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hoodedwing · 4 years ago

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Soldier, Tell Me

Summary: Roy may have banished his demons but we know that demons, and bad habits die hard.

Characters: Jason, Roy, Cheshire and Lian

Warnings: Implied shipping? (not really actually), Drug abuse, depressive thoughts, major canon death. Vomiting and blood

Additional Notes: This was the 3k fic I spent months working on. I hope you like it as much as I did writing it :))

Word Count: 3,499 words

***

Jason drums his fingers against the handles as he leans a little and presses himself into the seat. His earpieces played some old school song that he didn't bother changing as he took a left turn to a rather deserted road.

Up ahead, a huge building stood in relative isolation, save for a scatter of trees. Jason flips the indicator and takes another right towards the entrance of the car park before finding a small, vacant spot and parking his bike. Switching off the bike, he took a deep breath of the deep gasoline smell lingering.

It assaulted his senses in a good way, preparing him for what was going to happen incoming. He doesn’t know how to start everything with Roy. It’s not as if he could strike up a conversation about a mission like the yesteryears. He couldn’t slide up to him, smile and talk straight away to have expectations that Roy could catch up to speed.

He could try. Pretend everything was normal. Pretend everything was okay and that no one was sinking underneath the weight. Pretend they were still happy despite being scarred all the way through.

He had to accept the fact that Roy was probably in a cleaner slate than when he last saw him. Sometimes, he felt irrational hatred at himself for not seeing it earlier, for not stopping him, A part of him felt that he could’ve saved Roy from hell. He could be the barrier, the small glass shard that held the rest of the pieces up.

Hell, nothing could’ve almost prevented him from collapsing onto the floor when he found Roy out cold on the unforgiving tiles of the damp bathroom floor, a used needle on the floor and empty syringes. A discarded lighter and spoon told the shameful truth Jason wanted desperately to not be true, to not be real, to simply fade and become a figment of his imagination, a hallucination to be exact. An unresponsive Roy sent Jason towards a panicked call to the ER and a shot of Narcan he had in his military-grade belt. There was a splutter and then the vomiting out the offender and the slight feverish touch of the skin. Jason carded his hair and tore a piece of his shirt to keep his forehead cool and try to get his fever down.

Jason had waited outside the ER with trepidation, hoping he really caught him in time. Nurses came in and went. Oliver Queen was suddenly there and Jason doesn’t know what’s next but he sees Dinah Lance as well and all he could pray was that Queen hadn’t disowned Roy. All he registered was a faint squeeze of a shoulder and a soft voice of “He’ll be fine, they’re good at what they do.”

He doesn’t know what to do as he pushes himself off the bike and locks it twice to double-check. Tossing his bag over his shoulder which had a spare set of clothes, shoes and essentials for Roy, he shoves his keys in his jean pockets and his other gloved hand tightening around a Narcan jab.

He’s at the counter.

Jason lazily leans against one of those plastic colored chairs that's plain uncomfortable to sit on. His eyes draw slowly towards the anti-drug videos playing on the screen. Sometimes he wonders if it remotely worked, at all as he watched a video on psychedelics and withdrawal symptoms. He thinks about how the initial years would be hell, suddenly the high was taken away and the addict was suffering. He was shaking, chills and absolutely losing it. He briefly thought about heroin and opium. Then he hears the low whine of machines and the counter number calling for him.

He tiredly gets up and waits at the counter, an all too smiling nurse who kindly gave him a bunch of paperwork to sign. His grip on the pen was so loose the nurse had to gently remind him that his hands were shaking. Steeling himself, he signs the last few release papers.

“You don’t look old to be Mr Queen, don’t you?”

“I’m..I’m his friend. Here to take him home.”

He exhales, a hand in his frazzled bangs making everything a little more messy. The nurse takes it as her cue to take Roy and she leaves.

Jason tries to not imagine what Roy might look like after an entire year. In his dreams, it’s either he was a bag of bones or a hollowed face. Other days, he couldn’t see him, it was a blur of shadows and nothing much. All he remembers is the empty longing for his companion to make his trio complete. Sure, Artemis and Bizarro were lovely company but Roy was the one who truly understood him to the core. He knew so much about Jason it was almost as if he was psychoanalyzing him instead. Roy knew Jason’s preferences like straight black coffee, novels with petrichor or simply a rainy day. He knew too much to not be there and it ached Jason’s bones badly.

He wouldn’t admit it, he missed his best friend.

The nurse returns and the first thing Jason registers is the way Roy’s threadbare olive shirt was hanging off his shoulder blades. The constant micro adjustments he did to push the shirt back up to the collarbone to hide the rest of the boned wisp of a muscled and lean man he once was. The same went for his jeans, rolled up at his shins and looking half-dead yet terrified. He shuffled his feet and chewed rather loudly at a ridiculously pink bubblegum. Jason hasn’t had the chance to look into his eyes and see how much was lost.

Suffice to say, Jason needed time to get Roy back to himself completely. He quietly hoped that there was enough Roy to heal back.

Roy finally looks up and smiles imperceptibly, the corners of his mouth curving up as he held a hand out to Jason. The bones were jutting out and it hurt so much to just take his own hand and try to not shatter his fragile ones. Scarred ones with numerous arrows he’s shot in another life.

Another life, Jason reminds himself, something stinging behind his eyes.

Jason stands up and gently embraces Roy, almost afraid of breaking his body completely into nothing. Roy returns the embrace, his hand running down Jason’s back. The nurse was holding Roy’s bag which Jason quickly snags with his free hand and quietly nodded as a sign of gratitude to the lady who walked away to rejoin her colleagues.

“Jason, I’m gonna go home, right?”

Jason lets Roy lean into him, lets him take in the warmth of his leather jacket he’s never quite ditched and into the sleeve of his ash-colored shirt. It was almost light-weight as he half-drags Roy into the carpark and towards his bike.

“Yeah, I'm taking you home."

He pretends to ignore Roy's rather weak grip around his midsection as he revved up the bike and drove out of the centre hopefully for the last time.

Jason made the last turn to his safe house he spent some months converting into a livable house to aid Roy's recovery. The few azaleas he's grown are starting to gain height as he takes the bags and a half-asleep Roy to his doorstep. With some difficulty, he hunts for his keys from his pocket as quickly as possible before anyone nearby starts questioning him.

The door opens with a lazy whine as Jason hurriedly dumps the bags on the couch and drags Roy to his own bedroom. He lowers him gently onto the bed softly before opening his closet and fetching out a pair of his own clothes. He leaves them at the foot of the bed, pre-empting Roy needing to take a shower when he wakes up.

He heads back to the kitchen and starts prepping for a simple soup. After adding the last few vegetables (Roy needed strength on a weak stomach) and closing the lid to let the soup simmer, he takes out the folder of discharge papers alongside a whole host of anti-drug pamphlets which he promptly threw away.

No need for them. He thought.

Taking the remaining papers, he heads back to the bedroom where he settled down in a ratty armchair beside a worn out and asleep Roy.

The first sentence already starts to hurt to the bone and his hands shake again. His eyes keep darting towards Roy and back at the paper.

He OD'd twice during his stay. One time, they had to almost restart his heart because he was unresponsive.

Like that day in the bathroom

Jason mentally supplied, the free hand clutching at the arm of his chair. He doesn't want to read the rest of the letter anymore and carefully folds it, slipping it into his pocket.

He gently holds Roy's hand, lets his fingers trace along the veins standing out against the thin, almost transparent skin. Anger floods through him, how everything had hurt Roy so much. Jason rubbed gentle circles with his thumb as he waited for Roy to stir up.

Roy awoke to a cotton-like feeling in his head and a remnant of sickness in his stomach. He laid there, staring at the repainted ceiling to force himself to not throw up as he blindly reached for a glass of water left by his table. With the blanket pooling at his waist, he sat up and leant against the headboard and tried to get his head on straight because he hasn't exactly processed anything in the last few hours.

He hears the clinking of a metal ladle and then the creaky cabinet with the dishes. A soft breeze filtered through the slightly ajar day and started a fresh bout of chills for Roy. He feebly rubs his arms against his sides and tries to stay warm. He threw a pillow on his head because his stupid, stupid weak body couldn't regulate body temperature right.

He stumbles out of the bed with the blanket draped around his shoulders. He opens the closet and takes out one of Jason's hoodies. He slips it and is instantly comforted by the warmth of the other. It smelt faintly of stale cigarette smoke (He knew Jason had dropped the habit when he was gone, determined to change himself) and gasoline.

Roy pressed his ear near the doorframe and heard other ambiguous noises as he quietly closed the remaining gap of the door. A sudden wave of nausea hits him and he dashes into the joint washroom in his room.

He barely got onto his abused knees before spitting out the little he had in him. Bile dripped down his pale face and he leant against the cool surface of the bathtub. His eyes trail across the almost spotless tiles except for the occasional blood smears. Those must've been Jason's bad days.

Roy briefly wonders what bad days were to him. Every day kept throwing him off balance and he was always unprepared.

He tried swimming to shore before, but his ankles always caught the anchor and he couldn't get out in time always.

When he does free himself, he's so far into the past, it's just their ghosts teasing him and he's bloody trying but he's so tired. He's given up fighting against the waters.

He just opens his arms and welcomes the gush of cold and then the freak warmth of it all. He's so used to breathing without air and inhales water into his lungs. He knows what being waterlogged is like; he's been waterboarded a few times before. Oxygen was so sweet, such a promising relief.

The darkness however still held its charm.

Roy's shaky hand pats against himself, making sure he's still whole and not in pieces. Sometimes he doubted he was still human, the cracks too sharp for his fingers trying to join himself together. His fingers snag between, cuts open and warm blood always follows with the sting.

The sting was so much like when Queen ditched him. God, he never felt so fucking lonely before when his mentor left him to the wolves hungry for his skin. He was weaponless, powerless and defenseless. It was so easy to follow the shadows to the dark alleyway when you're alone, cold and desperate.

Even if it meant you'd sell your soul for relief.

Roy slowly flexed his arms, finding the feeling return to his emancipated limbs. Shaking, he's on his knees in a prayer position before getting up. His busty knees give way and he's so angry he can't even get up.

He felt like a failure. Was he going to be one for the rest of his life? Was he going to forever be trapped and feel he's lost control and never regained it back in any form?

He manages to return to the bedroom without cracking his skull open at the bathroom area. It would be a real shame if Jason brought him home just for Roy to die because he couldn't walk right. He chuckled darkly before making his way to the bag he left the facility with.

He slowly unzipped the bag and felt his way through. The sudden touch of stale fabric signaled to him that Jason hadn't touched the bag yet only because the fabric softener scent Jason used hadn't assailed his nose yet. He always liked the flower ones.

His fingers reached a faux compartment and he lifted the fabric covering the pocket compartment. He fumbled at the zip before untying the zip tie. His hand plunged in deep and a crinkle sound pricked his ears.

He fished it out and unwrapped the gift box. Taking apart the next few layers, his eyes hungry for the prize.

It was at this moment Jason opened the door, a tray of the food in his hands. His eyes took one look at Roy and the offending item in his hands.

He dropped everything, the soup splashing on the ground and spreading so fast he doesn't know where it ends. Glass fragments lay out on the ground, offending weaponry to the victim. Roy is frozen and his eyes are locked onto Jason's wildly open eyes.

In one swipe, the broader man grabs the prize and throws it so far across the room Roy doesn't know where it is anymore.

He felt his shirt being pulled and then the familiar feeling of being slammed into the wall. Light headed, his eyes pinched close in pain as he felt the shift in his skull.

Roy doesn't register someone leaning so heavily into him. It suffocated him before he attempted to throw a punch towards the offender.

That punch was quickly blocked and he was maneuvered right into the bed. Roy didn't have time to process anything before he was reaching out for the prize, body almost primal. Jason blocked him-

"Dammit- Stop fighting me."

Jason grits out, wrestling Roy away from where he spotted the prize. His heart is trembling as he pushes Roy with such force back onto the bed.

"ROY."

Jason yells out, anger flooding his veins with something hot and haunted searing through him.

His eyes threaten to cloud but he forcefully shakes the tears. Roy is spent, panting on the bed as he sweats again. Jason kicks the prize away and rips Roy's bag away from the side table. He slaps him with such ferociousness, Roy is left reeling.

The room is silent. Not even breathing could be heard.

Jason dumps the contents onto the floor. Pens fell out, some artwork he was tasked to do at the facility. A picture of Lian.

Lian.

Jason was livid at the world and it hurts him to the bone as his eyes look at the glossed picture staring back at him from the floor. Her sweet smile formed cracks in his heart as she rode on the rodeo, his leather jacket draping her small figure. Roy's old cowboy hat sat askew on her mop of jet black as she grinned at the camera.

The pain of burying such a smile six feet under sobers him as he watches Roy regain his breath and sit up, a wince gracing his features before he freezes at Lian's picture.

Jason doesn't want to know what kind of scars Roy has sewn shut beneath his clear face. Sometimes Jason thinks he's run out of skin and soul to scar when Roy's at battle. Other days, he couldn't get out of bed and that's where Jason sees Roy for who he is.

A friend.

A friend he cannot afford to lose ever again.

"I miss her."

Roy starts, curling himself in and Jason doesn't look at his expression, all pain and hurting as he closes himself up into a ball, face buried in between as loose strands cross his features. Jason wants to reach out to squeeze a hand on his shoulder but it was still tingling where he slapped Roy.

Jason thinks about napalm skies and burning cities all crumbling when he presses the stinging palm against his cheek, still radiating residual heat and some of the headache. He merely wondered if this was the price they paid for all those nights.

Nights that don't end. Nights that see them running for their lives.

Was this what Jason wanted? To be headhunted, to have a bounty on his head so high the numbers keep flowing. To keep repairing himself and sew up like a doll. To never be able to live completely conscience free when he wakes up one cold night and realise another kid had died and he could've prevented it.

With the photo in Roy's hands, he absentmindedly stroked his fingers against Lian's lit face, trying to remember what her skin felt like. Warm and soft on a summer morning and always decked in daisies or sunflowers depending on which fields she ran to. His lap feels so empty but his heart is gone.

"At one point, I had the power to bring Lian back."

Roy starts, voice rather strained with tears as he rests the photo on the bedside table. Jason's ears prick in confusion as he looks from where he's been brooding.

"I didn't, even told Cheshire no. I think.."

He bravely draws in a breath to calm the incoming gush of throat-tightened and raw emotions he's not ready for.

"I think I'm doing her a kindness. If I brought her back, it isn't fair for her because she's gonna spend the rest of her life wondering what happened to her and why she doesn't remember. She's always going to be angry at a world that refused to stop when she died. I don't want her to end up like us.

I wanted her happiness because she's my angel. Angels do not deserve pain."

Roy quietly ends it, eyes all darting as he buries himself to cry again. Jason is thumbing his fingers because he hates where he is right now and he doesn't want to go too deep.

He still wants to be able to float.

"I think you did the right thing. You let her be free."

Jason softly says, his own eyes shining with tears as he reaches Roy for a hug. Roy inches in and there's nothing in between them as Jason's slightly larger frame encircled Roy a little, protecting him.

At that moment, nothing could hurt them. Not anymore as they both stayed there till sunset dusted their room in the soft afterglow of yesterday.

"I'm sorry, Jay. Don't cry-"

Jason looks up from where tears have drenched Roy's shirt as he blinks a little. Jason false starts before swallowing back shared glass

"I'm not. You're gonna ruin my bad boy reputation."

Jason jokes lightly as he playfully shoves Roy where a small smile appears on his face. There was still so much to do, so much to see-

"You can't do this alone."

Roy cocks his head, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. Every color died outside the window as night came, a sense of serendipity crosses him and he turns back to Jason.

"I know, but you're here."

"Don't do this for me. Do it for yourself, okay? I..I don't want to see you suffer anymore."

No one deserves to suffer alone.

Jason smiles and bites at his reddened lips. Roy's eyes dart over Jason before he turns back to the bed and falls back, a sigh escaping him. He nods to an exhausted looking Jason to lie down beside him too. Instinctively, he reaches for Jason (he was such a big heater) and curls himself against Jason.

"We're gonna be okay."

Jason says, carding Roy's hair to the side who closes his eyes and leans into Jason's gentle touch. When his stressed breathing evened out into calmer ones and later sleep, Jason swore that nothing would ever hurt him again.

He'll make sure of that.

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extremelyblackandwhite · 5 years ago

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the unseen one - 19

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: i keep playing this game called “if i add this song to the playlist will it spoil the ending” and it has become my new favourite game. sorry that it took me this long to post, it’s been very hot in cambridge which always gets me in a right mood (i hate summer and heat) so i’ve been putting my frustration into finishing my exams. had to take a break because if i have to talk about serotonin once more, my only serotonin left will leave my system 😂

hope you enjoy this chapter xx

Next Chapter >>

(not my gif, credit to creator)

James maintained a tight grip on her as the Charon took them back to his chambers in the Asphodel Meadows. She was silent and still almost like a statue, her eyes taking in as they went away from the Tartarus to the Elysium and finally to the Meadows. Y/N wondered why the King of the Underworld had decided to make his home in such a bleak place. The sounds were always of torture and mumbled cries, the souls were people who, in Y/N’s mind at least, deserved to be somewhere else, and were always begging to be taken out of their misery. It wasn’t a pretty place but his home wasn’t also she’d call a home of a King much less a god. The ceilings were high and the walls were painted in light and dark tones of grey with minimalistic furniture. It was a far cry from what her mother would describe when speaking about deities’ residences. However, James seemed to be a simple man, at least that’s how he showed himself before she got dragged way under.

- Do you want me to ask the servants to draw you a warm bath? Maybe some flower petals? - James questioned, his hand coming up to her face to push some hair away from her sight. - Do you wanna eat anything? Just tell me what you wanna eat and I’ll make sur ...

- Did you hurt Anne? - Y/N was probably the only person in the Underworld who could interrupt James without having the furies being released on them immediately. He daren’t look at her, knowing exactly the look she was probably giving him, the type of look that would make him want to carry the world on his shoulders until she was happy.

- I did not hurt Anne.

- Did you turn her into any of the following. - she raised her fingers as if she were mentally counting. - A plant, an animal, some sort of plant-animal, cursed her, made her grow serpent hair ...

- I didn’t do anything, Y/N. - he held onto her hands before she could list other ways gods had punished mortals. He did wanted to punish Anne, there hadn’t been anyone who deserved more to have the furies released upon them but he knew that if he did such thing, she would probably try and release the furies on him too. - However, next time something like that occurs I will punish them. I’m the God of the Underworld and I won’t undermine that.

- That’s fair. - Y/N scratched the back of her neck. She understood there was a side to him that she was yet to discover, the side of him that was a god, a ruler, but she still wanted to believe that he was her Bucky. - Shouldn’t I get back to Hecate and the other maidens?

- If you want. - he tried to maintain a calm facade but inside he was puzzling himself over if his words had maybe scared her and she would rather be with Hecate than to be with him. - You’re free to do as you may. I just thought you’d want to stay with me.

There was a tinge of disappointment and uneasiness in his features, tightened expression as he managed not to show her how upset he felt that she did not want to be near him. Maybe it was too much for her to handle, after all up until a few hours ago she was sure she was dating a CEO and now she was dating the God of the Dead.

Noticing his, Y/N slowly raised her hands to rest against his cheek, her mere touch raising feelings of warmth in him.

- Sounds like you want me to stay. - there it was, her little playful smirk. James wanted to roll his eyes at her, but he couldn’t help but feel some sort of way whenever she outsmarted him.

- I always want you to stay, Y/N. - of course he wanted her to stay. He had to endure the first moments of their relationship constantly counting the hours and looking at the sky so he wouldn’t be caught and now she was here. Sure, she was here due to uncertain circumstances, but she was still here. - But if you wanna go back to the Elysium, I would understand.

- I just don’t want to cause you any trouble. - Y/N slightly turned her head to the side, embarrassment creeping into her soft features.

- Why would you cause me any trouble, sweetness? - he took the hand that was craddling his face into his own hands, sensing something wrong. - Homesick?

- It’s just ... considering that I’m supposed to be one of Hecate’s maidens, wouldn’t people look down on you if they saw you with me?

- Y/N. - he sighed. - Your parents were Greek historians, right?

- Yeah.

- So tell me, what’s the worse thing a god has ever done? - that as a funny question for Y/N. There were lots of myths that made her sick to her stomach just hearing about it and other myths that would make her want to climb to Mount Olympus herself and punch some gods. The short answer was, there is no short answer.

- Do you want it in alphabetical order? - she joked.

- What do you think it’s the worse offence?

- Well, if you asked me what I think was the worse thing ever done by a god I’d say it was what Poseidon and Athena did to Medusa.

- Were their reputations ruined even after what they did?

- No.

- Then I won’t get in trouble for associating with one of Hecate’s maidens.

- Yeah but gods also turn into a wide variety of animals to go and do less than savoury things with mortals.

- Less than savoury things? - he smirked. - Last time I checked you were one of Hecate’s maidens not Artemis’.

- Cut it off. - she playfully pushed his chest away. Bucky just rolled his eyes at her behaviour, wrapping his arms around her waist, carefully moving her closer to him afraid she might’ve gotten hurt at the Tartarus.

- Come, let’s get some food in you. - he guided her through his place. She wondered why it was so minimalistic and why is it in the Asphodel Meadows of all places. Maybe he disliked to be surrounded by all the fauna and flora of the Elysium or maybe Hecate didn’t allow him near it. Nevertheless, it was an odd place and an oddly unremarkable home, at least for that of a King.

He left her waiting in his dinning hall, allowing her time to inspect it. There was nothing much but a dinning table surrounded by various book shelves. The books were in Greek for what she could muster but what caught her attention were a few picture frames by a half empty unit of the shelf. Y/N’s hands reached for the first one, a sepia coloured photo of Bucky and a blonde man she swore she’d seen before. His hair was much shorter and shabbier with a child like grin, arms around the blonde guy who looked much more polished. Her mind was telling her she had seen this picture before, she just couldn’t point it.

The other frame contained the photo of a couple dressed in hellenic clothing adorned by golden accessories. The man was standing tall, hand on the woman’s shoulder whose hair rivalled the gold colour of the pins in her head and stood sat on a porcelain chair. The look in the woman’s eyes was serene yet controlling, almost like a storm brewing over calm seas. On both their heads sat adorned jewelled crowns and the man held the same staff James had been holding back in the Tartarus.

- Y/N? - his voice suddenly echoing through the silent made her drop the face on the carpeted floors, a flush creeping through the apples of her cheeks as she herself dropped to the floor to grab it and put it back in its due place. - What are you doing?

- I was just looking at your photos. - she put her hands behind her back, eyes lowered to the ground like a child who had just been scolded. Bucky walked over to where she was standing, looking at the frame she had put back. - Are they your parents?

- No, sweetness. - he chuckled. - That’s Hades and Persephone, well, the original ones. I find you must have memory of those who came before you.

- She’s beautiful. I mean, I always thought Persephone had to be beautiful, after all it was said her undying beauty was what made Hades kidnap her.

- Hades didn’t kidnap her. - Bucky always forgot that mortals still fully believed the myth brought back to light by the Greek. Honestly, it was a disgrace that no Underworld God had yet to chance the misconception.

- Yes, he did. That’s why Demeter stopped doing her job.

- Sweetness, do you seriously think someone whose name means Bringer of Death could stay in the Underworld against her will?

- What do you suggest then? - she crossed her arms against her ripped tunic, all knowing smirk on her face.

- I don’t know if I should tell you now. - Y/N huffed, lips coming into a pout which made his heart melt at the look. - If you were to tell the story of Persephone and Hades, how would you tell it?

- I wouldn’t because I seemingly don’t know. - she had a playful nature to her gaze, a stark contrast to those with whom he spent most of his days with in the Underworld. James took her hand in his like a scene in a Jane Austen movie, slowly pulling her to him. - So what’s it gonna be?

- Persephone found the entry to the Underworld and decided to stay because she enjoyed it here. Once Demeter realised her daughter was gone Hades faked the kidnapping story for her because he was hopelessly in love with Persephone.

- What about the nymphs that saw the abduction? How do you explain that?

- There are some perks to being the God of the Underworld, sweetness.

- I’m guessing you won’t tell me what those perks are.

- Maybe later, sweetness. You must join me for dinner now.

- Bucky ... - she picked onto her nails, eyes looking at her shoes. - Who’s the man next to you in the photo?

tag list: @philogrobizedvee @keithseabrook27 @inlovewith319

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scarlettroubles · 4 years ago

Note

For the character ask - Ethren, Ben and Merula? :o

@taurrigan

Ethren Whitecross

First impression

I fell in love with this sassy son of a bitch the moment I read that little fic you wrote on his and Eileen’s first meeting and the moment I saw his profile lmao. I adore grumpy characters that care more than they like to admit, that declare they owe the world nothing and are just, assholes and Ethren fitted that mold perfectly XD Ethren was one of the first hphm MC’s I encountered when I was first exploring the hphm fandom here on tumblr and was one of the MC’s that inspired me to give this whole thing a shot.

Impression now

I still love him. He is such a well-written character??? Ethren’s story and character development is something that inspires me to write and to explore Eileen’s story too.

Favorite moment

I HAVE YET TO READ ALL THE ETHREN FICS YOU WROTE but i adore the scene where he thinks of what he believed Merula would do when he’s deciding if he should join the order or not. I just like how it shows how much he admires her.

Idea for a story

I don’t have any concrete story ideas for Ethren and Eileen just yet but I WANT to write these two but I feel like I have to develop Eileen’s story more while also reading Ethren’s so for now, I’ll just be drawing them lmao.

Unpopular opinion

I haven’t really formed an unpopular opinion on Ethren I think. I still have yet to read his entire story so yeah.

Favorite relationship

Him and Merula ofc. I view their relationship as toxic but also tragic?? Like, Merula and Ethren have so much potential as a couple and Merula has so much potential to be a good person but what she’s been through as a kid and her experience with Rakepick and R doesn’t help her at all and I- I really just want them to make up tbh ;-;

Favorite headcanon

I love the idea that if he DID survive the war, he would have been a disaster dad to Alaire at first before finally getting the hand of the whole parenting thing (look I just want whatever the fuck is close to a happy ending for Ethren okay?)

Ben Copper

(I haven’t properly drawn Ben yet so yeah)

First impression

I don’t really think I had much of an impression on Ben when I first met him. I just thought ‘Yeah okay they pulled a longbottom that’s fine, moving on.’

Impression now

I??? Love him?? Like, his reckless approach to things annoy me so much and Eileen would be pulling her hair out with all the crazy shit this boy has been doing in 6th year but I just love how much he cares for his friends. In Eileen’s story, Ben starts to go down the path of becoming a little more daring because he sees how much stress and pressure the vaults put on Eileen and he wants so badly to repay her from all the times she’s helped him and protected the school. And I-I just love how much potential Ben has because he could become such a great character if Jam City didn’t give us such crappy writing.

Favorite moment

I loved it when Ben just, says he’ll be MC’s protector?? Like?? That was so sweet?? Eileen would have mixed feelings about it tho because she hates being coddled and being seen as incapable of protecting herself since she’s been on her own and had no one to fully depend on for years. But I just love it when Ben tries his best because he just wants to protect everyone because he feels so fucking guilty for not being able to do much for anyone in the beginning.

