#* desires : morana.

[brutalpath]

bingbong it's tagdump time

[readerramble]

I couldn’t find any fanfics or head-canons for Tristan and Morana and I am a sucker for angst and make-believe scenarios so here we go with an idea that took root and will not leave my head-

#1 Tristan X Morana

Years have passed, and the Caine siblings have reunited. But the reunion is fraught with unspoken tensions. Lyla’s trauma has twisted her perception of Morana, and now she can barely look at her without feeling an acute sense of loss—a haunting reminder of the life she could have had if she had been saved from the horrors that shaped her.

Tristan, the most perceptive of the siblings, doesn’t just sense Lyla’s pain; it consumes him. The desire to give Lyla the security she never had becomes his unspoken mission, and it tears at him, fueling a growing conflict within. He wants to protect her, to shield her from any more pain, but he doesn’t know how.

Subtly, almost imperceptibly, Tristan begins to change. He pulls back in small, silent ways: avoiding eye contact, stepping away from Morana in public, and downplaying their bond whenever Lyla is near. The shifts are so subtle they might have gone unnoticed by anyone else, but Morana is sharp, and she feels every inch of Tristan’s retreat.

Morana, ever the understanding one, tries to accept the distance, but beneath her calm lies a quiet sense of betrayal. It isn’t her fault that she escaped unscathed all those years ago. And yet, the weight of Tristan’s struggle feels like a punishment for something beyond her control. One day, Morana reaches her breaking point. She makes the decision she never thought she would: she leaves.

Disappearing without a trace, Morana vanishes into the digital shadows. A master of technology, she covers her tracks flawlessly, severing ties with her old life and becoming a ghost. Years pass without a word. Tristan and Lyla are left to grapple with her absence. Lyla finds solace in the space left behind, using the time to confront her own demons. Tristan, on the other hand, retreats into himself, present but distant—alive, but only just.

Everything changes the day Amara needs Morana. A crisis pulls Morana back into the open, and she reappears for her friend, but she is not the Morana who left. This version of her is colder, distant, and utterly detached from Tristan. She is no longer hurt or angry—just indifferent.

What follows is a delicate dance, a relentless push and pull as Tristan struggles to tear down the walls Morana has built around herself. He fights to reclaim the bond they once shared, to revive what was lost. But Morana is no longer willing to be found so easily, and Tristan must confront the deepest parts of himself if he ever hopes to bridge the chasm between them.

[beevean]

And isn't this a telling line.

I know why Lenore says this. It's very clear, and it weighs on her, that she is seen as the weak link of the Styria council. The others keep her around because of her diplomatic skills, but they don't really respect her as a person: we even see the others constantly making fun of her behind her back (Carmilla mocks her for her penchant for caring about animals, Striga implies that Lenore is saccharinely romantic, Morana accuses her of "being off with the fairies"), and if she has really eavesdropped Striga's proposal to hire mercenaries, surely she has heard them dismissing her strategy of "adopting" Hector, which might have been the reason she rushed things with the ring. So yes, her sentiment is understandable: her own friends don't seem to care about her, so she leans on Hector, the only one in the castle who listens to her woes like she's a person and not just a problem-solver.

This is, as per usual with Lenore, highly hypocritical on her part, because she too keeps Hector around but doesn't care about him as a person.

The common conception is that, by S4, Lenore stopped treating Hector like an animal and started to see him as a person, and this is why, only six weeks after effectively raping him into slavery, Hector is so chill with her and even does his best to protect her regardless of his own life. The two have off-screen organically grown to care about each other, perhaps bonding about their positions as the unfavorites: this is what Hector choosing to be with Lenore even after cutting off the ring symbolizes, that he's no longer bound to her by force but sincerely.

But think back on their two major scenes in S4 before the turning point of episode 6.

What are they about? Ignoring the stupid dick jokes, what is the function of both scenes?

Lenore venting about her issues. About how she feels pushed to the side, how she feels useless, how she doesn't see a place for herself in the world Carmilla wants to build, how Carmilla is overreaching which worries Lenore because they'll lose the stability she has worked for, how Carmilla might have lied to her. She even reveals her tragic childhood out of nowhere lmao.

Do you notice what it's missing?

Hector.

Oh, he's physically present. He sasses back because we need to establish them as a couple, but he also asks genuine questions to Lenore ("Are they sidelining you?"), and wants to listen to her. He even attempts a little connection with his "Just like Dracula lied to me," showing empathy.

But do you see Lenore ever asking about how Hector's doing? You know, since she raped a slave ring into his hand and now he's trapped in a castle he didn't want to be in, working for people who have at best ignored him and worst have hurt him in all sorts of ways?

How about asking if he's enjoying the castle? How about asking what is he doing when not working? I'm not even demanding she'd do something as outrageous as asking him if the ring is hurting or expressing any regret that it has to be between them when they get along so well, just fucking be invested in the guy the story is trying so hard to convince me that you care about! Hector has empathy for her, but it sure isn't reciprocated!

It becomes all the more egregious when you remember that Lenore did ask about Hector's desires and life at some point. When she had to manipulate him in S3! Do you realize how utterly scummy this looks? Much like her losing any sign of sexual interest in him once he got out of his cell and gained a shred of attitude, it really looks like Lenore only pretended to be attracted to him physically and mentally to get something out of him, but now that she has managed to trap him and got a good dicking, she won't bother to put in the effort!

Yes, learning about Lenore's inner turmoil is important to establish the rest of the subplot: the sisters losing faith in Carmilla, Lenore being so devastated by Hector's scheming that she'd rather kill herself, all the good stuff. But I think the priority should have been, you know, the victim here.

Well, we know how Lenore reacted the only time Hector expressed any resentment over his condition...

You know this was coming 🙂 the clip I linked may have conveniently cut this exchange, but I, unlike the fandom, am not ignoring this little part.

I want you to take a good, hard look at Lenore's expression, and tell me that she feels any remorse for what she has done. At best, she believes he's just whining for no good reason - why would he, when he lives in a nice castle, gets to do what he likes, and even got good pussy? Oh, silly Hector, joking around like that. At worst, she looks offended to be called out like that, because he's breaking the nice façade they have going on. And considering that the ring is objectively a failure because it barely does what it was meant to do, this only gives credit to my interpretation that she's pissy that her master plan didn't work as she imagined and only made things worse. It's not about how Hector feels, it's about her pride in her skills.

This line is, conceptually, a continuation of this sentiment:

"You're not a real person, Hector. Stop complaining, and be thankful for what I give you. You can stand there looking pretty, like a good boy, and do nice things for me, but you're not allowed to express yourself: you'll make me look bad."

Tell me again how much she changed after the timeskip?

(and no, I don't believe Lenore was lying in this scene to play tough with the others. As much as I like the idea of her pretending to be evil to "fit in" a group of cruel vampires, this giddy, dehumanizing behavior is supported in other scenes where no one is around. There is, instead, enough proof to support the theory that Lenore resorted to forcing the ring on Hector instead of continuing with her manipulations because she got offended that Striga underestimated her methods, again fitting with her touchiness over being seen as "weak" or soft. It's about, once again, her pride.)

As the cherry on top, the line I quoted at the very beginning? Directly follows this. Lenore dismisses her rape of Hector, Hector concedes the point and urges her to keep talking about her woes, and she thanks him for wanting to listen to her. The very same thing she vehemently refused to do for him. Lenore angrily shuts down Hector when he tries to express himself in a way that would make her feel bad, but rewards him with appreciation when he acquiesces and makes her feel cared for. If this isn't an encapsulation of their dynamic, I don't know what is.

So let's move on before I spontaneously combust, because I'm not done! Because there's also her suicide! Or, to be more precise, her verbal suicide note.

TvTropes phrases her as killing herself out of guilt:

I would love to see how they came to this interpretation, considering Lenore makes it all about, guess what? Herself:

I don't see any "I'm sorry for what I put you through. I believe your life will be better off without me keeping you chained here." Now that would show "severe guilt", not a shitty "welp, things have happened". No, she sounds so damn flippant no wonder her fans see this as an OOC decision. But even in the best interpretation I can give, she killed herself out of her abject failure at keeping the council together, and because Hector, who was also responsible for taking her queen life away from her (not that she points it out), made her realize that this is all her existence will amount to, even long after he and Isaac will be dead (which is why the latter shouldn't even factor into her choice: in the grand scheme of things that she has just finished talking about, he doesn't matter, he's going to die in 40 years or so).

Hector is nowhere near her thoughts, except for a quick "I'm sorry I can't be here to help you through… whatever comes next", appended there like an afterthought, but still expressing the sentiment that Lenore would rather leave Hector alone because she feels too sorry for herself to even bear sticking around for a few more decades, which are nothing for a centuries-old vampire.

By the way, what concerns her about her vampiric power is not that she'll cause harm to people, but that she'll always crave more power and end up losing her mind like Carmilla, which means her existence will inevitably lead to feeling miserable. It's all about her, again.

Back to the point, that very line, that overly dismissing non-apology, shows how little Lenore is concerned about Hector's feelings: he wanted to be with her, even after cutting the finger where she forced the slave ring on him, really you couldn't have a purer declaration of love - and her response is basically "well I don't, bye". Girl even says, verbatim, that Carmilla's desire for power "ruined her life", as if Hector had been living in paradise ever since Carmilla barged her way into his life while looking for power. Isaac, of all people, had the decency to ask about how Hector's faring without a finger, while she, the very reason Hector had to mutilate himself, doesn't, because she's too busy drinking her sorrows away, because only her sorrows matter - when Hector cut off his finger, her main reaction was despair that she lost power over him and Isaac was now free to kill Carmilla. It's really hard to feel sorry for her suicidal intentions when she sounds and behaves so dismissively, and her suicide feels less like dictated by despair and more like she's running away from the consequences of her actions or, worse, from a few decades of a less than comfortable life.

And I'm supposed to be touched that she decides to look at Hector rather than the sun? It rings hollow, like many emotional moments in the show when it wants to wring tears out of you without putting in the necessary effort to build the necessary context - but unlike Dracula's "I'm killing my boy", which is simply less effective due to lack of concrete proof that he used to be a good father to Alucard, Lenore's final act feels like an active mockery after everything I pointed out.

(at least Lenore asks Hector "What will you do?" before sunning herself. This is the most interest she has ever shown in him as a person. Right before killing herself, something she knows will cause him grief, and after, as I mentioned, confirming she's not willing to support him anyway. peak romance)

So let's recap. How does Lenore show care for Hector? He keeps him in nice living conditions, as she promised: he can walk all around the castle, wear fancy clothes, do the work he likes, talk with other people, he's doing perfectly fine. She relies on him for emotional support, showing a modicum of trust. She's concerned for his safety: she "protects" him from Carmilla's ire at his stalling, and most noticeably she chooses to go to him and attempt to flee together instead of going to Carmilla when Isaac storms the castle. However, she shows no concern about his emotional state, dumping her own issues on him because he "listens to her", while never reciprocating the favor.

He's her pet. After all this time, Hector is still her damn pet: just because she doesn't call him "good boy" while on a leash anymore, doesn't mean the attitude has changed. Sure, you make sure your dog has all the comforts it needs, you might vent to it when you come home from a grueling day at work, and you make sure it doesn't run into traffic, but it's not like you're particularly interested in your dog's opinions or its life, right?

Everything, and I do mean everything Lenore does, ever since being introduced, screams of deep self-centeredness and lack of empathy. She only cares about herself, what she's going through, her status, her objectives, being respected, and most importantly having the upper hand in any situation. And she will trample over anything to get what she wants, and she will fold when she doesn't. I have shown more than enough proof of this. Her supposed "love for animals" is a mask to look, or feel, better than she is: and she will outright ignore any proof she is not as good as she believes to be.

tl;dr: Lenore is still loving Hector like a vampire would. I said it many times, but it bears repeating.

I genuinely love this line. I have quoted it many times. It is a very good interpretation of the way predators and abusers love, which is what vampires are. And I understand that the show didn't have the time to elaborate on this, but through Lenore, it could have given us so much food for thought.

Is Lenore really the kindest she could be? She took pity on Hector when he was dragged in the castle, she found a way to make him useful (in theory) despite her sisters' skepticism therefore allowing him to live, she kept her word when she promised him a comfortable life (and hopefully forgot about her promise to use him as a sex slave, the story conveniently ignores it), she relies on him for emotional support, and in the end she actively shows that he wants him to be safe from any harm. For someone like Hector, used to nothing but pain and rejection, these crumbs would look like a feast. But is this love? Do they even care about each other as people, or are they only each other's emotional crutches? Can you ask for more? Could Lenore do more? Are all the cruel, humiliating actions she took in S3 justifiable or understandable or forgivable due to her nature? Is she self-centered because she's a vampire, and therefore all she did is really her best love language, and this is why Hector, who has a similar love language shown in him reanimating dead animals to bind them to him through magic, never held all her previous abuse against her; or is she self-centered as a person, a flaw she never overcame, and Hector should seek the love he craves from someone else? Or, better yet, stop craving love, since it only made him suffer?

How human can she truly be? If she's nothing more than a vampire, then yes, what she did to Hector can only be read through the lens of a different species loving in a different way, but that would reduce her to the level of an unintelligent animal unable to rise above her instincts, and it would mean her efforts to be better than her species were for nothing. If she is more than a vampire like she so desperately wants to be, committing to the human values of pacifism and diplomacy that her kind scoffs at, then her behavior is as human as a toxic human can be, and condemnable.

Even better, Dracula of all people refutes Carmilla's claim. Carmilla herself mocked Dracula because he did what no vampire does with their human lover: he let Lisa free to go as she pleased, instead of turning her into a vampire or chaining her to the castle. Carmilla, used to men who take things from women, saw it as proof he didn't actually care about his "pet", but we as humans see it as genuine respect. Sure, after Lisa's death Dracula's brand of love is even more destructive than normal and his very plan of destroying mankind is disrespecting her memory, but not only the two had natural mutual chemistry when they just met, Dracula effectively loves like a human would. A severely unhinged human, but still, he never expresses the idea that he saw Lisa as his property. In this sense, Lenore doesn't go beyond the limits of her own species.

The show doesn't need to give us precise answers, but these questions do fit the general themes of the story, and they should have been hinted at.

But instead, we are meant to take Lenore's "goodness" at face value, with zero conflict. We know this, because Hector barely expresses himself in S4.

There is a noticeable lack of internal turmoil in him, and with all the screentime he got, most notably the montage in S4E2, he could have shown it. Imagine if he had developed the tic of fiddling with the ring: after six weeks, he still can't get used to this foreign object stuck on his finger (this would also be foreshadowing for his decision to cut it). Imagine if, in the library, we had a scene of him glimpsing outside, and then glancing at the ring, implying that he feels the desire to escape but knowing that he's trapped. Imagine a scene where, while bantering, he reaches for Lenore with his ringed hand, the scene putting an uncomfortable focus on it. Sure, they might be sassing and bantering and exchanging dick jokes, but it's an awkward, fragile façade, a warm genuine relationship all but made impossible by Lenore's past callousness.

