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#when down the road they think a large branch hanging over the power lines is okay
songbirdstew · 2 months
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Well, Tom Petty, it turns out I DO have to live like a refugee.
We are back in evacuation mode. I guess a three and a half year break isn't bad.
Saturday, we woke up to half an inch of ice coating every possible surface.
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Our power went out at 3 that afternoon.
Sunday, we woke up to an inch thick layer of ice coating every possible surface.
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None of this is snow. It is all ice.
The outside temperature ranged from 23 to 27*F. By Tuesday, the inside temperature had dropped to 39, our power bank was drained, and our devices were near dead. Our immediate plan was to head to the Parks center, or if that didn't work, to City Hall (where our library is), both usually sound options for getting a cup of coffee and charging up. We would make contact with the outside world, check the weather forecast, make a plan, then head back home to grab essentials. But C's sister happened to text me right as I was gathering everything up, so we headed for her place instead.
The path from here to there was NOT GREAT BOB.
The roads were all coated in ice, still. Even in the middle of town, on the main thoroughfares, on the Priority 1 deicing routes. All along the route, there are power lines down, power poles down and broken, transformers exploded, trees down, trees snapped in half, trees sliced down the middle vertically. There are power lines dangling over the road, lying in the road, draped across people's driveways and over their front doors so they can't get out. Half the traffic lights were out.
So as soon as we got here, we decided to stay put for the night. The cats were loaded on food and water, and the house was safe and sound.
We quickly learned the entire East half of our town (where the Parks center is) and most of mid town and downtown (where the library is) were totally without power, plus the Parks center's parking lot was blocked by downed trees, so it was just as well we ended up skipping our initial idea and just came straight to Emma and Zev's.
Today, C&I went back to get things we'll need while we're here (we brought NOTHING with us yesterday). The temperature finally rose, so most of the ice had melted. Most of the traffic lights were back on.
But everything else is still the same, if not worse. Once the ice melted, everything that had been hanging by a frozen thread just crashed. Large parts of town are under orders to boil all of their water (remember, they don't have power). When we got home, we found a tree branch had completely shattered the rear window of C's car while we were gone. A huge hunk of ice fell out of the same tree and put a brand new dent in my fender while we were there. It was still only 37* at our house, even though it was up to 47 less than a mile away. The fuck?
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The kitties were okay. Charlie seemed perfectly fine (like, What? You were gone?), and Glitch was well, but very, very sad. She HATES being alone (she doesn't even like being alone in a room when people are home). She HATES it when I'm not there. She could tell we were leaving again right away, and she was so unhappy. I set up her favorite blankets for her on the couch and on the bed. We gave them food and water for a few days, plus wet food with calming drops mixed in. We freshened their boxes, and we closed them in their separate spaces so that Charlie won't be bullying Glitch & stealing her food the whole time.
Curtis plans to go back out to the house on his own tomorrow, largely to further inspect his car and take more pictures for the insurance company. School is cancelled for the week. So far I have not had to go in to work, but tomorrow and Friday remain to be seen. My boss will let me know sometime in the morning whether she expects me to work or not, and then Curtis and I will decide if we think it's safe enough to get me there and back. We haven't been to that part of town, so we don't know how bad the tree damage etc might be. If it's anything like the rest of the city, I know I won't feel comfortable navigating that in the dark.
For now, we are good, and warm, and safe, with people we love. Emma and Zev are such good influences on Royal, that Royal actually ate something green today (enchilada sauce).
Please snuggle your kitties for me and kiss their stupid little heads, okay?
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kimimatias · 3 years
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my superpowers include stealthily planting trees around my house without telling anyone to see how long it takes them to notice
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pocket-luv101 · 3 years
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Summary: Kuro is a powerful wizard and he has received countless marriage proposals. He doesn’t wish to marry so he decides to create an impossible challenge to make his suitors give up. He sets up a maze where the person who reaches the center will win his hand. One day, Mahiru enters his maze. (KuroMahi, Fantasy AU)
“There goes another one. Shouldn’t you reject these marriage proposals directly instead of making them go through an impossible test? As your royal advisor, I need to warn you this behaviour will create resentment from important families.” Gear said to Kuro. He didn’t respond to him but they had been friends long enough to know his answer. “You call politics troublesome but it is important. You completed your training to become a wizard so your father will require you to marry soon. This maze will make that more difficult to find a mate.”
“That’s the point. My father has been disappointed in me for twenty years so he shouldn’t be surprised. I already told him that I have no wish to marry anyone so he should focus on his other seven children.” Kuro sat on a tree branch that overlooked a sprawling maze of rose hedges. He was a powerful wizard and many people approached him to negotiate a potential marriage. “They only want my magic to enhance their family’s rank.”
Kuro wanted a simple and quiet life with people who cared for him as a person before what he had. Most only saw him as a powerful wizard or the son of a Count so he doubted he could fall in love. He found it tiring to constantly reject shallow marriage proposals so he created a maze around his home. He declared that the first person to make their way through the maze and reach the center would marry him.
The maze would constantly shift and change so it was almost impossible for someone to reach the center. He also enchanted the roses to stop people as they walked through the maze. Most of his suitors gave up after they learned of his challenge and the few who entered the maze would quit after a few minutes. “The sun is setting so I don’t believe anyone else will enter the maze. Let’s go hang out with Hyde.”
Next to Kuro, a rose swayed in the wind and the soft petals created the sound of a bell. He knew that it meant that someone had entered the maze and he groaned softly. Since the roses were connected to his magic, he couldn’t leave the maze or else it would disappear. He started to question if the maze was more troublesome than the suitors.
Kuro lowered himself to sit on the branch again and looked towards the maze’s entrance. He couldn’t see the person well with the distance between them. “He’s entering alone. Most people know that my maze is dangerous and they would have an army with them. Did he enter my maze without knowing that I made it as a challenge? Can’t deal. I should go to him and escort him out before he’s hurt.”
“He looks like a simple commoner so it’s likely that he can’t afford to hire help. You’re a Count so he might have entered to marry your wealth.” Gear said beside him. He didn’t want to see his friend be taken advantage of. Most would be jealous of Kuro’s power and title but Gear only felt pity for his friend. He saw how it made Kuro lonely. Kuro only had a handful of people he trusted.
Their attention was drawn back to the man in the maze. He folded his hands in front of him and he began to sing. At first, Kuro thought that the man intended to use a spell to find the center of the maze. He doubted a simple mage would be able to manipulate his maze though. Rain started to fall over the maze and Kuro could sense a warm magic within the water.
The man’s song changed and sunlight replaced the rain. As the lingering rain reflected the light, it created a spectrum of colours. The different colours mixed with the moonlight and washed over the red roses. Kuro didn’t understand why the man casted the two spells since it wouldn’t help him reach the center of the maze. He realized that wasn’t the man’s attention after he turned around to leave the maze.
The man only stopped in the entrance to pick a few roses before he disappeared out the gate.
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“Your touch slipped away to become a memory. Do you remember my kiss as I miss yours?” Mahiru sang as he walked down the road. He could see the maze in the distance and he thought of how beautiful the roses were. The moon didn’t provide a lot of light to see yet it was enough for Mahiru. He would visit the maze every week and walk through the garden to clear his mind.
With the final note of his song, Mahiru stopped in front of the maze’s entrance. He heard stories of the wizard who created the challenge and most called him haughty or cold. Mahiru couldn’t believe the rumours though. He cupped his hand around a rose and its subtle scent calmed him. The magic he sensed within the rose was warm and welcoming. His mother had taught him that person’s magic reflected the type of person that they were.
Mahiru walked through the grand gate in front of the maze and he wandered through the roses without a destination in mind. He would usually stay near the entrance so he could find his way out easily. He looked towards the large that sat in the center. Sometimes, he would consider exploring the maze to find the center but he knew that it was impossible. He was a mage and he recognized the spells within the rose from simply picking one.
He folded his hands in front of him and sang, “I hope my memory will always be with you.”
“If you’re going to make it rain again, you should put on shoes or else your feet will become muddy.” The voice surprised Mahiru and he turned around sharply. He knew everyone in his small town but he didn’t recognize the man before him. His red eyes were unique. He was handsome and Mahiru wondered if he was a prince who wanted to marry the wizard.
“Are you here for the wizard’s hand in marriage? The maze is dangerous at night so it would be better if you come back in the morning.” Mahiru warned. Something the man said caught his attention and it caused his brows to furrow slightly. “How did you know that my song would summon rain? It’s not a common spell.”
Kuro didn’t know how the man would react if he told him that he was the wizard who created the maze. He had seen him enter the maze a few times yet he would only water the roses. He became curious and he finally decided to speak with him. Most people would treat him differently after they knew about his title and family so he lied. “My name is Kuro and I’m a gardener for this maze. Sleepy Ash hired me to help maintain the rose bushes.”
“I’m Mahiru.” He introduced himself and then held out his hand to shake Kuro’s. Mahiru blushed when he took his hand and kissed his fingertips. He thought that only noblemen would do something so formal. He took his hand back and said, “I hope the rain I created with my song didn’t cause you any trouble with your job. You probably got soaked the first time I made it rain.”
“As long as Sleepy Ash resides within the maze, the roses will stay alive. You didn’t need to go to the trouble of watering such a large maze.” Kuro became more intrigued by Mahiru and the reason he entered the maze. “Do you like roses?”
“I think roses are beautiful but I prefer simple flowers like daisies. I heard this maze was made by a strong wizard so I did assume that a wizard like Sleepy Ash would use magic to keep the roses alive. Flowers should be watered properly though.” Mahiru told him. “Honestly, the first time I entered the maze, it was on a whim. I had a long day and I needed a place I could be alone.”
He took a pair of shoes out of his bag and slipped them onto his feet. Mahiru doubted Kuro would want to hear about the problems of a stranger. He changed the subject and said, “My shoes got wet after I casted the rain spell the first time. I thought I could dry them with a song of sunlight but that didn’t work. Since then, I would bring an extra pair of shoes with me.”
“The maze is dangerous so you shouldn’t walk around here without shoes. The roses have thorns and you can be hurt by them.” He pointed to the vines that lightly lined the ground. Kuro was confused when the vines moved on their own to avoid Mahiru’s feet. He hadn’t controlled the maze with his magic and he wondered if Mahiru was the one who moved it.
“I’ve never been pricked before.” Mahiru didn’t seem to notice how the rose bushes moved around him so Kuro doubted he was using his magic to manipulate it. He looked up at him and tilted his head in confusion. “From what I hear, the maze would chase people out but it hasn’t attacked you or me. Maybe the maze likes us since we’ve spent so much time here.”
“That must be a strange thing to say since a maze isn’t alive and it doesn’t have thoughts like we do.” He had created the maze and enchanted it but he didn’t give it life. Mahiru shook his head and held out his hand towards the tall hedge next to them. A rose fell from the bush and landed in Mahiru’s palm.
“My uncle taught me that magic is a mysterious force that flows through all life. That’s why we need to be kind to things around us. You’ll never know who or what will put a curse on you.” Mahiru joked and laughed softly. His smile was full of warmth and Kuro found himself reflecting his expression. “I became an animal doctor because of that. May I ask why you chose to be a gardener?”
“Gardening isn’t a passion for me or anything like that. It’s a job that pays well.” Kuro shrugged. He couldn’t tell him that he was truly the heir to a powerful family and a large estate. Mahiru didn’t seem to question his evasive answer and they started to walk aimlessly through the winding halls. “You’re an animal doctor? It must be hard for you to find work. The witch doctor of Eve is rather famous.”
“I get by. You work here so you must know this rose maze well.” Mahiru’s comment made Kuro stiffen slightly. He assumed that he would ask him to take him to the center because he wanted to marry Sleepy Ash. Then, he said: “I visit the maze often but I haven’t explored it well. Most people want to find the center but this maze is so large that you must know secret places that are beautiful.”
“Other people would be more interested in reaching the center of the maze to win Sleepy Ash’s hand in marriage.” Kuro decided to voice the question he had since he first saw Mahiru enter the maze.
“Do you think I'll offend Sleepy Ash if I say that I hope he doesn’t find a fiancé through this maze? The rose bushes are stunning and I enjoy walking through the maze. Once someone reaches the middle, this maze will disappear. That would make me sad.” Mahiru’s confession shocked Kuro. Everyone who entered his maze only cared for his title. Yet, Mahiru appreciated the roses.
A loud clash above their heads caused them to look up at the sky. Dark clouds started to cover the moon and Mahiru smelled rain in the air. He rushed to take his umbrella out of his bag but the rain fell before he could. Mahiru opened the umbrella and moved closer to Kuro so they could share the umbrella. “My umbrella is only large enough for one person but it’s better than nothing.”
Kuro noticed how Mahiru held the umbrella over him more than himself. The simple act of kindness was foreign to him but he knew that Mahiru was an honest person. The rain soaked his shoulder and Kuro didn’t want him to become sick. He placed his hand over Mahiru’s on the umbrella and whispered a spell. “Votre gentillesse m’a changé.”
His magic wrapped around their joined hands before it travelled up the umbrella. The umbrella grew until it could protect both of them from the rain. With the larger umbrella, they didn’t need to stand close to avoid the rain. Neither of them moved away from the other though. “Did Sleepy Ash teach you magic so you could care for the maze?”
Mahiru was surprised that a gardener would know magic and he stared at Kuro. The magic he felt was oddly familiar as well. Kuro couldn’t tell him everything but Mahiru’s curious eyes compelled him to answer. “My father sent me to school for magic but I was a terrible student and they kicked me out before I could finish. Did you go to school for magic too?”
“My uncle taught me a few things but I mostly learned on my own. Since my father left before I was born and my mother was always working, my uncle would give me magic books. Magic was a fun distraction but…” His smile became bittersweet and the expression tugged on Kuro’s heart. He could see a quiet strength in Mahiru and he wondered about his past.
Rose petals fell among the rain and Mahiru held out his hand to catch one. He brought the petal closer to his nose so he could smell the flower. The dew on the petal made the scent of roses more powerful. “This maze is amazing, isn’t it? I’ll make a warm breeze to dry us before we can get sick. You remind me of that summer night long ago.”
He had heard him sing countless times yet his voice held Kuro spellbound once more. A warm wind circled them and it dried their clothes and Kuro couldn’t help but notice that it resembled Mahiru’s personality. The maze reacted to Mahiru’s song in a similar way it affected Kuro. A path opened before them and it led to an open garden with a gazebo.
“Oh, look, Kuro!” Mahiru patted his arm and then pointed to the gazebo where they would be safe from the rain. He hooked his arm around his and dragged him forward. The wooden gazebo had roses circling the pillars and framed the canopy. Even in the darkness of night and the falling rain, Mahiru thought the gazebo was stunning.
They stepped into the gazebo and Mahiru lowered the umbrella. “I hope this rain stops soon. This gazebo is gorgeous but we can’t sleep here. We’ll catch a cold or something. Worse, my cat will destroy the house if he doesn’t have food. Do you have anyone waiting for you at home?”
“I live alone.” Kuro told him and he saw relief pass over Mahiru’s face. A blush replaced the expression and he felt his face redden as well. He didn’t know how to react to the thought that Mahiru could be interested in him. “Will your cat be jealous that you’re spending so much time with me?”
“Maybe a little. I’ll give him a rose and he’ll forgive me for staying the night with someone else.” Mahiru giggled softly.
He sat on the bench and looked beyond the rain to the rose bushes in the distance. In the corner of his eyes, he watched Kuro pick a rose. He burned off the thorns before he held it out to Mahiru. He took the rose and their fingers brushed together. “That’s for your cat so he’ll forgive you.”
“Thank you, Kuro.” Mahiru brought the flower to his nose to hide his shy smile. He was certain that his cheeks matched the colour of the rose. Between the pleasant scent of roses and Kuro’s warm presence, he felt comfortable. He forgot the rain around them and they were in a world with only them. Kuro sat next to him on the bench. “Will picking flowers get you fired?”
“Sleepy Ash doesn’t mind.” Kuro reassured him. “I’ve seen you pick a rose from the gate each time you visit. You can take more if you want.”
“My mother loves roses… She loved roses.” His voice broke slightly. Mahiru didn’t want to cry in front of Kuro so he kept his gaze to the ground. “I picked a rose to put onto her memorial. Last month, we held her funeral but I still can’t believe she’s actually gone. This must sound childish, doesn’t it? One of my co-workers said I needed to be strong when he saw he cry. I’m an adult but I’m still clinging to her.”
“I don’t think it’s childish. She must’ve been important to you so it’s natural that you would be sad. Your co-worker was a jerk.” Kuro took out a napkin from his pocket and wiped his cheek. He didn’t know if the water was rain or tears but he gently wiped it away. Mahiru turned to face him and their eyes met. Looking into his brown eyes, he felt a mix of sympathy and protectiveness of him.
“It has been hard since my mother died but visiting this rose garden has helped me feel better. It’s quiet here and I can gather my thoughts.” Mahiru found it easy to talk to Kuro and he unconsciously leaned into his palm. The rain was cold but that wasn’t the reason Mahiru moved closer to his warmth. “Thank you for listening to me even though we’ve only met today.”
“I don’t mind.” He patted his head before he sat back. Kuro thought of something he could do to make him smile again. He waved his hand over the rose Mahiru held and the flower multiplied until he had a bouquet. A few of the roses had become daisies.
“These are beautiful.” Mahiru took a daisy from the bouquet and placed it behind his ear. The rain had stopped but they stayed in the gazebo. The water droplets that coated the flowers reflected the moonlight and they created the illusion of diamonds. “It looks like it’s time to return home but I would love to talk to you again. When you’re not working, do you want to meet in the town and get to know each other better? There’s a ramen shop we can go to.”
“How did you know that I love ramen? Are you a stalker?” Kuro joked and smiled. “You should know my full name though. It’s Sleepy Ash Kuro Servamp, the Count of Sloth.”
“Sleepy Ash?” He repeated his name as his eyes widened. Kuro knew he would be surprised but he hoped he wouldn’t treat him differently now. He hesitantly turned to face him. Mahiru slipped a rose from the bouquet and tucked it into Kuro’s jacket pocket. “My name is Mahiru Shirota, the witch doctor of Eve. We’re more similar than I thought. We both hid our titles to not be judged.”
Kuro was hopeful that he found someone who would see him for himself and he touched the rose over his heart.
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meetthetank · 3 years
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Beast Code Chapter 1: The Twilit City
Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationship: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), Original YoRHa Characters (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Transformation, gothic horror, Android Lycanthropy...sort of, Inspired by Bloodborne (Video Game), Everyday i get closer to just writing a Bloodborne AU
Summary:  Break the vicious cycle with tooth and claw. Unleash the beast within and destroy your chains. But the strength to defy fate comes at a grave cost. Will it be enough, little doll? Or will you succumb to despair once more?
Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31546982
The assignment to the Twilight Belt comes as a shock to 2B and 9S. Rarely, if ever, are YorHa units sent to this border of perpetual daylight and eternal night. Conditions are always reported as unstable by the infrequent scans by one of the other satellite bases that orbit earth, too dangerous to deploy scanners by themselves, and too depleted of resources for the Council to care about. The mystery surrounding the strip of permanent twilight goads curious operators and scanners alike to comb through files searching for nuggets of data, image or video files, anything they can get their hands on. All but a few pieces of data reveal tantalizing scraps and clues to the puzzle of the Sunset Belt. Photographs of dead machines with toothy, gaping maws that split their spherical heads in two and minerals warped in peculiar shapes. According to one of the situation reports from a scanner that had been sent there, there was an eerie, foreboding feeling about the place; that strange and frightening sounds would echo across the landscape and that he felt close to a forbidden barrier that separated this world from another. Though the file and its contents are now treated as a human “ghost story”, many androids, including 2B and 9S, believe at least some portion of the tale.
9S relays this story to 2B as they descend to Earth’s surface, his chattering easing some of 2B’s trepidation. The pair had fallen into an easy rhythm over the course of several assignments to Earth, most of which involved retrieving data from lost servers buried in rubble or clearing out an area of machine lifeforms. Despite her outwardly cold demeanor, 9S wormed his way past all of her defenses, forming a strong, solid relationship with the battler android. His voice is a centering point for her and assists in ignoring the gut churning possibilities of what could be waiting for them below.
“...What do you think, 2B?” his voice crackles from the comms system inside her flight unit.
“Hm?” she shifts her head to the side, glancing at his jet black flight unit cruising beside hers.
“What do you think made the target go rogue?”
She bites her lower lip. There are a thousand possible answers as to why a normally punctual, efficient YorHa Battle unit would suddenly stop responding to command and not checking in at required times. Only a few of those options were machine lifeform related complications.
“We’ll find out when we arrive, 9S.” she says curtly, eager to shut down the conversation, “Focus on landing protocol.”
He sighs, a sound of annoyance and frustration, “Yeah, yeah.”
“One affirmation will-”
“Fiiiiiiiine.”
The final phase of their descent is spent in silence. They pass through the Earth’s atmosphere in streaks of fire and light towards the border of day and night, and a continent that humans called Europe. Even as they descend, the outlines of ancient, massive structures come into view. Both androids are used to the thick vegetation eating away at the remains of human structures, but here the trees are gnarled, twisted, and void of leaves or blossoms. Their branches reach to the crimson sky and permanently setting sun like bony hands in prayer or a stag’s antlers. As 2B and 9S set their flight units down a few miles away from the outskirts of a sprawling, ancient city. It amazes 9S, as he exits his own unit, that the buildings are in such good condition considering the millenia that have passed it by. Great spires of countless cathedrals pierce the heavens, casting an ominous, looming shadow over the otherwise barren landscape. A well worn cobblestone road, lined with rusted iron lighting fixtures long since burnt out, leads into the city proper. 
2B and 9S stand at the precipice of this ancient beast of stone and metal in awe of its size, and terrified of what might lurk within. A hoarse bird’s caw, jolts the androids back into awareness, 2B drawing her katana and prepares for battle.
“Heh,” 9S laughs, trying to calm them both down, “Just a raven, 2B.”
“What?”
“A large black bird. Harmless to us.” He doesn’t tell her about the chill he gets down his spine as he watches the corvid gaze down at them with beady black eyes, or how humans saw these birds as ill omens or prophets of death.
They begin the trek into the forgotten city. 2B doesn’t put Virtuous Contract away.
Pod 042 alerts 2B to the presence of an unidentifiable android signal, marking the location on both hers and 9S’ map. Since the area has yet to be properly mapped out by satellite imagery (as inaccurate as that process is) only a vague street layout is available through a very low power scan. They have no way of judging what might block their path to the target beyond featureless grey masses depicting buildings, rubble, large trees, or whatever else may lie in wait. Their target, represented by a small orange dot on the map, appears to be near the city’s main gate and inside one of the larger buildings. 2B refuses to admit it to herself, but she’s relieved to not have to delve too far into this labyrinthine city.
“I’ve never seen the sky this color…” 9S muses as he stares up, transfixed by the blood red sky and orange sun hanging low.
Though hauntingly beautiful, she won’t deny, 2B keeps her gaze fixed on the wrought iron gate ahead of them. The heavens disturb her; they are the color of death. Of war. And the sun is… wrong. 
She snaps at 9S to keep focused as they approach the gate to the city. Though scans indicate there are no machine lifeforms, or any lifeforms beyond their target, she’s learned from countless combat assignments to not rely totally on what the support unit reports. She’s encountered and seen machines that mask themselves from scans or camouflage themselves in the environment, and in a place like this anything could be hiding in the shadows just outside of view. 
The iron gate lies ajar, worn from millennia of neglect. Clouds of rust particles burst from the hinges as 2B shoves it open further, the metal grinding against itself with a horrible grating shriek. The sound makes them both wince, and they slip through the partially opened gate as soon as they can.
Standing inside the city gates, 9S can’t shake the uneasy feeling that claws at the back of his mind. The great ancient human structures loom above them, and though he knows that the buildings themselves aren’t alive, he can’t shake the notion that he’s being watched by them. The windows are dark, but when he passes by the light of the setting sun reflects off of them, giving them the illusion of intelligence. Suddenly, 9S feels as if he’s inside a cave, or locked in a room with no exit. Suddenly… He finds it hard to breathe. 9S tugs at the collar of his jacket as if it's tightening around his throat. His synthetic lungs fill with air as much as he can take, then he releases it moments later. It calms him, if only a little.
2B’s gaze is fixed ahead on the building Pod 042 marked as the rogue android’s hiding place. It’s a much smaller structure than the others that choke the sky, but its reach stretches across the streets like a tree’s roots. Judging by the well preserved signs that hang from crumbled doors it looked to have multiple uses. 9S commands his own Pod to run scans on the words and symbols for later analysis. 
“The target’s in here…” 2B murmurs, holding her free hand up in a tight fist, signaling 9S to stop behind her.
This portion of the sprawling building is similar in structure to the massive spires above. It has the same pointed section on the roof, but much smaller in scale, and similar symbols decorate the exterior. A cross, winged humans, various flowering plants, and a number of human figures bowing their heads or supplicating themselves to the winged humans.
“This must have been a place of worship,” 9S muses aloud.
“Focus.”
He nods. Typically 9S argues with his partner about the necessity for recording data like this, or excuse his wandering attention to his designation as a scanner, but he knows the danger within the house of worship, or rather, he doesn’t know. Neither one of them knows what this rouge android is capable of. 
2B presses her hand against the wooden doors to the chapel and pushes it open as slowly as possible. It groans in protest, dust falls from its hinges and frame, but it swings inward. A rush of warm air washes over them carrying the scent of stale incense and dead machines. Clouds of smoke billow out of the doorway, rising into the red sky like twisted fingers. 2B enters first, sliding in sword arm first. She motions for 9S to wait for a moment, then commands Pod 042 to switch on its flashlight. 
9S peeks his head around the door, keeping a few paces behind his partner. He switches on his own Pod’s flashlight to illuminate more of the pitch black interior. Long wooden benches are pushed up against the walls, opening up the center space. Ornate candle holders, rotting books, charred incense burners, and pieces of artwork among other things 9S has no name for are scattered across the ground, each one a priceless human artifact that could fuel hours of study. Yet it’s not these that hold 9S’ attention, but the statue at the far back of the chapel, and the figure kneeling in front of it.
It looks to be made of some kind of marble, a pristine white stone that has been sheltered from time and the elements. The subject is another winged human, this one wearing splendid armor and wielding a great spear. Beneath them, a grotesque, writhing beast bares its teeth and claws at the warrior as the blade pierces its throat. 9S has never seen anything like it in person, and very few records of these kinds of sculptures remain at all. It’s both horrific and beautiful at once. He wonders what the human who made this saw that inspired it. Did creatures like these roam the world during their time?
2B steps in front of him, Virtuous Contract at the ready. The figure in front of the statue rises to their feet as the Pod’s flashlights center on them. A cloak made of feathers conceals most of their form but they appear to be a female android, perhaps a YorHa model. Though, if that were the case it would have been in the mission briefing. That is, unless... 
The android turns her head to the side, glaring at the pair over her shoulder.
“So, Command sent the wolves, did they?” She asks, a distinct rumble in her voice.
2B raises her blade and keeps her gaze steady. She hears 9S also ready his weapon, the golden katana Cruel Oath. 
