mithosofcruxis

[mithosofcruxis]

Even if he could hide the shock on his face, he didn't think he'd be able to. It wasn't often that Yuan yelled at him like this. Sure, there were some times when he had instigated it. Some of those times he may have even deserved it. And he hadn't thought that this time would have been one of those times.

Yggdrasill tried often to make sure he was planning clearly and thoroughly. As always, Yuan had the tact to wait until everyone left the room before going off on his tirade. He heard the words once. Replayed them in his mind a second time. After a moment he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and rubbing a temple with one of his free hands. He deserved this berating. Yuan was right. He had gotten hasty. Cocky, even, thinking that he'd been one easy step closer to winning over the Renegade through saving his mother. He'd forgotten that the Renegade liked being as such. He wasn't likely to see his actions as anything other than malicious.

He lost what little remaining bit of composure he had when Yuan brought up the dream.

So. He did know. Yggdrasill had been going off of the fact that those things could be right, not that they actually were. His mother had been a fluke. One he didn't think would pay off. Did he dare explore what the rest of that meant? He wanted to operate off of the assumption that all humans were bad. They couldn't possibly be so much like him. So likeable. So close to, maybe, friendship.

"The means to the dream do not matter," he said quietly. He'd lost his breath. His eyes were darting back and forth as he tried to sort out what to do next. Should he course correct? He already had the woman here, and Alvin already knew things about him that he hadn't shared for...he couldn't remember how long.

"All that matters is that I play my next moves very, very carefully." He looked up at Yuan after a spell, something akin to desperation on his face. "I apologize for doubting you, Yuan. Given your speech I should have known you would want to move things carefully as well. But he knows too much." And gave Yggdrasill too many feelings about...everything.

"What would you suggest as a next step?"

mithosofcruxis​:

broadswordandpistol​:

@mithosofcruxis @lightning-of-kharlan

The woman gazed back and forth between the two seraphs, a faintly puzzled look on her face. It slowly dawned into more of a hopeful one, fastened on Yuan.

“Jude, I didn’t know you were playing with Thomas today,” she said, her smile shaded with pleased surprise. “We would have invited you for dinner too. Please come. I know Alfred will be thrilled to have his friends over. … Oh, but we’ll need more potatoes; I don’t have nearly enough if everyone comes,” she realized aloud.

She turned to the young medic expectantly. “Wilred, would you mind running out for extra potatoes for me, please? I’m not sure I can make it to the market myself, today.”

“Yes, ma’am, of course,” the Renegade said, soothingly. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, dear,” she said, sagging downward in the chair. She tilted her head up at the captain. “Jack, I’m … very tired. Would you mind set … setting the extra places and stirring the stew for me? I … think I may need to lie down for a while.”

“Of course, ma’am. You just rest easy.” The captain flicked a glance at the seraphs that dared either of them to try anything with his charge. The woman’s eyes slipped slowly closed, and her breathing slowed.

— — —

The tone had been Yuan. The arrogance had been Yuan. To an extent, defending the woman was even Yuan, though it was a stretch since he didn’t seem to realize he was defending a human.

The blatant disagreement was not Yuan.

Yet Yggdrasill continued to let him speak. Despite this oversight, Yuan did not talk to no end. He was attempting to make some sort of point, as he always did. On most days he was tactful and calculating. This was a trait that Yggdrasill appreciated in the older half-elf for many years, and it was he often relied on to make sure his plans were sound enough to work.

Something was off about Yuan in this moment, though. What was it? Disagreement aside, he was almost too to the point. Is that why he was siding with Renegades of all people? Two of the three captured spoke up and seemed to take readily to handling of the human woman.

She also seemed to light up at Yuan. That was a faulty data point, however, as she had also lit up at seeing Yggdrasill. He mentally pushed that non-issue aside.

Pronyma, ever in-tune with Yggdrasill’s whimsical moods, dared to interrupt his reverie. “I know she’s instrumental to what you need, My Lord. I would be happy to lend some of my underlings to assist with her–”

“I do not recall giving you permission to speak,” Yggdrasill retorted, giving her a look that made her wither in place. No Desians save her stepped foot in Welgaia or his throne room. The fact that a human was here already made his skin prickle with discomfort. He watched the Renegades interact with the woman again, eyes sliding over the situation as he pondered how to proceed.

Ah. He had it.

“I suppose I can accommodate your bleeding heart, Yuan,” he finally replied. If the alternative was having Desians in his city of angels, he would prefer the rats stay here and be useful to his plans. He could always kill them once the angels learned how to administer the care.

Despite the concession, Holy Lances surrounded the throne he sat in, glittering menacingly before striking down the third Renegade in the room. If he hadn’t been acknowledged, he was unneeded. His body fell to the floor with a deafening thud.

“My orders still stand,” he said, directing his gaze back to Yuan. “Keep them under control while they operate here. They are to be confined specifically to the medical ward with the lady. Angels shall assist. That is not comprisable.”

Yes, he was allowing this mostly out of spite to Pronyma’s fanaticism. But that didn’t change his view on the matter. “You are all dismissed. All save you, Yuan. I want a report on the business you had before this.”

This situation was going from bad to worse, and Yuan knew he was going to have to do a very complicated verbal dance to get out of it. If he came to the defense of the Renegades again, it would have to be performed in double-time.

