, the trust of my doubts, are for you and you alone.

May that you be well, and until we meet next, Iria

____________________

Private Arcadia Dominus, Specialist Unit c.Varricon The 3rd Legion, Serae

Dear Arcadia,

There has been a lot of excitement since the last letter I've managed to send. Probably too much excitement, but I made it out alive, and that's what counts. I know I said I'd write when I reached Cloudfall, and that was supposed to be a week ago, but Talvus and I were ambushed by Rat Clan orcs on the road, enlisted into the 8th for a week while the main bridge just past Cloudfall was being fixed, and then inadvertently took part in a series of escalating battles until we finally managed to help kill The Heretic Raven and destroy the means that Wolf Clan was using to gain advantage in ambushes, which means that hopefully we've done our part for the war effort in the Highlands.

If you ever have a chance to come here, Altae is a very interesting place. I would warn you about fighting the Highland Clan rebels—they are remarkably good at completely ignoring all wounds they might take, and fighting just as fiercely even with fatal injuries until they draw their last breath—but you tend to deal the sort of devastating blows that your enemies can't get up from, so perhaps you wouldn't have that problem. It's cold here, and always wet, so not a particularly fun place to make camp in the woods. The trees are different, darker green than the ones at home. I think perhaps I’ve finally gotten used to it all, which is a pity, as Talvus and I will be leaving as soon as the bridge is fixed.

Joining the Unbroken for a week—it was nothing like our time with 33rd. There were all the usual watches and patrols and a couple of wolf ambushes, both by the animals and the Wolf Clan orcs, which I suppose either way was better than being ambushed by a ghoul or any of that getting sick nonsense. A few days in we got word of where the Rat Clan’s hideaway was, and Captain Piso let me help plan the assault. It was a thorough success, we took out their warchief, Black Eye Sadbh, a number of their warriors, and Corporal Dante Maxim—you’d love him, he has a shield and he uses it to charge people more than he does for blocking things—he killed all four of their shamans. If I must be entirely honest, there was a slight blip in the plan where I got caught behind enemy lines. Again. This one really wasn’t my fault, it was a scouting mission because we were going to plant explosives before the assault and it shouldn’t have been able to go wrong, I was literally invisible courtesy of Talvus, but they’d been tipped off invisible scouts were coming so I got to twiddle my thumbs for a night waiting for rescue in the form of the assault still happening as planned, sans the exploding part. I had a dagger hidden in my boot and everything and they buried me in a pile of rocks, so little use that was to me. Still, the attack went perfectly without me and I did get to kill Black Eye Sadbh myself, so I wasn’t entirely useless.

It got a bit rough. The Unbroken, only about thirty of us, ended up in an all-out battle against the Heretic Raven’s whole band—the Heretic Raven being a rather famous nuisance in these parts, the single defector from Raven Legion far out to the west, who had returned to their home in the Highlands and pulled together an assorted group of rebel fighters—as well as upwards of thirty, maybe forty Wolf Clan orcs. We took heavy casualties, although Talvus and I are still kicking. In the end, I killed Anye the Huntress, and the Bear of the Heretic Raven’s warriors, Dante and I killed the Heretic Raven together, then I killed the strategist of the Wolf Clan that they were protecting; and a number of other warriors fell beneath my blades or arrows in that and other conflicts, perhaps half a dozen in the week and a half I’ve been here. It’s hard to say that we won, because so many of the Unbroken died, but the tide of the war has turned against our enemies. At the end of it all, they have been scattered, and their leaders are dead, and we survived. So all in all, everything has been far more exciting than the letter I was expecting to send you on our great adventures hiking every day, in which the height of the dangers we faced was Talvus managing to set water on fire on his first and only turn to cook.

I've had time to give a bit of thought to what might happen if I don't make it through the Trials; I know I want to return to the army, but now I have unfinished business in the Highlands as much as I do on the Surrian front. You'd love it here. Every fight is a worthy contest, it's not just plowing through mountains of soldiers who aren't worth the skill that went into the forging of their blades. The Highland Clans are strong, and they have spirit. They could use a soldier like you here; there's been a bit of a dearth of soldiers recently, as a lot of good units were killed trying to take down the Wolf Clan and their strategist. Even after our victories, even without their leaders, the Highland warriors are tenacious, and I know you would kill many for glory and for Empire. There are five more left alive from the Heretic Raven's group who are particularly troublesome—a witch, a Rat shaman, a pair of twin rogue fighters, and a Salamander Clan mage—and Bear Clan, Owl Clan, Salamander Clan, and some scattered Wolf Clan and Rat Clan warriors still await you, so it's not like the hobgoblins, there are plenty of fierce enemies to go around. Perhaps we can avenge the fallen and secure the power of the Empire in this province together, if I do not remain in the Capital.