Lazily, the android turns her body to face them. Her clothes confirm her origins; there’s no mistaking the sharp white embellishments and black velvet of a YorHa uniform; however each piece is ripped, tattered, and stitched together with other scraps of clothing or… animal hide. 
The rouge android drags the blade of a bloodied top heavy sword between her fingers, cleaning the gore from it. “It doesn’t matter, dog.” Her eyes shine with a strange, purplish light that refracts around her collapsed, twisted pupils. “You will fall like the rest.”
It isn’t until the rogue android rushes forward, sword raised, that 2B sees the corpses of YorHa units piled in front of the statue, and the blood that soaks it.
She dashes backward and shoves the bewildered 9S out of harm's way. The android’s bloodied sword crashes into the stonework floor, sending thousands of years of dust into the air. 2B lunges, her katana poised to take advantage of the enemy’s opening, but she sidesteps much quicker than anticipated. The rogue’s fist slams into 2B’s chest, distorting her internal sensors and throwing her off balance. 2B watches in horror as the rogue drives her sword towards her, but a golden flash knocks the blade away. 
“2B!” 9S shouts, brandishing Cruel Oath. “Are you okay?!”
She shakes her head as if it would clear the internal errors from her vision, but she assumes her battle stance next to her partner. “Fine.”
Both androids launch into an assault on the rogue, attacking in tandem. Despite 2B’s scrambled sensors, she and 9S have an undeniable synergy that comes with countless missions. 2B forces the rogue back with singular, powerful blows, while 9S jabs at any opening he can reach from the sides. However, even with their combined might the rogue deflects and maneuvers out of the way of each attack as casually as one would flick away an insect or step around a puddle. She looks to be expending no effort at all as she dances around the two YorHa. Anger and frustration rises in 2B, culminating in a harsh growl. She mimics the rogue’s tactic from earlier, rushing forward and feinting with a crushing overhead strike that is easily dodged but allows no time for recovery. She slams her fist into the rogue android’s face, sending her stumbling backwards. Before 9S can dive in with a horizontal slash the rogue dashes backward, putting crucial distance between her and her hunters.
The rogue android lowers her gaze at the pair, sizing them up, taking stock of their abilities and assessing their weaknesses. 2B watches her eyes dart back and forth between her and 9S, then linger on 9S. Sensing the rogue’s motive and deciding at that moment that the outcome is unacceptable, 2B dives in front of the strike meant for 9S. The rogue’s sword slices cleanly through her chest, coating the rogue’s clothes in splatters of fresh blood. The battler falls to her knees, clutching the wound with one hand while supporting herself on her sword. 
“No!!” 9S screams and lunges at their target. “2B!!”
“Hm. Interesting.” The rogue murmurs, easily deflecting the scanner’s wild strikes.
2B watches through blurred, error obscured vision as 9S drives the rogue back. If she didn’t know any better it’d seem that he has the upper hand, but the rogue’s eyes glint in a way 2B recognizes all too well. She’s baiting him. 
9S slams his blade against the rogue’s, pressing all of his power and weight into the strike. It’s the moment she had been waiting for. Suddenly she pulls back, letting 9S’ weight fall forward and forcing him off balance. She kicks his legs out from under him then shoves him into the floor. 9S lets out a startled, choked gasp as his weight and the force of the rogue’s attack cracks the stone floor, sending up more clouds of dust into the air. 
Clutching her chest, 2B roars and charges at the target with blinding speed. When she sees the smirk twisting the rogue’s lips and the pointed iron rod in her grip, it’s too late. With a flash of her crowfeather cape, the android meets 2B’s charge with her own, the skewer aimed at her wounded chest. 2B tries to divert her body away, but the momentum is too strong. It’s just enough to roll her body to the side so that the spike pierces clean through her shoulder, clear of critical systems. 
The pain, however, is agonizing. 
It’s different from the injuries 2B has suffered in the past. Countless machine swords, spears, and axes have torn through her body and of course all of those injuries hurt, but they were manageable. When the iron bar rips through layers of cloth, skin, carbon plating and frame, and synthetic muscle fibers it's as if her shoulder has been set on fire. She clenches her teeth, muffling a scream to a low growl. Her hand wraps around the skewer, close to the wound itself. Instinct tells her to tear it out immediately, but she knows that without treatment doing so would only worsen her condition. 2B doesn’t get to make that decision, unfortunately. The rogue grabs hold of the end of the iron rod and twists it side to side, driving it further into 2B’s shoulder. 
2B sinks to her knees and tries to hold back the cries of agony. Her injured arm stops responding to commands and lies limp and useless against her side. She swats at the rogue android with her weakening other arm, desperate to escape from this torment. Her strength fades along with her vision; it becomes impossible to even hold herself upright.
She must not fall, she must not… she must stay strong, she must stay alive.
She will not allow him to die… 
Not for the sake of a monster like her….
9S leaps into the fight as the rogue android prepares a killing blow. A flurry of Pod fire, sword strikes, and furious movement all blur together into a white, gold, and black haze. She fights to stay awake, she fights to stand, but her body begins to shut down non-vital systems and conserve as much energy as she can. First her tactile sensors switch off, leaving her in a numbing cold. Then her hearing, quickly followed by sight. A warning flashes across the last vestiges of her vision that she is entering a forced shutdown state, and despite her audio sensors being deactivated, she swears she hears 9S cry out for her.
….
….
…….
………
……….
……..
….
2B opens her eyes to the blinding, sterile white of hacking space. This itself is not shocking. Oftentimes she would run diagnostics on her critical systems when in a forced shutdown, both to manage critical systems and to keep herself busy. 
But now, in the distance, there is an anomaly.
A single figure, black as night, approaches her. It’s shape is human up till its head, which sports pointed ears and a long snout like that of a dog or wolf. It looms over her and leaves a black, fragmented mist in its wake. But most troubling of all in this world of stark monochrome is its eye…. or what 2B believes is an eye. In the center of its lupine face is a strange geometric sigil that emits a highly saturated purple light. It feels… malicious. The thought itself is insane to 2B. Light cannot possess intent or emotions, and yet… 
“This is an unacceptable outcome.” A voice booms in her head. Somehow she knows it is the entity speaking. 
2B opens her mouth to respond, but instead of words, thick crimson fluid leaks from her throat.
“You will die. He will die. You cannot abide by this.”
She shakes her head. Droplets of blood fall to the pristine floor. The entity is right. If she has any strength left, 9S will live.
“Stand, little doll,” the entity commands, “Stand and unleash y-...Be——…..d.”
The entity’s voice becomes warped and distorted with audio glitches, yet 2B understands its words with frightening clarity.
“Take-......l-...s within.” 
It holds a hand out to her, offering her something she can’t quite make out. The shape in its palm is amorphous, colorless, and flickers with lines of jumbled code. Somehow, she knows this piece of herself in intimate detail, yet cannot remember what this does or what its relation to the entity is. 
But it promises strength enough to save 9S.
2B reaches out and takes the code in her hand… 
….
………….
…………………………
………………………………………………………..
Her eyes snap open. A current of raw energy runs through her body, electrifying every nerve and sensor within her. She shakes with each pulse of her circulatory apparatus as a new, terrifying strength takes hold. 2B rises to her feet, flexing her hands, legs, arms. One arm’s movement is restricted by the iron bar still stuck in her shoulder. She tears it out with little effort, casting it to the floor. The rattling, hollow sound echoes against the stone chapel. 
The rogue’s head snaps up from her combat with 9S, who is barely able to hold his sword. Something in her expression changes. She kicks 9S and points her sword at 2B, her arms shaking in a way they had not before. 
2B lunges forward, her sword raised high. The rogue raises her own sword to deflect, but 2B’s newfound strength breaks her guard with one mighty strike. With blinding speed 2B slices through the rogue android’s body. Her crowfeather cape flutters to the floor, soon followed by her arm. The rouge android staggers back, an expression of shock and horror twisting her face. 2B drives her sword through the rogue’s chest, forcing her back further. Instead of drawing her sword back for another strike, a terrifying feeling takes over 2B. She leaves the sword inside the rogue’s chest and tackles her to the ground. With her bare hands and horrible strength, 2B delivers blow after blow to the android’s chest, shoulder, arms, head, and abdomen. Each piece is reduced to a pulp of flesh and metal one after the next until nothing remains but scrap. 
2B throws her head back as she straddles her victim, a horrible, twisted grin plastered across her face and arms outstretched. Her body feels wrong… horribly wrong, yet for the first time since she can remember, her chest is light. She gazes up at the morbid sculpture with an emotion she can’t quite describe. It isn’t the same as a combat high, she is intimately familiar with that heady rush. This is something akin to… euphoria. A laugh begins to bubble up in her throat-
“2B?”
She’s forced back to reality by the 9S’ voice, right beside her ear. Suddenly, the terrible strength from moments before fades from her body. Her arms go limp by her sides, and it becomes hard to sit upright. Even breathing is laborious. 9S wraps his arms around her shoulders and tugs her gently, laying her head and shoulders against his chest.
“I’ve got you. We… I think we’re safe.” His breathing is uneven and ragged, much like 2B’s. He swivels his head back and forth, searching for any lingering threats as quickly as possible. “Pod, run a scan for machine lifeform or android signals in the immediate area,” he commands.
Pod 153 is silent for a moment, then emits a grating, hideous garbled noise. Words try to break through the audio distortions but neither 2B or 9S is confident it isn’t simply what they wish to hear. 
“Alert:” Pod 042 begins, “Interference from unknown source is preventing accurate scans of the surrounding area. Proposal: Relocate to an elevated aaaaaaa…..a-r-....rrr……”
The same audio distortions come from 042, mingling with 153’s until they both cut off, leaving the androids in silence. “Pod?” 9S calls to the floating support unit. “Pod, respond. ... Pod?”
2B mutters weakly to her own Pod, but it's the same as 9S’. No response at all.
9S pulls up a small data screen, map data, from what 2B can tell. Or… where map data would be. Instead, there’s a blank, grey screen and a little message box that reads No Data. 
“What the-...” 9S whispers, flipping through different screens at a frantic pace. “Where-... There’s… all the data is gone!” he shouts, “No map, no signal scans… I can’t even connect to the Bunker…”
“We’re stranded…” 2B muses aloud.
Silence passes between them. Only the ominous wind passing through ancient wood and stone reminds them that the world hasn’t stopped moving around them. 
“We should move to a higher area, like your Pod said.” 9S suggests, rising to his feet. “Can you stand?”
When 9S offers a hand out to her, 2B takes it without thinking. His touch, even through his thick gloves, calms the beast pacing inside her. 
Beast? 
…..What does that mean?
2B rises to her feet, her hands lingering in 9S’ for a moment longer than she normally would. There’s a fog in her head that distorts her equilibrium. She leans on 9S for support, to which he wraps his arm around her waist and positions himself under her shoulder.
“I got you.” He says with a small smile.
2B feels just a bit lighter.
They exit the chapel and make for higher ground. 9S rationalizes that if they simply continue up stairs or inclines they would find a space clear of whatever is interfering with the Pod’s satellite connections. Perhaps it’s the fog that creeps across the cobblestone streets or the odd angle of the sun (not that it makes sense to 9S or 2B but they have to consider all possibilities), or perhaps it’s something beyond that. There’s a strange, eerie feeling about this city that neither can explain, and neither want to talk about. As if there’s a presence constantly watching over them.
They climb the stairs of one of the massive sprawling religious buildings. From what 9S assesses, it seems to have one of the tallest spires in the city. Only a larger time-keeping building looming in the distance is larger. If he could reach the top he should be far enough above whatever is interfering with the Pods. When he relays his plan to 2B who only nods, her eyes unfocused and breathing shallow, worry starts to lace its icy fingers through his chest. Something is wrong with her. 
9S’ first instinct is to prepare a data backup with the bunker, but the Pods are both out of commission for the time being. His next is to contact command and ask how they should proceed, to the same conclusion. Climbing the spire is the only course of action he can take, but first, he has to make sure 2B is safe.
He leads her through the castle of worship, now supporting most of her weight. That… frightening show of strength must have exhausted her power supply. There are plenty of well preserved wooden benches that stretch across half of the main worship chambers, at least it would be more comfortable than the stone floors. Under watch by the countless grotesque statues that sit in the rafters, 9S helps 2B onto a long bench, laying her on her back. She hisses and grinds her teeth as she moves. She must have sustained internal damage from that fight… 
“I’ll be right back,” he promises, “I’m going to go to the roof to get a clear signal.”
All 2B gives in response is a slow nod. He lingers by her side before leaving, a moment longer than needed.
Now alone in this spacious, hollow, human structure, 2B takes stock of her condition. There’s pain in her shoulders, particularly her right arm. Her legs are tight, most locking up from the strain of the previous battle and trekking up to her current location. Her back, as well, is tense beyond discomfort. It spasms and jolts if she breathes too hard. At least these are injury related, explainable. The black wolfman with purple eyes lingering in the corners of her vision, is not. 
She sees the entity in the shadows, lurking just out of view. 9S walks right past it, not even sparing a glance at the tall, gangly creature. It doesn’t respond to 9S either, instead focusing on 2B and only 2B. 
The sight of it makes her stomach turn. She tries to close her eyes, but the glowing, purple sigil is burned into her vision. With a groan she digs her knuckles into her eyelids as if she could carve the hallucination out of the air. Defeated, 2B lets her arms down once more. One hand touches the cool stone floor, decorated with elegant mosaics, and she suddenly realizes how warm she is. According to the warning messages displayed in her vision her body temperature is ten degrees above normal levels. 
“Pod,” she groans, forcing herself to sit up, “retrieve water from storage-”
“Report: Mail notification received from Command.”
The monotone voice of her support unit shocks her. Pod 042 had been silent up until now due to whatever interference was in the area, and now it’s getting messages from Command? 9S must have established a connection from the roof.
Her heart sinks. If that’s the case he would contact her. The first thing she’d hear would be his voice.
She opens the message, dreading its contents.
Subject has accessed confidential records. Eliminate the Target.
At the top of the spire 9S takes in the view of the entire city, the wind rushing through his hair. It’s breathtaking. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. The sky dyes the entire urban sprawl red, as well as the mountains on the horizon. His pulse races as he drinks in the terrifying awe of what the ancient humans were capable of, hoping to remember every last detail of the buildings, the streets, and the magnificent sculptures that litter the city. It’s all so well preserved that he feels as though a human might appear, walking down the cobblestone streets as if nothing were wrong. As if they didn’t go extinct. 
Reluctantly he draws his attention away from the splendor of humanity’s ruins, and shakes away the creeping emptiness that comes with that line of thought. He can’t think about that now. He and 2B are stranded. 9S produces a holographic terminal that mirrors Pod 153’s settings menu. Pod’s diagnostics on his end show buildup of foreign material in and around certain receivers, something that 9S expects, but that is only part of the problem. It seems that the atmosphere in this place is clogged with various chemicals and particles that make satellite transmissions more difficult. Considering all of the decaying metal and stone it’s no wonder that there’s so much particulate in the air. Once Pod’s receivers are clear 9S has Pod 153 hover just above the spire’s tip. It stays suspended in the air, the small light on the top of its body turning on and off at regular intervals.
“Connection established.” Pod 153 announces moments later. “Proposal: Contact the Bunker for support.”
“Great! Set up a relay connection for Pod 042 as well.”
“Affirmative.”
9S opens a data screen laden with information and begins composing his message to Operator 21O. With an unreliable connection a live call would be too risky, a simple text based message won’t be distorted or cut out. He records a brief message, attaches a transcription of his words, and sends it to the Bunker. Hopefully 21O would send something quickly-
A flash of movement in the streets below catches his eye. Something running on all fours... “Pod… run a scan for machine lifeforms…” He says, a chill creeping up his spine.
Pod 153 floats down to his side. “Alert: Multiple machine lifeforms detected. Proposal: Regroup with Unit 2B.”
“But-” 
That thing didn’t look like a machine…
“Alert: Anomalous signal detect-”
Pod 153’s words are drowned by a horrific, mournful howl that reverberates through the entire building. 9S clings to the ornate decorations on the spire and covers his ears with his free hand. His body runs cold. He’s never heard a sound like that before. Nothing the machines make comes close to that. The pain and sorrow in that noise is something that no animal could produce either. That left only one possibility…
Another roar wracks the building from within… 
2B clutches the sides of her head, the data screen long dismissed.
No…
Her chest strains under her panicked breaths. 
No.
She hadn’t been watching him. She hadn’t been keeping track of his questions and behavior…
No… No.
And now she…
No no no no no .
She has to…
no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.
NO.
She will not do this. Not again. 
Her skin feels… tight. 
She will fight off every single goddamn android Command sends until there are none left but her and him. She will not be a part of this cycle again. Her hands curl into fists as a surge rushes through her body, alighting her nerves with energy. With power.
A shadow moves across the stone floor of the castle of worship. The entity, its form inky black, its sigil emitting a baleful purple light, glides towards her. It bathes her in the highly saturated light, a light not even shielding her eyes can diffuse. It bores into her core, it peers into her mind. It speaks into her mind.
“You will not allow this to happen.” Its voice echoes off the hollow shell of where humans once sought God. “But strength comes at a price, little doll.”
The entity plunges its claws into her chest. Heat explodes throughout her body to the point where she fears she might self-destruct. The boiling tendrils of this ethereal monster sink into her artificial heart and her Black Box. Something activates, or… unlocks, and suddenly she feels… confined. Her body… it’s too small….
“Time to pay the toll…”
It rips its claws, now writhing shadow-like whips, out of her chest, then vanishes. 2B’s vision is obscured, but not by warnings and error messages, by blood. Red veins pulse on the edges of her sight in time with her heart. Each beat sends waves of heat, electricity, and agony through her body.
“Stand, little doll. Stand, and unleash your beasthood.”
A scream forms in 2B’s throat, but it cannot break through her swelling throat and gritted teeth. She takes frantic, shallow breaths. Her limbs shake, her fingernails dig into the stonework floor. It’s so hot… 
2B rolls onto the floor and rips away her tight uniform. Far too tight. Parts of her dress were already beginning to tear as her muscles swell. Blood trickles from various wounds where her skin has split, revealing the thick, synthetic muscle cords that lie beneath. Her blindfold is next, but removing it does not help her vision. One eye is unfocused, blurring all of her vision.
She drags her fingernails across her body and lets out a deep, animal snarl when she tears into her own flesh. Looking down at her hands, she recoils at the sight of long, black claws that split her fingers down the center. Skin falls from them in long strips to the point where the mechanical joints of her hands are exposed.
Something snaps inside her, somewhere in her upper back. She howls in agony, in sorrow, as her spine lengthens, twists, and grows too fast for her body to maintain. Her insides are compacted and grind against each other, sending sickening vibrations throughout her. Her throat finally opens up, allowing her to breathe. She watches as puffs of steam escape her mouth into the warm twilight air. 
Another crack and something explodes out of her lower back. Her balance is thrown off and she falls forward, smashing her face into stone. Another snarl, this one combined with the gnashing of fangs. Her mouth warps, splitting out of her face into a muzzle. Eyes follow, one swelling to fit its now spacious socket while the other stunts and refuses to change. She claws at the peeling skin of whatever she can reach, spilling more of her blood in the process. Everything hurts, everything itches, but oh god the power feels so good.
A growth springs from above her unchanged eye, weighing her head down and hunching her body over. She supports herself with one enormous hand, the other scooping the wires and tubing that spills out of her torn stomach and forcing them back inside her abdominal cavity. The twisting extension of her spine, a tail, thuds against the floor and counters the weight of her head. 
2B shakes the mane of bloodied, white hair from her functioning eye, turns her head to the sky, and roars.
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Text
A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 11
<- Chapter 10
Summary: The end of a journey and the start of a new one
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The world was beautiful—bright blue skies stretched overhead with a few lazy white cotton puffs drifting unhurriedly through and topping distant snow-covered peaks. Insects fluttered and chirped in the afternoon heat from the tall grass that lined the dirt road at the center of town, where tiny white and yellow flowers bloomed. Inside the gloomy church, you hadn't even noticed what was waiting just outside.
It was not a peaceful summer day, however. Word travels fast in a small village, though not always well or with accuracy, and a general chaos turns in the air—villagers carrying buckets of water clamor toward the smoke and others, still screaming, clamor to get away. It won’t be long before men with muskets come to hunt the great beast who had caused the calamity and abducted a bride from her wedding.
A large but fast warmblood waits, loosely tied to post just outside the church door. You could swear you’ve seen it somewhere before.
The creature sets you on its back side-saddle, before climbing on behind you and spurring the horse to a gallop. Behind you, a handful of villagers stare after you in shock.
“We shall be long gone before they recover enough to come after us,” he says, a laugh brightening the edges of his voice. You grin into the wind, fingers grasping at a handful of chestnut mane. You’re both exhilarated, and can hardly believe what just happened.
As you continue down the road, reality has to catch up sooner or later. Fear creeps back into your mind.
“Where are we going? What will we do?!”
“Are you not happy? You came with me of your own accord...”
“Of course I’m happy! “Of course I’m happy! You rescued me from that nightmare.” You’re not sure how to show your affection while trying not to fall off a galloping horse, so you nuzzle your face against the arm he has wrapped around you. “Only, we still have the same problem we had yesterday,” you frown.
“In truth, I may have wallowed and wasted away in self-pity, doubting if interference on my part was wanted, but I was encouraged to action. There is something that may assuage some of your apprehension.”
He slows the horse and turns its reins down a narrow path into the forest, barely visible from the road. You ride for several minutes, ducking sharp branches that tug at your dress, winding through the undergrowth until it opens up upon a small clearing at the edge of the river. The water is cool and clear, far calmer than the angry brown churning that overflowed the banks in the spring.
“This is where we first met, isn’t it?”
He slides himself off the saddle and lands softly in the tall grass. Taking the reins under the animal’s chin, he leads you toward a figure waiting at the far side of the meadow, under the dappled shade where the forest line hangs just over the riverbank. A smaller horse grazes idly beside them. He raises a large hand and waves to them. The figure waves back, mahogany curls bouncing with the movement, the light catching on their long, fussy sleeves.
It couldn’t be.
“Stop where you are!” she barks as the creature approaches too close. “Fifteen feet, remember our deal?” She holds up a hand in front of her eyes and squeezes them shut as if to erase him from her vision.
“Bess?” you stammer.
She looks up at you with big brown eyes and smiles. “Sorry for missing your wedding. I heard it sucked.”
You jump off the horse and nearly knock her her flat with the force of your hug. “What are you doing here? How did? What? And you didn’t—” your mouth is running at a million miles a minute yet you can’t quite manage to articulate words.
“Alright, alright,” she pats your back. “I am astonishing, I know.” She steps back and gestures to a large leather saddle bag next to her on the ground. “While everyone was distracted, I packed everything you’ll need to survive. Baked some hardtack special for you, so you shouldn’t starve for at least a month, though I recommend foraging something to supplement it.”
“This… this was your idea?” Your jaw hangs open. “But I… But you...” Your open jaw wobbles in disbelief, your last memory of Bess wide-eyed with terror and screaming.
She tucks a hand on her hip and looks aside. “I saw what I saw, and I was shocked. Frankly, it would have been a lot to process even without a damned—whatever you call him—involved. I didn’t say anything of course, but it was distressing. I didn’t know what to think. That you were cavorting with the legions of Hell after all? Then I recalled your strange behavior of late—your distraction, your mysterious smiles and contented sighs. Always hiding away in that barn yet refusing any aid with your chores. After I could breathe again it was not difficult to put together. I’m not a dummy, dummy,” she smiles.
“Suddenly they were forcing you to marry Ferdinand. I knew you would never do so willingly, but I had no power to stop their machinations. I didn't know what to do, so on a hunch, I checked your barn and found this brute curled on the floor with ten cats, weeping into one of your chemises. Thus I recruited him to my aid.”
The creature steps forward and gestures a large hand toward Bess in a friendly manner. “It was she who secured the horse and supplies, and who suggested—”
Bess waves him away sharply, clamping a hand over her eyes. “I’m sorry, guy, I cannot even look at you.” She shudders deep and sickeningly to her core. “You are fucking crazy,” she says to you, “I don’t get it. But this fellow makes you happy, doesn’t he?” You nod. “Then I am happy for you. This town has been a prison for you ever since we were children; I watched it draining your life, your dreams. So take your scary boyfriend and get out of here!”
Tears sting the back of your eyes. The creature was right—all along, Bess would have understood. Instead of confiding in a friend, you let fear lead you by the nose into a trap from which the two of them busted you out just before the door could snap shut behind you forever.
“I should have told you.” You wipe your eyes, laughing softly. “I’m an idiot.”
“No…” she coos soothingly, with some hesitation. “Well, yes. A little. But we love you.” She makes a visor over her brow with her hand and points in the general direction the massive, ominously looming creature is standing. “He loves you quite a lot, you know.”
“I know,” you smile, blessing him with a gaze affectionately returned (though he keeps his distance from the flighty Bess, occupying himself by packing up the horse). “He’s wonderful.”
“It takes all types,” she shakes her head. “Alright then,” she clears her throat, steeling herself, “Ride as hard as you can until you reach the next town. Blake is our fastest, strongest horse and should be able to bear the weight for a sprint of that distance. That should be enough of a head start to then disappear on foot, especially if nobody knows your intended destination is Geneva. If you would be so kind as to return the horse to the livery stable there—it is run by my cousin, and he won’t ask any questions. When you reach your destination, I expect a letter or I’ll think you’re dead.”
“You’re not coming with us?”
Her eyes grow wet. “It isn’t my journey. This place is not so much a cage for me as it has been for you. Though one day, I hope, we shall meet again.”
“I will miss you.” Your lower lips quivers with unspoken sorrow. She hugs you fiercely and protectively one last time before pulling back with a sniffle.
“Now go on! You must hurry before they come looking for you.”
The creature reaches down a hand. You clasp it, warm and strong in its grip, and he pulls you up onto the back of the muscular horse. Bess waves, running after you on foot as he kicks the horse into a brisk canter. “Don’t forget that letter!”
Tears stream down your face as you turn in the saddle and watch Bess and the river grow smaller and smaller, and eventually be swallowed up by the forest. You inhale deeply and let out a long, shaking breath.
“Are you all right?” the creature’s question vibrates in his chest, pressed to your back.
“Yeah.”
He is silent for awhile. The wild exhilaration of your escape from the church has withered and been replaced by a mournful determination to move forward. To begin new lives. The reality is not so glamorous as you reminisce on all the things you are leaving behind—Bess, Edelweiss, your flock of chickens and barn cats, the moss-covered boulders that were your secret place since childhood—yet you are ready to build that new life, whatever challenges lie ahead. You’ll have the best help one can hope for.
You let your weight shift back so your head rests against the creature’s chest. His long black hair flutters around you in the wind. He leans down and presses gentle kisses on your hair and your shoulders, and a comforting warmth spreads beneath your skin. You feel safe and cared for.
“Do you hate me? You must hate me,” you murmur into the wind, but his sharp ears pick up every word.
“I love you,” his chest rumbles. “You are my life, as much as the air that fills my lungs. Why should I hate you?”
“I was useless. I gave up. I was so terrified, I gave up on us. How can you ever forgive me?”