Pronyma, over-eager to please as always, was an unexpected assistant in that moment. It would not save her from him shifting the suspicion onto her as soon as possible, of course–and in fact, she had perhaps played right into his hands on that front–but it was a rare stroke of luck. Occasionally, someone would unexpectedly walk up and hand him proverbial a bar of gold–he had learned to reply thank you, I’ve been expecting this rather than indicating that he was surprised.

Also a stroke of luck was that Leticia’s eyes were closed, and she did not see the halo of holy lances. The man’s name was Brecht, and he was a relative newcomer. Perhaps his loss wouldn’t be felt too keenly. The general never could save everyone. Nonetheless, when he was out of this situation, there would be condolence letters to write.

He just had to get out of this situation first.

“I shall,” was all he said until the throne room was empty. The several minutes it took for the pair wounded Renegades to settle their charge for transport gave him precious time to think.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Yuan demanded several seconds after the doors closed with a final-sounding thud, turning to face Yggdrasill. “You went to the trouble to have her captured alive to put pressure on your would-be double agent–” because there was no other conclusion to draw, from  the reading material Alvin had been assigned “–therefore, absolutely no harm can come to her, and that includes her mental state. Killing one of her caretakers in front of her–Goddess’s Grave, Mithos, that could have broken her completely, and then you’d have lost your leverage and with it, your opportunity for a Renegade on the inside.”

He took a deep breath. He’d bleed for that, on a normal day. Was he feeling lucky?

“That man is no ordinary Renegade, of that I am certain,” he said. That was why he had been kept here, after all, instead of escorting the Renegades to their new accommodations and fitting their collars himself–Yggdrasill wanted to know the results of the interrogation. “He’s snarky, but he’s a cool customer–until it came to pressing the matter of his mother. And you, with the ‘vision’ you shared with him, should have known that, and damn well should have known better than to risk her, if you want him to dance to your tune.

“I’ve handled rocks with more mana than him, I don’t think he’s directly responsible for the dreams. However, his performance on a rough approximation of a Zenner test in the presence of the Niflheim tome was very good–not unbelievably good, but good enough to merit further study with more reliable methods. I’ll need more time to form a stronger hypothesis.”

[mithosofcruxis]

"Hold Still!" Genis wasn't sure why he said that. Mithos was his enemy... but Mithos was also ... Mithos. (Thread for Mana-Master =D)

Why was looking at Genis so hard? He'd known what he had to do since the day his sister's words were gasped at him underneath the tree. It had been so long since that day but he remembered it clearly. He'd had no friends, only mentors. Babysitters.

All until Genis came along. His first real friend. He remembered the look on Genis' face when he'd betrayed himself to the party. Since that day he'd been keeping an eye on them from the trees and things. Always in the shadows, tracking their movements.

And then he'd been shot by a wild Renegade troupe with the same goal. It had been between betraying his position and fighting or taking the blow. The choice was obvious to him, and now he was bleeding.

Somehow Genis had found him in the trees.

"I'll be fine Genis," he said as dismissively as he could. "You shouldn't be out here. Go back to your group."

[mithosofcruxis]

Kratos’ hands were cool to the warmth of Mithos’ skin, and he found himself relaxing. That had been the goal of the liquor, but Kratos was doing better at it. He supposed it made sense that a human could something that an inanimate object couldn’t--

Did liquid count as an ‘inanimate’ object? It could move around really well, gravity affected it. Did you have to be something with thoughts before you could be considered animate? Flowers moved, did they count as animate? Sally, his beloved enemy plant that had decorated his throne room. How long ago had it been since he’d forgotten that plants needed to be watered, thus killing her?

“I took words frommm Yuan’s book an’ drank my thoughts away,” he chuckled, looking Kratos in the face. “Bu’ they’re startin’ to come back. So play a game with meeee.”

[ @mithosofcruxis​ from here ]

“Have you hit your head?”

Forgive me, Kratos thought, looking into the unfocussed eyes of his former pupil and current leader as he swayed before him.

Such behaviour of this would not normally be considered acceptable. But there was nothing about about this current situation that was normal. So, ignoring the recent hesitance he had developed when interacting with Yggdrasill, Kratos held Mithos’ face with one hand and felt around the back of his head with the other for any sign of injury.

As he did so, he noted the alcohol on Mithos’ breath.

“What have you been doing?” The question was more to himself than the near-incapacitated person in front of him and quiet.

It was perhaps for the best that he not hear that last nonsensical question.

[mithosofcruxis]

The tone had been Yuan. The arrogance had been Yuan. To an extent, defending the woman was even Yuan, though it was a stretch since he didn't seem to realize he was defending a human.

The blatant disagreement was not Yuan.

Yet Yggdrasill continued to let him speak. Despite this oversight, Yuan did not talk to no end. He was attempting to make some sort of point, as he always did. On most days he was tactful and calculating. This was a trait that Yggdrasill appreciated in the older half-elf for many years, and it was he often relied on to make sure his plans were sound enough to work.

Something was off about Yuan in this moment, though. What was it? Disagreement aside, he was almost too to the point. Is that why he was siding with Renegades of all people? Two of the three captured spoke up and seemed to take readily to handling of the human woman.

