#usually these posts are just moments from the main race archive but these all came from 3 dif videos so that was v fun as you can imagine.. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wingsofkpop · 4 years

Text

Hiraeth - I.IV: Danced of the Damned

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, slight Fluff, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, mentions of death, hints of traumatic experiences, blood, etc.

word count: 5k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

You don’t know exactly what you were expecting to find in the archives of the Town Hall. Maybe a couple old files holding the ancestral information of Moon Dye or a couple ancient photographs where the faces are too blurred and rotted to recognize. Even the finding of a mere rusted pocket watch would have crossed your mind—not a thick registry stuffed full of unthinkable truths.

In your defense, you just happened to stumble upon the records in the dank, dusty basement where the town’s archives stay. It was hidden in a secret compartment behind chalky boxes of cold cases that were forgotten a long, long time ago—how else were you to satiate your curiosity? Inside the mess of cobwebs and dust, there sat the information that would both make and break your sanity.

And maybe if Jaebeom hadn’t approached you in that alleyway and confirmed your suspicions… your mind would have been able to come up with some sort of rationalization.

“Look, I wanted to tell you so many times…” You can’t bring yourself to meet Mark’s gaze, finding more interest in swirling the contents of your untouched tea. Through the corner of your eye, however, you can see your companion feverishly shaking his head, “But knowing about me would put you in danger, (Y/N)... I couldn’t do that to you.”

“That wasn’t your choice to make, Mark.”

“I know that, but—fucking hell.” Mark buries his face in his palms, still rocking back and forth, “It shouldn’t be like this… God, I never wanted this—”

“And you think I did?” You hiss, uncaring about the pure venom in your tone. “How the fuck am I supposed to process all of this? That vampires and werewolves and witches and probably goddamn pixies exist? That my best friend has magical powers and talks to the dead?”

“I don’t—” Mark timidly shrugs, “talk to the dead…”

“Well, at least there’s that much.” A heavy sigh passes from your lips, expelling barely any tension from your aching chest. You toy with the handle of your teacup before finally gathering the willpower to meet Mark’s eyes. His irises are wild and filled with all kinds of emotion, you immediately notice. Probably a mere reflection of your own.

As much as you want to stay angry at your best friend—you physically can’t. No matter how many times your head and your heart go back and forth. Mark lied to you. Mark has been lying to you all this time. But something inside of you won’t let your eyes see past the genuine remorse and hurt written along his face.

He’s still your best friend.

Mark sighs, “What do you want me to do, (Y/N)?...”

“I want you to tell me the truth—the whole truth.”

“I can’t do that,—”

“I at least deserve that much, don’t you think?” Mark withers beneath your murmur, dragging a hand down his face with a frustrated breath. After another moment of silence that seems to stretch on for hours, Mark grabs a nearby bottle of bourbon, pours himself a glass and finally nods.

“If I tell you everything, there’s no going back… Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“Not really, but I don’t have that choice anymore.” You hum. “I need to know.”

Mark nods again. “Where do you want me to start?”

“At the very beginning.”

The way Mark throws back the alcohol sparks uneasiness in your gut, but not as much as the gloomy darkness that overtakes his gruff tone.

“The main story begins with the first ever vampires that came into existence, known as the Prime Two…” Mark moves to pour himself another drink, but changes his mind and ends up drinking straight from the bottle. You wonder whether you should ask for a sip as well.

“But you know them already… as Im Jaebeom and Park Jinyoung.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Youngjae releases a content breath as he steps into the warmth of the bookstore, effectively escaping the post-rain chill of the outside. He shakes the remaining coolness from his hands before heading toward the front counter, where Bambam is stationed flipping through a high-end fashion magazine. Youngjae fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Bam?”

Bambam looks up at Youngjae’s voice. “Hey, man. What’s going on?”

“I need your help.” Youngjae surveys the area of the store, checking down aisles and around corners for any signs of life. The racing of his heart somewhat slows at the lack of other customers, allowing him to turn back to the cashier and continue, “The coven is in danger. Nayeon-noona is dead.”

“I heard about that. I’m so sorry, hyung.” Bambam nods his head, “What can I do?”

“Are you able to see an account of everyone who steps foot in this town? Visitors included?”

“Yeah, I know some guys who can get whatever information you need. You feel like taking a trip up to the police station?”

Youngjae hums in response, waiting patiently for Bambam to lock up the register. He watches the younger throw on his coat before meeting him behind the counter. With Bambam in tow, Youngjae leaves the comfort of the shop. After Bambam locks the door, the two continue through the cold in the direction of the police station. Youngjae again checks his surroundings, feeling more than just the chill of the air.

“Did you… find what killed her?”

“What?”

Bambam repeats again a little louder. “Nayeon. Do you know what killed her?”

“A hunter and another witch.” Youngjae explains, “We have records of them murdering countless covens before coming to Moon Dye.”

“I may not know everything about this supernatural stuff, but don’t hunters hunt vampires...?”

“We’re not sure why either of them are specifically targeting witches.” Youngjae shudders, pulling his coat tighter around his shoulders. “I just hope we can find them before…”

“Hey.” Bambam halts Youngjae’s pace with a hand on his arm. “We’re gonna find these douchebags and make sure they don’t hurt anyone else.”

Youngjae weakly smiles. “Thanks, Bam.”

“C’mon. I’m freezing my ass off.” Youngjae follows Bambam’s wishes and continues down the street, feeling less and less paranoid knowing the younger is by his side. Instead, Youngjae’s mind thinks back to your sudden entrance only mere minutes ago.

Youngjae wanted to stay at the mausoleum and help Mark deescalate the situation, but the older insisted that he continue the search. He can’t help but remember the betrayal across your features—the way you looked at him and Mark as if they were aliens.

“Why did you give (Y/N) Mayor Bhuwakul’s old diary?” The question escapes Youngjae’s lips before he can stop himself. His inquiry visibly takes Bambam off guard, manifesting in the form of confusion along his features, before shifting to realization.

“Because she deserves to know.”

“But what about Mark-hyung? You know what this will do to him, right? To him and (Y/N)?”

Bambam shakes his head. “I know Mark cares about (Y/N), and (Y/N) cares about Mark.” He peers at Youngjae through the corner of his eye and shrugs, “That’s not gonna change just because she knows the truth, hyung. I doubt that will ever change.”

Youngjae doesn’t respond, keeping his eyes trained on the moving pavements at his feet. He knows Bambam is right, and knows both Mark and (Y/N), but something in his gut doesn’t feel right—like a sense that something is coming.

Something bad… Something really, really bad.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“So you’re telling me that not only are there vampires almost a thousand years old running around without a care in the world, but you’re also the leader of the town witch coven who protects Moon Dye from supernatural threats?” Mark nods at your recount, holding back a smile at the cute furrow in your eyebrows. “You realize how absolutely unreal that sounds? Right?”

“You said you wanted the truth.”

“I’m only slightly regretting that decision now.” You sigh, smoothing a hand over your scalp. Mark notices a stray hair fall across your forehead at your movement. He’s not sure whether it’s the light buzz radiating throughout his veins or the way your eyes seem to glitter in the sunlight, but his mind has to warn his hands to remain glued to the table. Still, Mark can’t help but feel disappointed as you brush the strand away.

You shrug your shoulders, “How… How do you do it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…” Mark carefully watches your expression, noticing the slight tremor in your tone as you trail on. “How do you… do magic…?”

“Well, there’s a bunch of ways.” He explains, “Spells. Potions. Channeling objects. Control of the elements. Some witches can even see events from the past, present or future.”

“So you don’t wave around wands and ride on broomsticks?”

The first genuine laugh leaves Mark’s lips for the first time tonight. “No. Though Youngjae did try to enchant his car to fly one time.”

“Where does it come from? The magic?”

“It’s dependent on the witch, and the type of craft they practice.”

Not desiring to scare you off, Mark chooses to show a more modest example. He focuses his attention onto your cup, still full of now cold tea, and murmurs a quick incantation beneath his breath. Your entire body flinches as the glass lifts at least six inches off the table, enough to hover at the level of your eyes. After a couple seconds, Mark lowers the cup back into its original place. When he meets your gaze, he expects to see fear embedded beneath your irises, but it’s the opposite:

You seem fascinated.

“I usually practice Traditional Magic, so I use the Earth and other natural elements to amplify my magic.” Mark says, “Most witches are born with their own powers, but that’s not always the case.

“Youngjae—take him as an example—is a Siphoner. In order to generate magic, he has to absorb it from other things, be it objects or people.”

“So he… siphons magic?”

Mark smiles. “Exactly. You’re catching on pretty quick.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” You shake your head, curiously peering down at the stationary teacup before returning your attention back to Mark. “When I read through that book in the archives, I saw something about Lycanthropes… Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Werewolves.” He states matter of factly.

“They exist too then?”

“You remember Kim Yugyeom? Bambam’s best friend?”

You nod.

Mark nods too. “He’s the second in command of Moon Dye’s pack. I don’t think you’ve met the new Alpha, Bang Chan.”

“I’ve heard the name from some of my kids.” Mark can practically feel the exhaustion from your sigh. He debates the idea of reaching across the table to take your hand in his—the loneliness of your fingers spurring him on even more. Before Mark can make up his mind, you’re already withdrawing your limbs and hiding them in the comforts of your lap.

“I just—I’m just having a hard time processing all of this.”

Mark shakes his head, “It’s a lot to take in, (Y/N).”

“I know, but—” You pause to lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows in his direction with the beginnings of a scowl overtaking your lips. “I’m still pissed that you kept this whole other world a secret from me. I mean, for fucksakes, Mark, you’re my best friend.”

“I’m—I was protecting you. Knowing this stuff exists doesn’t come without consequence, (Y/N).”

“Stop saying that, oh my god—” Mark waits as you bury your face in your palms, deeply breathing through the divots of your laced fingers. After maybe a minute of silence, you raise your head and murmur, “What is it about me knowing that puts me in danger? I was nearly killed by that vampire without knowing shit.”

A wince overtakes Mark’s features. “It’s complicated…”

“I’m so sick of everyone using that excuse.” You hiss, “You don’t keep something like this from me, especially the fact that you’re—”

“Do you know how Nayeon died?” Mark can see how his sudden question takes you off guard by the widening of your eyes and pursing of your lips. You take a few moments to collect yourself, right your expression, before answering:

“She was… killed by an animal.”

Mark shakes his head again. “No. Nayeon was murdered by a supernatural vampire hunter and another witch.”

You blink. “B-But… was she a—?”

“She was a witch—an innocent witch that never provoked, nor hurt anyone.” Mark leans forward until the edge of the table presses harshly against his ribs. The uncomfort does little to garner his attention—too focused on speaking to you with his desperate eyes. “This world—my world is dark, (Y/N). The creatures in my world are even darker, including me.”

He pretends not to catch the brief wave of unease that washes over your face.

“Right now, there are two fucking crazies in town out to kill me and my people.” Mark gulps at the stone long formed at the back of his throat. “If I lose anyone else, I—” Unable to finish his sentence, Mark shifts his focus. “I just need you to understand, (Y/N). Please.”

“Mark—” Tremors shoot through his veins as your fingers latch around his wrist—the warmth of your touch sobering the last remnants of his mind. He has to hold back tears at the pure sympathy that resonates from your bright irises. “I understand, okay?”

He nods, not trusting the quality of his voice.

You softly squeeze his arm. “No more secrets though… Promise me.”

“(Y/N)—”

“Promise me.”

Mark knows he shouldn’t, but the way you’re looking at him—so calm, yet so determined—the way you always look at him… He can’t do anything but give in.

“I promise.” He murmurs, placing a hand over your own with a weak smile. “No more secrets.”

You nod approvingly, offering up a smile of your own. Your lips part again, as if to ask another question, when a knock sounds from the door. Mark almost verbally protests when you pull away, but holds back his annoyance to answer the unexpected visitor with a silent sigh. However, he can’t hold back his scowl at the sight of Jinyoung on his doorstep.

“Mark. It’s good to see you.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I apologize for my sudden visit, but I needed to talk to you about—” Jinyoung’s voice trails off, which Mark quickly realizes is because of your known presence. He watches, with narrowed eyes, as you and Jinyoung exchange an array of glances before he turns back to Mark.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t realize you had company. I’ll come back—”

“She knows.” An uneasy feeling erupts in Mark’s gut at the weak expression that crosses over Jinyoung’s face. He doesn’t like how Jinyoung looks at you again, nor the blank stare you offer the vampire in response.

Jinyoung nods. “I see…”

“What did you—?” Mark’s phone rings before he can finish his question, temporarily relieving him from the atmosphere of awkwardness and irritation. He steps aside to allow Jinyoung the space to enter while pulling his phone from his pocket. His eyes remain fixated on the interaction between both you and Jinyoung as he answers the call, lifting the device up to his ear.

“Please tell me you and Bam found something.”

“It’s not much, but we at least found a lead.” Mark breathes a sigh of relief at Youngjae’s answer. As to include both you and Jinyoung into the conversation, he turns Youngjae on speaker phone, avoiding the curious glint in your gaze.

“There’s no record in the police database of any suspicious visitors entering town within the last few months, so we’re sure they probably got into Moon Dye undetected, or at least not on city file.”

“How does that help us?”

“You need to let me finish, hyung.” Mark can practically hear Youngjae roll his eyes over the line. “We may not have records, but some of Bam’s friends were able to look into the cameras stationed around the border of the road that leads into town. They caught footage of a bus dropping off two young women, who were then picked up by a 2018 BMW M6. We tried to track the license plate number, but the registration is private.”

Jinyoung murmurs with a nod, “So someone who lives here in town brought them in. It’s possible we may be dealing with more than just a hunter and a witch.”

“I don’t think so.” Youngjae disagrees, “The tracking spell would have picked up on every accomplice involved in Nayeon-noona’s murder.”

Mark feels sick at the slight grimace that pulls across your features. He knows you're playing strong by the way you quickly mask your discomfort.

“Anyway, we were only able to track the vehicle as far as Poison Square. But we do have the faces of the two young women that got off of the bus.”

“That’s something then.” Mark sighs, sharing a wary glance with Jinyoung. “What do they look like?”

“Both are probably somewhere in their early- to mid-twenties, have dyed blonde hair and are relatively around the same height.”

Jinyoung shakes his head. “That could be anyone. Can you be more specific?”

“The one woman has three distinguishing beauty marks: One on the bridge of her nose, another above her upper lips, and a third near the corner of her mouth.”

“Shouldn’t the hunter have something on them? Like a mark?”

“We wouldn’t be able to see the hunter’s mark.” Jinyoung shuts down Mark’s inquiry with a frown, “It’s only visible to other hun—”

“This mark… Is it a tattoo, by any chance?...” Mark nearly flinches at your sudden question—Jinyoung almost doing the same. The latter resurrects from the surprise before releasing a hesitant answer:

“Well, I’ve never seen it myself, but… yes.”

“Oh my fucking god…” The pure shock that overtakes your face sends warning bells chiming through Mark’s mind. He sets the phone on the table before dropping to his knees in front of your sitting form, immediately noticing the trembling of your hands. Worst case scenarios play through his thoughts like creepy puppet shows, but he pushes them away to focus on you.

“What is it?”

When you meet his gaze, your eyes are wild with a blend of shock and fright. Mark feels even sicker than before, and not because of the alcohol.

You gulp. Not once. But twice.

“I… I know who Nayeon’s killers are.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Please, just let me go…” Jihyo sobs, hot tears beginning to spill down her burning cheeks. The rope around her wrists chafes uncomfortably at her skin, eating away at what little dignity remains in her heart. “I really don’t understand what you want from me…”

Momo releases a huff—the sight and sound mirroring a dragon blowing smoke through his nostrils. Jihyo watches through terrified eyes as Momo paces across the living room floor, feverishly shaking her head and mumbling incoherencies underneath her breath. The fear continues to grow when Momo stomps to where Jihyo is frozen stiff on the sofa.

“How many fucking times do I have to repeat myself?” Momo growls, shoving her tattooed arm in Jihyo’s face. “You see this mark, then you’re a hunter. It’s not rocket science.”

Jihyo weakly shakes her head. “You’re sick, Momo… Th-This whole thing about vampires and witches and hunters doesn’t exist…”

It’s a lie—Jihyo knows in her heart that a part of her, a very stupid part of her, believes every little detail that has left Momo’s lips. Some of it makes too much sense not to be true: The sudden animal attacks. The mysterious disappearances. The unexplained instances she’s had ever since she moved to Moon Dye Bay.

“I told you that—”

Momo’s voice cuts out at the sound of a slamming door. For a moment, hope swirls through Jihyo’s gut, thinking that either Sana or (Y/N) must have come to her rescue, but the burst vanishes at the sight of Mina stepping into view—Jihyo’s fear instead skyrockets.

Momo said she’s a witch.

“What is going on here?” Mina demands, her tone stern and expression cold. Momo only smiles in response.

“Sister!” She skips over to the newcomer, delicately taking Mina’s hands into her own. The act actually surprises Jihyo, not expecting the supposed, rather sadistic hunter to be capable of such affection. “Jihyo can see my mark! She’s a hunter just like me, sister!”

Mina immediately tears her hands away, glaring at her sister with such bewilderment and venom. “Are you out of your damn mind!?”

“Wh-What do you mean?”

“Jihyo cannot be involved in any of this!” Goosebumps rise over Jihyo’s skin at the hidden darkness beneath Mina’s words. Her eyes glance toward the hallway, wondering the success rate of being able to reach the front door without alerting either sister. “Do you not remember what happened last time you tried to train another hunter?”

“Things will be different this time. I am stronger now—we are stronger.” “You don’t know that for sure.”

“Think of how easy it will be to take out the rest of Tuan’s coven with another hunter on our side, sister.” Momo persists, striking more panic through Jihyo’s already stocked body. Against her better judgement, Jihyo tries to escape her rope bindings… and unsurprisingly, fails.

Mina shakes her head furiously. “Tuan and his witches have sided with one of The Prime brothers. We can’t risk killing another member without putting our own lives in danger—”

“All the more reason to take on another hunter.” Jihyo shrinks in on herself as Momo grabs Mina’s hand and leads her to her prisoner on the couch. “Please, sister. Think about what those witches did to us—about mother and father.”

Silence, save for the hum of rushing blood in Jihyo’s ears, hangs in the air, thick like a pool of humid fog. Like Momo, Jihyo carefully watches Mina’s expression, searching for any features that may determine the underlyings of her fate.

“So many lives we’ve already taken for mother and father.” Mina pulls her hand free from Momo’s and shakes her head. The rope seems to dig harder into her wrists—as does the terror in her chest when Mina murmurs her next words:

“When will it ever be enough for you, sister?…” Jihyo’s gaze remains transfixed on Mina as she makes her way back through the kitchen, pausing to offer the bound woman an apologetic glance. “I’m so sorry you were brought into this… but I’m even more sorry that you’ll have to die because of it…”

Whatever remaining hope inside Jihyo snaps as Mina throws her one last pitiful smile before rushing out the apartment—leaving Jihyo to the mercy of her deranged sister.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung closely watches how your fingers seem to cling to Mark’s hands as you think over your words, almost as if his mere touch is enough to keep your mind grounded. And though he’d never admit it aloud… Jinyoung feels envy that Mark is the one who’s comforting you.

“Mina and Momo are friends of Sana from when they were in high school.” You explain, peering between both Mark and Jinyoung’s curious expressions. Though Jinyoung notices how your gaze seems to avoid his seeking eyes. “I don’t know anything about them beside the fact they’re foster sisters, and they had a pretty shitty time in the system.”

“Then how are you so sure it’s them?” Youngjae inquires, still over the phone. “And how did you know about the hunter’s mark?”

You pause, and based on your expression, Jinyoung would guess you’re almost reluctant to answer his questions. He moves to soothe your uneasiness, but Mark beats him to it:

“We have to know, (Y/N)... It’s important.”

Jinyoung’s jealousy expands at the intimate glance you and Mark share.

After another moment of quiet and a heavy sigh, you finally speak, “The other day, I heard Jihyo comment on a tattoo that Momo had—but there was no tattoo. Neither Sana nor I saw one, so I just thought Jihyo was imagining things until…”

“Until now.” Jinyoung finishes. He inhales an unsteady gust of air, carding his fingers through his styled hair, and shakes his head with a solemn expression, “(Y/N)... For Jihyo to be able to see Momo’s hunter mark would mean she’s a—”

“We have to warn the others.” Mark interrupts Jinyoung, suddenly rising to his feet. “Youngjae, give a call to Lia, Jisung and Minho and tell them to get their asses over here as soon as possible.”

“Already done, hyung. I couldn’t reach Minho, but I left several voicemails and dozens of texts.”

“I’ll start on that linking spell we talked about. This ends tonight.” Mark lifts his phone from the tabletop, readying his thumb to tap the end call button. “Get here safe, okay?”

Youngjae hums. “Fifteen minutes. Maybe ten.”

“See you soon, Youngjae.” No sooner had Mark ended the call does your voice sound:

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? ‘This ends tonight’?”

Mark shakes his head. “(Y/N)—”

“No. I want to know what that means.” You abruptly rise, sending your chair sliding across the wood floor with a shriek. Jinyoung waits for Mark to come up with an answer, secretly enjoying the obvious discomfort amongst his features, before answering himself after maybe a minute of radio silence:

Jinyoung places a hand on your shoulder. “It means we do what we have to do to keep everyone safe. Including you and the town.”

“But you won’t… kill them? Right? I mean, there’s-there’s other ways that don’t have to end with anyone dead, right…?”

“I don’t know.” Jinyoung murmurs honestly, “If they’re willing to talk, then maybe. But if it comes down to it—”

“Please, don’t…” His heart practically breaks at the shakiness of your tone. “Just—do anything you have to, but don’t kill them…”

Mark raises an eyebrow with a scowl, “They’ve killed dozens of innocent people, (Y/N). If anything, they deserve to die.”

“Maybe…” You shake your head. “But killing them would make you no better than them.”

Jinyoung feels as if you just punched him in the gut with your words. He has to let go of your shoulder to reach back and support his weight against the table, suddenly dizzy and light-headed.

“We’ll…” Mark sighs, “We’ll try our best, okay?”

You nod before wiping your palms against the side of your jeans.

As you and Mark engage in another round of small talk, Jinyoung tries to settle the nauseous feeling in his gut and focus on anything other than the fragrant waft of your scent. He knows he would never hurt you—his self control is too grand to allow anything like that—but the lack of human blood is beginning to affect him again. For the worse.

Usually Jinyoung is able to hold his own with only a couple droplets of animal blood every few days or so. However, his strength and other abilities have long depleted since he began this strict diet, and while he may not be anywhere near desiccation—Jinyoung is certainly hungry. And weak. Very, very weak.

He just hopes he will be able to withstand the upcoming battle.

“But I want to help!”

“And the answer is no fucking way. Absolutely not.” Jinyoung returns to reality just in time to see Mark shake his head indignantly toward your seething figure. Since then, he notices the two of you have moved to a nearby lectern, where Mark is currently flipping through a large grimoire.

“I can help, I mean—Mina and Momo know me and I swear I can—”

“It’s not fucking happening.” Mark growls, slamming the book shut and leering down at you with a sneer. Jinyoung catches how your face doesn’t falter in the slightest at his angered expression.

With a single finger, you poke Mark’s chest. “I’m not just going to sit back and watch while you and your damn wizard gang go and play hocus pocus with a pair of killers.”

“It’s too dangerous—!”

“Do I look like I fucking care!? Didn’t think so!”

Jinyoung steps in, making sure to keep his tone calm so as to not infuriate you anymore. “Mark is right, (Y/N). I’m sorry—but you’d only be a liability for us to keep track of.”

Your expression hardens. “A liability—? Are you serious?”

Mark doesn’t spare a second glance in your direction and instead turns to Jinyoung. He points toward the countertop behind the vampire, “Can you grab the bowl that’s there? The one from yesterday’s ritual?”

“So that’s it then?” Jinyoung grabs the silver bowl filled with dried blood and the charm bracelet as you continue to rant, and hands it to Mark. The witch immediately dips two fingers into the crimson liquid, closes his eyes and begins to murmur a hushed incantation.

You shove at his shoulder. “Mark? Are you kidding me?”

“(Y/N), please—” Jinyoung steers you away from the witch, forcing himself to keep strong underneath your icy stare. “It’s for your own good…”

With a clenched jaw and sparkling eyes, you shake your head. For a moment, Jinyoung hopes you’ll simply turn on your heel and leave the tense atmosphere of the mausoleum, but as always—you surprise him.

