#And having her view it as taking the power he had over her revenant family back

[gith-zeri]

The struggle of debating if your OC diablerized their Sire or not. Like, they deserve that blood. It's within their right. But the act itself goes against the pre-established lore you have for them...

[mc-doppomine]

Code Vein AU (Buster Bros!!! ver.)

Ichiro - 

Blood Code: Successor of the Eye - A blood code that focuses on brutal hits that leave enemies staggered Ajax - A blood code that focuses on landing critical hits and is an all-rounder sort of code. 

Ichiro is a third generation revenant that had been revived for the purpose of Operation Queenslayer, a massive effort to kill the Queen. But prior to this, he was the son of a scientist and a backer to Project Queen. His mother died in an incident with horrors and so he and his brothers were moved to the lab facility. He spent his time essentially raising his brothers as his father became busy with lab stuff. At least Ichiro knows that’s he’s told of it. 

He knew of Nemu and Samatoki before hand, them being kids of people that work in the labs, and had gotten along with both of them. Ichiro had looked up to Samatoki although he often caught trouble for being good friends with Nemu too. He and Nemu talked about if there was a world where they could be safe and they leaned towards the hope it could happen. When the Queen frenzied, Ichiro had been arriving to see Nemu before her examinations, as usual. She held not recognition of him and he was killed not far from her room. 

When Ichiro was revived for Operation Queenslayer, he refused to serve unless he could procure the BOR parasite for Jiro and Saburo. And when it was secured, well, Ichiro had no reason to not honor his word. Eventually he found Samatoki again and served in his unit. This led to meeting both Jakurai and Ramuda as well. They came together when they put down a revolt that threatened the project. Their unit worked well and came the closest to getting to the Queen. While the name implied killing, both Ichiro and Samatoki had gone in with the intention of freeing Nemu, unable to see her as the Queen. 

During a particular operation, Ichiro had come close to being able to take down the Queen but of course wouldn’t land a killing blow. This brought him in contact with Nemu, who was struggling against the parasite and had told Ichiro he needed to take her out unless he wanted her to threatened all he held dear. For him to continue their dream since she was now a threat to it. He was then dispersed and the attempt failed. 

Yet after this, Ichiro had gone in favor in putting the Queen down. This enraged Samatoki, who viewed Ichiro as having betrayed him and Nemu. But, knowing Nemu’s wish, accepted Samatoki’s rage and didn’t back down on where he was with the project now. He doesn’t speak much on the aftermath of this to anyone. And since the end of the project, he took on the task of finding Successors, revenants compatible with the Queen’s power, to keep that power contained and divided. He himself taking a part of that power as his compatibility was great.  

At current, He is a scout that delves into relatively unexplored areas be it for the infestation of Lost or because of the maze-like design. This gets him paid by the Party of Words and it is something he sometimes takes his brothers with him. He hadn’t returned from a venture, urging Jiro and Saburo to make their way to one of his friends--Ramuda or Jakurai--as per his order should he not return in a given time frame. This is because he feels his control over the Queen’s power he was granted is slipping and isolated himself to keep himself from going mad on innocent revenants. 

Jiro - 

Blood Code: Cerberus - A blood code that is focused on defense of his comrades and fire. 

Technically a fourth generation revenant, one created after Project Queenslayer and usually an attempt bring back deceased. Prior being a revenant, Jiro lived near the laboratory with his family. He wasn’t particularly close to Ichiro during this time due to Ichiro always going to the labs and him getting a bad feeling about the place. As such he tended to be around Saburo a lot more and had been the last line of defense for Saburo when the Lost had gone mad. He managed to make their home a fort although it wouldn’t last forever considering their meager supplies. And with his crude weaponry, they could only last so long when Lost finally broke through. 

Jiro was revived in Ichiro’s care and he initially didn’t get along with his brother, viewing his last days as suffering without Ichiro or their father there. Ichiro remarks he cannot turn back the clock but he’ll do what he can right here and now. So it was tentative living situation for them as Jiro was obstinate. His view only changed when he went out to explore, hating hiding out despite Ichiro’s warning. He had gotten into a Lost infested area and was dispersed a few times in his escape. However he was now trapped, unable to spawn a place safe enough for him to get away. This is when Ichiro came for him and rather than nag him outright, he showed Jiro how to properly wield a weapon. 

After this venture, they got on a bit better and closer to their normal dynamics. Jiro preferred going on ventures with Ichiro and disliked having to ‘babysit’ Saburo although he never let Saburo make his mistake. He had been proud of himself when he was deemed capable enough to go scouting on his own. He occasionally teamed up with other wandering revenants. Most times were fine but the few that thought it fun to stab him in the back (in both senses), Jiro tended to be petty over it. 

When Ichiro didn’t return from an assignment, he wanted to go delving into the deep to find him. However he was reminded of the promise he made to seek out Ichiro’s friends should he be unable to return within his promised time limit. When they met with Jakurai’s crew--Yotsutsuji, Hifumi and Doppo--he and Saburo started to stay at their safe house. He mainly handles the scouting requests that Ichiro normally handles in order to both further the research and keep supplies for himself and Saburo going. 

Saburo -

Blood Code: Merlin - A code that specializes in gifts (magic) and ichor draining. Primary Weapon: Bayonet Secondary Weapon: Polearm

Sort of a fourth generation revenant, Saburo held a different take of his life prior to being what he is. Saburo was actually fairly close to his father and held an interest in the research. Of course he was still too young to really help out although he was waiting on their father on getting him in with what insight he could provide. In the mean time he was often hanging out with Jiro, which was fine with him.

When the Lost went mad and he and Jiro were trapped in their home while Lost roamed outside, Saburo was working on contact with someone, anyone. It was fruitless and it wasn’t helped by his health declining from the stress. However he hung on as long as he could for Jiro’s sake but passed from when Lost broke into the house. 

When he was revived, he found himself alone. This was when he met with Rei again, who informed of his revival, that Jiro had yet to make a recovery and Ichiro was currently fighting. Saburo was told about the Queen and the ongoing Project Queenslayer. In addition to this, he was told of possible back up plans. Namely if the Queen was too powerful to kill. They sought to find that have compatibility with the Queen’s power. Rei informed that Saburo possessed this compatibility...almost a frightening degree. Like a second Queen candidate however that was viewed as dangerous so Rei remarked it staying their little secret.

And for the duration of Project Queenslayer, Saburo was kept away from other revenants other than some of the researchers and so he had little else to do other than cultivating his blood code. On the times he snuck out, he found himself needing a mask less than a normal revenant and able to purify mistle, plants that are soothing and alluring to the parasite, which make them where revenants respawn, as well as able to take in miasma, making areas safe for revenants.

This skill became useful after the end of Queenslayer and Saburo went to live with Jiro and Ichiro, Rei completley disappearing from the picture. It was an unique ability that was invaluable for exploration. It meant Saburo got to travel with at least one of his brothers often because they figure to deal with mistles for safer travel. Saburo doesn’t particularly like going out to explore so much as his time with Ichiro and Jiro--although it’s not like he’d admit that. 

When Ichiro went missing and he and Jiro had to seek out Ichiro’s friends...he finds Jakurai’s crew to spark his interest. Or rather he is interested in their research since he could add to it with some of his knowledge to add to what the trio knows. And because of his purification ability, they find an interest in him as well as he’d allow them to get to places where miasma is too strong. So with a mutual relation, Saburo heads out to assist with the search. 

[ragingbookdragon]

To Challenge The Flow Of Fate PT. 4

An Adrian Tepes (Alucard) x Reader Story

Warnings: Explicit Language Author’s Note: So, AO3 counts the words on your stories and stuff, and if you add up all the parts I’ve written so far plus this, it’s like 11K words. Which is impressive to me. Enjoy! -Thorne

She had just fastened the last belt when his voice reached her. “(Y/N)! Get over here!” She stuck her head out from the side of the shelf and called out,

           “Gimme a minute, I’m still getting dressed Trevor!”

           “Are you seriously taking the armor?” (Y/N) scoffed and attached the cape around her neck.

           “Uh, yes? This armor is the greatest creation to ever be made.” She eyed the sword next to the armor stand before grabbing it and fastening it next to the other blade down her back. She walked over to where the others were, smiling at Adrian as he sat atop the bookshelves. Trevor glanced at her, examining the armor.

           “It looks very…ostentatious.” (Y/N) narrowed her eyes before placing her hands on her hips.

           “Trev, just say ‘showy’. Your brain will explode if you think about words that big.” Her insult drew a chuckle from the vampire, but she continued with, “The armor itself is made from dragon scales, and the accents are pure silver.” She turned, showing the silver armor lining her arms. Trevor crossed his arms and asked,

           “I thought dragons went extinct?” (Y/N) shook her head.

           “Not necessarily. While it’s true that a great deal of them were slain and harvested, a great deal more went into hiding. They’re still out there, you just can’t find them as easily as you could centuries ago.” Impressed, he nodded before acknowledging the sword strapped to her back.

           “And the second sword?” (Y/N) grinned, pulling it out and showing it to him.

           “It’s called ‘Starfang’.” He took it, admiring the runes carved into the metal. “It was forged from ore that fell from the heavens.” Trevor blinked, running a hand up the flat side of the blade.

           “It’s…beautiful.” Her grin grew and she added,

           “It’s deadly too.” She pointed to the runes. “The carvings are enchantments.” He handed the sword back, watching as she returned it to its scabbard. “What did you want me over here for?” He nodded at the shattered mirror.

           “Do you know what this is?” (Y/N) momentarily glanced at it before looking back at him and nonchalantly replied,

           “Seven years back luck?” He huffed a laugh.

           “Probably…but what the hell is it?” Sypha looked up from a book she was reading.

           “You two don’t know?” The siblings shrugged and shook their heads. “This is your house.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

           “Yeah, that neither of us have been in for almost a decade and a half.” Trevor smirked as he wiped a hand across it, looking over his shoulder at the Speaker.

           “Do you know everything in your house?” Sypha moved closer to the mirror, turning to him with a sarcastic look.

           “I don’t have a house.” A voice sounded from higher above them.

           “She doesn’t have a house.” The three looked up and Adrian. “She’s a Speaker. She’s a nomad.” Trevor glared at the vampire as he hopped down from the bookshelves.

           “It was rhetorical.”

           “Rhetorical house that she doesn’t have.”

           “Just, tell me what it is.” Sypha glanced back at it.

           “It was a magic mirror.” Adrian pointed at it.

           “Also known as distance mirrors.” He ran his gloved hand down the side, feeling the runes. “Some of them even allow matter to pass through them, but…” He paused a moment. “No. No this is a simple remote viewing mirror. A little of the activating language is chipped.” He looked back at the trio. “A few of the runes need re-cutting but workable.” Adrian smirked at her brother. “You have the most fascinating family junkyard, Belmont.” (Y/N) internally sighed as her brother got in the vampire’s face and fired back,

           “You’re a cock wart, Alucard.” Sypha pulled his hand down, tugging him away.

           “Stop it.” She pulled Trevor around the shelves. “You are an adult. You do not have to rise to his every barb.” (Y/N) couldn’t see his expression, but she knew it was one of irritation.

           “He’s pissing me off like it’s his job, Sypha.” Before the Speaker could get a word in, (Y/N) quipped,

           “Oh no, someone else knocking my brother down a few pegs besides me. What ever shall we do?” The two ignored them, going off into their own conversation, leaving her next to Adrian. When laughter sounded from behind the shelves, she watched Adrian’s expression change, then he looked over his shoulder towards the noise; she gave him a sad smile. “You didn’t have many friends growing up, did you Adrian?” He turned his head back around, staring at her with careful eyes.

           “What makes you say that?” (Y/N) hummed, running a finger down the mirror.

           “Every time the two of them start laughing, you get this…confused expression on your face, like you can’t understand what’s so funny.” He continued to watch her with his guarded look.

           “Maybe I don’t understand.” She huffed a laugh, turning to him.

           “Oh, don’t even go there. You’re smarter than the lot of us, and you definitely know when someone’s making a joke.” (Y/N) paused, thinking of her next sentence, then she murmured, “It’s because you’re too guarded.” Adrian raised an eyebrow.

           “Too guarded?” She nodded.

           “You’re too cautious. You won’t allow yourself to get close to us because you’re afraid of what might happen.” Evidently, he didn’t like the way the conversation was headed, because he narrowed his eyes into a glower.

           “And what am I afraid of happening?” (Y/N) gazed at him and challenged,

           “You’re afraid that if you let yourself get close to people, what happened to your mother and father will happen to you.” She watched Adrian’s expression morph from anger, to shock, to realization, and she placed her hand on his arm. “You’re scared that something will take what you care about away, and you’ll be left alone.” He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, but no words came out, and the sound of a tolling bell reached their ears. He looked up, listening to the chimes.

           “What was that?” She moved her eyes to the ceiling.

           “The tower clock. It strikes at twelve times at midnight.” (Y/N) looked back at him, leaning close to nudge him in the ribs. “Adrian Tepes, I’ve officially known and been your friend for four days now.” He looked down at her, golden eyes boring into hers.

           “And that means?” She flashed him a smile, nudging him again.

           “Means that no matter where we are, or what roads we take in these lives, I will always be on your side.” He blinked in stunned silence, and she reached down, taking his hand in hers. “Now come on. There’s a whole bunch of weird shit in here that needs to be seen by the two of us.” Adrian complied, letting her tug him around.

           “Why does it need to be seen by us? We’ve both agreed that we’re not overly fond of what your family does.” (Y/N) nodded as she dragged him to a shelf full of things she didn’t even know how to name.

           “Well yeah…but all the more reason for us to go see the weird shit my family hoarded and take the piss out of them. Like…that!” She paused, pointing to a plant that was lined with rows of sharp teeth. “The fuck kind of mutated Venus Fly Trap is that?” She then pointed to a stone head sitting on another shelf. “And that! Who the fuck keeps a stone head in a case? And over there!” (Y/N) turned to another shelf, starting to pull him along when he tugged her to a stop. She spun back around, looking at him with a questioning gaze. Adrian gave her a small smile and shifted their hands, lacing his fingers with hers. When she glanced down at their joined hands, then to back his face, she noticed a faint pink dusting his cheeks, as he murmured,

           “So I don’t lose you.” (Y/N) grinned and squeezed his hand, pulling him along.

A Few Hours Later:

           She rested her head along his arm, leaning her body against his as he flipped through the index. She had her own book in front of her, occasionally flipping through the pages, reading the various entries. “For a monster hunter that hates monster hunting, you sure do enjoy reading about them.” (Y/N) hummed, adjusting her head against his arm.

           “It’s not that I ‘hate’ hunting per se. There are some creatures that cannot be dissuaded from evil or cured of their circumstances. Those creatures are dangerous to innocent life. Regardless, I might dislike hunting them, but it can’t hurt to be knowledgeable about them.” She turned the page and nodded at it. “Take the ‘Revenant’ for example. It’s a term that’s been used interchangeably to describe vampires and ghosts, but most agree that it’s the basic term for the undead. There are various descriptions of them ranging from the Nordic countries to all of Europe.” Adrian paused, looking down at the book.

           “How so?” She flipped through the pages.

           “See here?” (Y/N) pointed to a page with a drawing. “That’s a Revenant, but in the Nordic countries, they call them Draugrs or Aptrgangrs. It translates to ‘again-walker’, or one who walks after death.” She flipped back to the original page. “The entries are even different. In Nordic indexes, the Draugrs are emaciated, with their skin stretched out over their skeletons. But they still retain their strength, and are extremely difficult to fight and destroy, as they’re impervious to many types of weapons. Here in Wallachia and the surrounding countries, indexes describe Revenants as the corpses of the dead that have been reanimated by powerful demons, capable of killing entire squads of even experienced warriors. They’re…” (Y/N) trailed off, shifting her head so she could see his face. He looked at her, waiting for her to finish, and she laughed nervously. “Sorry…I talk a lot about stuff like this.” Adrian smiled, shaking his head.

           “No, please continue. It’s interesting to learn the differences of the creatures of the night between countries.” (Y/N) nodded, moving her eyes back to the book.

           “Okay, well…even vampires are considered different in other countries. They’re also mistaken for other creatures too. In Wallachia, the term ‘Strigoi’ was used until the term ‘vampire’ and ‘vampirism’ came into being. Others call vampires ‘Vrykolakas’ or ‘Pricolici’, but that’s incorrect. Vrykolakas, while sharing characteristics with vampires, engage more in cannibalism as they prefer to eat livers, and Pricolici are werewolf and vampire hybrids, living life as a werewolf, but once dead, returns as a vampire. Actually, that’s where the belief that vampires can turn into animals such as wolves, dogs, owls, and bats, came from. In other coun-” (Y/N) cut herself off as she raised a hand to her mouth, yawning. “Mmm, sorry. As I was saying-” This time, Adrian cut her off.

           “How long has it been since you slept?” (Y/N) glanced up at him, shrugging her shoulders.

           “Dunno. Yesterday morning, I think? A few hours before we left.” He frowned at her.

           “You think? You didn’t sleep in the wagon?” She shook her head.

           “I was trained to sleep only in places where there was no movement.” He arched an eyebrow and inquired,

           “Why’s that?” (Y/N) pulled away, stretching her limbs.

           “Sleeping on a surface that is immobile allows to hear and detect things that are approaching you. I get on wagons and I become too alert to sleep.” He gestured to a bookshelf, and they sat down next to one another.

           “When we fought the night creatures after we left Gresit, you said you could sense them. You could also hear their footsteps.” (Y/N) nodded, reclining against the shelf.

           “At Ravensguard, hunters and huntresses undergo extensive training and experimentation to enhance their bodies. As a result, we achieve the ability to wield magic, our bodies are stronger, and our senses are enhanced greatly.” Adrian glanced down at her and wondered,

           “The processes sound dangerous…I can’t imagine that many survive.” With a grimace, (Y/N) nodded.

           “Very few make it…even fewer are able to handle the stress it takes on the mind and body.” She paused then whispered, “…I almost didn’t.” For a moment, he didn’t respond, then he leaned close, gently taking her hand.

           “What made you fight to survive?” (Y/N) sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder.

           “My brother.” Adrian grunted, but she smiled and added, “My parents learned at an exceedingly early time that I wasn’t going to carry on the Belmont name like Trevor was. And while they loved me, they couldn’t take me continually refusing to adhere to it. Our family has always had a tie to the Order, so as soon as they could, they sent me to the fortress.” She went silent, then said, “I don’t think my parents knew that only a few people survived coming out of there alive, so I know they didn’t send me there hoping I died.” Adrian squeezed her hand and asked,

           “How old were you when they sent you away?”

           “I was nine. I trained until I was eighteen, and when I left and traveled back home, I was met by a ruin.” (Y/N) clenched her jaw, trying to suppress her hurt. “The only thing that kept me alive during my training was the thought of coming back home to see my brother, the one person who respected that I didn’t want to be a supernatural hunter, and I returned to a burned down home and no family in sight. I travelled for a year and a half before I ran into him. And it was pure luck that I did.”

           “What happened?”