She also seemed to light up at Yuan. That was a faulty data point, however, as she had also lit up at seeing Yggdrasill. He mentally pushed that non-issue aside.

Pronyma, ever in-tune with Yggdrasill's whimsical moods, dared to interrupt his reverie. "I know she's instrumental to what you need, My Lord. I would be happy to lend some of my underlings to assist with her--"

"I do not recall giving you permission to speak," Yggdrasill retorted, giving her a look that made her wither in place. No Desians save her stepped foot in Welgaia or his throne room. The fact that a human was here already made his skin prickle with discomfort. He watched the Renegades interact with the woman again, eyes sliding over the situation as he pondered how to proceed.

Ah. He had it.

"I suppose I can accommodate your bleeding heart, Yuan," he finally replied. If the alternative was having Desians in his city of angels, he would prefer the rats stay here and be useful to his plans. He could always kill them once the angels learned how to administer the care.

Despite the concession, Holy Lances surrounded the throne he sat in, glittering menacingly before striking down the third Renegade in the room. If he hadn't been acknowledged, he was unneeded. His body fell to the floor with a deafening thud.

"My orders still stand," he said, directing his gaze back to Yuan. "Keep them under control while they operate here. They are to be confined specifically to the medical ward with the lady. Angels shall assist. That is not comprisable."

Yes, he was allowing this mostly out of spite to Pronyma's fanaticism. But that didn't change his view on the matter. "You are all dismissed. All save you, Yuan. I want a report on the business you had before this."

mithosofcruxis​:

Yggdrasill paid no heed to the tone in Yuan’s voice. That tone altogether annoyed as well as business-like. Yggdrasill hadn’t known if the interrogation had still been going on when he’d summoned his friend, nor did he particularly care.

He was Martel’s puppy and he would come when commanded.

“A successful hunt,” he replied with a head tilt to Pronyma. “She succeeded in finding a Renegade base in mere weeks. I do not doubt your methods, Yuan, but I must admit that in this moment the Cardinals have prevailed where you have fallen many times.”

“Anything to glorify the cause, My Lord,” came her expected response.

Yggdrasill dignified it with a glance and nothing more, his eyes snapping back to the woman before him. She seemed to be having trouble sitting up, though she’d only been there for a short time. She’d spoken to him. Called him Thomas…? He’d never heard this name before nor did he care to know the person attached to the moniker.

He somehow found it impossible to ignore those eyes. Different color, different mind, yet…

“I apologize for…rushing the matter,” he responded in a voice he’d not used in thousands of years. Soft and patient. He saw Pronyma start with surprise at the change and flicked a warning look at her before continuing, “I have heard your stew is one in a million and I was loathe to miss it. I am going to have you rest with my friends in a more comfortable locale while we…await the stew.”

He turned back to Yuan as the angels began to approach the woman with Alvin’s features. “Get the mana reader and confirm it is in working order. This woman’s exsphere has a secret behind it I am eager to unlock.”

It would be easy to shift suspicion onto Pronyma, here. Kvar had already suggested that she was the one puling the strings behind the Renegades, and Yuan would have been happy to bolster that theory, but now was not the time. Pronyma’s continued presence aside, if he let the angels take Leticia-

“Respectfully, Lord Yggdrasill–no.”

That was a dangerous sentence, and the word “no” hung heavily in the silence. Yuan knew it was a dangerous sentence. He continued.

“I don’t doubt that her exsphere needs to be looked at, and I’m happy to do it–but not now. It’s clear to me even at a glance that she’ll need specialized care. She doesn’t know where she is–unless you’ve taken a new nickname of which I am not aware–and further upset could make her condition worse. You three–” he snapped, looking at the huddle of wounded Renegades. “Are you her bodyguards, or were you just lucky?”

The word dripped with sarcasm. He didn’t like how bitter it tasted.

“Carers,” growled the one he knew to be a captain. He silently commended the man for mustering the guts to back-talk the commander.

“F-for three years,” piped up one of the foot soldiers, perhaps hoping that information would lighten his sentence. There was a badge on the arm of his uniform that labeled him a medic. Yggdrasill ought to have recognized it–it was the same as the Desians wore, after all.

“There you have it,” Yuan said. “Keep these…carers with her, and I expect her mental state will be better for it. There’s no sense in starting from scratch with angels. I’m sure that they’ll be on their best behavior. I can be…quite motivating, when it comes to it.”

Shock collars. He was referring to shock collars. He hated using them, but it was better than dead.

[mithosofcruxis]

Yggdrasill paid no heed to the tone in Yuan's voice. That tone altogether annoyed as well as business-like. Yggdrasill hadn't known if the interrogation had still been going on when he'd summoned his friend, nor did he particularly care.

He was Martel's puppy and he would come when commanded.

"A successful hunt," he replied with a head tilt to Pronyma. "She succeeded in finding a Renegade base in mere weeks. I do not doubt your methods, Yuan, but I must admit that in this moment the Cardinals have prevailed where you have fallen many times."

"Anything to glorify the cause, My Lord," came her expected response.

Yggdrasill dignified it with a glance and nothing more, his eyes snapping back to the woman before him. She seemed to be having trouble sitting up, though she'd only been there for a short time. She'd spoken to him. Called him Thomas...? He'd never heard this name before nor did he care to know the person attached to the moniker.

