#<- calling her jackrabbit because it's the first thing i thought of. might change it.

[lunarghoulette]

redrawing the spirit phone album cover may have altered my brain chemistry i fear

[shootstraight-nevermiss]

Task 001: Lagos

@sgt-barnes, @logan-t78a

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Gore, Murder

Transcript of Mission below:

Bucky: James tightened his grip around the shield's leather handles. This was it. This was going to end today or never. They had everything they needed. Sin's intel about Zemo's course of actions and locations and some other agents Bucky might have bullied. He still wasn't sure if bringing Clint with them was the best idea, but he promised it to him. Seemed... right? "Alright we got one shot at this. We wait for the exact location, then we enter the structure. Wanda you cover the back exit to prevent our target to leave. Sam, you got the other one as planned, Nat will have your back." He looked up at Clint "And we go fetch the bastard. Seems good for everyone ?"

Clint: Clint was technically retired. After getting his family back, he just couldn't do it anymore so he had left. It always somewhat pained him that he never got the opportunity to put an arrow in Zemo, but his family needed him more than ever. But then Clint got the call. They found him. So he suited up and now here he was, in Lagos with the rest of the team. He was barely paying attention to what Bucky was saying because he just wanted to get started, find the bastard and kill him for sure. He owed it to the him. But what Bucky didn't know was that Clint had called in someone else. Someone who also wanted a piece of him to give him a hand. They had a plan, he just had to wait. So, like the Hawk that he was, he kept a watch around the place until he saw Bucky's eyes on him. He just gave him a silent nod as he walked off. Nothing against the rest of them - he was here for one thing and one thing only.

Bucky: He waited for everyone's approval before reaching the edge of the roof they were standing on, waiting for the exact location of Zemo. He kneeled as he waited, keeping his doubts for himself. Maybe too loud however as he sensed Natasha putting her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, reassuring himself in her eyes for a second before looking at the team. "And don't forget. I know it's important for everyone here to catch him... But the team goes first, you hear me? Don't play vigilantes, for once." he found smart to add.

Clint: Clint heard what Bucky said and he was sure that it was more directed at him. No offense, Bucky, but this isn't your fight. He wasn't there to help the team. He was here for his own reasons. So when everyone began to disperse to their given objectives, Clint gave Nat a look, telling her that he was sorry for what he was about to do but that he needed to do it. That's when he pulled out his Avenger com and out in the one he had linked with Logan. "Alright, give me some good news, Wolvie. I think Barnes might be catching on to me here."

Logan: The plan was easy, logical and Logan only agreed when Bucky asked him to go and confirm the location, see if it was a trap and if something had to explode, well, he could handle it. He stayed in the shadows but saw their target, stealing him a small smile. He followed him at a reasonable distance and didn't stop when Clint's voice resonated in his com. "Oh really? Good job Barton. Maybe it gonna be a solo date then, if you can't handle the kid." He knew that the plan was to catch the man, but he didn't care, Zemo had to die, that was all, no bargain, no prison, just death. He didn't care what the justice could say, what the government could decided, Zemo was a personal problem since the moment who he started to lay into the kids. "6°33'27.5"N 3°22'54.7"E" He finally shared after checking his gimmick. "Barnes." He continued, changing his com. "6°27'00.5"N 3°26'21.7"E, this bastard still liked luxury." He lied for him, sending him in the opposite place than the real one where Zemo was.

Bucky: Jams waited for the moment Logan would share the location, and when it came into his coms, he didn't wait any longer. "Alright. We're going in." The team didn't need a look to go to their respective spots. Bucky waited for Clint before going in the building by one of the back doors, punching the few guards in their way. The element of surprise was their main advantage as Zemo was not expecting betrayal from his own ranks, selling intel to the Avengers directly. "Big room, north, we gotta be quick before he can do anything. come on."

Clint: "Just stick to the plan, Logan, and we'll be right as rain," Clint replied after memorizing the coordinates and sticking back in the other com. It was action time which meant Clint had to stick with Bucky before finding the opportune moment to slip away. So he stuck by him, pretending he was going along with him..if everything worked, Bucky wouldn't realize he was sneaking off before it was too late. "He still there, Logan?" He asked in the communal com. His hands were gripping his bow tightly. He was ready for this.

Logan: Logan managed to stay patient but he sighed at Barton's words. "I ain't sure it's working like that, just move your birdy ass." He replied to this com before waiting for the rest. "Yup." He just added at the question, he remembered this big room, he didn't really lie about the location shared to the big team, Zemo was there, his mobs were probably still in the building, but their main target left 2 hours ago. He was now busy with what seemed to be a transaction. "Not sure he will stay there much longer tho."

Bucky: Bucky was a soldier, but he was far away from being stupid. He worked with too many men and women in this area of their job to know certain things. For now he acted blind, but he could tell things were off, he could tell things were untold and so kept an eye on everything. It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to... betray him. He tightened his grip on his shield and moved toward the location, addressing Clint a look before going in. He opened the door, shoot the shield at the men in the room, gave some punches. But then he froze as he realized. "Bloody hell, Logan, where is he?"

Clint: Clint knew that he was going to have to move fast if they were going to catch the bastard, but he couldn't just leave Bucky. Not yet. They needed to get to the spot Logan had told Bucky first so he didn't raise too much suspicion. So he played along, counting down the seconds until he could make his move. He nodded at Bucky before they entered the room, letting Bucky take down the lone man while holding up his bone. "He must have just left the room," he lied, knowing full well that that wasn't the case at all. "I'll do a perimeter check outside. He can't have gone too far." He slid the arrow back into his quiver but held firm on his bow. It would be easier to run like that.

Logan: "Must be there, I'm still smelling his Dolce & Gabbana bullshit perfume." He lied but not on the details. He had nothing else to do than wait, so he did, lighting a cigar to deal with the time being long. "Want to me to check somewhere kid?" He asked but calmly started to smoke.

Bucky: He was most of all afraid of losing their advantage of taking them by surprise. Zemo didn't know. Seemed like their only weapon right now. He gritted his teeth. "Negative." he answered Logan. "Stay put. We got the others around. He can't escape." He turned towards Clint. "Check those rooms instead, I'll go over there. Stay on this side don't let them divide us."

Clint: Clint was expecting different orders from Bucky, which is why he had his own excuse all lined up. "If he's in one of the other rooms, chances are he saw us come in. It would be better if one of us what outside incase he tried to jackrabbit. In this case, it's better to split up."

Bucky: James squinted a bit as he looked at Clint. "The exits are guarded by the others already." He wouldn't let him go alone, they needed to work as a team. But then James heard people coming at them rather quickly from behind the doors. "Do it quick then. I'll go this way."

Clint: It went over a lot better than Clint expected and gave him a nod. Now that he was free of Bucky, he could go do what he actually came to Lagos to do. Once he was out of sight of Bucky he put in his com he had with Logan. "Alright, I got away. I'm heading to you. You still remember the plan, right?"

Logan: His cigar was almost finished when Clint voice showed up again. "'Bout time." He replied and raised an eyebrow at his question. "'Might be old but I ain't senile yet." Logan stubbed out his cigar and finally left his hideout. "I'm going to set the table, don't be late for the dessert." He joked, meaning to catch this bastard, kill his few guards and get him ready for the rest of the night.

Clint: "Don't worry, I won't be," Clint replied. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time and he wasn't about to mess it all up. Not now, when he was so close. Zemo was not planning on this, and Clint was counting on it. Clint got to the rendezvous spot and notched an arrow. "Alright, Logan, I'm in position. I'm ready to set the bait. Just give me the word when he's clear."

