#I am looking forward to seeing him grow his own forest of mushrooms
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This week's episode of Vinland saga was deeply heartbreaking.
So far we have seen how terrible slavery is, but only (mostly) in theory. In the way one may look at a neighboring country with serious issues and think, yeah, that sucks.
This episode takes it to a personal level. Sure, we saw Einar's family die at the beginning of the season, but we didn't care for him then. We didn't know him. He was just one of many victims. Like Arnheid. She is first introduced as a mild, nice lady that won't harm a fly, fooling us into thinking her life is perhaps not too bad. And little by little, we're fed pieces of her misery.
Abused by the mistress of the house. Doomed to a life as sex slave, and pregnant with a child of the master. A dead child. A lost family. And yet she smiles through it all. She picks up the little crumbs of joy she can and gives up on her freedom, on her past life. She is able to laugh at last. Until the storm hits, and she's not able to let it pass. Just when she was starting to accept her fate, when she was settling in her life as a slave.
Garnar, her husband, ruined by slavery, shaped into a desperate beast driven by blind revenge finally reunites with her, only to die in her arms as he dreams about the life they can no longer have. And she can't even have that one moment in peace, because she's a slave, and surrounding her are men waiting to take her back to her doom. Her life is no longer hers. Her future snatched right out of her hands.
Just beautifully done. At the beginning of the season I used to think Thorfinn was being too hard on himself. He was just a child after all, when he was out in the war. However, living like this, amongst slaves, experiencing first hand their struggles and regrets, the sheer injustice of the abuse, how could he not blame himself? He, too, ruined lives, broke families apart. Killed indiscriminately and sent people into slavery.
#vinland saga#vinland saga spoilers#thorfinn#arnheid#I feel for him#you're doing great Thorfinn keep up the good work#but seriously this season has surpassed all my expectations of it I thought it would be another action packed vikings#which is not bad I do love a good historical viking#but this??? shit it is done so well#thorfinn is very much just a human#he is no hero#and neither are the people he surrounds himself with#I am looking forward to seeing him grow his own forest of mushrooms#living peacefully with a group of hippy friends that stare at the sky all day and talk about the meaning of cats
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The Diary of Crystal the Human (An Adventure Time Fanfic)
God this one is so old. I really need to write another fic based on this universe. I miss it. Never finished this story. Had fun writing it though. I did the “writing in a diary” way of story telling... Ah, to be young.
Fanfiction - Such an old fic I never bothered putting it on AO3 and Wattpad
*******************************************************************************************
CHAPTER ONE: THE BEGINING PART ONE
Dear Anybody,
Let me set this strait. This is not a diary it's called a journal. Got it- good. And I'm only writing this incase I don't survive this insane old guy. Anyway let me start from when I decided to run away from home.
You see I live in this village we like to call The Village (I know. It's such an original name. *Eye roll*) that is in the middle of this huge evergreen forest clearing. All of the buildings are made from the surrounding trees that were built hundreds of years ago, maybe even after the Great Mushroom War. I'm not sure though, history was never my strong suit in school.
The houses all look the same, with their wooden one-story walls and drafty rafters, with nothing to look outside with. The only building that didn't look like the others was the schoolhouse. It had a giant bell on top of it and it had three floors to it, all with windows. The first floor holds kindergarten to fourth grade, the second floor holds fifth grade to eighth grade, and the last floor holds the ninth grade to twelfth grade.
Not long ago I graduated from high school. I was so proud of myself because I had big plans. I wanted to be an adventurer, to see beyond my quaint little village and see new amazing things. The night I graduated was when I told my father my dream. It was the biggest mistake I ever made.
***
"What!" he bellowed, "My daughter will do no such thing!"
"Why," I asked surprised by his out burst.
" Your engaged-"
Know it was my turn to shriek in protest, "What! Since when!"
"Since your birth. Before your mother died," he said softly before he lowered his head in sadness.
I lowered my head as well knowing very well how much dad misses her, but I couldn't let that fact stop me from getting an answer.
"What gives you the right to tell me who I marry," I demanded quietly.
"Because I am your father and I want you to be safe and close."
"But I'm only seventeen, who would you have marry me," I growled.
He crossed his meaty arms over his burly chest, "Weevil."
"What!" I shrieked, "That rat faced jackass! He's twenty years older than me!"
"And a friend of the family."
"But I don't even like him let alone love him!"
"Don't worry, you'll eventually grow to love him," he soothed.
***
I couldn't believe what I heard my own father say, each word was like a blunt knife forcing its way into my beating heart. Why was he able to fall in love with my mother? Why couldn't I find love like he did? Why did it have to be that stuck up jerk? I was so infuriated by what he said that I ran to my room ending the conversation.