Idea for a story

Ben definitely has a major role in Eileen’s story, He pretty much reminds Eileen of what she used to be like when she was younger and she’s just desperately trying to make Ben see reason because she knows nothing good will come out of this. Ben is one of Eileen’s most important relationships and his journey to becoming a more daring and protective character is just as important as Eileen and Merula’s journey in the story.

Unpopular opinion

I don’t think I have one?? Mostly because I have yet to fully develop Ben as a character in the story I have planned.

Favorite relationship

Him and Alex Vega who belongs to @weirdcursedvaultkid they cute and chaotic together :)

Favorite headcanon

I headcanon Ben becomes an Auror and joins this special team run by Alastor Moody to work with The Hunters of Artemis in hunting down the remaining R members and becomes a well respected Auror over time.

Merula Snyde

First impression

I fucking hated her. She tried to murder MC??? Like W O W. I seriously wanted to slap this girl because I found her annoying.

Impression now

She frustrates me. I like how Jam City has explored her story and character because she is very interesting. And I love her slow redemption arc and how she reverted back to her old behavior after the buried vault and after Rakepick’s betrayal as a way to protect herself and a way to cope. She has a lot of potential and I can’t wait to see ore from her.

Favorite moment

When she got all flustered when MC realized she’s crushing on their brother (Eileen would have murdered her right then and there because??? Him?? You’re gonna crush on my dumbass older brother?? Wow Merula and here I thought you were smart). Along with that time where she loudly declared MC her friend in front of Penny, Bill and Rakepick lmao.

Idea for a story

Merula is supposed to act as a direct parallel towards Eileen since they are both incredibly driven characters who do not like to be held back and have both lost someone and it had a lasting effect on them both. I don’t know if I’ll be giving Merula a happy ending in her story because it’s been shown time and time again that she very easily reverts back to her old self in order to protect herself but we’ll see.

Unpopular opinion

Again, I don’t have one

Favorite relationship

Her and Ethren Whitecross

Favorite headcanon

I headcanon she faces her parents in the second wizarding war, whether she joins them out of fear or defies them, I don’t know.

#ethren whitecross #ben copper #merula snyde #hphm merula #hphm ben #hphm #hphm mc #other people's mc's #ask #ask game #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery mc

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daxieoclock · 4 years ago

Text

The Celestial Behemoth Fight: Hunters Highlights

As a direct follow-up to last week’s session, this week made me lose my fucking mind all over again. I can’t even articulate how excited I was, everything turned out so much better than I could have ever planned on, and everyone did a fucking amazing job.

(Credit to @thesunsetbox for his art of some of this session’s events)

Without further ado, enjoy!

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Sakio lowers her rapier, breathing hard. One hand on her chest. She wobbles for a moment. And then steadies. Eyes sort of glazed over.

The glow under the door from the behemoth's chamber is still quite bright and very consistent. your journal doesn't like the door, but you don't quite feel a panicked urge from artemis. Just a steady caution.

Lena Tarr (Dave) Lena hits the floor with her bat. "What the fuck! What the fuck!"

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) Blake let’s out a long, shaky breathe like they’d been holding it in that entire time, and only now feel safe enough to breathe They turn back to look at Sakio, a malice in their eyes that isn’t disguised at all, but quickly course-corrects, softens “Well,” they say, a blank tone of scarcely-contained venom. “I’m glad you got to reconnect with an old friend.”

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) She bursts out laughing. A long, pained laugh. "Damnit." Sakio sheathes her rapier – misses the hilt twice – and runs both hands through her hair. "Of all the people I didn't wish you to meet..."

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Sammy is startled by Sakio letting go of their hand, but stays close by

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) “If only there were a way to avoid such dangerous encounters,” Blake continues, eyes dead-locked on Sakio’s. “Your secrets will bury us all. So what was that about protecting us?”

Lena Tarr (Dave) "Literally. Right now. Like. Let's just. Go." Lena runs a hand over her face roughly.

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) "My secrets are secrets to avoid that," she replies, sharp. Sharper than you've often heard from her. "Knowing about that woman..." Sakio sighs. "I thought she might have been dead. I assumed that. No one's heard or seen of her in years, not since..." She swallows, hard.

Ilse holds their arm, like they're biting their tongue. "She said she didn't want to stop us. But she might have been lying."

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) “That seems like the last thing I’d want us to do. Who knows if Sakio has been the least bit honest with us about the Behemoths?” They call that out to Lena without looking away from Sakio herself. “You do not know better for us that we do. Those claims are deeply offensive.” They laugh, cold and angry. “So you made a bet on her survival and you were wrong. You assumed she was dead and that we’d never have to know about her, she’d be another secret you could keep. And you were completely, entirely, deadly incorrect.” They look away just for a second to nod at Ilse. “That’s quite possible.”

Lena Tarr (Dave) "It literally. Doesn't matter. That woman died here, or inverted, or maybe she's just from here. Maybe she wants to kill us. Maybe fucking not," she hits the floor again. "It doesn't matter. If she comes back, and attacks us. I'll kill her."

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) “No, you won’t. You’ll die,” they say bluntly. “And it will be Sakio’s fault before it’s yours.” They smile just a little, angry, and glare at Sakio. “You understand that, don’t you? Despite all your claims and promises, the virtues you claimed to extol, it’s evident that you’re more than willing to risk our lives to protect Daedalus’ secrets.”

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) "Don't say that!" Those words come bursting out of their mouth, but they quickly muffle it with their sleeves.

Lena Tarr (Dave) Lena hits the floor again, two handed this time. "I will. Blow myself up from within. And take her with me. I'll erase us from the fucking universe."

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Sakio is quiet for a time. "The only thing you need to know about her, right now, is that she's the reason that Daedalus keeps record of every Persona-user's Brand. And, probably, why the higher-ups hide themselves away." She massages the bridge of her nose. "Please, don't risk your lives chasing her. Or, god forbid, fighting her. If you risk any life, risk mine. That's how it should be."

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) Sammy’s outburst gets a reaction out of Blake, but they quickly recover. “Your team is ready to die because of her, because of that secret you’ve kept, and you can’t even lower yourself from your ivory tower for long enough to admit that you’ve made any mistakes? That, perhaps, keeping everything from us was wrong!?”  They shake their head, and when they settle, their TV smile is back. “I’d be happy to throw your life to the wolves, Sakio. But even as dense as you are, you must recognize that martyring yourself won’t do you an ounce of good except stroking your fucking ego,” their smile drops away almost instantly, like they’re trying and failing to hang on to it, to get a handle on it again.  “You’ll kill yourself protecting us from her and then we’ll all die right after you, because you can’t protect us. You never will.” Their face twists up, contorting in anger. “How far gone are you, that you can’t admit that, even now? That you’d rather DIE than look us in the eyes and admit the truth?”  They’re gritting their teeth, and their right arm actively drops their journal to take a harsh grip of their left wrist, their left hand shaking beneath it.

Lena Tarr (Dave) Lena grunts at the sky. "It doesn't fucking matter. It doesn't. There's nothing we can say that will make Sakio tell us anything. There's nothing we can say that will make that woman leave us alone. And we will just have to deal with it. That's it. Forever."

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) They nod. “You aren’t wrong. Perhaps I am naive for still believing in the truth.”

Lena Tarr (Dave) She turns to Blake. "Don't agree with me. Or do." She throws her hands in the air. "I don't fucking know!"

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Sakio doesn't say a word. She turns around, slowly, and you can't quite pick an emotion out of her expression. One step forward, and she leans down, and picks up your journal. And holds it out to you. "I didn't believe it needed to be said. I have known, and I have no doubt that you have all known as well." She smiles, and it's a hurt sort of smile. "Keeping the truth from anyone is a sin. Keeping it from you all...is far worse. And yet, there is so much that I still cannot tell you, because doing so places you in danger. I was not ready to know it, when I learned. I hope to spare you that pain, and that risk." A deep breath. "Please. I don't ask that you forgive me, or that you trust me. But I will ask that you do not stand in front of me anymore. Martyr or not, I will face my sins. They are not your burdens to bear."

"What's done is done," Camellia grumbles. "Might as well either kill this thing or ditch the job." They rest their hand-axe on their shoulder. "And I'm voting former."

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) Blake grabs the journal from her in a furious motion. “Do not TOUCH my things,” they snap. A second later they recover. “You can’t claim to be protecting us by obfuscating the truth. We are already in danger. Make your peace with that and get out of the way, or you’ll be burned in the end.” They sigh. “I agree, Pavel. My apologies for dragging this out. Let’s go.”

Lena Tarr (Dave) Lena glares at Sakio. "Can you. Stop talking. As if you dying. Wouldn't fuck us up. Can you", she rubs at her face. "Fuck! Whatever. Let's go." And she walks forward and tries to open the door.

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Sakio glances towards Sammy. "Are you alright? You don't need to worry about me, by the way. You're very kind, but I've been through far worse than this." She chuckles.

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) "I'm... I'm okay...I know you're older and have been through a lot too, but I could see it back there...your fear." Sammy says this almost in a whisper, for only you to hear. "I don't want anyone to die..." they muffle themselves again, they look like they're gonna cry, but quickly change their expression to happy for Sakio's sake. "let's go!"

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) She nods, and smiles back. “No one will. I’ll make sure of that.” And she gently gestures towards the door. “Let’s go.”

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Sammy follows Sakio to the door, making sure to stay as close to her as humanly possible

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) The chamber beyond the vestibule is plain, and enormous. A circular room something like two dozen feet in diameter, with sloped walls that curve up and around into a giant open-roof skylight. Here, ten stories up, the already-close sky looks even closer, like the only thing between you and the heavens is a tall enough ladder. And at the center of the chamber is the source of that emerald glow.   It seems to be some sort of symbol, a sigil of curved lines etched on the metal floor. You can't quite make out exactly what, not from where you're standing. But it almost resembles a simple drawing, something ancient and hallowed. And it's glowing. Pulsing like a heartbeat. But the moment you stepped into the room, that heartbeat quickened. Pulsing faster and louder and brighter, almost seeming to strain at the air, frantic and desperate.

"Beautiful..."

The air of Factals twists into impossible shapes, ever-spiraling patterns of green so bright and so vivid that they sear at your eyes, force you not to look to close lest you slip into it forever. Something surges out of the ground, out of that glowing sigil, gasping and writhing, oozing with black ichor.

"My stars....they're....so beautiful..."

It rises, squirming up on some unsteady anatomical base. At first to your eye-level, then above it. You can see something like an arm reaching up towards that skylight. Grasping with long, outstretched fingers.

"Mine. Mine. MINE."

And the world uncurls. Almost as if it's resisting the motion, pulling back into a form by strength of will alone. You finally see the thing before you, the so-called Celestial Behemoth, in all its horrid glory. His skin is grey and stretched, like a bodysuit pulled too tight, and it's covered in green lines and odd indentations like inconsistent scales. His hands are outstetched, fingers long as his palm. And his wide mouth is full of sharp teeth, and a long black tongue that lolls out the side. Bulging eyes spinning in a reptilian skull. Those eyes focus. First up, towards the sky. Then down, towards you. And he screams. A roar that could spit the heavens.

Blake, your journal snaps open. Shuddering with fear and hunger, Artemis writing not in silver but in crimson ink as dark as blood.

The Celestial Behemoth Star Arcana J A B B E R W O C K

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) I’ll start with a Tarukaja on Sakio

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) She looks surprised but sends a smile your way. "Thank you!"

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) They don’t look at her. “Kill it fast.”

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) So Camellia reaches behind and touches their shoulder-blade where their brand is. "Hecate!" And the witch bursts into being, extending her staff towards the behemoth. Ethereal purple chains burst from its tip, wrapping around the Jabberwock. It stands there, looking a bit perplexed for a moment. Then it merely strains against the chains once, and they shatter. Camellia stumbles back, looking surprised.

Lena Tarr (Dave) no preamble. she touches her ankle and wordlessly summons goliath before going right in with a power slash

Avrae (BOT) @Lena Tarr (Dave)   Result: 8d6 (3, 2, 6, 3, 2, 5, 1, 5) + 4   Total: 31

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) sakio is going to grit her teeth for a moment, and tap her brand. "Miss Tarr, you're doing a wonderful job of embracing your strength, please continue to do so!" And she casts Rebel Will on Lena

The Jabberwock is going to wriggle and make a very wet screeching noise. Its body glows orange for a brief instant.

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) Blake sees the orange glow on the Behemoth and swipes a hand cleanly across their left wrist, tapping their brand and summoning Artemis “Pavel, be careful!” Artemis fires an arrow into the sky, which descends directly onto Camellia and filling them with a deep blue glow

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Camellia flashes you grin. "Hey, thanks! I'll, uh, I'll try."

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) ilse's next, and they'll fire off a frei "Clotho, cut them down!" And a burst of blue fire scorches across the Behemoth.

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) The Jabberwock is going to stumble backwards. Black ichor splashes to the ground from the corner of his mouth. He stares at you, then his eyes turn upwards. There's a moment of almost longing, staring through the skylight. And he shudders. Once, then again. Those green lines across his body glowing brighter and brighter, as the reptilian Behemoth shakes with fury. When his eyes turn back at you, they're filled with a deep emerald fire.

The Jabberwock spreads his arms open, fingers outstretched, and his eyes glow. The air around him begins to twist and distort, those odd shapes pulsing in and out of existence again. Like a heat wave radiating around his body.

"No you don't!" Sakio gestures with her rapier, two fingers on her brand. "Chorus!"

The beam of light descends, and it distorts in the heat wave. When it strikes, it strikes with barely any force.

Sakio swears under her breath. "It's placed up some sort of defense. We need to find a way to pierce it!"

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) camellia is going to fire off a psi The magic distorts into the swirling air. "Uh," Camellia says, "that...that worked a lot better last time."

Ilse gulps. "Is it resisting all our attacks? It...can't be, right? Something has to hurt it!"

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Neko Shogun gestures a bolt of energy towards the Jabberwock. And this time when it hits the distortion, it pierces through, glancing across the Behemoth's chest. He makes a furious, pained gurgle.

Lena Tarr (Dave) hmmmm ill. do a power slash again and rlly hope it does crit gdfgdfg

Avrae (BOT) @Lena Tarr (Dave) Result: 6d6 (1, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5) Total: 21

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) NATURAL CRIT

Lena Tarr (Dave) jkhljkhjk two of them rlly

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) true but you only needed the one dfjbgjh

Lena Tarr (Dave) yea but it makes me feel cool gfdgdfg

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) the tarukaja and defense cancels out the crit puts it to 6d6 and hitting its weakness puts it to 8d6 oh wait im sorry crit isn't damage level up, its double dice that's 12. AND lena. you have a skill called exquisite technique you wanna use it now?

Lena Tarr (Dave) holy shit. yes please!

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) okay. so that's 8d6 times four.

Lena Tarr (Dave) dsfdsfdscasds

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) lena please roll 32 dice and add 4

Lena Tarr (Dave) at what point am i just being rude.

Avrae (BOT) @Lena Tarr (Dave) Result: 32d6 (1, 2, 5, 2, 4, 6, 5, 6, 2, 1, 3, 4, 6, 3, 2, 6, 4, 3, 4, 3, 2, 3, 3, 1, 2, 2, 4, 6, 5, 1, 1, 2) + 4 Total: 108

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) jesus fucking christ

Lena Tarr (Dave) Between her last attack and this one, everything Prim said rushes to the front of her head, and Lena almost blacks out with the rage of it. She summons Goliath wordlessly, and the floor splinters and raises around them, and when her bat hits the behemoth it does so with a thunderous roar, cracking the floor underneath it. "Can you just. Die."

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) The Jabberwock screeches, and the air around it pulses with one final distortion, and then returns to normal. It almost feels like a physical pressure lifts from the room. And it falls back, knocked down.

Hey lena. you have another skill it's called All-Out-Attack djfhgbhj

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) Yeessss!!! Get em Lena!!!!!!!!!

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) wanna use it?

Lena Tarr (Dave) jhkjlhj abso-fucking-lutely!!

The hit lands, but it is not enough, and the rage grows even more. "Hey," she growls, "how is this in any way fair? Can't we have one second to just think? About anything!? Well, if it won't be given to us, we will make time for it by our own fucking selves!"

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) that's 38 damage to the behemoth

Sakio is going to beam at Lena, and without a word cast Rebel Will on her again. She Is So Fucking Proud

Lena Tarr (Dave) Lena is distinctly uncomfortable at the pride being shown to her.

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) The Jabberwock is going to struggle back to his feet. And it's going to make this growling noise in the back of its throat that starts growing louder and louder, until in opens its jaw impossible wide and screeches. Burbling Wail. You are all now Frail.

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) Joke’s on you! I was already frail!

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) THEN it's going to tense back and whip out with its tail. Whifflewhip.

Lena Tarr (Dave) god i wish i had a tail

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) None of you take any damage, but you're all knocked down. Any buffs you have are now negated.

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) Blake stands back up, having been knocked down, and grins to themselves “That was a wonderful showing, Miss Tarr. But you seem to have failed to finish it off.” Their voice is oddly cheery for someone in this dire position They look around and the party, and recognize the reality of the situation. They can’t rely on Sakio’s experience, Lena’s brute strength, Sammy’s magic power, Ilse’s tactics or Camellia’s ability. They can only rely on themselves, same as always. And they’ll burn bridges if they have to “Artemis!” they call out, voice fierce and loud, the persona materializing with bow cocked in arrow, and it fires directly toward the Behemoth

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) there's probably a spark of irritation there, like Camellia thought what Lena did was awesome and got a little frustrated that blake was still being harsh. But at the same time, they're a teammate. They're a friend. Camellia won't let them fight alone.

the arrow smacks the Behemoth between the eyes, and it stumbles backwards. Not quite knocked over, but reeling.

Camellia is going to stand back up too and rush in front of Blake. "Don't let 'em show you up, Hecate!"

Avrae (BOT) @Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Result: 2d6 (1, 5) + 2 Total: 8

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Hecate has been shown up.

Sakio is going to growl as she stands back up, and sweep her hand like she's throwing back a veil. "Blind it, Chorus!" going to use Sukunda

He's going to focus on Lena. "Will...not..." he gurgles, almost a whisper. Jabberwock sort of tilts his head back, then whips it forward and spits something at Lena.

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) so Sakio is going to leap in front of Lena. and sweep her hand up and towards the sky. A glint of light like a lens flare. And half the projectiles rips through her cape, while the other half imbeds itself in the behemoth's chest. Sakio's cape is now smoldering, and she smacks at it, still standing between lena and the behemoth. "Leto, Pavel!" she shouts. She looks calm, but she doesn't quite sound it. "Heal Lena, now!"

Avrae (BOT) @Lena Tarr (Dave) Result: 3d6 (4, 4, 2) Total: 10

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) that's no successes. so. uh.

Lena Tarr (Dave) i fucking die.

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) Oh no-

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) you're now on fire. and knocked down.

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) OH NO-

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) but you've got your Flow.

Lena Tarr (Dave) dgfgdfgdfgd thats so funny before i completely go up in flames i throw my bat at the enemy real hard

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) not like. immolated. but your outfit is definitely catching.

Lena Tarr (Dave) im wearing a tank top. this is not good

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) blake it is now your turn as a reminder: you have a baisudi bottle burn is an elemental ailment

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) Wait I do Since when

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) you got it from hanging out with masumi

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) Oh pog I was gonna use Active Support but the burn seems much more pressing… So I will use that

“Miss Tarr, please do me a favor and don’t die.” Their voice is strained, clearly more than a little frustrated at how things are going

Lena Tarr (Dave) Lena gives them a thumbs up. "No promises."

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) "Hecate!" Camellia is going to use media on the whole party, cause that's their best heal.

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) "My...stars..." The Jabberwock stands still once more. Wavering, but not falling. The wind outside has started to pick up. It's howling at the walls, rattling loose panels. "I...will..." The lines on his body glow. And smear. And drip. Vibrant green down his body, across his skin. A pool of emerald begins to grow beneath him. "I will...Ascend."

His hands out to either side, he is once more invoking Manxome Glare. The air around him distorts with what you now recognize as a sort of anti-magic field. And within it, you see his eyes ignite with a haunting, sickening green fire.

The Jabberwock is preparing an attack.

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) HmmmMMM concerns

Lena Tarr (Dave) top 5 things that cant be good

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Sakio is going to reach out, clearly about to grab Lena by the shoulder, but she stops herself. Instead she reaches into her bag and pulls out some medicine, pushing it into Lena's hands. "Tend to your wounds, please."

Lena Tarr (Dave) "Can you please hit that thing. I know I'm dying, but can you! Please! Hit that thing!"

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) "I would recommend defending yourselves!" Sakio says, facing down the Behemoth. "This is likely its last desperation."

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) ....what was it with magic? If I use frei, will it still work?

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Manxome Glare causes it to resist all magic but become weak to physical and gun attacks

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) Ah. I defend Sammy, then

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Sammy was gonna hit Jabbers, but saw Ilse defend them so now they're gonna defend Ilse

Lena Tarr (Dave) awwww

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) sammy and ilse are just gonna hug each other and hit the deck djfhgbhj okay lena what sort of chaos will you get up to today?

Lena Tarr (Dave) ,nbm,n,mnbmnb ;p i am thinks. with my brain. so. i am frail. but i also have flow.

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) and rebel will and it's weak to physical attacks

Lena Tarr (Dave) And rebel will. and its weak to physical attacks. hm. hm. fuck it. im assault diving him

Avrae (BOT) @Lena Tarr (Dave) Result: 3d6 (2, 4, 2) Total: 8

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) THAT'S A CRIT, BABY

Lena Tarr (Dave) NICE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) lemme see..... 6 dice for heavy down to 4 because of the def up up to 5 because of flow doubled because of crit doubled because of weak please roll 20 dice plus your strength mod

Avrae (BOT) @Lena Tarr (Dave) Result: 20d6 (2, 4, 1, 5, 2, 6, 2, 5, 5, 4, 4, 5, 1, 6, 6, 1, 2, 1, 1, 3) + 4 Total: 70

Lena Tarr (Dave) decent

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) DAMN

After Goliath strikes, the distortion parts, for just an instant. Those swirling patterns start to peel away. The Behemoth is smiling. And its spinning, burning eyes track each of you in turn. "Eyes of Flame." And the room around you fucking explodes.

Lena and Camellia take no damage as their shields soak up the fire. Sakio and Ilse resist, since they're defended. Sammy resists, but they're also weak to fire, so they're going to take full damage.  Which is.....

Avrae @Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Result: 6d6 (4, 5, 4, 2, 2, 4) + 8 Total: 29

Lena Tarr (Dave) thats many dice omfg

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Sakio and ilse are going to take 21 damage,  Sammy is going to take 29 lemme check your hp totals real quick djfgbjh

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) uh oh

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) ilse is about to be ko'd   sammy is also about to be ko'd  and sakio will survive with 5hp camellia only has 1 salvation

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) Oh No

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) fuck okay djhfbghjd

Lena Tarr (Dave) oh my god aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) huh. no bonds to go off of. uh.

Avrae (BOT) @Everyone Else (DaxieVane)   Result: 1d2 (1)   Total: 1

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Camellia is going to save Ilse

They're going to turn around and see the fire heading for Sammy and Ilse, and desperately call Hecate to try and protect them both. There's moment where both of you are bathed in warm light, safe. But Ilse is inches closer to Camellia. And those inches make all the difference. When the smoke clears, Ilse and Sammy are right next to each other. But only Ilse's eyes are still open. Sammy is slumped, unconscious, in their arms.

Lena Tarr (Dave) Lena is staring at them, completely at loss.

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) Ilse hugs them closer, as if that would change anything

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Sakio drops her rapier. She makes a noise that almost sounds like "no," but it's drowned out by the clatter. It's her turn now, and she rushes to their side, hands desperately grabbing into her back for something. She pulls out a small glowing golden marble, and none of you can see it for more than an instant before she crushes it between her palms, hands clasped almost in prayer above Sammy. Small specs of gold float down from her hands. "Come on," she whispers, "come on. Come back."

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Sammy groans, slowly opening their eyes. "Tan...ger in e ?" It takes them a while to readjust their eyes, focusing on Ilse and Sakio. They gasp, quickly sitting up, realizing what they just said. "Oh! Oh no! Is everyone alright? Am I...alright?" They just kinda sit with a really confused look on their face before remembering where they are. They look back at Ilse, "Friend! Are you okay?" They grab hold of Ilse, doing a little inspection of their person.

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) "You're alright." Sakio says, almost a little laugh in her voice. Relieved. So clearly relieved. "Thank goodness."

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Sammy turns to face Sakio, teary eyed. "Sakio! you're okay too, right?"

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Sakio nods, but her smile seems a little more tense. "I will be. You can just wait here, if you need. Don't push yourself." She stands back up, as if she wasn't hurt one bit. Cracks her neck. And walks back over to her rapier. "Behemoth. I don't know your name; I don't much care. It's our job to cut you down, I can't blame you for defending yourself." Her voice calm, but dripping in frigidity. "But allow me to make one thing clear." She stabs the tip of her rapier into the metal, and places her palm against her brand; she's only ever touched it with her fingertips before. "Never underestimate my students."

She's going to invoke Rebel Vanguard. Everyone, you now have one charge of Rebel Will

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) Blake’s been turned away from you all this whole time, not watching, eyes on the Behemoth. Tracking it, staring it down before it moves any further. For a moment, they remove their glasses and lift their arm, and wipe their eyes with their forearm. They’re careful, so careful, so deliberate. There are parts of their arms they can’t allow to get wet with tears. Their whole body is shaking, you can tell. And they hesitate.   “My persona isn’t offensive in nature,” they explain, their voice breaking despite pushing to stay calm. “It would be wisest to heal the others, or to power them up. But I’m going to be selfish.”   They grip their left wrist with right hand, clinging tight, and Artemis materializes, arrow cocked in its bow. “As this team’s leader, I’m obligated to send a message. You will not harm my allies and face no retaliation.” Aaand they fire.

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Camellia is going to shoulder their axe. Shuddering. They almost lost another friend today. It was almost their fault, again. "Alright. Big man thinks he's a god, huh? But I've got news for you." They grab the axe's hilt with both hands. "Gods don't bleed, moron." And they rush the Jabberwock with a furious cry.

Camellia is going to smack their brand mid-step and hop up as Hecate plucks a spark of celestial brilliance out of the sky, and drops in front of them. "Here's your fucking star!" And Camellia swings their axe like a bat and smacks the projectile directly into the Jabberwock's chest.

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) Ilse whispers to Sammy “glad that you’re ok, friend”, then leaves them to rush to the Behemoth with their knife

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) The Behemoth is going to reel backwards, his barrier fading, flickering. The air almost clear again. He's going to stare at the party with furious eyes already starting to ignite once again.

Sammy. It's all you

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Sammy is gonna get up and without any hesitation, use snap, despite Sakio telling them not to push themselves--

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) djhfbgjhdg i love them so much Sammy's gonna SNAP

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Sammy is SNAPPING

Sammy looks a little mad, but they don't try to mask it this time. "You tried to hurt my friends! That's not very nice of you!"