Logan: "Still waiting..." Logan pointed out and moved to clear the way, killing some guards here and there, taking his time 'cause damn this idiot wasn't that fast and avoided the alarms. The last ones were sharing the same warehouse that Zemo, so they had to wait, lucky them. He couldn't see them, but he was surely hearing their beating hearts. "Clear. His 3 boyfriends are still there tho." Logan sighed and took his lighter to heat his blades.

Clint: "Don't worry, I got this. Just wait for my word." Clint pulled back the bow just a little bit more, adding more tension for a brief second as he took a breath. This was it. It was now or never. He had a brief thought. He could not do this. He could call Bucky, tell him he found Zemo and back out. He could walk away. Maybe it was better if he did, but he didn't want to. He wanted to end this. Clint thought about everything Zemo had destroyed. Himself, Wanda, Kate, Logan, Barney, Laura, Tony.....it just angered him more and more the more he thought about everything Zemo had done. No, keeping him alive was too risky. Clint knew what he had to do. And with that thought, he aimed the flare arrow up into the sky and launched it.

The red light exploded in the air, giving anyone a good read as to where he was. Zemo surely would know who sent it, especially when he saw the arrow shaft fall back to the ground. He would pick it up later....maybe. Just to give it that extra little oomph, Clint yelled, "ZEMO! COME FACE ME, YOU COWARD!"

Clint waited and waited until he spotted Zemo appear with his "boyfriends," as Logan called them. "Agent Barton." Clint sneered when he saw that smug-ass look on his face. "Where are your friends?"

"Doesn't matter. This is between you and me." Zemo seemed amused by Clint's statement, but Clint expected that. His hubris would be his downfall. "Why don't you send your little goons away so we can pick up where we left off? Unless you're too much of a coward to hide behind our henchmen."

There was something in Zemo's eyes telling Clint he was much too eager to show Clint what he could do. With a simple wave of his hand, Zemo's goons left just before he casually strolled back towards him. "Last I remembered, you were no match for me, Barton."

"Yeah, well last time I was injured and starved. Not exactly fair. Now, we're on even playing ground."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. I know you can hit me with that bow of yours before I get too close."

"That's why I brought something else." Clint put his bow away and pulled out the extra toy he had brought along - a sword. It was one he had "borrowed" from the compound. He'd give it back....maybe. "Doesn't matter what I use, though, you're not leaving this place."

"Is that a promise?" Zemo pulled his sword from his own sheath, getting into a stance that Clint remembered all too well from their last encounter. "Yes, it is."

Maybe it was reckless, maybe it was stupid, but Clint rushed Zemo, sword, back and ready to strike. He knew Zemo would see it coming and block with ease, but this was all part of the plan. He just had to occupy Zemo enough before the plan fell in place. Swords clashed with a ring of metal in the air as they stuck, parried and danced around one another in a deadly dance of dueling. "You've gotten better, Agent Barton," Zemo commented as he parried another blow and struck out.

"It's amazing what someone can do when they're determined."

Zemo chuckled as he parried Clint's next blow. "Your determination will get you nowhere, though. Your angry, which blinds you. I can see it in your eyes. Your anger will be your downfall."

Clint did a few more strikes before their swords met again and they pushed against one another. It was now or never. "And your self-inflated ego will be yours. You see, you're not the only one who you managed to piss off." With that cue for Logan, Clint pushed Zemo back to give Logan the room he would need.

Logan: Deep breaths, Logan couldn't lose his control right now, waiting was playing on his nerves but it was the last act, he could manage this last wait. The old man felt the movement, he slowly moved in the shadows. He let Clint do the distraction, swords fight? Meh, who was he to judge? He only came closer to the remaining guards, tacking advantage that Zemo was busy fighting to deal with them. And just like he did before, Logan killed them before they could understand what was happening, clean work. And god the timing was perfect. "Hi." Logan simply said when Clint pushed off Zemo. His hands were already bloody. "Sorry for your guys, they were in the way."

Oh he could hear heart beat climbing up and damn it felt good, walking closer, Logan only sped up when Zemo moved his hand to call back up. With no warning the mutant cut his hand but didn't flinch when Zemo groaned in pain and reacted by stabbing Logan in the chest with his sword. "..." It was probably fair enough but of course useless. "Right... no more stupid moves then." 'Cause Zemo just did two. The bastard wasn't bleeding, he was missing a hand but Logan's claws were still burning from the preparation he did, it would have been a shame to lose the man from a stupid anemia. Logan pulled out the sword from his body and threw it away before stabbing the fucking bastard in his right knee, forcing him to kneel. The man might scream, he might not, actually Logan didn't give a shit, he wanted the man dead. It was personal right but most of that it had to be done. He was too old and too fucked up to believe in justice, he couldn't give him a chance to survive this, to escape. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do but Logan never cared about that, not this time at least, not when the list of the victims was already too long. "Yours." He finally said, sharing a look to Clint. Again, involving Clint wasn't probably the best thing to do, but, Logan could respect his need for revenge, it will obviously not solve everything but it will for sure help.

Clint: Clint stood to the side, letting Logan get his hits in. Logan needed a few, especially what happened to the kids that Zemo had grabbed. But they had a deal. He didn't even flinch when Logan cut off his hand. Zemo wasn't going to need it anymore. He stood by, watching with each blow, waiting until Logan was done. With Zemo on his knees, Clint sheathed his own sword and grabbed his bow. "You've taken too much. You've taken away friendships," he paused, firing an arrow into Zemo's left shoulder, "You've taken away kids," another arrow, into Zemo's right, "Sanity." That arrow had gone in his leg, keeping him pinned to the floor. Each name he would speak would come with another arrow in some place Clint deemed. "Kate, Wanda, Kitty, Bobby, Tony.....Laura." At this point, Zemo, was essentially a human pin cushion. A:rrows were protruding from Zemo's body and Clint knew that eventually, he'd die from the these wounds, but it wasn't enough.

"Last I saw you, I told you that you would lose and I would personally be there when you did." Without warning, Clint took his hunting knife and stuck in the same spot Zemo had speared him with a sword all those years ago. "I've thought about this moment for a long damn time, asshole." With a slow turn of his wrist, he twisted the knife in Zemo's abdomen, finally getting a bit of a yell, even if it was more guttural from the bastard. But when Clint stopped, Zemo actually began to laugh. "What's so funny, asshole?"

"You think you've won, but you haven't. I have, Agent Barton. You became the monster once again. You are finally broken." Clint ground his teeth, leaving the knife as he grabbed Zemo's sword that Logan had thrown away. In his other, he grabbed his own and scissored them around Zemo's neck. "You will be haunted by this moment for the rest of your life, Barton. This will not save your soul."

"Maybe not," Clint muttered, his voice straight and level, "But I'll live with it. See you in Hell." And with a swift move, Clint closed the swords, slicing right through Zemo's neck and cutting his head clean off. Zemo's head rolled a few feet away and while Clint could have left him like that, he had one more thing to do. He sheathed both of the swords this time and grabbed two arrows. He pierced the man's dead eyeballs with them and speared the head onto one of the arrows protruding from his body. It was finally over.