He somehow found it impossible to ignore those eyes. Different color, different mind, yet...

"I apologize for...rushing the matter," he responded in a voice he'd not used in thousands of years. Soft and patient. He saw Pronyma start with surprise at the change and flicked a warning look at her before continuing, "I have heard your stew is one in a million and I was loathe to miss it. I am going to have you rest with my friends in a more comfortable locale while we...await the stew."

He turned back to Yuan as the angels began to approach the woman with Alvin's features. "Get the mana reader and confirm it is in working order. This woman's exsphere has a secret behind it I am eager to unlock."

Yuan realized belatedly that he’d left the Niflheim tome on the table in the interrogation room, and he gave half a second’s thought to going back for it. He decided against it–time was of the essence, Alvin’s comfort was not. Glancing surreptitiously around to be sure no one was in earshot, he brought his fingers to his cheek and hissed,

“Evacuate. Alert. Secure. Hostage taken.”

Botta would have to extrapolate from that.

The scene in Yggdrasill’s throne room was not good. A handful of angels. A pair of Renegade foot soldiers and their bleeding captain. Pronyma, Spirits, of course it was her–highest-ranking Grand Cardinal, fancied herself a Seraph when she thought they weren’t paying attention. She was always eager to hunt Renegades for Yggdrasill. Yuan hoped, when the truth inevitably came to light someday, that he would have the pleasure of separating her head from her shoulders. She had killed a lot of good men.

But his main concern wasn’t Pronyma–it was the light-haired, dark-eyed woman seated delicately–precariously–in a chair, with Yggdrasill studying her like she was an interesting flower he’d never seen before.

Attending angels? Three times a day? Emotional support? Bullshit. Mithos wasn’t equipped to handle a situation like this without Martel’s assistance, and Yggdrasill knew nothing of care. Those three bleeding Renegades did. If he could spin it right, he could perhaps spare them Yggdrasill’s wrath, and keep Leticia’s delicate mental health in good stead a bit longer.

“You sent for me?” he half-asked. “What in the hell is going on?”

[mithosofcruxis]

The angel remained unperturbed at the reprimand, simply bowing at the order and leaving the room in a whisper of feathers. His wings flapped mechanically once he was free of the hall. Passing his kin, the other Superior Beings, he made his way to the throne room.

It was in that room that Yggdrasill regarded the human before him. Pronyma had done well finding the base so quickly. It made him wonder why they hadn't been able to find them sooner. What tactic hadn't they been implementing that had gotten these results? Or was it the look in his eyes that all but he could see that had given his Cardinals such urgency in the matter?

She looked like the Renegade. It was odd to him that someone so strong could be related to someone so frail, so in need of protection that they would turn to a Renegade. It was due to that frailty that he'd ordered the woman be handled delicately. It had earned a indignant comment guised as concern from Pronyma, to which he had told her this human could help them topple the whole of the Renegade operation.

She'd been blessedly silent after that.

"Lord Yuan advises he shall arrive forthwith, Lord Yggdrasill," The messenger angel reported.

"Dismissed," was Yggdrasill's reply.

He stood and regarded the aging human woman before him. It almost looked like she could blow away at any minute from just a beat of his wings. He couldn't help but recall the dream, and what Alvin had said about the broken-minded woman.

"She’s been frail for as long as I can remember, and some of the things the doctors tried out to help her didn’t work so well.”

He would imagine it wouldn't, now that he was looking at her. He had never been as good a healer as Sis was, but he could tell that her Exsphere was causing her trouble. The host did not seem to be strong enough to handle the physical toll of the power that ate at her.

The exsphere looked strangely familiar as well.

He thought, while watching her look around the room in concern, that sick animals should be euthanized. What was keeping him from doing so? It was an easy mercy to give to filth. And yet he remembered the details of the dream. A great cook. The kindest person he knew. A mother that loved her son.

"It is best this prisoner not know what happens here," he said after a moment of regarding her. "Give her an attending angel, see to meals and cleanliness thrice daily for her. Give her an angel that still has emotions, she may need emotional support as well. She shall stay in the unused medical bay in Welgaia.

"After that we shall connect her to the machines that facilitate physical activity. Yuan shall have several projects to keep him occupied...a fact I am positive he shall enjoy hearing once he finally arrives."

broadswordandpistol​:

mithosofcruxis​:

@broadswordandpistol @lightning-of-kharlan

The communicator in Yuan’s ear lit up with static. Even in the quiet of the interrogation room it would be neigh imperceptible to hear to those without angelic hearing. Likely a detriment of those who may have eyes on the room, the small piece’s audio carried much less easily in this room than any other. The room had been designed to dampen sound. Yggdrasill despised hearing screams most days.

“Lord Yuan,” came the urgent voice of Botta in the Renegade’s ear, “The Triet base has been compromised. We have losses and severe casualties. We’re evacuating now. Orders?”

Mere moments later, a soulless angel knocked on the door and entered. “Lord Yuan, Lord Yggdrasill requests your assistance operating machinery for a captive. Orders?”

@mithosofcruxis​ @lightning-of-kharlan​

Alvin was about to lay one of Frank’s tall tales at Yuan’s feet about Niflheim and a horde of rampaging demonic badgers when Yuan’s gaze went distant and his chin tilted, ever so slightly. Thinking? – No. He knew that one too; that was a listening motion. He put on his own thinking face, in preparation for the tall tale delivery when the call was over.

