#{ malas pitch / chapter one }

[dxmergues]

No, he was not lurking around the brothel because he wanted entertainment, nor a job, nor to rob anyone.  It was no one’s fault it was near the docks.

Of course, staying hidden in the shadows was easier said than done, and he didn’t know that there would be a group of these… bodyguards watching over the women and clientele that came in and out.  In hindsight, he could see where the concern lied.  Alex had been hiding about near some barrels, and found himself staring at a woman who was walking towards the building.  She happened to see him, with his reddened eyes and fangs, and obviously sounded the alarm - how could he blame her?

He’d already explained this all, but a lackey went to go and get his boss and now Alex was sitting face to standing face with an intimidating man, strapped to a chair with the veins in and under his eyes popped out, his teeth sharper and thicker.  “I was trying to go fishing, that’s it!” he insisted, before the other even had a chance to speak.  “I don’t want to feed on people, I have no self control, hence why I was staring - which, as I’ve said, I am sorry.”

@deathsdogma

[lxwlers]

Ivy had spent a long time in the fair city of Destarin, and luckily, there were many other faces that had done just the same. It was comforting, knowing others in the neighborhood for so long without the threat of age or mortal ailments coming between (Ivy wasn’t one who conspired with too many mortals, admittedly. Most of her family and tastes in friends were on the supernatural side). Ivy didn’t always like change, and didn’t have to face it so often given her species and how she spent her time.

Malas was one of those people. They had arrived in the city under far different circumstances - Ivy moving after her father had passed away to be with her mother’s side of the family, a culture shock given where she had come from. She had often liked to take long walks in the city, at night preferably, and was never all that concerned about anything happening to her. One harsh scratch, to draw blood, and her venom would paralyze the recipient. That happened to occur with Malas, a striking conversation with a striking man in a tavern by the docks. A simple wager she had lost - and while she was fine with losing back then, what she wasn’t fine with was seeing how more of her coin was taken out from under her nose before she even realized. Chastising herself for being naive came later, but she quickly followed him out from the bar and with one clawed slice… he didn’t go down.

Expecting some kind of resistance - her one saving grace - and seeing none, there was a still moment where he now had a deep cut in the back of his neck and they both were face to face. They ended up having a good laugh about it and after seeing his living conditions, didn’t even argue over the stolen coin. She appreciated his tenacity, though, and through that a friendship had blossomed over the years. Ivy would darken his doorstep and vice versa in boredom, in excitement, in frustration, and she found he was a good confidant - there was an honesty about him she felt she didn’t get from many others.

Ivy was reading a book she had checked out of a library earlier, nude under his covers while he was off in another room, perhaps getting redressed. Neither of them got much sleep, so while it was the dead of night for others, she was still wide awake. “How’s the brothel?” she called. “I feel like I should ask how your life is going every so often, I haven’t for awhile.”

@deathsdogma

[oialeamante]

Enyalië

“I promised to reveal your memories if you ever asked. I will unlock repressed memories Alarderei. Your warning to yourself if this moment ever arrived was, ‘Mala’” (Pain). Her father said as he braced himself.

She readied herself with a shaky breath into her knotted stomach. 

Her father placed his hand on her forehead, a warm buzz in his fingers tickling her skin as he cast a spell to unlock her repressed memories.

A young elf, radiating in the sun as he laughs. She’s standing directly in front of him.

She is mid waltz in a ballroom, her and the elf are trying to keep up with the music.

She’s in the lower city by the park. The young elf walks with her, he looks nervous and makes a high pitched laugh.

The elf is holding her hand as tears roll down her face over something he said. She is overwhelmed with joy.

Her ribs ache as she makes a strained and exasperated cry. She remembers everything. 

Her legs cannot move fast enough down the steps, every step feels like sinking into mud as she blazes down the path back to her home. Her body is shaking, every breath she takes hurts more than the last. She is light-headed as she reaches towards the front door.

The door flings open as she uses every ounce of strength in her body. Her knees buckle and she collapses on the the floor. Every movement is slow and painful but her mind only has one thought. She crawls towards her bedroom.

Astarion sits alarmed and upright the moment they make eye contact. 

Before she could even process the weight of gravity she’ll need to force through to stand back up on her legs, she’s already standing in front of a wardrobe in her room.

The doors fly open and she lifts the lid on a hidden compartment. She pulls out an intricate white and silver gown covered in brocade and turns to face Astarion.

Astarion stares at the gown, his eyes shifting as he processes a faint memory of the garment in front of him.

Emma Lath.(My Love) she gasps to him.

Astarion remembers the girl under the tree with white hair.

A young elf is concentrating on casting a spell, he is watching her. He’s impressed.

The elf is smiling at him on a balcony in the upper city. She is the center of his universe.

His chest is burning with sorrow as he cries in the kennel.

Astarion stares down at his pallid hands as humiliation impales his chest. 

He disgraced her. He deliberately sought to manipulate her without a regard to her life. He calculated moves to fornicate her body. He is a fucking worm. Disgusting. Worthless.

Emma Lath. (My Love) She pleads to Astarion again.

She gently raises Astarion’s face to meet hers. They can barely see each other through their tears.

Ceno Nin. (Look at me) She trembles at the shame in Astarion’s eyes. Emma Lath. (My Love)

Va. (No) Astarion utters in dread.

Astarion’s shame is petrifying. He remembers her. They were in love and planning the next chapter of their lives together. He died. He couldn’t leave Cazador’s palace. He cried in devastation until his throat was gnawed and throbbing from weeks of overuse. He was chained for years in the kennel. The first time he left Cazador’s palace he fought his control over him to try to escape. All he wanted was to run back to Alarderei. Cazador broke every bone in his body when he returned home from his hunt empty handed.

He pressed her memory deep down along with everything else from his previous life. He had become a pathetic slave that would never leave the grasp of Cazador. Her memory faded with his will to live. He wanted to die but couldn’t. He left everything behind in the grave, but doesn’t remember when. 

whime emma lath. (Why my love)

nányë úlaitima (I am a disgrace)

tye coile (You’re alive). She pushes Astarion desperately into her arms. She mourned him for so long. She begged her father to help her forget. Her father complied because he did not know how else to soothe her unending misery. He is alive and in her arms. Exactly where she dreamed Astarion to return for so long.

Mime mel. (My Love) Astarion crumbles in her arms. Lightning crashes into every nerve in his body as he recalls the love for each other back then.

Astarion kisses her, lips quivering as he forces cries back down his throat. He feels everything. Happiness. Sorrow. Anger. Relief.

After centuries apart, he is back in the arms of his one true love. Alarderei. 

[fluffyfranny]

Ayooo! Lil update for this series and the upcoming ones: I'm having the incredible honor of working with @yaysof11037! She will be posting the "Daily Life" segments for each chapter pre- and post-trial, and I will be responsible from the body discoveries up until the executions. I would recommend reading from her perspective first to avoid any spoilers from my end. That is all! (And you're a bean for wanting to do this with me Sofie, so thank youuuu :3)

(Oh and I forgot to mention this last time I believe, but Sea Fairy is this series's protagonist :3)

I also put a LOT more time into this chapter; it's not as rushed as chapter 1, so I hope you enjoy a good chonky read!

TW for descriptions of gore/death (in Cookie terms) below the cut:

CookieRonpa: Baking Happy Havoc: Chapter 2

Trial 2:

A body has been discovered!

Sea Fairy, Mala Sauce and Pastry gawked at the corpse of their dear friend, Sandwich Cookie, blue in the face and half-slumped over a wooden bench separating two walls of lockers.

A half-eaten sandwich lay just below the hand that dangled over the edge of the bench, and a piece of what appeared to be lettuce stuck out of the corner of her mouth, making it clear that she had retired to the locker room for a quick snack before returning to the activity outside.

The trio stood staring at the body for a few seconds longer before one of them spoke up.

"WHOOOOAAA NOOOO!" Mala let out an unholy bellow that was followed by the announcement over the loudspeakers, signaling for everybody to make their way to the girls' locker room and investigate before the trial.

The stampeding of footsteps was almost immediate from the gymnasium as the rest of the Cookies approached the double doors that almost swung open and off their hinges due to the sheer force that everybody put onto them trying to squeeze into the tiny, locker-clad space.

"Y'ALL, CHILL-" Rockstar tried to shout above the rest of the clamor before being squished between Mocha Ray and Pitaya, the former letting out a brief, high-pitched squeak before she spared him a pat on the head and a sorrowful smile that practically had "sorry" written all over her, while the latter gave him the filthiest snarl and caused him to flinch.

"Watch it, punk," the Dragon hissed. "Gimme ssssssome sssspace, you cocky ssssstage freak!"