Instead, the season politely removes any reminder that Hector has been living as a glorified slave after being intimately betrayed and dehumanized by someone he had grown to care about. Aside from not even forcing him to obey orders, the ring only briefly activates when he forges a Night Creature, and it looks like it hurts, but Hector doesn't linger on it because he has to take care of the creature: he doesn't express any sort of emotion over the fact that the sisters have taken even this one pleasure from him. And, as I said in the first part, he never speaks about himself with Lenore, because she's the only one who matters. There is no on-screen struggle to reconcile the Lenore who chooses to talk to him over her sisters, which indicates a moderate amount of intimacy, and the Lenore who smirked at his agony when she betrayed him mid-sex. One could think that he was mellowed out because he learned that Lenore is acting as a shield against Carmilla's anger, proving to him that she cares... but he learns it on-screen, six weeks after becoming their slave, therefore not explaining his friendly attitude with her in the dick jokes scene.

In fact, the one time he even dares to challenge Lenore for the cruel way she "solved his problem", he gets told more or less "you got your dick hard and wet so you have no right to complain," and he quietly relents to allow her to finish her sad vent, in what is clearly framed as wholesome banter. And, as an extra kick in the balls, he is appreciated for giving her the chance to keep complaining. This is what passes as ship tease! How isn't this enough proof that he, as a person, has never mattered, not just for Lenore but the story as a whole?

This one gesture is the closest time he gets to show inner turmoil, and it's still framed as character development for Lenore's sake, not his. That stump is the symbol of all the hardships Hector went through: he is giving Lenore the freedom that she herself took from him, that he had to regain by mutilating himself. Does he show any sign of being torn over this irony? No. This is nothing more than a romantic gesture. Hector grew more than Lenore did, but only enough for the show to paint her in the best light.

After all, unlike Isaac who was able to articulate how much he has come to appreciate life and how he's willing to live fully because he is a person worth living for himself, when Hector is asked what he wants, his answer is "I want to be left alone with Lenore" while looking with guilt and concern at his still bleeding stump. Hector's only desire is to soothe Lenore's hurt feelings like he has been doing ever since she raped him into a position of pet. This could have been painted as the depressing sign that Hector still hasn't grown from his instinct to crawl back towards the people who hurt him, or even as the result of his past tortures making him lose his will to live, and being confused on what to do with his life now that Isaac is giving him a second chance. But his emotions don't matter. This is meant to be seen as the proof that he loves Lenore so much, he wants her even without the binding of the ring.

A light criticism I have often read about Lenector in S4 is that they should have shown mending their relationship after Lenore's "scheme" (which is a nice word for what she did). My question is, why? Why can't it be treated like the Moral Event Horizon it is? Lenore doesn't show any sign that she was coerced into it or reluctant, and as I have proven there is zero regret in her actions and words. Lenore was a complacent part of the council, an important part even: unlike what the "Just the way Dracula lied to [Hector]" implies, Lenore was never tricked into collaborating by Carmilla, she was more than happy to help, and the sentiment she expresses in S4 is not "wow I did some fucked up shit for my sisters' sake" but "this plan is starting to feel inconvenient to me". Her kindness is hollow, and if Hector forgave her and slotted her in his category of "good people", it's only because his standards for basic decency are below hell, something that the show never addresses or lets him grow out of, only mocks him for.

To prove my point, there was the easiest compromise between "Hector setting the castle on fire and smashing Carmilla's and Lenore's skull with his hammer", which would have been cathartic but overall a sign of negative development, and him blithely loving his abuser: make him leave. Make him grow from a manchild hidden from the world to a brave man willing to face the world. Make him spare Lenore's life as appreciation for how she took care of him when no one would, but decide that he deserves better than what a vampire can give him.

But no, he isn't even granted this much dignity: his last shot in the entire series is him standing heartbroken next to Lenore's remains, stuck in the same castle Lenore forced him in, with no plans to build himself a better life (only writing a book about "his mistakes", which just feels spiteful at this point - he regrets his stupidity more than Isaac regrets the blood of innocents on his hands), with nothing left in his life isaac and whatever tentative friendship they could build doesn't count because hector routinely forgets about his existence because he only wanted to be with Lenore and he couldn't even have that. Fucking Dracula got a much more saccharine ending than he deserved.

But narrative cruelty aside, Hector's entire character revolves around Lenore, who in turn revolves around herself.

This is a profound narrative failure, from multiple angles. This is why I say that Hector effectively stops being a character in S3: his emotions and desires no longer matter unless it's for torture porn or painting him as stupid. This is why I cannot take seriously his big badass "redeeming" moment in S4E6, on top of him regressing morally and effectively only aiding Isaac who has hogged all the spotlight: he may have become smarter, but he doesn't have any significant character development. This is why I don't see the poignancy of him forgiving Lenore for taking advantage of him in the worst way she could have, or of him letting her go when she chooses death over him: it only looks like the same lack of spine that has fucked him over ever since his introduction (he could have trapped Lenore out of cruel mercy, but it's clear that it's just good-hearted mercy). This is why I don't see Lenore as a "good", nuanced person who went through character development and should have ended the story marrying Hector: she has depth (shown too little too late, but it's there), but it's completely negative depth, because the more I look inside her, the viler she gets.

And this could have been great! We could have had such a gripping story about the intricacies of abuse, how it's not just a man beating a woman, but yes it's made also of good parts, your abuser can still do good to you and you still deserve better than those scraps. Lenore and Hector's relationship could have been an intriguing discussion on morality, or the lack thereof, about the nuances of abuse and "kindness", the torn mixed feelings between anger and attachment, how being "human" doesn't mean being "good". In a well written story, Lenector would be one hell of a toxic, co-dependent relationship, built on necessity, shared misery, lies, mistrust, mutual harm, power games, and the eventual realization that they can only thrive if kept apart - if Lenore can even thrive, as a cursed undead doomed to only bring misery to the world and herself.

But S4 needed to be fluffy because S3 was the edgiest shit a 14 yo could write, and in its desperate attempt to write Lenector as yet another sassy cute couple like every straight couple in NFCV, the squandered potential and eagerness to forget about all the uncomfortable parts of their story in S3 becomes actively offensive, and I will never, ever understand what everyone sees in them, to the point that the arguments that Lenore is actually a good loving person honestly worry me.

There is a good story here, with a good villain and complex psychology. It's not the story presented on-screen, which is simplified, dishonest, and disgusting.

[thenightling]

Queer Horror

It's pride month so here is a (NOT complete) list of horror icons real and fictional who are of the LGBTQAI+ community. Writers / directors / Actors Oscar Wilde Clive Barker Caitlin R. Kiernan William Joseph Martin James Whale (director of Frankenstein) Ernest Thesiger (Doctor Pretorius in Bride of Frankenstein) Anthony Perkins Vincent Price David Geffen (producer of Interview with the vampire movie and Beetlejuice) Jonathan Frid (Dark Shadows) Louis Edmonds (Dark Shadows) Ed Wood Elvira (Casandra Peterson) Amanda Beares (Fright Night, 1985) Merritt Butrick (Fright Night Part 2) Roddy McDowall (Hell House, Fright Night, Fright Night: Part 2, and Carmilla) _________________________ Characters Mephisto (Faust, 1922) Countess Zeleska (Dracula's Daughter) Carmilla (The Vampire Lovers, 1970 and all film adapations of Carmilla) Louis, Lestat, Daniel Malloy, Armand (Interview with the vampire movie and show and The Vampire Chronicles book series) Claudia, Madeleine, Nicolas (Interview with the vampire TV series) Jerry Dandridge, Billy Cole, Peter Vincent, Evil Ed, and possibly Amy (Fright Night, original 1985 version) Regine and Belle (Fright Night part 2, 1988) Miriam Blaylock (The Hunger movie and novel by Whitley Streiber, along with its sequels) Marius (Queen of the damned movie and novels) Glen / Glenda (Seed of Chucky) Dracula (Marvel comics, Dario Argento's Dracula, Steven Moffat's Dracula, Frank Wildhorn's Dracula The musical) Alucard, Striga, Morana, (Castlevania) The Corinthian, Hal Carter, Wanda, Judy, Donna (Foxglove), Hazel, Alexander Burgess, Paul McGuire, Cluracaun, Mazikeen, Lucifer, Loki, Desire, Johanna Constantine, John Constantine, Rachel, Chantel, Zelda, Aristaeus the Satyr, Jim / Peggy, (Neil Gaiman's The Sandman) Echo, Ruin, Heather After (From Sandman spin-off comics) April Spink and Miriam Forcible (Coraline) Angela and Sera (Marvel comics) Sam Black Crow (American Gods) EVERYONE! - Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles EVERYONE! - Lost Girl (TV series)

Snow White (Sleeper and the Spindle by Neil Gaiman) Dorian Gray, Lord Henry Wotton, and Basil Hallward (The Picture of Dorian Gray) Captain Shaekespeare (Stardust) Loki (all incarantions) John Constantine (All versions) Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens) Renfield (Original Dracula novel, speculated by scholars) Mephistopheles, Faust, and Satan - Dr. Faustus by Christopher Marlowe and Faust by Goethe. Carmilla and Laura (All versions of Carmilla) Eli and Oskar (Let the Right One In) Lily and The mermaid Queen (She-Creature, 2001 version) Radu (Dark Prince: The True Story of Dracula) Lexington (Disney's Gargoyles, not canon until the comics) Dorothy and Ruby AAK Red (Once Upon a Tme) Tara and Willow (Buffy The Vampire Slayer TV series) Lorne (Angel) Ethan, Dorian Gray, Angelique, and Professor Lyle (Penny Dreadful) Thelma Bates (Hex) Joe (Midnight Texas) Skully (Scary Godmother) Mitch (ParaNorman) Henry Fitzroy (Blood Ties) Thomas Jerome Newton (The Man who fell to Earth) Any Clive Barker character NOT confirmed to be straight is presumed LGBTQAI+. There are many, many more but my fingers are starting to ache and these are the ones I could think of off the top of my head.

[coffeeandmagicaltales]

The Auror&The Devil part 11

McxAesop Sharp (ANGST, 18+ mentioned sex scene, TRAUMA, DISABILITY)

When Morana crossed the threshold, following one of the nuns, she was struck by a familiar, peculiar scent of this place that hadn't changed over the years... Slightly musty, reminiscent of the scent some churches had: a mixture of stale dust, wood, and dampness; mixed with the smell of burnt milk. Similar to Hogwarts, there was the echo of children's voices, but this time dominated by the cries of toddlers who had their room on the ground floor. Children were running in the corridors, which were much cleaner than before, carpeted, and the walls had a pleasant beige color, far from the awful, dirty gray that Morana remembered. She glanced at Aesop, feeling him trembling and squeezing her arm a bit tighter.

Well, she hadn't warned him that the orphanage was a grim sight, and visiting it was rather a depressing experience. Too accustomed to the atmosphere here, she hadn't even thought about it and regretted needlessly subjecting Sharp to stress.

Just past the gate, where the guard had let them in, Aesop had already started to be deeply affected by the sight of so many children, some really tiny, with all kinds of disabilities. Some blind, leaning on canes, others with facial features altered by some deformation, and still others with mental impairments, behaving differently from the rest of the group... Well, it was rare for a family to leave a healthy child here, and even if they did, it quickly found a new home. Others, like Morana, marked by an ugly scar, had been here for many years... And often, upon reaching adulthood, they ended up on the streets, especially if they were unable to work.

Sharp's eyes were glassy, trying to focus on the carpet, completely overwhelmed by his emotions and the sight of human suffering.

"Aesop..." Morana whispered with a concerned tone. "You can wait for me outside... I'll take care of what needs to be done and come back."

He shook his head and gently squeezed her hand tightly wrapped around his arm. Deep down, he knew that if he didn't feel her delicate, assuring grip every time he trembled more, he would probably faint. The scent of this place too strongly stirred up memories from his time at St. Mungo's hospital...

The nun turned into a side corridor, where there were no children anymore, and pointed to the wooden benches facing each other, then instructed them to wait for the superior. They took their seats in complete silence, occasionally interrupted by muffled, distant voices of children.

A faint light seeped through a small window, struggling against the engulfing darkness of the room.

"Mora..." Aesop spoke up, gathering his thoughts. The words were heavy on his throat, and his deep voice trembled. "I'm so sorry."

Surprised, she turned her gaze towards him. He had a sad, sympathetic look, tears glistening in his eyes... He didn't need to say anything more; Morana swallowed her tears as she realized how traumatic the memories from this place were. She had always denied it, in her memories she looked at everything from the perspective of a third person, as if all of this had happened to some little Morana, not her. She felt like something inside her was about to break, breathing quickly, her only desire was somehow to squeeze herself onto the narrow bench between Aesop and the wall, nestle into his strong arm.

For a fraction of a moment, their eyes met, and the world around them seemed to stop completely for a couple of moments.

Aesop was surprised to notice that he could only hear the beating of his own heart and his own slightly accelerated breath.

Morana, sitting across from him in the beam of colorful light from the stained glass window, was surrounded by shimmering specks of dust in the air, flickering like moon dust. Her bright eyes looked at him with such trust... Tenderness... Gentlessness. Yes, the way no one had ever looked at him like that, certainly no woman, even those he had been in a relationship with... Simultaneously pleasing and embarrassing him, it flooded his mind with a wave of questions. "Am I imagining this? Why is she looking at me like that? What's happening? How is this possible?"

A shiver ran down his spine and he felt terribly guilty, as suddenly amidst the torrent of uncertainty, one thing became very clear to him.

She was the most beautiful creature. Her and no one else.

Not only physically, Merlin, if he said he didn't like the strands of hair escaping constantly from her bun, the constellations of freckles on her sun-kissed cheeks, eyes shining like diamonds, all the grimaces on her face and small gestures she wasn't even aware of... he would be a terrible liar. He felt like Morana had something about her that made everyone she met like her, and there was nothing strange about it, because she had extraordinary beauty.

But that was just superficial... He knew he had once been handsome himself, and years of hard work, stress, and, let's not kid ourselves, his age, had wrinkled his skin... and surely added a bit more wisdom to his brain... Looks were just a temporary delight, and he painfully realized on his own skin how many beautiful women he knew suddenly became jealous, spiteful witches, devoid of interests, passions, without the joy that life gives... Morana was passionate about the world. Trifles fascinated her, her desire to help others determined her, she sought knowledge, loved adventures getting into troubles, cared for others, supported... It never ceases to be attractive in people, and he didn't think he would ever stop admiring it in her...

Mora noticed a sparkle in his wise eyes, the one that always made her heart beat stronger, fill her with courage. Was he aware that he could make her find strength within herself, that thanks to him she felt like she would never feel tiredness, despite many tears, and even if she fell - she would rise again?