“You know, I let your and Mark’s lying about everything slide because I wanted to move past it—for a fresh start.” You lean closer until Jinyoung can practically taste your minty breath on the tip of his tongue. “But you two are still treating me like some sort of princess that needs to be protected.

“And you know what, Jinyoung?” Your hiss strikes something deep inside Jinyoung’s soul—something even he can’t place. “I’m no princess. And I don’t need to be protected. You’ll do best to get that shit through your head.”

Neither Jinyoung nor Mark try to stop you as you stomp out the door.

Jinyoung bites his lip before turning to Mark. “Are we… doing the right thing?”

“I don’t know.” Mark replies, and for once, Jinyoung can relate to the lost tinge in his tone.

“I really don’t fucking know.”

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raspberry-radiation · 3 years

Text

I'd asked for people to send in ideas and prompts for either oneshots or drawings and @princeasimdiya12 brought the great idea of Shiro and Allura in the Aladdin world!

I ended up going a little wild with this and instead of my expected 1,000 words, I finished this at a little over 4k 😅 And I might just rewrite the whole movie in fact, the main premise of street rat meets princess would still be there but fundamental points would be changed. So at least for now, until I decide whether I will do that or not, enjoy what I've written! Also posted on my archive account.

Send me some more in!

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

Princess Allura has lived her whole life within the walls of the palace, never able to stray far from her parents’ ever watchful and cautious eyes. She dearly loved her parents and their dear Grand Vizier and close companion Coran. In fact, everyone in the palace was almost as close as family and as dear to Allura as one.

But having to stay within the same area for each increasing year of life with no sign of it changing brought her increasing irritation. As the years of pleading to her father, King Alfor, for a small trip to the marketplace was met with rejection time and time again she decided it was now time to ask for her father’s forgiveness rather than his permission.

It was after an especially aggravating meeting with a potential suitor that she decided to execute her plan. He was just one of many recently. She had guessed that it was because alliances were needed to prevent or to side with in an upcoming war – but of course, asking her father only resolved into him giving her a pat on the head with a hearty laugh. The prideful Prince Lotor seemed to be within a few years of her age but he hadn’t had a chance to tell her just how close in age they were as one of her preciously cared for big cats had found his unsuspecting butt to be a fun chew toy.

Being the only beloved daughter of the king brought many eyes onto Allura, and so for her protection from any fearful situations, her father sought the finest pedigreed and ferocious felines to accompany his princess. She had one of each and she was aware how honoring this was. Rather than just the extraordinary Tiger that roams her lands, she had raised and tamed four other species of the world. Powerful and beautiful big cat species, each carrying a name that she as a child had given.

There was the largest, her homeland’s tiger that her younger self had named Black, the seemingly second in command was a fiery-spirited Jaguar she named Red – who's temper set him above the milder mannered but wide-set Lion she had lovingly named Yellow. The Leopard named Blue was a constant bothering creature to Red, cajoling the larger cat into chases, usually growing into a playful scrap between them and the smaller but lively Lynx Allura had named Green after finding it when it escaped into the greenery of the garden as a kit. She used her youth and having just learned colors as an excuse for the simplistic names in standards to what her father and her people expected her to name such magnificent beasts.

With so many wild hearted personal guards around her, it was difficult to climb the trees in her personal garden in the palace without them trying to snag her cloak’s edge or join her on the branch. But she had succeeded after some time and shushing the frantic mewls and rumbles of her many animal companions. But she was able to exit the castle, the guards distracted by the dramatic long haired prince’s commotion had drawn their focus momentarily from her strictly guarded wall.

She leapt from the top of the wall, landing roughly with a roll. The dusty road and breeze that carried up from it revealed, not the rich satins and silks she was used to wearing, but the still-finer pants and dresswear of a servant of the princess. Although with her hair tied and hidden underneath a dark strip of fabric she may not be recognized as the princess herself, but she would still be seen as a higher noble by those who paid attention.

Walking distractedly and being shoved by the many people thronging the busy marketplace was more than new to her. There were very few people – even in the castle – who would find themselves in close presence to her royal self, so this new environment – although shocking – was not quite awful when she had longed to not be so isolated.

She had approached one of few stalls selling fruit in a ripe and fresh state where a small dirt mottled child stood with his eyes glued to one of the many fruits held on the distracted vendor’s display. He seemed to have something to do with a trio of people popping up and around his shop and disappearing quickly. Without hesitation, the young woman looked over for the largest and in best shape apple on display. She gently grabbed the solid red fruit and squatted down to be eye level with the child and gave it to him with a smile.

The vendor, seemingly no longer distracted with what had been happening around him, told her the price of that one fruit. It was six Dinar. Allura, having no need for carrying any form of currency before hadn’t been prepared for such a small scale of funds. As she paused to think of how she could pay with what she brought he had grabbed her wrist in anger. The vendor held tightly to her wrist as she tried to think of a way to explain to him that she would pay, he just needed to let her wrist go.

Although not having the funds in a currency sense, she did carry with her a small hidden satchel of jewelry. Surely solid gold and gem rings and earrings would be well worth six Dinar at least. Currently she had thought to the smallest one she had in her direct possession to be a reasonable exchange for the fruit. A small golden ring that no longer fit any of her fingers. It had a Spinel gem inlay and was given as one of many birthday presents in her early years.

She stumbled over her words, the anxiety of being suddenly grabbed had her thoughts racing faster than she could speak. With her seemingly unable to give the vendor an excuse, he called for the market place’s patrolling soldiers to approach. Rather than the soldiers, a large body slipped between the vendor and the disguised princess. He – in the shock of the moment – was able to release her grip from the vendor and started to defend her, holding her released wrist in his hand now. She couldn’t see anything other than his broad back – much like the soldiers she well knew – and the surprisingly pale skin it was wrapped in from underneath his roughly worn clothes.

The soldiers were approaching as the strange man was seemingly telling the vendor some story of them being acquainted in some way or another. There was a moment’s pause as she wondered why the mood was getting anxious and enraged. All this over an apple?

“She’s my dear cousin and had gotten confused. We came here to talk to a doctor for her mind.” He turned to her with a desperate look that Allura didn’t quite understand. Did he want her to play along? The soldiers were now much closer to them in the ever-surging crowd.

“That may be so, but I can easily pay for an individual fruit.” Allura spoke and tugged her hand free to grab the small pouch from its hiding place in her robes. “What I was trying to tell you sir, was that I was going to pay you. I just needed to reach my purse.” She reached into the small pouch and set the ring in the impatiently outstretched calloused hand of the man on the other side of the wooden display. At the sight of the yellow gold and shining gem both of the men held shocked faces that the vendor – now gnawing on the ring to test it – had barely registered the almost full approach of the two soldiers.

When the ring passed the vendor’s quality, he waved his had to dismiss the two-armed men. Allura let out an internal sigh of relief. With how close they were to the palace it was safe to say that at least one of the two would recognize their royal family.

“Now, dear customer, haha. Is there any other of my wares that catch your eye?” The vendor now asked, his voice now sweet and giving. Hm.

“N-" “Of course.” The strange man interrupted. “She will be getting her rings full worth of your produce and then we will be on our way.” He paused for a moment “to the doctor.” He supplemented after a thought. The vendor’s smile turned to a sneer at the large man’s words, but merely waived his hand.

With an exaggeratingly pleased “thank you" the man and passed a large armful of apples, grapefruit, plums and he himself carried two sizeable watermelons. They left, the man giving a small bow for a farewell and her staring at the marketplace vendor who smiled largely at her before she turned and followed the man with the watermelons.

It took some time catching up to him. He had very long legs and thick cords of muscle on each, giving him a fairly wide and powerful stride.

“Even though he charges exceedingly high for his goods, you were able to get a week's worth of food from just a small ring. Where did you get it?” He asked happily. Six Dinar was high for an apple? What was regular pricing then?

“It was mine… as a child.” She slowly gave out the truth. They kept walking, the streets now well less populated than before. “I didn’t have any Dinar, so I had to use it in exchange.”

“A childhood ring? It must have been part of your dowry.” He seemed to want to say something else but held his tongue “many people here have to use everything they have just to eat. Some even give the clothes on their backs for a crumb of bread… you were lucky you had that… save it well.” He decidedly spoke the words, but Allura could still detect a hint of his resistance of saying such words.

“Well then. Let us go and give some of these fruits of yours and mine labor to them.” The exotic looking man turned to her in shock, “I have no need for them. I intended to just use that ring to buy a young boy an apple, but I had greatly underestimated the worth of such a small ring.” He had fully turned and stopped his walking to stare at her now and she too stared at him, taking in his features.

He had black hair, as black as the stripes on her tiger, with a streak of pure white through a section of his hair. His eyes were naturally thin, even with his eyes widened staring at her they still seemed foreign to hers – along with the slight slant they seemed to hold. He had a large pinkish scar across the bridge of his nose, very noticeable against his extremely pale skin. The only time Allura had seen such a color was on foreign dignitaries from lands that were seas away. It gave her many questions.

“Well, let us go.” She said after a long pause and clearing of her throat. It may just be the heat and the sun, but her face felt oddly warm under his gaze.

“You were leading me somewhere. Do you not want to go there any more?” He blinked quickly a few times and looked to the fruit in his hands and nodded.

“Ah, yeah! Uh, follow me... We – I'll take you to my friends.” He stumbles over his words and gestures with his shoulder to follow him and she does, “Just … stay close to me. The streets can be a little hard to navigate in the evening.” It was at his words that she noticed; the sky was indeed much darker than it had been when she left. Night was still hours away, but it was quickly approaching. And with that, she and the man – who she learned was named Takashi Shirogane. It was a very strange name and she felt embarrassed at not being able to pronounce it properly. He – with an understanding and generous laugh – allowed her to call him “Shiro” like his friends did. They climbed up boxes and rung ladders until they were crossing roofs and leaping over gaps.

More than one leap had left Shiro gaping at the mysteriously shrouded woman as she leaped with nothing more than a slim pole and the fruit tied tightly into a bundle in her hooded cloak. All he could see was her face, but even if he couldn’t see that he could still tell that she was an elegant and beautiful lady.

They arrived at the doorway of a building made of a tan stone material that was a little more than worse for wear. And he led her farther up the stairs... well, he started to. She hesitated before climbing with him – of course she was wondering if he was a dangerous individual, after all they had just met! But he paused a few steps in and turned to her. As he did so, she heard a rush of feet echo from the top of the stairwell along with an accompanying chatter.

Shiro laughed and spoke to whoever the feet belonged to before turning to Allura and shifting one of the watermelons to join the other in his grip. Now having a free arm, he gently held it out. She softly grasped the tips of the fingers as he directed her around the collapsed beams that blocked a portion of the path up the steps. As she did, she noticed how stiff the fingers were. They were too stiff for a human hand and out slipped out a curious hum before she noticed to stop it.

He smiled again at her and she dipped beneath and around large wooden timbers that laid felled between broken slabs of the roof and wall. What was once exposed and now lay broken at her feet was patched with boards of wood and thick canvas.

It smelled of spice and wood and what might have been stiflingly hot in the day was now cooling into a mild warmth as the sun was now painting the sky with golds and reds. As Allura’s head peaked above the surface of the higher level, she was greeted to the feet, legs and then bodies of three other individuals. Shiro passed the watermelons he held to the black-haired individual who stared at Allura stiffly and with suspicion.

“Is... this your home?” She asked with a pause. It was more of a sort of awe rather than any negative emotions. It was dusty and had chipped pottery bunched together on slabs of what she assumed to be the roof like the other fallen pieces. It was worn in and was clearly a place of residence. As Shiro confirmed her question, his tall and lithe companion grasped her hand and gave her an exaggeratedly suave greeting and attempted a kiss to her fingers but was taken down with a harsh yank by the third new stranger. A small wiry androgynous individual who had some slips of glass settled on their nose wrapped in thin strips of metal.

There was a distinct similarity among them all despite their greatly varying appearances. It took Allura a moment to notice that it was the look in their eyes. It was a bright fire that seemed to lighten the room around them.

They passed a brief greeting where she had learned all of their names. They had indeed come from all over the continent like she had wondered and became a sort of found-family – as they had described it – as they searched for the smallest (surprisingly) adult’s family. They had each introduced themselves as Keith being the wary raven-haired man, Lance was the tall and animated man and Pidge was the small woman looking for her brother who shared many features.

Allura, though having not seen him before, said she would keep an eye out in the case she could reunite the siblings. And with that, Allura had remembered the fruits she tied in her cloak and offered them to the many surely hungry people that shared the dilapidated home. After some refusal and her ceaseless insisting to take it. And just as suddenly as they had appeared, the three people left the room to take the fruit to wherever they kept their food with Pidge turning partway through the door to give a wide smile and a playful slight bow. This had caused Allura to flinch reflexively. Did she know? Had Shiro seen?

Allura turned to Shiro, the glimmer of meeting so many new people at once in her eyes. Her unrestrained joy made him smile and he wanted to wow her more than this evening had already done so far.

What could he do? What could he show her? He- oh. That will work... He thinks to himself glancing out the window.

“Um... I don’t know - come over here, I’ve got something to show you.” He motioned with his wooden hand. The stiff wood shaped in a relaxed hand so he can place things if needed. Had she noticed it? She hadn’t said anything if she had, she just approached him as he stepped over to the window.

He was nervous as he started speaking again, “Our home isn’t much... but it’s cool at night and it has a breeze during the day... so it isn’t as hot as it could be...” He trailed as he tried to think of an interesting way to tell her what he wanted to show her.

“My friends and I, though we aren’t as well off as many, we have this place. And it may not be much, but it has the best view I’ve ever seen.” He pulled back the wide strip of fabric that was used to cover the doorway, rather than a window, it was so large.

As the patched fabric moved from the window, golden light of beautiful shades flooded into the room. Allura’s eyes hurt from the sudden brightness for only a second before the mass of colors filled her chest with what she had been missing in the palace.

The palace... that she could see. The palace that broke the magical sunset into beams that shot into all directions around it. And it was as beautiful inside it as it looked now... but she still could not hold back her lips twitching into a frown.

“It’s beautiful.” He sighed as he stared at the highlighted building. - “It is.” She agreed softly.

“I wonder what it would be like to live there.” He dreamily mulled over the thought. “I’m sure it’d be amazing. - “It could be smothering.” She brought up.

“Never having to dress yourself, eating meat every day and wearing the finest of things.” He turned to her, noticing her annoyed face. “Yes, never getting to dress for yourself, fed and cared for like a pet.” she responded bitterly.

“It’d be better than struggling to eat each night. Having to steal just to avoid starving in the night. Where any moment the guards will come to snatch you up on any charge they claim.” He stepped further inside, dropping the curtain and letting the yellow light slip back behind the curtain.

“Never allowed to step out of line without fear of a harsh punishment...” She sighed.

“You’d feel so...” they spoke in sync, “trapped.” They finished while holding each other’s gaze.

Shiro looked at her again. Not just seeing the beauty who shrouded herself in dark clothes, but seeing the girl she also was. A young woman who had clearly fled somewhere and was unprepared for the world she stumbled into, tired and nervous of what was to come and what had already.

“So... where are you from...?” He trailed, watching the exhaustion slip from her face to be replaced by annoyance.

“Does it matter?” She roughly asked, “I’m not going back... ever.” The finality in her tone caught Shiro in surprise.

“Wh-why do you feel that way?” He asked softly, hoping that his asking would help relieve her stress and calm her down.

Allura stared for a moment at him, seeing no sign of mock or ill intent – but it was his honest concern that seemed to stick with her the most. It was something that even her closest and most friendly servant Romelle didn’t have... the care of an equal. Everyone in the palace always held her two levels above themselves solely because she was the princess.

Since he didn’t know... she was almost seen as a real person with him.

“My father wants me to marry. And I do not love the man” She didn’t break her stare on him as she told him. His face changed into many expressions in a flash before settling on sorrow.

“That... that isn’t right. That’s awful...” Shiro almost whispered as he turned to glance at the window, the light behind the curtain now a deep orange and almost seemed to stain their fingers from where it poked through the well-worn fabric.

“Yes. That is why I left.” Allura picked up a small red cap that was set on the window sill beside her.

“Well... if you’d like... you ca-” Allura wouldn’t hear the rest of his offer, as just when he was saying it there was a loud shout from the stairwell.

“You! STREET RATS! We’ve found you!” Called a hate-filled voice. Shiro knew who held the voice well, as it was he and Lance who did most of the “food runs” but Allura – who had never known a day out of wherever she came from – would not recognize the head of the guard.

“The royal guard!” Shiro called loudly, shockingly looking at Allura when she called “Razoul!”

The captain of the guards seemed to register her call a little bit – but did not glance away from Shiro.

Razoul had learned that even blinking with the bicolored haired individual could give him time to disappear.

“Street rat! It’s time for you to face punishment!” He spat. “You have crossed the line this time and you will pay with your life!”

Shiro was confused, and said as much. “I didn’t steal anything! The fruit was legally obtained!”

“You can barely say as much with the bloody gold that you used you vulgar filth! I will kill you myself!” Allura looked confusedly from Razoul to Shiro, never having heard such cruel joy in the usually docile man.

“Wait!” She called. But neither the captain of the guard, nor his accompanying guards even looked at her.

“You will not be unpunished too, street mouse!” He pointed his sword tip at her, “You associate with this scum and as such are just as guilty as him for what has transpired tonight.”

“What did I do that warrants this?!” Shiro yelled. Behind his solid words, Allura heard the softest of padded steps above her. That’s why he was yelling. Extraordinary... he was seemingly willing to give everything for them.

“You have kidnapped her royal highness, the princess Allura! An unforgivable crime worthy of death!” Razoul shouted, seemingly angrier than he just was. “What have you done with her?!” Shiro looked dumbfounded.

“I've never even met the princess! Why do you think I kidnapped her?!” Shiro stepped back, real fear now peaking up from under his stiff bravado.

“You and your grimy pack of rats used a very distinct ring to pay for your latest bounty.” Razoul was suddenly eerily calm as he spoke.

“How was it distinct? It was simply a golden band!” Allura called confused. Razoul turned to her, face flushing red yet his voice still the calm level that chilled her blood.

“There are many identifying traits of anything belonging to the royal family. Especially when I know what to look for.” He raised the slim ring as the light winked weakly off of it in the dark home. "You street rats think that you are so smart, but you never think to check the gem.”

At this, Razoul gripped the ring tightly in his left hand as he swung his sword with his right. It easily sliced through and smashed the timber that Allura had previously ducked under when she entered. Razoul approached Shiro, Allura tried to block him or stop him but was only shoved out of the way.

She did not fall, but had stumbled back at his harsh treatment.

“I demand that you leave that man alone Razoul.” She spoke coldly. The captain of the guard seemed to realize something. He clearly showed doubt over what he had heard and turned to analyze her face carefully.

“Who... are you to demand that of me?” He looked over her face, but seemed to still not be able to recognize her, so without hesitation Allura unbound her head and threw the wrap to the side. This revealed her silvery blue hair, having only been pulled back but not restrained caused a few strands to fly loose and show the full length of what was a clear indicator of her heritage.

Razoul’s eyes widened in shame and recognition and he and his fellow men dropped to their knees and dropped their weapons, each begging for her forgiveness and offering their lives.

“I am the only princess of this country, the daughter of your leader and king, Alfor. I am Princess Allura. And I was NOT kidnapped.” She spoke, the strict and cold tone of a sovereign addressing her vassals that she had been raised to use had caused Shiro to gape at her. She gave him a thin smile, sad to bid farewell to the freeing moments she had up until it was forced out from under her.

She turned back to Razoul, no longer the “street mouse” she had become within that dark cloak, instead she was the crown princess as she had been born to be and as she would surely live the rest of her life as before until becoming merely someone’s wife.

With a soft farewell directed to Shiro, Allura led the escort of guards to the gates of the Palace where her father would surely do what he could so she couldn’t “get kidnapped” again.

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #takashi shirogane #vld shiro #vld allura #allura #mentions of other characters #but its mainly #Shallura #aladdin au #aladdin world #voltron fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #probably wont stay a oneshot lol #archive of our own #ao3 #requests

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snakeboistan · 4 years

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Based off of this post I made a while back. I would like to thank @nyagisa for helping me come up with some ideas for the plot

The Tokyo sun shone brightly through the windows of the 3-E building, rays of golden washing over the wooden down desks and chairs. The students in the classroom were spending their morning before homeroom as they always did: by chatting away to one another or just minding their own business. The atmosphere of the room was quickly burst when they heard thundering footsteps making their way towards the doorway. Every single head turned towards the classroom’s entrance to find a panting Okuda appear under it, braids swaying and glasses slightly askew.

“I did it,” she announced, “it took me all weekend but I did it.”

“Uhh, what?” Okajima asked, scratching his head.

“Wait,” Fuwa paused, head perking up as if realisation dawned on her. With a widening smile, she asked, “you mean the thing.”

Okuda nodded her head and Fuwa beamed. She raced towards the bespectacled girl and glomped her in a hug, “Oh, Okuda, you scientific genius.”

Okuda turned red and smiled shyly at the praise. Around her, everyone else had no idea what on Earth was going on.

“Hey, mind filling the rest of us in?” Maehara inquired.

“I came up with a brilliant idea for an assassination attempt and asked Okuda to cook something up that would make all of our lives far more easier,” Fuwa explained with a smug grin, “Let history say, children, that being an otaku saved the planet.”

“What did you make, Okuda?” Kurahashi asked, head tilted in confusion.

“Yeah, come on Okuda, tell them,” Fuwa nudged her.

“I-well-I made a truth serum,” she mumbled, cheeks dusted with pink.

“WHAT!”

“Are-are you serious?” Kimura asked in disbelief.

Mimura’s eyes were wide, “like an actual, real-life truth serum?”

Okuda nodded timidly as she pushed her glasses up her nose.

“That-that’s awesome,” Maehara stated, “like seriously, that’s so unbelievably awesome.”

“Can we see it? Can we see it?” Okajima begged, rushing towards her and jumping up and down like an overeager puppy greeting its owner.

“Sure,” she replied. She opened up her bag to procure a box. Clicking up the lid, she reached in and then held up a test tube that was half-way filled with a shimmering emerald liquid liquid. The entire class looked at it with awe.

“How the hell did you manage to make that?” Yoshida asked, still unable to believe what he was hearing.

“Well all I did was mix a few centimeters cubed of ethanol, scopolamine, 3-quinuclidinyl benzilate, midazolam, flunitrazepam, sodium thiopental, amobarbital and a few other chemicals.”

Everyone just stared at her.

“So, is no one going to comment on how she just happens to have all of those chemicals?” Sugaya said.

Maehara shrugged, “Eh, she’s Okuda.”

“Yeah, she carries around actual chloroform with her at all times,” Mimura nodded, “at this point, it’s best to not question it.”

“But seriously, guys this is awesome,” Okano grinned, “imagine if we slipped that into some of his favourite sweets. We could make him tell us anything. Unless he’d manage to sniff it out.” She turned to Okuda, “he won’t be able to, right?”

Okuda shook her head, “he shouldn’t. I made sure that the serum is completely odourless.”

“Haha, yes,” Okajima fistbumped the air, “by the end of the day he’ll be telling us everything we need to know about how to assassinate him. That ten billion yen bounty is OURS.”

As the class cheered, celebrated and praised Okuda for her genius, a certain blonde troublemaker sat at her desk and was watching the commotion in thought, leaning her cheek on the back of her fingers. Slowly, a sly smirk crawled onto her mouth.

….

Karma was in the forest when Nakamura approached him. He spotted her from a mile away from where he was perched on a tree branch, blonde hair bouncing with every leaping bound she took, that ever-present Cheshire cat grin on her face. He watched with amusement and intrigue as she made her way towards him, immediately getting hit with the idea that the two of them were going to have a very interesting day today.

“Yo, Nakamura,” he called, “aren’t you a long way from class?”

“It’s break,” she supplied from her position at the base of the tree, “besides I can say the same to you, mister.”

“As if the octopus could teach me more about algebra than I already know,” he said haughtily as he jumped, landing gracefully on his feet in front of her, “at this point I only show up for the assassinations. Actually going to class would be a waste.”

“Ohohoho,” Nakamura smirked, “betcha I can change that thought.”

“What do you mean?”

It was then that Nakamura held out a hand that she had hidden behind her back, opening it up to reveal a familiar looking test tube.

“Is that…?”

“Uh hu.”

“How did you get it.”

“I have my ways.”

“No kidding.”