“You saved my wretched life long ago, dear angel.” He holds the reins in one fist, and slides his other hand under your arm, caressing your side and splaying out his fingers over your belly, smoothing the fabric of the gown. The gesture is warm and possessive, and keeps you secure on the speeding horse as you melt into him, intoxicated by his touch. “You dragged me out of misery into the light—cared for me with patience and love I never believed myself deserving of. You stood beside me and tended my wounds of both flesh and of my soul. Your company alone is a gift of which I was made unworthy. I have always wanted to thank you for saving me.”
“Now we’re even, huh?” you laugh.
“No,” he replies softly and insistently. “I think I would like to continue paying you back.”
The hand he had rested on your belly glides up to tip your chin toward him, and he presses a precarious kiss to your lips. A small jolt of hooves over the terrain sends you clutching for mane, but his steady hand darts back around your waist to keep you balanced.
“I will have to exact more payment once we have arrived on solid ground yet again,” you promise sinfully, resting a hand over his and squeezing it. “I want to kiss all of the scars on your handsome face.”
His chest vibrates with an eager hum of anticipation.
As you ride away from your old life, you feel something changing deep in your bones. You are already farther from your home than you have ever been, and ahead of you is the wide horizon of blue skies speared by sharp mountain peaks. You look up at the closest mountain to the road. It is not one you think you have seen before, although its shape is hauntingly familiar, like the face of a childhood friend, after years of separation, as an adult.
“What mountain is that?” You point to it.
“It is the white-crested peak of the great mountain that overlooks your town. The one I greatly admired from the window of the hayloft. We face its west slope, now.”
A wave of excitement for the future surges through you like electricity. What will your life look like from a fresh angle?
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Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter XXXIII
Defeating the iseultalon daemon and the eternal troopers, the group saw the road was blocked off due to a large pile of debris. Prompto looked from one side of the street to the other. "Not makin' it through here."
"Think there's any other way around?" Gladio asked.
"We might want to head...under."
(Y/n), who was still in her spiritual form, meandered down the side street the iseultalon daemon and eternal troopers came from. In the distance, she saw the entrance to the subway. Once sensing the men were following her, she proceeded carefully.
Their peaceful moment in the ruins of Insomnia was spoiled when an ariadne manifested alongside some tarantulas. With the enemies too close for comfort near the entrance to the subway, they had no choice but to fight. While the boys focused on the larger daemon, the spirit used her fire magic to burn the tarantulas skittering across the ground. Now that the smaller enemies were dead, she looked up at the ariadne and leapt towards it after it used its own lightning spell. Using her fire breath, she set the daemon ablaze. Prompto slid in and fired a few rounds, siphoning the last of its life.
(Y/n) rolled her shoulders after reverting back to being human. There was no way her spiritual form would be able to wedge through the entrance to the underground subway platform. Following Noctis, they walk down the stairs and wander through the empty station.
Prompto's eyes bounced around, taking in the condition of the white-tiled walls and floor. It was pristine, but some areas were slowly crumbling. "It's worn down, but still the same."
"Just like I remember," Gladio commented.
"Always came in handy," Ignis stated.
(Y/n) looked around with a glint of astonishment in her golden eyes. "So this is the subway, huh...?"
"Only the main thoroughfare. The loading platforms branch off from here. There's tons of them. This place used to be filled with people. Let's see that it is again," Noctis chimed in.
"You're telling me you've lived here for most of your life and haven't been here at least once?" The shield asked out of bewilderment.
"Hey, I was busy with my job at the boutique. Mind you, it was only a fifteen minute walk from the apartment. I had no need to ride the subway," she said.
"I'm quite disappointed in you, Prompto," Ignis voices his thoughts.
"Wha-?" Prompto's jaw fell, his mouth agape at the advisor's words. "Why're you disappointed in me all of a sudden?"
"For not giving (Y/n) a proper tour of Insomnia to show her what all she's been missing."
"B-But..."
"It's fine," the girl interjected. "Like I said, I was busy with my job. I never really had the time to explore the city. I only really know the places Prompto and I regularly visited."
"Guess we'll have to give you a proper tour after all this is over," Gladio said.
"You guys still love bullying me," Prompto groaned.
Noctis smirked at his words as he pressed a button. The metal gate that barred them from proceeded lifted with a faint 'squeak' of the rusted gears. Making their way through the main thoroughfare of the subway station, they encountered a large group of eternal troopers and salpinxes. Seeing as there wasn't much room, (Y/n) opted to use the Creator's Blade instead of transforming. She and Ignis combined their fire attacks and wiped out many of the eternal troopers in one fell swoop. Noctis received assistance from Prompto, which was enough to kill all the salpinxes. Gladio dealt with the remaining few troopers before proceeding forward through the underground station.
At the end of the passageway, Noctis presses another button to raise the metal gate. They wandered down the hallway before walking up a flight of stairs and arriving back on the surface. It was the perfect shortcut for it led them directly to the other side of the pile of debris. Down the street was the secured entrance to the Citadel. There did prove to be one problem, which took on the appearance of a behemoth king.
With a smirk, (Y/n) ran past Noctis and charged at the creature. She transformed, ignoring the men when they shouted her name. Bounding towards the behemoth king, her entire body ignited with flames. She tackled the creature and sank her claws and teeth into its body, allowing her flame-engulfed form to wound it even further. The behemoth squirmed in pain underneath her as it roared.
Keeping it pinned with her weight, she allowed the men to attack without having to worry about it pouncing on them. Noctis and Gladio attacked the head while Prompto and Ignis focused on the hind legs. Thanks to (Y/n), the beast was already significantly wounded by the time they began attacking it.
Once the behemoth king was dead, the guardian reverted back to being human. She flexed her fingers, feeling and hearing a few of the joints popping. Noctis looked over at her. "Damn, (Y/n)..."
She blinked in surprise. "What?"
"For someone who's been asleep for ten years, you're not even the tiniest bit rusty," Gladio answered. "Looks to me like you've become even more powerful."
"I wouldn't say I'm more powerful. It's more along the lines of power that's built up inside my body over a long period of time. I've gotta vent some of this power or it could possibly harm by body."
"And you're using it before we're even at the citadel?" Prompto wondered.
"Oh, trust me. I've got plenty to spare." (Y/n) decided to tease the men. "But you guys... Don't even get me started."
"What?" The marksman gasped. "W-We're still badass! Hell, we haven't even reached our prime!"
"Mmm...I'm not so sure about that."
Prompto analyzed her face with narrowed eyes. "You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "Who knows."
Noctis pushed open the gates. The five walk past the security checkpoint and make their way to the courtyard located in front of the Citadel. At the base of the stairwell leading up to the grand structure stood Ardyn and Callyx. The guardian said nothing as the auburn-haired man held up his hand, smirking at the group. "Ifrit, the Infernian. He doesn't share the Glacian's fondness for mankind. But you can expect a...warm welcome. We shall await you above." He headed up the stairwell, entering the Citadel with Callyx as Ifrit appeared, sitting on a throne of his own creation.
The moment Noctis took a step towards the Astral, the god raised his hand and sent a powerful gust of flames towards him. The king's clothes were set ablaze as he fell over. He rolled on the ground in an attempt to snuff out the flames.
Prompto rushes over, gets down on his knees beside Noctis, and quickly pats out the flames with his hands. "Noct! Hang in there, buddy!" He was able to extinguish the flames from Noctis' attire. "Stay down. We'll keep him busy." Prompto rejoins the battle.
Noctis gets back to his feet. Ignis, who was kneeling behind cover near Ifrit's throne, called out to him. "Noct! Over here!" The king begins to walk toward his advisor, but is moving slowly due to his wounds. "Quickly, before he strikes again!" The strategist shouted.
Suddenly, Noctis is tackled from behind by Gladio and pulled into cover where Ignis is. Prompto joins the other three within a second, but that's when he noticed one of them was missing. "Wait, where's (Y/n)?" Looking around, he saw the guardian calmly approaching Ifrit. "(Y/n)! Hurry!"
She said nothing nor even glanced in his direction as the god prepares his second attack. When he went to run out of cover to grab her, Ifrit released a second wave of flames. The four men huddled closer together as the heat seared their skin. (Y/n) felt the flames touch her skin, but she was unharmed. Her eyes radiated with a brilliant golden glow as she smirked. "Let's have some fun." Summoning the Creator's Blade, she attacked the Astral.
Prompto, after seeing she was unharmed and fighting against Ifrit, emerged from cover while shouting to his best friend, "Got your back!" Gladio also broke from cover and joined the fray.
Ignis stands and holds out a curative item to heal Noctis. "Here you go."
The king rises once more and continues the charge alongside his friends. "Let's go!"
The five attacked the god, who didn't budge from his throne. He simply sat their, smirking in amusement at their attempt to fight against him. When Noctis performed a warp-strike, Ifrit easily grabbed him in one hand and squeezed his body. Before the Astral could do any major damage to Noctis, (Y/n) used her sword to slice at his arm. The god dropped the king and tried to grab the spirit, but she was nimble and quick. Leaping out of the god's reach, she regained her bearings. Her plan to attack, however, was thrown offtrack when Noctis summoned Bahamut. He tackled her out of harm's way when one of the Draconian's large swords pierced the ground near Ifrit's fiery throne.
The two watch as Bahamut flew through the sky before coming to a halt above the Citadel. Summoning an array of swords that brilliantly radiated, he aimed them at Ifrit. The Infernian leapt from his throne with his weapon in hand, dodging the large swords as they rained down upon him. As the last one struck the ground, Ifrit spun around with his sword raised and blocked Bahamut as he swooped down to attack.
Noctis, as his eyes met Bahamut's, nodded and summoned his sword. He warped above the Infernian and swung his blade at the distracted god. He struck him as the Draconian vanished. Ifrit's sword fell from his hand as he collapsed to his knees, body engulfed in flames. The king landed behind him as (Y/n), Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis rejoined the battle. They lowered their weapons, but quickly raised them when the Infernian grabbed his sword and got back to his feet.
"So even that wasn't enough?" Gladio growled.
"It's taken a turn for the worse," Ignis said.
"Out of the frying pan, dot, dot, dot?" Prompto muttered.
"We need to put this thing out!" Noctis bellowed. "(Y/n)!"
"Yeah?" The guardian spoke up after hearing her name.
"You're the only one who can withstand the heat. Think you could help with my plan?"
She smirked. "Definitely. What do you need me to do?"
"Knock him off his feet."
"I think I can do a little more than that." Transforming, she jumped around Ifrit as Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis fought against him. Once she was able to find the perfect opportunity, the fox tackled the god to the ground and used her tails to wrap them around his wrists and ankles. She dug her claws into his chest, using her weight to pin him to the ground.
The men rushed in with their weapons, dealing blow after blow. They were able to weaken Ifrit, who was struggling to free himself from (Y/n). He couldn't even swing his sword to attack anyone.
After some more struggling, the Infernian was able to free one of his wrists. He grabbed the fox, tossed her aside, and stood up. He swung his blade, knocking the men away. (Y/n)'s body skidded across the ground before coming to a halt a few feet away from her companions. She could feel the pain from the Infernian's grasp and her tumble against the hard asphalt. Ignis tossed a potion her way once she was back on her feet. She caught the vial in her mouth, crushing it and instantly feeling relief as her wounds healed.
As the guardian leapt back into the battle, Ifrit grabbed Noctis and tossed his body into the air. The god teleported to the king and swung his blade at him. Stunned, the king took the brunt of the attack as his body was sent hurtling towards the ground. Before he could slam against the asphalt, (Y/n) jumped up into the air and caught him on her back.
Ifrit, angered over her interference, teleported back to the ground and targeted the fox. He swung his sword wildly in an attempt to strike the guardian. Noctis, who was still on her back, held on tightly to the fur on the nape of her neck as she dodged the god's attacks.
Using her tails as whips, the fox was able to knock the Infernian away and towards Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio. The three attacked Ifrit while Noctis tried to devise a plan. As he slid off the spirit's back, he heard Shiva speak to him. At her voice, he summoned the Glacian. Gentiana appeared, smiling as she walked past him and transformed into Shiva. The entire courtyard and surrounding area became frozen over with a thick layer of ice. The goddess, with her many duplicates, glided through the air before surrounding Noctis. Eyes turned to Ifirt, Shiva formed a vortex of glacial winds that froze the god as he charged froward with his sword raised.
Now encased in ice, Ifrit was petrified. Shiva floated towards the Infernian and kissed his bottom lip as the icy winds of the vortex began to fade. From her kiss, Ifrit's frozen body shattered. "Rest, my love. May your soul know peace at last." She then flew off, leaving Noctis with one final message. "King of Kings, the grace of the gods is with you always."
Noctis stared up at the sky in the direction Shiva took off. "I made a promise...one that I intend to keep."
(Y/n) changed forms, placing a hand over her chest when she felt Brahma's emotional turmoil for Ifrit's defeat. She wasn't sure what bond he shared with the Infernian, but it caused the god to feel sorrow. Prompto was the first to notice her conflicted expression and jogged over. He placed a hand on her shoulder, peering into her face worriedly. "You're not hurt, are you, (Y/n)?"
She lifted her head, shaking it. "No, I'm fine. Sorry for worrying you."
"It's Brahma, isn't it?" Noctis asked as he, Gladio, and Ignis joined the couple.
"Yeah. I'm not familiar with his relationships with the other Astrals, but with Ifrit..." She curled her hand up into a fist. "I've a feeling they were close before he turned his back on humanity."
"Worry about that later," Gladio said. "We've still got two creeps to get rid of."
(Y/n) lowered her hand. "Oh, no. Callyx is all mine. You four can have fun with Ardyn. Besides, I've got a god who's pissed off at him and can't wait to give him a piece of his mind."
The group, with their minds resolved, headed up the stairwell leading to the entrance of the Citadel. Noctis pushes open the doors, allowing them inside.
"At long last, the Citadel," Ignis said as they entered the building.
"The throne is just up ahead," Noctis stated, walking through the lobby and towards the elevator.
Prompto looked around the room and noticed the illumination from the lights. "It's all lit up."
"Guess they're expecting company," Gladio commented.
"They want this as bad as we do," the king remarked.
"They're not going to win. We'll make sure of that," (Y/n) chimed in.
"We'll get our home back."
Once entering the rear hallway where the elevator was located, Gladio asked, "Think the elevator's workin'?"
Prompto presses the button and summons the lift. When hearing the familiar 'clink,' he was surprised. "Huh... Sure looks like it."
"They are really taking us by the hand," Ignis said.
"It's no fun waiting for your guests if they have to trek up countless number of stairs," (Y/n) huffed out a faint chuckle.
"It'll save our legs the walk up," Noctis stated as they all entered the elevator.
Riding the elevator up, the five were silent until the shield sliced through the tense atmosphere with his baritone voice. "The throne room...waits outside."
"Yeah... And so does Ardyn and Callyx," Prompto added.
"Acting like they own the place," he sneered.
"It's time to take it all back," Ignis said.
"It ends here. Tonight," Noctis declared.
(Y/n)'s golden eyes glanced around at the faces of the men. She leaned against the marbled wall of the elevator, crossing her arms. She had yet to share the ace she had hidden up her sleeve, but thought it would be best to keep it a secret until the time was right.
Stepping off the lift, the group wandered down the hall towards the room located outside the throne room.
"Remember how nervous we were in front of King Regis the day we left?" Gladio asked as he reminisced in an old, fond memory.
"That was the last time we were in here," Ignis pointed out.
"Yeah. They even let me in that day," Prompto said.
"Feels like forever ago," Noctis commented.
"Sorry, but I wasn't a part of that memory," (Y/n) sighed.
"No, but we've made plenty of happy ones with you during our travels," Gladio said.
"Indeed," Ignis agreed.
"Yeah," Noctis replied. "Prompto should've introduced you to us sooner."
"Hey!" The sharpshooter wailed. The others laughed at him before proceeding towards the throne room.
As Noctis and the others approach the double doors, Prompto hummed. "Hmm, not much farther."
"Well, shall we, Noct?" Ignis questioned.
Noctis begins to put his hand out toward the doors, then suddenly stops and turns around. "Yeah, but... Ah. Hold on a sec. Prompto. Can I see your photos?"
Prompto's eyes widen a fraction at the request. "Um...yeah!"
Noctis tried to smile, but he couldn't. "I just need one...to take with me."
The marksman's shocked expression was replaced with a dejected one. "Oh... Yeah. I get it. Um... You can take whichever you like."
The four men huddle together to examine the photographs one last time. (Y/n) decided to hang back while they perused the various pictures Prompto took during their journey. She lowered her head, waiting patiently for Noctis to pick one. When he chose one, he put it in his pocket. With the photo now safely stored, he walked towards the double doors. Before pushing them open, he inhaled and exhaled a deep sigh. "It's time..."
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mooberg · 3 years
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Among the Statues
Chapter 6: Hammer on Stone
I’m gonna try and not make updating this story a yearly thing, I swear.
The lvc belongs to @voiceoflarka​
Word count: 2291
Warnings: None
Enjoy!
Purple light splashed across Horns’ face as he gazed steadily out the window. His senses were on high alert for anything flying through the sky as he counted raindrops falling past the bright neon. Gamma and Psi were still out, but no one could be sure Dragon couldn’t find this place. The team slept about the safehouse, exhausted from worry while he stayed wide awake from the same.
“How powerful you must be, my little psychic…”
Dragon’s words echoed in his mind, cloudy in their intent. Clearly there was some darker interest there, and he doubted it was present before she froze the world. But what did she want, truly? He felt certain in the assumption her wishes had shifted upon their introduction, and her intensity toward him was worrisome; more than he wanted to let on. The team was worried enough, this was just part of it all. Having to consider additional motivations of a person who’s actions were already irredeemable was just going to add more stress. Was he being stupid? Probably. But they were aware enough of the situation and so he chose not to complicate things with his emotions. Well, more than normal anyway.
He took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as his eyes shifted briefly out of focus, his mind doing the same. Worry was tiresome on a mind already stretched thin from recent events. His body was alert, but his focus wavered. The sound of the rain lulled him deeper and deeper into trance…
Flashes. Bursts of light. A mansion. Then a forest. A courtyard covered in shards stained each colour of the rainbow. Eight viruses stood at the entrance in shock. A field of picnickers. A broken tree branch just barely pulled out of the way. Flashes of white. A feeling of doing good. Flashes. Helping. Flashes. “Stop her”. More flashes. A convention hall. Solaris Amphitheatre. “Go…” echoing in his mind as everything slowly faded to black…
Horns pulled out of his trance with a jolt and a gasp, shaking his head as his vision returned. He glanced around quickly, panic abating as he took stock of his team around him, safe and sound. He whipped out his phone, typing a quick text.
“Need you back ASAP
We have a lead.”
 ~~*~~
 “The amphitheatre’s packed, guys. The Colors of the Wind Art Festival was this weekend and it attracted hundreds, maybe even thousands of people. Viruses from all over Dashland, maybe even beyond. Honestly, it’s kind of a miracle she didn’t hit here first, I can’t see another cluster of people quite this big anywhere in the Capitol.” Callow’s voice deep in their ear informed. The earpiece struggled to be heard over the whipping wind and thundering motors.
Horns thanked every being he could think of that Glitch was a good driver as they sped down the centre of the road. Cars whooshed past on either side of them at a solid 120 kilometers, and he just held on for dear life behind her.
“With her powers, she could wipe them out in seconds.” Glitch said, swerving around a car frozen in a lane change. “We… can’t have that again.”
“She’s going to come after me when she sees us.” Horns added. “This stopped being about frozen viruses the minute someone resisted her spell. Let me draw her out.”
“You better be careful.” Gamma’s response came quickly, and not without trepidation.
A conflicted silence hung on the line as the tall buildings of Lower Dashland Proper fell away to low, manicured trees and green fields. The Dashland convention grounds sprawled out before them. Bordered on three of four sides with downtown roads, the grounds were located a few kilometers off from the city centre and hosted most major events held in the region each year. The amphitheatre was an architectural feat, the large glass and wood dome towering over the stage and most of the ringed seating. Its façade was designed to match the three other convention buildings dotted throughout the parkland. Dozens of vendor stalls and food trucks had been gathered on the northern field, where the team had arrived. Glitch brought their motorcycle to a stop next to Callow and Jolly’s just as Gamma landed next to them with the rest of the team.
“Let me scout real quick. Find us a clear place.” They said. “We’re not losing any more lives today.”
“We are more prepared this time than before.” Psi began as Gamma took off. “We know what we’re up against now and we’re here first. Be on your guard and keep communications open. We can do this.”
“I’m gonna try to get her talking.” Horns added. “Figure out what it is she wants out of all this.”
“I mean… you said it yourself.” Jolly said. “She wants you.”
Horns sighed, looking out around the convention grounds lit up in shades of gold with the late afternoon sun. “There’s more to it than that. I know it.”
“Maybe before, but now-”
“The field to the east is the clearest we’re going to get.” Gamma’s voice in their ears cut them all off. “Everyone spread out around the grounds and keep your eyes peeled.”
“Where are you going to go?” Psi asked Horns.
The Satyr hadn’t torn his eyes from the fields through Gamma’s report, falling back on his intuition to guide him, as it had done when it brought him here. “The amphitheatre.” He pointed to the east as he gave Psi a wry smile. “Seems Dragon wants to put on a show.”
His mentor gave him a nod and headed off directly south. Horns took a breath and stepped on to the paved concrete path. Banners hanging from the merchant stalls along the path flapped in the gentle afternoon breeze. Vendors hung out of almost every stall, enticing customers in to buy. Or at least their statues did. Horns stepped around their potential customers dotting the path. He took his time. There was no point in hiding.
He sighed. “Would’ve been a cool festival…”
The grounds opened up to him eventually as he left the stalls behind, as manicured as an open public field could get. Short grass dotted with trees to allow convention-goers to hide from the sun. The amphitheatre lay in the southeast corner, and he stepped onto the grass to beeline straight there. Even from this distance halfway across the field, Horns could see all the souls sheltered within. There they remained, locked in a moment of excitement and celebration now stained with freezing ice. A rainbow of innocents who did not sign up for this chaos.
“Poor guys…” He shook his head. “You didn’t do anything to deserve this.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Nice to see you again,” he reached up and discretely tapped his earpiece on as he turned, knowing without looking what he faced. “Dragon.”
Across the convention grounds, his whole team froze.
“My dear, I’m afraid I cannot return your greeting as you have not given me your name.” She replied.
Horns gave her a quick once over. Her dress had changed to a simple red velvet with fine black lace over top, but the black cloak remained. Her dark brown hair still fell freely about her shoulders, now unburdened from the weight of the rain under which they had first met. And she smiled at him, her glowing dark red eyes regarding him with a complex mix of emotions. Horns decided to take a chance.
“Horns.” He offered.
“Any last name?” She asked.
“Maybe another time.” He gave her a cocky smile.
“Very well.” She sighed not quite out of disappointment. “I assume the others are close by?”
“Close enough.” Horns confirmed. “But it’s just you and me in this field now so let’s talk. What did you mean?”
“In which case, dear?”
“What am I wrong about?” His eyes narrowed. “What do you know that I don’t?”
She gave a haughty laugh. “Oh, my little psychic I wouldn’t say you’re ignorant on the matter, just… prone to forgiveness.”
Horns cocked his head in question.
“I can tell by those horns and those ears that you know as well as I differences are not always tolerated.” She began. “Sure, those in power preach equality and change, but they never seem to follow through, do they? Someone always ends up under someone else’s boot.”
“Keep her talking, Horns. We need to know more.” Gamma came through in his ear.
“It’s more common than people think, that’s for sure.” Horns agreed.
“Not so naive after all, are you?” Dragon grinned, leaning towards him a little. “So tell me child, have you been under someone’s boot?”
“You said you know these horns; you know the answer.” Horns hesitated to continue.
“It’s okay. I know they’re listening.”
He looked around briefly, unable to see any of his team. Then with a sigh, he turned off his earpiece. There were still people close to him in the dark about his true nature, and he’d rather it stayed that way for now. “All my life. There’s never been a moment I felt safe. From ridicule, from harm caused by those who didn’t care, or didn’t even want to know. I was born a Satyr. It’s who I am; I can’t change that. I can’t hide it, and I have tried. So why does that give people the right to push me around?”
“It doesn’t.” Dragon countered. “You do.”
She looked out across the fields and Horns took that moment to quickly turn his earpiece back on.
“You let them walk on you, you place yourself under their boot. You give them permission.”
“So that’s what this is.” Horns connected the dots. “You’re taking back permission.”
“You catch on quick, my little psychic.”
“But not everyone is like that.” Horns countered. “I’ve met good people. People who care about me, about everyone. People out here working themselves to stardust to try and stop you from taking more innocent lives-”
“Innocent?” Dragon scoffed, forcing Horns to step back as she stepped forward. “My dear there are no innocents here. There are the guilty parties, and the ones that do nothing. Well, if they’re going to do nothing, they might as well make me a lovely little statue garden.”
“I… I’ll stop you.” Horns insisted. “Even if I have to wake everyone up all by myself. I won’t let you stomp them down to dust.”
Dragon smiled at him. “I know.”
With a pound of her foot on the paved concrete, pillars of ice erupted from the ground, angled at him. Horns had no time to react before the blow caught his chest full force, sending him flying back and into the air. He shut his eyes against the spiderwebbing pain, curling in on himself to protect his damaged chest for when he hit the ground.
“I’ve got you.” Gamma’s voice cut through the pain as their arms carefully wrapped around him. He opened his eyes to his team starting to attack below him. Psi’s plants snaked their way into the fight and turned the field to chaos as the trainees moved in.
Gamma lowered him to the ground out of the way of the fight. “Stay here.”
They took off before he even got a chance to argue, wings open wide at the top of their flight to fire on Dragon. Psi's vines swooped in as Horns watched and curled around him to shield him from the fight. But he could watch on with mounting worry.
Like last time, the team struggled to land any hits on their opponent. They lined up a modified version of their well practiced barrage attack, using the distracting attack of one person to bring the next closer to their target. The very one that had gotten Horns in close to Psi once. Even if they missed, even if she blocked them, bit by bit they could close in. Dragon was faring well, but the cracks in her defences were beginning to show. Between Gamma's unrelenting laser attacks, Psi's distracting and deadly plants, and the team refusing to let up, Horns could very well see this fight turning in their favour.
But of course, so did Dragon.
Just like last time, Horns watched her preparing to strike. She allowed the team to land some blows and chose to dodge Gamma's attacks instead of blocking them with ice. The small reprieve was just enough to save her enough energy to send them all flying back with a burst of wind and throw up a jagged dome of ice.
Gamma bared down with their lasers, intent on melting through, but Horns knew it would still take too long. He thrashed against the vines' hold on him, panic gripping his chest tighter and blocking out the pain from the movement. He couldn't see them frozen again. He couldn't look down the line of his family and force himself to think strategically about who he could afford to leave frozen, should he not be successful in waking them all. He couldn't do it all again. Not again.
The scream he unleashed in his fear and fury was nothing compared to the mind blast that simultaneously ripped through Dragon's skull. It exhausted him almost immediately. He was barely aware of Gamma breaking through the ice barrier and the sounds of frustration when their adversary was not found inside. He hardly felt the vines slowly lowering him to the ground and releasing their grip, though he did fight his last few inches to freedom. And he didn't pay mind to three familiar statues now present in the open.
He just stayed on his knees where Psi had dropped him and tried to force some energy back into his soul.