Pass my regards to Varricon and Gorai, and the hopes that they are healing well. I hope for you that your blade remains sharp. I would love to hear how life has been going for you, although I do not think I will receive any letters before I reach home.

Until I can write next, Iria Stell

#my writing #my life #gay murder elf bachelorette #in their footsteps we shall follow #Iria Strell #the heretic raven chose not to kill Iria Strell because uh they were one of the good guys #what they saw in her face was that she was fuckin seventeen #a *child* #and they could not bring themselves to kill a child in cold blood #not that it did them much good #welcome to all of my feelings all of them #even though I'm pretty sure approximately two of you are going to read this #I really hope that you enjoy

[advocatewrites-blog]

Into the Unknown Part 4 Chapter 2

Into the Unknown

Fandom: Undertale, Coraline (book), Over the Garden Wall, Paranorman, Gravity Falls (season 2)

Characters: Frisk, Norman B., Dipper P., Mabel P., Coraline J., Wirt, Greg, the Cat, the Frog; Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore,; the Other Mother, the Beast, Agatha P., Bill Cipher, Asriel D., Chara D.,

Pairings: Not the focus. Alphys/Undyne, with mentions of Papyrus/Mettaton, sans/Toriel/Asgore, and Wirt/Sara. Due to the nature of Undertale and the dating segments, there is also interpretable Papyrus/Wirt, Undyne/Mabel, Alphys/Dipper, Napstablook/Norman, Mettaton/Norman, Mettaton/Mabel, Sans/Dipper, Sans/Norman, and Sans/Greg.

Rated a high +K for violence, mild language, horrific elements that may be disturbing to younger readers,  mentions of child abuse and bullying, character death that is sometimes permanent, and mentions of suicide that may be triggering. These elements remain relatively unchanged from their source material, which most all are for children, but discretion is advised nonetheless.

Disclaimer: Undertale was created and owned by Toby Fox. Coraline was created by Neil Gaiman and owned by Bloomsbury and Laika. Over the Garden Wall was created by Patrick McHale and owned by Cartoon Network. Paranorman was created by Sam Fell and Chris Butler and owned by Laika. Gravity Falls was created by Alex Hirsch and owned by Disney. Any other work mentioned or homage are property of their respective owners. This is a fan-made, nonprofit work that only seeks to entertain. Please support the original franchises.

The hallway outside of the Ruins was a lot longer than either of them had expected. It was too dimly lit for either of them to see quite clearly, and the damp chill of caverns only grew as they walked. There was only one clear beacon of light as another chasm opened above them.

In the beacon of light, there sat a flower.

“I bet you think you’re real clever, don’t cha?” said Flowey. “Saving your goat mom like that?”

Both of them were still rattled from the fight, so the most Dipper could really do was stomp on Flowey. It burrowed back underground before his foot hit the ground.

“Tell me,” said Flowey as he popped up behind them.  “What do you think you would have done if you hadn’t saved her? What will happen if you meet someone you can’t spare?”

“We’re not here to fight anyone!” said Dipper.

“Oh? So why are you here, then?”

Mabel sent Dipper a concerned looked. The two fell silent. That was all that Flowey wanted to hear.

“You don’t know,” said Flowey in realization. “Don’t worry, my little monarchs. You’re not the ones I’m looking for. And maybe once you stop that goody two-shoes act, we can agree on something.”

Flowey burrowed back underground, leaving them alone.

“What was that about?” Mabel asked.

“I’m not sure…” said Dipper. “Mabel, what were we doing when we came down here?”

Mabel hummed as she thought.

“The last thing I remember was being at the Shack,” she said.

“Same with me,” said Dipper. “Do you think maybe something paranormal brought us here?”

“I mean, we are in a world of magic and monsters,” said Mabel. “Nothing’s out of the question.”

“Then we better get to work,” said Dipper.

Chapter 2

They didn’t talk much after they were reunited. It was too late to make any real plans, too dark to look at the map Frisk had gotten, and they were too tired to think clearly.

It was early when they started to talk again. The sun had barely risen above the mountains that surrounded them, but it was light enough that Frisk could read the map.

None of the mountains surrounding them were Mt. Ebott.