It never came. Operating machinery … for a captive?

He could only judge by his own captivity, but he was pretty sure machinery wasn’t standard. A cold knot settled in his stomach, and he wished the water pitcher had something a little stronger in it.

@mithosofcruxis​ @broadswordandpistol​

Yuan’s earpiece was an expert piece of engineering. Based on tech from the Kharlan war that neither Sylvarant nor Tethe’alla had managed to replicate, it fit snugly and invisibly, and relayed messages over waves that radio could never touch.

Nonetheless, using it in Derris-Kharlan was dangerous. If there was anywhere that he should not risk it, it was surrounded by people with heightened hearing. Botta generally knew when he was going to be in Derris-Kharlan, and avoided contacting him unless it was a true emergency.

It was.

He couldn’t answer. Answering was not as covert as listening. And it was a damned good thing that he didn’t try, because it was a matter of seconds before an angel entered the interrogation room with new orders from Yggdrasill.

“Your first order is to wait until you’ve been given permission to enter,” Yuan snapped. “Tell Lord Yggdrasill I’ll be there forthwith. Dismissed.”

Two clicks. The proverbial cylinder was beginning to turn. He had a lot of information to relay to Alvin, and not a lot of time or freedom in which to do it.

“I suppose this means the heat is off of you until later,” he said carefully. “And in light of the Renegades’ apparent weakness, I shall personally ensure that the kitchen does not threaten you with tomato sauce. I need you alive for further questioning.”

[mithosofcruxis]

@broadswordandpistol @lightning-of-kharlan

The communicator in Yuan's ear lit up with static. Even in the quiet of the interrogation room it would be neigh imperceptible to hear to those without angelic hearing. Likely a detriment of those who may have eyes on the room, the small piece's audio carried much less easily in this room than any other. The room had been designed to dampen sound. Yggdrasill despised hearing screams most days.

"Lord Yuan," came the urgent voice of Botta in the Renegade's ear, "The Triet base has been compromised. We have losses and severe casualties. We're evacuating now. Orders?"

Mere moments later, a soulless angel knocked on the door and entered. "Lord Yuan, Lord Yggdrasill requests your assistance operating machinery for a captive. Orders?"

broadswordandpistol​:

“That depends on how long I’ve been out,” Alvin told him candidly. “I’d love to say it was last night, but who knows? I passed out not long after the angels dumped me in the cell. I know I had a busted shoulder then, and I didn’t wake up with one today.

“So as for seeing anyone, no. As for them seeing me? Not a clue. To be fair, all I’ve seen here is the inside of the cell, enough angels that I can’t tell them all apart, and this room and Lord Yggdrasill, when he’s in the mood.”

So Yuan was actually trying to pin something down about the tome, maybe. Well, Alvin had given him nothing but the truth about that thing. Some spy he was, he thought wryly, but it helped that he knew his interrogator wasn’t going to screw him over.

Telling time in Welgaia was a nuisance on a good day, but when one party cared naught for the passage of days and the other party had been unconscious in a windowless room, it sure did make it nigh impossible to confirm any alibis or information. Yuan managed not to sigh. Truly, there was no need to make his job this difficult.

What this did tell him, though, is that Yggdrasill may not have been in immediate proximity when they’d had their…whatever it had been. Dream, he would believe it had been a dream, on Alvin’s part–but Yggdrasill didn’t sleep any more than Yuan did. Although…he was occasionally prone to long bouts of staring into space. A near enough thing to sleep, perhaps. Daydreams were still dreams of a sort, and he hadn’t used the word “dream”–he had quite insistently used the word “vision,” although Yuan had written that off as Yggdrasill simply trying to make it sound more important than it was.

Another of those long silences. They were at an impasse–he needed more information, but Alvin certainly couldn’t provide it. He was sure that what he’d found out wasn’t going to be enough to appease Yggdrasill.

“Soldiers never change,” he said at length. “Surely you still trade stories over a fire when the night watch is long. What have you heard of Niflheim?”

It wasn’t subtle, but it was something. Perhaps the shtick with the cards would make a little more sense if he pressed the “demonic magic” issue a bit harder.

[mithosofcruxis]

@lightning-of-kharlan 

Yuan’s cloak is missing. No matter where he looks, he can’t find it. It isn’t in the closet, on the coat rack, or draped over the back of his work chair haphazardly as it usually would be. 

Mithos, too, seemed to be missing. Upon a cursory look around the house, it doesn’t seem like he’s anywhere to be found. However, he soon gives up his location in the way most toddlers do - by singing loudly about something that isn’t exactly apparent at first. 

He’s sitting under the kitchen table. He is wearing Yuan’s cloak and it trails behind him, sticking out from the bottom of the table. He has a very large pot with him as well, and he is stirring what seems to a bunch of apples in water. His little voice echoes through the kitchen.

“When Ma-ma away, Mithos play! Maka the cida all night an’ all dayyyyyyy!”

[mithosofcruxis]

Then why don't you just leave and let me die? came the unbidden thought.

