#He's fought the evils of Pandora's box before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theresnosafeharbor4myships · 4 years ago

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TITLE: Out of the Grave - Chapter 2: The Confession (Chapter 1 here)

Ichabod couldn't move, couldn't take his eyes off of the mirage before him, could barely breathe. How could she be standing here, days after she'd disintegrated into that confounded box that'd then combusted into nothing, looking none the worse for wear? Looking as gorgeous as the day he'd met her. Looking as real as the heartache clawing at his insides felt.

It had to be some monster's trick, a devil's devious ploy to destroy him. He raised his arm, his forefinger pointing to the sky. "Who are you?" he managed to demand harshly, though he felt none of the power the words conveyed. The creases of her smile deepened, her beautiful brown eyes sparkling at his confusion indulgently. "Crane." He longed to close his eyes and revel in her presence, let her voice wash over him and sluice the grief away, soothe the hurt in his heart like a healing balm. She hadn't answered his question, instead speaking his name as a statement, and he nearly gave in to his desire to accept this fake as the genuine article. He opened his mouth to speak, but she began before he could formulate any words. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions....and I'll do my best to answer them. I can't imagine what the past few days have been like for you," she lamented, her voice and expression dripping with sympathy. "And before you ask, it's really me." He squinted his eyes at her, doubtful and hesitant and simultaneously so damn afraid and desperate to believe her. "Prove it," he challenged. One side of her mouth quirked up as if she expected nothing less from him, and she held her fist out towards him. He eyed her hand skeptically, unable to reach out and touch her, even with a simple fist bump, until he knew for sure it was her. She waited a handful of seconds, but when he didn't reciprocate, she slowly dropped her hand. "I know this can't be easy. I know it doesn't make sense, not yet. I can't quite believe it myself. But it's me," she entreated him to believe her. "Prove it," he repeated, more heatedly this time. She thought for a moment, the intense look on her face willing him to trust her. "We were in Pandora’s lair, and the last thing I said to you was to never give up. The last thing I heard from you was...you calling my name." He nodded, the moment indelibly imprinted in his memory, a cursed experience his eidetic mind had relived a thousand times already in the past few days. "Before that, we sailed to the entrance to the catacombs. Found Betsy Ross in the hidden chamber inside the temple just before the essence of Pandora's box wrapped its ugly black tentacles around me. You carried me out, had..." she paused momentarily before continuing, "words with Betsy, and then she left. We followed not long after." The more she spoke the harder his heart beat against his ribs, the more heat flooded his body, returning warmth to him and the empty house he'd inhabited for over three days. "Abbie...?" he dared to believe. She smiled fully at him, and his heart broke itself back into place. "Oh, Abbie," he breathed in a broken whisper of relief, and she easily launched herself towards him as he moved to embrace her.

They covered the several feet between them in a single heartbeat, and he snaked his arms around her, holding her fast, his knees nearly giving out at the feel of her alive, warm, breathing, the smell of her fragrant and clean, her arms cinched around him, a welcoming comfort he'd expected never to experience again. "Abbie," he murmured again, nearly gasping out her name on a heaving cry, his eyes dropping closed. He knew it bordered on inappropriate to hold her so long, but he couldn't make himself let go for fear she'd fade away before his eyes again. He cupped her head, holding her against him, though by how tightly she held him she had no intention of letting him go either. He breathed her in, grateful for and reveling in every movement she made, inhaling, exhaling, her body pressed against him, her presence more powerful than any drug. Reining his emotions in, he slowly released her from his embrace, gripping her shoulders and peering at her like a vision from heaven. She still smiled gently at him, not overwhelmed or fearful of his desperation in the slightest. "Abbie, how...? It's been three and a half days. How are you here?" he marveled. "Miss Jenny and I searched for a way... Miss Jenny," he interrupted himself. "We must tell her! She needs to know." He patted his pockets searching for his phone but stopped when she pointed to it lying on the coffee table. He grabbed it up and scrolled through his recent calls. "Don't tell her over the phone; it’d be too cruel. Please, just ask her to come here. I want to tell her, show her in person." He nodded, sure Miss Jenny would think him drunk again anyhow if he told her Abbie had walked through the door and hugged him. He clicked on her name and stared at Abbie as the phone rang, unable to let her out of his sight for even a moment. Voicemail picked up after a handful of rings. "Miss Jenny, it's me, Ichabod. Please come by the house as soon as you're available. There's... something we must discuss. It's of the utmost importance, and I beg of you not to delay. I eagerly await your visit. Respectfully, Ichabod Crane." Abbie nearly smirked at him, and he wanted to query her about it, but he refrained, needing so much more than her wit and banter about his entirely too prim and proper voicemails. Without thinking, he sank to his seat, still staring at her in awe. "How is this possible?" "I don't exactly know," she admitted, moving the box of tissues from the couch to the coffee table, dropping to the cushion and angling towards him. "I emerged from the lake, much like I did—like we did—when we returned from the Catacombs. It's just down the way from the river cave where you were buried. All I can figure is that that body of water or that acreage of land is somehow linked to...whatever realms exist beyond." His brow furrowed in consternation, and she continued. "Anyway, I came out of the water a bit ago, without memory of where I've been or what happened after I felt myself slipping into the box. But I had this..." She fluttered her hand in a circle, trying to find the right word. "...this knowledge, like it'd been downloaded into my brain." "What knowledge?" he questioned warily. "You said it's been three and a half days?" He nodded, wondering what this count of 84 hours and—he looked at the clock—34 minutes had anything to do with anything other than being the exact count, nearly down to the minute, of how long he'd suffered in anguish without her. Her smile surprised him, and he waited, quite impatiently, for the punch line. "We've called ourselves Witnesses. Others, our enemies, have called us Witnesses. But we've never paid attention to the passage from Revelation that speaks of us. I woke up with this knowledge, this…unmarred understanding of our role, our destiny. And not even Pandora, her box, the Hidden One, or death can thwart that. As eternal souls, we’ve been given power against the antagonistic forces of evil. And this job of making things right, of justification, is never brought about by a single witness. There's always got to be two.”

He stared intently at her, in awe of both her and the information she relayed. Indeed, they’d never read much from the Scriptures about their role, instead merely settled in to their roles as warriors. This knowledge she now had seemed to grant her a lighter countenance, a more secure understanding of their place in this world. And it’d brought her back to him. He waited for her to continue. "See, Revelation chapter 11 describes the death of the two witnesses only after the testimony—our role to fight against evil—is done. We're only to die at the end of all trials, after all of the tribulation. And we're only to die together." "But you did die...didn't you?" "I don’t know,” she answered truthfully, visibly confounded. “All I know is Pandora, while she may have held more power than anyone we'd ever faced before, is no match for the biblical prophecy. You said it yourself once: the Bible foretells two witnesses. You and I must remain together if there is any hope of victory." He hung on to every word, trying to comprehend all she detailed, not to mention her presence here once again. "You’re saying...we're invincible?" "No, not as I understand it. We've been endowed with... fortitude and strength to fight these battles, the demons, the witches, the monsters, the ungodly. We can still die. And will. But not until our appointed time, and no one other than big-G God determines that. And even then, it's only for three and a half days." "Three and a half days," he muttered, the wheels in his brain trying to keep up with her revelation of their part in the cosmic war they fought. 84 hours. All this time he'd been calculating not how long she'd been gone but how long before she'd return. The notion filled him with a heavy dose of incredulity, and not a little fear.

Something tickled his brain, a conversation from long ago, and his fingers twitched as his tired mind drew up the memory. “Not long after we met, you told me about your encounter in the woods. You said you’d been missing for four days.”

“Four days,” she repeated quietly as her eyes went wide. “Closer to three and a half, if we’re being specific.”

“And Miss Jenny was spared too. Perhaps because of her relation to you. Or her proximity at the time.”

Eyebrows raised with uncertainty, Abbie nodded.

“You’re right,” he claimed in surprise. “Moloch couldn’t defeat you then, and Pandora and her hellish box couldn’t conquer you now. Three and a half days, and you’re revived.”

“Just as the prophecy says: we’re given power, able to overcome our enemies. And at the end…‘But after three and a half days a breath of life from God entered them, and they stood on their feet,' Revelation 11:11," she quoted. "That's why you're here," he marveled. "The prophecy isn't complete, and He...He sent you back." She nodded resolutely. "We still have work to do." He couldn't respond, trying to take in all that she'd relayed, the weight of their destiny, the fact that she sat before him in perfect form, speaking to him of their future after he'd mourned the unspeakable loss of her for over three days. His heart's undulation from sorrow and despair to relief, wonder, awe, and astonishment left him reeling and emotionally spent, and he closed his eyes against the onslaught. "Crane?" The concern in her voice made his heart ache anew, and her hands settled on him like cool silk, one gripping his arm, the other clasping his fist.

God's wounds, how he'd missed her! Missed her quirks and foibles, her goodness and passion, her fierce spirit, persistence, and kindness. Her contagious laugh and beautiful smile, expressive brown eyes and teasing nature, the way she explained things when he felt confused and teased him when he became too academic. How she cared about people, held herself to the highest degree of integrity, defended him against any naysayers, made him feel valued in this time he was only beginning to truly settle in to. He missed hearing her putter around the house after he'd gone to bed, playing chess with her, discussing and solving cases with her, listening to her sharp mind delve into fine details, her surprises of confections or ethnic foods he'd never had the joy of experiencing before. Missed seeing her first thing in the mornings, bleary-eyed and coffee-deficient, bedhead hair wild and sexy, so excruciatingly adorable sometimes she stole the breath right out of his lungs. Missed the sound of her voice, her big brown-eyed stare, her petite frame next to him, how she'd always protected his back. Missed her flirtations and irritabilities, her soft touches and fierce hugs. Missed every single detail about her, flaws, favors, and features all. "Crane..." "Yes, I...I merely need a moment," he nearly begged. She started to pull her hands away, but he grasped them, gently but firmly. "Please," he murmured so softly he barely heard his own voice. "Don't go." She squeezed his hand in response, trying to comfort him, and the silence of the room filled with the knowledge of her presence. "I'm sorry. Crane, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice full of sympathy. "You shouldn't be. You quite literally saved the world, Lieutenant." She turned her hands over in his until their palms met, and she clasped at him. "I mean... I'm sorry for the loss that you and Jenny have endured the last few days. Losing Joe and then...."

"And then you," he finished for her when she'd gone silent. "It must feel like whiplash, having me here." She almost sounded regretful, though he knew she merely sympathized with their suffering. He stared at her intensely. "Yes," he admitted honestly. "But I wouldn't trade you for a hundred battalions of soldiers to fight this war with me." A shy, appreciative smile eased over her face, and she looked down at their joined hands. His eyes followed, and he stared at the ying and yang of them, her hands so small and dark in contrast to his large, pale ones. Complete opposites in nearly every way, and perfectly complimentary because of it. The memories of all the things he'd wanted to say floated through his mind, the reasons he'd spent days mentally flagellating himself, how he thought he'd never have the chance to make up for all the times he'd swallowed down his affection for her, of the words of all those who'd seen that he loved her before he'd faced the realization, and too late it'd seemed.

Master Corbin knowingly prompting him to ‘talk to her.’ Miss Corinth blatantly denying his words. “I think you are ready for someone. I just don’t think it’s me.”

Master Mills’ words upon their first meeting. “Take good care of my daughter.” Betsy had spent less than an hour in their presence. "Only one truth matters: your heart belongs to Abigail Mills," she’d declared. “You love her, don’t you?” Pandora had stated. “She is your hope, your everything. I took her from you.” His mind flashed in picture-perfect fashion to his desperation for her, his need to rescue her from Purgatory and the utter desolation he'd felt at having left her there; the absolute despair that'd come over him when she'd become lost in the Catacombs, the numbness he'd forced upon himself to secret his emotions away in order to focus on finding her. The way he'd fluttered around her when she'd returned, ensuring she ate, making her laugh, keeping her company, wooing her with full candlelit dinners and rousing late-night games of chess. He had so much to make up for—he’d caused her such pain over the years when he'd only ever wanted her safe and cared for. He needed to tell her—now—what she'd come to mean to him. He watched his thumbs rub over her soft skin, the feel of her warm hands pouring liquid heat back into his frozen veins. "Having you back, I cannot begin to express my elation." He lifted his eyes to hers. "But I shall try." She lifted her eyebrows in innocent wonder. "Abbie, when I awoke in that cave four years nigh, I never could have comprehended this world and what my life would become. I felt lost. Defeated, and alone. And then you walked into the room. Despite our initial and mutual misgivings regarding one another, your compassion and integrity drove you. Your tenacity for the truth and your strength of character made me believe I could trust you. And I've never stopped. I know I've done things that've hurt you, things I regret and I'd go back to erase if I held that power. Please," he asked sincerely when she started shaking her head against his words. "Please, hear me out.” She nodded once, and he took a fortifying breath before continuing.

“So much of our time together has been me chasing an old life, one that’d become lost to me before I ever even crawled out of the ground. I tried to cleave to it…” He balled his hand tightly into a fist. “And the harder I held on, the further it slipped away from me.” He slowly opened his fist. “And through it all, there you were. You helped keep me grounded as everything I’d ever known and relied upon disintegrated. You spent more time trying to fix…the Crane family problems than you did grieving all you’d lost because I appeared in your life. And never did you complain. You’ve been the epitome of kindness, patience, virtue, and strength. And it’s more than I deserve.”

He threw a finger up in the air to halt her protests. “I’ve made some grave mistakes, the greatest of these being... You’ll have to forgive me. In my day we weren’t quite so free with our sentiments. We were more…”

“Puritan?” she offered.

He smiled self-deprecatingly. “Indeed. Though I am striving to become a 21st century gentleman.” His expression turned serious again. “I’ve missed you gravely these past few days, Abbie. You’ve come to mean so much to me over the years, and when I thought you were gone before I ever took the chance to tell you how much I care, I…”

His trailed off, staring into her wide, trusting eyes. His heart beat wildly at this step he was about to take. He swallowed hard and plunged forward, her expectant look filling him with hope.