"Ay, it's not like I slaughtered thousands in ancient times, Pit!" He retorted back, but instantly regretting his decision as Pitaya practically lit up with rage and inched closer.

"What wasssss that, you little-"

Pitaya was quickly silenced by Starfruit smacking him over the head with her staff, earning a sharp hiss from the Dragon and a "HMPH!" from the astronomer when he shot a seething stare her way.

"Will you two cut the cream and pay attention?" She scoffed at them with equal ferocity, extra points for doing it in Pitaya's direction. "We've got a crumbling on our hands, and we'd appreciate the help finding the killer rather than you two going at it over some 'grudge.'"

Both of the Cookies shared one last seething stare before they returned their gazes over to Sandwich's stale corpse; Pastry was now standing at her side, reciting what sounded like a prayer.

"May the Godly Ones preserve your flourful soul and let it thrive in the sweet-"

"Hehe.." Matcha cooed from behind her cloaked sleeve. Pastry shot the shaman a glance from her peripheral vision before returning her head to a bowed position, hands clasped in front of her heart.

"May the Godly-"

"HEEHEE!" Matcha laughed more pronounced now, earning a flinch from the nun and a sharper glare, this time directed precisely at the shaman's scowling, laughter-graced smirk.

"Do you mind?" Pastry hissed. "I'm trying to assure that Sandwich here's soul has a peaceful trip up to-"

"Yeah yeah, lady, we get it," Crepe babbled from their spot on the bench directly next to the body, polishing one of their Crepe Arms with their cloak before allowing it to dissipate seemingly into thin air. "You want her to see heaven and earn the Godly Ones' blessing, blah blah blah-"

"HOW DARE YOU!" Pastry shouted, louder this time. "You have the audacity to insult our worthy Creators-"

"Enough, all of you," Timekeeper proclaimed, floating on her Sonic Embroider above the crowd, avoiding the crammed discomfort of her classmates. "We have wasted too many a minute squabbling with each other when we should, in fact, find the one among us that murdered our poor comrade."

She gestured down at poor Sandwich; Sea Fairy and Pastry were now at either side of her body, already investigating her environment.

The rest of the Cookies spared the time traveler one last hesitant glance and a collective nod before they spread apart, scouring the locker room, gym and the rest of the school for any potential hints.

As she watched the group disperse, sparing one last glance at Sandwich before she left, in close pursuit behind Sea Fairy and Pastry after they concluded their analysis of the area around the body, she scanned every new room they entered and took good, hard looks at every Cookie, eyeing them all like potential suspects.

"Even time cannot fix the impending fate about to befall one of us."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After what seemed like an eternally long hour or two of investigating, Monocookie voiced over the loudspeaker that investigation time was over, and that the REAL fun was about to start.

To hell with his idea of fun; this was gonna be like riding the highway to hell all over again.

As the remaining 12 Cookies loaded into the elevator and descended into the too familiar and feared trial room, a familiar dread bubbled in Sea Fairy's core, so much so that it could practically steam out from within her and off her watery locks.

"I have a feeling we'll have to get used to this miniature hellscape of an environment," she pondered mentally as she filed out of the elevator cage and took up a position behind her podium, in between Mocha Ray and the greyscale portrait of Cheesecake. "But for now..."

She coughed into her fist and projected for those gathered:

"Let the trial begin."

Almost immediately, Monocookie launched into the schpeal he went over the first time they had to do this.

"Well now, folks! You know the drill around these parts! Prep your finger pointing and your jam-thirsty jeers, because SOMEBODY'S crumbling tonight! The question is....whoooo?" His little feet make tiny clunking noises as he swung them back and forth against his throne out of excitement. "Now get cracking! Or all of you might if you're wrooooong!"

"I would applaud your usage of a pun in an attempt to lighten the mood for yourself," Eggnog chimed in. "But-"

"NOW AIN'T THE TIME FOR FUNNY HA-HA'S!" Mala Sauce shrieked, earning a collective flinch from the group and a meek yelp from Mocha Ray, to which Sea Fairy responded with a pat on her shoulder. The temple guard peered out of her peripheral vision to mouth a 'thank you' to her before letting out the tiniest puffs of air and squaring her shoulders in an attempt to broaden her stance and confidence.

"Now then," Sea Fairy proceeded, "shall we take into account the circumstances surrounding Sandwich's death?"

There was a faint bout of murmuring from a majority of the crowd before Pastry took the reigns.

"Her cause of death was some sort of asphyxiation," she rambled, taking a close look at the file. "But it doesn't say what variety..."

"There's varieties of ways you can...ass-fix-he-ate?" Crepe sounded out the word to the best of their ability with a tinge of sarcasm laced within their statement, followed by a snicker that they tried to hide behind a cloaked arm.

"Language, lil strawbb!" Rockstar gasped, feigning shock with a hand pressed to his chest.

"Yes, I'd recommend being cautious with your choice in words, little one," Timekeeper added on with a wag of a clothed finger. "It could mean the difference between your continued life or your undesirable demise."

"NYEK NYEK NYEK!" Monocookie could be heard chuckling to himself as this bout of trash talk was delivered. "I'm loving this sour spouting of syllables, but THAT ISN'T YOUR JOB!" His tone shifted from overjoyed to enraged in a split second. "Your ACTUAL job here is to find out which one of you doughy doo-doo heads made your now deceased deli maiden's existence a LOT more crumby!" He sealed off his sentence with another bout of snickering, much to the dismay of the students, before resuming his principal status. "NOW BACK TO WORK!"

After a few Cookies muttered less than sweet remarks towards their headmaster, they returned their attention to the file, detailing where the death took place.

"Location of death was the girls' locker room adjacent to the gymnasium," Starfruit reported.

"Time of death was approximately 11:48 AM," Mint Choco chimed in.

"That was around twelve minutes until our brief lunch hiatus during gym," Timekeeper pointed out.

"Now that you mention that," Sea Fairy pondered aloud. "She DID say that she wanted to return to the locker room for a brief moment during our activity session."

"I- I think you're right!" Mocha Ray piped up from her slightly hunched over position in front of her podium. This earned some head turns from the majority of those gathered in her direction, which took her aback for a moment as she composed herself.

"Well?" Pitaya growled. "Sssspit it out!"

"HEY, easy on Ray-Ray, Pitty!" Rockstar shouted with an exemplified pointing of the end of his guitar at the Dragon, earning him an equally fiery glare back and an upwards quirked snarl. "Let her get back into the groove of things; say any more to her like that and she'll thaw out TOO much!"

"Ohhh," Pitaya hissed with laughter. "You mean burn up? Well, I'd be more than happy to-"

"Monocookie," Starfruit interrupted. "Permission to do what I did earlier?" She lifted her staff for more emphasis. "I'm assuming you saw what was carried out during the investigation following the body announcement."

"Oohoohoo, I did indeed!" The bear giggled with a tad of menace. "I suppose I can let this slide, but don't overdo your-"

He was mid-sentence when Starfruit already made her way towards Pitaya and bonked him over the head with her staff once more, earning a yell followed by a hissy growl from him as she returned to her podium two spaces from his.

"-self." Monocookie finally finished before giggling louder after a brief pause. "I will admit, that was quite enjoyable to witness! I WAS gonna say, we wouldn't have time for two trials if you went any harder!"

Pitaya now directed a snarl at the headmaster. "You're not ssssserious about letting thissss sssslide, are you?"

"Puhuhuhu, of course I'm serious!" He giggled for an annoying third time now before his face quickly drooped. "And speaking of serious, GET BACK TO YOUR BUSINESS!" He practically almost stumbled out of his chair by how high he leaped to shake his biscuity fists at the jurors before plopping back down and folding his arms.

"Well? CHOP CHOP!"

The Red Dragon growled lowly to himself before huffing and turning his back to the principal. "Fine...now get on with what you were sssssaying, Ray!"

The temple guard flinched back into focus before swiftly nodding, her fins flapping in the air. "Oh, right, yes!" She cleared her throat before carrying on.

"I recall seeing Sandwich conferring with Mala and Sea Fairy a few minutes before confronting Monocookie. Said something about bringing her lunch out early."

The headmaster was snoring with one arm propped against the edge of his throne before snorting in his sleep and coming to his senses upon hearing his name. "Zzzzuh- huwhat? Yeah yeah, she asked if she could bring her lunch out so it wouldn't spoil in those stinky lockers, yeah yeah." He confirmed nonchalantly before resuming his tired position, but with his red eye glowing crisply as his black one remained shut.

"Well, we have his confirmation," Mint Choco stated. He turned his gaze over to Mala and Sea. "Was it true she told you two that she would leave for a moment?"

"YEAH IT-" Mala began rather loudly before Pastry cleared her throat and gave her a quizzical look that practically had "Calm yourself" written all over it. "OH yeah right, ahem! Sorry..." Mala lowered her voice an octave before continuing. "Yeah, it was true! She was just letting some fellow gal pals know just in case someone questioned her disappearance."