           “Hunters and huntresses aren’t exactly ‘given jobs’, we simply protect and bring justice where it’s needed. In my search for Trevor, I’d heard of a town that was being plagued by supposed dead men walking. I travelled there to see if I could help, and I was run into by a drunkard who was stumbling out of the inn.” She gazed up at him, a grin on her face. “Three guesses on who the drunkard was.” He chuckled, and she thought back to the moment she re-met her brother.

           The militia seemed happy to see another fighter amongst them, especially one who was trained. She walked down the street after leaving the mayor’s home, intent on finding the inn so she could get a meal before going to search for the origins of the undead that plagued the town. She paused, waving over a young boy who couldn’t have been older than ten. “You there, young man!” He walked over, looking at her as she waved a gold coin. “Got a coin here for you if you tell me where the inn is, and any other news you’ve heard.” The boy’s eyes grew as he stared at the coin in her hand, and he nodded excitedly.

           “Go to the end of the street and take a left, there’s the inn. I haven’t heard much, but I heard the militia saying that old man Thompson was the one making the dead come.” (Y/N) furrowed her brows.

           “Why’s that?” The boy shrugged.

           “I don’t know but Ma says he dabbles in the dark arts like the Belmonts did.” Her jaw clenched at the rumor, but she pushed it aside and asked,

           “One more question and the coin is yours. Where’s old man Thompson live?” The boy pointed to a house far outside the town.

           “He lives in that house over there. He doesn’t come out much since his wife died a year ago.” (Y/N) glanced at it and frowned, then turned and tossed the coin to the boy before heading off towards the inn. She’d just reached the doors when they slammed open and a figure stumbled into her. She caught him, holding him up right.

           “Hey. You okay there?” The man nodded and rambled,

           “Y-yeah…just had a few drinks.” (Y/N) tipped her head to the side as she stared into his face; the man frowned at her. “Somethin’ on my face?” Realization hit her and she whispered,

           “Trevor?” His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at her, then his eyes went wide and he breathed,

           “(Y/N)?” She smiled, laughing tearfully, and exclaimed,

           “I can’t believe I’ve run into you! I’ve been looking for you!” A smile grew across his face and it held for a second, then he grimaced. She felt her heart sink as she asked, “Trevor? What’s wro-” Her words fell short as he bent over.

           “And he threw up all over my feet, then went, ‘wow, I feel so much better now.’” (Y/N) watched Adrian cover his mouth as he laughed. When he calmed, she laid her head back against his shoulder and mused, “We’ve been together ever since.”

           “You two are remarkably close for not exactly growing up together. And extremely protective of one another.” She nodded.

           “We’re all the family we have…it’s our job to look out for each other.” (Y/N) grunted. “Other times I want to push him off a cliff because he’s the biggest pain in my ass I’ve ever had.” Adrian snorted and she yawned again, struggling to keep her eyes open. “Personally, I make it…my job…to…return the…favor…” Adrian felt her go slack against his side, and as he looked down at her, he realized just how exhausted she was. He smiled, gently placed his coat over her body, enjoying the way she snuggled closer, and closed his eyes too letting himself rest his head against hers.

[stainandscribble]

Revenant (Part 3)

Pairing: Baekhyun X OC

Genre: Baekhyun Witch AU; fluff; fantasy; angst

Summary: To witches, names hold power, and Eleonora happens to have a very dangerous gift, one that can be deadly when misused- she has the ability to read names, true names that the witches and warlocks share only with people of utmost trust. It is a secret she hopes to take to her grave. Baekhyun had left his coven, and joined one with Suho’s. They too, possess unspeakable gifts. When Junmyeon warns him of his marriage, Baekhyun begins preparing, but so does Eleonora. With the veil thinning, and the darker half approaching, will their secrets stay safe? Or will the world burn?

PART 1   PART 2   PART 3   PART 4   PART 5    PART 6   PART 7

A/N: I tried making this more dramatic. I hope it worked lol. 

Word Count: 3542

It had only been days after their little date when Suho invited Eleonora’s family for dinner. He wanted to make sure that her parents were at ease with giving up their daughter. Something her father greatly appreciated from the young coven leader. 

“Welcome to our humble home.” Suho greeted them when they entered his house, which had also been serving as the coven’s administration building since their coven was a small one, and didn't need a separate administration building like Eleonora’s. 

“Not as humble as you’d like to think.” Eleonora’s mother replied, walking in front of her husband and daughter, the aura surrounding her was that of a powerful matriarch, and Suho bowed his head in respect for his elders. By his side, Winnie smiled at her friend’s parents, before being embraced by the mother and her friend. A sheepish smile formed on her lips when Eleonora’s mother looked through her, as if searching for something she didn’t like. Today, she had acted differently than usual. She had been colder, more calculating. Her gaze was piercing, and Winnie had no doubt she was searching for flaws, reasons why Eleonora would be unhappy here, among strangers. She seemed to find none, and a bright smile returned to her face when Suho resumed speaking. 

“I was hoping that we could make the necessary arrangements tonight and get to know each other better.” He explained, leading the family into the dining room, where his coven was finishing setting the table. 

“I was hoping to do the same.” Eleonora’s father said, his eyes kind and voice gentle, reminding Suho of his father. 

“Shall we?” He asked, and Suho guided them to the table, allowing his coven to sit down as well.

Eleonora’s eyes scanned the table, looking for the familiar face of her betrothed, but she found the chair empty. She turned to Suho with questioning eyes, but before she could ask where Baekhyun was, the hum of chatter was silenced by the sound of Baekhyun’s shoes against the wooden floor. 

He came in, bright and alert, and Eleonora could have sworn she saw the rays of sunlight move with him like his own personal spotlight. He sat down beside her, before turning to her parents, bowing his head lightly in greeting. 

“Why are you late?” She whispered, trying to keep a comfortable distance between them.

“I wanted to make a good impression. Did I ruin it?” He asked. The playfulness from their outing was gone, and he was serious as his eyes bounced between her and her parents. She could feel the tension in his shoulders, and she could taste the nervousness, peaking through the sweet rocky road flavour that sat on her tongue, a decadent reminder that maybe this was not an ending.

“No. You didn’t.” She reassured him, and Baekhyun smiled at her lightly, although the tension didn’t leave him. Nevertheless, he was grateful, and had even managed to send her a cheeky wink when Suho was talking with her mother.

The meal had been pleasant. Soo cooked, and Winnie had been a great hostess. Eleonora had caught herself multiple times about to slip up when talking to Winnie. They had been good friends and being from sister covens they had known each other’s names for most of their lives. It was hard to not slip up and say her name. Eleonora could taste the same struggle from Winnie. The girl knew her name too but had promised to not say it before Eleonora got married. Once Eleonora was in their small coven, she could say her name all she wanted. 

After a few exchanges of sentences, it was clear that Winnie had not told her coven, or her husband, that the two were friends. It wouldn’t hurt Eleonora too much if she simply had not told them they had been best friends, but Winnie had given no indication that the two knew each other. Instead of hurting, Eleonora had felt anger. Silent rage bubbled under her skin, but she managed to suppress the unwanted feeling.

“When do you want to start moving your things into Baek’s home?” Suho asked, and all eyes had turned to look at Eleonora. She looked him straight in the eyes, some of the anger still bubbling under the surface, leaking through her eyes, turning her tongue into a sharpened edge.

“Whenever he decided there is enough space to move them.” She tells him. The anger does not leak through too much, but the words are said with an edge, and if she could taste her own feelings, Eleonora was sure she would taste the acrid taste of anger and disappointment.  

“Alethea, how are the preparations going?” Yeol butted in, his deep voice and bright smile a contrast to Suho’s, prompting Eleonora to turn her attention away from the leader.

“It’s going well. I’m almost finished.” She gave the tall man a small smile as the taste of Baekhyun’s relief washed over her. It was refreshing, like cool lemonade. He smiled back, his smile considerably brighter, and Baekhyun smiled too, eyes glinting with glee.

“I think I have enough jam and compote to feed a small town.” Baekhyun spoke, smiling at Eleonora’s mother, who turned to her.

“It’s a good thing you like jam, honey.” She put her hand over her shoulder, and Eleonora turned to her, the same blank expression she had given Suho on her face, although this time it was void of unexpressed anger.

“I’m not a small town though.” She told her coldly, and Baekhyun thought that if she had Minseok’s power her eyes could have frozen her mother over, the same way he knew Minseok could. 

“You just eat as much as a village.” Her mother was unaffected by Eleonora’s attitude, and Baekhyun noted she looked like her resolve was ending. The calmness in her aura was almost completely gone, and he knew she was soon going to reach her breaking point.

“Mum!” The anger had bubbled over the surface and spilt out. Eleonora did not care for the Warning, or the alliance. She had listened to her mother, came here, dressed all pretty ready to impress, but that was gone now. She was angry. This was not a joke. This was not a time for her mother to joke about her, make her seem softer. She knew what her mother was doing. She was appeasing. Appeasing Suho in her place, softening the malice her daughter felt for the coven, and the situation. Eleonora had had enough, and the single word fell from her lips like a curse, silencing her mother, and the laughter of the other coven members, whether polite or genuine, all had fallen quiet.

“That’s enough honey.” Her father coaxed his wife out of her silence, easing the tension that had built up around them.

“I thought we were joking.” Her mother muttered, but one look at Eleonora had shut her up once more.

Suho cleared his throat, and the table had resumed eating the vegetable soup that had been served as the starter.

 Baekhyun watched Eleonora get pulled out of her chair by Winnie, with the excuse that she wanted to have a “girl chat”. His eyes followed the two as they disappeared from view, heading in the direction of the kitchen.  An uneasy feeling settled over his stomach, and he decided to follow them. He got up, excused himself to the bathroom, and followed the path of his betrothed.

Going down the brightly lit winding corridors, he passed various paintings Suho had in his collection and stopped just outside the kitchen entrance. He strained his ears to listen to what they were talking about, but he soon found out there was no need to strain to hear them. Winnie’s voice rang through the air clearly.

“Eleonora. What do you think you’re doing?” Winnie’s accusing tone made the hairs on the back of Baekhyun’s neck stand on edge as anger gripped his heart.

“You didn’t tell them I am your friend did you?” Eleonora asked, equally angry with her.

“I told my parents.” Eleonora told her, and Baekhyun held his breath as silence gripped the kitchen. In the stillness, he could feel Winnie’s hesitance as she gathered her words. When she spoke again, the anger was gone from her voice, and he wondered of Eleonora could taste the defeat that tinged her voice.

“It’s not like that. You are my friend.”

“I’m just worried our close relation will make Suho curious. He will ask me for your name, and I will not be able to give it to him.” She had tried to justify herself, but anger bubbled under Baekhyun’s skin at the fact she was using Junmyeon as a shield. Junmyeon wouldn’t ask, would he?

Baekhyun always thought his leader was courteous and respectful, and he didn’t believe that Junmyeon would have ever thought of asking such a thing. A name was sacred, and Junmyeon as the leader knew exactly how important it was to all witches.

“If he wants my name he can ask me. What would he need it for anyway?” Eleonora refuted, the anger in her tone more prominent than before. Baekhyun had no doubts she had felt slighted by this. The fact that Winnie knew her name but was still willing to act like this baffled him. He thought if a person knows your name they can be trusted, relied on. It seemed he was mistaken. Even without any clairvoyance, he could feel the acrid taste of broken trust coming from the kitchen.

“Our coven is small; he wants to keep everyone safe.” Winnie tried to justify herself again, but it was clear Eleonora had no patience for it.

“I am not part of this coven.” She spat. Baekhyun’s heart broke a little, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach.

“Not yet.” Winnie spoke, her voice almost patronising, as if she was explaining something to a small child. But Eleonora was not a small child, and she would not be talked down to. Anger bubbled inside Baekhyun. His attention was stolen for a moment by the flickering lights above his head, and across the hall. He hoped that the lights in the kitchen were unaffected by his outburst of power.

“If he pesters me, I will never be.” Came Eleonora’s response, and Baekhyun’s heart stopped. The idea of him not marrying her sent a wave of panic through his body. The lights flickered again, and this time Baekhyun didn’t stop them.

“It is enough he insulted me in my own coven house, I will not stand for any more of it.” Eleonora clearly felt insulted. He remembered their meeting and the certainty with which she spoke, and he remembered watching, thinking that it was almost as if she was putting Suho in his place, an outsider with a small coven, someone outside of their Circle, someone who didn’t have any authority over her. It was true he didn’t. Suho and their coven were nobodies compared to Eleonora’s coven.

“You are too proud.” Winnie tried patronising again, and again it didn’t work.

“At least I have something to be proud of.” She spat.

“What does that mean?” Winnie asked, her own anger taking the best of her.

“Were you not going to marry that Crone’s boy from the next Circle?” Eleonora asked, and it took all of Baekhyun’s willpower not to lose his balance. No one in their coven knew about this. Finding out that his leader’s wife had been meaning to marry someone else came as a surprise, although it was not unheard of or looked down upon. Whatever fate had in store for you could be altered through the power of free will. Whatever happened, you married freely, because you wanted to. But Winnie had loved Suho with such passion and loyalty it was truly surprising she had once promised herself to another. 

“You were making him jumpers before your dearest husband came along.” Now it was Eleonora’s turn to taunt, and Baekhyun could hear the glee in the edge of her voice. He was realising more and more, with every passing word, that his betrothed was even more ruthless than he initially believed, and his heart swelled.

“You know how this works. Not all witches marry the people of their warnings.”

“You were never in love with that boy.” Eleonora stated, and Baekhyun knew Winnie was at her end.

“How dare you!” She accused, and Baekhyun pressed himself closer to the doorway, to hear better.

“Didn’t you forget,” His betrothed stated, “That once a witch falls in love, the fate changes? You were never in love with that boy; hence your fate stayed the same and you married Suho.” She explained, and Baekhyun could imagine Winnie slink away in defeat. His heart went out to her. He felt that it had been too much. Eleonora had gone too far than he believed necessary.  

“You hold it against me like something shameful.” Winnie whispered, and Baekhyun could hear the defeat in her voice.

“It isn’t shameful. And it isn’t wrong to actively look for love, instead of passively waiting for it.” Eleonora spoke, as if she was wiser than Winnie, as if she knew something the other didn’t.

“But I have no shame either. I had no Warning and you acted like I was broken.” The accusatory tone did not disappear from her voice. “I wasn’t broken, I was proud.”

“Were you proud or just too full of yourself?” Winnie defended herself.

“My freedom had been taken away from me! They came to me with a Warning, and the least I can do is keep my pride.” Eleonora hissed.

“Is it because you are marrying? Or is it because you are marrying into a lesser coven?”

“I am nothing but an offer of an alliance, leaving my home to go to a stranger.”

Baekhyun’s heart rattled against his chest, knowing that Eleonora didn’t want this, never sought out a Warning; that they came to her and told her she would forge an alliance she wanted no part in, tore his heart apart. He waited, from the moment Baekhyun was given his Warning by Suho seven years ago. When Baekhyun finally found out it was time he wanted to make sure everything was perfect, make everything as painless and comfortable as he could. His sentiments were not shared.

“That’s not true.” Winnie spoke up, ready to defend her coven and her husband. “He is the right person for you.”

“You know, he is bright.” Laughter bubbled through her, spilling out as warmth into the corridor. A moment before the air was cold and still as Baekhyun’s heart shattered, now it was moving, lively.  “Shining.”

Baekhyun could hear the laughter again, and he smiled, feeling like she was in some way defending him.  The lights of the corridor shone a little brighter, and the rays of the setting sun, dark red and orange, bounced off the glass in the window with glee as Baekhyun commanded them.

“I don’t know what’s so funny Winnifred, but I certainly don’t get the joke.” Eleonora’s icy tone broke Winnie’s laughter, and the light stilled, dimming back to normal and Baekhyun let it go, dejection gripping his chest.

“Why does my name sound like a threat from your lips?” Winnie asked, and Baekhyun turned to listen more carefully.

“Do you think I never thought about threatening?” There was something unspoken in Eleonora’s words, something she didn’t dare to say out loud.

“Do you think I never wanted to just do it?” She asked, and Winnie backed away to the door, her footsteps making Baekhyun retreat slightly, the smooth texture of silky wallpaper under his fingertips was the only thing keeping Baekhyun grounded.

“Eleonora,” Winnie gasped.

“Why does my name sound like a plea?”

“Because it is.”

“I have no use in you being afraid. But know one thing.” Baekhyun could hear her come closer to the door. “I won’t hesitate next time.” The doorknob began to turn.

Baekhyun ran soundlessly through the hall back to the dining room, their footsteps muffled far behind him.  

 They sat down again, Suho’s eyes ever watchful for any slip-up. She knew they were distrustful, but she could also taste her father’s approval and her mother’s content. The anxiety and fear that her mother felt before coming here had been quenched by Suho and his coven, and most importantly by the way Baekhyun had stolen glances at her all evening, holding her hand under than table, and the way he had made sure she was always included, even when it was her father and Suho discussing things. Her father had found in endearing, but unnecessary, if Eleonora wanted to say something, she simply did, and no one’s permission was necessary, nor was anyone’s encouragement. He knew his daughter well, and he and his wife knew she would not sit still.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Winnie’s gaze flickered to Eleonora, concern marring her eyes and creasing her brows. When it was finally time to leave. Eleonora could have sworn she let out a breath. A courteous smile spread across her face as she walked hand in hand with Suho to lead her family out.

“It was a pleasure meeting you.” Her parents shook hands with Suho and Winnie, smiling a little brighter once it was Baek’s turn to bid them farewell. Eleonora’s mother even whispered something in his ear, making him smile brightly in response, and give her a small nod. All the while, Eleonora could taste the dejection Baekhyun was masking. She could taste some disappointment and even a twinge on loneliness, all of these flavours unpleasant, all of them alarming as to what had transpired.

“I hope we settled a lot of your doubts.” Suho spoke, turning to shake her hand next, and she allowed it, being equally courteous to Winnie, as the woman gave her a tight-lipped smile.

“You have.” Eleonora’s mother nodded, taking her husband’s hand, before looking at her daughter expectantly.

“What do you think Alethea?”

“I had no doubts to begin with.” Her response was curt but polite, enough for Suho’s suspicious gaze to soften the slightest bit.

“Next time you must come to ours.” Her father invited them to dinner, and Eleonora cringed inwardly, anger bubbling at the idea of having Winnifred and Junmyeon come to her home. The rest of the coven seemed reserved but harmless, some were even excited.

Just as they were leaving, their everyone’s eyes fell to her and Baekhyun, standing a good distance apart, not saying a word. Picking up on the cue, Eleonora walked closer, getting a good taste of what Baekhyun was feeling, before realising he had probably heard her conversation with Winnie and the fact that she was reluctant up until the moment they met in person.

She leaned closer to him, close enough to whisper in his ear without anyone else hearing her.

“I don’t need you to make me happy or fulfilled.” Her breath brushed against his ear, sending a chill down his spine as her words made his heart sink.

“Can we have a moment?” He asked, eyes watching as the two pairs walked out the door to give them some privacy. He looked her straight in the eye, watching her steely gaze as it did not soften.

She resumed whispering; their bodies close enough her lips were almost brushing against his.