“So, Karma,” Nakamura smirked, blue eyes alight with mischief, “what do you say to a bit of fun?”

Karma grinned, horns and tail appearing out of nowhere as the satanic aura around him intensified, “what do you mean?”

“Ohh, you know,” she hummed, her voice had an ‘innocent’ lilt as she shook a vial that contained the green liquid with her thumb and index finger, “just giving this bad boy to our favourite prank victim. Can you imagine all of the dirt we could get out of him? Who he likes, embarrassing secrets, all of the tea he has - it’ll be a goldmine.”

“Ha, perfect,” Karma laughed, “God, could you imagine what we could make him spill? We’ll make that little mouse squeak like there’s no tomorrow.”

The two of them burst into ungodly snickers, doubling over as woodland creatures ran for their lives, as far away from them as possible. Giving each other looks filled with perversity that would make a necromancer faint, they set their plan into motion.

Shiota Nagisa had no idea what was coming for him.

…

As soon as the bell rang, signalling that class was over and lunch break had begun, the students rushed towards the door, most of them practically shoving each other as they piled out of the classroom and towards the wooden lunch tables that were situated outside of the building. Nagisa, as usual, was the last to leave due to him being the slowest packer in the class. Plus, he had a tendency to talk to his desk neighbours, Sugino and Kayano, as he put his things away, which slowed him down as well. However, for some reason, Nakamura had decided to stay behind with him, telling him that she wanted to speak to him in private. So before he could sling his bag over his shoulder, he was dragged out by the golden-haired girl into a secluded storage room, where they kept all of the unused Science and Home Ec equipment. There she proceeded to drill him about whether he had a crush on anyone or not, stating that she had a bet going on with Karma. He tried to tell her that he currently wasn’t interested in dating anyone and that he held no romantic attraction towards any of his classmates but she wouldn’t let up until he managed to stealthily push his way past her and back to the classroom so that he could retrieve his school bag and make his way towards the building’s exterior. Once he reached his destination, he was met with Sugino waving an arm to catch his attention.

“Hey, Nagisa,” he called, “I saved you a seat.” When the blue-haired boy sat down beside him, he asked, “so what was that all about?”

“Oh you know,” Nagisa rolled his eyes, “Nakamura being Nakamura.”

“I see.”

With that, he took out his bento box and opened the lid but before he could grab a piece of his hand-made lunch, he paused. Something inside Nagisa felt weird as a sense of foreboding fell over him. He had no idea why but it felt like his senses were warning him of something, that something was wrong. However, he had no idea what. Scanning the environment, he observed that everyone was acting normal: Fuwa was recounting the latest chapter of her current manga obsession to anyone that would listen, the Terasaka gang were debating whether or not cereal counts as a soup, Hayami and Chiba were doing that thing they do where they communicate with their eyes and the slightest movements of their heads, Maehara and Okajima were engaged in an arm wrestling competition that would determine who would be given Yada’s spare wagashi and Karma and Nakamura were huddled together laughing about something. To be honest something about that felt off, especially since they seemed to be stealing glances in between smirks and snickers, but those two working together always filled him with dread since he was the main casualty of whatever prank they’ve cooked up - but there was something about their current behavior that felt more off than normal, their conscious wavelengths held a form of threat that made him feel apprehensive...

“Hey, Nagisa?” Sugino asked, concern evident in his eyes and in the furrow of his eyebrows, “you alright, man? You seem to be on edge.”

Mentally shaking off that strange feeling, Nagisa gave his best ‘I’m-okay-please-believe-me’ smile, “ye-yeah, I am. I just - just got lost in thought, you know?”

To ease the baseball lover’s worries, he pinched one of his pieces of shrimp tempura sushis with his chopsticks and brought it to his mouth, before chewing slowly and swallowing. It was at that moment he knew that something was definitely wrong. As soon as he felt his food go down the oesophagus and land in his stomach, he knew that there was something very very wrong. His body froze, chopsticks slipping through his paralysed fingers and landing on the grass, as he lost awareness of his surroundings. Dread was crawling up his spine and rushed through his nerves, sending them ablaze with this feeling of numbness. The last thing he registered was his stomach dropping before his surroundings blurred and all of his thoughts turned to mush, leaving him unaware of the way Sugino’s eyes widened with fear when he watched Nagisa’s face slacken into an emotionless stare, bangs falling forward as head hung itself over his bento box.

“Nagisa,” he shoved his shoulder, “HOLY C***, NAGISA!”

His shouting had alerted the rest of his classmates, each of them immediately turning their heads to face the pair.

“Did he eat it?” Nakamura crowed from her seat, face split into a beaming grin. Beside her, Karma gave Nagisa a cocky smirk, as he regarded the used chopsticks in the blunette’s hand “did he actually eat it?”

“What do you mean?” Sugino asked desperately, frantically shaking his head as he looked at his best friend and the blonde, “what did you do?”

“Karma, Nakamura, what’s the meaning of this?” Kataoka demanded. Everyone had no idea what to do; no matter how many times Sugino shook him or Kayano tapped him on the shoulder, his face remained expressionless as his body swayed like a ragdoll. All of the light and energy that inhibited his eyes, the warm emotions that screamed ‘Nagisa��, had vacated, leaving only desolate orbs of blue nothing. For someone like Nagisa, who was always observing, always hyper-alert of his surroundings, to start acting like a lifeless marionette was troubling to say the least. Nonetheless, there seemed to be two students who were hardly concerned.

“Chill, guys. He’s alright. Cool it, would ya?” Karma said easily as he waved a hand up and down in a careless manner.

“What did you do?” Kataoka asked sternly.

“We just wanted to test if Okuda’s little serum actually works.” Nakamura shrugged with a mischievous smirk, “you know, just to be sure. What’s the harm in doing a little science experiment?”

“You-you did what?” Okuda asked shakily, horror-struck at the revelation. She made that serum for an assassination attempt, so that she could help save the Earth, yet Nakamura and Karma decided to give an untested concoction to her classmate just to get a few laughs. As confident as she was in her abilities as a chemist, she was aware that she’s not perfect and four times out of ten her experiments end up in a complete disaster. At least, if her serum wasn’t made correctly, Koro-Sensei would’ve been able to handle it the same way he can handle all of the other poisons she made that could make a sumo wrestler drop to his knees in a second. She warned the class that she wasn’t sure that it would work, yet these two pranksters took her work as another way they could have a laugh - and on Nagisa as well. Nagisa, who was sweet and kind and always smiled and made her feel included, who always praises her when she does something right and doesn’t laugh when others make mistakes, who never complains about anything. Koro-Sensei told her that being unable to communicate properly means that people will take advantage of you, yet Nagisa, who always seems to know what to say, somehow appears to be the person who is exploited the most. She felt- she felt tricked. Like that time where Koro-Sensei smiled at her and gave her instructions so that she could make a poison that could actually work for him but she ended up enhancing his abilities instead. However, at least then it was all with good intentions, so that she could learn how important it is to communicate, unlike now where her skills were used to poke fun at someone else. Science is all about progression, it’s about working hard to ensure that the world becomes a better place so that people can be happier, healthier and have a better way of life. That’s why she pursues it because if she can’t help people with her words, then she can at least help them with her chemicals. Her voice came out high as she whispered, “Why would you do that?”

“Oh, come on, Okuda,” Nakamura waved her off, “it was just a little prank.”

“A-A prank?” Okuda repeated, unable to comprehend how on Earth these two could be so callous, “you used my formula for a prank?”

“Alright, guys, I think that you two have gone too far,” Maehara tore his eyes away from the petite boy in pigtails and glared at the two smirking devils with his arms crossed.

“Yeah, guys,” Okano said, “I mean your usual pranks are one thing but drugging your classmate so that he could spill his secrets? Not cool.”

Kayano had moved from trying to gain Nagisa's attention to comforting Okuda, who seemed to have fallen into a well of guilt. Her plaits hung limply as she held her head down, her back was shaking with shuddering breaths and her hands were bunching up the pleated grey material of her school skirt. Meanwhile, Sugino’s shaking seemed to have awoken Nagisa from whatever daze he was in and his head snapped up. He blinked at them sporadically as he shook his head - it almost seemed as if he was rebooting. The light didn’t return to his eyes but he seemed to be more aware of everyone. Then, out of nowhere, he smiled. Not one of his usual soft smiles, filled with care. It was just a smile, plain and simple. It was lazy and devoid of any real emotions and it looked so so so wrong on the boy that was the epitome of helpful.

“Hey, Nagisa,” Sugino said slowly. Everyone else was watching and waiting with bated breath.

The blunette turned to him and the baseball lover almost flinched at the expression on his face. This wasn’t Nagisa, this was some fraud, an unappealing copy failing miserably at impersonating his best friend. He didn’t know whether to scream or cry or throw up but he did know that he wanted Nagisa back, pronto, “hey, Sugino. What’s the matter?”

“Me?” he blinked in confusion, “I feel great. Well, honestly I’m kind of ticked off that I got drugged but, you know, not the worst thing that’s happened to me. I’ve hidden tons of things that are far worse than this but I guess since it’s normal for me to suck things up, I don’t really much. I mean I know I always say that I’m okay when I’m really not but that’s just because I don’t want to burden you guys with something as insignificant as me.” He could feel something in the back of his mind telling him to say that he was fine but why should he do that? What’s the point in lying when he could just free the chains that held him down and just blurt out everything that came to mind. “But I never say anything because I know that no matter what I say or how uncomfortable I am, it won’t really stop anything in the long run, so what’s the point, you know?”

Everyone looked at him in shock; most of his classmates' faces were covered in expressions of horror and sadness but why were they upset? He was just being honest and, truthfully, he wasn’t upset one bit. How could he be when every word that left his mouth made him feel even more euphoric than he’s ever felt before? His head was flying up high in cloud nine and he never wanted to go down. Unbeknownst to him, the majority of his classmates didn’t share his newfound state of elation.

“Holy s***,” Terasaka whispered as he stared at Nagisa as if he suddenly grew four heads and was breathing fire.

“It-it worked,” Kimura stated dumbly, “the truth serum - it actually worked.”

“The dude’s got no filter whatsoever,” Maehara observed.

Karma and Nakamura’s eyes widened as they looked at each other before snapping their gazes back towards the blunette, who was still smiling away as if he hadn’t said more words in the past minute than he had over the past few hours.

“This. Is. Brilliant,” Nakamura squealed, “Oh my god, this is too good.”

“Nakamura, that’s enough,” Isogai reproached. He turned to Okuda, “Okuda, how long will this serum last for?”

Okuda bit her lip, eyes glistening, “about an hour. Isogai, I swear I didn’t do anything. If I knew that the serum was going to be used on Nagisa-”

“It’s okay, Okuda,” Yada smiled at her reassuringly, “you were only trying to help us assassinate Koro-Sensei.”

“Yeah, you have no part to play,” Okano was still glaring at the pranking duo, “they’re the ones who thought it would be funny to give Nagisa a goddamn truth-serum.”

“What’s the big idea? I don’t see why you guys are all p***ed off,” Nakamura said defensively.

“Yeah, we’re just having fun,” Karma said, “we always prank Nagisa and he’s fine with it.”

“You guys seriously don’t think that you did anything wrong,” Sugino frowned, “you really think that this is just another harmless prank. Although, to be honest, most of the things you do to Nagisa aren’t exactly harmless.”

“What do you mean by that, Sugino?” Karma narrowed his eyes at the baseball lover, giving the black-haired boy a sneer, “He’s never complained that he doesn’t like what we do.”

“Yeah, come on,” Nakamura scoffed, “he’s alright with us dressing him up, right Nagisa?”

“I hate it,” Nagisa said, still smiling with compliance, “I hate everything about it. Whenever I see the two of you come up to me with whatever new idea you’ve come up with, I get physically sick to my stomach with dread because I know what will happen next. You guys will dress me up and make jokes about how pretty I look and how I should ‘cut it off’ even when I tell you that stuff makes me uncomfortable. Of course, me being uncomfortable is never an issue with you lot so why do I even bother. I know that I’m always smiling and laughing when you all make fun of my looks and laugh at my insecurities but I hate it. I hate it so much and whenever I’m forced to crossdress all I can think about is my home life because, guess what, you’re not the only one who thinks I look good in girl clothes. I’ve been forced to wear them since I was six and I’ve learned that speaking up about it only ends in trouble. In hindsight, I’ve got to say that you guys calling something that causes me to get slapped and shouted at by my own mother ‘comic relief’ is kind of a s****y move but, hey, nevermind I get it - my feelings are a joke to you anyway.” He just blinked at his classmates, who were all staring at him with their mouths open and eyes wide with horror. Yada and Kurahashi had hands slapped over their mouths and looked near tears. He had no idea why they were looking at him like that - all he did was answer a question. Was he not supposed to? He didn’t see why he couldn’t divulge that information. Nagisa shouldn’t have secrets. What’s so great about hiding things anyway? He noticed that the delinquent smirks were wiped off of Karma and Nakamura’s faces and were replaced by uncomfortable squirming. He tilted his head in confusion, “why aren’t you laughing? You always laugh when it comes to my appearance. Don’t look so upset, that’s so unlike you. Go ahead and laugh and joke like you normally do - nothing I’ve said has stopped you before, why should it stop you now?”

“Nagisa,” Sugino breathed out, aghast, “what-I-what?”

“You’re mum does what?” Okano whimpered.

“Oh yeah, she hits me,” Nagisa replied as if he was just discussing the weather. His legs were swinging back and forth as he continued, “and starves me, or locks me in my room if I don’t listen to her. Sometimes she throws things at me. I mean, last week she aimed a frying pan at my head but luckily I managed to dodge. Living in my house for fourteen years really enhances your reflexes, you know. She basically wanted a daughter and hates the fact that I’m a boy so she pretends that I’m a girl so that she can live in her perfect world with her perfect daughter that she always wanted. It sucks, but hey, that’s life, you know.”

“The hell?” Maehara said to himself, “what the hell?”

“That’s awful,” Kurahashi said, tears streaming down her face, “why would - why would anybody?”

“Holy c**p,” Kimura’s head was leaning against the palm of his hand.

“Karma, Nakamura,” Isogai’s eyes held fire, “why on earth would you think that giving him a truth serum is okay?”

“How the hell were we meant to know that he was going to spill all of that?” Nakamura yelled at the onslaught of glares, “we just wanted to find out if he liked anyone or something.”

“Guys, I think that we should stop asking Nagisa questions,” Sugino said wearily, “he can’t control what he’s saying and if he had any willpower there’s no way he’d be comfortable in spilling all of this stuff.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Nagisa asked.

“What?”

“What’s wrong with me being uncomfortable?”

“Listen Nagisa, I know that we messed up,” Kataoka said, “seriously seriously messed up. But trust us when we say that making you uncomfortable is not something that we want to do.”

“Of course not,” Yada cried, “you’re our friend. We love you.”

Nagisa laughed, it was sweet yet sounded artificial, “no one loves me. All I do is drive people away. You can ask my dad or Karma about that. Trust me, whatever it is you think I am, I’m not. I’m just a burden that only causes trouble. No one would want to be friends with me. Even when they say that they are.” He turned to Karma, “‘cause you know Karma, sometimes you really confuse me. You act like my friend now but you pretended like I didn’t exist back at the main campus. Like I get why you don’t like me - not even my own parents do. I guess you do need me around because I’m the guy that collects information on Koro-Sensei but if you’re just going to get bored with me and abandon me again can you atleast do it now instead of getting my hopes up that you actually care about my feelings. Like seriously, between you and dad, I have a ton of abandonment issues. I guess it’s only a matter of time before everyone else leaves me too, huh. Don’t look so upset Sugino, I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to not be around a loser like me.”

“Nagisa,” Sugino’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears, “I would never. You’re my best friend, dude.”

“Please tell me that the hour is nearly up,” Okajima begged to the heavens, “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“We’d never leave you, Nagisa, never,” Kayano cried as she hugged Nagisa from behind. He could feel her shaking in her embrace, “you’re the best friend I could ever ask for.”

“We don’t just have you around because you’re useful or anything,” Maehara said, “bro, you’re an amazing person.”

“I just can’t believe this,” Yoshida said, deeply troubled, “like seriously, what other things are there about you that we don’t know about.”

“YOSHIDA, NO!”

“YOU IDIOT-”

“I’ve tried killing myself,” Nagisa said brightly, cutting into their shouts like a knife and dropping the temperature of their surroundings, “back during the whole grenade incident. I didn’t know that the grenade was fake and was a hundred percent ready to blow myself up and end everything right then and there. I mean, I was actually kind of happy to finally get an escape from everything and it’s not like anyone would’ve missed me or anything. So I would’ve saved the world and done something I’ve been meaning to do. You can understand my disappointment when Koro-Sensei saved me. Now I have two failed attempts - man, I’m so good at failing, I can’t even kill myself right.”

“Wait,” Okano’s face was white, “did you just say ‘two’?”

“Hmm, yeah, I tried once when I was ten. My parents were getting divorced and were fighting more and more and I knew that it was all because of me and I hated myself for driving them apart so I decided that it would be in everyone's best interest if I wasn’t around anymore so I overdosed on some of my dad’s sleeping pills. Unfortunately, it didn't work as you can tell but -”

He was then cut off by Maehara, who had decked him in the head, knocking him clean out.

“MAEHARA!”

The golden-haired boy was shaking, “I-I’m sorry, guys. It’s just that - I couldn’t take it anymore. I just wanted it to stop.”

Isogai placed a hand on his shoulder, giving his best friend a weak smile, “it’s alright, Maehara. I understand. Come on, let’s lay him down in the teacher’s lounge so that he can sleep this off.”

“We are going to speak to him about this, right?” Okano asked.

“I think that we should,” Kataoka replied solemnly.

“Well, I think that we ought to give Nakamura and Karma a few words as well,” Kayano said, “seeing as this is all their fault.”

Everyone watched as Isogai picked Nagisa up in a bridal carry. The tense silence had made them all lose their appetite.

#assassination classroom #my writing #anti-karma #karma-bashing

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sorrynotharry · 4 years

Note

You don’t be on here no more and that don’t sit right with me. This was my go to page in 2014-2015. Then you left!!!

Aww hello anon! Thanks!

I am definitely almost always lurking on this page, like a ghost in the night haha, however I know that I’m not nearly as active as I used to be, and I haven’t posted any fic in like.........3 years? Maybe 4? Jeez time really flies!!

I do often get messages like this, usually very sweet anons like you who ask where I went, how I’m doing, saying that they miss the times when my page was more active and I was posting Harry fics pretty much weekly and honestly, I miss it too! It was overall a very positive experience during what ended up being some overall not-very-positive years of my life.

I’ve wanted to post a little ‘update’ for a while and I think this is as good a time as ever to do that. I’m gonna put it under a cut for 1, length 2, potential triggering content regarding death/grief. So anyway here goes:

This is mainly me kind of going on a reflection rant so it may not make a lot of sense but I’m going to do my best!

So I started this blog in February of 2014, and I think I pretty immediately started posting my writing and to my astonishment I ended up getting lots of new followers and readers really quickly. I was not at all expecting this blog to EVER reach as many people as it has, but I’m so grateful for it. To be honest, of course the 1D fandom can be a complete clusterfuck, but in comparison with other fandoms that I’ve been involved in, this is definitely the one that I felt most “at home” in, and had the most fun being a part of. So so so many of you who are still around to this day (which is incredible to me!) were SO kind to me, so lovely and accepting and supportive of my writing and my little blog corner of the internet and it meant so much to me. There are friends I’ve made through this blog who I still talk to, people who have been there for me when life was really kicking me down the road.

For some context, since the start of this blog, both of my biological parents and my stepfather have passed away. My dad (who I wasn’t super close to but you know, still my dad) passed from cancer in April 2014. My stepfather who I lived with died in June of 2015, also from cancer (if you’ve been on my blog for a while you might remember this, I posted about it because it was very sudden and I was really struggling with it).

Then, in August of 2017, my mother died. This has been part of the reason I really kind of stopped being active in this blog; I wanted to talk about it, if even just to say that I was going on hiatus or something but my grief has been so powerful that it’s in the last few months that have I felt like I can actually type these words out on here.

My mom was chronically ill for most of her life, and her health really deteriorated in the last 7-8 years of her life. She was also my best friend and my biggest supporter in everything from the time I was a child. The last 6 years of her life I was her main caregiver with some help from my stepdad - when he died all of her care fell to me to handle on top of grieving him. It was May of 2017 that my mom made the decision to go into hospice (if you don’t know what this means, it basically means she didn’t want to have life-saving treatments anymore and wanted to be allowed to pass away in peace). My sister and I begged her to hold on for a few more months so that we could prepare, get her affairs in order, and be on summer break from school while we accepted the fact that we were losing our last living parent.

That summer passed in a very weird and painful blur, and honestly I don’t remember much of it, but I remember most the moments in her last weeks when we would just hold each other’s hands and talk, laugh, cry, whatever came up. If you’ve ever begun grieving someone before they even pass, you probably know what I’m talking about. It was in those moments that she very insistently made me promise her that I would keep taking care of my sister (who was only 16 at the time) and graduate college, that I wouldn’t just lay down and give up because she was gone. So I have done my best to honor that promise to her. I quickly got legal guardianship of my sister (she’s an adult now but we still live together and are very close), and less than a month after my mom passed, I was training for a volunteer position at a center on my new college campus which later turned into a paid position. And this past June I graduated!!

If you’re reading this and also class of 2020, you know it’s a sucky year to graduate lol, but I hope you’re able to be proud of your accomplishments because regardless of the circumstances, you still did it! It’s taken me years and years to get my Bachelor’s because of changing my major, having to take breaks due to mental health issues and relocations, and having to take only 2 classes at a time while working 2 jobs. I finally did it and now I have to figure out what my next steps are from here (in the middle of a whole ass pandemic no less, smh!).

I realize that I just basically wrote a whole essay that I didn’t necessarily mean to, but I promise I’m not saying all of this to make you feel sad for me; I just want you all to understand why my presence has been so sporadic the past few years and I feel like I just have to be honest.

Coming back around to this blog, every once in a while I check my activity and follower count, very much expecting to see naught but 12 bots left and a single tumbleweed blowing across a dry activity page...but that’s never the case. So many of you are still here, I get new followers all the time, my fics and posts still get notes almost every day, and I still get messages like this from people who care about me, who remember the heyday of this blog and miss it.

I’ve said ‘thank you’ to you guys so many times I don’t even dare to count, but really, honestly, truly, thank you. It’s because so many of you are still here, even though it’s been 4 full ass years after I’ve even posted any fic at all, that I haven’t deleted this blog or gone on indefinite hiatus and just archived this blog.

I can’t promise that I will ever post any new writing again. I still love Harry but it’s almost in a different way...the heart-racing, goosebumps raising, heart-eye inducing giant crush I had on him in the earlier years of this blog has significantly subdued, even though it’s been known to make its presence known from time to time. And I honestly am just a different person in general. You can’t go through stuff like what I described above without changing at least a little bit.

That being said, I don’t think I’ve written anything that wasn’t a college essay or long-winded work email since I posted my last one-shot on here, which I think was early 2016. I very much miss writing for pleasure, and particularly if anyone remembers the fic ‘On Fire’...that story sits untouched and neglected in my Masterlist, haunting my steps and my dreams, because I had all kinds of grand ideas for it and it was pretty well-received I think! I’ve toyed with the idea of just trying to finish that fic up, if only so I can say that I finished at least ONE multi-chapter fic in my whole life. Again, not making promises, but it’s a possibility.

Anyhoo, if you have made it this far down on this very long and dramatic post, again I say thank you and bless you! I hope for those of you who have been around for a while (and for that matter those who are newer followers as well, hello!), this provides some clarity and maybe some closure if you were just wondering where the hell I went and what I’ve been up to. I didn’t mean to kind of drop off the face of the earth like I did, it was just how I was dealing with everything at the time. I’m heading into a new chapter of my life now that school is finished, and who knows what that will bring, but for now, I’m still around, and I hope you’re all as safe, healthy, and happy as you can be right now :)

Thank you again and take care <3

#mine

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zephyra-in-the-house · 5 years

Text

A Wolf and a Leopard Walk Into A Store... Sounds Like the Start to a Bad Joke

Summary: Noanric is a continent known for its unique culture and freedom from most anything. The only problem is that the country is young and its rules fail to hold back the humans from trying to overthrow the demons. Without official protection, many demons are falling victim to experiments to decrease their power and influence from the world. In the midst of this place, Vanoss and his pack are asked by the country’s leader to liberate a group of demons from a human laboratory close to their territory. However, Vanoss has been warned of a loophole among this chaos. Can he lead his pack to safety and discover the blue demon from the prophecy? Or will he suffer the consequences of a past long forgotten?