Logan: Was it a good idea to let this idiot take the responsibility of this kill? Probably not. But Logan didn't stop him, Zemo wasn't totally wrong but the mutant could understand this need of vengeance. He wasn't an example to follow about that, like he was actually the worst but he knew. He knew that this death will not resolve everything but it will probably be a good start despite the consequences. So Logan shut the fuck up, he didn't look away when Clint killed the man, he didn't flinch and he definitively didn't say a thing. It was over, the bastard was dead and it felt less good than Logan still expected. The mutant sighed, with no smile and cocked an eyebrow when Clint played the put all the body pieces together, he wasn't here to judge but god this was overkilled, even for him. Anyway, he finally came closer to Clint and the dead body and spoke. "C'mon man. Let's move." His claws withdrawn since a while now, Logan put a hand on the shoulder's man, inviting him to move. And if he could have ask of he was feeling ok, he just didn't, he bloody knew the feeling, he wasn't discovering it this night and he bloody knew that a drink will be more helpful than a little pep talk.

Clint: Yeah, sure, it was probably overkill, but Clint felt he needed to do it. To show the world he was finally gone. No tricks, no surprise appearances. He needed to see it, but yet somehow, he still felt hollow. Clint thought that if he killed Zemo, it would be done and he would feel better. More fulfilled. Yet, Clint didn't feel that way. Why didn't he feel right? As he stared down at the corpse, he muddled through his thoughts, trying to make sense of it until Logan broke his trance. "Yeah," he said softly, letting Logan guide him away while he still tried to make sense of his lack of feelings.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Nocturne (30/30) - Ao3 Link

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairings: Mostly Gen

Summary: In which Cor Leonis loses his temper, accidentally acquires a kid, and tries to single-handedly dismantle the Lucian immigration system – and that’s before he and his lawyers find out about this Prophecy business. If the Astrals think Cor’s going to let his kid’s best friend die without a fight, they’ve gotten the wrong cheetah ‘taur.

(a young adult novel set in @kickingshoes’ ‘taur AU)

—————————————————————————————— ——————————————————————————————

“You know, maybe I ought to be the one in charge,” Aulea says, reclining on the bed to stretch out her hindlegs and forelegs, smirking at Regis as she does. “If we’re putting a regency in place anyhow…”

“My love,” Regis says, lifting her hand and kissing it. “You’re already in charge.”

She laughs. “Maybe I want formal control,” she says mischievously. “You can be my Prince Consort, how do you like that?”

“Does that mean you can take afternoon court and I can – oh, wait, you attend afternoon court with me as it is,” Regis sighs dramatically as Aulea snorts. “For shame. And here I’d been imagining a life of leisure.”

“Fat chance,” she giggles. “But look on the bright side: I could shake all the hands and sign all the formal documents, while you could be in charge of hosting all the parties.”

“I’ve seen your parties,” Regis says dryly. “I’ll take the shaking and the signing.”

Aulea hums in agreement. “It’ll only be worse now that we’re making peace with Niflheim, you know. There’ll be food requests. Weird new customs to adjust to. Seating charts.”

“You’re not making this whole Prince Consort business sound very appealing, you know,” Regis tells her. “What must a ‘taur do to get a nice, stress-free position in this government?”

“Not be in government,” Aulea laughs. “For a start.”

“Think we can get Clarus to do it?”

“Regis!” Aulea smacks him lightly with a pillow.

“We are discussing a regency!” he laughs. “We could put anyone there – after all, I’ve abdicated! I’m an ex-king!”

“You know, I think you’ve already found what may be the one government position in which you don’t have to do anything. And yet here you are, giving it up.”

“I’ve clearly gone mad,” Regis says.

“Clearly,” Aulea agrees. “Which means, of course, that it’s only right for me to take the throne.”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he says, catching her around the waist and pulling her closer. “I’m going to coup you and seize power from under your fingertips in order to put myself in as regent.”

“You monster!” she mock-gasps. “Stealing the power away from your only son!”

“Mmm,” he says, nuzzling her cheek. “You know, ever since the Ring was destroyed in that final confrontation with Ardyn, I’ve been feeling positively peppy – we could always see about fixing that ‘only’ business –”

“Why, Regis, you old tomcat–”

“I think that’ll do it,” Clarus says, putting his pen down and looking at the newest version of the peace treaty that he’s marked up with satisfaction. “We’re getting close to something that may even be sustainable.”

Cyrella snorts, flicking her tail in his direction. “Really, Clarus? Optimism?”

He shrugs. “It’s a new age. I don’t see why not.” He grins. “Besides, if they disagree, our armies are in a far more equitable posture at the moment, and with Tenebrae demanding actual independence in exchange for refereeing this agreement, even if they do pull a draft, we’ll have early notice of it.”

“There is that,” she says, smiling. “But a preliminary question: do you think they’ll sign it?”

“That may take a bit more doing,” he concedes.

“Well, if they don’t, I’ll hit them with the Sword of the Tall until they agree,” Cyrella says, sounding very pleased with the idea.

“Not very diplomatic of you,” Clarus says. “Also, shouldn’t you give that back at some point?”

“I don’t see why.”

“Cyrella.”

“Don’t you ‘Cyrella’ me,” she says, pointing at him. “I just helped save the world. The least I deserve for my active participation is a sword as long as I am tall that is absolutely badass.”

“You’re absolutely badass enough on your own, you know.”

“Thank you. Still not giving it back.”

Thinking to himself that it would be wiser to withdraw from this field of battle, at least for now, Clarus decides a change in subject is called for. “You know, when this is done and Regis is re-installed as monarch – or, at least, as regent until Noctis is appropriately of age –”

“Which, if we leave the choice up to Noctis, won’t happen until he’s at least forty,” Cyrella opines.

“…you’re not wrong. But as I was saying, when this is done, Reggie is going to be reigning over a peacetime kingdom for the first time in his life.”

“So?”

“So, my dear, that means he doesn’t exactly have much immediate use for his War Minister, does he?” Clarus asks, arching his eyebrows at her. “Or, for that matter, his Shield.”

“Clarus Amicitia,” she says. “Are you suggesting that we might take a vacation?”

“I am indeed,” he says.

“And what exactly did you have in mind?”

“Well,” he says, smirking. “You did seem like you liked the way I described Galahd…”

Her tail flicks again, this time with interest. “I did,” she says. “Gladio sounded like he liked it, too.”

Clarus arches his eyebrows at her. “Are we lacking for babysitters now? I was thinking we’d leave him here.”

“With who? Regis and Aulea are going to be thinking the same thing, you know; you so much as as hint at a vacation and they’ll sign up right alongside.”

“Yes, they will,” Clarus says patiently. “But you know who isn’t?”

“…Cor.”

“Cor,” he agrees.

“He’s going to kill you,” she predicts.

“Well,” Clarus says. “Luckily for me, my wife’s just come in to ownership of this sword – long as she is tall, I’ve heard it said – ‘absolutely badass,’ even –”

Cyrella laughs.

“I cannot believe you!” Libertus bellows. He’s gotten pretty good at it. “You were supposed to be at training! You were supposed to be leading training!”

“I’m sorry!” Nyx yelps. “I didn’t – I was just –”

“In the storage shed?!”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing!”

“With Aranea Highwind?!”

“Hey, I’m a member of the Crownsguard Aerial Corps,” Aranea says, flicking her tail smugly. “You have no authority over me.”

“And yet, oddly enough, you’re on the Kingsglaive training field right now,” Libertus says. “Besides, weren’t you going out on a date with his sister the other day?”

“…maybe.”

Libertus crosses his arms. “Stop screwing my lieutenants. Or else.”

Aranea crosses her arms. “Or else what?”