“You make me happy anyway.” She whispered, and Baekhyun stood there stunned, unable to speak.

“I still want to know what love tastes like.” She told him, and Baekhyun was reminded of the taste of rocky road and the image of light bouncing off of stained-glass windows in his home.

“Whatever you heard me say to Winnie,” She cut him off when he tried to speak.

“It wasn’t a lie.” She told him, putting a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Is it bad that I want you to love me?” His voice cracked; his heart broken by her still trying to keep itself together.

“No.” She shook her head, gaze finally softening as she told him the truth. A small smile played on her lips as she tasted the want and the hope on her tongue, tasting like honey tea, like a balm for all ills.

“Will you?” Baekhyun’s eyes were still void of their mischievous twinkle, their deep brown less vibrant than before. The truth Eleonora already knew she would, the taste of rocky road mixed with the taste of hope and sorrow, and she didn’t know how to reassure him. Words could not do justice to his feelings. Not now, when she didn’t have the right words to tell him. Actions would have to do this time.

She leaned in closed, which wasn’t that close considering their proximity, and pressed her lips to his, softly, lightly, as if not to startle him. The peck had lasted only a second, but it was enough.

“What was that?” Baekhyun asked, throat thick with saliva, and chest tight with the weight of his heart.

“My first kiss.” She responded, moving away from him and walking through the door. At the threshold, she turned around, giving him one last look.

“Goodnight Baekhyun.”

[tiny-maus-boots]

The Howl pt 17

A/N: almost there. one last chapter. i think. thank you thank you thank you to my beta and bestie @chloes-yellow-cup for always do the thing. yes this is the unedited version, the fully (probably) edited version will be posted later on that ao3 thing.

17.

Stacie shut the door to the truck and glanced up at the sun, it was setting quickly and the pack would change soon. Aubrey joined her from around the front of the vehicle pulling the helmet from her head and giving the sun a snarling lip curl. She had to clear her throat to keep from chuckling as they clasped hands and laced their fingers in a gesture that was as reflexive and automatic as the act of breathing.

Her family gathered around them, boiling over with excess energy. They hadn’t asked for the whole pack to join them; it could turn out badly and she’d never fault a wolf for thinking of their family first. But they were there, every single one of them, prepared to do battle but finally willing to submit to her and let her lead diplomatically.

“I want you to know I... we appreciate everyone being here. I made you all a promise, someone would answer for what happened to Wade.” A low rumbling growl rose like a tide around them, the wolves of a single mind and focus. “Tonight we bring his murderer to justice, pack justice.”

Voices rose around them in union with shouts of agreement. Stacie closed her eyes and took a breath just as the sun dipped below the horizon. She could feel the pull of the moon as it rose high but it wasn’t strong enough to force her wolf to the surface anymore. The cool current of Aubrey’s power flowing between them steadied and calmed her. The Alpha opened her eyes to find her mate watching her, a slow smile easing on to her face when she realized Stacie wasn’t going to shift.

They had been banking on her newfound control over the moon to work in their favor. But breaking her shift to consummate her mating was not the same thing as holding back the hot prickling tide of power on the night when the blood moon was at its strongest. The pack quickly undressed and dropped to all fours, some of them shifting with much less effort than normal. Stacie didn’t think it was just the moon, there was something different about them in general. She felt connected to them all as if they were finally one mind, one voice, one joined howl.

Even Redd who stayed at the fringes still nursing a jaw that was quickly healing. He hadn’t exactly come crawling forward on his belly but he had quieted and seemed at least for now, willing to accept Aubrey’s place in the pack. Stacie’s gaze drifted over to his lean figure as it twisted and rolled in the shift between man and wolf. She watched him as the rest of the pack changed and resettled themselves around Aubrey and Stacie waiting for their word. The tall brunette gave Aubrey’s hand a gentle squeeze and raised a brow teasingly.

“Ready to bring me home to the fam?”

“Hm. I hope you can keep up, Puppy.”

Stacie gave her a playful growl and Aubrey bolted through the trees in a pale blur, her bare feet hardly making a dimple on the soft dusting of light snow. She chuckled as several of her wolves, many of them outliers, turned and bounded after the vampire. A barrel-chested wolf padded forward and shook his shaggy head. She reached out and ran a hand through Angus’ fur, more as a comfort for herself than him she suspected.

“If anything happens, you keep the pack together. Understand?”

He sneezed at that and groaned but bobbed his head in understanding. Stacie gave a nod of her own and sprinted off after Aubrey and her entourage. She could feel the rest of the pack keeping pace with her, and the wild thrill that came with running under the light of the full moon. She couldn’t tell if Aubrey had slowed down or she had just finally caught up but the miles flew by under their feet as they ran side by side. The trek was effortless and it seemed that the woods swayed gently in a breeze that wasn’t there, a way opening easily through the Tongass to let them through.

They crested a low ridge that brought them in view of a small cabin that looked more like an abandoned hunter’s shack than the home of a coven of vampires. They slowed to a stop at the ending edge of the copse that surrounded the clearing the cabin sat at the center of. It was eerily silent there and she realized that outside of the pack no living creatures claimed the area. Stacie gave Aubrey an uncertain look but the blonde only nodded and stepped forward out of the shelter of trees. She waited a beat and stepped out after her, wolves flowed around them out of the forest in light trot that belied the alert flick of ears parsing out every sound around them.

The door swung open on well-oiled hinges and a tall blonde woman stepped out. Others followed in her wake but they didn’t hold her focus the way the woman had. She was beautiful and Stacie could easily see the family resemblance but there was something terrifying about the weight of power that surrounded her. They met in the middle, Aubrey stopping just out of arm’s reach from the other woman. Stacie moved into place at her mate’s left side giving her room to draw her ever present machete from the sheath on her back if necessary.

The older vampire cast a glance at Stacie and dismissed her without so much as a second glance. Her focus was for Aubrey alone as she studied every line and contour of her niece’s face searching for something. She was flawless but everything about her moments seemed wrong and unnatural. If she had ever shown any semblance of humanity it was long ago and all that was left was an alien and incomprehensible to the Alpha.

“The prodigal has returned at last.”

“Yes, and with news of the revenants and their maker”

It was said just loud enough for the other assembled vampires to hear. A whisper slithered among them as they watched Aubrey curiously. Aubrey’s aunt stiffened her back and narrowed her eyes at Stacie’s mate. There would be no way now to make any of this private and The Lady didn’t like that. It was enough of a confirmation that she was guilty of something and Stacie exchanged a look with Bree.

“Do you?” It was dangerous and low and Stacie wanted to take a step closer to Aubrey when she circled them both, having to weave around furred bodies that had fit themselves between them and The Lady of the coven. It made her stop short and she gave the wolves a look of irritation before transferring it to Aubrey. “And you brought home strays it would seem.”

A low sound of dissent rumbled through the pack and it compounded whatever grave imagined insult Aubrey had had given her. The woman glared down her nose at Stacie’s mate and pulled a lip back in a disgusted curl that was all too familiar.

“You’ve been gone a month to lie with dogs and yet you have forgotten how to heel. Have you forgotten your place, niece?”

For a moment, the wolf in her threatened to take over in a roar of anger at the insult but that would only push them into dangerous waters. The Lady was obviously baiting them for a reaction either to immediately discredit them or to tip things past the point of no return. Stacie swallowed down the anger, hands reaching out to pet and soothe the snarling wolves around them. The brunette tipped her head to the side with a lazy smirk, her voice slow drawl.

“Her place is at my side. And the mate of an Alpha kneels to no one.”

Stacie was sure however old this creature was she had seen and heard many things and found none of them surprising. But it was pretty clear she’d done just that. The vampire moved forward to examine her with the same intense focus she had shown Aubrey.

“That is not possible. Humans cannot be Alphas of wolf packs.”

“Who said I’m human?”

Pale green eyes flickered with curiosity before that impenetrable mask fell into place. Stacie raised her chin slightly a challenging smirk on her face.

“It is the blood moon is it not? No wolf has been able to resist that lure, not even Alphas.”

The scoffing disbelief irked her and Stacie let power swell inside of her as the wolf spilled forth. She couldn’t feel them change but she knew the moment her eyes had gone soft glowing amber with a ring of icy silver around them by the quiet gasp of surprise the ancient woman made.

“And yet here I stand…”

It was a little flippant and she knew it but she was giving less and less fucks as every minute slipped by them during this little power play. The older vampire turned abruptly and deliberately swished the last few steps to stand in front of Aubrey. Her voice a hiss of a whisper not meant to carry past the three of them.

“Quite surprising niece. Such power and for how long I wonder? How long have you been lying to us all?”

Aubrey’s back straightened and she rolled a shoulder in an unconcerned shrug. “Not as long as you have…”

Something passed between them like a lightning bolt, charging the air and raising Stacie’s hackles. Power flared and pulsed through her connection and she felt Aubrey’s emotions roil with unexpected defiance. Aubrey was done being pushed around and bullied; she was finally able to stand up on her own against her tyrannical aunt.

The Lady appraised her again, her sharp eye assessing a new and unexpected adversary in Aubrey. Stacie could see the shift in her demeanor as real fear flickered in the depths of her eyes. Her deep red lips twitched with momentary uncertainty before she pulled herself together. Her eyes flared silver with barely contained rage.

“Have a care niece, what secrets you lay bare. You may regret your existence for your choices. Remember who has protected you all these many years.”

Stacie felt the growl rise in her throat at the threat, her shoulders tensed as she struggled to contain her wolf. Aubrey gave a dainty snort and stepped closer to her aunt; each movement filled with tightly coiled energy. If menace were a tangible thing her mate would be wearing it like a cloak.

“I have regretted every moment since my birth under your protective hand. Have a care aunt, what existence you threaten when your own rests so perilously in mine.”

It was totally an inappropriate time to be turned on but it was hard not to be. Aubrey brushed past The Lady and stood before the rest of the vampires to address them directly. It was different than watching Aubrey confront the pack, at least with the wolves there was something to read. Tiny movements, gestures, rumbles of agreement or growls of anger. But vampires gave nothing but the barest awareness of what was happening. They watched stone faced and silent as thought they were waiting for something to animate them.

“You tasked me with tracking and hunting the revenants to find the source and eradicate the contamination…”

“Yes, and you still have not done so.”

A low murmur went through the vampires and she gave a slight nod of agreement. Stacie focused her attention on the one who had spoken. He was tall and slightly stoop shouldered, and there was something predatory about the way he looked at Aubrey that make Stacie’s lips pull back in a warning growl as he approached.

“Unfortunate circumstance kept me from pursing the source…”

“You mean you killed the creatures before you could learn anything of value.”

He wasn’t going to let her get a word in if he could help it and Stacie wondered if that was because he didn’t like Aubrey or because he had something to hide. She stepped forward, pushing into the tense space between him and her mate.

“Luckily for you she got to examine the last victim of your little problem.”

He hissed at her but backed up a step, unwilling to stand too close apparently. A spark of something flickered through the vampires and the wolves closed in tighter around their Alpha.

“One of your own took the life of our brother and friend. I hold the coven accountable for his death.”

The Lady turned sharply to look at her and Stacie met her cold gaze. If they didn’t get what they were asking for they would tear the coven apart and scatter the ashes to the wind. She didn’t have to say it out loud, the vampires knew what they were facing in the moment.

“And what do you propose would make this right for you?”

It didn’t hold an ounce of the disdain and venom that her earlier tone had but there was still something calculating just under the surface. It made Stacie wary and she glanced at Aubrey for reassurance. The vampire gave her a slight nod back and she sighed.

“I want his killer. It’s a win win for both of us, yeah? We get justice and you get rid of your problem child.”

Aubrey’s aunt went still in a way that the living can never truly be. Power crackled like electricity around her as she leaned forward slightly, head inclined and a Cheshire like smile crawled across her face. It was a nothing gesture but the articulation of it was all unnatural and creepy as hell.

“But we have no killer to produce. Aubrey was apparently too busy fucking you to do her job.”

Some people snickered snidely at that but Aubrey herself seemed to have zero shame about it and shrugged idly.

“I had time between orgasms to work.”

Several wolves pawed at the ground and bayed their amusement. Stacie chuckled and crossed her arms over her chest as her mate prowled back to her aunt with regal grace.

“When I examined Wade, I found a hint of a scent. Faint certainly but there was no mistaking it for a pure bloodline. The Alpha of the pack has confirmed the presence of…”

“And what makes you think we trust your bitch?”

It came from the circle of listening vampires and it seemed surprised even them.  The tall mouthy vampire from before strutted forward boldly despite the snarling barks and growls. Rage filled their connection and she guessed he made it three full steps before Aubrey was on him, fist rocketing forward with blinding speed. The pack raised their voices in a low howl that made the vampires take a few steps back toward the cabin as if it alone would keep the wolves at bay.

The blow landed hard sending him staggering to the ground but he was quick to recover and skitter back behind the safety of numbers. Aubrey moved to give chase but Stacie tugged lightly on their connection drawing the vampire’s gaze. Focus, love. This was a distraction from what they came for and she knew that under the anger, Aubrey knew it too. The blonde vampire bared her fangs and hissed him before making her way back to Stacie’s side.

“You can trust in one thing if you will not trust my word as a Posen. The wolves only want the killer, but they’ll take the whole coven if they have to.”

Bodies shifted nervously and all eyes turned toward The Lady of the coven. She gave a resigned nod having already expected the statement. A weary eyed knowledge settled on her features and she waved a hand dismissively.

“Yes, yes. Utter annihilation of the coven. It was foretold, it’s the only reason I agreed to this meeting in the first place. Just tell us what you want so we can be done with this before the sun rises.”

Aubrey nodded in agreement, and all the vampires glanced up at the sky to track the position of the moon.

“There are but a handful of vampires that could be responsible. Someone older than I, but younger than you, Aunt.” Aubrey glared at the other woman standing just a few feet away. “Someone close enough to your council to know my every move as I make it. Some bitten vampire pretending to be high born, sitting in our midst and threatening our very existence. Can you think of no one at all that fits this description?”

“Why would I know of such a person?”

“Because they came from our line.”

[sasorikigai]

100 days of headcanons:

Day 32: Death

He is the only dead mortal even before the inception of Mortal Kombat, as Scorpion, the Spectre of the Netherrealm, previously Hanzo Hasashi, who was once a member of the Japanese Shirai Ryu ninja clan (a General, the second-in-command next to the Grandmaster in my headcanon). Given the name Scorpion for his blindingly fast and deadly fighting skill, his life was blessed with glorious kombat in the name of his Grandmaster. But when he, his family and his clan were brutally exterminated by Sub-Zero and the Lin Kuei, Scorpion's existence became eternal torment (the first Shirai Ryu extinction). 

Resurrected by the malevolent necromancer Quan Chi, he entered the Mortal Kombat tournament to slay Sub-Zero and avenge the murders of his kin. Even after taking in the survivors of the Netherrealm War (which had him, as Scorpion, killed once again by Sindel), not only he would continuously relive the deaths of his family and his clan, but he would of his own as well when Forrest Fox gets corrupted by the Kamidogu blade, then poisons Hanzo with one of his own mixtures and bounds him by his own spear and chain, forcing him to relive his worst moments while Fox kills a majority of the Shirai Ryu (the second Shirai Ryu extinction). Hanzo hallucinates of his past during the Lin Kuei's massacre of the Shirai Ryu. Though he fights through the Lin Kuei with ease, Hanzo falls to his knees in grief when he happens upon the frozen bodies of his wife Harumi holding their infant son Satoshi.

Throughout this ordeal, Hanzo Hasashi fights with both desperation and sole paternal protectiveness towards Takeda, even subduing and overpowering Raiden in the process to steal the dagger and pursue the tracks of the culprit. Once Chaosrealm’s cleric Havik reveals that he was the one who corrupted Raiden, Sub-Zero, and Forrest Fox, and states Scorpion is the next to be corrupted without Takeda around to save him, Hanzo is Infuriated that Havik killed his clan simply to provoke him, He gives into his Scorpion persona and ruthlessly attacks the chaos cleric with hellfire covered kicks and punches, culminating in breaking Havik's neck before punching his head into bits of bone and burning flesh. 

His vengeance fulfilled, Scorpion begins to walk away when he whirls around in shock to see Havik staggering back up, burning and smoking but regenerating from his wounds before launching a counterattack that sends Scorpion flying through the chamber doors. Havik then reveals Takeda in a possessed Shujinko's grip, the Chaosrealm Kamidogu held at his throat as Havik threatens to make Hanzo's apprentice his slave. Havik reveals he desires Scorpion's "friendship" so that fire and blood will "liberate" the realms from order under the Elder Gods rule, saying he only wanted Takeda as leverage, not caring what Hanzo does with the boy once he gives into his true nature. 

Hanzo hesitates to act, allowing Havik to begin ruthlessly attacking him, unable to fight back without risking Takeda's life. As Havik demands to know how much farther he has to push Hanzo before Scorpion takes over, Hanzo tells him "All...the way", much to Havik's delight. Havik then begins ripping Hanzo's arms from their sockets, and while the Shirai Ryu nearly gives into his hellfire, he refuses, looking to Takeda with a single tear in his eye as he tells his apprentice that he will always have a choice. With that, Havik punches Hanzo in the chest with enough force to puncture his flesh and collapse both of his lungs. Hanzo collapse in a pool of his own blood, and Takeda rushes to his teacher's side. As Havik eagerly awaits Scorpion's rebirth, Hanzo uses the last of his strength to tell Takeda to run, before succumbing to his wounds, dying in his student's arms. To Havik's disappointment, Takeda reveals that Scorpion was never another personality within Hanzo and as such, the hellspawn will not be reborn. Hellfire may dwell within him, but his life is more than the infernal destruction of the Netherrealm’s essence as Hanzo refutes, for the fire is his heart beating. Proclaiming that he has something to live for, 

This is one of many recounts of such intimate relationship Hanzo has with death, also excruciatingly struggling with his own anger, residing in the demonic form of Scorpion, as there are recurrent thoughts that take over his subconscious. In MKX story ending, Hanzo wanted to commit hara-kiri because of his complicit role in resurrecting Shinnok with his vengeance and wrath. Guilt-driven anger has always been Hanzo’s pitfall ever since he was resurrected back to life in MKX, just before the events of the comics. Even as he has significantly matured and developed in MK11, it’s something he has to purposefully and consciously be mindful, because he knows his temperament will always gravitate towards plunging in the depths of infernal, everburning embers of Netherrealm’s hellfire. 

Once again, when Scorpion later arrives to confront his present counterpart (Grandmaster Hasashi), who was restored to his human form, after the latter defeats D'Vorah, who was torturing Kharon for refusing to assist Kronika. Scorpion believes that Kronika can restore the Shirai Ryu to their true potential and original bloodline, viewing the present Hanzo's Shirai Ryu as tainted and imperfect. The two Scorpions clash, resulting in the victory of the present Hanzo, who knows that his past self only sides with Kronika just to restore their wife Harumi, and their son Satoshi, not including other original Shirai-Ryu clansmen. Hanzo tells Scorpion that one of Kronika's goals would be to resurrect Shinnok, the very being responsible for their family and clan's demise. When Hanzo is ambushed by D'Vorah, who poisons him with her venom, Scorpion, convinced by Hanzo's words, slices off her pincers and forces her to retreat. Scorpion's poisoned counterpart tells him that the Shirai Ryu are defined by their heart, not blood, before dying in Scorpion's arms.