Hello Tumblr! It is I, you’re provider, your liberator from school, your friend and your author for this fanfic~ My name is Zephyra. What you’re seeing here is a work in progress and I have been uploading chapters for this story since July of last year on Archive and Wattpad. So far, I’ve already gotten through 14 chapters and, as I have it planned out now, there should be 55 chapters by the time I’m done. It will take a while, so I hope you guys are in for the long haul. Enjoy!

Notes for this chapter: This is the first time I have posted any of my writing. This is not the first story or fanfic that I’ve written, but it’s the first one I’ve made public. For the past nine years, I’ve been writing several books that I created and the universe I’m using for this fanfiction is based in that Original Universe. With that being said, there are different rules for some things in this story that I will have to explain before each chapter wherever the rules apply.

I do have a random upload schedule. My writing habits are flawed to say the least, but summer is coming up, so hopefully I’ll have more time to write longer and better chapters. I try to get out a chapter every two weeks, but my readers from other websites know that I haven’t been maintaining that schedule since the beginning of this year.

I encourage positive criticism and I would love to hear back on things that I could improve on or mistakes that I make.

This picture is my design for the Ev-Meister, the one and only VanossGaming. I do my own art and I will try to have cover photos for each chapter.

Thank you to the people who have chosen this fic. Be prepared for the long haul because This Is Gonna Take A While~

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

Most Recent Chapter: Chapter 3

Vanoss’ Perspective:

The stars danced in entrancing circles across the sky as I slipped through the shadows of the night. I paused for a moment, staring up at them as they blinked at me.

Around me, the forest shimmered to life. Shadows clung to every mossy rock and leaf. The slow breeze thrumming through the undergrowth sent shivers down my spine, making my fur puff out just a little more. The itch under my skin for dense rainforests and humid climates was tempered by the sounds of the night murmuring against my ears.

It was springtime in Noanric and, thus, still cold from the previous winter, especially where we lived.

Stretched from the northern tip of the world down to the hottest areas at the equator, there existed a continent known as Noanric. My pack and I lived somewhere in the middle where the trees were nothing but cotton or pine and the winters were sometimes long and harsh. Personally, the cold climate was the only regrettable part of settling down in this area. It was also the only compromise that everyone in the pack could make though.

Despite most of the pack members being from the feline family, all of us had grown up in different environments. Each of us preferred something different for a place to settle in, whether it was hot, humid climates or damp rainforests. Eventually, we stumbled across the territory we lived in now and it suited many of everyone's requirements.

Back when we all first met, having so many diverse people in the pack had caused a lot of arguments. On top of that, my alpha subgender caused a lot of authoritative issues, especially after I claimed the other two alphas, Marcel and Tyler. For a while, I was almost convinced that none of us could get along enough to be in a pack.

However, since finding our new home three years ago, it was a rarity to find a pack member in a bad mood. Of course, arguments weren’t avoidable all the time. Sometimes, fights broke out. Trying to smooth out disputes was probably the most stressful part of my job as leader.

I had always wanted to be a part of a pack, but I never saw myself at the head of it. For the longest time, I had even ignored the the itch for companionship that always crawled under my skin. Somehow though, I ended up being pack leader. Ever since then, I'd been even more anxious to serve my pack members to the best of my abilities. Yet, the stress still sometimes got to me.

Occasionally, for reasons like this, being the leader got a bit overwhelming. Then again, too much social interaction never failed to exhaust me. It didn’t help that both of my preferred animal forms were solitary creatures.

Luckily, because my pack was mostly feline, they were also solitary people. None of them minded it too terribly when I took these moments to step out and recharge my social batteries.

A sigh escaped me as my gaze wandered from the stars in the sky above to the trees as another gust of wind passed through my fur. I hummed softly when I felt the animal in me wake up the longer I stayed in my shifted form.

That night, I sported the fur of a black panther- A.K.A. a melanistic leopard. Normally, my fur was spotted and striped like any other leopards, but I changed it occasionally to suit my needs.

Not everyone could do this, mind you. I’d only ever met one other shapeshifter like me in my life, and he couldn’t do half the stuff I could.

Even though I knew I could shift into anything I wanted and make it any color I felt was the most appealing, I rarely used this ability. For the most part, I limited myself to my leopard form and, occasionally, my owl form. Other than that, I had no use for my shapeshifting abilities for anything besides races.

That night was one of the only exceptions I made to my rule though. Being able to blend in with the shadows of the night came in handy when I didn’t want to be caught by anyone happening to take a midnight stroll like me.

When I left the house, I had no real goal as to where I was going in mind. The only thing I wanted to do was to get away. Apparently, my subconscious had other ideas which I didn’t recognize until I glanced around to spot a familiar tree with gnarled roots nearby.

With a smile, I lifted my head to scent the air.

As I suspected, the first thing I picked up was the scent of the river that made up the eastern border of our territory. A thrill of amusement raced through me as I angled towards the smell and increased my pace to a light trot. Somewhere, I knew the scent would lead me to my favorite part of the river. The waterfall.

The sound of it hit me before the view did. As soon as I broke through the tree line, I was greeted by a blast of mist. It was one of the most welcome feelings I had that night, despite the air around me dropping several degrees. The cold atmosphere only grew colder as I paced forward to admire the scene laid out before me.

Just a few feet away from the treeline, the ground dropped away off the face of a cliff. Rivulets of water from the river rushed over the edge of the precipice and plummeted down to the pit below. From my vantage point, the waterfall seemed almost never ending. The sound of it was so immense that I couldn’t even hear my own breath over its roars. Even the ground below me trembled at its presence.

Below me, the cliff dropped down to a pit of water thirty feet down. The top of the waterfall sat several feet away, formed into a half circle, spitting water over its edge with torrential force. The rocky edges of the cliff stuck out in some places which created miniature waterfalls against the main stream of gushing water.

This part of the river and further down where the river meandered into our territory were my favorite spots to hang out, especially when I needed to be reminded of just how amazing life can be.

The waterfall felt so terrifyingly vast that I simply sat in awe for a moment. A waterfall can take a person and dash them to pieces in all the worst ways possible. Yet, they can be so magnificent in all their power.

The power vibrating through the ground was almost a comfort for me and, for once, I felt smaller than usual. For a moment, I wasn’t anything special or different. For once, there was something in the world with a power as terrifying as mine.

A low growl rumbled through my chest as these thoughts crossed my mind. I shoved them away instinctively.

Without thinking about it, I backed up to the tree line before launching myself across the stretch of open grass between me and the cliff. In one powerful motion, I flung myself off the cliff edge and plummeted towards the pit below.

The plunge was unlike any other thing in the world. It reminded me of a hurricane or a hail storm. The mist from the waterfall slapped me in the face as I plunged downward, my tail streaming out behind me.

It felt like I fell forever. There was so much adrenaline in my veins that it made those moments spent dropping to the water below stretch into unfathomable lengths of time. I had gone cliff jumping here many times before, but I was still taken by surprise when my body hit the water and the air was knocked out of me. The fact that the water was probably only 50°F didn’t help.

After a moment spent speeding through the water like a missile, I felt my front paws brush the bottom of the pit followed by the rest of my body. I stayed on the muddy floor for a moment before pushing off and propelling myself upwards. By the time my head broke the surface, the current of the waterfall had already pushed me out a ways away from where I had jumped.

The ground wasn’t too far down near shore, so I could easily touch. However, instead of getting out of the water, I paddled back out into the pool, relishing in the water tugging against my fur. It was still somewhat cold but, between being acclimatized to the temperature and the nature of my body heat, it didn’t bother me.

If Brian or Brock were around, they would look at me like I was crazy. Of course, their werecat forms had thick shaggy fur which dragged them down in the water so it was understandable that they didn’t like being in it for too long.

After a while, a cold breeze swept across the water, chilling the top of my head. I took that as my signal to get out.

With reluctance, I swam to shore on our side of the territory and pulled myself from the water’s clutches. I couldn’t stay in the water all night. Eventually, I had to return home and face my responsibilities.

Shaking myself, I sat down on the river shore and looked up at the sky once more. Above me, the stars continued their watchful gaze over me and a full moon glowed over the treetops. The sight made me smile. These were the nights that I enjoyed the most.

You could enjoy it more if you were actually doing your job. A voice whispered in the back of my mind.

I frowned and twisted around to clean a wet patch of fur on my back.

I’m just enjoying myself while I still have the chance. I argued.

The world rippled around me as another gust of wind spread through the trees and the grass.

Normally, I loved the wind and its playfulness. After jumping into the water in the middle of spring though, the wind was not as welcome as usual.

With a shiver, I stood and walked away from the river’s edge to a giant boulder on the shore. This particular boulder sat like a huge chair which faced the border of our territory on the other side of the river. In the middle of it, a perfect bowl had been carved out. It was just big enough for me to curl up in with room to spare.

Shaking myself off one more time, I jumped up and settled into the rock to clean myself.

Personally, I appreciated the position of the rock since it meant that I could watch what happened on the other side of the border while also being comfortable. My pack and I were the only ones who could see what lay on the other side of the river. Anyone on the opposite side couldn’t see us. In this sense, the barrier resembled a one way mirror.

The entire territory was designed like this. When we decided to call this place home, our physical boundaries were overlaid with tons of complex spells. These spells made them unaware of a mountain, or a river, or a waterfall just on the other side of the border. If they were careless, they could plummet to their death.

On top of that, if someone survived a fall, there laid a spell that incapacitated any human or demon that came across our borders. This spell could encompass a person’s mind, restricting them until they became delusional or incredibly weak, or it could attack a person's nervous system and paralyze them. The person would then fall into a coma-like state, at which point we simply had to carry them back out of the territory. Only pack members, along with some roguish friends, were immune to these spells.

There was only one spot that had no physical advantage on the other side of its border. It lay further north of the river. Originally, it was a hill, but we blew it out years ago to make a road for our vehicles.

For the most part, the pack used their animal forms to get around. However, when we went shopping or needed to blend in with the humans in town, we usually took one of the six cars that we owned. It was an expensive venture to keep so many vehicles but, sometimes, having that much transportation back and forth is necessary.

Despite having no physical advantages, the road exiting our territory was protected by our most advanced spells, some of which could immobilize any demon within seconds. No matter what, every part of our territory was protected in some way, shape, or form.

Lui, Marcel, and Nogla had derived all of the spells we used from older spells they knew. Every spell was a modified version of something much older than us and we designed them to suit our needs.

For this reason and many others, I held a great deal of pride for my pack. They were all ingenious in their own unique ways.

All the more reason for them to be protected. The voice from earlier whispered again. I recognized the presence of the animal within me, his alpha instincts coming out to play.

“I can protect them just as well by myself. Whatever she has to say is most likely irrelevant to their safety.” I growled back at the beast.

The leopard bared his fangs at me and began pacing back and forth, his heavy footsteps echoing through the confines of my mind.

You won’t know if it’s relevant until you talk to her. He argued. I shook my head and laid down on the rock below me.

The leopard had a point. Instead of swimming around in the water all night, I should’ve been at my meeting, confronting my responsibilities head on.

I didn’t want to though. The letter I received earlier in the week had me on edge. The way the whole thing was worded made me anxious. Their was something very important that would be discussed in the meeting that night, but I wasn’t sure what it was.

That was part of the reason why I decided to take a walk. I was avoiding my meeting with her until the last possible second. Plus, I knew that I wouldn’t have nearly as much free time after I talked to her.

Your responsibility is to your pack. The leopard murmured, his voice softening with sympathy. Situations where they are concerned take priority over your “personal time”.

I knew he was right. Deep down, I knew I was responsible for the pack and that my meeting could have everything to do with them. I had to go back.

With a frustrated growl, I stood and gave myself a rough shake before jumping off my boulder and heading back into the forest. Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about being seen with fluorescent markings, like Marcel’s stripes, as I made my way through the undergrowth.

As if the simple thought had summoned him, the wind shifted to drag a familiar scent across my nose. The barrier behind me almost seemed to flex inwards, signaling the passage of someone through our borders. I stopped and waited as some rustling off to my left kicked up.

A moment later, a stocky white tiger came stalking out of the shadows. His fluorescent green and purple stripes slowly pulsed back to life to fill in the black in his pelt. His orange eyes were such a contradiction to his overall color scheme that I felt mildly surprised, as usual, when they too flashed in the darkness of the night.

“What’re you doing out here Evan?” The tiger asked quietly, his body slowly releasing itself from the shadows.

“Thinking.” I answered simply. The feline narrowed his eyes at me, his ears twitching with curiosity.

“So, the honorable leader needs some alone time to think about how important his job is. What a surprise.” He purred, his actions exuding intense amounts of sarcasm.

I scoffed and shook my head. “What are you doing out here Marcel?”

There was a slight variation in the pulse of Marcel’s stripes but his expression remained neutral. “I was looking for you, o great lafaino.”

The tiger lowered himself to the ground in a dramatic bow. I couldn't help but roll my eyes, my attention briefly catching on the shadowy bushes surrounding us as they fluttered.

“You were looking for me." I mused as a thought occurred to me. The tiger raised himself up and met my gaze levelly. "On the other side of the border?”

Marcel flashed his fangs at me in an animalistic smile. “Mini told me you might have been trying to find some tail out there.”

I snorted and flicked my ears at him. “There’s tons of food already in our territory.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” The tiger huffed.

I rolled my eyes and walked past him, into the woods. His tail flicked my shoulder lightly as I passed.

“That’s exactly why I answered the way I did.”

Marcel simply chuckled and followed me as I headed back to the house.

Marcel was an interesting person- like most everyone else in the pack. I was fairly convinced that the tattoos on his arms were some symbol of royalty somewhere along the tiger bloodline. No matter how many times I asked though, he wouldn’t tell me what tribe he came from or if my suspicions were correct.

Marcel came to the pack years ago, accompanied by Scotty, in search of people who were “like him”- whatever that meant. The tiger had an interesting sense of humor and a thrilling laugh that left people feeling giddy. Sometimes, he had a different way of speaking, but almost every single person in the pack had a slight variation of speech or an accent to their words. No two of us were alike.

Marcel and Tyler both came to me in the search of being understood. The only unfortunate part about them joining my pack was that, because they were both alphas, they tended to challenge my authority more often than the others. Luckily, they complied in letting me be the leader of the group but I knew that, if they wanted, either of them could easily try to dethrone me.

I still enjoyed their company though. No matter what, everyone who had come to me and joined my pack or simply stopped by to say hi as friends was appreciated.

Smii7y, along with his mate, Kryoz, was one of those few random friends that stopped by every once in a while. Sincw they were our friends, our spells didn't affect them. I didn't know them all that well, but Mini and Panda spent a lot of time at their cabin just outside our borders. At least, they did whenever the two rogues weren't out of town on a mission.

The main group, Mini, Wildcat, Terroriser, Moo, Lui, Nogla, Marcel, Scotty, Panda, and I, stayed on the territory for longer periods of time. Some of the others took moments of alone time like I did, but we all lived in the same two story white house in the middle of our large chunk of land.

Seventy miles east of our territory lay the human city, Panlyog. It wasn’t my favorite place to be and most of the others agreed with me about that, so we kept to ourselves unless we needed something from the humans.

I was mulling over the plans to make a trip into Panlyog the next day when the wind shifted and Marcel’s scent hit me full force. Normally, I didn’t mind, but there was an ever so slight variation in it that night. I couldn’t quite put a claw on what that variation was, but it was definitely different in an unsettling sort of way.

I watched the powerful tiger carefully as he prowled through the undergrowth beside me. He was too busy scenting the air around us to notice my curiosity. Chalking it up to a flaw in my sense of smell, I shrugged off my intrigue as we continued towards the house.

Our house wasn’t hard to miss if you knew what you were looking for. It stood on a hill, pearly white, two stories above the ground and a basement stuck halfway into the hill. The only thing that stopped it from sticking out like a sore thumb was the thick copes of trees surrounding it in a 10 foot radius and the giant canopy of branches overhead. The trees were so thick in the area that no creature had ever attempted getting through it. Even the roof of the house was designed to look like the ground to avoid aerial attacks.

The only way in and out of the ring around the house was to go through secret passageways built into the bushes surrounding the area. The white building was our perfect escape, especially with Nogla’s collection of flowers planted all around the edges.

Marcel and I wove our way through the bushes and into the clearing beyond. I glanced around briefly, my eyes catching on a light in a window on the second floor and another coming from downstairs. The second light was too dim to be from the living room, so I assumed it came from either the kitchen or the TV.

As Marcel and I approached, one of the flood lights on the front porch turned on, revealing a wooden platform with three steps leading up to it. The porch stuck out a few feet from the front of the house with a table and several chairs sitting on top of it. Around it, several bushes and flowers of varying colors appeared.

Once we reached the top of the steps, Marcel and I began transforming back into our human forms. My transformation was easy because of my shifter genes, but Marcel took his time to rearrange his body.

For shapeshifters, transforming in a “puff of smoke” is the best description for a our transformations. Shifting is, for the most part, swift and painless for most shifters. Hence the name. Not everybody had it so easy though.

It didn’t matter how skilled or fierce a demon was. Almost every one of them had some difficulty with shifting. Some people couldn't shift fast without experiencing pain and others couldn't physically force a shift.

Whatever their reasoning, I didn’t find slow shifting very appealing, especially after listening to Marcel’s bones break, scrape, pop, and crack back into place for about thirty seconds.

“Ya done?” I asked with mock impatience as Marcel finished.

He rolled his eyes at me and chuffed lightly with his remaining tiger-like vocal chords. “Show off.”

As soon as we walked in the front door, the sweet smell of beta wafted over my nose. Marcel and I followed the scent through the open area inside the front door into the kitchen. There, we found Mini leaning against the stove with a cup of water in his hands. His blue-gray eyes lifted as we walked in.

“Hi Mini!” Marcel called to him softly.

Mini smiled and responded in kind but with more exaggeration on the quietness. After all, it was one in the morning and nobody likes being woken up in the middle of the night.

Marcel cupped a hand around his mouth and mock whispered, “How are you?”

Mini copied him with a smile. “I’m fine. How are you Marcel?”

“I’m good.”

“That’s good.” The two of them laughed before Mini’s attention shifted to me and he smiled anew.

“How’s the leader tonight?” He beamed while still keeping his voice low.

I hesitated for a split second. It was an innocent question, but Mini’s beta scent meddled with my head.

My first thought was to tell him the truth. I didn’t want to come home and go to sleep. I didn’t want go to my meeting. I didn’t want her in my head and, most of all, I didn’t want to take this mission. Everything that was about to happen gave me an awful sense of foreboding.

I wanted to tell Mini all of this. What I didn’t want to do was explain myself in front of Marcel though. Call it a superiority complex or an alpha’s complex, but showing weakness to another alpha didn’t quite sit right with me.

So, after a split second of hesitation, I responded with, “I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m good,” Mini replied, his eyes narrowing slightly.

When I didn’t respond with another “that’s good”, Mini raised an eyebrow and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. Marcel plowed on without noticing my internal crisis.

Fortunately, the tiger wasn’t really in the mood to give us a play-by-play about his adventures outside of the territory. Instead, he told Mini that it was quiet and that he hadn’t found anything interesting before giving us a tired wave and casting a “good night” over his shoulder as he walked away.

Mini and I responded in kind and watched the alpha walk up the stairs. As soon as the tiger was out of earshot, Mini turned an inquiring eye to me.

I sighed and sat down at the island in the middle of the kitchen. “I can’t sleep at night. You know that.”

The beta across from me slowly nodded before rolling his eyes. “Strange. I was hoping to finally hear about this piece of tail you’ve been seeing.”

I briefly glared up at him before turning my gaze down to my hands. “You know that if that was true, I would tell you or Moo.”

At times like this, I felt bad for my two betas. They both wanted me to find someone to spend my time with and date, but I couldn’t give that to them. The people in my pack were too much like brothers and dating humans was forbidden by law in Panlyog. All of my options were sort of closed and everyone in the pack knew it, especially Mini and Moo.

As betas, it was their job to look after my mental health. Betas are responsible for the mental and physical health of everyone in the pack. That’s why they are better at molecular regeneration and have a particular resistance to the illusions of their pack’s minds.

I knew it was harmful for my alpha within me to spend so much time alone, even if I was surrounded by pack members most of the time. It was uncommon for a subgender voice to be as strong as mine. It just so happened to be even more uncommon that someone who had an unstable alpha like mine was ever put into a position of leadership. Having so many conflicting thoughts and instincts was dangerous for me.

On one hand, I wanted to protect my pack. On the other, I wanted to find someone who could temper my demons. So far, I was having no luck with either option and that was bad news for Moo and Mini.

“I’m sorry.” I murmured, looking up into Mini’s face. He gave me a solemn smile and sighed.

“Don’t be. You’ll find someone. We have faith in you. We always do.” Mini responded easily, as he had done many times before.

I gave him a small smile before staring back down at the counter top. After a moment, a cup of water was suddenly placed in front of me. I hadn’t even noticed the faucet being turned on. Ignoring this fact, I murmured a quiet thanks before taking a sip.

“I don’t want to go to sleep tonight.” I admitted reluctantly.

There was a moment of silence before Mini coughed. I reminded myself to add cold medicine to the shopping list for Panlyog the next day.

“Why is that?” He asked in a slightly strained voice.

I reached up with my hand to squeeze the bridge of my nose. “I’m supposed to have a meeting with Ms. Evelynn tonight.”

There was a flash of surprise on Mini’s face. To his credit, it only lasted a few seconds before his face went back to a generally neutral expression.

After a moment, the beta nodded and took a drink of his own glass of water.

“Let me get this straight…” He folded his hands together before gesturing at me and raising an eyebrow. “You are purposely avoiding a talk with the one and only Zephyra Evelynn?”

I couldn’t help but give the beta a tired smile as he spoke.

“Somehow, you seem to think that that will go without consequence?”

I sucked in a breath to argue but stopped halfway through when I realized that he was right.

“Of course there’ll be consequences.”

Mini made a “duh” face and gave me wide eyes. “Ya think?”

I shook my head and ran a hand through my hair. “I just know that she’s going to give me some problem that I’ll have to figure out how to fix.”

“Oh right. I forgot. Responsibilities. Your worst nightmare.” Mini mocked sarcastically.

I glared half-heartedly up at him before making a face. He wasn’t wrong…

“Obviously. But she keeps coming back. This time though, I get the feeling that this case is bigger than usual.“

Zephyra Evelynn was the Kafaira, the continental leader, of Noanric. As the title suggests, the entire continent was subject to her jurisdiction.

Since she had such a large responsibility, Zephyra never traveled long distances. Instead, she set up meetings in letters and visited people in their dreams in order to share messages. That was one of the many unfortunate things about meeting her.

Meeting Zephyra in my dreams meant that she had access to my subconscious mind; in which case, it didn’t really matter whether or not I tried to hide any of my thoughts from her. She could hear everything I thought when she visited me. The only thing she couldn’t see was my memories, which is something I was always grateful for. No matter what happened, the powerful Demon-Wolf never failed to put me on edge.

Mini sighed and gave me a sympathetic look. “I understand why you’re avoiding it. Still, you shouldn’t shirk your responsibilities.” The beta sighed, giving me a sympathetic look before his expression turned sour. “Plus, you more than anyone should know that your actions have repercussions, especially with someone as powerful as Zephyra.”

Part of me winced at Mini’s implications, but the other part of me knew he was right in fearing Zephyra.

There was a common misconception about Zephyra throughout, not just the continent, but the entire world. Most people heard tales of her power and her incredible military feats as well as her political prowess and they immediately assumed that she was an all-powerful being that held the world in her paws.

Personally, I knew Zephyra wasn’t as scary as everyone made her out to be. Perhaps that came as a result of actually seeing her outside of the paintings and fairy tales though.

“Yeah, well, at least I can choose the time that we meet. I could stay up for days and avoid the meeting if I wanted to.” I muttered as I chugged what was left of my glass of water. Mini rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a child.”

“Yeah and you’re a man baby. That’s right. I just owned you.” I leaned back in my chair with a playful expression as Mini shook his head.

Smiling, the beta stood to take my empty glass and walked back to the sink. I scooted my chair out with a small hint of reluctance and followed him.

All jokes aside, I was still a little agitated, not only because of my meeting with Zephyra, but because I was reminded of domestic problems with my pack.

