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5lazarus · 3 years ago

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The Old Gods of Serault

Wanderingly aimlessly through life after death, Felassan is offered a series of bad choices. Imshael guides his way through. A @black-emporium-exchange gift for RosellaWrites. Read the other works in the AO3 Collection here! Read the story on Archive of Our Own here.

Death, Fen’Harel has always said, is but the next adventure, which is the wonderful sort of thing immortals say but do not truly mean. Felassan, being dead, is mostly bored. There is not much to do when you are sundered from your body. Felassan drifts across Thedas and wonders: why the fuck did the Forbidden Ones lose a whole war for this. He sorely misses his physical form.

In the Crossroads he attempts to get Briala’s attention from his place stuck between Fade and Waking Plain, but alas! The People are sundered from their own senses since Fen’Harel raised the Veil. She does not notice him. He amuses himself for about a week, following her around. Then she picks up a new lover, this time thank Mythal not a human, and he decides it’s time to leave her alone.

In the Dales he runs into Mihris. She spits on him and shoots him with lightning, which hurts, and laughs when he screams. He can taste the ozone in the air as she readies another thunderbolt, which would surely shatter the last remnants of his spirit-consciousness. For all that he misses his body, he likes being around to watch things happening.

Felassan thinks fast, and then moans loudly. “Oh!” he cries. “Do that again.”

Mihris lowers her staff. “By the Dread Wolf, you like that?”

Felassan moans to hide the laugh building in his throat. “I just want to feel alive again!” It comes out more plaintive than pleading, but it does its job. In disgust Mihris leaves him, and prays that the Dread Wolf takes him.

“Been there, done that,” Felassan says to her back. “Nothing to write home about.” That is, of course, a lie, but a dead man has his pride. Besides, having no flesh, he is no longer concerned with the demands of the flesh. He sighs, considering what joys he has lost, and moves on.

In Serault he has more fun. The Veil is thin there, so it is easier to interfere with daily life, and Felassan has always enjoyed being a public menace. He whispers revolution in the very exciting dreams of the Well-Read Pig-Farmer. He makes the shadows dance in the Serault glass the Scornful Sorceress attempts to unlock. She has the taint of Mythal in her, he notices: poor soul. However much she plays at making eluvians, she will never have control over where they take her.

In the workshop, Felassan remarks, “Don’t worry, da’len. The Dread Wolf will set you free, and you’ll live to complain about it.” She does not even look up. Mortals are so very dull sometimes. The interest lies, of course, in how they grow and change, over countless generations. Felassan hadn’t been as interested in the petty wars of the dwarves and men as Fen’Harel had been, and it is funny in a deadly sort of way that this is the hill he chose to die on. He looks at the Scornful Sorceress and murmurs, “Come on. Be a little more fun.”

She gets herself banished from Serault but runs off with the glassworks anyway, and Felassan laughs the whole while, following her trail into the Applewood. The Tirashan has always been weird. The apples guarding the outskirts are new, and not nearly as intoxicating as the ones Sylaise’s people cultivated, but still Felassan trails a hand through the leaves and the giddy red fruit. He can almost taste them. He cannot, of course, so he sits down next to Mythal’s odd daughter and watches her chomp down on apple after apple with vicarious enjoyment.

“Oh, you’re going to make yourself so sick,” he says, amused. “Too much knowledge, da’len. You can’t binge it like that.”

The Fade-memories of the Applewood take her at once, and she shrieks as she begins to hallucinate through all the different hunts. Felassan watches for a bit. The memories leave her sensible enough to drink and shit, and once she begins to recover, he wanders deeper into the woods. Fade-touched fruit has always been used for initiates; the Scornful Sorceress seems to be tripping over rituals that will always overwhelm her. It is a shame that the preparation has been lost. It means the knowledge is gone, too.

Deeper in the woods the Veil thins, and Felassan begins to feel skin again. The leaf litter of the forest is springy under his feet. He draws in an impossible breath. The air tastes hungry, sucking greedily at his lungs. He flickers, aching, and then shakes his hands out. There is another person’s will at work here, threatening his thoughtform.

“Hey,” he calls into the deepening woods. “Who’s there?”

Imshael comes sauntering out of the twilight. He wears the body of the Seneschal of Serault: hair close-shaven, face unremarkably middle-aged, the frame fleshy but not in the way. Felassan groans. He likes Imshael, he really does, he’s always enjoyed partying with the Forbidden Ones—but it’s better when sacrifice is codified. This age ignores all their laws, and Imshael is happy to exploit those loopholes.

Imshael cocks the body’s eyebrow and says, “Dread Wolf got your tongue?”

Felassan says gloomily, “A fucking lightning strike.” He does not tell him that Fen’Harel is still too weak to banish and disintegrate spirits in the Fade. He likes Imshael, he really does. He’s always enjoyed how the disembodied spirit manages to claw his way through history, better than the rest of them from Arlathan, really. He respects the impulse for chaos—but the wanton destruction, the entrain-arrangement, and general lack of empathy? If Fen’Harel deems it necessary to disintegrate the will that is Imshael, Felassan will not complain.

Imshael says, “Tut, tut. Serves you right for believing the Old Wolf’s lies. This age is so much meaner than when we were young.” He stretches the body’s grin a little too wide for its face, pulling the edges of its mouth back as if he had stuck fishhooks in the corners. “I love it. People are so much more desperate than they were under Mythal’s justice. And there are so many new ways to entice them—not just the old ‘power, riches, virgins’ trick, I can offer them ‘lost knowledge.’ Like crop rotation.”

Felassan says, “You know about crop rotation?”

Imshael shrugs.

Felassan begins to laugh. Of course Imshael doesn’t know about crop rotation. Felassan doesn’t know anything about crop rotation. They’re spirits now, why the fuck would they know about crop rotation? He says, admiringly, “By the Dread Wolf, you are such a dick.”

Imshael says, “I don’t even need to try anymore. With your old master breaking out of the Fade, I just get to kick back, relax, and let the choosers come to me.” He forces the left eyelid of the corpse he inhabits to twitch a wink; the muscles pull at the distorted smile. Imshael lets the face relax. “Bodies—so many choices, so many little muscles to twitch! How did you handle it, having one all the time?”

Felassan says truthfully, “I didn’t think about it much.” He misses the choices he could make, to stretch his legs by the fire in the heady woods at night, to stick his fingers into loamy soil and smell the hungry earth, to edge his teeth along another person’s bottom lip. He places a finger where his lips once were, but of course he has no fingers anymore, just his own thoughtform.

“Careful,” Imshael says, dead eyes glinting. “Too much thought and you’ll break.”

Anxiety laces through him, because thought is all he has and thought keeps him whole, and in the worry he feels himself disintegrating in the old wood of the Tirashan. The scent of apples grows stronger, alcoholic, sick fermentation in blood that he no longer has—and then he remembers: Imshael is fucking with me. He wants to strike a deal. All that I have are my choices; Imshael shall not take those away. Flurrying into himself, Felassan stretches out his edges and feels the forest shift around him. The Tirashan is older than he is. The wood whispers: mine.

Felassan says, “Is that why you stuck yourself in that body? To keep the Tirashan from taking you? I quite like the Applewood, actually. Feels a bit like home.”

Imshael says, “Home that eats us alive, yes. Some of the old gods still linger, my friend.” There is a smile in his voice but he leaves the body alone. “Fen’Harel isn’t the only big thing coming. You can feel it, can’t you. That’s what drew you to the Applewood. What was once lost is no longer Forgotten.”

Felassan really has had enough of egregious poeticisms. He says, a bit testily, “What do you want, Imshael? Why are you here? Are you saying I was drawn here? Nothing compells me.”

Lacing roots ground him and the woods expand with one earthy exhale, and even Imshael’s body react electrically as the leaf litter wraps around its ankles. The Horned Knight eases out of the old tree.

Felassan breathes, “Daern’thal.”

The Horned Knight inclines his head and says, “One aspect.” The Forgotten Ones were driven to the edges of the map long before Fen’Harel raised the Veil and threw the world into catastrophe. This aspect of the old god, Daern’thal, has found refuge in the Applewood. Felassan is afraid. He would have been afraid even if he had a body, even if the Veil had not been raised. He never met the gods without Fen’Harel to protect him. Imshael is an interesting substitute.

Daern’thal has chosen the shape of a wooden man, echoing the humans who have driven his worshippers into the shadows of the glens. Halla horn bursts from his forehead. Rather than deal with the issue of mortal mucosity, the Forgotten One has placed eyes of fish scale and snakeskin into the indentation of his sockets. Thin bands of fungal mycelium bind his limbs together. Lust stirs in Felassan’s heart. He can make himself a body like that, if only he could learn how.

Imshael smiles.

One does not refuse an invitation from a god, even a Forgotten One. Felassan pushes against Imshael’s receptical’s shoulders, testing the electric nervous system of the dead flesh, but Imshael pushes against him.

“Only room for one,” he says flatly. “Unless?”

“Nah,” Felassan says. “I’m good here, thanks.” He follows the shambling corpse to the hall of the Horned Knight, a round tower in a narrow glen, dark and wet with green.

“Heartwood Court,” the Knight says, and bids them enter. The upper floors have partially collapsed into each other like dominos after they have been flicked, and Felassan stares nervously at stars glimmering between the leaves of the flowering roof. Of course, these mortal worries are beyond him. Wood and stone can do him no harm. At the center, indeed of the heart of the hall, grows a great tree, whose autumn-colored canopy provides some cover. Felassan sees a star twinkle, and then burn out: not enough.

The grass shines, dusted with shards of an old mirror. The Horned Knight has laid blankets of moss over toppled pillars, a facsimile of a great table. His servants gather, enthralled to his Will. Moss grows within their eyes and flowers bloom from their skin, patterned in the same tattooed ropes of the vallaslin.

Felassan touches the plush moss and is surprised when the moss pushes back. The Veil is thin here. He sits, suddenly ravenous. Daern’thal has hacked his way from the Void and back into the Waking World and made himself a body of earth and scale. If he can learn, he can stretch again. He can taste. He can bite. Imshael settles next to him, monstrously smug.

Felassan says, “You did this on purpose.”

“You’re welcome,” Imshael says. “Consider it a thank-you gift, for making sure I didn’t waste my time tormenting little Mihris. Here, it’s so much more fun. Subtler choices to make, with a much longer reach.” Their arms brush. Felassan starts at the touch.

He says, desire in his voice, “The Veil is very thin here.”

At the center of the great table the Horned Knight arranges himself, in a throne hewn of apple-wood. Glorious smells intoxicate the air: meat fresh-roasted over a well-loved fired, basted in its own blood. Saliva comes to Felassan’s mouth, and he swallows and licks his lips. Silent servants shuffle woodenly by the table, bearing a grotesque boar with its death scream still echoing in its mouth. Imshael reaches for the apple in its mouth and plucks it out. He offers it to Felassan.

Felassan says, “No. Not yet. No.”

Imshael smiles. “Not yet. But soon.” He lays it between Felassan’s hands, slowly gaining solidity. Felassan clenches his fists. Imshael is looking at him up from through his eyelashes. It would have a more charming effect if the body he occupies weren’t clearly dead.

There are rules of hospitality that must be followed. One does not eat before one’s host. Imshael wants him to; Imshael enjoys violation, the breaching of taboo. Felassan likes the bend and breach too, but it is easier to navigate in the Fade, where everything is up for debate. He watches his host. The Horned Knight burns with the old fire of the Forgotten Gods. The Veil warps around him, and the discordance of the waking and the dreaming syncopates into the beat of a living, muscled heart. Daern’thal figured it out. He lives, without a body, a thing of muscles and spells. He does not need to will every pump of blood. Imshael and Felassan gaze upon him with mutual lust.

“My guests,” he says. “Old countrymen from a country that exists only in our worst dream-rambles. Imshael Choice-Bringer I know has poached in my wood these two season. Small prey I grant him.”

Felassan sneaks a glance at Imshael. The corpse looks sour.

“Small prey,” Imshael rumbles. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

If Felassan had a consistent face, he would grin at that. He does like Imshael, after all. Who else would think to take on a remnant of a Forgotten One, in his own hall? What is he going to do, offer him a choice?

“And you, Slow Arrow, dropped from the Dread Wolf’s quiver, broken but undecayed. Piecemeal but awaiting restoration. Unbodied the both of you. Living not-death, I welcome you the same.”

Talk why do you do like that, Felassan thinks. Not even Solas got that bad. A flash of anger runs through him, and he is surprised to see his hands clench, and then they are gone. The moss lays undisturbed on the ruined pillar that is the table. He smells the dinner, he does not smell it. One does not need sensation for an appetite. He hungers. Imshael smiles.

Out of the corpse’s mouth Imshael says, “You’ve guarded the Tirashan well against the Evanuris and their lapdog. A shame this hall’s in ruins. What happened? Don’t you miss your temples?”

“The People worship us enough,” the Horned Knight says calmly. He carves a slice from the spit and places it on a golden plate. “Those the Evanuris would have seen erased have writ themselves large on the landscape. I am, in eternity, lord of these woods.” He has started speaking subject-verb-object again, Felassan notes. He is irritated. The Forgotten Ones were always easy to wind up. Then he realizes—

“What meat is that?” Felassan asks faintly. “Boar?” He hopes it is not halla; even the most degraded of their descendants still hold their kin sacred.

The Horned Knight’s fish scale eyes gleam in their own dark fire. He repeats, “The People worship us enough. They understand sacrifice, how to wear and tear ’til blood seeps into the Dreaming and yanks it awake.”

The Horned Knight passes the plate to Imshael, who passes it stiffly to Felassan. He catches it, flesh rapidly outlined, and places it onto the moss-tablecloth. A servant across the room smiles vacantly; the same moss that adorns the table covers her eyes. Onion flowers dot down her face in the slash of an X. Her skin is coated in red ochre. She does not taste of the Tirashan. She stinks, but not terribly, of Mythal. It is the Scornful Sorceress, Mythal’s troublesome little daughter. That means there is a limit to the Horned Knight’s reach; while he can eat and he can drink, he cannot smell. He does not know the presence of other gods.

Imshael and Felassan look at each other for a long moment. Wordlessly they agree, and let the girl be.

The Horned Knight cuts himself a prime slice and takes a bite. His teeth are the spiraling arms of living crinoids, tearing at the cooked flesh. His tongue is a flash of autumn leaf.

Imshael whispers, “Well? Aren’t you going to eat?”

Felassan whispers, “Aren’t you?”

“I don’t have a digestive system anymore.”

“Well, I’m dead. I don’t either.”

Imshael says, “Do you really think Daern’thal is living? Death eating death. How much of him is simply the Tirashan’s mycelium? Sacrifice won’t keep you whole for long.”

The dryad servants sway in time with the rustle of the leaf-wind. A woman with willow for hair pulls out a bone flute and begins to play. Richly the notes come like a sunset, winding around him like a drink. He is hungry for a body. Daern’thal has one. Perhaps he can share. It is about time he begins killing gods, rather than letting them kill him.

Imshael says, “Good choice.”

Felassan says fondly, “Get the fuck out of my thoughtform.”

The Forbidden One laughs, a rictus of death. The sacrifice steams on the plate over the altar. Neither of them eat. The servants are singing now, in the tree’s breath. First a rumble comes deep from their throats, then the rising chorus of sun and sugar, salt and carbon, bark and heart’s wood. They sway like young birches in the bite of winter’s breeze. He knows the steps and would dance it, if he had feet.

“Dead man’s shuffle?” Imshael offers.

Felassan says, “No.” He can do better than piggybacking off a decaying corpse, tricking mortals into giving up their form and discarding them as soon as they begin to rot. He watches the Horned Knight eat. It’s horrible, but it is living. He says, “I want that body.”

Imshael says, “Good choice.”

The Scornful Sorceress is not quite swaying in time with the others. The moss covering her eyes is thinner. A flower has fallen from the X-shaped vallaslin. Quick, Felassan thinks. Quick. Make your choice before it’s made for you. Don’t be like me.

The Horned Knight says, “My horn. Let us drink, and trade a story for a story, a boon for a boon.” The living wood comes forth bearing a lyrium-laced drinking horn in the shape of a silver halla, legs folded. Around the rim a scene is wrought, of a dying god clawing his way out of the Void to return to the Tirashan. The god becomes the wood, his body woven by the network of fungal decay that keeps the hivemind of the trees living and speaking. He says, “I was a spirit and I was a god and once I was a mere elf, running to the shelter of a Tirashan. The woods took me into their heart. Daern’thal made this horn, to safeguard against the Old Wolf’s tricks. I drank from it. We persist. What are your stories, my countrymen?”

Imshael says, “I refused to be limited by the boundaries of a body. A singular outline defers choice. I am Opportunity and I am Envy. Without a body, I can be both. The choice is yours.”

Felassan says, “Yes. I was the Dread Wolf’s Slow Arrow, the last-ditch plan he broke. I lost my body, but where there is thought, there is form. I am still living. I will persist. What do I need to do, to drink from that horn?”

Imshael smiles. The ochre woman is not even swaying at all.

The Horned Knight says, “You may drink of it only if you stay to the truth of your name. The Veil is breaking. Old magic returns, beyond what we have hidden in the Applewood. I grant you both this life if you stay true to it. Remain Imshael, the impossible choice. Stay the Slow Arrow, which flies the course.” The bark-cut mouth twists into a smile, fossil-teeth bared. “But know this. Once you drink of it, you are of it. The Tirashan has its due. You may remain distinct, but the mycelium persists. You are Felassan, but you will become the Tirashan too.”

Felassan pushes away the plate of flesh. He says, “Would I be able to leave the woods?

The Horned Knight smiles again. He says, “We know what is to come. What is to say that in the end, there will be anything but the woods?”

Fen’Harel is coming to break every chain. Fen’Harel is taking down the Veil and restoring Arlathan and its dark woods. The time of the quicklings is coming to an end. Slow magic, eating away at life, survives, neither flora or fauna.

Felassan says, “No,” and the ochre-servant snatches the horn from the Horned Knight’s wooden hands and sprints out of the hall, shifting into a massive bear. Imshael cackles with laughter. He says, “That’s no choice at all. Careful, there. You’ll put out Imshael out of a job.”

Imshael smiles. “And that’s no choice at all.”

#the old gods of serault #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fanfic #da fanfic #the last court #the masked empire #felassan #imshael #mihris #morrigan #the horned knight #felassan/imshael #horror #comedy #fanfic

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ace-of-spaders · 3 years ago

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@my-robot-heart once upon a time sent me a prompt "I'm here. I never left." for Lizzington.

It was the kind of prompt I fell in love with from first glance but couldn't decide which direction to take right away, so I left it for a while.

I must admit, I'm rather glad that I did, because the idea I eventually went with came to me only after the season finale (because, like everyone else, I had to fix it somehow), but I'm also sorry, Robot, that it took me so long and can only hope that the end product is worth the waiting)

That is, considering your attitude towards the 8x22, I feel it's fair to warn you that this ficlet is set post-8x22 and is angsty - because Red is suffering and Liz is suffering because Red is suffering - but also hopeful because, guess what, Liz lives, so I really hope you'll like it!

(Also, it was supposed to be just a tiny ficlet but my fingers slipped... a lot, so it's now 2,000 words long))

Last but not the least, I think I need to tag @thetwistedargent, too, because her ghost!Lizzie stories low-key inspired this one. Even though I'm not brave nor strong enough to write dead!Lizzy.

Well, now enough with my rambling and on with the ficlet itself, I guess?)

---

She comes to him every night. Wearing loose sweaters that don’t constrict her chest, Liz slips past Dembe and into Red’s bedroom and invariably scrunches her nose up from the suffocating smell of cigar smoke that hangs heavily in the air.