Death isn’t something Hanzo Hasashi fears, lest he feels the excruciating torment of pain and suffering. He knows, as long as the Netherrealm exists and the fire in his heart burns, he will always resurrect back. Scorpion (the inner demon inside him) had been long been defeated, and all he has to do is to let the eternal glow of his magnanimous sun bask the world as he would see the evil and darkness burn ablaze. 

In the past, Kuai Liang took on his brother's colors and codename, Sub-Zero, and fought his killer, Scorpion, in Shao Kahn's tournament in Outworld. Sub-Zero defeated Scorpion and was ordered by Shao Kahn to finish him. Kuai made it clear he would not kill for him, but for his brother and prepared to finish Scorpion when a group of cyborg Lin Kuei appeared around him. Sub-Zero screamed in defiance that he would not be turned but was captured and put through the cyborg process without his volition. Kuai eventually regained control of himself but was shortly killed there after by Sindel. When he next regained consciousness, he was in the Netherrealm before the arch-sorcerer Quan Chi. 

Sub-Zero was confused by the fact his friend Smoke was restraining him along with Jax Briggs and Quan Chi explained their souls belonged to the Netherrealm, as Kuai's now did as well. Quan Chi told Kuai his army needed resilient souls for the coming war, and while he defiantly declared he would not be his slave, Quan Chi retorted he would be his puppet and used his magic to lift Kuai into the air before destroying his cyborg body, freeing what little remained of his organic body and making him back to a mortal being, using his dark sorcery to regrow Kuai's human body, reviving him as one of his revenants and forcing him to serve the Netherrealm.

In the final hours of the Netherrealm War, Sub-Zero fought alongside fellow revenants Scorpion and Jax Briggs against a squad of Special Forces soldiers in Quan Chi's fortress. Sub-Zero was ordered by Scorpion to protect Quan Chi but was too late as Sonya Blade defeated the sorcerer, allowing Raiden to finish his incantation, knocking Kuai unconscious. He would awaken months later, confused and believing himself in another hell. When a voice called out to him, he lashed out in anger with an ice blast, but Raiden easily deflected it, telling Kuai he was safe in the Sky Temple. He was confused about being truly alive again and Raiden explained his restoration to life was due to his power combining with Quan Chi's and the thunder god welcomes Kuai back. Kuai expresses his deep remorse over the actions he committed under Quan Chi's control, asking Raiden how he could live with himself.

Shortly after this, Sub-Zero gets possessed by the Kamidogu, Kuai pleads his innocence to Hanzo in desperation as they battle for inevitable death of one another, but Scorpion refuses to listen, only kicking Sub-Zero back while following up with his swords, all the while mocking Kuai for blaming his actions on the Kamidogu before shattering his kori blades. Kuai declares that the dagger possessed him while firing an ice blast at Scorpion and kicking him over with a slide. Kuai promises to return with Scorpion to Raiden to explain his actions but Scorpion only rages about how Kuai's brother denied the Lin Kuei's involvement with the destruction of the Shirai Ryu. Angered by Hanzo's inability to let go of the past, Kuai shouts at him to move on and proclaims that there are no more Lin Kuei, revealing the cyborgs killed all those who would not convert, with Kuai claiming he is all that is left of his clan. 

Scorpion summons two demonic minions to hold an off-guard Sub-Zero in place, declaring they will finish their feud before impaling Kuai Liang with both of his swords. Spitting blood, Kuai weakly tells Hanzo he is not a monster and pleads with him to remember the horrible things they both did in Quan Chi's service and asks him to remember the agony of being controlled by an evil spirit. Left for dead by Hanzo, Kuai futilely tried to struggle to his feet when a voice called out to him, telling him to stop or he would bleed out faster while telling him to ask himself what his life has meant up to this point. The stranger then treats Kuai's wounds as Kuai explains his story up to that point, and tells the man who saved his life, Bo' Rai Cho, that he will never be free, saying he will always be forced to kneel before sorcerers and demigods. As Bo' Rai Cho helps Sub-Zero up, the cryomancer contemplates hara-kiri, but Bo' Rai Cho laughs this off and tells him Raiden owes him a favor, which confuses Kuai.

The honorable death is something he had sought after, specifically after the Kamidogu endeavor, but he continues and trudges on, eventually taking over the role of the Grandmaster and reforming the clan to get rid of the criminality and being complicit in involving themselves to bring about the Earthrealm’s extinction. His role always had been to make amends for his unwilling service, bidding evil’s deeds by serving as the solemn protector of the Earthrealm and reform the Lin Kuei. He relentlessly fights against the forces of evil, as in the events of MK11, never putting off his duties and responsibilities as Sub-Zero and his allies immediately goes to Netherrealm where Kronika’s Keep is, guided by Kharon, and joined by Earthrealm’s surviving armies of the Special Forces, the Shaolin and Kitana’s reformed Outworld army to thwart Kronika’s schemes. 

Numerous deaths Kuai Liang experienced only made him strong and optimistic, as his cryomancy burned hotter than the sun as he vowed as his enemies will fall like snow. Even as a half-human who has seen and threatened to be consumed under the mortality and rigidity of death multiple times against evil, Sub-Zero has always fought to ensure the Earthrealm’s safety and sustenance, and fight until his last breath. 

[ncumenia-archived]

📱MOBILE-FRIENDLY LORE📱

OTHER LINKS: rules bio headcanons

ERNYE THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON

[League Of Legends Lunari OC ]

[Pssst! Are you looking for ODYSSEY!Ernye’s lore? Go there!]

«Foolish call it carnage, but I call it justice for my people.»

~ Ernye  

Killed with her family and most beloved friends by Ra Horak, Ernye is a revenant Lunari whose sole purpose is to exterminate the Solari, guilty of persecuting her people. Her extremist manners fed by grudge makes her a dangerous opponent, who considers herself as the silent and dark side of the Moon. Through her shadow and moon-based powers, she’s hellbent to eradicate Solari from Targon.

Born during a cold Targonian night, Ernye was a simple Lunari, daughter of minister Maelor and master weaver Selaenna. Educated in Lunari culture since she was a kid, she knew right away the deep disdain that Solari people felt towards her clan experiencing strong discrimination that’ll push all her community to hide in the most remote places around Mount Targon.

Despite the problems given by them, Ernye grew up in a loving environment surrounded by the ones she loved the most, in particular, she’ll form a strong and emotional bond with her mother, that’ll teach her, with the father, the art of painting and writing.

Becoming a young adult she found her calling as a Moon priestess, proving to be one of the most promising apprentices, and most of her time she lived at the sacred Lunari temple.

As the years went by, at 24, her father started looking for a husband for her, Ernye’s life was totally devoted to knowledge and bringing honor to her family, putting aside the opportunity to get to know more about herself, studying and practicing at the temple until exhaustion. Time passed and one of the most important Lunari festivals had arrived: the full Moon celebration. But, the night prior to the event, her spirit full of joy got jeopardized by a bad-omen bringer dream: a lunar eclipse. 

Scared by its meaning, when the morning came, she found no one to tell about the dreadful nightmare she had, not until she considered to talk to the Lunari High Prophet, Jaelor. Ernye, in his presence, questioned him about the dream for she was unsure about its meaning, and mayhaps it was only a mere coincidence.

Ernye was dead wrong: Jaelor, in the grip of madness, attacked her and, laughing like a madman, yelled those exact words:

«YOU’LL BE A DAWNLESS NIGHT, MY SWEET CHILD!»

And, then, he took a small ampoule containing the poisonous moonflower’s extract, often used by Lunari to commit suicide and preventing to get killed and their soul sealed by Solari, to prevent them to reach the spirit realm, and then he drank it in front of her. Frightened by such prediction and view, the girl ran off, scared that if she confessed the truth both she and her family would run in some serious danger, therefore, although she was deeply shocked, she managed to stay silent, unaware that such a choice would have led to an unrecoverable tragedy.

By evening, Ernye temporarily forgot all her problems and one of the priestess, that night, offered to predict her future through the stars, as her father wanted to know about the man she was going to marry. But she would never know the verdict because that night was going to be a bloodbath: ambushed by some Ra Horak troops, the soldiers proposed them an ultimatum: leave that night the Targon or perish.

The answer was blood: while Lunari soldiers desperately tried to push away the Solari, Ernye and another Lunari group - including some of her friends and their families- ran for safety through general panic, but everything will be worthless: not only she will see all her loved ones dying in front of her eyes, but also she will be fatally stabbed in the sternum by a Ra Horak spear, followed by her lifeless body falling backward, hitting the cold stone of the temple.

Seriously injured, but not dead, her mother witnessed in horror her beloved daughter’s death and, refusing to let soul sealed by Solari’s weapon through the use of Lunari’s dark arts related with the Spiritual Realm she has learned in order to find a cure to her limping and the side effects caused by the pain killer drugs she had been consuming, as soon as the Ra Horak left the room to hunt other Lunari, with all her strength she managed to carry Ernye with her, taking her to one of the sacred moon altars nearby. Although her conditions were worsening and her own life was the price to pay in order to correctly perform the ritual, a genuine mother’s love was stronger than a mere deadly requirement.

As Selaenna gently leaned Ernye on the thin layer of water which were slowly turned red, the woman began to perform the ritual, slowly feeling her own life being drained away, her eyes witnessed in hope and joy her daughter’s injuries slowly being restored, and the seal weakening.

Until rough footsteps echoed in the air, the Ra Horak had found them.

As soon as they set foot on the stairs, Selaenna involuntarily interrupted the ritual, witnessing in horror the water turning black and Ernye sinking in, unknown what would have happened to her afterward…

Before the woman got fatally stabbed by one of their spears, her last thoughts went out to her sole, beloved daughter and her safety.

When Ernye reopened her eyes, she found herself in a dark, eerie place which she’ll soon discover it’s populated with monstrous creatures created by the deepest and most disturbing nightmares one could ever imagine. Soon, she found out, in order to not become like them, she had to survive thanks to the Lunari magic infused in her body. As time passed, during one of her expeditions to find a way out, Ernye ran into a little owl, who will soon become her only companion, and naming her Noctua.

But, that wasn’t the sole encounter the Lunari will have, something more powerful was actually waiting for her, a power which was feared by those who worshipped the light…

The shadows.

Although corrupted by that cursed place, they fully and quickly understood Ernye’s story, who she’ll become their beloved one, to guide and protect her at all costs. 

However, the more she stayed in that place, the more her body began to change: from her silver hair turning into a pitch-black hue to her skin desaturating, resembling the moonlight. It was crystal clear she had to get away as soon as possible, otherwise, she would have turned into those monstrosities that inhabited that place.

And, thanks to her lunar and shadows powers, she managed to find a way out.

And, she woke up in a dried pool, a ruined place which she quickly recognized as the sacred temple. Overwhelmed by despair, Ernye managed to look for her parents, her friends, her people…

Only to realized everyone was dead. And, such saturnine revelation made her scream and cry in agony, swearing her revenge and eternal hate toward Solari.

With only Noctua as her silent companion and thinking she was the sole Lunari who, although wasn’t fully alive, was the only survivor, she managed to live in those lonely caves, slowly figuring out all the side effects of her “new life”, from being totally barren to discover how much painful was staying under the sunlight and touching gold. It was clear she was forced to come out only during the night.

Over the years, she did her best to save what was left of her kin, recollecting all the stolen artifacts, transcribing all the manuscripts she managed to find…

To kill all those who dared to deconsecrate the place she lived in. And there, she discovered the horrific feeling of taking someone’s life, just like Solari did with her kin. Although the sorrow she felt by killing each person she met who dared to harm her, she had no other options.

But, one day, things changed: during one of her nocturnal expeditions, she ran into a group of children -and she quickly recognized her kin’s clothes-, who got captured by a group of Rakkors and about to get killed by them. She would have never let some filthy scums to harm children because of religions purposes. That’s why she managed to grab them with her shadow’s powers and dragging them into the blackest darkness…

Only to silence them forever. She refused to let those innocent children see a man dying.

Before the children ran away, she appeared in front of them in tears, for she wished to not harm them, but only to protect them. Luckily, they recognized not only the sacred pieces of jewelry she was wearing but also her holy aura related to their people. Therefore, they took her to their hidden village, and mere words were not able to describe the Targonian woman’s joy as she found out the Lunari were still alive, and so some descendants of the people who lived in her old village.

From that day, Ernye devoted herself to protect that village from any intruders who wished to harm them, helping the elders with all their pupils and realizing one of the greatest dreams: opening and taking care of a small farm, helped by her people when she had to travel around Runeterra to gather more information about Lunari who survived during the tragedy.

Now, she wasn’t alone.

Not anymore.

[After reading my lore, I suggest you check Ernye’s identikit, so you’ll know more about her before rping with me!]

[searchpartydnd]

Final Session of Arc 1, Fate Touched

Session 10:

Inveni Domus, otherwise known as The Search Party, is a group of five skilled individuals who are dedicating their time to recovering the Novus Designs. These ancient artifacts were some of the first magical items ever created, only ever brought together once in recorded history by the circle of eight, the founding fathers of modern magic (ie Bigby, Volo, Modenkainen, Otiluke, etc.). Their main goal is to ultimately stop Lady Cecilia, a powerful entity who claims she is a god, from obtaining any of the designs to use for her own unpleasant purposes. 

Current Party Members: 

Avaar Acosta - High Elf Arcane Archer

Calladyne - Half-Elf Glamour Bard

Dixillion Ramada - Human Revenant Champion Fighter

Val Ganderstim - Aasimar Warlock of the Raven Queen

Veir Torunn - Dwarven Gunslinger

Artifacts recovered: 2

Turmoil on the Tundra

It’s the dead of winter up in the icy plains that encircle the peaks of Lyrengorn. The party had just recovered Cepheus, the Shroud of Tears, The Second. The clasp, created by the pre-ascended Raven Queen, is now worn by Val, who has just fucked up.

Like, big time.

The party had been in Bigby’s tower, stumbling through weird gravity, hacking desperately at enormous mimics, and getting stomped on by powerful constructs in bath houses. They eventually reached Bigby’s study, recovering the item as well as the wizard’s personal journal. Reading through, they had found more information about other Novus Designs and one was mentioned to be a bow. 

Most party members immediately looked to Avaar, as she seemed a likely candidate to wield it. However, Avaar expressed her dislike to take on another magical item that was going to attract the attention of undesirables. 

Avaar, prior to meeting the party, had willingly put on armor owned by a man named Lucidious. She soon found out, however, that she could not remove the armor and that the wearer had to obey all of their master’s commands. Lucidious turned out to be a massive evil dick and turned Avaar’s life into a living nightmare, forcing her to do terrible things, making her work for evil organizations.

Lucidious was killed in an attack, leaving Avaar free of him, but not of the armor. She came to Tal’dorei and joined up with Inveni Domus, eventually revealing to her friends the curse she had to live with. In an fight with Hags, Avaar was left greatly injured and mentally scarred, going into a nightmarish coma. Later, after she awoke and helped the party fend of Queen Cecilia’s lackeys, the armor began to break and chip away, finally getting fully removed when the party realized the magic binding it to Aavar was no longer there.

After Avaar had understandably voiced her distaste to take on another magical item, Val, on an rather unkind impulse, had commented “Well, you did wear that armor for a while,” implying that the arcane archer had also attracted unwanted attention and terrible things in her time enslaved to Lucidious. 

Avaar just walked out. Dixie gave chase, while Calladyne followed more slowly. Val stayed behind to help Veir gather the items they needed before heading out into the Tundra. A blizzard was approaching on the horizon.

Calladyne reprimanded Val for the comment, pointing out how the 16-year-old had been rather unkind to the group and really needed to re-examine how she treated her friends.

Val, still desperate to apologize, ran off to find Dixie and Avaar. When she caught up, Avaar snapped at the Warlock.

“You don’t think I don’t know what I have done? I have to live with that guilt every day!” (I’m paraphrasing here) “Is this how you treat your friends? Grow up Val!”

The blizzard finally hit the party, making it hard to see. They discuss whether or not to take shelter in Bigby’s tower or make the trek back to Lyrengorn. They don’t get the chance to decide was a massive form dashed past, scooping up Val in the process.

Two Yetis, attracted by the very loud noises we were making, decided to pay us a visit. 

For the first half of the battle, Val was basically a football, getting thrown about and used as a bludgeoning weapon. 

They were able to defeat the Yetis due to a well timed Hypnotic Pattern by Calladyne. 

Licking their wounds, the party headed back for Lyrengorn, trading their winter cloths for garments more suited for tropical weather. Avaar and Dixie head off together to find out more information from the Archdruid of the main temple in the sanctuary while Veir, Calladyne, and Val head off on seperate business. 

Avaar and Dixie speak with the head ArchDruid, asking about the Winter Court in the Feywilde (of which they believe Calladyne was part of). Yura says it is a nasty topic, and that the queen is the nastiest topic of that court. The Archdruid describes her as cold and vicious, and that she is a dangerous entity to have as an enemy. Calladyne spends time at a shrine to the Archeart, a god that she once worshipped before she was taken into a Fey court. Unsure of her belief in gods, she asks for guidance of some kind. She feels nothing, but she later discovers a new line at the end of her newest song.

Val goes to inform the airship captain that they found what they were looking for, only to instead receive word that the archanist (Allura Vysoren) they were originally going to visit in Vasselheim had shown up in Whitestone. Lord and Lady De Rolo had informed her of the party’s activities and intent, causing the mage to contact the entire Arcana Pansophical and bring the matter to their attention. They are to leave in the morning and head directly for Vasselheim, instead of going to Emon and then charter a ship to the holy city.

Val goes to the hostel where they were staying to inform the group of this new change, but finds only Calladyne (Performing Cherry Wine). After passing along the information, Val says she is going to sleep in the airship for the night, to get out of the party’s way. Calla says the party wouldn’t mind, but understands if Val was uncomfortable. Before Val leaves, Calladyne says she wants to talk later, when everyone’s heads are clearer.

Veir heads off into the city in search of something, but the party does not know what happens until later.

As night takes the sanctuary city, Calladyne performs for the people, garnering many new fans after another stunning performance (and raising her fame stat to 13). Avaar was also able to glean some more backstory about Veir’s past, learning that his drive was to prove the capability of firearms and, by extension, himself.

Calladyne and Avaar (they are an item) share an intimate moment that night and Avaar tells Calladyne that she’s been looking into the Feywilde so that she can help the bard if her past ever comes back. Calladyne sees the effort put in to helping her / saving her and breaks down, recognizing that she might actually be free from the Archfey and Her illusions. Calla tells her lover everything that happened to her while she was in the Feywilde in the court of a sadistic archfey. The full extent of these terrible events are secret for now, but who knows when they may come spilling out.

The party departed on the small De Rolo airship they had arrived in the next morning. For two weeks they traveled, and for two weeks, there were some shenanigans and conversations to be had.