“Or he’ll hand you over to me,” Cor says mildly from behind her, causing both her and Nyx to jump into the air. “Or would you say I also don’t have authority over you, Crownsguard?”

“Um,” Aranea says.

“I have more pamphlets,” Cor adds cheerfully.

She turns pale.

“You seem to have gotten the idea behind the whole asexuality thing,” Cor muses. “But maybe a few on healthy sexual practices –”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Aranea says hastily. “Libertus, I accept whatever punishment you choose to bestow.”

“I thought I ‘had no authority’ over you?”

“I’m willing to put that aside!”

“Oh, one thing,” Cor says. “Before you impose punishment, Captain –”

Libertus winces.

Cor smirks.

“– I think you should consider expanding that punishment to three.” He reaches down with one forepaw and stamps on the ground.

There’s a yowl and Hemera leaps into the air, clutching her tail.

“You too?” Libertus howls.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” she signs quickly. “I came to argue with Nyx!”

“Over?”

“Well, see, I thought it was my turn, and he thought –”

“You’re all on punishment duty! Now!”

Luna’s having a pretty good day so far.

School’s let out early, she’s going to meet her girlfriend for a nice lunch, and – she’s never going to get over this – they’re not at war.

She has a delightful spring in her step as a result, kicking up her heels cheerfully as she trots along, turning the corner to go around the Kingsglaive training grounds – she likes taking that route, even if it is a bit longer, because it provides such delightful eye candy.

(Yes, she’s dating Cindy, but Cindy of all people understands the importance of some good eye candy.)

“Hey! Luna!”

Luna blinks and looks around when a new Kingsglaive trainee appears in front of her in a burst of warping.

Dark hair, dark eyes –

“Crowe? What’re you doing here?”

“They opened a junior wing for the Kingsglaive, since it’s still building up,” Crowe says, beaming at her. “We come here for the last few years of school and part-time with the Kingsglaive, getting us ready to join on the officer track. They’re hoping to expand.”

“That’s – great,” Luna croaks.

She hasn’t seen her in years.

Crowe’s grown.

She’s lean and dark and her eyes are flashing and her cheeks are flushed and her maned fox hindquarters are lean and sharp and –

Oh dear.

She’s very attractive.

Luna, you have a girlfriend, Luna reminds herself desperately. And Crowe is dating – uh –

“How’s your girlfriend?” Luna blurts out. “Back in Galahd?”

“No idea. We grew apart and ended up breaking up,” Crowe says cheerfully, totally unphased. “It happens. How about you? You seeing anyone?”

“Uh – yes – there’s this girl –”

“Heya, bambi girl!” a familiar voice trills out. “You ready for lunch?”

“Cindy!” Luna exclaims, relieved. Show, not tell; that will surely make this conversation easier.

Right?

Cindy hops over. “You were running late,” she says with a grin. “Oh – and who’s this?”

“Crowe Altius,” Crowe says, sticking out her hand, her eyes going a bit round in appreciation, which is pretty much everyone’s usual response to Cindy. “Nice to meet you.”

“Cindy Aurum,” Cindy purrs. She’s got a surprisingly good purr for a jackrabbit. “And darling, trust me, the pleasure’s all mine.”

Luna’s in trouble.

Good trouble, bad trouble, she’s not sure yet – but definitely trouble.

“You’re – you’re serious?” Ravus says, staring at his mother over the dining room table.

“That the ruler of Tenebrae has always been the Oracle is more tradition than any legal requirement,” Sylvia says, smiling at her son.

“Trust me, I’ve checked,” Scientia interjects. “At length. With some difficulty, because your libraries are still being reconstructed.”

“It’s unseemly to brag about doing your job,” Sylvia jibs back, rolling her eyes.

Scientia sniffs. “I didn’t have to take the job.”

“Why are you even here?” Sylvia complains. “I know we agreed to have joint family dinners, but Luna’s off on date night and the younger children are all sleeping over somewhere –”

“I always could go, you know,” Scientia says. “I’ll just be taking the food I brought with me.”

“You can stay,” Ravus says quickly.

“Ravus!”

“Sorry, Mom. But the food is really good.” He shrugs when she glares at him. “It is!”

“Well, yes, it is,” Sylvia concedes. “But we’re getting away from the point.”

“That you still owe me one?” Scientia coughs into her hand.

“One day you two will have to explain that,” Ravus says. “But first – you actually want – you want me to inherit the throne of Tenebrae?”

“You’re my eldest son,” Sylvia says. “And you love the blue hills of Tenebrae as much as I do. Luna – well, Luna’s young. She may yet grow into the role, but I don’t think so. Right now, she wants to explore, to travel – she wants to be a healer, not a queen, and she’d never have the patience for all of hard work of ruling a country. You do.”

“And you don’t – what I did –”

“You need to learn to forgive yourself,” Scientia says crisply. “Accept your failures, understand them, decide not to do them again, and move on.”

“Are you the one with experience ruling a country here or am I?” Sylvia asks acidly.

“Were you going to give him any other advice?”

“That isn’t the point –”

“What would I have to do?” Ravus interrupts, looking at his mother with wide eyes. “Going forward?”

“Not much different than what you do now,” Sylvia says. “You stand by my side, you watch and you learn – Tenebrae’s going to be independent now, and that’ll be a learning experience for both of us. You’ll have a lot more classes in a hundred different subjects – but you’ll have me to guide you through it. Is that something you want?”

“Yes,” Ravus says, smiling so hard it looks like it hurts. “Yes. I do.”

“All right, you’ve got the set up down, right?” Noctis says into his headset microphone, looking around him to confirm that everyone else on his side is set up, too.

Prompto gives him a thumbs-up and Gladio grins.

Ignis just stares at his screen, but that’s okay; he always does that right before they go in. Prompto likes to joke that he’s calibrating.

Noctis doesn’t really care, since whatever it is, it seems to work. Ignis is deadly.

“Yeah, we’re good, assuming your pathetic connections can keep up with ours,” the voice says over the headset, snotty and arrogant as always.

Ugh, Noctis can’t believe they’re friends with this jerk.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, Loqi,” Gladio replies. “We’re gonna kick you and your friends’ hindquarters even with you Niffs tearing down all our towers to get yourself a leg up.”

“Yeah, right,” Loqi snorts. “You just want an excuse to explain how bad you’re going to lose.”

“You wish.”

“Enough chatter on the lines,” Ignis says, his voice dark and somehow incredibly intimidating. “Let’s get started.”

“What Iggy said,” Noctis adds, to help fill the cowed silence in the wake of Ignis’ declaration. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

“I’m just happy that they finally expanded this MMORPG to be cross-border,” Prompto says happily. His tail is wagging like mad, but then, he’s always been remarkably unaffected by Ignis’ unparalleled skill at trash talk. “It was getting boring just fighting Lucian teams all the time.”

“No kidding,” one of Loqi’s friends – Noctis doesn’t know her name, just her user handle – says. “The league in Niflheim has been dull as dust ever since Gralea basically dropped off the usenet for a while there.”

“Consider less censorship,” Gladio recommends.

“Says the people who weren’t allowed on the network at all for how long?”

“We were on a different network, moron.”

“I still think we should be allowed to bring in an electronic avatar version of the Kaiser Behemoth,” one of the other Niff kids says.

“You’re not allowed to,” Prompto says. “You just be glad we let you keep the Kaiser Behemoth. The real one, I mean.”

“The Kaiser Behemoth’s pretty awesome,” the Niff – presumably from Gralea – concedes.