Red hasn’t left his room in days – ever since Dembe brought him home on that fateful night he lost ( or thought he lost ) the meaning of his life in the form of his beloved Lizzy – wallowing in his grief, choking on his own guilt more than the smoke of cigars he smokes more than ever these days and drowning ( or, at least, trying to drown ) his sorrow in immeasurable quantities of alcohol. Liz is acutely aware of this newly established routine of his and what it does to his health and wishes with all her heart she could do something more about it other than visit him nightly while he sleeps, wishes she could reassure him that she’s alive and well and he doesn’t have to mourn her. But she can’t, not yet. So she crosses the room to the window and opens it wide in ultimately vain attempts to chase the choking odor of cigar smoke away. Taking a deep breath of fresh air to try and quell the storm of emotions raging inside of her, Liz turns her gaze to the loaded gun lying discarded on the desk ( she knows that Dembe tried to take that gun away from Red out of fear he might do something… unreasonable in his grief but Red didn’t let him, speaking up for the first time in quite a while just to reassure his old friend that he doesn’t have any intention of ending his own life… it will end soon enough anyway, even without such act of cowardice ) and runs her hand over the cool metal, feeling her heart clench at the thought of how apathetic, how utterly hopeless Red has become in – because of – her absence. Then, her gaze usually shifts towards the always empty decanter of whiskey, which – she knows – is refilled a couple of times a day by Reddington, the equally empty glass discarded on his nightstand, and only then she finally turns to look at the man himself. He looks awful, to put it mildly, worse with each passing day. The clothes he sleeps in don’t quite fit him in the same snug way they used to, reminding Liz of the fact that it takes a lot of convincing on Dembe’s part ( that man must truly be a saint ) to make him eat every single day and that he does so without any enthusiasm or appetite and continues to waste away despite his old friend’s best efforts. Tears brim in her eyes as Liz moves towards the bed and carefully sits down on its very edge, her eyes roaming over Red’s slack face and taking note of the ever-growing stubble, the deepening dark circles under his eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks, and the sickly pallor of his skin. “Oh, Red,” she whispers hoarsely, unable to keep all the despair and helplessness she feels when she realizes that he’s dying without her and yet she can’t do much about it inside, and reaches out to cup his cheek with her warm palm, to trace the sharpened outline of his cheekbone with her thumb or stroke his head, the smile that stretches her lips at the feeling of his hair – now longer than usual – tickling her palm too wobbly and weak. Sometimes, he sleeps peacefully… or, rather, dreamlessly in his drunken beyond measure state, never once waking or even stirring, and on those rare occasions Liz just sits by his side, holding his hand or stroking his shoulder or head, till the first rays of sunlight come streaming through the window. Most of the nights, though, he suffers, thrashing around, tangling the sheets and throwing off blankets, panting and whimpering and crying, his mind tormenting him with vivid reconstructions of some of the worst moments of his life, and Liz hesitates, unsure of whether she should try to wake him or not, unsure of what he’s dreaming about… until her name – her seemingly long-forgotten nickname – spills from his lips and she knows exactly what he’s dreaming about. She doesn’t hesitate any longer. “Shh, Red, it’s alright,” she hushes him gently, leaning in close and settling her hands on his shoulders firmly but gently or cupping his cheeks with her warm, very much alive hands, “I’m here. I’m here, I never left.” Tears finally spill from her own eyes as Liz whispers quiet reassurances and sweet nothings to the suffering man, willing him to feel her

presence and wishing she could take the memories of that awful night away from him ( even though initially, she thought that it would be a good lesson for him, putting him in what could be her place if she pulled the trigger… but she didn’t think it would affect him that much, to the point where he isn’t really living anymore, just struggling to exist ), until she gets too choked up to speak… until Red jerks one more time under her hands and either finally settles into deep, exhausted, dreamless slumber with a heavy sigh ( in which case Liz picks the blankets he’s thrown off up from the floor, covers him with them again, tucking him in and making sure he’s warm and comfortable, and goes back to keeping her silent vigil, wiping her tears away and fighting the desire to climb into bed with him, wrap him up in her arms and never let go ) or wakes up. She always freezes when he does, when his eyes slowly open and he squints up at her in the dark, because she’s not sure how he’s going to react, even though his reaction is the same each and every time. He frowns up at her at first, his heavy with sleep and hazy from alcohol mind struggling to comprehend what is happening in front of him, but even though he doesn’t recognize her, even though in his eyes she might look like an intruder, he doesn’t even try to protect himself from any possible danger – as if he doesn’t care about what happens to him, if he lives to see another day or not – and Liz’s heart breaks at the thought. ( How did she manage to break him – the strongest man she’s ever known – so hard, so possibly irreparably? ) But then recognition dawns on his face and his lips part softly and he stares up at her with utter disbelief and very tentative hope, slowly reaching his hand up, as if in trance, to touch her cheek. She lets him, leaning slightly into his touch. “Lizzy,” Red breathes, so pained and intensely relieved at the same time that Liz hates herself for doing this to him in the first place and for not being able to go out of hiding ( but it’s not only her life that’s on the line, it’s also her daughter’s and, to a degree, his, so she has to wait out until her fame in the upper and under worlds quiets down ), to console him, to make him understand that she’s not just a figment of his imagination ( she learned pretty quickly that he doesn’t let himself even consider the possibility that she might be real and not just his hallucination or a surprisingly pleasant dream ) just yet, “Lizzy.” And every night when he wakes up to such a vivid, realistic image of his lost love, he begs her for forgiveness – for absolution – and kisses her hands, the scar on her wrist with such tangible, blatant devotion it makes her heart ache. And every night when he apologizes to her, she tells him that she’s already forgiven him for everything but never takes advantage of his fragile, weak, unguarded state to get the long overdue answers out of him ( after all, she had enough time on her hands while she recovered to understand that, at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter who they were in the past… what matters is who they are now – Red and Lizzy – and that he loves her with as much ardor as she loves him ). They always end up in each other's arms, with Red pressing messy, fervent, desperate kisses to her cheeks and forehead and the soft cascade of her shiny mahogany hair and Liz rubbing his back in what she hopes is a soothing manner, their tears mixing and staining his shirt and her sweater. “Lizzy, Lizzy, Lizzy,” Red repeats in between kisses in his low, cracking from the lack of use voice, again and again and again, like a mantra, a prayer that sounds to her ears too much like Don't go, don't go, don't go... She knows she can't promise him that now. But she can promise to stay until the morning, which is why when he whispers softly, brokenly "Stay?" in her hair, his weight settling heavier against her after the emotional turmoil of the past few minutes? hours? – Liz doesn't know how much time they spend sitting there on his bed in the mess of tangled limbs,

the mix of apologies and reassurances and each other's names that sound for all the world like declarations of love, like I'm sorry and I miss you and I don't want to ever let you go spilling from their lips – leaves him even more exhausted than the pain and the grief of the day do, she simply nods and gently pushes him away and onto his back. Red doesn't take his eyes off her as she picks the blankets up and settles beside him and tucks the blankets around them both ( Liz is acutely aware of his gaze, burning with adoration and desperation in equal measure, on her back and the side of her face ). Even as she opens her arms for him in a silent invitation to move closer and he does just that, snuggling up to her side, resting his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist tightly but not enough to hurt, he doesn't close his eyes. Liz can tell by the way he's breathing and his body goes practically rigid with tension that he's fighting the undeniably strong pull of sleep long after they've settled in for the night. That confused her on the first day but then she understood. He knows that in the morning she won't be there, that this illusion, hallucination, dream he's having will shatter once he closes his eyes and succumbs to exhaustion. And he doesn't want to lose her again. Not for the third, fourth, fifth, umpteenth time ( when she thinks about it, Liz is not even sure if her visits help him or hurt him more... but she can't stop, she can't go about her days without knowing first-hand how Red is doing ). So Liz does the only thing she can do to soothe him: she cups the back of his head, presses a light kiss to his forehead and lies. "Sleep, Red. I will be here when you wake up." "No, you won't," he whispers back flatly – just pointing out the obvious – with an undertone of finality that haunts her long after he obediently closes his eyes and his body finally relaxes in her arms. Because he's right: she always leaves long before he wakes up, giving Dembe a hug goodbye and asking him – rather unnecessarily but she can't help herself – to take care of Red, with only one thought keeping her going through the day: That one day – and hopefully, not in such a distant future – she will be there in the morning when Red wakes up.

#the blacklist #the blacklist fic #lizzington #lizzington fic #post-8x22 fix-it #my-robot-heart #thetwistedargent #I wrote this yesterday but wanted to edit a bit through mobile app so I saved your ask a draft #and Tumblr ate it (😤)#so I had to make a new post #but I fell asleep before I did it so I'm posting this today)

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years ago

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exile

pairing: carter baizen x reader

warnings: angst & smut (18+)

a/n: this one has been in the working for a while. enjoy.

based off “exile” by taylor swift and “tightrope” from the greatest showman

I think I’ve seen this film before and i didn’t like the ending, you’re not my hometown anymore so what I’m defending now? You were my town now i’m in exile seeing you out. I think I’ve seen this film before ...

The music was softly loud in a manner that one could only describe as annoying for conversation starts. Women dressed in the newest gowns straight of the catwalk and men tied up into various shades of suits. People walked around carrying trays of expensive champagne and every corner of the room seemed to have an ice sculpture everywhere. Everything was splendid and wondrous but Carter was much more interested in the figure leaned against the marbled column. Hair pulled up and held by several golden pins, skin decorated in white ruffled fabric descending up to her knees, matching heels on her feet as a key shaped necklace hanged from her neck. She was like a vision of time, an hallucination of a memory that was long, long gone. She was gone but near and Carter couldn’t help but feel all his pride slowly slip away from him.

If there was a woman who could say she had held his heart, it was Y/N. She was the daughter of one of his father’s friends, a partner and share owner in most of the law firms around New York, and a French socialite. She carried herself with the elegance and innocence that no Upper East Sider had and Carter had been hopelessly enamoured with her. How could he not? He could still close his eyes and see her, he could the very first time he met her, his mother surrounded by other ladies at tea laughing about new founded gossip but there she was, sat in the chair swirling the platinum spoon on the warm liquid of her tea cup.

She always found a way to make him laugh, she could always find a way to make him feel like he wasn’t as shallow as he thought he was. Carter loved her the way he could love no other woman but he had to let her go. Her father clearly wasn’t found of having his only child, his precious daughter, dating an ex gambling addict with a bad reputation, and as such he sent her away. She had asked him to help her, she didn’t want to go somewhere alone but he didn’t. At the end of the day he knew he would eventually break her heart. He had tried writing her but every letter he wrote her came back, unopened. He wondered why she was back, out of all places she had decided to go to Columbia. She hated New York, she always hated the fake plastered smiles and the ambitions her parents had for her, she hated the noise and would much enjoy to run away to the Hamptons during Autumn and Winter. Carter still remembers driving down to the Hamptons near twilight to find her laying on top of an old blanket. It was tattooed on his brain, the serene look on her face as she pulled onto the worn out sleeves of a sweatshirt she had purposely bought oversized. Sadly, alongside with that memory was the memory of him driving away from her home, leaving before she could even notice.

- Carter. - he turned around at the mention of his name, an old lady stood in front of him whom he could swore was Y/N’s grandmother. Or, at least, the one she enjoyed to speak about. - I didn’t know you were in town.

- Sister’s getting married.

- My congratulations to Caroline. - she smiled. - Oh, have you met my granddaughter? She should be here somewhere here.

Carter was going to refuse meeting a granddaughter he already knew a bit too well, at least better than her father would’ve liked, but the woman had a death like grip on his tailor velvet black suit and was already walking him Y/N’s way. His throat ran dry and he felt his body fill with static like feelings as she turned around at her grandmother’s request. There, at the sight of her face beautifully and delicately preserved in time with little to no signs of time pulling on the skin, he felt like he was the old type of man, ready to drop everything at the belief that someone was made just for him. She stared at him as if she had seen a ghost, a dead being which had never left her but that she was only noticing now.

Second, third, and hundredth chances, balancin' on breaking branches. Those eyes add insult to injury. I think I've seen this film before and I didn't like the ending. I'm not your problem anymore so who am I offending now? You were my crown now I'm in exile seein' you out. I think I've seen this film before so I'm leavin' out the side door

The parties were always the same no matter how much time had passed. The glittering chandeliers and fake smiles for seeing someone whom they hadn’t seen in ages and could barely remember the name. Lily van der Woodsen had been the one to host the party, insisting to Y/N’s mother she should attend as a way to get to know some of Columbia’s students but there was no one that Y/N didn’t already know. She had gone to Constance for a few years until her father decided she was clearly going through a dark path. A dark path named Carter Baizen.

Last she’d heard of him he was doing some humanitarian documentary work but others perceived him as more of a intense gambler rather than the portrait of humanitarian. Other than that, she’d never seen him since she was 17 going on 18 on his car listening to his favourite bands and discussing running away. After her father sent her to Connecticut for boarding school for her companies with the eldest Baizen child, she didn’t hear from him ever again.

As she sipped on her second glass of champagne, she heard her grandmother’s voice booming which made her turn around to see the last person she’d ever expect to see. Once again, she was merely a young girl waited on the steps of her apartment, constantly checking the watch for a man that never came. Things were never clear but looking at him, looking into those eyes only added salt to a wound which had never healed and was instead covered through layers and layers of “You’ll be alright”.

- This is my Y/N. She’s gonna be a human rights lawyer, we’re so proud of her. - her grandmother poured out love and pride in her voice, something Carter definitely didn’t use to hear from her own mother. - Y/N, this is Carter Baizen. He’s Caroline’s brother, you two went together to Constance. Do you remember?

- We’ve met before. - there was a sort of icy softness to her voice, no longer the honeyed, happy sound she used to speak in whenever they would walk down the Upper East. No, this was cold, almost as if she had surrounded herself by walls yet soft as if she was still able to show the cracks in her armour. Heaviness settled in him, looking at her, looking at the one he would dub as the one who got away. She didn’t get away, he went away.

- I should go check on the other guests. - her grandmother excused herself leaving the ex almost lovers staring at each other through mirrors of past distorted memories.

- I didn’t know you were at Columbia. - he grabbed one of the passing glasses of champagne, not entirely sure of what to say. He never knew what to say near her but this time, this time he knew nothing he could say would made up for what he did.

- Brown isn’t what I had in mind so I transferred after I finished my first year. Dad thought Columbia would be a good fit. - she stood too far from him, further than he’d like. She used to always be so close, so close he could smell her vanilla and honey perfume, so close he could feel the fabric of her clothing against his hands. Close enough to consider kissing her but that was no longer the case, she was far and her heart was locked. - What about you Carter? Last I heard you were in Machu Picchu.

- My uncle got me an chief financial officer job at his company in London. Been spending some time with Serena but I’m mostly here for Carolines’ wedding.

- Serena? She was at the same boarding school as me. Didn’t know you two were close.

- I guess you could say we are close. On and off.

Her curious facade fell as the corner of her lips almost falling into a frown. She didn’t know what to feel if anger or sadness but as a tray passed by, she set down her half full glass on the silver tray before mumbling “excuse me”. She moved through the crowds of people with her hand in front of her eyes, strangled cry in her throat.

- Y/N, wait. - he followed her, he followed her like he should’ve done years ago. He chase her up the stairs of the van der Woodsen residence, knowing it like the palm of his hand, however she was still faster than him and rushed over to the small balcony on their guest bedroom, stomach hitting the metal railings which adorned the small outside place. - Y/N!

So step right out, there is no amount of cryin' I can do for you. All this time, we always walked a very thin line. You didn't even hear me out (you didn't even hear me out), you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs). All this time I never learned to read your mind (never learned to read my mind). I couldn't turn things around (you never turned things around) 'cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) ...

- I really don’t want to speak to you. - she let the tears flow down her face in silence, regretting how her mind seemed to show her images of the times when things were clearer. Times when they would just be kids joking around in central park or times when she would purposely let her hand wander, hoping he would grab it but he never did. The times she would look him into the eyes for longer than usual, hoping he would try to kiss her, but he never did.

- C’mon, dove. - he walking up to her but she moved away.

- Don’t call me that. - she punctuated every single word as if he had offended her.

- Why are you upset?

- Why am I upset? - she lifted her head, streaks of black mascara rushing down her face. She’d been here before, she’d been disappointed before and she didn’t like it so why was she here again? Why didn’t she just ignore him and went back into the carefully constructed world she had built for herself. - You always told me you were afraid of commitments, that you didn’t want to be shackled down to anyone and I understood it. I understood it and stood by you and waited, waited for things to change and you ... you just weren’t worth it. You wasted my time only to get on a relationship with Serena out of all people. You just weren’t worth it.

It stung, it stung worse than anything he’d ever felt before. He wasn’t worth it, he just wasn’t worth it and he knew it. What he didn’t know and was still processing as if he was living some twisted dream was her words. She waited, he knew she had waited for him but he didn’t know what else she had waited for. Suddenly all those fall nights in the beach where she would fall asleep on his shoulder, trying to pull her out of revision sessions after she started crying due to stress, her pretending to let him win whenever they played poker. She had waited and she was right he wasn’t worth it.

- Why Serena? - she questioned, heart heavy with emotions too ugly for her to even let unfold.

- I don’t know.

- Do you wanna know how long I waited for you on those stairs? - he wanted to say no, he didn’t want to remember it, he didn’t want to think of it. - I waited for 5 hours, I waited as long as I could until my parents shoved me on that train because of you. You didn’t write or ...

- I wrote you everyday. - he still had those letters, stacked on top of his wardrobe in England wrapped in the red string she used to wear around her hair like a headband and had left in his drawer during a particular cold day. He thought he should’ve burn them years and years ago, let it go but something stopped him. The mere thought of her just touching the letters stopped him from discarding them, from burning the only thing which was still hers. - You sent back each and every letter.

- I never got any letter from you. - she wanted to scream at him for using his lines, his tricks on her. - Stop lying to me.

- I wrote to you everyday for two years. - he grabbed her arm, impeding her from leaving this time. As if this simple act could make up the biggest mistake of his life. - I wrote to you every day and when I stopped having any words I wrote down all your favourite love letters. After two years, I thought ... I thought you probably had someone and I didn’t want to ruin that for you.

- You wrote to me? - she softened, almost as if she couldn’t believe his words. Her mother definitely would’ve told her not to believe him, “the Baizen’s have a way with words, no wonder they have a publicity and ad agency” and her father would send her straight to Brown if he even dared to dream his precious and only daughter was back with the man he had sent her away from. Her inhibitions fell like a castle of cards and blew away as she stared at the man whom she had loved since she was fifteen and had last seen at seventeen years old. She should know better, she was three years older, no longer innocently in love with the older boy from St. Judes. She should know better, she should know better but she didn’t and looking into his eyes and then his lips she decided to do something she shouldn’t.

Placing on herself on her tippy toes, she held his shoulders and leaned her lips against his. Carter immediately grabbed her, afraid she would slip away or that she was some fragment of his drunk imagination but no, she was here. As he held her close to his body, lips moving in such a synch it could be describe as symphony like, he could feel her, he could feel her warmth, the ruffles of her dress against his fingers. No, she was here. She was here.

The two of them stumbled backwards into the guest bedroom, too heated in their minds to care about the fact the door was unlocked. His hands came up to the straps which held her dress to her body, ripping it off her and leaving her in a probably too expensive white lacy lingerie with a tiny jewel in the middle of her chest. He was too worried to feel her, to kiss her to even look at her racy form, ever so beautifully revealing. Her finger danced over his jacket, pushing it off him. He helped her discard of the jacket, throwing it somewhere in the room and thus interrupting the kiss. She laid against the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets, and that’s when he first took a good look at her. The lingerie looked tailor made, almost glued like a second skin, enhancing her bossom which he only wanted to lay his face on. His lips were partially open, hair broken open from its confines and sprawled all over the white sheets. Fuck, she was a vision.

He climbed atop her, eyes fully darkened with lust as he stood over her before leaning to kiss her again, hand pushing on the back her knee and caressing the skin of her thigh. His other hand came to her back, releasing the strap which held the garment in place. He was just a simple pull away from seeing it, from seeing her in what he only dreamed off in drunk nights. He didn’t want to pull it away just yet, he wanted to look at her and look he did. There was so many things he wanted to do to her but right now he just wanted to bask in her intimacy but she was not interested in that, trembling hands coming to unbutton his white shirt, pushing it down his arms. His once soft skin was now defined, no longer the 18 year old he was but someone whom she would thought to be out a men’s health magazine. Her hands moved through his chest, feeling the ridges and scars of time that had laid there before they lowered to the zipper of his trousers.

- No, dove. - he grabbed her hands in his, putting them above her head and holding them there. - No, let me take care of you.

He started to kiss her neck, starting at right at the end of her ear down to her collarbones and up to the start of her breast where skin meet the lace of her lingerie. Slowly, he pushed the garment off her, mouth lowering to take her nipple in between his lips. The girl let out a soft moan, hand tangling in his polished hair as changed attentions to her other breast sucking hard enough to leave marks. She wanted his marks. She wanted to bare them, to do the wrong thing. He moved from her chest down to her navel, making her moan at the lack of teasing until he got too close to her mound. He looked up to her, devilish spark in his eyes.

- Tell me, dove. How well did they fuck you in boarding school?

- I will if you tell me how well you fucked Serena.

- Oh, dove ... are you jealous? - his eyes flickered with a sense of wild pride he couldn’t explain. Her moved up, licking his lips before kissing her jaw. - Don’t be jealous, my little dove. I thought of you every time I fucked her.

His fingers moved inside of her all her making her hold onto his neck, pushing him onto the space between her neck and shoulder. He smiled, biting onto the plump skin while he pressed his fingers deeper into her heat. His fingers moved in and out of her, slowly, teasingly, pushing sweet yet pornographic sounds from her as he hit that perfect spot. His thumb rubbed abstract-like figures on her hardening clit, putting her in a hypnotising-like state which made her reply to each and every move he had.

- Fuck ... coming here to the Upper East in that little cocktail of yours. You’re all grown up aren’t you, dove? Fuck, I missed you. - he pressed his thumb harder on her climb, kissing from the spot he had just bitten to her shoulder, only to bite it too. That sure would leave a mark her daddy would love to see, oh he surely would love to. - Are you close, dove?

- Carter ... - she moaned in want, feeling that familiar knot only she could cause herself starting to tighten.

- You’re so fucking stunning. - he rose his head from her shoulder, crashing his lips against hers and his fingers keep moving in and out at a now faster pace. She breathed in and out, letting out sounds which only incentivised him to keep going, small smile on his lips as he keep kissing her, teeth grazing at her bottom lip. She could feel the knot tighten until it suddenly released, having her moan against his lips as the sound turned into pure static energy. - Aren’t you a stunner? Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, dove.

She could barely move her head, still recovering from her orgasm as he left her lips to pull down her zipper. Looking up as well as she could, she watched him remove his formal trousers along with his underwear revealing his sizeable member. Mindlessly, she bite her lip, smirking through her daze as he pumped himself a couple of times, pre-cum gathering at the red tip of his member.