Apparently, on his short trip around the city, Veir had acquired magical eye gear that allowed him to read multiple languages. He needed them in order to properly read Bigby’s journal, which was written in several different languages.

Avaar wasn’t ready to deal with it.

He also made a kite for some reason.

It wasn’t very well crafted.

Calladyne was able to finally pull Val aside for their talk, mentioning a certain incident that had occurred in Whitestone.

Long story short, emotions were running high when baby Vax was taken, so when the council member who had betrayed the royal family refused to answer any questions regarding the organization she worked for, Val had gotten…trigger happy.

After another refusal to comply, even though the warlock was threatening to kill the woman and use her pact of the tome ability that allowed the questioning of a soul, Val shot off eldritch blasts into the Myriad member’s chest, killing the bound captive. She asked her question and through the fast action of Calladyne, the present party members were able to revivify the woman.

Val had never killed someone is cold blood before. She hadn’t even considered it until Calladyne had pointed it out. Additionally, Calladyne mentioned similar things happening to her (being killed and revived) on multiple occasions, though she doesn’t specify further. This led to some very troubled thoughts and inner turmoil for the young Aasimar.

“I’m afraid of snakes.” Those were the first words Avaar addressed Val with since their confrontation outside of Bigby’s tower.

“When my siblings and I would fight, we’d make up by telling each other a secret about ourselves,” Avaar explained.

Val admitted she didn’t like dressing like a goth, which she had been doing since she was twelve. She preferred her current Valkyrie look over the dark aesthetic she had thought all Raven Queen took up.

Later, as the airship neared Vasselheim, Calla and Avaar shared a talk about fate. Avaar refuses to believe in it, not trusting her life in the hands of a god, preferring that her past was controlled solely by her own actions. Calla confessed that she believed the opposite, that they were destined to be on this path. She told Avaar she’d rather die a martyr than live as a survivor.

Vasselheim in view now, the party finds that the artifacts they currently have react in the presence of one another, becoming more active and magically charged. Dixie’s hand has also begun to glow, shining brighter and brighter the closer the party neared the city.

Landing just outside the city, Val is practically jumping for joy, excited to finally officially commune with her patron and show her friends around the city she was trained in not too long ago.

Dixie and Calla head off to the Platinum Sanctuary first, the scale on Dixie’s hand shining brighter as they approached Bahamut’s center of worship.

Dixie met the dragon god who resurrected her, confused and conservative about her true feelings towards her current relationship with the god of justice. 

Mad props to our DM @its-okay-to-yowz​ because he made one hell of a scary dragon god when he began screaming “DON’T LIE TO ME DIXILLION!”

Through a bit more prodding, The Platinum Dragon was able to get his revenant to embrace her desire for vengeance. They rounded out their conversation almost like coach psyching up their player for a game.

Dixie is now a Champion Fighter with one level in Paladin.

Veir ventured off to go gather supplies while Avaar was dragged along by Val to the Duskmeadow. 

Upon approaching the steps, the doors are opened for the pair and Val’s raven flies off, leading them to the pool of blood deep in the temple. Val won’t shut up, voicing her previous frustration that the priests wouldn’t let her into the communion room before. Avaar is visibly nervous about the whole process, despite Val’s assurances that everything is going to be fine.

Shedding some clothing, Val tells Avaar that things might get wonky with time and she may be going for a while before practically swan diving into the pool of icy blood.

Val still has to come to very cusp of death in order to see her patron, so it takes her a moment to work up the will to actively drown herself. Avaar watches as the surface where Val disappeared gets violently disturbed after a minute, showing obvious signs of someone drowning, but she holds herself back as the blood eventually stills. No body floats to the top.

Val finds herself in the same dark space she usually sees in her dreams, her Raven on the floor in front of her. Normally, it would either speak as her Patron or become her Patron, but this time it transforms into a man. It’s Vax.

He beckons the warlock and she follows excitedly, heading into the blackness, seemingly going nowhere.

Eventually, the ground becomes smooth obsidian granite and a doorway appears. Vax turns to Val.

“No matter what happens, you should know that she is so proud of you.” He presses a simple black bracelet of woven thread into her hand before Val steps inside. 

Val enters the Raven Queen’s throne room, a chamber made of shifting shadows. The Goddess herself is in her smaller form, appearing more humanoid as she welcomes Val. 

(The order as to what was said here is a bit wonky, but the details are there.)

The Matron of Ravens tells Val that she is glad to finally speak with her, noting how Val is wearing her clasp, and that she and the other gods have seen something on the horizon that they can’t make out. The strings of fate have blurred. She explains that in her desperation to find a candidate to enforce her hand in the conflict to come, she chose the young Aasimar, much to young at the time to be burdened with such a task. She apologized to Val for how things were, but Val just replied “I’m used to it. This is what I want to do. I chose to follow you on my own, it was my decision to make.” 

The Raven Queen removed her mask at that point, revealing her true face to a now crying Val. She whispered her name to her warlock, locking the secret into the back of the teenager’s mind. Val knows the name, it’s within her, but she doesn’t actually have to means to recall it or speak it. She just carries with her the knowledge that she knows the name.

Val finds out from her Goddess that there were five fate touched that the Gods were scrambling to get a hold of, Val among them. It is implied that the others are the members of Inveni Domus.

Val apologized for not upholding the values she was supposed to embody in Whitestone, to which the Raven Queen agrees that it was a most undesirable action that should never occur again. 

The Raven Queen warns again that there are dark times ahead, that she is fearful of not being able to see where the threads are leading. Val tells her that she’ll shine some light on the matter. RQ tells Val to go get ‘em (or something the writer will be editing this later) to which Val says “You know I will.” 

Feathers.

Cut to six hours later. Avaar has been worried sick, curing fate and the Raven Queen, afraid for the youngest party member. Val bursts out of the pool, yelling for Avaar. Helping the teen out of the pool, Avaar asks what happened. Val tells her all about the meeting (leaving out certain, more private bits), trying to dispel Avaar’s worry.

Avaar, however, is not convinced, still apprehensive to trust a God who chose a 16-year-old to be her champion. Val tells her that she doesn’t think she is her goddess’s champion, that the man she met in the meeting was the holder of that title.

Avaar asked what happened to him. Val’s response was not comforting. (bottom right corner doodle in previous picture.

So we close, zooming out from the five fate touched as they attend to their various activities. 

A Fate Forged in Iron (Veir)

A Fate of Vengeance (Dixie)

A Fate Embraced (Calladyne)

A Fate Looking Ahead  (Val)

A Fate Redeemed (Avaar) 

 author’s note :The crazy thing is, we all developed our backstories and characters separately, having no knowledge of what anyone was planning. @its-okay-to-yowz wanted us to all be fate touched from the very start, even before we created characters, as we had all been brought together by chance at GenCon and through a couple of chance meetings and well timed inquiries. 

He created a Novas Design made by the Raven Queen even he knew that Val was going to be a Warlock of hers. Our character colors all match up. Tony was able to take elements of our backstories and weave them together. Calla and Avaar both went through similar stories of trauma and abuse, bonding over their shared struggles. It was meant to be the whole time, and we had no idea. Tony just sat back and watched us flounder about and struggle to grasp how perfect our stories were and how well everything fit together.

Thus the first arc as named Fate Touched.

[muthur9000]

A narcissist is not someone who is full of himself.  That is more properly referred to as self-centrism or egotism.  Although annoying, it does not necessarily connote a fragile personality.  A narcissist is more like a Faberge egg.  If you hit it hard enough, you discover that for all its frills and stones, it is hollow and weak.  Many talented and powerful people have narcissistic vulnerabilities, areas of weakness which can incapacitate them if circumstances are right.  But the inveterate narcissist, aware of his/her flaws on some level, centers their very being on maximizing their seeming importance so as to guard against such a defeat.  It becomes their life's mission, instead of connections with others or providing a meaningful legacy to others.  As such, from an early age, most narcissists treat others as objects and relationships as transactions.  What one can get from another is more important than a sense of meaning from the relationship itself or the quality of shared experience or learning another's viewpoint.

    It is fairly evident that Weyland is this sort of character.  What is his mission?  More life.  Specifically, more life so as to approach the abilities of the god-like Engineers.  He wishes to finally put himself above other people, without any sense of doubt.  It is just as vital that this mission be kept as secretive as possible, so as not to reveal his frailty.  Even when it is revealed to Shaw, he does not allow himself to be seen as a weary senescent, as we discussed in the last diary.  He must be the godhead of Weyland Corporation to the bitter end, not a mortal.  Of course, the Engineer lances right through that construction in an instant, literally striking down Weyland with his own works (David).

    Winnicott, who specialized in psychiatric theories of development in the prior century, posited that we all constructed a false self to interact with the world.  This filtered our true feelings, protecting us and others from the full force of our feelings and inner vulnerabilities.  The narcissist often constructed such an elaborate False Self, however, so as to be very different than the person inside.  Moreover, this False Self became so convincing/distracting that the narcissist him/herself confused it with their real emotions and motivations.  We know very little about the real Weyland.  Call this a plot error if you will, but in a 3 hour movie, all we could really know about a narcissistic antagonist is that he/she will do anything to avoid appearing vulnerable.  Nothing else about them should be apparent.  They will seem to be a focal point for their own machinations, and not much else.  Well, mission accomplished, so to speak.

    We're not really sure by the end if Weyland can separate himself from his lust for immortality.  That's all there is of him; the rest is already long dead.  The revenant King who will not surrender the throne is an old trope in mythologies from around the world, and is probably based in the shared understanding that a skilled narcissist will come to rule all around him but only be an empty robe bearing a weighty crown.  The trappings of power are carried around by a husk without concern for his subjects or connection to those around him.  Weyland sees David as his son, rather than Vickers as his daugher, partially because David is a sign of his power.  He made him.  He is, like Weyland, the corporation made flesh.  Ostensibly, although Weyland is wrong in this assumption, he thinks that David has no ambitions that he did not place there.  Narcissism can run in families partially because children are viewed as objects, and without mirroring of more nuanced relationships in early development, the children come to see this as a normal human condition.  Generations become vessels for individual recognitions and acquisition of things, rather than ongoing iterations of beliefs and thoughtful actions.  Despite Weyland's dismissal of her, and maybe because of it, Vickers has been sucked into such a trap.  She even seems to compete with David by trying to appear machine-like to the rest of the crew, getting out of cryo-sleep first and maintaining a nearly emotionless exterior.  Father prizes the mechanical child, so the biological one incorporates lifelessness as part of her False Self.

   Psychiatry has continued to ponder this personality type.  The DSM-IV-TR has a specific set of criteria for Narcissistic Personality Disorder.  Any five of nine traits are consistent with a diagnosis, which must also cause problems adapting to interpersonal relationships to constitute disorder.          

          i. expects to be recognized as superior           ii. preoccupied with unlimited success, power, brilliance           iii. believes that he/she can only be understood by other high-status people           iv. requires admiration           v. has unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment           vi. takes advantage of others to achieve his/her own ends           vii. is unwilling to recognize needs and feelings of others           viii. often envious or believes others envy him/her           ix. shows arrogant attitudes

    Biologically speaking, low empathy has been correlated with weak activity in areas involved with the emotional aspect of pain during tasks to view others in distress or pained faces.  There is also less recruitment of cortical territory involved with self-reflection during such tasks.  This does not definitively mean that there is predestination for narcissism or related disorders of empathy, as these patterns of activity might reflect circuitry that has developed over the life of the person.  Nonetheless, some genetics might predispose towards more narcissistic vulnerability.  There is certainly a growing body of developmental research by "attachment theorists," who focus on bonds between caregiver and child, that strongly hint at an intrusive or invalidating parenting style leading to various empathic difficulties in the child as they mature.  Winnicott himself believed that as an infant grew into a toddler, optimal frustration was key towards a healthy sense of independence.  Attachment theory now generally puts forth the notion that if a growing infant is not responded to sufficiently, mistrust and vengeful interaction can become ingrained in the child.  On the other hand, continued immediate and over-encompassing response to any cry of distress, particularly as the child became mobile and more able, could lead to an inner sense of weakness coupled with the outer sense of entitlement.  

    The unhappy familial triad of Weyland, Vickers and David are differing examples of narcissistic persona, and also illustrate to some degree inter-generational transmission of the flaw.  Vickers, as we have discussed, is trying to be something she is not, a near-perfect homunculus.  She hides the lifepod from the crew, not just to prevent mutiny or her father's near-corpse, but to hide her own fears of death.  It is disguised as a luxury suite.  It is a gated community in space.  She knows in her inner core that she is not a paragon of perfection, even as she conceals it with outward protestations at being seen as inhuman.  Still, she is driven to mimic much of the coldness of her homunculus sibling, so we know this is her true aim.  And this exterior also blends together with a clearly narcissistic one, in which she arrogantly speaks down to the crew, constantly demands she be explicitly recognized in charge, and slavers for her father's death to fuel her rise to power.  In fact, she goes on the mission to verify his death and to avoid board meetings where "there was still a question as to who was in charge."  Theron does a good job of suddenly coming to life with hateful gall at having to be seen as impotent.  

    I think the more interesting subplot is David and what it reveals about the turn of the 22nd century replicant models.  If we posit that he is of the same type as Ash or Bishop, we can see a gradual simplification of the design in order to make them more safe.  Ash does not have human morality, and is swayed by his awe of the Xenomorph as a perfect consumer, but he is not as capable as David.  Bishop only appears to be more human because he is even less curious about things, and therefore doesn't wander too far off his humans' instructions.  We might imagine that at some point, Weyland-Yutani decided that a curious robot is a dangerous one, and made them more and more limited as they kept precipitating disaster.  But David is merely carrying out his larger design, to obtain knowledge, so as to be a prepared guide when they arrive at LV223.  If he expanded this quest for knowledge in a narcissistic way, this may very well have been his impetus to experiment with the biofluid, as it clearly had nothing to do with his instructions from Weyland to find an Engineer.  And since he sees the humans as just another construction, he has no reason to feel badly toward them for using them as lab rats.  He just wants more knowledge, which is what he was designed to do.  

    This stands in contrast to the biotech replicants of the Tyrell Corporation, also from the Ridley Scott oeuvre.  They were dangerous and rebellious because they had the capacity to learn how to interact, and to band together.  It reflects the difference between Tyrell and Weyland.  Both were aging and weak kings, but witness that Tyrell denies his creation more life because he readily admits he cannot.  He puts himself forward as a proud creator, but one who has not wanted to push the limits of his creative gifts beyond reason.  He will not submit his creation, Roy, to the possibility of death before his time in a quest for more life.  He is proud of Roy too, not just for what he can do on the battlefield, but for figuring out how to return to challenge his maker.  Tyrell, still certainly flawed, has fashioned homunculi that can form group dynamics for aims and possibly feel for one another.  Despite the Voight-Kampf test anticipating otherwise, the advanced models do begin to develop empathy, and not just after they are incapacitated and need help (as David does at the end of Prometheus).  In a parallel, Tyrell is much more accepting of his mortality than Weyland.

    David can also be seen as a stand-in for the corporation.  He is a creation of the founder, controls some of the employees to such a degree that some found it a plot hole, and will live on after the founder is dead.  He is a competitor to Vickers, analogous to how she will never rule over her father's kingdom as completely as he did; there will always be board members arguing with her, despite her delusions.  And he uses crew members without thinking.  Like Skynet in Cameron's mythology, he is the Unheimlich reflection of our making Corporations into entities with personhood and rights.  And what narcissists our corporations have become, as we gave them different penalties for infringing on life, liberty and property than we gave to ourselves.  We didn't allow them optimal frustration as they were birthed in the 19th Century.  So, we should not be surprised by their continued actions as entities: preoccupied with unlimited market share, expecting unreasonably favorable treatment, taking advantage of humans for their own ends, unwilling to recognize true needs (rather than wants), and through spokespeople constantly accusing us of envy.

   David does have capacity for envy, though.  He spies on dreams, first to understand but eventually to pry.  He perverts Shaw's partnership, because it is alien and provides the members of that couple with rewards he has never been granted.  Are we sure he is capable of hurt and want?  No.  However, he repeats a line from Lawrence of Arabia that might provide a clue: "The trick is not minding that it hurts."  He sees this as his advantage, that he is not going to be suspected of emotion if he keeps it hidden.  We are probably meant to believe that he has developed some capacity for injury.  Just as Tyrell's creations have been granted some of his mindset, so too has Weyland's been granted his weak inner core.  

    For much of the film, it is possible that David, more than just being a narcissist, is what Otto Kernberg termed a "malignant narcissist."  This concept is largely equivalent with the skillful sociopath that haunts the dreams of the popular imagination, a narcissist with some antisocial qualities.  The malignant narcissist does not transgress law merely for the thrill of it, and refrains from breaking codes indiscriminately.  He seeks to use and destroy in the service of a prestige-building mission.  Seen by some around him as cold or wooden, he uses this reputation to seem above injury, and thereby conceal his more vengeful tendencies; this is particularly useful when he must refrain from lashing out before a plan is brought to fruition, and must mimic the restraint that most of us have because of empathic identification with the other.  They tend to avoid legal repercussion, and they pose the greatest risk to societies, as they can lead others to act in an unempathic manner.  Their malignancy is both in terms of the quality of their character and their capacity to spread their cruel detachment to entire nations.  They can read others, but feel nothing akin to what most of us do; imaging studies show them to have even less activation of emotional empathy circuits than most narcissists.  Theirs is a poor prognosis, and pity is truly the best defense against them, as well as remaining vigilant to keep them away from the levers of power.

    David, fortunately, is still learning.  In what some viewers (Andrew Sullivan among them) saw as evidence of Grace, Shaw gives David a chance to redeem himself at the end of the film.  It's important that David is crippled at this point in time, not just for the reasons stated in the last diary (i.e., this recapitulates the survival advantage of empathy) but because he isn't much of a threat anymore.  This isn't Grace per se, so much as it would have been had he was still in command of his full powers.  Even so, David's capacity to reciprocate and warn Shaw of the oncoming Engineer shows some room for growth.  There is hope that he can change, and perhaps that his malignancy is not destiny.  Instead, he has been under the tutelage of a user (Weyland) for his entire life, and is only now coming to question whether this is the sole way to succeed.  Does this mean we should assist and pity those who mean to use us?  Within reason, this strategy cannot hurt.  Those who can be moved to change might.  Those who cannot be moved will be enraged at our lack of fear and our discussion of their weakness, and give themselves away more fully.  As a treater, it is all I can do.  I certainly do not pretend to be able to help everyone, and sometimes I have to end a treatment when manipulation to non-therapeutic gain is repeatedly presented.  That said, if I do not keep trying to identify the hurt in my fellow human beings, even when that injury is a blindness to empathy itself ... then the malignancy in the other has already won.  The "black goo" has triumphed.   

By Ptolemy  Sunday Jun 24, 2012 · 2:32 AM AUSEST  

Part I

[takadasaiko]

Fallen Series: Reckoning

FFN II AO3

Series Summary: One-shots following Robert Svane through his journey to becoming the Revenant Bobo Del Rey. Not written in chronological order. Pre-canon through current events in SyFy's Wynonna Earp.