“You have been the greatest surprise and the most valuable treasure of my life. I love you, Abbie. I have for longer than what’s appropriate and more and more so every day. And I regretted it profoundly when I thought I’d never get the chance to tell you so. I love you. And there’s nothing in this world I desire less than to be without you. I want you with me always. That is...if you..." His words faded away, uncertainty replacing his resolve. She could reject him—dear God, he hoped not, but she could—and still he wouldn't regret letting her know she was loved. Not after the abject self-loathing of the past few days. In one smooth move, she tucked her legs beneath her, kneeling next to him on the couch, sitting back on her haunches. She reached for him then, one hand lacing through his hair and resting at his neck, the fingertips of the other settling against his scruffy jaw. She gazed at him from eye-level, tears flooding her eyes but not falling. He didn't know what they meant, but she'd moved so close, invaded his space in a way she'd never dared to before. He could only peer at her helplessly, not comprehending how he'd arrived at this moment after losing her. How her warm hands could be touching him, her ears hearing the words he thought he'd choke on for the rest of his lonely life, her eyes staring into his soul like the sun blazing onto the frozen tundra. She mesmerized him, his mind simultaneously reeling from and numbed by her presence. The trauma of the past few days and lack of sleep had him spent; he had nothing left to give at this moment and everything to lose. "Ichabod." She breathed his name, and his heart clenched in his chest, recalling the only other time she'd done so. Then, too, she'd left him speechless, though he should've spoken up; he couldn't now even if he wanted to. Her knees pressed against his thigh, and he felt the soft puffs of her exhales ghosting over his skin. Her fingers absently teased along his neck, and he felt tingles race down his body. It'd been so long since anyone had touched him so intimately, caused such sensations to course through him, and he stayed frozen in place, nearly overcome by sensory overload. He watched her, helpless, wondering what came next. Her eyes, filled with desire, flicked between his gaze and his mouth as she inched towards him. Strewth, he must be dreaming! Passed out on the couch after drinking heavily to try to numb the pain and grief. Hell of a job he'd done too, to conjure such a perfectly sensual fantasy. He let her close the distance between them, unable to think straight, unable to move, but prepared for the feel of her lips, the taste of her kiss, the heat from her flowing into his frozen limbs. Her expression, so soft and vulnerable, made his heart ache fiercely, the cavern inside his chest closing with each inch she moved closer. All he could do was watch her. Time had slowed, frozen just like he had, as if the heavens had pressed a pause button, and his blood pounded loudly in his ears. Then, without warning, it seemed to scramble forward, and he watched as her eyes dropped close. His did the same as her lips pressed against his. He was not prepared. Whether the torrential cocktail of the past days' emotions or the reality that his fantasy had come true deserved blame, he couldn't say, but he sat completely at her mercy. She moved slow, patiently, her kiss soft, tantalizing, hot, and he moaned out a soft breath in disbelief and wonder. She started to ease away from him, but he chased her lips, not ready to wake from this searing dream, and she easily fell into him, her arms looping around his neck as she pressed herself against him. He came alive then, blossoming under the scorch of her ministrations, and he turned towards her, one hand cupping her head gently, the other roaming her back, pulling her more urgently against him. "Abbie," he murmured heatedly against her lips, but she silenced him easily, her tongue teasing his, her mouth drawing another moan from him, even as she matched it with her own. She moved to straddle him, and he helped her, his hands steadying her hips as she slid one leg over his lap. His large hands nearly spanned her small waist, and he moved them over her petite frame, from her lower back to the curve of her...buns (that word didn't seem so offensive at the moment), up the line of her spine to her shoulders, then down again to her hips and up her sides until he felt her rib cage beneath his hands, his thumbs just below her breasts. He wanted so much more, but even as she allowed—encouraged—his handsy exploration of her and continued doing marvelous things with her mouth and tongue, his mind screamed at him to cease, the impropriety of their situation a haunting specter he couldn't shake. Before he could muster up the willpower to pause their fervor, his phone both vibrated and rang, and he reluctantly, regretfully eased away from her. He touched his forehead to hers, his eyes closed, self-conscious about his shortness of breath—though he immediately noted that Abbie suffered from the same affliction. His phone continued warbling loudly and sputtering across the coffee table, infernal thing it was, fraying his sensitive nerves. Clearing her throat, Abbie slid off of his lap and grabbed for the phone. He watched her, cheeks tinged pink, lips rosy from his kisses, contented look on her face, and wanted to pull her right back to the place she'd vacated. Instead, she glanced at the phone, then held it out to him. "It's Jenny," she intoned softly. He nodded, still not entirely convinced he wasn't dreaming, drunk or not, and took the phone from her. He swallowed hard before answering with a meek hello. "Crane, are you alright? I got your message." He peered at the petite woman in front of him, overwhelmed and grateful, exhausted and thrilled beyond reason she hadn't disappeared like a desert mirage, and wanted to weep at the realization that she was real. She stared back at him as if he'd hung the moon, eyes dilated, corners of her mouth upturned in a perpetually pleased smirk. His heart nearly gave out knowing he was the cause of such a wondrous look. "I am...alive." Miss Jenny wouldn't understand his dual meaning. Yes, his heart still beat, but more than that his body zinged with fervor, full of passion and longing, his lips hot from Abbie's kiss, his mind reeling with all the possibilities that lay before them. "Stay that way. Be there in five." And she hung up. Ichabod cupped the phone in both hands, drumming his fingertips on its back, trying to think of something to say, something to do that wouldn't find them back in a compromising position, especially with Miss Jenny on her way. He began twirling the phone in the palm of one hand, the fingertips of the other tapping out a beat against his knee. "Would you like to sit back down?" Abbie's eyebrows shot up, an amused smirk on her face, and he realized the unintended innuendo in his words. "Oh no, not... Of course, I didn't mean to imply... I meant..." His hand fluttered in a circle in the air, his tongue tripping over his words. God's wounds, he felt depleted. He needed sleep. But not just sleep. Rest. Still, he couldn't help thinking if he fell asleep he'd wake up to find this was an exquisite dream he'd never get back.

Focus, you imbecile. "I just thought you might want to sit a spell," he managed to explain, his hand indicating the other end of the couch, the large comfy chair. "Miss Jenny will be here soon and..." And he didn't know what. He could barely keep his thoughts in order after the past 20 minutes, let alone the past three and a half days. The look on Abbie's face turned to concern. "Jenny's not going to take this well," she surmised, beginning to pace. “Not at first.” He'd laid his heart out, spilled the words he'd thought would plague him to eternity, played all of his cards. And while she'd seared him with her passion, she was already moving on, unaffected. His heart sank, broken all over again for different reasons. What came next for them? For him? How could she feel so indifferent after branding his lips with hers? "We don't have nearly enough time for me to say all the things I want to say to you before she arrives."

He hadn't realized until this how many ways a heart could be devastated. Hearing her now... Wait, had she just...? He watched her pace in frustration for a moment, her words sinking in to his daft, sleep-deprived brain. His heart, lying in the pit of his stomach, fluttered to life, making him queasy and anxious to hear what came next.

"Abbie...?"

She stopped moving and faced him, the coffee table standing between them. Her hair, full around her face, sat perfectly, her wondrously pouty and kissable lips called to him, her eyes filled with compassion and—dare he think it?—love. He couldn’t stop staring at her.

"There's so much more I want to tell you, so many things we have to talk about." Her eyes pleaded with him. "This isn't over, Crane. Promise me this isn't over."

The desperation in her tone simultaneously ignited concern and anticipation. "It's not over, Lieutenant. It's only just beginning," he promised fervently, resolutely.

She opened her mouth to respond but was silenced by an urgent knock at the door.

Jenny had arrived.

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sugarmusewrites · 4 years ago

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Cold & Alive

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Summary

Zagreus had fought through the layers of hell without batting an eyelash. Greeting his first taste of spring, he was completely overwhelmed. It felt...mortal of him. At first he felt his chest tighten, but then it was more like a dislodging. Years of calculations, grit, and a determinedness to win melted away from his heart, as just one fleeting feeling remained. He wondered if this was how Hope felt when it looked around and realized it had room to fly again with all the evils of the world now out of Pandora’s box.

There was something about the cold on the surface of the earth that felt alive. The cold of Tartarus was stale, eternal, unmoving. The cold of earth came with sensation. The shiver that moved up his spine as his bare feet touched the freshly fallen snow. The sounds of wild life--of any life--rustling through the evergreens. The delicious sting of his cheeks burning when the winter breeze whipped at his face consistently.

Zagreus had an eternity of lifetimes ahead of him, but here in this clearing he understood why mortal life was precious. It was as though its brevity forced every little bit of energy and passion it possessed to each and every moment it existed.

He had never made it this far in his escapes before, but greeting the winter on the surface felt like greeting a distant friend. One that he had been nervous to see again, anxious as to whether he still deserved their friendship. But as soon as his father had fallen for the final time, the scene before him was so expansive, Zagreus allowed him the sentimentality of believing it was like arms spreading wide just for him. To accept him. Thanatos’ warning to him rang in his ears.

“Whatever you’re doing, it had better be worth it.”

If greeting winter had been like greeting an old friend, then being introduced to the sensations of spring were like coming home to something. Another shiver wracked his body, undoubtedly not from the cold this time.

While breathing for the immortal was more a luxury than a necessity, Zagreus swore that the breath he took of this warm, sweet air was surely the deepest he had taken in all of his existence. Briefly he wondered if his infant body had felt half as lit up when Nyx breathed life into it. It was starting to become a cliché in his head, but truly the only way to describe how he felt was alive.

Zagreus would always remember the first time he held his breath, gazing upon Persephone at last. She was radiant. Her existence seemed to defy the reality of the rest of the world around her. Demeter, with her frigid blessings and boons, had seemed in synchronicity with the wintery scene that he had been first greeted with on arrival to the surface. But Persephone...it was like she transcended what the earth expected of her. In this realm it was apparent that nature followed Persephone’s call, not the other way around. His mismatched eyes stung, having never experienced such deep vibrant hues of green.

They locked eyes.

---

Once more cold grasped at him. This cold was not alive, but it was frustratingly more familiar. Zagreus grunted in pain, falling to a knee beside Persephone, beside his mother. He gritted his teeth and glanced up at her, eyes narrowing at her lips as it was already becoming difficult to hear what she was saying.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Mother…” He fought back the heaviness behind his eyelids, struggling to continue to look at the goddess. Persephone’s radiant glow softened, her perfect hands coming up to his face. He hadn’t realized a tear had escaped his eye before feeling her brush it away. Zagreus wheezed, giving in to the desire to shut his eyes as he leaned into his mother’s embrace.

He would go and find answers, she asked of him.

He would return, he promised her.

With a final exhale, Zagreus’ body went still. The embers of his feet extinguished. In an instant, Persephone’s son lay dead before her once more.

---

Zagreus had become woefully familiar with the feeling of being submerged in the Styx. He imagined that this was how a shade perpetually felt. Floating and yet heavy at the same time. Aware of a consciousness, but not quite aware of concrete thoughts. Yet this time he sensed a presence. It was both with him and not with him. Sluggishly he reached out his arm, and soon his entire being was thrust out of the water and onto the cold steps of the Underworld.

Zagreus coughed, red sludge pouring out of his lungs and onto the floor. Breathing in the stale and cold air around him, he was reminded of how dead this place was. This cold was ancient, still, one that reflected millennia of absence of true life. It was nothing like the paradise he had been graced with above.

He shook out his hair, his robes. He patted down his sides to ensure his weapons and trinkets had made the trip back with him. Zagreus had a method to this madness of returning to life. He opened his eyes for the first time in this rebirth, unconsciously flicking to the banister above him.

Than.

The god of death floated along the railing, arms crossed as they often were. Thanatos’ hood was down, revealing the golden white locks that reminded Zagreus of the sun reflecting off of fresh snow. Too soon he was brought back to the memory of his brief escape, and Zagreus forced himself to look away. He wiped at his eyes, blaming the sludge of the Styx for the sudden stinging and moisture that was collecting there.

Had he always been this sensitive? Something long buried within Zagreus had finally sprouted at the surface. He had always been filled with passion, with anger, with drive. But these new feelings that kept overtaking him--the longing, the despair--for the first time Zagreus believed it really were possible for a mortal to die of a broken heart.

He was grateful to see Hypnos pretend to remain asleep, no energy left in him to tell the tales of his success turned utter failure. He wandered down the hall, the red velvet curtains and half lit chandeliers not nearly doing enough to make Zagreus feel like this was a home. Nyx cast her eyes down, seemingly knowing better than to address this return. Orpheus looked up from his post, a sad yet acknowledging smile on his face.

Did every damn god in this Hell know better than him?

Zagreus clenched his fists. Though each rebirth came with a revival of his vitality, he had never felt more tired. He acknowledged no one. He kept his wet eyes focused on a point far away from him as he slowly made his way to his bed chambers.

---

“You look like you’ve been dragged through Hell.” Zagreus was surprised by Thanatos beating him to his chambers, and irritated by the god’s poorly timed sense of humor.

“What are you doing here, Thanatos?” The god in question raised his eyebrow at the use of his full name. He released his magic, feet coming to stand on solid ground. Even without floating, Thanatos stood a full head taller than Zagreus in stature, a fact that Zagreus was even more aware of given their proximity.

The god of death kept up his usual silent routine, eyebrow still cocked, arms still crossed over his broad chest. Zagreus stubbornly looked off to the side of Thanatos, realizing that looking straight at him would require looking up at the god. He had faced enough humiliation for one day.

The silence was broken not by either of them, but from the sounds of the clumsy Dusa outside of the room. While she was likely just dusting as usual, Zagreus’ hand was already at the hilt of his sword. He jolted at the sensation of icy cold fingers wrapping over his own. Losing at their game of chicken, Zagreus finally glanced up at Thanatos, swallowing tightly when he saw the pity in the god’s eyes.

“Zag--” Zagreus slapped Thanatos’ hand away on reflex, casting his glance away once more. He expected the god of few words to silently leave. Instead, he heard Thanatos release a deep sigh.

“Zag,” he tried again. “You look like shit. Would it kill you to get some rest before you go out there again?” Well, just about everything else in these realms had killed him so Zagreus couldn’t be sure. He released the hilt of his sword, arms crossing in front of him so as to mirror his guest.

“You know I can’t, Than.” He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Resting would feel like accepting defeat.” His eyes now lingered at his own reflection in his mirror, for a brief moment mistaking his gaunt appearance for one of a shade’s.

“Well you sure look like you’ve already been defeated.” Damn mind reader. Thanatos’ tone was flat, so why had it felt like the words pierced into Zagreus’ chest more harshly than Theseus’ lance? He scrubbed at his eyes with the backs of his hands, not recognizing that the pathetic little whimper echoing in the chamber had come from him.

“Stop.” He whispered harshly, slapping away the icy hand that had just barely grazed his shoulder. “Enough of your pity!” Zagreus stared up at Thanatos with purpose this time, ignoring the way his own eyes swirled with tears and self-loathing.

“Zag.” Did this damn god know any other words? Zagreus froze in place at the weight of that single syllable. Thanatos approached more deliberately this time, gently tugging at Zagreus’ wrists to pull his hands away from his face. “You know I’m incapable of feeling pity. I’m...death.”

This time the joke did warrant a small chuckle from Zagreus, though it was a hysterical one. A sensation overcame him not unlike how it felt to sink into the Styx. He was at once floating and heavy, aware and yet unaware. Thanatos was still staring at him.

“Okay.” Zagreus fell forward, allowing his head to be caught by the bare part of Thanatos’ chest. The other god’s skin was so cold Zagreus swore he could breathe it in and feel it in his lungs. It was absurd, to lean against something that simultaneously felt so cold and yet so alive--

Zagreus’ sorrow burst out of him in earnest. The dots connected so quickly that he thought he might die again just from the shock of how quickly his sobs came barreling out of him. Thanatos continued to say nothing, arms wrapping around Zagreus, holding him to his chest as he cried.

“I met her, Than. She was beautiful. So beautiful, so alive--”

His recountings and ramblings of meeting his mother at last poured out of Zagreus until he was out of breath. He only realized that they had moved when he felt Thanatos lower down, the god of death sitting on the edge of the bed with Zagreus now being pulled up and onto his lap.

Zagreus allowed himself to be held, allowed his god to wrap up him and offer the chilling, utterly alive comfort that only Thanatos could provide.

They might have stayed like that for hours, it could have been days. At the moments when Zagreus felt tempted to ask Thanatos about work, he would feel the faintest press of lips to the top of his head and the question would disappear. During one of these insistences, Zagreus felt bold enough to tip his head up and give those lips a different target.

Breathing for gods was a luxury. But Thanatos was generous enough to not question his prince each time he seemed to purposefully wait for Thanatos’ exhale to kiss him. Zagreus hummed, filled over and over again by his own living winter.

The surface could wait.

#fanfiction #fanfic #hades #zagreus #thanatos #thanzag #thanzag fic #hades video game

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project-rebirth · 3 years ago

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Imagine Breaker: The_Invisible_Demon_Above_God. Retrospective.

Thoughts permeated Kamijou Touma's head as he laid in the hospital of Heaven Canceller, the same room he was always sent to.

His body ached, his head was swimmy and he didn't feel like moving anytime soon. After all, he had just survived the fight he had with Darnic Einsworth, one of the forces behind the Holy Grail War that had been going on in Academy City for almost two months. He thought about the events that had led up to this moment, what had happened to the city and what became of those involved.

"...."

He had saved Sakatsuki Miyuki. She had been chosen as a 'key' that would open Pandora's Box and allow all evils in the Outer Universe to spill forth. If that had happened, Academy City, no, even the world itself would have ended that night. It was hard to imagine, but at the end of the day, Kamijou had set his sights on Miyuki, the girl he had welcomed into his family as his little sister. He wanted to make sure that she was safe, that she could live to see tomorrow, and to smile once more. That had been all he fought for. Saving the world was just a secondary result of such.

But even so, it wasn't him who even did that.

Bowen Chuuno, had also charged into hell to destroy the Greater grail itself, the thing that was to give birth to a devistating force of destruction. Kamijou had not understood it, but all he knew was that Bowen fought. He fought and achieved the result he desired with his own hands, and that result made itself known.

During his fight with Darnic, he saw a brilliant blue light radiate in the distance, the sound of a tremendous explosion which rocked Academy City harder than any earthquake recorded. It was not only felt in Academy City, but around the world, as he heard many news stations from around the world like GNN report on it.

Was that the signal that the world had changed? The threat of the grail was gone, but what was to come from this? Kamijou had no idea, but there was something else he was concerned with.