“These are not normal woodlands,” said the Cat. “Perhaps you can try finding another monster here?”

Frisk nodded.

“Then I suggest we try to avoid gnomes.”

He jumped out of his skin when he saw the white bone. A skull sat in the hoodie. Attached to the rest of it was a skeleton. Two pinpricks of light hovered in the eye sockets, as close to pupils as it could get.

“alright. go ahead and take your choice. don’t got enough g on me to keep restocking.”

The skeleton monster gave a vague gesture to a set of lamps sitting by the checkpoint station, and what fear Dipper had faded into confusion.

“Why do you just have human shaped lamps?” Dipper asked.

“ya better make it quick,” the skeleton said. “my bro’s gonna be here in a few minutes and he’s a human hunting fanatic.”

Dipper’s eyes widened as he put together what he meant, and dove behind one of the lamps that had a shade of a long cone. Mabel fell right behind him, and hid behind her own lamp.

“SANS!”

“sup bro?”

Mabel poked her head out from the lampshade. “Oh, he’s cute!”

Dipper looked up just long enough to see the other addresser.

“He’s a skeleton,” said Dipper.

“You say that like it’ll stop me,” said Mabel.

“SANS? ARE THOSE HUMANS?”

The twins froze. Slowly, they both poked their heads out from the lampshade.

“sure, bro,” said the shorter skeleton. His skeletal smile was as thick as ever (and Dipper noted in the back of his mind that it didn’t move when he spoke), but there was a hint of frustration in his tone that Dipper could not quite place why.

“GOOD JOB!! I GUESS THERE IS MERIT TO STARING AT THESE LAMPS ALL DAY!!!” The taller skeleton turned to the twins. “ATTENTION HUMANS! !!YOU SHALL NOT PASS THIS AREA! !! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL CAPTURE YOU!!! PROCEED…ONLY IF YOU DARE!!!”

He ran off, his laugh growing more and more distant.

“sorry bout that,” said the shorter skeleton. “name’s sans, by the way.”

He offered Dipper a hand up. Dipper noted the pink whoopee cushion hidden under his phalanges and decided to pull himself back up.

“Human hunting?” Dipper asked. “So you’re trying to hunt us down?”

“nah. he won’t hurt a fly,” said sans. “he’ll just fight you and give you awful puzzles to solve. i’ll keep an eyesocket out for you kids.”

sans walked off into the other direction as his brother. Dipper waited until he could not see him anymore to talk.

“Who just has a dozen people-shaped lamps waiting out in the middle of the forest?” He asked.

“The same kind of person who keeps hot dogs under his stand,” said Mabel as she rose. “And the kind of person I wanna be friends with. Want one?”

Dipper took one without thinking. His mind was racing.

Sans was not all that surprised to see the two humans in the world of monsters. He had gone through the trouble of special ordering several human-shaped lamps and dragging them out into the snow and forest. He had been expecting them.

“sans definitely knows something,” said Dipper as he took a bite of his hot dog. “Let’s try and figure out what.”

“Sounds like a plan, plan man!”

It was then that Dipper realized whatever he put into his mouth was not hot dog meat.

They find the boyband first. Frisk vaguely recalled seeing them on TV at one point, so it’s a bit of a surprise to find them in a magical forest. They thought about asking them whether or not they knew anything about the Kingdom of Monsters, but decide against it after they have to talk one of them out of eating a pinecone.

The boyband was not the only humans they found in the forest. They stumbled upon a campsite, where the only difference between its two occupants is the numbers on their hats. They did not know where Mt. Ebott was, but they were kind enough to show them where the other magical places in the forest are and offered their campsite if they couldn’t find a place for the night.

They find the gnomes again. They weren’t helpful.

It was late in the afternoon when something interesting happened. They only ventured in to town for a few moments, for Frisk to buy some food with what money they had left. It was only a packet of jerky from a vending machine, but it was enough until they can figure something else out. They wandered off to one of the prettier spots in the woods, settled down on a log, opened the packet…

The forest rumbled. Birds flew and gnomes ran away. Soundwaves shook the trees and cause ripples in the stream. The earth shook as something raced closer.

The Manutaur approaches.

Frisk ACTS without thinking, and held the jerky packed out in front of them. The fight stopped instantly.

“Not going to fight back, tiny human?” The manutaur asked as he poured jerky down his throat.

Frisk shook their head and shrugged.

“I believe they would like to talk to you instead,” said the Cat. “They are looking for a way into a kingdom of monsters. It should be hidden in the mountains.”