Noctis decides to ignore them all and click on the loading screen. Everyone quiets down as soon as they see it, mentally planning their first moves once their avatars all get dropped into the same landscape – chosen at random, as is only fair.

The best part of this, he thinks happily, is that he can even tell his parents that he was ‘fostering a further relationship with peers in Niflheim’ or whatever they’re calling it nowadays.

The screen finishes loading.

“Glory to the empire!” Loqi shouts gleefully, his character leaping forward.

“Long live Lucis!” Gladio shoots back, his own character jumping up to intercept.

"Long live Eos!" Noctis laughs.

And the game begins.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: And that's all she wrote, folks! (Literally.) I hope you enjoyed the story!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Nocturne (26/30) - Ao3 Link

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairings: Mostly Gen

Summary: In which Cor Leonis loses his temper, accidentally acquires a kid, and tries to single-handedly dismantle the Lucian immigration system – and that’s before he and his lawyers find out about this Prophecy business. If the Astrals think Cor’s going to let his kid’s best friend die without a fight, they’ve gotten the wrong cheetah ‘taur.

(a young adult novel set in @kickingshoes’ ‘taur AU)

———————————————————————��—————— ——————————————————————————————

Sylvia staggers out of the cave, shading her eyes against the light of the winter sun - her fur covered in pieces of rock and dust, her hooves slipping a little on the slick volcanic rock underneath.

She looks up.

Niflheim airships fill the sky, their banners unfurled and flapping in the breeze.

It's a more familiar sight than Sylvia would like to admit. She's pretended for years that Tenebrae was an equal power to Niflheim, or at least that Niflheim was nothing more a distant overlord when her powers of self-delusion failed her: Tenebrae was hers, to rule and to care for, and she thought that she could preserve their quality of life that way. To be sure, Niflheim came often, and she received them with grace and dignity, as a monarch to an emperor.

It was a lie, of course.

Niflheim showed her that lie when they pulled the leash tight at last, spurred on by Chancellor Izunia's quest to destroy the line of Lucis and the Oracle.

They came into her country and attacked her in her own home, and all the stories she'd spun to herself – that they wouldn't dare pay her such an affront lest the people rise up in defense of their Oracle – dissolved into the mist they always were, ground down under the heels of Niflheim's MT soldiers, who cared nothing for whether anyone would rise up and would never permit it to happen anyway, no matter how high the cost.

And so Sylvia sees the Niflheim ships in the air, and she remembers the day they came to Tenebrae with their armies of mechanical monsters, wielding sword and gun and flame, and she stares at them blankly, unmoving, even as the bellies of the ships open up and their payload of bombs begins to fall.

"Watch out!" someone calls, and then Sylvia is falling very ignominiously onto her side as someone barrels into her, knocking her over a ridge just as a bomb hits the place where she was just standing.

She coughs and wipes the dust upended by the explosion out of her eyes, and sees –

"Counsel Scientia?! What are you doing here?!"

"I'm an ibex," Scientia says briskly. "When we saw the bombing start, we came up here, quick as we could, and I can climb mountains faster than all the rest. Good thing, too, what with you standing around gawking like an idiot."

Sylvia opens her mouth to say something cutting in return – she is absolutely intolerable, this Scientia – and then abruptly realizes the terrible truth. "You just saved my life."

"Think nothing of it," Scientia says, blinking a little owlishly from behind her glasses – she clearly hadn't thought about it either, and seems equally horrified by the idea of a life debt between them. "I'm sure you'll have ample opportunity to repay the favor soon enough, as I am entirely without any martial abilities whatsoever."

"You – you can't fight? At all?"

"I'm a lawyer," Scientia says, sounding aggravated. "Jokes about my ability to eviscerate someone using only my sharp tongue aside, the closest I've ever gotten to murder is when I consider bludgeoning co-counsel with their own overstuffed binders."

"Then why are you even here?!" Sylvia demands.

Scientia looks at her like she's stupid – a not uncommon look on her face, and likely the reason that Sylvia developed such an immediate antipathy upon meeting her in person – and says, "Because of Luna, of course. You hardly think I'd let a few magitek soldiers stand in my way if she was in danger, would you?"

Sylvia recalls the massed army at the base of the mountain, but then her own instincts hit her with the force of one of Niflheim's bombs and she starts struggling back up to her hooves. "Lunafreya – Ravus – they were in the cave – it was collapsing – did they make it out?"

"No," Scientia says, looking around. "I don't see them. Did you see if they were merely stuck, or if there was some more space in there for them go?"

"What sort of question is that?"

"A useful one. Stop panicking and think."

Sylvia forces herself to remember those last few moments inside, hazy and confused – leaping to the side to only just avoid a falling rock, Ravus charging forward at full speed, Luna falling backwards, her eyes going wide as her hooves slipped and she began to slide –

"There was a tunnel, further in," she says, opening her eyes – she hadn't realized she'd shut them. "They all fell down the tunnel: Lunafreya, and Ravus, and Prince Noctis."

"Good."

"Good?!"

"They're probably alive then, aren't they?" Scientia points out. She's as calm as ever, the cold fish. Nothing ever moves her. It drives Sylvia up the wall. "Better than the alternative."

"You realize they're alone in there," Sylvia points out. "Facing who-knows-what."

"I'm well aware of that," Scientia snaps. Honestly snaps, which is something of a surprise; Sylvia is accustomed to the other woman being utterly unflappable. "But Luna is fifteen and well-trained, and Prince Ravus is now seventeen and presumably equally well-trained. They are quite capable of escaping this alive. We will simply have to hope for the best, because there's nothing else to do about it."

Sylvia studies her for a moment, taken aback by Scientia’s highly uncharacteristic vehemence. "You really do care quite deeply about Lunafreya."

It's not that she didn't know it, really, but it hadn't ever really seemed that important in comparison to her own need to get her suddenly too-adult, suddenly distant baby back.

"Of course I do," Scientia says stiffly. "Neither of us are particularly effusive individuals, you and I, but it would be a mistake to think that my reticence is due to a lack of emotion rather than a desire not to interfere with your reunion, however many mistakes you seem determined to make."

"Mistakes!" Sylvia exclaims, her sympathy evaporating. "What mistakes –"

"Ladies!" Cor shouts. "Maybe now is not the time!"

They turn downhill in his direction, both of them scowling and ready to shout at him for his interference, and then they see the MT armies from the bottom of the hill charging up at them.

"Oh dear," Scientia says. "Sylvia, that opportunity to return the favor appears to have arrived."

Sylvia summons her Trident into her hands, secretly relieved that it comes as swiftly as always despite her gift of it to Prince Noctis.

"That may indeed be the case," she says, stepping in front of Scientia. She might not like the 'taur, but she will certainly protect her.

Besides, even putting aside her duty as the Oracle to defend the lives of innocent ‘taurs, there is always the fact that Scientia, having known Lunafreya these past five years, might actually have some insight into her daughter – or, for instance, into the background of that lovely jackrabbit that showed up at the last minute and insisted on joining the back-up army on the grounds that her girlfriend was going ahead with the royal party.

Given Luna's earlier mention and the extremely low chance that Aulea has abruptly developed a taste for barely-turned-eighteen-year-olds, Sylvia suspects she knows who the relevant girlfriend in question is.

"Say,” she says, “earlier, when you were listing off characteristics to ensure the survival of the children, you mentioned that both Luna and Ravus are well-trained. Wouldn't it be more correct to also mention Noctis?"

"Noctis is trained," Scientia says. "The addition of the phrase 'well' may be less than entirely appropriate, given his overwhelming inclination towards sloth."