His eyes scanned the underside of the large tree he lay under. The city was still abandoned from his destruction of it months ago, and so he'd thought this would be the perfect place to join his sister. Quiet. Calm. Free of people. How had Yuan found him? He knew he spent a lot of time watching the humans below from the high branches of the trees over the millennia, but he hadn't thought he was that predictable.

His breath shuddered again, in tandem with the world below him settling into its new form. He could feel little aftershocks every few seconds. Or that could be his breathing. It was hard to tell at this point.

Mithos let out a loud, short grunt of pain as Yuan applied pressure to the wound and knocked his hand down nearly simultaneously. Who was he kidding? Mithos knew Yuan always found him when he hid, no matter where he went. He didn't know how, and he sure as Shadow didn't know why. But it was an irrefutable fact. Yuan would always hunt him down.

For better or for worse.

He didn't want to listen to Yuan, but years of battle with him made him still instinctively. At least, as best as he could. His lungs were stuttering as if they had a mind of their own and he thought, hazily, that his body may be going into a miniature shock from the blood loss and impact.

"Please, Yuan...?" The green eyes of Yggdrasill scanned Yuan's face with the grief of Mithos pouring from them. "Please..."

"Hold still." --lightning-of-kharlan, who has one (1) plot device

@lightning-of-kharlan

Mithos had sustained worse wounds in his life. He remembered many years ago having broken his elbow falling out of a tree and popping a lung on something he fell onto in the process. Broken ribs from battle. One time he'd even suffered internal bleeding from a full body shove into a stone wall.

But nothing stung worse than taking one of his own lances and failing to miss the mark. But he wouldn't miss twice.

"Leave me alone...Yuan..." he gasped, trying to lift his arm to summon another lance. "I can't do it. I can't. I know it was wrong to keep her. I know I should be happy. But...Sis...Sis...!"

He couldn't feel the tears streaking down his face, or the left side of his ribcage, but he could feel the fire spreading from the entry wound and through his abdomen. It was mostly residual pain from the impact. He'd make sure to strike true this time.

"She's gone...I...let her go, fixed the world...but I can't, Yuan...!"

[mithosofcruxis]

In a skyborn prison, Alvin Svent, a human, and captured Renegade, when most Renegades are half-elves, lies at the unkind mercy of Mithos Yggdrasill, Superior Being and self-proclaimed leader of the Cruxis Church.

Between rounds of torture and mysterious dreams, Yggdrasill’s curiosity about the man hovers between the desire to kill him, and the desire to use him.

His best friend, partner in crime, secondary leader of the Cruxis Church and the true head of the Renegades, Yuan Ka-Fai, will be forced to interrogate him.

He wants to live. Who wouldn’t?

Spanning two worlds and four millennia, this just might be … 

Two Worlds’ Greatest Con.

Starring:

@mithosofcruxis as Mithos Yggdrasill

@broadswordandpistol as Alvin Svent

and

@lightning-of-kharlan​ as Yuan Ka-Fai.

Episodes:

1: That Thin Line 2: A Four-Thousand Year Reflection 3: Seeking Answers 4: Cheating At Solitary (current episode!)

[mithosofcruxis]

"Hold still." --lightning-of-kharlan, who has one (1) plot device

@lightning-of-kharlan

Mithos had sustained worse wounds in his life. He remembered many years ago having broken his elbow falling out of a tree and popping a lung on something he fell onto in the process. Broken ribs from battle. One time he'd even suffered internal bleeding from a full body shove into a stone wall.

But nothing stung worse than taking one of his own lances and failing to miss the mark. But he wouldn't miss twice.

"Leave me alone...Yuan..." he gasped, trying to lift his arm to summon another lance. "I can't do it. I can't. I know it was wrong to keep her. I know I should be happy. But...Sis...Sis...!"

He couldn't feel the tears streaking down his face, or the left side of his ribcage, but he could feel the fire spreading from the entry wound and through his abdomen. It was mostly residual pain from the impact. He'd make sure to strike true this time.

"She's gone...I...let her go, fixed the world...but I can't, Yuan...!"

[mithosofcruxis]

Send "Hold still..." for your muse/s to treat my muse/s wounds!

[mithosofcruxis]

A playful, frustrated groan bellowed from Mithos’ throat as Yuan ruffled his hair even worse than it had been before. The days were starting to warm lately. The humidity hadn’t been doing any favors to his hair. Little pieces already stuck out to and fro no matter how much he brushed or wetted or tried putting beeswax in it.

It was going to be stuck like this all day now! The young teen puffed his cheeks and released a short snort from his nose. Yuan was taller and stronger than he was. Despite what he may think, he wouldn’t be able to force him to stop anything. 

He didn’t want Yuan to stop, in all honesty. The complaining was done under principle. 

His thoughts, though, were still on that silhouette. His pout faded slowly. Quietly, from under Yuan’s hand, he spoke, “Hey Yuan. Did...did your dad teach you Elvish?”

mithosofcruxis​:

He’d felt this hand before. It was different than Yuan’s hand - It had been smooth, with long fingers and nails painted the same color as Martel’s hair. It was attached to someone with eyes the same color as Mithos, and a deep voice that taught him Elvish. 

But that was all Mithos remembered. He didn’t know why this hand reminded him of that silhouette. He found himself wishing he remembered more, as he knew that it came from the time when he was much smaller. With that memory at the forefront, the unbidden thought came that he liked the warmth of Yuan’s hand on his head. 