The chieftain now sent a sad glance Sea's way. "No wonder she did; I had a feeling this would have happened either way, letting us know or not."

Sea Fairy returned the pitiful, downturned look with a nod. "I suppose so. It probably wouldn't have mattered either way."

"Hold on a split sec!" Crepe suddenly perked up. "Did any of you ladies go into the locker room with Sand-Witchy to help her?"

"Uhm, I surely did not..." Sea Fairy comfirmed. "I stayed out in the gym with Mala after she told us she was leaving for a moment."

"Yeah, same here!" Mala agreed. "I didn't budge one bit!"

"Did anybody see Sandwich depart for the locker room with an acquaintance?" Timekeeper questioned the entirety of the trial room. She was only met with squints of eyes and hesitant sideways shakes of heads, denying their accompanying of the victim to her untimely demise.

"Well, that certainly dampens our progress just a bit-" the time traveler sighed and shook her head with a clank. "I suppose we should look back into the day before. Maybe the past will help us crack some clues."

"Hehehe-" Matcha chuckled from beneath a sleeve. "Magic time?"

Timekeeper raised an eyebrow at this sudden question. "Whatever do you mean, shaman?"

"Hoohoo!" She pointed her own staff at the Sonic Embroider that she was perched upon. "Time magic!"

"Oh? I suppose I could try..." Timekeeper leapt down from her perch and grasped the massive clock hand in both of hers.

With a dramatic spin, she banged the end of the staff down onto the floor and lifted it, then proceeded to spin it counterclockwise.

With an eyebrow raised in question, the time traveler huffed. "Hmpf, odd...a rift should have split open upon the fifth or sixth turn or so, and no later than tha-"

She was cut off suddenly, for after only a few more turns of the staff did the air in front of the time traveler begin to sizzle and crack, only for an explosion to rock the line of energy and send the jurors crouching to the floor. Timekeeper had just enough time to get to the floor upon sensing the rough disturbance from the rift.

After some distressed muttering and a few peers up from squatted positions, the Cookies slowly inched their way back up into standing positions, followed by Matcha breaking the tension by jumping from her squatted position on the floor and clapping her clothed hands together in applause, all the while, the end of her staff was banging against the floor.

"Oohoo! OOHOOHOO! Funny magic! Hahaha!"

What Matcha did not realize in her fit of mania was that a leaf had been loosened from the wood of her staff and slowly fluttered in the air around her.

Pastry was quick to snatch it out of the air and examine it in the light, turning the stem in her hands once, twice over.

Then, a suspicious glint of realization shone in her eyes.

"Sea Fairy," the nun spoke aloud, projected enough to grab everyone's attention. "Do you have them?"

Sea Fairy was quick to glance at the shed leaf in Pastry's hand before her eyes widened comically and she glanced down at her seashell purse swung around her hip before tearing open the clasp and yanking out a ball of tinfoil...

And a long, dark leaf.

That matched the one stuck to Matcha's staff.

"Care to explain this, Matcha Cookie?" The siren pressed on, displaying the plant appendage to the shaman. "This was the leaf found sticking out of Sandwich Cookie's mouth when we found her."

Matcha squinted her eyes to the point where they became slits, then started another giggling fit.

"HOOHOOHOO! Fairy lady funny! But leaf is just lettuce! That's it, heehee!"

"Oh, really?" Sea Fairy questioned, her own eyes squinted, only in denial. She tossed the leaf aside and unwrapped the ball of tinfoil, revealing a sandwich with two bites taken out of it. She peeled back the bun to reveal a bunch of the same leaf from Matcha's staff, some of which were already sprouting miniature tendrils...

"Then explain this, too!"

"Yoooo, no way!" Strawberry Crepe was quick to pipe up again. "The crazy lady went and spiked the deli damsel's lunch!"

"Crepe, kiddo!" Eggnog guffawed, tutting under his breath. "We do not talk to our elders like that! Even if...they potentially did something to earn themselves a spot on the naughty list for life!" He muttered this last bit under his breath with shame as he turned his gaze in Matcha's direction.

"Talk about crazy, though!" Mala Sauce joined in. "I gotta agree with Crepe-ster here, surprisingly!"

"HEY!" The engineering prodigy squealed, none too childishly. "Why did you call me such a lame-o name?"

"Uhhh...no harm meant?" Mala tried to backpedal.

"Meh, forget about that!" Crepe squealed, but this time with a smile across their face and a fist pumped into the air. "Someone agrees with me for once! And it's not about my tech innovations this time!"

"Anywho..." Mala drawled out before speaking once again with energy. "Like I said, I believe in what Crepe-ster said earlier."

She now had center stage and everyone's attention, Sea Fairy most of all.

"Do go on, Mala..."

"Ok, cool! So, like, I was on my way with Rockstar here to the kitchen to cook up a spicy treat after we went thru another round of concert rehearsals, and believe it or not, a whole slew of Cookies was there, when it was almost curfew!"

"Who do you recall?" Pastry intervened briefly.

"Well, me and Rocky came in and saw..." She gazed around the room and picked out four Cookies. "Crepe-ster, Mocha..."

Both Cookies made affirmative "mmhm"s to confirm their attendance.

"And Sandwich, too!" Mala said with pride before realizing their current circumstances and slouched after mentioning their name, but quickly perked up again upon naming the fourth individual.

"Matcha!"

The shaman snapped her head in the chieftain's direction.

"Hoohoo? Twas true! Needed tea, hehe!"

"Can the other three of you confirm you saw each other?" Sea Fairy prodded at Crepe, Rockstar and Mocha.

"Yeah, yeah, lady!" Crepe nagged. "I was there to snoop for any closed-door gossip!"

"CREPE!" Eggnog scolded a tad too loud for Mocha's liking, causing her to squeak.

"Sorry there, Ray! HAHO, don't know how to control my volume sometimes!" He laughed for a moment after earning a meek nod and miniscule smile from the temple guard before turning to the little engineer. "Now what have I told you about eavesdropping, young Cookie?"

"Sorry, sorry, it gives you a bad reputation and whatnot," they fidgeted with their waffle headset before waving a cloaked arm in his direction. "Just accept my apology so we can move on!"

The old gift-giver knew he wouldn't get any genuine apology out of Crepe, so he simply nodded at them and faced the others.

"Anyway..." Mocha Ray said, raising a shy fin. "I was there, too. Sandwich offered to make me a late night snack, and..." she shivered as she turned to the shaman. "Matcha offered to make me some tea to soothe my nerves, as well-"

"HEEHEE, tea helps!" She cooed.

"Yeah, and it did for a bit-" Mocha shivered once again recalling what happened next. "As I was chatting with Rocky and Mala about the other day with my tea, and Sandwich was making my snack, Matcha sneezed louder than I thought she ever could."

"Oh, yeah, I remember that!" Rockstar joined in. "That cray-cray lady sneezed so loud I thought my guitar went bass mode on me for a sec! Shook me to my core, practically!"

"Hehe, he...sorry not sorry!" The shaman cackled, earning squints from those around her.

"And, to top it all off," Mocha continued. "I swore I thought I saw some of her leaves shoot off of her cloak and staff and fly everywhere!"

"Oh no, don't remind me of that part!" Crepe complained. "Sandwich practically begged me to use my Vacu-Bot to sweep everything up after that!"

"And..." Mocha stuttered trying to get the last bit of information out. "I swear...she made some of the leaves flutter down into the sandwiches Sandwich was prepping," She started to tear up now. "I...I could have been dead too if only I hadn't lost my appetite after hearing Matcha sneeze, in the kitchen of all places!"

Sea Fairy gave her a gentle rub on her shoulder, which was quaking quite badly.

"You did good telling us all that, Mocha Ray," Sea remarked, nothing but pride and respect directed at her comrade before she turned to Mala Sauce. "So the other sandwich she happened to be making..." She stopped before she asked calmly, "you think it was meant for herself?"

"Must have been!" Mala shrugged. "She DID mention saying something about getting her lunch for the next day made ahead of time, so that must have been the one she had in mind to take for after gym class!"

"So that seals the deal, basically..." Pastry sighed before straightening her stance.

"Well, well! Took you nutty numbskulls long enough to stop talking!" Monocookie suddenly interjected, clapping his crispy paws together. Touchscreens rose in front of everybody's podiums and displayed each Cookie's icon. "Y'all know what time it is! Vote away at who you think made the deli diner damsel ditch her chance at stardom!"

"Hoohoo," Matcha chuckled under her breath. "Hoo-ooh..."

Her voice cracked on the last giggle she mustered at that moment, a rustling noise coming from around her.