Mini was hiding something from me. He had been for months now, both him and Wildcat. I could feel that there was something wrong between them, but neither of them would talk to me about it. That secret was the only reason Mini would be up so late with such a tainted quality to his scent, and it was the reason he was sick at the moment.

I huffed a sigh and stuffed my hands in my pockets. “I can’t avoid it forever though. So, I might as well be a ‘responsible’ leader and go to bed.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” Mini chuckled as he turned around to face me.

I smiled before reaching out an arm, waiting for the traditional warmth. As usual, Mini endorsed me in a short side-hug. I considered scent marking him but decided against it. Tyler would be pissed if I tried that and, after tonight, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have the energy to tease him in the morning.

“Get some sleep.” Mini murmured as we released each other. I shook my head and smiled.

“I doubt that’ll happen for me. That doesn’t mean it shouldn’t happen for you though.” I responded with a significant look at the beta.

He nodded and ducked his head. “I know. I’ll try.”

“Good night Mini.” I called as I turned to go upstairs.

“Good night Evan.” Mini responded as I walked away.

At the top of the stairs, there was a large open room that we used as a secondary sitting/study area. There were couches, TVs, and five desks crammed into the small space. On the left side of the stairs lay five rooms- each of which belonged to Wildcat, Mini, Basically, Panda, and Scotty- and a storage closet for blankets and sheets. The right side contained another five rooms- each of which belonged to me, Lui, Nogla, Terroriser, and Moo- along with the upstairs bathroom. All the alphas stayed closest to the staircase as a safety precaution. Therefore, I didn’t have to walk far to get to my room.

As soon as I opened the door, I was met with a sweet vanilla scent. I looked over at the desk on the right side of the room to see a tiny flame waving at me from the confines of the glass around the candle.

Moo must have visited. I thought to myself. With a smile, I glanced down the hallway to where his room sat. He knew me too well.

With a satisfied hum, I stepped inside and quietly closed my door. It was dark in my room, but I had no trouble navigating my way through the darkness despite the piles of messes all over my floor.

With careful steps, I walked over to the candle and gently blew it out before going over to my bed and flopping down. Admittedly, I was exhausted, so it was no surprise when I passed out almost immediately.

Notes:

I hope you guys enjoyed. I know there’s not a lot of plot related stuff right now but it definitely picks up speed here soon. This chapter and the next are mainly here to set the scene and do a bit of world building so, after that, it gets easier to read.

I need to explain a few things here. Firstly, most every demon has two seperate entities that live inside their head. They have the human side, split into a conscious and a subconscious, and the demon side. The demon side is pure instinct, containing every fight or flight response and all a person’s skill in everything related to survival. The human side is the rational side. Generally, the demon is less dominant and bows to the human in most cases. However, people who have anomalies in their instincts (i.e. subgenders or half breeds) tend to have a demon side that is equally as powerful, if not more powerful, than the human counterpart and that can sometimes be an issue. This is a common problem with subgenders because of the nature of how they were created, which I’ll explain at a later date.

In accordance to the dialogue that has quotations around italic marks, like whenever Marcel and Evan are talking in their animal form: I write these scenes like this because, when demons are in their animal forms, they don’t have a spoken language like humans. Their “speech” is actually a mixture of body language and sounds made in their throats (grunts, chuffs, and sometimes clicking of the tongue or teeth).

There are also two “need-to-know” terms which are: Kafaira and Lafaino. The first of these terms is simply a label for all continental leaders, of which there are seven in total according to each continent. The second refers to pack/tribe/clan leaders. The “o” and the “a” are relative to gender, just like certain words in Spanish. If either of the terms ends in “o”, it means the person is male. If it ends in an “a”, it means the person is female. There is also a third ending which is “e” for those who are genderless or both genders.

Thank you for reading <3

#bbs squad #terrormoo #minicat #switching pov #this is gonna take a while #fanfiction #mild krii7y #eventual ohmtoonz #eventual h2ovanoss #plot #so much plot #good luck #this is gonna be intersting #awaal #alternate universe

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thesnhuup · 6 years

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Pop Picks – September 7, 2018

What I’m listening to:

With a cover pointing back to the Beastie Boys’ 1986 Licensed to Ill, Eminem’s quietly released Kamikaze is not my usual taste, but I’ve always admired him for his “all out there” willingness to be personal, to call people out, and his sheer genius with language. I thought Daveed Diggs could rap fast, but Eminem is supersonic at moments, and still finds room for melody. Love that he includes Joyner Lucas, whose “I’m Not Racist” gets added to the growing list of simply amazing music videos commenting on race in America. There are endless reasons why I am the least likely Eminem fan, but when no one is around to make fun of me, I’ll put it on again.

What I’m reading:

Lesley Blume’s Everyone Behaves Badly, which is the story behind Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises and his time in 1920s Paris (oh, what a time – see Midnight in Paris if you haven’t already). Of course, Blume disabuses my romantic ideas of that time and place and everyone is sort of (or profoundly so) a jerk, especially…no spoiler here…Hemingway. That said, it is a compelling read and coming off the Henry James inspired prose of Mrs. Osmond, it made me appreciate more how groundbreaking was Hemingway’s modern prose style. Like his contemporary Picasso, he reinvented the art and it can be easy to forget, these decades later, how profound was the change and its impact. And it has bullfights.

What I’m watching:

Chloé Zhao’s The Rider is just exceptional. It’s filmed on the Pine Ridge Reservation, which provides a stunning landscape, and it feels like a classic western reinvented for our times. The main characters are played by the real-life people who inspired this narrative (but feels like a documentary) film. Brady Jandreau, playing himself really, owns the screen. It’s about manhood, honor codes, loss, and resilience – rendered in sensitive, nuanced, and heartfelt ways. It feels like it could be about large swaths of America today. Really powerful.

Archive

August 16, 2018

What I’m listening to:

In my Spotify Daily Mix was Percy Sledge’s When A Man Loves A Woman, one of the world’s greatest love songs. Go online and read the story of how the song was discovered and recorded. There are competing accounts, but Sledge said he improvised it after a bad breakup. It has that kind of aching spontaneity. It is another hit from Muscle Shoals, Alabama, one of the GREAT music hotbeds, along with Detroit, Nashville, and Memphis. Our February Board meeting is in Alabama and I may finally have to do the pilgrimage road trip to Muscle Shoals and then Memphis, dropping in for Sunday services at the church where Rev. Al Green still preaches and sings. If the music is all like this, I will be saved.

What I’m reading:

John Banville’s Mrs. Osmond, his homage to literary idol Henry James and an imagined sequel to James’ 1881 masterpiece Portrait of a Lady. Go online and read the first paragraph of Chapter 25. He is…profoundly good. Makes me want to never write again, since anything I attempt will feel like some other, lowly activity in comparison to his mastery of language, image, syntax. This is slow reading, every sentence to be savored.

What I’m watching:

I’ve always respected Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, but we just watched the documentary RGB. It is over-the-top great and she is now one of my heroes. A superwoman in many ways and the documentary is really well done. There are lots of scenes of her speaking to crowds and the way young women, especially law students, look at her is touching. And you can’t help but fall in love with her now late husband Marty. See this movie and be reminded of how important is the Law.

July 23, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Spotify’s Summer Acoustic playlist has been on repeat quite a lot. What a fun way to listen to artists new to me, including The Paper Kites, Hollow Coves, and Fleet Foxes, as well as old favorites like Leon Bridges and Jose Gonzalez. Pretty chill when dialing back to a summer pace, dining on the screen porch or reading a book.

What I’m reading:

Bryan Stevenson’s Just Mercy. Founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, Stevenson tells of the racial injustice (and the war on the poor our judicial system perpetuates as well) that he discovered as a young graduate from Harvard Law School and his fight to address it. It is in turn heartbreaking, enraging, and inspiring. It is also about mercy and empathy and justice that reads like a novel. Brilliant.

What I’m watching:

Fauda. We watched season one of this Israeli thriller. It was much discussed in Israel because while it focuses on an ex-special agent who comes out of retirement to track down a Palestinian terrorist, it was willing to reveal the complexity, richness, and emotions of Palestinian lives. And the occasional brutality of the Israelis. Pretty controversial stuff in Israel. Lior Raz plays Doron, the main character, and is compelling and tough and often hard to like. He’s a mess. As is the world in which he has to operate. We really liked it, and also felt guilty because while it may have been brave in its treatment of Palestinians within the Israeli context, it falls back into some tired tropes and ultimately falls short on this front.

June 11, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Like everyone else, I’m listening to Pusha T drop the mic on Drake. Okay, not really, but do I get some points for even knowing that? We all walk around with songs that immediately bring us back to a time or a place. Songs are time machines. We are coming up on Father’s Day. My own dad passed away on Father’s Day back in 1994 and I remembering dutifully getting through the wake and funeral and being strong throughout. Then, sitting alone in our kitchen, Don Henley’s The End of the Innocence came on and I lost it. When you lose a parent for the first time (most of us have two after all) we lose our innocence and in that passage, we suddenly feel adult in a new way (no matter how old we are), a longing for our own childhood, and a need to forgive and be forgiven. Listen to the lyrics and you’ll understand. As Wordsworth reminds us in In Memoriam, there are seasons to our grief and, all these years later, this song no longer hits me in the gut, but does transport me back with loving memories of my father. I’ll play it Father’s Day.

What I’m reading:

The Fifth Season, by N. K. Jemisin. I am not a reader of fantasy or sci-fi, though I understand they can be powerful vehicles for addressing the very real challenges of the world in which we actually live. I’m not sure I know of a more vivid and gripping illustration of that fact than N. K. Jemisin’s Hugo Award winning novel The Fifth Season, first in her Broken Earth trilogy. It is astounding. It is the fantasy parallel to The Underground Railroad, my favorite recent read, a depiction of subjugation, power, casual violence, and a broken world in which our hero(s) struggle, suffer mightily, and still, somehow, give us hope. It is a tour de force book. How can someone be this good a writer? The first 30 pages pained me (always with this genre, one must learn a new, constructed world, and all of its operating physics and systems of order), and then I could not put it down. I panicked as I neared the end, not wanting to finish the book, and quickly ordered the Obelisk Gate, the second novel in the trilogy, and I can tell you now that I’ll be spending some goodly portion of my weekend in Jemisin’s other world.

What I’m watching:

The NBA Finals and perhaps the best basketball player of this generation. I’ve come to deeply respect LeBron James as a person, a force for social good, and now as an extraordinary player at the peak of his powers. His superhuman play during the NBA playoffs now ranks with the all-time greats, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, MJ, Kobe, and the demi-god that was Bill Russell. That his Cavs lost in a 4-game sweep is no surprise. It was a mediocre team being carried on the wide shoulders of James (and matched against one of the greatest teams ever, the Warriors, and the Harry Potter of basketball, Steph Curry) and, in some strange way, his greatness is amplified by the contrast with the rest of his team. It was a great run.

May 24, 2018

What I’m listening to:

I’ve always liked Alicia Keys and admired her social activism, but I am hooked on her last album Here. This feels like an album finally commensurate with her anger, activism, hope, and grit. More R&B and Hip Hop than is typical for her, I think this album moves into an echelon inhabited by a Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On or Beyonce’s Formation. Social activism and outrage rarely make great novels, but they often fuel great popular music. Here is a terrific example.

What I’m reading:

Colson Whitehead’s Underground Railroad may be close to a flawless novel. Winner of the 2017 Pulitzer, it chronicles the lives of two runaway slaves, Cora and Caeser, as they try to escape the hell of plantation life in Georgia. It is an often searing novel and Cora is one of the great heroes of American literature. I would make this mandatory reading in every high school in America, especially in light of the absurd revisionist narratives of “happy and well cared for” slaves. This is a genuinely great novel, one of the best I’ve read, the magical realism and conflating of time periods lifts it to another realm of social commentary, relevance, and a blazing indictment of America’s Original Sin, for which we remain unabsolved.

What I’m watching:

I thought I knew about The Pentagon Papers, but The Post, a real-life political thriller from Steven Spielberg taught me a lot, features some of our greatest actors, and is so timely given the assault on our democratic institutions and with a presidency out of control. It is a reminder that a free and fearless press is a powerful part of our democracy, always among the first targets of despots everywhere. The story revolves around the legendary Post owner and D.C. doyenne, Katharine Graham. I had the opportunity to see her son, Don Graham, right after he saw the film, and he raved about Meryl Streep’s portrayal of his mother. Liked it a lot more than I expected.

April 27, 2018

What I’m listening to:

I mentioned John Prine in a recent post and then on the heels of that mention, he has released a new album, The Tree of Forgiveness, his first new album in ten years. Prine is beloved by other singer songwriters and often praised by the inscrutable God that is Bob Dylan. Indeed, Prine was frequently said to be the “next Bob Dylan” in the early part of his career, though he instead carved out his own respectable career and voice, if never with the dizzying success of Dylan. The new album reflects a man in his 70s, a cancer survivor, who reflects on life and its end, but with the good humor and empathy that are hallmarks of Prine’s music. “When I Get To Heaven” is a rollicking, fun vision of what comes next and a pure delight. A charming, warm, and often terrific album.

What I’m reading:

I recently read Min Jin Lee’s Pachinko, on many people’s Top Ten lists for last year and for good reason. It is sprawling, multi-generational, and based in the world of Japanese occupied Korea and then in the Korean immigrant’s world of Oaska, so our key characters become “tweeners,” accepted in neither world. It’s often unspeakably sad, and yet there is resiliency and love. There is also intimacy, despite the time and geographic span of the novel. It’s breathtakingly good and like all good novels, transporting.

What I’m watching:

I adore Guillermo del Toro’s 2006 film, Pan’s Labyrinth, and while I’m not sure his Shape of Water is better, it is a worthy follow up to the earlier masterpiece (and more of a commercial success). Lots of critics dislike the film, but I’m okay with a simple retelling of a Beauty and the Beast love story, as predictable as it might be. The acting is terrific, it is visually stunning, and there are layers of pain as well as social and political commentary (the setting is the US during the Cold War) and, no real spoiler here, the real monsters are humans, the military officer who sees over the captured aquatic creature. It is hauntingly beautiful and its depiction of hatred to those who are different or “other” is painfully resonant with the time in which we live. Put this on your “must see” list.

March 18, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Sitting on a plane for hours (and many more to go; geez, Australia is far away) is a great opportunity to listen to new music and to revisit old favorites. This time, it is Lucy Dacus and her album Historians, the new sophomore release from a 22-year old indie artist that writes with relatable, real-life lyrics. Just on a second listen and while she insists this isn’t a break up record (as we know, 50% of all great songs are break up songs), it is full of loss and pain. Worth the listen so far. For the way back machine, it’s John Prine and In Spite of Ourselves (that title track is one of the great love songs of all time), a collection of duets with some of his “favorite girl singers” as he once described them. I have a crush on Iris Dement (for a really righteously angry song try her Wasteland of the Free), but there is also EmmyLou Harris, the incomparable Dolores Keane, and Lucinda Williams. Very different albums, both wonderful.

What I’m reading:

Jane Mayer’s New Yorker piece on Christopher Steele presents little that is new, but she pulls it together in a terrific and coherent whole that is illuminating and troubling at the same time. Not only for what is happening, but for the complicity of the far right in trying to discredit that which should be setting off alarm bells everywhere. Bob Mueller may be the most important defender of the democracy at this time. A must read.

What I’m watching:

Homeland is killing it this season and is prescient, hauntingly so. Russian election interference, a Bannon-style hate radio demagogue, alienated and gun toting militia types, and a president out of control. It’s fabulous, even if it feels awfully close to the evening news.

March 8, 2018

What I’m listening to:

We have a family challenge to compile our Top 100 songs. It is painful. Only 100? No more than three songs by one artist? Wait, why is M.I.A.’s “Paper Planes” on my list? Should it just be The Clash from whom she samples? Can I admit to guilty pleasure songs? Hey, it’s my list and I can put anything I want on it. So I’m listening to the list while I work and the song playing right now is Tom Petty’s “The Wild One, Forever,” a B-side single that was never a hit and that remains my favorite Petty song. Also, “Evangeline” by Los Lobos. It evokes a night many years ago, with friends at Pearl Street in Northampton, MA, when everyone danced well past 1AM in a hot, sweaty, packed club and the band was a revelation. Maybe the best music night of our lives and a reminder that one’s 100 Favorite Songs list is as much about what you were doing and where you were in your life when those songs were playing as it is about the music. It’s not a list. It’s a soundtrack for this journey.

What I’m reading:

Patricia Lockwood’s Priestdaddy was in the NY Times top ten books of 2017 list and it is easy to see why. Lockwood brings remarkable and often surprising imagery, metaphor, and language to her prose memoir and it actually threw me off at first. It then all became clear when someone told me she is a poet. The book is laugh aloud funny, which masks (or makes safer anyway) some pretty dark territory. Anyone who grew up Catholic, whether lapsed or not, will resonate with her story. She can’t resist a bawdy anecdote and her family provides some of the most memorable characters possible, especially her father, her sister, and her mother, who I came to adore. Best thing I’ve read in ages.

What I’m watching:

The Florida Project, a profoundly good movie on so many levels. Start with the central character, six-year old (at the time of the filming) Brooklynn Prince, who owns – I mean really owns – the screen. This is pure acting genius and at that age? Astounding. Almost as astounding is Bria Vinaite, who plays her mother. She was discovered on Instagram and had never acted before this role, which she did with just three weeks of acting lessons. She is utterly convincing and the tension between the child’s absolute wonder and joy in the world with her mother’s struggle to provide, to be a mother, is heartwarming and heartbreaking all at once. Willem Dafoe rightly received an Oscar nomination for his supporting role. This is a terrific movie.

February 12, 2018

What I’m listening to:

So, I have a lot of friends of age (I know you’re thinking 40s, but I just turned 60) who are frozen in whatever era of music they enjoyed in college or maybe even in their thirties. There are lots of times when I reach back into the catalog, since music is one of those really powerful and transporting senses that can take you through time (smell is the other one, though often underappreciated for that power). Hell, I just bought a turntable and now spending time in vintage vinyl shops. But I’m trying to take a lesson from Pat, who revels in new music and can as easily talk about North African rap music and the latest National album as Meet the Beatles, her first ever album. So, I’ve been listening to Kendrick Lamar’s Grammy winning Damn. While it may not be the first thing I’ll reach for on a winter night in Maine, by the fire, I was taken with it. It’s layered, political, and weirdly sensitive and misogynist at the same time, and it feels fresh and authentic and smart at the same time, with music that often pulled me from what I was doing. In short, everything music should do. I’m not a bit cooler for listening to Damn, but when I followed it with Steely Dan, I felt like I was listening to Lawrence Welk. A good sign, I think.

What I’m reading:

I am reading Walter Isaacson’s new biography of Leonardo da Vinci. I’m not usually a reader of biographies, but I’ve always been taken with Leonardo. Isaacson does not disappoint (does he ever?), and his subject is at once more human and accessible and more awe-inspiring in Isaacson’s capable hands. Gay, left-handed, vegetarian, incapable of finishing things, a wonderful conversationalist, kind, and perhaps the most relentlessly curious human being who has ever lived. Like his biographies of Steve Jobs and Albert Einstein, Isaacson’s project here is to show that genius lives at the intersection of science and art, of rationality and creativity. Highly recommend it.

What I’m watching:

We watched the This Is Us post-Super Bowl episode, the one where Jack finally buys the farm. I really want to hate this show. It is melodramatic and manipulative, with characters that mostly never change or grow, and it hooks me every damn time we watch it. The episode last Sunday was a tear jerker, a double whammy intended to render into a blubbering, tissue-crumbling pathetic mess anyone who has lost a parent or who is a parent. Sterling K. Brown, Ron Cephas Jones, the surprising Mandy Moore, and Milo Ventimiglia are hard not to love and last season’s episode that had only Brown and Cephas going to Memphis was the show at its best (they are by far the two best actors). Last week was the show at its best worst. In other words, I want to hate it, but I love it. If you haven’t seen it, don’t binge watch it. You’ll need therapy and insulin.

January 15, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Drive-By Truckers. Chris Stapleton has me on an unusual (for me) country theme and I discovered these guys to my great delight. They’ve been around, with some 11 albums, but the newest one is fascinating. It’s a deep dive into Southern alienation and the white working-class world often associated with our current president. I admire the willingness to lay bare, in kick ass rock songs, the complexities and pain at work among people we too quickly place into overly simple categories. These guys are brave, bold, and thoughtful as hell, while producing songs I didn’t expect to like, but that I keep playing. And they are coming to NH.

What I’m reading:

A textual analog to Drive-By Truckers by Chris Stapleton in many ways is Tony Horowitz’s 1998 Pulitzer Prize winning Confederates in the Attic. Ostensibly about the Civil War and the South’s ongoing attachment to it, it is prescient and speaks eloquently to the times in which we live (where every southern state but Virginia voted for President Trump). Often hilarious, it too surfaces complexities and nuance that escape a more recent, and widely acclaimed, book like Hillbilly Elegy. As a Civil War fan, it was also astonishing in many instances, especially when it blows apart long-held “truths” about the war, such as the degree to which Sherman burned down the south (he did not). Like D-B Truckers, Horowitz loves the South and the people he encounters, even as he grapples with its myths of victimhood and exceptionalism (and racism, which may be no more than the racism in the north, but of a different kind). Everyone should read this book and I’m embarrassed I’m so late to it.

What I’m watching:

David Letterman has a new Netflix show called “My Next Guest Needs No Introduction” and we watched the first episode, in which Letterman interviewed Barack Obama. It was extraordinary (if you don’t have Netflix, get it just to watch this show); not only because we were reminded of Obama’s smarts, grace, and humanity (and humor), but because we saw a side of Letterman we didn’t know existed. His personal reflections on Selma were raw and powerful, almost painful. He will do five more episodes with “extraordinary individuals” and if they are anything like the first, this might be the very best work of his career and one of the best things on television.

December 22, 2017

What I’m reading:

Just finished Sunjeev Sahota’s Year of the Runaways, a painful inside look at the plight of illegal Indian immigrant workers in Britain. It was shortlisted for 2015 Man Booker Prize and its transporting, often to a dark and painful universe, and it is impossible not to think about the American version of this story and the terrible way we treat the undocumented in our own country, especially now.

What I’m watching:

Season II of The Crown is even better than Season I. Elizabeth’s character is becoming more three-dimensional, the modern world is catching up with tradition-bound Britain, and Cold War politics offer more context and tension than we saw in Season I. Claire Foy, in her last season, is just terrific – one arched eye brow can send a message.

What I’m listening to:

A lot of Christmas music, but needing a break from the schmaltz, I’ve discovered Over the Rhine and their Christmas album, Snow Angels. God, these guys are good.

November 14, 2017

What I’m watching:

Guiltily, I watch the Patriots play every weekend, often building my schedule and plans around seeing the game. Why the guilt? I don’t know how morally defensible is football anymore, as we now know the severe damage it does to the players. We can’t pretend it’s all okay anymore. Is this our version of late decadent Rome, watching mostly young Black men take a terrible toll on each other for our mere entertainment?

What I’m reading:

Recently finished J.G. Ballard’s 2000 novel Super-Cannes, a powerful depiction of a corporate-tech ex-pat community taken over by a kind of psychopathology, in which all social norms and responsibilities are surrendered to residents of the new world community. Kept thinking about Silicon Valley when reading it. Pretty dark, dystopian view of the modern world and centered around a mass killing, troublingly prescient.

What I’m listening to:

Was never really a Lorde fan, only knowing her catchy (and smarter than you might first guess) pop hit “Royals” from her debut album. But her new album, Melodrama, is terrific and it doesn’t feel quite right to call this “pop.” There is something way more substantial going on with Lorde and I can see why many critics put this album at the top of their Best in 2017 list. Count me in as a huge fan.

November 3, 2017

What I’m reading: Just finished Celeste Ng’s Little Fires Everywhere, her breathtakingly good second novel. How is someone so young so wise? Her writing is near perfection and I read the book in two days, setting my alarm for 4:30AM so I could finish it before work.

What I’m watching: We just binge watched season two of Stranger Things and it was worth it just to watch Millie Bobbie Brown, the transcendent young actor who plays Eleven. The series is a delightful mash up of every great eighties horror genre you can imagine and while pretty dark, an absolute joy to watch.

What I’m listening to: I’m not a lover of country music (to say the least), but I love Chris Stapleton. His “The Last Thing I Needed, First Thing This Morning” is heartbreakingly good and reminds me of the old school country that played in my house as a kid. He has a new album and I can’t wait, but his From A Room: Volume 1 is on repeat for now.