Some time ago, Bowen had broken his right arm twice, and in those instances, he felt something was going to rise out from it. The unseen force that laid beyond Imagine Breaker had been ready to seep out, but Kamijou had controlled it at that time.

But...

"What...was that?"

In the battle with Darnic, he had been unable to keep it at bay.

Because his right arm had been cut off in the battle.

In that moment, he had lost consciousness for only a moment or two, but in those moments, something came out.

An incomprehensible force came out from his arm, the horrific creature that could only be described as a Dragon from out of this world. It was made entirely of a mass of flesh and bones, protruding outward in random places, the monstrous being massive in size. Its roar had decimated not just the landscape, but also nearby buildings, the force of it blowing away objects that were present at the time, or what remained of it during the final battle.

This thing... whatever it was, was a being whose power did not rely on a spell process or quantum mechanics. It was neither magic nor science, but simply...alien. That was the only way it could be described.

The Dragon lashed out at Darnic, negating any magic he used against it, and wounding him greatly. It was prepared to utterly destroy him when Kamijou regained his consciousness. He, with great effort, managed to stop the beast before it could land the killing blow.

"I...told you before didn't I? I don't need your help... I don't need your help, so piss off and let me handle this!!"

Kamijou screamed at the top of his lungs as the eldritch Dragon was forced back into his arm, it vanishing from the world as soon as it came, and after that, his right arm had grown back instantly.

Imagine Breaker had returned once more and Kamijou took the stage once again.

He had once more challenged the convictions of Darnic and resumed the fight. And before long, Kamijou's right fist slammed into Darnic's face, destroying his illusions and ending the fight. Pandora's Box was no more and his sister had been saved.

But he couldn't help but wonder. Just...what was that monstrosity that came from his arm?

Before, when his arm was damaged or removed, it would usually manifest as an unseen force, but here it took the form of a Dragon he had never seen before. It was unleashed and it caused devastation to the area around him. It honestly terrified him that something like that could exist within his right hand, that such destructive power could come out at any given moment to do what it did.

Had he not stopped it, had he not regained his strength to hold it back...

It would not have stopped with Darnic.

It would have continued its unrelenting path of destruction, tearing apart anything and everything that would have stood in its way. It would have destroyed Academy City and most likely, the world itself.

It terrified him.

It terrified him that one day, he would be the cause of the sorrow of others, of pain, blood and death if his are were to suddenly become removed. He raised his right hand up to the ceiling, despite it not able to reach it and stared at it with trepidation.

He would never forgive himself if he was the cause of someone else's pain. The guilt would weigh down on him like a gulitine, but even then, he would move forward. He would move forward to try to make amends.

"What...are you?"

That question hung in the air as it resounded through the empty, dark hospital room. In the end, he had saved someone. he had saved someone that he was close to, and now she could smile once more. He did not have to worry about the Grail War or what it would bring.

It was over.

It was truly over.

He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep again, but that one thought, that one question hung in the back of his mind.

And it received an unheard answer.

In time, you will learn of my name. You will learn of all of our names.

#Toaru Majutsu no Index: Rebirth Testament (Main Verse)#The Natural Enemy of Magic: Imagine Breaker // Kamijou Touma #Arc: Flashback {Holy Grail War}#Season 1

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randomuser678 · 5 years ago

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Constellation tales

In New Horizons, if you show a Star Fragment of one of the Zoidac Signs to Celeste, you get a story of that constellation, so here are the tales of each the twelve zodiac signs.

"There are many tales and stories about Aries. This is my favorite: Long ago and far away... There were a pair of royal twins named Phrixus and Helle whose stepmother, the queen, hated them. When one of the queen's schemes put the twins' lives in peril, their mother prayed to Zeus for help. A flying sheep with golden fleece descended from the heavens and rescued the twins! Zeus commemorated the event by hanging the image of the sheep in the stars as the constellation, Aries. Did you notice how Zeus celebrates things Zeus did for Zeus's followers by hanging things in Zeus's sky?"

"There are many tales and stories about Taurus. This is my favorite: Long ago and far away...An extraordinarily beautiful princess called Europa was picking flowers with her servants by the sea. She was approached by a lovely white bull that seemed very friendly, so Europa hopped on its back. As she did so, the bull suddenly took off, dashing across the ocean in a most unbull-like way. The bull, it turned out, was the god, Zeus, who had fallen for Europa...but he had trouble with boundaries. The constellation, Taurus, honors the great bull, and Europa herself has a whole continent named for her! But, continent names aside, I imagine Europa would have preferred it if Zeus simply asked her to tea." "There are many tales and stores about Gemini. This is my favorite: Long ago and far away...The great god, Zeus, had twin sons named Castor and Pollux, who were both brave warriors. While the brothers were very close and alike, only Pollux had inherited Zeus´s immortality. When Castor eventually died, the grieving Pollux prayed to share his immortality with his brother. Zeus took pity and turned the twins into constellation, Gemini, so they would always be together. I suppose the lesson of this story is that, occasionally, even Zeus does something for someone else."

"There are many tales and stories about Cancer. This is my favorite: Long ago and far away...There was a monster called the Hydra poisoning a spring that was a kingdom's main water supply. When the great hero Heracles heard about this, he set out to rid the land of the beast. Just as Heracles was about to land the finishing blow, the Hydra's friend, a crab, arrived to help it out. But the crab was no match for Heracles, who stepped on it and crushed it instantly. The brave crab, was immortalized in the stars as the constellation, Cancer. If only everyone was so lucky as to have a friend who come running when they're in a pinch!" "There are many tales and stories about Leo. This is my favorite: Long ago and far away...There was a mighty lion with unbreakable skin that menaced the forest of Nemea. The great hero Heracles fought the beast and defeated it with nothing but his incredible strength! The goddess Hera placed the lion in the stars as the constellation, Leo, to honor its fight with the hero. I'm not usually the one to gossip, but I believe there may have been bad blood between Hera and Heracles!" "There are many tales and stories about Virgo. This is my favorite: Long ago and far away...Persephone, daughter of Demeter was picking flowers when she was abducted by Hades, god of the dead. Demeter was the goddess of the harvest, and she was so upset that all crops stopped growing! Eventually, mother and child were reunited, but only for part of each year, which is why we have seasons. The constellation, Virgo, is depicted as a young woman holding wheat, in honor of this story. Between you and me, I think Demeter was suffering from what we call "empty-nest syndrome.""

"There are many tales and stories about Libra. This is my favorite: Long ago and far away...The goddess of justice, Astrea, had a set of scales that could measure whether someone was good or bad. But she didn't have much use for them...until Pandora opened the box that brought evil into the world. I guess someone thought they were interesting enough to hang in the sky as the constellation, Libra, though. I do wonder why she had those scales already, though...Were the gods...up to something?" "There are many tales and stories about Scorpio. This is my favorite: Long ago and far away...There was a very skilled hunter named Orion who boasted often of his abilities. Orion's arrogance angered the gods, who sent a poisonous scorpion to sting him to death. The goddess Artemis, who had always been fond of Orion, arranged for him to become a constellation. But he still feared scorpions, which is why his constellation and Scorpio are never seen together. Personally, I try to learn from this tale by being humble about my skills as an astronomer and DIY enthusiast."

"There are many tales and stories about Sagittarius. This is my favorite: Long ago and far away...The half-man, half-horse creatures called centaurs were a rowdy, troublesome bunch....With the exception of Chiron, who was very wise as well as a gifted healer. But Chiron got mixed in a battle between Heracles and the centaurs, and was hit by a poisoned arrow. But the poison could not kill Chiron, because he was an immortal being with divine parents. The god Zeus saw his disconfort and took pity on him, raising him into the sky as a constellation. Immortality is one of those things that seem cool, but... it's probably not for everyone."

"There are many tales and stories about Capricorn. This is my favorite: Long ago and far away...The gods were enjoying a fantastical banquet by a river when the terrible monster Typhon appeared! Unprepared as they were for a fight, the gods assumed various animal shapes and fled with all speed. But Pan, the goatish god of shepherds, jumped into the river, transforming as he did so. Perhaps because he was so shocked, he did not finish changing himself into a fish, only changed his tail. The chief god, Zeus, was highly amused at the sight of a goatfish, and hung the image in the stars. I feel sort of bad for Pan in that story, having a constellation based on this embarrassing incident...It would be like someone making a billboard of you while you were changing your clothes!"

"There are many tales and stories about Aquarius. This is my favorite: Long ago and far away...The gods found themselves in need of a cupbearer to refresh their drinks as they lounged on Mount Olympus. Zeus, in the form of a great eagle, spotted an astonishingly hansome young man named Ganymede. He, er, convinced Ganymede to serve on Mount Olympus, though it meant he would never see his family again. To console Ganymede's parents, Zeus hung the cupbearer's image in the stars so they could see him. Before hearing this story, I had no idea there was so much drama in the lives of the extremely attractive!"

"There are many tales and stories about Pisces. This is my favorite: Long ago and far away...The gods were enjoying a fantastical banquet by a river when the terrible monster Typhon appeared! As the gods ran, Aphrodite tied herself to her son Eros with a rope so that they wouldn't be separated. They then turned into fish and fled, which is why Pisces is often depicted as two fish connected by a rope." (Also, note that I typed all of these, except for the Pisces, Aries and Taurus descriptions that were already on the wiki, and then I put the rest there. Pls give me validation)

#my shit #zodiac #horoscope #star signs #zodiac signs #ac #acnh #animal crossing

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scratchface · 5 years ago

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Alright, let’s ramble about Pandora!

Akira actually talks about Pandora this episode, which was a pleasant surprise.

Not exactly how I would word it, but they’ve got the gist of it there.

That is exactly how I would word it.

Pandora was created by Zeus and the other gods to be the first mortal woman, specifically intended to exactly as Akira stated. She was given by them to Epimetheus.

Everyone knows vaguely about Pandora’s box. However, the exact nature of the pithos Pandora received, aka Pandora’s Box as people know colloquially, is actually argued by some poets. Many argue that her pithos is what carried the plagues, but others argue that in fact, her pithos carried blessings, and it was Pandora herself, not the pithos, that contained evil. Lots of Greek poets were raging misogynists and insisted that women, the first among them being Pandora, were the root of all men’s suffering, not the pithos specifically. Pretty much all ancient versions of this myth either direct state, or imply, that women were created to punish men, as Pandora was created to punish Prometheus and his brother. To punish, specifically, the sons of Iapetos.

I’ve talked before about the possibility of Yusaku actually being Iapetos, not Atlas, and this development does fall in line with that, with Ai being Yusaku’s “son” who is being punished by the gods for his transgressions against them. That brings about its own dangerous implications, Iapetos representing the end of everything and all.

Back to the matter of Pandora, if her pithos carried blessings, then when she opened it, all the good spirits besides Hope abandoned humanity and fled back to the heavens.

Interpretations of Pandora and her pithos vary; some claim she was innocent and curious and didn’t mean to bring the doom of humanity, others claim she did so deliberately and maliciously, and even others claim she was the literal doom of humanity, which falls in line with Akira’s dialogue above.

One thing is certain: Pandora was always going to open the pithos and bring doom to humanity. That was the gods intentions from the start, her fate. Some of the myths portray this by specifically stating that the god filled her with curiosity, so that she wouldn’t be able to resist looking inside the pithos they told her to never open. This next scene seemed something of an allusion to this.

Pandora, whether you view her as the literal calamity or not, never really had “free will”. Even if she was genuinely malicious, it was her fate from the start to do as she did, and fate isn’t something that can be fought or avoided in Greek myth. From the moment she was created, humanity was doomed.

Or at least, that humanity, because the myth doesn’t end there.

It was Pandora who mothered Pyrrha, who went on to mother the rest of the new humanity, post their decimation. This new generation was more “hardy” and resistant to the evils unleashed upon them. Being made of rock and all, instead of clay.

Pandora may have been the bane of Prometheus’s humanity, but she was the ancestor of the next.

So, as for season 3, Ai and Pandor starting a new generation of AIs together... could be a very real possibility?

Ryoken has previously drawn comparisons between his father and Prometheus, who was punished separately by being strung up and tortured for eternity, and creates this version of Pandora to punish his father’s creations, the Ignis. Which would make Ai Epimetheus in Ryoken’s interpretation, aka the foolish son of Iapetos.

But I doubt that will work out well for the actual humanity in Vrains. After all, Pandor isn’t being gifted to the Ignis, she’s being gifted to Akira, who is a reckless guy with a lot of regrets and talks often about feeling bad about what he does in hindsight. Which is literally Epimetheus’s whole deal.

Ryoken literally gave a “foolish” man a creation named after Pandora. There’s no way that can end well for Akira, or anyone else.

#vrains #vrainalysis #ygo #yugioh vrains

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agust-june · 5 years ago

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Descendants of the Stars and Gods

Aside from the Mortal realm, there was Mount Olympus and the Celestial spirit realm or the forbidden realm as uncle Zeus says. He hates the celestial spirits, but honestly, I feel sorry for them. Being trapped for all eternity nowhere to go. Sometimes I wonder what the celestial realm looks like aside from their constellations in the sky.

They weren't always trapped and they weren't always hated by uncle Zeus no, they were made by him and the other gods. Mortals loved them too, I guess to look at during the night before Apollo would bring the morning sun with Helios and Esos following him. It was what the constellations did to the gods that had driven the hatred to Zeus. It started with the zodiac constellations.

Ophiuchus the serpent bearer poisoned the mind of Aries the ram, saying that should be alongside the gods instead of being in the sky. Aries didn't agree at first but Leo did, soon Aries joined in. Gemini soon went to Zuse and told him this news. Of course, he wasn't happy. So he went to punish Ophiuchus, Leo, and Aries for their thinking. Ophiuchus still wanted to take on his plan uprising the gods, Zuse furious more than ever went to execute Ophiuchus. Cancer being the protective one stepped in and was hit with one of Zeus's spear then which shattered the crab's shell. Everyone was saddened for cancer was killed.

Zeus didn't care for he tried to kill Ophiuchus again. But this time Scorpio got up and tried to kill Zuse himself. This is what started the war, Aquarius brought Cancer back soon everyone was ready to fight Zuse. Of course, Zeus the brought in Athena, Aries, and the others to fight. However, there was a Zodiac sign missing which was Gemini, Zeus was using them and the clever twins didn't realize it. Capricorn was the one to help them see, the twins didn't like being used not at all and so they decided to play Zeus's game. Gemini knew Zeus's plan, to release Pandora's box of evil upon the Constellations before Zeus could do it the sneaky twins took the box and unleashed them. Seven figures were released Wrath, Envy, Lust, Greed, Gluttony, Sloth, and Pride. Aries rounded them all and Gemini and Ophiuchus communicated with them soon the Seven agreed to form an alliance with them.

However, that wasn't enough to take down the gods. So they lost the war, Zeus created a separate realm for the Stellar spirits and their descendants. The seven deadly sins were sent to the abyss to be punished along with their descendants as well.

That's why uncle Zeus hates them he feels hatred for when his creation rebels against him. Now I'm going to be going to school with the descendants of the celestial spirits and the Seven Sin descendants. Athena decided to create a program for seven of the descendants and the Zodiac constellations to be at Mountain Olympus Academy. At first, Zeus wouldn't allow it but Athena argued saying that he shouldn't be mad at the descendants of those who betrayed after all they had no say in the matter. I was a baby when the war happened my mother kept me at home while father fought in the war.

Why my parents are letting me go to this school? Well, my father didn't want me to go there because I'd be disrespecting uncle, Zeus. My mom said it would be nice for me to get out and give others a chance so I wouldn't be lonely like dad.

However, I wasn't alone, I see Uncle Zeus and aunt Hera's kid Jackson all the time. I also hang out with Athena's kid Jinyoung and Apollo's kid Youngjae. Who're my parents? Welk that's easy Persephone and Hades.

"Honey come on you know uncle Zeus hates waiting" mother called I got up and grabbed the things I wanted to bring. I then go to my dad's chariot, my mom and dad were in already, I get in the back and close the door. Soon were riding out of the underworld and head out to Mount Olympus.

"Ah, Hades Persephone and Jaebum! Come we finally have been waiting for you" my uncle cheered when he saw us. I say my hellos to my family and then I go to Jackson and Jinyoung.

"Wheres Youngjae?" I ask "he with his dad he has to do day shift with him so he'll be late" Jinyoung answered.