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Lena. Jabberwock is down. fuck him up dfhjgbhjd

Lena Tarr (Dave) maybe its overkill. but lena is. angry. so angry she cant speak or think or move her face right. so she assault dives the bastard

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Sakio is going to take a few steps forward. Placing the tip of her rapier against the Behemoth's head. "I hope you learned something today," she says, quietly. "There will not be a repeat lesson." Chorus descends from on high, circling like a masked halo. They raise their arms up, and a radiance illuminates the space between them. "Goodbye."  And she casts Kougaon.

Avrae (BOT) @Everyone Else (DaxieVane)   Result: 4d6 (5, 3, 3, 5)  Total: 16

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) crits

Avrae (BOT) @Everyone Else (DaxieVane)   Result: 13d6 (1, 5, 6, 1, 3, 1, 6, 4, 3, 4, 5, 5, 2) + 6   Total: 52

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) A pillar of light slams into the Behemoth's upper body with thunderous force. And then through, decimating that glowing symbol beneath it. And through the floor. And through the next floor.  What remains of the Jabberwock raises one hand up towards the heavens as it plummets down through the Spiral Spire. Through what Puck described as its towering sin. And it vanishes into the dark.

#hunters highlights #the hunters #blake leto #ilse belanger #lena tarr #camellia pavel #sammy cabra #erin sakio

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thelightiningthief · 5 years ago

Note

first of all, SORRY that this is coming much later than probably expected!!!! i’m So Bad at writing things in a timely manner

second of all, timelines are....not my strongsuit, so i’m gonna make this idk the summer between botl and tlo so PLEASE bear with me here

chilly summer evenings

Percy lay on the bottom bunk of Cabin 3, staring up at the pictures stuck between the frame and the mattress above him. His arm had already gone numb from propping up his head, but that was the least of his worries.

It was the first of August. The beginning of the month that decided his fate. Well, Percy would be the one making the decision, but it was still the Big Month everyone had been waiting for: the prophecy coming true, the imminent war, Kronos’s impending return in Luke’s body. All of it put a sour taste in his mouth that the fresh sea breeze from the Long Island Sound couldn’t whisk away. It wasn’t like he could do anything right now, though, so why was he still up?

Well, there was one picture in particular that kept drawing his attention: It was him and Annabeth after they’d just won the chariot race together, right before Thalia had been de-tree-ified. The edges of the photograph were frayed from how many times he’d held it in his hands, shoved it into his pockets, and crammed it into whatever small space he could. While it was supposed to be in the Big House on Chiron’s cork board, Percy had asked him if he could hold onto it until the end of the summer. Chiron knew this might be his last summer (hell, it might be the last summer any of them would enjoy), so he relented it to him. Ever since, Percy had stared at it any chance he got, memorizing the happiness it held. A small glimmer of hope.

What he was really looking at, though, the thing that sourced all of that hope in a tiny bottle, was Annabeth’s smile. Percy must have already traced that giant and rare smile a thousand times, practically having imprinted it to the back of his eyelids, but he didn’t think he could ever get sick of it.

Things between them had been... Strange. Good strange! Well, sometimes bad strange... But overall just strange? Did that make sense?

Who was he kidding—nothing made sense anymore. They were on the brink of war for Zeus’s sake! But Annabeth had kissed him before he almost died (for the bajillionth time), but they still hadn’t talked about it. Every time Percy even thought about bringing it up to her, his head felt like cotton and he couldn’t feel his knees. At first, he thought a wood nymph was messing with him, but Grover and Beckendorf both said he was probably just nervous.

They were a lot closer than last summer. But he could say that about any of his friends! Him and Beckendorf had been talking a lot more, too! Most of their talks had to do with Annabeth and Percy’s giant crush on her, but that was besides the point.

Before he could even consider actually turning in for the night, there’s a sharp rap at his door. His body is up with a hand flying to his—oh, right, he’s in boxers. Percy considers his game plan when there’s another knock, a bit more urgent this time. “C’mon, Seaweed Brain! It’s freezing out here!”

His once held breath catches in his throat. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to late nights like this with Annabeth, but it was the first one since everything went down. Since they’d destroyed the Labyrinth. Since he’d practically killed himself. Since she’d kissed him.

“That’s it, I’m just coming in,” she huffed out, clearly annoyed. (Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last time.) Then Percy’s cabin door was opening right before his eyes to reveal... No one. Just a gust of cold wind that raised goosebumps on his bare skin. He shivered as the door closed just as eerily, and Annabeth finally took off her Yankee’s cap only to punch his arm.

“Ow!” he winced and rubbed the spot. “What was that for?”

“Dude it’s freezing out there, and you were just standing here? Figures,” she rolled her eyes and threw herself onto his scattered bed.

Percy bristled at the slight jab. “Well, sorry! You kind of just dropped in!”

“Excuse me, I came in the front door. And you had more than enough time to put on pants, at least,” she pointed out, covering his lower half with her hands with a giggle.

A harsh blush crept up his cheeks, and he quickly moved to his dresser as she continued to laugh at his embarrassment. He was just buttoning up his jeans when Percy noticed Annabeth was lying back on his bed, mimicking the pose he’d held just ten minutes before. In the dim light from the moon, he could just see a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Where’d you get all these pictures?” she whispered out.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking over to the fountain Poseidon had gifted to him. “Uh, all over, I guess? They just kept popping up, and I’d asked Chiron if I could have a few.” He said the last part faster than the rest, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on it.

Annabeth’s head perked up to look at him sideways, her gray eyes a bit wider than they had been a moment prior. She searched his own green ones for an answer to an unasked question. It wasn’t difficult for Percy to feel as though he were being scrutinized and start to feel self conscious about the whole situation. Was she seeing right through him?

“What? I just—I just wanted the memories, I guess,” he mumbled out, crossing his arms semi-defensively.

She peered up at him for longer, her eyebrows coming down slowly yet decisively. He didn’t know if he should say something, but he didn’t even know where to start. Yeah, I’ve pretty much collected pictures of us to stare at late at night, because I kinda really like you. In fact, you caught me in the middle of doing that tonight! Ha! Great timing, by the way. Gods, that’d just be weird!

Suddenly, she was up and dragging him by the arm out the door of his cabin. “Let’s go, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy barely had enough time to snatch his blanket from the bed before they were thrust out into the chilly evening air. There was no need to worry about harpies with impending war, but Apollo and Artemis seriously needed to work something out, because it felt completely unprecedented to be this cold at the beginning of August. His teeth were chattering by the time Annabeth had plopped herself down on the sand of the beach, dragging him down with her; she took the blanket clenched in his freezing fists and worked determinedly to wrap them both within it.

After a moment of simply basking in the sudden warmth, Percy became uncomfortably aware of how close he was to Annabeth. To make matters worse, if he scooched even a little to his right, the blanket would completely relent and let in that frigid sea air. So, he sat perfectly still, not wanting to give her the wrong impression.

“You okay, Perce? We can go back if you want,” she said with a slight twinge in her voice that made him look at her for what felt like the first time that night.

Her hair was glowing in the moonlight, silver as if she had joined the Hunters, yet still that bright golden ray of light Percy was so accustomed to seeing a dirty blonde after weeks on a quest. The gray streak that matched his own was tucked behind her ear, and a reminder of a time of longing that he’d rather forget. It was difficult to see in just moonlight, but he could definitely tell her cheeks were flushed, especially with all the staring he was doing at her. In all honesty, it felt as if he were studying a painting. A splash of freckles and a few stray zits were scattered across her face, like brush strokes to a canvas.

However, it was her eyes that made him see the true meaning behind the work. People may call Percy dumb, but there was no mistaking the trust Annabeth was pouring into her downturned, storm-cloud eyes. They were focused so forcedly on his own, that he couldn’t help but come back to them each time he attempted to look at the rest of her face. It took him by surprise, because how could she trust someone like him so wholeheartedly? He’d nearly gotten her killed too many times—at some points he had almost been the one to do it.

“How can you do that?” he asked, looking out to the waves crashing on shore and breaking the trance that was Annabeth.

She had been leaning in just slightly, but jerked back just as much once he wasn’t looking at her anymore. Blinking slowly, Annabeth narrowed her eyes. “What d’you mean?”

He sighed almost exasperatedly, but it was too halfhearted to get anywhere. The next set of waves crashed a little harder than before. “I mean, how can you look at me like I’ll never do anything to hurt you? Like I’m not—not about to decide the fate of the world? Not about to destroy everything just by existing? St. Helen wasn’t even me trying, Annabeth. What else am I capable of?”

There was silence. As silent as it could get with a heavily breathing boy on a beach with a girl looking at him with that kind of look so full of something that everything has to be quiet, just for the time being.

“Percy...” Annabeth started, quieter than the now-swirling sea, “Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

His eyes found hers again, both of their eyebrows knit together like the sweaters they’d wished they brought. Again, Percy was so aware of her warmth seeping into him, keeping him present. “Why wouldn’t you be?” His soft voice carried itself to span the few inches between them, once more holding the weight of the world in their midst.

For a second, Annabeth looked as though she was going to laugh, but decided against it. At first, it could be brushed off as a ridiculous thought, but she knew what Percy was capable of right now—what about when he grew more fully into his powers? She shook her head, No, not even then.

“Percy.” She said his name more resolutely this time, placing her hand on his shoulder to turn him towards her. “You may have power none of us will ever know, but...you’re you. It’s not like you’re some evil mastermind plotting against us.”

A single, unsaid name hung in the air.

“How do you know, though? You’ve heard the prophecy.” Percy’s eyes were searching her own again, looking for some hint of doubt.

Annabeth sighed sadly, letting go of his shoulder and pulling him into her arms. “Because—‘Cause the Percy I know wouldn’t destroy a world with his mom in it. The Percy I know wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose.” She took a cold breath, smoothing her hand on his back. “And the Percy I know wouldn’t let some stupid prophecy try to stop him from protecting the people he loves.”

Percy stayed still, frozen, but not from the midnight air. “How do you know I’m that Percy still?” The whisper was slightly muffled from Annabeth’s curly hair, but she’d heard him all the same, as signaled by her hand stopping in the middle of its up and down motion.

“I just know.” And it was said with the finality only a daughter of Athena could possess, could hold within her, and could throw back at someone whenever they questioned her.

It was no use for Percy to fight it anymore, so he finally, finally, finally relaxed into her arms, pulling his own around her. The waves slowed on the beach, taking to being pulled by the moon once again. And, for once, they simply sat there, surrounded by a now-sandy blanket that he’d probably have to wash the next morning and an unrelenting breeze that hardly bothered them. Sure, in two weeks time Percy would most likely be dying at the foot of a crumbled Olympus, but he couldn’t worry about that with the cool sea air filling his lungs and Annabeth’s calloused hand rubbing circles into his back. No, that could wait with the blanket.

#asks #fic prompts #percy #annabeth #percabeth #ok this prompt is from...quite a while ago #but! i did it 😌#i hope it’s good??#i know it doesn’t exactly capitalize a lot on the chilly summer evenings #but i made sure to mention it more than once LMAO #pjo #mine

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dottie-wan-kenobi · 5 years ago

Note

Kory! And Dick if you want to!!

!!!!!! yes yes I do!

Kory:

1: sexuality headcanon: I think she’s pansexual too!!! idk how it would work on Tamaran but on earth, her feelings/experiences don’t change dependent on gender2: otp: DICKKORY!!! look when I say DickRoy are meant for each other, I mean that, but Kory and Dick are foils!!! she’s the flamebird to his nightwing!!!!! they’re so healthy, sweet, tender, caring, comfortable, just a million other things that make me love them so much. they’re seriously one of DC’s best ships EVER. very few ships can top this one. they’re such good friends and really love and care for each other even when not together, and I adore that. ugh I’m gonna cry kdsjfhdskah3: brotp: DonnaKory, RoyKory, VicKory, JasonKory. All but the last are also ships of hers that I like too, but I prefer them mostly as friends?? she and Donna are just the most badass, cutest ladies in the world. her and Roy tease each other and have such a great sense of respect between them. she and Jason can be really fun together!! Kory and Vic mean the entire fucking world to me tho, listen. LISTEN. I’m going to write a fic of them bc @zitkaplushie and I were talking today abt how Vic has his insecurities about his robot parts, and then there’s Kory who is so obviously Other but so comfortable with herself??? and he’s like, proud of her, but also being around her makes him feel more at ease with himself. Also they’re so fucking sweet I’m going to cry?????? always teasing each other, playing around, sparring bc they (and Donna) are the Strong(tm) ones. plus I think u said it, Tyler, TALL GANG!!!4: notp: Jason/Kory. I like them as friends and that’s IT. any attraction between them in a world where Kory has history with Dick feels icky and weird and like the writer either hates Jason, Kory, or Dick, or all three! 5: first headcanon that pops into my head: she tries to cook and almost burns the house down, so after some experimenting, she learns the best place to cook is on the grill on the edge of her garden. this is esp at first!! eventually I think she gets better, but she still prefers there bc it’s so peaceful and calming and the smell of her flowers helps her focus on not burning everything lmao6: favorite line from this character: “I said I'd never let them beat me. They never did... and they never will!” 7: one way in which I relate to this character: TIRED OF GARFIELD LOGAN’S BULLSHIT8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: this isn’t her fault but I hate how she reacted to the Mirage and Dick thing. like,,,, considering everything she’s been thru, reacting like that is just nonsensical and annoying and insulting9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

Dick:

1: sexuality headcanon: I think he’s bi, so like it does feel kinda different based on the gender of the person, and he’s canon demisexual, Action Comics said so2: otp: I have literally never had so many ships for one character before. DickKory, DickRoy, DickJoey, Dick/Wally/Artemis from yj, Dick/Kory/Roy, ummm I’m forgetting some dsjfshdak I love DickVic and DickGarth and DickShawn is fun, and DickTiger is amazing, and Dick/Bea could be so great if it was Dick, not Ric. but Dick is monogamous??? so almost none of these can exist at once??? do u see my problem dskjfhdshfdkshfskjajh3: brotp: Alfred! I adore their relationship and I think it’s so fun to explore it. they kind of have this father&son relationship, but also grandpa&grandson, and they’re friends too??? and they would kill for each other, I just know it4: notp: b/tc/st but also d/ckb/bs like I cannot even stomach that ship!!! they are so wrong for each other it’s incredible! and Babs is a lesbian!!!!5: first headcanon that pops into my head: he loves his kids so. fucking. much. like he is seriously one of the best dads ever. he draws from Bruce, both what B did and didn’t do, and also esp from Roy and Wally. he tries not to think about his own parents but sometimes he wonders if they would be proud of the way he’s raising his own kids. which also,,,, the Flying Graysons will live again mark my freaking words6: favorite line from this character: oh god there are so many good ones but let’s go w this: “My name's Nightwing! I may not be the gent you were expecting, but let me assure you... like him, I'm the stuff of nightmares. So don't get stupid! If you play it cool, you may walk away from here with all your teeth.”7: one way in which I relate to this character: *slamming the repression button until it jams forever*8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: the mullet. listen. idc, I hate it. it’s ugly, it’s awful. all of his long hair is. I don’t judge others for liking it but I will never ever ever be able to look at his freaking ponytail without cringing9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

#tysmmmm this was fun!!#koriand'r #dick grayson #dc #asks #ask games #dukethvmas

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fvaleraye · 5 years ago

Text

Unexpected Reunions

ayyyyyy, another Scintillam chapter! This time, we introduce another of our protags, who happens to be a uh... old friend of Leona’s. whom she bumps into again in one of ur typical fantasy towns after a few months apart ASDFLKJN oh yeah, and we also finally get to learn the name of the continent they’re on, so there’s that too-

hope y’all enjoy reading ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

The road was long, most were. Magna Terra was not exactly a small continent. There were often miles upon miles between towns. So much space spanning the entirety of the continent, and most of it was empty. There were only so many people who lived there, they only needed so much of the space. They would expand their towns at times, yes, but rarely would they need to go out and make new ones. Though, it would probably make travel easier if they did. A few of the more industrious cities, however, name the Iron City and the Bronze City, have started to make an effort to make such things easier, by placing little checkpoints and resting stops for stagecoaches and carriages along the main roads and trade routes. Though that project was still in its very early stages. And carriages were generally not available to the general public yet, as most of your average people had little reason to travel so far.

For adventurers however, who traveled near and far for a living, it was a colossal pain the ass.

Leona bemoaned not having the funds for the stagecoach to the next town. She would have, if she were travelling alone, but carrying Great Beasts incurred a rather exorbitant extra fee depending on the size of them. Which... was sort of understandable, given that one person and a Great Wolf would leave no room for other passengers, but she still felt cheated. At least she had Artemis to carry her some of the distance, but both of them would have preferred at least a short rest for their weary legs. They had left the Great Forests behind them hours ago, and had stepped out into the Great Plains, the most open natural expanse in the land. The sun shined brightly down on the ocean of grass, while the winds stirring the expansive greenery, not a tree in front of them for miles. But the nearest town was thankfully within reach. Maybe not within sight, but within reach. They would ideally reach it before they both passed out from exhaustion. The human was much closer to that point than her animal companion. Great Beasts typically had amazing stamina. Their pace was slow, but steady. Better to keep up a slow pace and get to the destination later than to try and rush there and risk passing out before you can get there. The exhausted knight started to perk up a bit as the first roof came into view over the horizon.

"Oh thank whatever gods are listening, there's Springford..." She said, sounding as tired as she felt. "Oooooh I can't wait to get into a real fucking bed, good gods..." She leaned over, and gave her great steed a big hug, burying her face in her fur. "... not that you aren't comfy, Arte, but... just... bed..."

The wolf just gave a little huff. It wasn't obvious if it was one of agreement, but if one knew about her track record of breaking beds she tried to sleep on, they could probably make a guess. She was still just as eager for some rest, though.

As the two started getting closer to the town, it was easy to tell that it wasn't exactly a big town. It was barely big enough to be considered a town, honestly. It was small, and they could see it in its entirety from the little hill they were coming down from. Most of the buildings were houses, there were some shops and a single inn on the edges of the town, all of wooden construction, with some of the bigger buildings having stone foundations, and one could see a few farms not far, fenced roads leading back and forth between them. A sign on one of the crossroads leading up to the town pointed to the east, with the sign reading "lake". That was probably where they got most of their their water, and most likely some fish. There was also a well in the town square, as well. It reminded the knight of her old childhood village, to be quite honest. The only things missing were the trees in every direction and the old runestones. ... she missed that old village... She missed a lot of things. But, for now, they were at their stop. The Outlands were another week's journey from here, so they had to rest, resupply, and gear up while they could. They would stay for a day or two... or three.

The duo approached the inn first, of course. It was a sizable building, and it had a fair bit more stone construction than most of the other buildings, but it was still primarily wood. A sign over the door, swaying and creaking gently in the wind, read "The Mossy Stone Inn". Not the most creative name, but they had seen worse. Leona stepped down from Artemis' back, and gave her a few pats on the head and scratches behind the ear. "You stay out here, I'll get us set up, yeah?" She gave her a little smooch on the nose, prompting the wolf to let out a sneeze. "Be right back."

She pushed the doors open and stepped inside, chainmail clinking against iron plate meshing with wood creaking as she strode to the bar. She quickly got herself seated, giving the bartender a small glance, prompting him to come over.

"What can I getcha?" He said, his voice mild, if a bit gravely.

"Is the innkeeper... uh, in?"

"Oh, she's out of town, I'm taking care of the inn stuff right now."

"Ah, okay." She gave a small sigh, before reaching into her pockets. "You got an empty room...?"

"A couple, actually." He replied, giving a welcoming little smile.

She glanced around for a moment, before letting out another sigh, and drawing her gaze back to the bartender. "... do you take Great Wolves?"

There was a bit of a silence, as he stared at her, then at the stairs leading up to the rooms, and then back to her. Eventually, an answer came. "... how big's it?"

She pointed at the window behind her, where the animal in question was clearly visible.

He just let out a sigh. "... s'long as it doesn't break anythin', it can come in."

"I promise she'll be on her best behavior."

He grabbed a glass, and poured a bit of... what was probably rum into it, before sliding it over to a patron at the far end of the counter. "Thirty gold per night."

"... that's a little steep isn't it...?"

"We charge extra for animals."

"... that's fair. I guess." She gave one last sigh, and stepped back out of the inn. She gave a glare behind her as the door shut. "... who doesn't charge extra for animals..." She took the wolf by her snout for a moment, gently pulling her head down to eye level. "Okay Arte, you need to be on your best behavior, okay? If you break anything, I'm gonna get in trouble." A small grimace came across her face. "... so, no sleeping on the bed."

Artemis just nodded. She knew the drill by now. She was a smart wolf.

"Okay, good girl..." She let out a tired huff. "Lets go take a fucking nap..."

---------------------------------------------------------------

The girls stayed in their room for a good few hours, enough that the afternoon had nearly passed, and the sun was beginning to set over the fields. It wasn't the comfiest bed she had ever slept in, but it was better than another night camping. As much as she felt at home camping in the woods, a warm bed, clean sheets, and soft blankets were still greatly appreciated every once in a while. The Great Wolf couldn't really share the sentiment, as the forests were quite literally her home, she did seem to prefer the warmth of an inn after long treks like this. Leona pushed herself out of her bed, giving a sleepy glance around the room as she tried to finish waking up from her nap. She let out a big yawn, running a hand through her messy bedhead. Her eyes eventually fell on the door. "... need to... get some food n'... water... n' other shit for the rest of the trip, before this fuckin'... inn... bleeds me fuckin' dry..." She mumbled, taking a moment to step into the bathroom and splash a little bit of water on her face. Just needed to wake herself up a bit more. Her companion was still sleeping soundly on the floor. She would leave her be for now. If either of them got into any trouble, the other would be able to tell. Benefits of the special little bond they shared. She stepped out of the room, dressed a little more casually than when she came in. Just a normal brown cotton shirt, some baggy pants, and a pair of boots. The bartender gave her a small glance as she came down the stairs.

"... look like you just crawled outta bed." He observed, currently cleaning a glass.

"I did." She replied, giving him a tired glare. She just stepped out into the town, wincing as the setting sun beating down harshly on her tired eyes. She started to glance around the town, looking for a sign or... something that would point her in the direction of the nearest shop. As she did though, her gaze caught something... unusual, on the roof of the inn. There was a person sitting on top of the roof. Writing in a journal. She squinted at them from the ground, trying to get a better look at them. Something in her clicked as she looked at them. "... 's that who I think it is...?" She mumbled, before going around the back of the inn. There weren't necessarily stairs up there, but apparently whoever was up there brought a ladder. Helpful. She slowly climbed up, one hand over the other, and, once she found her balance on the roof, walked over to the front of the roof where the other person was. She sat down next to them, legs dangling over the side, and gave them a small tap on the shoulder. It made them jump, and let out a little squeak, nearly fumbling their journal over the edge in their surprise.

"... is that you, Velda?" The knight asked, her expression showing hints of confusion, and pleasant surprise.

"... Leona...?" She replied, quietly, shakily setting down her journal. She was quite pale, and had an athletic, lithe build, black hair mostly tied up in a blue bandanna covering most of her head, her bangs spilling out the front, and a braided ponytail coming out the back. She had a small pair of glasses on her face, covering eyes that were a deep blue, and... strangely slitted. She fidgeted with the bottom of her tunic, which was blue and embroidered with white silk in so many intricate patterns, mostly flowers, with her sleeves tied up just above her elbows. Black gloves went up to her shoulders. She also had a pair of tall, knee height brown boots, and black shorts that ended just above her knees. She had a quiver at her hip, and a lovingly carved bow over her shoulder.

"Yeah!" She took the other girls hand, and gave a wide smile. "Oh man, Velda, it's been so long! How've you been???"

Velda shrank a bit under Leaon's enthusiasm. "O-oh, y'know... a-around." She said, her tone quiet and sheepish.

Without another moment's hesitation, she wrapped her arms around her in a great big embrace, making the other look, and feel, rather small and... twig-like, compared to her knightly build. She tensed up in the hug, but didn't make any moves to actually dissuade her from continuing. After a moment, she released her, and gave her a good look over. "You look great! Where'd you get those clothes? They look pretty, and... eeeellllvish...?"

"Y-yeah, they're elvish clothes." She replied, starting to straighten out said clothes, now that they were a bit ruffled from the hug. "It's. Very comfortable."

"I bet!" She let out a sigh, and leaned back onto the roof, setting her hands behind her head. She briefly patted the roof, inviting the other to lay down as well. She did so, after a moment. "How've you been?"

"Okay. You?"

"Could be better, just got done with the week long walk here from Rosevale, gonna make the next week long walk to Crystalbarrow..."

"... that's a lot of walking."

She gave a little laugh. "... and you still don't do a lot of talking."

"... I'm sorry..." She mumbled, meekly. “I-I haven’t talked to anybody in a... a-a bit...”

"N-no! It's fine! You talk however much or however little you need to!" Silence settled for a moment, the sounds of the townsfolk going about their evenings being the only things breaking it. Even the wind had quieted down to a whisper. The knight was the first to officially break it, of course. "... so was I right? Are you an elf?"

The answer didn't come for a few moments, but it did come. "... no." She took a slow, deep breath, and let out an equally deep sigh. "Checked with the elven scholars a few weeks ago, and there's... no records of any kind of elf that's really. Like me. A-and they said that I don't have the... the same kind of... spark... as an elf... so I... c-can't be one..." She slowly took the bandanna from her head, letting her hair flow out, and her... rather pointed ears show. "So... back to square one." She gave another sigh, before glancing over at the other. "... at least they gave me these clothes... that was nice of them..."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, V."

"... yeah..."

Silence fell over the roof again. Leona's eyes turned towards the sky, while Velda's were fixed firmly on her own fidgeting hands. Surprisingly, the archer was the one to break the silence this time.

"... h-hey, Leona...?"

"... hm?"

She opened her mouth to speak, showing of the little fangs that lined it, but it took a few moments for anything to come out. "... are... a-are we still... g-good...?"

There wasn't an answer, at first. She took her eyes off the sky, and turned them to the other. She fidgeted and shrank her her gaze, but she returned it, anxious as it may be. Then she gave a soft smile, slowly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and gently pulled her closer. "... yeah..." She said, her tone soft. Content. "... I think we're good..."

The archer was tense at first, of course, but she quickly loosened up a bit, and curled up closer to the knight. She wrapped her arms around her, and the other pulled her closer with her other free arm in return. "... I'm sorry I didn't go with you before..."

"It's okay... you had your own stuff to deal with."

"... I'm... I'm uh... actually headed to the Outlands, and... C-crystalbarrow is uh... a-actually on the way to where I'm headed..."

"Oh? Where you going?"

"... a-a cave, that uh... I've heard. M-might. Have some stuff that could help me find the information I'm looking for."

"I see... we'll, I'm just heading to Crystalbarrow to talk to an old friend of my dad's. I can go with you into this cave, if you want."

"... thank you..."

"Hey, it's no problem."