"Sadly, as much as I adore him, I'm forced to agree," Aulea interjects, coming up from behind them. She's holding a gun very confidently. "Come this way, Regis and I found a ridge that will give us the high ground without losing visibility. If we can get a break through the fighting, we'll signal the Niflheim ships and try to see if we can get a ceasefire – it appears that the MTs have started attacking both sides."

Sylvia glances up. It takes her a second to see clearly, but she confirms that there is fighting aboard the Niflheim ships, the largely 'taur pilots and crew fighting with the on-board MT troops that appear to have turned on them.

Given the stories Sylvia has heard – and Regis has confirmed – regarding how MTs are formed, it suddenly makes sense why the Accursed teamed up with Niflheim. It wasn't just to spread the Starscourge, but to do so in the most efficient way possible. And now it appears that Niflheim, falling for his promises of power, quite literally built him an army.

They probably should have thought of that before betraying him, Sylvia thinks spitefully, before reminding herself that the interests of her people – and peace – come first, and therefore that she should pray that the ceasefire is successful rather than for the ruin of the yet-loyal soldiers of Niflheim.

It just might take a while before she really believes that. The memory of her violated house remains very near to her hearts.

"Aren't you concerned, then?" Sylvia asks Aulea, gesturing for Scientia to go first and covering her tail as she hops easily up the mountain. "About Noctis, I mean? If he's not well-trained?"

"Well," Aulea says wryly. "I mostly comfort myself by reminding myself that Noctis can summon Astrals now. That helps a remarkable amount."

"What do you mean, your summoning powers don't work?" Ravus demands, glaring at Noctis as if that's going to change the answer.

Luna glares at him. “Ravus, this isn’t helping,” she says shortly. “And if it matters, I can’t seem to use my abilities, either.”

Ravus immediately goes concerned. “You can’t? Are you well, does it –”

“I’m fine,” she hisses. “Noctis, how are you doing?”

“I’m okay, other than my magic being cut off,” Noctis says, very carefully not interjecting himself into the argument. He’s staring firmly at a blank wall, actually. They must be making a terrible scene. “I can’t even summon a basic sword right now.”

“Maybe it has something to do with this place,” Luna suggests. “Or some trap that Ardyn set up.”

The fact that the place where they have fallen is clearly not the further extension of a cavern suggests the latter, in fact. Luna's not sure how Ardyn intended to get them to fall backwards through a wall into that particular hole in the ground, but slick volcanic rock had quickly given way to the even slicker slide of sheer metals and plastics, and they'd slid all the way down some sort of ventilation shaft until they'd reached the bottom where – luckily – the gigantic fan with its shear-like arms wasn't working.

Couldn't be working, in fact: it was rusted solid, half-eaten away, and covered in dust.

But it'd been easy enough to duck through the fan and then for Ravus to kick his way through the opening on the other side, and they were able to exit the shaft through the narrow doorway shaped like a thin vertical rectangle rather than the more traditional square. It's a good thing none of them have particularly sizeable hindquarters or they would’ve had trouble fitting through.

Beyond the doorway was what was immediately recognizable, at least to Luna, as some sort of laboratory, even if there wasn't any equipment in the hallway they were standing in - linoleum tiles, blank-washed walls, dull yet perfectly even lighting suggesting the use of a local generator, a certain sense of sterility that makes her expect to see people in white coats or possible hazmat suits wandering around.

The only thing that's strange about it is how much dust there is. Dust, and cracks, and even intrepid but very strange-looking plants making their way through the walls, somehow, even this far down into a volcano.

This place, Luna concludes, is very old – and long abandoned.

"Even if it is a trap, we should go and find Ifrit," Noctis says.

"And what makes you think he'll be here?" Ravus asks scornfully. "Given that the boar-god is dead and –"

"A lab makes sense," Noctis interrupts. His back is unusually straight and he looks Ravus in the eyes. There’s something reminiscent of his father in the way he looks now, older than his ten years, and the way that Ravus falls silent in the face of that gaze. "Given that the remaining copy of Ifrit’s memory is supposed to be located in deep storage. This is as deep as it gets without going into the ocean. We need to find the computer banks."

"Because you think the Astrals are actually computer programs," Ravus says, rallying once more. It's clear from his tone that he thinks that Noctis' shocking discovery – which caused even most adults Luna knew to decide to put the implications aside and not think too hard about them – is not even worthy of consideration. "Right. The literal gods that we worship. Of course; how could I forget?"

Ravus clearly never believes anyone about anything, so perhaps it's reasonable that he also doubts Noctis about this.

Reasonable, but still infuriating.

Is it just Ravus, or are all seventeen-year-old boys this obnoxious?

"Ravus," Luna says tightly. "Noctis discovered that fact from – no, you know what? Never mind. You won’t believe me anyway, so why don’t you just shut up? Noctis and I will go exploring. You can stay here if you like."

"I'm not staying back here while you go into danger," Ravus snaps.

"Suit yourself," Luna says icily. "Come along, Noctis. Where to first?"

"Oh, boy, this is going to be so much fun," Noctis mumbles, his back returning to its habitual slouch as the aura of force he had for a few seconds there fades away. He doesn't appear to be very sincere, which isn't entirely in keeping with his usual approach to adventure - though Luna supposes it makes sense, given how much he dislikes intra-family fighting. "Okay, let's try going to the left first."

They check through the window of each door they pass by, but it's almost all the same – desks mostly rotted away, lab equipment of some arcane variety, mostly dials and measuring equipment insofar as Luna recognizes it, and where there are computers, they are clearly inoperable.

"Everything here is ancient," Noctis marvels. "It's like one of those horror video games, where at any turn something might jump out and –"

"Noctis," Luna says. "Not helpful."

Even if she'd been maybe-kinda-sorta thinking the same thing.

Iggy likes horror games, he feels that they have more 'depth' than other video games, and the game play is rather mesmerizing...especially when Luna's doing homework in the same room...

"The maps on the walls indicate that we're heading deeper into the facility," Ravus says. "Rather than doing the intelligent thing and heading out."

"Given how everything is rusting away to dust, you're being awfully presumptuous in assuming there even is a way out," Luna says archly. "Maybe if we go to those doors, the only thing we'll find will be the skeletons of the people who tried desperately and unsuccessfully to escape before the end."

"Lunafreya," Ravus says. "That is not helpful."

Noctis shoots her a thumbs up from behind Ravus' back.

Luna hides a smirk and takes a step over to the next window, intending on a brief scan before moving on – they stopped bothering with any in-depth sort of review fairly early on – and then she sees it and freezes.

The other two continue walking for another taurlength, then realize they're leaving her behind.

"Luna?" Ravus asks. "Did you find something?"

"Are they skeletons?" Noctis asks interestedly.

"No," Luna says. "Worse."

She pushes open the door and walks inside to better inspect the item that caught her interest.

"Is that what caught your attention?" Ravus says, standing by the door to hold it open as Noctis peers in over his back. "Really, Lunafreya? It's an item of furniture."

"Yes," Luna says solemnly, inspecting it with no little sense of wonder. "It is."

"What is it, though?" Noctis asks. "It's like a chair, just way too small. You can barely fit your hindquarters into it – you can't, actually. If you put your hindquarters in it, your forelegs would need to be standing up; if you put your forepaws in it, your hindquarters would be on the floor...some sort of medical assistive device, maybe? Like when people break their hindleg and need to wheel around?"