He sent her a gentle smile, so soothing.

She felt hot tears on her cheeks and was about to say something when she noticed out of the corner of her eye a shadow that moved behind Aesop, and she exclaimed, scared, Sharp jumped up and shielded her with his arm, aiming his wand at the bench.

A small dark-haired girl dressed in a gray smock crawled out from under the bench and rolled onto her back giggling, her face turning purple. Aesop rolled his eyes and, hiding his wand, sat back down in his place, and Morana, taking a deep breath, slumped back into hers.

The girl suddenly, without apology, before Sharp could react, grabbed his left knee and leaned on it as she stood up, causing him an uncomfortable twinge of pain. He hissed, furrowing his brows and glaring menacingly into the dark eyes of the three-year-old.

"Krívaš? Máte drevenú nohu? Si pirát? ”(Are you limping? Do you have a wooden leg? Are you a pirate?) she asked, smiling widely and bouncing like a small, excited ball. Morana analyzed her words for a moment and stifled a laugh. Aesop froze in place and took a breath as the girl scrambled onto his lap and lightly touched his scar with her sticky hand, leaving a gray mark of dirt from the floor on his cheek.

"Help," his frightened expression said, but Morana was completely disarmed by the sight.

"I see you've found yourself a friend," she chuckled, then added, "Sometimes that's how it is with children from the orphanage; they choose someone to bond with for life."

"Don't even joke. That's how wands work, not children. Ouch..." he muttered, sending her a threatening look. "Ouch!" he hissed as she poked his knee with a small shoe, trying to reach his hair, which seemed to fascinate her.

"Raz mal vážnu nehodu a veľmi ho bolí noha, nie je pirát, len čarodejník, ako ja. A ak ho neprestanete otravovať, urobíme z vás žabu!" (He had a serious accident once, and his leg has been hurting ever since. He's not a pirate, just a wizard like me. And if you don't stop bothering him, we'll turn you into a frog!) Morana addressed the girl.

"Čarodejník?" (A wizard?) the girl exclaimed, her mouth agape, unsure if out of fear or admiration, and collapsed onto Aesop's knees. "Ako Baba Yaga žijúca v ruinách?" (Like Baba Yaga living in the ruins?)

"What did you tell her?"

"That you don't have a wooden leg, you're not a pirate, but a wizard, and if she doesn't stop bothering you, we'll turn her into a frog," Morana shrugged, a sly smile dancing on her lips. Aesop analyzed her words for a moment and shook his head sternly.

"You're worse than me when it comes to dealing with kids," he confessed, rolling his eyes.

"Môžeš mi ukázať mágiu? Prosím!" (Can you show me magic? Please!) the girl squeezed out, bouncing again like a little ball, causing a grimace to appear on Sharp's face, his knee crying out in pain, begging for mercy. To his surprise, Morana pulled out her wand and aimed it at the girl.

"You're not planning to do magic in front of a Muggle, are you?"

"Shhh!" Morana silenced him and cleared her throat. "Abracadabra, hocus pocus, magical spell, the girl will rise in the air."

Morana winked at Aesop, who only understood her intentions after a few seconds. He grabbed the three-year-old around the waist and lifted her into the air, soaring her up to the ceiling. She squealed and laughed, once again turning a lovely shade of purple as Sharp effortlessly floated her above Morana's head, who tickled her stomach and occasionally swooped towards the floor, then abruptly flew back up to the ceiling.

Suddenly, they heard a muffled crack and looked towards the floor, where a tiny wooden leg in a shoe appeared. Morana and Aesop exchanged glances and gently lowered the girl to the ground, supporting her as she carefully put on her prosthesis.

"Zdeňka!" the nun who had just entered the corridor, yelled and immediately, rather brutally, grabbed the girl's wrist and dragged her away.

"Warten Sie, bitte zieh nicht an ihr!" Sharp muttered in German, glaring at the nun, who pretended not to hear him.

"She didn't do anything wrong!" Morana raised her voice, but the nun only snorted,

"Už vie, čo urobila! Od rána uteká a skrýva sa v kútoch!" (She knows what she did! She's been running and hiding in corners since morning!) She pointed a finger at the door at the end of the corridor and barked at the girl. "Zdeňka, pochod k sestre Vespasii, hneď! Ideš na obed!"(Zdeňka, go to Sister Vespazia, now! It's time for lunch!)

"Nie som Zdeňka, som Sidónia!" (I'm not Zdeňka, I'm Sidónia), the three-year-old hissed, breaking free from the woman's grip and defiantly jutting out her chin.

"Ticho! Si uzemnená, mladá dáma!..." (Quiet! You're grounded, young lady!) The nun wagged her finger at her.

"Lass sie bitte in Ruhe." (Please leave her alone) Sharp growled, and only then did the nun let go and gently pushed Sidonia to leave.

The girl looked back at Aesop and Morana with sad eyes, then shuffled off in the direction indicated by the nun.

"I know English, but only a little. Please follow me, as you can see, I don't have much time with these little devils," the nun grumbled, turning on her heel and gesturing for Dimm and Sharp to follow her.

"These are not devils, just ordinary children," Morana barked in a tone so eerie that Aesop felt a shiver down his spine, but he completely agreed with her and planned to speak up on this matter soon. However, he first grabbed Morana's hand, squeezing it tightly in a fist and giving her a slight squeeze as a sign to let it go.

"I don't think shouting was necessary here. She just wanted to play with us..." He muttered.

"That's the problem, Mr..."

"Sharp, Aesop Sharp," he hissed.

"...Mr. Sharp," she retorted, leading them upstairs after climbing the rather steep stairs, where Aesop leaned on Mrana's arm. Both had equally disgusted expressions, and they exchanged knowing glances as she lectured them about the difficulty of working with Sidónia and the other orphans.

"Oh, what an Old Haggard Owl, worse than Mrs. Scribner," Sharp whispered.

"I know, I'd give her some of Gareth's tonic to drink," Morana replied in his ear.

"Heh, maybe I have a strong purgation potion with me."

Morana jerked his arm. "What... Where from?"

"You never know when you might need it," he replied innocently, lightly brushing against Morana's side.

"Ugh, and I couldn't give Mr. Dimm any medicine, could I?" she snorted indignantly, Sharp chuckled quietly.

"I'll just add a drop to hers tea,"

Morana's mouth fell open in outrage, "Absolutely not!"

"You were more than willing a moment ago..."

"I was speaking purely hypothetically a moment ago!..."

"And I hypothetically have quite a strong potion with me."

A faint light filled the small room - sunbeams struggled to penetrate through the tiny window surrounded by stacks of documents. In front of them - rummaged through the drawer of the desk was the supervisor, Sister Illuminata, whose rosaries and medals with images of saints rattled with every slightest movement.

Aesop wasn't accustomed to Muggle beliefs, and the number of images of saints staring directly at him, about which he knew absolutely nothing, greatly unnerved him. Sister Illuminata pulled out a stack of papers and licked her fingers before casually opening the folder. If the grimace on her face didn't already indicate to Morana and Aesop that she had no desire to deal with their matter, from time to time disgusted sounds and sighs escaped her lips, as if handling a few parchments cost her a great deal of effort.

"There's nothing more, Mrs. Morana," she finally spoke and leaned back comfortably in her chair.

"Nothing? Any details about the person who found me?" "Ugh, I said- nothing. My predecessor passed away five years ago, perhaps she would have known more, but unfortunately. Once a week, we get five new children like you, if we were to examine their past more closely... heh..." She waved her hand. "This is a modest shelter surviving thanks to the donations of our patrons. The Austro-Hungarian Empire has many orphanages under its care, they are bursting at the seams, documents get lost, or simply are not recorded. When I arrived, I found pure chaos, and only now have I managed to restore order to the center. Money was wasted without apparent reason before... With God's help, I collected donations, renovated everything, provided the children with better clothing, medical care, sent my sisters to a culinary school to learn how to prepare healthy meals, also taught them medicne," Sister Illuminata confessed, taking a deep breath and adding in a somewhat more pleasant tone. "I'm sorry. I can't do anything more. I also believe that sometimes it's better not to know one's past but to enjoy what one has now and build the future."

Morana lowered her head, and at that moment, she felt Aesop's cool hand cover hers. His touch was an unspoken promise that they would continue to search.

The sun was slowly setting as Morana and Madame Niffleur, after lunch eaten at a nearby pub, slowly made their way to a small inn slightly away from the center of Nitra. Since leaving the orphanage, they hadn't spoken much to each other, lost in thought. With heavy hearts, they left those who remained behind the gates of the orphanage; Sister Illuminata didn't allow them to say goodbye to Sidó-Zdenka, as the girl didn't handle farewells well, and the nuns couldn't afford chaos with such a large number of children, which her hysteria would cause, and other children, seeing someone showing interest in her and not in them, might start bullying her. Morana understood these rules, and Aesop didn't quite agree with them, and despite Morana's explanations, he walked even more sullen and gloomy than usual.

Another unpleasant surprise awaited them on arrival. Aesop didn't need to understand Slovak to guess from Morana's expression and her cheeks as red as poppies what she had heard from the innkeeper. Madame Niffleur rolled her eyes and very reluctantly nodded in agreement with everything, because her leg and fatigue were starting to take their toll. They paid and received the key, and in the tiny room, just as Aesop had anticipated, there was a double bed.

"Well..." Madame started very shyly in Aesop's voice, fiddling with the handle of her tiny bag, thinking feverishly about how to resolve the situation. "Let's do this: I'll go down to the bar for an hour, have a beer, and you prepare for bed during that time. I'll come when you've already turned off the lamp and comfortably settled... Hmmm... I have a few moonstones; they should be enough for a mattress for me. And please don't argue with the older lady, because you'd probably want to give me the bed, but no way, nothing will happen to me if I sleep on the floor," she added in a stern tone.

"I'll add my stones to yours, we'll lay the mattresses on top of each other to make it easier for you to lie down. We probably don't have enough for a bed." Morana ordered, and before Aesop could open his mouth to say anything, the woman waved her wand and conjured up a quite neat and thick mattress. Madame Niffleur conjured up another one, and smiling warmly, she said in Aesop's voice, "I'll be back soon; if anything happens, you'll find me in the bar downstairs, by the largest tankard." She turned around, delicately placing her tiny feet in heels on the wobbly planks and hobbled away, leaning on her lace parasol.

Morana sat on the edge of the bed and slowly began to undress herself. She furrowed her brow, feeling the overwhelming fatigue of her body, and half-naked, she fell onto the bed, simply breathing heavily for a moment, inhaling the pleasant scent of the bedding. She heard only the ticking of the cuckoo clock hanging on the wall, the boards creaking under the feet of other guests living here, a willow branch gently tapping against the window... With difficulty, she raised her hands to push herself away from the mattress and even turn onto her back... She hadn't felt such terrible exhaustion in a long time, and without the strength to even get up, she stared blankly at the wooden ceiling, her thoughts racing in circles, showing her the orphanage she felt she had visited with Aesop an entire era ago, not just two hours ago... A surreal feeling. That smell, running children, familiar corridors...

Suddenly it dawned on her that these were actually her first memories. Someone, in good or bad faith, robbed her of everything that was before, robbed her of her childhood, her identity, and made Morana born as she knew her now - a person who from the moment she appeared in the forest, forever seeks. Home, closeness, love, parents... And all this seems more and more like a fairy tale. Something that doesn't really exist, something she will never be able to maintain in her life because it's just an illusion... Deep down, she believed that when she found her past... Everything would change. She would find stable ground on which she could finally build her life... Stop running away.

For now, everything was chaos.

She reached for her wand and turned it over in her hand for a moment, looking at it, until finally she waved it lightly, and a silvery ribbon of ancient magic emerged from its interior.

It's funny. The more she searched, the more questions she asked... The more her life complicated, giving birth to more puzzles, and apparent moments of peace and fulfillment led astray. Those who were supposed to show her the way, created more confusion than usefulness, she could see that perfectly now. The Guardians, especially Professor Rackham, were hiding something. Izydora, even though she strayed, had a lot of truth in her. Fear had completely blinded them.

Hmm. Morana's magic could take away pain, but... it didn't disappear completely. Izydora could only store it, accumulate it. The pain still existed, growing, becoming more like black magic than something completely opposite... And in the end, she began to feel almost divine power, forgetting that she was just a scientist. There was no divine power, only her pride.

Morana's eyes sparkled... What if... she found a way to turn pain and suffering into something neutral using ancient magic? Make even curses, like the one Anna or Aesop carries, dissipate?

There was only one problem... What Ominis always said - one should not toy with black magic because it always required some form of sacrifice, often blood. Yet despite everything, Morana wanted to study it, feeling that something was pulling her towards it...

Lately, Ominis had reacted very poorly to any mention of Durmstrang. She felt that despite his complete infatuation, there was an invisible barrier between them, something she couldn't understand... Ominis didn't want her to ever touch black magic again, didn't even want her to think about studying it, didn't want to let her leave Hogwarts... The closer they got to each other, the more his fear for her safety and future choked her. Reluctantly, she admitted to herself that lately she felt like a bird in a cage with him. She snorted angrily at herself that when she was finally close to him, when her dream of his delicate fingers touching her bare breasts, tenderness, the fire that his kisses ignited in her, and the wonderful weight of his body, came true... Now, all that feeling, teetering on the brink of madness, which she adored a few weeks ago when they first made love, was fading.

Yes... She probably seeks in him something he is unable to give her.

That thought baffled her, frustrated her, angered her, because he was the fulfillment of her dreams: a handsome and intelligent boyfriend... How could she want to reject that!? How could she be so selfish!?

And yet, the thought of staying in Hogwarts only for Ominis... No... That would be senseless. She couldn't stay. She sighed deeply and feeling the pain within her, she curled up into a ball. Ominis was completely different than she thought... than she wanted him to be. He preferred silence, peace, and adventures only on the pages of books. She knew him long enough to know that she wouldn't find in him a companion for her escapades, someone equally fascinated by dark secrets as she was, he often didn't trust her, fearing to lose her as he did Sebastian, who was still in the hospital... And yet she convinced herself that it was different.

Hot tears streamed down Morana's cheeks. She felt completely helpless, overwhelmed.

Dragging herself, she washed her sore body in a basin and quickly changed into pajamas, turning off the light and sinking under the covers.

Again, she stared at the ceiling, which now in the pale light of the moon filtering through the smallest cracks in the lace curtains, had a completely gray color. The clock continued to tick steadily, and the chirping of crickets joined the tapping of branches, giving a concert somewhere in the nearby meadows.

Suddenly, Morana's heart beat faster.

She heard familiar, irregular steps, and immediately after them, timid knocking on the door.

"Can I come in, Mora?"

Aesop waited for confirmation, as if for a blessing, barely holding himself up from exhaustion. He was sure that a dose of hops would soon lull him to sleep, and the thought of those two sad mattresses waiting for him was the most wonderful thing.