The two laid there on the roof, eyes on the darkening skies, or each other. It had been quite a while since they were like this. So close. Together. After a moment, Leona decided to speak up again. "Hey, I uh... I got a room in this inn. Only one bed, but... it's. Uh. Got room." She started to blush more and more as she went on. "And I'm sure you can get in the window, with your ladder."

"... you wanna cheat the innkeeper by sneaking me into your room instead of paying for another person?"

"He's the one cheating me with his prices." She retorted, giving a huff. "And I don't wanna cheat anybody, I just want to spend the night with you, and... um. Y'know."

"...?"

"You know."

"Mmmmmm...?"

"I-I just want you in my b-bed with me, okay? I... I haven't seen you in. M-months. I missed you. Okay?"

Velda considered her words for a moment, a sly little smile on her face, but no less blush. "... I think that sounds nice..."

The two smiled, and the knight scooped the archer up in her arms, giving her a little smooch on the cheek, and... started to. Scooch towards the edge???

"I- wh- Leona what are you doing???"

"Uuuuuh, getting down...?"

"You're going to break your fucking legs, take the ladder you maniac-"

"It's not that tall!"

"LADDER."

"Okay! Fine! Jeez!" With a disgruntled huff, she stood up, girl still firmly in her arms, and started to walk back towards the ladder. Why she thought it would be a good idea to jump from the roof of the inn was anybody's guess. Probably a heat of the moment thing. She set her down when they were by the ladder, and she climbed down to the bottom, while her new guest climbed through the window into her room. She probably would have climbed in with her, but the window was just a smidgen to small for her. She didn't want to get stuck. That would be really awkward. She made her way back to her room rather quickly, not even bothering giving the innkeeper the time of day as she passed by again. By the time she got back, her new guest was busy petting Artemis, who had evidently woken up while she was gone.

"-you are! You're the best girl Arte, yes you are!" She said, in a baby-talk voice, giving her all sorts of pets and scritches. Artemis was clearly not amused by the baby-talk, but she was letting her have her fun.

She just gave a small laugh at the sight. "I see you and Arte still get along great."

"Yeah! I-I'm glad we do! Arte's the only... the only animal wh-who uh... y'know... likes me..."

She gave a sigh in response to the last statement, and nodded. Yeah, for whatever reason, Velda was just... never big with animals. They usually avoided her altogether, some even growled at her, even if they were perfectly tame. The only ones that really liked her were Great Beasts. They assumed it was because of her... weird spark.

She stood up after a moment, giving the wolf one more little pat as she did, and flopped right onto the bed. "This is a nice room."

"Yeah, not worth thirty gold a night though."

Her expression shifted to a shocked grimace. "Oh- really? Thirty gold??? I mean, it might be worth... like, fifty silver a night, but thirty gold??? Jeez..."

"Yyyyyyyep."

"I suddenly no longer feel guilt for sneaking in here." She said, with a smirk.

"Good." She replied, with a little chuckle. She stepped over to the bed, and laid down next to the other. There we go.

"... it's been a bit since we've been in a bed together, huh..." She had a certain... tone, to her voice.

"Yeah, it really has..." She didn't seem to notice the others. Tone. Or pretended she didn't.

"... soooooo..." She slid closer, getting her slender arms around the knight. Her knight. "What were you thinkin' when you said you wanted me in your bed...?"

"I j-just wanted to. Y'know. Cuddle, V."

"Suuuuurrrrrrrre..."

"Why does your head need to be in the gutter."

"I think a better question is, why isn't yours~? It’s pretty fun in the gutter~"

Before another word could be spoken, Leona just. Quickly rolled right off the side of the bed and into the floor with a dull thud. Well then. "Ow- fuck-"

Velda snickered as she sat up and looked at her from the edge of the bed, sprawled out on the floor. Eventually she burst into a little fit of giggles, taking a moment to rein it in so she could speak again. "C-calm down Le, I'm just fucking with you."

"pLEASE DON'T WORD IT LIKE THAT-"

She just started to snicker again. "C-c'mon Leona, like you said when we first got together, what is a girlfriend if not someone to tease mercilessly~?"

“I never teased you that hard-” She let out a small groan as she started to sit up, face still red as a beet. "Why do you gotta be like this?"

"... only with you, Le." She said, smiling. And blushing. "Only got the nerve to be like this with you. Because I'm comfortable around you. I've known you for... ever. And. I love you."

"... I love you too, V."

"Now!" She flopped back onto her back, rolled over to the side of the bed she was on before, and patted it. "Get back up here, and we can catch up. I'm sure we've both been up to a lot since we last talked... and I promise I won't make you throw yourself from the bed again."

"You better not." With a sigh, she got to her feet, and back onto the bed. There wasn't a whole lot of room. But there was enough for the two of them. "... gonna get you back for that..."

"Sure you w-will...”

“... sooooo... you first, what've you been up to? Besides the elf thing?"

"... well..."

#Valerie Writes #Scintillam #Leona #Artemis #jus as a heads up; in case y'all have been wondering from the last chapter; i don't put the name of any like #newly introduced characters in their introduction chapter #unless it's someone i have talked about before introducing them; like leona or caecus #so!#next appearances of the last couple of new protags will be properly tagged #i dunno; i jus feel like it helps preserve the surprise asdlfkjn #anyway! this was fun...#hope y'all enjoy reading :0 #n' reblogs are appreciated; if u did-

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shadowed-dancer · 5 years ago

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Queens of the Old Book (my versions)

Alright, I've been meaning to do this for a while and finally got around to it. I’ve designed my versions of the 26 queens who came before Skywynne! It’s a really long post, but I included pictures, poems, brief physical descriptions, and some backstory for each! I’m gonna draw my favourites again soon. Hope you enjoy.

Mo the First

The very first Queen of Mewni, A destiny foretold By the little man from beyond time, A wonder to behold

Hair: Light brown Eyes: Greek Cheekmark colour: Pink Aureole sign: Warnicorn

Mo was the first Queen and did a lot of things to set up a kingdom. She built the first castle out of wood from the stump that sheltered her and her family, and set out in pursuit of corn. She laid all the foundations for a prosperous kingdom.

---

Cassandra the Overwhelmed

When the entirety of a legacy Is up to you to make, The pressure starts to multiply Which lead Cassandra to break

Hair: Black Eyes: Green Cheekmark colour: Yellow Aureole sign: Tadpole

Cassandra was freaked out by the prospect of running a kingdom and began breaking down after the birth of her child. She did nothing to better her kingdom, and let it fall into despair. It was during her reign that people fled her kingdom and established the Spiderbites, Johansens, and the minor kingdoms like Garbage Beach and the Dock of Unending Torment.

---

Jasmine the Star Chaser

There was no star Within the sky That didn't catch Young Jasmine’s eye

Hair: Dark brown Eyes: Yellow Cheekmark colour: White Aureole sign: Silkworm

Jasmine was a star gazer and started the trend of sky named children. She created the Aureole signs and looked to the stars for answers, which somehow ended up helping her repair the kingdom from her mother’s reign.

---

Andromeda the Shallow

The suitors flooded in the halls And spread throughout the land. Yet Andromeda the Shallow Picked the worst fit for her hand

Hair: Blonde Eyes: Pink Cheekmark colour: Light blue Aureole sign: Hydra

Andromeda had suitors from all sorts of kingdoms, yet she chose the worst political choice (a selfish vain man who just wanted power) just because he was handsome. It was because of his stupid desicions and insistence on growing their land that the animosity between mewman and monster started to grow.

---

Calliope the Musician

The peasants of Mewni hear her call, The music echoing in the hall, And despite the love for her fine tune, Her show was cut off far too soon

Hair: Magenta Eyes: Teal Cheekmark colour: Yellow Aureole sign: Narwhal

Calliope was the first and only Queen to become a songstrel and began the tradition of song-day and the coronation song. Her idea was that the princesses after her would have a song written about them, then give back the sentiment by writing their own song to become queen. She died shortly after her daughter’s song day, leaving her 14 year old daughter to become the youngest queen in Mewni history.

---

Cassiopeia the Indecisive

For Cassiopeia the Indecisive The choices mounted thick. To ease the issues in her mind She called upon Glossaryck

Hair: Pink Eyes: Blue Cheekmark colour: Green Aureole sign: Pixie

Being the youngest queen ever took its toll on Cassiopeia. She had a lot of choices to make as Queen and couldn't handle the pressure, so she called Glossaryck into existence as her advisor.

---

Titania the Explorer

A world awaited beyond the shores And none would be quite bolder Than the girl who left to sail the seas Titania the Explorer

Hair: Black Eyes: Green Cheekmark colour: Pink Aureole sign: Lion Dragon

After getting married and having her daughter, Titania took to the seas and found many islands of Mewni (pie island being one of them). She made most of them part of the kingdom, and didn’t take her responsibilities as queen very seriously.

---

Artemis the Wild

Running all throughout the kingdom, A completely untameable child As bright as the suns upon her cheeks Was Artemis the Wild

Hair: Red/Orange Eyes: Yellow Cheekmark colour: Yellow Aureole sign: Lion Dragon

Artemis was a crazy kid who refused to listen to reason. Since her mother left to explore the sea and her father was stuck ruling, Artemis was left to her own devices for most of her childhood. When she got older, she'd run into battle without a second glance and married the first random guy she came across. During her rule, she made a lot of spontaneous decisions, not always for the best.

---

Terra the Wise

Always calm and always sure The kingdom could depend on her. An answer to every single plight, the Wise knew how to run things right

Hair: White Eyes: Purple Cheekmark colour: Light green Aureole sign: Deadhorse

Terra disliked her mother's way of ruling and took the time to think everything through. She had great reasoning skills and always weighed her options before making a decision. She was the wisest of the queens and never made a bad decision in all the history of her rule.

---

Luna the Fearful

The monsters lurking in the night Filled poor Luna with dread. The swirl of fear and fantasy That must have filled her head

Hair: Lilac Eyes: Purple Cheekmark colour: Purple Aureole sign: Pony Head

Luna was born as the monsters began getting restless. She was terrified that they would attack, but there were no soldiers strong enough to fight for the kingdom. Her fear of monsters evolved into other things, like fear of losing her family, and it caused her to become paranoid.

---

Neptuna the Beautiful

No man or woman on Mewni Could resist Neptuna’s beauty. A treasure of the earth, No gems to capture her worth

Hair: Dark blue Eyes: Light blue Cheekmark colour: Pink Aureole sign: Pixie

Neptuna was a beautiful queen who didn't really do much. Her greatest attempt was trying to charm the monsters into stopping their attacks, which didn’t actually work.

---

Orion Queen of Peace

When beauty alone proved not enough To convince the monsters to cease A temporary solution came from Orion, Queen of Peace

Hair: Pastel green Eyes: Brown Cheekmark colour: Pink Aureole sign: Deadhorse

Orion saw that her mother was unable to keep the peace just through her looks, so she proposed a solution. If the monsters stopped attacking Mewmans and stayed in a certain part of land, the Mewmans would stop attacking them. This worked for a bit.

---

Polaris the Unbalanced

When a system seemed to be in place The scales were tipped too far one way. And the later acts of Polaris Ensured it stayed this way

Hair: Ice blue Eyes: Teal Cheekmark colour: Purple Aureole sign: Hydra

Polaris didn't like her mother's idea of getting along with the monsters so she tried taking more land from them, which they obviously disliked. She doubled down though, making it impossible for anyone to talk her out of it, and started a war. Her ideas began spreading until the Mewni population believed they were the rightful owners of the land.

---

Venus the Sympathetic

When too much fighting lead to blood And it all became too hectic The Queen just had to step away, Venus the Sympathetic

Hair: Orange Eyes: Teal Cheekmark colour: Yellow Aureole sign: Blowhole

Venus was naturally a sympathetic person and found the war took too much on her mental state. She couldn’t stand to see her people suffer, and as a result had to leave Mewni for a bit to travel the multiverse and clear her head.

---

Astrid the Scholar

Every book in the multiverse Was gathered by Astrid’s hand. All the knowledge and wisdom To share within Mewni’s land

Hair: Blonde Eyes: Blue Cheekmark colour: Purple Aureole sign: Tadpole

Astrid loved to read and (just like her mother) traveled the multiverse to gather a copy of “every book in existence”. She wanted to have the most magnificent library ever, and succeeded. She claims to have read every book in her collection, and no one doubts it for a second.

---

Pandora the Trickster

Good intentions, a bit of play, Too much magic, a dangerous day, A prank gone wrong with too much power, All that face it on will cower

Hair: Black Eyes: Blue Cheekmark colour: Red Aureole sign: Demon

The creator of Pandora’s box, Pandora loved to play pranks. Unfortunately, she greatly underestimated her powers and accidentally created the most dangerous box in the multiverse. She hid it in her closet, and it remained there far beyond her death until her great great something granddaughter found it in the ruins of the castle and tossed it in another dimension (probably for the better).

---

Daphne the Overachiever

When doing good was not enough Daphne dreamed of things too grand. She did the absolute most of any Queen to rule the land

Hair: Purple Eyes: Pink Cheekmark colour: Lilac Aureole sign: Hydra

Daphne always wanted to do the best things for her kingdom and went above and beyond to prove herself a good queen. She never stopped at a solution, and would work hard even after the problems were solved.

---

Soupina the Strange

A spell gone wrong is a tragic song Of potential forced to change. The wonders that she must have seen, Poor Soupina the Strange

Hair: Teal Eyes: Yellow Cheekmark colour: Pink Aureole sign: Pig-Goat

Soupina showed the signs of a great queen and a powerful magic wielder, but she got stuck with her mewberty eyes and went mad. She never reached her full potential, and caused a lot of problems for Mewni.

Potato the Comforting

Her heart would always lead her home, Her priorities were straight. So to care for her maddening mother, The kingdom had to wait

Hair: Light brown Eyes: Blue Cheekmark colour: Yellow Aureole sign: Warnicorn

Potato was the daughter of Soupina and was born after she went mad. She didn’t spend much time actually ruling, and instead spent most of her life trying to comfort her mother. During her reign, the mewman monster relation grew worse with no queen to guide them, causing a lot of citizens to act on their own.

---

Galexia the Queen of Change

Perhaps Galexia saw more than the rest For she was certain she was doing her best. Her insistence to categorize creatures so strange Gained her the title, the Queen of Change

Hair: Black Eyes: Brown Cheekmark colour: Blue Aureole sign: Narwhal

Galexia began making huge changes after she claimed there was a difference between demons, monsters, mermaids, etc. It was hard to accept at first, but it caught on, and soon the Waterfolk and Lucitors were accepted as Kingdoms of Mewni. She did this so she could marry the Prince of the Waterfolk.

---

Trinity the Rebel

When the lure of life beyond the wall Is too strong to ignore, The promises of fame and glory Called Trinity back to shore

Hair: Blue Eyes: Green Cheekmark colour: Teal Aureole sign: Demon

Trinity almost didn't become queen because she had run off to the waterfolk kingdom and had no desire to return. She came back a few years later though, ready to be Queen after learning all the perks of being famous. She never took ruling seriously though, and the kingdom fell into even rougher shape. She was also the first “half monster” princess.

---

Serena the Popular

Sometimes the quickest way to peace Is to make yourself loved near and far And the one to break this secret Was Serena the Popular

Hair: Magenta Eyes: Blue Cheekmark colour: Red Aureole sign: Pixie

During Trinity’s time, the smaller kingdoms began to get angry with the Butterflies and started making demands for more power. Similar to her great something grannie Neptuna, she believed that being liked was the way to peace. Unlike “the beautiful”, Serena had to work hard to make herself loved. She befriended the royals of the minor kingdoms and created a sense of unity.

---

Celestia the Mournful

No one knows the weight of loss Celestia the Mournful had to feel. With 3 sons lost and 4 daughters gone She was unsure of what remained real

Hair: Green Eyes: Green Cheekmark colour: Blue Aureole sign: Blowhole

Celestia suffered greatly and kept losing her children before they had even reached their first year, which drove her to question everything she knew. Only her youngest daughter, Gemina, survived and ended up living a long life. Celestia’s sons were named Taurus, Aries, and Sagitar. Her daughters were Caprica, Libra, Virga, and Aquaria. Taurus was the oldest boy and Caprica was the oldest girl.

---

Gemina the Animal Lover

Some say the animals whisper In languages of their own. So Gemina kept them by her side And they guided her on the throne

Hair: Light brown/orange Eyes: Teal Cheekmark colour: Magenta Aureole sign: Narwhal

Gemina was the first (and only) Queen to go beyond speaking alligator and actually found ways of communicating with other animals. She claimed they were very wise, and trusted their council more than that of Glossaryck and the MHC. The only reason she wasn’t deemed mad was because she seemed to be right, and her decisions based on her animal friends often benefited the kingdom.

---

Helia the Direct

Helia didn't have the time To leave the kingdom a wreck, So with a firm and steady hand Became Helia the Direct

Hair: Blonde Eyes: Purple Cheekmark colour: Pink Aureole sign: Deadhorse

Helia had let the kingdom fall into poverty during her early rule, and worked to fix it. She was extremely firm and never beat around the bush, causing many to think she was rather rude. Her blunt attitude was passed onto Lyric, her daughter.

---

Lyric the Short-Sighted

A million futures can exist And for many, this will leave them vexed. But Lyric only sees the now, No need to worry about what's next

Hair: Ice blue Eyes: Ice blue Cheekmark colour: Pink Aureole sign: Pixie

Lyric made all her decisions based on what would benefit her immediately and never considered the consequences of her actions. The two most famous examples were choosing the book of fashion over the book of spells, and giving her daughter the throne at only 17. Throughout her rule too, she made many choices that ended up causing her more trouble in the long run. She let her daughter fix most of these.

#my art #svtfoe #svtfoe oc #queens of mewni #lyric butterfly #soupina the strange #soupina butterfly #svtfoe queen

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forlornmelody · 5 years ago

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Traitor, Martyr, Spy Chapter 7: Home Sweet Home

Rating: Explicit (some chapters have smut)

Ship: Miranda Lawson x Femshep

AO3 Link: Here

Summary: The horror of Sanctuary behind them, Miranda’s ready to enjoy some peace and quiet with Artemis Shepard on her shore leave. But nothing is so simple, is it?

-*-

“You alright?” Miranda knows the answer before Artemis opens her mouth, but she needs to hear her talk about it.

Artemis herself paces back and forth out of the field of view. The dark, nondescript background doesn’t say much about where she’s at, but the spaciousness of it suggests her spectre office. Ah. That’s it. “Hackett grounded me.”

Miranda raises an eyebrow. “Are you in trouble?”

“No,” Artemis spits. “But they ordered the Normandy into dry dock, and Joker won’t fly his baby out until she gets serviced.”

“You want to go after Kai Leng.”

Screeching to a halt, Artemis gapes at her. “Of course, I do. You know what he’s capable of. And we finally have his location.” She pulls at her hair. “And I can’t do anything about it.”

How badly Miranda emphasizes with her. She wouldn’t have waited to go after her sister. Miranda didn’t wait to go after her sister. “You have the location of Cerberus Headquarters.” But that’s not what Shepard needs to hear. “The Illusive Man isn’t like the Shadowbroker. He doesn’t move around.”

Artemis’s lips curl ever so slightly, but she says nothing. Instead she sighs heavily. “All that to say. If you have time,” she scratches the back of her head, glancing away from the camera. “I got some too.”

Miranda leans forward, smirking. “Are you asking me out?”

Her lover furrows her brow. “Have we ever gone on an actual date?

Shit. She’s right.

-----

“Fix me something while you’re back there, would you?”

“Drinking in is not the same as going out, Miri.” Artemis ducks behind the bar anyway, rummaging around.

“Forgive me for wanting a moment with you. Alone.” Maybe she said that last part too strongly, for Shepard’s head pops around the bar, staring at her.

Their eyes meet, and Artemis scoots back into hiding. “I missed you too, Miri. Cocktails coming right up.”

“You don’t drink.”

“One mocktail and one cocktail coming right up.”

Miranda laughs out loud. “It sounds so filthy when you say it like that.”

“Thought you liked to get dirty.” She pops up, with two tumblers in hand.

“Only when you’re involved.”

Popping some bottles and cans on the counter, Artemis snickers. “Aww, I’m touched.” She stands up, mixing the drinks with surprising finesse. How many cocktails did she make and drink before she went sober? “So, what brings you over?”

“You invited me.”

“Oh! Right. You’re the one who called.”

Miranda clears her throat. “I heard some strange things in the news. And then you weren’t responding to coms for nearly a day. Something about a clone?”

Part of Artemis’s drink spills on the counter as she jolts. “That was on the news?”

“They had a field day. You alright?”

“Did you know about it?”

“I didn’t know what to make of the reports. You sounded like you had lost your mind.”

Miranda barely hears Artemis when she answers. “I mean about the clone.” Her eyes watch her closely as she continues. “She was a Cerberus project, wasn’t she?”

“It--she was a backup plan. In case I failed to bring you back.” Miranda rolls her eyes. “Which I knew wasn’t going to happen.”

Artemis stares at her glass. “But she was a whole person. And Cerberus just made her out of thin air.”

“We made her from your tissue. We’re not gods. Despite what the Illusive Man thinks.”

“Mm.” Artemis takes her drink with her, leaning against the floor to ceiling windows.

Miranda follows, sipping her own Old Fashioned. And then she sees the view. “Aww. They shut down my favorite sushi place.” They talk about Brooks, the exploding fish tank--sipping their drinks as the traffic flies by.

“How do I know you’re not a clone?”

Artemis smirks slowly, pulling her into a kiss full of heated promises. Who knows when they’ll see each other again? This whole night feels like a fever dream. Any moment they could wake up alone. Miranda means to make the most of it.

“A compelling argument.” Miranda matches her expression, eyeing her up and down. “But I’m not completely convinced.”

“Are we…?” Artemis sputters, but her eyes darken with want.

“Are we what, Artemis?”

She swallows and starts to look away as Miranda draws her attention back with her finger. “Is this...a scene?” A gulp. “A roleplaying scene?”

“Do you want a roleplaying scene?”

“Heh.” Artemis’s gaze falls on her lips, and then rises to her eyes. “Sounds fun. Are you gonna…?” She makes a face. “Gonna dominate me? Again?”

Miranda cups her cheek. “Do you want me to dominate you?”

Artemis’s cheeks color ever so slightly, and she nods. “Yes,” she says thickly.

“Dim the lights.” Miranda releases Artemis, trailing a hand down her chest. “In fact. Turn them off.”

“You catch that, Glyph?”

A floating ball of light floats toward them. “Right away, Commander.”

Miranda makes a face. “How long has it been watching us?”

Glyph turns its ocular lens toward her. “Not long, Operative Lawson. The Commander activated privacy mode before you walked in.”

“So, you’ll erase any information recorded for the duration of this visit?”

“Yes, Miss Lawson.”

“Good. Go back to sleep.” The VI dissipates in pixels of energy. In the now dimmed light, Miranda can only see her lover through the pink haze of the Silversun Strip. And not a soul can see them. Miranda leans her back against the glass, turning her gaze towards Artemis. “Now why don’t you continue with your reasoning.”

“Always the skeptic.” Artemis’s olive skin flares like hot coals in the filtered light. She starts at Miranda’s mouth, taking her time tasting her, before trailing her lips down her chin to where it meets her neck. Mm--she remembers that spot. Oh--and that other one where her neck met her shoulder. Why had Miranda avoided relationships for so long?

Miranda’s hand winds into her hair, pulling pin after pin out as Artemis makes her way down to her chest. Her hair finally comes free as her lips close around Miranda’s nipple. “Mm. Artemis.” Two eyes spark with mirth as she glances back up at her. Artemis lingers there, freeing her other breast so she can cup it with her hand. Neither satisfies her lover for long, and Miranda licks her lips as she watches her trail her kisses down to her belly button. She tries to stay in character, but Artemis doesn’t make it easy, her silver tongue outlining her argument across the carved lines of her abdomen, touching her nose just above where Miranda yearns for her to touch.

“Mm.” Miranda then swears under her breath, and Artemis grins against her, licking her lips before giving one wet kiss against her thigh.

“Still skeptical, love?” Artemis’s eyes glow with mirth.

“Mmhm.” She knows words. Lots of words. However, the only one coming to mind in this moment is fuck. But Miranda wants to draw this out. Tease Artemis while she teases her. But she’s making it so bloody difficult.

Artemis makes a point of sighing dramatically, letting her warm breath ghost between her thighs. “Fine, fine.” And she kisses her pussy again.

Bugger it all--why don’t these windows have grills? Or anything Miranda could hold onto? Her legs shake, and Miranda’s half-convinced they’ll pool into a puddle on the floor if Artemis isn’t more careful. “Oh god.”

“Shh. I got you.” Miranda swears to any deity who might possibly exist, Artemis bloody well holds her up with one arm, flexed and pressed against her stomach. If Miranda Lawson wasn’t a sodden mess before, she certainly is now. Bloody show off. Artemis uses her free hand to slip a finger or two inside her, and Miranda practically screams. Hopefully this apartment is more soundproof than the SR2’s cabin.

Artemis finally allows her to sink to the floor, and they cuddle together against the glass. “Convinced now?” She laughs, brushing the sweaty strands from Miranda’s face.

“Never doubted you.” Miranda takes her chin with one finger, pulling her into a breathless kiss. She can still taste herself on Artemis’s lips, and it stirs her loins anew. “Mm.”

“Even when we were enemies?” Artemis asks when she pulls back for air.

“Especially not then. I only doubted you’d keep from turning us in.”

“I would have if I could have, but I’m glad I didn’t.” Artemis pulls her into another kiss, and Miranda can taste her hunger. She’s hungry too, but she’s not going to take her on the living room floor--not in this lavish apartment.

But Artemis is ravenous, with the pull of Jupiter in her touch. “Mm,” Miranda manages as her lover nibbles on her ear. “Artemis….”

“Yeah?” Artemis brushes her fingers against the inside of Miranda’s thigh, and they both shiver.

Another moan slips out of Miranda’s mouth as she manages to tear her hands away. “Not here,” she says with her voice full of gravel.

Artemis pouts. “Fine, fine.” She rises from the floor as slow as a mountain, but she brings Miranda with her. “Where?”

“Have you even used any of your beds here?”

“They’re not my beds.” Artemis sobers, staring off into the kitchen. “They’re Anderson’s.” Perhaps sex against the living room windows wasn’t entirely Miranda’s idea after all.

He’s not coming back, Artemis, Miranda wants to say. She’s seen the reports of Earth. Concentration camps, indoctrinated governments, wholesale destruction of age-old cities--no one fighting back will live long, especially not long enough to return to a Citadel apartment. “They’re beautiful beds. He wouldn’t want them gathering dust.”

“A cleaning drone comes in once a week, but I get what you mean.” Artemis sighs, trailing her fingers along the piano keys, playing a scale without rhythm or direction.

Miranda joins her, wearing nothing but her bra, and she decides to put it to use--letting the lace brush up against her lover’s back. Her nose grazes the ridge of one of her ears. “Guest bed?” Baby steps.

Artemis closes her eyes, taking one breath and letting it out as she nods. “Alright.”

Taking her hand, Miranda leads her to the bed next to the shower.