But he’d never admit it out loud.

“Stop it,” he instead whined, batting the hand away from his head, “I’m not a kid, remember? I’m part of the team.” 

“Tch,” Yuan chuckled with the slightest trace of a smile, taking the hand-swat as an opportunity to ruffle Mithos’ hair because even he knew that that’s how these things were supposed to go. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.”

At least, they tried to not let them be mutually exclusive. This was no lifestyle for a child–constantly looking over their shoulders for pursuers, constantly looking ahead for traps. Even Yuan, alone at age eleven, hadn’t had to kill a man until he was older than Mithos. Not older by much, admittedly. But older by enough.

He knew that children were meant to have play and learning and friends and guardians. Mithos had guardians aplenty, but no friends his own age. Again, Yuan couldn’t say that he had either–but his life with his father had been a good one. It wasn’t until Yvain was gone that he’d felt the lack of companionship, and he hoped Mithos would never suffer that.

[mithosofcruxis]

Yggdrasill’s eyebrows moved up and down with his breathing. He felt the almost ice-cold chill of the floor in Kratos’ room, but the warm hands of his friend and teacher touching his shoulder. Inhibitions down, Mithos touched that hand and rolled lazily, a groan echoing through the room as he did.

He felt like he’d almost been knocked sober by the fall. Still, the world’s Y-axis betrayed him, making Kratos multiply in the aftershocks of his fall.

“Teacher,” he said warmly before busting into a fit of giggles, “Have you learned a new arte? You’re multiplied! I wish I could do that. Wait. Can I do that?”

Mithos shot up as fast as he could, and the world sped up in its rotation. He held up a hand to steady himself on Kratos and laughed when his own arm was also multiplied. Success! He had beaten Kratos at figuring out the arte! Games were so much fun! 

Wait. Games...he had some sort of game...

“You heard me,” He managed to chuckle out, “Truth or dare. I want to play 21 truths and one dare.”

@ninthcompanion

The world was spinning.

The world, surprisingly, always did that. But it was doing it on two axis today. One to the north going south, and one going on some unknown y axis that made Yggdrasill's eyes have trouble tracking the crumbling cobbles of the pillars around him. Having pillars installed that were susceptible to crumbling had been a poor decision on his part.

"My pillars are sand," he screamed, the voice echoing through the vast purple expanse and down the halls.

Yggdrasill lifted the glass of amber liquid to his lips, startled at the cold sensation of the ice he didn't remember putting in there, and then continued to drink. He had put his intellect to good use this time, having taken off his crystal. It took significantly less whisky to get drunk this time.

It also tasted significantly worse, but the more the liquid line in the bottle went down, the taste improved. The unknown side effect, even to the lord, was that he'd reverted to his younger form.

If Martel were able to walk into the room, she'd be livid. This was, perhaps, the one time Yggdrasill was glad his sister was asleep.

"I grow bored," he stated angrily under his breath. Yggdrasill let loose his wings, taking careful heed to stay upright, and floated delicately to Kratos' Chambers.

"I demand a game of 21 questions!" He bellowed into the room as he caught his shoulder on the doorframe and nose-dived for the floor.

[mithosofcruxis]

Overall, Yggdrasill considered himself a patient being. He’d been working to awaken his sister for millennia upon millennia after all. Patience had to be part of someone’s being to be able to run the operations of pulling and vying mana from worlds. Of manipulating bloodlines and directing soldiers. And of directing the two men who knew him best in ways that would help Martel in the long run.

Yuan’s incessant questions were bringing him to a bit of an annoyed state, however. He wished he could acknowledge that this was something he did when he was having a hard time hiding something, but it was an hold habit that died very, very hard. A holdover from when he let himself have all of the feelings in the world.

 “I just need you to speak to the rapscallion,” he snapped, “He knows something. Something about these visions and about the Renegades, I know it.”

It then occurred to him that Yuan wasn’t fighting him on the matter. Not like he would have expected, anyway. He still seemed put out (when didn’t he?), but he was complying with the request. Yggdrasill took a moment to walk back his temper, toss the book to Yuan, and settle his face back into the bored neutrality of the past few thousand years.

“I put him in the mundane chambers, southwest of the teleporter. I have not indulged in the finer arts of psychological warfare in the dream chambers.” He pointedly looked away from Yuan to inspect his nails. “Though I know a conversation with you shall fill out that niche quite nicely.”

mithosofcruxis​:

He knew calling Yuan here would mean questions. Questions naturally meant he’d have to have answers. It was surprising how often Yggdrasill had remembered that over the years. So surprising, in fact, that he was in the process of trying to figure out how he was going to answer. 

Yuan in particular knew all of his ticks. Martel had told them most of them when she was awake, and he’d learned the rest of them over the past millennia. Yggdrasill would have to choose his words very, very carefully. Were Kratos here, the two could compare notes, and he’d be unable defend himself against any of the things that got pointed out.

So he avoided straightening his back, tried to keep his body as relaxed as he possibly could, and continued to keep eye contact as much as he had been. 

“If you insist,” Yggdrasill sighed, as if put out by the laundry list of questions. He waved the book around as he spoke to emphasize his point. “This was near the cells in Welgaia. Cells. The place where prisoners are generally kept. They seem to have started not long ago. A week or two, perhaps? You know I pay little heed to the passage of time.”