The manutaur hummed in thought. “Climb onto my backhairs. I’ll take you to meet with High Council.”

“I think I’ll pass,” said the Cat.

Frisk climbed aboard, and let the cat jumped onto their shoulders. The Manutaur sped off.

“HE’S…WELL…HE’S A BIG FUZZY PUSHOVER!” said Papyrus. “EVERYBODY LOVES THAT GUY! I AM CERTAIN IF YOU JUST SAY…’EXCUSE ME, MR. DREEMURR, CAN I PLEASE GO HOME?’ HE’LL GUIDE YOU RIGHT TO THE BARRIER HIMSELF! ANYWAY!!! THAT’S ENOUGH TALKING!!! I’LL BE AT HOME BEING A COOL FRIEND!!! LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU WANT TO GO ON THAT DATE!!!”

Papyrus ran through them back to his house, a movement that was at best a mix of running, skipping, and floating. His laughter faded off in the distance.

Dipper hardly noticed. His mind was abuzz with the new information, trying to put together what Papyrus had said to the theories he had already crafted into his head.

He hardly even noticed the last thing Papyrus had said, until he looked over at Mabel and saw the look in her eyes.

“You want to go on a date with him right away?” Dipper asked.

“Why not?” said Mabel. “He said we can visit whenever we want for that date!”

“Your date,” Dipper said.

“And what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know! I think there was a restaurant in town…”

“I bet if you go with me you’d be able to talk to sans about whatever nerdy stuff you wanna talk about,” said Mabel.

Dipper opened his mouth to argue, but close it just as quickly. That was actually a good point.

“Just promise me you won’t call my thing a date,” said Dipper.

“Can’t! Let’s go!”

It was a long and hard-fought training montage that lasted the whole day. But eventually, Frisk was accepted by the Mautaurs. They gave them bits of leather armor that did not really fit them, a spear made of bone and stone that reminded them of Papyrus and Undyne, and some neat temporary tattoos. They were sent on their way to conquer the Multibear.

“And we shall go with you to make sure you don’t botch this like Destructor did,” said Pituitor.

But Frisk knew they weren’t going to Fight the Multibear, much less conquer it. Hopefully the other Manutaurs would be cool with that too.

The Multibear lived on the other side of the mountain range. Frisk scaled it the way the Mautaurs had taught them. They entered the cave. The Manutaurs were right behind them.

The sounds of roars alerted Frisk to the location of the Multibear before their eyes could fully adjust to the darkness. The Multibear emerged from the shadows.

“Bear heads! Quiet!” The biggest head of the Multibear snapped. “So, the Manutaurs have seen fit to send to me another human.”

“Yeah, because you SUCK!” Gronk shouted from outside.

The bear head growled again, but stopped as it was slapped.

Frisk nodded enthusiastically. They put their spear down to sign.

“I am afraid I do not speak the language of Hands,” said the Multibear.

“Then allow me to translate,” said the Cat as he emerged from a stalagmite. “They want to ask you for directions.”

There was a loud groan from the Manutaurs outside. The Cat ignored it.

“They wish to find the Kingdom of Monsters,” said the Cat.

“You would provoke the ire of the Manutaurs just to find it?” asked the Multibear.

Frisk nodded.

“Then you must be very lost,” said the Multibear. “Very well. I will tell you what I know.”

Papyrus’ house was a unique mixture of old, clashing furniture, and surfaces so clean it was hard to believe that they had ever held dust. In a lot of ways, it reminded Dipper of the Mystery Shack. He took a seat on the couch and started to flip through a book on quantum physics.

“Wow! How’d you get your sink so high?”

Shoved in between the pages was a joke book, just a little smaller than the textbook.  Curious, Dipper took that out.

“DO YOU LIKE IT?! I MADE IT TALLER SO I CAN STORE MORE BONES UNDERNEATH. TAKE A LOOK!!!”

The joke book had been hollowed out to hold another book on quantum physics. Dipper took it out and opened it up.

“WHAT?!?! CATCH THAT MEDDLING CANINE!”

Dipper looked up long enough from the books to watch the small Pomeranian from before rush through the kitchen and out the door.

“CURSES!”

The sound of a sad trombone filled the house.

“SANS!! STOP PLAUGING MY LIFE WITH INCIDENTAL MUSIC AND COME HELP ME ENTERTAIN THESE HUMANS!”

“oh, what?” sans’ voice echoed from the top of the stairs.