For hours I stayed up ranting to myself about how unfair this was. Asking myself why mom would approve of this. Kicking random objects on the wooden floor of my room. Until I finally just collapsed on my bed from emotional exhaustion. What happened next is a little fuzzy and I don't remember it all so bear with me.
***
I was in a white dress that trailed on behind me forever, my shoulder length blond hair was out of its usual ponytail. In my hands was a bouquet of red roses that were dripping blood onto my white-gloved hands. I started to walk forward with no control over my legs while I heard a pipe organ play the wedding march Here Comes the Bride. To my sides I saw people everywhere standing up. Every one of them faceless, they were nothing but white masks. In front of me I saw whom I was walking towards. Weevil was at the alter wearing a black tuxedo, my father was behind said alter with a book in his hand. I tried to run away, scream, anything but I couldn't. I had no control over my body as I walked closer to the beady eyed, rat faced creep.
When I was standing by his side my father said, "Do you Weevil take my daughter to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do," he said in his squeaky voice.
My father turned to me, "And do you Crystal take Weevil to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
"I do," the words slipped past my lips before I could bight my tongue.
"I know pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride."
Again my body moved against my will as I turned toward the rat man. As Weevil came closer to me, my eyes closed on their own accord and I started leaning in. Finally my panic was so great that I was able to scream out, "I don't want to marry him!"
"Then don't marry him," said a deep smooth voice.
I was able to open my eyes; in front of me was an eight foot golden owl. My surroundings turned into a starry night and I was in my green tank top and blue jeans again.
"Don't marry him, go be an adventurer," he said again.
"I heard you the first time… Sir. But how do you expect me to do that, hmmm?"
"Running away seems to be a good option," the owl shrugged his wings.
"Yah, well who or were am I going to go to if I do decide to run away."
"Head north until you come across a crossroad on your travels," he pointed to a picture in the sky that looked like the part of the forest where my house was built by.
Then he flew right in front of my face and said in a creepy voice, "Now, wake up!"
***
I flew strait up in bed from the shock then I breathed a sigh of relieve. That's when I made my decision I was going to control my own destine and nobody was going to stop me. I lit the candle by my bed and got my green backpack from under my bed. I stuffed it with an extra shirt and pants, a thick brown winter sweeter, my knife, canteen, and compass. Then I threw my leather bound notebook, an inkwell and a dipping pin in to my bag. Slinging the pack over my shoulder I silently crept through the dark house so I didn't wake up my father in the room across from my own.
When I finally made it outside I noticed that it was gray signaling dawns arrival. I fished into my backpack for the compass; in the dim light of early morning I saw the compass needle, point north. Right into the direction the strange owl pointed me to in my dream. I ran to the edge of the forest hesitating for only a second, remembering all of the stories my father told me of people going into the evergreen forest but never coming back. Then I plunged into the foliage knowing that whether I was attacked by rainicorns or not I was never coming back anyways.
I stomped through the forest at a speed walking pace never letting up and always following the compass north. I went up and down steep hills; I jumped across very narrow but deep chasms, I swam across a river, naked (because it would be stupid to get your clothes and shoes wet) and I trudged through a great deal of the forest. By the time it was after mid day I was starving. But I was lucky because not far ahead I saw a raspberry bush filled with red, rip, and juicy berries. I rushed towards it saliva accidentally escaping my mouth. When I finally had a hand full of them in my mouth they were amazingly sweet, each berry exploding in my mouth with flavor and juice. I've had raspberries before but they were never this amazingly delicious.
While I was eating I noticed something strange. I saw a butterfly, now I've seen butterflies before but this one had human skulls on its wings. And when I reached out to touch it, it turned around. Instead of seeing the usual black stick like body of a butterfly I saw a miniature human skeleton holding a raspberry, its face dripping with its juices. From surprise and horror I jumped back with a self-stifled scream and I fell down on my butt. The skeletal butterfly flew inches from my face said something to me in an unknown angry squirrel like chatter while it shook its tinny fist in my face. Then it flew off with a huff still carrying the raspberry. I watched it dumfound as it flew from sight. Still staring I stood up and brushed myself off. Quickly I grabbed a hand full of raspberries and then I walked shakily away from the bush.
***
Not thirty minutes after that little incident I found my crossroad. Literally, I came across a dirt road. It looked well worn and used by a lot of people. Getting excited that this was what that owl guy meant I started to walk on the road heading toward were the sun would set that day. I was so happy that I was on this adventure, that I saw something new and that I will never have to marry that rat. I started to sing.
I was walking along, mindin' my business
when out of the orange colored sky!
Flash!