It was at the last question that Mithos’ concentration finally broke and his free hand dipped into his hair, twirling a piece as if in thought. “It is the only item within the area that has the power to twist realities around it. There isn’t another way to explain it.” His slip to casual speech caught him and he attempted to recover by flicking his hand out of his hair dramaticallly.

“You shall get no answers asking me, Yuan. Go ask the prisoner. You know how susceptible Inferior Beings are to influences of this nature.” He waved his hand in dismissal and began to munch on a tart from the table nearby.  

Fascinating. Yggdrasill seemed very focused, and it wasn’t on the questions Yuan had asked. Not entirely, at least. Point proven when he dropped that superior voice for just a moment. That didn’t tell Yuan a lot, but it told him that there was something happening behind the scenes that he hadn’t been told.

He could at least take precious little comfort in the fact that it was actually the book and the visions that were occupying Yggdrasill’s head. The slip in composure would not have fallen on that particular information if instead he had been considering ways in which he might trap Yuan into revealing himself as a Renegade. So far, it seemed that his captured soldier had managed to keep the real leader’s secret.

Already he was going down a list of possibilities. No foot soldier would be a worthwhile prisoner, for Yggdrasill. Who had been reported missing? Who hadn’t checked in in a while? Who had enough information to be of use? What was he going to find? None of the options were good. One or two possible names were more troubling than the others.

“I need to have a handle on what you know before I can tell you something you don’t,” Yuan pointed out. “But fine, I’ll see what I can learn. Where is this prisoner of yours?”

[mithosofcruxis]

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut

Reblog this if you want readers to come into your ask box and ask for the “director’s commentary” on a particular story, section of a story, or set of lines. 

Or, send in a ⭐star⭐  to have the author select a section they’ve been dying to talk about!

[mithosofcruxis]

He knew calling Yuan here would mean questions. Questions naturally meant he’d have to have answers. It was surprising how often Yggdrasill had remembered that over the years. So surprising, in fact, that he was in the process of trying to figure out how he was going to answer. 

Yuan in particular knew all of his ticks. Martel had told them most of them when she was awake, and he’d learned the rest of them over the past millennia. Yggdrasill would have to choose his words very, very carefully. Were Kratos here, the two could compare notes, and he’d be unable defend himself against any of the things that got pointed out.

So he avoided straightening his back, tried to keep his body as relaxed as he possibly could, and continued to keep eye contact as much as he had been. 

“If you insist,” Yggdrasill sighed, as if put out by the laundry list of questions. He waved the book around as he spoke to emphasize his point. “This was near the cells in Welgaia. Cells. The place where prisoners are generally kept. They seem to have started not long ago. A week or two, perhaps? You know I pay little heed to the passage of time.”

It was at the last question that Mithos’ concentration finally broke and his free hand dipped into his hair, twirling a piece as if in thought. “It is the only item within the area that has the power to twist realities around it. There isn’t another way to explain it.” His slip to casual speech caught him and he attempted to recover by flicking his hand out of his hair dramaticallly.

“You shall get no answers asking me, Yuan. Go ask the prisoner. You know how susceptible Inferior Beings are to influences of this nature.” He waved his hand in dismissal and began to munch on a tart from the table nearby.  

mithosofcruxis​:

Yggdrasill had expected some sort of reaction from Yuan at the visions. His expectation did not meet reality. Yuan seemed just as surprised at visions as he had been. Yuan was not particularly good at faking surprise with his penchant for sarcasm. He hadn’t moved the book.

To answer his friend, Yggdrasill simply held up the offending text and narrowed his gaze. “I found it in one of the studies close to the cells in Welgaia. The visions seem to be of meeting people in strange places, having conversations that make no sense and feeling.” Just feeling. Feeling care, comraderie, joy. Things that hadn’t been felt en masse since Martel had fallen asleep.

“I have yet to ask Kratos if he moved it. Perhaps the book itself moved,” Yggdrasill let out an exasperated sigh. “The book moving is less of an issue as these visions, however. I have had my fill of the prisoner. Go and ask him about visions, Yuan. I need to see how much trouble this thing has caused.”

There was only one book in all of Aselia and the lands beyond it for which Yuan would entertain “moved itself” as a valid possibility, and there it was. And he disagreed with Yggdrasill quite strongly–if the book could move on its own accord, they had a problem. And it wasn’t some visions of meeting strange people in strange places.

That description left Yuan puzzled, especially “feeling.” Feeling what? Admittedly it was odd for the soulless angels to “feel,” although he wasn’t certain anymore that it was completely beyond them. He had definitely heard one manage confusion, once.

And then there was the matter of playing the role of interrogator. He had never liked that role, and Mithos knew that. Mithos knew that he and Kratos had both had bad experiences with interrogation. But then again, it might be better this way. Yuan could lie to Yggdrasill in a way the Renegades generally could not.

It was just a shame Yggdrasill knew that killing in an interrogation was unlike him. He’d spare his men the torture, if he could.

“I’ll ask him about the visions, but I’ll need better context first,” Yuan said. “Up to and including why you think he’d know a damn thing about them. When did they start? Did it coincide with the taking of the prisoner? And what ties it to Niflheim in the first place?”