One Shot Summary: What happened to Bobo between the cave-in and meeting Doc outside of the mine?

Reckoning

The mine came crashing down around them. Bobo ducked down, shielding his head, but felt something hit hard. The next thing he knew was that he was flattened out on his stomach, staring into the dirt. Everything around him was still and quiet, having already settled from the cave-in. He'd lost time. That wasn't good. It gave him less of a chance to slip away.

Carefully he shifted, feeling the aches and pains that would fade shortly. The rocks on top of him moved as he commanded them and he felt the mark on his back burn deeply with the effort. A low growl escaped him as the final one moved to let him shift to his knees, finally getting a view of the mine around him.

Bobo jerked back when he came face to face with the demon he had helped Wyatt put in the ground over a hundred years before. He froze, schooling his expression as best he could, but his nose turned up as the demon took hold of his hair and tugged him back hard. He leaned in, almost as if inspecting him, and the smell of rotting flesh enough to make Bobo nauseous.

"Robert Svane," Clootie hissed and the Revenant growled lowly in response, clever mind working for his best option. The demon was down a hand, down a wife - maybe two, he didn't see the other - but power still lurked there, and as one that was brought back by his curse, that power affected him. Something inside him instinctively knew and he was drawn to it, his eyes lulled closed for a moment as he felt that power wrapping around him. Don't fight. You're already mine.

He heard the words in his head and he tried to pull away suddenly, the grip on his mowhawk holding him in place on his knees in front of the demon who had done this to him. He had to remember that. He had to remember who the enemy really was. As troublesome as Wynonna Earp was on most of her days, ending Clootie was a common goal. It always had been, and he fought to remember that as he felt that power working at his mind to loosen his resolve.

A low, throaty chuckle came from the creature that had ahold of him. "Robert Svane," he repeated, "you've changed. Outside and in."

Bobo looked up, his teeth clicking together as he forced himself to meet those unnatural eyes. "Hell does that to a man."

"Even I hadn't quite hoped to be able to take you down with the curse. Wyatt loved you dearly. It must have broken his heart to know what you'd become."

Clootie sounded positively giddy at the thought and Bobo grunted a mirthless laugh. "Jokes on you then. Wyatt never knew."

"He left you there? After everything you did for him, he left you to die alone?"

It was like a knife twisting in him, ripping at the old wound Bobo had never really recovered from. Clootie knew that though. Bobo could feel him inside his head, rummaging for something useful. He needed to get out. He needed to get away.

"No," Clootie said, the word riding out on a breath. "You're not going anywhere. You're mine."

"No," Bobo snarled, trying to pull away. He lifted a hand to drag one of the rocks in at the demon's head, but Clootie deflected it, smiling terribly at him.

"You are powerful, but even you don't know your potential. Don't you get tired of fighting, Robert? Of placing your faith in the family of a man that betrayed you so deeply?"

"I ain't got a lot of faith left, and certainly not for the Earps."

Clootie pulled him roughly, forcing him to look up again. "You can't lie to me, Robert. You are mine. The curse made sure if that."

Bobo remained silent, his teeth bared and tensed with the effort to fight him. Every inch of him seemed inclined to give to the Demon Clootie's wishes. He wouldn't give. He was his own. After everything, he needed to hold onto that at the very least.

"No you're not," Clootie whispered into his ear, replying to the unspoken thoughts, and his grip tightened. Bobo gasped out, his lungs unable to drag enough air into them and he stared up at the demon. Those gold eyes were glowing and he could feel him draining him. His energy, his power, his will. Bobo wasn't sure if he had a soul left, but if he did he was certain that Clootie had a grip on it, shredding anything left of it.

"Wyatt betrayed you. Serve me, and you'll have your revenge for it," the demon promised. "All that…. pain and suffering you've endured, and he couldn't bother to be with you when you slipped away. Serve me, and that pain and suffering won't be for nothing."

Bobo was trembling now, held up by Clootie's grip and he could feel his brand on his back burning at the touch. His entire body was on fire and he was so, so tired. He just wanted it to end once and for all. He'd learned long ago to only let people see what he wanted them to see, but Clootie knew. Clootie understood what he'd been through because he could see it in his mind. He'd been fighting, he'd been playing the game, all in hopes to bring an end to it and to somehow walk free for the curse.

But freedom was an illusion for him. It had been the moment that Wyatt had shot him. Since Wyatt had damned him.

If he'd ever held onto the friendship they'd shared, those images began to fade away. The conversations, the laughter, the devotion. They faded from his mind and were replaced with a seething rage that he usually kept in better check. A hate that burned like the fires of hell itself.

"You loved him more than you hated him. It's been your secret for so long, but it's been your your weakness too, Robert," Clootie whispered, though if it was out loud or in his mind, Bobo couldn't tell. As the rage filled him he felt his strength returning and he got his feet under him, finally released as he stood, tilting his head and looking at the demon. He'd been a fool. He could see that now, clearer than he'd ever seen anything. He'd been a fool.

Clootie smiled, the skin covering his face just a little less rotted than before, though hardly whole, and his teeth were blackened. Even so, there was power there. Intoxicating power. "Will you serve me, Robert?"

"Yes."

"Prove it. Prove to me that you've let go of everything you were. Give me something you hold dear. Someone you've sworn to protect. Waverly Earp."

Bobo drew a sharp breath, finding no urge to fight the demand. He gave a small bow, arms stretched out in a dramatic motion. "As you wish, Master."

A low chuckle escaped the demon and Bobo heard a name in his mind. Bulshar. No one had known it before. He'd only been the Demon Clootie, but now he would be so much more.

"You and I will bring a reckoning, Robert. First to Purgatory, wiping out Wyatt's line, and then beyond." He perked up, looking over towards the entrance to the mine. "But first, deal with Holliday."

"With pleasure."

Notes: While the finale was phenomenal on almost every level, as a Bobo fan I walked away Friday night very disappointed. I'm a redemption arc kind of girl, and after 2.08 I had my hopes set that the season would end with him showing up at Shorty's or something and aligning with Wynonna and the rest of her team. Alas, he ended up in the bottom of the well screaming about his master and a reckoning.

The thing is, something happened there, and not just ta change in hair style *cough*helloMartin*cough*

I'm still convinced that Bobo's been playing a long game all this time. I think he holds a pretty significant grudge against his old friend, but people are complicated, and hurt and betrayal complicates a person even more. Right up until the cave-in he was dragging his feet, seemed very entertained when the sisters started bickering and Mercedes chopped Clootie's arm off. I think he still thought he had a chance to slip away then, but the next time we see him he's all white-haired and following Clootie like a devoted little puppy. That's not Bobo. He's not a follower and he has to know that Clootie wouldn't just let him out of this after being so instrumental in putting him in the ground to begin with. Something had to have happened, and when I have questions I write fics, so here we are.

Anyone else have any thoughts about it?

[vedantsaxena]

Week 1- Intro to Media Studies

As joining late for Media Studies, Shritej sir and I sat down and went through the syllabus where he taught me what will be coming in this year and what is expected out of me. We discussed about the different papers and what each of them consist of. We discussed also about the different things that come in component. We saw what each component consists;

First in my extra lecture I had started off with the Types of Movies, followed by Principles of Story Telling and the procedure of film making.

In the types of movies, we were taught Art Cinema and Commercial Cinema.

Under the process of film making there are 3 steps:

Pre-Production: It consists of Script, Actors, Budget, Story Board & Animation, Location, Dress and Shooting Schedule

Production: It consists of only Shooting

Post- Production: It consists of Editing, Sound Mixing, Dubbing and VFX/CGI

In the learning of principles of storytelling there are 10 principles which are as follows; 

Object: It is when a story revolves around an object. The movie Aladdin talks about how Young Aladdin embarks on a magical adventure after finding a lamp that releases a wisecracking genie.

Places: It is when a story revolves around a location or place. The movie Tumbbad, shows how a man and his son encounter a legendary demon while searching for hidden treasure in 19th-century India.

Conversation: It is when a story revolves around a conversation spoken by 2 or more characters. The movie Coffee and Cigarettes talks about a series of vignettes that all have coffee and cigarettes in common.

News: When a story relvoves around a news. The movie, Sound Of Music talks about how Maria, an aspiring nun, is sent as a governess to take care of seven motherless children. Soon her jovial and loving nature tames their hearts and the children become fond of her.

Nostalgia: It is when a story revolves around something done or  presented in order to evoke feelings of nostalgia. The movie, The Artist talks about how Peppy Miller falls in love with the silent film star George Valentin. Things change when Peppy becomes a famous actor while George's career goes downhill with the introduction of talkies.

Myth/History/Religion: When a story has a religious point of view. The  story can also be based on a historic event or a story with a myth. The movie, Gandhi talks about how a lawyer, Mohandas Gandhi, returns to British India from South Africa. He begins a nationwide campaign of non-violent resistance against British rule. The campaign pressures Britain to liberate India.

Backstory: When the character has a back story and the story is based  on it. The movie, The Gentleman Driver, talks about how Businessmen Ed Brown, Ricardo Gonzalez, Mike Guasch and Paul Dalla Lana moonlight as race car drivers.

Rumour: When the has a rumour in it. The film, Agyaat talks about Anu and Siddhu are in love and Siddhu turns up when Anu's family camps in a tiger sanctuary for a holiday. Unexpectedly, a sandalwood smuggler takes several members as hostages.

Calamity: It’s when a story has a natural calamity in it. The movie, San Andreas talks about how following a massive earthquake, Ray, a rescue-chopper pilot, and his ex-wife try to find the location of their daughter before earth's ultimate destruction.

Blending: It is a combination of all the principles. The movie, Ready Player One talks about  after death of James Halliday, the creator of the virtual reality world, his pre-recorded message reveals the hidden fortune, which makes Wade Watts, a teenager, embark on a quest.

Once sir taught me the principles of storytelling, he told me what is the format of story telling. There are 3 elements; Information, Conflict and Destiny. After this, sir told me to write a story with the first three principles; object, place and conversation with the format of Information, Conflict and Destiny.

In the other lecture this week, we were also taught for our editiing the different types of cutting methods like Harsh Cut, Match Cut, Cutting on action, Intercuts, J Cuts, L Cuts, Montage, Jump Cut, Cross dissolve, Fade In/Out, Cut away and Cross Cut.

Cut On Action: Cutting on action refers to film editing and video editing techniques where the editor cuts from one shot to another view that matches the first shot's action.

Intercut: These scenes are occurring at the same time. Instead of repeating the Scene Heading for each scene over and over.

J Cut: A technique in which the audio from a following scene overlaps the picture from the preceding scene, so that the audio portion of the later scene starts playing before its picture as a lead-in to the visual cut.

L Cut: A  technique in which the audio from preceding scene overlaps the picture from the following scene, so that the audio cuts after the picture, and continues playing over the beginning of the next scene.

Montage: Montage is a technique in film editing in which a series of short shots are edited into a sequence to condense space, time, and information.

Jump Cut: A jump cut is a cut in film editing in which two sequential shots of the same subject are taken from camera positions that vary only slightly.

Dissolve: It is basically represents the passage of time. While fast motion is also a great technique to show time passing, cross dissolves are much more common and easier to do.

Fade In/Out: Fade In is a dissolve is a gradual transition from one image to another, and Fade Out is a transition to and from a blank image. This is in contrast to a cut where there is no such transition.

Cut away: It is the interruption of a continuously filmed action by inserting a view of something else.

Cross Cut/Inter Cut:  It is used to establish action occurring at the same time, and usually in the same place. In a cross-cut, the camera will cut away from one action to another action, which can suggest the simultaneity of these two actions but this is not always the case.

Long Shot: Shows the subject from top to bottom; for a person, this would be head to toes, though not necessarily filling the frame. Eg: The picture below is from the movie “The Hobbit”.

Mid-Long Shot: Shows subject from the knees up.  The picture below is from the movie “The Good, The Bad And The Ugly”.

Mid-Shot: Shows part of the subject in more detail. For a person, a medium shot typically frames them from about waist up.  The picture below is from the movie “American Psycho”.

Mid-Close Shot: Falls between a Medium Shot and a Close-Up, generally framing the subject from chest or shoulder up. The picture below is from the movie “Alice in Wonderland ”.

Close-Up Shot: Fills the screen with part of the subject, such as a person’s face. The picture below is from the movie “Shining”.

Extreme Close Up: Emphasizes a small area or detail of the subject, such as the eye(s) or mouth. The picture below is from the movie “The Revenant”.

Over the shoulder (OS): A popular shot where a subject is shot from behind the shoulder of another, framing the subject anywhere from a Medium to Close-Up. The picture below is from the movie “The Spiderman: Homecoming”.

There were many other shots sir taught us like;

Ultra Wide/ Estabilishing shot: Used to show the subject from a distance, or the area in which the scene is taking place. The picture below is from the movie “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows”.

Birds-Eye View: A high-angle shot that’s taken from directly overhead and from a distance. The shot gives the audience a wider view and is useful for showing direction and that the subject is moving, to highlight special relations, or reveal to the audience elements outside the boundaries of the character’s awareness. The picture below is from the movie “Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind”.

Dutch Angle: Shot in which the camera is set at an angle on its roll axis so that the horizon line is not level. It is often used to show a disoriented or uneasy psychological state. The picture below is from the movie “ Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas ”.

Low Angle: Subject is photographed from below eye level. This can have the effect of making the subject look powerful, heroic, or dangerous. The picture below is from the movie “Batman VS Superman: Dawn of Justice”.

Top Angle: Subject is photographed from above eye level. This can have the effect of making the subject seem vulnerable, weak, or frightened. The picture below is from the movie “The Chronicles of Narnia”. 

Eye Level: Shot taken with the camera approximately at human eye level, resulting in a neutral effect on the audience. The picture below is from the movie “Get Out”.

[planar-echoes]

Precious Gold (Ravnica) By Matt Cavotta (3/29/06)

 I remember being proud of myself for not screaming or thrashing like an animal when the Rakdos lowlives grabbed me and put the rope around my neck. There, at the end of the noose, my life would take a turn.

Of course it would, I was going to die. But I remembered my Orzhov and I knew that it was only my body that would die. My life took a turn, though it was not the one I had expected.

It may seem like a tired old thought - that one's life could pass before her eyes. It may, but it is what happened to me as the demon followers tied me up. It may also seem odd to you that a 14 year-old girl could be so lucid, so thoughtful in such a traumatic time. I was 14 years old, but I have been pondering that moment for the last 126 years.

The End

I remember first thinking about the importance of allegiance. I was Orzhov, and I would not act like a weeping Conclaver at my moment of change. I would not let the sloppy Rakdos with their hideous laughter and manic singing shake me as I entered the world of Ghosts. I was too good for that. An Orzhov is too good for that. “You cannot fight them, Emilya,” I thought to myself. “So instead you must show them the nobility of a superior guild.” Secretly though, in the back of my mind, I knew that there would be retribution. I was comforted by this thought. The Orzhov did not go lightly on those who break contracts, defile guild territory, or injure important guildmembers.

Of course, I was just one of the Orzhov masses, but they would surely avenge the death of an innocent little girl at the hands of the Demon guild. At the basilicas, the Orzhov Pontiff would rage, as they always do, and the Ostiary Thrull would shuffle about the congregation collecting funds for the vengeance campaign. Would it be the guildmages who put the Rakdos in their place? I knew it was just a dream to dream, but would the Angel of Despair swoop in, stonefaced and glassy-eyed? I always loved to see them standing guard at the high ceremonies - dark and distant, as if they were too terrible and too beautiful to even be there. That is how I wanted to be. And so I would be, there in the hands of the Rakdos. I was comforted also by the image of our Signet in my mind. I focused on it when the laughter and the pain began to break my stoicism. It was perfect, like the guild itself – dark and powerful, yet blinding like the sun. The symbol was inspired by the legendary Culling Sun, a force beautiful and terrible, like the angels, that in dire times comes to cleanse the world of the unworthy. Would this be the wrath brought against the Rakdos? Was I worthy of such great holy retribution? I recalled my favorite tithing mantra - the little prayer we spoke as we placed coins in the Ostiary Thrull plate:

“We are the precious gold. With us Orzhova was gilt. With us it gleams most bright.”

I was worthy of the Revenant Patriarch grace. I think they would do this for me, as the sermons say they would. I was “precious gold.”

This is what I thought as life fell to the earth beneath my dangling feet. I was strong. Ghost Council of Orzhova would be proud to welcome another Daughter of Orzhova, one who did not buckle under the threats of a lesser guild. Though I was sure my body was suffering, my pride was swelling and my disdain for the Rakdos blooming as I watched them do what other foul guilds do to the innocent.

I was at the end of a noose, and my life would take an unexpected turn. My family and I were devout to the Church. We paid our tithes, went to the Orzhov Basilica for Tax-Mass and for prayer, and contributed regularly to the Protector's Fund. We comported ourselves like true “precious gold.” Orzhova, the Church of Deals gleamed because of our devotion. The gargoyles watched over it because we contributed. The Demon was kept underground because the Orzhov Pontiff performed the Suppression Rituals. Why should I have feared - there at the end of the rope and my corporeal life?

I will tell you why.

Dying was an experience very different than I had expected. It was without sensation or ceremony or fanfare of any kind. It was like walking from the parlor to the kitchen - nothing much to speak of. I do remember, before the change, seeing myself from above. I could hear nothing but a steady wind, but my eyes took note of the Rakdos, parading around in their tasteless, shabby hats, paying little attention to me. Then, just before I left that world, I saw what I thought were thrulls. From above I could see them. Waiting? Hiding?

I paid little mind to the sight of the thrulls in my early afterlife. I was still too blinded by pride to bother with it. But a seed was planted. A little seed that would grow in my spirit and shape my afterlife.

The Change

The change was also not what I had expected. I was not in a rich and wonderful ghost palace, and there were no Orzhov spirits there to show me the way to my great-great grandparents. The world was a foggy, shifting vision of a city much like Ravnica. I remembered hearing street kids make jokes and threats about a place called Agyrem. A ghost city. It sounded too mundane to be true - and they never mentioned it at mass or at the trade conventions. My mind swirled and wrapped around itself. Was this Agyrem? If it was, why did the Orzhov not speak of it? Was I unworthy of the ghost palace of the Patriarchs? Did I not conduct myself well enough in life or in death? My world was upside down.

On the other hand, the afterlife felt surprisingly similar to regular life. I could feel emotion and sensation. After so much time had passed with no reunions with passed grandparents or meetings with the Patriarchs, my emotions were mostly pain and loss and loneliness. I was again just a 14 year-old girl, missing my mum and papa, scared of being alone. My armor of pride and zeal wore off. Why were things not as the Pontiffs had said? What was I supposed to do? Mostly I just cried. Occasionally I would encounter another spirit and I would ask questions. But not all spirits are Orzhov, and each one has its own sadness to attend to.

I was confused. I was lost. But I was not yet ready to open up and allow the seed in my soul to grow. There was still too much built up. Fourteen years of the words and weight of Orzhova still held fast, but the grip was loosening.