She was shaking like a leaf in the wind.

And she was...crying?

"BOOHOOHOO!" This exclamation confirmed this stray thought, as Matcha began to wipe profusely at her face with her clothed arm, face scrunched up as if she just downed a sour belt without chewing. "Not funny, guys!"

In her blind fit of depression, she swung her staff and ended up hitting her own icon dead on, the final nail in the coffin for Matcha as everyone took in this sight for sore eyes and quickly cast their votes.

Before they knew it, the podiums lowered and Monocookie pulled up the results.

Unanimous.

The screen lit up gold as the word "CORRECT!" blared across the screen above the throne at the front of the room before the headmaster's face closed over it and the screen went dim.

"Well done, yet again, my sugary sweet stowaways!" Monocookie giggled and gloated, hopping from one foot to the other on his chair. "The culprit behind your sweet sandwich slinger's snuffing out was none other than the snooty shaman herself, Matcha Cookie!"

Upon hearing her name called, Matcha attempted to mask her impending doom with her giggling. "Heheehee, hee...HOOHOOHOO!" These last few "laughs" were actually cries that sounded like they were being squeezed out of her forcefully like lemon juice.

"Now we all know what comes next!" The principal shuddered with glee. The students all turned their attention to where Matcha was standing before the closing remarks were made and the gavel came down.

"Looks like WE had the last laugh this time!"

It's Punishment Time!

When Roots Run Deep: Ultimate Shaman, Matcha Cookie's Execution

Matcha Cookie awakens under the blinding beam of a spotlight within an otherwise pitch-black room. She stands herself up with the help of her staff and holds a sleeved hand over her eyes, trying to regain her senses and make sense of her surroundings.

It was when the spotlight finally moved away from her face and across the room did she see something.

Or rather...someone.

Someone she strived to be like.

Dark Enchantress Cookie.

The embodiment of darkness stood just a mere few feet away from Matcha, a wicked grin pasted across her face. Matcha couldn't help but let out a low giggle upon seeing her idol right in front of her.

Perhaps despair wouldn't overtake her; she would be freed!

However, there was also something else; a sense of sorrow seemed to glisten in Dark Enchantress's downturned stare as she took in the shaman's dismay.

Matcha tried to walk towards her, only to look down and realize, upon not being able to move form her current position, that the vines from her staff were wound around her cloaked lower half, keeping her, quite literally, rooted in place.

The roots seemed to snake their way across the floor towards Dark Enchantress, much to the distress of Matcha, for she tried to yank her staff out of the ensnared earth it was stuck in to try and free herself.

But to no avail.

Matcha could only watch as her idol was quickly overtaken by her own vines...

Her own creations...

After being born in and festering in the pitch-blackness that promised to give her strength, this is what her powers came to...

Matcha did not laugh; she only cried.

Cried as she watched the vines fall away to reveal the Staff of Darkness that the Enchantress took pride in wielding.

Except that its master was not there.

She was no more.

At least, to Matcha.

For the vines that took her master away came right back towards her and sent her flat on her back as they covered her up, sending her back into the earth she had been born from.

Except this time, to give rise to others after her. Her fresh essence would fertilize the crushed crumb soil and birth Cookies that would surpass her.

The vines opened up to reveal Matcha's lonely staff laying, like Dark Enchantress's, without an owner.

Well, at least she went down like her idol...

And that's what she would have wanted...

Remaining Cookies: 11

End of Chapter 2

[elellan]

Chapters: 10/? Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford Summary:Riwan Lavellan wakes up after the Conclave only to find her world shattered into pieces. She strains to adjust to her new life in the Inquisition, especially after discovering that the Commander of its forces is an ex-templar.

CHAPTER 10: SOMETHING FUNNY AND STUPID

It seemed like she was sleeping. A dreamless, deep and sound sleep. Now and then she felt like she was emerging from the bottom of that pitch black well of her consciousness only to briefly hear some voices, see a light, feel the touch of someone’s hand or a tickling sensation on her arm.

Once or twice she could distinctly hear Solas’ voice. It soothed her and calmed her and carried a balmy sensation that spread throughout her whole body. “Lethallan, ne dareth. Banal enfanim,  mala suledin. Hamin, banal theneras”. She mutely obeyed and fell in that comfortable unconsciousness every time she heard him speak.

Someone else appeared in her dreams, another gentle voice. A boy’s voice. She couldn’t remember his name. “I’m Cole!”, he exclaimed every time that she mutely asked him. “I want to help. I’ll keep you company”. She felt serene and contemplated what she could grasp of him.

One night she woke up for a short moment, hearing someone whispering beside her. She couldn’t make out who it was, but the smell was familiar and that person soon told her to go back to sleep, that it was too early to get up. How long was she gone? A month? Or only a few days? It was dark all around her and she couldn’t possibly know.

If only she could have asked the healers, Dorian or Vivienne that question, they would have answered in exasperation: two days! Two entire days during which the healers took shifts in tending to the wounded and to her, getting nearly no sleep at all. When Cullen had burst in the healres’ tent after they had found her, a commotion had soon spread throughout camp. The surgeon and the healers were quick in their reaction, they put her on a cot near a lit fire, kicked out of the tent everyone except from Solas, Dorian and Vivienne and got down to work.

How many healing spells and potions, sleeping spells and potions did they use and cast upon her? For how long did Dorian and Vivienne keep their hands over her, warming her frozen limbs with the faintest lightning and fire spell they could summon? They washed her as best as they could with hot water, and both the mages kept her toes and fingers between their hands, both terrified at the surgeon’s words: “She may need an amputation”.

Solas helped the healers restlessly with healing spells and put her to sleep when the surgeon adjusted her broken arm.

When they finally acknowledged that she was out of danger, the surgeon ordered that she must sleep and rest and stay warm for as long as they could afford, because the trauma had been too big and the pain from arm and ankle may not have been yet sedated. They used spells and potions again and kept her sleeping.

When Haven’s people had seen her come back from the dead, carried by the Commander with the Seeker by his side, cheers and exaltation had swept through the camp like a wave. Now it seemed that everybody was holding their breath, fear caressed their thoughts, no one knew how she really was and they started to think that she would soon be gone.

The advisors were struggling. They were lost amidst the mountains and they needed to find a new base soon. Another week like that and their cause would be lost: the people were hungry, cold, without a house and a purpose. They couldn’t wait longer. Their best option for now was to return back down the mountain and establish a new settlement somewhere, built from scratch.

Josephine was confident in finding help in some of the noble houses that had traded with them lately. But help was one thing, housing a community of more than a hundred people was completely another one. Leliana had sat gloomily on a crate for hours before taking action and sending crows and giving orders to her scouts. She had contacted king Alistair Therein, though she suspected that even he could do little for them.

It was late afternoon when Riwan finally woke up. A healer was looking closely at her and when she tried to say something he immediately shushed her and recommended her not to talk.

“Just answer my questions by moving your head, dear”. He started to ask her if her right arm hurt, then her knee and ankle; he asked her if her head and belly and spine hurt; he asked her if she could move all of her body parts; and was she sure that she felt no internal pain? If she did, she must tell them immediately.

“Try to talk now. Tell me who you are and where you’re from”. They continued like this for a few minutes, then, after having made sure that she felt warm and comfortable, he left her, recommending her not to leave her bed.

She looked around her but she could only see the green fabric of the tent under which she was lying, the fire crackling beside her and some other cots carrying sleeping people further apart.

Cole appeared on the stool beside her with a faint pop. Strangely enough, she wasn’t scared and he didn’t startle her. He looked at her intently as she smiled weakly at him: the boy had a ragged look about him, his clothes seemed tattered but he didn’t seem to mind. He held a big hat low on his eyes and his blonde hair stood straight around his pale face.

“Nice to see you again”, she croaked. Her throat hurt and her voice had lowered by an octave. She struggled to speak out loud.

“You were screaming in the snow. But now you’re better. Did I help? They said I couldn’t heal you, but I knew that they weren’t right. They didn’t know what your mind was screaming. Only another one knew”.

“You helped, Cole. Thank you. Who… How are you? Where…”, she coughed and cleared her voice with a grimace on her face. Her lips hurt too, they were dry and broken.

“I decided to warn you. I saw the venatori guided by the Elder One and I knew that I must help. I can help you, if you’d like. Now he is so angry, you stole his mages and his power, he wants to find another way. He doesn’t care about people, he will kill us all to get to you. He wants revenge”.

She observed him with blurry eyes and she thought that she liked him. That she felt at ease with him. She actually didn’t concentrate on the not so pleasant things that he was saying, she just listened to his voice, as it seemed that it came from him, yes, but also from within her.

“I like you too”, he said. “Someone’s coming”, and he hastily disappeared.