-------

“How do you feel about bondage?” Miranda leans over Artemis, clasping each of her hands in her own. She straddles her, too, but only enough to let their bodies heat the air between them.

Artemis grimaces. “I’m not really a fan.”

Miranda suspects Artemis’s feelings go deeper than distaste, but she doesn’t press the issue. She’d much rather press other buttons. “Sensory deprivation?” Her breath ghosts over Artemis’s mouth, and her lover’s lips part in anticipation.

“Like a blindfold?” Artemis gazes up at her so softly and openly--not a view most people see. Perhaps it’s something she only shares with Miranda. Her heart aches at the thought--along with her loins.

“That’s one form, yes.” She turns her head, whispering into Artemis’s ear. “Would you like to try a blindfold?”

“Yeah.” Artemis swallows, but she doesn’t tense, not even when Miranda leaves the bed to procure a silk scarf. She saw some very nice silk ties but decided against it. Her lover would not appreciate seeing any of Anderson’s belongings in bed.

“Close your eyes.” Miranda straddles her, tying the scarf around her head, but not too tightly. “How’s that feel?” she whispers into her ears.

Artemis shifts beneath Miranda, her head turning each way as Miranda moves her hands up and down the sheets on either side. “Weird. But good. I think.” Goosebumps crest across her skin, and Miranda draws her biotics across them, from Artemis’s collarbone down to her hips, never quite reaching between her legs. “Mm,” her lover says, squirming a little. “Tickles.”

“In a good way?” Miranda whispers into her ear, letting her breath ghost across her skin.

“Y-yeah.” Artemis parts her legs, but Miranda doesn’t take the bait, not yet. She does travel down her body, breathing in the scent of her arousal.

“So wet already, and I haven’t even touched you.”

“Cheater,” Artemis mumbles.

Miranda sits up, and Artemis reaches for her. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“Then hold still.” Miranda soothes her hands, drawing them above her head, licking her lips at the way it stretches her abdomen. Unable to help herself, she traces her tongue across those muscles, reveling in the way Artemis twitches and moans. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, letting her fingers and wisps of her biotics travel down her thighs.

“Miri.” Artemis gasps, her hips lifting Miranda with her.

“So strong. And stubborn.” Miri pushes her back down, pushing her thighs farther apart. Mm. This angle won’t do for how long she’s going to be down here, so she shoves a pillow beneath Artemis’s firm ass, squeezing it for good measure before she lets her settle down. Blowing a puff of air against her inner thigh, Miranda pulls back.

Artemis groans, but she holds still, mostly.

“Patience,” Miranda murmurs, kissing the inside of her ankle, then her calf. Artemis’s pulse quickens as her mouth nears her core, and the heat between them rises. She pauses at her lover’s knee, sending biotic vibrations up her skin ahead of her mouth. By the time her lips meet the spot between her legs, Artemis’s breath has gone ragged, and her underwear is soaked. Pulling it out of the way, Miranda kisses her again, harder deeper, tracing her entrance with blue sparked fingers.

“Oh, fuck, Miri,” Artemis whimpers and begs. “I can’t.” One of her hands twists inside Miranda’s hair, and she looks up to see the other gripping the headboard for dear life.

“Yes, you can,” Miranda murmurs against her clit, kissing and sucking as her lover writhes beneath her. “Are you close, Ari?” She can already tell by the words slipping out of her mouth, but Miranda wants to hear her say it.

“Miri,” Ari’s fingers dig into her scalp, “yes,” she manages as her hips thrust into her touch. “So close.”

Miri lies beside her so she can watch her face, and she whispers against her ear. “Then come for me, Ari.” She twists her fingers, pulling on Ari’s clit with her biotics, and her lover’s whole-body arches toward the ceiling. When the orgasm fades, Miri dims the lights, and undoes the blindfold softy, bringing her back slowly.

“Damn,” she gasps softly, staring across the room as her breathing slows.

“That good, was it?”

Artemis swallows several times, looking over at her finally, her skin flushed. “I had no idea.” Her fingers touch Miranda’s face, before drawing her into a kiss, grinning as she tastes herself on her lips. “What you were capable of.”

“Few do.”

-------

Artemis stares at the displays of cabinetry, saying nothing. It’s not until Miranda taps her shoulder that she realizes her girlfriend is glaring at the varnish.

“Ari?” Miranda lays a hand on her shoulder.

Shaking her off, Artemis pulls back. “I can’t do this.” She heads toward the kitchen.

“Artemis, wait.”

“Miranda. This isn’t negotiable. Just leave it alone.” Artemis plops down on the kitchen island, holding a glass full of sparkling water. Her eyes distantly watch the bubbles pop.

Sighing, Miranda stops in her tracks, eyeing the stack of datapads next to the Normandy display. So much for making the apartment their own. It shouldn’t bother her so much. She’s never been much for interior decorating. But now Miranda has someone to decorate with, and it makes all the difference. Can’t Artemis see that? If Miranda helped jumpstart the process, maybe she would? Leaning over the table, Miranda reaches for an empty box, and the nearby rustle makes her heart sink.

The pile of datapads scatter off the desk, and Admiral David Anderson’s voice echoes throughout the apartment at full volume.

“.... Few people know what Shepard's been through.”

Artemis freezes, her eyes wide.

“I'd like to think I come pretty close. And I worry sometimes she forgets there's a whole bunch of people who lose sleep over her getting back home. Maybe it doesn't need to be said. Maybe--”

“Turn it off.”

“It fell on the floor.” Miranda says lamely.

Artemis slams her glass down, swerving off the counter and out of the kitchen. She kneels on the floor as all the datapads start playing Anderson’s voice all at once. Her arms shake as she tries to silence them one by one, but the stack keeps sliding out of her hands. Throwing one across the room, Artemis covers her ears, and her breath shakes. “Please turn it off.”

“Later.” Miranda touches her gently. “Let’s get you upstairs, away from the noise.”

Artemis jumps slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. “But--”

“Shh.” Miranda wraps an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to the room they slept in earlier--away from the master bedroom. She helps Artemis out of her clothes, and under the covers, jacking up the climate control so they can lie under all the blankets. “They’ll still be there in an hour.”

Her lover says nothing, only resting her head against Miranda’s chest. Tears drop one by one on her skin, but Miranda doesn’t say a word, just runs her fingers through Artemis’s hair until her breathing slows and her body stills. She’s almost asleep when Artemis finally breaks her silence.

“He was the one that found me after the Raids.”

Miranda frowns. “On Mindoir.”

“Yeah.” She burrows her head against Miranda’s collarbone. “He’s not coming back, is he.”

“There’s always a chance.”

“He’s on Earth, Miri. In the thick of it.” A sob escapes her mouth and her body shakes with the impact. “There’s no chance.”

Squeezing her tight, Miranda answers. “We never hand a chance, but we’re still here, aren’t we?”

Ari breathes in and out, mulling it over, or maybe remembering how she did everything short of mutiny on the SR2 when they first met. “Y-yeah,” she says thickly.

Miri takes a breath and lets it out in a sigh. “And you know what? If Anderson hates the new cabinet color, we can always change it back.”

Artemis snorts. “Fine.” Not that Miranda disagrees about Anderson. But if Commander Artemis Shepard loses faith, so does everyone fighting behind her, and Miranda’s fought so hard to get where she is now. She can deal with the bloody consequences of her lie later.

----

“You sure you want to go out?” Artemis lingers by the counter, leaning over it and bracing herself on her elbows.

“Ari. I did not buy this dress just to stay home.” They had finally finished refurnishing the place and making it their own, and it was nice, but good God, Miranda needed to see something besides that backsplash behind the waterfall before she changed her mind about the color again.

“To be fair--the last time I went out all fancy I destroyed your favorite sushi place, and someone died.”

“Wasn’t Elijah Kahn dirty?” Miranda also braces her elbows on the counter, her face inches away from Artemis’s.

Artemis doesn’t even bother to hide looking down at the windows in the front of her dress. Her next words come out warm and husky. “He’s still dead.”

Miranda runs her fingers down her lover’s forearm. “Like the dress? If you want to keep seeing me in it, you better take me out somewhere nice.”

Grinning roguishly, Artemis whispers. “Not like you’re going to be in that dress for long.”

“I didn’t even bring anything else to wear!” Miranda groans as Artemis starts pulling frying pans out of the cupboards. An apron goes flying towards her face.

“Wear that.”

Miranda holds out the apron in front of her like it’s been soaked in varren pee. “I don’t cook.”

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun!” Artemis decides to help her with it, sliding it over her neck and tying it behind her back. She steps back, admiring her handiwork. “Damn. You look good in that.”

“Do you even know how to cook?”

“I know a few things.” Artemis turns away, pulling out pans and butter and various ingredients Miranda did not even realize Anderson had stocked in this kitchen. No. It’s been too long. Miranda’s girlfriend must have done it herself. When did she have time for grocery shopping? She tosses a dash of salt into the water to make it boil faster and gets to work opening a box of dry pasta.

“Could we at least go out for drinks after?”

Artemis stares at her, hearing the sharpness in her tone. “Miri?”

Miranda rubs her face, leaning heavily against the counter. “Sue me if I want to go out on a normal date with my girlfriend.” She’s probably making too big a deal of this, and Ari’s sure to notice. Why did she have to make such a scene?

Her lover says nothing, turning off the stove and settling next to her, squeezing her hand. “Did you have a place in mind?” She’s biting her lip, studying Miranda closely, her voice soft and quiet. Miranda almost has to lean closer to hear it.

“I hear the bar at the Silversun Casino has excellent drinks.”

“Do they have soda?” Ari traces the seams of Miranda’s dress with her finger.

“If they don’t I’m burning the place down.”

Artemis has to muffle her laughter into Miranda’s shoulder after that.

-------

Long after James Vega has made eggs, and Kaidan Alenko has made coffee, and Artemis and Wrex have fished Grunt out of the shower, and everyone has filed out of the apartment to pack their bags, Miranda lingers. She borrows the downstairs shower (it’s seemingly seen the least amount of action during that raging party), cleaning up with what she hopes is Ari’s shampoo. Miranda wouldn’t feel quite right using Kahlee Sanders’s stuff with everything going on.

With a pang, Miranda realizes she forgot to check on Ari after the party got going. She seemed...alright? Was she just faking it for her guests? Miranda hurries, probably missing some of the conditioner at the end, but it can’t be helped. Some things are more important than having perfect hair.

Wrapping a towel around her, Miranda finds Ari sitting by the window, a stack of datapads next to her, turned off.

“Want to talk about it?” Miranda sits next to her, handing her the mug of coffee that she had originally prepared for herself.

Artemis says it so quietly Miranda almost doesn’t hear her. “I listened to them. All of them.”

“Oh,” Miranda says softly. “Are you alright?”

Her lover’s face brightens like the sun. “Better.” She reaches over, hand still warm from holding the mug. “Whatever happens. I’m ready.”

“Me too.” Miranda kisses her, ignoring the nagging feeling. Surely this shore leave is just the dream. Only a matter of time before the nightmare follows.

#mass effect #shawson #shiranda #miranda lawson #femshep #melody writes #sorry for the super late update #this chapter was especially difficult to finish for some reason #but I hope/think the next two won't be so hard #we'll see

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prettylittlebrownskingyal · 6 years ago

Note

I hv this college AU in my head where all the bat kids (of age so i guess no Damian) are in uni and meet/hang with the teen titans and young justice bunch Wally snd Dick do sports together, Steph and Duke judge from afar while fooling around with board games. Jason and Victor Stone play beer pong idk i fuck with it

Note: you know, I was just gonna say YES, I LOVE THIS and then my dumbass brain went, “Write a thing. Write a thing. Write it hoe.” so here’s 1.5k of utter madness.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption. Lot’s of it.

He may not remember how he made it back into his bed, with only one shoe, no socks and glitter in his hair. But he definitely remembers how it all started.

The break begins with Dick banging on his door at the ass crack of dawn, a disgruntled Tim in tow and a bellini in hand.

“Carpe diem, baby bro.”

They fumble their way through making breakfast, keeping Alfred on facetime even with all the swearing and cursing and dropped utensils. Damian pops across the screen from time to time to whine about being bored at home and mock their collective incompetence.

It’s a huge spread; they’re cooking for mostly college athletes, after all. Dick goes around forcing extra bits of bacon and pancakes and fruit onto the freshman’s plates. Bart and Jaime dig in earnestly, but Tim takes an extra dose of coaxing because he’s too stubborn for his own good. Dick persists though, roping in a sagely Steph to remind Tim that he’ll probably be the first one to pass out anyways.

“Hey. Hey! No assignments at the table, today’s about getting wasted.”

Raven flips Wally the bird, slapping her laptop closed and leaning over to slip it back into Kory’s tote.

“Do something productive,” Garfield says. “Take this and knock it back. Show us who’s boss.”

She leers at the offered beer with disinterest. “It’s not even 10 yet.”

“Exactly, daylight’s burning.”

“I seriously doubt our only goal today is to just get wasted.” Duke’s worried voice draws the attention of all the seniors. They exchange amused glances over his head.

“You poor, innocent little bean,” Zatanna says, throwing her arms around him. “You’re in a frat house full of NCAA athletes and scholastic decathlon nerds who don’t get the chance to drink for most of the semester. Today is absolutely about getting wasted.”

***

He’s somewhere between buzzed and tipsy. Happy in the warmth of the sun.

It’s the first time in a while that he’s felt the tension of school slip away from his shoulders. His assignments are done, his family and friends are all around him and he’s having the time of his life watching Cass mix extra vodka into the already triple spiked rum punch. It’s both disgusting and delicious. And judging from the way Kon’s draped himself over Tim in a nearby lawn chair, it acts fast.

Barrelling straight towards blackout drunk for no other reason than the glory of college is an utterly fascinating idea and Jason finds it hilarious how willing most of them are to participate.

Dick’s already been amped up to giggly and incoherent. He and Wally are hunched over a phone, snickering at something Jason hopes is just the front camera opened up to their stupid faces.

“Here you go, buddy.” Roy’s voice grabs his attention as he passes over a plastic-wrapped sandwich to him. “You good?”

It’s the third time he’s asked for the day. Despite the fact that Jason is kinda wasted, he knows that Roy’s probably a little uncomfortable being around most of the people he loves, watching them get hammered while he’s stone cold sober.

“Yeah. You?” he asks through a bite of tuna on whole wheat.

“Peachy. Wanna go let Steph and Babs crush our asses at poker?”

****

“Can we go get fro-yo?”

Tim’s voice is soft and buttery, the way it gets when he’s shit-faced. Jason can hear Kon murmuring in agreement and Duke’s firm denial over the base of a Rihanna song. They’re a mess of gangly legs, draped over each other on the lumpy couch. He’s so caught up in watching they way their alcohol-induced affection is driving Duke up a wall that he misses Raven taking her turn.

He groans as the ball lands in a red solo cup. Kory grins wildly, hooking her chin over Raven’s shoulder; their both wearing looks of smug victory and he just knows he’s going to have the worst hangover tomorrow as he plucks another half-filled cup between his fingers, forcibly gulping down the amber liquid it holds. Vic slides over for his turn. He throws the ball and lets out a hiss as it misses the cup in the middle of the table, completely. Garth gives Jason a sympathetic head shake as he steps up to throw back the beer.

“It’s not fucking fair. How are you both star football players, bro? You guys suck at this.”

Vic laughs, pointing a finger at him. “I’m letting that slide because you’re the one throwing back my drinks for me.”

“Hey,” Raven intones. “It could be worse, Kory wanted to do this with tequila.”

“I’m actually hoping to leave college with my liver intact. Please, and thank you.”

Steph’s laughter, bubbly and sharp, cuts over the music. “Remember in freshman year when you got high and asked me how likely it was you’d survive a liver transplant?”

“You’re in med school, I thought you would know!”

She still laughing at him when she turns back to the complicated game of jenga she and Cass have had going for the past hour. He’s way too mellow to even begin to understand it, but he strongly suspects Cass is cheating.

***

Somewhere along the lines of beer pong and pizza Artemis Crock and Cissie King-Jones, the ace co-captains of the archery team, talk Duke and Tim into doing shots. He watches for a good ten minutes before he’s suckered right in alongside them. When Tim does inevitably pass out, Kaldur— who’s sober and very amused— lugs him off to bed.

That’s right along his memory get’s fuzzy. He knows there was dancing. He remembers being tugged along by Kory, yelling Beyoncé lyrics at the top of his lungs as he’s sandwiched between his siblings and his friends.

There are flickers of Kyler Rayner doing body shots and double dog dares with Mia Dearden and Connor Hawke. He has a video on his phone of Bart doing a keg stand while Wally looks on with a mixture of horror and pride plastered across his face. There’s a whole album of Dick trying to pet a stray cat, his nose red and the pictures getting blurrier and blurrier as his allergies set in.

After that, he thinks it was suggested that they all go outside to watch the sunrise. Someone— one of the redheads — had placed a steadying hand on his back as he swayed from foot to foot. He’s pretty sure he confessed his undying love to them.

****

When he does wake up, it’s because his head feels ready to fall off his shoulders and his mouth tastes like ass. The whole house stinks of sweat and the floors are sticky with spilt drinks. He bumps into Kon in the hallway, they exchange withering stares and a fist bump before parting ways.

He finds everyone in the kitchen— with the exception of Roy, whose a chipper bastard— in a similar state of dissonance with their bodies. Dick’s got his head in Kory’s lap and his feet in Wally’s. Tim sits across the table from them, staring at a glass of water like it personally offended him and Steph’s on the floor to the left of him, forehead pressed to the fridge. She has glitter in her hair too.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Roy laughs. “You look like shit warmed over.”

“Thanks, man.” He spares him a glance, “Did you put me to bed last night?”

“I did,” Kory answers, her voice rough like gravel.

“Thanks, dude. Where’d my shoe go?”

“Dunno. Found you without it, I think.”

In the living room, Jaime’s lying face down on the couch with a pillow over his head, Bart keeps shuffling over to check his pulse and then back to the kitchen to gulp down water. Roy feeds them all toast and grins when a fresh-faced Cass breezes in through the doors. She plops a bottle of Advil onto the table gently and then sweeps away to watch the ensuing chaos.

“Me. First.” Tim growls, snatching it out of Dick’s hands.

Steph rouses herself then, looking around the room bleary-eyed. She clocks Jason and his head full of glitter, raising one hand to twist her fingers through her blonde locks, and then her other one to point at him like, “Hey, same.”

Donna drags herself in a little bit later. She immediately flings herself into a chair and drops her head down onto the table with a clunk that surely worsened her hangover headache. Vic and Kaldur, fairing better than the rest of them, snort through their breakfast as Roy peels off his sweatshirt to place it under her head.

He finds his shoe floating in the tub of quadruple rum-punch when their cleaning that evening. Garfield laughs so hard at him for a good ten minutes before clutching his skull and dropping down onto the porch steps, weakly.

At a quarter to four, Duke walks down the steps wearing the face of a man who knows nothing but utter betrayal.

“I’m letting you all know,” he calls. “I am not doing this again next year. I feel like death and I wanna call Alfred and cry.”

“Aw, Duke,” Dick coos. “Same.”

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whumpeinsamkeit · 5 years ago

Text

Everyone has their share of bad days. Things will get better. They always do. They have to.

Cypress had hoped things would get better. Things were better, at least for a few days. Then the nightmares came back with a vengeance.

Usually, Nine wakes up in the dark, crying or shouting for someone to help him, to save him, and Cypress comforts him until he fell asleep again. Sometimes it takes a few minutes, other times much, much longer. But last night Nine was in the worst shape Cypress has ever seen.

Nine had awakened paralyzed and fighting to breathe. Shivaa, sensing his panic, had slithered across the room to Cypress’ bed, bumping his face with her nose until he woke up. He was by Nine’s side within seconds, brushing damp hair away from the maji’s hot forehead and telling him to breathe, breathe, breathe. Nine’s face was pale in the moonlight drifting through the window, his eyes wide as he gasped for air.

“I’m—s-sorry—”

“Don’t talk.”

“I—can’t—breathe.”

“Shh, it’s gonna be okay. Think about something peaceful. Breathe. Breathe with me. In. Aaaaand out. That’s it. Just slow down. You can do it.”

Cypress grabbed his hand, holding it tight. He didn’t loosen his grip until Nine’s breathing slowed and he’d relaxed against the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, inhaling another ragged breath. “I didn’t—didn’t mean—to wake you up—I—”

“Stop apologizing. Use your oxygen to breathe, not to talk, okay?”

Nine squeezed his eyes shut.

“You’re…okay,” he whispered, almost too soft for Cypress to hear.

That was last night and the only one who slept after the panic attack was Shivaa. When they left the apartment this morning, she was sunning herself on the window ledge.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Cypress asks for the five hundredth time. He pushes the cart a little further down the freezer aisle, opening one of the doors to grab a package of bacon that’s been marked down. He puts it back when he realizes it’s turkey bacon.

“I’m fine,” Nine mumbles.

He’s wearing one of Cypress’ hoodies, which is too big for his small frame. The hood is up to conceal his hair, and his hands are shoved deep into his jean pockets. There are dark circles under his eyes, and from the way his jaw is clenched, it’s obvious he’s not fine. But Cypress doesn’t like to press, so he only nods and keeps pushing the cart. If Nine feels like talking, he will.

That’s what he hopes, anyway.

“Can…can we get some ice cream?” Nine turns his gaze to the dirty tiled floor when Cypress looks back at him. His voice is almost too quiet to hear. He sounds ashamed. “Please.”

Cypress replies without missing a beat. “Course we can.”

“I just…it sounds good…sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You don’t need to explain. It’s fine.” He smiles when Nine looks up, but instead of relaxing, the maji’s face contorts in an agonized frown. The heels of his palms dig into his bloodshot eyes. His hood shifts enough to show a few wavy wisps of snow-white hair before he jerks it up again.

“Holy stars, I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”

“Pathetic?”

He blows out an angry breath through gritted teeth. “Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not. Why do you think you’re pathetic?”

“Because.” Cypress waits, but there’s nothing more.

“Nine, what’s wrong?”

Waving his hands, Nine huffs past him. “In my head…it’s in my head…” he mutters as he passes, leaving the shopping cart behind.

“Nine?” Cypress calls after him, drawing the attention of the other customers in the aisle. When he finds Nine, the maji is in the produce section. He’s clutching a rosemary plant in his hands, staring at it like it might disappear if he looks away. Cypress nudges him with the front of the cart, and he jumps and finally looks up. He looks angry, frightened.

“Do you want that?” Cypress nods at the plant held tight in Nine’s grasp. The maji fumbles to set it back on the shelf, shaking his head. Cypress sighs, picks it up and puts it in the cart. He ignores Nine’s scowl.

“Put it back.”

“You don’t like asking for things.”

“I don’t want it.”

“And you don’t like asking for help either.”

The maji blinks and his frown deepens. “I…I don’t…I don’t need help.”

“I’m here if you want to talk.”

Nine grabs the edge of the cart with both hands, and his knuckles turn white. “I said I don’t need help. Now put the stupid plant back.”

“Okay. And then we’ll go get the ice cream. Sound good?”

“I don’t want—”

“Yes, you do.”

“Idiot,” he spits out.

“If you say so.”

Cypress turns the cart around, starting for the ice cream section when he stops in his tracks. Not of his own accord though. Like a force is rooting him to the spot. Magic. He sighs. “Nine…”

“I want to go home,” the maji demands. Cypress can hear the desperation and exhaustion behind the anger in his friend’s voice.

“Is this because of the ice—” Something jerks him backward with so much strength he almost falls.

“Stop joking around!” Nine is yelling now. He doesn’t seem to mind the attention he’s getting from the other customers, that he’s using his magic in a public place where anyone could notice. “I s-slept two hours last night, I’m tired, and I w-want to go home!”

“Okay,” Cypress murmurs. “Okay, we’ll go home. But first you need to calm down.”

The force shoves him again, then releases him. He takes a deep breath and turns around. Nine scowls, his fists clenched at his sides.

“I hate you,” he says.

“You don’t. I know you don’t.”

Cypress steps forward.

“S-stay away from me.”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Stay away from me!”

Cypress sees angry tears springing up in his friend’s eyes.

“This is about the nightmares, isn’t it? Your panic attack. What happened?”

“I don’t w-want to hurt you.”

“Then let me help you.”

“No!”

“Nine, please—”

“STAY AWAY!”

He steps closer. Nine’s hands are shaking, like he’s fighting for control. He’s gritting his teeth.

“Take one more step and I’ll throw you across this store.”

Cypress doesn’t hesitate. “Then do it.”

He takes another step. The maji stiffens. His bluff has been called. Cypress reaches out, takes Nine’s wrists in his hands and presses them to the maji’s chest. Not roughly, just calmly holds them there. Guilt settles over him. He should have pressed Nine to talk about his nightmares. He should have done more to comfort him during his panic attack. He should have left him at the apartment to rest and gone to the store by himself. There are so many things he thinks he should have done.

Nine stares for a long moment at Cypress’ prosthetic hand clutching his wrist, then, slowly, his harsh glare crumples and he lets out a long breath like he’s expelling something dark inside of him.

“I’m s-sorry,” he whispers, breathing heavily.

“Me too.”

“No, really. I…I…” He makes a half-hearted attempt to pull his hands away from Cypress, who doesn’t let go. His eyes shut tight like they did after his panic attack that morning, and he lowers his head. “These nightmares are m-messing me up good.”

Cypress releases his grip, and Nine’s hands fall limp at his sides. Whatever energy he had left after the panic attack is completely drained now.

“Want to talk about it?”

“I…I want to go home first.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you.”

“You still want that ice cream?” He speaks without any teasing in his voice. It’s a serious question now.

Nine shakes his head.

“Okay.”

He starts pushing the cart to the check-out when Nine touches his arm. “The plant.”

The little pot is still sitting in the cart. Cypress stares at it for a moment. The plant’s faint, piney aroma is comforting, and a smile flickers at one corner of his mouth. “Should we name it something simple like Rose, or go all out and name it Hela or Artemis or Mary Poppins?”

“What?” Nine’s brow furrows.

“We’re taking it home.”

“R-really?”

“Maybe we should let Sheev name it. She’ll probably take one look and say plant! and that’ll be its name.” Cypress chuckles, then wraps his arm around Nine’s shoulder as they walk. He knows deep down that Nine appreciates that he isn’t making a big deal over what just happened. Forgive and forget. That’s what they need right now. “What d’you say we have omelets for supper? I know you like stuff that has herbs in it. Might help you feel better.”

“Yeah,” Nine croaks. Cypress feels his friend’s shoulders stiffen beneath his touch. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

His arm slides away from Nine. “Huh?”

The maji lowers his head as they pass by a couple. They’re staring, which makes Cypress’ stomach clench in a knot. What if they know? He chases the thought away.

“I used magic...o-on you,” Nine exhales a shaky breath. “I could have...I could have hurt you.”

Cypress shrugs, but he searches for the right words because the desperation in his friend’s eyes begs for an answer. “You’d never hurt me.”

“You…you don’t know that.”

“Fine. I don’t. But I do know that you’re my friend, and no matter what, I’ll never see you as anything less.”