"Hey, Jaebum is your parents making you go to that school with the celestial descendants?" Jackson asked

"Yeah, you?"

"Yep my dad didn't want me to go but mom says I have to then they got into a fight and my mom won"

"Wow I wouldn't expect your dad to agree on letting you go, he hates the Stellar spirits"

"I met them they aren't bad as they seem but among the Aries, they hate us the most," Jinyoung said

"My dad tells me to stay away from the twins he said they were two-faced" Jackson stated

"He's not wrong I don't trust the Gemini descendants," Jinyoung said

"Hi guys"

"Youngjae-ah!" Jackson yelled and hugged Youngjae. "Are you going to school with us?" Jinyoung asked

"Yeah my aunt is making me go," Youngjae explained

"At least we're all together," Jackson said happily "I'd rather be in the pits of Tartarus bringing a boulder up a hill then spend another semester with you Jackson"

"Yeah I can't get in any more trouble Jackson-ah" Youngjae agreed

"Why you guys don't love me"

"Because that's gay Jackson"

"No, it's not, I love you and you love me I see nothing wrong with that" Jackson said

"What type of barney bullshit is that?" Jinyoung said

"JINYOUNG!"

"Sorry mom" Jinyoung apologized

"Why must we argue about our love for each other?" Youngjae asked.

"Because I don't love Jackson"

"You love me and Jaebum right?"

"I guess so"

"What?!"

"Then it's settled you love Jackson too, why else would you hang out with us if you didn't love Jackson-ah" Youngjae reasoned

"Aww thanks, Youngjae-ah"

"Now give me money," Youngjae said

"Wait for what? Why!" Jackson asked

"I can't just defend your honor for free, I need money to buy a new game. Now, pay up!" Youngjae explained as Jackson gave him a five dollar bill.

"A little more, I know you have some" Jinyoung was dying of laughter at this as Jackson gave him more money.

"JINYOUNG HYUNG!" we all looked over at the screeching voice they were two tall boys one with black and one with silver-white hair. Jinyoung looked absolutely repulsed at the two boys.

"Jinyoung you know them?" I ask

"Sadly yes, they're our cousins"

"Hello, Jinyoung and family!" One said

"Hello. My name is Yugyeom" the black haired boy greeted bowing slightly.

"Im BamBam, it's not my actual name, but Bambam is what I go by"

"Why are you both here? Don't tell me you both got in trouble with mortals again" Jinyoung asked

"Oh no we just wanted to see our beloved hyung, after all, we're going to school together!" Yugyeom cheered

"Yup even Mark is coming"

"Mark?" Youngjae asked

"Mark is coming!" Jackson squealed in excitement Mark was our older cousin he is the son of Poseidon at a young age his dad taught Mark how to use trident so that he could learn how to control the sea. Out of all of us, Jackson was the closest to Mark, Mark was the quietest out of all of us, he didn't really talk to anyone but Jackson.

"Honestly I want to see if any of those decedents are cute if so I'm calling dibs," BamBam said as I realized I met BamBam and Yugyeom before. Yugyeom is the son of Dionysus. Last year Yugyeom had this big crazy party and he invited me, however, I barely remember because I was drunk. BamBam I met in school once he was the loudest person in the library. He was the son of Aphrodite.

"Hold on who said you get to choose first?" Jackson said bringing my attention back to him and BamBam.

"I did after all ladies love me"

"Haha that's a good joke cause last time I checked they love me more" Jackson said

"Stop fighting over people you haven't met! Jackson your an idiot and BamBam your an even bigger idiot" Jinyoung yelled as he scolded the two. I wonder out of Jackson and BamBam gets the most girls. I mean Jackson is really good with women if he was serious about a girl (which had only been three in his lifetime) he would treat them like a goddess. If he wasn't serious then boy he could date three girls at one time. The only way for him to mess up is when he gets caught. When he gets caught he's a complete dumb ass. Like the things he does and how he gets himself caught is stupid.

"Also I already have who I want so I got first dibs" Jinyoung claimed as Jackson whined and BamBam, Youngjae, Yugyeom and I laughed honestly I didn't think Jinyoung would be looking for a girl especially one of the descendants of the celestial realm.

"Wow hyung I didn't know you like girls" BamBam joked

"Haha good joke it won't be one when I punch you" Jinyoung threatened

"Once I think about it I've never seen you actually date a girl," Youngjae said I've seen Jinyoung fall in love he fell in love with a girl in our class named Tzuyu daughter of Urania, the Muse of astronomy. The thing was that she liked Jackson and Jackson being himself and not realizing Jinyoung's feelings and went out with Tzuyu. Jinyoung has hurt it took him a few months to get over her, but he couldn't get mad at Jackson because it wasn't his fault.

"Jaebum!" I turn at my mother's voice

"come on we're going home"

"Bye Hyung!" Jackson and Youngjae said

"Bye"

"See you later"

"Bye" I wave then walk to my parents.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

A week later

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Today was the day I moved into the dorms. My mother was going to miss me and my father denied that he'd miss me. Even though I and my mother know he was going to miss me.

"Ah, Jaebum it's about time you got here! The descendants are coming" Jinyoung said helping me and my parents with my stuff. "Jinyoung how are you?" My mother asks

"I'm doing fine, my mother is stressing me though, she wants me to play nice with the descendants" Jinyoung explained

"And you boys should be nice I don't want to hear from anyone that you're being a bully do you hear me Jaebum?"

"Yes mom, but why me? Why not give Jackson this talk?" I ask

"Because Jackson isn't my kid"

"Your mother's right, that's between your uncle and aunt and I don't want to be in the middle" father said

"JINYOUNG JAEBUM HIIIIIIII" a loud voice boomed from down the hall we all turn our heads to see none other than Jackson. "Speak of the devil" Jinyoung mumbled

"Hi, Jackson-ah" I greeted with a smile "I'm so glad I found you guys. Jinyoung your mother stuck me into a dorm room with a Mark and a descendant of Libra" Jackson said happily. Jackson always made new friends easily I mean it wasn't hard for him after all he is his father's son.

"I good I'm glad you made new friends" my mother smiles as she and my father finish getting my room together. My mother waves her hand and sets a photo me, her, and dad on the dresser.

"Are you done, honey?" My dad complains

"Oh shush Hades! Say goodbye to our only son!" I smiled as my mother sassed my father. As she came over and hugged me, "I'll miss you be good and make friends" she said as my dad came over to me and gave me a hug. "Please come and visit or at least call so your mother won't annoy me" he whispered in my ear and I nodded. Dad and I know if mom doesn't hear from me over time shell complain to father about how I don't call her or even answer her calls. My mom says goodbye as my dad drags her out of my dorm room.

Later I go with Jinyoung, Jackson, and Youngjae to Yugyeom's party. When we get there everyone just disburses Jackson went to get drinks Youngjae goes over to Mark who is also here. Me and Jinyoung just sit down. After a while Jinyoung gets a call from his mother, so he left.

"Jaebum Hyung your here!" I look over and see a surprisingly sober Yugyeom.

"That's odd your not drunk"

"That's because we have school tomorrow I'm not that irresponsible hyung"

"This is a nice party Yugyeom," I say and he nods.

"I am my father's son after all," he says as the music stops and the lights shut on. We look at the door and see unfamiliar people walk inside.

"Peak a boo! What are you staring at its a party isn't it? Turn on the music and act normal"

"Seulgi be nice!" The lights were still on people started chatting. "Who are they Yugyeom?" I ask "Oh those are the new celestial descendants I invited them" Yugyeom explains as he stands up and gets a chair to stand on.

"Hey, guys these are my guests please treat them with much respect and keep the party going," Yugyeom shouts and he gets off the chair. As the music turns on and lights shut back off. Yugyeom leaves and I just look around the room to find Mark and Youngjae. When I find them on the other side I get up and walk to them I also took notice to see a drunk Jackson with them. "JAEBUM AH THIS IS THE BEST PARTY EVER" Jackson slurs "hi Jaebum" Mark greets as he grabs onto Jackson so he won't move away.

"Hyung I'm leaving with Mark and Jackson," Youngjae says

"Leaving? But we have only been an hour here" I say "yeah and it took an hour for Jackson to get wasted" Mark says "I'm NOte drunk, I just had A WONDerFUL drink of wine" Jackson pouts like a child I roll my eyes at him it's not a surprise tho I warn Jackson not to drink too much wine but he never listens. "Go home and please take care of him"

"You know I always take care of Jackson," Mark says as he, drunk Jackson leave the party. I then turn around only to collide into someone else.

"Oh, my stars! I'm sorry!" a girl's voice rang through my ear as my shirt got wet. I look at her, she has dark skin, big nose, and big lips and straight hair judging but her eyes they must be a dark color.

"It's alright-"

"No, it's not I ruined your shirt"

"It'll dry," I say

"Hey Gem were leaving!" A voice calls out to her and she turns to look at this girl with long dark hair. "I'm sorry I have to go ill see you around I hope bye," she says turning away and scurried off to her friend. As I watch he leave there's only one thing that comes to mind. And that was she was cute.

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aamccarthy · 6 years ago

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Lucifer and Thomas - The Deceit

Wattpad Link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/186855778-lucifer-and-thomas

Artwork Master List

Chapter 1 - 10 Master List

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

“Satan, I don’t know what to tell you.” Nicholas raised his arms, shrugging as he closed the book in front of him. Scrawled on the front of the cover in golden cursive were the words, ‘Nice List’. “His name is in here, so he can’t be bad.”

“You don’t get it, Nick.” Lucifer growled, frustrated at having to repeat the argument for the tenth time, “There is something up with that kid.”

“What so wrong with having a golden soul?”

“That’s the thing. Humans don’t. Even Angels struggle to have a pure soul, and they still get flecks of darkness upon it. This one is pure golden. Nothing evil. Nada. Zilch. His thoughts are completely innocent. It’s unnatural.”

Nicholas sat down at his bench and grabbed a cup of cocoa that Freya had prepared earlier, taking a sip, “My soul is sometimes golden.” He mused.

“I said human, Nick. C’mon. I’m repeating myself here.” Lucifer paced up and down the room, his hands scratching his head. “Are you sure that every name in that book is bonafide human?”

“I’m certain, Satan. He’s a normal boy, born to human parents.” Nicholas looked up at him, “I thought you can read minds, emotions, desires? Can’t you just, I dunno… read him and find out for yourself?”

“I can.” Lucifer took a seat with a huff.

“And?”

“Nothing.” He leaned back, “He’s just a normal child. There are no evil thoughts, no ill will, just… a child. A child filled with curiosity of the world.”

Nicholas took another sip of his drink then placed it down, “Have you considered that maybe the world isn’t as bad as you think it is? Maybe there are still pure souls out there?”

“There isn’t.” Lucifer’s eyes darkened, “I carry the title of Satan. I see the souls that come through the pits of Hell.”

“Exactly. You see the worst of society, not the best. Only Heaven get’s that.”

“I can still see them.”

Nicholas paused, raising an eyebrow, “How?”

“I steal Saint Peter’s book from time to time to make sure I’m not getting jipped of souls.” Lucifer replied nonchalantly, squinting into the empty mug beside him.

“If I were your Father, I’d smite you on the spot.” He shook his head, partially in disbelief and partially in amusement. “How’d that other matter go?”

“I have Berith sorting it out.” He placed his hand under his chin and stared at the white-haired man, “You know, if you gave up this whole Christmas thing, you could take back your name of Odin and do it yourself.”

“I gave up that name back in 280 AD.” He waved off the suggestion.

“I miss the old you.” Lucifer grinned, leaning forward.

“I’m sure you do.” Rolling his eyes, Nicholas finished his drink. “So? What now?”

“Keep digging I guess.” Lucifer stood up, stretching, “If the kid is indeed human, I’ll leave it at that for now and just observe.” He paused, scratching his butt, “I need to work out who keeps bringing these Summon Circles to the Earthen plane, and on top of that, work out what the Empyrean are doing.”

“I doubt they would take you out. Someone needs to keep an eye on Hell.”

“Yeah? Tell that to the idiots up there.” He looked up at the sky, raising his middle finger, “They don’t seem to understand that I’m what stands between the evil in Hell and peace on Earth.”

Nicholas stood up and clapped him on the shoulder, “I know. I fought alongside you against Belial. Ever since you took the throne, we have definitely had more peaceful times.”

“But not perfect.”

“No,” He sighed, “Unfortunately there will always be Evil in the world. It’s Heaven’s job to banish it, and your job to contain it.”

Lucifer huffed in annoyance, “Sure you can’t help me with my other problem?”

Sighing, Nicholas shook his head. “You know I’m of no use to you now. My strength flows from the wishes of children at Christmas, so all of my power is useless any other time of year.”

Patting him on the back, Lucifer smirked, “It’s OK. Just admit you’re old.”

“I am not!”

Laughing, Lucifer jumped back, and raised a hand in a wave. With that he tapped his hoof on the ground twice, disappearing in a pillar of blue flame.

Lucifer stared out across Judecca lake, the red surface reflected into his golden eyes. The surface bubbled as steam rose, he hadn’t been here in several years. Glancing around, he watched as various demons of different shapes moved about. Occasionally one would knock into another and they would gnash their teeth, falling into a frenzied fight until their opponent was defeated. Disgusting, mindless creatures. He curled his lip back in disgust.

Walking up the edge of the lake, he held his hand out and a golden light glowed, taking on the form of a pitchfork. Gripping the handle, he lowered it to the surface of the water and immediately the water parted, showing a staircase.

Descending down the steps, Lucifer could hear the echoes of souls that were trapped in the lake around him. Their screams and cries echoed the further he descended, as he entered the deepest part of Hell.

Slowly, a dancing light flickered across the steps and Lucifer stepped down, staring at the burning centre of Hell. It was a large, barren cavern, and fire burnt everywhere, the flames danced in the air. It was here, in this spot, thousands of years ago, that his Father had cast out him and the other Fallen. Upon the walls, carved into stone, were depictions of each of the battles for the title of Satan. Lucifer counted each battle, there were ten total, nine battles of the past Kings and the final carving was a depiction of his own victory. The first Angel to rule over Hell.

Smirking, Lucifer grinned at the memory. His Father certainly hadn’t expected that. When he and his followers were banished to Hell, his Father had intended them to be punished by the former Satan, King Belial but, of course, Lucifer wasn’t one to listen and follow the path set out before him. No. He would never have to listen to his Father again. His golden eyes drifted around the room before settling upon a throne. There were several steps going up to it, blackened skulls and bones littered it’s base. His thoughts drifted back to the boy, and the questions he asked him the night they met.

“Luce, what do you like?”

“Torturing human souls.”

The boy frowned, rolling over onto his belly as he propped himself up on his arms, “You’re lying.” Lucifer blinked, staring at the brown eyes that bore into him. He laid his head back on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling.

“Flying.” He confessed.

“What’s it like to fly?” Thomas leaned forward, eager for more information.

He paused then replied, “It’s the feeling of being free.”

“What are things you don’t like?” The boy crawled closer, his eyes bright with curiosity.

His lips thinned in response, he hated his Father, but he wasn’t going to tell this human child that, “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Thomas dropped his arm and rested his chin on the bed sheet, “Favorite cartoon?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Favourite superhero?” His eyes danced around with excitement, clearly enjoying himself.

“What’s a superhero?”

The boy raised an eyebrow in question, “It’s a person that saves the day.”

“There isn’t anyone like that, kid.”

“Sure there is! They have superpowers and always come to save you.”

“Pssh.”

Standing at the throne, he ran his hands over the scorched skulls and bones, deep in thought. The boy hadn’t been bothered to ask him about his abilities, his powers or his kingdom. Thomas simply just asked questions about him, Lucifer. “Such a strange kid.” He murmured to himself. Even now, he still didn’t understand just what the child wanted from him. It bothered him, he was used to people aligning with him because of his power. He entered contracts with humans to fulfil their often dark desires.

But this child? Lucifer couldn’t understand him.

He had said he wanted a friend, but really, was that it?

He thought back to the Pandora’s Box under the Christmas tree, the Demon Summon Circles and the actions of the Empyrean. He could feel as if the had pieces of a puzzle in his grasp, but something was missing. He had gone and hassled Nicholas because he was certain that the child wasn’t human and was possibly a trick setup by the Empyrean, but Nicholas was adamant that he was just a normal, human boy.