"Please!" Morana squinted her eyes, blinded by the beam of light that came from the corridor. The dark figure of the woman entered the room, bringing with her a gust of cool air and the smell of beer mixed with Aesop's cologne.

He changed into his usual form and closed the door behind him out of habit, securing it with a few stronger protective spells. He didn't care about conventions, that a woman was sleeping nearby, that they were unmarried, and blah blah blah... He only saw his two mattresses and smiled broadly, hobbling towards them as quietly and as quickly as he could. With a wave of his wand, he summoned from Madame Niffleur's bag his favorite niffler-shaped pillow his mum gave him on his 10th birthday, an exquisitely soft blanket, and a sheet, which arranged themselves in their place, making him emit a muffled chuckle.

"Sleepy time, finally!" he thought with delight and shrugged off his coat, not caring that it lay in disarray on the floor. He pushed it away with his foot so as not to trip over it in the morning, and his jacket and vest followed in the footsteps of the coat.

Morana didn't quite know where to look... She shouldn't be surprised that Sharp was undressing - he wouldn't sleep in a coat!... Yet she was completely surprised by this. She looked to the left, toward the door, and commanded herself not to move... She heard his heavy boots fall onto the floor; his steps on the soft carpet, the boards singing under his weight. The fabric rustled under his fingers as he untied his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt one by one, until after a while, the shirt fell to the ground. Curiosity began to devour her.

"No, Morana, don't look, DON'T." she scolded herself internally.

In the faint light, she didn't see much, barely the outline of his broad, well-built shoulders, the fair skin of his back marked with numerous scars, bites, and burns... Mementos that his missions had left on him. He reached for his belt. The detachable buckle let out a click that made Morana suddenly feel a wave of heat and stiffen... It was the moment when she definitively should have looked away...

"What the hell are you doing!?" she scolded herself in her thoughts, but there was such chaos in them that she could barely separate reality from her fantasy and wasn't entirely sure if she wasn't dreaming awake.

A drop of sweat trickled down her forehead as she saw, in the dim light, the shapely buttocks of Aesop hidden behind a thin veil of underwear and his graceful legs, narrow hips, the fair skin glistening in the silvery light... and the scar on his left leg, snaking out like a serpent from under the bandage wrapped around his knee. His skin on the upper part of his calf and lower thigh was jagged, some muscles slightly altered in shape, while others seemed to be missing altogether. He carefully untied the knot of the fabric and, summoning a salve from Madame's bag, began gently massaging the ointment into his knee, causing the muscles in his arms to tense and eliciting a very soft groan. It must have hurt.

"Accio dittany!" he whispered, and immediately a dried plant appeared in his hand, which he applied to his skin and wrapped with a bandage. For a moment, he suppressed the pain, and when it subsided, he put on his pajamas and, with a groan, simply collapsed onto the mattresses. He purred with satisfaction and settled comfortably.

Morana tried to control her thoughts, which raced through her mind like a flock of startled sheep. She clenched her eyelids.

"Satisfied!?" she scolded herself in her thoughts. "What did that mean!? Idiot! Idiot, idiot..."

Her stream of thoughts, which dangerously began to veer towards her previous dreams with every word, took her to places she wanted to forget. The nudity of Aesop's body submerged in water, his wet, glistening skin, and the droplets of water creeping over it, the steam of hot air rising from his open mouth... The golden flames shining in his dark eyes... That damn dream... And suddenly her memories of intimate moments with Ominis were distorted, as if some evil spell had touched them. Aesop Sharp gently pressed his body against hers, touching her breasts, his tongue sliding over her nipples, causing her true ecstasy, writhing with pleasure ignited by his kisses, entwining his legs with hers.

"Enough," she whispered aloud in fear, yet her thoughts drowned in what she saw and felt... Felt... The hardness between her legs, which began to rub rhythmically against her vulva, sinking deeper and deeper between the folds of her skin, teasing her clitoris. Aesop emitted soft moans, looking straight into her eyes, his pupils inflamed with desire and... Admiration for her. Love. "Really, can I? Will you allow me?" he whispered, panting, his voice mixing with her heavy breathing and soft moans as his penis slid down, waiting for her word to enter her... One wish.

"Enough, enough, enough!" she shouted and sprang up from her place, awakened from the dream. Her heart pounded; for a moment, she didn't know where she was.

The pair of dark eyes looked at her with concern and apprehension from beneath disheveled brown hair.

"Are you okay, Mora? Having those prophetic nightmares again?" Aesop whispered and threw the blanket aside, as if he wanted to come to her aid.

"No, no... I'm just exhausted, it was just a regular nightmare," she lied and lay back on the pillows, breathing deeply. Merlin, she was terribly embarrassed... Ashamed, she covered her face with her hand and submerged herself under the duvet, trying to ignore the wetness between her legs and control the heat that engulfed her body. He wanted to reassure her, thinking she had had some horrors in her dreams, and her imagination had simply gotten out of control. "I'm pathetic... He's a good man, has such a good heart, and I'm making up some... depraved nonsense! How could I, he's my teacher!? What's happening to me?" she scolded herself again in her thoughts and almost burst into tears.

"Hmm," came the response in the darkness, and she heard the rustle of the blanket he covered himself with. For a moment, there was silence, but Aesop decided to say something since she was already awake. "It's hard for me to fall asleep... I wasn't prepared today for what I saw at the orphanage... heh.. I've seen so much suffering in my life, but those children... I can't stop thinking about them, especially about that little girl... What was her name?... Zde... Zdenka?"

"Zdeňka," Morana corrected him, clearing her throat, pleased that her mind could focus on a different topic. "But she didn't like that name, she preferred to be called Sidónia. She argued about it with the nun."

"You know... She reminded me a bit of... you. Anyway, I imagine little Morana like this: dirty, unruly, talkative... heh... I don't like children... Sidó is quite charming... I wonder what happened to her... If she could find a family for herself?... Maybe I'll ask around my friends if they'd be willing to take her home... Sorry, I'm just thinking out loud..." he sighed deeply and adjusted himself on the mattress, which suddenly became uncomfortable.

Morana felt gloomy.

"Aesop..." she began quietly. "Maybe what I'll say will seem brutal to you, but if she had both legs... no... she wouldn't be there. It's possible that she would end up in someone's home, or maybe... " She paused for a moment and took a deep breath before continuing. She carried on. "I would like a better fate for her, wholeheartedly... And for everyone else, but people can be cruel. It often happened that one of us became a slave... That's... why I ran away that day, hid among the barrels, and covered myself with hops. I don't remember ever crying harder than then, begging for help... for this nightmare to end. I don't want anything like that to happen to her, and maybe the lack of her leg will spare her a lot of suffering, and maybe bring a lot as well... It's hard to predict..." She smiled at the memory of her defiant expression when she talked back to the nun. "...she's indeed charming, it would be good to help her somehow."

"How exactly did you escape back then?" Aesop became interested.

"Hmmm... I don't remember exactly. Everything happened so quickly... Father Horst wanted to get rid of me for quite some time because I caused trouble. I overheard him arranging with the factory owner, somewhere on the outskirts of Vienna, the bastard already had several orphans taken from Horst's shelter, cheap labor. The criteria for the child he wanted to take were complete limbs and at least average intelligence... Well... The guy often came for the "new" ones because the "old" ones, as he claimed, "disappeared"...

"Fucking hell..." Aesop growled, feeling a lump in his throat. He would tear those people apart with his bare hands.

"...When he came for me..." Morana smiled proudly. "...I bit his finger so hard that I could taste his blood in my mouth, punched him between the legs, and ran away. I might have even used magic unconsciously to open the door..."

Aesop chuckled.

"You... I'll never stop admiring you for that..." he laughed, impressed by the lesson the little girl gave her tormentor, but then he sobered up. Morana felt a strange bitterness hearing those words... She didn't think that someone who had just drowned in erotic thoughts was worth anything, especially admiration. "Sometimes I wonder how much your character was shaped by the environment, and sometimes... Sometimes I think there's just something untamed, feral in you... a will for freedom, that incredible empathy, but also danger for anyone who turns out to be your enemy... Qualities that ancient goddesses wouldn't be ashamed of. Femininity... Pure magic..." He cleared his throat and changed the subject, feeling his cheeks redden. "I don't know if you've already planned what we'll do tomorrow... how we'll start the search?"

"No..." she confessed, blushing. Her stupid brain was busy doing other things. "I'm not sure what to do now. I guess I'll need a detective's help..." she joked, feeling a lightness in her heart.

"Former detective..." Aesop corrected and continued. "I suggest we start tomorrow by finding a place where we can access the local newspaper... It's a small town, some unusual event must have been reported... Any gossip or urban legend in this case can become a clue."

"The library?"

"For example. That's where we'll start... And now, sleep... Mo."

Morana felt a pleasant warmth in her heart when Aesop uncertainly used her nickname.

"Goodnight, Aesop... Nifflery dreams." she added, stifling a giggle when she noticed in the corner of her eye his pillow.

She only heard a grumpy grunt, and then only his steady, deep breath occasionally interrupted by a snore.

The last thought that crossed her mind before she completely drifted away was: "Why did he really come here with me?"

As soon as the first rays of sunlight tickled Aesop's face, immediately waking him up, he regretted agreeing to sleep with Morana in the same room. Darkness no longer covered him, and he got up as quickly as he could, stumbling over his own feet, and breathed a sigh of relief only after tying his tie.

He glanced at Morana.

She was sleeping in a tangle of pillows and sheets, her hair in complete mess. The bright colors of the pillowcases, her dark hair and olive complexion, the lights reflected from the water jug on bedside table dancing on her freckled face and slightly smudged makeup... Despite her imperfections, she was like carved from the most expensive marble. She snored and murmured "potatoes" in her sleep. Aesop burst out laughing, unable to control himself. How lovely was she?

He quietly approached her and wiped her delicate lips, whispering her favorite snacks with a tissue pulled from his pocket. At the last moment, he refrained from brushing off the stray lock of hair from her scar. He shouldn't.

He furrowed his brows, the smile faded from his face, afraid that he had allowed himself too much. Quickly, he wrote a note for Morana that he was waiting for her downstairs and hastily drank a portion of the polyjuice potion before leaving.

"Where did Madame come from?" Morana whispered, sitting next to the old woman who was browsing through a Muggle book with interest, which she pulled from one of the hundreds of shelves. The sun looked gently through the round windows of the library, and the smell of dust and parchment hung in the air. The librarian was quite busy, and they had to wait for her to bring the newspapers from the archive. "I guess you never told me about it, did you?"

"Hmm?" he muttered, completely absorbed in reading about machine operation in a sewing factory, leaning closer to Morana. He chuckled and put the book on the desk in front of him. "During my three-year training, we were given a task to assume an alter ego for 8 hours and obtain a certain key hidden within Gringotts Bank's premises without arousing suspicion. We had 2 months to prepare. Since I'm a master at weighing polyjuice potion, the choice was easy... As you can see, I've made many improvements to it... at the cost of my voice, though... but I still consider it an outstanding mixture..." he said immodestly, looking sideways at Morana, a mischievous spark gleaming in his eyes, while she gave him a "sarcastic" smile and rolled her eyes. She loved his self-distance, those silly boasts, worthy of a third-year student. "Everyone in my group came up with something: there were aging and rejuvenating spells, shape-shifting, some were animagi... I'll be honest, I never did well with transfiguration, so I had to come up with something I was familiar with, so I went for potions... nobody wanted to take them because polyjuice works very briefly." he shrugged and added, mocking the voices of his colleagues. "They said: 'Aesop, what have you come up with?' 'Aesop, you've lost your mind!' 'Aesop this, Aesop that.' It annoyed me terribly and perhaps motivated me to a few experiments, and when the potion was ready, I decided to take the least expected form, one that was even unknown to me. I came up with the idea to use floo powder and go to a small, Muggle town in France where I once got lost with my mom and dad on vacation, I ran to the local hairdresser and collected the last client's hair when nobody was looking. It turned out at home that it was an old lady, whom I baptized Madame Zenobia Niffleur. She reminded me of my beloved aunt who infected me with love for nifflers, my dad's sister, who died a few years earlier. I have her hat pin, the rest of Madame's outfit is my invention. I observed the behavior of ladies in Madame's age, I even joined their wizard chess club and slowly built Niffleur. Well, when the day of the exam came, only I passed it." He finished the story with a broad smile.

"Wait a minute..." Morana blinked, surprised by the sudden end of the story, and couldn't believe she let it go. "But how?... How did you do it?" She started asking, grabbing the old woman's arm and shaking it lightly, looking at him imploringly.

"Well... Most people thought that to remain unnoticed, you had to behave quietly... Mistake. Sometimes the best camouflage is a show. Madame caused such a scene that the hallway was dirty, and she was poorly treated by a cashier, that the goblins brought her the key in jumps, just to stop her from bossing around and making a fuss... That's all... Others finished the exam with their tails between their legs, the goblins quickly sniffed out the deceit...

"Oh... I'd love to see that." Morana slumped in her chair, regretting she couldn't see it with her own eyes, and for a moment, she was even ready to beg Aesop to bring back the memory from the Pensieve and let her see it. She was incredibly proud. "You're amazing!" She confessed, which embarrassed Madame Niffleur, and the awkward situation was saved by the librarian bringing a stack of newspapers. She threw them on the table in front of them and left without a word. Morana jumped up and began to feverishly flip through them, looking for a date close to her disappearance. There was nothing interesting: information about a planned fireworks show for the New Year... a two-headed goat born on some farm... obituaries with no one who died unexpectedly... plans for fairs for the coming year. Madame cleared her throat, seeing Morana losing her enthusiasm, disappointed. Aesop uncertainly laid his hand on hers and spoke very quietly, carefully choosing his words.

"Morana... Like I told you before... You don't always find what you're looking for right away... Solving cases often took me many months, and the harder ones took years..."

Morana jumped up and ran outside. She huddled somewhere to the side of the building, and Madame slowly approached her.

"Why can't we find anything?! Can't we use, I don't know, Revelio, some spell, anything!?" Morana snapped. "Damn it, how frustrating!!!"

"Hmm, we just have to keep looking..." Aesop said calmly.

"I don't fucking feel like looking anymore." Morana muttered, her head buried in her arms, barely understandable.

"I'll tell you a secret..." Madame murmured and very cautiously sat down next to her on the ground. "You'd be a terrible detective, Mo."

"All the puzzles at Hogwarts were easier because there were clues, but there's nothing here! Not even a single clue!..." she hissed in her defense.

"And maybe they didn't require patience?... Hm?" Mora looked at Madame with big, sad eyes. "...Probably, they required to whack something hard with Depulso, right?" he winked, and Morana couldn't be angry anymore. She smiled faintly and wiped her nose.

"They required Accio sometimes, excuse me." she muttered in a mock offended tone.