“YES! THE TALLER HUMAN AND I WERE PLANNING ON GOING TO MY ROOM AND DOING…WHATEVER IT IS PEOPLE DO WHEN THEY GO ON DATES! COULD YOU PERHAPS ENTERTAIN THE SHORTER ONE???”

“I’m shorter than Mabel by, like, an inch!” said Dipper.

There was a lingering pause upstairs, as sans thought about what had been asked.

“sure thing bro,”

There was the sound of a closing door upstairs, and the front door swung open.

“sorry bro,” said sans. “just wanted to make sure i got my date clothes on.”

The only thing Dipper noticed that was different were his socks, now matching.

“GREAT!! COME ALONG THEN, HUMAN!!! HAVE FUN ON YOUR DATE, SANS!!!”

Mabel wriggled her eyebrows at Dipper as she rushed upstairs with Papyrus. Dipper tried his best to ignore her.

*DATING START!

“So, uh…” Dipper started. He made a vague gesture to the books on his lap.

“oh yeah,” said sans. “paps got that one for me. i made a few of my own modifications, of course, but i don’t think he’s gotten the joke yet.”

Silence fell between the two as Dipper tried to think of what to say next.

“DON’T THINK YOU’VE BESTED ME YET!!!” Papyrus’ voice rang from upstairs. “I’VE NEVER BEEN BEATING AT DATING AND I NEVER WILL!!”

“Hey, sans,” said Dipper. “Do you know anything about a talking flower?”

The atmosphere grew heavy. sans’ grin tightened, and for a second Dipper felt a shiver up his spine.

“the echo flowers in waterfall, right?” sans asked. “didn’t think you had made it that far.”

“We haven’t,” said Dipper. “I mean a small golden flower that talks back at you, not just an echo.”

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND THE HIDDEN POWER OF THIS OUTFIT!”

sans was silent for a moment. He shifted in his seat so he could look Dipper in the eyes. His smile had grown bigger, but Dipper was not entirely sure that was a good thing.

“I have a question for you kid…how did you end up in the Underground?”

“I don’t know. Mabel and I just kind of ended up here,” said Dipper. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. And I think that flower might have something to do with it.”

“RIGHT! BUT OH SO WRONG! THIS AIN’T ANY PLAIN OL’ PASTA!! THIS IS AN ARTISAN’S WORK!!! SILKEN SPAGHETTI FINLEY AGED IN AN OAKEN CAST, THEN COOKED BY ME, MASTER CHEF PAPYRUS!!!”

“And I think you might know something about it,” Dipper finished.

The lights in sans’s eyesockets went out. Dipper fought the urge to jump back and run. Phalanges tapped on the sofa, forming a melodic pattern.

“What makes you think that, bucko?”

Dipper swallowed in a vain attempt to stop his voice from cracking before he spoke.

“Who orders a set of human-shaped lamps and leaves them out in the forest?”

“AUGH!!! URGH!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“Should we do something about that?” Dipper asked.

“nah, they’re probably fine.” said sans. “but you know…you may be on to something kiddo. tell you what; you tell me more about that flower, i’ll tell you more about the other humans. deal?”

“Fine.” said Dipper.

“great. i’ll keep an eyesocket out for you, kid.”

sans stood from the couch and walked out the front door again. Dipper did not have a chance to question it before Mabel came downstairs.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

“I dunno,” said Mabel as she plopped onto the couch. “I mean he dumped me, but that was the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Dipper decided it was not worth it to point out that all of her other dates were with a group of gnomes, a merman, a psychic brat currently in jail, and the guy on the $10 bill.

“How’d talking to sans go?” Mabel asked.

“I might be onto something,” Dipper said. “There’s a lot more going on in the Underground that we don’t know about.”

Author’s Note: Compared to Coraline, Wirt, Greg, and even Norman to an extent, the Pines twins know what they’re doing. They’re ready to solve some mysteries and rewrite history.

#Fic #Into the Unknown #Undertale #Gravity Falls #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Flowey #Frisk #the Cat #sans #Papyrus #featured

[birdscreeches]

Pamahiin || Aisha R.

"Pamahiin roughly translates to English as ‘folk superstition’. An unjustified yet widely held belief.”

My lolo had slept on a banig on the floor of a room filled to the brim with four grandchildren’s worth of stuffed toys, action figures, and school books. My lola slept on a bed right next to him in the same room, and when I asked him why he didn’t just sleep there—there was certainly plenty of space—he’d always tell me the floor was better for his back. More natural, or something. I just figured he had a personal vendetta against beds.