- You’re not a good girl at all, are you dove? - he questioned in a teasing manner before returning to top her, grabbing her hands once more and holding them tight above her head. He ran the tip of his member up and down her slit, collecting the wetness from her former orgasm. - Come on, dove. Tell me, tell me you’re mine.

- I ... I’m y...yours. - she spoke through the breathlessness that he seemed to naturally caused in her not expecting the harsh thrusting to begin as soon as those words exited her mouth. He held her hands thightly, thrusting into her in and out with little to no gentleness. He couldn’t do gentle and she didn’t want him to do so, relishing as he seemed to hit her g-spot which sent her eyes rolling to the back of her head. - Carter, I’m yours.

- I fucking know, dove. I know. - he said through his teeth, growling at the way her pussy milked him in such a way he needed more self control than ever. He continued with no relent, free hand coming to rub her nub which made her lose whatever inhibitions she had left. She was putty in his hands, moaning mindlessly without a care in the world.

- I’m gonna cum. - she cried out, turning her head to the side as he leaned to kiss her neck, noticing how hard it was becoming to ignore how she was milking him. Few more thrusts and she came crashing from the high she had been in since the start, moaning his name out loud as he growled before collapsing to her side, not wanting to hurt her. She let out a shaky breathe, feeling him cum drip out of her and onto the sheets. This surely was no house guest etiquette but she really wasn’t in the mood to care.

He turned his head to look at her, sweat dripping from her forehead and gluing the hairs close to it to her skin as her chest went up and down trying to calm down her heart rate. She was surely a sight. He carefully threw an arm over her, pushing her flush with his body before kissing the top of her head.

- I’m so sorry. - he blurted out, not sure what to say, how to apologise for things that were long gone. - I’m so sorry.

- Just stay this time. - she kissed the palm of his hand. - Just stay.

- I will, dove. I promise.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan au #carter baizen #carter baizen x reader #carter baizen/reader #carter baizen x you #carter baizen/you #carter baizen x y/n #carter baizen/y/n #carter baizen smut #carter baizen imagine #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut

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amethystpath-writes · 4 years ago

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P3 A Sculpture and Fate

Part 2 here

******

Briella would have never imagined she’d be delighted at the sound of a gasp- they seemed to signify an ending, like when one was stabbed and left to bleed out between an alley of the market all alone. She’d seen it happen before- witnessed Death claim a soul in the dead of night. It’s what made running from her home so difficult. Because if Death were so accustomed to her village, and those surrounding it, why wouldn’t they love the woods just as much?

And anyways, Death wasn’t the only dreadful deity in existence, for gasps could also signify shock and fear- such as Briella’s first night in the woods when she spotted her first tuft of fur. She had thought it to be a rabbit, but of course, it was not. Anyone would have thought this was the fastest she ever ran in her life, after seeing a wolf- one starving and more aggressive because of the fact- but this was not the case. See, it wasn’t until weeks of living in an old cottage that Briella experienced the feeling of her lungs collapsing in on her, when she sought for a sword nowhere to be found.

What a miracle it was, now, though, to hear a gasp- an intake of breath usually followed by such horrific connotations, but was, in this moment, only chased with delightful tears.

“I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again,” Mum cried. Briella could tell how genuine her mother was- not just by the hug and breaking voice, but also her greasy hair and cold hands. This happened when Mum was stressed, when she felt hopeless- like the world was out to get her.

“I’m okay,” Briella assured in a soft voice. In truth, she was still shaken, and unconvinced this moment was even real. How was it possible to be home after she had been running for weeks, after she had been chased- sought out for simply existing? Being home, in her mother’s arms…it was impossible, wasn’t it?

“Your father…” Mum trailed off with a heavy sigh. Suddenly, sighs were a dreadful thing once again, something that arrived just before the Bearer of Bad News.

“He left to save me, didn’t he?”

Mum nodded, stepping away from her daughter. Looking at Briella now, all she could think was, Goodness, child, you are filthy. Of course, Mum wasn’t in much of a better state, but her personal hygiene was less of a concern given how her daughter was in the woods for weeks on end, living on her own, living with a murderer on her trail. She shook her head in the disbelief and shock of it all. “How are you here, Ella?”

In other words, how had Briella escaped Vince? Where was he? Was he dead? Did Briella kill him? Did he never find her? Should she still be running? So many questions packed into one, and all Briella could say was this: “Sir Vince brought me home.”

This, without doubt, only created more questions, but what did it matter? There would always be more questions, more fear as time passed by and Briella still wasn’t dead.

What an awful circumstance- to fear every day you are alive. Sure, Vince decided to not kill Briella, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t change his mind again. And it didn’t mean that possible change of mind wouldn’t be soon. Any breath could be Briella’s last…she almost wished she would have let Vince kill her.

“What do you mean he brought you home?” Mum demanded. “Are you sure you should be here?” She thought Briella was imagining circumstances, didn’t she? Thought her poor daughter was so deeply rooted into her own fear that she imagined everything working out when it didn’t.

Maybe it was a hallucination. Maybe Briella imagined that encounter in the woods- when Vince shoved her face in the mud and told her to find a sword. When she searched for her father’s weapon in the rotting cottage and found it in Vince’s hand instead. When she convinced him to let her live by telling him a story- a rather short story at that. And finally, when Vince took her home, or at least within kingdom territory. Maybe it was Briella’s hopeful imagination- to save herself, or to be saved at all.

“Well, I will not go back into the woods,” Briella finally said, snapping herself out of her own thoughts. She added, “Unless it’s to being Father home.”

Mum shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.” For another time, Ella was drawn into a hug, squeezed as if her mother thought she’d slip into the woods again.

“If someone doesn’t go after him, then he will stay in there forever.” They both knew this- both knew Father would walk through every inch of the woods to find Briella. He’d kill himself if it brought him closer to her, brought him closer to saving his daughter’s life.

“But you don’t have to be the one to find him, Ella,” Mum scorned. “You should have never been in those woods.”

“I would have been killed if I’d never gone in them.” Briella swallowed at the thought, and at the thought thereafter. Vince handled himself well enough in the woods. “I’ll ask my knight to go after Father.”

Mum pushed away again. “Your knight?” she questioned, tone like a knife. “I don’t care what Fate says, that man- if you can call him one- is an abomination, one Death should have stolen-”

“Fate put us together!” Briella sucked in a breath before apologizing. “I don’t like him any more than you do, Mum, but…well, listen, Mum. Vince-” Sir Vince, she thought to herself- “is the only person worthy of those woods who would walk in for Father. He’ll brave the woods for a fellow knight.”

“He tried to kill you because Fate bounded him to you. Why would he care for a runaway soldier- one that is your father? He’s doomed,” Mum said about her husband.

“I’m not going to let him die in those woods. I’ll die finding him, or I’ll die making Vince find him.”

“Or,” Mum ventured, “you can avoid dying at all. Lay down for tonight and we’ll figure out what to do in the morning, yeah?” Her daughter nodded. They went to bed.

***

Briella didn’t sleep that night, but instead left to find Vince in the barracks. It was a feat to enter- a feat to make herself appear like a measly squire running late after his knight. But when she made it in, she found Vince almost immediately. His eyes found her, and Briella could almost swear her feet were on fire. She wanted to run out the way she came.

“A moment, men,” Vince had said to the other soldiers which sat at his table. They were playing a game of cards, but now had to wait as Vince took Briella’s elbow in his hands, squeezing with all his wrath. He led them outside, where the breeze managed to push Briella’s hood off. “Unfortunate to see you made it home.”

It was clear how much anger Vince was holding back. If he had been in his own home and Briella would have shown up like this, she had no doubt he would kill her then and there. Right now, however, his men were inside, and they probably weren’t fond of soulmates killing soulmates.

“I need your help.” Vince spun on a heel. Before Briella could think about what she was doing, she put a hand on his arm- his arm which she now realized was bare…his whole chest was bare. Her eyes went wide, but she cleared her throat and dropped her hand. “Please. My father, he’s- he went looking for me and I know he won’t come back until he finds me. He doesn’t know I’m alive, Vin- Sir Vince.”

“You seem to be so fond of Fate- maybe if he is meant to come back alive then he will.”

“It doesn’t work like that and you know it.”

“Maybe I know and simply don’t care.”

Briella protested. “You do care- I know you do. However little your heart is, I know there’s an even smaller part of it that is crippling at the thought of not helping me.”

Vince crossed his arms, his head tilting down in a manner which told Briella he didn’t care at all to be standing. “Not at all.”

Shaking her head, Briella huffed. “What is wrong with you?” She said it quietly enough that even she could barely hear herself, but Vince was a wolf- of course he heard her.

“I don’t like being told who I should love.”

“You are a soldier! You take commands every day!”

Vince’s clenched his fists since his arms were already crossed tightly. “Quiet,” he warned. It wasn’t he who would be in trouble for Briella being here. It would be her- for pretending to be someone else and sneaking into the barracks. He warned her…because he was protecting her. Did Vince even realize it?

“Those commands are different,” he said. “Those commands serve to save lives, to preserve the kingdom. This”- Vince raised his crossed arms, gesturing to Briella- “is a different field of command- one that shouldn’t exist.”

“Why not?” she demanded. “Have you ever even thought of getting to know me? Maybe you would like me.”

“I could never.”

“Because you won’t allow yourself to!” Briella whisper-shouted. She sighed and shook her head, crossed her arms like Vince had done from the beginning. “I already told you that I don’t expect you to love, or even like me, but will you at least let me admire you for the soldier you are and ask for your help? Will you help me, Sir Vince?”

He considered her for a moment, looking her up and down, as if he were expecting Fate to reveal herself in Briella’s eyes. Maybe Briella would simply fade away and her image would be overtaken by the evil deity.

Vince looked at the night sky and his shoulders fell into a relaxed state. He bit his cheek.

“Come back at sunrise. Your father wouldn’t have gotten far without a horse.”

Despite herself, Briella opened her arms and enveloped Vince in a hug. “Thank you,” she said, and repeated, with tears lining her eyes in a burst of relief she could never describe, “Thank you.” Then? Her arms slid away. “Wait, what do you mean ‘come back’? You want me to go into the woods with you?”

“Maybe a wolf will attack, and you’ll be out of my hair for good.”

Briella squinted her eyes, swearing she saw a hint of a smile on the brooding knight’s face. As quickly as she thought it appeared, a definite frown took its place. “Go home. If you show up at sunrise like you just woke up, then I’m not taking you.”

“Is that right?” Briella dared to continue. “Me being sleepy should sound convenient to you- means I’d have less ability to defend myself if you decided to try and kill me again.”

He peered at her, brows drawn together. “You couldn’t fend me off if you tried.”

“Combat isn’t always physical, soldier. I talked you out of killing me the first time, remember?”

She didn’t watch for his response, or even listen for it. Briella turned her back on him- perhaps a daring act- and began to walk away. “Until sunrise, Sir Vince.”

#NOT A PROMPT #considering it's nearly 2k words i think that's a bit evident but ya know #medieval #medieval writing #soulmates #rival soulmates #*sniff sniff*#I think a smell a bit of #enemies to lovers #medieval story #knight #knight x village girl #I absolutely do not like the names I chose for these characters but I am stuck dealing with it because this is third installment of story #rescue mission #uhhh #T- i promise i have not forgotten you #i have just been writing this forever and wanted to finish it xD #royal #royal writing #ish #i mean he's a knight #so i guess it's more #*ahem*#noble #noble writing #but who in the world actually calls them nobles when referring to the overall genre?#the answer- no one that i have ever spoken to except for myself #this is *vaguely* edited so I apologize in advance for errors if there are any. I will fix them later

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ms-rampage · 4 years ago

Text

New Dawn: New Horizons Chapter 1 - Prelude

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: It's been almost 20 years since the nuclear explosions that destroyed all of Hope County. A lot has changed, many new faces, old friends and new enemies are all head.

Guest OCs: Cristina Winchester-Smith (FC: Brianna Hildebrand), Bianca Winchester-Smith (FC: Maisie Williams), Daenerys Winchester (FC: Xia Brookside)

Guest Characters: Nick Rye, Carmina Rye, Gabriel [Supernatural], Lucifer [Supernatural], Mickey and Lou [mentioned], God/Chuck [mentioned], Joseph Seed [mentioned], John Seed [mentioned].

Written by @athenalillystar and myself. Supernatural & Far Cry New Dawn crossover. Hope y'all enjoy! 💗💗

Taglist: @wargames94 @rabbitsoldier @mrsladydiana

________

"I was just an infant when all this happened. My name is Cristina Tatiana Winchester-Smith, and life has never been the same, to my parents at least. Half my life I spent living underground in a bunker. All this was just an experience for my siblings and I. My family had to rebuild everything they had established. Saving, helping out those in need, it's our family business.

The next generation of the Winchester family has grown over the last 15+ years. Ever since the bombs dropped, Joseph Seed was right about everything. Everyone in Hope County emerged from their bunkers after 7 long years. The Collapse happened, sending the world into a nuclear holcaust by the Man upstairs, but that still doesn’t mean he, God, didn't play Joseph Seed and his family.

Cristina Winchester-Smith, the eldest daughter to Paige Winchester and Kenneth Smith along with her younger sister Bianca, and their cousin Daenerys, the only daughter to Kate Winchester, and unfortunately the daughter to John Seed, whom she doesn't know anything about because she doesn't know of his existence.

Walking through the ruins of what was once Holland Valley. Everything's destroyed, gone, obsolete.

Paige used to tell them how everything was, how everything was beautiful, the small town of Falls End, the church, the bar, the agriculture. How life was beautiful and simple, before the bombs fell, and now everything is obsolete. Never, not once telling them about the Cult that terrorized the whole town and how the leaders tortured their whole family.

They walk through the tall grass, rummaging through the prepper stashes in the abandoned destroyed houses looking for supplies.

"Did you find anything!?" Bianca calls out, from a nearby house.

"No, nothing!" Daenerys yells back, not far from her.

In another house 20 feet away from them, Cristina is digging, and pushing debris of a collapsed house out of the way. As she's searching for supplies, a gust of wind blows through the house, and a flutter like noise. She doesn't think anything of it. She hears footsteps from behind her, thinking it's her sister or cousin.

"Hey, did you find anything?!?" she asks, not looking back. Digging through the rubble.

After a few moments of no response, she speaks up again, still not looking back.

"Hey, did you find anything?!?!" she asks again. The voice of a man makes her snap her head back.

"Ooh how this world has changed" he whispers. She turns around, and sees a tall blonde man with his back to her, slowly standing up, her hand ready on her pistol.

"Umm who are you?!?" she asks him. 100% suspicious.

He turns to face her. He's very attractive, he looks like he could pass for her dad. He’s so much older than her, and has beautiful piercing blue eyes.

"I go by many names" he tells her, stepping closer to the eldest Winchester.

She narrows her eyes at him and says, "I don't understand. Is that a reference to something?!".

"I'm Lucifer" he says in a calm voice that sends shivers up her spine.

Her eyes widened for a second, taking a few steps back, and let out a soft chuckle.

“Okay!!” she laughs. When he doesn’t respond, and stares at her with a serious, dead look. She internally panics.

"Wha-?!!? No?! You serious??" she whispers, trying to play it off but the fear in her voice betrays her.

"Yes" he responds softly, standing still in front of her, blocking the doorway, the only way out.

"You better be joking” she tells him, after a few moments of no response from him “Are you gonna kill me?!?!".

He steps closer to her, examining her face. He tilts his head to the side while examining her face. She slowly backs up.

"You look familiar" he says softly.

Cristina is a splitting image of her mother Paige. Lucifer thinks that this person is Paige Winchester, but appearing much younger, and with blue streaks in her hair.

He reaches his hand out to touch her face. She backs up against the wall.

She’s able to duck underneath him, avoiding his touch, only for him to appear in front of her again.

She lets out a slight gasp, and drops to the floor. Crawling away from him.

“I’m not gonna kill you” he tells her, with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

She crawls back to where she was before, her back against the wall. He kneels in front of her, his hand reaches out to touch her face. Freaking out, she’s never seen, nor met this man before. His huge hand touches her forehead, and he closes his eyes. After a few seconds his eyes open, and are now glowing red.

She panics, and crawls away from him. Her scream getting caught in her throat, unable to call for the other two.

“Winchester” he mutters,”You’re a Winchester”.

“Yeah” she responds, softly, her voice breaking.

“I’m guessing the other 2 are Winchesters as well?!” he asks.

She nods her head, “Yeah” muttering softly.

“Paige Winchester is your mother I’m guessing” he asks, standing up, and taking a few steps away from her.

“Yeah?. Why?” she asks, beyond confused.

He sighs, and with a hint of annoyance in his voice, “I know your mother, and her sister Kate Winchester. Pretty much your whole damn family”.

He turns back around to face her, and says “Sam and Dean Winchester are, or were Paige and Kate’s 1st cousins. So that makes them your 2nd cousins? I’m guessing?!”.

Dumbfounded, and wondering if this is all some dream or hallucination. He’s telling her about relatives that she has never met before, she’s heard her mother talk about them to Kate and her father Kenneth.

“I still don’t understand” she tells him, shrugging. Confusion written all over her face.

“The famous Winchester clan. My dad, God, he was bored of the human race. That he did all of this” he explains to her enthusiastically, with his arms out. Referring to the collapse, and the world being destroyed.

“My mom said that some man named Joseph Seed said that all this would happen” she tells the Archangel.

“Yes, because he was picked by God, but what he didn’t know was that, God, Chuck was playing him, and would lead to the destruction of humanity. Hence The Collapse" he tells her.

Her eyes widened, everything made sense. Everything that her mom, and aunt have said over the years makes sense.

After emerging from the bunker after 7 years, they were able to rebuild their home. Making sure everything would be protected from the Highwaymen. A group of assholes who force people out of their homes, taking whatever they want from whoever they want.

“I didn’t catch your name” he says, breaking her from her thoughts. Crossing his arms.

“C-Cristina” she hesitates.

He claps his hands, “Well Cristina, you won’t see the last of me. I might pay your folks a visit. Most Angels, and a few Archangels were all cast out of Heaven when my daddy farted on humanity. So I’m gonna go find my bros” he says, “But before I leave. One more thing. You look too much like your mother. It’s weird”. He tells her with a smug, disgusted look on his face, as if she were responsible for how she looks. His last words to her before he disappears, or are they?!.

She looks around looking for him. Cannot believe that she met Lucifer. The Fallen Angel. The Devil, Satan himself!!. Her thoughts are interrupted by her little sister and cousin calling out for her.

“Cristina!!” Daenerys calls out. Startling, and disturbing her thoughts.

She steps out of the house, “Yeah!?!”.

“Did you find anything?!” Bianca asks.

She shakes her head, “No I didn’t find anything”. Trying not to show any fear in her voice or in her eyes.

“Well, I found 5 rolls of duct tape, 3 metal springs and some titanium pipes” Daenerys tells her.

“I found titanium pipes as well, and 3 rolls of copper wire” Bianca tells them.

She nods her head, “Okay, well let’s head back to Prosperity then” she tells them.

They jump into their motorcycles and ride back to Prosperity, their safe haven. Cris riding by herself, Bianca in hers with Daenerys in the side cart.

They didn't find much supplies, but enough to fix a car or part of a motorcycle.

The eldest child, Cristina who is still disturbed, and discombobulated after encountering "Lucifer". She didn't say anything to the other 2 because she didn't want to freak out, or have them worry about it.

She would tell her parents but they might not believe her, telling her that it was some Highwayman trying to scare her, but that didn’t explain him disappearing out of nowhere, and his eyes glowing red. Thinking about everything he said. Him saying that he knew her mother, and aunt.

They make it back to Prosperity, walking through the front gate with their supplies. They hand all their supplies they found to Nick Rye, and they go inside the house.

"Hey, are you guys hungry?" Paige, the mother to Cristina and Bianca asks.

"Yeah, sure" Cristina replies. Trying not to look bothered

She hands them plates with different types of sandwiches and chips. They all sit outside on the steps. Paige notices her eldest daughter looks bothered.

“Cri, you okay?” she asks. Putting on her best concerned mother look.

She lifts her head up, and looks at her mother, “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just a little tired” she replies.

Paige nods, and goes back to making lunch for everyone in the safehouse.

As they’re sitting outside eating, Kate along with Selene walk down the stairs with boxes of medical supplies. Daenerys sees them, and immediately gets up from the steps.

“Hye mom!” she calls out. Kate turns to face her only child.

“Yes Dany!?” she asks.

“Would it be okay if Cristina, Bianca, Jeff, Tom, Carmina and I go to Roughneck’s Crag tonight?” she asks, trying to use her puppy dog eyes that she inherited from her. Kate furrows her eyebrows at her, scrunching her nose. Trying to be a good parent, but also wanting to keep her daughter away from danger, but also wanting her to have fun and be a kid.

“I’m okay with it, but you have to ask your father. He has the final word” she tells her, and walks towards the infirmary.

Daenerys’ adopted Archangel father Gabriel, whom she doesn't know is an Archangel, nor her biological father walks by, going towards the garage. He was one of the several Angels that were all cast out of Heaven when the bombs fell.

“Hey dad!” she calls out.