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orionwhispers · 4 years
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Perfect Places // Steve Harrington
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(A/N - yep. this isnt peaky, i know. im taking a little breather so i dont completely burn out writing tommy, but trust me i have 3 wips for him coming soon!! i dont know if any of you guys will like this bc its stranger things and thats ok!! i just had a blast writing it and i love steve and it really challenged me. pls let me know if u like it!! stay safe my loves xxx)
warnings - angst but also so much fluff your teeth will rot 
You felt like the moon was mocking you.
It loomed overhead, round and full and beautiful, the colour of purity and innocence, a beacon of light contrasting against the ink coloured sky. Your face was red hot, streaked with tears that dripped down your nose and collarbone and into your shirt, staining you with sadness that you could feel clawing under your skin.
You were sat on the Byers’ front porch, the sneakers you had once kept so pristinely clean were now caked in mud, your socks soaked through. You felt numb, you ached for something; a familiar lash of anger or heartache, anything to make you feel human again, but you just felt numb.
You could hear clattering from inside the house, low murmurs of voices and whispers tangling together, but you blocked them out like it was just white noise. The steady hum of those you loved and trusted brought some comfort, but that was instantly replaced by longing for the one person who deserved to be there, the person who deserved to still be alive.
You had been ecstatically high on adrenaline, you were terrified but vivacious as you helped bundle your boyfriend and the kids into Hoppers’ car as he raced past the Laboratory’s gates. You remembered the feeling of Steve’s hands around your waist as he pushed you into the back, flustered and protective, determined to get you away from any danger.
You should have said something.
You knew something was wrong, but you kept quiet. The air in the car was thick and dense like smoke, and Hopper was covered in crimson coloured splotches, you noticed the way he didn’t look at you, instead keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead. You should have said something, should have asked where your Uncle was, should have demanded an answer, but instead you pushed those thoughts away and watched the road through the windshield until your vision went blurry, Steve’s thumb soothingly rubbing over the top of your hand.
You knew he felt it too.
It was only when you reached the driveway of the Byers bungalow, feet moving on autopilot, tearing through the front door and seeing Joyce waiting for you, tears running down her face as she pulled you into her chest, did you realise the immensity of the situation. You let out a wail that could rival a demogorgon, sinking down into the coarse fabric of her hospital gown, her hands clambering across your frame, desperate to offer any comfort she could.
Steve was beside you in an instant, gripping your elbows to stop you falling onto your knees and onto the shag carpet, cradling you into him like a child. He felt so helpless, not knowing how to ease your pain, words getting stuck in his throat like cotton balls as he watched the girl he loved shatter into pieces. One look at his familiar face contorted in torment and it set you off again, coughing and spluttering like you were drowning in your tears. You pushed the consolatory hands off of you harder than you had intended, feeling suffocated and in desperate need of some form of relief. You were no good to anybody like this, you needed to wallow in your grief alone, Joyce had bigger problems and you refused to drag her down under with you.
You stumbled towards the front door, murmuring “I need some air.” You sank into the darkness like it was an old friend, wrapping your arms around yourself as your head throbbed and pulsed. You let the cold air hit your bare skin and fell to the ground, knees to your chest and silent screams leaving your throat.
Steve ran forward to be by your side, but Hopper pulled him back by the hood of his jacket, a large hand consoling your distraught boyfriend, “Let her go kid, give her a minute.”
He gave you five.
Watching the hands tick away meticulously on the clock above the fridge, he flexed his fingers and allowed the slow and steady noises to keep him grounded. He loathed the idea that you were outside alone, beautiful face covered in tears, heartbroken and shattered. Not only that but the knowledge that those things could be looming in the woods waiting to sink their teeth into you was driving him mad with paranoia. The only thing stopping him from pulling you inside where he could safely watch you was the unwavering concern that not letting you grieve would do more harm than good, so he settled for watching you through the window, hands clamped around his trusty bat - just in case.
————————————————————
You were sure you had run out of tears. Exhausted and dehydrated, you buried your head in the palm of your hands, desperate to stop the mind numbing pain at the back of your skull. The trees rustled gently, olive coloured leaves glinting under the stars. You wondered what could be lurking inside of the forest, but you were too drained to care.
You heard the door creak behind you, but relaxed at the familiar weight of Cortez’s against the soft wood.
“Hey.” His voice was soft, almost timid. Sounding so foreign coming from his mouth, so cautious and kind that it almost made you start crying all over again. He paused momentarily, before inhaling and sitting down beside you, his long legs awkwardly bent, his back starting to ache, but he couldn’t care less. You both sat in a comfortable silence for a minute, unsure how to break down the barrier that was forming between you. Your hazy eyes lingered on the T-shirt’s and sweaters dangling from the Boyce’s washing line, sleeves swaying with the movement of the wind, almost as if there was an invisible person dancing inside.
Steve was the first to break the silence. He usually was, his quick wit and smooth demeanour had been one of the reasons you had fallen for him in the first place, the only person you had ever met that could make you melt into a puddle and then cry with laughter with just a few sentences.
“How you holding up?” He faltered, picking angrily at a loose thread hanging from his denim jeans. “That was a stupid question, I’m sorry.”
You didn’t trust yourself to form words just yet, but you tilted your head as much as you could muster, communicating with your boyfriend in that nauseating way that only the both of you understood, except this time it felt sour instead of sickeningly sweet.
You crunched a stray leaf under your shoe, mulling over the sound as it tore under your heel. “It doesn’t feel real.” You muttered finally, biting your lower lip with your front teeth, letting the pain stop your tears. “I keep expecting to see his face, his stupid goofy grin.” You smiled gently, “I keep waiting for him to turn up and say it’s all a prank, but I know he won’t, he’s too kind for that.”
“He was the nicest person I’ve ever met.” Steve said truthfully, “He was a good guy.”
Was. Three words that swam around your head and tangled your stomach into knots and you choked on the thickness in your throat. The strangled groan was so heartbreaking that Steve wanted to tear apart the things that did this to you with his bare hands, but instead he pulled you closer with them, clasping you against his chest.
He let you cry, he let you ruin his t-shirt and cover him in your mascara and wet, hot tears. He would let you bawl into everything he owned, even his prized The Clash shirt or limited edition Charlies Angels sweater that was buried in the back of his wardrobe - he would give it all to you, to stain and rip and ruin, if it meant you had at least one moment of solace.
Under the beautiful navy sky littered with stars, Steve sighed, wishing he knew what to say. He wished that he was as articulate as Nancy, or as strong as Hopper, he’d even take being as soft spoken as Jonathon, if he knew it would make you feel better. But you hadn’t fallen in love with any of them, you had fallen in love with him and he was going to do everything in his power to try and make his girl hurt a little less. So he tried to distract you.
“Do you remember our first date?” He said, breaking the silence, his eyes focusing on the branches of a tree swaying in the distance.
He heard you sniffle, felt the rise of your head under the palm of his hands. If you were surprised by his question you didn’t show it. “How could I forget?”
He smiled, thinking back to the day, over two years ago. If he thought hard enough he could almost relive the gut twisting anxiety and the sweat pooling on the nape of his neck as he pulled up to your house. The two of you had been friends forever, bound since the day you both shared peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the playhouse in kindergarten. But you both started naturally drifting apart around the end of middle school, settling onto different paths as you grew up, only really seeing each other in the hallways or at the back of the school bus.
By the time you both entered high school, Steve was completely swept up with basketball and his newfound popularity, and you were settling into your own friendships and trying to stay on top of your grades. You rarely saw one another, but by chance the two of you were paired as lab partners one semester in sophomore year, and soon science became his favourite subject. Seeing you became the highlight of his day, better than scoring a goal in basketball or cutting class with Tommy and Carol. It was as if no time had passed between the two of you, the conversation so easy and genuine, and he made it a personal challenge to have you in stitches by the time the bell rang.
He fell hard, and fast. He had always thought you were beautiful, even when you were just kids and you wore your hair in two braids and seemed to always be covered in glitter. There was just something about you, an ease and a lightness that you carried, something about your smile and sound of your laugh that had him stumbling over his sentences like an idiot. He liked hearing about all of the things he had missed, like how you got grounded for sneaking out of your room to go and watch the new Star Wars, or how you crashed your dads car into a tree the very first hour after you got your license.
It wasn’t long before he realised that his day didn’t feel complete unless he had spoken to you. He started noticing how every game he searched for your face in the bleachers, the only person he really cared about seeing. His eyes would flicker over faces at parties, determined to find your sparkling eyes and kind smile, finding the hit of seeing you more electric than the cheap beer and fizzled out joints being passed around him.
He was nervous. He didn’t get nervous - he was Steve Harrington for Christ’s sake, but somehow you had managed to turn his whole world on its axis. He tried to live his life with as little regrets as possible; but in the quiet of his bedroom, with the moonlight casting shadows across his walls, he couldn’t help but feel furious with himself. If he could go back in time and do everything all over again, he would make sure to hold onto you as tight as possible and stop the two of you drifting apart.
He wasn’t stupid, he knew you were a knockout. The kind of girl that would bring even the strongest of men to their knees, the kind of girl that lingered in his brain long after he had fallen asleep. He also knew that he wasn’t the only one who had been completely captivated by you. He had seen the way Mike Adams cornered you after the school assembly, laughing at something you said as you sat with a group of friends, an enamoured look in his eye. He saw the way Jacob Taylor tried his hardest to get as close to you as possible at a house party, dazed by the way you twirled your hair obliviously and smiled like white, hot sunshine.
He knew what they were going through, smitten and stupid and dopey and practically a puddle at your feet, because he felt exactly the same way.
He was going to ask you out to dinner and then the movies. He had an elaborate speech planned in his mind, one that he had practiced in the mirror repeatedly - not that he would ever admit it. He was nervous. So goddamn nervous of screwing up the one thing that he really fucking liked, of potentially ruining your friendship and making himself look like an ass for misreading the signals and making you uncomfortable that he almost talked himself out of it as he walked into the physics lab one rainy afternoon.
But when he saw you there, looking up at him. As sweet as cinnamon in your oversized lab coat and stupid goggles, lips slightly chewed and fingertips stained with charcoal, and he couldn’t stop himself from blurting:
“Doyouwanttogooutwithme?”
For a moment he wished he took photography class, so he could snap a picture of the blush on your cheeks, have a physical copy of your wide smile and the glint in your eyes; something to look at when he was trying to fall asleep.
“About time, Harrington.” You had said, and it had knocked all of the wind from him, and he had walked around with a big goofy grin for the entire rest of the day.
————-————————————————
“I remember being so goddamn nervous. I thought I was going to throw up.” He said now, his voice laced with humour, somehow always knowing how to diffuse any situation.
You curled up further into him, craving his stability and warmth, and you relaxed as you felt his palm rubbing comforting circles across your back.
He looked into the darkness, remembering the anxiety filling him as he waited for you on the street by your house. He remembered peering into the rear view mirror, fluffing the edges of his hair with his fingertips, twisting and pulling the strands until they sat where he wanted. He could feel his leg shaking, foot hovering above the gas as he struggled to keep his composure. He hadn’t even been this nervous when college scouts came to a game, and he seriously needed to stay cool before you opened the door and saw him.
“You brought me flowers.” You said quietly, and he looked down at you with a gentle smile, his heart clenching at the sadness in your voice.
He remembers standing in the grocery store, cursing and muttering under his breath, wondering what was more romantic: tulips or sunflowers.
He bought both.
He can remember holding them in his shaking hands as carefully as he could as he walked up the stone path to your house.
“I had to talk myself into ringing the doorbell.” He felt you scoff under him and he laughed,
“Seriously! I was terrified, more scared than I was tonight.”
Its a lie. Running through the junkyard and fighting off strange monsters had been exhilarating, but also the most terrifying experience of his life; especially when he knew that the kids and you were just metres away, hidden in the old bus. He really thought he was about to die when the demodog reared and snarled in his face, teeth gnashing at his throat, but in those moments all he could think about was protecting you.
It’s strange, he had never been so terrified to lose someone.
“And then Bob opened the door.” Your voice was heavy and thick, like you were swallowing honey and it snapped him out of his thoughts, reminding him of the reason you were both huddled outside.
Your parents worked ninety percent of the time, only really coming home to crawl into bed and then driving back to work six hours later. You were used to it though, falling into a somewhat stable routine of eating TV dinners and doing your homework to the sounds of Jeopardy! playing in the background. Despite the lonely nights and your parents distance, there was always one person who tried their absolute best to make you feel safe and secure. Your uncle, Bob Newby.
The goofy, gold hearted manager at RadioShack was always there for you, especially whenever your parents weren’t. He always made sure your refrigerator had something green inside, and would come over after work to sit and watch cheesy rom coms with you. He even installed new locks and security lights in the yard and on the porch, just to make you both feel better, even though it was Hawkins - and nothing ever happens there.
He was basically a surrogate dad and your best friend, and you weren’t even embarrassed to admit it. Some of the happiest nights of your life had been with him, like when you went to the midnight viewing of The Godfather and shared toffee popcorn and cherry twizzlers, or when he drove you to Lake Michigan for your birthday and you ate sandwiches next to the water.
So when he found out the captain of the basketball team had asked you out on a date, he was a little apprehensive.
“He really grilled me.” Steve muttered with a sad smile, it hurt him that one of the most poignant moments of his life was now to be covered in a thick, black cloud, and he could only imagine what you’re going through. “I thought he was going to pull out a shotgun.”
“Psh. It would have been a lightsaber.”
You remembered shovelling in cereal at the breakfast bar the morning of your date. Bob watching you over his steaming mug of coffee curiously.
“So… Any plans for today?”
You rolled your eyes and smiled fondly at your uncle. “Steve is taking me out. This is only like the billionth time I’ve told you.”
He nodded, “Right, Right. Steve. Steve.” He tested the name on his tongue. “And Steve is - the captain of the basketball team right?”
“Yep.” You said, through a mouthful of sugar. “Oh, and he’s the leader of this really tough biker gang, to get in you have to murder three kittens.”
You watched his eyebrows shoot to his hairline, and then slowly fall back to their original spot when he caught on to your teasing. He held up his hands in playful surrender, taking a swig of his drink and then placing his mug on the granite counter.
“I know I’m being a fusspot! But I’m just looking out for you.”
“I know, Bob! But I’ll be fine! We’re just going to catch a movie and then dinner.”
“Ok.” He sighed, turning to wash up the dishes left from the previous nights pig out fest, but his hands stilled before he could twist the faucet. “Wait! Nothing R rated - or too romantic, and tell him to knock it off if he tries that whole ‘I’m so tired, let me put my arm around you schtick!’”
“I’m ignoring you now!”
You remembered getting ready, picturing the soft blush hue of your summer dress, and the taste of your strawberry gloss on your lips. You remembered the heat of your curling iron as you meticulously styled your hair, checking your reflection as a way to distract from the minutes ticking by.
You knew the familiar feeling of sweaty palms and butterflies before a date, but that morning it was as if somebody had realised a kaleidoscope of monarchs and swallowtails inside of you. You were completely nauseous, but so excited, and you felt like you were floating on cloud nine, unable to believe that Steve Harrington - the boy you had been crushing on since first grade - wanted to take you out.
You were nervously touching up your makeup, widening your eyes and applying yet another coat of mascara, when you heard commotion downstairs - and the telltale sound of your date getting completely grilled. You practically flew to your feet, haphazardly tying your converse and grabbing your purse, hoping to save Steve from the clutches of your overprotective Uncle. You nearly slid down the carpet when you noticed the door was ajar, smiling widely at the sight of Steve clutching two bouquets, his hair perfectly coiffed and his sneakers white and gleaming.
“- No I’ve never been in an accident, Sir.” You heard Steve say, his voice carrying through the hallway.
“Hmm?” You heard Bob reply, “And what about alcohol? Do you drink it?
“Only eggnog at Christmas.” Steve replied with a grin, his lips falling down when Bob sent him a glare. “Ok, not in the mood for jokes.”
“Are you under the influence now?”
“What? No! Why would I… Wow.” He faltered when he noticed you at the top of the stairs, and for the first time his mind went totally blank, his brain short circuiting at the sight of you. He felt his mouth go dry and he struggled to say something, not wanting to look like any more of an idiot than he already was, but Bob got there first.
“You look great, sweetheart.” He said, voice brimming with pride.
You blushed a deep crimson, feeling awkward under both of their stares. “Thanks, Bob.”
As soon as you reached the floor you blinked up at the men watching you, raising a brow slowly when Steve didn’t move. “So are you ready?”
“Yep. Yes. Yep.” He said quickly, rummaging around his pockets for his keys, and then realising they were in his hands the whole time. “Lets go.”
“Be home before eleven!” You heard Bob yell, his words just carrying into the night before you managed to slam the front door shut.
After the initial awkward meeting at your door, and Bob shooting unconvincing daggers at Steve as he guided you towards his car, the rest of the date went smoothly. You had been out with boys before; middle school crushes that took you to the ice cream parlour in town, and letting your best friend rope you in for a double date with a boy you had never met - but nothing like this.
As the car lulled through the streets, any unease forming quickly uncoiled between the two of you, and it wasn’t long until you were both in stitches. It felt so natural and easy, and you found yourself wanting to know everything about the hazel haired man sitting next to you.
You ate at a diner just outside of town, because according to Steve: “they have the best strawberry milkshakes - ever. I swear they’re like crack.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it, Harrington.” You had said, shooting him a million dollar smile over your shoulder. He was glad that you walked in first, because it felt as though a bullet had soared through his gut.
——————————————————————-
“I remember the milkshakes.” You said. Steve looked down at you, curled up on his lap. He nodded at your words, thinking of summer days and winter nights snuggled up in your booth at the diner. You must have shared hundreds by now, drinking such an obscene amount of the sweet treat it was a surprise neither of you looked like a strawberry. You had ruined the fruit for him. He couldn’t take a bite from a strawberry without remembering the taste of your lips or the sound of your laugh, it was conditioned into him like he was one of Pavlov’s dogs. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t love it, strawberries had become his favourite fruit.
“I told you those milkshakes were great.”
“Yeah, you did.”
He could feel you wobbling under him, could feel the heart wrenching tremor of your body starting to shake with tears and he swore internally, trying his best to distract you again.
“And then we watched Ghostbusters.”
You let out a half hearted laugh. “And you almost shit yourself when you saw Slimer.”
“He popped up outta nowhere!”
“And then you spilt popcorn everywhere.”
“Yeah, that old lady was pissed.” He clicked his tongue at the memory, crumbs and melted butter flying everywhere, the entire row in front covered in his mess and glaring at you both, you laughing so hard into your sleeve you thought you might just pass out.
“And then I drove you home - way before curfew I might add - because I’m a gentleman.”
“And then you kissed me.”
“I think you’ll find you kissed me.”
“Ha.You wish.”
It felt good to hear the bite back in your voice, and it warmed him like a zap of electricity that his plan of distraction was working.
Besides, it was partly true - you had kissed him first.
That night as he pulled into your driveway, his gut felt like a huge boulder inside of him. There was nothing more that he wanted then to lean over the console and kiss you, but he was too goddamn nervous.
The date had gone so brilliantly, and he could feel himself, tripping, stumbling and falling completely head over heels for you, but he was so uncharacteristically anxious that it was kind of freaking him out. He was getting all worked up about things he had never thought of before, like his teeth clashing against yours, or accidentally knocking your heads together and giving you a mild concussion.
He left his car running, because he didn’t want you to be cold, (and the constant vibrations were good at hiding the tremor in his legs). It was fully black outside, the night sky a long stretch of navy and the stars were pretty but not nearly as pretty as the girl smiling at him in the passenger seat. Just as your eyes connected and he thought he was going to finally kiss you, the porch light turned on, a nice little reminder from Uncle Bob that he was still watching. You laughed exasperatedly and reached over, filling the distance between you as you tried to grab the strap of your handbag and Steve leant over to give you a hand with the sticky door, but instead your lips caught his and he froze in place, his eyes closed and his heart feeling like a jackhammer in his chest, all of his worries evaporating behind him like ocean spray, because suddenly everything felt right.
“Night, Harrington.” You had said smugly, leaving him in his car that suddenly smelt like cotton candy and coconut shampoo, and with an entire carnivals worth of fireworks erupting from his stomach.
————————————————————
“When I got inside he pretended he had just woken up.” You said now, your words coated with tears but laced with tenderness. “Tried to act like he wasn’t staring through the window watching us kiss.”
Steve tangled his fingers through your hair, anchoring the two of you together, hoping that the small action would give you at least some comfort. He mulled over all of the memories the two of you shared, picturing them shattered at his feet like shards of shimmering glass. He wasn’t sure how to comfort you and it hurt, the silence settling around you like thick, poisonous gas.
“What about our first anniversary? The first time we committed a felony.”
“It wasn’t a felony.”
“Yeah and I’m sure it wasn’t the first time either, you little criminal.”
He remembered when you went out to a much too fancy restaurant in the city. How angelic and beautiful you looked in a little sundress and heels, stealing the breath right out of his lungs whenever he looked at you. How even when he was out of his comfort zone you felt like home, always making him feel stable no matter where he was. He remembered those glances you stole at one another, tongue in cheek laughter and suppressed smiles at the strange place you were both in, the two of you sticking out amongst the older, richer and snootier couples like a sore thumb.
He remembered the glint in your eye and the look on your face, the one that had him completely wrapped around your little finger - (but really, you could look at him anyway and he was a complete goner). It was how you both stood up at the same time, grabbing your handbag and wallet and rushing through the sea of people, laughing loudly as he slipped his hand in yours and pulled you with him, dodging the doorman who was cursing loudly at the kids who had just dined and dashed, even though neither of you had had more than a mouthful of your overpriced starter.
“You are such a bad influence, (Y/L/N).” He had scolded, playfully pinching the inside of your thigh as you lay stretched out on a picnic blanket overlooking the forests on the edge of town. You swatted him away, and he felt his breath hitch at the sight of you, hair tousled and makeup slightly worn, so effortlessly beautiful beneath the headlights of his car.
“Oh, please Hargrove. You would be lost without me.”
He didn’t reply, because it was true.
Instead he leaned over your body, stealing a quick kiss and also a handful of fries from the drive thru bag next to you.
“Hey!” You whined, leaning up and swatting at him. “Those are mine!”
“Technically, technically,” He said, licking salt from his fingertips. “They were at the bottom of the bag, not in either of the cartons - so they were never really yours.”
You rolled your eyes, punching him softly in the gut and laughing as he collapsed on top of you. “You are such a dumbass.”
“Yeah, but I’m your dumbass.”
He ran his tongue over a canine, finding clarity in your eyes.“I can’t believe you’ve put up with me for a whole year.”
“Me neither, but the money your dad gives me to go out with you makes it worth it.”
His finger trailed along the bridge of your nose, his lips curling the same as the path his fingerprints followed. “Stupid.” It was a terrible comeback, but when you looked up up at him like that, all of his sentences spilt into a bowl of mismatched alphabet soup. He blinked down at you, feeling the way his heart hammered against his rib cage, engulfed in the terrifying feeling of being so in love with somebody. “Seriously though, this has - this has been the best year of my life.”
Your rosebud lips parted, showing him that dammed smile that would make him burn down the whole town if you asked him to. “Mine too.”
——————————————————————-
“Remember when I got a black eye because of you?” He murmured, glancing up at the stars that flickered above you both.
“Because of me?” You scoffed, halfheartedly. “Hardly.”
“Ok. Keep telling yourself that.”
There was once a time where he loved nothing more than spending Friday through Sunday completely wasted, waking up on somebodies couch, his mouth tasting like sour liquor and his clothes scattered across the floor - but not after he met you. He used to long for the high from downing tequila shots or jumping into the pool with hazy eyes, a burnt out joint being passed around friends, but soon he realised that nothing came close to the fever high he got from simply being around you.
He remembered sitting in the school parking lot on a Friday afternoon, listening to Tommy and Carol natter about how a group of seniors were going to break into the rec centre and get drunk, but there words were nothing but static as he looked for you among the familiar faces.
You had been officially dating for a few months, and much to Tommy’s dismay, it seemed as though neither of you had any intention of letting the other go. It stung the teenager when Steve started blowing him off to hang out with you, his usual alibi for wild parties leaving him high and dry. He was jealous of the way you managed to consume all of Steve’s attention, and the fact that since the two of you had gotten together, Steve was so much kinder to everyone, and didn’t want to join in with his juvenile antics. When you went to parties, he drank less and laughed more, and Tommy was left doing shots and keg stands alone.
More than anything though, Tommy was jealous that Steve had scored a girl like you, kind and soft and sweet, when he had trouble getting Carol to stay over longer than the time it took to drain a bottle of stolen wine. It made him feel envious and insecure, watching the way you kissed Steve in the hallways with rosebud lips and your eyes shone like diamonds under the gentle sun; when was a girl going to look at him like that?
“You coming tonight, Harrington?” He asked from the hood of Steve’s car, his legs dangling onto the asphalt.
“No.” Steve said, chewing on his fingernails. “Sorry man, I’m taking (Y/N) to the drive in.”
“Aww.” Carol preened, a solid supporter of your relationship. You hadn’t known her too well before you started seeing Steve and hadn’t expected to become so close to her, but now she was one of your best friends. Sure she could be a little vapid and a little rude, but she also made you laugh loudly and always helped you get ready for dates with Steve, and you really appreciated the way she let you into the inner circle. “That’s so sweet. You guys are too cute.”
Tommy ignored her. He could already feel himself boiling over.
“Cmon Harrington, it’s one night. It’s tradition.”
“No it isn’t.”
He exhaled loudly. “Well it should be.”
“I’m good, man. And besides, we’re still going to see the Bulls play on Saturday, right?”
“I guess.”
Silence settled around them like cigarette ash. Tommy, growing more irate by the second, toyed with the collar of his shirt and curled and uncurled his fingers. He wasn’t quite sure why he was pissed - as Steve’s best friend he should have been pleased with how love struck and happy he was, and it wasn’t as though he never saw Steve anymore, or that you had split up the group or anything - but he was still annoyed, and that’s why he said it.
“God, I hope she’s a better fuck than she looks. I mean, she must be if she’s got you this whipped.”
It took a moment for Steve to process what he had said, swallowing his friends words like they were barbed wire, his throat filling with blood.
“What the fuck did you say?”
“Just what everybody else is thinking.” It wasn’t what everybody thought, but Tommy thrived off of mob mentality, and the small crowd watching in the parking lot was enough to spike his adrenaline.
“Tommy.” Carol warned, her voice thick and heavy, eyeing him from over the roof of the car.
“What did you say about her?” Steve asked, his face turning crimson, the shade matching the colour coating his pupils.
Tommy didn’t hold back, his hands firmly grasping his shovel, ready to dig himself deeper. “Jesus. Look at you! Look what she’s turned you into. She’s a bitch, and so are you.” He gestured wildly with his hands, the severity of what he had said was slowly sinking in, but he was stupid enough to stand by it for the time being.
Steve was livid. His body rattling like he had been struck by lightning. He knew he wasn’t some fucking white knight who had to defend your honour, but there was no way in hell he was going to let some fucking prick about you like that.
“And…you know what? The both of you can - ”
“Fuck you.” Steve brought his fingers to a fist and clocked him right in the nose, a sickening thwack echoing around the school. Tommy recoiled backwards, almost falling through the windshield. He managed to regain his balance at the last second, and his face was contorted with both pain and disbelief.