Bam
Ali-ca-zam
wonderful you came by
I was hummin' a tune
drinkin' in sunshine
when out of that orange colored view
Wham
Bam
Ali-ca-zam
I got'a look at you
Then suddenly I felt a pain on the back of my head and everything went black.
I woke up first noticing how cold I was, the air the floor, it was like I was sleeping in the belly of an iceberg. Then I noticed the chit chatting of womanly voices. When I tried to sit up pain split through my head like a lightning bolt and a groan escaped my lips. Then the room went quiet.
***
"Oh my glob look she's getting up," stated a deep diva voice.
"Yes we can see that LSP," said a sweet voice.
***
Someone was gently pushing me back down on to my back. When my head was placed back on to my backpack I looked up to see a woman. She was wearing glasses, brown hair pulled back into pigtails with a jewel hanging from her forehead and wearing what looked like a button up lab coat over an orange sweater dress. And she had a strange green complexion to her skin.
***
"Don't get up too fast, that hit to the head that the Ice King gave you was pretty bad. Wait awhile before you try again," she said in a light nasally voice.
"Okay," I said weakly.
"Do you remember your name?"
"It's Crystal."
"Do you know what day it is today?"
"Saturday."
"Good. Now which hand is your right hand?"
I lifted up my arm that was by where she was sitting next to me.
"Good. Now we are going to try sitting up again alright?"
I nodded then she clasped my hands and pulled me up into a sitting position.
"My name is Doctor Princess," she said pointing to herself.
"That's Princess Bubblegum," she pointed to an all pink person. Her skin, her long hair, her dress all was pink. She was wearing a circlet that had only one point and had a blue stone on top of it. She smiled and side hello in her sweet voice.
"That's Lumpy Space Princess," she pointed to a floating purple cloud. But when the pink girl elbowed it. It turned around showing a displeased face with a yellow star on her forehead.
"Hey," she said in that deep diva voice unenthusiastically.
"That's Slime Princess," she pointed to a little lump of green muck. She was wearing a circlet like the pink girl but it had a green stone on the top instead of blue. She waved her little nubby arm and said hello in a very regal kind of voice.
"That's Raggedy Princess," She pointed to what looked like a sock with only legs, with two button eyes one black the other green, and her long brown hair was holding up what looked like a giant broken piece of glass. She came out of hiding from behind the pink girl, gave me a quick nod and said hello in a shy quiet voice. Then she went back to hiding.
"And lastly that's Wildberry Princess," she pointed me to a giant red raspberry with thin green arms and legs. A stem and leaf was sticking out on top of her head. On top of the stem was a tinny three-point crown; in the middle of the crown was a red jewel. She said hello to me in a sort of high-pitched kind of voice.
***
For a long time all I did was stare at them. Slowly I turned to the woman calling herself Doctor Princess.
***
"I think I got hit harder on the head than you think?"
"Why do you say that?"
"You're green, she's pink, she's a purple cloud, she's a giant fruit, she's a ball of slime, and she's a sock with feet," I said while pointing to each princess, "So I'm pretty sure I'm hallucinating."
"Oh, for a second there you had me worried. No you're not hallucinating, you're seeing what you're seeing," she said with a smile.
***
I just stared at her for a long time while the information sunk in. When I finally accepted the truth of the matter I grabbed my head, doubled over forward, and groaned.
***
"Maybe we presented her with too much information for her to handle," Princess Bubblegum said sympathetically.
"Maybe we should ask her some questions about her self," suggested Raggedy Princess.
"Did she just call me a purple cloud," Lumpy Space Princess yelled, "I'm going to kill her!"
"No! It is bad enough she was kidnapped like the rest of us," Wildberry Princess shouted while she and Slim Princess was holding her back.
"And she has it worst than us because he thinks she looks like Fionna which is why he threatened us to changer her into the costume he made," Slime Princess finished.
***
That's when I noticed the blue skirt. Slowly I stood up while I was still looking down. I had on knee high white socks with black strap shoes. I was wearing a blue mini-skirt and a form fitting blue short-sleeved t-shirt. When I looked up again a piece of white fabric fell down in front of my face. I pulled the hat off of my head my blond hair falling across my shoulders. It was white with bunny ears on top of it.
***
The hat still in hand I looked up at the others, "What did you guys do with my stuff?"
"We put your belongings in your backpack," answered Princess Bubblegum.
I picked up my bag from the floor and switched out my brown sweeter for the white bunny hat. Then I shouldered my green pack and turned to Doctor Princess.
"Thank you for bandaging my head when I was out cold."
"Your welcome."
"And thank you all for being so nice to me," I said to the others, "I'm sorry for being so rude."