He had tried, time and time again, to feel the child’s emotions, thoughts and desires, yet not a single time was there anything sinister. His ears perked up as he heard footsteps behind him. Turning, he looked at the man that stood before him.

He stood at the same height as Leviathan, with curly brunette hair and a golden tan. He had a goatee, which he was stroking as his turquoise eyes locked with Lucifer. Behind him floated a wooden wheel covered in eyes. The eyes blinked and darted around, looking everywhere at once. “I was wondering who had come to open the Grand Throne room, I see you’re back, brother?”

“Gressil.” A sly smile graced Lucifer’s lips as he drew out the name, “What brings you here?”

Gressil shrugged raising his hands, “First you disappear without even a mention to your Generals, and now Leviathan, Berith, Astaroth and Asmodeus are nowhere to be found within their respective Circles. You should be careful, brother.” He lowered his hands and stared back at Lucifer, his turquoise eyes darkening, “It’s unwise to leave so many Circles of Hell unattended.”

“Is that a threat?” Lucifer’s eyes darkened in response, a growl at the back of his throat.

Gressil closed one eye, tilting his head, “Merely advice, brother.”

The two stared at each other, unmoving before Gressil broke out into a grin, grabbing Lucifer by the arm and clasping it to his chest, “It’s good to see you.”

Lucifer sighed, shaking his head, “Why must you insist on doing this, each time?” Chuckling, he patted the other man on the back. Gressil was one of the Fallen and a General of Hell, Ruler of the Eighth Circle of Hell, Fraud. He took great joy in manipulating the emotions of those around him, whispering words of deceit into the ears to any that listen.

“Because you are my favourite to tease, brother. Always so distrustful. It makes you easy to twist and manipulate.” He flashed his teeth in a grin and stepped back.

“Go and tease your other siblings.” Lucifer shook his head.

Gressil waved a hand and the wheel at his back turned on it’s side, allowing him to sit on the edge of it. “No way. Soneilion and Berith are both crazy fuckers that would set a Cataclysm upon me if I even tried. Beelzebub is off who-knows-where. Leviathan and Asmodeus are both stuck up pricks. And Astaroth and Verrine don’t know how to take a joke. You know she nearly marched her Legions into my Domain when I threatened to torch her dress?”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, not at all surprised at Astaroth’s actions, “You could just stop.”

“Nope!” Gressil laid back upon the wheel, crossing his hands behind his head as he stared at the cavern ceiling, “Father always punished me for my pranks, but here I don’t have to bother about that.”

“Surely you didn’t come to Lake Judecca just to tease and complain to me.”

Gressil grinned, “No.” Sitting up, he crossed his legs, leaning forward, “What I say now is the truth. I heard an interesting rumour that someone within the Royals has been gathering Essence in secret. The other interesting thing is that Vine was pissed because someone stole a Pandora’s Box from his collection.” He smirked, watching Lucifer’s reaction. “Whatever is going on, dear brother?”

Lucifer kept his face calm, not betraying any emotion. Gressil may be a manipulator, but he was good at finding out information. “What do you think is going on?”

“I think that we may have war again soon. And I want the chance to beat those Royals so they can never rise up again.” The wheel that Gressil sat upon shook, flashing red. Lucifer watched has Gressil’s hands tightened on the wheel, his knuckles turning white. Although Gressil had never lost against the Royals during the Battle for the title of Satan, he had come close.

Lucifer grinned and leaned over, whispering into Gressil’s ear, “Well then, I suppose someone needs to find out who the little traitor is and bring them before me so they can be punished accordingly.”

The wheel stopped shaking and Gressil looked up at Lucifer, a gleam in his turquoise eyes. He jumped off the wheel and dropped to one knee, resting his fist upon the ground, “As you command, Sire.”

Continue to Chapter 12

#Lucifer and Thomas #LuciferAndThomas #Adventures with Lucifer and a Boy Named Thomas #Lucifer Fiction #Beelzebub #Leviathan #Asmodeus #Berith #Astaroth #Verrine #Gressil #Soneilion #Generals of Hell #Fiction #Writeblr

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avelera · 7 years ago

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Musings for my novel, but it's interesting when you design a character to be an answer to a common trope, and then must dodge turning them into that exact trope. (I'd like to think GRRM ran into this problem at some point, designing his series to be a reversal of fantasy tropes, only to realize that well, at some point we're going to need a hero, and at some point someone needs to win this fight or it all spins off into chaos and it ends with rocks fall everyone dies. But then, maybe that's how he always planned to end it.) So the novel I'm working on is female character-centric. There's an HP-esque “Golden Trio” at the center where the balance is two women and one man. But I want to talk about my male character for a bit because I've been developing him a bunch lately, and I'd like to think I'm on to something interesting? So the trope I suppose I’d like to avoid is the “Male Character is the Most Special” but, at the end of the day, it’s not that stories go out of their way to make people into heroes, it’s that people being heroes is what makes stories. If he wasn’t in some way extraordinary and able to go toe-to-toe with my heroic female protagonists, he would be unworthy of their story and most likely an annoying character to boot. Terrence (all names subject to change at some point, the idea was for his name to sound a bit pompous and traditional) is something of my answer to Prince Caspian and the Fisher King. He’s the prince, now king of the fantasy island nation of Antylia. The ruler of Antylia, male or female, is always the firstborn in a line going back to the founding of the nation some 300-400 years earlier. That’s because the health of the ruler is literally tied to the land by magic, which passes on to their firstborn child after the ruler die. Which, in my opinion, is a system just asking to be hacked, and Antylia is very lucky that it hasn’t been yet (until now). As children, he and the female protagonists Thea and Alma went on a quest to depose his “evil” uncle, who had murdered Terrence’s father, the rightful king as well as the queen Terrence’s mother, in hopes that the magic of the land and its kingship would pass to him as secondborn and a better ruler but, failing that, it would pass to then 10-year-old Terrence who could be essentially imprisoned in a golden cage to maintain the health of the nation. Terrence at 14 did what any normal child in a fairytale story would do upon learning his uncle was responsible for his parents’ deaths: he ran away from home and with a few unlikely allies took back his throne. His uncle was executed. Thea, a girl from our world, went home. Alma, their commoner sidekick, went back to her own life. This whole novel is constructed around the idea of youthful simplicity giving way to adult complexity. Hopefully, everything that took place during their childhood quest can be easily grasped by readers without having to show very much of it. It’s a tale as old as time. Except now we’re 15 years later, and a civil war has been raging for most of that time, decimating the population. The commoner Alma is now on the side of the rebels, who have taken up arms against a king who has gone mad with power, decimating his own allies out of paranoia, and turning the island’s most powerful gift into the weapon of its destruction: the king is using his own body to target and destroy his political enemies with earthquakes, natural disaster and famine. His body is a weapon that allows the much smaller loyalist forces to have driven the rebel forces to desperation. Hopefully, it is another classic, easy to understand story, of the boy king spoiled until he becomes a despotic adult. Yet none dare kill him, because there’s no known firstborn heir for the health of the island nation to pass to. For all anyone knows, his death without heir could cause the total destruction of the island. Alma is forced to confront that as a naive child she had placed this despot on the throne of her homeland. When Thea, our protagonist, returns from our world to Antylia, she too is confronted with her childhood naïveté as well as Alma’s fury with her and at herself that they didn’t do more then or since to prevent this widespread destruction and see what Terrence really was sooner. (Adding to that, before Thea left she was honored with being knighted as the king’s protector, a role traditionally meant to keep the monarch in check, and abandoned it in order to return to our world.) Of course, it wouldn’t be much of a story if it ended at that, and a careful reader at this point may have noticed the flaw in the assumptions of Terrence’s wickedness. Even if he does wear a gold mask these days and call himself a god, there is the simple fact that it is the health of the king that makes the land thrive, and his pain that makes it suffer. Because Terrence hasn’t turned despot. He is a prisoner of his own reign, and has been more or less since Thea and Alma helped put him on the throne. Deposing his uncle as regent did nothing to remove the web of co-conspirators who were quick to disavow the regent when the tide of opinion turned in favor of the boy-king, who after all is an easier and more vulnerable target of manipulation anyway. In essence, Terrence has been tortured ever since in order to destroy their political enemies, kept imprisoned as the war worsened. So the original idea was that Terrence is in fact the damsel in distress of the novel, to be saved by our female protagonists. Granted, Alma is fairly skeptical of Thea’s belief (that turns out to be true) that the Terrence she knew would never become such a tyrant and that something is definitely wrong. (Alma’s not entirely in the wrong here for thinking otherwise though, she’s seen the wreckage of destroyed cities and giving your friend the “benefit of the doubt” in those situations is a bit challenging to say the least). But I can’t just have Terrence sitting around totally passive in his own captivity for 15 years. It would make him unworthy of the throne he fought for (and technically still occupies). Terrence is essentially stuck in a situation where injury made to him could kill his own people, perhaps even thousands at a time. He can’t use injury or suicide as a way out. He also doesn’t dare antagonize his captors if it risks sadism or punishment being added to the tactical use of his torture for the war (and he tried once, when he was 18, to escape by hurting himself and targeting an earthquake to his own location, only to be recaptured and punished). A certain amount of collaboration with his captors is the only way to spare lives. But he can read, and he can write, and for a decade now he’s been carefully smuggling out writings under the pen name of Leviathan urging the rebels that the office of the monarchy is now forever corrupted and must be destroyed. He becomes the intellectual leader against his own reign (Alma is by the way a rather big fan of "Leviathan”). Even this he needs to do very carefully lest it traces back to him. If and when Terrence is ever freed though, he fully intends to follow through with the destruction of his own monarchy. Once the Pandora’s Box of injuring the king to kill his people has been opened, there’s no putting it back, and he will not subject any children of his to the same fate he suffered. The only question is how. -- So anyway, I’m starting to love my angsty fatalistic Fisher King. Any thoughts on how he comes across to you guys, or how to improve him, would be much appreciated!

#dorothea #maggie's writing progress #long post #sorry tumblr is being really screwy

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suirenshinju · 7 years ago

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60. “Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…” Sofia and Cedric

“Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…” Sofia said with her hands out between her and the furious sorcerer. She knew he wouldn’t literally kill her, but his dalliances with villainy made for a glare that could strike fear into those weaker of will than she.“That was not meant for your eyes!” He snarled, blocking her view of the small book open on his desk. He’d caught her reading it moments before. No mere spell book, it was more of a journal, filled with his own personal spells and potions, thoughts, feelings, and of course his dreams, most evil in nature.

“...Why do you have such a thing?” She steeled herself to ask, folding her hands together and holding them against her heart. His days with darkness were over, weren’t they? “Is keeping a diary illegal now, princess?”“No, but I thought... you’d put the past behind you.”

“And I have. If you’d bothered reading the last date, that journal concluded five years ago,” he sneered. His defense was understandable, but his anger less so. If it were nothing, why be so upset about it? It’s not like his past was a secret anymore.“Then why do you still have it?”“Erasing the past isn’t going to change what happened, Sofia. I was a deplorable man... the depths of which you’ve scarcely begun to comprehend.”

“I’m not a child anymore, Cedric. I don’t need you shielding me from unpleasantness.”

“This has nothing to do with your age,” he argued back. “When and if I tell you should be at my own discretion. It has nothing to do with you. I’m ashamed. To confess everything to you requires more courage than I have. Even if I have your forgiveness, your understanding, I don’t want you to know that side of me...”

“Then why keep it...?”“As a reminder...” He said in a softer tone. “I don’t think it’s right to discard the feelings in those pages. They were a part of me, yes, but it’s... it’s also a story of how an evil sorcerer changed because of a pesky little princess. It’s like hope at the bottom of Pandora’s box. A little bit of good fought off a lot of evil, and so that book can’t be all bad, can it?”

He paused, awaiting her judgment, to which Sofia could only smile. “No. It’s not.”

“Then kindly drop the matter. I’ll tell you more about it when I’m ready. I promise.”“Alright,” she nodded. “I’m sorry I snooped...”“You’re just lucky you didn’t get to the booby-trap on page 45,” he grinned over his shoulder. Maybe there was still a little villainy in him after all, Sofia thought, but that hardly seemed like a bad thing.

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true-halloween-tales · 7 years ago

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2017: #8-STRANGE MONSTERS FROM ART

Pandora’s Box issues forth a tale each year about monsters in different mediums. We have previously examined monsters in everything from books, to comics, to even songs (see 2016: #6-STRANGE AND DANGEROUS MONSTERS FROM BOOKS, 2013: #3-STRANGE COMIC BOOK MONSTERS, and 2014: #4-STRANGE MONSTERS FROM SONGS). Art, specifically paintings, woodcuts, and statues, offer a wealth of monstrous possibilities. Horror specifically about art is best seen with Rod Serling’s The Night Gallery tv series which was about spooky paintings which each told a tale. Ray Bradbury’s book and film, The Illustrated Man, was about tattoos that each depicted a future event. Many horror films have paintings with false peek eye holes. Sometimes monsters in paintings come alive such as in the recently released It and the evil nun in The Conjuring 2. The Dark Shadows tv series often featured paintings, from old paintings of unaging vampires to Dorian Gray inspired paintings (see 2016: #7-GUIDE TO DARK SHADOWS). Jack Nicholson as The Joker in 1989’s Batman walked through an art gallery and said, “I don’t know about art, but I know what I like (see 2017: #10-SUPERHEROES).

There is a lot of spooky art perfect for Halloween. The Greeks had artwork of mythological figures, and the Middle Ages presented paintings of Death personified. In 1505, Hieronymous Bosch completed the triptyche, The Garden of Earthly Delights, which features three panels representing the Garden of Eden, the garden of earthly delights, and Hell (see above image). I particularly like the Hell panel, and it is perhaps my favorite painting. There are many monsters and horrors that inhabit Bosch’s landscape of Hell. There are giants rats tearing apart knights, and creeping about are bird-men, fish-men, and even crocodile-men. One particular marching crocodile-man is my favorite figure in the painting, and I would love to know what Bosch would say his story would be (see below).

The painting also includes armies, descending moons, fiery pits, and giant human bodily organs converted into objects including rooms. Similar hellish work to Bosch’s was released in the 1600’s by Jacob Isaacsz. van Swanenburg as seen with his The Harrowing of Hell (see below).

Henry Fuseli’s The Nightmare from 1793 produced a perturbed imp and a demonic horse (see below). Freud kept a reproduction of that painting in his apartment in Vienna.

Perhaps the most recognizable horror-related painting is Edvard Munch’s The Scream (see below). The Scream is a series of four paintings Munch painted between 1893 and 1910. They were inspired by a red sunset that Munch felt like was a scream of nature.

In 1915 the interesting artistic movement of Dadaism developed, and Dadaists created all sorts of odd art demonstrating the absurdity of life. Max Ernst produced a forest of woodcuts and paintings that include chairs entirely made out of human bones, flying god-heads, half-human absurd abominations, and an ominous elephant-like monster in his The Elephant Celebes from 1922 (see below). Ernst spent time as a child with fevers staring at patterns in wood grain, similar to Salvador Dali’s paranoiac-critical method (see 2016: #10-MONSTERS ON THE LOOSE 7).

Dadaism formed into Surrealism, and Dali’s work has all sorts of melting monstrosities, flaming giraffes, and the like. Dali’s Paint-Maker’s Plight from 1941 shows an eyeball humanoid similar to costume’s worn by The Residents (see below and 2012: #1-SPOOKY MUSIC).

In 1954 Francis Bacon painted the dark, Figure with Meat, which features a grotesque pope seated between a grossly bisected cow (see below). In 1989’s Batman, Nicholson’s Joker sees Figure with Meat in the art gallery scene and stops to comment that he likes that one.

In 1967 Picasso’s untitled Chicago statue was dedicated, and it is a monster that most resembles an Afghan Hound (see below). I frequently walk past it, but it sure does not bark or growl; too bad it doesn’t.

Surely the cherry, or bloody bit, on the horror cake is Otto Rapp’s Deterioration of Mind Over Matter from 1973 which features a rotting human head melded with a bird cage (see below).

In the last fifty years there have been many artists that have specialized in painting or drawing monsters. Frank Frazetta created scores of fantasy paintings especially Conan the Barbarian related artwork (see below).

Boris Vallejo still releases sword and sorcery artwork as well artwork depicting superheroes (see below and 2017: #10-SUPERHEROES).