She gazed at the spot were he had been just a fraction of a second before. ‘Did I say it out loud or was I speaking…?’. She hadn’t finished her thought that a figure approached.

“Oh… you… you’re awake”.

She looked up towards the shadow. Cullen. She felt tears swelling her eyes but kept them at bay. She managed to smile a little and nod as her brain started to buzz. He was standing awkwardly a few feet from the cot. He eventually decided to sit on the stool next to her. He looked worn out, the circles under his eyes purple, he seemed older than she remembered. Still, the fire near him caressed his features, his hazel eyes glistened, warmer than she had ever seen them, the corner of his mouth with the familiar scar lifted in a faint smile, his hair a little unruly but still severely styled.

“How are you?”, he said softly, keeping his voice low and shooting her quick glances, before resting his eyes on his hands that stayed helplessly and stupidly in his lap.

“I’ve been better”, she found the strength to joke, “I’m actually great, if you think that I had already left this world when you found me”.

He raised his eyes and managed to keep her gaze. She was still pale, but the terrifying whiteness of her face had left her cheeks and though her lips were cracked and her eyes half open, she had regained a natural colour and she was awake and, Maker, she was alive.

“You gave us quite a scare”, he said. He paused and seemed to think for sometime. “I don’t know if I can be here, maybe you should rest…”, he hastily said, rising up from the stool.

“Please”, she said. She put a hand on his gloved one, making him sit again. “Stay for a little bit. Let’s chat about something funny and stupid”. Tears were assaulting her eyes again and again she fought them back. She couldn’t cope with any serious talk right now and she missed home badly and the only other home that she had known, Haven, had been destroyed. She needed something to lighten her thoughts.

Cullen observed her hand for a moment - it seemed so tiny compared to his. The mark in the middle of her palm was quiet and glowed gently. He saw the little calluses that were born from holding the bow in it, the dark red tattoos on her dark honey skin, little scars here and there, some of them even crisscrossing the intricate Dalish drawings. He cupped that tiny hand in his hands automatically, making her smile, for he seemed to her like a boy who finds a little bird on the ground and gently takes it up in his hands, shielding it from foxes and cats.

“All right.”, he swallowed. “What do you wish to talk about?”.

“I don’t know… I miss home, my clan, the forest… I miss the sound of the birds in the morning”, she said after a few seconds. “When I was with my clan sometimes I got up at dawn so infuriated because the crows started squawking so loud that I couldn’t sleep anymore”.

“I know what you mean”, he said, laughing softly. He spoke no more and an embarrassing silence followed.

“So…”, she hesitated, searching her fuzzy brain for anything to say. “Let’s talk about you…”.

“Sweet Maker, about me?”, he said, feeling uneasy.

“Yes”, Riwan said, attempting to smile.

“I-uhm… I already told you almost everything there is to know about me”, he said.

“That’s not true!”, Riwan answered. She sighed but finally got an idea. “Let’s talk about Honnleath, then. Is it true that there was a golem in your hometown? I think I read it somewhere…”.

“It is completely true. There was a gigantic golem frozen right in the middle of Honnleath square”, Cullen said.

“Scary…”.

He chuckled. “You bet. When I was little I couldn’t even bring myself to go near that thing. It was right there, motionless, with a menacing look on its face and birds perched all over it… There was also a story circulating among us about that golem: they said that it had killed its former master, who was found dead right outside his front door. The golem was looming over him, but no one actually knew for sure if it was the golem itself that killed him or something else. In the end, the poor man’s wife sold its control rod to a merchant and the golem was left there”.

“Oh, Creators…”, Riwan faintly said, smiling calmly.

“All the kids in the village would play a game. Who dare touch the golem: we just… ran like crazy around it, until someone would barely tap it with one finger and then we all ran away screaming”, he laughed lightly. “In the end I managed to touch it once or twice…”.

“Someone claims that the golem was awakened by the Hero of Ferelden”, Riwan said.

“Yes, I heard that story myself. Well, if she did and she wasn’t killed by it, good for her. She has spared Honnleath’s children years of terror and nightmares”.

“How would I have liked to see young Commander Rutherford terrified by the mere sight of a non-active golem…”, Riwan said.

He laughed and shook his head, “You have no idea how my parents abused of that golem’s presence to keep us children well behaved. And the horrible thing was that all the threats they used to make about it weren’t so far from the truth either! I know now that it is highly unlikely that that thing would just wake up and start chasing us around town… but as a child, no one could convince me that it wouldn’t wake up at night and come after us if we happened to steal our neighbours’ cherries”, he smirked.

Riwan snorted, and soon tried to suppress the laugh, for a headache had popped into her head as soon as she had fretted. He heard someone talking loudly outside and let go of her hand.

“Tell me about Honnleath”, she commanded him gently. “It doesn’t seem so different from Hoden”.

He started to describe her the village. At first he did so very accurately: Riwan was amused by his severe tone - by his description it seemed that the Commander was planning a siege of the little village with the whole army and trebuchets; then, after he saw her blink repeatedly with half-opened eyes, he described his parents to her and the pie that his mother made him for his birthday.

She snapped her eyes open and said: “We made amazing apple pies too! We didn’t have ovens, well, I guess you can imagine that. But we baked them under the embers of the fires. We tucked them in these resistant leaves and put them in the embers. One of us, Theran, went mad when he saw Hoden’s bakery for the first time. So much for Dalish pride! He protested for days with the hahrens because he wanted an oven too! He tried to build one himself…”.

“How did it turn out?”.

“Not so good. He ended up visiting the bakery a few times a week and gained a little fat”.

Cullen laughed. “It’s really nice to hear you talk about your clan. I-I mean, it seems you led quite a bucolic life”.

“We did. Well, we lived in an actual forest so…”.

“Right”, he cleared his voice. It wasn’t an easy task for him to make small talk. Especially when he was specifically requested to. “I-uhm, I noticed that you never speak of your parents”. “Oh, I always assumed that you all read Leliana’s reports about me and that you already know everything. But it isn’t my place to speak, Commander, remember? I’m injured and tired, you’re the one who should entertain me”.

“Oh Maker…”, Cullen blurted out.

Riwan laughed lightly, amused by the ease with which she could make him blush.“All right, all right, I will tell you something, you can just comment with subtlety what I say”.

“I’ll do my best”, he chuckled.

“So, I never met my father, he died soon after I was born. As for my mother, she was the head hunter of the clan and, no, I didn’t become a hunter just because she favoured me. I actually had to… bust my ass to be allowed to join them and in the end I was better than her”.

“So it was your mother who taught you how to use the bow…”, he said.

“Yes, it was her”, Riwan sighed.

“I’m curious about Dalish hunting techniques, you mentioned them once during training…”, he continued.

“The Vir Tanadhal?”, she asked.

“Yes. Could you tell me more about it? I mean, if you want to”, he hesitantly said.

She looked at him briefly and couldn’t repress a strong feeling, telling her how pleased she was in his genuine interest in her people’s ways and costumes. As she mutely cherished the pleasure of talking about her clan’s hunting philosophy, a new thought rapidly crossed her mind: it was the first time that she was talking to him for so long after her outburst at the tavern, and even after she had apologized to him they had never really talked about what had happened that night. This thought jumped into her mind along with the desire to know what he thought about their discussion, combined with the actual dread to know it. It made her brain hum louder than before. Should she veer the conversation towards that topic? …not tonight. She didn’t have the strength to do it, nor the courage to hear his answer.

They continued chatting in these idle terms for some time, until the healer came back. “Commander”, he said with a firm voice and a scolding look, “The Herald is awake but I specifically said that she was not to be disturbed yet”.

Cullen immediately rose from the stool and gave the healer his apologies, like an obedient soldier. “Go now, in a few hours she may be fit for visit”, the healer ordered. The scene was quite comic and Riwan couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Of course”, Cullen said. “I’m sorry Lavellan, I didn’t mean to tire you”. He smiled his smug smirk, rolled his eyes and marched away.

As soon as he set foot out of the tent he stopped with a start in seeing Cassandra waiting for him, leaning on one of the poles that kept the tent straight.

“There you are”, she said, with a grin on her face.

He immediately felt accused. “I… I was just visiting her…”.

“Yes, I meant to do so too after the healer said that she was awake, but then I saw you both quite taken with whatever you were telling each other”.

He frowned and protested: “It isn’t… I was just making sure that she was okay. She is our… responsibility”.

The Seeker sighed and put a hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “You are touchier than me, Commander! Don’t get me wrong, I’m just glad to see that you talk with someone else other than me. You like her!”.

“You like her too”, he retorted.

“I do and, unlike you, I’m not scared to admit it. I thought her to be the opposite of what I esteem in a person. She is selfish, naive, reckless, completely oblivious and not caring about Chantry values. But I found out that she is loyal. And empathetic and brave. Yes, I do like her”, Cassandra proudly said , her eyes glistening.