He stops, faces her and says with a smirk. “Yes Dany boy?”. She rolls her eyes in embarrassment at the nickname he gave her.

“Would it be okay if Bianca, Cristina, Jeff, Tom, Carmina and I go to the Roughneck’s Crag tonight?” she asks, with her blue puppy dog eyes.

He crosses his arms, staring at her, trying to put on his best strict father face. “Did you ask your mother?”.

“Yes” she replies.

“And what did she say?” he asks, looking down at the small pink haired human that is his daughter.

“To ask you. But she said she was okay with it” she replies, using the puppy dog eyes on him “Sooo is it okay!?!”.

He stays silent for a moment, anticipating to answer her question. “It’s okay with me. Just be careful” he tells her.

“Thanks dad” she says, and goes back to her cousins at the steps. He goes to the garage where Nick Rye, and Kenneth Smith are. “What did he say?” Bianca asks her.

“He said it was okay” she answers.

****

Later that night, at the Winchester-Smith compound, Bianca, Cristina, Jeffrey, Thomas and Daenerys leave for the Roughneck’s. Which is a hang out spot for those who survived the Collapse, and need to take a breather.

“Be safe!!” Paige shouts as they drive off the property.

Kenneth taught Cristina how to drive when she turned 15, since there are no cops. Well there are a few cops but they don’t care. No law enforcement officers that survived the bombs cares about their jobs. So she can drive without a license.

All of the adults stay behind. Paige, Kate, Kenny, Gabriel, as well as their old friends Mark, Nate, Martin, Cody, Adrian and their families. Paige and Kate’s mother Mandy, and their godmother Barbara.

They had to rebuild, and expand their house, once they came out from the bunker after 7 long years. Splitting the house into 3 houses once again.

Putting up a 25 foot wall, solid concrete with a 25 foot iron gate. Security cameras pointed at all corners of the property. Always heavily armed.

“I’m not very comfortable about them going out this late” Kenny says to Paige.

She sighs, “I’m not either, but I want them to have fun. They know what to do when they encounter the Highwaymen”.

Kate and Gabriel approach them from behind.

“Daenerys has an ear to detect trouble, they’ll be fine” Kate explains, reassuring them.

“Yeah, I know. I just don’t want them to run into the twins” Kenny tells her.

Kate scoffs, shaking her head “The twins. Mickey and Lou, a couple of little fucks, who need an ass whooping”. Paige chuckles, “Yeah, no shit”.

“They’ll be fine. I know it” Gabriel tells them, sitting on the kitchen counter. They turn to face him, “Are your Archangel senses kicking in?!” Paige jokes.

He nods his head side to side, “Whatever I have left, which isn’t much” he tells them.

“So you’re a human?!” Kenneth asks.

“Partially human” he says, before joking “I hate it. I know I’m fond of humanity, but how do you all live like this?!?”.

They laugh, despite what this celestial has gone through, from being cast out of Heaven, losing his grace but he got to marry his soulmate, even if she doesn’t know it. The soulmate part.

“You know you love it!!” Kate teases, wrapping her arms around his neck. Placing his hands on her waist, pulling her closer to him.

“If I have to deal with you, I’ll take it” he responds, kissing her. He gets off from the counter, and heads outside.

“Where you going?!” she asks him. He turns to her, “I’m gonna try, and contact my old man for the 5,678th time”.

“Is Heaven radio even working?!” Paige asks, “Is anyone up there taking the calls?”

He shrugs “It does work, nothing but static. They still should get my calls. Even if the line is busy”. He goes outside, standing far away from the house, so he can get his message through the line.

He looks up at the sky, and prays “Hey dad, it's me, Gabriel. Answer me, or you won’t get rid of me until you answer all of my questions. You’ve been holding off for 17 years and you will reply back”.

A moment a silence, then a gust of cold wind blows past him. Looking up at the night Montana sky with green, pink Northern lights illuminate all day and night.

“Well, well, well” a familiar male voice says. He turns around, and sees his older brother.

“Lucifer?!” he exclaims, surprised to see his fallen brother.

“Gabriel?!” he mocks him, “You’re one of the Archangels that fell?!”.

He shrugs, “Yep. The old man won’t respond to my calls”.He takes a few steps closer to his older brother, “He owns me, and every other angel an explanation”.

Lucifer steps closer to his little brother, he sighs, then his eyes wander up, and sees Kate at a window inside the house.

“Are-are you living with the Losechesters?!?” he asks. Look of disgust on his face.

He looks back at the house, then back at Lucifer, “Yeah, after I fell and landed on Earth. With the very little powers I had, I teleported to them” pointing back towards the Winchesters who don’t see them.

“So they took you in?!?” Lucifer asks, confused.

Gabriel sighs, “Yeah, and I uhh. I eventually had a relationship with Kate”.

Shaking his head in confusion, nothing knowing what to say, “You had a relationship with Kate Losechester?!” he asks.

“Well, I'm still in a relationship with her” he says. Still beyond confused that his brother is in a relationship with a weak inferior human, “I’m practically a step father” he adds.

His eyes widened, “You? A father?. How the Hell did that happen?!” he asks, holding back laughter.

He sighs once again, “Well around the time daddy dropped a deuce on humanity. Kate was pregnant, and when I teleported to their bunker, she was 7,8 maybe 9 weeks, Paige was also pregnant, she had triplets. Kate had a daughter, and that's how I became a step father. Being underground for 7 years because of radiation. I would’ve nailed Kate, and impregnated her myself but you know the whole Nephilim thing, and she’ll die giving birth to it”.

Lucifer trying to take in everything Gabriel said, and trying to process it all at once.

“So. So you’re human?!?” he asks.

“Partially human. I still have my powers, they're just very limited. I have no access to Heaven, Hell, Purgatory. I can still teleport, but I’m not as strong as I was before I fell”. He sighs loudly, crossing his arms, looking up at the night sky. He looks back at his brother, and asks “So why are you here?!”.

Lucifer shrugs, and says “Looking for my brothers, and I found one so far”.

“Hey Gabe!” Kate calls him from inside the house.

“Come on Gabe, I can take you away from here. Away from them” he says, trying to convince his brother to go with him to looking for the other Angels.

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry Lucifer. I live here now, I’m glad you want me to help, but I can’t leave them. I can’t do this to her”.

He rolls his eyes, sighing in annoyance. “Come on Gabe, this is the same Kate Winchester that killed Lilith, and freed me from my cage, which I am thankful for. The same Kate Winchester that watched her own sister get turned into a vampire, and didn’t do shit. The same Kate Winchester that lost her soul, and was a demon. The same Kate Winchester that-”.

“Stop!!. Just stop!” Gabriel cuts him off. “I’m not staying just because of Kate. Yeah I married her-”

Lucifer cuts him off by groaning in disgust, “You married a human?!?. Even worse you married a Winchester!!”.

He ignores his interruption, and continues, “I married her, but I’m not staying just because of her, I’m staying because of Daenerys. Her daughter. My daughter!”. Lucifer crosses his arms, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“She is not your daughter!. She’s John Seed’s daughter. She’s not a damn Nephilim, nor does she have any angelic grace".

He glares at him, “John Seed is dead. I was there throughout Kate’s pregnancy. Since the beginning before Daenerys was even a damn embryo. It’s dad’s fault, he’s responsible, he kept me away from her because of his stupid little game”.

He raises his hands in defeat, “Okay. That's fine. If you wanna live amongst the humans, that's fine with me. But I’m not done with you little brother.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, turns around, and walks back towards the house.

“Maybe. I’ll pay little Dany a visit” Lucifer speaks out, making Gabriel stop in his tracks.

He turns to face his brother, “If you touch her, or go anywhere near her. I will kill you” he threatens him.

Lucifer smirks at him, “How?. You ain’t gotten any powers”. He goes to grab him but he disappears before he could get to him.

“Gabriel!!” Kate calls out for him again.

***

Bianca, Cristina, Daenerys, Thomas, Jeffrey and Carmina Rye are hanging out at what was once Steele Farm. Laughing, having a fun time, enjoying the Montana night. The radiation caused the sky to have their own Northern Lights. This was always a great hang out for them because you can see pretty everything from this view.

Especially from the second floor of the hut. They spent 7 years living underground in their bunkers, and when it was time to come back out.

Their families rebuilt everything, upgrading everything, their security, their weapons.

The Winchester kids come from a long line of hunters, their parents, their grandparents, their great grandparents, and so on were all hunters, but they don’t know this information because their parents didn’t want them to know of the evil that is out there in the world.

Cristina was always told that “God doesn’t care about anyone. That’s why everything was destroyed. He wanted all of us dead, to wipe us all out of existence because of one man. His name was Joseph Seed”.

She always thought that was a metaphor, or something like that. Yeah everything was destroyed by the bombs, and everything looks depressing. Mainly for their parents because everything was once beautiful, and normal. Life was enjoyed. They lived through it.

To them, to the kids, this was beautiful, and it was just the beginning for them.

Cristina keeps thinking about what “Lucifer” said to her. She feels like she should tell someone maybe not her siblings, or Daenerys or Carmina. Maybe she can tell her parents, her aunt, or her grandmother about that. Maybe this Joseph Seed man, maybe he’s still alive.

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cruzrogue · 4 years ago

Photo

Broken

Ch1 (an olicity AU story.)

It’s a cloudy miserable noon with a chance of rain. So far today nothing has gone her way. Finding herself grabbing another coffee because the first one was full of grinds. The only perk of her job is endless bagels and mediocre coffee.

Her sigh remnants through the small breakroom. Mumbling to herself, “You’d think a multi-billion-dollar company could afford better coffee.”

The only other occupant in the room snorts, “They wouldn’t make so much money if they gave their slaves… I mean employees premium coffee.”

“I Guess.” Placing enough sugar and cream in her cup. She deserves this. Especially being free from a call she finished up where a Queen Consolidated employee who seemed to be locked out of their computer had such a terrible attitude.

She had dreams. Aspirations. They all vanished when her boyfriend was lost somewhere in the Northern China Sea.

“It looks like it is going to rain hard soon.”

“I hate rain.” Her eyes move from the small tv showing a weather update to the overhead windows. The sky is getting darker by the second.

“Yes, you’ve mentioned it was a rainy night when you and your boyfriend got into a fight. He left and never returned.”

Felicity stares at him. She’s never told anyone the full story.

“Yea, something like that.”

Her life has changed dramatically in the last few years. To be clear. It’s been five years since her heart was ripped out from her chest.

“What a deadbeat.” Her coworker keeps going, “Wasn’t he the father of your three kiddos?”

“I better get back to my cube.” Pointing to her work area, “See you around Cooper.” She doesn’t wait for his own goodbye as she hightails it out of there.

Single moms aren’t his thing. It doesn’t stop Cooper from checking out her nice legs. She’s one of those MILFs he’d wouldn’t mind one night with. No strings attached kind of way. Too bad she’s pegged down with three kids.

As the breakroom is now void of anyone viewing the broadcast. Headlines appear. Oliver Queen has been found. After his five-years of being considered dead. He will be coming home. To reunite with his family.

Moira Queen face appears on screen, “It is a miracle with that of my young daughter’s prayers were answered.” She appears to hold back tears of joy. The camera than pans to the man by her side. Under his picture the viewers are reminded about his amnesia. How his bodyguard pulled him out of the turbulent water to a life raft.

Robert Queen has a few words, “My son is alive. After all these years of mourning. There is nothing worse than waking up not remembering anything that transpired. It has been my greatest failure as a father. I get a second chance. My boy is alive.”

The station airs a few more minutes of a recap of the Queen tragedy before the headline repeats its saying, ‘Oliver Queen has been found… Alive!’

As the hard rain begins to pellet against the building.

Felicity’s glancing at a photo of her three munchkins. Oliver was such a hands-on dad. Their first pregnancy was accidental. Their second was totally planned. Their third, well… she was alone for that one. His voyage with his father resulted in his death.

Life has a funny way of working out.

What does it matter that she was a prodigy child? At fourteen she was admitted to M.I.T. Her brain revered. Still is. It’s just… She doesn’t have passion to continue with her once upon a time active goal.

Losing Oliver was a knife to her zeal to conquer the technical world. Without his support she’s withered away in a gloomy existence. Somehow pushing forward due to motherhood. Seeing a piece of him in each of their children.

All it took was an eighteen-year-old boy to break her full academic resolve. She fell in love at first sight. It took awhile to become lovers because of her age. It didn’t stop them from spending each free moment together. Learning, appreciating, falling deeper, and the respect was always there. That when their bodies shared a special dance that carried them forward to wanting a life to be forever bound.

The most bizarre thing in all this. His parents didn’t approve of his affiliation with a minor back during their college years. They kept their relationship a secret. With the quarrel that led to Oliver giving her some space she felt to guilty to approach his family. They just lost their son.

Even though her babies are a joyful creation. If Oliver’s parents didn’t accept her in the past. She doesn’t ever want an eternal battle of custody. Powerful people have ways to win against dreamers like her.

To many people it is unfathomable that she’d keep the lineage of her children hidden. Maybe one day. When her kids are old enough to understand. For now, it is a secret that she carries.

It takes her stomach to growl to even leave her post. Maybe a bagel will suffice until quitting time. Moving past some coworkers who seem to be gathered around animatedly gossiping. It takes a name to stop her in her tracks.

“What?”

“You haven’t heard?”

She shakes her head no, “Heard what?”

“The boss man’s son has returned.”

“What?” She shakes her head. Why is this conversation not making any sense to her, “Who?”

A name yet to be supplied but a few coworkers point to the breakroom.

“It’s all over the news.”

Felicity doesn’t wait. Hearing Oliver’s name once was enough to have her in a daze. She makes it to the room and any hunger she had seems to be forgotten. Her eyes scanning the headlines. Her world is spun upside down or is it right side up? It doesn’t take long as her head spins all the new information. Her Oliver is alive.

“He’s alive!” She can’t contain how much hearing this is just so overwhelming, “He’s coming home.” Hearing some voices agree that he is coming back to Starling City. She would find it amusing if the voices didn’t drown away as a dizziness overtakes her. Falling. Falling upon the carpeted floor. Not hearing the same voices sounding panicked.

“Felicity?”

Her name again said out loud. To be answered by a moan.

“Ms. Smoak?”

Felicity doesn’t want to open her eyes. It’s a harsh light waiting for her. Squinting she tries to cooperate with the voice.

“Welcome back. You had us all worried.”

“I’m okay.”

“There is an ambulance on the way.”

“No. No need.” Is mumbled out. “I’ll be okay.”

“Ms. Smoak, it is policy to make sure you are alright. I’ll give you some forms and they’ll need to be filled out before you can return to work.”

“Okay.” Is softly spoken. Felicity feels lightheaded. She just hallucinated that her boyfriend is alive. Maybe it purgatory. Even though she doesn’t believe in purgatory. It is the hellish state to want him back so bad. Their last words said of anger. She’s already exhausted every nightmare trying to make things right.

“Alright then. They’re here. Please remain seated I’m just going to handle their arrival.”

The woman leaves Felicity alone in what seems to be an examination room. Afraid to pass out again she remains seated. This has never happened before. Fainting by wanting something so bad. Crying her eyes out. Crying to the point of exhaustion. Now that is something she knows of well.

How will she explain to the medical professional she passed out thinking the love of her life miraculously came back to her. Just out of the blue she’s so overemotional. Thinking about a man for the longest time. Didn’t believe was gone. How cruel is her mind? That when she finally admits he is never coming back. She’d have an episode.

Across the city at Starling General. Oliver Queen is being checked out. His family insistent that he have a medical professional make sure he is truly fine. The media is playing that he has been found and is awaiting extradition out of the US Embassy in China. The truth of the matter is he was found days ago. He silently made it back states side early this morning. He has yet to see his parents. Glad to know his father is alright.

He is anxious.

What he wants... no what he needs is to know of his children. Know how Felicity is? Five years is a long time. The fear that has taken so many dreaded nights. Did he lose her? Their last words to each other harsh.

Is their another raising his children? His parents unaware of their grandchildren. His mind going all over the place. On the trip before that horrifying night. Oliver told his dad about his granddaughters. Of how he felt about another little one on the way. He was ecstatic.

At first, he kept his relationship from his parents because they weren’t keen on him courting a minor. They wouldn’t believe him if he were to say they never consummated their love until she was ready. He understood the ramifications society holds. Yet, age between them was just numbers. It’s not like he was a party boy like his high school self.

Meeting the blued eyed prodigy. He was quickly under her spell.

He regrets that he kept his growing family a secret. His love for Felicity should have never been under wraps. The moment they graduated from their prestigious schools. He should have pushed. Should have fallen on one knee and asked her to be his bride. Should have not listened to her newest reasons that she wanted to succeed without his family’s help.

Understanding that his father and a few of the crew made it out alive. He was pushed out on the wreckage further away. That when the storm calmed, he was already halfway to purgatory. His father’s amnesia keeping both sides of his family from connecting.

His thoughts are on his kids. Two he helped name. One he wonders if he has another sweet daughter or a little boy. Are they healthy? Doing well? His little Maple she’d be about seven of age. Ava would be five. His youngest almost four.

His youngest. Every thought that comes about is agonizing.

Felicity didn’t have him to lean on. Which means she either was alone or another somebody took his place. It guts him to even picture his young children calling someone else daddy.

Five years. Five years in turmoil.

He’s back. He’ll find his family. No matter what. He’ll apologize to Felicity over and over until she knows those angry words were of a silly man being hurt.

Now he waits. Looking out of a hospital window. Waiting for familiar voices to come and claim their lost child. He needs this as much as they will. To be home. To be among those he loves. He missed so much. So much time lost.

He can feel the yearning come tenfold as a familiar voice is heard behind the hospital door of his room.

#Broken #olicity #oliver queen #felicity smoak

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atamascolily · 4 years ago

Text

So I am revisiting formative books of my childhood (as one does), which means it's time to talk about THIS BOOK, Y'ALL.

Hardly anyone has ever heard of this series, but oh my goodness, did this book ever resonate with '90s me, to the point where my first novel, which I wrote when I was 15, was a hybrid Unicorn Chronicles-Pern-LotR fusion with characters based on me and people from my life, and a villain who is definitely not Jadis from the Chronicles of Narnia. Ahem. But I love it, the way I love all my novels, because you can see the *spark* of the idea there along with all of the influences/pastiches/story elements in a blender.

Let's just say in a lot of ways I have not changed.

Anyway, this book was published in 1994, and I read it somewhere around 1995, and then obsessively thereafter between 1996-98. Book two didn't come out until 1999, which I only found out about a few years after the fact, so for a long time, it was just me re-reading the same book over and over again.

This series follows the adventures of Cara, a young teenager who finds herself in a world known as Luster, where all the unicorns fled when they were hunted by humans - and the hunters haven't given up.

One reason this book has stayed with me for so long is because the opening chapters are so evocative--and harrowing. The first words out of Cara's mouth are "Gramma, is that man following us?"

Cara's grandmother, Ivy Morris, is afraid, and Cara picks up on her fear, and that makes everything worse, because this is clearly Seriously Business. The image of this strange unknown man stalking an elderly woman and a teenage girl is even scarier to me as an adult. Factor in the falling snow and Ivy's decision to take shelter in a church, and the atmosphere is so vivid as they hide behind the pews in hopes of avoiding their pursuer.

Ivy gives Cara her amulet--her most precious possession--which only frightens and confuses Cara further. We learn that the amulet has a lock of white hair that is supposed to be from a unicorn, and that Cara believed unicorns were real when she was small. The only other time she's ever had the amulet is when she was very ill and she had a vision of someone healing her.

The man is literally breaking down the church door to get after them. Ivy orders Cara to climb up to the rooftop while she tolls the bells and to jump after the twelfth ring while saying, "Luster, take me home". She also says to tell "the Old One" that "the Wanderer is weary". Cara is confused, but obeys, even though she's worried about her grandmother and the man calls her by name. Chapter two ends with her jumping from the tower in the snow--and if that isn't epic, I don't know what is.

Chapter three finds Cara in a pristine fantasy woodland in summer,and we get a bit more backstory: her parents, Ian and Martha Hunter, abandoned her when she was three, and she was taken in by her grandmother. She doesn't have any friends or strong connections with Earth, and she spent a lot of time escaping into fantasy. So even though she's worried about her grandmother, finding herself here is a dream come true.

Oh, also, she has red hair, because of course she does, lol.

Cara is attacked by a dwarf-like creature who steals her amulet, but she is rescued by the Dimblethum, a man-bear hybrid, who calls the unicorn Lightfoot as a healer-translator. I love how Cara's first view of Lightfoot is as this marvelous, completely well-put together being, and she doesn't even react when he jams his horn into her chest.

Lightfoot is surprised when he detects Cara has been healed by a unicorn before--Cara is thrilled because it means her experience when she was little wasn't a hallucination. Lightfoot also notes an old wound--emotional--that he can't heal,which Cara doesn't get. Also, we meet the Squijum, a monkey-squirrel hybrid that can speak in a kind of rambling dialect of its own.

The Dimblethum returns with the amulet, and Lightfoot gets to be Mr. Exposition, explaining there are five magic amulets that allow the wearer to cross freely between Luster and Earth. "The Old One" turns out to be the Unicorn Queen, so they decide to get the amulet to her.

"How did you come by this amulet, anyway?" "My grandmother gave it to me." "Who is your grandmother?" asked the unicorn curiously. "Her name is Ivy Morris." "That sounds familiar," he said after a moment. "I suppose I should have paid more attention in history."