Bob Eggleton, Larry Elmore, and Erol Otus release artwork that is oriented towards Dungeons & Dragons (see below for Erol Otus artwork). Wayne Barlowe has released paintings of aliens, monsters, and even devils. There is so much available art of monsters, that we must mix them all up in the churning cauldron of creepiness and watch the three best monsters crawl out.

Salvador Dali certainly is an artist who can contribute one of the three strangest monsters appearing in art, but which one? He produced artwork more surreal than the world had ever seen. Dali had so many monsters appearing in paintings, it is hard to decide which is his best. His work contains quite a few stretched out or melting people, often just huge heads held up by supports. But those are not monsters. He featured a titan bursting out of our planet in one painting and an elongated black ghost of Vermeer in another. His 1936 painting, Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War) features a large monster that is the definitely the first to bubble out of the cauldron of creepiness (see below). The unnamed monster represents civil war. It is a weird collection of limbs, and seeing it travel through the desert landscape it is painted in would be fascinating. It appears to be dismantling itself or removing its own limbs, and it represents self-destruction.

The second painter identified by the cauldron of creepiness is Ivan Albright. Ivan Albright is a painter who used a very distinctive type of magical realism in his work. His dark paintings show wrinkles upon luminescent wrinkles, cracks, scratches, edges, and the effects of entropy. His work is both disturbing and mesmerizing (see 2016: #3-BLOODY MESMERISM). His incredibly detailed painting, The Door, is almost as large as a full sized door, and it looks like a door to the Outer Limits (see 2017: #3-GUIDE TO THE OUTER LIMITS). But that isn’t a monster. Surely his best artistic contribution to the imagery of monsters is from his 1943 painting, The Picture of Dorian Gray (see below). This painting was commissioned for the The Picture of Dorian Gray film with Angela Lansbury from 1945. The black and white film switches to color when the painting is shown. If you ever have the opportunity to see this painting, do so; it is located at Chicago’s Art Institute. It is a large painting, with blood dripping off of Dorian Gray’s hands and psychedelic, magical colors dripping all over the place like 1969 Haight Asbury. The animistic depth and detail of the painting are incredible. Dorian Gray looks like he could turn you to stone like a medusa if you met his gaze (see 2013: #2-MEDUSAS).

The third artist suggested by the cauldron of creepiness is that of H.R. Giger. His work is dark, often grey, and with sexual and cyborg themes. His 1976 painting, Necronim IV is definitely his most influential work and contains his greatest and famous monster (see below). The monster is what inspired the design for the Xenomorph alien species in the popular science-fiction horror series, Alien. There were four original Alien films, two recently made interesting prequel films, and two Alien vs Predator films. I doubt Giger knew when he painted Necronim IV that it would have the greatest name recognition for the word, alien.

If the cauldron of creepiness issued forth these three monsters from art in the flesh, and they fought to the death, which would win? Boiled Beans, Dorian Gray, or Necronim? It would be hard to find a suitable arena that Dali’s Boiled Beans monster could fit into. Perhaps a large Greek arena would suffice. I expect Boiled Beans would stand there – barely – hopefully cognizant of the proceedings and demonstrating some form of sensory awareness. Dorian Gray would very slowly saunter forward, and each step he took would age the place rapidly like it was being contaminated as in the film, Silent Hill. The Necronim would move faster than the other two, and would swiftly scamper to the center of the arena, releasing a cold alien hiss. That would get Boiled Beans attention who would start to shake and move. The Necronim would attack Boiled Beans since it is a larger perceived threat than Dorian Gray. The Necronim would attach itself to the mammoth leg of Boiled Beans and start madly scratching and tearing like a rabid black cat. Blood would gush, possibly not normal blood – but blood made of boiled beans! Boiled Beans would get in one powerful punch on the Necronim sending it across the arena crashing into the stone stands, sending rock splinters scattering. Dorian would still be slowly sauntering to the center, very detached. Boiled Beans vicious blow to the Necronim would cause himself to collapse, with his limbs appearing as a mass of trees falling down simultaneously. Due to Boiled Beans self-destructive nature, as the dust settled it would be revealed that the large monster died upon collapsing to the ground by being crushed by its own hefty limbs. The Necronim would inspect Boiled Beans confirming its death before proceeding to Dorian Gray who was still approaching. The Necronim would be all over Dorian Gray, tearing him to pieces in a bloody blur! Dorian Gray was already going to pieces, and a Xenomorph would wipe him out, with his arms and legs flying off all over the place. But the Necronim would not strut away from the battle as a survivor. The glowing energies of Dorian Gray would have touched the Necronim… entropic energies. The Necronim would rapidly rot like it had been aged many decades, and it would burst with its alien acid blood spraying and sizzling. As the acid fumes filled the air, Dorian Gray’s limbs would reattach and he would stand back up. The power that kept Oscar Wilde’s Dorian Gray going was a wish that very much behaved as if he had sold his soul to the devil. Dorian Gray would walk away from the mass of Boiled Beans and the fuming Necronim and smile… then his lips would fall off.

#hieronymusbosch #salvador dali #picasso #garden of earthly delights #henry fuseli #edvard munch #max ernst #francis bacon #otto rapp #frank frazetta #errol ottus #boris vallejo #ivan albright #hr giger #Halloween

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vurnett · 7 years ago

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Oni also known as Kuruoshiki Oni 狂オシキ鬼 Kuruoshiki Oni, “Mad Demon”, is a character in the Street Fighter series. He makes his debut in the Arcade Edition update of Super Street Fighter IV as a secret boss and a playable character. Oni is in fact Akuma, who has become one with the Satsui no Hado entirely.

Due to his training and meditation, Akuma may have suppressed some of the darker aspects of the Satsui no Hado, allowing him to control his actions. As Oni, he finally becomes one with the Satsui no Hado, whose power has now managed to completely overtake him.

According to Rose’s winquote to Oni, it can be presumed that he was meant to show up at a later time, but not during the present day. This gives the implication that Akuma becoming Oni is not a ‘what-if’ possibility, but Akuma’s fate.

The mysterious “shadow” that speaks to Akuma in his Super Street Fighter II Turbo Revival ending could be considered the first foreshadowing to Oni. The observation that Akuma makes about the Pandora Oni in Street Fighter X Tekken as a shadow could be a hint that this is the same being that spoke to him in that ending.

As seen in other media appearances (specifically Asura’s Wrath and UDON’s Super Street Fighter comics), Akuma appears to be able to transform into Oni and phase between those personas at will. Whether he can do this technique in the main games or not canonically is yet to be seen.

Oni appears as a far more muscular and noticeably larger version of Akuma. He has dark blue skin, glowing yellow-red eyes and glowing, spiky shoulder-length hair, fangs and short protrusions on his forehead, resembling growing horns. The top half of his gi has been blown off by the amount of dark ki he emanates, showing off his musculature; the prayer beads that were once around his neck now float about disconnected around his body. He also has claws on his fingers and toes, and no longer wears sandals; his voice also sounds much more demonic, akin to the demons of Asian myths.

When using fierce attacks or powerful physical attacks of any kind, his arms and legs glow a superheated color. While it is difficult to spot, the kanji of “heaven” also appears on his back during the same animations, seemingly having branded itself on his back. In his second alternate costume, his skin shows cracks like old plaster, which progressively fall away as he is hit with Focus Attacks, showing pure, swirling dark energy underneath; he is the only character to possess such a costume.

Most characters do not recognize Oni as a form of Akuma, even Akuma himself (although Oni recognizes Akuma as his former self). In fact, Zangief is the only fighter to notice Oni’s increased build mass; however, Zangief fails to notice any other changes (such as the blue skin, aura, etc.).

Oni has discarded his remaining humanity (saying that it is of no use to “evil incarnate”), his identity as Akuma, and his prominent moral code as a warrior; he will fight anyone to the death, regardless of condition, rather than seeking out worthy opponents to fight in a fair match. His presence is such that certain characters even refer to him as a god in their win quotes. In addition, he now talks in the third person more than usual, although sometimes he will talk in complete sentences. He also retains some of Akuma’s personality traits; despite calling himself “evil incarnate”, he still shows strong hostility towards villains such as Seth or M. Bison, who Akuma despises for taking “shortcuts” to attain their power. He is also visibly pleased to see Ryu give in to the Satsui no Hado, based on his pre-boss match dialogue with Evil Ryu.

As mentioned above, in Akuma’s Street Fighter X Tekken ending, he faces a Pandora version of Oni, which he aptly refers to as “nothing but a shadow, raging against that which casts it”; the Oni that came from Pandora’s box was Pandora’s energy responding to Akuma’s desire for a battle that will cost him his life.

In his intro of the Super Street Fighter IV, his roar echoes through the night. Instantly after, his presence causes the explosion of a nearby tree and the death of a bird. He then looks up and proclaims that he is “evil incarnate”.

In his ending, he stands in the center of a volcano. Then he only jumps up and chops the ground with his hand, resulting in an instant eruption that engulfs him in lava. As the lava explodes out of the volcano, Oni flies out of it unharmed, laughing maniacally and yelling ferociously.

Having reached the full extent of the Satsui no Hado to the point of turning into a demon, Oni’s style is considered “without”; instead of a concrete martial art style, he relies on unrestrained yet graceful movements filled with abandon, embodying that of a terrible destructive force beyond control. The Satsui no Hado also enables him to perform powerful energy attacks as well.

Strategy-wise, Oni is a character who retains the basic characteristics of Akuma, and has many more moves at his disposal which he can use to control the fight. Many of his special moves’ EX versions can confuse foes with their surprising speed, and his projectiles can be used to control space, while his midair moves can be used to keep an opponent off-balance.

His high-damage combos and reversal potential, combined with his above-average walk speed, allow players to create massive-pressure situations while remaining mobile and flexible via buffering moves into other attacks. Unfortunately, Oni’s below-average stamina and stun and his short-range Focus Attack means that he relies on getting up-close to the opponent to really excel, although he does have more than a few options for traveling across the screen quickly and closing in on his opponent.

Oni’s moves are naturally partially borrowed from Akuma (e.g. his heavy punch seems to resemble Akuma’s Focus Attack, although Oni performs a spear hand instead of a punch); he still uses the Tatsumaki Zankukyaku, Goshoryuken and Gohadoken, each with heavily altered properties. Other moves have been altered into or replaced by another move entirely; the Shakunetsu Hadoken is replaced with the electric equivalent, Gorai Hadoken. Oni also loses the ability to teleport, which seems to be replaced by the Rakan Dantojin, a vaguely similar slide that follows with a pair of slashing palm swipes. He also possesses a midair palm thrust in lieu of the Zanku Hadoken; the move grants him major midair maneuverability. He also uses the Sekisei Jiraiken, an overhead smash attack similar to the Tenma Shurettou.

Oni’s Raging Demon is fairly unique within the main series, being the only variant that is also usable in midair; the only other character with such a move is Cyber-Akuma. Several moves give players opportunities to Super Cancel into the Raging Demon and create potentially unavoidable setups.

His first Ultra Combo, the Meido Gohado, is a projectile that can be used on the ground and in the air, and also has an anti-air variant; if the ground variant hits at close range, it will yield an extra cinematic in which Oni throws another fireball at the opponent for extra damage. His second Ultra Combo, the Tenchi Sokaigen, is a Misogi-like move that follows up a clean hit with a Goshoryuken to the airborne opponent’s exposed back; though it has fewer setups, it deals far more damage.

Oni can also be fought in the arcade mode as a secret boss. The player must not lose a round, get two Perfects, five Super or Ultra Combo finishes, ten first attacks and defeat Seth with a Super or Ultra Combo to fight Oni at his true limits. Like the other secret bosses in the game, the player has only one chance to defeat the boss form of Oni, and if the player wins or loses to the boss Oni, the game ends. The ending of the current player character will then play from there.

He can be considered the true final boss, since the requirements to fight him are the highest of all secret boss characters in the game, appropriate of a character specifically conceived as “beyond Shin Akuma”. The difference between the playable version of Oni and “Shin-Oni” is stated by Capcom to be due to the survival of a small part of Akuma’s will that is attempting to weaken Oni.

Gameplay-wise, the ‘boss’ Oni is analogous to the relationship between Akuma and Shin Akuma. While the two version operate similarly on the surface, Shin Oni’s frame data is completely different. He has lesser recovery time between attacks, and his special and command attacks have more invincible frames than the playable version. In addition, he floats with his ki rather than walks, allowing him to move around faster, and he also has more stun and stamina.

His Gohadoken is a two-hit projectile that neither needs to be charged nor fizzles out after a certain distance; the EX variant of the Gohadoken lands three hits and inflicts even more damage. Shin Oni’s Gorai Hadoken also inflicts slightly more stun than the normal version, making it hard to win a projectile war against him. His Goshoryuken, Rakan Dantojin, and Sekisei Jiraiken have more invincibility at startup (against projectiles and lower body hits respectively), than the regular versions. He also possesses an EX version of the Zanku Hadosho which is unavailable to the playable version.

His regular and air Raging Demon also travels much faster and farther, are completely immune to any attacks, and have greater priority than most Ultra Combos. The only possible methods to dodge evasions are jumping, Shoryukens and any moves that have startup invincibility; it is impossible to counter boss Oni’s Raging Demon. As an added difficulty spike, the frames needed to activate boss Oni’s Tenchi Sokaigen are half that of the regular playable version.

Oni marks the second time Akuma has discarded his morals to gain more power beyond his Shin or true form, the first being Cyber-Akuma in Marvel Super Heroes vs. Street Fighter.

A form of Shin Akuma similar to Oni was possibly planned for Street Fighter III: 3rd Strike before the character being dropped entirely. Dummied content found in the game’s files, including an alternate colored sprite similar to Oni’s color palette and a Kousyu Street stage background with an ominous eclipse strongly hints at this.

Oni’s fighting stance resembles the artwork of Shin Akuma from SNK vs. Capcom: SVC Chaos, and his 6th color also resembles Shin Akuma from Capcom vs. SNK 2.

Oni is one of the few characters to physically interact with defeated opponents, and the only one in the Street Fighter IV series. He picks them up by their heads, then supposedly deals an off-screen fatal blow. Also, if Oni uses an Ultra Combo as a finishing move, no “KO” sign will be shown on the screen, much like Akuma’s Super Combo and Ultra Combos; they also share the same Ultra Combo Finish background.

Oni is the only character besides E. Honda that recognizes that Cody, while still wearing very loose chains, is in fact holding back on all his battles. Unusually, the “boss” version of Oni actually implies that Cody might survive a battle with him if he doesn’t hold back; the playable version calls Cody a coward.

If Cody wins against the boss Oni, it is the only time (besides fighting Ryu) that he admits having fun.

There is unused data for Oni which is comprised of mostly Akuma’s neutral and close punches and kicks, includes a fully complete and functional Ashura Senku, which would only be used during the Raging Demon. He also has a descending dash which is used for his Sekisei Jiraiken, and the Tenmakujinkyaku.

Oni’s Stage theme in Super Street Fighter IV is an alternate remix of Akuma’s theme from Street Fighter II.

#Oni

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lexiseigneur · 5 years ago

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Chapter twenty-four: The city that never sleeps

Ao3

The infinite hues of green on the hill soon turned a uniform grey and the Dhampir left it without any rush. The forest and the surrounding human habitations were deserted. From the rest of that day and the next night, Lexi recalled very little. Although all was over and a deep and warm feeling of peace emanated from Quinlan, her own brain was a tight knot of ropes. Loud noises and moving shadows made the ropes snap. When Quinlan suddenly bolted away to run after a stray horse, she almost burst into tears. He let the horse go, despite their thirst, and let his own serenity pour into her to loosen the knot a little.

The dark room was no more and the monsters ran free within Lexi. It made the world seem like a giant beast whose claws could close around her at any moment. With infinite patience, Quinlan would embrace her when she was overwhelmed by the most trivial things. The only clear events from there on where their conversations, when she hid her face against his chest and he listened to her descriptions of the monsters that haunted her.

They drove on small country roads, stopping when the need or the desire arose. For the time being, Lexi asked to avoid populated areas and Quinlan did not mind. He appeared content even if it meant only drinking animal blood. So far their only encounters with other souls had been the occasional car driving by.

One night the sky was unusually clear above them and they laid on the large roof of a truck they had recently stolen. On the other side, some way away, stood an arrangement of trees barely big enough to be called a forest. The blinking stars gathered in a stain running above the horizon. It made Lexi feel even smaller than she was but not in a crushing manner. She strained to gather the events of the last day and failed.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Somewhere in Kansas.”