This is the same room he died in. Much to what I’m sure would’ve be his utter dismay, he didn’t die on his banig. Instead, at around six in the morning in my senior year of high school, he died on a hospital bed.

We bought the bed. We also bought several oxygen tanks, an IV stand, a wheelchair, something that functioned like a heart monitor, and a lot of different tubes for a lot of different things. In a room filled with toys and childhood keepsakes, we built him a hospital room. Thinking about the room and the sickening contrast between past and present and a future that was ending sent a sour pang through my chest. Like somebody had taken a metal bar and ran it across the bones of my ribcage. Xylophone sounds of guilt I couldn’t stand to hear every day.

To create silence, I pretended the room didn’t exist anymore.

It worked rather well until the morning Nanay had pulled me into the not-room. I was already dressed in my uniform, my bag weighing my shoulders down, when she told me to say something to Lolo before I left. Or before he did.

“Feeling ko malapit na,” she told me.

So I went. I barely looked at Lolo. He hadn’t been able to speak for months, by that point. He was more a corpse than anything. No more was the weird old dude who truly believed sleeping on the floor was more comfortable. Just a body we were keeping alive in a room I erased.

Not wanting to be rude, I forced myself to look at him, if only for a second. The eyes that looked back at me were murky and unseeing. Around us, various toys looked at me with the same kind of gaze.

“See you later, Lolo.” I said.

Unable to last any longer, I headed out of the room that didn’t exist and out of the house. Standing by the garden, I tapped my foot impatiently, waiting to leave for school.

A couple of seconds later, his heart stopped beating.

A little bit after that, I’m told what basically amounted to the fact that the last thing my lolo heard was my lie.

-

Now, the thing to focus on here shouldn't be his death, but the room. The not-room. The room I rendered gone. This was a neat superpower of mine; I could flip a switch in my brain and change what was and what wasn’t.

It all started with the spoon.

As a child, my lola taught me the intricacies of superstition. Don’t go bed with your hair wet, or you’ll go insane. Jump on new years, and maybe we can stop buying you Cherifer. If you drop your utensils, you will get a visitor. I found immense joy in these small magics of life, that one thing could cause another even if it didn’t make any sense. It didn’t have to. Afterall, with my superpower, I made it all true.

All I had to do was believe hard enough.

To the skeptics, I raise the fact that the galaxy revolved around the Earth because people believed it to be. The world was flat because people believed it to be. There’s somewhere we go after we die because we believe it’s real. We can rearrange the cosmos, shape planets, and live after life is over. If that wasn’t a superpower, I didn’t know what was.

One pathetic night at ten years old, I ate dinner alone. Everybody was busy or out or something and I was ten years old and alone. Petulantly, I threw my hand out, pushed my spoon off the the table, and watched it clatter to the floor. You will get a visitor.

I waited one second. Nothing.

Two. Still nothing.

Three, and something in my chest began to hurt. A bar dragged across my ribs, clanging around.

Four. The notes inside me said how dare you.

Five seconds in, I scrambled to the ground and picked the spoon up.

At the end of that night, nobody did come. My point here wasn’t that my superpower was bullshit, but instead that there was a caveat to it. I could believe in what I wanted, I could change my own reality and make things real or not-real, but the consequence to that power would always catch up.

A sound, a feeling, a something. Whatever it was, it always asked me the same thing: what have you done?

-

Twenty minutes after my lolo's heart stopped beating, we did end up leaving for school. My tito had taken us through the regular traffic that trickled Marikina into Katipunan Avenue, the normal slog of slow moving cars. Usually, the radio would quietly croon 70s and 80s music into the morning. 105.9 DZG-FM Mega Manila's first and only retro hit station—

On that day, nobody touched the radio. The rumble of the engine was the only sound to be heard.

In the passenger seat, my brother took a nap. Next to me, my younger sister had her earphones in, staring out the window, unmoving. I folded and unfolded the cuffs of my jacket over and over again until we arrived school and I clambered out of the car.

Class that day was almost hilariously uneventful. I returned a red pen to one of my classmates (I had lost all my own red pens). I took a Math final (I failed it very badly). I dry heaved into a toilet (the cuffs of my jacket were folded up). I put one leg in front ot the other, and kept walking, and nobody asked me anything. It was a normal day, and if it wasn’t, I told myself it was. I could rearrange planets, if I wanted. One day was child’s play.

In my gut, I didn’t feel the stirrings of mourning so much as the sound of a clinking spoon against the floor. Count the seconds now. How long until I caved? How long until the reality I crafted myself started to thrum with shame?