September 26, 2017

What I’m reading:

Just finished George Saunder’s Lincoln in the Bardo. It took me a while to accept its cadence and sheer weirdness, but loved it in the end. A painful meditation on loss and grief, and a genuinely beautiful exploration of the intersection of life and death, the difficulty of letting go of what was, good and bad, and what never came to be.

What I’m watching:

HBO’s The Deuce. Times Square and the beginning of the porn industry in the 1970s, the setting made me wonder if this was really something I’d want to see. But David Simon is the writer and I’d read a menu if he wrote it. It does not disappoint so far and there is nothing prurient about it.

What I’m listening to:

The National’s new album Sleep Well Beast. I love this band. The opening piano notes of the first song, “Nobody Else Will Be There,” seize me & I’m reminded that no one else in music today matches their arrangement & musicianship. I’m adding “Born to Beg,” “Slow Show,” “I Need My Girl,” and “Runaway” to my list of favorite love songs.

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bheartwrites · 6 years

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Finding Hope || To Draenor Pt. IV

Original post date: 08/13/2016 (not revised, may be edited some time in the future). Posted for archival purposes.

Prologue | I | II | III | IV | V |

Three months trapped in some frozen hell, miles away from the world you grew up in was a nightmare Neo'la never knew she’d have to experience, and yet that’s where she found herself in this moment. She trodged through the snow, layers of furs and hexweave cloth piled on underneath her player armor. It’s not so bad, she tried to remind herself. After all, she had survived her entry onto Draenor, and reunited with her Lighttreader.

In the freezing, howling winds of Frostfire, it was the thought of him and their children that kept her warm.

Anandor’s scarred face was bright pink in the cold, fiery orange hair tied back into a messy bun. The fierce winds did him no favor in keeping his long hair out of his face. He kept silent during the trek through the snow, keeping a thick scarf wrapped around his mouth and neck, muffling the sounds of his heavy breaths. Frost coated his plate armor, and he suppressed his shivers as they continued. Trailing behind the elves were a few Frostwolf orcs native to the land, serving as a guide. The troll shaman and young orc warrior they had met upon their arrival on Draenor accompanied them, teeth chattering in the cold while the natives walked calmly as though it were a warm spring afternoon.

“Bladespire Citadel should be half a mile further,” One of the natives called out in a coarse voice, her thick Orcish accent lacing her words. “Stay alert. We may come across the ogres in the area.”

The young warrior, Naz'kal, grunted at the remark, keeping one hand on the hilt of his weapon and the other at the large sack of supplies he had slung over his shoulder. The troll beside him, Ryuk, lacked the sly grin he usually sported, instead gritting his teeth together in the cold. His staff held onto four sacks of supplies, hung on either end of the stick, balancing the weapon on the nape of his neck with both hands. They’d been out in the cold for much longer than comfort would allow, and longed to return back to the citadel to thaw out their toes beside a fire.

The four had lost their commanders upon arriving on Draenor, and as a result, had no direct orders from Azeroth to work off of. Ryuk and Naz'kal had been a part of another squad that came to Neo'la and Anandor’s rescue, boarding upon a ship with a collection of various other Horde survivors and sailing to Frostfire Ridge. With no commander or garrison to turn to, the group wandered independently, following the soldiers who did have a stable command center and partaking in freelance missions around the land. Unfortunately, they knew no mages powerful enough to send them home, nor send a letter back home, at least not a cheap one. They had all lost contact with their families, trapped on a savage planet with nowhere to go.

Despite not having a fully-equipped force, they made a good team together. Naz'kal, a nineteen year old orc, had been drafted into the war at the same time as Neo'la. His parents had died recently on Draenor, leaving him behind to tend to their small farm in Durotar. When the draft reached him, he accepted it without hesitation, hoping that somehow he would uphold his parents’ honor by finishing what they started. Ryuk never let on what his age was, though his eyes tell that he’s seen enough horror for a lifetime. He’s more silly, and often quite cynical at times, but his power in the elements and touch with nature has allowed them to endure many hardships. Anandor, despite having spent eight years as a slave, still had fire in him, and has vowed to protect their group from any harm that befalls them. And so far, they’re still alive.

Their main objective is to get to the heart of the Hellfire Citadel, and dismantle their power before it was too late. Anandor and his group of slaves were to be sent as fodder, an expendable group of lives solely for clearing a path for the Alliance to pass through. Out of the four of them, only Anandor and Ryuk knew what the ultimate goal at hand was. How to go about lending their aid without putting their lives in any more danger was still in question.

Fortunately, they had become close allies with the Frostwolf Clan. In the Bladespire Citadel, they were given food and shelter in exchange for working closely with them. They’ve spent the past few months here simply gathering resources for the clan and importing their goods to the forces in Tanaan.

For now, hauling sacks of cloth, meat, leathers and iron in the coming of a blizzard was their greatest enemy.

Neo'la pulled her satchel closer, glancing over at her allies. “At least we got everything we needed this time,” She says, hoping to lighten the mood. Naz'kal nodded, shivering wildly. She felt sympathy for him, as the orc was used to the Durotar desert and was no where near prepared for this harsh weather.

Ryuk rolled his eyes. “I know we doin’ good by haulin’ all dis stuff, but we need ta actually do somethin’ useful sooner or later.”

“This is good enough,” Anandor replied, an edge in his voice that gave the only sign of irritation. “I’d rather be out doing this than getting killed – or worse.”

“We be spendin’ all our time in Bladespire while others are out dyin’ for somethin’,” The shaman replied, adjusting the supplies he held. “It’s like our commanders died for nothin’.”

“No one dies without a cause, Ryuk,” One of the Frostwolves called out. A tall, aged orc woman trudged through the snow quickly, moving so that she walked beside the troll. Long black and grey hair was tied back into thick braids, and purple eyes that had seen enough for a lifetime looked past the others silently, judging them. The natives called her Deka the “Pack Leader”, and her very presence showed why. “You outlanders complain a lot more than I thought.”

Naz'kal shook his head. “He’s usually quiet. He’s just mad he has to carry so much.” The young orc said with a snicker.

Ryuk grumbled. “In my defense, anyone’d be upset about dat.”

Naz'kal snickered, and Ryuk continued sulking. There was still more land to cover, and the rest of the trek would certainly be filled with irritation. Anandor had had his face buried into his scarf before peeking up suddenly, a hand coming up instinctively to shield Neo'la. She stopped, bright eyes looking up at him as he squinted through the fog.

“What is it?” She asked, trying to follow his eyes. Immediately, the rest of the group was alert, slinging their luggage over their backs and unsheathing their weapons if available. Anandor’s teeth chartered against his will, but still, the hardened look of a warrior remained engrained into his freckled face.

“I think I hear… Listen…”

Everyone held still, listening intently. All that could be heard was the jingling of their supplies and the piercing winds that picked up with speed, and to the others, no danger seemed to be near. Neo'la and Anandor, however, knew this was not the case. Elves naturally have a keener sight and sharper hearing compared to the other races, and Neo'la realized what had been heard.

“Dere isn’t even anything–” Ryuk began, but was interrupted with a sharp ‘shush’ from Anandor. Deka stepped forward, spear in hand as she made her way to the paladin.

“We need to move, quickly,” Anandor said, turning around to the others with a sense of urgency. “Now.”

There wasn’t any hesitation made, and quickly the group set off in double time, most of whom struggled against the deep snow. Soon, the sound that Anandor heard began to intensify in its volume, and the group heard it at last. Distant, sharp howling, echoing in the frosty evening air, and coming closer.

They jogged through the snow, the fog thickening as a storm began to build, and they only barely saw the faint outline of the Citadel behind the swirling wall of pure white frost whirling around them. Heavy breaths could be heard from them, adding onto the sense of urgency. Anandor held his shield out, one he had forged himself, and moved quickly, staying close to Neo'la as he watched their backs. Anandor had only ever caught a glimpse of the wild wolves in Frostfire, and he certainly wasn’t in the mood to fend them off. The good thing, he figured, was that they aren’t too big, and though their bites could probably sever a limb in one try, it wouldn’t be too difficult to shake them off their tails, just simply tedious. And with the backing of a clan of orcs dedicated to the Frostwolves of the land, they didn’t have too much to worry about if they were caught in a pack of wild ones.

Oh, but Light, these are not Frostwolves.

They reached the edge of the ramp to the fortress, fatigue beginning to set in in some of their younger members. Snarling could be heard coming closer, and adrenaline rushed through their veins. Deka kept calm, however, and she gripped her spear tight as the pack of wolves began to make themselves clear. Anandor had only expected to see the familiar grey and white fur of the typical Frostwolf, but instead saw a massive figure of pitch black fur peak through the mist of snow. He held his shield up, channeling the Light through him, awaiting the next move as they made way up the ramp.

Suddenly, a massive wolf lunged out from the snow, as dark as the night, teeth bared and paws out, tackling down Naz'kal. The wolf slammed into the smaller orc, the both of them sliding across the snow and knocking over Ryuk. The black wolf seemed to be three times larger than the normal ones in the land, and for a brief moment, Anandor stood frozen in fear at the sight of such a beast.

Naz'kal gave out a shout, scrambling for his axe and smashing its flat side in the wolf’s snout to keep it from biting him. The natives that guided them quickly took action, their weapons in hand as they charged forth. The wolf backed off from the young warrior, rolling off with blood trickling down from its wounds. The wounded wolf leaped up, attempting to pounce at Deka. She stood without fear, her teeth bared as she leaped back, holding her spear upright as the massive worg landed on the weapon, the spear piercing through its thick hide and lodging in its throat. She rolled out from beneath the beast before it collapsed, twitching and staining the snow with its dark blood.

“Run! We won’t stand a chance against the nighthowlers’ alpha at this rate!” She shouted. Ryuk moved quick to the young warrior’s side, leaving behind some of the supplies he had been carrying. Naz'kal only suffered from dents in his armor and possibly some major bruising on his chest, but overall remained strong and alert, regaining balance with the help of the troll by his side.

More wolves began to appear from the dense snow, a much larger one leaping out to seize Anandor. He turned around only in time to see its mouth wide open and its cage of teeth coming near before a swirl of holy and shadow magic impaled it. The wolf’s warm blood splattered them, and he turned to see that Neo'la had the group surrounded with her magic, hands held up with grace as she kept a barrier around them.

“Please stay focused, Anan!” She cried out, turning to make sure the others were covered. Anandor shook his head to snap back to reality and held his shield ready, struggling for a moment to stay alert. Spears, arrows and blades whizzed through the air, and the snow stained a deep crimson in their wake. The other Frostwolf orcs fought fiercely, and their battlecries challenged that if the garn’s howling. In the midst of the battle, Ryuk pushed past the orcs, making his way to the back of the group and towards the wolves.

“Ryuk what are you doing?!” Naz'kal shouted.

“Got an idea!” He replied. “Don’t wait up, keep ya runnin’! I’ll be up wit ya real soon!”

Deka turned, seeing Ryuk run towards the wolves. He glanced back, and their eyes locked for a moment, and she made a move to follow him. He raised a hand and shook his head, pointing to the fortress. “I’ll hold dem off, ya keep dem safe. I’ll be fine.”

They kept running, and Deka barked commands at the others, shoving Naz'kal a few times so that he’d keep his eyes focused on the ramp ahead of them. The wolves turned their attention to the troll left behind, a whole dozen of the massive beasts closing in on him quickly.

Ryuk’s heavy breaths tormented his lungs with the freezing air, and his limbs felt heavy from the exhaustion. He raised his hands, closing his eyes to focus on his energy. The elements of this world were much different than Azeroth, and it had proven to be more difficult to connect with as a shaman. This wouldn’t stop him, he wouldn’t let it. The ground rumbled and cracked, snow seeping into the new crevices he bore into the earth. He lowered his body, sliding his foot forward across the snow, and he opened his eyes, just in time to see one wolf’s glaring yellow eyes inches away from his face. He shot up, his body straightening towards the sky, and the earth did the same, the land heaving up and launching the wolves back. He stretched his arms wide, and the earth followed, bending and shaping into a wall that closed off the entrance. The wolves snarled and scratched at the wall he had formed, and Ryuk stood there, arms raised and frozen in place. Slowly, a grin split across his features, and he jumped up, pounding his fists in the air as he gave a sharp cheer.

“Ho ho holy shit it worked!” He shouted, turning on his heel and slipping in the snow as he scrambled to meet up with the others. “It worked, oh ho it worked! Ohh someone shoulda seen dat!”

Back at the top of the fortress, the group had barely made it, and were met by some of the Frostwolf shaman. A rather tall orc, adorned in various furs and traditional beads emerged from the citadel, long, heavy braids flowing behind him as he met the bloodied group.

“What’s happened here?” The orc, Kadran asked, offering a hand to some of the injured warriors.

“Nighthowlers came out of their den a little sooner than we expected,” Deka replied. “We lost some of the supplies in the attack.”

“That’s fine, so long as everyone is alright and intact,” He says, looking over the lot of them. “Where’s the troll?”

She looked back, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “He stayed behind to fend off the wolves.”

Kadran nodded solemnly. “We’ll send a few down to find him. He’ll be honored, and–”

His voice was cut off short by the sound of sharp whistles and cheering echoing from the ramp. The orcs turned to the sounds, and saw the troll, covered in snow and splotches of blood leaping up from the ramp, tripping several times and using his hands to practically crawl on the ground. “Alive, alive! I’m here!” He shouted, a wide grin on his face as he ran towards them.

Deka grinned, and shouted something in Orcish before rushing out to meet him. She grabbed him and lifted him off the ground, carrying him back as he laughed. Neo'la couldn’t help but smile at the sight, and she was glad that no one was seriously injured.

Kadran waved his hands at Deka, urging her to put the shaman down. “Alright, let’s behave now,” He says, chuckling. “He might be injured, try not to add onto that. You might snap him in half.”

Ryuk jumped down, adjusting the leather he wore. “I’m fine mon,” He said casually. “I ah, I left behind some supplies. And ah, left a mess down at the ramp. I’ll clean it up later though!”

“It will be fine, I’m sure. Everyone, please come into the citadel, we’ll be shutting our doors very soon. A blizzard is on its way, and we’ll need all the rest we can get.”

The orcs around gathered the supplies that were delivered and took them to their respective places, ready for shipment in the morning. Inside, fires were already set, and the shaman within took the injured with them for healing sessions. Neo'la and Anandor simply made their way to their designated rooms, weary and exhausted from the day’s work.

Neo'la squeezed Anandor’s hand, looking up at him. “Are you alright, love?”

He pressed his lips together for a moment. “Yes, I’m fine. Just… tired.”

“Anan, don’t lie to me, please. Something’s been bothering you, I can tell.”

He gave a heavy sigh, using his free hand to untangle the scarf around him. “It’s probably not something you can help.”

She frowned, and they turned a corner, fingers locked together as they entered a small shack where they slept. Inside was a bed made of various furs and leathers pressed to the left side of the wall, and another door at the right was left ajar, showing their water supply used for bathing. At the back of the room was a fireplace, and already the coals and wood there had been lit by the courtesy of an anonymous orc, giving the room a lovely heat to return to. They released each other, and Neo'la shut the door gently behind them.

“Anan,” She said, turning around slowly. His ears folded back as her gaze met his, and he gave a playful whine.

“Don’t give me that look…” He said, glinting with humor. But she knew him well enough to know that it was a facade. And of course, he knew the same. The paladin sighed again, and he dropped his attention to his breastplate, unbuckling the armor. “Neo, I can’t… I don’t know what to say.”

She came to his side, gentle as always, her touch so soft it was as if she were afraid he’d shatter if too much force was used. It was the presence he had always loved and adored, her aura always made him feel safe, and yet, after years of being without it, he couldn’t fully enjoy it.

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” She says, pain and concern easily heard in her low voice. “I’ve never seen you freeze up in battle like that before. It keeps happening, I can’t continue to pretend you’re fine.”

“But what if I need you to?” He responds, turning his head to look at her. “I don’t want it to distract you, Neo'la, I need you to please, just turn a blind eye to it for now.”

She frowned, and cupped his cheeks in her hands, her thumbs carefully tracing his scars as she gazed into his eyes. “Love, you know I can’t do that. I want to help you. And if you really think I can just turn a 'blind eye’ to this, then you must’ve forgotten who I am.”

He knows she meant well, but still, those last words stung. She could be right, and the thought frightened him. She must’ve noticed too, because she quickly searched for a way to backtrack. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean–”

“I know, it’s fine.”

He removed his armor, changing out of the leather he wore beneath it. She did the same, disposing her messy plate armor into a basket by the door. She’d wake up early to clean them off later. At the moment, her limbs were sore, and it was exhausting to simply lift her legs to get out of her leggings.

“You know,” Neo'la began, sliding into a thick shirt. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. You can talk to me, always, remember that.”

He didn’t respond. He stayed quiet, pretending to be immensely focused on changing into something more comfortable. She frowned, but continued anyways.

“We used to talk for hours on end. I’d tell you about my family, my doubts, and you would always have something so bright and cheery to say to help me. I would listen to you talk passionately about the stars, the lights in the sky I never even dared to look up at. You’d tell me of your youth, your loss, and in turn, I’d always try to help somehow. Always, Anandor, we have always been open. I’m just… I can’t help but worry about you. You don’t talk anymore, it… it scares me.”

She plopped down on the bed, hands in her lap. She turned to look at him, and saw him simply standing there, eerily silent. She turned away, her chest aching.

“I’m sorry, Anan. Maybe I shouldn’t keep prodding, it’s okay, if you don’t want to talk. I just want the best for you.”

He finally moved, turning to see her back facing him. Her ears drooped down, and her posture was slumped over. He didn’t want to hurt her, but it seemed either way, damage would be done. What she said was true, and that was an undeniable fact. They always talked, never had secrets. Their bond and trust had always been so strong, and their deep understanding for one another allowed much liberty in their relationship in comparison to others. So much so that they even agreed it would be fine to have other lovers on the side, and partake in promiscuity so long as they always returned to each other, and focused on their family above all else.

Ever since he reunited with her, however, things seemed to be different. He told her the night they reunited what had happened to him, showed her his scars and allowed himself to be vulnerable. Since then, however, he didn’t want to talk. Slowly, he’d been closing up, guarded and quiet towards everyone, and lately, it was beginning to take a toll on him. Now, he was beginning to question whether or not he’s in the right for guarding himself this way.

He looked down at the shirt he held and tossed it aside, quietly slinking over to the bed. He sat behind Neo'la, wrapping his arms around her and pulled her in close to his bare chest. She nuzzled into him, and he rested his head on her shoulder gently. “I’m sorry Neo. For everything. All I’ve ever wanted was to protect you. All my life, I’ve devoted myself to helping out as much as a could, I became a guard, a Paladin of Protection, and still I can’t seem to hold anything together.”

“That is not your fault, Anandor,” She said softly, tilting her head to look at him. “You cannot carry that burden, love. It is not yours to bear.”

“You can’t say that. You can’t. If I hadn’t fallen those years ago, I would’ve still been with you and the girls. You wouldn’t be here in Draenor, I wouldn’t have let them take you. We wouldn’t be trapped up here, freezing every night and standing at Death’s front doorstep.” His grip around her tightened, and she could feel him tremble. “And Andria… where would she be if not… i-if not–”

“Stop.”

Neo'la pulled away, turning herself so that she faced him better. She placed her hands on his cheeks, the warmth of her palms shocking him for a brief moment. Light, he’d been so cold without her, and his chest hurt from the feeling. He almost couldn’t tell if it was his heart that ached or his scars. He looked at her, gazing into that friendly minty glow of her eyes, seeing the years of pain that had weighed down on her soul within those orbs. Something flashed, and his sight became blurred, and in an instant the warmth left him. He scrambled backwards suddenly, falling off the bed and frantically crawling to the back of the room. Neo'la reached out for him, but his eyes seemed far, and she wasn’t even sure if he was seeing her.

“Anan…?” She says cautiously, pain in her voice. She moved to him, slowly, but he backed away as she came near. “Anandor, please, I’m not going to hurt you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, his body trembling intensely. “D-Don’t…” He whispered, barely audible. “Please, I can’t, I-I don’t know, I don’t know anymore, I don’t know…”

Neo'la’s eyes welled up with tears as she retreated from him, kneeling by him, helpless. “Don’t know what?”

“I don’t know!” He shouted out, his voice strained. “I don’t know what’s real anymore, I can’t tell, it doesn’t feel real!”

It wasn’t often that he cried, not that she could recall. Often times, he was hardened, and rarely ever let tears fall, even when they were mourning. But here, he sat huddled near the fire, his voice breaking and tears beginning to stream from his eyes. The effort he put in to try to suppress them was painfully clear, and it hurt her to see him like this.

Not a damn thing she could do about it.

“Let me help you,” She said, her voice sounding more like a plea. “Please. This isn’t… this isn’t right.”

He dared to open his eyes, and he struggled to see her, despite being only a few feet away. “It all feels like a dream, it doesn’t feel real. The snow, the wolves, your eyes, your warmth, the boat, it doesn’t feel like it’s really there.” He held out his hands, reaching out for her before freezing, and retreating, wrapping his arms around himself instead. “I can’t touch you, I just feel you slipping away. How do I even know you’re here? How can I know for sure I didn’t just make it up? H-How do I know I’m still not in my cell, huddled in the corner, praying to the Light to go home?”

His body shook with bitter laughter, a smile spread across his face that didn’t belong there. “Oh, Light, how do I know if I’m even alive? N-Neo, Neo'la my love, please, I… Are… Are you even… real…?”

Neo'la whimpered, and didn’t hesitate in moving to him, throwing her arms around him tightly. He cringed, almost fearful of the warmth that dared to reach him. She held him close to her, shaking with sobs that threatened to arise.

“You’re alive, Anandor, it’s real, baby, please don’t say such things,” She murmured, gently running her hands through his hair. “You’re safe here, I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you like this again, dalah'surfal.”

He held onto her tightly, as if clinging on for dear life. “I’m so scared, Neo, I can’t lose you again. It’s so hard… I don’t… I can’t…”

She held him close, her chest heavy with sorrow. She wanted him to know– No, she needed him to know that it was real. His wounds were deep, and he lay in her arms now, bleeding out all the anguish that had buried itself deep within him.

She hummed quietly, recalling one of the old hymns of the Light she knew by heart. She rocked with him, moving to the slow tune of the melody, her hands beginning to glow with the Light. She brought his chin up, making him look up at her, and she placed her hands at his temples, allowing the golden swirls of Light flow through him. In the next moment, both of their eyes changed to the same gold glow, the Light creating a link through them.

Neo'la had opened up a part of her mind to him using the Light. She showed him her memories, the day they met, their long walks and talks, how she gazed at him from afar, how she held him, and how she loved him. In the Light, there is no lying – only the truth may be seen with its power. And for the first time, Anandor caught a glimpse of how she truly felt about him, how she cared, how she loved. His chest felt warm, and he was no longer afraid. At last, he learned how she saw the world in her eyes, and Light, did it make him love her even more.

The Light faded, and they returned to each other, both messy and hardly presentable. His eyes were red and puffy, her hair was a wild mess, and both lay on the floor near the fire. He wasn’t even wearing a shirt. And yet, they both smiled, embracing each other once more. They’d never be the same. Too much had happened to the both of them to be the same. But that didn’t mean they would stop loving, didn’t mean that they wouldn’t find a way to keep each other safe and intact.

They’re not the same couple they used to be, but love is hard to kill.

Neo'la planted a soft kiss on his lips, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve spent so much time thinking about others, Anan, I don’t think you ever stopped to think about yourself.”

He pressed his forehead against hers, keeping her close to him. “You are my world, Neo'la. I… I just want the best for you.”

“You’ve done enough, love. I think you’ve earned a break by now.” Their free hands intertwined, thumbs caressing their calloused skin. “Let me return the favor, my Lighttreader. I will protect you, and I won’t let you lose anymore. We will find our way off this planet, and we will be home, back to our children once more.

"Together.”

He smiled, wrapping his arms around her thin frame tightly. “Together.”

That night, they slept closer than ever, warm with each other’s heat. And for the first time in many long years, Anandor’s dreams were without nightmares.

–

A loud knock at the door startled Anandor awake. He groaned, carefully unwrapping his wife’s arms from around his torso before standing up. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, opening the door sluggishly.

“Hmm–?”

Naz'kal stood at the door, clad in light armor that bore the Frostwolf symbol. His black hair spilled over his shoulders messily, and his false tusk wasn’t even on. It seemed as though he had woken up not so long ago.