"Oh, my apologies." Aesop chuckled and adjusted his fancy hat, standing up with difficulty. He reached out to Morana. She pulled herself up and stood on her own two feet. For a moment, they stood like this, holding each other's hands, and Madame wiped away a tear running down Mora's cheek. "Oh, my heart always breaks when I see you crying..." Aesop whispered in a velvety tone.

"OOOOO! ZLODEJ!!!" (THIEF!) a woman's scream cut through the air, and there was a commotion on the stalls nearby, and from the chaos of dust, feathers, and gawkers, a figure of a small dark-haired tiny girl limping on a wooden leg emerged, clutching some trinket in her hand. She looked back, not noticing the older lady in the purple dress, and collided with her, and the trinket rolled on the ground.

Dazed, Morana and Aesop looked at each other. Mora immediately grabbed the girl by the waist and caught her like a sack of potatoes, and Madame, grabbing them both instinctively, deported them before anyone realized they were there.

End of part XI, thanks for reading!

[angelicshifts]

MY DESIRED REALITIES!!!

SUPERNATURAL

S/O: DEAN WINCHESTER

NAME: ANGELICA DE LA CRUZ

ROLE: OCCULT INVESTIGATOR

THE WALKING DEAD

S/O: DARYL DIXON

NAME: RAQUEL TORRES

ROLE: MECHANIC

DOCTOR WHO

S/O: MISSY/THE MASTER

NAME: PRUDENCE CRAWFORD

ROLE: SCHOOL COUNSELOR

WIZARDING WORLD ⭐️

S/O: NOT SCRIPTED

NAME: AURA CALDERON

ROLE: HOGWARTS STUDENT

THE 100

NAME: RHEAGAN KANE

ROLE: PRISONER

S/O: NOT SCRIPTED

STAR WARS

NAME: MAGNA OTZARAH

ROLE: SMUGGLER

S/O: NOT SCRIPTED

MARVEL

S/O: NOT SCRIPTED

NAME: MORANA OBSCURA

ROLE: AVENGER

ONCE UPON A TIME

NAME: JACQUELINE SPRIGGINS

ROLE: GIANT SLAYER

S/O: NOT SCRIPTED

p.s. the star means that's where i'm shifting to atm, will update whenever that changes!!!

[vampstel]

I still have multiple things to write about V (such as his likes and dislikes, trivia, and even health) but here’s his backstory

Quick warning: This mentions murder, execution (specifically beheading), and general dark themes. I don’t go too in-depth about it, but still beware.

“Nikolai was conceived and born in England during the 19th century to Wilford and Morana Godfrey. Wilford was a mortal human and Morana was a pureblood vampire, thus making Nikolai a natural dhampir.

During his childhood, he was extremely sheltered and hidden from the outside world. His parents were overprotective of him — hybrids and interspecies relationships were (and still are) stigmatised. Not to mention… Nikolai had poor health.

He holds no grudge against his parents for being the way they are. He understands they only wanted the best for him. After all, his parents took care of him and loved him unconditionally. There was nothing else he wanted or needed and he was happy with his life.

However, Nikolai can’t deny his ever growing-desire to go out and explore the world. To feed his curiosity, he successfully sneaks out without his parents knowing and stumbles upon a boy named Adrian.

The two quickly become friends. While Adrian was frightened by Nikolai’s sudden appearance, he begins talking to the dhampir. Nikolai, being shy, didn’t speak and chose to respond by nodding or shaking his head instead.

Nikolai continues to sneak out regularly to meet with Adrian. He slowly warms up to him and begins engaging in conversation. Asking him general questions about his life and the world, to which Adrian happily answered.

At some point, Nikolai trusted Adrian enough to tell him he was a dhampir. The boy didn’t care and instead found him even more fascinating. He wanted to learn more about him and reassured him he wasn’t afraid. However, his view of Nikolai quickly changes once his parents find out.

Adrian’s parents urged him to tell them everything he knew about Nikolai. They, alongside the townsfolk, quickly came up with a plan to murder his family. They raid their house, steal their belongings, and burn the place down before inevitably killing Morana and Wilford.

Morana instructs Nikolai to run and hide before they could catch him. She gives him her necklace, telling him to keep it safe. And most importantly, to keep himself safe and to stay alive. The dhampir successfully escapes but the townsfolk did not stop their pursuit. After a few days, they find Nikolai and bring him to the village to execute him.

Nikolai doesn’t even try to fight. He was exhausted and had no strength or will to live. He allows the barbaric men to drag him ruthlessly to the village. Having him beheaded in front of everyone, including Adrian.

At the sight of Adrian, Nikolai breaks down, lashing out and harming the boy in the process. He starts screaming and crying out, asking him why he did this. To which Adrian wordlessly looked back at him in guilt and horror.

By some kind of miracle, Nikolai survives his execution and flees. He finds shelter in a cave, sleeping for decades to heal his wounds but the scar on his neck will never fade away. Nor will his emotional scars fade away either.

Ever since this incident, Nikolai swore to himself not to trust a mortal again. It takes him time to get back up, shocked to find out how different the world has become. After a lot of effort, he integrates himself into society. Masquerading as an orphan abandoned by his parents.

Nikolai never sticks to one place. Often moving to avoid suspicion before finally settling down in London. He successfully finds a career dabbling in art with a part-time gig as a barista.

To this day, Nikolai wonders how he survived and why he did.”

[alpaca-clouds]

The Way I See You [Strigana Goodness]

It is Sunday, and you know what that means?

Yeah, it means I upload another Castlevania Smut story. (Yes, I have a lot of those in storage. Don't ask. I... I write a bit too much for that. *coughs*)

This one is sweet, but also a bit angsty. Striga and Morana sleep together for the first time... Only that Striga does not feel desirable, because she is trans.

[hotgirlmythology]

Morana, the strangely nice death goddess

Morana is one of the older usurper gods, having taken up the mantle of death goddess fairly early on and surviving so long through staying mostly out of the population centres and petty divine feuds that have a very fast turnover of new gods

She has increasingly tended towards becoming a traveller's goddess, given that death on the road is quite a real possibility, and her shrines appear with increasing frequency in lands with more unsafe roads. Those who maintain her shrines, her priestesses and priests, tend to be more comfortable with the idea of dying than most, and so the idea of building these in unsafe regions is quite alright to them. After all, they know that Morana will make their last moments wonderful in recompense.

Morana came about shortly after the huge boom of usurping gods and goddesses. Once the first person realised that worshipping someone allowed you to impart magic to them and set themselves up as a deity it all kind of snowballed from there. However, the initial usurper deities were all very general. Clouds, the sun, lightning, growing things, and death. This death one was of particular interest, because he wasn't the most sympathetic of gods. His portfolio was essentially "Worship me and in return I will help you live longer". The resonance of those who worshipped him meant that by using this power he would never die either; he parasitised his worshippers to maintain himself. This was where Morana came in, as she was the first to provide an indirect challenge to his position rather than trying to simply kill him as was more common in divine arguments.

Morana brought a different perspective on death, that being that it was inevitable you would die and it was better to make sure you died happy. A lot of people liked the idea of this more than the near-desperation of the withered proponents of the first death god, and prayed to her instead. This was her peak of popularity, her golden age, and her great temples were flowing with worshippers, those who has lost someone, those who were afraid of dying themselves, and those who were afraid something would stop them from dying satisfied. Black rock sunk the interior into an intimate night, and the curling incense that veiled the room left even the most stressed with a mind foggy with vague optimism and pleasure. As the usurper deities became more in tune with the desires of their worshippers, however, more widely loved deities, mostly those who governed farming and fertility, encroached on Morana's idea of "The lovely death" and forced her out of the places she had once held sway.

Now in the modern day she is a far less forceful presence in many ways, though in others she is a terror. She is far less of a people's goddess now, and is worshipped only by her dedicated sects and travellers. Some insular cultures, though perhaps with a different name, still dedicate the last rites of the deceased to her. Her shrines of black stone still line the roads, the deathly allure of her acolytes is hardly dimmed, and the dead are still occasionally discovered bearing a deep red rose and a beatific smile. Murderers occasionally get the fright of their lives when one of Her acolytes steps out of a shadowy corner to usher them away and ensure the dying meet their end in pleasure rather than pain. She has also picked up another duty in this time - that of putting down people who really ought to be dead.

Dying is fairly difficult in this world, due to the fact that magic can rebuild a body if done sharpish. Some people who have unfinished business, or who devise methods to maintain their bodies, can physically keep their consciousness and even body animated through will alone, at least until they repair whatever is killing them at the time. This can happen almost imperceptibly - a miraculous recovery from an arrow wound, a chest stoved in by an angry bull and getting up afterwards. Morana does not take issue with these. It's when you get Revenants (physically dead but pushed on by the remnants of a single-minded consciousness) or Liches (essentially immortal, a powerful magician who is able to maintain their body all on their own) that problems can occur. Morana has taken it upon herself to be the one to bring these wayward souls into her arms and give them an end to their lives worthy of the effort they have put in to try and prolong it. Those with unfinished business with the living sometimes have the relevant people informed of the problem by Morana before they die.

She does still have temples of sorts, but they are a far cry from the monoliths of the past. Perhaps a low sanctum surrounded by a garden of fragrant flowers, or something as simple as an altar situated in the middle of the woods. The shrines usually host one or two people looking after them, and the "Temples" host around five. The other acolytes are travellers who move between settlements and deal with last rites and putting down Revenants and Liches. Morana does need a martial arm of her order, as they are occasionally attacked by liches or those who think Morana actually tries to kill people, and these are usually the shrine keepers, who are widespread enough to be the most likely to get assaulted.

As unrest creeps back across the world, so does Morana's worship, and there are whispers of the Death Mother abroad in the common realm again. Seen in the night, silhouetted by the light of the moon and veiled by black silk and lace, one could mistake it for the drunken haze of a desirous traveller if it wasn't for the fact it was mostly soldiers who said as such. Some she had beckoned to her, and they had torn their souls away from her impossible seductions to escape, clutching their wounds. Some told of watching her bury their dead friends and leaving without a word. The most, however, only talked of glimpses caught of her watching over a bloody battle from the corner of their eyes.

She has become somewhat more of an intimidating figure, but when it comes time for her to take someone away, her enchantments are able to take away the fear just as well as they ever were.

[calciumcryptid]

DC Earth-64 | The Central City Rogues II

The Central City Rogues are a group of supervillains that rival the Flash Family. While the group has gone through several iterations, the group remained defunct following Leonard Allen-West's (CW Inspired Version) marriage to Barry Allen-West and Iris Allen-West.

Krystal Allen-West later revived the group after being sent into an identity crisis. Krystal would go on to recruit new criminals to form the Central City Rogues once again, battling against her siblings and cousins as the rogue Snowdrift.

MEMBERSHIP

Krystal Allen-West, alias Snowdrift, is the leader of the newly revived Central City Rogues. After her meeting with Death, Krystal coped with her newfound false existence by robbing the Flash Museum and stealing the fake weaponry inside. After escaping her shocked family, she stared down the replica of her father's cold gun and vowed to not return to her family until she felt like she deserved the Allen-West name.

Krystal Allen-West is notable as the leader, because unlike previous rogues she has extensive knowledge of the extended Flash Family. She is also a speedster herself, aided with the power of cold temperatures notably ice.

Alder Ashton, alias Tree Snake, was a normal teenager from a normal family. After a childhood injury, their family learned Alder possessed a metagene. Initially delighted by this news, their family's excitement quickly turned to disgust when Alder's metagene turned out to be the powers of a snake. Their parents threw them out for their snake-like appearance, forcing them to turn to crime to make ends meet.

Alder Ashton met Krystal when the two were hitting the same place for a heist, and while fending off the police bonded over how they didn't feel like they belonged in general society. Alder became Krystal's first friend in the villain circuit and the first recruitment for the new Rogues. Later on, Alder would develop bark-based superpowers alongside their snake ones.

Hartwin Hildebrand, alias Heatstroke, was a young boy when his metagene turned him into a vampire with heat powers. His metagene made it so he had to suck blood or cold temperature to stay alive. His desire to relieve his hunger led to him murdering his family so the cold from their corpses could keep him satisfied.

After being arrested for the murders, he was sent to a juvenile detention center until he could be tried as an adult. There he met Krystal, immediately drawn to her due to her cryogenic blood. Overwhelmed with the prospect of a good source of food, he desired to stay close to her and joined the Rogues in order to keep himself alive.

However, the guilt would catch up with him and as his hunger grew bigger and bigger he worried that he would kill his new friends. After a mission went south, he refuted medical aid and begged for the Rogues to end his life. In tears they said their goodbyes, and ended his life. They then worked to secretly bury him alongside his family.

Morana Mlakar, alias Death Mask, was a normal girl until her metagene awoke and turned her into a walking plague making it so whoever inhaled her scent would grow sick and rot away. Knowing the danger she posed Morana ran away from home in order to protect her family.

Morana Mlakar would go on to join the Rogues, promised the funding and freedom to figure out a way to turn off her metagene and return to her family and normal life. She has developed a specialized mask and suit that kept her body from being accessible. If she accidentally kills anyone, she makes sure to leave behind a death mask so that their body can be identified, a gesture often misunderstood to be malicious.

Khamron Kul, alias Echo, was born with a metagene that gave him the ability to manipulate sound. While the power sounded good on paper, his ability was complicated by the fact he was born deaf. Intense migraines from sounds he could not hear, and attacks he did not know he made culminated in him struggling with leading a regular civilian life.

After trying to go to heroes for help, he turned to the Rogues, and was adopted into their group. Although considered a rogue, he can not resist helping others and tends to take over damage control when it comes to the group's plans.

ENDING NOTES

In case you can not tell, there is a particular theme among this generation of the Rogues. Instead of master criminals, the theme is a family found through the mutual anguish of unwanted and ugly superpowers given through something they can not control.

This decision struck me when I wrote Tree Snake and Heatstroke's bios, and I feel like it fits because Earth-64 is the farthest along in its timeline. It is an Earth where superpowers and superpowered individuals are immensely established with teams and leagues. I don't think there is a better place in timelines to explore this than with next-generation superheroes who were born with them and grow up around superpowered individuals instead of acquiring them with no superpowered support.

Plus, as far as I'm aware, this isn't an idea discussed or explored deeply in canon. The idea is that civilians who develop powers may despise their powers or be harmed by them instead of being elated at receiving them.

@insomniac-jay

[drinasteinberg]

The Light of the Abyss ( Prologue) The Arkona Purpure trilogy

Yarilo:

 I was born a warrior. A leader. A protector. I know no fear nor have I ever felt it. I never do. My wounds bleed, but my skin bears no scars. I know what pain is. I have experienced it in all of its forms. I am a creator and a destructor. I take what I want and I give as much as I please. While everyone may whisper of my stubbornness, they shout in praise of my righteousness . There is an avalanche of rage running through my veins. Because I am rage. I am war. I know death well; it is the shadow of my sword. It follows me every step of my way, waiting for me to once finally kneel before her. I laugh in its face. To me, death is nothing but a rotting carcass. Because I am the one who holds the power in his hands. I am the first, the immortal one… I am God. 