He smiled bitterly, continued to frown and eventually said: “Did you need me for something, anyway?”. His tone was dismissive, as he was ready to take duty.

“Yes. You know what her being awake means. If she can walk and she can manage it, we must depart as soon as possible. Where too, we do not know”.

“All right. Let’s go”.

She stayed in bed for another few hours and soon everyone from her party disobeyed the healer’s orders and came to visit her. Dorian was the first to make his entrance into the tent and to look at her apprehensively. “Do you need help dressing up, Lavellan? You can’t go around in pajamas, if we really are going to move on. I’ll fetch you something”. He returned with Cora and a bunch of clothes. The girl started to weep and whimper in seeing her awake and well and she seemed inconsolable. They helped her putting on a pair of breeches, a woolen shirt and a hunter jacket, topped by a huge scarf and gloves. She kept her back out of view, ashamed that the mage may see her scar. Cora agreed painfully to leave her and gave Riwan a wet kiss on her cheek.

Varric arrived with Sera, who burst out as soon as she saw her sitting: “You fricking idiot! What were you thinkin’, uh? You go and make the hero and get killed by monsters, are you insane?!”.

“I’m sorry”, Varric said, embarrassed. “I tried to instruct her into being quiet, but…”.

“I’m not quiet! I’m not! This Herald thing has gotten into her head!”.

The last one to visit her was Solas. She looked at him fondly and a little shily, for she was now sure that the elf had been pacing her dreams and lulled her to sleep.

“Lethallin”, she eventually said, blushing.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright”, his gaze was piercing and seemed deeply curious. “You have drifted into the Fade for some time…”, he said, chuckling a little.

“Ma serannas, Solas”, she immediately burst out, feeling on the fence. “I know that you helped me. I heard you…”, she hesitated. “It must have been draining…”.

“I did everything in my power to keep you in this world. And since you seem to remember our encounters, there is no use in denying that I may have sneaked into some of your dreams”. He still had his inquiring look on his face and he seemed somehow proud or satisfied with his actions.

“Then I am in your debt. I was glad to hear you in my dreams and I am glad to stand in this world in front of you”, she reached for his hand, she wanted to take his and seal the life debt that she owed him. He glanced quizzically at her and seemed taken aback or surprised by her answer, but took her hand anyway and smiled.

“As soon as you feel ready to go, there is something I’d like to talk to you about”, he said. He slightly bowed his head and quietly went away.

She watched him leaving the tent, his pace so light that he barely left any trace of his passage on the snow. For a second, she thought she could hear the sound of the wolves howling again. But surely it was just her imagination.

[naopao]

Too Curious By Far 2/?

Pairing: Genji/Zenyatta (eventual), background pairings Previous Chapter Summary: Zenyatta, prince of the forest, finds a dragon in need of aid. Warnings: none, light blood/wound mention

A faunyatta AU inspired by the best @russet-red! (I don’t know what I’m doing, but expect updates on a fairly consistent basis.)

Genji awakens to the sound of heated whispering. When he opens his eyes, an orb hovers above him, soothing like walking barefoot on warm sand. His vision is soft around the edges, but the pain is a ghost of what it once was.

[Do not move.] A voice says in perfect dragon tongue, familiar but stern. [You are more injured than first estimated.]

Genji tilts his head to the side, vision spinning, and he groans. For a moment, there are two Zenyattas.

They both step forward: one of them lays his hand on Genji’s shoulder, examining him with wide, worried eyes. The other is taller, with startling blue eyes surrounded by gold markings.

[He seems to have stabilized. How do you feel?]

[As good as can be expected.] Genji manages, tongue feeling too large for his mouth. The way the taller one moves is beyond comparison. His stance, the gentle tilt of his shoulders, is fluid grace, otherworldly in a way that freezes him.

Zenyatta’s grip on his shoulder tightens, warm and rough. Genji stares at it, following the line of Zenyatta’s arm to his face, but he is not looking at him. The deer exchange words, but it’s not in any language Genji’s heard before, light and quick, the pitches lilting high one syllable and deep the next. Zenyatta repeats one word throughout, Mondatta, and he wonders faintly if its the other’s name.

Zenyatta frowns, and it looks wrong on such a gentle face.

[I deserve to know what is being said.] Genji mumbles, drawing attention back to him.

[He is right, Mondatta.]

Mondatta shakes his head, face a near emotionless mask. He has an air of statliness that would be at home in the dragon’s hall, though few ever achieved the effortless grace of Mondatta’s motions. A king, Genji decides, or whatever serves as one. He grimaces.

[Most are not old enough to remember, but the last dragon to take to the skies razed the countryside with its storms.] Mondatta sighs. [However, you are not her. We accept any who seek sanctuary. Rest, and do not cause too much trouble for the prince.]

Mondatta turns in a whisper of robes and chimes, and Zenyatta’s grip relaxes.

“Zenyatta, meet me in an hour’s time in my quarters. I have something important to discuss with you.”

Then the king is gone through the vines and into the moonshine and magic-torched pathways of the village.

[Forgive him. Mondatta means well. He is merely...protective.] Zenyatta says with a smile.

[You are a prince.] Genji narrows his eyes at Zenyatta. He is like no prince he has ever known, nor a noble either. Zenyatta tilts his head at Genji’s glare.

[Not what you expected?] Zenyatta laughs when Genji scowls. [I am no prince of legend. I am just Zenyatta, just as you are Genji.]

[And? What if I am a prince as well? A dragon of legend, a harbinger of doom upon your village?]

Zenyatta laughs, clutching his chin in his mirth. [Oh, how very exciting! So, dragon prince of destruction, I see your reign of terror is proceeding excellently.]

Genji snorts.

[Yes, perhaps I am more cunning than my ancestors, here to woo their prince and strike when you least expect.]

The dragon freezes, about to stumble over his poor choice of words, but Zenyatta’s giggles fill the silence that might’ve had Genji sputtering. Genji laughs along, after a moment, though it hurts, and he swears. The hand at his shoulder tightens again, urging him against the downy bed.

[I forget myself. It has been years since we have had new visitors.] Zenyatta withdraws his hand. Genji’s shoulder feels chilled in its absence.

[You spoke true. Did you not?] Zenyatta whispers suddenly, eyes glistening in the low light. The mala upon his neck roll and twist in place, as if excited.

Genji says nothing.

[I dressed you while Mondatta disposed of your old wrappings. Your arm. You are Shimada.]

The dragon’s eyes widen, ringed in viridian, but the power drains as quickly as it came.

[How do you know that name?]

[ We have records that date back thousands of years. When the world was young, and the deer wandered, we knew of you.]

Zenyatta stares at the orb above Genji, eyes growing distant.

[Your secret is safe, as long as you wish to keep it.] Zenyatta says, turning back to him. [However, I have conditions.]

Genji blinks. Zenyatta’s smile returns with a vengeance.

[Speak true. Your bandages. The occupant of the cottage patched you up, correct?]

[Yes.]  Genji says, closing his eyes. [You do not know her. An outsider?]

The dragon misses the way Zenyatta taps his chin.

[Not for long. I had planned to introduce myself before I found you.] He steeples his fingers, and it makes him look much older than the youthful face he wears. [I had a feeling she was friendly. I cannot wait to meet her!]

The orb drifts close, and its warmth washes over Genji’s face, the glow of it seeping through his eyelids before it drifts away again.

[Rest. No harm will befall you here. In fact, I hope to show you around, so please heal quickly.]

Genji groans as Zenyatta’s laughter follows him out the of dwelling.

Zenyatta stares at the night sky, walking slowly but surely to Mondatta’s quarters. Everything within the village is open, insulated by magic and well-constructed dwellings made from the nooks and branches of ancient trees. He passes a few of his brethren, and he nods and waves, stopping here and there to talk. He has the time, after all, and wants to make sure all is well.

It is peaceful here. Even when disagreements arose, they came together to support each other. As he says goodbye to the last deer and draws close to Mondatta’s quarters, his mind drifts to the edges of the forest where the line of trees gives way to rolling plains. He should not wish to see other lands, not when he has a place here, a duty to his people. Yet still he wonders of the low, sloping hills and their tall grasses, rippling beneath the open sky. 

When Zenyatta enters Mondatta’s quarters, his back is turned to him. The room is cleanly as always, nothing like Zenyatta’s own, which was littered with inks and quills and piles of parchment. Tidiness was not his strong suit, not when inspiration took hold of him. After such stints, Zenyatta rounds on his brethren and meditates to recenter himself.

“You are early.” Mondatta says with a flat voice.

Zenyatta straightens.

“I did not wish to keep you waiting.”