"No, Noctis," Luna says. "Your first guess was right: this is a chair."

"Why, exactly, are we devoting time to an inadequately made chair?" Ravus asks.

"It's perfectly adequate," Luna says. "If the person sitting in it doesn't have hindquarters."

"Doesn't have – what are you talking about –"

"Oh!" Noctis exclaims, interrupting Ravus. His eyes are wide. "Luna, you can't mean – a chair for humans?"

"It would explain how old everything is," Luna points out. "A human laboratory, from the days of Solheim, left abandoned after the Great Astral War –"

"They would have abandoned it when Ifrit was laid to rest here," Ravus says. His face is a little pale. "That explains why all the doors are so narrow - a human is about the same length as they are width around, so there's no consideration of someone trying to go through the door sideways or having large hind-quarters. Luna – the historical relevance of such a discovery – not to mention what diseases might be here, locked away in these walls like a tomb –"

"I'm a healer, remember?"

"One who can’t use her powers right now," Ravus points out. "And even if you could, you can't heal everything, or else –"

He cuts himself off, but Luna knows what he was going to say.

Or else you would have healed me by now.

"I am trying my hardest, you know," she says resentfully. "It's not that easy –"

"I know you are," he says, holding up a hand. "Nothing else ever crossed my mind, not for a second."

Luna considers his face, which seems sincere, and decides that she'll be appeased, just this once. After all, he's her brother and he's scared, she knows that. "Well, anyway," she says, shaking her head and heading back to the door. "I don't think there's anything more to – oh, Ramuh! There's a map in here!"

"So?" Noctis says, blinking at her. "There's been a map every half-hallway."

"This one's labelled – no, don't come in! Someone needs to hold the door in case it locks automatically."

Ravus has already come inside, but Noctis catches the door. "I've got it," he says. "Is there a computer bank?"

"It's not labelled," Ravus says with a frown.

"Yes, it is," Luna says. "See those raised bumps? That's the language for the blind."

"Wouldn't it have changed over the years?"

"Probably," Luna says, crestfallen. "But it's worth a try."

She runs her fingers over the words. They're not quite in any language she recognizes – though if she thinks of them as letters, instead of words, and thinks of her lessons in pre-Solheim dialects (thank you, Mr. Tenebrius, for all those boring ancient pottery lectures! Something Luna never thought she'd ever say!) – and then she has it.

"This one!" she points. "It says 'back'-something – or, uh, possibly hide-something, maybe tail, it's not always that easy to tell – anyway, I think it means that it's the computer room because the next word is 'server' – or maybe waiter – but assuming it's 'server' as in 'computer server', then that's what we're looking for."

"It's several floors down," Ravus says with a frown. "Isn't that a bad idea in a horror movie, going down?"

Luna hides a grin. Now even Ravus is doing it.

“At least we’re not splitting up,” Noctis points out.

Ravus makes a face.

Thus agreed, they march down the corridor to the stairwell – they don’t even bother checking the dusty elevator banks, which everyone unanimously agrees is an obvious death trap – and head down to the sublevels.

“Is it just me, or are we getting warmer?” Noctis asks. "Like - literally warmer, not metaphorically."

“It’s not just you,” Luna agrees, wiping some sweat off her brow. “Maybe that’s a good sign?”

“Or simply a sign that we’re heading down a volcano,” Ravus says gloomily.

He’s not necessarily wrong.

The computer room, when they find it, is absolutely massive – and, unlike the majority of lab, unmistakably alive.

“Okay,” Noctis says after a moment of staring at the rows and rows and rows of gigantic black-metal machines, each glowing with dozens of pinpricks of red light, the whole room humming with power, “now I’m officially creeped.”

“At least we found…something?” Luna offers. She’s creeped, too.

“Well, we should go inside – ouch!”

“Noctis!”

“I’m okay,” Noctis says, sticking his fingers into his mouth. “The doorway just gave me an electric shock when I tried to go through it.”

Luna turns her attention to the doorway, frowning. She reaches out and tries to put her hand through the door, feeling a little foolish as she does, and feeling decidedly less foolish when her hand hits some sort of invisible barrier that promptly gives her a sharp shock when she tries to go further in. “Ouch!”

“Maybe we should consult the warning signs,” Ravus says dryly; he’s come up from behind Luna without her noticing and is standing right next to her. He nods at the wall, which has a sign with a number of unrecognizable designs on it.

And at least one very recognizable design that apparently no one bothered to change in all the centuries since Solheim: a small circle with three fans going out to form an invisible outer circle.

“Radiation warning,” Luna says, shivering. “That’s why there’s a shield, I guess?”

“It feels almost like magic,” Noctis offers, frowning at the deceptively open door. “The wall, I mean. It feels like – well, it feels like when the Kingsglaive make their walls. A bit. Or like the Wall. Except a lot more hostile, somehow?”

“We should get out of here,” Ravus says. He seems upset, all of a sudden. “Let’s go.”

“I mean, I guess –”

There’s a sound from down the hallway.

They all look at each other.

“Follow the sound?” Noctis suggests, looking doubtful.

“I don’t see what our alternative is,” Luna says. “Except maybe running away in terror, which sounds more and more appealing every second.”

“Let’s go see what it is,” Ravus says, and marches off.

Luna has no idea what’s gotten into him that's suddenly made him so ready for action, but she hurries up into a trot and catches up to him, with Noctis loping along at her side.

The hallway is long and lit by the same dull generator-powered light as the rest of the facility, but even so Luna can tell that the door at the very end of the hallway contains a much brighter red light – so bright, in fact, that they can see the glow all around the windowless door.

It also gets noticeably hotter as they move closer to that room.

“Do you think this might be where Ifrit is?” Noctis asks. “He is the god of fire. Was the god of fire? What tense do you use for a dead god?”

“Is,” Luna says. “Shiva uses ‘is’, even though her original incarnated body is still lying dead in Ghorovas Rift.”

“Are you still in contact with Gentiana?” Ravus asks, side-eying her a little.

Luna flushes. “Only sometimes,” she says primly. “And we don’t talk about her being Shiva.”

Gentiana’s rule, but one that Luna’s more than happy to follow. Every once in a while she remembers that she’s gossiping about her relationship developments (the Crowe v. Cindy debate! Crowe eventually finding a new girlfriend back on Galahd, thereby solving that problem! Cindy inviting Luna for a midnight ride and Luna stressing out for hours if it was a date or not! The sheer excitement of finding out that yes, in fact, it was a date! Finally ‘tauring up and asking Cindy to be her girlfriend! Agreeing that they're going to stick to kissing for now until Luna feels more ready!) with an actual goddess and she gets weirded out by it all, but she refuses to give it up. Gentiana is too good a confidant, and anyway, Gentiana seems to enjoy it just as much.

Still weird to think about, which is why Luna firmly doesn’t whenever possible.

“Should we go inside?” Noctis asks, gnawing at his lower lip and staring at the door with the red light and the heat.

“I don’t think we have a choice at this point,” Luna says, but she doesn’t move. None of them do; they just stand there and stare at the door.

After a few seconds, Noctis audibly gulps and takes a step forward, reaching for the door.

“Wait!” Ravus exclaims. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out one of his gloves. “Use this – the door handle might be hot.”

“Thanks. Good idea.” Noctis takes one glove and uses it to gingerly wrap around the door handle, then he pulls it open.

There’s an unexpected pull, as if of wind, and they all stumble straight into the room, even Noctis, and the door swings ominously shut behind them. It’s a vast room, filled with computer stations and laboratory equipment, and at the end of the room there is a giant set of thick metal doors with the radiation symbol painted on them.