Nine sighs and slows his pace.

“I’m sorry.” He sounds so tired. So beside himself. Cypress doesn’t know whether to hug him close or keep his distance.

“It’s alright.”

Nine sits on the bench a few feet away from the check-out while Cypress pays for the groceries. When he’s put all of the plastic bags into the cart, he walks over to the bench. Nine looks exhausted. The mix of the panic attack and using his magic so fiercely must have worn him down.

“Need a hand?”

The maji weakly nods. Cypress takes his hand and pulls him to his feet. Outside, he unpacks the groceries into the car while Nine sits up front. When he slides into the driver’s seat, his friend is sleeping. His breathing is soft, peaceful. The drive home only takes ten minutes. Cypress takes every detour and hits every possible stoplight. By the time he finally pulls into the driveway, it’s been an hour. He takes the key out of the ignition and Nine’s eyes flutter open. Cypress waves and Nine smiles. Then he’s awake and jerking against his seatbelt to look through the windshield at the sky.

“Holy stars, how long did I sleep? Did you just keep driving? You should have woke me up!”

Cypress smiles to himself. This is the Nine he knows. They can talk later about what happened. For now, his friend is back. And that’s all that matters.

#hurt comfort #caretaker #panic attack #nightmare #nine #cypress #shivaa #my ocs #shopping #past trauma

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witchqueenofthemoon · 6 years ago

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BODY AND SOUL Part 21 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: Moved several things to Part 22 to make this chapter more concise (table fucking included, but you get fucking in the beginning, so don’t complain!). The album they’re listening to after Thai food is obviously Jefferson Airplane’s absolutely iconic SURREALISTIC PILLOW; the songs are two of my favorites, which indeed play adjacent to each other on the record: TODAY (one of the most beautiful love songs of all time) and COMIN’ BACK TO ME. Please note how careful Duncan is about waking Kenzie up before they fuck; autonomy, people, consent is hot! Their Exalted Selves (which is what I’m gonna refer to their angelic divine other selves as now) are based very vaguely on the Princess Serenity and Prince Endymion versions of Usagi and Mamoru in Sailor Moon, which I’ve loved since I was a child, but they’re far more ethereal and obtuse--it would be impossible for a human artist to draw Kenzie and Duncan’s Exalted Selves, for instance, as their beauty is too incredible and intense for human eyes. Kenzie’s makeup look for the photoshoot is based on Billie’s look here. A reminder that this is her red dress. The Cartier LOVE bracelets Duncan orders are here (for him) and here (for her, with diamonds). Duncan’s Givenchy star shirt. Duncan’s watch. This is his silver Cartier he’s wearing in Part 1. Here’s ANNIE’S SONG (another absolutely iconic love song I’ve loved forever). I found multiple meanings for the name Mackenzie, but in Gaelic it apparently means “comely”, which I used the synonym “lovely” in place of. The Rose Garden at the Botanical Gardens is real, but there’s no gate akin to the one I created, and I added a lot more roses than I think there usually are (there is a fountain)--MY STORY, MY STUFF. Annette’s dress. I’m seeing Fleetwood Mac tomorrow (it’s been two years since the last time I saw Stevie and I’ve missed her more than I can describe), I work on Saturday mornings, and it’s one of my best friends’ birthday party on Saturday evening, so Part 22 is going to take a bit; it’s also going to be the chapter where my!Duncan finds out from Claire Underwood that he was adopted, though the way I navigate that scene is going to be slightly different than the way Beau Willimon’s Season 6 did it; a reminder that my fic is a House of Cards AU in addition to being a Millory AU, and I’m throwing out canon HoC stuff that doesn’t fit into my narrative (such as @montenegro-style noticing I threw out Duncan’s super-Modernist apartment from the show and replaced it with a Romantic one), so don’t expect things to unfold the same way--I said this before too, but Duncan’s definitely not going to jail in my story, so forget about that. I may be borrowing characters and some vague plot elements from Ryan and Beau, but this story is mine. Love to the Millorys, as ever, and especially my Duckenzies.

Duncan stared up at the ceiling far above them, his fingers in Kenzie’s hair, his own hair tossed against the black pillow as music pumped quietly from the hidden stereo in the bedroom wall. To be living for you, is all that I want to do, to be loving you, it’ll all be there when my dreams come true...Kenzie was tucked under his arm, her head against his shoulder, the softness of her breasts and stomach pressing into his side, her body naked now--they’d ordered a mountain of Thai food, and she’d kept the tulle lingerie on while they ate, a linen spread on the floor in front of the picture window in the penthouse living room as the night fell, Dike, Nike and Athena gazing down on them on either side, Kenzie facing the Bouguereau prints, her little legs stretched out in the silky sheer stockings, bowl in her lap. The picture of her eating so hungrily in the delicate attire would forever be seared on his brain from this day on--my Kenzie, her essence, her goodness, her sweetness, her staggering beauty, not just her body, but her soul. Her wide-eyed gaze skirted up now and then to admire the prints (Duncan noticed she looked at Evening Mood the most), then fell back into his to give him coy looks, languidly licking curry from her spoon.

“I think they all look like you,” he’d murmured to her, the sincerity in his heart making him dizzy. “I can only see your face in them now, you in the evening, you at night, you waking up in the morning…” He reached for a spring roll but forgot about it halfway to his mouth as Kenzie had come up on her knees, her breasts pressing together in the elegant criss-crossing design of the black bra, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder in the fading light, her (sweet budding leaves and chocolate and the saffron light of autumn mornings) eyes laying him bare. Her beauty in this moment struck him dumb--Kenzie set her bowl down and crawled over to him on the linen, languid, knowing. Duncan had put on a pair of black gym shorts and a fitted black tee shirt to retrieve their takeout from downstairs a few minutes before, and as she reached him Kenzie tugged the hem of the shirt up, little hand soothing over his bare skin underneath.

“Call me your moonlight again,” she whispered against him, her eyes trembling open and closed, her little pink lips shining with the residue of spice and saliva. Her hair brushed against his neck and cheek, the sweet smell of rose and vetiver and jasmine, and Duncan had set the spring roll down uneaten, brushing his hand against the napkin in front of him, then bringing it up to press the cascade of her hair into his nose. She is my favorite smell. I’m at peace inside the scent of her.

“Moonlight. My moon princess. My moonbeam.” He kissed her hair--let his lips slip down its waves, intoxicated. “You know the full moon is on the night of the Gala, baby? A full moon just for you. It’ll shine down on you and everyone will be struck with longing for you. But you’re my baby, aren’t you? You’re my moonlight. They’ll pine for you because you’re mine.” He blushed at his need, his desire to have her all to himself--but as he said it, Duncan knew it was true. We belong to each other.

“Yes, Dunny, I’m your moonlight, I’m yours, my love. I belong to you.” Kenzie climbed into his lap, sliding against him in the achingly soft tulle, her ass settling down on his calves crossed together, and she was so small and felt so delicate and she smelled so lovely, he could feel himself growing hard again--her little arms came around his neck and he lifted her up into his mouth to kiss her, his mind awash in a cloud of gold. He was struck with a vision of her as Artemis, naked and white in the reflection of the moon, bathing in a midnight pool, her bow and arrow made of the gossamer strands of stars sitting on the bank of the water, singing moon hymns in her sweet voice to the owls and the deer and the foxes flitting through the undergrowth. Too beautiful for any ordinary man’s eyes. How am I so blessed. Their kisses extended for a long while--Kenzie went to lift away but Duncan needily brought her back against him and she let him, she fell into him again, she arched into him and he could feel the way she was giving herself to him, coaxing him back into arousal to do what she asked him for later tonight--his nerves were alight at the prospect of bringing her body out of achingly lovely sleep with insistence, enticing her under his continuous touch to give herself over to him in the dark with only the moon to see their desirous tangle.

Now they lay in bed (our bed, the bed of our adoration, our love, my favorite place now that she lays beside me in it), sleepy and full and naked and ready for bed, the duvet pushed down to their feet, speech seeming a very dull and faraway impulse. I can hear you this way, can feel you better this way, he thought into her, and she nodded against his skin, her cheek against his nipple as the music drifted around them. Please, please, listen to me, it’s taken so long to come true, it’s all for you, all for you...Duncan gazed down at her--her eyes had fallen closed and she had begun to breathe slow against him, her leg crooked over his thigh, her little mouth open just a touch. He could see there were still lingering red marks at her neck from his ardency, a tattoo that told the story of their nights. He thought of how she’d looked that morning, still stuck inside her sleep, stuck in her nightmare--her face had been creased with fear, and it had clenched an icy hand around his heart, rattling a panic into his lungs--he’d run to the bed and gripped her and shook her, his desperation strange and immediate. Wake her up, his mind had urged. Don’t let her see it, don’t let her suffer it. What it was still didn’t seem clear, but Duncan remembered what she’d said upon waking, that in her dream there had been a man with his face, a man who was like a black hole in the void.

It was like he had eaten you.

Duncan shivered against her and slid his arm out from underneath her head--Kenzie stirred, her head turning, her body shifting with aching loveliness--Duncan’s heart and the heat in the pit of him clenched as he watched the incline of her ribs shift, the refracted light on her breasts, heard the a tiny sigh fall from her mouth--but her eyes remained closed. He carefully moved from the bed and pulled the switch on the nightstand, his eyes still lingering on her (exalted), and the room plunged into blue-and-white darkness, Jefferson Airplane still quietly drifting into the room: you came to stay and live my way, scatter my love like leaves in the wind, you always say you won't go away, but I know what it always has been, it always has been...Duncan moved through the living room, stepping to the reading lamps to switch them off, bathing himself in darkness, his eyes falling over the expanse of the city through the picture window that encompassed the entire west end of the room. The night was very clear and the sun was gone--the only indication it had been there was a line of mauve and dahlia color lingering at the horizon before the sky bled into darkness pinpricked with stars, hazy in the reflection of the city.

Strolling the hills overlooking the shore, I realized I've been there before...the shadow in the mist could have been anyone...I saw you…

What do the dreams mean? At first Duncan had been sure they’d been brought on by the mad mix of emotion inside both of them lately--just dopamine, seratonin, oxytocin and endorphins, just our brains in a mad rush of ecstatic happiness, and the residue is our minds going haywire at night. He moved on to his study, the carefully controlled temperature of the penthouse cool on his bare skin, an oasis in the hot June night. This one seems to have been the clearest for her, and the most frightening. Is it fear that I’ll betray her that would make her dream of an evil version of me? His heart ached at that. I never will, baby. I never fucking will. I’d die first.

I saw you, I saw you, comin' back to me

Duncan glanced at the huge expanse of The Youth of Bacchus as he moved towards his turntable, the song’s final longing guitar and melancholy hum bleeding out into silence. The woman in the center, her arms thrown back ecstatically, her head tilted towards the consort at her feet, collapsed in revelry--Duncan had studied her many long nights, studied her abandon and her achingly white, almost translucent beauty, but now, like the prints in the room beside this one, he could see only Kenzie in her form--Kenzie dancing in the living room, singing in drunken joy (I’ll never live to match the beauty again), Kenzie running away from him into the ocean waves, Kenzie’s glittering eyes on him as he tied her to the chain. The whole of the world turned around her; she was the sun, and also the moon, and also every other star, and everything that encompassed the universe was because of and according to her--for me, that’s the end of it.

Duncan pressed the button at the side of the record player and the needle lifted away, settling back into its resting place. He turned to look at the painting again--the painting Annette had gotten him as a moving gift, and over time the painting that had begun to feel as though it were an irrevocable part of him, an extension of him, a friend to him as he stared at it long on lonely nights. He thought of the mesmerized way Kenzie stared at it, as she had since that first night when he pressed his mouth to her clit as she hovered on the edge of his desk, her head thrown back; as if she sees me in it, when now I see her in it. It’s almost too much to look at it for too long now; because it reminds me of the one I love most in all the world and she is blinding in her loveliness. It was always beautiful. But now it’s exalted to me because she loves it, and anything she loves is beloved to me.

He thought again of Ariadne, the painting he knew would be for her now, too; the auction was in a few weeks’ time, just before the beginning of July when their birthdays would be coming, and he smiled, his hand coming up to his jaw, his thumb pressing against his bottom lip, though he didn’t realize it, eager to have it hanging on the wall beside their bed, eager to see her face when she saw it and knew it was for her. When she died Dionysus took a crown he had given her and placed it among the stars. The idea of her dying someday was one he couldn’t begin to fathom; the despair of it was beyond words in its agony. But Duncan felt a drifting calm fall over him after the stab of pain--we found each other in this life, didn’t we. We finally found each other. I think we would find each other again. I think we’ll always find each other. I really fucking do. I think that’s what the Fates wrote for us. That we’re meant to be together--really, truly fated to be together. Like two stars in a constellation that endures until time no longer has any meaning. And there can’t be one of us without the other--not for long.

Duncan switched off the Tiffany lamp--now the penthouse was truly in darkness but for the light that came from the night outside. O Fates, I wish you could tell me what the dreams mean. They don’t feel like they’re just dreams. I know I said that to Kenzie--but I said it because I wanted to believe it myself. Lately, everything seems to mean something. Everything seems to have a hidden clockwork of purpose behind it. When we met I think we kicked something into motion, something ground out of a long sleep into a great predetermination. Now everything is vibrating with destiny--our destiny. Our love. Whatever she and I are meant to do with our lives, we are meant to do it together. Whatever I’m meant to do, I can’t do it without her. And I wouldn’t want to. I ache for her every moment--she has pierced the deepest part of my soul.

He carefully moved back to the bedroom in the dark--his eyes glanced up at Pallas Athena as he passed her, and he couldn’t help but send a prayer out to her (gray-eyed maiden, in whose wise gaze all truths are laid bare--give us wisdom, my sweet lover and I, to give to those who need it most, to move the pathways toward the greatest good--I’ve wasted time, Athena, I know it, but I swear I won’t again, I swear I’ll cherish every moment with her); he’d had the goddess statues for over five years now (they’d come from Stapleton’s, Frederick had found them for Duncan carefully when he’d asked for Greek goddess motifs), but never had he so often had the impulse to pray to them--I never prayed to anyone before, he remembered, and now I’d pray to anyone if it meant she would always be safe and happy. He thought of the Fates again (Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos), spinning the threads of their two destinies together many ages ago--most deep and unfathomable love, a love for all of time, he thought, and did not question where the certainty had come from, only felt acutely that it was not misplaced.

Duncan saw that moonlight now fell on the bed as he re-entered--the moon was waxing strongly now, and his breath felt caught in his throat as he looked at Kenzie in the throes of sleep, turned towards the door, the duvet still pushed down around her feet, so her body was bare to him. The silvery wave of the low light fell over her cheek and the tawny-gold of her hair, making it seem almost white, giving it a sheen that seemed otherworldly. But she is, he thought, emotion clouding into his mind, stunning him with her again (and again and again) as he watched her sleeping form, her silvery nakedness, the dip of her waist and one arm crooked around her hip, hand dipping down in front of her sex, the other pressed against her mouth, sweetly--she was more profound to him than anything, more breathtaking than any art of any age. It’s like she is from another world--it’s like she was snatched from heaven and fell down into my arms, into my bed, fell down onto that balcony where I beheld her, trapped here on earth, for the first time. I felt that I knew she was more than what she might have seemed to an untrained eye. And I still feel that I know it. She has an effect on other people that they don’t seem to really recognize or understand. But I see it. And I think I understand. My Kenzie isn’t just lovely and kind; she has real power to heal, to alter the pain others feel and alleviate their suffering. Kenzie has a healing touch, one that can knit together and remedy a distressed soul. It’s almost like she really could bring something back from the dead. It’s like she could sew back together, using only her hands, her energy, something that had been ripped apart, reverse fucking time--it’s like she somehow willed me onto that balcony, so I could find her, so I could touch her and in that touch know her immediately as I always have, and know she was the half of me that had been lost, but no longer. Because she had willed us back together. She had willed us to find each other again, and so we did--she attached a golden string to me long ago when time began, whispered to me that it would help me find her if we got lost, if we got separated from each other--and I finally saw it glimmering between us, and followed it to where she was. Saint Mackenzie, goddess of lost things, goddess of binding, of rebirth, of transcendent healing, of perfect love. My moonlight, my sunlight, my starry sky, beloved.

He could feel himself growing hard again, thinking of her sliding onto his lap in the tulle lingerie, the demanding croon of her voice (call me your moonlight again, I want you to wake me up with kisses and fuck me in the dark with your lips pressed into my shadows, I want you to kiss my shadows, and touch them with aching hands), and Duncan knew it was the right time--that it was time to press his mouth into the soft space of her in the darkness. His eyes had begun to adjust to the dark now and he eased down onto the bed, its cool sheets shivering up his thighs, urging him toward her--Duncan reached down to where her arm crooked over her hip and slid his fingers up her torso to the sweet roundness of her breasts, achingly slow, willing himself into tenuous control, overwhelmed with the relief of touching her without any constraints, without his hands tied or the lingerie covering her or anything in the way of her, Kenzie, my solace, the home of my heart. He eased his body down next to hers, his hands still cosseting around her, fingers drifting back and forth on her nipples, and he felt a surge of blood into his cock as he felt them grow hard under his touch, though she didn’t stir yet (wake me up with kisses) and Duncan leaned his face to her across the pillow and pressed a soft, aching kiss into her forehead, her temple, each eyelid, shivering in sleep, the dip of each cheek, over her nose and the incline of her jaw, and then he pressed down, sliding against the coolness of the sheet again, to bury his face against her neck, his kisses becoming more insistent, more exacting of her--wake up my love, Duncan pressed into her mind, feeling her head lift as she stirred, slowly beginning to register him, wake up baby, and he felt strange for a moment, caught up in her unconscious mind, as if he was brushing up against another self, another Kenzie--then the feeling cleared, and he could feel her golden waves of energy. And he said again, into her: wake up my love, wake up baby love, wake up so I can fuck you, wake up so I can press my kisses into your shadows, wake up so we can be together.

Then--Duncan was stunned with the feeling that surged into him in that moment. It was almost painful, the brilliancy and power of her energy as he lingered inside her in that in-between place that wasn’t waking and wasn’t sleep for her, and he felt minute inside it, wildly small to behold her this way; fucking goddess. Oh fuck, Kenzie. You really are a goddess. You have all of this inside you and I am staggered by you. I can’t begin to fathom this. Is this where you go when you sleep? Back to the secret expanse of everything you keep hidden, this place of resplendent power that has colors I’ve never seen, colors I could never describe? Is this where you came from? And even more unbelievably, he heard her voice inside that in-between place, calling out to him, and her voice was full of so much joy it immediately made him want to sob against her, and she said yes baby, Duncan, exalted, beloved, this is where I came from, and where you came from, and you come here too in your dreams, but you never remember, but you will. Soon, you’ll start to remember. What we were before, what we are, and what we will be again. Soon we’ll both start to remember, for our destinies were written when the stars were just dreams themselves, and our destinies will live on when they’ve burned out.

Duncan’s mind felt like it was on fire with the feeling of her, the words she spoke that made no sense to him, and yet made every sense, a deeper sense, their hidden meaning touching against the shadowed hidden heart of him, and he lifted his mouth up to the space under her ear, one hand cradling up under the back of her head to pull her more firmly against him and the other sliding down the intoxicating softness of her rib cage and her belly to hover at her abdomen, hover above the mouth of her sex, waiting for her eyes to open to him, to give him the yes he longed for, and he felt the intensity of the in-between place begin to fade--felt reality seep back in, like milk stirred into dark coffee, and Kenzie was stirring more strongly against him, leaning into his mouth tasting at her skin, and a moan escaped from her that stirred the building heat in his groin and he spoke into her skin, his own words bleeding into a moan, a reply of need for her--”wake up baby, wake up all the way for me, wake up and tell me to touch you, tell me to fuck you, Kenzie, uhh--” and despite the darkness, he felt her eyes open, their golden depth unnerving him for a moment (how can they be glowing like that, like a ripe harvest moon), focusing on him as though he were the one pinprick of light in a long darkness, and then they seemed to fade back, fade to the forest-and-burnt-acorn he recognized--he had leaned back to look at her, his lips lifting away from her skin, and he gasped as her little hand came down, exacting, and slid from the dusting of hair at the top of his groin, closing around the length of his stiffening cock and dragging her achingly soft grip to the head of him.

“I’m here, baby,” she whispered, and he felt his need kindle up like someone had thrown gas onto a bonfire, felt his cock jump inside her grip, and then she said “touch me,” and he slid his fingers, middle first, down between the lips of her cunt and pressed, harshly, into her clit, so warm and so wet and sending a spasm of want through his body--Kenzie lifted up, almost involuntarily, and her moan was longer now, focusing on him, inside the sensation of his touch, beseeching him for more. “Yes, baby, fuck yes,” Kenzie moaned, “more, more,” and Duncan pressed the lips of her sex outward with his other fingers, his long middle finger still working down into her clit, strictly, then finally, he kissed her, open-mouthed, and her sweet little tongue laved out against his, her slender hand still gripping his cock with a strength that addled his senses. In the shadows, with only the moon to light their bed, Duncan felt he could feel the way she was sending little pinpricks her power, that terrible gold energy, too beautiful to behold in this world, into his body through her grip, as if she were sending it into his spirit, giving him strength, kindling his desire to a high place he had never imagined, residue from that in-between place, residue from another world where such things were commonplace, so much power was the natural order.

But Duncan knew what she wanted then, and he broke their aching kisses apart, moving his hand up from his attentions at her sex, pushing her little body down forcefully so she was on her back, pressing her legs wide apart and coming up between them on his knees, and Kenzie lifted her hips so she was poised against the head of his cock, her hair falling down in the moonlight, her hands coming up to his arms and then sliding down to his wrists to clutch him against her. Duncan gripped her carefully at the small of her back, his thumbs pressing across her hip bones (god I want to kiss them)--then he thrust into her with an ecstatic groan, marveling at how wet she was, how perfect it felt to be inside her in the dark this way. Kenzie shuddered into him, a little cry falling from her lips, and in the dark he could see her mouth lingering open, her eyes rolling back for him, “that’s it, baby,” he couldn’t stop himself, needed to speak his desire aloud to her, in the dark, where no one else belonged but the two of them in this moment, “give yourself to me, everything, the shadows too, I’ll kiss them, I love you--” and he felt her nails dig into the skin of his arms as he pounded into her, wondering at the intensity of his hardness, the lightness of her body against him--god baby, I don’t want to crush you and she said “fuck, keep going, do not fucking stop, god you feel so fucking good, fucking fuck me Duncan--”

Her little hand reached up to him, lifting from his arm and he leaned down to her, pressed down into her, easing her back down onto the bed and fucking her achingly close now, their stomachs pressing against each other, her hand coming under his jaw to pull his mouth into her, tasting him breathlessly as he drove his length into her again and again, and her scent was rose and vetiver and her sweet, heady sex, and her yielding mouth was almost too wonderful, too much to bear, and his hands came around to cup her breast and against her neck to press there softly and she wrapped her little feet around his back and her fingers twined into his hair at the nape and Kenzie whispered “my sweet baby, my beautiful Prince, fuck me--” between their kisses and Duncan felt faint with her realness again, faint with the feeling of her cunt clenching around him, faint in her arms, her loveliness, her silken skin, the slight, achingly sublime sounds she was making overwhelming his senses.

His hand came down between her legs again and his fingers pressed ardent circles against her and he said “baby, do you want me to suck on you, do you want me to kiss your clit--” and Kenzie shook her head against his lips and said “no, baby, no, don’t stop fucking me, just touch me like that, touch me in the dark, I love you, Duncan, I love you with every part of me--” and he was nodding against her--”I love you too baby, Kenzie, I love you, oh god I love you, I can’t describe--”, his memory drifting against the power he’d felt from her as she floated out of sleep, absolutely in awe of her again, absolutely at her mercy, inside her grace, and she shushed him as his fingers flicked back down to the wetness that coated her cunt and his cock as he thrust his whole length into her, then out, then back again, and redoubled his effort with his fingers at her clit as their mouths came together again and she began to shake in his arms, a shaking that began at her shoulders and cascaded down her body into where his cock was buried inside her and she moaned into his mouth, a moan that became a prolonged wail into him, her words muddling into incomprehensible murmurs that Duncan could almost see, like colors, floating around them--”Dunny, oh, fuck--oh fucking fuck baby oh ohhhhh beloved baby my sweet fucking babyfuck love you I love you--” and Duncan breathed in carefully, deeply, keeping the rhythm of his movement into her steady and concentrated as she came, her little hands clutching his head down to her, twisting into his hair and pulling it harshly as she cried out, and he thought oh Kenzie, you’re bathed in moonlight, you look like an angel, you’re too beautiful for words--

Suddenly, inexplicably, inside her release, Duncan’s mind was jerked back into wherever it had been before Kenzie woke up--into where he’d hovered inside her psyche, in that in-between place, and he remembered her words again, still locked against her, inside her, the rhythm he’d built unceasing, words that she seemed to speak from another self floating back into his mind, a version of her that had immense power, an energy that seemed too great for reality, too beautiful for human eyes--soon, you’ll start to remember, what we were before, what we are, and what we will be again--and Duncan saw a version of them in his mind, as though in a memory, where they were both in that place that seemed to be made of those inexplicable colors that he’d felt inside Kenzie, colors that felt like emotions, like the love he felt for her, like the love he could feel coming into him from her. Kenzie’s hair was longer than it was now, it was so long it fell to her knees, and it sheen was indescribably lovely, paler than the tawny-gold he had begun to know so well, a white-gold that was almost silvery, in magnificent waves, and he saw tiny flowers woven through the strands, their color indescribable to him, their shape unlike any flower he could think of--each one seemed to have a hundred tiny petals. Around her forehead was a circlet of gold so thin and fine it seemed an impossible thing to exist at all. Her dress was unlike anything he’d ever seen, either--it seemed to be made of the gossamer strands of a thousand spider webs, a hundred intricate honeycombs of some vast, beautifully geometric design that was simply too complex to ever create, and yet she wore it, and it fit her as though it were her second skin--intricately woven, rose-golden embroidery fell over the dress--its pattern was like a language he could not comprehend. And her eyes--inside her eyes in that place he felt he really could see a universe turning, so magnificent and so golden that they threatened to rend his heart into a thousand fragments. He realized he was inside some other self in this moment--he couldn’t see his own face, but could see his own clothing, the intricately woven sleeves over his arms, in a similar incomprehensible gold embroidery and geometry that made him dizzy to even attempt to contemplate--he wore a kind of thin, woven gold breastplate that was akin to the aegis on likenesses of Athena, but its quality also seemed incomprehensible to him, a weave that seemed to shift and change under his gaze, and he could feel weight at his shoulders--a strange weight that felt familiar, but also heavy beyond all understanding.

And in the memory, or the imagining, or whatever the vision was that he had tumbled into, he noticed with a wild, fierce surprise that Kenzie, this other Kenzie, this Kenzie wrapped in intricate golden lovely things that were not of earth, with shimmering hair twined with tiny universe flowers, had wings extending from her back--wings that were gold and silver and iridescent rose and other colors that he didn’t know the names for, wings that were unlike any wings he’d ever seen on a bird or a bat or any earth-bound winged creature, but he knew they were wings just the same, knew they were wings for a certain kind of being--a divine being.