“What the fuck man?” Tommy seethed, spitting out a wad of blood and lunging at Steve, managing to grab him by his collar and slam him onto the asphalt, their jeans ripping across the gravel.
The two of them rolled around, a deadly mix of closed knuckles and crisp white sneakers. A small crowd had gathered around the two of them, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and rich with stories to be shared around the party that night. They both managed to get a couple good hits in, Steve just managing to get the upper hand before the school janitor started calling in for backup.
You had just left World Civ, your textbooks still cradled in your arms and your best friend laughing in your ear as you made your way out of the school and towards the parking lot.
“Yeah, I swear! She…” Your best friends voice trailed off as she noticed a blur of movement in the distance, her ears picking up like a bloodhounds. “Oh my God. I wonder what’s going on.”
You looked up shrugging your shoulders, expecting to see some of the wrestling team or soccer players roughhousing like they usually did, but your blood turned cold when your eyes focused fully and you caught sight of that damn perfect hair.
“Holy shit. Steve!”
If only your phys ed teacher could have witnessed the speed you ran across the car park; dust picking up with your shoes as you bolted towards your boyfriend. You managed to break through the inner circle crowding around them, the teenagers egging on Tommy and Steve as they scrambled towards one another, the sound of elbows and knees and fingernails clashing all around you.
“Hey. Hey! That’s enough!”
Poor Mr Springer tried his best to separate the two of them, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s waist and trying to tear them apart as they continued scrapping like junkyard dogs.
Your mouth was agape as a couple of boys helped break the two of them up, your eyes widening at the scarlet red blood staining the ground and the deep purple bruises already starting to show. You managed to catch Steve’s line of sight, his eyes widening at the sight of you, his face starting to swell.
“Steve? What the fuck!”
“Oh! Hey, babe? How did your pop quiz go?” He asked, throwing you a dazzling smile as though everything was right in the world.
Despite everything, you bit back a laugh, kneeling down to wrap your hands around him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” You said, cradling the now puffy side of his face, a quarter sized apricot indent growing under his eye.
He winked at you as he was pulled away and dragged to the principal. He knew he was in for a months worth of Saturday detentions, but he couldn’t care less. He avoided the death glare his former best friend was giving him, licking the blood pooling across his split lip.
If he had to chose between you or Tommy, or choose between nights in with you or nights out with the rest of the seniors - hell, if he had to choose between basketball and you, it would be you, every time.
Point blank, period.
———————————————————-
There was a chill in the air, swallowing the both of you whole. Steve could feel his jeans dampening, your tears cascading down your face and onto his denim. He could feel eyes on the back of neck, and knew without turning around that Dustin and the rest of the kids were watching from the kitchen window, waiting to jump out and rescue you both if something crawled out from the bushes.
He didn’t have much time left. Soon he would have to bring you back inside, away from the vulnerability of the night and into the embrace of those you had grown so close to. He thinks back with a grimace, to the fight you had over your new routine.
Bob and Joyce dating came as a shock to everyone involved, especially Steve. Not so much that Bob had found companionship with the pretty single mother, but more so that it meant you were spending more time at their house - with Jonathon.
He wasn’t jealous.
He wasn’t.
No matter how many times you rolled your eyes and teased him - he wasn’t jealous.
He just didn’t like the idea of you sat next to him at movie nights, laughing with him during family board games, eating breakfast in the chair beside him, driving to school together and singing along to the stupid obscure bands that Jonathon liked.
Ok maybe he was a little jealous. Sue him.
He’d spent the night at your place, under the guise of helping you with your calculus homework, even though you had a higher grade than him, and he watched with sleepy eyes as you rummaged around your desk in the morning.
“What?” He mumbled under the slowly rising sun, half of his face still buried in your pillow. “What? Where? Where are you going?”
You rifled through your handbag and examined the contents, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Bob’s taking everyone out for lunch - well it should have been breakfast but someone - ” you emphasised with a playful glare, “Is making me late.”
“Whose going?”
“Everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“You know. Me, Joyce, Jon and Will.”
Jon.
“You didn’t tell me Jonathon was going.” He’s not sure if it’s true. He remembers fragments of you telling him your plans for the weekend, but he also remembers your words shattering before they reached his brain, because of that little strappy top you were wearing and the blackberry colour of your lipstick.
“What?” You asked distractedly, untangling your headphones from your Walkman. “I did.”
“No.” He clicked his jaw, a sign of his annoyance. “You just said Bob was taking you out.”
“With everyone - everyone includes Jonathon.”
“Right.” He’s pissed. His anger isn’t directed at you, more so the floppy haired teenager you’ll be sharing pancakes with, even though it’s not exactly his fault either. “Since when did you guys become The Brady Brunch?”
You let out a dry laugh, oblivious to the fact your boyfriend was getting more agitated by the second.
Did you really have to wear that skirt? He thought. Why did it have to be the short little denim one covered in cherries that made you look so damn good?
“You know how much Joyce loves her kids, Bob just wants to make an effort.”
“Yeah but why do you have to go?”
You shrugged, applying a swipe of lipgloss and tightening your cardigan in an effort to hide the hickeys blossoming under your collarbones. “He invited me, said it’s a family thing.”
“It’s not as though you’re really family though is it?”
He regretted it the moment the syllables left his mouth, but he was too wound up to think before he spoke. He cringed at the way you lost his gaze in the mirror, really fucking hating himself when he saw the crimson blush rise from your throat and onto your cheeks, and the sheen coating your eyes.
“I should go.”
You didn’t hesitate, grabbing your belongings and darting down the stairs. Family had always been a sore subject for you, and he loathed himself for striking you in the one place that it really fucking hurt.
“Wait.. Baby I -” He chased after you, but you were too fast. He wished that you would stay and argue with him, he’d let you scream and yell and shout at him, because he deserved it and he wanted to let you know he was sorry for being a prick, but you were already out of the door.
“Just up when you leave.” Were the last things you said, disappearing into your car.
He apologised with your favourite chocolates and red roses and an attempt to make you dinner. You couldn’t stay upset with him and his sheepish grin even when half of your kitchen was covered in tomato sauce and your moms pan was coated in burnt pasta.
The boy could screw up, but he always knew how to make up for it.
He trusted you, and loved you, and apologised for - in your words, ‘being a class A jackass’ - and even put away his pride long enough to tell you that, Ok, fine, maybe he was a tiny bit jealous of Jonathon and the bond growing between you.
That night as you curled up on your living room floor amongst an abundance of pillows and crocheted throws, you reassured him that you were in love with him and only him, even when he drove you up the wall. He fell asleep a little easier that night, his girl happy and safe in his arms, your words calming the storm that was once brewing in his mind.
…And maybe Jonathon wasn’t that bad.
———————————————————-
The light of the moon was harsh, almost like the street lamps that flickered in the distance. Steve could feel you moving underneath him, and his palms were starting to dampen, the reality of the evening finally sinking in.
Bob was dead.
As though the same thought had passed through you, you spoke, your voice strained and quiet. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“I know.”
Your voice cracked like thin ice. “He didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t… He.” You choked on your words, and Steve pulled you into him firmly, as if to stop you from falling apart.
“I’m so sorry, baby.”
You sniffled, a sob tearing through your lungs and clawing through your throat, and you tried desperately to not think about your poor uncles lifeless body. “What am I going to do without him?”
You weren’t looking for an answer, but Steve gave you one.
“It’ll be me and you, it’ll be us. Forever.”
His future was uncertain. He was under a mountain of pressure from his teachers and coaches and guidance counsellors to get his head down and decide about college and scholarships and what he was going to do with his life.
He even took one of those quizzes that was supposed to help him figure his shit out, but when he sat there, pencil in hand and he read the words - where do you see yourself in five years? The only thing he could think of, was you.
He thought of you, so smart and pretty, your future just as undecided as his, but still by his side. He could see road trips and night drives and long distance calls, he could see morning laughter and monumental arguments and make ups, in the distance he could even see a house with a white picket fence and a big dog and a few kids who looked like a mixture of the both of you.
It seemed so simple. So much more simple than applying for college or an internship, because he knew that whatever he did, he wanted it with you.
And then this crazy fucking year happened, and things weren’t so simple anymore. Soon he was best friends with a bunch of pre teens and fighting off big scary fucking monsters and Billy Hargrove. Soon his small world of basketball and strawberry milkshakes and tongue kisses was filled with danger, and he needed to keep you safe.
“I miss him.”
“I know.” He says honestly. “I miss him too.”
He remembered the last conversation he had with Bob. It was before they found Hopper underground, and Bob was getting ready to leave and see Joyce and Will. You were in your room, finishing off the last of your homework, and Steve was heading downstairs to finish off the last of the pizza. He had just grabbed a Coke and a slice of pepperoni, when he saw Bob rummaging through the cupboard in the hall.
“Hey,” Steve said, waving the hand with the soda in it. “I heard about Will. Is he alright?”
Bob gave a kind nod. “Yeah.” He hesitated. “Well, actually, I’m not sure. I’m uh - I’m looking for my old board games for him to play with.”
Steve smiled, because that was exactly the thing Bob would do. “Well, give him my best.”
They exchanged pleasantries, and Steve spun his heel to rejoin you upstairs, taking a big bite of melted cheese as he walked, before Bob spoke aloud once again.
“There’s something strange going on in this town.”
Steve remembered the year before, standing in Jonathan’s living room, twinkling Christmas lights draped on the wall and a baseball bat in his hands. He remembered Barb and Will, and the body from the quarry.
“Yeah.”
Bob exhaled, moving so that he was standing face to face with the teenager. “You make sure nothing happens to her, alright? You know she’s - you know she’s my little girl.”
Steve straightened, his voice solid. “I would never let anything happen to her.”
“I know. You’re a good guy, Harrington.”
He doesn’t know if he agrees, but he knows that for you, he will be.
“Take care of her.”
“Always.”
And they had partied ways: Steve upstairs, where he pulled you into his arms and made you laugh as he planted wet kisses on your face. And Bob to the Byers house to find a map spanning the length of the walls, and then the hospital, and then ultimately, to his death.
———————————————————-
The dark felt much more menacing now, shadows moving like long fingernails and jagged claws around you. He knew that he had to get you inside. He knew that the others would be making plans and setting traps and he knew how much safer you would be there. His heart was shattered after the small sobs leaving your body, your chest deflating like a burst balloon. He also knew that the best people to comfort you would be inside, Joyce with her motherly love, Dustin with his sweet, silly nature, and even Jonathon who truly loved you like a sibling.
“Cmon, lets get you inside.”
He wrapped his hands around you and helped lift you up, steadying you as you swayed on shaky legs. He cradled you into him, feeling the warmth of your breath and tears against his throat, and he inhaled, preparing himself and readying himself, telling him to be strong, for you.
He wrapped a free hand around the door handle, waiting to twist. He took one final look at the menacing bushes and trees surrounding you both, listening for a rustle from the branches.
He doesn’t know what will happen next. But he does know, that whatever it is, you’ll face it, together.
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chrysalispen · 3 years
Text
borealis, #1 (Nero/WoL, prompt response)
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633701/chapters/70185441
Prompt: One ship, ten kisses shared. -cheek -forehead -crown of the head -nose -eyelids -lips -neck -thigh -hand -foot
Bonuses if: -1 kiss type per scene, ten scenes total -5 initiated by one partner, 5 by the other.
First prompt response below cut.
==
1. cheek
"Seven hells, it's cold-"
Four words she had never thought would possibly escape her lips, in the five years since she'd left Garlemald, and yet here she was. A sharp, brisk gust of chilly air blew through the crack in the front door before Aurelia Laskaris managed to pull it shut.
One of Coerthas' winter storms had blown off its expected course and produced snow- real snow, too, not the cold rain that had normally wrapped up the year's end ever since the Calamity. Heavy flurries of white now fell in placid sheets upon the denizens of the Lavender Beds, blanketing the adventurers' enclave in winter stillness, and Aurelia found herself quite grateful that she'd not yet managed to set aside the time to reseed her gardens after returning to the Source. Already on her way down the road to get the post she'd heard several of her neighbors grousing about their ruined crops.
She slipped her feet into her soft house shoes and padded into the kitchen, snapping on a nearby light and making a beeline for the automated kettle next to the range. After a moment the rich scent of roasted coffee wafted into the air.
Once she had helped herself to a mug full of the brew Aurelia ambled into her sitting room to admire the fruits of her labors. Holly garlands draped the windows and the rafters, adorned with the same red and gold organza ribbons as the large Coerthan spruce in the corner. All were strewn with lights that cast a soft glow over each leaf and translucent curl. She had fashioned a simple wreath to hang in the kitchen where the cookfire burned low to keep the night's meal warm for gradual consumption, and it sat in its place above the mahogany dish rack. Beneath the low lights and the fresh smell of evergreen and apples and cinnamon, her orchestrion trundled quietly through a selected collection of songs.
As she gazed at the tree the tilt of her smile took on a pensive cast. The greenhouse at the Laskaris villa - her de facto domain - had been wholly subject to her uncle and his austere aesthetic sensibilities. Every leaf and branch had had to be bound and trimmed and neatly in place. In the seven years she had lived there, not a single ilm of the family property had been allowed to have Aurelia's touch upon it. Not even the room in which she'd stayed when out of school on term breaks.
The little forest cottage wouldn't be seen as much in the way of wealth, not back in the capitol. To the eyes of her aunt and uncle, or anyone else in her family for that matter, it would be positively rustic if not outright primitive. It didn't have a magitek greenhouse or a central heating system, and precious few technological amenities. But nearly every piece of furniture in it had been fashioned by her own hand. Including the decorations she now admired.
This was her place. That was what mattered.
"You look in a fine mood," a voice drifted upwards from the cushions of the sectional. Aurelia grinned and set the mug down upon the low-slung table.
"I was just thinking about how much I enjoy having my own house."
"Must say I rather enjoy you having a house myself, all things considered." She felt a slight nudge against her side, followed by a faint clatter. Nero was sitting up, the tomestone in his hand having joined her coffee mug on the side table. "...It looks good, by the by."
"What does- oh. The tree? You wouldn't believe the ridiculous lengths I had to go to in order to get that here."
"Having involved myself in your adventures on multiple occasions, I assume shenanigans of some sort must necessarily be involved unless otherwise stated. You've something of a knack for finding trouble."
"Trouble which you have instigated on more than one occasion."
"As I said," that grin was all teeth, "you've a knack for finding trouble. And speaking of finding things, I'll be back in a moment."
Aurelia watched him amble through the stairwell entrance and turn the corner past the orchestrion to make his descent. She noted (with some considerable amount of personal amusement) that for all her grousing about the former tribunus' presence at the combined Ironworks-Scions Starlight party Tataru had also made Nero a natty holiday jumper - and she'd even knitted it using yarn she had dyed in his favorite color. All the more surprising, although he had not said a word about the gathering since, was the fact he was actually wearing it.
Her smile returned as she retrieved her mug.
The coffee was half gone by the time he returned, this time bearing a rather bulky unwrapped box in his hands. He shifted it from his shoulder to his hands with a soft grunt that indicated it was every ilm as heavy as it appeared. "I was going to give this to you later," he explained, setting it down in front of her feet, "but as usual I've no idea when either of us might be off again."
"A gift?" Still smiling, Aurelia set the mug aside. "Since when do you celebrate Eorzean holidays?"
" 'When in Allag', and all that. And Mistress Tataru, despite her threats, did leave the pins out of the undertunic she gave me." A brief smirk tilted his mouth. "I do believe your little secretary likes me more than she lets on."
"Or she's resigned herself to your presence. For Cid's sake, you know."
"You jest, but this is actually a joint gift from myself and Garlond. As you know, he's had to return to Othard. Thus, I am the one tasked with presenting it." At her hesitation, he urged, "Go on, open it."
With some effort she lifted the box into her lap. It was a standard-issue imperial transport container made of reinforced black steel, and the base was cold enough that it radiated a chill even through her breeches; she winced when its weight settled into her thighs. Carefully she unfastened the latches and lifted the lid-
-and her eyes went wide at its contents. "...This is-"
"A portable refrigerated centrifuge."
"Where in the seven hells did you find one of these? I haven't set hand to a personal centrifuge in years. The medical laboratory at Castrum Novum just used those massive consoles that they'd built to set-"
"Into the wall mounts in the old R&D sectors, yes. At any rate, I plucked the original from one of the research bays- not that it was functional when I found it, mind, but there are schematics in the archives for just about anything one can imagine."
"Surely it wasn't necessary to go to all that trouble."
"That is where you would be wrong," he said dryly, lifting the centrifuge from its storage with considerable effort. The angle was somewhat awkward, and it wobbled for a moment before Aurelia was able to brace her hands and take it from him. He fastened the latches and reached over the arm of the sofa to set the container out of the way. "There were several specific components I required for the modified buildout which, one can safely say, cannot be sourced via other means."
"Precisely how much did you modify it?" Aurelia tilted the heavy tool this way and that, watching the lights from the tree shimmer over its smoothly brushed surface. "...I'm not about to find an operable magitek laser turret tucked into the rotor or something equally daft, am I?"
He squinted at her but chose to ignore the remark. "Aside from a minor tweak for improved performance, as it happens there was only one major modification to the original build. For practicality's sake."
"Only one?"
"Only one. Why?"
She pressed a hand to her chest in mock surprise.
"That sort of self-restraint isn't like you at all. Are you certain you're well?"
"Trying to be funny again, I see." He cast his eyes to the heavens. "I shall have you know it was his idea."
"Oh? That's a surprise."
"The auxiliary power source normally would need to be connected to a ceruleum generator for a charge, but this design utilizes aetheric energy harnessed from a corrupted crystal. Some wild hair of Garlond's cobbled together on a previous project with some degree of success, if the sales are any indication." His smile faded, lips pursed as if he'd bitten into some particularly sour piece of fruit. "...Given it sprouted from one of those half-baked experiments of his, I suppose it functions reasonably well."
He sounded rather surly - rankling, perhaps, at his own acknowledgment that he had needed Cid's assistance in order to complete the gift. When she wrenched her focus away from her silent admiration of the customized chassis (which was, of course, a deep wine red), his brows were knit together in a faint scowl that indexed that line nigh to the lower curve of his third eye.
Aurelia leaned over and gently brushed her lips against his cheek. It was warm and smooth, devoid of its customary evening shadow; she realized he must have taken a razor to his jaw earlier in the day. The earthy scent of sandalwood shaving soap lingered in her nose for a moment before she righted herself.
"If you frown like that every time you have to swallow your pride to ask for his help," she warned, poking his broad nose with one gentle fingertip, "you'll give yourself wrinkles."
"You mean more wrinkles," he groused. "In case you've not noticed, I'm not getting any younger."
"Yes, nigh on thirty-seven* winters now," Aurelia said with a perfectly straight face, though the mischievous twinkle that lit her dark blue eyes was impossible to miss. "Well past one's prime, in my professional opinion. Ancient. Antediluvian."
"Utterly decrepit," he sighed. The scowl had smoothed from his brow, and she knew by the lazy and unguarded drawl which now laced his words that he was no longer annoyed. "I'll be naught but dust by the time I'm forty."
"Doubtless. You could practically pass for an Allagan relic now- that is, if you weren't more easily mistaken for a bloody dhalmel."
Nero laughed aloud at last, the fine lines winging out from the corners of his eyes crinkling with his mirth, and wrapped his arms around her smaller frame - centrifuge and all. "Flattery will get you everywhere, hero," he said. "Come here."
She seated herself atop his thighs as if he were one of her reading cushions and relinquished her prize, shaking out the pins and needles in her arms as he set it next to the table, then returned to his full-body lounge. His woolen-clad arms lay draped over her forearms in a loose, casual sort of way, something almost but not quite an embrace.
Aurelia considered extricating herself to get more coffee, but the combined assault of the fireplace's crackle with the cable knit of Tataru's scarlet jumper seemed to beckon her into a warm and happy torpor, and the notion of leaving it aside even for a few moments seemed far too much effort so she pillowed her cheek against his broad chest. He was all angles and lean muscle but comfortable enough regardless. "Seriously though," she said, "I mean it. Please be at least somewhat mindful of your safety in future. That was a great deal of risk just for a blueprint and some parts."
"Come now, it wasn't that much trouble." His light tenor was only barely louder than the strong thump of the heartbeat she could hear with one ear just beneath his collarbone. "I all but strolled through the gates, and Garlond sent the very appropriately named Biggs along with me. Safe as houses."
Aurelia raised a skeptical brow - she had no doubt that more must have happened than he was letting on - but said only: "You're going to have to tell me all about it after I've set this up in my workspace."
"Ah." He cleared his throat. "I had... rather hoped I could be there when you do. So I can show you what changes were made, mind."
Even as the words left his mouth she watched the tips of Nero's ears turn pink, the same shade as the flush along his nose and cheekbones - neither of which could be attributed to the warmth of the room. She found it terribly cute but wasn't about to embarrass him further by saying so. "I'd like that very much," she beamed. "But it's rather late tonight. Tomorrow, perhaps?"
"I-" A hesitation, then a half-tilted smile. "...Tomorrow it is."
She pushed at the heavy chassis beneath the table with one stocking-clad toe and leaned comfortably into his side with a yawn. The last two days had been rather eventful but the sofa cushions were plush and cozy, the room was warm and quiet and dimly lit, and she was in the company of a close friend in a house she'd chosen for herself, drinking coffee and watching the snow fall in silent sheets through the windows.
For the moment at least, she was content. It was a good state of mind.
"Had I known you'd be this pleased I'd have prevailed upon Garlond much sooner," came the low, teasing rumble from the man whose cheek was now resting upon the crown of her head. She poked him gently in the side.
"That's because you're actually a good sort when you want to be, you know. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. I won't even tell Tataru."
"Excellent. I should hate to have your lot think that perhaps I might enjoy their company. Can you imagine how ghastly that would be?"
"Making friends? The absolute horror of it all. Though I'm afraid you'll not be able to fool Alisaie or Tataru as long as you imagine. Or Y'shtola for that matter- she's rather discerning." Aurelia paused. "Also, she is quite often more than slightly terrifying."
"I shall take that as a friendly warning."
At his quiet scoff, she allowed herself a brief chuckle before her own smile faded somewhat.
"You really didn't have to do this, you know-"
"That's three times you've attempted to apologize. Don't. You're overthinking matters, as per usual," Nero said mildly. "Accept it in the spirit which it was intended- such is the purpose of this exchange, after all, so Garlond says. I did it because I wanted to do it, and that is reason enough."
She was going to ruin the moment if she said anything else, so she didn't. Instead she reached for the other hand that lay free in his lap. He let her lace his fingers through hers without comment, and when she squeezed he squeezed back.
They said nothing else after that for a long time. They sat together in comfortable silence before the hearth fire watching the wind spit snow onto the frosty window by the huge tree, and Aurelia found herself wishing every Starlight could end so well.
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whitecatindisguise · 4 years
Text
The Sundrop Alchemist (17)
Okay, who’s ready for another chapter???? Let’s go!!
Summary: Two mysterious men make an appearance, Varian’s faith in Hugo is tested, and the two have more problems to deal with.
AO3 link is here.
------
Chapter 17: Lies and Deception
It took several minutes of laying sprawled on the grass and panting heavily for Hugo to be finally able to move. He pushed himself up to the sitting position with a groan and stretched his arms. 
“I think we have to move soon, Goggles.” He said, looking down at the other boy still laying flat on the grass next to him. Varian groaned but didn’t make any move to sit up. 
“I haven’t ran like that since… ever.” The blue-eyed alchemist replied tiredly. “Can’t we take few more minutes to rest?” 
“The longer we stay here, the bigger chance for Donella to catch up.” Hugo explained and earned another groan in return. 
He was just about to add something, when he heard rustling of leaves just outside the clearing they were resting on. It was quiet enough for Varian to not notice anything, but Hugo’s senses went on high alert almost instantly. 
He stared at the line of trees and, just when he thought it was some kind of animal, he saw two familiar figures, hiding in the shadows. He cursed inwardly and shot a glance at Varian, still not sitting up. Coming to the decision, he pushed himself upwards and brushed the grass from his trousers. 
“Wait here, Goggles. I’ll go and check if we’re on the clear.” He lied smoothly and without waiting for the reply, walked towards the trees. 
He quickly found the two men and approached them, putting up his signature smirk on his face. 
“Heey, Patchie, Burnsie. Long time no see.” He greeted, trying to sound nonchalant. “What brings you two here?” 
“You know very well why we are here, McCoy.” One of the men wearing an eyepatch on his left eye growled. 
“Where is our part of the loot?” The other man with sideburns asked, hand reaching to grab Hugo by the collar and pick him up. The teen repressed a startled yelp, his face not showing any fear. 
“Yeah, about that. I gave it to my boss already.” Hugo explained, and, by the Sun, could those two have any worse timing? “You can go and talk to her yourself. Let me just give you directions to her hideout and-”
“You’re not getting away that easily, McCoy.” Patchie cut him off, grinning evilly. “We heard rumors you’re in possession of something much more valuable.”
“I wonder how much would they pay us in Vandaros for a kid with healing powers, huh, brother?” Burnsie added, his expression turning malicious, same as his brother’s. 
Hugo tensed. They were talking about-
“I don’t know what you’re-” He tried to somehow squirm out of the conversation but the brother holding him up pushed him against the tree, his back painfully colliding with the trunk.
“Don’t play with us, McCoy. You used us in your little heist and tried to ditch us.” Two-eyed brother growled, his face coming uncomfortably close to Hugo’s. “I say we deserve some kind of recompensation.”
“Leave him out of it!” Hugo cried, reaching out his hand and trying to release the grip on his shirt. “This is between me and you!” 
“Should have thought about it before you decided to trick us.” Patchie replied and nodded at his brother. 
The grip on Hugo’s shirt hardened and the last thing he felt before losing consciousness was a pain at the back of his head. 
~~~~~~
Varian was sitting up, petting Ruddiger absent-mindedly. It’s been a while since Hugo left and the boy was getting anxious. It’s not that he didn’t trust the teen, quite the opposite, actually. If it wasn’t for Hugo, he would have probably never escaped Donella. The woman was the exact reason Varian was worrying about the bespectacled teen now. 
If Hugo was right, they should get a move soon. He said he’d go and see if they weren’t followed, but what if they were? What if Hugo was attacked and hurt somewhere behind the trees, with Varian none the wiser?
“We gotta go and find Hugo, Ruddiger.” The boy finally decided, standing up and picking up his raccoon friend. “He’s been gone long enough.” 
The animal chittered in agreement and scrambled up to position itself on the boy’s shoulders. Varian hanged his satchel over his head and took one step, when suddenly two men walked out into the clearing. 
They were large and bulky, both having red hair. One of them had his left eye covered with an eyepatch, while the other one’s face was covered in sideburns. The boy impulsively stepped back, eyeing the two warily. 
“Um… hello?” He said, trying to not sound so terrified. Somehow he could feel the men were trouble and he wracked his brain trying to remember why they seemed so familiar. “Can- can I help you?”
“You could say that.” The one with an eyepatch said, the grin on his face anything but calming. “You see, we and your friend did a job together.”
“A friend… you mean Hugo?” Varian’s brow raised in confusion. Where did he see them? Ruddiger tensed on his shoulders and was growling quietly. 