Lolo was my mom’s father, and Nanay had always been the type to get things done inordinately fast. After school, my sister and I were taken to a holding room in Loyola Memorial Park. There, everything was set up. Catering, relatives who were called from the province throughout the day, an army monobloc chairs, and of course, a coffin where Lolo now laid in. The only thing we were missing was one of those tarps all dead people seemed to have, but this was obviously a rush job.

“Maybe next time,” I joked to a couple of kittens I found under the table laden with food. There were two of them. A grey one and an orange one.

At around eight in the evening, we held a small mass in the holding room. Being a close family member, I got the front row seats. The priest was nice. He told jokes and had a voice that was made for condolences, and I enjoyed listening to him until he started the homily. His homily was about what I said to Lolo before his heart gave up. “See you later.” He went on for a long time about how he found it beautiful. Meanwhile, I wanted to go find a bathroom to try to vomit in again, but I stood my ground. I figured if I was going to have a reaction that strong, it would be because this was a wake. Not because of my lie. Not because of me. Somebody was dead, and all I could think about was myself. How dare you.

Shut the room closed and pretend it didn’t exist. My mind was no different. Obfuscate. Reroute. Distract. For the rest of the homily, I tuned out the voice of the priest and instead looked to the coffin.

I saw Lolo pretty clearly behind the glass. He looked off. In the middle of a solemn mass where I could hear my Lola crying, where, in my periphery, I saw my older sister’s tears fall to the floor, I almost laughed. I almost doubled over when I realized they put makeup on him. There was powder on his face. He had lip tint. My gut hurt from keeping it in. God, I thought. He would’ve fucking hated this.

When the mass was over, teary relatives filtered outside and began to eat. It’s amazing what food and company can do, because in roughly five minutes, all the tears were gone, replaced now by boisterous stories and loud conversation. Feeling a little safer, I told somebody about the makeup thing. When I’m met with laughter, I smile for the first time that entire day.

One by one, I watched everybody leave. They’d be back tomorrow. There’d be more people tomorrow. I sat by the food table, all the catering stuff cleared out and gone, and played with the kittens. They cuddled onto my lap, happy to have warmth and attention as I cooed over them.

It was at that moment, with my hands full of purring fluff, that I realized I hadn’t cried the entire day. While my hands moved over soft fur, I realized I hadn’t cried today because he didn’t die today. His heart stopped beating, but he was already dead for a long time. At least for me he was. At least I had created the story in my head to make it like he was. Here were the not-rooms and magic spoons and people who were dead before a doctor declared them dead. It’s one hell of a superpower. It’s one hell of a responsibility too, but I was sixteen and stupid and still counting down for the moment where I scramble for the spoon. To the sound of soft mews, I realized that the pin had dropped. Now it was a matter of when I’d pick it up.

The orange kitten pawed at the rolled down cuff of my jacket. Its claw dragged a faint line of red against my skin.

And I bled.

-

Now the worrying thing is that for the past month, I’ve been dreaming. This was an anomaly. My anxiety usually meant restless nights which usually meant that most of my dreams were lost to exhaustion. Dreams for me felt like something you needed to pull free from a strong undercurrent. It just so happened my grip has always been weak.

When I did dream, when I did remember them, it’s because instead of having to hold on, the dream clamped around my wrist, crawled up my arm, and wrapped itself around my neck. When I did dream, I woke up gasping. A slight change of semantics now; when I did dream, technically, it’s because they were always nightmares.

I preferred restless blurs any day, but for the past month, I haven’t been lucky.

The dreams vary slightly each and every time. Sometimes I was at school. I was at home. I was at the grocery store. I was at the Jollibee a minute walk away. Sometimes there’s somebody with me and sometimes I was alone. Sometimes there was rain. Sometimes there was fire.

But the constant was my teeth. No matter what happened, I always felt something shatter in my mouth. One by one, bloodied tooth shards came loose. They tumbled past my lips and into my shaking hands. When I thought all my teeth were gone, that finally, it’s done, it started all over again with new teeth breaking and coming apart. On one horrifying occasion, I pressed my hand to my mouth to to keep it shut. The teeth continued to break nonetheless and I felt them slide down my throat.

I woke up gasping.

Teeth falling out was a common enough recurring dream that the interpretations were limitless. If Freud was to be believed, these dreams either meant I needed to get laid soon or get off more. Others said that fear was taking control of my life, as if I didn’t know that already. My brother told me that maybe, I needed to see a dentist. I told him to fuck off.