     I am ageless. As old as the world itself. I am the son of Perun and Zhiva, the god of war and spring.  Once, I asked my father why Svarog chose to endow me with both the fierceness of a warrior and the fucking tenderness of spring. He replied that it was the only way to rein in my thirst for blood. It was the only way to keep me in Yav and bring me to my senses. Bring me back home.

I spent my childhood and youth in the fiery depths of Nav. Surrounded by freaks and rotting stench, I took in the smell of fresh souls as Morana arched her back impaled upon my cock. She meant everything to me. She was everything I ever wanted, everything I needed. She brought out the worst in me and I worshiped her for it. With her, I was free. We didn’t put up with rules and Svarog’s laws. Veles observed our conquests with fatherly affection.

     I used to hate springs, back when I was living in Nav. They made me feel less like myself, feel like I wasn’t strong enough. During the last hours of winter, my body would become overwhelmed by a strange emotion. But Morana knew me inside and out. She knew very well that the first spring morning would make my heart wonder whether what I was doing was right. That is why she teased me like the whore she was, used her gorgeous body and lustful holes, asking for me to prove that I was worthy of her. She asked for blood and I would give it to her. I would return from my hunt with butchered bodies of mortals and demigods. She enjoyed watching the disfigured bodies of virgins. 

Morana didn’t let winter end; she did not allow for the spring inside me to wake up. During the first part of my life, I was void of any tenderness or conscience. I was a beast. Her personal beast.

When they imprisoned me in Yav, the only thing that kept me from giving in was my desire for her. I went through hell, but I didn’t crack. In my mind, I conjured the images of the soft creases of her skin and the delicious taste of her pussy. They made blood run into my dick. I was a crucified fool with a rock-hard erection. The absence of her lips that could suck away the pain hurt me more than anything Perun’s minions employed in order to make me come to my senses. Now I know that my father didn’t use everything he could and that this torture was merely a way to restrain me and keep me there for as long as possible. They knew that I would come to my senses as soon as I felt the magic of spring for the first time and they knew that the realization of truth would hurt me more than a millennium of ruthless whipping.

     Even today, my conscience is not immune to the occasional painful recollections of all the evil things I had done in the past. The truth about myself, Veles and Morana was too much for me to handle. In my eyes and deep inside me, there was a burning flame of hate. All I wanted was to kill them. Because all I had ever known was how to kill. I needed their blood. I needed revenge. That is why everyone in Yav kept a close eye on me, day and night. First, I had to learn about Svarog’s laws and then I needed to learn how to deal with the conflict of the insane feelings inside me and figure out how to maintain a balance between them.

Soon, everyone realized that my emotions were permanently damaged. I satisfied my desire to kill in the fierce battles with the Navi and I quenched my thirst for the female body through encounters with wild ruslankas, fairies and eventually, mortals. Still, I remained void. I am the god of the fucking spring. There is a part of me that craves something more than mere physical pleasure or love for those who are closest to me. For centuries, I had tried in vain to shut down that part of myself, kill it if necessary. It was the one thing preventing me from feeling whole.

      After the fall of Arkona and Perun’s transition to Prav, I became the ruler of Yav. Suddenly, the weight of the world landed on my back. I had no more time to think about myself, my past, the rage, the hate and the void inside of me. Over time, I slowly began to control my anger. I did everything I could in order to make sure I was a level-headed ruler. I was getting better at it, but from time to time, I would crack and let rage the take over. There were days when I would helplessly watch the Slavic people suffer and perish, unable to act due to Svarog’s laws; that is when the old beast inside me would come back. My wild side would suppress everything that was reasonable in me. I would storm into a battle without an army, without thinking. I didn’t mind the consequences, the warnings of Svanevit, Dazhbog and Zhiva; I would let the eruption of desire to kill guide me.  Because I am rage. I am the warrior of rage.

      And then, one winter, some forty years ago, I remained without a single artifact. The best solution was to impress my legacy into a direct descendant of a Slavic tribe.

On the island of Rugen, March 20, 1973, the Devan baby was born.  I remember seeing her for the first time. She was crying hysterically. I looked at her, frowning, before performing the act of impression. Her screaming made me nervous and I knew it was a mistake to leave my legacy in a human being. I started thinking that perhaps an animal would have been a better choice, but I was running out of time and I had to do it. I was shocked when, just before I would impress my legacy into her, she stopped screaming and looked into my eyes. Although I knew it was impossible, I had the feeling that she could see me. Then she lifted her arms towards me and fell asleep. I took a step back and then leaned over the cradle once again. Although everything around her was still in the state of complete chaos, the little girl was sleeping like a lamb.

This one is going to be a major pain in the ass, I mumbled to myself and stormed out, leaving the coast of Rugen covered in my color.

[rhodesportfolio]

KYLE for Man About Town.

Photographed by Blake Rhode. Shot in Milan, Italy.

Formula 1 driver Kyle Vitalio talks about his beginnings, his myths - including Ayrton Senna and how he prepares for his races. And his new perspective on life after being a father and husband.

Have you wanted to be an racing driver your whole life, or was that a sudden desire?

I’ve always wanted to be a racing driver, especially because I’ve always looked up to Senna. I’ve watched everything related to him when I was a child, at this point I honestly think we have a soul tie. We have a lot of similarities. [Laughs]

Were you a dramatic child?

Yeah, still am. I still am a dramatic child, for sure.

Who was your first cinematic crush growing up?

Emma Watson as Hermione Granger. I loved all Harry Potter movies.

I’m about to ask you a series of questions about your first time doing some things… okay. First thing you do when waking up?

I try to wake my wife up messing around with her hair. I don��t know why, but it’s like routine, even though she hates me for it.

First thing you wanted to be as a child?

Basketball player. I’ve always been a huge NBA fan, been present to a few games through the seasons, and being the tallest in the family gave me some confidence about it. I still play around in the house, we have a basketball field in our backyard and I’m always throwing some balls around with my boy.

Name three of your favorite things.

Racing, spending time with my wife and our children, and having Morana reading books out loud for me. I love listening to her voice.

Where was you favorite place to live throughout your life?

Italy, for sure. It’s my birthplace and I finally have a real home to call my own. It also makes me really closer to my siblings, Andreas, Blake, Mason, Nalim, Lily.. reminds me of family, which is good to me.

When you're not running, what do you do?

I’m usually caught up reading some book, or playing around with Jordan and Atlanta. Me and my wife are both travelers, so that’s also what I’m usually doing.

Your favorite moment before a race?

The adrenaline. The feeling you get before entering the car is the best part for me, it’s insane to ride a vehicle that goes up to 190 miles per hour. It certainly makes you feel some type of way.

Moving to more personal questions. What’s the best thing about being a father so far?

Teaching them the smallest things, carry them around, notice the similarities between them and their mother… There’s a lot of them, and I could name every single one. I love being a dad.

Have you always wanted to be a father or did this just fall onto your lap?

It’s always been a dream of mine to have kids. I used to tell my family and friends about it, and how much I wanted it. I’m the luckiest man alive to have a wife who managed to make my biggest dream to become reality, she’s the best mom my children could’ve ever had.

Talking about Morana, how’s the married life going?

Honestly, it was not the biggest change ever. At the end of the day, we just signed a paper, because we’ve been living like a married couple since the beginning, if I’m being honest. What makes the married life better it’s finally being able to call Morana my wife, things have been great for us.

If you didn’t do F1, what would you probably be doing as a job?

I’d probably be a mechanic engineer. I really enjoy dealing with cars, and as a racer, I’ve learned quite a lot about them. I also like doing math, so…

People’s first impressions on you are usually that you’re a very closed off person. Is this a fact? What do you think about it?

It is, in fact, reality. I’ve kept my inner circle pretty much the same for years, I struggle with creating deeper connections with people I don’t know, but depending on circumstances, I might get along really well with anyone.

[zorkaya-moved]

understood while working that in in the jjk verse, zarina would've been like... the most desirable wife to marry off to another jujutsu clan/family for political gain right? but then you bring it up with zarina and she laughs it off like 'no one wants marry me, darling.' and when you ask why and she just looks away with 'no one wants to marry a monster.'

because in russia, families knows that zarina is the one 'cursed' this generation around and it greatly lessens their desires to marry her. and her parents didn't want for her to encounter that type of relationship because 1) they don't want to take away one last 'freedom' she's allowed to have (indulge, live, prosper in her own way), 2) they don't want to trigger morana's curse connected to love like... what if she falls for someone and that marriage will be a solid POSSIBLE catalyst for another tragedy. her family loves her, but... in jjk verse, it's complicated.

i'm so emo. i'm so not ok.

[ultramagicalternate]

ULTRAMagic Alternate Character Encyclopedia

Here's the Encyclopedia of Characters in UMAE. Click link and you will be taken to a relevant post about a character. You can read further posts from the point onwards. Unnamed characters will be italicized.

All of these are in order of appearance and there are minor spoilers throughout this encyclopedia.

Alphabetical Encyclopedia

ULTRAMagic Prelude:

Blood-Wraith Raynot

Dragoslava Raynot

Desislav Robles

Stolon

The Seer?

Leif/Tyrant (The Dragon of Old)

Kresimira Raynot

Valentina Pari

Proteus (The Ocean of Old)

The Forest of Old

Auda Willfort

Eleanor Albronda

Chief Sigmund Willfort

Tusk Willfort

The Lich of Old

Vlastimir Bartholomew Dracul

Corentin Marin Schindewolf

The War Machine of Old

Gustav Dahlberg

Sir Odo, Knight of the Unlight

Donia Albronda

Aureolus Schindewolf

Achasiah

The Ferro of Old (Metal Oasis)

Deimos (The Mage of Old)

Duke Radovan Raynot

King Englehart Schindewolf

Barna Schindewolf

The Beast of Old

The Evangelist of Old

The Crimson Abyss

Darkness

The Screaming God

The Great Unspeaker

Vexation

Ekaterina Moore

ULTRAMagic Interlude:

Brenna Thompson

Herman Lydon

Cordelia Willfort

Skari Willfort

ULTRAMagic Ultimatum

Duchess Rose Raynot

Thora Willfort

Captain Dusan

Dunja Schindewolf

Councilor Octavius

Councilor Caius

Councilor Theobold

Councilor Regnault

General Drazhan Thornefield

Ivar Thompson

Sven Thompson

Rowena Hayes

Olga Crowe

Mariya Radovich

Andelin Sylvia Lillemor Lindbek (Andelin the Doom)

ULTRAMagic Interlude: Shadowland

Gabriella Pari (Update pending)

Weaver Craddock

Claudius Alfieri

Allan Erkstrom/Albrecht Schindewolf

Prince Folkvar Haugen

Gummi Proch

The Rumbling Beast

Torunn Craddock (Torunn the Mountain)

Timothy Finnegan

Gratiana Arlotti (Gratiana the Glory)

King Sten Haugen

Logan Bonneville

Bjorn Henningsen

Brynhild Henningsen

Delphine, Discordant God of Desire

Saul Bonneville

Milosh Proch

Sir Wolfgang Bramson

Red-hooded mage

Blue-hooded mage

Green-hooded mage

Spiritus Magni Maxima

Dragutin

Queen Yngvild Haugen

Severin Wheeler

Fyodor Aleksandrov

The Fear of Old

Boris Lazarov

Amon

Lucifuge Rofocale

Xavier Dufort

Sullivan

Forlas

Stoltur

Stolas

Cynassa

Zasiel

ULTRAMagic Interlude Bonus Chapters

Howard Bowen

Vilho Rinne

Zoltan Tenebrae Raphael Dracul

Morana Dracul

The God of the Abyss

Spiritus Magni Drusa

Tiberius Philipus Skull (ULTRAMagic Scholar)

Barry Esko Boyle (ULTRAMagic Hunter)

Cronus (ULTRAMagic Reaper)

Mal (The Malformed of Old)

The Hunger of Old

Alexia Lavoie (ULTRAMagic Vanguard)

Sir Erling Vang

Stolon's wife

ULTRAMagic Chaos

Chief Magnus Scully

Mainchín "Razor" Scully

Mizuki Kitagawa

Mayhem Highland

General Karnage

Hank Lyon

Ealdhelm the Destroyer

Waltheof the Shield

Cyneberht the Cunning

Osbeorn the Tempest

Beorhtric the Stalwart

Sir Gebhard Vestegaard

Audawakrs Kappel (Arrogant Mage)

The Madman of Old

The Automaton of Old

Wynstan the Storm

Randalph Theoprastus Scarfe

General Raisa Frankenstein

Adelheid, Discordant God of Blood

Ulrich, Discordant God of Gravity

Quasar

Dr. Alfred Schwartz

Master Aeron

Helga Gertrude Arlotti

Magus Percival Clair Dan Beaumont

Kleitos, Discordant God of Knowledge

Karnage's Servant

Apothecary Gaius

Archibald Wallins

Scotty

Agatha Allan

Murdoch Allan

Calvin Allan

Unnamed Recruit x2

Driskoll, Discordant God of Death

Death Riders

Void Orcs

Hannibal Skull Thrasher

Brunehilde Skull Thrasher

High Warlord Reinhardt

Wulfric, Discordant God of War

General Anara

Rahela, Discordant God of Rubber

Lucanus, God of Law

Lia Ascher

Leonard, Discordant God of Lightning

The Shadow God

Eternal Church Cultists x2

Mayor Rubenn Wattssonn

ULTRAMagic Interval

Serjiel

Zal-Rint

William Ford II

Kyu #9

Samantha Devilfay

Antonio Pari

Buster Ash

Olivia Briggs

Antares Briggs

Faustus Ashman

Trevor MacQuoid

Nathaniel Fernsby

Adelaide Sallow

Bethany Briggs

Valentin "Perkele" Haganno Karpinnen

Adrien Irons

Dr. Reynard Woodall

Hannah

Howards

Meyers

Jackson Woodall

Mary Pickford

Trumna Wintergate

Bran Lommel

Sirius Fractal

Morrigan Devilfay?

[coffeeandmagicaltales]

The Auror & the Devil part 17

Aesop Sharp x MC

DISCLAIMER: verbal abuse, phisical abuse, sexual harrasment description.

Aesop tried not to look towards the spot where Morana always sat during his classes. Both she and Poppy used to sit there, helping each other out... Since the ball, Miss Sweeting had been working alone, growing more and more melancholic... He asked her casually about her well-being; she said she was worried about Morana, who had started distancing herself from everyone again... avoiding them. For the past few days, she had been slowly preparing to leave... But instead of cherishing every moment with those she cared about, she kept avoiding them.