“Ah, sorry!” The young orc said, raising his hands slightly. “Hope I didn’t star– uh Kadran wants everyone out in the main room quick. It’s important, you might want to see this.”

Anandor nodded. “No worries, thank you. We’ll be out as soon as possible.”

Naz'kal gave a short bow and scurried off, and Anandor quickly moved to Neo'la.

“Wake up, love. Something’s come up.”

–

The main center of the citadel was filled with the inhabitants of the keep. The native orcs and their snow white wolves stood at the outside of the circle of people that formed near the stone throne. Azerothians, still weary from yesterday’s work, waited anxiously for the head shaman to arrive. Neo'la huddled in her thick cloak, glancing over at the others. The natives wore scowls, faces scrunched in worry while her comrades seemed rather clueless. At last, Kadran trudged out and made his way to the front of the group, a heavy silence falling over the small crowd as he took his stand. The elderly shaman’s murky chestnut eyes glossed over every face before he began to speak.

“Thank you for gathering here. Apologies for such an early meeting, but we’ve just received word back from our chieftain in Gorgrond.”

“Durotan?” Anandor whispered, leaning in to listen. Neither Anandor nor Neo'la had encountered, or even seen the chieftain and his wife, only having heard stories of their strength and prowess. They’d been out, scouring other areas of Draenor to lend their efforts in the war.

“Our forces in Gorgrond are suffering losses at the hands of both the Iron Horde and the botani. We need to send small scout groups to help lend them our aid with the conflict.” He straightened his back, the beads in his hair jingled softly as they dangled from his shoulders. “Most of you probably haven’t been anywhere outside of Frostfire, and I understand. It will be a dangerous mission, but we need volunteers to venture out.”

Almost immediately, several Frostwolves shot their hands up, proud and ready to give their weapons for their chieftain. Neo'la put a hand on Anandor’s shoulder excitedly, grabbing his attention quickly. Wide eyes filled with wonder and met his weary gaze, and she leaned close.

“Let’s do it.” She said in a hushed tone, though her enthusiasm was still clear. He pressed his lips in a thin line.

“I don’t know, it’s dangerous, Neo,” He said, running his hand through his messy hair. “It just… we don’t know what’s even there.”

“We don’t know what’s here either!” She retorted. “Just being here is dangerous in itself. If we’re going to be stuck up here, we’d might as well see what this world has to offer us.”

Anandor gave a small laugh. “You’re starting to sound a a lot like Ryuk now.” He jested.

She shrugged. “Well, maybe he was right about something.”

Kadran began to pick various volunteers, and Neo'la gave another nudge to Anandor.

“Come on, let’s go. We’re strong, we’ll survive.” She said. She’d always been adventurous, always curious for what’s out there. Often times it was that trait that made them both a good pair, as they both were daring enough to venture out where no one should, just to test to see if they could. Now, fear had moved in and replaced his carefree attitude, and it could either save him, or destroy him.

But perhaps… perhaps Gorgrond could be their key out of this place. He was tired of the snow anyways.

“Okay,” He said at last, raising his hand with a nod. “Let’s do it.”

She grinned and raised her hand as well, and Kadran beckoned them forward. The two elves made their way up to the front of the crowd, standing tall with the other volunteers. Neo'la peered over, and could see Ryuk with a cheeky grin on the other side of the elderly shaman, giving the elves an approving look.

Naz'kal had remained silent throughout the meeting, but after seeing his comrades join the volunteers, he raised his hand too. Kadran raised a brow, looking to the young orc.

“Naz'kal, there is much honor in your blood to offer yourself,” Kadran said, making his way down to the younger one. “But I do not think I can bring myself to send you there.”

“But Farseer!” Naz'kal protested, rising to his feet. “I’m perfectly capable of wielding an axe, and I can fend for myself! Surely others have seen I’m not useless on the field!”

Some of the natives scowled at how his tone towards the shaman, but Kadran simply waved his hand. “You’ve proven yourself, this I know, but Gorgrond may be too dangerous for you. I would prefer to send more experienced warriors out.”

Naz'kal’s azure eyes darted to the others before he focused back on the shaman. “Well, I’ve been… learning the blade since I was eight.”

Kadran chuckled. “How old are you now?”

“Nineteen summers. Twenty by this year.”

The shaman nodded. “You are very young, and it would pain me to send regards to your family should you fall.”

Naz'kal shook his head. “My parents came through the portal a few months ago. They fell in battle, died with honor here against the Iron Horde. I want to honor them, and finish what they started. I’ve nothing but a small farm to return to, perhaps the boar would miss me, but there would be no tragedy in my loss.” He stood tall, puffing his chest out like a proud warrior. “I wish to join the others in Gorgrond.”

Kadran gave a heavy sigh and placed his hand on Naz'kal’s shoulder. “There is a tragedy in every loss, young one. Do not lose sight of your worth. I will let you go, but do not be reckless with your life.” He turned away before Naz'kal could thank him, approaching the other volunteers. “There will be two groups that will meet in Beast Watch. From there, you will be greeted by one of our Laughing Skull allies, and the groups will split.”

Kadran began to point to several warriors, appointing them to their squads. “Deka, Terrum, Mau'lu, Liko and Ryuk, you five will be tasked with taking care of the Blackrock in the north. Rashila, Neo'la, Anandor, Katu, and Naz'kal, you will be tasked with holding the defenses against the botani in the region. We’ll prepare the rylaks to take you there this afternoon. I expect the rest of the clan to be prepared should our chieftain require more reinforcements.” The shaman turned towards the designated fighters with a grin. “Now, get armored, feast, and be prepared for this afternoon’s ride. And dress lightly. It’s much warmer and dryer in Grogrond than it is here.”

–

Neo'la and her group sat around a fire, quietly eating the roasted clefthoof and boar meat the clan provided them. They’d leave within the hour, and Neo'la couldn’t help but feel excited. There was something about the journey ahead that made her feel jittery, like a child going to a new park for the first time. She scolded herself for daring to smile at such a grim time like this, but she couldn’t help but feel that this was merely a ticket out of this world, an opportunity to finally escape and be free. The bright side served itself up on a silver platter, and there was no way in fel she would want to miss out on any opportunity.

If there was even the barest chance of getting out of here alive, she would have to take it despite the odds.

Naz'kal quietly stalked towards Neo'la, his own food in hand as he tried to very subtly sit next to her. Of course, his own awkwardness and shy smile made it all the more obvious.

“Its okay, now,” Neo'la said, offering a warm smile to the orc. “Just have a seat, I won’t bite.”

Naz'kal gave a small smile and sat down on the log beside her. “Ah, thanks. Hope I’m not bothering.”

“No, not at all,” She reassured. The young orc fiddled with the metallic tusk he wore in place of one he lost, looking up at the elf curiously.

“How come you volunteered?” He asked. “I remember you telling me a while ago you have children at home, why… why volunteer?”

Neo'la wiped her hands on a small cloth as she pondered the question. “Well… Aren’t you tired of the snow? It’s about time we go out and explore, yes?”

Naz'kal shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but why…” He shook his head. “I don’t want to sound rude, but why risk your life?”

Neo'la looked up, seeing Anandor and their orcish ally Katu sharpen their weapons. She was silent for a moment, then leaned close to Naz'kal and spoke in a hushed tone.

“I can’t stay on this dreaded planet any longer,” She said. “I don’t belong here. I did everything in my power to stay home. I’m needed there, and by the Light, I’ve learned that I have so much more to protect. Grogrond may very well be our chance to escape.”

The orc’s eyes widened. “Escape?”

She tugged his arm. “Hush, not so loud.” She ushered, glancing up to see if they caught any attention. “Gorgrond is another step closer to Tanaan. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’ll find a way out and back to the portal. I’ll find something. Or not. All I know is that we won’t get anywhere if we stay here.”

He nodded, looking up at Anandor. “While I do think it’s… a noble goal, I don’t think the clan would appreciate outrunners.”

“True. And it pains me to deceive those who had given us a chance to live, but a sacrifice needs to be made. Perhaps not today, but eventually.” She pulled away and sat normally, changing her tone. “Only the future may judge me. Would you like to come with us?”

He sputtered, scrambling for words. “Me, wait, come, like– go with you?”

She nodded, taking a sip from her drink quietly. “You’re young, you’ve too much to live for to waste away here.”

He shook his head. “No no, there’s… not anything for me. Here my actions take meaning, a-and hold honor. I signed up for this, it’s… what I want to do.”

“I see.” She stood up and dusted herself off, attempting to keep herself clean and presentable as always. “Anything planned for when the war is over?”

Naz'kal paused, opening his mouth to speak, but shutting it shortly after. He scratched his cheek, pondering the question. “Uh… N-No, nothing. I… don’t know what I want to do. Maybe become a grunt. Or just… stay at the farmstead. Or move to Mulgore. I don’t know.”

“Well, if ever you’d like, you have a home with us. We’ll take you in if ever you need a place to call home.”

Naz'kal’s eyes brightened, and he sat up straighter. “Do you really mean that?”

She gave a warm smile and gently rested her hand on his shoulder. “Of course. Now, we’ll just have to focus on surviving this first.”

–

“First time rylak rider I assume?” The tall orc Rashila called out to Anandor. Deep umber skin glistened by the light of the fires nearby. Her equipment and leather armor strapped around her comfortably, strong muscles shown clearly from beneath. She held the reigns of the massive rylak beside her tightly, smirking at the elf with amusement.

Anandor, having been struggling with keeping the two-headed beast from lashing out at him, stumbled back and turned to give Rashila an exasperated look. “Yeah. Never dealt with these before, kinda– Gah!” The rylak rammed its wing into the elf, knocking him a few feet away from the beast. He slid across the snow on his rear before the momentum finally gave him peace, and he flopped on his back, defeated. Rashila clutched her gut, laughing in a loud, wheezy manner as she watched the comical display, and Anandor couldn’t help but chuckle as well.

“You’re being too cautious with her!” The orc said, stooping over to yank Anandor off the ground and onto his feet by his shoulder. He flinched at her touch, stumbling a bit as he regained his footing. This prompted another laugh from her, and she simply pat his back in response. “You’re too soft, it doesn’t trust a weak rider. You have to hold it by the reigns tightly, show it who’s the alpha. It’s a beast, don’t forget that. If it believes it can overpower you, it will.”

Rashila, clearly knowing no real boundaries, proceeded to grab the elf by his arm and drag him back to the rylak. He tried to brush her off, but her iron grip would not falter unless he stood exactly where she wanted. She let go, and approached the beast, turning back to Anandor with a smirk.

“Watch closely.”

Turning back to the unruly beast, she stood tall, baring her teeth as the rylak snarled and attempted to bite her. She grabbed the reigns, holding them short and yanked them close to her, forcing the rylak’s heads to face her just inches away. They growled and roared, sharp cages of teeth dangerously close to the orc, but Rashila did not falter. Her face was stone, her dark eyes tearing deep into the rylak’s ego. Even Anandor felt her energy, but watched, fully enticed in the display he saw. The rylaks bowed their heads down in defeat, the beast’s entire posture retreating into a submissive stance. She continued staring at them, looming over them before finally nodding in satisfaction. She beckoned Anandor to her side.

“Come come, this is where you’ll reestablish yourself.”

He stepped forward, and immediately the rylak’s heads shot up to glare at him. He didn’t cower back, and Rashila gave a loud grunt that startled the beast enough to behave. She gave a tug at the reigns to catch their attention, then handed them to Anandor.

“Hold them tightly. Here, I’m showing them the pass of power, of dominance to you. You’re not weak, so don’t let them see weakness.”

He nodded, and gripped the reigns tightly as she had demonstrated, and the beast glared at him, nostrils flaring with puffs of hot air. He held their gaze, and Rashila watched in amusement as the rylak finally backed down.

“There, that’s good!” She huffed proudly. “You act so cautious around all the beasts around here. I can only imagine how soft and sensitive the creatures on your world must be.”

He gave a short laugh. “Well, normally if you take a step wrong, you’ll startle them.”

“Pah. You all just seem so soft, it’s quite funny.”

“We are not soft.” Anandor said, turning to her slowly. “Just different.”

A high pitched squeal was heard, followed by a guttural roar, and both the orc and the elf turned to the commotion. Just behind them, it seemed that even Neo'la was struggling with the rylak, and had called into the snow while the beast beat its wings in a proud manner. Rashila barked a laugh, smacking Anandor’s shoulder with the back of her hand.

“See?” She giggled. “Soft.”

Anandor rolled his eyes and moved to Neo'la’s side, helping her up while the rest of the group prepared their supplies.

“Are you alright? Did you get hurt?” He asked, ready to scoop her up in his arms if need be. She brushed him off, giddy with laughter.

“Oh no no, I’m fine!” She assured, grabbing onto his arm as she stood. “Light, you know how I am with this kind of stuff.”

“You’re shaking, are you sure you’re alright?”

“You worry too much. I’ve never been good with anything that’s not a hawkstrider or feline.” She joked. “Light where did Aliya get her gift from if I’m so useless.”

It was true, after all. No matter what anyone did to help her, she could never fly anything. The only beasts that ever let her near were hawkstriders and very specific horses, but everything else? Not a chance they’ll let her near. That, plus the fact that she had little skill in flying made her the worst candidate for someone to take the reigns in the sky.

Rashila made her way to them, glancing over at Neo'la. “I’ll safely assume that this one needs training too.”

Neo'la shook her head. “The rylak is fine, I think it was just me.”

Rashila chuckled. “Oh I know. I wasn’t talking about the beast.”

Neo'la frowned, but faked a laugh. “Oh well, I think it’ll be best that I ride with Anan. Save space and time. I’m sure we’ll fit, elves are quite small anyways.”

Rashila looked unimpressed, but nodded anyways. “If that works then go ahead, but if you fall off that’s not on us.”

Anandor looked back and forth between the two women, scrunching his brows together. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“You better be.” Rashila’s voice dropped low, and she closed the distance between them, making sure only the elves would hear her and not any bystanders. “You two volunteered for this, but I have little faith that you’re even capable of coming out of this alive. Do not drag us down on this mission. I despise the idea of losing someone out of your recklessness, so don’t let it happen.”

Anandor grimaced, but Neo'la simply smiled. “Oh you’ve not to worry about,” Neo'la said, placing a tender hand on the orc’s shoulder. “We’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

Rashila snorted, partly because she didn’t believe them, and partly because she was bald. “We’re leaving in a few minutes. Be ready. Gorgrond will eat you alive if you slip.”

They split ways, and the elves made their way to the rylak. The moment Rashila was out of earshot, Anandor turned to Neo'la.

“You’re acting really strange, Neo, it’s worrying me.”

“I already told you, I’m–”

“Please don’t lie to me.”

Neo'la puffed her cheeks, evading his gaze before turning to the rylak that eyed them curiously. “We need to get mounted up and be ready to take off. Once we’re in the skies, we’ll have time to talk.”

Anandor nodded. “Whatever works.”

–

“You want to do what?!”

One of the rylak’s heads gave out a screech in response to Anandor’s outburst. Neo'la wrapped her arms and legs around the paladin’s torso tightly, quickly glancing at the rest of their group who had taken to the skies with them.

“Light, not so loud, Anan!” Neo'la ushered, giving him a squeeze. Luckily, the others were too occupied with flying in the correct direction than to pay any attention to the elves.

“Neo, love, these people have done so much for us, and you want to just leave them in their time of need?” Anandor snapped. “Is this what you volunteered for?”

“Anan, I know this probably isn’t my best idea, but one way or another, we need to get home.”

“And at what cost? You couldn’t have just asked them for help?”

She paused, and he huffed angrily.

“I don’t believe this.”

“Anan, we were wronged!” Neo'la said through grit teeth. “You and I, we should have never been on Draenor. We’d be at home, safe with the kids. You know this. This wasn’t meant to happen.”

“Well… it happened. And that’s a fact.”

“Which is why we need to find a way– any way out of here. Do you not want to go home?”

“That’s not what this is about, Neo'la. My problem is they are counting on us to lend our aid, and we’re letting them down. It’s not right.”

“When is anything ever? In war, you have to do whatever it takes–”

“There is honor, and there are morals!” He interrupted, his brows scrunched together in anger. “Even in war one must find any way they can to do what’s right. I can’t believe you would suggest this.”

Neo'la pressed her lips together. He was right, that she would admit, but to stay on Draenor for so long was taking its toll. After last night, she had come to the conclusion that she had to get them home. She didn’t want them to suffer longer than needed.

Anandor sighed. “We will get off this planet, that I can promise. But we’ll have to find a better way of doing so.”

“Let’s just hope that better way doesn’t lie years in our future.”

–

The next few hours of the ride were fairly silent after that. Anandor focused on guiding the beast while Neo'la was left to her own thoughts. She watched as the Bladespire Citadel became a dot on the horizon, masked by the same icy blue snow that coated the lands. The air around them changed in temperature, significantly growing warmer as they left Frostfire. Neo'la was left in awe at the sight of Gorgrond, catching glimpses of the lush forests that dotted various areas of the foreign land. Other wild rylak flew over their heads, soaring high above the mountains with deadly grace, and for a brief, fleeting moment, she almost wished she could stay in this world, just for the beauty of it.

“Down there!” One of their party members, Katu shouted, pointing down at a small camp in the thicket of trees. “Prepare to land there. Careful of the trees.”

Neo'la watched as the other three’s rylaks swooped down to their objective. On her left, she could hear the second group Kadran designated making their descent as well. Her heartbeat sped up, excitement kicking in as they neared the ground, so much so that she was able to ignore the gut-wrenching feeling of the flight. Various orcs, most wearing intimidating skull masks met them as they landed. Anandor helped Neo'la off the rylak, and soon their designated group met up with the others beneath the shade of the massive trees.

“Durotan and Draka will be here to meet you shortly,” One of the masked female orcs stated. “We’ll tell the others of your arrival.”

Rashila stalked over to the elves, wrapping her strong arms suddenly around both of them, resulting in the couple jumping up in surprise.

“Welcome to Gorgrond!” She shouted happily, running her hand through Anandor’s hair, much to his dismay.

Neo'la attempted to slink out of her iron grip subtly, but Rashila wouldn’t budge. “Right, yes, let’s uh, have some space to stretch please, yes?”

“Bah, you two are such mood crushers,” Rashila snorted, giving a pat on Neo'la’s back before stalking away. Anandor rubbed his neck, brows furrowed together in irritation.

“She’s never going to let us be, is she?” He mumbled in Thalassian.

“She’ll get tired eventually.” Neo'la assured, reaching over to fix her husband’s messy hair.

“Let’s just hope this goes over smoothly. I’d rather not cause trouble with Rashila, since she knows these lands well.” He turned to face his wife, tenderly placing a hand on her cheek. “We’re here to fend off the botani, nothing more, okay?”

Neo'la didn’t respond, puffing her cheeks. “Don’t move, you made me mess up your ponytail.”

“Light, Neo, don’t avoid–”

“They’re here!”

Neo'la and Anandor snapped to attention, taken aback in awe as the powerful chieftains rode in. Neo'la had only ever seen paintings and heard stories of Durotan, but never did she ever expect to see him in his prime. The moment he and Draka arrived, their domineering presence was immediately felt, raw power emanating from their stance alone. The sunlight filtered through the leaves of the treetops shone on them in a warm light, highlighting the beads of sweat around powerful muscles. They came to a halt before the two groups, dismounting their wolves quickly as they scanned the crowd. They were tall, towering over the other orcs with pride. Anandor, having been used to being up to par with other orcs due to his unusual height, felt rather dwarfed by the chieftains. Fel, even Draka stood taller than him.

Durotan scanned the crowd, seeming hopeful as he made his observations. “Assuming this is our back up?”

Deka stepped forward, admiration and respect clear in her eyes. “That we are,” She said, glancing over at Rashila as she stepped forth. “My group’s to take care of the Blackrock in the area, and Rashila’s for the botani. This is all we can send for now, since it was short notice.”

Draka nodded. “This will do. We’ll be sure to thank Kadran for the quick response. Deka, your group will follow Durotan up north. We’ve managed to dismantle enough of their troops, so it’ll just be cleaning up the mess.” She turned towards Rashila’s group, quickly scanning over the elves with a small smile. “You’ll be following me. I won’t be fighting along your side the whole time, but I’ll leave you with a few of our Laughing Skull allies before we depart.”

Rashila grinned widely, saluting Draka. “It will be an honor regardless.”

“Good. Let’s get going.”

–

The groups had split up soon after, with Neo'la’s designated group following Draka on foot. Various creatures flew past them, and the sun beat down relentlessly on them. It was clear that the Frostwolves were struggling with the heat, understandably, since they were accustomed to freezing temperatures, but for the elves and Naz'kal (Naz having grown up in Durotar), it was just pleasant weather for them. The ground was soft with the lush green leaves that covered the entire surface, and large, twisted branches hung wildly, wrapped around other plants and trees with their own buds and flowers sprouting. It was beautiful in its own way, though it clashed with the entire aesthetic Neo'la had known. She wondered if Draenor had the same seasons as Azeroth, if it knew spring or summer, or how long they were. Light, how long were the years here? She’d been so focused on the missions at hand that she never even stopped to think about the details of this world.

The bushes beside them rustled, and Katu, a rather short, red-haired orc held a spear in hand tightly, his stance steady as he listened for the threat. To the average orc, Katu would appear quite weak, given his physique and lack of tusks. He was born the runt of a family of six, standing simply five feet five inches. Since he keeps quiet about his personal matters, he’s said only that his tusks were stolen from him by another clan, but never went into detail about it. Fel, every time he was confronted about it, the story would actually change a little each time, leaving most to wonder what really had happened. Still, Katu had proven himself to be a fierce hunter, quiet and observant, and often a tactical advantage when it came to times like these.

The rest of the group stopped and stayed on guard, and a small lizard-like creature crawled out of the bushes. Anandor chuckled and lowered his weapon.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” He said, gesturing to the creature. “Just a little–”

A branch snapped and a massive humanoid seeming to be made purely of tree bark stepped in view, targeting Anandor first. It raised its massive arm, glowing with some strange energy, and attempted to strike at the paladin. Anandor sidestepped the move quickly, his shield raised enough to fend off the beast. Or plant. Whatever the fel this thing is. He raised his sword, and the walking tree whirred around to strike at the others. Shadowy tendrils wrapped around the creatures feet, crawling up its skin, picking and prying away at its carapace and shell. Katu swooped in, lodging his spear through the creature’s abdomen. It shouted out in pain, but soon, the light in its eyes faded, and it collapsed to the ground.

“What the fel was that?!” Neo'la shouted, backing away as the thing fell.

Rashila laughed heartily, much to Draka’s disapproval. “These…” Draka said, gesturing to the fallen creature with her axe. “These are the botani.”

“Dear Light, I didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t that.” Anandor laughed.

“Welcome to Gorgrond.” Rashila repeated.

“Most botani aren’t easy to take down,” Draka stated, beckoning the group. “Best get moving before more of them come. Stay close and don’t get arrogant. Up ahead are our other forces. You’ll hold the lines with them until the work we have is finished. Hopefully by tomorrow you’ll be able to return home.”

Neo'la frowned slightly. How I wish that were true…

They followed Draka through the greenery until they finally came across a makeshift fence near a swirl of thorned branches. Several other orcs, both Frostwolf and Laughing Skull were already situated, keeping a close eye on their surroundings.

“This is your post for now,” Draka said, gesturing ahead. “One of the outland generals are expecting my presence to locate some sort of artifact, so I’ll be departing now. Stay strong, and fight like a pack.”

Rashila nodded, giving a short bow. “Stay safe.”

She made haste through the thicket, and soon disappeared in all of the leaves and trees. Anandor turned his attention to the others, regarding them curiously.

“There a problem, Nan?” Rashila asked, sharpening her axe with a rock she found on the floor.

“Yeah, no, uh,” He cleared his throat. “What do we know about those botani? Anything we should be wary of, or… what? We weren’t told much…”

Katu perked up, waving his hand to catch their attention. “Don’t let them touch you,” He said. “They’re known to take and corrupt our kind, even draenei. They mutate their bodies and turn them more like them. Like plants.”

“Yeah,” Rashila nodded. “Transform your entire body like another botani. It’s what they do when they need numbers. They take ours.”

Naz'kal’s eyes widened at this, and the young orc stepped forward. “They just change you into a tree? That can’t be right.”

“Oh it is,” Katu said, nodding. “I’ve seen it. Vines sprout out from your body and your skin starts growing bark.”

“Eventually you even forget who you are.” Rashila added.