Lightfoot, despite his majestic appearance, is actually the unicorn equivalent of a teenage delinquent, and I love it.

Cara pesters Lightfoot for more backstory, and we learn that unicorns used to live on Earth, but came to Luster along with the dwarves--known as delvers--and that pisses off actual natives like the Dimblethum.

"Is the Queen a unicorn or a human?" asked Cara.

Lightfoot snorted at the idea the Queen might be a human.

THIS IS ACTUALLY A REALLY GOOD QUESTION AND WILL BE RELEVANT LATER AND I... CANNOT BELIEVE THAT IS JUST OUT THERE ALREADY, HAHAHA, WELL PLAYED.

Also, they're gonna stop by Grimmwold's Caverns along the way to meet the keeper of the Unicorn Chronicles, who has EVEN MORE BACKSTORY than Lightfoot because that's literally his job.

Anyway, the party departs. Lightfoot's horn doubles as a water filter, they meet some rogue delvers who warn that their king is conspiring with a mysterious human who wants the amulet, the Squijum has a knack for finding things and playing catch, they are attacked by another party of delvers and the Dimblethum is taken captive.

Cara and Lightfoot debate about what to do, and we learn that most unicorns are kinda jerks. Even though the sensible route is to keep going, Cara refuses to abandon a friend.

"We're going to get him," she declared.

"That's a very immature decision," said Lightfoot.

The criticism stung like a slap. "Why do you say that?" she asked sharply.

"Because it is what I would choose," he replied, sounding amused. "And my uncle has assured me many times that I am very immature."

Did I mention I love him?? No?

Anyway, the Squijum leads them to Thomas the Tinker, who helps them rescue the Dimblethum with his magic cart and all-around fashion sense. (Don't get me wrong, I love him.) Thomas fixes the broken chain on the amulet and there is a philosophical digression about chains. They skirt the dragon Firethroat's territory to avoid pursuit, and arrive at Grimmwold's place without further incident.

Turns out Cara has seen Grimmwold before: her grandmother painted a portrait of him in her room. (Grimmwold has a portrait of young Ivy, so it's only fair.) Grimmwold's library/cave is delightful -- Cara's reaction is, literally, "I want to live here!"-- and so do I.

Grimmwold does provide the backstory as promised: humans found a dead unicorn's horn and used it for healing. A hunter decided to get one for his deathly ill daughter Beloved, and he leaves her in a clearing in the woods. She is found by a unicorn, who sticks his horn into her chest to heal her--only to have the tip broken off when her father attacks the unicorn and they kill each other. Beloved is healed but unable to die while the horn resides in her heart, and vows revenge against all unicorns, marshalling her many human descendants, the Hunters. The unicorns fled to Luster to avoid pursuit, but now the cycle is threatening to start all over again.

Cara realizes she knows her pursuer's identity, but the chapter ends before we find out who it is. Grimmwold shows them his scrying pool, which Beloved hacks to read "Surrender the amulet --Beloved," which is pretty badass of her, tbh.

The amulet cannot be destroyed because it is unbreakable, which makes Thomas raise his eyebrows. "Things that cannot be broken are generally a bad idea." YUP.

Grimmwold takes them out to a secret back entrance and Cara and Lightfoot are kidnapped by the dragon Firethroat. Turns out Cara's pursuer took Firethroat's heart and she is forced to obey him. Cara confronts her pursuer in the most emotionally messy family reunion ever: it's her father, Ian Hunter.

Ian claims that Ivy stole Cara from them and the reason he didn't come for her eas because he had to fulfill his mission to kill all the unicorns first. He also claims her mother is waiting for her. Cara can get everything she's ever wanted at the cost of sacrificing the unicorns.

(Also, her middle name is "Diana," wow, not subtle there, Ian...)

(Lightfoot is horrified, but hey, boy, you have family connections YOU'VE been hiding, so...)

Cara makes as if to give him the amulet, but tosses it to the Squijum instead while she snags Firethroat's heart from Ian. In the scuffle, she and Ian fall and Firethroat rescues them both at Cara's command. Not knowing what else to do, Cara has Firethroat return Ian to Earth.

Cara has an emotional breakdown, like you do, and Lightfoot does what he can to help. Firethroat gives Cara the gift of languages as a boon, so Cara can understand all the creatures of Luster without Lightfoot's help. And Thomas is very philosophical about chains because THEMES.

They make their way to Summerhaven--the unicorns have a rotating seasonal capital--and we learn that Lightfoot is the Queen's grandson, but for unspecificed reasons, he won't go to court, so Cara meets Arabella Skydancer on her own.

"I have a message for you. I have carried it from another world, through danger and heartbreak across this world to you. I am to tell you that the Wanderer is weary."

"Then it is time to bring her home," said the Queen. "Would you like to be the one to fetch her?"

"I would," whispered Cara. "Very much."

"Then so it shall be."

And so it was.

But that, of course, is another story altogether.

It is recorded, like all such stories, in the Unicorn Chronicles.

WHAT A BADASS WAY TO END. I'M JUST SAYING.

This held up surprisingly well overall. Older!me finds the Squijum annoying, and I sympathize with the Dimblethum more than I used to. Younger!me was really only into the unicorns, and I still find Lightfoot the most interesting character. (Firethroat is great, though!)

Those two opening chapters still get me hooked, and that's impressive. The plotting is solid, the exposition is carefully doled out as needed, the foreshadowing is excellent, and the family drama sets it head and shoulders above the usual generic fantasy. I think this would work well as a miniseries - probably too much for a movie, but maybe not.

#book reviews #unicorn chronicles #bruce coville #childhood influences

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blissfulalchemist · 4 years ago

Note

“You look really pale. Sit down. I don’t need you fainting before I get this stitched-up.” + dealer's choice, please? 😊

Thank you! Please enjoy some Lance during A Chance for Faith

Got a little long sorry. But for a little background please look at these two pieces X X

The empty house never felt like his, how could it when it was “loaned” to him. It didn’t feel right to make this place feel like his when the pictures of the previous owner’s life were still hung on the wall when he was assigned to it. Lance had looked over the pictures trying to figure out if they were alive or dead, all the faces in recent months blurring together, each battle feeling as empty as the last. So far one herald was taken down and because of that the fighting was just going to get worse. The residents, people once his friends, had John in their sights which meant that Lance was now in their sights too. He needed out, there was a plan to get out, one that involved John helping him, only if Jacob was taken down first. That plan was looking more distant with each minute passing, plans were changing and Chance was getting angrier with John, just wanted him out of the way. Lance needed to talk to Eli, get him to let Wheaty out and on missions Chance could help out with, all the while he could rework everything.

Lance tossed the leather duster on the kitchen table along with the shotgun, stripping himself free of the attire marking him as the enemy, back into clothes he missed. Lance ran his hands over the soft fabric of the plain v neck shirt, a small comfort, something he missed for months after Cat was gone. She never cared about him wearing what made him comfortable, the regular clothes made her feel safer too she would tell him. Not safe enough. He sighed shaking his head going to the fridge pulling out whatever leftovers he had, the tupperware tossed into the microwave. Out, that’s all he needed, just like Cat, out so he could go home to Sage. Beg for forgiveness, tell her he was wrong to have not listened to her sooner, he should have sucked up his pride and lived with her when he had the chance. All of it so he could have maybe died with the pride of a father rather than the bitter pride of a failed and fallen hero.

He never even put up a fight, all that talk and he didn’t do a damn thing other than roll over for them. Only for history to repeat itself when Eli gave him the opportunity to leave with him, form the militia, taken on this whole group sooner….or ended up dead sooner. Going home, that’s the end game. Going home and putting this whole thing behind him.

Lance pulled out his wallet, carried only by habit, flipping to the picture of him as a young man, the red brown hair of his daughter with the soft brown of her eyes, smiling as she sat on the rocks of Ariel’s grotto, his arms wrapped around her so she wouldn’t fall. He worried about losing her that whole trip to California, wouldn’t let her out of his sight as she ran from princess to princess to ride to show, eyes big and full of wonder. That same wonder as the next picture his eyes moved too as she stood in a cap and gown, her certificate bearing the symbol he wore on his shoulder, the day she finished her doctorate. He didn’t need to see his face to remember the pride he felt that day, the one he should have been feeling if he left Montana all those years ago. The closest he got was when little Catlina, her nerves frayed and scared, requested him to walk her down the aisle of that church. That’s all it took and he finally got a glimpse of all that he lost in thinking he was protecting his heart. How stupid of a man he was….

The steady beeps of the microwave brought his thoughts back, the food lukewarm in the center as he sat at the table. The silence almost welcomed if it weren’t for the whispered thoughts and worry. He stood cleaning up the mess, hands careful as to not disturb the unmoved knick knacks, all hopeful for their owner’s return. He’d just finished drying the dish as the back door kicked open, instinct reaching for his handgun, aimed at the intruder. Well intruders, Faith, in the second hand leather jacket, pulling along the curly haired deputy, huffing and hunched over as she met Lance’s eyes. Chance groaned, clutching his side, eyelids drooping as he struggled to keep his footing.

Lance holstered the gun, quickly pulling Chance’s weight off Faith, “Alright kid come on,” Lance moved him to the couch, tossing an old towel over it, “Let’s sit you down, don’t want you fainting just yet, not before I stitch you up.” He laid the young man down pulling up his shirt, Chance fighting him weakly, “Don’t fight. I’m helping you, not hurting you.”

“Might be the Bliss still,” Faith said, handing over the medical kit, “I found him bleeding out in the middle of a field of them.”

Lance nodded, looking her over, still as clean as when she left earlier in the day, “Guessing you didn’t see what happened,” she shook her head, pushing back the falling strands of hair from her ponytail. Lance gave a quick nod, “You found him at least, that's what matters,” Lance jutted his chin towards the kitchen, “Mind getting a bowl of warm water and a few rags?” Faith nodded, disappearing, Lance turning back to Chance, “Alight now I need to see the damage you did, gotta know what needs to be done.”

Chance’s eyes stayed shut, pushing Lance’s hands away, “No. Don’t need your help.”

Lance let out a sigh, eyes rolling, Kids these days, “Don’t need you fighting either, but here we are.”

“That doesn’t even make sense, Baptist’s lackey,” his eyes opened just enough to shoot daggers, going wide quickly as he sat up gasping, “Where is she? Where’s Faith?”

Lance put a hand on Chance’s shoulder, pushing him to lie back, “She’s just in the kitchen, didn’t go anywhere.”

Lance watched as his green eyes, glassed over, jumped from place to place, “No she’s not here. She’s gone. She’s left.” His hands gripped onto Lance’s shirt, pulling him closer as Lance maintained steady eye contact, “I want to go back. She was there. She was real. She wasn’t gone,” Lance didn’t flinch as Chance’s face became a breath away from his, “Send me back, peggie.”

“Chance,” Faith warned, walking through the doorway, bowl full in her arms, “that’s no way to treat Lance.”

Lance grabbed the deputy’s hands gently, “He stole you from me though,” Chance’s hands ended up back at his sides, lying on his back again, Lance going back to work on identifying the wound, “He stole you away after-.” The room hushed, Chance swallowed, eyes closing tightly, “After I-,” he took a deep breath, voice breaking, “After I shot you dead.”

Lance and Faith locked eyes for a moment, before she kneeled running her fingers through his hair, “You didn’t Chance. I’m right here with you. I brought you to Lance. He’s going to help you get better so I can explain everything.” The wound wasn’t as deep as Lance thought it was going to be, but stitches would be needed for the fastest route of healing. Lance saw Faith gently kiss Chance’s forehead, as he prepped the needle, “Do you need some help?”

Her hands moved to hold the wound closed before Lance could say anything, “Chance this is gonna hurt, but can’t afford to drug you up more than you already are.” The young deputy mumbled incoherently, the needle piercing his skin. He hissed in pain, Lance’s hand holding him down, “Just breathe okay? You don’t need many, so keep calm and you’ll be done quicker.” Lance’s hands were steady as he got the first two stitches done, catching the color of Faith’s face, the same look as that night after the bunker collapsed, “You look really pale.”

“You think I’d be used to seeing stuff like this,” she said the look in her eyes getting farther away.

“Medical gore can feel different from what we’ve been seeing in recent weeks,” Lance assured, Chance starting to shift, his breathing even, “I got it from here. Just keep him calm and in place. Don’t think he fully understands that you’re more than just some realistic hallucination.” She nodded, cleaning her hands of the blood, kneeling next to his head, hands grabbing his whispering in his ear words of comfort.

“Lance,” he glanced to Faith, hands never leaving his work as he made sure there wasn’t anything else that needed attending, “What if he’s not able to shake off the Bliss?”

So far a clean bill of health for the kid, “Like he becomes an angel?” She nodded, lip trembling, “You said you found him a field of the flowers, so that seems unlikely.”

She looked down to Chance’s face, pushing his hair back from his eyes, “A field of the more potent ones. What I used to make the powder form for the Marshall….,” her words trailed off.

Lance pulled out the small flashlight from the kit, pulling one of Chance’s eyelids open, moving back and forth. Lance looked closely watching for the movement of his pupil, as it grew smaller and then bigger, “It's a little slow right now but he’s gonna be fine. We’re not getting the Romeo and Juliet ending anytime soon.”

She let out a breath, “Thank you Lance.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said, standing to clean the area, “Thank his sheer dumb luck.”

“I worry that he’s going to run out soon,” she followed, “He’s getting too reckless.”

“He was grieving, on top of that he’s angry and annoyed with John.”

“What does that mean for you?” Lance paused, Faith placing a hand on his shoulder, “I know you planned on getting out once Jacob was taken down, but, well,” she glanced over her shoulder to Chance, “what if he’s determined to go for John next?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Lance gave a quick shrug of his shoulders, “No need to worry about me.”

“Mary would have,” the two looked up at the sound of Chance’s mumbling and stirring.

“She worried about everyone,” he set the last of the stuff down to dry on a towel laid out on the counter, “Treated it like her job.” Lance walked over gently picking up the young deputy, “Let’s get him lying down in the bed.” He listened to Chance mumble in his sleep about Faith and Rachel, his mind working to untangle the two, Good luck on that one, Chance. Once he got him settled, Lance pointed to Faith, “Stay with him. Make sure he doesn’t start moving too much in his sleep, don’t need those stitches coming undone.”

She nodded, removing her jacket and shoes before curling up next to him on the bed, his hand finding hers to hold onto, the mumbling slowing down as Faith held him close. She started to whisper, placing kisses in his hair, Lance nodding to himself, They have each other, they’ll be okay. Lance shut the door, pulling out the maps and paperwork he had on the operations of Eden’s Gate, spreading it across the table. The original plan was solid, John was supposed to go last so Lance could better keep the kid out of the trials, help get his buddy Pratt out of that center. Easier to help Eli and the militia if Lance could stay in the Project fold as long as he could afford. Other than Chance’s own emotions getting in the way, it would be the smarter option to get John off the board next. He provided the air support and ran the supplies through the county, including weapons and ammo.

Jacob wasn’t stupid though and was preparing for them to go to his brother next. He’d have a better army, and stock pile of everything he needed to step on all their necks. Not to mention anyone left alive in his cages and bunkers would be killed, all innocent. He needed to spend more time up there with Jacob, get more information on what was happening, the ins and outs that changed frequently since the reaping began. Lance had become John’s primary security and if he was being honest with himself, scared to go back to that center.

It took him months to be able to get himself back to a rational mind while that song played, longer to make sure he would no longer black out in a rage, but anytime he spent more than a few days there the song started to creep it’s way back into his mind, the conditioning taking hold. It was a fight every time to get himself back to some semblance of normal, even though the nightmares never stopped. Every night, drenched in a cold sweat as the fading notes played in his ears and the face of the young recruit driving a steam roller over the bodies of his friends and their families along with the innocents Lance had to cover up all those years ago. Jacob had to be taken down next, there was no avoiding it.

It had been a few hours before Lance finally looked up from the paperwork, rubbing his eyes. He made a grab for the bottle of Tylenol and a beer from the fridge, the pills washing away with the comforting taste of hops. He finished the bottle quickly, hiding the rest under his bed, just in case. Lance paused at the door hearing the faint sound of singing, stepping closer he put his ear closer to the door, Faith’s voice coming through. Lance cracked the door open seeing the deputy curled into Faith, arms wrapped around her waist as she stroked his hair, lips softly singing what sounded like a lullaby.

Her eyes caught Lance’s as she finished the song, “I’m just going to be outside the door,” she whispered in his ear, “I’m not going anywhere.” She placed a kiss in his hair, sliding out from his grip, shutting the door quietly behind her.

“How’s he doing?” Lance asked, following Faith to the kitchen, watching as she searched the cupboards.

“He had a hard time sleeping,” she frowned, “only did when I started to hum and sing.”

Lance gave a soft snort, “You’ve been singing for hours then?”

She shook her head, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips, “No, just when he’d start to stir.”

Lance pulled down some boxes of mac and cheese from one of the cupboards, “I’ll make you something.”

“You planning on making it Mary style?” Faith gave a brief smile leaning against the fridge, eyes turning to the floor as she crossed her arms, “I don’t see why John had to lie to us still.”

Lance nodded, “His way of protecting himself. Less people knew-.”

“The better it was to keep her safe,” she nodded, “That’s what he said but she was fine here. She was safe. No one was going to hurt her.”

Cat was just going to hurt others, “At the time she was,” She became too dangerous, “but don’t you think it’s better that she didn’t stay now this has all come to pass?”

She grumbled, shrugging, “Chance said the arrest was for suspicion of kidnapping,” Lance stiffened at her words, “Did we really steal her away from her home?” He didn’t say anything as he stirred, Faith’s eyes starting to widen, “Lance,” her tone lowering, “you know something, don’t you?”

Lance closed his eyes letting out a slow breath, “What do you remember Mary telling you about herself?”

“I-. Well-.” Faith stopped furrowing her brow, “She told me once that she had sisters, she was a humanities major,” she gave a small laugh at that, face growing serious once more, “Thinking back it seemed she always did talk as if she was going to go back somewhere.” Faith’s eyes misted as she looked up to Lance, “We did take her from a home. A family.”

Lance nodded, “Nothing we could have done at the time, she was too scared of what would happen,” he looked to Faith, “There was a point she was wanting to stay though. Wanted to live a life here.”

“It was still wrong,” she swallowed, “I see that now. That’s why John let her go, do you think?”

“Yeah,” he lied, “It is.” Lance scooted Faith away from the door of the fridge gathering butter, milk, and grated cheese to mix in with the noodles. “You want true Mary style?”

Faith wiped at her face, shaking her head, “No I think we should take it easy on Chance’s stomach.”

“Don’t think there’s much need for that,” Chance suppressed a yawn as he rounded the corner, “I’m gonna be leaving soon.”

“You should eat first,” Lance countered, watching as Chance grabbed onto Faith’s hand.

“You could poison me.”

“Chance,” Faith turned, “Lance would never do that!”

Chance’s green eyes focused on Faith, “Look I don’t even remember how I got here. He was nice a few times but that doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy.” He looked back to Lance, “Sorry to intrude on you, but I’ll take my leave. Thank you for the stitches.”

Chance made his way to the front door, stopping once he opened the door, frowning eyebrows knitting together. He looked over his shoulder at Lance and Faith standing in the kitchen still, “I’m not staying. I need to go home,” his words pointed right at Faith.

Faith and Lance glanced at each other, before looking back to Chance, “Chance, do you think I can’t see Faith, still?” Lance asked, taking a step towards her, the deputy’s green eyes going wider, “Cause I can see her just fine.” Chance turned slowly, eyes fixed on Lance’s movements, “I can feel that she’s a real person,” Chance moved quickly as Lance put a hand on Faith’s shoulder, stopping in his tracks once contact was made. “You know why I can do this, kid? Cause she’s alive. She’s alive and well.”

Faith patted Lance’s arm, “It’s a lot to take in I know, but I didn’t expect to find you bleeding out in the middle of one of a Bliss field.” Chance didn’t move as his eyes looked between the two of them, “Lance I think you need to have him sit down again.”

He gave a curt nod, “Probably right ‘bout that.” Lance gently led Chance to sit at the table, Faith moving the papers to the side, “Let me get you some water, while you process.”

Chance looked to Faith, “So you really aren’t dead? I didn’t shoot you?”

She shook her head, “No I’m alive and well.”

“She is now,” Lance interjected, “I have to be honest with you, kid, you did shoot her.” Faith gave Lance a pointed look, he rubbed the back of his neck handing the water over, “You shot her but she had a vest on with blood packets in it.”

“She stopped breathing though,” Chance watched as she sat next to him, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, “I saw you grow pale and cold. Your pulse stopped.”

She blushed, her fingers tracing the tattoos on the top of his hands, “We used the poison from the play, Romeo and Juliet, or something similar. It was John’s idea.”

“Or something similar,” Lance grabbed a bowl from a cabinet, “Faith altered it a little bit.”

“Why not tell me about the plan then?” Chance asked, his eyes the only part of him revealing the hurt he felt.

“Because,” she looked to the table avoiding his gaze, “there was a chance that it would actually kill me.”

“Didn’t want to get your hopes up,” Lance said softly, placing a filled bowl of dinner before the young man.

“I’m so sorry, Chance,” the first tears falling from her eyes, “I wanted to tell you I really did, but I-.”