“You did not wish to tire our new visitor.” He does not sound angry,  but when he turns to face Zenyatta, his shoulders sag.

“It cannot be both?” Zenyatta smiles, but it slips away quickly. “Forgive me if I have overstepped. Genji’s presence weighs on you. I was only trying to—”

“Do what you thought was right. I know.” Mondatta says, managing a small smile, which his brother returns.

The soft blue glow of Mondatta’s room shifts as he approaches. He touches Zenyatta’s face with the tips of his fingers, dragging from cheekbone to chin.

“You still have blood on your face.” Mondatta says, magicking a cloth from a basin in the corner of the room.

Zenyatta cleans himself with a quiet huff of laughter.

“I am sure you looked the spectacle on your way here.”

Zenyatta sends the dirtied cloth back to its place with a flick of magic.

“Come, Mondatta. That is not the worst thing I have been covered in while I walked through the village.” Zenyatta’s smile turns devious, and Mondatta groans, cupping his forehead.

“Please do not remind me.” Mondatta’s smile fades, and a rare tiredness fills his eyes. “I did not summon you for idle chat, though I wish it were the reason.”

His old brother gestures to the seats made of sturdy vine and overgrown moss. They sit, and the discord cloying Mondatta’s aura like a mist steadily builds.

“There is...something amiss.” Mondatta says, staring at his brother with steely eyes. “When you were an infant, our great mother was the confidant of a human queen. Although a child myself, I knew they were quite close, perhaps as close as you and I.”

Zenyatta listens with ears perked. Mondatta rarely spoke of their mother, not even when Zenyatta begged him as a child. The great mother was little more than a feeling to him, warm and gold, the essence all living things, the life force, the well of their harmonious magic. She was their great strength whom had centuries ago coalesced in antlered form, returning to all like a great receding wave when Zenyatta was born.

“I spent my younger years alongside her confidant’s son. We age differently than humans, and by the time you were old enough to remember, he was a man grown and went to serve among human royalty.”

Mondatta gestures to the intricate silver orb on the table before them. It was one of Mondatta’s own, a permanent fixture for as long as Zenyatta could remember.

“As time passed, I heard from my friend less and less. There was turmoil in the neighboring kingdom which took much of his time. He halted communications altogether several years ago. I had thought that age might have taken him as it takes us all.”

He places his hands on the table, softly but with strange stiffness.

“Until today. The orb activated. It is not a perfect tool, and its connection is attuned to his signal so it will not attract unwanted attention, which makes it weaker still. But it chimed all the same.”

Zenyatta’s eyes widen, staring between Mondatta’s face and the scrying orb.

His brother frowns. “I know not what it means, only that he did not respond to my inquiries. That, and a dragon within our wood for the first time in centuries...perhaps it is an ill omen.”

“We should go to him.” Zenyatta says softly.

“It is impossible.” Mondatta replies immediately.

“He may be in need of aid, brother.”

“I know.” Mondatta says, each word hot with a rare show of strong emotion. “I cannot risk it. We are safe here, within the sanctum. If the forest is as vast as you have recorded, we will be able to ready ourselves for whatever the future holds.”

Mondatta raises his hand as Zenyatta starts to speak.

“However, we are operating with too little information. I tell you this so that will you take great care while you survey. I believe your work is important now more than ever.” Mondatta tilts his head down. “We shall wait and form a plan. I will double the patrols and keep the scrying orb on my person, should contact come again.”

“I understand.” Zenyatta says, discord swelling in his chest. Now is not the time to push, especially when Mondatta relaxes at his words.

“Genji may stay for as long as he needs sanctuary. I sense he has endured great hardships, ones that could stoke deep hatred. Please tend him carefully.”

Zenyatta nods, remembering the texture of Genji’s antlers, his widened eyes as they brushed against his own.

“There is rage within him, but that is not the only thing.” Zenyatta murmurs.

Mondatta stands, tilts Zenyatta’s chin up with the side of his finger. He brings their antlers together, and they close their eyes, the familiar comfort of it warming him through.

“I sense this too. I trust in you, Zenyatta. More than I can say.”

“I know it well.” Zenyatta smiles, knocking their antlers together once more before he stands. “I should return to my new charge.”

“Please, before he hauls into the open in a fury of blood and bandages.”

“Oh, that would be quite the sight!”

Mondatta rolls his eyes, waving his brother away as he departs.

He turns back to the orb bundled carefully in a pile of old silk, tracing his finger along the intricate divots he had carved into the metal so many years ago. He closes his eyes, remembers golden hair and bright eyes set into a face that never ceased to smile, wondering if that same face smiled still all these years later.

[rauliskafan]

A Hard Lesson in Valiance: Chapter 10

Authors’ Note: Here’s hoping that everyone had a spectacular weekend! Thank you so much for last night’s feedback; we love that you guys are so invested in the story!!! Now the question of the hour is what happened to Natalia? Read on to find out!!! @vintagemichelle91 and I hope that you enjoy!!!

           If no one else was going to help her…

           Natalia stood on the balcony and heard Maggie ask she if needed anything. Hanging her head, she waved her sister off, but Maggie still hurried forward to give her a hug and a kiss.

           “Try to get some rest, Natty. I’ll call you into the morning.”

           And what then? Maggie’s well wishes couldn’t right the many wrongs. No one from the squad was about to break the rules. And why should they? Her anger almost ebbed when she thought of Noah, of Jesse. No reason that Rollins or Liv should take chances when they had their own little ones to worry about.

           Natalia had Violetta… she had a madman’s child growing inside her…

           She had to find some way to protect them both.

           Stopping at the kitchen, she heard Rafael singing their daughter to sleep.

           And she had to protect him, too.

           Best to take the subway, to travel underground. As the train sped through the tunnels, Natalia flinched at the feel of her phone vibrating in her purse. Pulling the device out, mindful of the other contents, she saw Rafael’s attempt to call her, a frantic text swiftly following the buzz.

           Where are you? Please tell me. Please, hermosa.

           Turning the phone off, she zipped the bag shut. Answer him now and he would only try to stop her. Put himself in harm’s way. That she could not allow. Because it was her fault for failing to sense the signs. Only one thing that she should have done as soon as Nevada Ramirez darkened her door.

           Reaching the street, the air still thick despite the night sky hanging overhead, Natalia’s walk wavered. In the light of day, the sweet scent of fruit would waft through the air while merchants and customers alike haggled and children played in the foam from open fire hydrants or rode bikes if a cool breeze beckoned. But now, in the shadows, she couldn’t help but tremble at the sight of figures skulking in doorways, eyes avoiding hers as deals were made. Music poured through windows, pulsed through brick walls. He could be hiding behind any one of them. Steeling herself and sucking in a deep breath, Natalia neared a young boy who hardly looked intimidating.

           “Excuse me?”

           Her politeness was met with a blank face.

      ��    “You need something?” the boy asked.

           “I… yes,” she continued. “I’m looking for Nevada Ramirez.”

           The boy scanned her up and down, his stare stopping at her legs before he looked up again.

           “What do you want with him?” the kid asked.

           “He knows me,” Natalia said. “I doubt he’ll turn me away.”

           Hoping that she sounded something close to strong and sure, Natalia’s teeth still chattered as the boy wiped his nose with the back of his hand and shrugged his shoulders.

           “Don’t know about that,” he said. 

           “Come on,” Natalia said, trying to smile. “It’d make him very happy if you helped me out.”

           Holding her breath and hoping, Natalia only exhaled when the boy motioned for her to follow his lead. They walked the length of two blocks in silence before turning down an alleyway and coming to a guarded door.

           “What the fuck is this?”

           It couldn’t be…

           Natalia recognized the man even without the bottle that she had shattered over his head. He seized her arm, the boy who had been her guide scurrying off as Natalia furiously blinked and fought the urge to flee.

           “Hector,” she said. “I… I’m here for Nevada.”

           “You for real?” he asked, leaning closer, sniffing her hair tinged with the sweat falling from her brow. “Sure you don’t want another piece of me?”

           Was this the wrong call? It would be nothing for Hector to drag her away from anyone who might hear and have his revenge for bits of broken glass and so much more. Trying and failing to open her purse, she gasped when another figure stepped into view.

           “Mi mariposa. Always happy to see you.”

           Nevada’s hold was just as rough as he pried her from Hector’s grip and slapped his soldier upside the head.

           “Obtener su propia mujer,” he barked.

           “Jefe, ella es una mala noticia.”

           “Me gusta un poco de peligro.”

           Hector backed off as Nevada hauled her through the door down a long hallway. Waves of smoke drifted over her with each step, and she caught a glimpse of the main room, a ceiling awash in garish lights. They shimmered over leather seats occupied by contented customers, scores of scantily clad girls grinding their hips into and against waiting laps.