And then he resurfaced back into the dark of the bedroom, their bedroom, and he was still moving with an intense rhythm against her and he was coming deep inside her now and Kenzie was clutching at his torso between his hips, her cries quiet but her mouth hovering open, and her eyes had that strange glow again, intensely focused on him, the one he’d seen when he woke her from her sleep, and then it faded as he emptied himself into her, his moans extending into deep silence, and he pulled out of her and collapsed beside her, his head falling into the pillow, and clutched her desperately against him and felt her mouth come against his chest and her little hands clasp against his ribs, and Duncan remembered nothing else until he woke the next morning at sunrise in the same position, with her still clutched in his arms, her little breath having left a damp pool against his skin, her face cherubic and far away in her sleep in the dim morning light, and he wondered upon his waking if it had all been a dream. And then he fell back into sleep, his hand coming up to bury in her hair.

-------

“Babyyyy, Dunny…” Duncan felt her little mouth pressed into his ear and his eyes opened--full sunlight was streaming into the room now and Kenzie was leaning down to him, kneeling on the bed, wearing her satin kimono, her eyes (your earthly eyes, baby, not your divine eyes, you keep those hidden most of the time but sometimes I can see a little bit of them, that gold whirling around, and last night I saw all of them and they were beyond words, they were ethereal as the first dawn--) open and awake to him, a little smile playing around her mouth.

“I brought you coffee, baby,” and Kenzie’s hair fell against his collarbone as she dipped down to kiss him, and Duncan’s hand immediately came up, needy, to the space under her ear.

“Kenzie, baby, do you remember that? Last night?” His eyes searched hers--please tell me if that was real, beloved angel. Please tell me that wasn’t a dream. Did you see the vision? Kenzie stared at him, and her mouth dipped open, and Duncan was suddenly hazy with her loveliness again, hazy with longing. I love you more than the morning sunlight, wondrous Kenzie. “You said something to me--that I’d start to remember something, about who we were, who we’re going to be--”

Kenzie eyes lost some of their clarity, and she handed him one of his glass coffee mugs, carefully. He sat up, leaning into the shape of her hand--she dipped her head down and her hair fell over her shoulder again, the strap of her top falling down onto her arm. Duncan wanted to press his lips to the bare skin there--wanted to press his mouth against her heart, the delicate space between her breasts. There is never a moment where I wouldn’t rather be kissing you. He knew she heard him--her face became even more radiant in the daylight, her hand coming up to brush shyly against her cheek at his thoughts.

“I...I don’t know...sort of, baby,” she said finally, eyes flitting up into his and then away, towards the great mirror, towards the window, its curtains partially drawn but the sliver of day visible beyond. “It was like a dream, wasn’t it? Like we both slipped into a dream.”

“Yes, baby, it was, but I don’t think it was a dream.” Duncan brought the coffee to his lips and drank, the hot, bitter liquid coursing down his throat, immediately stirring his senses more sharply. “I think it was like...a memory.”

“How can that be,” Kenzie laughed a little, inside her words. “Dunny, baby, the way you looked to me--you were so radiant, so beautiful, it was too much to bear. You were...you were a real angel, you had wings, but they were--” Duncan was putting the coffee down on the nightstand, his heart suddenly rattling inside him, and he reached out and grasped her hands tightly, pulling her closer. “--they were not like any wings I’ve ever imagined, they were in colors I’ve never seen--” “Kenzie, baby, I saw you that way too--” “And your clothing, it was like, gold and had this design to it, but I couldn’t figure out the--the design, it was like, it was made of something that doesn’t exist in this world--” “Fuck, Kenzie, you looked that way too, baby, your hair had a hundred tiny flowers in it and each flower was made of its own universe, and your eyes were like a gold galaxy spinning--” “Fuck, Dunny, that’s lovely, how can you say that to me, that’s too lovely--but--but you looked so amazing too, your hair was longer and more golden and your eyes were like a blue nebula, but the blue was not any blue I’ve ever seen before, it was--”

Their lips were rushing together again, and he was pulling her against him, sliding towards her, and her little hands came up to twine inside his where they clutched her face tenderly and he thought I love you Kenzie I love you fuck I love you I’m yours I’m yours and when I die my spirit will call out to you through time I’ll still be yours forever never doubt that I am yours my beloved my exalted beloved most hallowed of all most unearthly and divine love and he knew the dream had not been a dream, knew they’d seen something that seemed impossible but was not, something that was hidden deep in time that somehow they had glimpsed, that their love had uncovered the great secret of it, that finding each other here had opened the door on that other place, and he was overwhelmed inside the knowledge, and it was all he could do to hold her against him and taste her, her little face lifted up to him, her eyes closed, her face ecstatic (saintly, her pleasure in this moment sacred), the feeling of her under his hands so intensely real he wanted to cry.

“I--Kenzie, I want--”

Her eyes opened to him--hazel, depth of green--his hands still clutched her and their mouths hovered over each other, pulled back for a moment. I want to marry you. I want to be tied to you in the eyes of all, your most loyal, most faithful, most devoted husband.

He knew she’d heard, despite the words un-escaped from his lips. She looked down, suddenly shy again--her cheeks dusted with color immediately, and she felt achingly warm under his fingers. She was so lovely here, in reality, in his arms, to try to contemplate her in that other place was like trying to contemplate the mathematics of the universe in the face of the glory of one star; there was too much, and she was too great, and her multitudes were staggering, and he felt his breath hitch--felt the tears come against his eyelids. Neither of them said anything, but he could see the emotion gathering in her face towards him; he knew Kenzie could see how close to tears he was, and saw that it was moving her to tears, too.

“After the Gala, when we go to the cabin,” she whispered to him. “We’ll have time and space--to, to think about all of this. To figure it out. To figure out what all of this means. Okay? Duncan. I love you. I love you so much. You are beloved to me. You are the only one for me. Just be patient, okay? Be patient with me, baby. I’m here and we’re together. We just have to get through this first. We’ll be alone so soon. Alone to--alone to--to see each other. To really see.”

Duncan dipped his head away from her--he felt utterly overcome, and tried to gather the many threads of himself that had scattered and dispersed, as if in a gust of wind. He nodded--he knew she was right, knew that his patience was required, knew the rush he felt wasn’t a true need, rather his own deep desires. But he couldn’t help it--he wanted their life to begin so much. I want everything to fall into place, I want us to move the company forward to help others and the wheel of fate to grind toward the greatest good, I want you to have everything you’ve ever dreamed about, Kenzie, angel, I want the sweetness of you in the quietness of the woods, under the starry night sky where there is no one but us.

Baby, she thought into him. Dunny. I love you so much I can’t speak it. I can’t tell you. You have to feel it from me, just feel me, feel that I love you more than life, more than every flower, every living breathing thing, know that you’re the angel of my heart, the light of my body and my soul. And he did--he could. He could feel the golden wave she pushed down into him, the inexplicable touch of her so fine that it felt as though she were wrapping a second skin around him, this one radiant and impenetrable, this one the skin that would protect him from the outside world, invisible but inviolable, his hidden armor, woven by her little slender hands, all her love whispered into each strand, all her divinity blessing him. And my love shall protect thee, guide thee, and keep thee always, for thou art exalted in the light of my adoration, my divinity I give to thee, my sanctity I have divided unto thee, my soul I have split with the aid of the three-headed goddess, my golden thread I have tied to thee, and so thou and I art the same. And Duncan knew these words weren’t really Kenzie’s words--they were the words of the other Kenzie, the one with the silvery hair and the eyes like planets made of gold, the words that winged, ethereal creature had spoken to the other Duncan he had hovered inside last night, the one who wore the golden aegis, the other him with the colossal weight of his own wings.

Then the spell seemed to break, and he felt the tears drift away from him--he gently let go of her, and she slid away from him off the bed, and he felt the peaceful gold she’d borne down on him wafting inside his chest and his belly, in the core of his body. Duncan reached for his coffee again, watching her step into the walk-in, glancing at him over her shoulder with a peaceful, knowing smile. “Time to go see your mother, Duncan.” He groaned a little, smiling back at her--reality seeped back in strongly, and he reached for his phone on the nightstand, turning it over.

There was a text from Annette, confirming that the Vanity Fair interview and photoshoot would be at the Botanic Gardens in a few hours, the one for Forbes at The Lafayette after that, a restaurant inside the Hays-Adams hotel that he’d been to for several interviews in the past, most of them for Gardner Analytics. He had ignored her text from yesterday, wherein she’d called him ludicrously naive, their moving in together preposterous and claimed Kenzie was a greedy little social climber, a phrase that had made him want to hurl his phone across the room despite the heights of his mood with Kenzie in the kitchen only moments before--he looked them over again, scrolling up, fighting the anger seething back into his mind, urging himself to calm. I refuse to let her get a rise out of me today, he thought, and answered his mother today with nothing more than a clipped “Okay.” You can’t make me turn on her, Mom. It’s not going to happen. Never in a million years. You might as well try to make the sky fall down or stop the tides or keep the sun from rising and setting. You will never break us apart. Not only do I love her more than I love my own life--I know, I feel like I know that we’re actual fucking Soulmates, we can hear each other’s fucking thoughts, and I think these dreams and visions we’ve been having are the future, the past, or some strange parallel present. You really don’t fucking get it, but I think eventually you will, because you won’t have any other choice. Eventually everyone will get it. We’re together and I think...I think we always will be, if there are other lives after this one. I think...we always have been.

“I can’t believe we have a fan club now, baby.” He heard Kenzie’s voice drift towards him from where she was hidden from view in the closet, and he came out of the soft gold of the thoughts he’d begun to delve down into.

“You were so sweet to those girls, Kenz. The paps noticed right away. You handled that like a pro, I was so proud of you. I bet Claire’s texted you a BPF post about it already.”

“Check my phone, baby, it’s on my side. My password’s 0717.” Her birthday.

Duncan reached for Kenzie’s white iPhone in its iridescent gold case--he smiled down at the black inverted moon sticker, beginning to rub away into white, running his finger over it, then turned the phone over. Clairebear had indeed texted her (how did I know), a telltale BPF link visible in it, and behind the text Duncan could see her lock screen was ones of the Esquire shots of him--the one where he had a thin circlet of silver around his forehead, his eyes skirting to the left of the camera, their blue emphasized to striking brilliancy by the filter used on the shot, his hand adjusting his cuff facetiously. He thought of his own lock screen, with the shot of her smiling down at the breakfast he’d made her, sunlight on her cheek, grapefruit juice and Adelaide’s silver spoon in her hands--wait until we do a photoshoot together, baby, he thought. God, you’re going to look so beautiful. You always do. I should commission someone to paint you. Fuck, I should fucking do that. I’d die to have a painting of you. A huge one, colossal as The Youth of Bacchus, of you with flowers in your hair, you in wild moonlight, you as the goddess you are, you--

Duncan got up from the bed, glancing up at his naked reflection in the mirror (no wings, no aegis, no long gold hair, that’s for damn sure), then back down at the phone, slowly moving towards the closet doorway with her phone still clutched in his hand, thumbing her password into the surface, reading Claire’s text.

Clairebear: Kenzie Lou, look at this. They LOVE you. You knew exactly what you were doing with this. You wily little lady! I can’t believe you have a fan club now. You have to look at the website these girls have created. I’m just screaming over it, it’s insanely cute. They have like 15,000 members already. It’s insane!!! Also, is Harris single? He’s so hot, oh my FUCKING GOD.

He grinned at her message--I love how Claire texts Kenzie, he thought, and clicked on the BPF link. DUCKENZIE GREET FANS WARMLY OUTSIDE ONE FRANKLIN SQUARE, POSE FOR PHOTOS--the first shot was Lindy passing the roses to Duncan in his sunglasses, the second was a lovely shot of Kenzie smiling at Gabby (god look at her, an angel), then one of her leaning over the newspaper, writing, one of her tucking her hair behind her ear, face still dipped down, Duncan’s hand pressed against her back, his expression unreadable behind his sunglasses (I was worried as fuck), her smile still apparent--how could anyone look at these and not fall in love with her, Duncan thought, his hand coming up against his jaw, trailing there, lost in the photos. There were a few more: side-angles of them posing with each of the girls, then Duncan pulling Kenzie away from them, Harris close behind, glancing darkly into the camera. Duncan turned into the closet, his eyes still on the phone--he tapped one of the photos of her looking up at the girls over the newspaper, the sharpie poised in her hand, enlarging it.

“Baby, look at this--” Duncan held her phone up to where he knew she would be standing, eyes rising to look at her, and then he stopped dead--Kenzie had slipped on the red dress, the lacy red bodice hugging her tiny waist and her round breasts (I fucking love them, I love her), the full lace of the skirt fanning out beautifully down her hips, and she was throwing her chestnut hair over her shoulder, her head still tilted to the side, away from him--she turned and met his eyes, and she smiled at him, her eyes roving up and down his nakedness. “Hey baby,” she murmured, her voice husky.

“God, I love that fucking dress.” His thoughts immediately drifted to when she’d been wearing it as she eased onto his lap in that makeshift dressing room, his fingers coming between her legs and coaxing her into a secret euphoria, the way he’d wiped his fingers after on a tissue and brought it to his nose, the heady scent of her sex making him wildly dizzy. “My mother’s going to flip her shit, baby, and I honestly can’t wait to see it.”

Kenzie stepped toward him, hands coming out to take her phone, her fingers brushing along his as she did, making the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up--she stared up at him for a moment longer, the depth of green hovering behind her corneas--and I love looking at you naked, baby, was the thought she pushed into him, and Duncan bit into his lip, goosebumps breaking out on his skin--then she looked down at her phone and he was staggered again by the loveliness of the smile that fell over her face as she saw the photo.

“I look nice, don’t I?” She said, looking up at him again. “I mean...I look kind, I mean.” She blushed--Duncan melted at the sight of her shyness.

“Baby. You are kind. You’re kind to everyone. And you look fucking beautiful in these. Everyone is in love with you now. I have to admit…” Duncan stepped closer to reach her, his hands falling down her bare arms and the sides of the lacy red dress--Kenzie wore no makeup yet, but her eyes were so wide and so beautifully colored they seemed illuminated somehow--”It makes me a little jealous. I selfishly want you all to myself sometimes. I don’t want to share you.” Kenzie’s eyes fell into his again, and her little hand was falling down his bare torso to trail over his hip bones, needling with her thumbs and forefingers, her mouth opening to him.

“I was thinking, later...” and Kenzie was reaching up to him, tiptoed, her mouth pressing into his jaw as he leaned his head down to her, his hands at her shoulder blades, pressed into her hair. “You could throw me down onto that big, beautiful cherrywood table--” and her mouth was edging along to his chin and to the other side of his jaw, and Duncan couldn’t stop himself from leaning into her, moaning against her, his cock stiffening--”and fuck me on it, baby, fuck me standing while I wear this dress--” and Duncan was nodding against her, his eyes closing with the sensation of her, her little hand flicking down to play over his length, then teasingly away. “--I was thinking I’d really love it if you’d do that…”

“Yes, Princess. Yes, I will--” Duncan’s mind thrilled, imagining her body prostrate against the beautiful antique table, her golden hair tossed onto it, the sound of its creaking as he thrust into her, his mouth on her body. We can finally use that table regularly, he thought. We have to fuck on every surface of this penthouse, baby, every square inch, I need to fuck you as often as you’ll permit me, as often as you’ll desire my attentions--

“Good.” Kenzie moved back from him, eyes intense in his, her mouth and hands sliding away from him, and Duncan groaned desperately at the loss of her touch. “Now, get dressed, baby. Do as I say.” Her eyes skirted down to his cock and Duncan shivered at her eyes--look longer, baby, look at me, I’m yours, my aching sex is all for you, my body, my desires, all for you. But her eyes lingered for only a moment, as if to tease him, then she moved past him on her fast little feet, towards the kitchen. Later, baby. You know later I’ll be yours. Later I’m gonna tell you to fuck me good and you’re going to do it, aren’t you, baby.

Yes, Kenzie. Duncan had half a mind to go after her, to grab her wrists and press his mouth against her, but he knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t--Kenzie told me to obey. Her desires come first. He let out a long, shuddering breath, then turned to where his shirts hung in their quiet, pressed, dark row. He pulled down a black cotton Givenchy shirt with stars embroidered along the collar--all the stars in the sky are for her, he thought, drifting inside his desires as he began to dress, thinking of tiny flowers with a thousand petals, each one containing a universe.

---------

“Kenz, Samuel and Harris are downstairs,” Duncan looked up from the text on his phone to where Kenzie was sitting across from him at the island, about an hour later. She clutched a little bottle of Pellegrino in her hand, a piece of half-eaten sprouted grain toast with unsalted peanut butter in front of her (Duncan had made it for her alongside a sliced, skinned kiwi and a carefully squared mango, which she’d already devoured), hair falling over her shoulder, the Tiffany moon necklace at her throat, glinting at him--she’d applied a little makeup now, though he knew undoubtedly the stylists would want to put more on her for the photos they’d be forced to take today (not that I mind sitting around staring at you, baby, that’s all I ever want to do now)--and she’d been looking at her phone too, grinning at something unseen to him, some secret pleasure on the little screen.

“Baby, look. Look at this. I can’t believe it.”

She pushed her phone across to him--with a little jolt of nerves Duncan realized Kenzie had gone to DUCKENZIEFANS.COM. Holy fuck.

Duncan was used to fans--that is, a certain type of fan. They tended to be women, many of them middle-aged and as questionably-mannered as the two women in the coffee shop who’d taken photos of him and Kenzie without asking, or DC socialites with a desire to climb (that is, fuck) their way up the social ladder of the capital city. Duncan couldn’t deny he’d slept with several such socialites, but they all seemed to be part of a distant past he could barely see now--part of another life, another Duncan, a man who hadn’t understood himself at all, hadn’t bothered to pay closer attention to his real desires, his hopes, or the sources of real happiness he had encountered. Kenzie has awakened my senses to the world that is always hovering just outside our eyesight--the hidden world that is seeped in delicate beauty, the world that comes out when one looks at art, or hears beautiful music, or is present in nature. Love is, I think, all of these things--and all of these things remind me of love. Of the one I love. Of her.

The website had clearly been made by someone with graphic design experience--the interface was lovely and easy to follow, and the aesthetics were pleasing. The home page was tasteful and minimal, gold and soft cream with black lettering--he thought of the two teenage girls who had greeted them--those girls made this website? The headings were in Lobster script, and the text in soft Playfair Display. WEBSITE UNDER CONSTRUCTION, thanks for your patience, read a header near the top. Above it was the photo of the two of them at Le Diplomate taken by some random iPhone camera, but sharpened and filtered to be maximally flattering. A bar down the side had directives neatly listed: DUCKENZIE FAQ, HOW TO JOIN THE FANCLUB, DUNCAN SHEPHERD PRESS RELEASES, MACKENZIE STONE PRESS RELEASES, DUCKENZIE PRESS RELEASES, DUCKENZIE MERCH & FAN CLUB EXCLUSIVES, COMBINED GALLERY, CONTACT INFO, FAN MAIL INFO, MEMBER FORUM. He marveled at the page for a moment, lost in it--Duncan knew he had had fan sites before now, but he’d never looked at any of them beyond Instagram, the site he tended to frequent the most when he had bothered with social media at all in the past. But this website was exceptionally ordered, clearly by someone who was interested in design and who also had developed a serious fascination with the two of them. He clicked on the link titled DUCKENZIE PRESS RELEASES--sure enough, the topmost result was the series of photos from the article posted today on BPF, with Kenzie smiling at Gabby and Lindy, the camera facing her. Under it was a link to the gossip site and a long series of paragraphs, clearly written by the two girls, about how friendly and warm Kenzie had been to them. Duckenzies, you wouldn’t believe how lovely she is in person! It’s like she’s surrounded by a warm ring of sunlight and being near her makes your whole body tingle. She smelled like roses and flowers, like a goddess of spring. Just being close to her was so incredible. Below a few paragraphs was another photo, this one a close-up of Kenzie’s signature and the message she’d written out on the newspaper. A special message to us and all of you from Kenzie herself. Below that was the iPhone shots of the girls posing with them. They were so kind and gracious to us! Everything we hoped and knew they would be!

“That’s just insane to me,” Kenzie said as Duncan continued to click through the site. “‘Duckenzie Merch’,” and she lifted her fingers up on either side of her head, feigning quotations. “Stickers with my face on them for everyone!”

“I want stickers with your face on them, too, they better send me some.”

Kenzie made a face at him and Duncan grinned. I mean it, though. I’ll put them on everything I own, I don’t care. I’ll buy every fucking sticker they’ve made. He glanced away from Kenzie’s phone reluctantly, at the face of the black Ballon Bleu Cartier he’d chosen for the inevitable photos that would be taken of him today--different from the silver one he’d worn the night he met Kenzie on the balcony. This one was framed in rose-gold (and the gold reminds me of her). He noted it was a quarter till noon. “We gotta go, baby. They’re expecting us at 12:30. In the Rose Garden, can you believe that?” He smiled at her; roses for my Kenzie. He looked at his Cartier again, thoughtfully, as Kenzie finished her toast and stood to put her plate in the long steel sink, washing her hands, staring at her succulents along the windowsill. He admired her tawny blonde hair, falling down her back from the crown of her head in soft waves. I’m going to get her something to adorn her lovely little wrists. I want to give her more tokens of my love, one for each part of her body. He thought of the rose choker, coiled in one of the drawers in their closet--I’ll strap it to your soft little throat tonight, baby love, I’ll kiss you all along its smooth leather as I plunge into your sweet rosy cunt. He looked up to see she’d turned and was staring at him, and knew she’d heard the thought--the color of her gaze shivered with hidden arousal, that hidden, golden power he knew she had over him. “Anything in my teeth, baby,” was all she said, though, baring them at him. He laughed, delighted at the feigned ferocity in her gaze. “Just your sweet smile.” Kenzie rolled her eyes at him, coming around the side of the island, languidly leaning down on its smooth surface to dip her face towards him, the red lace dress hugging her waist and floating around her beautifully, sending warm waves of tingling longing down his spine. “Mr. Shepherd, you’re infatuated.”

“I love you.” And Duncan pulled her arms insistently into him, burying his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her smell in deeply. How I feel, baby. How I feel with you. Like I can’t help but be sincere. My heart is so full of you there’s no room for anything else.

“Can’t wait for your mother’s head to spin when she sees my dress,” Kenzie’s tone was playful and her hand fell down the side of his hair, her cheek at his temple. He closed his eyes, still pressed against her neck, lost for a moment in the feeling of her little fingers, the pressure of her skin under his eyelashes.

“It’s a Kenzie dress,” he murmured against her. “Not like the other one. This one has you all over it. I love it so much. I think it’s perfect. And whoever’s doing the shoot is going to love it too, I bet.” He leaned up to look at her and her face was suddenly hovering very close to his, her lips whispering over his, her eyes half-lidded, looking down into him.

“I love you, Duncan Shepherd.”

“What did I do to deserve the love of an angel?” He couldn’t stop the words from falling out of his mouth, falling against her lips, hovering so close to him. Her leg was crooked into his thigh, her little stomach breathing against his, his hands pressed insistently into her hair along her back--you fit so sweet and small into my arms, my beloved. I could hold you this way all day, drunk on the scent of you, drunk with your softness. She was wearing the golden-strap heels again, and his hand came around to her foot, trailing over the laces.

“Oh stoppit.”

“I won’t.”

“It’s time for us to go, baby,” Kenzie tried to extract herself from his arms, but Duncan held fast to her, pressing his lips, then the tip of his tongue to the bare skin under her ear. She softened in the tenderness of his mouth; he heard her moans against him and wished the day would fade back into night for them, wished they were in the woods, under a night sky in a hidden forest, wished the world would just leave them be, let him kiss her, turn the sun away from them and bathe them in the shadows of their bed. But no, the world was waiting (Duckenzie, here they come, quick, take a picture), and so was Annette Shepherd. When Kenzie tried to pull away this time, Duncan let go of her, heart bruising at the sudden coldness of his lap. Kenzie slipped her convertible bag over her shoulder from where she’d left it by the penthouse door. “Pass me my phone, baby,” she said, her eyes bright on him. “Let’s go. The sooner we leave the sooner it’s over with.”

Duncan clutched her little gold iPhone, sighing deeply. “Don’t let Annette give you any shit today, baby,” he said, standing and handing it to her, fingers brushing down her wrist, her little face looking up at him, her expression one of aching trust, as he leaned protectively over her. “You’re a Shepherd now too, as far as I’m concerned. If she wants to insist you belong there, we’ll show her that you really do.”

Kenzie’s eyes flashed at him, and she lifted her chin in that defiant way--his throat clenched, head suddenly hazy with adoration. You got it, baby. Duncan barely had time to slip his wallet into the tailored pocket of his slacks before Kenzie clasped his hand in an iron grip, pulling him out the door and down the hallway. You got it, baby.

---------

Duncan remembered his meeting with Claire Underwood tomorrow as Samuel drove them towards the Botanical Gardens--a meeting he had no real idea of how to navigate, considering Annette’s insistence that the President was, in fact, her enemy, therefore the enemy of the company. What can I say to convince her I’m not, he wondered. Especially being unable to disclose that I’m gaining majority share once BIll dies? Nervously, he wondered if it was indeed possible without making her suspicious of him. Maybe meeting with her before Bill’s death wasn’t such a good idea after all. Too late now, Duncan. You’ll have to play like the old Duncan. The one who was ruthlessly loyal to Annette, and Claire Underwood knew it.

Kenzie’s hand was tucked under his thigh, and he glanced at her; she was staring out the window, seemingly admiring the historic Georgetown colonials they drifted past, her little lips mouthing the words to the John Denver Samuel had playing low--you fill up my senses, like a night in a forest, like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain--the lovely dip of her collarbones lifting in her quiet breath against the fitted lace bodice and her diamond moon necklace, the lacy folds of the crimson skirt fanning out around her legs. Her phone was in her lap and he could see the outline of her Instagram profile open on it--2 million followers now. He could see she’d made a new post, featuring the photos of them posing with the two girls from DUCKENZIEFANS. My sweet Kenzie. Duncan made sure she was still distracted by the music and the scene outside her window, then angled his phone up to snap a discreet photo of her--her hair fell beautifully across her shoulder in the sunlight, and her mouth was open a little, mouthing the song, her cheek turned to the side and her eyes lifted away from the shot. On our way to talk to @vanityfair, did you know my @kenzielouwho has a beautiful singing voice? #comeletmeloveyou #letmegivemylifetoyou

Kenzie still hadn’t noticed anything--he could feel the drifting cascade of her thoughts falling against him every few moments, and knew; you really love this song, baby. It’s making you think of me. It’s making me think of you, too. Let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms. He opened the browser app and typed cartier.com, highlighting Jewelry, then under COLLECTIONS, he double-tapped LOVE. He chose two bracelets--one band of 18k yellow gold, and another band, also yellow gold, smaller, with 4 brilliant diamonds. He tried to keep his mind quiet as he did, tried to think of his mother and his meeting with Claire Underwood. He finished the order and closed out of the Cartier website--there. All done.