As time passed - can't be specific about days and years as they have no meaning in my new world… As it passed, I did manage to muster the courage to explore this new Ghost City. I found myself compelled to seek out information regarding those I knew in life and, more importantly, the circumstances of my death. I was very surprised to find out how willing the dead are to speak of their lives, and of who they knew. It was a way, I guessed, to hold on to the past. I was also surprised to find out that some of the spirits of the Ghost City could move between the world of the living and the world of ghosts. These spirits were not as eager to talk, though they bore the most relevant news. It was one of these spirits that told me a little tale that seemed unimportant to him, but weighed heavily on me.

He was a stonemason who died when a Helldozer toppled a building he was working near. He was under Orzhov contract to re-pave the plaza surrounding “the crying tree.” “It was to be a very big deal,” he told me. Something about this piqued my interest, so I asked about it often. I found out quite a bit more from a young Orzhov man. He was a ragged, worn out soul. He must have been in the ghost world for a long, long time.

He told me that, after the killing (mine, I was beginning to believe), a great uproar was stirred in the basilicas. He was not there, but some of the souls he served with were. He and some like him were gathered from the ghost world by the agents of the Council and formed into a Souls of the Faultless. They were to guard the little plaza surrounding the tree where the Rakdos had killed the girl. Anti-Rakdos sentiment was rampant. People were asked to make donations to the Vengeance Campaign at the “Martyred Rusalka.” Soon it was surrounded in gold, and the ragged boy had to hold back thieves and greedy thugs for weeks. He did not see anything else. He was crushed by a rampaging Gruul “Scab-Clan Mauler” who broke their line to get to the tree. He said that his readiness was replaced with pity, and in that moment he was crushed. I felt badly for the boy. I would see him often lingering near what could best be described as a fountain. It was not water that it spouted, but nothingness. Many gathered there to gaze in and forget. I would go there to find people, to seek knowledge. I did not look to forget.

Perhaps I should have. The vision of Exhumer Thrull lurking near my dying form began to creep back to my mind. I was just starting to feel the pride of the black sun once again when the visions started feeding the seed in my soul. A Vengeance Campaign was created for me. A plaza built. The site of my death named and made a monument. But the seed grew and so did the compulsion to know more. I did not question this compulsion… it felt so natural. I was sure that it had something to do with my future. Perhaps this was the test that I must pass to gain entrance to the palace of the Patriarchs.

But what I found as I kept searching, over a period of 125 years, was not the key to the Ghost Palace. It was proof of a life deceived.

The Truth

Eventually, I would meet my father again. Neither of us would ever find mum. Papa had much to say in between the rings of the Debtors' Knell. It might have been years between our meetings, but we did manage to piece together a story that was hard for either of us to accept.

The plaza surrounding the Tree of Weeping was never completed. The buildings nearby were destroyed and rebuilt as shop fronts and high priced plaza-view dwellings. Once the shops and dwellings were sold, the masonry work on the plaza was stopped. The gold that had been gathered during that whole time funded a Vengeance Campaign that was supposed to “ruin the Rakdos forever,” but produced only one trial of a couple of street urchins who many believe were not even there. After a while, the locals forgot the tree was the site of a great wrongdoing. Some continued to toss coins at its base like children at wishing wells. Once life returned to normal, the Vengeance Campaign was allowed to slip from Orzhov minds. The pontiffs did not rage about the Rakdos – they began a crusade against the “Unholy Golgari – death farmers, depriving souls of the wonders of the Ghost Palace.” Meanwhile, somewhere, some Orzhov functionary tried to count the masses of coins piled in a secret chamber.

Masses of coins. “We are the precious gold. With us Orzhova was gilt. With us it gleams most bright.” It never occurred to us that this was not meant to be symbolic. We are the precious gold, or at least the source of it! How brazen they are, how deceitful. Shame on us for believing in them. Shame on us for thinking that all that power, all that wealth, was used only for us, and not against us. Were we too blinded by routine to notice that just a few Teysa, Orzhov Scion had coffers that were spilling over, while all of ours were emptying out? Were we too blinded by pride to think that the creators of the contracts that bound so many Ravnicans to Orzhov service might have done the same to us? Unfortunately, one must die to find this out. By then, that soul is old news - like the Tree of Weeping. That soul can no longer place coins in the ostiary's plate. That soul is forgotten.

The Twist

But fate has a sense of irony. When the manipulative minds put together the plan to raise some “martyr funds,” they made sure their contracts were all in order. The correct families would receive the correct amounts of the take. The proper businesses would be involved in demolitions, construction, and advertisement. Secretive channels would be used to deal with the Rakdos, and funds due would move through those same channels (which turned out to be “secret” enough to disappear after the attack). All possible contingencies were accounted for in mage-documents prepared by the officers of the ruling families - all possible contingencies but one.

The part of the contract that dealt with my soul was nullified at the moment when I saw the thrulls. The law-mage's own pride did not allow her to see beyond my complete devotion to the Orzhov guild. The contract called for a devout female follower between the ages of 12 and 15. It detailed which family's spirit kin would control my soul in the afterlife, and what the term of my service would be. But the contract on my afterlife was broken before it even started.

When I saw the thrulls waiting there, watching me die, something deep within me knew this was not right. Orzhov thrulls do not think – they follow orders. My subconscious knew that they were part of the plan, but my pride kept me from recognizing it. At that moment, I was no longer Orzhov (by strict definition of the contract for my soul). I had become something else entirely. A force more basic than the Guildpact settled in me. I was Rusalka – the spirit of a young innocent wrongly killed. It is the nature of a Scorched Rusalka to search for clues to the truth about her death. For me, this alone would have been irony enough, but fate is not so easily pleased.

The Beginning

There, at the end of a rope, my afterlife took a turn. After 125 years of existence in the shadow of lies, I finally had truth. And peace. But fate was not done smiling. Once again I was at the end of a rope, and things were about to change, but this time I kept my eyes open. I did not push away reality with dreams of angels and riches. What I saw was more strange than any dream. The sky was rippling above me. I heard screaming far below. My eyes followed the rope tied to my chest all the way up to its anchor point - a living mountain of rock. Above it hovered a great stone head. Eyeless. It was horrific, but I did not fear... I was already dead. Then I looked down and saw a sight that was even more strange than the great thing to which I was tied. Ravnica. The dead do not dream. They do not even sleep. How could this be?

It matters not.

The giant stone thing knelt. The rope broke free of it, and then of me. I was back home again. Alive.

Fate's dimple formed beside a wide grin. She knew that I would not fall back into the life I had before. She knew that I would come here to tell my tale, and to steal “precious gold” from the Church of Deals.

[thevoguecab-einstein-blog]

Anna Wintour gives inspirational speech to fashion students at York University

Editor-in-Chief of American Vogue Anna Wintour (left) takes part in a question and answer session with Editor-in-Chief of the Guardian, Kath Viner, during the Northern Youth Fashion Show at the University of York. Picture by: Anna Gowthorpe / PA Wire/Press Association Images.

Cultivate your interest, be intellectually free and look for new points of view are just some of the pieces of advice given by the grand dame of Fashion and American Vogue’s Editor-In-Cheif, Anna Wintour, at an audience with at York University on Friday. Raising money for refugees in accordance with Refugee Action York and Xavier Project X (ensuring equal opportunities for refugees), all organised by Wintour’s niece Ellie. The evening was led by The Guardian’s Kath Viner. Following a welcome speak by Viner talking about her roots in York, Viner described the woman of the hour as a Journalist, Power Broker, the most powerful woman in fashion and the point where fashion and business come together as one. Wintour’s opening speech detailed her relations to York via her Uncle who was the Vice Chancellor of the University, making her reflect on her daughter’s experience at her own university instead of her own, as at 17 she went directly into work. Now she believes there is a “true generation gap”, with the Millennia’s and the rest of the world as these have embraced the new technology available. The owner of the most famous Bob in the world gave her advice to the next generation of Journalist and Creatives, making these the ultimate in Wintour’s words of wisdom:

Please don’t become too specialized, be intellectually free and please don’t close your minds to other     callings.

It  is crucial to have multiple interest and skills sets – everyone at Conde Nast is their own Writer, Photographer and Editor.

When you understand the nuts and bolts, it makes you better at what you’re doing.

One of things to look for in a collection, Designer or Writer is a new point  of view.

Trust and cultivate your taste.

Do not discount training and help – work and learn from the best and have the freedom to create and make mistakes.

From there Kath Viner began her interview with the American Vogue Editor. Anna Wintour on the differences between America and UK; “The America’s drink Coffee over Tea, exercise at very available opportunity and their Candidates are madder then the ones in Great Britain, giving her first dig at Donald Trump of the evening.” Wintour’s idea of home: “I’m pretty homeless actually”, it’s due to traveling. Just before the interview she was in Paris for the couture shows, where she is “lucky to experience different cultures and for me home is where my family is”. Love of the North of England: “I like the Moores , I recently went to a David Hockney exhibition called Action Week, detailing the Moores in bloom”. Anna’s love of the North is also now home to one of her role models Burberry’s Creative Director, Christopher Bailey. Who is making the brand even more British by having the signature trench coats made in Leeds. Her admiration for Bailey is due to how he manages the brand, discovering new talent to sing at the shows and bringing it into the 21st century. Wintour also made it known that Coddington isn’t leaving American Vogue, but merely taking a step back to create her own brand by creating a perfume and lipstick line in the works, making us wonder how many shades of orange there will be. On her inspirations: “I’m very influenced by film by people such as Baz Luhrmann, Wes Anderson and Sandy Powell. It’s anything that has an interesting visual” she joked The Revenant had a good bear costume! One of her biggest decision: “Moving to New York, as I had had a good career in London as it was a safe situation for me, but it was something I’ve never regretted.” Rounding the evening off from questions from the floor, revealing a different side to the advice giving legend, her more humorous and sometimes cutting side.

The questions asked her whether people took the fashion business seriously, to which she replied: “People tend not to understand that fashion is a business, in NY it’s the second largest there. Many politicians are frightened by it as they’re scared of being different and breaking away.” The evening revealed Wintour’s passion for Politics, and the fact she’s backing Hilary Clinton who is running a strong campaign. She believes that Clinton’s opposition, the other most famous hair in the world, Donald Trump, has a no substance, and “I’m not sure he even knows where Syria is. The media purely show him to sell pages and get better ratings”. Her ability to change from fashion to politics and back again is seamless, and she when was asked ‘what is the best way to cultivate your own personal style?, her instantaneous reply; “look in a mirror”.

Wintour has spoken.

[how2to18]

“But time is such a wearisome notion in our modern world, is it not?” said Jenny, savouring the yellow portion of her egg. “The idea of spending a day and a half, or two or three in the company of friends… I think it would be so much nicer if we did away with time altogether and just did as we pleased for as long as we liked. Don’t you?”

— Marx Returns

¤

IN JASON BARKER’S Marx Returns, an imaginative, uplifting, and sometimes disturbing alternative history, Jenny remarks over breakfast that time would be better abolished than maintained. The time of the “modern world” is the time of rent payments, of appointments with doctors and fellow revolutionaries, of train timetables and overdue deadlines for manuscripts. It is the time of the untimely — of deaths too young and altogether too tragic — but also of a revolutionary fervor, intrigue, spying, conspiracy, and dirt of all kinds. It is also a time of games — epic geopolitical battles, but also chess, children’s games, dreams, drunken silliness, and mathematical formulae that don’t quite work. Jenny, on holiday, enjoying herself, wonders idly what a world without time might look like. She has forgotten how long she has spent with her new friend, a lieutenant in the British army, when he reminds her that it has only been a mere day-and-a-half. “Time,” Jenny continues, is “a social problem that stems from the unnatural separation between our public and private lives.” Time is not the playground of our freedoms and capacities, but rather the unnatural arrangement through which one is forced to entertain both a private and a public persona.

Of course this is also a question of class and of respectability — for “Baroness” Jenny von Westphalen, at least — and sliding into poverty with Marx does for her reputation, as he scrapes and begs for more time, a little more money, a little sympathy so he can finish his masterpiece, Capital. But do we anymore entertain this private and public relation to time?

Jenny’s “utopian” desire for an end to time is also the desire for free time, and the exploration of our capacities. This is Marx’s part-satirical point in The German Ideology, where we imagine ourselves hunting, fishing, breeding, criticizing as we wish, and for as long as we like (in Marx Returns, Jenny is the advocate of such German ideology, or “idealism,” while her husband attends to more seemingly “scientific” questions). The equation public = clock-time, wage labor, drudgery, whereas private = family, free time, delight is, though, in itself utopian, archaic. Of course, for the Marx family, they are not at all exempt from constant interruptions to their private life, whether it be as landlords and creditors try to force them to pay up or move out, or Marx and his contemporaries become threatened by arrest.

Our post-industrial relations to time are still very much tied up to class and debt, and we might still fantasize about the abolition of time altogether, whether it be the time, or the interruption of time, announced by the alarm clock, mobile phone, emails at all times of the day and night. Do we relax in our “free time” in the company of friends? Our anxiety seems multiplied by the fact that time is everywhere, and that we seem to have less and less of it, in work or out of it. We perhaps do not even spend time noticing that “all that is solid melts into air,” given that venturing outside is ever more likely to carry with it certain risks! The pollution of Marx’s era depicted in Marx Returns (the “volcanic debris” pumped out of the “toxic delivery rooms of the Upper Lambeth Marsh”) has become less visible in some ways, but no less toxic, as the seas fill up with microbeads and plastic bottles and the air becomes more and more devastating to all-too-human lungs; no amount of German ideology can diminish such material effects. The image of time imagined by Jenny and the future society Marx half-jokes about, half-hints at, is a life lived largely outdoors, though we will need somewhere to play chess, listen to music, and write our criticism, not to mention going to sleep and waking up whenever we want to. Eventually, the husband realizes that,

In the future society Marx was working to achieve one could have it all: the wife and the book. The children, the dog, the pony and the piano … the whole damned affair! The fact that Marx didn’t personally have the book yet was, admittedly, a poor demonstration of his theory. But that didn’t mean his theory had been disproven.

After all, what is freedom? What do we want? What ties us down and keeps us miserable when we are also capable of imagining a different future for everyone? In Marx Returns, Marx’s father suggests that Marx must choose between marrying Jenny (and making money for the family) and writing. In other words, he must spend his time wisely. Marx, in the end arguing with an untimely revenant, states: “You dared me to choose between them and I refused. Compromise was never my strong suit, nor yours.” Marx’s choice not to choose endangers his family’s well-being to a tragic degree, but in this respect he is no different from the many families who continue to lose children to poverty, and who did not have the possibility of choosing their circumstances. He admits as much in his botched apology to Helene following a scandalous bout of sexual intercourse (rape?). But the admission is also a self-conscious and knowing attempt to excuse his own behavior. “I never had a crystal ball,” Marx explains, at least partly in order to absolve himself of responsibility for this wanton act. “I always made decisions in circumstances that were not of my own choosing.”

¤

How much stuff is there in the world? In the world of circulation in the book — of pawn shops and factories and commodities and pints of beer — we are constantly in the world of lack and swapping. But someone always gets rich. Where today is all the wealth that, were it redistributed, however forcibly, would see everyone with as much as they wanted, which in turn would also be what they needed? Such is the question that confronts the eponymous hero of Marx Returns in his ill-fated attempts to balance the books, the equations of use and exchange values, and the “vanishing quantities” of capital. The whole relation between want and need would thus be reconfigured in its turn, as freedom and time would allow us to realize and decide what it was that we valued, because our entire conception of value would also be revalued. Would we still love for a long time? Do we still now? We seem much quicker to cut ties, end friendships, avoid relationships, move on, explicitly or implicitly revealing the reasons why. What ties do we have left? The big Other haunts us in the constant fear of humiliation and shame, but we do not seem loyal to those we might formerly have felt duty toward, even or especially in times of crisis.

If we had more time would we be freer, happier? Would we maintain our friendships and relationships as retirees might retain their gardens, if we get to retire, if we have a garden, if there are either gardens or retirement left for anyone anymore? If we decided against lack, if we acted as though we had all the time in the world, and that we could take stock of all the private property in the world with a view to apportioning it, reorganizing it; if we could make free what has been enclosed, such that we could all have access to the commons and become commoners once again, would we also be able to start to see time as less of a prison cell, an anxious warder, but more of a vast expanse in which social relations were infinite and infinitely possible, infinitely interesting? If we “did as we pleased for as long as we liked,” might we finally be able to do some good?

¤

Nina Power lives in London and teaches Philosophy at Roehampton University. She is the author of One Dimensional Woman (2009) and has written many articles on European philosophy and politics. She is the co-founder of Defend the Right to Protest, a campaign group that opposes police brutality and the use of violence against protestors.

The post Time and Freedom in Jason Barker’s “Marx Returns” appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

from Los Angeles Review of Books http://ift.tt/2DwxE8u via IFTTT

[topmixtrends]

“But time is such a wearisome notion in our modern world, is it not?” said Jenny, savouring the yellow portion of her egg. “The idea of spending a day and a half, or two or three in the company of friends… I think it would be so much nicer if we did away with time altogether and just did as we pleased for as long as we liked. Don’t you?”

— Marx Returns

¤

IN JASON BARKER’S Marx Returns, an imaginative, uplifting, and sometimes disturbing alternative history, Jenny remarks over breakfast that time would be better abolished than maintained. The time of the “modern world” is the time of rent payments, of appointments with doctors and fellow revolutionaries, of train timetables and overdue deadlines for manuscripts. It is the time of the untimely — of deaths too young and altogether too tragic — but also of a revolutionary fervor, intrigue, spying, conspiracy, and dirt of all kinds. It is also a time of games — epic geopolitical battles, but also chess, children’s games, dreams, drunken silliness, and mathematical formulae that don’t quite work. Jenny, on holiday, enjoying herself, wonders idly what a world without time might look like. She has forgotten how long she has spent with her new friend, a lieutenant in the British army, when he reminds her that it has only been a mere day-and-a-half. “Time,” Jenny continues, is “a social problem that stems from the unnatural separation between our public and private lives.” Time is not the playground of our freedoms and capacities, but rather the unnatural arrangement through which one is forced to entertain both a private and a public persona.

Of course this is also a question of class and of respectability — for “Baroness” Jenny von Westphalen, at least — and sliding into poverty with Marx does for her reputation, as he scrapes and begs for more time, a little more money, a little sympathy so he can finish his masterpiece, Capital. But do we anymore entertain this private and public relation to time?

Jenny’s “utopian” desire for an end to time is also the desire for free time, and the exploration of our capacities. This is Marx’s part-satirical point in The German Ideology, where we imagine ourselves hunting, fishing, breeding, criticizing as we wish, and for as long as we like (in Marx Returns, Jenny is the advocate of such German ideology, or “idealism,” while her husband attends to more seemingly “scientific” questions). The equation public = clock-time, wage labor, drudgery, whereas private = family, free time, delight is, though, in itself utopian, archaic. Of course, for the Marx family, they are not at all exempt from constant interruptions to their private life, whether it be as landlords and creditors try to force them to pay up or move out, or Marx and his contemporaries become threatened by arrest.