           “Don’t think you’re here for a job,” Nevada sneered. “Not that you couldn’t clean up.”

           Forcing her eyes to his, inhaling a ragged breath, Natalia narrowed her gaze.

           “You know why I’m here,” she said.

           “Do I?”

           She said nothing else as he took her away from the sex show for hire under the unforgiving lights, and they moved to a backroom. A desk sat cluttered with hundred dollar bills, his cigar still smoldering in an ashtray. Nevada closed the door and reached for a bottle of whiskey.

           “I’d offer you a drink,” he said. “But in your delicate condition…”

           After one swig, he set the bottle down with enough force to send a few bills fluttering to the floor as he sat in a lush leather chair and folded his arms across his chest.

           “So. The way we left things today.”

           “That’s… that’s why I’m here,” she stammered.

           “Change of heart?” he asked, lifting his cigar and pulling on it hard.

           “No.” She gingerly assumed the chair before his desk and turned her head away from his smoke.

           “You shouldn’t have come back,” she said.

           “Oh yeah? And why’s that? I got responsibilities here and---”

           “Fine. Your business to run. If that’s what you call this.”

           “Don’t act the innocent with me, Natalia. I know you better than that.”

           His eyes traveled towards tummy, and she clutched her purse closer.

           “You got the proof to show for it,” he smirked.

           “Which is my point,” she said. “What does a man like you even want with a child? Doesn’t seem your speed.”

           Letting his cigar fall, he stood slowly and circled behind her chair, his hands on her shoulders as his lips touched her ear.

           “Might be fun to play house,” he teased. “We’ve already had some practice, right?”

           Bolting way from him, her back crashing into his desk, she winced, and Nevada laughed as she gave him her glare.

           “We will never---”

           “Try to tell yourself that,” he said. “But that’s my kid you’re carrying. Not the abogado’s. And you will come when I call.”

           He seemed to take perverse pleasure in his little joke as she endured the feel of his hands on her hips.

           “Think I’ll like it when you fill out some,” he said, caressing her sides as her stomach lurched.

            “Stop that,” she whispered.

           “You sought me out, mi mariposa,” he said. “You telling me you don’t want this?”

           One hand slid up her skirt, his fingers pushing into her flesh. Natalia whimpered as he started to bend her body over the desk, her mind filling with what he might do to her again…

           …and suddenly she pulled a knife from her purse and held the blade just beyond his neck.

           “Mierda!” he barked. Natalia peered at him through her tears, the music beating through the walls, ringing in her ears as she wielded the weapon.

           “I could never want you,” she hissed.

           She swiped as Nevada bobbed and weaved. Cornering him, Natalia touched the knife to his throat, his hands in the air as his eyes went wide.

           “Hold up,” he started. “Think this through.”

           “I have!” she cried. “And I want you dead!”

           She imagined striking a vein, seeing his blood flow.

           “What then?” he challenged. “You kill me and then go back to being la amante esposa?”

           In the back of her mind, the consequences loomed large. A lonely life trapped behind partitions and bars. But Violetta would stay safe with Harold at her side. The monster’s baby would have a chance free from Nevada’s world. And Rafael…

           …she hesitated, picturing her husband wracked with misery if they were torn apart, possibly forever. But if no one else would… could…

           “No estas pasando, Natalia!”

           Without a trace of fear, he barreled forward and ripped the knife from her hand. Natalia screamed as he crushed her into the opposite wall, threatening her with the sharp edge as his eyes filled with a furious fire.

           “How about this?” he suggested. “El bebe such a problem? Other ways to fix that.”

           He dangled the blade perilously close to her belly. The idea of him slicing into her skin caused Natalia to shiver. Freeing one wrist from his grip, she rested a trembling palm over her tummy.

           “I… please,” she begged.

           The silver came closer to her throat. He used the weapon to pry one button loose from her blouse, his glower vile as his rank breath washed over her breasts.

           “Please?” he echoed. “That’s better. Beg me again.”

           Natalia wept when he drew her closer, the knife just meeting her cheek.

           “Please…”

           “Con placer.”

           His kiss turned her stomach. Leaving her lips, Nevada slapped her face hard as she fell to the floor and saw him hovering above her.

           “You do what I say, Natalia. It’s never the other way around. Nunca!”

           Tossing the knife aside, he fell on top of her, the need for one weapon cruelly replaced by his hands roaming over her body, tearing at her skirt as he nipped at her neck. Natalia tried to fight him off, her hands forming faint fists as he wrenched her wrists hands over her head.

           “Entiendes?”

           She screamed for him to stop, seeing his hand ready to smack her again when the sound of a scuffle from outside the room turned her head. Was that…? Recognizing the voice, she felt Nevada’s weight leave her as the door was kicked open.

           “Get the fuck off of her!”

           Fin was there, his gun drawn.

           “You?” Nevada asked. “How the fuck you’d get in?”

           “I said move away from her!”

           Nevada obeyed the order, two uniforms following Fin into the backroom as the music mercifully came to a halt, replaced by high-pitched shrieks and the sight of girls rushing past the open door as Hector tried to bust in.

           “Told you to stay put!”

           Fin pointed his gun at the soldier, and Natalia struggled to sit up as Nevada gestured towards the discarded knife.

           “This perra came to my place!” Nevada yelled. “Laws against trespassing.”

           “Save it for the judge!” Fin barked.

           Hector was in handcuffs, and Nevada rolled his eyes, holding out his hands for the metal as Fin tried to help Natalia to her feet.

           “Fin!”

           Grabbing her belly, her body seized with a searing pain, Natalia groaned as Fin fell to his knees, his face etched with worry.

           “What is it?”

            “I don’t know,” she said. “But something… something’s wrong... with the baby…”

Translations

Mi mariposa: my butterfly

Obtener su propia mujer: Get your own woman.

Jefe, ella es una mala noticia: Boss, she’s bad news.

Me gusta un poco de peligro: I like a little danger.

Abogado: lawyer 

Mierda: shit

La amante esposa: the loving wife

No estas pasando: not happening

El bebe: the baby

Con placer: with pleasure 

Nunca: never

Entiendes: you understand

Perra: bitch

[dxmergues]

Alex gave a sure nod. "I can appreciate it, yes." Even as the other recited his transgressions back to him, he found himself sinking in the seat - as much as he could without appearing totally pathetic, and given his arms being bound to the chair. He'd been a vampire a long enough time to understand one thing about this affliction: people didn't often take too kindly to vampires and they were reasons he completely understood. The biting thing seems fun at first for the risky few (Alex included), but ran a pretty high risk of death, which he wouldn't personally recommend.

With that came a lot of prejudice. Vampires were killing machines, especially when their masters put them up to something. Alex had many bloody memories he wished he could forget. He hated that now there was always a sliver of doubt in anyone's minds, that the thought of him hurting them for blood was always there.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes at that - he knew he wasn't very good at this. But before he had his master's commanding voice in his head only telling him to feed on certain creatures, at certain times, all at his whim - he was on his own now and he didn't know how to handle it. He chuckled instead. "I'm the worst liar in Destarin anyway, I wouldn't have even tried," he told him. "I'm Alex. And I swear my intention tonight was just to come down and pull some fish from the water to eat instead. I was hiding so I could try to steal a boat for a few hours."

"You certainly must understand how this looks to me." There is little kindness in Malas for those who might bring undue harm to his staff. It isn't that they're unwilling to feed those who visit- those of the lust demon persuasion were some of his most regular visitors after all, but there were rules in place to protect those who worked at The Chapel, rules that this young spawn had, even if not intentionally, managed to break. "You were caught loitering in the dark around my business, where the people under my employ are promised a safe place to do their work- where I ensure, on no uncertain terms, that they are kept from anyone who might make a meal of them without doing them the simple courtesy of at least asking permission and paying for their time out of work. People who do tend to act... quite a bit like you, my hungry young friend."

Malas Pitch had not earned his reputation lightly- he was capably threatening when he had to be, and sitting here in something that was resolutely under the banner of his metaphorical kingdom, the reaper was well aware he cut an intimidating figure. "Your want to feed on someone and your intent are, and will likely remain, decidedly at war- I would appreciate if you took that struggle from my doorstep to somewhere more sympathetic to your plight, because you'll find none here, not with me." The spawn apologizes, but it falls on deaf ears. "Hold your apologies for someone who might actually care to hear them." He hisses, wings pressing into the wound leather and chains holding them in place as they attempt to unfurl in agitation.

And then, as if someone has talked him down, he sighs. "Name." it's simple. Flat. "What is your name?" There's no fear in him at the sight of fangs- he has no vested attachment to the blood and flesh that wraps around his twisted bones, after all. "And do not lie to me. I will know if you try, one way or another. Tell me the truth and I will see about arranging for something for you to eat, and getting you out of those restraints."