Anandor pressed his lips into a thin line. “Well, surely they can be cured… right?”

Katu shook his head. “Not that we know. Once they snatch you, that’s it.”

“That’s why it’s important we stay here and keep them at bay,” Rashila stated. “Can’t let that happen to our chieftains.”

Silence fell over the group soon after, and Katu and Rashila mingled amongst the others that they were familiar with. Naz'kal, awkward as always, slinked over to Neo'la’s side.

“Are you still going to do the thing?” He asked in a hushed tone. Of course, the comment certainly did not escape Anandor’s hearing, and he turned around immediately.

“What thing?” He asked.

Naz'kal jumped back, scrambling for words. “No thing! Nothing!”

Anandor squinted. “Neo…”

“We already talked about it Anan,” Neo'la said, waving a hand. “I already told you I won’t.”

“Why did you tell Naz about it?”

The orc backed away a little, hiding behind Neo'la. Anandor sighed. “I’m not mad at you Naz. I just don’t want people thinking we’re traitors or something.”

“Well uh, I was…” Naz'kal dropped his hands to his side, swinging them a bit. “Ah, never mind, sorry for bothering.”

“No no it’s fine,” Neo'la assured, gently dragging the orc back. Light she could see the agitation building up on her husband’s face, and confrontation was not something she needed to deal with right now. Not now. She needed more time to think, assess the land, find an advantage somewhere somehow. “What were you going to say?”

Naz'kal shuffled awkwardly, glancing up to give Anandor an apologetic look. “About the mutated orcs they were talking about… I don’t know, it’s kind of stupid now that I think about it more.”

Anandor quirked a brow. “What of them?”

“Well… I just feel… uncomfortable by the idea. I don’t know if it’s right to just know that somewhere in this growth someone is suffering against their will. It feels wrong to just sit here when someone probably needs help.”

Neo'la and Anandor exchanged looks. He’s right, but what could they do? They don’t know these lands.

“That’s very noble of you to think that way, kid, but…” Anandor sighed. “You’re talking to the wrong people about this. Rashila knows Gorgrond better than us, you’d want to talk to her.”

“Ha, I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“I don’t think she likes anyone.” Neo'la remarked.

The leaves of the trees ahead rustled, and they were on guard immediately. Anandor held up his shield and stepped forward, his entire body locked and ready for combat. Three large botani strode in quickly, and Anandor wasted no time in charging at the middle one.

“Lighttreader!” Rashila called out, picking up a spear as she ran to the usurpers. “Stay back, don’t be so reckless!”

He ignored her, bashing his shield against one of their attacks. He swung his longsword, cutting off the botani’s hand on the right as he thrusted the blade through the middle creature’s chest. Rashila leaped up, wrapping her powerful legs around the third botani’s neck, lodging her weapon through its torso. With one swift move, she twisted her body, clenching her thighs tightly as she brought the botani down, snapping its neck with the movement. The last one standing used its free arm to swipe at Anandor, striking the back of his head. The paladin fell, using his shield to fall on as his vision failed him. Naz'kal stomped through, bringing his heavy axe down on the creature’s head.

“You okay?” The young warrior asked, giving a hand to the fallen elf. Anandor rubbed his eyes, dizzy from the blow, but took the orc’s hand willingly.

“Fine. That was exhilarating.” He said with the shake of his head, grinning stupidly.

Neo'la retrieved his sword from the corpse, glancing up at the area. “There’s more here, I can hear them.”

Anandor took his side by Neo'la, and she handed him his sword. She looked up at him, gently plucking the thorns and pieces of wood stuck in his hair, her hand glowing with the Light to help ease his disorientation.

A scream in the distance behind them echoed through the forest, and panic set into Rashila’s eyes quickly. One of the Laughing Skull orcs stationed there muttered something and nudged Rashila urgently.

“Draka is over there!” He said, already on the move in that direction.

Rashila made a move to follow, but was stopped by another one of her comrades. She snarled at the masked orc.

“Let me go!” She demanded. “My chieftain is probably in danger, I have to go!”

“That scream didn’t belong to one of our own,” The other argued. “Stay here and hold the line, Rageskull and I will go investigate the area. Stay on guard.”

The orcs left, and Rashila grumbled under her breath as she turned back to her former position. “Hold the line no matter the cost!”

Neo'la nodded, and listened carefully, unsheathing her dual scimitars from her hips. Strange gurgling and screeching increased in volume, and Neo'la grit her teeth in anticipation. From the bushes, a small spear poked out, followed by a few others. A short creature, probably only five apples tall, hopped out of the bushes, large yellow eyes poking out from a face adorned in vividly colored leaves and petals. It held its spear fiercely, and skipped in its steps as it ran forward. Neo'la couldn’t help but chuckle at the walking flower, and she lowered her guard.

“What are those? They’re kind of cu–”

“Do not!” Katu shouted. “Those are podlings, they’re known to take down prey ten times their size.”

The other orcs knocked their arrows, firing at the podlings. A few of them fell, and the remaining ones snarled and charged at their assailants. Neo'la sheathed her weapons, instead using her free hands to summon the Light and Shadows to her will. The swirl of gold and indigo swarmed the small tribe of sentient flowers, forming a thin, bubble-like dome around them. The podlings smacked their spears against the barrier, growling and slashing at the magic. With the swipe of the priest’s hands, the magic closed around them, the Light and Shadow burning their colorful petals to a crisp. Naz'kal shuddered at the display of magic while the priestess simply dusted her hands off.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Neo'la said, turning to the others. “Should we go check on the others?”

Rashila grit her teeth, trying to suppress her surprise at the display of power. “As much as I want to, we should probably stay here.”

Anandor kept his gaze fixated on the swirl of thorns and vines ahead, searching for more intruders. “Where do those things come from?”

“They’re plants,” One of the masked orcs laughed. “They just grow out the ground, ready to kill.”

Katu shook his head. “I think there’s more to it than that.”

“Well,” Naz'kal spoke up. “They’re coming from somewhere. Why don’t we search for their base and take down their order of operations? I’m sure if we dismantle their origin, they won’t have enough to come back with. It’d at least be enough to hold them off.”

The orcs whispered amongst themselves, thinking over the plan. Rashila gave a wide grin and a smack on his back. “This one’s smart, I like how you think.”

“We were told to stay and defend, to hold the line,” Anandor said, giving a cold stare at the others. “We can’t just walk away.”

“Oh please don’t give me that crap,” Rashila laughed. “I’m the leader of this group, I can decide what goes and what doesn’t.”

“If we did make an effort to at least incapacitate their base, it would still count as defense in the long run.” Naz'kal added.

Anandor sighed, glancing to his wife. Neo'la was quiet, but he knew she agreed with them. “Just tell me what I need to do then, and we’ll get this over with.”

–

The best part about being raised in Eversong, was the advantages the elves often had in environments filled with trees. As a young boy, Anandor had often spent his days climbing the trees of Eversong, often times mimicking the way the trolls south of the land did so. He used to gaze at the Farstriders in awe, seeing how they practically glided across the treetops with their weapons in hand, scouring the land to protect their people. Now, those days served as mere training for his situation now.

The other orcs stayed on the ground, carefully treading through the overgrowth. Neo'la stayed with them on the ground, partly because the party needed a healer should the situation turn sour, and partly because she was too imbalanced to climb the trees at the same speed he could. He preferred she stayed down there anyways. He’d have a better view of her whereabouts, and could get to her easily if overwhelmed. With the Light and one of the orc’s bows, Anandor was prepared to protect his group without being seen.

Anandor perked his head up through the leaves, ears twitching as he scanned the greenery. On the right, there seemed to be an opening leading to a large space. A pond adorned the center of it, wrapped around intricately with the roots of various trees. The petals of flowers that grew in the area littered the ground and water, and the rays of the sun poured through the cracks of the treetops.

It would’ve been a lovely view if it hadn’t been for the inhabitants wandering there. More of the massive botani, ones much larger than they faced earlier, strode like nobles in the gardens, mutated orcs and draenei tagging behind them. His stomach churned at the sight of the mutilated orcs, his eyes trailing over the vines and thorns that twisted and ripped through their flesh in unnatural ways. It was wrong, so wrong. No one should have to suffer in such a way.

He glanced back to his party, seeing them advance. Carefully, he gripped at the branches, crouching on his toes as he calculated his move. He jumped forward, swiftly landing on another branch, and with the same momentum, he grasped onto the branches above him and swung himself forward, moving quickly through the trees until he was slightly ahead of the group.

“I think I found them,” He said, loud enough for them to hear, but hopefully not loud enough to attract unwanted attention. Rashila stepped forward, looking up at him.

“Good good. Where?”

He pointed behind him. “There’s an opening in the bushes in that direction. The botani have more of the infected with them. There’s at least a dozen of them there, be careful.”

The orc gave a nod, and Anandor made his way to the overgrowth, keeping an eye on his allies. If they could dispatch enough of the botani, perhaps it’ll be enough to slow their assaults.

The party moved in, and immediately were faced off with two of the guards. Anandor quickly casted the Light to him, smiting the ground with a holy fire. The orcs took care of the botani, swinging their hefty axes at the creatures. Anandor moved quickly through the trees, catching sight of more botani from within the center advancing to the party. He quickly switched to his bow, finding a dangerous balance point on the branches. He knocked two arrows onto the string, aiming down his sights at the tallest creature. It had been years since he used a bow, and he let out a shaky breath as he let the arrows fly. The wind carried the arrows to its target, and the botani was struck down, one arrowhead lodged between his neck and the other piercing his temple.

Agonizing, guttural cries for help were heard from within the thicket, and a few of the infected twitched in sync with it. More of the infected began to emerge from the trees, and soon the party was outnumbered.

We can do this, Anandor reassured himself. The flurry of battle ensued, and he kept focused on silently knocking out various targets without being seen.

That is until he noticed Neo'la was no where near the group.

He swore under his breath and hopped out of the trees. The Light swarmed around him as he hit the ground, breaking his fall. Immediately, he was met with one of the botani swinging down at him. He raised his arm out of instinct, and the bark of the creature slammed into his forearm. He hissed in pain, reaching for the dagger at his hip. He used his right hand to seize the other’s wrist, and with his knife in the other, he slashed the blade across the botani’s arm, popping its carapace off. The Light swarmed him again, and he blasted the botani into charcoal, quickly moving towards his group.

“Where’s Neo'la?” He shouted out, creating a holy barrier around the group.

Rashila snarled in response, wiping the blood from her lips. “A little busy!”

“Light dammit answer me, someone!” Anandor demanded. He picked up his bow again, firing at the botani that came in. They were dying quickly, thankfully, but Anandor would not see victory alone. Dear Light, where has she run off to?

Naz'kal cleaved through one of the infected with a heavy swing of his axe before motioning to Anandor. “I saw her, she went this way!”

“Stay with the group!” Rashila barked. “If she left, she left. We need our numbers!”

Naz'kal was already advancing away, turning back to see if Anandor would follow. The elf grit his teeth, smiting the creatures as he moved to follow the orc.

“Anandor!” Rashila shouted. “You of all people?”

“I’ll be back, but I need to find her.” Anandor said firmly, and sprinted with the warrior.

“Traitor! You and her, traitors! We should have never trusted you!”

–

Naz'kal and Anandor dashed through the overgrowth, dodging vines and other obstacles. The paladin felt guilty for leaving his allies behind, but his priorities meant family came first.

“She said something about the infected,” Naz'kal said, eyes darting about to make sure he was following the correct trail. “Kept saying something about 'eleven’. I think she recognized someone this way?”

“Probably. Light I wish she wouldn’t run off like this.”

“Is she always like this?”

Anandor shot him a glance, and the warrior shrunk a little. “Not always. She can be unpredictable at times, but she’s usually not like this. You wouldn’t know.”

Before Naz'kal could reply, Anandor had come to a halt, his heels digging into the dirt as he stopped. The orc stumbled a bit when he noticed, and he quickly came back to the elf’s side. “W-What ha–”

“Hold on, I think…” Anandor paused, holding up a finger to signify silence. His ears perked up as he listened closely, and he heard Neo'la’s voice. She sounded frantic, afraid of something, and it filled Anandor with fire. “This way!”

They ran, their legs burning as they moved. They turned a corner and into another opening similar to the garden they just left. On the ground lay two dead botani, darkness incarnate leaking through its corpse and swallowing all light around it. At the center, Neo'la sat in the grass, the Light teeming from her fingertips. An infected orc lay in her lap, seemingly unconscious.

“Neo'la!” Anandor shouted, and her head snapped up at the two.

“A-Anan, I–”

“What the fel are you doing?!” The paladin demanded as he stopped in front of her. He glanced down at the orc taking note of the branches that poked out of his skin and the vines that grew in his beard. More importantly, why was she holding him so tenderly?

“Please, help me,” She pleaded. “I know him, I need him to wake up.”

“Neo'la it’s not safe here, we need to go now.”

“Please!” The priest shouted. “I just need a few minutes, anything, I can save him–”

The orc stirred, and Naz'kal jumped back at the movement, holding up his weapon defensively. Glowing blue eyes met Neo'la’s, and the infested orc wheezed as he came to.

“Ghh… Tw-Twelve?”

“Oh thank the Light.” Neo'la said. Anandor raised a brow, crouching down to meet them. He knocked an arrow onto his bow, watching the orc carefully. “Vruden, Eleven, you’re alive!”

“Heh, you… actually remembered my name…” Vruden groaned, his breaths uneven and wheezy. “Can’t say the same.”

“Its fine, I’ll – I’m here, I’m going to help you as best as I can. I-I’m sure there’s a way to heal this–”

“N-No,” Vruden coughed. “I can already feel it… I can feel the wilds, this infection, I feel them taking over. I-I’m already losing some of my memories, i-it’s devouring me.”

“Anandor,” Neo'la called out, tears in her eyes. “Please, I beg of you, help me heal him.”

Anandor lowered his bow, suspicious, but his face softer than before. “Who is this? What’s going on here, Neo?”

“Back when I arrived here, I was assigned a squad to fight with,” The priestess explained. “We were separated since then. I don’t know what’s happened, but Vruden…”

Vruden craned his head to look at the paladin. The effort was strained, and clearly caused him pain, yet he still had a charismatic smile to offer. “Mok'ra.”

Anandor set his weapon down, giving a small wave of his hand. “Then no time should be wasted.”

“Twelve… Neo, right?” Vruden wheezed, his hand gripping at the leaves that sprouted from his chest. “I… We thought you were dead.”

“Takes a lot more to kill me. Where is Krauul?”

“Krauul…” The orc let out a hacking cough, his voice distorted briefly. Anandor raised his bow, wary that Vruden may turn hostile. Neo'la simply rested her hands on his cheeks, the Light swarming around him to ease his pain. “Krauul had disobeyed the orders given. Instead of boarding the ships to Frostfire, we cut through Tanaan. He took matters into his own hands, h-had his own agenda. We did fine aside from a few casualties. But Gorgrond… We stopped here a few days ago on our way back to the garrison. Were going to take down the Blackrock and use their supplies for our own uses.”

Naz'kal, who had been too disturbed to watch and turned away, now perked up and faced the three. “That’s where Ryuk’s group is!”

Vruden groaned, his skin pulsing and twisting, bark hardening in various patches. Anandor threw his bow down, this time completely abandoning it as he moved to the orc’s side. His Light combined with Neo'la’s instantly, and together they managed to stop the growth from progressing.

“We were ambushed!” Vruden exclaimed. “Krauul was taken away by the Blackrock. Me, a-and a few others went to rescue him, but these damn walking trees… they transformed our men into them.” He whimpered, ripping off the vines from his skin. “This… is the end for me…”

“I won’t let it be so,” Neo'la reassured. “I won’t let it take you. W-We can save you!”

“Please, I can feel it sprouting inside my head!” The orc snarled, his hand wrapping around her wrist. “It’s eating away at my thoughts, m-my memories! I-I can’t even remember my mother’s face anymore! I’d rather die than lose myself to these trees!”

Anandor frowned, placing his hand on the orc’s shoulder. “Is there anything we can do to help you? Anything.”

Vruden shut his eyes, suppressing a growl. “My son… My wife… I want… I don’t want them to be alone. I-I… have to at least say goodbye…”

“Vruden, please–” Neo'la pleaded.

“Your Light isn’t helping, priest!” He shouted. “It’s not, it’s not helping it, it defies it, i-it grows around it, I-I’m sorry, it can’t, i-it won’t…”

“It’s fine,” Anandor said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I’m so sorry it has to be this way, but you won’t be alone.”

“My family will be!”

“I’ll find them. I promise you, I will find your wife and your son, I won’t let them go hungry.”

A single tear fell from Vruden’s eye, and he yanked off the thin metal necklace he wore. “If you really mean it, elf, i-if you’re honest, please… give this to my son. Koda, he’s nine, lives with Dhatri Bloodrend in a farm north of the Crossroads. A warm cottage tucked away in the Barrens… please, tell them I love them.”

Anandor took the necklace, a large, old fang from some sort of beast hung from it. It was adorned in leather strips and a small ruby engrained into it, and it held its own definition of beauty. “I will.”

Neo'la had been pouring her entire energy into healing, focused on trying to save him, but no matter how much the Light filled them, the infection defied it. Anandor took her hands off the orc and shook his head for her to stop.

“I… I have accepted my death, Neo…” Vruden said quietly. “There isn’t anything you could’ve done. I would’ve died here eventually anyways. But… thank you. For caring.” A sad smile spread across his face. “For… remembering my name.”

Neo'la clenched her fists, angry, mournful, guilty at what was happening. “I didn’t want this to happen.”

“I’d rather die now than let the madness consume me. Let me die free.”

Anandor was eerily silent, and he closed his eyes, casting the Light to him once more. He channeled it into the orc’s skull, and Vruden closed his eyes as he felt the magic enter. Through the Light, Anandor sifted through Vruden’s mind, carefully treading through the untouched memories. He found what he assumed to be Vruden’s wife and child, and through the psychic bond, Anandor projected those memories to the orc. The sight of Vruden’s son as an infant cradled into his arms came first, followed with the boy as a five year old feeding a litter of puppies. Faded memories were revived into vivid images of the past, and Vruden smiled as he relived those moments. Through the Light, however, Anandor did not only reach his mind to handpick those memories, but into his heart. The magic swirled within the orc’s chest, and the warm, golden glow carefully and gently wrapped around the infested heart, and slowly, the life faded from the orc. No pain came to him as he took his last breath, and the sight of Dhatri and Koda left him with a small smile when he fell limp.

Anandor released him carefully, opening his eyes with a distant, grim look adorned on his face. Vruden lay unmoving, and Anandor retrieved his bow, rising slowly. Neo'la stared, wishing and wishing that she had found a better way. Naz'kal could hardly even bring himself to words, and he had wished for a brief moment that he stayed behind at the citadel.

“Why?” Neo'la asked, her voice finally breaking the silence.

“Why what?” Anandor replied, emotion completely wiped from him.

“We could’ve saved him. We could have found a way go cure him!” The priestess shouted. “You didn’t even want to heal him! You hesitated so much, and you gave up on him!”

“I didn’t give up on him!” Anandor snapped. “I gave him a merciful death, it was the least we could do!”

Neo'la huffed, rising from the ground. “I… I just thought there was a chance. And there was, and–”

“Neo'la…” Anandor put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. “You shouldn’t have run off like that. I don’t know why he was so important to you, but Light, at least say something before risking everything!”

“I knew what the risk was!” She retorted. “I knew what I was doing, and I wasn’t going to be long–”

“What were we just talking about though, Neo?” Anandor shouts, exasperated and weary. “Last night, what were we just saying? Hm? I-I’m struggling a lot on my own already, and you said it, Neo, you said we had to be open with each other. What happened to that? Why won’t you talk to me?”

“It’s different–”

“Is it? You talked to Naz before you talked to me! You’re going against your own word!”

“I cannot stand another second on this dreaded planet!” She shouts out. Hot tears streamed from her eyes, and she squeezed them shut. “Last night, I realized we can’t stay here, not for any longer. We’ll lose our minds here, and I won’t let that happen! Not to you, especially not to you! I-I didn’t say anything because I knew you wouldn’t agree, but if you think I’ll stay passive, then you’re wrong!”

“The last thing I want is for you to risk yourself! Not for my sake. You need to think about these things, Neo, please!”

“I was thinking! I still am. I’m not a fool, I’ve been trying to think of something. And finding Vruden here, it helps a little more, Anan. Coming here, it’s just our gateway, it’s our ticket out!”

Naz'kal shifted uncomfortably, having tried to stray out of their personal conversation. His eye caught movement not so far off, however, and he cleared his throat, hoping to catch their attention. “G-Guys…”

“What did this orc have to do with that?” Anandor pressed, ignoring the young warrior. “Why was he so important that you’d jump in with your life on the line like that?”

“I told you already, I knew him–”

“Was he a lover? A friend?”

“No, none of that–”

“Then why?”

“I thought that if I could find my old squad, then I could find a way to use them to get back home. That’s why!”

Naz'kal scooted closer to the elves. “Um, guys, you gotta–”

“He hardly even knew your name, Neo! What makes you think the rest of his squad will trust you?”

“Light, I can’t believe how stubborn you are, Anan! Why can’t you just see what I’m trying to do?”

“I can see it just fine, but it’s reckless and dangerous!”

“What other choice do we have?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe something that doesn’t involve risking everything we have left?”

“We won’t get anywhere without at least trying something!”

“So you’ll just abandon everything and risk dying without another word said like that?”

“Yes!”

“No!”

Heavy footsteps rushed to where they were, and the elves whirled around to see their group catch up with them, Rashila standing with anger only barely chained in.

“You two…” The orc snarled, hauling her spear up. “You were going to abandon the clan this whole time?”

Anandor bristled. “No, it’s not what you think–”

“After everything we’ve done!” Rashila cut in. “Where is your honor?”

Neo'la huffed, wiping her eyes before stepping forward. “It wasn’t him. It… It was me. Just me, h-he had nothing to do with it.”

The orc snickered, jutting her chin up. “I expected no less. Never would’ve thought you’d try drag your mate to shame with you, though.”

“Judge what you will. I’ve no shame.”

“You have no honor either.”

“What will you do then?” Neo'la asks, taking a step forward. She still shook slightly from crying earlier, but she didn’t keep it from facing off with the orc. “Kill me?”

“Neo'la!” Anandor scolds, grabbing her arm. Rashila merely shook her head.

“There’s no use in that,” The orc said, her voice low with anger and disappointment. “That… is not the Frostwolf way. But I will not stand to have traitors in my clan, not for a second longer. Not when your actions risk the lives of those who are loyal and proud.”

Naz'kal glanced between the two, fidgeting nervously. He really wished he stayed behind now.

The other orcs behind Rashila watched the situation unfold, and Katu simply frowned, a trace of sympathy etched into his features. Rashila flipped her spear and stabbed it into the dirt with a scowl.

“Sunblade, from here on, you are not welcome into our group. The clan will hear of your betrayal, and should you come crawling back to us, your name will be remembered with the display you’ve given today.” She exhaled through her nostrils, eyes flickering to Anandor. “I do not know what fate lies for you, Lighttreader, but expect the same should you stay with your mate. Find another clan to abuse.”

Rashila flicked her wrist to her group, urging them to turn back before glancing to Naz'kal, who had been hiding slightly behind the elves. “You’re still welcome in our clan, pup. Are you coming?”

The young warrior looked up at the orcs, then to the elves, and back to the orcs. He let out a shaky breath, trying to make his decision.

“I… I don’t…” He gave a puff, sparing one last glance to Neo'la. “I’m… I’m going to stay. O-Out here. I-I mean–”

Rashila held up a hand. “I see. Rot out here then, turn against your own kind.”

She turned swiftly, and the group departed from them in silence. Naz'kal huffed beside the couple silently, shuffling awkwardly before Anandor turned to him.

“Why did you stay?” He asks.

Naz'kal shrugged. “Well… Us Azerothians have to stick together, right?”

“You shouldn’t have stayed,” Neo'la murmured. “The Frostwolves would give you a proper home, and they’d protect you.”

“I’ve been sheltered all my life,” The warrior shrugged. “I think it’s time to break out of that pattern.”

Anandor tugged on his cloak, giving a long sigh. “Well then. Let’s… Let’s find a way off this damn planet.”

#plotline #plot: wod #oc: neo'la #oc: anandor #oc: naz'kal #oc: ryuk #ch arc: neo'la #ch arc: anandor #FUCK this thing is like 10k words long i think i forgot how LONG this one was #aaaaand 2016 is the last time i updated this :///

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