“Yes. But it seems McCoy decided to trick us and take the whole loot for himself.” The other brother added, and circled the boy. “So we had to… have a talk with him.”
“Luckily, we came to an agreement.” The eye-patched brother spoke and Varian’s eyes snapped to him. Both men were now circling around him, making the boy feel extremely uncomfortable. “His life for the boy with magical hair.”
Varian’s breath stopped and his eyes widened. 
“No, that’s not true! You’re lying!” He snapped angrily. ”Hugo would never-”
“Oh, really?” One of the brothers caught him by the shoulders and turned him around. “Then why is he leaving you behind?”
A large finger pointed towards the road visible between the trees. Varian looked in the direction and gasped in surprise. There, visible under the moonlight, was Hugo, saddled on a horse and riding away. 
The boy’s vision misted. Hugo betrayed him. But why did he do it? Just moments ago he was helping Varian escape Donella’s grasp. He was like a brother to Varian and the teen said the same thing. Was that just a trick? Did he really not mean anything to the teen? 
“Now, with that out of the way…” The brother with sideburns spoke up and grabbed Varian’s wrist harshly. “There is a long way to Vandaros.”
The blue-eyed boy reacted almost instantly. He cried and pulled his arm, trying to free himself from the grip. Ruddiger hissed and jumped at the man holding him down, the brother releasing Varian’s wrist in surprise. The alchemist quickly reached into his bag and threw a smoke bomb, grey cloud covering the clearing. Without a second thought, he turned and ran, disappearing between the trees. 
The branches hit his face and arms, his hair got tangled in the bushes, but he kept on running. He could hear the men’s angered voices behind him, pursuing him through the darkness. 
Suddenly, he felt a sharp thug at his hair and cried out in pain, tumbling to the ground. He looked back and saw the end of his braid stuck to the branch of a bush. The voices grew louder and closer. He scrambled back, frantically trying to untangle his hair before the brothers caught up to him. 
Then, he heard a sound of smacking, two pained grunts and loud thumps. At the same moment, with Ruddiger’s help, he was able to untangle his hair. Carefully, he moved towards the source of the sounds and looked from behind the tree. 
“Flower! Are you alright?!” The familiar voice called out and Varian saw Mother, panting heavily, a thick branch in her hands, the two brothers unconscious on the ground. 
“Mother!” He cried and launched himself at the woman, wrapping his arms around her waist. She quickly let go of the branch and hugged him back. 
“Oh, Flower. I was so worried when you suddenly disappeared.” Mother said and he hugged her tighter. “Every day I searched for you, afraid I would never see you again. And then today, I saw those thugs running after you. I had to do something.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Varian cried, his tears damping Mother’s dress. “I was so scared! I was kidnapped by this woman who wanted my powers! Hugo helped me escape but then-” His breath hitched at the thought of what the men told him.
“Oh, Flower…” Mother cooed and lifted his chin to look at her. “I was afraid something like this would happen. People outside are egoistic and think only about their own benefit.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, Mother.” Varian looked down ashamed. “I thought Hugo was different…” 
“Well, at least now you know why I prefer you don’t leave the tower.” Mother sighed and grabbed his wrist, smiling gently. “Now come, Flower. Let’s go back home.”
“Yes, Mother…” The boy whispered and silently let himself be led by the hand, heart hurting and eyes burning from tears. 
~~~~~~
Hugo’s head hurt as if he was hit with a sledgehammer. He didn’t know what happened or where he was. He was swaying slightly and could hear a sound of hooves. But why? 
“Halt! Who goes there?” He heard someone call out and he worked hard to pull his eyes open. The swaying stopped abruptly and he fell forward, hitting something warm and hairy. 
Hid eyelids creeped open slightly and he saw something gold and red at the corner of his vision. 
“Well well well.” He heard another voice, this time awfully familiar. A face appeared in front of his eyes, brown moustache lifting up in a smirk. “If it isn’t the famous Hugo the Human.” Captain of the Royal Guard said and laughed. 
Oh crap, Hugo cursed, as two guards grabbed his arms and hauled him off the horse, dragging him over the cobbled streets and into the dungeons.
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virlath · 4 years
Text
Theories on the Black City and what happens after the veil is destroyed
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No traveler to the Fade can fail to spot the Black City. It is one of the few constants of that ever-changing place. No matter where one might be, the city is visible. (Always far off, for it seems that the only rule of geography in the Fade is that all points are equidistant from the Black City.)
The Chant teaches that the Black City was once the seat of the Maker, from whence He ruled the Fade, left empty when men turned away from Him. Dreamers do not go there, nor do spirits. Even the most powerful demons seem to avoid the place.
It was golden and beautiful once, so the story goes, until a group of powerful magister-lords from the Tevinter Imperium devised a means of breaking in. When they did so, their presence defiled the city, turning it black. (Which was, perhaps, the least of their worries.)
I’ve been pondering some of the foreshadowing/prophecies throughout the DA series recently, and I have some major crackpot theories on the Black city and Solas’ end-game that I just have to get out of my head.
Disclaimer: I always try to back up my speculation with evidence but a lot of this is personal conjecture. This post also contains spoilers from Tevinter Nights.
===
The foreshadowing
In light of everything that has happened so far, I think it’s widely accepted that Sandal’s prophecy was in fact referring to Solas and his plans.
One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part, and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see. 
As we know, the Black City is a constant landmark in the Fade. Consequently when the veil is destroyed, we can assume the Black City is what everyone will see, dreamer or non-dreamer alike.
The Black City and the aftermath of the veil’s destruction is further foreshadowed in the Tiniest Cave quest in DAI:
"Pulling back the curtain. Let the light in. Let it burn."
This sounds awfully familiar to the Chant of Light, which we can also use as foreshadowing.
At a touch, the gate swung wide, And the Light parted before them like a curtain Swept aside by nothing. Fearful to touch them. And none saw the black mark Spreading like a sore upon the shining gate Where mortal hand had lain. 
Solas tells us his plans involve restoring “the world of his time- the world of the elves”. If we subscribe to the theory that Arlathan was once the Black City (which I do and will further elaborate on), it stands to reason the Black City, one of the most important landmarks in the Fade, will be at the top of his agenda once the veil is destroyed.
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The Black City = Arlathan
...at the center of the world stood the great city of Arlathan, a place of knowledge and debate, where the best of the ancient elves would go to trade knowledge, greet old friends, and settle disputes that had gone on for millennia.
According to Solas, Elvhenan was the elven empire and Arlathan was its greatest city. Arlathan was thought to have been sunk into the ground by Tevinter magisters after the creation of the veil, but no trace of it has ever been found until recent events in Tevinter Nights. I don’t think this is a coincidence. 
In fact, I presume pieces of Arlathan are only surfacing now because Solas' ritual to tear down the veil has already begun to take effect in the Fade.
In Trespasser, various codices reveal the ancient elves once defeated the “pillars of the earth” and rendered their “land” to the People:
"Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!"
It is also implied the elves took control of the titan’s workers and used them as slaves/minions while harvesting their bodies for materials. The below codex implies Elgar’nan even used the body of a titan to carve a statue of himself:
The pages of this book—memory?—describe a monument made in a single afternoon by a thousand-thousand toiling servants swarming over a lump of fallen stone as large as a collapsed mountain. By the end of the day, the stern figure of Elgar'nan stares down into a valley, carved out from the foothills of the rock. The slaves have disappeared. Light radiates from the eidolon's narrowed eyes and its open, snarling mouth.
"Hail Elgar'nan, first among the gods! Mark his victory eternal!"
I theorise it was the elves’ defeat and subjugation of the titans that truly allowed the elven empire to flourish. The elves took control of the titan’s workers (the first dwarves) and used them to build their statues, temples, and cities. 
The elves’ biggest and grandest city was Arlathan - a city carved from the body of a titan, floating above an underground sky deep underground. Arlathan was "the center of the world” because the elves willed it so. The city was ultimately a beacon of their pride and false divinity.
The pages of this book—memory?—describe an elf approaching a city of glass spires so deeply blue they ache. The city's outskirts are wrapped in lakes of mist, and figures stroll along the pearly, glowing strips as if they walked on solid ground. Groves of trees woven into enormous parks shelter elves in quiet hollows, while other elves walk below a river churning along an invisible shoal in the air.
The scene hums with quiet talk and contentment as the memory's maker reaches the city's gates, already thrown open wide.
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“Imagine instead spires of crystal twining through the branches, palaces floating among the clouds. Imagine beings who lived forever, for whom magic was as natural as breathing. That is what was lost.” - Solas 
This is why Tamlen describes seeing the Black City underground in the eluvian - because Arlathan was originally “underground”- within a titan’s biosphere.
When the veil was created, Arlathan fractured and displaced due to its innate tie to the Fade, much like the Vir Dirthara we see in Trespasser. Despite this, the idea and will that formed its foundation(alongside a potential heart/lyrium spring which I’ll get to later) anchors it in the Fade as a constant landmark - a reflection of the evanuris’ pride.
Since the creation of the veil, no trace of Arlathan had been found in the waking world until a piece of the city was recently discovered by scholars in the Deep Roads in Tevinter Nights:
...Arlathan, the ancient elven capital, had not been destroyed by Tevinter, but by the strange magics that caused the rise of the Veil. ...
...Natural caves and the occasional support beam suddenly gave way to delicate elven carvings, the stone floor abruptly changing to mahogany hardwood. There was no doorway, no planning or joinery. It was as if a pocket had suddenly formed in the rock, replaced by the notion that shelves and reading desks should simply be there. They had turned a corner and stepped into an elven library. When Arlathan “fell,” a piece of it had “fallen” here.
- excerpt from Tevinter Nights, Genitivi Dies in the End
This lends credence to the idea that fragments of Arlathan and other ancient elven locations are still somewhere deep underground, or will soon manifest in the waking world as the Fade slowly joins together with reality. When Solas’ ritual completes, Arlathan will be free to manifest itself completely in its original location (presumably underneath Arlathan Forest).
The Fade version of Arlathan (ie. the Black City) has always remained inaccessible to all beings. I believe this is because Solas hijacked the city’s defenses and used it to imprison the evanuris. Theoretically this plan would work in his favour because the city would always be visible in the fade for him to keep a watchful eye on (thus corroborating legend in a way).
It is simple to say that the laws of nature do not apply in the Fade, but while traveling in the Fade is often confusing for mages, it is rarely so chaotic as to defy description. In fact, while the placement of items may seem random, those items usually operate as we would expect them to in the real world. A book opens to show pages, although the pages may be blank or lined with gibberish. A pen and inkwell let a user write, though the pen may write on its own, and the inkwell never runs dry. Those items that float usually hover at the relative height where they would have sat had the objects meant to support them existed—candles suspended in the air as though held by a phantom candlestick, for example.
Why are the laws of the Maker bent but not fully broken? Why does a book not turn into a dragon, or a statue explode into countless shards of energy? The answer, I believe, lies in the fact that the items we see in the Fade were most often made by the hands of men. A statue is a created thing. The mortal hands that shaped it gave it purpose, and it knows what it is meant to do. The objects that strain against the laws of nature are ironically those that are more natural themselves. Great stones, for example, hang in the sky. No hand has ever touched them, no mortal mind shaped them to purpose.
I suspect, though we may never know, that if dwarves dreamt and shaped the Fade with their own perceptions, the rocks would not float.
—From The Shape of the Fade by Enchanter Ephineas Aserathan
According to the codex above, the more natural an object is, the more it will defy “laws of nature” in the Fade. This is further evidence Arlathan is formed from organic material- the body of a titan. Furthermore, elves depended on lyrium for their magic as it was quite literally the foundation of their empire. Dagna also tells us the Fade and lyrium are linked. 
Because of these facts I infer there is a good possibility Arlathan was built around the very heart of a titan, or they built an endless lyrium spring within the city, acting as a pump/generator. The infinite flow of lyrium fuelled the magic that held the city aloft in the sky as a constant landmark, and that is what made it the “center of the world”. They used the light from the titan to illuminate the city, making it look golden by reflecting light off its gleaming, gilded walls.
“It shapes the Stone. It is the Stone. It sculpts the world within and without.”
The Fall mosaic from DAI also gives us some interesting information on dwarven craftwork, and is further evidence Arlathan was in fact built by the first dwarves.  
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Here's something interesting, though. You've got a hint of pigment and leaf causing some sheen, but there's meant to be more. All of these were painted and repainted at some point, to match whatever lord's three-holer. But there's a type of finishing that you can do, a very fine and time-consuming pass that evens the surface. Do it right, you can get stone as smooth as glass. And that tower, and Beardy's skull, are meant to have it. And only a little is present on the others.
So, the first time this carving was wheeled out, it would have looked like Beardy was the target, so maybe he was first in the door? And the "light," it burns him and spreads to the others. And the polish or leaf would have caught light like a mirror and caused the viewer to squint. They'd have to look down or away, "joining" the magisters in their punishment. Makes them feel part of it.
In DAI, Solas remarks the Temple of Mythal was gilded head to toe purely to impress. Knowing the evanuris claimed divinity, I think it’s likely they used the ancient dwarves’ knowledge and their sheer numbers (thousand-thousand toiling servants) to sculpt their palaces and make them shine like metal. 
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The statue above is a good representation of this in action. Notice the base? It’s rock...that eventually gives way to form a bronze like finish that is "smooth as glass”. The smoothness of the metal here is only paralleled to the gilded statues in the Temple of Mythal, all of which I believe were crafted by the dwarves.
===
The Black City, post-veil
One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part, and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.
While fragments of Arlathan might be currently scattered underground in the waking world, once the veil is destroyed I imagine the city will reform and manifest itself fully within the “sky” of a titan. I presume this would happen underneath Arlathan Forest.
Thus when the veil is destroyed, dreamers and non-dreamers alike would finally be able to see the Black City for themselves (that is, if they delve underground).
According to Avernus, the morally corrupt grey warden mage in DAO, the Black City holds the key to the blight:
There must be some way to refine the Joining. Isolate the true power that is found in darkspawn blood, and leave behind the evil that kills us...
In my dreams, I see the Black City, and I am drawn towards it. There is something there, an answer to what this taint is, this taint that we share with the darkspawn...
Tamlen was also tainted by the infamous eluvian in DAO, which somehow had a link to the Black City. His dialogue and the sound effects from the eluvian makes me think something incredibly powerful and malevolent resides within the city itself.
One of the most important things to know about the Black City is:
Dreamers do not go there, nor do spirits. Even the most powerful demons seem to avoid the place.
This correlates with Avernus’ notes on blight magic:
Blood magic comes from demons; they could counter every bit of lore I possess. But the darkspawn taint, that is alien to them. And it has power.
This effectively means that Solas- the big bad dread wolf with instant KO petrification powers, has a weakness just like the rest of the beings on Thedas, and that weakness is the blight.
Considering his lyrium idol is tainted and the Black City is ground zero for the taint, is Solas intentionally opening himself up to corruption to carry out his plans?
Let’s analyse that mural again:
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The tree branch is reminiscent of the Vhenadahl, a symbol of Arlathan
The big circle motif represents the evanuris’ prisons within the Black City
The lyrium idol and the seven old gods (the semi circles) are the “two factor authentication” needed to unlock said prison
Solas is standing inside the Black City, and it looks like he’s either holding back the tide or about to open pandora’s box 
everything is on fire
This is where we set aside (most) evidence and let imagination take the reigns. :)
===
The end-game
Once Solas destroys the veil, I think he intends to destroy the Black City and everything within it.
This is what the mural is depicting - Solas, corrupted, alone, standing in fire in the Black City, about to blow the evanuris and himself to smithereens.
I don’t believe the Black City itself is the origin of the blight (another theory for another day) but I think the City itself is fostering the growth of red lyrium in the Fade in the form of an endless lyrium spring/generator within it, as I theorised earlier.
Through events that are currently unknown to us, somehow the Black City became ground zero for the taint as we currently know it. ( I have way more theories on this topic but alas this post is already rambly enough as it is)
This is why we see red lyrium everywhere in the Fade, particularly so in DAI because we are so much closer to the Black City than we have ever been.
Lyrium is a natural material that grows in the Fade, however I believe the Black City itself is corrupting and fostering the growth of red lyrium around it.
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The theme of fire and light is interesting to analyse in this context because it is used in the teaser mural and the Chant many, many times as a metaphor for rebirth and cleansing.
Andraste gives Drakon his destiny I covered my face, fearful, But the Lady took my hands from my eyes, Saying, "Remember the fire. You must pass Through it alone to be forged anew. Look! Look upon the Light so you May lead others here through the darkness, Blade of the Faith!" 
Her touch was like fire that did not burn. And by Her touch, I was made pure again. 
The ninth sacred mountain upon which rests The moral dust of Our Lady ascended Whole into the heavens, to be given high honor In the Realm of Dreams forever. And around it, a chorus of spirits sang: "Whatsoever passes through the fire Is not lost, but made eternal; As air can never be broken nor crushed, The tempered soul is everlasting!"
By using fire to obliterate the Black City, Solas would destroy the false gods and the very system of power he loathes. But to do this, he has to do it alone (even his demon army can’t help him here), and he has to face the corruption and potentially taint himself in the process. Remember his greatest fear? Dying alone.
Tevinter Nights gives us some insight into how his plan would play out, in the form of Dumat’s Folly. 
Dumat’s Folly is supposedly a piece of the Black City itself. 
In Half Up Front, the real Dumat’s Folly is replaced by Solas’ agent with a similar artifact from the same time. The lesser replica is then used to blow up the Qunari’s Darvaarad, which was turned into a floating fortress after the events of Trespasser.
“It is an ingenious device. Not a piece of the Black City, like the true Dumat’s Folly, but taken from the same time. It draws magic into itself. Stores it, and then when it is full . . .” She clasped her hands together and then pulled them apart. The universal sign for something exploding. Yeah. Not good.
With the real Dumat’s Folly, I think Solas intends to use it as a catalyst to destroy the Black City for good. By pairing it with a rune and triggering it from within the city, the artifact would nullify the corruption (like Dagna’s rune for Samson’s armour) but the side-effect is, the city eventually explodes with all the built up energy.
It is possible that if Solas’ orb still existed, he might not need to go to all this trouble. After all, Imshael has knowledge of how to reverse red lyrium growth, and Mythal was seemingly able to nullify it for Andruil. 
But to halt the spread of red lyrium in the destructive state as it is now, destroying the source that is feeding the corruption is necessary.
But will everything go according to plan?
And I looked up and saw The seven gates of the Black City shatter, And darkness cloaked both realms.
There is foreshadowing in the Chantry that eludes to the gates of the City shattering. When you pair this with Eleni Zinovia’s prophecy...
"The prison is breached. I see the encroaching darkness. The... the shadow will consume all..." - Eleni Zinovia
Is this foreshadowing a darkness- an endless night, after the Black City’s destruction? Will Solas fail somehow, or will his plans induce a new blight? Will he destroy the City but free the false gods in the process? Is that why all the teaser images are set at night?
I’m not saying I want Solas to fail or anything, but I admit hearing from another primary source from ancient times would be a nice contrast to Solas and Mythal’s biased viewpoints. Also, if an endless night is on the cards this would be the perfect time for Lusacan/Falon’Din to make themselves known.
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"Bring faith. Bring hope. Bring a dream of life." 
When the veil is destroyed, willpower would be needed more than ever if any survivors are to forge ahead. After all it is sheer will that shapes the fade and creation itself. 
"He'll remake the world to suit his desires. His chosen to reign."
If Solas plans to “remake the world” and give up his life for his cause, who are his chosen to reign? Will the veil’s destruction reveal more secrets from the ancient elves? And if Solas does indeed plan on destroying the Black City, does this align with Mythal’s vision? More things to ponder for another day!
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medeafive · 3 years
Text
Blood and Stone - 14
Masterpost
"This is extraordinary," Bruce stresses. "There is this area in his brain, here, that seems to be where the virus set up camp- well, and it's not really doing a lot right now, as far as I can tell. I took new blood samples and the virus count is considerably lower than in the first, across the board."
"So he is- less infected?" Natasha asks. "Less vampire?"
"It could go up again," Bruce replies. "I have no idea why it went down. But yeah, the rest of his brain and body is working largely without that. Oh, I should say, I found more virus cells that I've never seen before, so it's probably not just one vampire virus but a whole cocktail."
She's still hung up on the first point. "And you have really no idea why the virus count is lower?"
"I really don't know," Bruce repeats. "It seems to be working at about replacement level now, producing just enough new virus cells to replace the ones that died. But I have a- not a theory, no, but- an idea, I guess, or parts of it."
"Well, just say it, then," she returns impatiently. "Stop being such a tease."
"Well, it's still a virus, right?" Bruce argues. "Or a virus cocktail. And viruses' main goal is to spread, to find new hosts. So it's probably related to that. Maybe it already spread, or at least thinks so."
She frowns. "What do you mean? I don't think he bit anyone recently."
"Yeah, but I took a sample of his poison, right?" Bruce asks. "That should be as good as biting someone. Maybe it's reproducing the poison now and can't therefore bother with other virus cells. And the poison production is just not showing on the MRI. I don't know, just a theory, what I'm thinking."
"No, you're right, that's interesting," Natasha agrees. "So he's… less vampire right now?"
Bruce snorts. "I don't know. That's kind of like saying he's less dead right now."
  "Yup." Sharon crosses her arms. "There he is. Pierce. Looks like the Americans are really looking for him."
"Photos?" Pepper asks intrigued, leaning over her shoulder. "Wow. What database is this?"
"My dad worked in the CIA," Sharon replies. "Good connections. Yeah, and that's an archived version of the official government database. New enough for our purposes."
"Is there anything about him?" Natasha asks. "Other than where he was sighted over the years?"
Sharon scrolls down. "Well, looks like he's actually American. State department, CIA. Vietnam. Apparently, he disappeared and went looking for Schmidt. Looks like he found him."
"Vietnam?" Natasha asks. "Then he's a lot younger."
"20 to 30 years is still very old for a vampire," Pepper remarks.
"They say here he's really the boss in North America," Sharon adds. "Travelling from city to city and keeping the different groups in line. Though this is over a year old, so maybe he's handed it off. I didn't have the chance to travel and get a newer version."
"Yes, probably," Pepper agrees. "Otherwise he wouldn't be here, in Prague."
"He must have a new mission," Natasha remarks. "I mean, he was basically the ringleader over there. You don't just give that up to hop around Europe."
"You mean Schmidt's planning something?" Sharon asks. "Hm."
"Would explain why he wants to recruit you, all of a sudden," Pepper replies. "The question is what. Well, some kind of expansion, the question is where."
"Yeah, if only we knew that," Sharon mutters. "Uh, you probably wanna go through it on your own, right? Then we'll leave you to it."
"Oh, look," Pepper remarks. "A bounty ."
Sharon grins. "Not sure you can cash in on that. Or what sort of evidence you need. They just want to motivate people to phone in as many hints as possible."
  That guy really reads like the dangerous kind of asshole. Keeps his cards close to his chest. Never speaks what's actually on his mind. Looking for power, unlimited power. Found it, with Schmidt. Probably not reckless enough.
God, she's starting to get nervous about this. Wish she could talk to James but they agreed it's better if he's not spotted walking into the tower. Still, she's feeling off and that's not a good sign, with her instincts.
"You doubt yourself."
She turns around and Fury is there, hands in the pockets of his leather coat. "Who wouldn't," she argues. "Nobody's ever killed a black cloak, after all."
"That's not true," Fury replies, turning a chair. "Yes, it's extremely hard, but people have managed to trick them in the past. They are not almighty. Not invincible."
Natasha snorts. "Not sure that helps those who died."
Fury sits down. "I don't usually… talk about this."
As with almost everything. "Yes."
"But I once saw a black cloak," Fury states. "Eye to eye. Not a softie like your friend, the real deal. He was just about to kill me, and… I had acid but not a clear line of sight. I still sprayed it, though part came back to me. Hence the eye. And I remember very clearly… the moment it hit him, he looked surprised ."
"They're not omniscient," Natasha remarks.
"Exactly," Fury agrees. "That, together with seeing your friend… maybe there is more of a human side to them than we give them credit for. And that's something you can use against them."
"That's what I intend to do," Natasha mutters.
"Be careful," Fury advises. "And always remember the first rule."
"I'd rather die than do Schmidt's bidding," Natasha replies.
Fury almost smiles. "Good. Don't doubt yourself. If I had to bet on who could kill a black cloak, it would be you."
  The city's even more quiet the last few nights. It's weird going out alone, without Sharon, without Clint, not even knowing James is close by. She's really on her own. Nobody can help her now, nobody but herself.
The streets smell of blood. She follows the scent, the trail, through Karlín to Invalidovna, weird commercial area that's creepy at night. Construction site. The smell is strong around here. There's a hotel down the road with cars parked on the other side, just outside the reach of the UV lamps. One of them has the car door ripped off, driver's side, broken glass strewn on the street. Oh yeah, this is the right place.
She takes a foot track up to the trees, the railroad tracks somewhere behind. Wind rustles the leaves so it's hard to discern movement. She closes her eyes and smells. Blood. So much blood. Follows the smell, then stops and looks up.
The black cloak is crouching on a branch, a woman's body hanging next to him, lifeless but not yet completely dry. He must have been interrupted while feeding, blood smeared all around his mouth. He grins down on her, not caring about his meal. Gold-lined fangs. "Hello Natasha."
"You ripped her out of her car," she observes. "Just outside her hotel."
"They're getting reckless," he states, sniffing. His face is strangely ageless, with milky brown eyes, still some color left. "Which you allow them to be. They think they're safe inside, as if vampires couldn't break in."
"Oh yeah," Natasha replies. "Totally my fault."
He grins again, flashing even more bloodied teeth. He's wearing a business suit, despite the cold, very western. Very much the sophisticated vampire archetype. "They were right, though, you are good. Extraordinarily good. Found me immediately."
"Easy, just follow the smell of blood," she remarks. "You're just going to leave her hanging there?"
He drops off the branch, landing noiselessly, nose crunching up. "You do smell strange, I have to say."
"Yeah, I stink of vampire, I know," she states, not stepping back. "Small price for the strength injecting vampire blood gives me."
He frowns. "What a disgusting thing to do. Why would you do that when you could have the real thing?"
"At least I'm not locked in forever," she argues. "I'm not convinced yet it's worth it."
He takes out a paper tissue and starts wiping around his mouth. "Did the soldier not show you?"
"I'd prefer to have a second source," she replies.
She's knocked into the sky by a brick wall, grabbing on instinctively, going almost straight up, up, rushing towards the stars, cold night air, and then they're descending, she can see the entire city, the ground's approaching faster and faster, this time it's no fun, she's gonna crack on the ground like a raw egg, claws on, closes her eyes and rolls in-
There's a less smooth landing and when she rips her eyes open, they're ping-ponging down a street, building to opposite building, faster and faster, and before she knows it, crashing through hard shattering glass.
She's so sick. Nothing feels particularly hurt but boy. Never again. She groans, closing her eyes.
She's crouching, as she notices after a while, not lying down, pile of broken glass. Cut somewhere on her cheek. The black cloak, Pierce, is standing there, observing her. Oh, she's going to throw up. "I have a message from Johann Schmidt."
"Just a second," she groans, leaning over her knees. Just get it out. "Jesus Christ."