And sitting before them all, there he is: Ifrit, the Infernian, in all of his towering glory.

The boar-god isn’t as large as some of the other Astrals have been when they manifested, but he still towers over the three of them, a dozen feet tall and nearly as long, a massive presence that dominates the room even as he reclines in an equally massive throne surrounded by flame.

“Oh,” Luna says, trying not to gulp. She’s faced Astrals before, but they don’t normally have an expression of such blank indifference on their face. Still, she’s the Oracle, and speaking to the Astrals is her duty. She steps forward. “Infernian,” she calls. “We have come, Oracle and Chosen King –” To be, she mentally adds. “– and we seek an audience with you.”

“You entered my domain,” he says, and his face suddenly twitches to the side, twisting into a terrible snarl of rage before returning to its uninterested expression. “You are invaders – you are here to steal -”

Steal?

“We’re not here to steal anything,” Luna says quickly. “We’re –”

“You cannot have them,” Ifrit says, his booming voice easily overriding hers. “No one may have them. The forbidden weapons were locked away and banned, and no living being may access them.”

“Weapons?” Ravus asks. "What weapons?"

“No one may have them,” Ifrit says again. He’s not speaking to them, Luna realizes; he’s reciting some long-ago speech, set like a hound to watch for intruders without discrimination – reduced, perhaps, to the unthinking computer program he was once long ago. What a terrible fate for a living creature, no matter how mechanical their origin. “You have come to steal them, and for this you will die.”

“No,” Luna says. “You don’t understand, we’re here to seek the Covenant –”

Ravus tackles her to the floor just in time for the burst of flame to explode over her head.

“Noctis!” she shouts, but Noctis has also taken cover behind one of the computer stations in the room.

“I’m okay!” he shouts back. “Luna – these forbidden weapons he's talking about – do you think he means the nukes? The ones that nearly destroyed the world? They’re here?”

“That would explain the radiation symbol,” Luna says, scooting herself back behind one of the other computer stations, Ravus scrambling to join her. That’s absolutely horrifying – she’d always thought they were gone, somehow – and she really hopes Noctis is wrong, but she thinks he’s probably right.

She peers around the side of the station. Ifrit is still sitting there, but his face keeps changing: initially calm and indifferent, then metamorphosing into terrible rage for a split second, then returning to the original state.

Rage…

That reminds her. Titan, too, had been struggling with rage – here, though, there is no struggle. Ifrit is consumed by rage, but cannot control himself, the rage breaking free at random intervals even without any impetus.

“He’s been corrupted with the Starscourge,” Luna calls, even as Noctis scrambles from one computer station to another as Ifrit throws flame at the one he had been at before. “Much worse than Titan was. He won’t listen to us – I don’t think he even can anymore.”

“We still have to get that Covenant,” Noctis calls back. His face is white. “The MTs outside...”

An army. And Lucis had brought its own army, too, and with Luna and Ravus and Noctis missing, their parents would almost certainly order an attack.

There would be battle, and with battle – death. So much death.

And all for nothing, if they do not succeed here.

“We have to get it,” she agrees, and stands up.

“What are you doing?” Ravus demands.

“What I need to,” she says, and grabs one of the weird human chairs and throws it right at Ifrit.

After all, there are many different ways of defeating an Astral to obtain the mark of their Covenant – and one of those ways is the obvious.

“Oh for the love of – here, use this at the very least,” Ravus says, pushing a long knife into her hand. He has another in his own; he must have smuggled them in his jacket. “I’ll keep an eye on Noctis; he’s hopeless.”

Noctis has started throwing whatever he can get his hands on – usually broken computer parts – at Ifrit, and missing half the time.

“You’re – letting me do this on my own?” Luna asks, a little stupidly.

“I should’ve listened to you,” Ravus tells her. “About – everything. I should’ve given you that respect. And part of that respect is knowing that if my baby sister can wipe the floor with me in the middle of a temper tantrum, Ifrit won’t know what hit him.”

Amazing, really, how Ravus can be simultaneously so incredibly awesome but also annoying at the same time.

Must be a brother thing.

“Go save Noctis from his own laziness,” Luna says, beaming at Ravus. “I’m on Ifrit.”

She rounds the other side of the computer station – Ifrit is snarling at Noctis, who finally managed to score a direct hit, pegging the Astral in the head with a spare microscope – and charges into Ifrit’s blind spot, slashing with the knife and then leaping away just in time, his burst of flame very nearly singeing her small tuft of a tail.

Ravus goes in from the other side as Ifrit turns to her, slashing down low and aiming for his forelegs, and Ifrit’s seated position interferes with his attempt to dodge. Ravus falls back at once. “Now, Noctis!”

Noctis jumps up from behind the computer station and heaves something large and metallic over his head.

It hits Ifrit dead in the chest, causing the Astral to rear backwards, shake his head, and then – worryingly – rise up from his throne.

“This is going to go badly very quickly,” Luna shouts. “We can’t get his Covenant until he’s defeated – we can’t talk to him as long as he’s corrupted by the Starscourge, and my healing abilities aren’t working!”

“We need to get to his memory!” Noctis shouts back.

“What does that mean?” Ravus asks, grabbing Noctis and pulling him out of the (quite literal) line of fire.

“The computer banks! They’re the only other thing in this whole complex that’s still active, and he’s an AI, remember? If we purge his memory and restart, we might be able to talk to a non-corrupted version of him!”

“But we can’t enter the computer banks!” Luna points out, then notices that Ravus has gone still. “Ravus, duck!”

He dodges, just barely missing the missile of flame Ifrit sends out with a wave of his hand.

“You can’t lose attention like that,” Luna scolds, ducking behind a computer station. "We're in the middle of a fight, you know, it's dangerous to -"

“I can do it,” Ravus says.

“No, you can’t, that’s what I’m saying –”

“No, the computer banks,” he says, crouching down behind the same station as her, with Noctis at his side. “I can enter them.”

“What?” Noctis and Luna chorus together.

“I tried it, earlier,” Ravus says. “I could put my hand through, where neither of you could, but when I did, my veins turned…black.”

Noctis looks confused, but Luna gets it immediately. “The Starscourge.”

“I’m infected,” Ravus confirms. “That room – I think it’s infected, too, somehow. That’s why it would let me in, but not you: you’re too pure.” He swallows. "I can go and restart the system."

"But if your hand turned black, then whatever's in that room is aggravating the Starscourge already in your system," Luna protests. "And without my abilities to heal you – and who knows where Mom is –"

"I know," Ravus says. "It's okay. I'll do it anyway." He smiles shakily. "We're at war, right? For the future?"

Luna hugs him. "You come back right away," she says fiercely in his ear. "Right away, and we'll find our way out of this place, and we'll heal you. You got that? Don't you dare die on me."

He just hugs her back. "Keep an eye on Noctis, will you?"

"I can –" Noctis starts, but then Ravus hands him the knife and it looks like it hits Noctis all at once, the fact that they might die here. "Oh."

"Good luck," Ravus says, and then he's gone.

"Noctis, we've got to keep Ifrit distracted so he doesn't notice what Ravus is doing," Luna says. She can't think about the fact that her brother - her brother, who she's finally made up with, who she adores and forgives and wants back at her side already - is going off into such terrible danger. She can't, or else she's going to get fried - and she'd really rather not be fried 'taur. "That's our job, you and me. Okay?"

Noctis nods. "Got it."

"Let's go!"