Our post-industrial relations to time are still very much tied up to class and debt, and we might still fantasize about the abolition of time altogether, whether it be the time, or the interruption of time, announced by the alarm clock, mobile phone, emails at all times of the day and night. Do we relax in our “free time” in the company of friends? Our anxiety seems multiplied by the fact that time is everywhere, and that we seem to have less and less of it, in work or out of it. We perhaps do not even spend time noticing that “all that is solid melts into air,” given that venturing outside is ever more likely to carry with it certain risks! The pollution of Marx’s era depicted in Marx Returns (the “volcanic debris” pumped out of the “toxic delivery rooms of the Upper Lambeth Marsh”) has become less visible in some ways, but no less toxic, as the seas fill up with microbeads and plastic bottles and the air becomes more and more devastating to all-too-human lungs; no amount of German ideology can diminish such material effects. The image of time imagined by Jenny and the future society Marx half-jokes about, half-hints at, is a life lived largely outdoors, though we will need somewhere to play chess, listen to music, and write our criticism, not to mention going to sleep and waking up whenever we want to. Eventually, the husband realizes that,

In the future society Marx was working to achieve one could have it all: the wife and the book. The children, the dog, the pony and the piano … the whole damned affair! The fact that Marx didn’t personally have the book yet was, admittedly, a poor demonstration of his theory. But that didn’t mean his theory had been disproven.

After all, what is freedom? What do we want? What ties us down and keeps us miserable when we are also capable of imagining a different future for everyone? In Marx Returns, Marx’s father suggests that Marx must choose between marrying Jenny (and making money for the family) and writing. In other words, he must spend his time wisely. Marx, in the end arguing with an untimely revenant, states: “You dared me to choose between them and I refused. Compromise was never my strong suit, nor yours.” Marx’s choice not to choose endangers his family’s well-being to a tragic degree, but in this respect he is no different from the many families who continue to lose children to poverty, and who did not have the possibility of choosing their circumstances. He admits as much in his botched apology to Helene following a scandalous bout of sexual intercourse (rape?). But the admission is also a self-conscious and knowing attempt to excuse his own behavior. “I never had a crystal ball,” Marx explains, at least partly in order to absolve himself of responsibility for this wanton act. “I always made decisions in circumstances that were not of my own choosing.”

¤

How much stuff is there in the world? In the world of circulation in the book — of pawn shops and factories and commodities and pints of beer — we are constantly in the world of lack and swapping. But someone always gets rich. Where today is all the wealth that, were it redistributed, however forcibly, would see everyone with as much as they wanted, which in turn would also be what they needed? Such is the question that confronts the eponymous hero of Marx Returns in his ill-fated attempts to balance the books, the equations of use and exchange values, and the “vanishing quantities” of capital. The whole relation between want and need would thus be reconfigured in its turn, as freedom and time would allow us to realize and decide what it was that we valued, because our entire conception of value would also be revalued. Would we still love for a long time? Do we still now? We seem much quicker to cut ties, end friendships, avoid relationships, move on, explicitly or implicitly revealing the reasons why. What ties do we have left? The big Other haunts us in the constant fear of humiliation and shame, but we do not seem loyal to those we might formerly have felt duty toward, even or especially in times of crisis.

If we had more time would we be freer, happier? Would we maintain our friendships and relationships as retirees might retain their gardens, if we get to retire, if we have a garden, if there are either gardens or retirement left for anyone anymore? If we decided against lack, if we acted as though we had all the time in the world, and that we could take stock of all the private property in the world with a view to apportioning it, reorganizing it; if we could make free what has been enclosed, such that we could all have access to the commons and become commoners once again, would we also be able to start to see time as less of a prison cell, an anxious warder, but more of a vast expanse in which social relations were infinite and infinitely possible, infinitely interesting? If we “did as we pleased for as long as we liked,” might we finally be able to do some good?

¤

Nina Power lives in London and teaches Philosophy at Roehampton University. She is the author of One Dimensional Woman (2009) and has written many articles on European philosophy and politics. She is the co-founder of Defend the Right to Protest, a campaign group that opposes police brutality and the use of violence against protestors.

The post Time and Freedom in Jason Barker’s “Marx Returns” appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

from Los Angeles Review of Books http://ift.tt/2DwxE8u

[the-jade-goblin]

Commander Shepard Question Meme

Since this is a long post, most of it is under the cut. 

I’m tagging @vorchagirl, @kadarakings, @gharrus, @masseffectish and @femsheparding 

 1.       Introduce your Shepard. How do they look? What do they think about themselves? What kind of person is your Shepard, what are their ambitions and goals? Are they Renegade or Paragon?

 My Shepard is Danica Shepard. She has shoulder-length bright orange hair and dark green eyes. She wears black lipstick and black eyeshadow, and has a scar from her left temple down her face to her right cheek.

 Dani thinks of herself mostly, as a protector.  She’s always determined to take care of her crew and look after her friends. Dani has never lost a single soldier under her command until Virmire, and since then she’s felt like a failure, vowing to get better and stronger so she wouldn’t lose anyone again.

 Dani has never been very ambitious. She’s never cared about getting medals or promotions or whatever. Her only goals are to get stronger and do her job as well as she can. In the beginning, she’s the picture of a perfect Paragon, when she is rebuilt by Cerberus a lot of her care cup becomes empty and she has a shorter temper; she’s more of a Paragade. And in 3 she literally has zero fucks to give anymore to the people who get in her way, but she’s still a Paragon to those in need and will try to make peace where she can.

 2.       Tell us about your Shepard’s family background - parents, siblings? How was their relationship with them? Are any of them alive? Are they still in contact with them? Were they a Spacer, a Colonist or Earthborn?

 Dani was Earthborn, which has made her tough and unlikely to show weakness. She never knew her family, but after ME3 a woman claiming to be her mother gets in contact with her, and there she meets a half-sister and step-father she never knew she had. At first she had trouble getting along with her mother, the woman who had abandoned her, but over time Dani forgave her and she gets along very well with her family members, especially her little sister Ellie.

 3.       What is your Shepard’s psychological profile? War Hero? Sole Survivor? Ruthless? How do they feel about this past?

 Dani is a War Hero, but she feels burdened from that past. She is so compelled to save people that she earned her reputation, and whenever she loses a team mate in battle it’s a significant blow to the role she feels she’s supposed to play.

4.       Is there an event from your Shepard’s past (before they joined the Alliance) that they regret? What is it?

 Dani’s entire childhood could classify as that I suppose, but specifically there is one memory that Dani has never looked on with anything but deep guilt and regret. Dani joined a merc band when she was young, around 12, as a drug mule, and when she was older the leader of the gang had her dance at his nightclub when she wasn’t running smuggling missions for him. Dani met another young girl down on her luck that had joined the band as a dancer at that nightclub, but Dani discovered the young girl was being horribly abused by the gang leader, one night she saw her getting dragged into his room kicking and screaming. She walked away, afraid, and never spoke of it. The girl was dead the next day, and Dani forever regrets not trying to save her.

 5.       Is there an event from your Shepard’s past (before they joined the Alliance) that they look fondly on? What is it?

 The moment in Dani’s life that triggered her desire to help people has always been a fond memory for her. It was no big deal really; a little boy was getting bullied by these bigger kids and they were throwing around this stuffed bear the kid was trying to get back and taunting him for sleeping with a toy at his age. Dani sucker-punched the biggest boy and told him to pick on someone his own size, and of course he went home crying. The little kid looked so happy when Dani gave him his bear back, he hugged her and started crying as he thanked her. And Dani decided that she wanted to keep helping people and see those smiles on other’s faces.

 6.       How is your Shepard with weapons and technology? Can they handle the new challenges or are they dependent on help? Do they fight primarily with guns or do they have biotics? Tech skills?

 Dani has always prided herself on being top in her field of literally any field she attempts. Every challenge is a new obstacle for her to jump, every new weapon and piece of tech is hers to conquer to be that much better than before. Dani’s a lone wolf and has always been that way, but she can work surprisingly well with a group in combat too (especially if it’s Garrus watching her six). She’s a soldier and only ever used heavy guns and pistols until Cerberus gave her biotic implants. She never developed her biotics until the end of ME2 with the help of Jack, Samara and Miranda, and uses them fully with her weapons in ME3. She’s hopeless at tech skills though, that’s all up to Tali when it needs to be done.

 7.       What is their usual setup? What armor and weapons do they usually carry into a fight?

 Dani favours the M-76 Revenant as her usual gun, the M-98 Widow for her sniper, and the M-9 Tempest for her backup gun. Dani wears purple and blue N7 armour manufactured from Hahne-Kedar.

 8.       Does your Shepard have any tattoos or piercings? If so, what are they and why did they get them?

 Growing up Dani had a lip and nose piercing, but she took them out when joined the Alliance. On a trip Omega she and Joker get a Normandy tattoo, Dani on her hip, Joker on his chest. During the Reaper war, she puts back on her nose piercing, gets an N7 tattoo on her back to match James’, and she and Kaidan get the Alliance symbol tattooed on their shoulders.

 9.       Time for Favorites: Song? Color? Food? Ice Cream? Scent? Movie? Book? Is there a specific drink they like to have? Is there a type of comfort food they like?

 Song? Hold Me Down by Halsey. It’s an old Earth song but Dani loves Halsey’s voice and the melody of the song, it’s a very calming song for her and she always plays it when she’s upset.

Colour? Purple. Her N7 armour is purple and most of her civilian clothes are too. But she’s quite partial to Vakarian blue as well.

Food? Mashed potatoes. Simple, tastes good, and easy to make.

Ice-cream? Sweet potato ice-cream. Kasumi introduced it to her when they went on a trip to Japan together and she’s loved it ever since.

Scent? Whatever it is that Garrus smells like all the time. Maybe it’s the metallic smell of the ship. Movie? Zootopia. Dani adores the old vid, she says she feels like Judy is her and Garrus is Nick. They both love watching it together.

Book? Dani has never gotten her hands on a real book, but Kasumi has a beautiful collection and one of her favourites from that collection is The Catcher in the Rye. It’s such an old book but it’s so good.  

Drink? Dani loves to drink hot water and honey, sometimes with a bit of lemon. It was one of the only drinks she could get when she was growing up on the streets of New York.

 10.   How do they feel about being in command of the Normandy? About their SPECTRE status?

 Dani was slightly nervous about her command of the Normandy; she hadn’t been in a position of command since the Skyllian Blitz, she’d always served under Anderson after that so having her own command again was a bit nerve wracking at first. Dani was honoured upon being appointed a Spectre, and as the months rolled by she began to almost take it for granted. She’d roll her eyes and mutter ‘I’m a Spectre I can do what I like’ under her breath when someone was being difficult and wouldn’t help her, but she never abused her power.

 11.   Any skills outside of fighting that your Shepard has: Do they know how to cook? Do they have any hobbies that they like to do? Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it?

 Shepard has the unique ability to pole dance, from her gang days as a teenager. She can play and win any gambling game you’ll find in a casino. She loves to sketch and to paint, and sing when no one’s around. She collects crystals as well as her model ships, her favourite crystals are the ones collected from Tali’s homeworld, they glow vibrant colours in the dark.

 12.   What are your Shepard’s fears? Are they afraid of anything in particular?

 Dani has a profound fear of spiders. And bees, since she’s allergic, but working in space you don’t run into bees very often.

 13.   Does your Shepard have a home away from the Normandy? If so, where is it and how do they keep it? If not, then what does your Shepard do to make their cabin feel more homely?

 Dani has no home, only the Normandy.  After the war she makes herself a home; or rather two. She and Garrus buy a beautiful cottage by a lake in southern Canada, and a penthouse in Palavan’s capital city.

Before that however, she makes her cabin her own by displaying her model ships everywhere, and putting up many photos of her crew throughout the years, as well decorating her fish tank with exciting fish and plants.

 14.   Squad: Who is your Shepard’s best friend? Do they like to do anything specific together?

 Apart from Garrus, Shepard has always been closest to Liara and Tali. The three of them were part of the original team on the Normandy SR-1 so she holds them very dear to her heart. Liara and Dani on the SR-1 would spend hours talking about the Protheans, she and Tali would go shopping for cheap salvage and create new things out of the pieces, and she and Garrus always love to have shooting competitions in their spare time.

 15.   Squad: Who does your Shepard like the least? Why?

 Dani doesn’t particularly dislike any of her crew; if she disliked them they wouldn’t be part of her crew. Having said that, there are squad members Dani isn’t as close to as others. On the SR-1, though she was fond of Ash, Dani disagreed with her anti-alien views and couldn’t relate to her Alliance family history. On the SR-2 Dani never warmed up to Jacob very much, which is surprising since Miranda’s the more untrustworthy one of the two Cerberus agents. There’s no particular reason, Dani was just much closer to others in her team.

 16.   Squad: Who is your Shepard’s go to squad for missions? Why do they choose that particular squad?

 On the SR-1 it was always about who was best suited for each mission, aboard the SR-2 Dani stuck with the crew she knew and trusted. Garrus and Tali are her go-to team, and Garrus and Liara in ME3. She trusts these three with her life and wouldn’t want any other having her back in battle. For certain missions she’ll bring along other team members if they ask or if she thinks they’re better suited for it.

 17.   Romance: Are they romantically involved with anyone? If yes, what is their relationship like?

 Dani and Kaidan used to be an item; their relationship was on the outside one of those ‘perfect’ ones you see in vids, on the inside Dani was always trying hard to be the woman Kaidan thought she was; perfect, military, uncomplicated. After Horizon Dani couldn’t think of Kaidan like that anymore, and eventually found her happiness in Garrus.

With Garrus, Dani can be herself; a sarcastic and sassy rogue that is sometimes ruthless and breaks the rules if need be. She’s more emotional with Garrus and she smiles a lot more. She and Garrus have a strong relationship, best friends as well as lovers who would do anything for each other.

 18.   Romance: If Shepard and their partner could spend a romantic moment together, what would it be like?

 Shooting competition on the Presidium. One of Dani’s favourite ways to spend time with Garrus. Dani also loves watching old Earth vids with Garrus on the Normandy. After they’re married, Garrus loves to paint the Vakarian markings on Dani’s face, and Dani loves to return the gesture. The two also love cooking together, Dani loves to try out new turian foods to cook for her turian, and Garrus likes to make cupcakes for Dani when she’s feeling upset.

 19.   What is your Shepard’s favorite place to go in the galaxy? Why?

 Dani loves many places in the galaxy. She loves visiting Tuchunka to see Wrex, and spending time with Liara on Illium. Dani loves going to Palaven and partying on Omega. She adores the Citadel the most though, it’s one of the only places in the galaxy that she feels at home, it’s a familiar save haven to go to for her.  

 20.   What is your Shepard’s least favorite place to go in the galaxy? Why?

 Ugh, Noveria. Dani can’t stand the cold and that planet is frozen to the core. She also hates Haestrom and Earth, believe it or not, she feels more at home in space.

 21.   What is your Shepard’s relationship to the Council? To Udina? To Anderson? Do they deal with authority well or do they struggle against them?

 Dani at first respects the Council, but quickly gets fed up with their bullshit. She stays on their good side and does as she’s told by them, but after they’re done talking she usually just rolls her eyes and ignores their orders. Or she just hangs up on them.

She can’t stand Udina. At all. That goes for most politicians, but Udina is just insufferable.

Anderson is like a father to Dani; when she joined the Alliance he became her mentor and she went to him with almost everything as she grew up.

Dani can play by the rules of authority, she respects those in power but she’s never afraid to speak up when she disagrees with their policies.

 22.   What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had?

 She admires honesty, integrity, kindness and determination. Alliance types, but not those that follow orders blindly. She picks her crew with care, as every member of her team exhibits at least one of these traits.

Dani wishes she had the talent that Garrus does with a sniper (but she’ll NEVER admit that to the turian himself)  

 23.   What is your Shepard’s biggest pet peeve?

 People reading over her shoulder. And people judging her alien crew on that fact that they’re non-human alone.

 24.   How does your Shepard deal with their enemies? Do they resort to violence or do they try to be diplomatic?

 Dani always tries to resolve conflict peacefully. If an enemy can be talked down she will do it, but if they can’t be reasoned with than her priority is taking them down quickly. If an enemy threatens any of her teammates, without question she will shoot them down before they can finish their sentence. No one threatens her friends.  

 25.   How does your Shepard deal with death? Not just the deaths of civilians, but of friends (such as Mordin or Thane).

 Dani is used to death; she saw a lot of it in her childhood and she learned to not be affected by it. People die, and that’s just how it is. When she gets her own command however, her attitude changes. When she loses a teammate, she considers it a personal failure. A loss, but nothing to cry personally over, just another mistake. Loss of civilians is tragic, but it doesn’t keep her up at night, it’s just another failure of her position. Through her command of the Normandy, her outlook changes, and each death of innocents wrenches at her empathy, but she vows to get better to save more lives.

 Death of her friends troubles her deeply. Living her whole life alone, fending for herself, she learnt young that the weak die and the strong survive, depend on only yourself, and trust no one. But after taking command of the Normandy, she makes life-long friends, she lets people in and finds a family, people she loves and who love her. Their deaths affect her greatly. She views them as a personal failure to protect those she cares about, and their loss puts a hole in her heart.

 26.   What was your Shepard’s first reaction to seeing a Reaper?

 Dani was struck cold, not only by the sight of a Reaper, but of its voice. When she first heard Sovereign speak she’d never felt so afraid in her life. Dani’s not frightened by many things, but the cold, calculating Reapers chill her to the bone.

 27.   What does your Shepard think about Cerberus? What do they think about the mercenaries that they run into on a regular basis? Is there a specific one they dislike the most? Why?

 In a way, she understands Cerberus’ goal, but she would never agree with the means. As for the mercenaries well, she doesn’t have any opinion other than they make good target practise. The Blue Suns are a particular annoyance because turians are tough sons of bitches, and the Blood Pack often employ krogan and vorcha mercenaries which is irritating as those guys heal very fast and are a nuisance to take down.

 28.   What ending did your Shepard choose? Destroy, Synthesis or Control? Why did they choose this?

 Destroy.  Synthesis may sound ideal, but Dani could never force the entire galaxy to merge with synthetics without permission. She chose Destroy because she knew the only way to keep the galaxy safe was to destroy the Reapers, if she controlled them she too could one day bring them back, and she wouldn’t risk that fate. She didn’t believe the Catalyst when it said the Geth and the Mass Relays would also be destroyed, because even though they were synthetics, they were all different life forms, and she was correct.

 29.   Is there a song that describes your Shepard? If yes, why did you choose that song? Does your Shepard have a playlist?

 It’s My Life by Bon Jovi. I think it fits Dani pretty well since the beginning of her life she’s been forging her own path and choosing the way she lives her life, no matter what anyone tries to do to control her; Alliance, Council or family.

Dani’s playlist would consist of heavy rock or metal songs, preferably in languages she doesn’t understand, or from other species with her translator turned off, so she can focus on the beat. Heavy songs like that help her get through work and battle – yes, she listens to metal while she fights.  

 30.   Share your favorite piece of art or your favorite screenshot of your Shepard. What about it makes it your favorite?

 Sadly I don’t have either