Chance nodded, placing a hand over hers, “I understand,” he shot a glare at Lance, “I don’t like that it had to happen this way,” Faith looked up, his eyes softer for her, “but I get it. Roles reversed, I’d have done the same thing.”

Watching Chance now Lance had a hard time believing that it was the same deputy from the church that took too many risks, let his anger get the better of him, and had no idea where to even begin. There was still a reckless streak with him, but it was met with thought, care, and control. The plans made were more methodical and had a bigger goal than just taking down Joseph, Chance, the one sitting in front of him, was maturing into what was needed for the county. It was no secret though that Chance had taken a downward turn and the interactions Lance had with him showed a face that he saw in the young men coming back from the deserts of the Middle East, and that worried him more. This was never the life a twenty five year old should have been living, so when all this was said and done Lance couldn’t help but wonder what was going to be left for Chance. Jacob was planning something big, something that Lance feared would be too much for Chance to cope with.

“So tell me,” Chance started, “I know you’ve helped in the past before, but why bring me to Lance, Faith? Could have gone closer to where you found me.”

“Lance was never really a part of Eden’s Gate,” her shoulders sagged, “He was, well is, someone that we forced to join.”

Chance looked at Lance, eyes level, “She’s right. I’m on your side,” Lance justified, “Doesn’t look like it and I’ll never claim my hands to be clean, but I didn’t want this anymore than you did.”

“So then why stay?”

“Information,” I was fearful to leave, “told Eli long time ago I could help gather information on the operations for him.”

“But then you got sent to the valley,” Lance held back the small laugh, “Kinda easy to notice where you spend the most time.”

“Yeah, guess that’s so. I didn’t want to but not like you get much say in this group.” Lance took a seat, “Then I got assigned to be personal guard to little Miss Mary and John didn’t want to give me up after that.”

“So will you join us after we take him down?”

“What do you mean by taking him down?”

“Classified information,” Chance’s jaw set, leaning back in the chair, “Can’t risk it.”

“You can trust him though,” Faith pleaded, “He might be able to help you.”

He let out a sigh, “That may be true but its going to be hard enough to convince everyone that you’re not going to hurt them,” Chance faced her, running a hand gently down her cheek, “Trust is a hard thing to earn in times like these.” Faith closed her eyes, leaning into his hand, “You have to be prepared to not get all the information right away, or even the same level of respect for your insights.”

“You’ll be my voice though right?” Her eyes opened, glancing at Lance, “Lance’s too?”

“Of course, it's just going to take some time and they’re going to try and test your loyalty.”

“Do you doubt mine?” Lance saw the look on her face, the one that wanted to know the answer to a different question, “Will you treat me like an outcast too?”.

Faith never expected to be welcomed with open arms, but she never considered that Chance very well might play along with the others, keep himself in the majority, Lance never thought to warn her because he never doubted what Chance’s answer would be.

“No,” he shook his head, voice clear and firm, “I believe in you and I know you.” Lance turned away as the two kissed, grabbing something to drink. “I love you,” he heard Chance whisper to her, clearing his throat.

“You two should eat something,” Lance pointed to the bowls in front of them, seeing the blood run up Chance’s neck, “Then get some sleep. You can go back to the jail in the morning.”

He nodded, “Thank you.” The two ate quickly talking amongst themselves as Lance moved about the house cleaning up and settling himself in the living room, some of the papers from earlier in front of him again. He’d look up now and then, enjoying the sound of the two of them talking, oh how he missed the days of Sage when she was young and bringing friends that she met in the county over. How they all seemed to never quite run out of things to talk about, the laughter that would erupt, even how there never seemed to be enough snacks for them all. Simpler days, memories more precious now that they were gone.

He waved at the two of them as they made their way to the spare room, Lance making his way to the backyard, listening to the sounds of the night. Lance pulled out the old crate under the lawn chair, hands finding the recent project he was working on, a wooden jackalope. He’d made them before but never to the detail he was attempting this time around. It was the fur around the eyes that he was having the most trouble with, had to be just right, and a little harder with the limited light Lance seemed to be getting nowadays.

Lance didn’t look up as he heard the soft footsteps making their way through the house towards him. “How much sleep did you get,” Lance asked, with a small smirk.

“Plenty,” Chance said leaning against the door frame, “Can’t do much else with fresh stitches.”

Lance gave a chuckle, “Really have changed since the night at the church.” Their two eyes met, Chance giving a shrug, “What can I help you with?”

“Straight to the point,” Chance pushed himself off the frame, taking a few steps towards Lance, “Saw the papers you were looking at earlier. You got a lot of information on Jacob.”

“Try to keep tabs as best I can.”

“Do you really want out of Eden’s Gate?” Chance asked, crossing his arms.

“Yeah,” Lance set the tools in his hands down, “I really do. What are you proposing?”

“How close can you get to Jacob at this point,” Chance deflected, his narrow eyes assessing Lance’s every move.

“Personally? Not close enough to have him reveal secrets,” Chance rolled his eyes, “To get information? I could get close enough to break into most places you needed me to get too.”

His green eyes lit up, Chance’s thumb rubbing against his chin, “I still can’t tell you what we have planned, but if you can get yourself back into Jacob’s good graces then I can help get you out for good.”

Lance leaned back in the chair, “You sure you can do that? No offense but its not always easy to get out and stay out with Jacob.”

Chance waved him off, “Just need you to make one big heist of information and then we can work on taking him down.”

“So you have a plan?” Chance shrugged, the movement giving Lance a cause for an eye roll, “Classified I assume. What information were you needing? Some is going to be harder to get a hold of more than others.”

“You’re willing to help me?” Lance nodded, crossing his heart, “I need to know the end game for the trials he’s been putting me through.” Chance shifted, “There has to be one, sometimes I think I have an idea of what it is, because things just start to feel familiar when I walk by locations, but I can’t seem to figure it out.”

“You don’t want to be a pawn anymore.”

“Especially for Jacob,” he shuddered, “Do you think you could find that out?”

Lance sighed, “I can try. Something like that though? Jacob isn’t going to have it written down clearly. I’m going to have to break into his office for that. Gonna need a good plan to get that done, I can’t do it alone.”

Chance nodded, “I’ll help you.”

“You have a plan already?” Lance narrowed his eyes, “You’re not going to expect me to pull a Mission Impossible are you?”

Chance laughed, “No, nothing like that,” he pulled the other chair closer to Lance, “It is however very reckless, very stupid, and something you and I can’t tell anyone else about.” Chance held out his hand, “Do we have an agreement?”

Lance looked Chance up and down, there was no way he was going to let it go. He seemed to have his mind set on going through with finding the information he wanted, information that even Lance may not have been able to find for him. If Lance didn’t help him, Chance was as good as dead by the end of it all. Lance grabbed hold of Chance’s hand, “Yeah we got ourselves an agreement,” Someone has to keep you safe.

#lance powell oc #Please enjoy and thank you for the suggestion #knight at the gate

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raywritesthings · 4 years ago

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Not His to Change

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Robert Queen Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen (if you really, really like bittersweet endings) Summary: Oliver gets to the afterlife once his work as the Spectre is completed and finds a surprise - and a lesson - waiting for him. Notes: Basically canon-compliant but not for Ol*city or M*rlance fans. Not really all that Lauriver either, tbh, this fic doesn’t really have an audience. Oh well. *Can be read on AO3, link is in bio*

As Oliver felt the energy leave him, he used his last remaining moments as the Spectre to construct the new world that his friends would inhabit together, a combination of two Earths. Two timelines needing to be merged. He brought back some whose lives had been cut short, softened the blows that others had suffered and crafted what he felt was the best version of reality for each of his loved ones that he could think of.

There were some things that he could not change. His father still remained buried on Lian Yu. Oliver could not think of a way for him to have become the Green Arrow without his father’s sacrifice out there in the life raft; the truth was, he was almost more scared of the man he might have ended up being without the island.

The other was Laurel. Oliver’s heart ached, but guilt twisted in his gut at the thought of callously cutting the doppelganger he had gotten to know the last few years down just for the crime of not being the ‘right’ one. The fact was, he had lost his Laurel years ago. And without her loss, the whole second wave of heroes in their city would never have been recruited. Her legacy had had that much of an effect. So he did his best to create the life he wished she had had the chance to have before it had ended; the life she deserved.

A wistful part of him wished that was a life with him, the same way he had wished it in the dream world the Dominators had created. But guilt stayed his hand again: Mia. Getting to know his daughter as an adult made her so real and alive, he couldn’t bring himself to deny her the right to existence. In the new version of Earth, he would remain with Felicity if only for her. So he would give Laurel her happy ending that the Undertaking had robbed her of instead.

Everything decided, his eyes slipped closed, and Oliver felt himself drift away from the realm of the living. Gradually, he felt awareness settle back into his body. The bone-deep exhaustion had left him, and he slowly sat up in the bed he found himself resting in.

It was his old bed, the same that he had had in the Queen Manor all those years ago. Brow furrowing in puzzlement, Oliver rose and looked through the dresser and closet, finding clothes to change into. Once changed, he ventured out of the room and down familiar hallways and stairs. He could hear the low murmur of voices coming from the kitchen, so Oliver cautiously pushed the door open, freezing in shock at the sight of the two people sitting at the kitchen island.

“—think you’ll stick around long, or back to traveling?” His father was asking.

Laurel shrugged, though as she did so, her eyes drifted to him in the doorway. “There you are, Ollie. We were starting to wonder if you were planning to spend your whole afterlife asleep.”

Her remark lacked the bite Siren would have had, her smile light and teasing instead.

“This is… we’re all here, then? There’s not a- a—” He wasn’t sure how to voice his question. Oliver couldn’t remember if being the Spectre had given him knowledge of Heaven or Hell, but he would have imagined wherever he ended up, he wouldn’t be sharing it with both Laurel and his father. They’d sat on rather opposite ends of the scale of morality, after all.

“Welcome to life after death, son,” his dad said. “Or what did that Dumbledore character call it in those books you liked?”

“The next great adventure,” Laurel supplied.

Oliver still felt a little numb, but as he drew up to his father’s chair, the older man stood and embraced him.

“It’s good to see you,” Oliver mumbled into his father’s shoulder. His real father. Not a dream, not a hallucination. Although, was it really the same thing?

He had changed the least about his father and his life, Oliver felt he could say. But even still, he had done what he could to clean up this and that, with the exception of the affair that had created Emiko. Even that he had improved with Emiko being a welcome member of the family rather than his parents hiding her from him and Thea. So was he talking to the father he knew, or just another figment of the man that wore his face? He hadn’t considered that at all, and it made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

Over his father’s shoulder, Laurel was watching him, her look both knowing and compassionate all at once. But this was a Laurel he had never really known either, as much a stranger to him as her doppelganger had once been.

His dad pulled back, keeping a hand on Oliver’s shoulder as he looked between the two of them. “Laurel asked me to let her know when you were coming to join us. There’s some things you ought to talk about, and I think she can explain it better than me.” There was a brief squeeze to his shoulder. “I know how hard you tried.”

“Tried what?”

But his dad walked out of the kitchen. Laurel slowly got up from her own chair but maintained a few feet of distance between them. “So, how was being master of the universe?”

It took Oliver a second to place the memory that question stirred; sitting on the floor of her apartment with a bowl of ice cream in his hands. He hung his head. “Definitely not what it’s cracked up to be. Let’s say I don’t miss it.”

“Not wanting that kind of power for yourself is what makes you a hero, Oliver. But… you did make some choices. Choices that weren’t yours to make.”

He licked his lips. “I couldn’t just kill your doppleganger.”

Laurel held up a hand. “I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about me and Tommy.”

He stared at her in confusion. “You loved Tommy.”

Laurel sighed. “I did in a way. But he wasn’t the love of my life. You know that better than anyone.”

Oliver shifted from one foot to the other. “I had a daughter, Laurel.”

“And I’m not saying you should have given her up, either. I am saying that I didn’t need to be forced into some kind of consolation prize marriage of convenience to make you feel better. I was happier without it.”

“How do you even know that?” He couldn’t help asking. If he had changed time, didn’t that mean everyone else forgot the old timeline? Wasn’t that how Barry said it worked?

Laurel shook her head. “Since I was dead, I got to pick which version of memories I could keep. I chose the version of the life I actually lived.”

Oliver swallowed a lump that was stubbornly trying to rise up in his throat. “Then… you really are my Laurel.”

“Mm-hm.”

He took a step closer, unable to help himself from folding her into his arms. It had been so long, and he had missed her every single day. She hugged him back.

“Everything you went through, everything you lost,” he said in her ear. “Why would you want to remember?”

“Because it created me. The best version of me I know how to be. I wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from me.” She drew back and cupped his cheek. “Not even you.”

“Only you could be that stubborn,” he said, the warmth in his tone belying his words. Laurel smirked back at him. “What happens when Tommy passes?” Even if he had brought his friend back along with so many of his loved ones, Oliver knew it couldn’t last forever. Everyone died eventually. And when his friend got to the afterlife, expecting a version of Laurel that now only existed as a fiction Oliver had invented to assuage his own conscience…

“Then he’ll find his place in the afterlife. I don’t imagine he’ll want to see me, at any rate.” Laurel left his arms completely, walking back to her chair to get a bag that she’d left hanging off the arm. “Considering he was getting ready to file for divorce before the me in that timeline was killed.”

Oliver’s eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

“From what I was told, he could see exactly what he saw in the timeline you and I remember. No matter how much power you have to wield, you can’t change who people are in their bones, Oliver. Only they can change themselves. And I wasn’t about to do that.” She finished slinging the bag over her shoulder, fixing her denim jacket so that it sat properly.

She loved him still. The lump was back, and he brought a hand up to try and wipe at the moisture starting to gather at his eyes before it could get out of control.

“If I could — if there had been a way,” he started. A way for both Laurel and Mia. God, he’d seen the way Mia had gotten on with Laurel’s doppleganger. He was sure his daughter would have found an even more supportive mentor in the Laurel he had known most of his life. The same way Thea once had.

She shook her head sadly. “Your family comes first, Ollie. We both know that. That’s why I’m not staying here. There’s a whole lot of afterlife to explore, a lot of it I didn’t see when I was alive. So you wait here for your family. It’s okay.”

It wasn’t fair, but he knew he would let her go. She was always the bigger person between the two of them, in the end. She walked past him and towards the door, and he couldn’t quite stop himself from saying, “If we’ve got the rest of eternity to spend here, my family might get sick of me after a while.” How many breaks had he and Felicity taken with their relationship, after all?

She looked back, a wan half-smile tugging at one corner of her lips as the long, blonde hair he remembered best spilled over her shoulder. “Then I guess you’ll just have to come running after me if that happens.”

He nodded. “Always.”

“Goodbye, Ollie.”

“Goodbye, Laurel.”

She let herself out of the kitchen, and he heard the front door shut moments later. Slowly, he walked to the island and took the chair she had sat in. Like most times, she had left him with much to think about.

If anyone could see fit to defy him even when he had held the power of a near-God, it was Laurel. A breathy laugh left him at the thought. She always was able to bring him back down to Earth, even when they were no longer on it. Wasn’t that a relief?

#laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #lauriver #my writing #green arrow #black canary

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valiantly-onward · 4 years ago

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The Serpentine War Ch. 8

Here’s chapter eight! It’s my finals week, so I’ve been posting a little less. In that vein, good luck to everyone on their finals!

Chapter 8: Home

The journey to Lorin’s hometown took many days, even on dragonback. Ray was getting tired of needing a ride, but Wu had not even begun to explain how to create Elemental dragons. When Ray asked Lei about it, she just laughed. So he sulkily rode behind her throughout the trip.

They were a strange flock of oversized geese, flying in a practiced V formation. Ray couldn’t get a good look at the other dragons, and he had no idea whether Maya was behind or in front of him. He didn’t like not knowing where she was - it made him feel a little disoriented, like he’d lost his sense of direction. Realizing he cared was more worrisome than the worry itself. He didn’t like how reliant he’d become on her simple presence.

The final leg of the journey came to a close on this bright, early morning. Sam Pale, the long-haired Master of Light, tended to get up with the sun, and Lorin saluted that “eagerness” by forcing them all to follow Sam’s example. Ray was quickly learning the hierarchy of the Alliance. Supposedly, they were all equals under Wu’s command, but it was obvious that respect went a long way with these guys. And their small group seemed to respect Lorin - at least, enough to get up early.

Ray was sore from the long days of flying. He didn’t mention this to Lei, but he was relieved when the head of the dragon formation dipped down through the clouds. Ray held onto Lei as they dropped. He threw a shout of joy to the wind as it rushed him toward the ground.

Most of the trip, they’d been flying over high, rocky hills. Now, those hills parted to reveal a village. From above, Ray saw it was bigger than Jamanakai. The houses were spread out amongst small plots of turned-up soil. Ray immediately wondered how they would defend such a place. There was no centralized area, and the low stone buildings didn’t seem to follow any kind of pattern. The only advantage was the hills. They’d be able to see the Serpentine coming for miles.

Of course, that same logic had failed in Jamanakai Village. But that was mostly Ray’s fault.

They landed. Every dragon vanished in a puff of Elemental energy. Villagers began emerging from the closest houses. A few kids shouted in delight and raced toward them. Many adults immediately approached Lorin, who tipped back his silver helmet and shook their hands, speaking in low tones.

Sam Pale lifted a long leg as the kids swerved between him and the Master of Lightning. “Oi, Master of Earth! What are we up to first?”

Didn’t the guy ever rest? They’d just arrived! They needed a break.

Lorin glanced back. “First things first. C’mon, all.”

The eight of them continued further into the village. Maya appeared beside Ray, and though they didn’t speak, Ray was quietly happy she was there. Deep in the village, they found an actual road; it blended so well into the dusty ground, Ray had missed it. Lorin led them to one of the houses near the road - a happy stone building with curved red roofs and no plot of land.

A dark-haired woman stood in the doorway. She started toward them purposefully. Ray thought for a moment she was carrying something beneath her coat, except -

“Alliance, this is my wife, Hanna,” Lorin said proudly. He leaned down, a hand on his wife’s belly. “And our soon-to-be son.”

“Daughter,” Hanna corrected. She kissed Lorin’s scruffy cheek and turned to the rest of them with a smile. “The one who’s right gets to name her.”

“Him.” Lorin nodded to Hanna. “We need to set up defenses and find lodging.”

“Then some of you better come with me,” Hanna replied. “This way.”

She strode around the back side of the house. Ray looked at Lorin. “You’re gonna have a kid?”

Lorin raised his eyebrows in response. “Yes. Is that so surprising?”

“No, just…” Ray paused. “Don’t you - I mean we - lose our powers if we have kids? Aren’t you afraid of that?” Wu had described it to him after Ray asked how Fire could’ve skipped a generation in his family. Upon reaching young adulthood, Masters aged slowly, as long as they had their powers. Children nearly always meant losing those powers, plus the slow aging. Already, a life without powers sounded like a half-life to Ray.

Lorin chuckled. “It has to happen sometime. I just hope the baby comes after all this is over.”

He seemed to deem the conversation ended. He directed Sam Pale and Vivian to go with him to the edge of the town, and the rest of them to follow Hanna.

“I can’t believe he’s not worried,” Ray said as soon as Lorin was out of earshot.

Lei shot him a quizzical look. “You don’t think love is worth it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Then you’re not in the best company. Everyone here has someone.” Lei jabbed a thumb at the blonde woman jogging after Lorin. “Vivian, for example. She got married real spontaneous when Wu called for us. She keeps going on and on about how she might not get a honeymoon if the war doesn’t end soon. If I ever meet Cliff Gordon, I might slap him, just for how many times I’ve had to hear his name.”

This made Ray laugh out loud. Maya strode up next to him, cocking her head at Lei. “What about you?”

Lei scoffed. “Can’t anything be private around here? If we win this war, maybe I’ll talk. If we don’t, it won’t matter, because we’ll all be dead.”

“Comforting,” Ray commented.

They went to find Hanna.

She showed them empty rooms inside the house. There weren’t many, so Maya and Lei would get the extra beds, while Ray and Asher, the Master of Smoke, were relegated the old couch in the main room. Just a hunch, but Ray was certain the couch wouldn’t fit two.

Unsurprisingly, Asher set his sleeping roll on the couch. He was small, colorful man in poofy pants and a fez. He looked a little different from Ray’s brand of Ninjagoan, but not uncommon, especially in Ninjago City.

He looked apologetically at Ray. “I am the smaller man. I don’t believe you would fit comfortably.”

Ray raised his hands in surrender, feeling a little guilty about his self-pity. But he did always have the rottenest luck. “You take it, man. I’m gonna head outside.”

Asher nodded to him. Ray pushed open the back door and found Maya outside. She was leaning against a tumble of boulders, glaring at the horizon.

“The bed’s that bad, huh?” Ray asked.

“It’s fine,” Maya said shortly. “Hanna is sweet.”

“Yeah, she is.” Ray rubbed the shoulder of his chest plate. He felt the grooves of the dragon engraving under his fingers. “Wanna go find Lorin?”

Maya’s gaze seemed far away. “I don’t like how it went down at Jamanakai Village. It wasn’t much of a fight. I even lost to a Venomari.”

“Venomari?”

Maya looked at him. “Yes. The Venomari tribe.”