“It means somebody is going to die,” Nanay told me over lunch. We were at a sushi place, and she popped a salmon sashimi into her mouth as if she didn’t just say the creepiest thing ever.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she said. Another salmon. “Pamahiin.”

“I’ve doomed us all, then.”

“You have to bite on aluminum,” Nanay pointed her chopsticks at me. “And then say ‘this will not happen’.”

I made a show of biting down on my fork (I could never get the hang of chopsticks) before releasing it. “This will not happen.”

“No, you have to say it while you’re biting down.”

“Theeehs will nohh hapehn?” I tried again, fork in my mouth. My younger sister started to laugh.

“And you have to do it as many times as you had the dream.”

“That’s—it’s been a month, that’s over twenty times! You’re messing with me!”  

“I’m not! I’m your mother,” she faux gasped.

“You do know that that fork is made of steel, right?” Tatay said. My younger sister lost it, bending over and laughing like a loon.

When I got home, I googled the pamahiin. Various sources confirmed that Nanay wasn’t messing with me, but they did say that it wasn’t aluminum you had to bite on, but wood. Between a faceless blog page and my own mother, I decided to believe the one who could whack me in the head.

When everybody had fallen asleep, I went to the kitchen and tore off a small square of aluminum foil. I folded it, bit down, and said, “This will not happen. This will not happen. This will not happen.” My garbled, pleading litany.

That night, my teeth fell onto the floor of my dreamscape yet again.

Who would I use my superpower on next?

-

Almost midnight on the day Lolo’s heart stopped beating, it was finally time for us to leave. Nanay would stay behind; it was her job to keep watch. Vaguely, I remembered something about aswangs stealing dead bodies in the night. Good luck to whatever aswang dared go against her.

I pried Orange and Grey off of my hoodie, waved goodbye to Nanay, and sleepily climbed into the car with the rest of my family. Tired and weary, I watched the bright blurs of streetlights zoom past, looking forward to passing out in my bed.

But then instead of turning right onto J.P, Rizal after crossing the river, Tatay kept driving straight.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Somewhere.”

“Why?”

“Never go straight home after a wake,” he said. Ah. Right. 

Which is how we ended up at a Ministop across Sta. Elena High School.

I idly walked through the aisles of the store, instinctually gravitating towards the candy section. As I looked upon a selection of Cadburys, I thought about whatever spirits that had hitched a ride with us doing the same. Would they like fruit and nut, or just plain chocolate? I thought, laughing a little to myself. Would they be pissed knowing of all places we left them, it was at a goddamn Ministop? I thought, imagining a Sadako like figure tapping her foot by the cashier.

Would they wonder why I didn’t cry at my own lolo’s wake? I thought, my laughter dying down. Would they wonder if I had feelings? I thought, my stomach began to sink. Would they wonder if I had a heart?

In this too-bright aisle, surrounded by sweets, the spirits we were brushing off, and the ghost I refused to even acknowledge, tears welled up in my eyes. They didn’t fall. I blinked them away before they could, but not before my rib cage rattled the dissonant notes of something terrible.

The funny thing was that this wasn’t because I suddenly accepted he died, as if there was something about the ambiance of a convenience store that hammered the point in. I accepted he died long before, but as tears threatened to spill past my eyes like dream teeth falling out of my mouth, like a spoon clattering to the ground, I realized that the glacial five seconds had finally passed. What have you done? I told myself a story so hard I believed it. How dare you? I switched mourning for safety. What is the price you’ll pay? It’ll follow me home. It’ll follow me everywhere.

“Are you going to get anything?” Tatay asked, pulling me out of my haze. “Cadbury?”

“Nah,” I told him. My eyes were expertly clear when I looked at him, but he didn’t look convinced. “Are we going now?”

“Yeah,” he said. So we all walked out, a bunch of assholes who loitered in a convenience store without buying anything, and got into the car.

In the rearview mirror, I watched the Ministop get smaller and smaller til we finally turned on the road going home. We were safe now. No more spirits

Nobody touched the radio. The rumble of the engine was the only sound to be heard. In my head, I heard a something more. I’m bringing something home with me, I thought, listening to the tiny little clangs. Something was playing my bones, and it sounded like shame.

I shut my eyes, laid my head against the window, and pretended I didn’t hear it at all.

#written for the memoir submission for my nonfiction class #this piece could totally improve on things like cohesion and flow but for now. this is it. #death cw #non fic