"The world is changing," Pierce continues. "And Russia will be the vanguard of that change."
Yeah, she's heard that bullshit since kindergarten, though without vampires. Maybe Russia would prefer not being the vanguard for once. "You mean, he suddenly discovered we're actually not racially inferior."
"That was wrong," Pierce admits freely. "An error that will not be repeated. Your country has so much potential. Just as you do."
"What do you want from me?" she asks, pushing up carefully.
"Russia is edging closer and closer to the tipping point," Pierce explains. "It's inevitable that vampires will take their rightful place over society. All it needs is someone to guide it over the edge."
It's a regular living room. Maybe there's actually people next door. Maybe he already ate them. They crashed not only through a window but smashed a chair as well, pieces of wood between the glass shards. "Why me? Don't you have enough vampires?"
Pierce snorts. "You were there from the beginning. The country should have collapsed sooner, there was nothing holding it together."
"Other than the people," Natasha remarks.
"The soldier couldn't do it," Pierce states. "Karpov can't do it. But you, you could. You have the killer instinct to finally bring the people to their knees, where they belong."
"Mhm." She steps closer. "Is this about the propaganda?"
Pierce eyes her critically, her gun, the throwing stars, all her knives, clearly disapproving. She relents, stepping back and starting to put her weapons on the table. "Relax. Wouldn't be quick enough anyway."
"You could be," he replies. "The serum has been drastically improved. You might soon be one of the most powerful vampires."
"More powerful than you?" she asks.
He smiles crookedly, it doesn't curl nicely around the fangs. "You might."
"I don't buy might ," she returns, leaning on the table. "You make a lot of promises."
"Schmidt will give you everything you want," Pierce promises. "If you fulfill your mission. Just as I have received everything."
"Everything," she repeats. "Really? That's all you wanted from life? Power?"
"Purpose," he says. "A better world and the means to bring it about, to do my part."
"You're tearing it down," she remarks, pushing away from the table.
"To build a better one," he replies. "Put that knife away."
She snorts, slamming it on the table. "Thorough. Doesn't seem fun, what you're doing."
"Doesn't seem fun what you're doing," he retorts. "Running around at night, killing ever new vampires, trying to stop a tidal wave that cannot be stopped."
"You don't eat," she states.
"Blood is delicious."
"You don't feel excitement."
"The thrill of the chase."
"You don't fuck."
"I-"
Natasha grins. "Gotcha."
"You are primitive ," Pierce accuses.
"Please, you drop into blood frenzies," she returns. "That's primitive. Sex isn't. Sex is living, chasing, feasting, all in one."
"You'd give up power for that ?" Pierce questions.
"Sex is power," she replies. "You understand power, don't you? Definitely something to take into account."
"For the weak."
Natasha smiles and unclasps her biteguard, slips off the gloves. "Let's see. Smell it?"
"Your blood won't tempt me," he states. "I just fed."
"Not blood." She pulls the zipper down some, rubbing over her wrists and neck. "Skin."
He sniffs involuntarily. "No."
"Fucking liar." She steps closer, now in his space. "I'm unarmed. If I'm wrong, no loss. If I'm right, you'll have learnt something."
He might be confused but his face doesn't give it away. Not like James'. He grabs her wrists when she gets too close, suddenly, forcefully. She rolls her eyes, twisting to dig her fingers into his cold hard skin. "How does that feel?"
"Scorching." His pupils contract.
She leans a little forward. "Breathe."
He probably smells her adrenaline, the utter lack of fear, maybe the excitement . He frowns. "What is it about you that- the vampire blood? No, something-"
His skin is still cold as marble. "I don't know. Find it out."
He yanks on her right arm, baring her neck, leaning in and sniffing. Captivated. Well, it's scary to have a vampire so close to your unguarded neck. "Extraordinary. The strangest-"
His skin finally gives in under her digits, becoming malleable- He rips away, staring at his wrists and at her. "What have you done?"
"Nothing," she replies. "Absolutely nothing."
He squeezes the skin that is now as hard as ever, constantly breathing , wondering what the hell- her back slams against the wall, knocked around, he pins her against and starts- but doesn't, she doesn't feel pain, his cold stone fingers melt, her neck holds undeniable attraction- oh, maybe this was a horrible idea.
He's a few steps away suddenly, blood flowing back into her fingers. She breathes, chest heaving. His pupils are huge. And-
He slams into her again, mouth on hers, fangs, blood, she can barely keep up, he's still stone but warming up, heated, she takes all her force and flips them, slamming him into the wall next to where she was, and he whips them around again, this time she gives in, lets him, lets the heat creep in, don't think about where the blood in his mouth came from, he yanks her left thigh up, the suit is good for a lot of things but not for blunt impact, blunt force. She's up in all of his senses, she can tell, blocking out everything else, the rush, scratching, pulling, slamming, he licks her neck like a horse licks up salt, God, vampires are weird, she can feel his fangs poking in, caged-
She slams him into the wall again, arms already tiring, all up in his space, blocking out everything, hears her blood rushing in her ears, smells her adrenaline, knows it's the moment, knows knows knows, overwhelmed, blind, presses-
He convulses from the electric shock, screaming in agony, blind blind blind, quick, she grabs a piece of wood from the floor, unsharpened stool leg, and with the strength of the vampire blood, she slams the flat end through the stupid business suit, through his ribcage into his cold, dead heart.
Awful scream, she's knocked back, crashing into the table and against a wall, suit doesn't help, something trickles down her forehead, groans, fights herself up, the scream still rings in her ears, she's dizzy, bruised, forces her feet down and rises slowly, shakily. The black cloak has collapsed to the floor, chest drenched in dark blood, body convulsed, face contorted into that of an agonized animal, frozen. She spits out, disgusting blood, steps over him as the darkness creeps into his eyes. "Told you."
Something drops through the window, she spins, James. Blood's dripping down her forehead. He stares down at the convulsed body, the effect of the electric shock still visible. "I remember how that felt."
"Wooden stick through your heart?"
"The taser," he replies, pained expression. "I- you could have done that to me, too, couldn't you."
"No, that was very- I really needed to know it worked and how long I would have," she replies quickly, stepping back. "That was very helpful and- I know it hurt really bad, really, sorry, but I'm really grateful you let me and- I'd never try to drive a wooden stake into your heart."
"It's alright," he says, crouching over the body. Dark blood seems to be flowing into the dead eyes from the outside, like popped veins. "Yes, he's done for. Good job."
"How close were you?" she asks, picking up her weapons scattered on the ground.
"Not close enough to stop him from biting you," James replies, closing Pierce's eyes.
Her hand jerks to her exposed neck. "Did he- fuck. "
"No, no, he didn't." James quickly rises, touching and tilting her neck. "I think. You still smell human. But let me check."
She holds her breath as his fingers dart over her skin, then the other side. "No, you're good. Little scratch but it smells clean."
She releases her breath. "Fuck. I- we need to get rid of the body."
"That was really risky, though," James points out. "He could've bitten you. I couldn't have stopped him, you couldn't have."
She's so full of adrenaline. "Yeah, I know, I know, but- are you mad? Jealous?"
James sighs. "Natalia. The body."
"Right." She rubs the blood from her forehead. "Rumlow's guys can't find out he's dead. We need to drop it somewhere so the sunlight will destroy it. Maybe- maybe rip his head off, too, just to be sure. The sun will come up in an hour and half."
"I'll put him somewhere close to the river," James says. "We need to take his clothes off, though. Uh, I understand if you don't want to do that."
"No, it's- it's alright," she replies, crouching down and dragging the jacket off one shoulder. "Or he won't burn quickly enough. Got it."
"You need to get inside, behind locked doors and windows," James adds, yanking the pants down. "You're bleeding."
"Yeah, yeah," Natasha breathes. "One thing after another."
They strip the black cloak down to his underwear, which- no. "I'll go to my place in Karlín," she states. "You take him away and join me there."
"Don't let anyone see you," James advises, picking up the awful disgusting body. "You're covered in vampire blood."
Shit, she is. Blunt object, right? "But you'll come back? And then we'll talk?"
He smiles. "Don't worry. I'll get it done."
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thetakenpokemon · 3 years
Text
Act 2 - The Outside World
[Time: Present Day] [PoV: Yinomi]
Although it has only been a day since we’ve left the isle, I already feel myself being in high spirits. Although a change of scenery is incredibly refreshing, the biggest reason...is the food.
Currently the three of us are gathered around a firepit we made within a clearing. The freshly killed and cleaned carcass of a Sawsbuck lays speared over it with the use of several sharpened branches, cooked to perfection - with my own fire I might add.
We do have plenty of food on the isle. There’s an abundance of trees that hold a variety of fruits, countless vegetables and root plants, and other miscellaneous edible plants and herbs. For those who require meat in their diet, there’s quite a bit of fish from the surrounding ocean. Wild game or any other meat? That is something we don’t have on the isle.
So when we found a Feral Sawsbuck while making our way to the town, it was only natural that the first thing in my and Miyako’s mind was to hunt it. Miyako killed it before it ever had the chance to react, ending its life with a swift slash to its throat after a giant leap.
Although I would never admit this in the open, I must agree that one thing that Miyako has over me is her impressive speed.
My fangs dig into the leg of the venison, uncaring about the grease that’s dripping down my chin. I can find a stream to wash myself later. The biggest priority right now is to enjoy this very rare delicacy~
Across the firepit I see Miyako currently tearing into her own piece, already getting down to the bone. With a loud gulp she turns to Iniko - said Medicham who is silently sitting to the side.
“Hey, want some?” The Lopunny asks, wiping her face with an arm before gesturing to the meat in the center.
Iniko doesn’t respond verbally, but instead gives Miyako a deadpan look before gesturing to her own face with a hand - or more specifically, her lack of mouth.
Miyako smiles awkwardly. “Oh yeah, right...”
So much for being in high spirits... I roll my eyes at her cluelessness. Although most cases I would add a remark, my mouth is currently full.
“It’s okay, Miyako.” Iniko sighs. “Regardless, I already got my fill from the previous stream we found. Its energies should last for the rest of the trek.”
“I still keep forgetting that you ‘eat’ by absorbing energies from running water.” Miyako muses as she takes another bite into the venison, before continuing speaking with her mouth full. “Do you ever miss normal food?”
Swallowing my bite, I give the Lopunny a glare. “You have the decency of a child, Miyako. Speak only when you don’t have food in your mouth.”
In response, the Lopunny gives me the middle finger before chewing slowly with her mouth open, looking me dead in the eyes.
I let out a growl at this, a puff of purple fire escaping from the large maw hanging behind me.
“It’s not any running water that I get my energy from!” Iniko speaks up hastily, trying to divert the subject back in order to stop the forming feud. “It has to be something like a stream or river, however the most fulfilling is from the ocean itself.” She laughs awkwardly. “And even though I have thought about it, I only miss normal food...occasionally. But absorbing energy from water is a fairly different thing compared to standard eating, and in some cases I’d say it’s much more satisfying and filling.”
Her attempt at drawing our attention away from each other ended up succeeding - mostly at least, since my anger towards Miyako has died down to something more along the lines of simple irritation.
“Huh, that’s pretty cool, actually.” Miyako comments, thankfully saying said thing after swallowing her bite of food. “But I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’d ever give up the chance of eating meat! It’s just so damn good~”
I couldn’t resist the opportunity. “Even though you never ate meat before you became a Bearer?” I point out with a smirk.
She glares at me. “Hey, just because my biology was different before, it doesn’t make it any less different now.” Her free clawed hand clenches. “You saying that my opinions mean less due to the fact that I was-”
“Why don’t you both finish eating so we can be on our way sooner?” Iniko speaks up in a serious tone before giving me a glare. “Because right now we are kinda using up precious time.”
“Hmph, very well.” I snort before resuming my feasting.
Miyako holds her glare on me, but ultimately decides to drop the subject as well. “Sure, whatever...”
---
After finishing our meal and cleaning ourselves up, we’ve resumed our travelling and actually made very good progress towards the town. As of currently the forest we’re in is already thinning, thus meaning that we’re getting close.
“So Richard Dick is located just outside this forest?” Miyako asks to no one in particular, her arms crossed behind her head.
“It’s...called Richmond.” Iniko slowly replies, trying to contain her own laughter. “And yes. Outside the forest is nothing but grasslands along with a big river. Richmond is built beside said river, which I assume is where they get a good source of their food. The place is fairly hilly as well, but we should be able to see the place the moment we step out of the woods.”
I’m currently just staring at Miyako. To confuse ‘Richmond’ with ‘Richard Dick’... Feeling the energies coming from her, I knew it was intentional, so the only reason I can think of is...
She looks at me, a smirk quite plain on her face.
Yeah, she’s definitely doing this to annoy me. What makes it worse is the fact that she’s succeeding.
“Speaking of which, we’re very close!” Iniko speaks up, drawing my attention away from the infuriating dragon rabbit and towards the path in front of us.
As the Medicham said, the forest ahead seems to stop short. After we pass through, the scenery ahead of us changes drastically. 
Before my eyes are nothing but rolling hills of green. The landscape is covered all over with deep emerald blades of grass, and scattered among the earth are several late-blooming flowers. The sky is relatively clear, leaving a rich blue to properly compliment the scene, making it almost seem like a work of art.
This...is definitely nothing like our home isle, where it’s nothing but forest.
“Whoa...” Miyako says in awe, voicing my own thoughts as well.
“That...truly is quite a sight.” Iniko agrees breathlessly.
Seeing that this alone is enough to make all of us catch our breath? I seriously need to speak with Xiomara once we return. We really are missing out on a lot of things by staying on that isle for so long, I’m sure that the others would be more than happy to see something as simple yet beautiful as this.
“And there it is!” Iniko shouts, pointing into the distance with a finger. “The town is just ahead!”
Having my gaze follow the direction she’s gesturing, I do indeed see several buildings just poking out from the hills.
“Last one there has to volunteer to be part of Seikani’s next experiment!” Miyako laughs before dashing towards the town, each bound of her feet causing earth to spray into the air as her form propels itself across the hills, not unlike that of a living bullet.
“Miyako-” Iniko starts to shout before sighing. “Great... Hopefully she won’t cause too much of a problem before we get there.”
I instead grind my teeth together. “I swear... If she causes any sort of trouble before we arrive, I will make her regret it.”
Iniko looks at me nervously. “Uh, well...Hopefully it won’t come to that, let’s hurry and catch up to her!” She says hastily before running after the Lopunny.
With a growl I follow suit, images of me thrashing Miyako flashing in my mind.
---
It took us a good several minutes before we reached the town. Besides my violent thoughts involving Miyako, the first thing that came to my mind is to say that it looks rather...quaint.
Thatched roofs, walls made of wood boards or logs, smooth dirt roads... It...definitely reminds me of the buildings I used to live in before I became a Bearer of Reshiram’s Power. The only difference in this town though are the lampposts scattered around the place, each of them housing a glass jar with an unlit candle inside.
Placed around the square of the town are various stalls, Pokemon of all shapes and sizes selling food and supplies that you’d only find in a place like this. Seeing that this is a small town in the middle of nowhere, I quite doubt that they actually use any normal form of currency.
...Not that we have any to begin with. Probably something we need to discuss with Orabelle and Zenoclio when they pop by for the next meeting.
Another thing I notice involving the various townfolk is that...well, they’re staring at us.
“I see Miyako.” Iniko whispers to me, gesturing to the side.
My gaze immediately turns to the direction, my face transforming into a scowl. Said expression quickly dissipates once I see what Miyako is doing.
Currently she’s sitting on a wooden bench, surrounded by children. From my current distance I can’t tell what’s exactly going on, but from what I can assume? She’s...merely talking with them.
As the two of us approach her and get closer, we discover that she’s answering the various questions they’re asking her.
“-so you’re part Zekrom?! Do you have lightning powers?!” One of them eagerly asks her.
“Sure can! Watch!” She laughs before pinching two claws together, causing a blue spark of electricity to arc between the two appendages.
The collective young audience immediately let out a chorus of ‘Oohs’, ‘whoas’, and ‘wows’, completely enraptured by the simple display.
Noticing us approaching, Miyako dispels the energy before waving at us. “Ey, ‘bout time you both came here!” She turns to the children before gesturing to us. “And here they are~ These two are the sisters of mine that I told you about.”
One of them raises their hand before asking, “They’re your sisters? But they don’t look anything like you!”
“Sisters are merely something we call ourselves. We’re not directly related.” Iniko answers their question gently.
“Why do you call yourselves that?” Another child asks.
This time I speak up, albeit in a guarded tone. “That...is something we can answer for another time. Do your parents know that you’re speaking with strangers?”
Collectively they all start looking at each other nervously, but eventually one of them does speak up. “Yes...?”
Even without my Reshiram powers that allow me to detect deceit, I can fully tell that they’re lying due to their obviously guilty face and tone.
“I would best advise that you go to them, otherwise you will get in trouble.” I respond flatly.
Although there were a few scattered protests, a stern glare was enough for them to scatter.
“Killjoy.” Miyako complains before standing up from the bench.
“We’re on a mission, Miyako.” I growl at her. “There’s no time for this.”
“Hey, I was merely waiting for you guys.” She shoots back with her own glare. “Not to mention there’s no harm in talking with people. I mean, I interact with you guys all the time. It’s actually nice to talk with someone that’s new!” She turns to Iniko. “No offense, that is.” She turns to me. “In your case? Full offense.”
My eyes twitch.
“Can you both...not?” Iniko hisses angrily, visibly controlling her tone. “Like, not here? In public? Where everyone is watching?” She tilts her head both left and right, drawing our eyes to the surrounding townsfolk.
Who are staring at us...and also murmuring to themselves.
Taking a sharp breath, I let out a sigh. “...Understood.”
Miyako rubs the back of her head sheepishly. “Yeah yeah... Understood.”
“Good.” Iniko sighs, relieved. “Now I recommend going around and asking about the phenomenon. If you find anything of importance, come back here.”
“What if people asks questions in turn? Like about us?” Miyako speaks up.
Before I’m given the chance to say anything, Iniko quickly responds. “If they have questions? Feel free to answer. Obviously hiding our identity isn’t much of a priority here.” She brushes a lock of blue hair over her shoulder. “Not to mention it’d give the people here a chance to become more familiar with us, which should help us in gathering information.”
Miyako gives a thumbs up. “Gotcha~”
“So if there’s no other questions, let's split up?” She half asks half says, looking at the both of us.
“Yup~” The Lopunny chuckles before turning and walking away.
I merely nod and choose the opposite direction Miyako went, leaving Iniko behind to select her own path.
Interacting with the populace of the outside world, huh? This...is definitely gonna take some getting used to...
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dontdietwd · 4 years
Text
Day 310, part 1
Michonne hadn’t been there when we returned that night with the young ones. They were scared and awed at the same time, and everyone at the Village received them really well. Miranda checked their wounds and scratches, they showered, had dinner and slept with the Morales’ for the first night. In the end, when they fell asleep from exhaustion, they were both more relaxed and Emma had even spoken a little. It was going to be good for them to have a real place and people around.
Michonne hadn’t come back on the next day either, and the day was passing and she wasn’t returning. Over 24 hours gone made us all worried. At that point we had already found working radios that could cover a good range for communication, but she wasn’t answering on the channel we all were in. She was probably just out of range, travelled a bit farther, but as the hours passed I got more and more anxious about it, my wrist aching and my heart tight. I always preferred when someone went on runs with her, being alone was not good.
I decided not to allow it anymore. Nobody was to go out alone, at all, ever, that was final.
But for now she was out there, the radio was silent, and time was passing.
I sent Merle out to look for her instead of going myself because there was work to be done at the Village, and I trusted Merle’s tracking and fighting skills. If someone could find and bring Michonne back, it was Merle. So he left and I stayed working with Morales on the wall – I was learning well how to set the bricks with cement – and I got David working with us as Miranda worked on comforting Emma – poor thing, she was jumpy and anxious all the time, even after a good night of sleep. Miranda and Emma were cleaning a house together where the girl and her brother would live. Honey liked her and I thought maybe she could be good company for her. As I worked, my mind was constantly out there, with Michonne and Merle. We had Mikki in the platform, Andrea rounding, and it was all alright.
But my mind was out there with my friends, picturing every little thing that could have gone wrong, every horrible way they could have been hurt, every terrible person they could have found on their way. And if I kept on with it I would go insane.
I needed to do something. Everything in the Village was fine as I walked along Circle Street and turned the corner to Main Street. I saw Mikki coming out of her house to cross the street towards the office. Her hair had changed since I knew her, looking more blonde now, contrasting prettily with her tanned skin. So I jogged to meet her before she could enter the house.
“Mikki!” I called her and she stopped to look at me and smiled. “Odd question! Could you help me with my hair?”
“Oh, honey,” she said tenderly and reached for my head. “What hair?”
I laughed, “It ain’t that short anymore! It’s what, two inches now?”
“If that. What do you wanna do –” and she stopped abruptly, widened her eyes and was suddenly really excited. “Oh, I know what we can do!!”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the next house, Merle’s. She entered with no ceremony, like she knew the place well. That got me thinking, but I didn’t ask. She dragged me straight to the bathroom – exactly where I had shaved my head the first time – and found the machine inside a drawer.
“You’re shaving me again?” I asked her
“Yes! Not all, though. Just trust me, you’ll look great!”
Eager, she dragged me away again, now to her house. Ma was napping on the couch, so we crossed the house silently and entered the bathroom. This house was larger than mine, more spacious, as we both fit well in the small space. So Mikki looked, and looked, and measured, and drew lines with the handle of a comb, and then started shaving the sides, leaving the top and back of my hair untouched.
And she was right, after she styled the longer part to stand up with hair gel, I did look awesome.
It was still the middle of the afternoon, tough, so I tackled the deep cleaning of my house that I’d been intending to do for a few days already. I had some detergent and bleach and they did a great job. I hand washed all the bed sheets, swept and mopped the floors, cleaned the inside of the fridge – thank the gods for the solar power we’d been able to get running. My fridge was small and didn’t spend a lot, so I still had enough energy for one warm shower a day and to have lights on at night. I washed the sink and kitchen floor with bleach, took the couch and mattress outside to take some sun, cleaned every surface of the house.
I was sweaty and stinky but I still decided to do a little makeover on the outside of the house. I walked around the Village looking at the other houses and chose a few path stones there were in front of one of them. They were large and heavy, so I took the car there and loaded them on the back, one by one, and drove then back to my place to lay them, making a path to connect the sidewalk to the porch steps. Then I swept it all from any dirt, and ended up sweeping the sidewalk too. One thing led to another and I ended up with a can of white paint that Morales’ had stocked and painting the rails of my porch.
I did it all to keep my mind busy and it worked damn well, because it was dark already when I stopped, deciding to give the paint a second hand tomorrow. I went to the sidewalk and looked over the house, the light on the porch on, couch and mattress back in. It was a nice house, real small with just a living room joined with dining room, a small kitchen, bathroom and one bedroom. It was enough and more than that, it was awesome. It was mine, the first time in my life that I had a house that was nobody else’s, and that was home.
I just needed Daryl there with me now. We could be happy in this house.
The radio on the back of my waist came to life then, startling me but in a really good way.
“Sam, you’re there?”
I nearly dropped it in the hurry to answer, “Michonne?! You okay?”
“I’m fine!” her voice told me.
Fuck, that was a relief!
“Is Merle there?”
“Yes, he found me,” and before I could ask what had happened and whey they’d be coming home, Merle’s voice came over Michonne’s. I could see him grabbing the radio from her hands unceremoniously.
“How ya doing, Sammy girl?”
I laughed. Shit, thank God!
“Don’t call me Sammy!” I answered exactly what Merle was expecting to hear. “Where are you? You coming home?”
I waited for an answer but the radio was silent for a while. Too long.
“Michonne?”
A few more seconds passed before she answered. Shit, don’t do that to a person!
“We’ll be back at first light tomorrow. Too dark already.”
Right. No wandering around at night, I had decided that. Nobody was to be out of the Village at night even if they had to sleep somewhere else in order to only be out of any safe place during the day. I wanted them back home, but I’d made the rule for a reason.
“Are you safe? Gonna be safe until morning?”
“We’re safe, don’t worry.”
“Good. Good, okay. Thank you for reaching out, I was worried sick here.”
“I know you were,” she told me and I could hear she had a smile at that. “How are things there?”
“All in order. Found two kids in the woods and brought them home yesterday. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Please, no delays in the morning, okay?”
“You got it. We’ll see you soon. Good night!”
“Night,” and I added knowing Merle was by her. “Night, asshole!”
There was no answer but I could hear Merle’s laugh in my head. I laughed shaking my head, relief flooding me. They were fine.
I made one more round in the Village, spoke to everyone, checked again on the nights shifts and went back home. I tried turning on the little stereo that had been in the house but apparently the battered had finally died and it didn’t work. I remembered there were other ones on the stock house but I didn’t bother going there to get them now. I just took off my boots, sat on the couch, closing my eyes and breathing out, and then lit up a joint and smoked a little of it. Only two or three lungful’s, just to relax. I couldn’t smoke too much today because I had to be up in the middle of the night for my round shift. Already light on my feet, I moved to the kitchen, prepared myself some dinner – I had leftovers from yesterday’s canned meatballs – and after eating I took a quick, hot shower and went to bed.
I didn’t know, when I woke up just a few hours later, that my life was about to take a whole turn once again.
 * * *
 Merle wasn’t there but his schedule was followed normally. In the last three hours of the night, Mikki was on the gate platform keeping guard and I was in my post, circling the inner walls of the Village, Honey loyally following my every step. It was a calm night like all and the day was starting to show its face, the sky palling gradually and all the birds around starting to sing.
I was up on a tree on the back of the Village looking out to the woods over the hedge with binoculars. All quiet, nothing more than one walker with a long white dress wandering blindly far from there. Damn, that was a bride…
Mikki’s voice on the radio cut the silence, “Sam, do you hear me?”
I took it from my waist band, letting the binoculars hang, “Clearly, what’s up?”
“I see cars coming down the road towards us, bit slow.”
“Pro’ly Merle and Michonne coming back,” I told her.
“Nope,” she said with certainty. “Not their cars.”
“I’m on my way.”
I let myself fall from the branch to the ground and made my way walking fast nearly in a sprint around the lake towards Main Street. Just as I entered it, the radio came alive once again.
“Sam, quick, they’ve stopped!”
I started running, Honey did too, keeping up with me, “You’re armed, right?”
“I am, but they –”
She stopped abruptly.
“Mikki?”
Instead of her voice on the radio, I got Merle’s from somewhere out there, “What’s goin’ on over there?”
“Gonna know in a minute!” I told him and was already halfway up Main Street and now I could see Mikki up the platform, and she seemed fine. Not less worried, I saw David under it, looking up, his rifle already in hand. I heard steps behind me and saw Andrea and Morales, also armed, running up the street, and as I ran past Will and Mikki’s house, Will was coming out as well. I just stopped on the bottom of the platform to cock and arm my crossbow and having it ready before joining Mikki upon the platform and instantly aiming out, before I could even see who or what was out there.
I understood who it was at the same time he also recognized me.
The Governor.
He had an annoying, arrogant smile on his face, but when he saw who I was, when he fixed his eyes on me, it was gone instantly.
“You,” he said simply.