He worried about her. He worried about what had happened during the ball and earlier with his father... He wanted to talk to her, to gather the courage, but the woman seemed to have disappeared somewhere... He even visited the Dimms, but they rarely saw her either, equally depressed by the state she had been in for some time. Something was troubling her. She was struggling with something. He wanted so badly to be there for her and help her... Yet, on the other hand, the shame since barely recovering from the incident with his father and the foolish comment during the dance made him... withdraw as well, and, to his horror, the absence of Morana in sight spared him from facing the memories of embarrassment he felt on Walton Street when he didn't even want to show himself to her, hiding under the covers; shattered, sleepless, tear-stained... fragile. He also didn't have to think about the feelings that accompanied him during the ball. He suppressed all unwanted thoughts within himself, stuffing them into the corners of his mind, hoping that would be enough.

He wandered around the school, despondent, feeling hollow inside, not wanting to imagine what it would be like when Mora left. The students in his classes were quiet; no one dared to do anything foolish. In their eyes, he must have appeared exceptionally stern and grim; this facade worked, as he really didn't even have the strength or desire to pay attention to anyone.

He spent most of his time with Mrs. Weasley, subconsciously seeking the company of a close person in difficult times. Matilda often asked him about his well-being—it was not difficult to notice that he wasn't feeling his best. She tried to help him somehow, but... he truly didn't know why he was falling apart again. She suspected it had to do with Morana, but she didn't know what could have happened between the two, seemingly well-matched individuals. He himself replied, "I don't know," which was somewhat true, of course, except for a few... well... issues he was afraid to admit even to himself.

He was suspended in emptiness, which seemed to devour him from the inside, much like after the accident. He talked to Matilda about it, but she didn't know what to do about it. Ashamed, she said she simply didn't know any remedy, charm... She said that apparently Muggles were studying it, but so far, they were groping in the dark... She just lowered her gaze and laid her hand on Aesop's shoulder, angry at herself for being considered a marvelous witch and yet unable to help her friend because she simply didn't know how.

"The Flints wanted to meet you regarding Galatea's education..." she confessed as they once sat together drinking tea. Aesop ignored her, staring out the window. "I'm not saying you should meet with them because their daughter is a pretty, young woman from a respected family, you know what I think about the Blacks and the like, but maybe talking to someone other than me, getting some fresh air would do you good..."

Aesop rolled his eyes.

"What do they want from me?" he grumbled.

"Well... I think you were the only person who even exchanged a few words with her... She seemed very... hmmm... lost among all those people... It doesn't surprise me much; her father practically keeps her under lock and key after her mother's death, doesn't let her out without supervision. Mrs. Black probably had a hard time persuading him to go to the ball with her..."

"Such a person is supposed to become an Auror?" Sharp exclaimed and shrugged his shoulders. "She'll fail the first exam."

"...I think that might be a subject for discussion."

"Ugh..." he grunted, displeased with the prospect of discussing Auror professions, and he put his cup down on the saucer so energetically that the porcelain clinked. For a moment, he collected his thoughts and took a deep breath. "I'll do it just for you, to stop bothering me. I'll talk to them, I promise, just tell me when and where."

Aesop glanced at his pocket watch. He had been waiting outside the "Three Broomsticks" for a good 15 minutes. He promised himself that if the Flints didn't show up in the next 5 minutes, he'd go back home. Angrily, he paced back and forth, leaning on his cane, which clicked against the pavement with each step. The sun was slowly setting.

"Good Evening..." he heard a quiet, feminine voice behind him, and he immediately turned around at the sound. For a split second, he deceived himself, searching for Galatea's father... She was alone, hidden under the cloak's hood, nervous... She slipped out of the house by herself, and the letter was probably her doing. It was obvious now. Aesop cursed inwardly the promise he made to Matilda.

"I apologize for being late... I..."

"You must have made sure no one saw you, right, Galatea?" he snapped without hesitation, using a tone that eerily resembled the one he used to reprimand students. "I don't like surprises like this; can you explain to me why all this?"

Galatea blushed.

"Well... I don't have many friends; I just wanted to meet up..."

"Fine. We can talk for a moment, then I'll escort you home." He did everything to keep his voice from revealing that he had absolutely no desire for small talk. He bit his tongue and tried to be polite, offering her his arm to lead her into the "Broomsticks". Galatea looked scared and hesitated.

"Well... I really want to remain incognito today... Maybe a walk, what do you think?" She was afraid someone would notice her and report to Mr. Flint... Her father was probably sure she was sitting at home studying... Aesop hesitated. Such things never ended well... From experience, he knew that sneaking out of the house usually led to trouble... Well, he preferred to keep an eye on this woman anyways... He felt trouble coming, and very reluctantly agreed to her proposal, thinking about where they could go to avoid any problems. He extended his arm and led them both outside Hogsmeade.

Miss Flint seemed to be a cheerful person, overwhelmed by her father's very strict, old-fashioned upbringing, which had determined her future from the day she was born. She was supposed to become an Auror. Period. There was no other option, unless she became a mother before her exams began. Aesop felt a bit sorry for her. He understood what it meant to be born into a "pure-blood" family all too well. Conventions, politics, arranged marriages, disappointment, unhappy families... It all seemed to be the foundation of the Sacred 28's power... Luckily, Aesop's father only aspired to them, thanks to his one Muggle-born ancestor, a Galileo Galilei's neighbour.

"Sorry for this conspiracy... Papa sometimes wants to control me too much, blames himself for Mom's death, he's afraid for my safety..." She spoke as they walked alongside Aesop, matching his slow pace.

"With all due respect, such a secluded life won't really help you in your future profession... Especially if we're talking about one of the most dangerous professions..."

"What do you suggest?"

Aesop sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Look at me and what the job did to me, despite perfect preparation and years of experience... I'm the last person who would encourage you to pursue it. It takes a lot to sacrifice for it, and not everyone is ready to give the Ministry their time, friends, family, and sometimes, if necessary, even life."

Galatea laughed sincerely.

"You're probably the first person to talk about it so honestly and straightforwardly..."

"Hmm... I'm wondering why the topic, which should actually be discussed with your father as well, somewhat avoided him..." he interjected slightly, but Galatea changed the subject.

"What exactly did you do as an Auror?"

Aesop smiled cunningly. Bingo. The woman was hiding something.

He shrugged lightly and didn't let anything show.

"Mainly dealing with crimes related to trade. Distributing dark magical artifacts, smuggling, everything that happened behind closed doors of 'Borgin and Burkes', sometimes dealing with scams at Gringotts Bank..."

At the sound of that name, Galatea's expression darkened.

"Well, it's a good thing you're at Hogwarts and helped save it from those beasts..."

"Beasts? Goblins aren't much different from wizards..." he replied calmly, accustomed to the dislike towards that species.

Flint pouted and proudly lifted her chin.

"Their stupid customs regarding ownership rights have cost many wizards their lives." She hissed, to which Aesop merely shrugged.

"And yet... We all entrust them with our savings, don't we?"

"No," Galatea snorted, offended, her eyes welling up with tears. "I haven't set foot in Gringotts Bank since one of them murdered my mother just because she wore a brooch made of goblin silver, custom-made for her, ordered by Papa." Aesop paused, touched by Galatea's words. Ah yes... He remembered that case. One of the first initiated by, as it was now known, Ranrock supporters, years ago. He read about it in the paper when he lay bound in St Mungo's... He knew that if Scarborough had succeeded, he would have been assigned to that case due to his knowledge of Gobbledegook, and it would have been his picture, not a photograph of Galatea's mother, with the caption "Auror dead," on the front page of the Prophet. Oh, the irony, it might have been his disability that saved his life.

"I'm very sorry... All I can say is that not all goblins are lunatics. Nor are all wizards faultless. I've definitely put more of the latter in Azkaban..."

"What a beautiful moon tonight," whispered Galatea, trying to divert attention from her tears, which shimmered on her cheeks from the perfectly round silver disk hanging amidst the winter stars.

"Well, getting back to the point..." Aesop decided to try to learn something again. "Why do I really owe this meeting to?"

"When I saw you at the ball, well... I knew right away who you were, because you've always been a hero in my eyes... People talk a lot about you, you know? Extraordinary bravery, talent, difficult cases solved by you in such incredibly brilliant ways..."

Aesop felt uncomfortable. Did she also learn about his failures? He was no hero; he solved most puzzles by chance or the courage of witnesses who were not afraid to testify against big shots.

"...I feel... I feel like we have a lot in common... I wanted to get to know you, and I have a proposition for you..."

Damn... He panicked when he realized that this meeting in Galatea's eyes was most likely a date. Damn, damn, damn.

"Um, Galatea, I'm not really..."

The woman swayed and fell into his arms so suddenly that he lost his balance, and they both toppled onto the snow-covered clearing. Her weight overwhelmed him completely; the sharp scent of perfume and the hot kiss planted on his lips confused him. For a moment, he was completely dizzy, his body yearning for such caresses for a few seconds, fully surrendering to the taste of the woman's lips, and almost immediately he felt a stab of arousal, which awakened his manhood... However... He tilted his head, avoiding another kiss, clenched his lips, and looked at Galatea questioningly, unable to utter a word, angry and surprised at the same time.

"What are you doing!?" he hissed.

She looked at him so lustfully that he felt nauseated. He had no desire for it at all.

"You know..." she began in a seductive tone, wrapping a strand of his hair around her finger, and Aesop trembled, not wanting her hand to come close to his face. He tried to move, but the snow restrained his movements from all sides, and she pressed him harder to the ground... Practically sitting on him, and every move of hers teased him, his erection hardening under the thick layer of clothing. He had no control over how he reacted. It was not pleasant at all; he felt only fear, not wanting his body to react against him...

"We could help each other... I see that we're both craving intimacy..."

"Get off me, please..." he whispered very quietly, with a terrified voice, giving her pleading looks, but she ignored his words.

"I'm sorry to see such an extraordinary person wasting away in school... You can return to your profession, be yourself again... I can help you with that... All I have to do is say a word, and the best specialists will heal you, you'll regain your former position... I know you want it... On one condition..." Galatea made a circular movement with her hips, and her hands began to creep towards Aesop's belt.

"No... No... Please stop." he squeezed out, paralyzed with emotion and fear.

"I don't have much time... Before the dishonor I'll bring to the family as the worst Auror in history, only a descendant can save me... It seems to me that it's a fair deal, we'll both benefit from it..."

Suddenly, Aesop realized that some part of him was actually considering this proposition.

Words from his father's mouth cursing his disability, loneliness, dishnor... It could all be forgotten, all it took was for him to agree to Galatea's deal. A very good deal. Something that would surely please his father.

That man stood before his eyes, angry, raising his hand to Morana... Never again. He would never do anything in his life to please him.

He didn't want this woman at all; he didn't want to become like his father.

He regained his sanity and control over his body. He grabbed her wrists and didn't let her hands touch his groin.

"Galatea..." he said in a firm but calm tone. "It's possible that I can't be 'healed.' What then? Would you live with someone like me?"

The woman flinched, surprised by his words, and withdrew her hands.

"It's possible that I'll remain a cripple forever. Besides, I don't want to be an Auror anymore, and... I have feelings... I'm not a toy... I'm sorry that you're going through tough times, but I can't help you in the way you want, only as a friend. Get off me, please."

The woman's cheeks flushed with shame; she stood on her own feet and stepped back a few steps. She didn't anticipate such a turn of events...

He stood up clumsily, shaking off the snow and leaning on his cane, feeling relieved.

"I'm not mad at you, but don't try to do this again," he said in a very stern tone. "Come on, I'll walk you home..."

Suddenly, the skin on his neck prickled.

Dark Magic.

Deep in the forest, a branch snapped, and immediately he turned his gaze in that direction.

"We're not alone..." he said softly, reaching for his wand in his sleeve... It wasn't there. Damn. It must have fallen into the snow.

"What... What's happening?" Galatea squeaked, hiding behind him, but Sharp silenced her and ordered her to be vigilant. Flint breathed a sigh of relief as a fairly large and noisy group of Diricrawls burst out of the bushes and hurriedly cut across their path, disappearing around the bend.

"False alarm," she muttered to herself, but Aesop preferred to stay alert. He stood motionless, listening intently. Something or someone must have scared those creatures; they didn't behave so nervously without reason... Poacher, maybe?

A scream caught in his throat, and he barely shielded Galatea when a tall figure leaped out of the bushes at them. Struck by sharp claws, he fell to the ground, the woman's scream tearing through the air. She cast a few spells to deter the creature; red flares of light illuminated the huge humanoid beast, which was unaffected by powerful blows.

Fangs, claws, eyes shining like the full moon.

A werewolf.

"Run!" Aesop shouted, trying to get up. He quickly reached for a vial of Wiggenweld Potion, tilting it to the bottom, and glanced at Flint; still stunned by what was happening, she continued to cast spells, looking with horror straight at the approaching creature. If she stopped for a moment to summon Aesop's wand, her chances of survival would quickly drop to zero. The werewolf twitched and leaped toward her, which Sharp blocked just in time. He closed his eyes, knowing that in a fraction of a second, sharp fangs would sink into his back.

From the sky, like lightning bolt, a raven swooped down directly onto the werewolf's bristling muzzle, pecking and injuring the creature, aiming for its eyes, trying to scratch them with sharp claws.

"Morana, NO!" Sharp yelled, feeling his heart in his throat.

Chaos ensued: Galatea's spell flashes, a tangle of blood, torn feathers, the howl, the bird's scream, which, with a powerful paw strike, was thrown to the ground and instantly turned into completely naked Morana.

She stood up, pressing her hand to the wound on her side, quickly positioning herself between the werewolf and Aesop, shielding the terrified Miss Flint. Blood seeped from her injured body, she clenched her fists, baring her teeth, and from the depths of her lungs came a scream so terrifying and feral that the werewolf took a step back. The beast knew that its opponent was just as wild and couldn't be underestimated.

"Not one step further. DARE NOT TOUCH HIM," she growled, never taking her eyes off the creature, from whose gouged eye a stream of scarlet blood flowed.

"Morana, pass me the wand, it's somewhere in the snow, otherwise we have no chance... On three... You dive, and Miss Flint hits him with Reducto... One... two... THREE!" In a split second, Morana turned into a raven, and at the same moment, Galatea's spell pushed the werewolf away. Morana's gaze easily spotted the black wand; she grabbed it with her beak and quickly brought it to its owner. Aesop breathed a sigh of relief.

"Flint! Get help, he can't reach Hogsmeade!" Sharp ordered, sending a Depulso towards the beast. Galatea nodded and disappeared with a crack. Meanwhile, Morana circled above the creature, controlling its direction, pecking it severely when it got too close to Sharp.

Suddenly, the monster doubled over and howled in pain.

Morana recognized familiar signs on him: deep, ugly cuts, torn skin, marks resembling runes, visible bones and muscles, oozing thick blood... It must have caused him monstrous pain... Someone seemed not to have finished their work on him.

Black streaks of magic began to ooze from his wounds... The same magic Izydora experimented with; strands of pain and suffering... From the creature's jaws came a horrifying howl of agony; it fell to the ground, trembling. Morana quickly reached Aesop and gracefully took on her human form.