“Ah, right,” Ray replied seriously. “Those are the blue ones.”

Maya rolled her eyes. “Alright, you need a crash course in Serpentine tribes.” She sat down on the boulder. “Come here.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

Ray sat down. Maya leaned over in the dirt and began drawing methodically. She was really good, actually. Just by watching, Ray saw that her hand knew all the right places to put the strokes.

After she finished with a rough image of five different snakes, she sat up.

“Looks good,” Ray noted.

Maya glanced at him, like she didn’t know quite how to respond. “Thanks. Now, look. This one is called a Hypnobrai. Those are the blue ones. Don’t look them in the eye or they’ll hypnotize you.”

“Okay.”

Maya tapped the second image with a stick, the two-headed snake. “Fangpyre. Red. Their venom changes people into Serpentine.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. The big black ones, Constrictai. Strong, can choke you to death. And Venomari. If they bite you, the venom is deadly, but usually they’ll just spray your eyes and make you hallucinate.”

Ray pulled one knee up to his chest. “So the moral here is to stay away from snakes. Why did I agree to go to war again?”

A smile reached across Maya’s face. So small. Ray’s chest exploded with uproarious victory.

He offered a hand to her and she took it, pulling herself up. “And the Anacondrai?” he asked.

“The power of invisibility” Maya held his gaze for a long moment before releasing his hand. “The most dangerous tribe of them all.”

Ray nodded. “All the more reason to train, right?”

“Now,” Maya said. “You’re learning.”

~~~

The days spun into weeks. For the first time, Ray felt like he was really part of the Alliance. It helped that his powers seemed to obey him better each day. He now knew what to look for inside himself, the feeling that guided each spurt of power.

Every day, after their sentry duty in the hills, Ray and Maya would go to the boulders to train together. This, if nothing else, felt familiar, grounding. Sometimes, if Lorin wasn’t busy, he would come to watch and offer pointers.

Ray liked Lorin. The guy treated both him and Maya with respect, and he seemed like a steady, dependable guy. Ray admired that.

The Master of Light, on the other hand, was a little less steady. Sam Pale’s untidy habit of manipulating light to turn himself invisible was funny until Ray was on the receiving end of the joke.

That left the Masters of Lightning and Smoke, neither of whom Ray knew what to make of. Vivian was loudly annoying and Asher was quietly annoying, so it was a back-and-forth. Maya seemed to get along fine with both, which Ray didn’t understand.

On the third week, Ray left Hanna’s house in the afternoon and met up with Maya and Vivian at the base of the hills.

Here, a few lonely trees clustered close together, shaking in the breeze. Vivian smiled up at a branch where a bluejay had perched. It whistled and she whistled back.

“Oh,” she sighed. “I love bluejays. They’re such smart, handsome little things.”

Neither of them replied, because this was Vivian, and she cared very little if anyone replied so long as she knew they were listening. She was a willowy woman with long, curly blonde hair. Vivian had mass. Not in the physical sense; she just seemed to take up a lot of space. A balance between dreamy and so very present, she was contradictory in a way that made Ray’s head hurt.

“Okay,” Ray said. The trees were designated as the split spot, and they would go each to a different section of the hills. Get the high ground and keep watch. “See you guys in a few hours.”

They split: Vivian sauntering like the lovable fool she was, Maya in ninja-mode like the Master-Wu-student she was, and Ray walking, like a normal person. Red didn’t help him stay concealed in the rocks, but it was better than the blues the ladies wore.

Ray kept his sword sheathed - he’d learned that lesson, it was far too easy to get distracted even in simple exercises. He would watch. He would wait for the attack, surely coming any day now.

All reports from the Echo Canyons said the Serpentine had posted themselves in Jamanakai and seemed to be staying there. That made everyone, including Ray, feel uncomfortable. If the Jamanakai snakes weren’t moving, that meant they were confident the remainder of the Anacondrai would pass the Mountain of A Million Steps.

Ray skimmed the hills for an hour or more, then took a post near the top. He sat down against a rock where he could easily see the surrounding horizon - the Mountain of A Million Steps rising in the distance, the sun glaring off the opposing hillsides, the ocean of rocky terrain that separated this green village from the Sea of Sand.

He heard something.

Ray jumped up immediately, staying low against the rock. Behind it, hissing hurried past, like leaves against a sidewalk. It took Ray a moment to separate the sound into voices.

“...this way.”

He peered around the rock. There was a flash of red, then a softer green. Fangpyre. Venomari. Serpentine.

Two of them. Both had legs instead of tails, but they were still quick, small. The Fangpyre had just one flat head, swirling white across its scales.

They hadn’t seen him yet. They seemed to be heading toward the ridge above the town. Ray kept himself hidden behind the boulders and followed them.

When they got to the ridge, the two snakes laid flat on their scaly bellies, stretching long necks above the rocks. The whole village strung out below them. And to the north, a dagger-split in the rocky hills. The pass the Serpentine needed.

The Venomari ducked back down. “Andulus, I can’t see any Masters.”

“They’re there,” the Fangpyre replied. “Quiet.”

Unbidden, the Fanpyre suddenly jerked its head back. Fortunately, Ray was able to pull himself behind his boulder in time. Three counts of silence. When he peered back around, the snakes were surveying the village again.

“I’m tired of this,” the Venomari said. “It’s not worth it to attack such a small village.”

“We’ll be ruling them all soon enough, Lysss.”

“Yes.” The Venomari’s small crown flared. “But I thought this was about warning the humans, not ruling them.”

The Fanpyre stretched his neck a little. “If they will not listen, we must ensure they don’t bring destruction upon themselves.”

“Why do we care?” the Venomari hissed. “The humans can destroy themselves if they want.”

“Don’t let General Acidicus hear you talking like that.”

“What about your general? Kandoras? He could put a stop to this.”

The Fangpyre snorted, though it sounded more like a muffled hiss. “He will not undermine Arcturus. Now, hush this traitorous talk.”

The Venomari fell silent. Ray laid a hand on his katana hilt. These creatures were armed, but only with small knives, and they were small themselves. After facing the Anacondrai, this would be a piece of cake.

He waited for them to start talking again, for distraction, but they didn’t. Ray got tired of waiting.

He attacked.

The Serpentine rolled away from each other. The Fangpyre was on his feet, whipping out his knife. Ray disarmed him in a moment with one well-placed strike. His blade hovered near the Fangpyre’s long red neck. Then he looked at the Venomari on his other side.

“See, this is what I’m talking about!” the Venomari said, gesturing to Ray. He hadn’t even drawn his knife. “No respect.”

“Are you scouts?” Ray asked.

The Fangpyre sneered in response.

Ray decided not to press it. “You’re coming with me down to the village. The Masters will love to meet you.”

“You presume to take us prisoner?” the Fangpyre snapped, though his slitted pupils darted warily to the blade. “A measly human with a sword?”

Ray raised his hand. It took a few seconds, but his fingers burst into flames. The Venomari, who’d finally started going for his knife, scrambled back.

Ray smiled at the Fangpyre in the firelight. “Let’s get moving.”

~~~

Striding back into a village with two prisoner Serpentine was a good way to get people to hate you.

The villagers wanted nothing to do with the snakes. It took a lot of convincing for one of Lorin’s villager friends to let them lock the Serpentine in his basement. Even then, everyone gave the house a wide berth, and the owner of the house constantly glared daggers at Ray.

Ray meant to return to the hills for duty with Vivian and Maya, but Lorin kept him. They stood in front of the house. Lorin scratched his black beard thoughtfully.

“I don’t like this,” he grumbled.

“They can’t report back now,” Ray reminded him. “No intelligence. That’s good, right?”

“I suppose. But this means they’re scouting out this area. They will come through here. Perhaps in the next few days. Did you hear them say anything?”

“I -” Ray cut off when he saw Maya approaching. Their shift must’ve ended already.

She got to them, wide-eyed. “I heard you caught Serpentine.”

Ray jerked his head toward the big house. “They’re in there.”

“Are they scouts?”

“We think so.” Ray looked at Lorin. “Although one of them…”

Ray tried to recall exactly what the Serpentine had said. It seemed like the Venomari was against attacking the village. But that couldn’t be right.

“The Fangpyre didn’t like what the Venomari was saying,” he remembered. “He sounded like he was going against their generals, talking about how he didn’t want to fight. And - destruction? They said we’re going to destroy ourselves.”

Lorin’s brow deepened. Maya, on the other hand, caught her breath. “He said he didn’t want to fight?”

“Uh, I think so. But -”

“Ray, do you know what this means?”

“What?” he asked.

She shoved his shoulder. “The Serpentine are willing to compromise! They might negotiate with us!”

“Negotiate?” Ray threw a hand to the air. “We watched them nearly destroy an entire village, and you want to negotiate with them? They’re monsters!”

“They’re people,” Maya retorted. “Some of them don’t want to fight.” She paused to watch him, and added, “You’re just scared.”

“I’m not -” Ray stopped himself. Turned away, his hands linked behind his head. Turned back. “You’re right. Okay? I am scared. Is that such a bad thing?”

Maya didn’t reply for a moment. Her eyes were dark. “No,” she said at last. “But it doesn’t change what we have to do.”

At this, Lorin looked up. He frowned at Maya. “What would that be?”

“It’s obvious.” She stepped back to address them both. “We have to convince Master Wu to go to the Serpentine Generals and negotiate for peace.”

@greenygreenland

#the serpentine war #ninjago #ninjago fic

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evengayerpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Beyond the Hollows [Week 2]

Read Another Part: [One] [Two] [Three] [Four]

_________________

By the time Sae opens her eyes again, the sun has finally gone down and the hotel room she lays in is dark aside from the faint glow of a light on behind the closed bathroom door. The room is silent.

For a second, it all feels like a dream- no, it feels like it’s all been a nightmare. Zombies... Lukas... Kate.

The best part of a nightmare is that you can wake up from them. Maybe a little anxious, a little on edge, a little worse for wear for a moment... But when the sleep shrugs off and your mind clears, the nightmare is over. It’s over and done with and you can move on.

Sae waits for the nightmare to fade, but it doesn’t.

A brief glance around the room confirms to the twenty-two year old that she didn’t hallucinate the horrors she saw what felt like only moments ago.

Kate isn’t there, all that remains is the blood stained over the cocktail dress Sae was supposed to wear out to Copa Cabana. Lukas is missing too, the face of fear and concern he had as he tackled Kate away from Sae flashes painfully in the young woman’s mind.

She stifles a sob, only stopping herself upon seeing the young girl curled up in the bed across from hers.

The child sleeps. The man that rescued Sae, her Father, curls up around the girl protectively. Their brows are furrowed in identical worry, but the evenness of their breath denotes just the slightest moment of peace between the two.

Sae isn’t willing to ruin that for them, even in her grief.

Her grief is quiet, the agony swallows her up and for a moment Sae wonders if her sister is still in the hall, if she can go find her... They promised their whole childhood to never leave each other, maybe Sae can-

“You’re awake.” A voice breaks through her planning.

“What time is it...” Sae whispers, not turning to face him, not able to turn and look Curtis in the eye.

She knows its him, if it wasn’t obvious from the fact that there is only four people in the room, she can tell his voice from anywhere. She’s grown up hearing that voice; her sister’s boyfriend for almost six years and fiancee for two... He’s been like a brother to her, or he was her brother, at least, until a few hours ago.

“Four, I think, I turned off my cell to save battery.”

“It’s quiet.”

“You missed all of the screaming.” His voice is flat and emotionless. “You could hear the entire resort go to hell until about one, then it all went silent.”

Sae doesn’t speak, the air between the two is tense and thick. A shiver runs down her spine as she realizes the reason for the silence. “Everyone’s dead.”

“Not everyone, not us.”

“Not yet.” She spits out the words like poison.

Her name comes out like a trickling of wind. “Sarah...” Curtis breathes, his head dropping to his hands. “I’m so sorry, okay, I never should have said what I said.”

“You never should have left him out there, Curtis-”

“Sarah...”

“No, I know that Kate is dead or something, but Lukas? Lukas wasn’t. You left him out there to die.”

There is silence again, before a small sniffle is heard and Sae turns to face Curtis finally... His face is red, and his eyes are puffy, and she knows he’s crying but she just can’t feel sorry for him. Not after what he did.

“I had to keep you safe.” Curtis finally whispers.

Mouth dropping open just slightly, eyes squeezing tight to stop the tears that threaten to fall, a single word escapes Sae’s mouth. “Why?”

“You’re like my little sister... No, you pretty much are my little sister. I couldn’t save Katie, but at least I could save you, so that was more important.”

“He was your friend, you should have saved us both.”

The sound of a snore quiets the two again. A minute goes by. Two. It’s almost five minutes before Curtis starts to speak again, his voice strained with emotion.

“Look, when you decide you are going to propose to someone, a lot of thoughts go through your head...” He starts with a wistful sigh. “If you’re good enough, if you can provide for them, if this is really the person you want to love for the rest of your life.”

Sae turns to stare at Curtis.

“You don’t really expect that the rest of your life, is going to suddenly just end in the blink of an eye.”

His words hit Sae in the chest. “I’m sorry.” She admits, hanging her head. “I’m not the only one that lost her.”

“I’m sorry too, I know you really liked Lukas, but in that moment, the only thing I could think is how Kate would want me to save you, no matter what.”

An admission escapes her. “I actually didn’t.”

“What?”

“I didn’t like him... not like that. I mean he was nice and all, but I don’t...” She struggles to find the words.

“I like girls.” Her heart thuds in her chest painfully with the realization that this is the closest she’ll ever get to telling her family the truth. Her sister’s gone, before she could know what Sae wanted so badly to tell her.

“Oh.” Curtis goes quiet.

“Did you know, that I thought the worst thing that could happen this weekend... was that I’d tell Kate and she’d be angry with me.” A bitter laugh escapes Sae.

“I never imagined that all of this would happen.”

Curtis nods in recognition. “None of us did.”

He’s quiet again for another few moments, Sae can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he processes the information she’s just dumped on him.

“She wouldn’t, you know.” He settles on.

All Sae can do is make a soft ‘hm’ in response.

“Be angry? She loved you. She just wanted you to fall in love and be happy, whoever that was with.”

“I know, Curtis.”

“I’m not angry either.” Curtis looks her in the eye when he says this. “When we get out of here, I want you to know that I’ll support you, no matter what.”

In the first show of solidarity since everything fell apart, Sae reaches over to take Curtis’ hand, squeezing it to show her appreciation. “I know.”

“Now let’s figure out a plan to get out of here.”

_________________

The older man wakes not long after Sae, he’s careful to not disturb his daughter as he slips out of the bed and over to the two young adults near the door.

Together, the three of them brainstorm how to get out of the resort. Curtis is convinced that as long as they can get to their cars, they can go find help.

Sae isn’t too sure of that, but it’s the man, Martin Hess, as they find out (here on a special week-long vacation with his eight year old daughter Caroline), who happens to be the deciding vote between them.

“If we stay we’re sitting ducks.” He explains, offering a water bottle to Sae, and a chocolate protein bar to Curtis. “This place is locked up tightly, which fortunately means nothing from the outside is getting in... But, unfortunately, it also means that those monsters aren’t able to get out on their own, either.”

“So?” Sae asks, grimacing at the thought that her sister is lumped in as part of the ‘monsters’ roaming.

“He means that they’re all still out in the halls, and the lobby, and they aren’t just going to go away.” Curtis interrupts, glancing at the door. “We can either run for the cars, or we stay in this room until they find us.”

“Couldn’t help find us too? Police or something, they’re probably out looking for survivors.”

Martin shakes his head. “In a city this big... I don’t think anyone will be going room to room in each resort searching for uninfected folks for quite a while.”

“We could wait right? It’s safer in here isn’t it?”

“No.” Martin voices, adamant against that idea. “We’d run out of food. I packed a few snacks for the trip; cheese strings, water bottles, bear paws... Snacks so Cari wouldn’t ask me to stop every five minutes for a Beavertail or Dipping Dots, but it won’t be enough to feed all of us properly for more than a day or so.”

Curtis nods his agreement. “Look, Sarah, if we go, we go now... We need to get to the cars and get to the police, or a fire station. One of them will keep us safe.”

“It’s our safest bet, I agree.”

Sae looks between Martin and Curtis, for a moment she can see how scared they both are, how utterly terrified they are of leaving the room and she also feels that same fear. They seem to know what they’re talking about, but the idea of leaving the safety of the room and willingly going out into the hall, it’s crazy.

Her heart pounds in her chest, but slowly she lets herself nod. “Okay, whose car are we going for?”

“Mine.” Martin insists. “It’s an SUV, it can take a hell of a beating and Cari’s carseat is in the back.”

“Okay.” Curtis nods. “Sarah, I want you to take your keys just in case we get separated or anything.”

Sae nods, the tiny breath of air she was holding expelling from her body as she glances from Curtis’ determined face, to Martin’s concerned one and finally to the girl still curled up on the bed sleeping.

“When do we do it?”

_________________

It isn’t quite seven in the morning when the four survivors decide that they’re all ready to go.

They’ve woken up Caroline, and made the official introductions between the eight year old and her two new friends. They have also gotten her to pack the rainbow unicorn backpack she brought on vacation with all of the snacks that they can fit in it.

The two men have broken apart the desk chair that sits in the hotel room, using the metal legs for bats, more reliable bats than the wooden chair leg that Curtis found and used the night before.

Sae, from some stroke of luck, has managed to change out of the cocktail dress stained with her sister’s blood and into a pair of jeans and plain tee-shirt that Martin had in his suitcase. The jeans are too wide and need to be held on with a tight belt, and the shirt swims on her, but anything is better than running around in a skin-tight dress with the memory of her sister being bitten seeped into the material.

The plan is simple; Curtis and Sae are going in front, with Martin and his daughter following close behind.

Curtis has Martin’s keys because he’s the fastest runner out of the four of them, his role is to get to the SUV as quickly as he can... If he can start it up, they may be able to make it before they get overrun.

Sae and Martin’s roles are to beat away any of the monsters that get too close using the metal chair legs, their only weapons against arms, legs and teeth.

Cari? Cari’s only job is to be brave.

It all seems so easy, until the door to the room opens and they’re met with the carnage in the hallway.

It’s like the scene of a horror movie; blood stains the floor in pools, people (or what remains of them) are crumpled into heaps, and the only sound you can hear comes from the piles of bodies littered along the hallway; moans, groans and the unmistakable noise of something gnawing through bone.

Sae has to cover her mouth to conceal the gasp that threatens to escape, Martin shields his daughter’s eyes before the whimper on her lips can make it’s debut, and Curtis motions the group to move on.

They’re able to walk down the hall a little, moving away from the lobby where it all began and instead following a little hall to a fire exit, it had been decided that going the path more secluded had less of a chance of running into the monsters they were trying to stay away from. It almost works... almost.

Curtis has his hand on the handle to the door, ready to open it, when a scream erupts into the near quiet air stopping him and Sae dead in their tracks.

As they turn their heads towards the scream, the sight meeting them has Sae’s heart still in her chest.

Cari has been knocked to the ground, her eyes trained in horror on the beast that advances on her father.

Sae lets out the gasp she held earlier.

The creature is easily six feet tall and over two hundred pounds, as a human he would have been intimidating with the muscles swelling around his arms, chest and legs... As a mindless and relentless zombie attacking them, he is absolutely terrifying.

In mere seconds he goes from advancing on Martin, to tackling him to the ground. All at once, the man, Sae and Cari scream.

“Curtis we have to do something now!” Sae begs, taking a hesitant step forward and brandishing the chair leg like it’s a bat, she’s set to take a hit on the zombie before she’s stopped by Curtis grabbing a hold of her arm and pulling her back.

“We can’t.” He quirks his head to the hall they’ve just come from, another creature stumbling it’s way over to them, foot dragging like it’s been broken.

“We need to go now, Sae, we can’t help him.”

Sae turns to stare at her almost brother-in-law in horror, Caroline’s screams pierce the background at the same time as Martin’s pleas for help start.

“Curtis, we need to.” She’s determined as she tries to break out of his hold, her eyes narrowing as he holds her almost painfully tightly.

“We have the keys, we can still get to their car and get out of here.” His eyes are wide in his frantic demands. “Come, there’s no way we can help him.”

Sae stares at him for another moment, her eyes filling with tears as she shakes her head. “No, I can’t, she’s just a little kid, we have to help them.”

For a moment, his eyes soften and Sae feels like she’s broken through to him... But then Curtis is holding her arm tighter and trying to drag her towards the fire door, his face red in an unrecognizable fury.

“It’s us or them, Sarah, and I sure as fuck choose us. Come on!” He growls in her ear as he struggles to pull her towards the door. “If the roles were reversed, they’d leave us behind in a heartbeat!”

Her eyes flicker between Curtis, anger and determination written across the features that once held nothing but humour and adoration... And then they flicker to Martin and Cari, the tiny girl screaming desperately as her father tries to fight back against the monster that has him pinned to the floor.

“No!” Sae finally screams, her mind returns to the night before, Martin putting not just himself but his daughter in danger to try to get Sae and her friends into his room, into safety. “No, they wouldn’t!”

She rips away from Curtis’ hold, and stands facing him, panting in desperation. “I’ve got to help them!” She demands, refusing to give in to him.

“Then I’ve got to leave you behind.”