“Right back at ya, asshole,” I had no fucking ceremonies this time. “The fuck you want?”
He started laughing, his assault rifle in hand still pointing up. His man behind him, though, had them all pointed right at Mikki and I.
“Lynn,” the Governor said as he laughed. “Who’d tell? It’s you! I remember you. You’ve killed my men! Massacred them, I’ll give you that. I’ve been looking for you; did you know that?”
“How did you find me?”
“Oh, your little friends told me where to find you.”
Wait a minute. Merle and Michonne hadn’t. I was definitely sure they hadn’t, they’d talked to me yesterday on the radio, Merle had just talked to me. They hadn’t.
“Don’t bullshit me, Gov,” I mocked. “No friend of mine told you where to find me.”
“No? China boy and farm girl are not your friends then?” he laughed and I was frozen, the words still meaningless in my ears.
China boy and farm girl.
China boy and farm girl!
Glenn. Maggie.
Glenn and Maggie!
“D’you have them?” I asked, my insides in turmoil but I kept me exterior firm.
“Oh, so now you do know them,” he said with a smile. “It wasn’t even that hard to get them to say it. Point a gun at the china man’s bloodied head, farm girl will tell you all.”
Glenn and Maggie.
How the fuck did they lead the Governor here? I understand Maggie would tell anyone anything is Glenn’s life was a risk – and damn, Glenn and Maggie!! They were together and nearby; they were all nearby! – but how in the holy fuck did they know where the village was? Fuck, so many questions and the only person who could answer them was the Governor, the motherfucker.
I needed help. I needed everyone who was at home and I needed Merle and Michonne, I needed them all. So I needed time. I lowered my crossbow a little, not aiming for his head anymore, as an attempt to get them to relax a little bit.
“What have you done to them?”
“What do you think, Lynn? Wouldn’t mistreat guests, now, would I? What kind of man you take me for?”
“The kind that attacks smaller communities to take it all and tortures people for information? Am I close?”
He laughed, opening his arms, “You got me!”
I smiled at him. “Let’s talk, Gov. I ain’t willin’ to strike back like I did last time. Maybe we can work something out.”
“You wanna talk?” he stopped and pretended to be considering it.
“I got more than I did back then. More people, even more weapons. If I was trouble for you then, you don’t wanna know what I can do now.”
“You’re threatening me now?”
“Friendly warning. Let’s all put our guns down and I’ll go down there to talk, how does that sound?”
He nodded, mouth turning up and opening his arms, “Sure. Come on down, we’ll talk.”
We’ll talk, my ass.
Nodding, I lowered the crossbow all the way and Mikki and I went down the ladder, and started giving out orders immediately, my voice firm but low so they wouldn’t hear me from the other side of the wall.
Thank god the front wall had been the first one we got done. No bullets would go through it.
“Full load, everyone! Hide behind the cars and shoot the fuck outta them! This man will not talk, he’ll shoot as soon as we open the gate. Shoot to kill. They’ll not take the Village, we’ll fight for it!” and I took the radio and pressed the button, “Miranda, you got Ma and Emma?”
She answered immediately, “I got them!”
“You three stay in there no matter what until one of us go get you!”
“Got it!” she said.
“Michonne, Merle, you get your ass back here RIGHT NOW!”
“On our way already!” Merle said though it. “Fuck’s happenin’ there?”
“He found us. The Governor’s here.”
He took a second to answer and I knew he and Michonne were over there wherever the fuck they were, sharing a worried and angry look.
“Six minutes,” he informed me.
Good, that was quick enough.
I hang the crossbow on my back and took the .12 shotgun what was Will’s before, checked it was full and moved to the gate, everyone already out of sight but ready behind the cars. Looking at Mikki, who had her hands on the gate ready to slide it open, and gestured for her to open it and then to run up the platform. She nodded, her face serious and concentrated, and opened it.
With my back to the wall right on the side of the gate, I peeked out just as there was only a gap. The first shot came right then, hitting the metal of the still sliding gate, sparks flying and making me flinch back inside.
“Fuck! I thought you said we’d talk!” I yelled.
“I changed my mind!” the Governor’s voice came from somewhere outside.
Unlike in the movies when the bad guy and the good guy have a whole conversation before the big action scene, we said nothing else, neither did anyone. My people started shooting as soon as the gate was fully opened, aiming for any parts of bodies from the Governor’s people that could be seen. Mikki was already up in the platform, crouched down to hide behind the wall, shooting and hiding again. Shots came non-stop from the outside, making it hard for me to get an opportunity to look out, aim and shoot. These motherfuckers were trained, much better than we were.
Mental note to get battle training to everyone from now on. With plans and formations and all.
I needed to get out of this corner because he knew that’s where I was and bullets were grazing the corner of the wall too close to me for my likes. Before I could sprint away though, his voice came from the outside again.
“I thought you said you wanted to talk!”
“I lied!”
I took the crossbow from my back and let it fall there near the wall. As much as I loved it, I wouldn’t be much help not and the thing was heavy, I didn’t need anything holding me back. Then I ran away, not entering the line of fire by running behind and around Ma’s house – thank God she was at Miranda’s with her and Emma, no stray bullets would get to them – and returning to the street behind the cars with the others. I knelt on the asphalt and from there I had better chances on seeing and shooting them. I hit one of the men high in the chest, nearly on his neck instead of in the head like I wanted.
Update on my kills: five.
We’d have as least one walker in a few minutes, also all the noise as going to attract others from the area. This had to end as soon as possible. I heard, among the all the shooting, when the door of a car was strongly closed and a motor turned on. They couldn’t be withdrawing, could they?
Looking over the hood, I saw the Governor had a huge truck with some sort of metal grid fortifications on it, and he was accelerating. Caught his eyes then.
He was smiling.
“Get away from the cars!!!” I yelled at the others as loudly as I could. “Now!!”
But I only moved after the instant I saw the others heard me. Morales, Andrea, David and Will ran seeking cover elsewhere but I had no time to see where because looking again I saw the car coming straight at the car I was behind, straight at me.
I jumped to the side of the street, falling on my chest and hands just as he hit the car. Motherfucker destroyed my Hummer but it didn’t matter now, because as I turned to look, the car had flied sideways and it went straight to the office porch. The wood column tumbled and the roof fell on top of the ruined car, the whole small house bending to the side. It was destroyed.
Safe inside the car even after a strong crash, the Governor looked out at me through the window, smiling and opening the door. Still on the ground I reached for my shotgun that had fallen by my side, stretching a bit, but before I could even point at him and cock it, the Governor was out of the car and a golden brown shadow was flying over me towards him.
Honey attacked like I’d never seen her do, viciously, growling and biting his arm. He was screaming, his machine gun falling to the ground, and he fought her. I turned to shoot at others who were approaching to try to help him.
Six. Seven.
I didn’t see him take a pistol from fuck knows where even as he tried to fight Honey away. I just heard the shot and a shriek whimper and Honey fell to the ground. I froze looking at her, who was trying to stand, limping and crying, and there was blood coming from somewhere on her hind.
Now I had it. That was it. Motherfucker wanted to take my Village? I’d kill him for it. But shoot my dog?! I’d fucking torture him!
It was like it was all happening in slow motion. Honey had fallen and I’d looked at her, and rising my shotgun again looked back at the sonofabitch as he pointed his pistol right at me, a satisfied, smug look on his face even as his other arm bled. I lowered my shotgun as I swirled around myself, raising my leg as I went, the motion giving me force to kick the motherfucker’s hand away and send his gun flying away. It hurt his hand, good, and he cradled it as I got nearer and pointed the shotgun right at his head.
“Kneel!” I yelled and he rose his hands. The shooting around us was lessened but not gone, so his men were still around. The Governor was bending his knees a little, looking a bit scared at me but not kneeling as I ordered.
And then his creepy, annoying little smile returned, and felt a barrel of a gun press on the back of my head.
“You kneel,” a male voice said from behind me.
My wrist burned like hell as I held the shotgun, finger on the trigger. “I got a shotgun on your boss forehead, you sure this is a good idea?”
“Drop it!” the man yelled as he pressed it strongly against my head. It was still a bit hot from his probable shooting with it before, and it pushed me a little forward.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck.
Where the fuck were the others? There was still shooting going on, so I don’t think any of them could come to my rescue, and there the hell were Merle and Michonne? It’d been over six minutes hadn’t it?! But was that a car noise? I couldn’t look, but I knew someone was coming. They were here, they’d help.
I’d had to lower the gun but I didn’t want to. But the hot barrel on the back of my head made sure I did. I lowered it and –
And then so many things happened at the same time it got all a mess in my mind. The car I’d head came cross the gate and ran over one of the governor’s man, who flew somewhere out of my sight. I felt the gun on my head move and the man holding it got startled, but it never left. I looked to my side to see it and they were coming out of the car, Merle, Michonne, Rick, Daryl, all guns pointed at us, including the crossbow and –
What?
I saw nothing, all the sounds around me deafened by my pounding heart and ringing ears and I looked, just stared, everything around me in slow motion again. Daryl was coming on our direction, crossbow pointed and long steps, and his eyes found mine.
He was here.
Daryl was here.
My eyes widened and I started, but only just started, to come back to myself and the reality around me. There was a gun pointed to my head but I couldn’t simply not look at Daryl, because this was Daryl and he was here.
It had all happened in probably two seconds. I was being grabbed forcefully, turned to face the others, to face Daryl with the Governor behind me, the gun now in his hand, pointing it at my temple, his arm around my neck. I hadn’t seen it happening. I got distracted, obviously because Daryl was here, how could I not? I raised my hands to hold the Governor’s arm, trying to pull it away from my neck because the feeling of a man around my neck again got to my nerves instantly, but my eyes were still on Daryl, as though if I stared enough I would understand what was happening and what he was doing here.
“Merle?” the Governor asked from behind me and then laughed aloud.
It was only then that I looked around, my eyes leaving Daryl’s to see Rick right there, his Python pointed right at me – of course not at me, but the man had his head hidden well right behind mine – and then Merle, his eyes worried looking at us and Michonne coming a little behind, limping.
Oh, these guys had lots to tell me! I’d want details!
But first I had to get rid of this motherfucker. The other man was by our side and I felt movement behind us, which meant other of Woodbury’s men where there, and then my people we closing in behind the others, behind Daryl.
So it was me between the two groups. Nobody wanted to do anything not to risk him shooting me in the head right in front of them. Oh, no, he wouldn’t. Daryl was right here, finally, after so long he was here in my sight, and I would not just motherfucking die now.
I hadn’t said a word yet and I wouldn’t because if I said anything it would end up being Daryl’s name and now was not the moment.
“Drop it!” Daryl said and I couldn’t believe I was hearing his voice again. It was loud and firm and filled with anger. Oh my Daryl.
I had to think and act fast but any defense movement I knew would point the gun right at the people in front of me even for a milliseconds and he could pull the trigger and end up hitting someone. I couldn’t take the risk.
It felt like it’d been all happening for minutes but it was seconds. The Governor was speaking, threatening but I didn’t register the words because I started panicking a bit when he started walking back, towards the car he’d used to enter the Village. He was going to take me away.
Everyone reacted at that, yelling at him to stop, at his man to drop, but nobody felt safe enough to shoot or he’d shoot me, I knew that’s what they were all feeling.
“Shoot’em!” the Governor yelled from behind my head and at that, chaos spread. I barely saw it, everyone was shooting and looking for cover but I didn’t watch long enough. I squatted a little as I removed one hand from his arm around my neck and raised it strongly above our heads, pushing his armed hand up and away from my head. I failed in grabbing hold of his wrist, though, and that was a mistake. As I grabbed his arm around my neck with my other hand, I tried shoving him backwards with my hips and pulling his forward so he’d roll over me and fall on the ground, but his free hand came down on my head, the butt of the gun hitting me straight in the nose.
I hear the crunchy noise and went blind to everything, my eyes watering instantly and I screamed a round of curses because that hurt like a motherfucker, and then I was being dragged into the car. I kicked and punched and spat all I could but now I was mostly useless. He was again on my back, the worst bear hug I’d ever experienced, and then I was inside with him and two other men were entering even as the bullets flew freely outside, people yelling and cursing. He pressed the gun to my temple again to make me stop fighting and then the car was backing off, bullets grazing it and the thing was probably armored because none came though, not even the windows.
We were outside already and people were running, I was able to look though the back window and I saw, and it broke my heart and filled the little pieces with rage, that Daryl was out, looking at the car sped away on the road, and he ran after us for a while before stopping and running back to the Village.
This was not over. They were all gonna go after me. Daryl was gonna get me.
So I relaxed and stopped struggling against the Governor’s chest, and he let go of me, pushing me away to press my back against the back door, and he faced me.
And he saw me smiling.
“Do you think you have reasons to be smiling about, Lynn?” he asked me, the gun pointed at my chest.
I licked the blood that was rolling down my nose to my lips. “Yeah, I actually do. It’s ‘cause you got no idea. No fuckin’ idea, Gov.”
“No idea of what?” he asked as he breathed hard though his teeth.
“That you’re fuckin’ with the wrong people.”
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ink-on-parxhment · 4 years
Text
waiting on a sunny day
Fandom: TAZ: Amnesty
Rating: T
Warnings: body image issues
Prompt: “Listen, really listen”
Summary:
Aubrey tilts forward, gets up on her tiptoes so she can kiss her. There’s a warmth in her chest that she only knows as love and the wildflowers blooming around them can attest to it. 
“Then what’s wrong?” She asks, and from this close she can see each micro-expression as Dani goes from content to anxious to resolved. 
“This is what I looked like on Earth.” Just like that, realization slams through her.
Sylvain, even in this early spring era of her life cycle, is beautiful, and that is something Aubrey doesn’t think anyone will ever convince her differently of.
She can see the bare places: dark, twisted areas that the Quell ravaged, husks of trees that had stood for centuries, roadways laid in ruin. But everywhere they turn, there’s life. It’s isn’t just her powers either. It’s deep green moss growing on the cracks of broken structures and creeping, hardy vines crawling over downed trees. Everywhere they go, she sees things that have survived, and as they travel farther she starts to see sprouts of brighter, more fragile plants. Thin flower stems with bright petals reaching for light, new growth on tree branches, what is obviously the first fruit harvest many of these regions have had in years.
And then they sweep through, and while it’s fun every time she is and always will be in awe of the power Sylvain has given her. It’s enough, she knows, to just walk through and cast, but most days she reaches for Dani’s hand and they go running, bare feet in lush grass, as flowers bloom and trees come to life around them.
It is work, and they have not gotten anywhere near where they need to, but it is paradise.
They’ve stopped in a large meadow, surrounded by trees and the foot of a hill. There’s a pond near where they’ve set up their camp, and a road that looks like it hasn’t seen travels since even before the Quell. It is warm, she’s nurtured fruit trees into existence, and now it’s time to rest.
She catches Dani looking at her reflection in the pond, her eyes intent and her mouth set in a grim line. She wouldn’t think anything of it normally; they haven’t been in an area with mirrors in at least a week, so she understands. What makes her pause is the way her jaw goes from relaxed to tense and after a few seconds her shoulders are practically by her ears when as far as Aubrey can tell she’s as unharmed and beautiful as she’s ever been. Then she catches Aubrey looking at her over her shoulder and does a Duck-worthy performance of acting like she wasn’t looking at her reflection.
It makes something cold and spiky erupt in Aubrey’s chest.
She walks forward, stops just close enough to Dani to reach out for her hand. Her hand hangs there, palm up in the warm air, and she waits until Dani reaches out and interlaces their fingers, her eyes never leaving Aubrey’s face. Dani pulls her closer, and it’s impossible to keep the smile off her face when she does. The small grin Dani sends her makes the panic in her chest ease a little, but then Dani looks back at the still surface of the pond and her smile disappears.
“Hey,” she says, swinging their hands closer to her, “talk to me. What’s wrong.”
She smiles, just a little, and Aubrey’s heart thuds a little harder just like it does every time Dani smiles at her. Dani squeezes her hand, bites her lip with blunt teeth. “We’re in Sylvain. We live in Sylvain now.”
Panic floods through Aubrey like cold water. They’ve been here for a couple months, and they’ve been helping people that entire time. The scene of Dani making the decision to come back here flashes through her mind, as does every time she’s smiled at her since they’ve come back.
“Do you, do you regret it?” She has to know.
Dani scrunches her eyebrows, shakes her head a little bit. The obvious confusion on her face lifts a weight off Aubrey’s chest. “No. No. Of course not.”
Dani looks around, eyes catching on the grove of trees they’d watch grow into flower and the moss-covered edges of the pond. “This is what we’re meant to be doing, Aubrey. You’re—you’re bringing this place back to life, and I get to be here to see that. And yes, I would like to see our friends on Earth again, but Aubrey, I already told you, you’re my home. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”
Aubrey tilts forward, gets up on her tiptoes so she can kiss her. There’s a warmth in her chest that she only knows as love and the wildflowers blooming around them can attest to it.
“Then what’s wrong?” She asks, and from this close she can see each micro-expression as Dani goes from content to anxious to resolved.
“This is what I looked like on Earth.” She says, and her brown eyes are staring right into Aubrey’s. “This is what I looked like for Earth. We don’t live on Earth anymore; we can’t even get there.”
And, yeah. Dani’s got blonde hair down to her waist that Aubrey has a hard time keeping her hands out of now that she’s allowed to play with it. She’s got brown eyes that look like amber, like gold, in the sunlight. Aubrey has lost count of the times she’s tried to count the freckles across the bridge of her nose, along her shoulders.
“You’re from Earth, Aubrey. I don’t look like this.”
The realization of what is happening hits her like a train, and she abruptly feels extremely unobservant. She’s seen Dani in her true form a few times, but it was few and far between. It had been easier before Agent Stern, but after he showed up no one really showed their true forms. The most notable time was during the shapeshifter debacle, right after Ned, and by that point she was too busy to take in too many details.  
She’s moving before she’s really thinking about it, pulling their hands up to chest height so she can take her other hand and undo the clasp that holds her illusion bracelet with gentle fingers. As soon as the corded bracelet leaves her skin the illusion is gone, Dani’s razor-sharp nails resting against the knuckles of Aubrey’s hand. When she looks up, Dani is smiling tremulously, too sharp teeth glinting in the sunlight. She opens her mouth, starts to say something, stops and shakes her head instead. Silver-blonde hair comes untucked from pointed ears.
She’s iridescent.  
“Listen, really listen to me. You stayed with me through the end of the world. I love you, you, and I have for a long time. Never think that you have to change a single part of yourself for me.”
Dani grins, eyes like molten gold, and brings their hands up so she can press a kiss to Aubrey’s knuckles. “I love you too, Aubrey Little.”
Aubrey catches a glimpse of them in the water out of the corner of her eye, backlit by the sunset, and smiles as they go tumbling into lush wildflowers.
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terminallymystical · 4 years
Text
hi so this is an essay on the siege of bastogne i wrote for school!! feel free to just read or use as a basis for your own HIS essays! i just had a lot of fun writing this and i wanted to share :> the cited works are at the very end, no actual links but most of the references can be found in file format online! x
Easy Company and the 101st: The Siege of Bastogne
THE BEGINNING OF HOW THE AMERICANS WITHSTOOD THE NAZI’S LAST OFFENCE
“On December 21, it snowed, a soft, dry snow. It kept coming, 6 inches, 12 inches. The temperature fell to well below freezing, the wind came up… The men were colder than they had ever been in their lives. They only had their jump boots and battle dress with trench coats… Runners went into Bastogne and returned with flour sacks and beds sheets which provided some warmth and camouflage… the cold penetrated right into the bones. Shivering was as normal as breathing.” [1]
The events that occurred between 16 December, 1944 to 25 January, 1945, became known as the Battle of the Bulge. To this day it is the third deadliest campaign in American military history, resulting in estimated 89,500 casualties for the Americans, and between 63,000 to 98,000 for the Germans. This includes killed, wounded, missing and captured men. Approximately 3,000 civilians were killed. [2] For the 101st Division, total battle casualties in the Bulge were 1,766 killed, 6,388 wounded, and 207 missing in action. One of the major battles in the Bulge was the Siege of Bastogne, which happened between the 20th and 27th of December, 1944.
Bastogne is the hub of the highway net covering the eastern Ardennes— a countryside forbidding to the movement of mechanized forces except when the roads are available. Meaning the surroundings of the town are densely forested, with rough terrain and ridges formed by the Ardennes mountain range. By holding Bastogne, the Allies could unhinge German communications who were striking westward to the line of the River Meuse. [3] The German’s plan was to surround Bastogne and capture the Belgian port of Antwerp, consequentially cutting off supply to four Allied armies and trapping them there. If the Germans succeeded, they would have forced the Allies into a peace-treaty that favoured the Axis power. [4] In order to do this they had to gain control of the seven main roads through Belgium, which converged in the crossroads at Bastogne. The Allied Commanders considered the Ardennes area to be unsuitable for a large-scale German offensive. The surprise on the hand of the Germans was achieved, like most surprises in war, because the offensive made no sense. And because the defenders were guilty of gross overconfidence. [5]
After Hitler launched what would be his last offensive attack on 16 December, Eisenhower made a critical decision for the entire battalion without consultation of anyone outside of his staff, declaring the crossroads town of Bastogne as the place that had to be held no matter what. On 17 December alone, 60,000 men plus ammunition and other supplies, were transported into the Ardennes. In the first week, Eisenhower moved 250,000 men and 50,000 vehicles onto the front lines. Not even in Korea, Vietnam, or the Gulf War, was the U.S Army capable of moving so many men and so much equipment so quickly. [6] Easy Company was among them. All the men knew was that there was a gaping hole in the line and they were being sent to fill it. Grossly under-equipped for battle, the men were sent into the Ardennes with insufficient ammunition, no winter clothing, little food, and little medical supplies.
When the troop convoys carrying the 101st stopped outside of Bastogne, the men jumped out and marched down the road toward the Ardennes. The men they were relieving came toward them defeated and exhausted, some were panicked and yelling at their relievers to run away. Easy and the other companies in 2nd Battalion tried to gather what ammunition they could from the retreating soldiers, but it still wouldn’t be enough. Sounds of the battle were coming closer. To the rear, south of Bastogne, the Germans were about to cut the highway and complete the encirclement of the Bastogne area. Easy had no artillery or air support due to the low hanging fog that had fallen in the forest.
“We weren’t particularly elated at being here. Rumours are that Krauts are everywhere and hitting hard. Farthest from your mind is the thought of falling back. In fact it isn’t there at all. And so you dig your hole carefully and deep, and wait, not for that mythical superman, but for the enemy you had beaten twice before and will again. You look first to the left, then right, at your buddies also preparing. You feel confident with Bill over there. You know you can depend on him.” [7]
The men were sent out on patrols. Mortar attacks would fall. Snipers by day, and an even worse bitter cold by night. No one had enough sleep. Shell bursts hitting trees sent splinters, branches, trunks, and metal showering down on the men and their foxholes. For protection, they would cover their holes with logs, but without axes it was extremely difficult. Officers had to watch their men for signs of breaking. Captain Richard Winters of E. Company sensed that Private Joseph Liebgott was on the edge, so he brought the man back to the battalion command post to be his runner. “Just being back 50 yards off the front line made a tremendous difference in the tension.” Winters wrote. [8] Light didn’t come until 0800, and darkness fell at 1600. Sixteen hours of night in frozen conditions made the men miserable, but they pushed through it. Winters recalled, “When a man was hit hard enough for evacuation, he was usually very happy, and we were happy for him— he had a ticket out to the hospital, or even a ticket home— alive. When a man was killed— he looked ‘so peaceful’. His suffering was over.” [9]
Christmas eve rolled around. The men received General McAuliffe’s Christmas greetings. “What’s merry about all this, you ask?… Just this: We have stopped cold everything that has been thrown at us from the north, east, south and west. We have identifications from four German Panzer Divisions, two German Infantry Divisions and one German Parachute Division… The Germans actually did surround us, their radios blared our doom. Their Commander demanded our surrender in the following impudent arrogance:
“To the U.S.A Commander of the encircled town of Bastogne.
The fortune of war is changing. This time the U.S.A. forces in and near Bastogne have been encircled by strong German armoured units. More German armoured units have crossed the river Our near Ortheuville, have taken Marche and reached St. Hubert by passing through Hompre-Sibret-Tillet. Libramont is in German hands.
There is only one possibility to save the encircled U.S.A. troops from total annihilation: that is the honourable surrender of the encircled town. In order to think it over a term of two hours will be granted beginning with the presentation of this note.
If this proposal should be rejected one German Artillery Corps and six heavy A. A. Battalions are ready to annihilate the U.S.A. troops in and near Bastogne. The order for firing will be given immediately after this two hours term. All the serious civilian losses caused by this artillery fire would not correspond with the well-known American humanity.
The German Commander.”
Shortly after, General McAuliffe sent the following communication to von Lüttwitz in response:
“To the German Commander.
NUTS!
The American Commander.”
McAuliffe continues: “We are giving our country and our loved ones at home a worthy Christmas present and being privileged to take part in this gallant feat of arms are truly making for ourselves a Merry Christmas. A. C. McAuliffe, Commanding.” [10]
The men of the 101st didn’t share McAuliffe’s upbeat attitude. However, on the day following Christmas, Lt. Col. Creighton Abrams of the 37th Tank Battalion broke through the German lines. The 101st were no longer surrounded, and soon enough supply trucks were coming through and bringing the men food, medical supplies, winter clothing and ammunition. The wounded were evacuated, and in the breaking of the siege the men learned that they had become a legend even as the battle continued. To the outside world, the men of the 101st Division became known as the ‘Battered Bastards of Bastogne’. [11]
While the men were expecting to return to Camp Mourmelon to ‘bask in the Allied world’s adulation and perhaps to celebrate the New Year in Paris’, [12] their hopes were cut short when they were ordered to continue holding the line. Their conditions had improved, seeing as they now had winter clothing and a hot meal every now and then, but the frigid temperatures lingered with the snow and the Germans were now shelling the company daily. “At midnight, on the eve of 1945, every gun in Bastogne and every mortar piece on the MLR joined in a serenade of explosives hurled at the Germans.” [13]
Easy Company and the rest of the 101st Division’s time in the Ardennes over the course of eight days was an excruciating and extremely difficult struggle. One that had brought physical and emotional suffering to men on both sides, and a staggering amount of casualties in such a short period of time. Their ‘victory’ was hard won, but holding the line at Bastogne was essential to stopping the German forces from advancing and successfully capturing the crossroads. The 101st Airborne wouldn’t depart the Ardennes region and enter the French town of Hagenau until January 18, and they would suffer many more losses, but the Siege over Bastogne had been broken.
  WORKS CITED
[1] “Band of Brothers” Ambrose, Stephen E. (1992) p. 181 [4] p. 172 [6] p. 174 [7] p. 177-178 [8] p. 187 [9] p. 187 [12] p. 191 [13] p. 193
[2] “Bastogne: The First Eight Days” Marshall, S.L.A. (1988) p. 9
[3] “The Sixth Panzer Army Attack” Cole, H. (1965)
[5] “The Unknown Dead: Civilians in the Battle of the Bulge” Schrijvers, Peter (2005) University Press of Kentucky
[10] “Rendevous with Destiny” Rapport and Northwood, p. 545 [11] p. 586
8 notes · View notes