"Aesop, he's dying! It's... It's that magic... The same that killed Thestrals..."

"Morana, there's nothing we can do, we have to wait for Officer Singer and the Aurors!" Sharp growled, although he was sure he would act against his words, hoping that maybe this time he would listen to him. She stood staring at him with large, tear-filled eyes full of empathy, determination painted on her freckled face, her lips clenched. Strands of black hair caressing her tanned skin, her beautiful body...

Aesop's heart pounded, and he felt a pain as sharp as a dagger at the mere thought that something might happen to her, that he might lose her...

"Cover me!"

...and she was gone. She flew towards the dying werewolf, who didn't understand that she wanted to help him. He lunged, scratching and snapping his teeth, from which Morana deftly dodged, protected by a shield conjured just in time by Aesop... What to do, what to do, what to do? There was no time. She didn't know Isidora's spells, didn't know how to alleviate pain. All she knew was that Dark Magic required payment... well, the Muggle-Witch believed that all magic required some kind of payment...

Suddenly, she had an epiphany.

Blood for blood, pain for pain.

She transformed into a human form.

Aesop, seeing her approaching the enraged monster completely defenseless, hurled a powerful blast of petrification at it, which did little. Only a few conjured silver chains seemed to hold the beast in place, at least binding its most dangerous maw. She dodged as much as she could from its teeth and claws, trying to reach the twisting tendrils of magic.

Finally, she managed to grab one tightly and wrap it around her hand. The werewolf, weakening from pain, in an act of desperation, broke free from the bonds and dug its claws into her back. She groaned but didn't let go.

"NO!" Aesop yelled, limping towards her, already preparing a vial of Wiggweld solution.

With a crack, Officer Singer and Aurors along with Galatea appeared on the spot. Disoriented, they aimed their wands at the beast lying motionless and the naked Morana crouched beside it. Aesop fell beside her immediately, pouring elixirs over her wounds.

"Morana, Morana, it'll be okay... I'm here... I'm here now... Silly Bird... Just listen to me once, just fucking once..." He repeated, stroking her cheeks, looking into her eyes filled with suffering, embracing her lifeless body, planting kisses on her forehead.

Her magic worked. The black tendrils emanating from the werewolf's wounds slowly changed color, brightening... And on her hand, in the place literally wrapped in the curse, runic signs began to appear, which Aesop recognized as ordinary protective spells known to him from school textbooks. They bled like images tattooed on the skin. He understood that she had transformed the power of Dark Magic into protective charm, absorbing it, becoming stronger.

She groaned, momentarily dazed.

The werewolf began to change its shape, shrinking, diminishing... Until it became a naked man lying in a pool of blood and torn clothes.

Mr. Moon.

On Officer's command, he was immediately taken to St. Mungo's Hospital. Aesop wrapped Morana in a cloak and took her in his arms with difficulty. Morana rested her head on his shoulder, wrapped in the wonderfully smelling Sharp's clothing, where it was warm and safe.

"I-I think I've lift the curse..." she whispered, looking at the bleeding mark on her hand with unfocused eyes, slowly drifting away, losing touch with reality. "I-I could handle yours too... Aesop... I..."

"Shhh... for such a price, I'll never agree, never!" He growled menacingly, barely catching his breath. "Don't say anything... It'll be okay, just don't fall asleep..." he repeated nervously, looking at her eyes closing from exhaustion and disapparated them to the hospital wing.

Ms. Flint sank to her knees, completely dazed, glancing towards where they had stood just moments ago. Too much was happening, too many emotions... She still saw that dark-haired woman... Aesop leaning over her, holding her in his arms... A student? No... she was definitely something more...

She shuddered, feeling a hand on her back.

"Your father is waiting for you, Miss." Singer muttered behind her. Galatea knew that harsh consequences awaited her, she bit her lip and let Singer deport them both.

Several Aurors remained to investigate the area covered in a silvery veil of moonlight glow.

It became completely quiet, only the raven feathers rustled in the air, lifted by the wind.

It was around three in the morning.

The clock ticked quietly in Matilda's office, bathed in the pale moonlight streaming through the window.

Disheveled, sleepless, she sat in her night gown, holding hand on Aesop's back, hunching on chair. His face was hidden in his hands, his hair strands covering him like a dark curtain. She poured whiskey into a glass and drank it down, grimacing slightly... She remained silent, not even knowing what to ask.

She was awakened by the news that Professor Sharp was injured and that he, a student, and Miss Flint, were attacked by a werewolf. She didn't even have to ask which student it was. She ran as fast as she could to the hospital wing. The bloodstains on the floor already betrayed her that things were bad. She feared the creature might have bitten Morana...

Aesop stood in front of the entrance, being interrogated by Officer Singer, swallowing tears, criticizing her for asking pathetic questions, for doing nothing about the issue he had presented to her a few months ago, for making the case worse, for believing it was goblins' doing, instead looking for someone meddling in dark magic again. Singer reprimanded him and left. Aesop paced back and forth under the door, nervously clenching his hands, trembling, and when he saw Matilda, he practically threw himself into her arms and hugged her tightly. It was hard to make sense of what he was saying. Morana and Mr. Moon were alive, that was the most important thing.

Aesop moved under Matilda's hand, dozing off for a moment. He took a deep breath and poured himself some whiskey.

"What... What happened there... You mentioned something about Miss Flint... That she caught you and...?" she asked incredulously, and in response, she heard only a gloomy "mhm" from which it was difficult to infer anything.

Aesop emptied the glass in one gulp, and his voice was slightly hoarse at first. He tried to speak objectively, without emotion, but his voice trembled.

"She didn't say it out loud, but... in her eyes, I'm probably someone... desperate, defeated, who would literally sell himself to a pure-blood family for a few coins... She knows from others what happened to me, she knows from others I'm a cribble, she knows from others and rumors that since then, relationships, sex, and women have been difficult topics for me, that I'm lonely... She offered me a return to my profession in exchange for a quick marriage and even quicker offspring... Ah, it's not worth talking about. I was just... a tool for her purposes... She knew I would have trouble getting up if I fell, that I would be somewhat... hmm... vulnerable then... Now that I think about it, I feel like she planned everything long ago, and her presence at the ball wasn't accidental either... It makes me sick to think about it, and... I feel sorry. I feel so bad about it... It's so embarrassing to talk about it, Matilda... I feel like an idiot..."

"Why?" Matilda snorted indignantly, tensing with anger, and was about to say something, but Aesop cut her off.

"Well... I'm a lonely man... I should be eager, happy with the company of a horny woman..." He whispered sadly, staring at the floor and blushing, nervously shifting in his chair. "I didn't know what to do... because I didn't want her to touch me. I felt vile, as if I were being cornered... I was scared, I begged her to leave me alone... I was afraid my body wouldn't obey me, afraid she'd get what she wanted... I didn't want it so badly... Merlin, it was awful..."

Matilda nodded sadly and placed her hand on his cheek, looking at him with sisterly love. "Nobody can touch you without consent! It doesn't mean you're weak or impotent... It's solely her matter and twisted morality! How could she!... It's my fault, I encouraged you to meet her..."

"Ugh, it's nobody's fault, she deceived both me and you and her father... She ran away from home, she'll get a lesson for it..." he cut her off with a stern tone. "At least she quickly regained control... Merlin, she's not 'evil', just foolish, naive, childish, self-centered... But still, I want what happened between her and me to stay between us, I don't want more gossip, I don't want strange looks... I've had enough... The werewolf was just the cherry on top of this pathetic evening."

"What... What was Dimm actually doing there?" Matilda asked, realizing that Morana was an element that didn't fit into the whole puzzle.

Aesop flinched and froze, recalling the events of the past and the fear when he saw Mora fighting with a powerful werewolf without any weapons or protection.

"I don't know..." he replied honestly.

Without knocking on Mrs. Weasley's office door, Officer Singer entered with a quill aggressively scribbling in her notepad floating behind her. Aesop and Matilda exchanged glances.

"That's it. The Auror Office will take over the case today after 11. Miss Dimm doesn't want to cooperate, doesn't answer my questions, stubborn as a mule..." Singer grumbled. "This kid makes my job hard enough."

"You should probably give her your paycheck... unless you don't care about it, because you have another sponsor." Aesop snarled slowly getting up from the chair, glaring at her.

"Mind your tone, Sharp." Singer growled warningly, stepping closer. "You're so cheeky only because you have a warm position at Hogwarts and no worries. But karma will come around sooner than you think." She turned on her heel and threw over her shoulder. "I suggest you get something out of Miss Dimm, I have a bone-deep feeling that she wasn't there by accident and I want to know why..."

"You're talking as if she's accused of something, and we both know that the perpetrator is still at large. You're behaving as if you're blind ashole, Singer!"

The officer handed Aesop a sheet of paper with information about the amount of fine he has to pay for insulting an Auror.

"Oh, great." he gritted his teeth, tucking the paper under his armpit. "I'll add a tip."

Seeing the verbal altercation, Matilda stood up and sternly escorted Officer Singer out.

"That's my orders, Sharp." Singer snapped on her way out and added in an unpleasant, mocking tone. "Unlike some, I see things through to the end and don't run from them."

She slammed the door shut so hard that the figures on the paintings hanging near the door fell off the chairs and toppled over.

"Mora, can I come in?" He asked, gently pushing open the door to the Slytherin girls' bedroom. With Mrs. Weasley's help, he practically kicked everyone out of the dormitory for lessons or to the library. He wanted to talk to Morana one-on-one, and having someone lurking around the common room or in the adjacent bedroom was out of the question... He was nervous, not knowing what to say, his mind in a jumble from lack of sleep.

He heard a quiet invitation and stepped inside. On the bed opposite the door, near the desk and an owl named Holub, whom he knew very well and often waited for during holidays, sat Morana. At first glance, she was very upset about what had happened; she stared at the floor, tapping it nervously with the heel of her shoe, nervously fixing stray strands of hair... He stood a few steps away from her, hoping she would say something... She remained silent, avoiding his gaze...

"What's going on, Morana?" He began with a trembling voice, no longer having the strength to beat around the bush, tired and too concerned about her condition. "I know when you're lying, I know that 'preparing for the move' is just an excuse so I won't ask further, but I see that something is happening to you and it's getting worse..."

Morana swallowed her tears and tried not to burst into tears, clasping her hands so tightly that she felt her nails painfully digging into her skin. He knew her too well, too well... Aesop stepped closer, still waiting for a response... He didn't care what she did in the forest yesterday; nothing mattered to him except how he could help her. He cleared his throat and tried again, hoping to learn something.

"What's going on, Morana?... I see that something is bothering you, that something bad is happening, but... you avoid me, you don't talk to me..." his voice slightly broke, he tried to cover it up with a cough. Morana, hearing his velvety tone, trembled and gathered all her strength not to whimper in pain, which her silence and the awareness that she was hurting Aesop caused her. "I... I want to help you, Bird. I just need to know how..."

"I can't tell you. I can't," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

What was she supposed to tell him?

Since she saw him with Miss Flint, a beautiful, perfect woman, gazing at him as if he were a painting... She had been filled with hatred towards her, not knowing where it came from. The woman hadn't done anything wrong, she was quite nice, cheerful... there was no reason to secretly wish her the greatest possible failures... Mora fought with her thoughts, delved into them, searched for answers, ignoring the obvious thing that was always in sight.

She swallowed, feeling Aesop's questioning gaze on her, not having the courage to look at him.

Him.

Aesop Sharp was the reason she had come up with the stupidest idea yesterday. Pathetic, driven solely by her selfishness and jealousy... Jealousy that burned her with hellish fire, ready to take away her sanity and lead to tragedy...

What was she supposed to tell him?

"Yes, I was so jealous that you were talking to some girl at the ball that I decided to follow you, and when I saw her kissing and hugging you... I scared off the animals to interrupt it, and accidentally drew the attention of a Werewolf that almost killed you..."

Well, that was pathetic.

He could have died because of her stupidity. Merlin, she would rather die than admit it to him. She would rather he hated her for her silence and avoidance than see how disappointed he was in what she had done.

She was jealous of him.

Of that kiss; of the fact that Flint wasn't his student; of every touch of hers on his body... She didn't remember much, she didn't even hear their conversation, stunned by the situation, the heat that surged within her; her thoughts were drowned out by the plan she had come up with to destroy that bloody date. The desire for revenge because it wasn't her body so close to him, for not knowing the taste of his lips, being unable to feel the arousal awakening within him because of her...

Her naive heart yearned for that. For that closeness, intimacy that another woman received. But when she saw what she had done, that Aesop could die because of her... Merlin... In her mind, she only saw fragments of events, pain, and finally the feeling that the man was safe before she completely lost touch with reality.

And so... She remained silent, choking back tears. He couldn't know how stupid she was.

Aesop gave up. He lowered his head, and two crystal tears fell from his cheeks onto the carpet beneath his feet. He lost all hope.

When the door closed behind him, Morana fell onto the bed, crying so hard that the pain in her lungs felt like real fire. "I'm so sorry, Aesop, I'm so sorry..." she sobbed, uttering the words silently.

What had she done?

End of part 17, thanks for reading!

[aviswriting]

Genres

I ~would like to~ write a variety of stuff.

So far, my strongest ideas have been in the realm of historical fantasy. Here's a taste of what that looks like:

In 14th century Serbia, the country is on the edge of war or peace. Little do the people know, that ancient gods and divine beings hold the most sway on their nations fate. Morana, raised by an Orthodox Catholic monk, was the cause of great calamity. However, since she's been reincarnated, she knows not her own history. As she makes her way to godhood once more, she must decide how she will fight Dazbogh, the fire god who is set on war.

Locked in Hell, Gauvain, nephew of Arthur and renowned as a primary figure in Arthurian legend, organizes a coupe against the Dreamweaver, who's brought him and other figures of ancient myth to life as part of her army. Both the Weaver and men and women of mythos desire one thing: to escape Hell.

Those descriptions are super shoddy and I'll edit them later but yeah. I also like mystery and horror, though. I haven't written anything in the horror realm but I do have an idea for a mystery novel series (note: the tone of the series is meant to be more fun and humorous than the mystery really being the focal point). Here's an excerpt for The Curious Cases of Caddel:

Percy [middle name] Caddel is an extravagant millionaire born into his money. He's done it all - dined with world leaders, lived on a private island, eaten the finest food Western and Asian culture have to offer. Whatever you can think of, he's done; except... Solve mysteries. A fascination born out of boredom and desire for meaning, Percy takes various mystery adventures, leading his nonchalant and down-to-earth butler along for the ride.

Sooo yeah. I don't know where to put the Auvunaut story yet so that's why that's not here. I'd also like to dip my toes in the horror genre though I think I'll have to be a more mature writer before I can get to that point. :)) I hope this left you somewhat interested though and wanting to read a bit more of my stories.