“I don’t remember driving here.”

“That’s alright.”

Quinlan rubbed his cheek against hers and caressed her back until she breathed in relief. Her tension decreased with each of the strokes. He smiled just enough to uncover his sharp teeth and she knew that at that moment she looked the same. The cuts on his face had closed but not disappeared. He looked fiercer than ever although his mission was over. So many scars. Lexi touched them, with just the tip of her fingers and as she did, he looked at her through half-closed eyelids. She was glad that her heart fluttered because he leaned down and kissed her rather than because she was afraid.

Later that night she continued tracing the scars on his naked body. Their clothes were in a small pile at their feet. She kissed the sun-shaped brand on his left shoulder.

“How did this happen?”

“This is a stigma, the mark of a criminal. The man who applied red hot silver to my skin chose this sigil to mock me and my repugnance of sunlight.”

“Oh…”

“This was his way of alleviating his frustrations when I escaped crucifixion. Instead, I was sold to become a gladiator.”

She shivered and he turned on his side, obscuring the brand from her view.

“It was a mild punishment.”

“You think you deserved slavery?”

“Ha…I did not believe I deserved any of this per se. I did not think myself a prisoner since I was confident could slay my captors and leave if I so desired. I was a slave in name, not in spirit. But I wished to learn about mankind and about fighting, so what stood in my way became my way.”

She wanted to ask more because his past life was a source of unending fascination.

In the distance, tires screeched then a woman screamed in terror. The wind carried the smell of blood and both Dhampir were instantly on their feet. The back of her throat twinged and the knot of her mind tightened. The scent was eminently appetizing. No animal blood caught their attention quite like this one. But her mind fought her against investigating the origins of that scent. When Quinlan took his sword and sprang ahead, she reluctantly followed.

They stopped when familiar hisses suddenly accompanied the smell.

“Is this in my head?” asked Lexi.

“No, this is real.”

Half a dozen Strigoi broke the tree line and approached tentatively. With their unmistakable ammonia stink and the red blood smeared on this chins. Quinlan’s lips lifted and he rattled menacingly. The Strigoi froze. Quinlan stepped forward and the creatures yelped like kicked dogs as they fled.

“Usually, they run away only after I kill most of them,” said Quinlan.

“Does it mean we failed? Does this mean the Master is still alive?”

“No…I believe we were mistaken in assuming their bodies would die with the Master.”

He pursued them and Lexi once again followed against her best judgment. The Strigoi were all dead when she caught up to him. He slashed the air and with a whistling noise, the blood and worms slid off the blade. The origin of the human blood was very close they walked toward it. On the nearby road, next to a crashed car was the body of a dead woman. They had not just taken her blood, they had torn into her as if rabid. The ropes in Lexi’s head snapped tighter than ever and she lost herself. Lexi ran for her life because monsters were after her. They had just killed Emily and she would be next.

The rapid tip tap of shoes smacking the road was upon Lexi and Emily. Three creatures now towered over them and their eyes were fixated on Emily. Lexi tried to shield her but frantic, they pushed her violently out of the way and started tearing into the pregnant women. As her friend’s body was splayed open, Lexi could not scream.

Another silhouette appeared, tall and pale-skinned. It distracted her just a second too long and the monster that had once been her significant other pounced on her. The silhouette suddenly stood between them and grabbed the monster by the neck, lifting it off the ground without effort. Just as easily, the man snapped the vertebrae in his grasp and turned to Lexi whose panic was almost equal to her confusion.

“Lexi…this is not real. This is the memory of another time, of a previous life. You are safe now.”

The pale-skinned man crouched in front of her and caressed her cheek. His eyes, the stripes on his face and his pointy ears were not human but seeing them filled her with reassurance.

I will fear no evil, for you are with me. The asphalt road, Emily’s body, and the snarling monsters all faded away.

Lexi sat on the road, another road. This was the present, the now. There was no other Strigoi around and Quinlan was walking toward her, undressed and only carrying his sword. Her muscles were still rushing with blood as her heart pumped frantically.

“Lexi, beloved, I know it pains you right to be shackled to your past but be sure of one thing…”

He lifted her with his free arm and hugged her against his warm skin.

“Whatever tricks your mind plays on you, I will pull you back to me. Always.”

She held on with the desperation of a drowning woman.

***

The Strigoi avoided them like a mouse would steer clear of the scent of a cat. They were wild animals, rudderless and stupid but still dangerous for humans. Two days after the Dhampir made that discovery they waited inside an abandoned store because they had not found a residential area before the sunlight hours.

“We have to go back to New York,” said Lexi as she perused the few clothes that looters had left behind.

“I understand but it might be wise to wait. Until you are better.”

She was so clearly unwell now. Since she had seen that woman on the road and a nightmare had swallowed her whole. The thin skin under her eyes had turned deep grey and he almost had to beg her to drink regularly. She walked a little hunched and because of that, he could see the frailty of her human days.

“Right now…I want to lock myself in the back of this store and never come out,” she said and turned away from him to remove her old shirt. Quinlan cared very little that she bore scars but she did and sometimes shied from his gaze because of them. He did not force the issue.

“But if I indulge that desire, I fear I will spiral and never come back. We must keep going,” she said.

“I trust your judgment.”

“Thank you.”

Before she could put on the clean clothes she had chosen, he hugged her and breathed heavily in the hollow of her neck. He was careful to avoid touching where the Master had clawed her. She leaned back onto him and her entire body relaxed. At least once a day since the Master’s death, Quinlan would be struck with the realization that the reward he craved before flying to the volcano was happening right now. It would not last a single hour, it would last as long as they both lived.

“On the way to New York, there is a thing we need to do, a small detour,” said Lexi.

“Let us speak of this later.”

***

The perimeter alarm blared and the woman breathed, for she knew her savior was on her doorstep. Two hooded silhouettes approached from the southern path and the smallest one waved enthusiastically at the camera. Laura bit back tears and hugged her confused daughter.

“Mommy?” said Emma.

“Do you remember the lady on the road, Lexi?”

The child nodded and Laura lifted her so she could sit across her lap.

“Look! It’s her. Do you remember what her friend’s name was?”

Emma shook her head.

“Quinlan.”

“Oh yes, I remember. It’s weird.”

“Yes.”

Laura gave the room a cursory glance. It was reasonably clean though at the moment their breakfast was still on the kitchen table. She also checked the other rooms. They had not used the bedroom with all the drawings, except to use some items it contained.

Mother and daughter slept in the empty bedroom because the other obviously belonged to Lexi. In the lower level, the plants thrived just as the strange woman had asked. Mostly, Laura had done everything she had demanded. Except for one little thing.

The large chest freezer in the kitchen, she could not stop herself from looking inside. It was a little like Pandora’s box. As soon as her brain finally understood that those were hundreds of blood bags, she had slammed that freezer shut but the image had stayed with her.

She had grown almost obsessive of that mystery. It rummaged through her brain as she cared for Emma, or when she labored in the garden. Why would people need blood?

Then she remembered the night they had met Lexi and how fast she had killed those two men. And that voice. Low and with a strange texture to it. At the time she had imagined that their savior had been sick or that she had suffered some form of damage to her voice box. Laura had an uncle who spoke strangely after suffering the consequences of heavy smoking. But that was different.

Lexi had also moved in obscurity as though she could see. Almost guilty, Laura had entered the room she knew had been Lexi’s and searched for answers. She had found a whole lot of nothing at first. Clothes, drawings and more material to draw, books, even some shampoo, and soap and other necessities that any woman would have. The piano stood against the wall, mockingly mundane. Then even more guilty, she had flipped through the pages of notebooks sprawled over the large table. Almost all of those were filled with sketches of cats, of landscapes and plants. Except for one. It was small and blue, stuck in the middle of a larger notebook and appeared to have been forgotten there. Its first pages were just like the others, random doodlings but then…words. The same handwriting left on the medicine in sickbay and the few careful notes in the binder.

These appeared to be the ramblings of an insane person. Except when they started making sense. Some lines detailed the events leading to the Strigoi invasion. With mentions of the plane and later on of the nuclear warhead which had exploded in New York. But the passages in between and after were almost too much for Laura to believe. Talk of decapitating the Master, some kind of Strigoi super king, or imprisoning him. Or machines to scramble his brains. The recountings of plans and of failures. Of many failures.

The handwriting decreased in quality as she progressed through the pages. On the last page containing words, the handwriting was neat again and written with a different kind of pencil. And on that page there was hope. A new plan. Making a new coffin of silver and lead and locking the worm inside. On the last line, circled several times so hard that the pencil had almost pierced the paper, “No Master no Strigoi.”

After that, there was only one more drawing. Merely a sketch made very quickly in broad lines and rushed strokes. Either because it had been drawn from memory or furtively.

It was a man but with features that made Laura deeply uncomfortable. Hairless, pointed ears and the suggestion of triangular incisors between thin lips. Laura had slapped that notebook shut.

The night after she found it she lulled her daughter to sleep by reading her The Hobbit for the fourth time. At least. Now Emma made plans of becoming a Hobbit as if it were an occupation just like teacher or plumber.

After her daughter fell asleep, she read through the notebook again and did so almost every night following its discovery.

Slowly the possibility that Lexi and Quinlan had not been exactly human had imposed itself to her. And as awful as this seemed there was undeniable goodness to some of the facts Laura had garnered about Lexi. She had saved her and Emma then given her this place. And if the blue notebook did not contain the ravings of a tortured mind, then they had been working on something important. They had wanted to save everyone.

So when the elevator came down and Lexi stepped out of it still wearing her hood, Laura was prudently happy and so very curious.

“I am glad you are well,” said Lexi.

Now that she expected it, the strangeness of that voice was obvious.

“I’m glad you found your friend. Are you going to remove that hood and those glasses?”

“Maybe not,” said Lexi, amused.

“I think you should.”

“Why is that?”

Lexi cocked her head and in the shadows of her hood, her lips stretched briefly.

“Because I found your blue notebook and I looked in the freezer.”

“Did you now…?”

Lexi was definitely smiling now and her teeth were like the man’s on the sketch. She removed her gloves and her glasses and pulled her hood back. The rest of her face was also similar, from the lines on her forehead and cheeks to this strange thing on her throat.

“Well, that went better than I expected,” Lexi said and appeared relieved.

“Is Lexi an elf?” asked Emma

In the elevator, the man laughed and he sounded like a dog barking. Laura blushed at her daughter’s remark. She had had a very limited number of age-appropriate books to go through but right now she regretted indulging her daughter’s obsession with Middle Earth.

Lexi smiled but with closed lips, hiding her teeth as she crouched to face Emma. She pulled back the hair covering her ears and Emma squealed and pointed at them while shaking her mother’s hand.

“Yes, I am,” said Lexi. “So is my friend. Do you want to see him?”

Lexi glanced at Laura who nodded in agreement. Very slowly the man in the elevator crossed the control room and also uncovered his features. Emma’s excitement was somewhat diminished.

“Elves have hair,” said Emma. “But your ears are nice,” she added as a very poor attempt at hiding her disappointment.

It was him, the man on the sketch and his appearance seemed more savage than Lexi’s. Especially with all those scars. Laura’s skin rose in intense goosebumps because his eyes, so inhuman, were fixated on Emma.

“Well,” he said and his voice was just as strange. “I am fortunate my ears are to your liking.”

His amusement made his features only slightly softer.

“We have a few things to tell you,” said Lexi and she did not appear to mind Emma little fingers reaching for her hair.

“Is it about the Master?”

Quinlan now stared at her and his eyes were piercing as he detailed Laura too intensely, on the verge of rudeness. They all sat at the kitchen table and Emma roamed around the newcomers.

“If you read my notebook then there are a few things you already know…the Master and how he started all this and how it could only end if he was stopped.”

“Yes…But frankly, I had trouble believing it for a long time.”

They sat around the kitchen table and Laura hesitated to offer them a cup of tea or some food. What was appropriate in such a situation?

“That’s understandable but it was true and the Master had to end.”

She could not help but notice the past tense. Quinlan sat straighter on his chair when Emma attempted to reach for the handle of his sword. Laura made big eyes at her daughter who ran back to her.

“I’m sorry about that,” said Laura as Quinlan stood and shed his harness and coat which he placed on top of the pantry. She took Emma on her lap and with a stern look.

“Did you get him?” asked Laura.

Had they come back to regroup after yet another failure? Lexi seemed exhausted. Laura did not dare hope.

“The Master is dead,” said Quinlan.

Laura wanted to go home. She wanted her daughter to have a future beside hiding in a hole and hoping to live another day. And now she would. Laura kissed Emma on the top of the head and her thin blonde hair tickled her nose. She could become a damn Hobbit if she wished. Anything.

“The nightmare is over almost over,” said Lexi with a grimace.

“What?”

“The Strigoi are still out there just...undirected,” said Quinlan.

“But the Partnership? The camps? They’re gone?”

“We have seen some camps and they were empty. We are going to New York to inquire about the state of the country,” said Lexi.

They were going to leave.

“We are coming with you.”

Lexi made an unsure “huh” sound.

“We are. My daughter will not grow up here, alone.”

“You will be safe in the bunker,” said Quinlan.

“But for how long? If we wait until we are as safe out there as we are in here then my daughter will never see the light of day again,” said Laura.

Quinlan raised a brow but did not answer.

“We don’t really know,” said Lexi. “We don’t have a precedent to refer to.”

“We’ve been hiding for long enough.”

Lexi and Quinlan looked at one another for an awkwardly long moment.

“We will go to New York and you are free to join us but…” said Lexi.

“If we judge that you and your child are exposed to undue risk, we will bring you back here. Whether you like it or not.”

The tone was final and would not tolerate any objection. Laura did not want to object because she did not want to see what happened if he became truly irritated.

Laura had suggested both she and her daughter wanted to go back to civilization but Emma was dead set on making a liar out of her. The child was not keen on going anywhere. As a four-year-old, her memories of the outside world were limited to mayhem. As soon as Laura announced their departure in terms she could understand, the little girl had planted her feet down. A tantrum was brewing and Laura could see that nothing short of a miracle would defuse it.

Lexi and Quinlan stood near the elevator waiting for her to manage her progeny and it was mortifying. Then it started. Her little upturned nose wrinkled, her eyes squinted, she dropped to her knees and wailed. Laura massaged her temples. Lexi and Quinlan were probably judging her parenting skills. Carefully, she glanced at the couple.

Lexi’s eyes were panicked and she backed up against the wall. Quinlan picked her up gingerly and disappeared into her bedroom. Emma had been too engrossed in her own crying to notice.

They had postponed their departure for earliest hours of the next day when sleepiness made Emma more malleable. Laura thought about Lexi’s haunted face and why a crying child should send her in such a state.

The little girl drooled on Laura’s shoulder as they crossed the field above the bunker to find the car hidden under dead branches. Quinlan drove and every time he accelerated a little too much, Lexi would clear her throat and he would slow. Fully awake, Emma fidgeted and complained. It appeared that she might cry again and Laura wanted to avoid that. How would Lexi react again?

“We have to go back before night or they are going to find us,” said Emma with her face and Laura’s chest.

“Who will find you?” asked Lexi.

“The goblins.”

Then she lowered her voice and Lexi leaned between the passenger and driver’s seat as if receiving a secret.

“They are scared of the light but then at night, they come out,” whispered Emma.

Laura held her daughter tighter and promised herself to burn that damn book as soon as possible.

“Do you think elves like Quinlan and I are afraid of goblins?”

“No!”

“And are goblins afraid of elves?”

“I think so.”

“Then why are you acting so scared? You are with us and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

The four-year-old was placated by this demonstration of pure logic. She extirpated herself from Laura’s hug and looked at her as if she had made an embarrassing sound.

“Being scared is stupid.”

“Only sometimes…” said Laura but Emma was no longer listening. She lked out the window in awe. It had been a long time since she had seen more than concrete walls. Lexi turned back to face the road. Without looking, Quinlan reached for her hand. Laura wanted to ask what their natures truly was and would not accept “elf” as an answer.

The opportunity came when they stopped around noon for a brief moment. Laura had made the child eat a snack and then almost instantly she had passed out in the back of the car. Lexi and Laura waited for Quinlan to come back. He had gone looking for more gas in the nearest town.

“You’re not actually an elf, are you?” asked Laura as they sat in the shade of a tree.