Her heart breaks in ways Sae never imagined as her sister’s fiancee turns away from her and pulls open the door to the fire exit, rushing down the stairs and out of sight. For a second she’s frozen watching the spot where he used to be, until another desperate scream from Cari snaps her back to reality.

She turns back towards the chaos, swinging at the zombie with the metal chair leg and hitting him in the shoulder just as he ducks his head and sinks his teeth deep into the flesh of Martin’s throat.

“Noooooo!” A scream breaks out and it takes Sae a moment to realize that she’s the one screaming, as Cari joins her crying out in anguish.

She pounds the chair leg into the zombie’s shoulder again, trying to beat him off of Martin but the damage has already been done, blood spurting from the open wound in the older man’s throat.

Sae is screaming and crying and pounding on the six foot monster’s shoulder as Martin twitches and spasms on the floor, the only sound escaping him is a gurgled plea to “Take... Ca-ri... Run...”

It takes Sae a moment to react, dropping the metal chair leg as the beast she was attacking turns to face her, his mouth a crimson red and his eyes the same milky white as her sisters were only the night before.

The seconds that follow, all Sae can hear is the blood rushing through her veins as she jumps into action.

She runs for Caroline, scooping the child up with one arm and not stopping as she flees from the nightmare unfolding in front of them. She’s holding the girl against her side, just barely able to keep them both upright as she races down the hall in the opposite direction from the fire exit, the path to safety being blocked by six feet of pure horror and Cari’s own father who she’s sure is either dead or turning into one of them.

Sae races past other creatures, zombies she supposes, some of them are too preoccupied with their own catch to worry about a sprinting twenty-two year old and the eight year old arm luggage she’s picked up.

A few turn towards them and Sarah tries her best to run around, or shove them away as she races desperately towards the fire exit on the opposite side of the building, the one that’s just past her own room.

There’s a thought that occurs to her just moments before she can see the doors to the fire exit.

What if Kate is still around.

The thought is just barely in the back of her mind, her instincts to flight taking over until it’s almost too late.

She catches sight of Kate, skulking around what Sae can only assume is the body of Lukas... From the barely visible blonde hair and bright blue v-neck he had been wearing the night before, it confirms exactly who it is.

Sae freezes, Cari still pressed against her body, as she stares at the shambling, grotesque mess that her dearly loved older sister has horrifically become.

A hole where her shoulder once was now shows skin flaps barely clinging on to the meat underneath, blood drenches the front of Kate, from her mouth and shoulder all the way down her dress. Red bits adorn her neck and jaw, and it’s with a shudder that Sae realizes that the red bits are pieces of Lukas’ flesh.

Kate lets out a groan that runs down Sae’s spine, and the blonde stumbles backward into the fire exit. She’s shaking her head, tears collecting in her eyes when she steps in a puddle at the top of the staircase.

She loses her balance, arms flinging out to try and correct herself, but all Sae manages to do is slam the door to the fire exit closed in front of her, before her ankle twists and she sends both her and eight year old Cari crashing down the staircase behind them.

#Beyond the Hollows #original content #original story #zombie saga #zombies #lesbian #lesbians #queer women #queer zombie saga #an Even Gayer Panic original #original series #tw: death #tw: zombies #tw: slight gore

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pastelbatfandoms · 5 years ago

Text

The Alpha

A/N: Hey look another Teen Wolf chapter! I knew readers where getting anxious for another part,so here ya go! takes inspiration from Season 1 but is more of an Alt Timeline.

Collage and first gif made by me!

Part 2-You left an Imprint

Marianna arrived at Derek’s loft,nervous for a reason she couldn’t explain,as she slid open The large door,not bothering to knock since well for one Derek had said it was important and two WereWolf Hearing. Derek would have already heard her come up. It wasn’t nerves over seeing Derek,alone,yeah he was attractive but she wasn’t really in the mindset to be looking for a partner right now.

Marianna opened the door slowly as she called out, “Derek are you here?” She wasn’t expecting to see a tall,broad shouldered stranger standing there blocking her way. {Oh Hello Handsome.}

Marianna didn’t realize she had been standing there,staring at him,all while biting her lip,until she heard a male voice behind the stranger clear his throat. “Marianna,I see you’ve met Peter already.” Derek walked up to where the man known as Peter was standing there with a smirk on his face.

Derek gave them both a look as he said, “Not exactly how I thought this was going to go.” The Alpha Wolf shook his head then and gestured for Marianna to come in.

Marianna walked in,brushing past Peter as she did so causing Peter to give an almost animalistic growl,which inexplicably made Marianna shiver but not in a bad way. {What is wrong with me?} Marianna thought to herself,then choosing to ignore the feeling, walked over to where Derek was standing by a large wooden table. “ What did you want to see me about Derek?”

Derek looked up his eyebrows raised,but there was apprehension in his eyes and a hesitation to his voice. “Well Marianna um...”

Peter finally spoke up,appearing annoyed with Derek taking so long. “Oh C’mon Derek,just tell her. She’d find out soon enough anyway.”

“Find out what? Who’s dead?!” Marianna asked in alarm.

“No one!” Derek reassured her quickly.

“Yet...” Peter murmured under his breath.

Derek,who had heard him,shot Peter a look. “That’s not why I called you.”

“Then why?” Marianna frowned,then a thought came to her. “Derek you don’t like me do you? Cause I’m not-”

Derek jumped in before she could say more,all while Peter was trying not to laugh. “ No,that’s not it either. Mari...this is My uncle.”

Marianna looked at the men before her in surprise,comparing them,sure they looked somewhat alike and Peter could pass as Derek’s older Brother but Uncle?!

It was then that Peter walked up to her and extended his hand out, “I’m Peter Hale.”

Marianna took it as Peter’s magnetic blue eyes gazed into her own and he softly kissed her hand. Marianna felt that inexplicable pull again,as he held her gaze then his eyes flashed an even brighter shade of blue.

“Peter...” Derek warned his uncle.

Marianna snatched her hand back then. “You’re a WereWolf?!” She cried out then composed herself. “I mean of course you are being Derek’s uncle.”

“Not just any WereWolf,an Omega.” Peter informed her.

Marianna looked at Peter again,frowning as he eyed her back seeming to size her up. “Why are you staring at me like you know me or something?”

“Because we do know each other.” Peter told her with a grin.

Derek sighed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.Mari,didn’t you know a Peter Hale,awhile back?”

“ I mean yeah back in school,last year. We dated But then he suddenly disappeared without a word,I just figured he transferred Schools...” Marianna trailed off as she looked at both Derek and Peter,Derek had a knowing look on his face as he looked between Marianna and Peter,who had a slightly guilty look on his.

Marianna’s gaze zeroed in on Peter,and her eyes widened in realization. “No way...but he was my age! How is that possible?”

“He may not have been exactly Corporeal when you two met.” Derek told her.

“Like as in a Ghost?!” Marianna exclaimed in disbelief,her eyes wide she looked away trying to make sense of it. “Great I literally got ghosted.”

“In a way,it’s complicated.” Peter answered her.

Marianna turned to face him again,her eyes narrowing as she studied him,trying to see the boy she had started to fall for,versus the man standing in front of her. Peter’s hair was the same dark brown almost black but now it was longer,just past his ears,curling slightly at the ends,the outfit was different of course,but he did still like his leather jackets,Marianna noticed his long leather trench. But that Jaw,those magnetic eyes and playful dark smirk....

“It is you...” Marianna whispers,raising her hand up,Peter thinks she is going to touch him,instead he feels a stinging slap across his face.

It’s Derek’s turn to try and not laugh. “Ouch.”

“You were in my head! you made me,and My friends,think we were crazy,especially me. Then you just left out of nowhere.” Marianna yelled the shock fading away into anger.

“I guess it’s not that complicated.” Peter sighed,rubbing his jaw.

“Wait how did My friends see you?” Marianna asked curious.

“They saw what I wanted them to see.” Peter told her.

“I know how your here.” Marianna realized,without Peter having to say anything. “Those dreams,they weren’t actually dreams where they?”

“No.” Peter admitted,ruefully.

Marianna glared at him. “I thought I was hallucinating. So then I actually did drag Derek to your old house,unconcious,to your corpse so to speak,so you could feed on him and come back to life as an adult...”

“In my real form,Yes.” Peter answered. Even though she didn’t really need one.

Marianna looked at him incredulously. “How?”

“I’d actually like to here this as well.” Derek chimed in,arms crossed,waiting.

Peter shot Derek a glare,before turning back to Marianna. “A special powder,I blew into your face,at the school. remember? It made you susceptible to suggestion. So I just told you where to go and how to find Derek.”

“When I thought I was hallucinating..” Marianna shook her head with a scoff. “Unbelievable...so you were just using me,of course,why wouldn’t I fall in love with someone who wasn’t even really there!” Marianna shouted to herself,raising her arms in exasperation.

Peter starts to go towards her but she stops him. “No I don’t want an apology or whatever,I think I’ve heard enough.” Marianna tells him,then looking over at Derek says, “I’m sorry Derek,about what I did,or rather HE made me do. But I think I have to go now. “

Before either Derek or Peter could stop her,Marianna stalks out the door,while Peter calls after her. “Mari,don’t-just hear me out, Marianna!!” Peter shouts her name,she hears him but is too far gone to care or turn back.

Peter’s POV

Derek watches Peter Pace the loft,noting his uncle looks anxious but upset. “Peter you should let her cool off,she’ll come around eventually.”

Peter stops pacing and looks at his Nephew. “and if she doesn’t?”

Derek gives Peter a pointed look. “Then you let her go.”

“I can’t do that.” Peter gives Derek a long look,his wolf feeling like he’s going to jump out of his body. “I need a distraction.” Peter looks away from Derek’s questioning gaze.

“Where are you going?”

Peter heads out, “I have some unfinished business to take care of.” answering Derek he walks away letting out a growl as his eyes glow.

Peter walks the darkened Forest,when he’s sure he’s alone,The Wolf comes out,Bones break and muscles extend as The Black Monster like Wolf emerges,Peter barely registered the pain anymore as he howls. Making his way to where the smell of bodies were,lively and vital. Time for the hunt. As for The Argents,well much like these unsuspecting youth,they’d never see him coming.

Marianna woke up in a cold sweat. She could still hear what sounded like Wolf Howls in her ears,and a predatory creature,large and black with glowing eyes,sharp teeth and claws,advancing towards her in the darkness. Almost like a.... “WereWolf.” Marianna whispered,raising up out of bed with a start,as her eyes widened in realization. “Peter...”

As if he had heard her,and maybe he had. A figure emerges from the shadows of Marianna’s dark room and Peter appears,a wolfish grin on his handsome features. “You called?”

Marianna looks up startled but surprisingly not afraid. “I didn’t. Why are you here?”

Peter studies her closely,coming to a realization. “You know your not dreaming.” He states as he walks towards the bed.

Marianna shakes her head. “I’ve had lucid dreams before,this is not one of them.” Marianna grips the blanket tighter around her. “I’ll ask again. Peter why are you here?”

Peter glances down at her,kneeling by the bed. “You were dreaming about me,my true form,I could sense it.”

Marianna frowns up at him,confused. “How?” From what she knew about WereWolves,which was quite a bit given her own Brother was one,she had never known them to have powers over dreams. The awaken consciousness was another matter.

“I told you,we are connected.” Peter whispers,Marianna closes her eyes in apprehension as Peter reaches out to stroke her cheek. “But I never told you how much...You see My little Witch,we’re...”

Before Marianna could get her full answer,the bedroom door swings open and Melissa MCcall,Scott’s Mother and Marianna’s adoptive Mother,rushes in. “Mari? are you alright? I though I heard voices.” Melissa asks in concern.

Marianna looks around to see if Peter was there,but he was nowhere in sight. She then smiles up at Melissa. “It was nothing Mom,I just had a bad dream,must have been talking in my sleep,I’m fine.”

Melissa looks at her relieved. “Ok well try to have better dreams this time,I have to go into work.” Their Mother worked night shifts as a Nurse. “ But Scott is still down the hall,asleep,if you need him.” With a warm smile at her Daughter,they blew each other a kiss goodnight,as Melissa walked out,shutting the door behind her.

Marianna settled back down in bed,glad that Peter was gone for now,but wondering what he had meant by them still being connected,to say that she had a restless nights sleep would be an understatement.

Even back at school her friends noticed,namely Alison and Lydia. “What is going on with you?” Alison asked Marianna as the three girls walked down the hall of Beacon Hills High together.

“What?” Marianna asked back,trying to tune into what her friends were talking about.

Lydia gave her a look. “You know what. You’ve been totally zoned out all day.”

“it’s nothing. I just didn’t get enough sleep last night.” Marianna replied,trying to sound convincing.

Alison,who didn’t seemed convinced,looked at her in concern. Until they heard Lydia give out a shriek and almost throw her phone.

“What? What happened?” Alison asked her attention on Lydia for now.

“Jackson.” Lydia replied in a clipped tone. “He can’t take me to the formal. Said he had more important things to do.”

Marianna rolled her eyes,as Alison tried to comfort Lydia,saying she deserved better,which was true,Jackson had always been a jerk but now he was just becoming an Ass,always blowing off Lydia for some unknown reason or another,now this.

Attempting to tune them out,Marianna looked out at the throng of students walking this way and that,rushing to class or their lockers,it was then that Marianna noticed a tall male figure talking to a teacher in the sea of students.

Marianna frowned not sure who it was,or why she cared so much,until she stepped closer,then her eyes went wide. “Peter...” Marianna’s voice took on a hushed tone as she stared at him. Then in a split second he is gone,leaving Marianna to wonder if he had ever really been there at all.

A/N: I sense that Peter is not going take no for answer nor does he take rejection well....and yes this is still the Psychotic Peter,for now.

Tagging: @ gumbieghoul

#teen wolf #fanfiction #the alpha #peter hale x reader

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extremelyblackandwhite · 5 years ago

Text

the unseen one - 05

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: drinking

A/N: mentions of absinthe. fun fact, my parents favourite drink is absinthe and it is just awful (take it from me, your friendly non-drinking friend who had to drink it once during a friend’s wedding tradition) however i do feel like bucky would enjoy it, idk why. hope you like this chapter, lemme know. enjoy xx

Next Chapter >>

Hecate rushed with James to Groves of Persephone. These grounds stood in the Elysium, the better part of the Underworld and Hades’ gift to Persephone once she became his wife. It was a beautiful place but even James had to be stunned by, at the height of its beauty it always had various flowers and plants flourishing by and climbing up the white marbled columns of Persephone’s resting place. After Persephone and the original god of Death disappeared from the Cosmos, the Grove became part of James’ possessions as lord of the underworld.

It was where the noblest of souls laid rest and James’ himself could not believe that the Groves of Persephone were part of the Underworld due to the its sheer beauty. However, once he stepped in, the once bright, flourishing, green and colourful themes that gave that place the beauty it did was disappearing. Most of the flowers were dead and some wild plants were breaking through the marbled floors leading to where Persephone and Hades used to lead.

- What happened? - James turned to look at the goddess of sorcery, hoping she was playing a trick on him.

- The Groves are dying. - Hecate pointed at the brown coloured plants. - Is this your doing?

- Well, yes Hecate. I decided to destroy the only surviving thing from Persephone that gives Demeter some solace.

- I know you’re joking but it sounds like something you’d do.

- Call Demeter and everyone else who’s a god of plants. Anthousai, Chloris even Gaia if necessary. This has to be fixed. - James turned on his back not wanting to deal with that right now. Demeter didn’t personally hate him, he hadn’t kidnapped his daughter. However, she thoroughly missed his daughter and has such would visit her Groves every once in a while and gave him the job of protecting Persephone’s jewels. If he destroyed any of those, he’d have to hide forever from the goddess or probably would be turned into a plant. He returned to his office, picking a few books and dumping them on his desk, trying to find a way to figure out what had happened.

The Groves had been tended to by Persephone in the past, with some of Hades’ books even describing it as her regular past time and where the throne room once sat, however, after their disappearance from the universe and James taking the throne, it became tended by the underworld nymphs, the Lampades, which followed Hecate in her night-time reveals and hauntings. He knew them to be extremely loyal to Hecate, more to her than to him, he also knew Hecate to pay her respects to the long gone goddess of spring so that meant the Lampades wouldn’t stop caring for the Groves.

He spent most of the days going through the books and those letters which Hades used to write to Demeter about his daughter but nothing spoke of any issues with the Groves.

- Hades. - he raised his head from the books to see Demeter at the door. Demeter was always one of James’ personal favourite goddesses, mostly due to her demeanour. She was a tall woman, always with sun kissed skin, dressed in green soft fabric dresses covered by ivy plants which contrasted with her always perfectly groomed red hair which always had a crown of wheat placed upon it. Hecate used to say that along with Persephone, Demeter was one of the biggest oponnents to Aphrodite’s beauty. However, with the loss of the daughter and the continuing, ever lasting grief of her lost daughter, gods said the immortal goddess had allowed time to take its toll on her. Nevertheless, Demeter was a kind, fair and mature goddess, knowing exactly what to do and when to do it. - Hecate has filled me on the occurrences.

- Any chances the Lampades might’ve forgotten to care for the Groves?

- The Nature is dying even with care. Not sure why exactly, I can try and come a few times to tend for the nature.

- Any chance Persephone would’ve spoken about anything wrong with the groves in the past?

- My daughter never really spoke with me after she was forced to leave her husband every year.

- I’m sure Persephone shared no hatred towards you. However, the groves are part of the Elysium, we cannot permit any death in the Elysium.

- I’ll work with my nymphs personally and see what we can do.

Meanwhile, Y/N hadn’t sleep throughout the day. After James had dropped her off and Anne had returned to her home she just couldn’t sleep so she spent most of the day with a bowl of strawberries by her side, cashmere blanket wrapped around herself as she read her book with the TV on for background noise. It was the weekend, she had mostly nothing to do expect checking her phone every few hours to check for any teachers’ emails, but even them didn’t text them on Saturdays.

She would have ended up her Saturday by falling asleep on her coach if it hadn’t been for Anne climbing through the window by the fire escape. Y/N titled her head up to see Anne in a satin blue dress, her regular unruly locks held behind with some star shaped pins.

- We’re going out. - she said pushing the cashmere blanket away from her.

- I don’t wanna go out. - Y/N groaned, cuddling against a pillow.

- We can only go out on Fridays and Saturdays, since you spent Friday with tall, dark, and handsome, you owe me this.

- Fine. - she got up from her coach, walking to her room to grab something deemed for going out. She ended up with open toe dark boots, high waisted jeans and a white blouse whose lower fabric she wrapped around her waist.

Anne always went to the same bar. The same old beat up bar that Y/N was 100% sure was more of a spot for drug vending, weird rituals and gang meetings than a bar, however Anne was sure that was the best place to be. The two girls walked into the bar, a weird, unknown tune playing in the background. There weren’t too many people inside, only 5 maximum. However, Y/N’s eyes immediately set on a man sat by the bar. James. She could recognise him anywhere.

- Anne, I think that’s James. - she casually whispered to her friend, who very unceremoniously turned to check. - Be more discreet will you?

- You gotta go there.

- No, I don’t wanna bother him. He’s alone here by a reason.

- Now, you listen to me, Y/N. - she unbuttoned two of her friend’s blouse. - You go over there and you ask him for his phone number and you’ll only return once you have his contact name on your phone.

- Stop it. - she slapped her hand off but her friend only pointed in his direction: Y/N mumbled a few curses under her breathe, trying to button up the blouse in a manner which wasn’t so bed inviting. As she was about to tap him on the shoulder, he noticed her first.

- Y/N, I didn’t fancy you one to enjoy these parts. - he spoke in his raspy voice tone. He sounded tired and Y/N wondered if like her he couldn’t sleep.

- It’s Anne’s favourite place in town. - Y/N took a place next to him in one of the worn out high chairs. She noticed the fancy cup containing green liquid he was holding. - What are you drinking?

- Absinthe.

- Doesn’t absinthe cause hallucinations? - she furrowed her brow, still mildly interested in how green the beverage was.

- Wish it did. - he gestured to the bartender who brought another fancy glass and a nice silver spoon. She watched him prepare something before sliding it over to her. - Give it a try.

- Will I hallucinate?

- Promise you won’t. - he lifted his own glass, cheering it up to her. Y/N downed a bit of the drink, finding it sickeningly sweet, almost like licorish iced tea. Something she didn’t know what to feel about. - I see you don’t like it.

- It’s too sweet.

- Sweet people normally don’t like sweet things. - he almost mumbled it under his breathe, but Y/N could hear it which made a heat cripple over her cheeks.

- You know, we normally have quite a few outings in my friend group. If you’d gave me your number, I could tell you when. - Y/N didn’t know exactly how to ask him for his phone number. She didn’t want to sound desperate, or too forward.

- I’m afraid I don’t have one of those, sweetness. - she gave him a nervous smile trying not to show how the small rejection. - However, if you give me yours I can try to get in touch.

- How would you get in touch without a phone?

- I could get one or could use a pay phone.

- That’s old school, don’t you think? - she grabbed one of the small napkins, scribbling her phone number on it and sliding it to him.

- I like old school, sweetness.

- I should get back to my friend. - Y/N scratched the back of her neck, noticing Anne waiting for her.

- I’ll speak with you later, Y/N.

- Later, Bucky.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan drabble #Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #bucky drabble #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky/reader #winter soldier #white wolf #marvel au #bucky au #hades!bucky

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