“All done with what, baby?” Kenzie turned to him, blinking. Annie’s Song had ended, and she seemed to resurface from a dream. Duncan noticed that they were a few yards back from pulling up to the Botanical Gardens; he lifted his thigh a little to grasp her hand. “Nothing, baby, just something I had to take care of for work.”

“Hmmmmmm,” Kenzie replied, giving him a suspicious look. “It doesn’t seem like that’s quite right.”

“It’s a surprise, baby.” Get out of my head, let me surprise you, my love.

“Stop buying me things.” He could see she was trying to hide the smile that wanted to fall over her mouth--she pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes at him.

“I won’t.”

“Duncan Shepherd.” She crossed her arms.

“I want to, baby. Please let me.”

She gave him another long look, pouting her lips a little.

“Please, Miss Stone. Let me bring you tribute for your altar.”

Kenzie blushed deeply at that, turning away from him. Duncan leaned down to her little cheek, bringing the hand that wasn’t holding hers tightly up to the dip under her chin, turning her jaw towards him.

“It’s a way I can worship you,” he spoke down to her ear. “Let me worship you, Kenzie.” He felt her shiver under his touch; he dipped his lips down to her skin and let them linger there, closing his eyes, savoring her softness and the sweet scent of her perfume (rose, vetiver, geranium, no, I’ll never tire of it).

“What’s your middle name, baby?” He heard her ask softly. “So I can use it when I’m annoyed with you.” He laughed into her cheek at that and felt it rise as she smiled under his fingers.

“It’s Malcolm. Follower of the Saint. Mom told me it was going to be my first name for awhile, but she decided she wanted it to be Duncan after all. The Warrior. Fearless.”

Kenzie gazed at him for a long moment as the BMW drifted to a stop on the curb. Then she mouthed his name, quietly. “Duncan Malcolm Shepherd. Warrior, follower of the Saint.”

“And what does Mackenzie mean?”

She smiled at him, winsome, charming him, teasing.

“Guess.”

“Fast as a falling star.”

She grinned. “No.”

“Lover of horses.”

She laughed at that. “No.”

“Beautiful as a rose kissed by spring dew at dawn.” He dipped his head to her, breathing along the delicate space between of her neck.

Kenzie looked away from him at that; he saw the shyness fall into her, felt it; the gossamer wave of her affection, the demure tinge of her longing for him.

“Kenzie.”

“It means lovely.” Harris was coming out of the front passenger door, buttoning his jacket, wearing dark sunglasses, stepping to open Kenzie’s door. The partition was floating down. Duncan could see several people walking on the sidewalk outside; some of them were turning, curious, to look at the BMW. He turned back to her, and he and Kenzie stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment; hers with gold discs floating behind the hazel--Duncan thought for an instant he could see his own eyes in her mind, you pierce my spirit with them, she thought, blue like the sky after a storm, the storm you’ve stirred in my soul, the wild love you’ve given me, every kiss and every touch too beautiful for words, every instance of your love a miracle.

“Of course it does,” he breathed.

Kenzie smiled at him. In time I’ll memorize every tiny detail of your face--I’ll remember everything, he thought. Beloved.

Harris opened the door and she slipped away from him, her little golden iPhone clutched in her hand, her hair falling back, the red lace of her skirt sliding off the leather seat. Duncan followed her out, squinting into the summer sunlight. He glanced to where several pedestrians had stopped to watch the car (two middle-aged companions, a man and a woman in professional attire; a younger woman in jogging clothes with a German Shepherd on a leash); there was dawning recognition in their eyes and the jogging girl immediately lifted her phone up. Duncan turned away, annoyed, certain she’d snapped the picture anyway. He reached for Kenzie’s hand as she slipped her round sunglasses over her eyes, and Harris moved in front of her, blocking her from view from the people watching. There were a few more people inside the front gardens to the southwest, and they stared after Duncan and Kenzie with obvious interest, but Duncan was relieved to see that the Rose Garden had a sign on the gate saying it would be closed for maintenance for the day--the “maintenance” in this case being their interview and photocall with Vanity Fair. As they approached they saw a tall Asian woman with very long, straight black hair and razor-cut bangs, in a smart short-sleeved navy blazer, a black v-neck blouse and a pencil skirt, standing at the gate from the other side. She waved to them a little, giving them a small smile, using a key to unlock it; she pulled the gate open and Kenzie and Duncan stepped through, Harris tight on their heels, and the woman locked it securely behind they moved further in, shielded by tall arborvitae bushes.

“River Tsukamoto, staff writer for Vanity Fair.” She reached out a hand first to Duncan, then to Kenzie, who grinned at her. She had a coy, small smile, and very dark eyeshadow and lipstick, almost black, and no accent. “So wonderful to meet you both. Annette arrived a few minutes ago--she’s in hair and makeup. We don’t always do it this way, but she said you have another interview later today--is it okay if we conduct this one as we shoot?”

“That’s fine,” Duncan replied. “Whatever’s easiest for you.”

He gave her a small, close-mouthed smile, and still saw the telltale sag in her features that his smile tended to cause with people. River’s eyes flicked back and forth between him and Kenzie; down the length of Kenzie’s lacy red summer dress, the fall of her tawny hair, up his tall form and the smart cut of his clothing, lingering in his blue eyes and flitting over to Kenzie’s, their depth of green and gold making the other woman blink rapidly. River’s eyes fell to Kenzie’s moon diamond necklace--she seemed to recognize it. We must have an Instagram follower here.

“God, I have to say, you’re both just stunning in person.” The woman’s cheeks turned a deep crimson almost instantly, and she crooked an arm around her stomach. “I have to admit I started following both of your Instas since your relationship became public, they’re just--ugh, I love them.”

Duncan hesitated and Kenzie immediately stepped towards the woman--”What’s yours? I’ll follow you back.” Kenzie was holding her phone up, opening the app.

“Oh, oh my god, yes. It’s just @rivertsukamoto. Ugh, that would be so great.” River smiled again, this time dipping her body down and clenching her fists a little, bouncing in the black open-toed boots she wore--her toes were painted black. “I just loved those photos of you guys at the beach, so gorgeous.” Kenzie grinned up at her. “Thank you, that was a really wonderful day. There, now we’re Insta friends.”

“Right this way--” and River extended her arm, the blush still on her pale cheeks, leading them towards the center of the rose garden, where several stone benches surrounded a fountain, with dozens of rose bushes in different colors and varieties circling all around the courtyard, deep damask red, rosy-white bourbon, burgundy-colored hybrids, creamy york, sunny yellow--a tall sandy-stone building rose ahead of them with pointed turrets and art-deco glass windows. Duncan’s eyes skirted to where there were two trailers set up along one side of the bushes--River ushered them towards the one at the right, opening the door and beckoning them inside, wherein a very large, hairy man in suspenders and combat boots with a very curly mustache, long hair tied in a messy bun, and very glittery eyeshadow greeted them with a screech of delight.

“Alister at your behest, dumplings,” he said, gasping in a high voice. “Duncan Shepherd and Mackenzie Stone, sit down. God, you two are like sweet pastries, Duncan, you’re a chocolate eclair, Miss Kenzie, you’re a little pink macaron. You’re first, prince of the piercing blue eyes. Sit.”

Duncan settled down into the nearest styling chair, and Kenzie settled into one beside him, two circular mirrors mounted against the trailer’s back wall wherein Duncan could see her nervous expression across from him. Alister was washing his hands at a basin sink in the corner, and Duncan saw Kenzie take her phone out, snapping a picture of their two reflections, him side-eyeing her with a bemused expression, the phone angled over her mouth, her eyes skirting back to him. Then Alister was gripping his jaw carefully and pressing a pencil onto his eyelid.

“God, you don’t even really need anything, do you,” the big man spoke down to him in his high, lilting voice. “Your skin is gorgeous. This jaw could cut someone in half. Your eyes are out of control. Your lips are like fucking pillows. Just kill me, honey.” Kenzie was laughing into her hand, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Honey, you don’t even get to laugh, you’re fucking him, that’s not even fair,” Alister pointed the brush in his hand at her in mock-severity, rolling his eyes, turning back to Duncan--this just made Kenzie laugh harder. “God, you smell like a fucking Tom Ford runway, too. And what are you wearing, it fits you like a second skin, oh my fucking god, who does your tailoring?”

“A gentleman never reveals his tailor,” Duncan was trying not to laugh himself; Kenzie’s wild amusement was making him want to jump out of the chair and tackle her with kisses.

“Is he a gentleman?” Alister glanced over at Kenzie, using the brush to swish powder across Duncan’s cheekbone. “I bet he is to you, honey, you little sugar plum.”

Kenzie was coming down from her laughter, brushing tears from the corners of her eyes.

“He is. He’s an angel.”

“Oh shut up. You’re both stupidly beautiful and wildly in love. Sickening. Your Instas are the hottest thing online right now, I saw you taking that photo honey, make sure you tag me, @alisterrichardsstyle.” “I promise I will, thank you, Alister.” Kenzie snorted into her hand again. Seeing her laugh this way made Duncan feel absolutely dazzled. I’m your biggest fan, baby love.

“There.” Alister hadn’t done more than add some dark eyeliner and very light contour to Duncan’s face; Duncan had had this reaction from stylists before, and was used to light “touch-ups” versus any kind of lengthy makeup for shoots. “You honestly didn’t even need that, but keeping up appearances and all that. You might be the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen, baby. And I’ve seen some boys.” Alister moved over to where Kenzie sat, glancing up at him nervously.

“Now, you, little baby angel. Let’s give you some lips to go with that dress, mama.” As Alister worked on Kenzie’s face Duncan couldn’t help but stare--her eyelashes darkened and became longer under his hands, her eyelids painted a iridescent pink, her cheek rosied, her lips dark crimson red to match the lacy dress. Duncan was struck by the romanticism of her hair over her shoulder, the glance she gave him as Alister finished on her--suddenly, my dark fiery goddess of blood-red wine.

“I guess you’re more like a little red box of Valentine’s Day chocolate now, baby,” Alister said to her as he moved the lipstain wand from her mouth. “Stay still while I document.” Alister pulled his phone out of his large pocket and took several snaps of her face from all angles, then moved over to Duncan and did the same thing to him. “Gonna pretend like I created all this beauty myself,” Alister smirked. “You are free to go, my angelic darlings. I shall wave to you from your place in the heavens.” Alister gave them a little bow just as River pulled the door open. “Alister, are you done on them?” Duncan was going over to Kenzie and grasping her hand--they thanked Alister, Kenzie still giggling into her palm.

“Oooooo, gorgeous,” River cooed, staring at them openly. “Annette’s over here.” Duncan’s heart rammed up into his mouth as he saw his mother, her beauty clouded with annoyance (as was her usual with him lately--Duncan remembered how he’d brushed her off the last time he saw her, and her angry texts regarding their living together), staring down at the large screen of her phone, typing quickly. She looked up at them and Duncan saw her clouded gaze darken further at Kenzie’s appearance.

“Mackenzie, what are you wearing.” It wasn’t a question as much as a demand--an angry demand for a satisfying answer.

“Mom, please, lay off her.”

“Duncan, don’t take that fucking condescending tone with me. And you’re living together now, what a fucking joke. Absolutely thoughtless.” Annette stood and her eyes flashed--she wore an asymmetrical black crepe dress with a draped neck, and pointed black stilettos. Today she also wore a gold necklace with three round diamond stones in addition to her customary diamond earrings--more jewelry than Duncan had seen on her since the last photoshoot they’d had, which was several months ago. Her look was undoubtedly, undeviatingly Annette. But what you don’t seem to understand is Kenzie is not going to dress like you. She’s going to dress like her.

“Annette, the paparazzi swarmed my apartment building--” Duncan looked down at Kenzie to see her face creased with anxiety, her little voice distraught, floating up to his ear towards Annette. He could see how much she was trying to keep her temper, and it made him want to shield her from Annette’s cruelly dark eyes.

“Then you find another fucking apartment, sweetie,” Annette snapped at her, and he felt Kenzie flinch in his hand, as if she wanted to run away from the scene. No, baby, no, remember what I said. Show her who’s boss. You’re the boss now, Kenzie. You’re in charge. You belong here. Show her.

Annette was openly sneering at Kenzie now, her eyes taking on that unnerving, deeply dark sheen they’d had over dinner at Plume. River was standing by nervously, not speaking, seemingly afraid to butt into the sudden vehemency of Annette’s manner--a photographer, camera in hand, a woman with boxy glasses and salt-and-pepper hair, had come up to her and whispered in her ear, and she was hurriedly whispering back, head turned towards the encounter. Clouds had drifted over the sun while they were in the trailer, and it suddenly seemed as though it might rain--yeah, really fucking rain, Duncan thought. Kenzie suddenly gripped his hand so hard it hurt, and he flinched, looking down at her--her eyes were staring into Annette’s, and they were swirling with the gold sheen usually saved for him alone--a sheen so bright it almost hurt him to look into them. Her other hand had come around to grip at the diamond moon around her neck, tightly, so tight he could see her fingers turning red. His head snapped up to his mother’s face; she seemed caught inside Kenzie’s whirling gaze, and her own took on a dazed expression, as though she were trying to remember something she’d forgotten.

“Duncan and I are together now. You can’t tear us apart.” Kenzie’s voice was trembling at first--then, it evened and soothed, and became very clear. “Please accept my presence in his life, Annette. He’s told you this before: your disapproval will not end our attachment. But it will bring him sadness. And it will bring you sadness, too.” Kenzie’s voice was mesmerizing in this moment; Duncan remembered flashes of the vision of her last night, a vision that seemed to be slowly fading from his understanding in the fabric of reality; the Kenzie with white hair that had flowers like little universes, eyes like whirling cosmic vistas, a gown made of the intricate geometries of some unknown intergalactic fiber, wings of some unfathomable divinity. This voice is like the voice of that Kenzie. That Kenzie is afraid of no earthly being. The air suddenly felt very heavy, as though a thunderstorm were about to begin.

“Please, don’t direct your anger on us anymore.” Duncan felt Kenzie’s hand grow strangely cold for a moment--cold, then surge back into warmth, like hot water dumped over ice. Her grip on him relaxed--the heavy feeling in the air seemed to dissipate, and he took a deep breath.

The clouds moved a little from their place over the sun, slowly allowing it to peek out again. Annette was strangely quiet--her expression had changed from one of anger to the dazed expression of confusion to one that now seemed to have forgotten her anger entirely; her annoyance remained, but it was less pointed towards Kenzie, now directed at River and the photographer standing to the sidelines. They didn’t seem to really understand or recall what had just happened--River was blinking rapidly, as though disoriented from a loud sound.

“What are we all standing around for?” Annette barked at her. “Are we doing this or not? I have a full schedule today, Ms. Tsukamoto.”

“Kenzie,” Duncan leaned down to her, his lips to her ear. “What did you do?”

“I--I don’t know,” she whispered, looking at Annette. Duncan’s mother was moving away from them, talking to River with a clipped voice. The photographer was interjecting, pointing to the fountain and gesturing. “I think...I just told her to stop. Stop being the way she’s being to us, to me and you, to us being together. I think it was like...a kind of command. Baby, I don’t know.” Kenzie was pressing a hand against her forehead, breathing slowly through her nose, out through her mouth, her red lips shining in the afternoon sun.

“Okay, baby. Okay. Let’s get through this, okay? We can do this.” He soothed his thumb over her hand. Kenzie nodded, weakly. He led her over to where Annette was now sitting by the fountain.

“Hey, I’m Anna Peterson.” The photographer approached them, peering at them over her glasses, pushing a hand through her hair. She seemed either unfazed by what had just happened, or seemed to have forgotten it entirely. Kenzie was still pressing her hand on her forehead, but Duncan nodded to her.

“You two are...really something. I have to get some shots of the two of you alone, I think. We’ll do something with Annette while River’s conducting the interview, but I’d love for you to pose for me a few times together without her. If that’s alright with you.”

“Is that okay, Kenz?” Duncan looked down at her. She nodded a little. He turned to Anna. “Do you have any water bottles?” Anna trotted over to one of the trailers and emerged a few moments later with an unopened plastic water bottle, handing it out to Kenzie. Kenzie reached for it with shaking hands; Duncan grasped it, opening it for her. “Thanks baby,” she whispered, sipping at it carefully. River was already asking Annette questions--Duncan felt weary at the prospect of trying to lie about his intentions for the company, and the longer he could put it off today, probably for the better. Anna eyed them both again--Duncan noted how impatient she seemed to start with the camera on them, fiddling her fingers over its black-and-silver surface, hopping from side to side--and said “How about we do a couple shots right now? Just some warm-up stuff. How about over here?” She gestured with one hand to where groups of blushing bourbon roses were clustered in two adjacent bushes, about a yard away from where River and Annette were going back and forth, Annette’s clipped voice carrying over to them.

Duncan nodded, gently pulling Kenzie in front of one of the bushes, to a spot of partial shade under an oak tree that grew beside them--she still clutched the water bottle in one hand, and Duncan could see the moisture gathering along the outside trembling as the bottle shook in her unsteady grip. Anna was already snapping away, having started as soon as he and Kenzie began to move; Duncan kept his hand threaded through hers, thinking soft waves of love towards her. I don’t know what you did to Mom, Kenz, but it worked. It’s like she forgot we’re even here. It was like the power we pushed over her at dinner, but even stronger. I think the powers we can use, whatever the fuck they are, whatever they mean--I think they’re getting stronger. I think we can direct them better, control them better. Kenzie set the water bottle down in the crook of the oak tree’s roots, and came close to him, her hands reaching out for him. Duncan couldn’t stop himself; he pressed his palm against her jaw, heard the furious clicking of Anna’s camera.

I still don’t really know what I did though, baby. Kenzie was looking up at him, her hazel eyes drifting into different colors as the clouds partially obscured the sun again--Anna paused for a moment, and said “God, that’s lovely, just keep doing that, the way you’re looking at each other, Duncan, keep touching her that way,” towards them. Their bodies were leaning close; the roses framed behind them. Gladly, he thought. I’ll gaze at you and hold you all day, angel baby. Kenzie seemed to be calming, the trembling running down from her limbs. Duncan moved his hands down to hold Kenzie at the waist--she pressed into him, sighing, her chin angling up. Gaze away, her gold thought drifted against him. I love you so. In your eyes I am content. They’re home.

“Mackenzie, look over here.” The camera was snapping rapidly, repeatedly. Kenzie glanced to Anna--almost involuntarily, it seemed, she laid her temple against Duncan’s chest, and his hand came up against her hair--he gazed down at the aureate crown of her golden-chestnut hair and pressed his lips against it as she glanced over at Anna, her little red lips parted just slightly, her eyes shining with the damp residue of her emotions. Duncan savored the warmth of her despite the hotness of the day, the feeling of the lace of her dress under his fingers, the dip of her waist, the cascade of her hair, the heady scent of her. You’re my home too, baby. You’re the resting place of my soul.

“Wow,” Anna said. She seemed to have forgot about them, in a sense; seemed to be thinking about the photos rather than their physical presence. “That’s going to be a final shot for absolute certain.” Kenzie turned her face into him now, her eyes fluttering closed, overwhelmed; Duncan looked to Anna’s camera now, and couldn’t stop the protective wave that fell over him, his resentment towards the world around them that didn’t seem to grasp how extraordinary Kenzie was, how luminously beautiful within, brighter than a hundred other souls combined, how desperately she had to be protected from anyone who would wish her harm, how divine it was that her spirit was on earth at all. “Gorgeous, gorgeous, fuck, perfect,” Anna was murmuring, coming around their right side. “Like a fairy tale. Your eyes, Duncan, they’re like sharp little polished sapphires. Hold that pose for me, please.” Kenzie looked up at him; they really are, she thought to him. They are like sapphires. I love your eyes, baby.

And your eyes are like autumn leaves dusted with golden evening lights. She pulled away from him, grinning in embarrassment--Duncan clutched at her arms, pulling her back to him, pressing his lips into the bottom of her jaw as he lifted her little body up to him, Anna clicking her camera all the while. No baby, let me. Let me tell you how beautiful you are, Kenzie. Let me tell you and know how sincerely I mean it, my body and soul aching for you, hungry for you every minute. Please know how much I love you.

I know baby, I know. And I love you--so much. So fucking much. So much it’s almost hard to look at you, to feel all that love from you, because I feel like the love I feel for you and the love I feel coming from you is so great--together, it’s like they’re going to burst my heart into a thousand pieces.

Let it burst, then. Mine will too. The fragments of both of us will still find each other again. I’d find you if you were at the opposite end of the universe, baby. I’d search for you until I found you. I swear on everything. On my life, on my death, on every star. I promise. I would fucking find you. His hands were threading through her hair, their lips not quite touching but their mouths hovering near each other; Duncan resurfaced from the intoxicating nexus of her, glancing over at Anna again; the older woman was gaping openly at them, her camera hovering in her hands, forgotten. Then she shook her head as if to clear it, and nodded at him, mouthing the word again. Perfect.

------

The interview, so far as it concerned him and Kenzie, went surprisingly smoothly--whatever influence Kenzie had had on Annette seemed to extend through the remainder of their time with River and Anna; the photographer took several shots of them around the fountain, Duncan standing behind his mother in one with Kenzie sitting in the opposite direction, and another with Kenzie and Duncan sitting together and Annette standing, her gaze off to the side. Duncan wondered with mounting impatience what the photos would look like when the article was released; wondered if by the time it was published it wouldn’t already be obsolete in context. Annette had already given answers to several questions from River regarding the company that Duncan knew were not entirely accurate or truthful--and answers he knew would not coincide with the new model for the company when he gained majority share. Duncan knew Kenzie was getting glimpses of his inner frustration as the afternoon wore on; she would glance at him with concern deep in her eyes, and reach for his hand, her lips pressing together. Better not to talk much anyway, baby, she said to him, secretly; that way you won’t be branded a liar later. And Annette can’t pretend like you went along with all of this just to turn on her. I’m with you, baby. We should talk to Momby soon about the board of directors. I’m sure she’ll say yes. We’re going to make it through all of this--and then we’ll have our whole lives ahead of us.

Her voice inside his head had soothed him as the afternoon wore on, and by the time River was turning off her recorder and closing her notes, Annette seemed to be in a mood that could almost approach good for once. She was glancing down at her phone with a neutral expression; then, it seemed to cloud again as she received a text. Kenzie had been whispering into his ear, giggling over Claire asking if Harris was single, trailing kisses along his skin there. Annette looked up at him, and he knew something was wrong.

“Your uncle’s been taken to the hospital again.” She was standing, her lips pressing in a thin line, the clouds having returned strongly overhead--this time they seemed to be here to stay, having multiplied and extended over the sky, so the day was no longer bright or as hot. Annette’s hand was coming up to brush her hair off her shoulder, and her expression became unreadable, dark, hidden. “I have to meet him there. We’ll have to postpone the Forbes interview.”

“Mom, I could do it without you--”

“No. I don’t think so.” She seemed to falter for a moment, her eyes skirting over to Kenzie beside him, who was staring back at her solemnly, sympathy in her hazel eyes. Kenzie forgives you for everything, I know she does. She always does. She wants to be your friend. She wants to be a daughter to you. I know that, even if she won’t say it, won’t really say it, not yet, not even to me. Annette’s tone wasn’t angry and incredulous, as it had been--now, it was tinged with a sort of weary resignation, and a hidden sadness that she refused to show outwardly. “I think perhaps it’s better to cancel it entirely. There’s too much happening in the company right now to give a business-forward interview, anyway. With the company itself soon to be in such flux--it seems unwise. This one is done, besides.” Annette suddenly looked very tired. Duncan reached out to his mother--she gripped under his arms, and he knew in a rush how badly she had wanted to touch him, then. Knew that she was mourning his uncle already, in her heart of hearts, a heart she never showed to anyone but him, and then only in rare flashes that seemed to disappear right after the instant they emerged.

“Mom. I love you.”

“My sweet Duncan.” River and Anna had gone away, back to one of the trailers, and Harris stood with his mother’s bodyguard, Becket, a huge, menacing man who rarely spoke, at the far edge of the garden by the gate, too far away to hear any conversation from the distance; the Rose Garden had grown oddly quiet, the only sounds the drift of the summer wind and the trickle of the water, and Kenzie was sitting on the fountain beside where he and his mother stood, staring at the ground, her hair falling down her shoulders, her hand clutching at the moon pendant at her throat. As he glanced at her he could see that she had tears gathered in the corners of her eyes--he glanced back at his mother, caught between their emotions.

“You were always such a perceptive, sensitive child.” Annette was loosening her grip on his arms, stepping back from him. “I fought to steel your nerves for the world outside. It’s cruel and unkind and ruthlessly hard, and I knew it would crush you if I didn’t prepare you for it. I’m sorry if I...I’m sorry if I have sometimes been cold to you. I tried to...I tried to protect you. I have tried to. You had to be fearless to survive this world, and I knew it, and I became obsessed with my need to prepare you. I wonder if I--” she turned her face to look over his shoulder, into Kenzie’s eyes--seemed to notice the tears there. “I wonder if I’ve been too stubborn regarding certain...things. As your uncle worsens, I...”

Annette’s eyes grew misty--she smiled, but the smile was achingly sad to him.

“I wonder if I haven’t confused the things that truly matter with what seemed to for so long.”

Duncan watched, his body going stiff with shock, as Annette went around him and reached down to Kenzie with one shaking hand. I’ve never seen Mom shake like that. It’s my uncle. Bill’s dying. He’s really dying. And I think she just realized that. Really realized it, and began to accept it. He’s going to die very soon.

Kenzie reached up to her--as their fingers grasped each other, Duncan watched (felt) the golden wave of Kenzie’s energy (her attention, her kindness, her goodness, her love) fall down over his mother in its quiet, cascading swell. Annette sighed--the sigh seemed to be tinged with surprise, as though whatever she was receiving from Kenzie was moving beyond words, tinged with too much feeling to resist. Duncan couldn’t quite glimpse it in its entirety--it seemed to be a secret of some kind that Kenzie passed into his mother, something for her and her alone. Duncan felt another sharp wave of shock as he watched Annette lean down to Kenzie’s little cheek and kiss it, a tiny, short peck of her lips to the soft skin of his beloved’s sweet face. The kiss, he knew instantly, was sincere.

And then the moment passed, and Annette walked away from them, towards Becket and the gate, slipping her dark sunglasses over her eyes, shielding him and Kenzie from her emotions entirely. The big man ushered her through the gate, and they were lost from view.

“Dunny,” Duncan heard Kenzie’s little voice before he turned to her, heard the tears in it, and they weren’t tears of sadness, not really--they’d become tears of relief, he saw as he looked into her eyes, their whirling gold telling him clearly, and he rushed to her and gathered her up in his arms, and she was so small and her body shook against him, and Duncan touched her cheek where his mother had kissed her, and it seemed to burn under his fingers, burn like it had been held close to a flame, and he held her among the quiet roses, the sweet-scented summer wind falling against them, and the moment soothed and dissolved, and they lingered in it for a long while.

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