“Ha! No. And there are no goblins out there either.”

“Are you some kind of Strigoi?”

It would explain the blood and their physique. Lexi rubbed her neck and stretched her back.

“We are Dhampir and we do share traits with the Strigoi but we are not of their kind.”

Laura did not quite know what to make of this information though it was satisfying to have been correct. She only had more questions but Lexi was quicker.

“What did you do before the Fall?” asked Lexi.

“I worked for the Oklahoma water resources board,” she replied and wondered if that made any sense to a non-human being.

“That’s important. You will be needed again then.”

“Probably but not where I lived. There is no one left there.”

They had been shipped away in trucks and Laura had fled with Emma by the skin of their teeth.

“I’m sure you’ll find a new position anywhere. Sooner or later.”

Lexi perked up and a few seconds later Quinlan arrived out of nowhere. He held a canister which stank and made soft sloshing sounds.

“We can depart,” he announced and filled the tank.

“Were there people? In that town?” asked Laura.

She so wanted to see another human face.

“No,” said Quinlan and he put the empty canister in the trunk.

They resumed their drive and after a few minutes, without any apparent reason, Lexi chuckled and leaned toward Quinlan to kiss him on the cheek. Then she extracted a paper bag from his large pocket.

“For when she wakes up…there are no elves or goblins in those,” she whispered and handed four colorful books to Laura.

They were illustrated and meant for very young children. All of them had a certain shine and smell typical of brand new books. Their covers stuck one another as if they had been pressed together for a long time. Laura’s throat felt suddenly very tight.

***

Gus shouted for retreat. It felt like the only thing he had done for the past month. Ever since Quinlan and Lexi had gone and half a day later the Strigoi had collapsed and convulsed. Ever since those same Strigoi had woken up again, thirsty as ever.

And now they were everywhere and New Yorkers could only leave their homes around noon when the light forced those motherfucking Strigs below. To take a nap after a night spent terrorizing, killing and infecting. Gus also wanted to sleep.

The SUVs were just a block ahead but they were not retreating fast enough. A man a few paces behind was overrun and screamed as three stingers stole his blood. Raul turned around and shot him in the head then after a second of hesitation, also shot the Strigoi running at him.

“I said retreat, cabron!” said Gus and he pulled his cousin along.

That night, they lost four people. Two to the Strigoi and two who returned home because they preferred leaving the task of cleaning up New York to others.

Good riddance, fucking quitters.

Amongst the shelves of depleted contraband, Gus found a bottle of pain killers of which he popped two before washing them down with a swig of whiskey. The last of it. He grabbed two ration packs and ate upstairs with his soldiers, gathered around the large television screen. They too ate their two proteins bars. Since they were officially part of the cleaning effort, they got double the rations compared to the rest of the populace. Gus deposited the bottle pain killers in front of Raul who clutched a bag of ice over his shoulder.

“How is the arm?” asked Gus.

Raul grunted, the vocal equivalent of a shrug he could not physically make right now. At least the joint had not dislocated again. The phone rang behind the bar and he heaved himself off the couch. His back made popping noises and some of its stiffness alleviated.

“What?” he barked into the phone.

“It’s Costello,” said a woman.

As if he was expecting a phone call from anyone else. She was the new Mayor of the city. Before the Fall she had been something like the fiftieth in charge or whatever. Gus didn’t care.

“I’ve got five more people to join and another shipment of gear. They should get to you with the next sunlight.”

“We lost Red Hook again and two of your last batch packed up their shit and left today.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I thought you said you’d fix that?”

“There is only so much I can give them. More food, shelter and a comfortable pension when it’s done. What else is there?”

She sounded almost as tired as he was New York was a giant dumpster fire and she attempted to put it out with a glass of water.

“I don’t give a crap how you do it. I kill Strigs and you find soldiers. Or do you wanna switch?”

“No, I fucking don’t. But that’s not why I called you.”

Gus leaned against the bar and pinched the bridge of his nose. His hand stank of gunpowder and sweat. What else now?

“You asked me to find that woman, Miss Gupta.”

Gus slowly sank to the floor and clenched his teeth.

“The internet came back two days ago and lists are just now uploaded and…”

“Just fucking tell me!” he screamed.

The soldiers went quiet and someone cut off the sound of the television.

“She is alive.”

He laughed and cried at the same time. Costello waited until he stopped.

“Can you bring her here?”

“Yeah, I can. She is not very far, but there is something you need to know about where she spent all that time.”

“She okay?”

“Yes…”

“Then I don’t give a shit.”

Costello sighed and explained. And Gus had been right, he really did not give a shit.

Gus stood by the window, chewing his lower lip. It was almost noon and the streets were brightening. It was safe to go out. Raul was cleaning his gun and Gus’ on the coffee table facing the television.

“Go sleep for fuck’s sake. You have no idea when she’ll arrive,” said Raul.

“I’m not tired,” said Gus.

“Yeah, right.”

Raul reassembled his Glock in seconds and racked its slide. Satisfied, he inserted the magazine full of silver bullets in its well. He repeated the same process with Gus’s weapon.

“I’m gonna chat with the new meat Costello sent yesterday. How about you go and check if your room is decent. In case you left some porn lying around…”

Gus stared at his cousin in mild shock and amusement. This was a remark he would have expected from Amir, not from him. Raul put his gun in his side holster then on his way to the staircase, handed Gus his clean M9.

The Sun Hunter searched for something else to clean or tidy but the space positively gleamed. He sat on his bed and tried to imagine how Aanya would see all this. The bed was neatly made and smelled of freshly changed sheets. The polished cement floors were almost spotless if not for a speck of dried paint there and there. There was a table by one of the occluded windows, with a small television screen on which rested a picture of Gus and his mother. Everything could burn in this flat except for this one picture. By the bed, there were shelves with clothes and some books. On a chair, a pair of boxing gloves which had until the previous day been gathering dust and now shone under the artificial lights.

He was ashamed at the sterility and emptiness of his living quarters. Not even a carpet, or a painting. Gus held his face and lied on the bed with a grunt. It looked like a prison cell, not a home. For a minute he considered grabbing one of the SUVs downstairs to drive to the Upper East side or the suburbs and steal some furniture. Before he could decide he fell asleep.

A knock on his door jolted him awake and his body flooded with adrenaline. He stood and wiped at his face as though to remove any trace of sleep from it.

“Yeah?” he said.

The door opened slowly and he instantly stared at the fingers holding it. They were thin and golden brown. Gus almost ran because there she was. Aanya stood in his room and though she smiled that expression was tainted with worry. She wore a loose flannel shirt and baggy pants and her hair was much longer than before the Fall. And she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever met. He wanted to cry when she accepted his hug and his kiss. She smelled very different now, of shampoo but without any trace of the strong spices which used to always cling to her.

“You stayed in the city all this time?” she asked.

She sounded proud and that made his chest feel large and full.

“Lots to do.”

Then because he suddenly wanted to get it out of the way he asked,

“What happened after you left? You parents?”

She shook her head and looked down.

“And here? Angel? I didn’t see him downstairs.”

“He didn’t make it.”

She didn’t cry but her large black eyes were grave. When he tried to hold her by the hips she took a step back, a little panicked.

“I…I…,” she said and put a shaky hand above her mouth.

“Yeah I know,” he said.

“You do?”

And it was obvious she did not believe him. So he walked to her, kneeled and pressed his face against her round midsection hidden under the loose flannel. She stroked his shaved head and made a quiet strangled sound.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispered.

“They caught us a month in. That’s not your fault.”

“I should have gone with you.”

She held his face up.

“It’s not your fault.”

And this time he did not believe her though he really wanted to. He also wanted to find every single person who had put their hands on her, every single doctor, every single nurse, and all those pencil pushers and he wanted to kill them himself.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” he asked because he did not want to think such violent thoughts right next to her pregnant belly.

“A girl.”

He smiled and pressed his ear against the roundness as if hoping to hear her move. Gus was about to ask when she would be born when Aanya spoke with a very small voice.

“The first one was a boy…but they took him. They said the babies would be adopted out but they were lying…they killed him. They killed all of them.”

She was crying by the time she was done speaking. Gus stood and led her to the bed so she could cry all she wanted. He had known that too.

“This one they won’t have. She will be fine. It’s over now, we just need to finish some cleaning and before you know it, she’ll grow up a true New Yorker.”

She did not stop crying and he did not mind.

“Did you choose a name for her?”

“No, not yet.”

He removed her shoes and pulled the blanket over her.

“Will you tell me? What happened here after I left?” she asked.

“Sure.”

He removed his own boots and slid under the covers.

“You remember that weird ass guy who showed up at the restaurant?”

Aanya nodded vigorously. Quinlan was a difficult man to forget. And he told her almost everything but glossed over the violence and the deaths and the loss. He made it look like a victory because that was what she needed to hear. But then he thought of that baby, how no one would take her away and how Aanya was back and safe. For the first time since the battle of Central Park, it did feel like a victory.

Angela. Aanya had chosen to call her baby Angela and Gus could not stop thinking about them. He thought about the building which had once been his black market and now housed men and women who killed Strigs for a living. That did not seem like a good place to raise a baby. But then again, maybe it was the only safe place to raise a child. Everyone was armed to the teeth in there and Strigoi would not find a way in, even if they still had any brains left.

During his outings, he sometimes brought back small items he thought she might need. A blanket, a brush, some baby clothing. When he came back one morning with a carton full of heavy volumes, she glanced at the contents and scratched the tip of her nose.

“Huh, …what are those?”

“Some books on medicine…in case you’re still interested. Med schools are not going to re-open right away but I thought…you might want to get a head start.”

He grabbed one of them and handed it to her, particularly happy to have found it. The title was Clinical Respiratory Medicine. Gus had had to give the Librarian a silver blade and canned foods to get those books but that was a bargain from his point of view.

“But with the baby and…”

He put the book back down.

“Whatever you want to do, I’ll make it happen,” said Gus.

“If the schools do open again…who will take care of Angela while I study? Med school is a full-time job.”

“Plenty of families make it work even when both parents have full-time jobs.”

And there it was, the worry on her face again. Every time he suggested that he would be there for both of them.

“You know, I don’t mind being a stay-at-home dad. Retirement sounds good.” - she smiled but her eyes were still sad - “We’ll go to the park…hell, I’ll even learn finger painting. That’s the dream.”

Then he teased her because he wanted her to laugh.

“Maybe you’re scared I’ll spoil her rotten?”

He missed the mark, she did not laugh but at least she huddled against him.

With the perspective of soon becoming a father, there was a slew of new fears Gus had not expected. Well, it was not like he had tons of time to prepare and those were not normal circumstances. When he walked into nests of stinking Strigs he was scared of not coming back. Gus pictures Raul climbing up the stairs to his flat and opening the door and that Aanya would look into his face and know right away what had happened. That terrified him more than anything. Having a lot to lose kinda sucked sometimes.

“Raul, pinche puto!”

His cousin stormed into the nest ahead of everyone and Gus wanted to punch him in the face. It was mostly with luck that they cleared the building without anyone getting stung. They reached the last floor and Gus breathed until he spotted the newest guy Costello had sent.

“What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to guard the street!”

“Huh, …everyone was going in so…”

“You fucking idiot.”

Surely, they could be lucky for just five more minutes. But no. He reached the entrance door just as a horde of Strigoi barreled down the street, attracted by the noise and the smells of their bodies. Gus spat a string of swears. All they had needed to get away safely was a thirty-second heads up. The SUVs were right there parked in the street and now completely inaccessible. The soldiers were outnumbered at least three to one. He closed the entrance of the building just as the first Strigoi smashed against it violently. Maybe they could make it out if they held their ground until the sunlight.

Raul was already closing off the access to the flats in the hallway. But that would not keep them out very long. The creatures were now too dumb to use a door handle but they could smash their way through given enough time. The ground level windows shattered as the first wave of creatures invaded the flats and instantly scratched at the doors. Shit.

They would all die here and Aanya would never even know what had happened.

Gus would never meet Angela.

Only two flats had windows facing that street which left three possible ways for the Strigoi to reach them. Two doors the main entrance.

They were ready for their onslaught and judging by the way the wooden panels were splintering, it would come sooner rather than later. A bead of sweat ran down Gus’ temple. The Strigoi stopped throwing themselves at the doors. They screeched and inside the flats, furniture was getting smashed and there was also the soft thuds of bodies hitting the floor. Gus looked at Raul who seemed just as confused as he was. Those were the sounds of Strigoi dying and they were both extremely familiar with them.

There was silence except for the heavy breathing of the soldiers and the loud beats of his own heart filling his head.

Someone knocked at the front door.

They all stared with slacking jaws. After five seconds, the knocking sounds resumed, more pressing this time.

“Augustin Elizalde, will you please come out?”

That voice was a kick in the stomach. It was a goddamn ghost.

“Holy shit,” whispered Raul and he immediately ran and opened the door.

Two people stood in the middle of the street, hooded and so familiar. Marcus and Miguel murmured excitedly to one another. Brevil had been quite clear Lexi and Quinlan were dead and since the Strigoi had gotten up, Gus had doubted him. Then he had heard that the volcano had exploded so violently that anything anywhere close to it had burned. Obviously, they had not been that close. He shook his head and his smile was bitter.

“What the fuck took you so long?” he asked and avoided the cut up Strigoi littering the pavement.

“We needed time to lick our wounds,” said Quinlan and both of them uncovered their heads.

Quinlan had gnarly scars across his face. Lexi was skinnier than Gus remembered and by all standards human or Dhampir, she looked like shit. Her eyes seemed sunken. And her skin was greyish instead of pure white.

“You were wrong,” said Raul and he too stared at Lexi. “They did not die.”

Lexi looked down, ashamed.

“Yes, we learned of our mistake after the fact,” said Quinlan. “Our error lied in assuming that death of the mind and that of the body were the same. We are here to remedy it.”

Gus resented them. Part of him blamed those two for Amir, for Arturo, for Julio and for all who had died since Central Park. But the other half of him was relieved beyond measure. He felt like a kid with a scraped knee whose parent just arrived to take care of business. He would never admit to that though, not even on his death bed.

Back at the headquarters, Gus instantly noticed a beat up car amongst the black SUVs. Then when they all exited their vehicles he froze at a sound he had not heard in years. A child laughing. At the dinner table, a woman he did not know sat with a little girl on her lap and Aanya was telling her things that made her screech in delight.

“Who’s that?” Gus asked Lexi.

“A friend we picked on the way,” she said after Quinlan discretely grabbed her hand. “This is Laura and her daughter Emma. I hope you don’t mind if they stay here for the time being.”

Gus was about to retort that he did mind. That this was his place and he had to decide who was allowed to even come in. But then again, Aanya was smiling and laughing. The building was always filled with men and women running around with weapons and she had little in common with them.

“Fine. But we’re gonna have to go triple on the rooms very soon, cause we’re running out of space.”

If they stayed here, they would need to modify the building to allow for more sleeping quarters. After all, now that the market was dissolved, did they really need the lower level to be filled with all those shelves and crates?

“Your room is occupied right now but we’ll do some shuffling around. You’ll get it back,” said Gus.

“The metal trunk is in the vault. We didn’t touch it,” said Raul.

“Thank you,” said Lexi. She smiled softly.

Aanya was approaching carefully with her incredibly large eyes full of curiosity. Obviously, she had not yet met the Dhampir. She was not yet accustomed to their schedule and had probably just woken up. Quinlan and Lexi stared and though Aanya wore very large clothes, both their eyes traveled to her belly. Then they looked at one another. He seemed worried and she started with a smile and then a scowl which made Quinlan look away. They were so annoying with that mind reading bullshit.

“That’s Quinlan and that’s Lexi,” said Gus to break the awkward silence.

“I’m Aanya.”

Lexi thrust a hand toward her and Aanya shook it and then pulled her hand back against her chest.

“Warm,” she said in fascination.

Gus jutted his chin toward Raul and pointed at the soldiers. Raul gave him a thumb up and took charge of all the post-mission procedures.

“Let’s sit down. I’ve got a shit ton of questions,” said Gus.

His back was aching again. He was hungry, tired and in serious need of a shower. Despite all that crap, he was hopeful. He pulled Aanya close and planted a noisy kiss on her forehead. He would meet Angela for sure.

#quinlan #Mr. Quinlan #quintus sertorius #the strain #the strain fx #the strain fanfiction #the strain fanfic

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