"Humph, you should be. I'm a princess and I deserve to be treated like a princess," Lumpy Space Princess huffed. Everybody turned to her and glared.
"What?"
"It's alright Crystal it's obvious that you've never been here before. Where do you come from?" Princess Bubblegum asked.
"Oh, I come from a human village."
Everybody gasped but Doctor Princess and Princess Bubblegum.
"You're, human," they all cried out in surprise.
"And there is more of you," questioned Doctor Princess.
"Yah, why," I asked, weirded out by their out burst.
"Well, its just we've thought humans have been extinct for hundreds of years," explained Princess Bubblegum.
"Oh."
***
I didn't say any more and they didn't ask any questions. While I was standing there in that terribly drafty skirt I looked around at my surroundings. The walls, floor and celling were nothing but smooth blue ice. There were thick icicle cell bars to my left. I walled over to it. Outside the cage bar doors I saw a bed with cheetah bed sheets that was messy and unmade to my right. To my left I saw a drum kit with the title #1 BABE tattooed on the big drum in the middle tucked into a corner. Everywhere there were sheets of paper, different articles of clothing strewn across the floor and a random instrument here and there. The walls, floor and celling was also made of blue ice.
***
"So, who is this guy again that kidnaped us, where are we, and when do we escape?"
"The wizard that kidnaped us is called the Ice King," Slime Princess said with a shiver.
"He kidnaps us because he's looking for a princess who will marry him," continued Raggedy Princess.
"But nobody will because he's old, crazy and ugly," stated Lumpy Space Princess.
"We are in the castle of the Ice Kingdom," replied Princess Bubblegum.
"And we'll be rescued by our hero, Finn," Wildberry Princess said excitedly.
Half of the room swooned. I raised an eyebrow.
"He's that great, is he," I said with skepticism in my voice.
"Oh yes, he's strong," sighed Wildberry Princess.
"Kind," blushed Raggedy Princess
"He has supper hot lumps," Lumpy Space Princess said while rubbing her hands over her body in a weird way.
"Very heroic," stated Princess Bubblegum in a matter of fact tone.
"He's helpful," added Slime Princess.
"And a great patient," finished Doctor Princess.
"Okay then, I guess I can't wait to meet him."
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Spring Rain
fairy!park jimin x fairy!reader
Genre: Fluff!
Type: Blurb/Drabble
Warnings: None
Summary: The first spring rains have finally come, and you find peaceful, or not so peaceful moments with Jimin.
The Request
A/N: Soooo this may have sparked my creativity a bit. Maybe? Hopefully its good.
BTS Masterlist - Main Masterlist
❃〰∿✵⚘☾☽
“Yah! Park Jimin!” You half yelled, half laughed as he pulled you under the mushroom, cheeks still flushed. “I should’ve known you were going after him!”
“It was so easy! He was standing right there! It was impossible not to get him!” He defended, laughing as his eyes crinkled up into perfect crescents.
The quiet rain pitter-pattered above the two of you, leading you to take a deep breath and calm down. Your hand hovered over your wings to brush the rain droplets off, and he did the same.
You slid down, wings folded up and back rested against the stem of the toadstool. He smiled, folding his own wings before sitting next to you.
“Do you think they can see us?” You whispered, eyes to the sky.
“They sent the rain to help us, didn’t they? Now the flowers can keep growing again.” You nodded, hand reaching out beyond the toadstool to catch droplets of rain in your palm. You carefully slid them into a vial, squeezing the cork back on.
“What’s that for?” Jimin asked, peering over at your bottle.
“A memoir. To remember this moment.” You grinned, turning to look at him.
“That memorable am I?” He smirked.
“Maybe.” You smirked back, sliding the vial back into your pocket.
After a few more moments of hiding from the rain, the clouds drifted apart to reveal a bright sun. Almost instantly, you could see the sprouts start to grow.
“Are you going to capture sunlight now? To remember this moment?” He teased, stepping out from under the mushroom.
“Of course!” You spoke as you stepped out onto the forest floor.
“And how exactly are you going to do this?”
“Like this.” And you leaned forward, capturing his lips with your own. You broke away in a second, laughing.
“Wha-”
“See? Easy!” You giggled, spreading your wings and twirling in the air.
“Hey!” he yelled as he unfurled his wings, watching as you darted away, your laughter filling the air and his heart.
❃〰∿✵⚘☾☽
Taglist: @jinnie-forthe-winnie @softbobamilktae
© fly-you-dam-fools
#bts jimin x reader#jimin x reader#park jimin x reader#bts park jimin x reader#jimin fanfic#bts fanfic#am I allowed to tag this?#bangtan castle#?#jimin fluff#jimin fic#park jimin fanfic#park jimin fluff
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ive been gone for a over week but whatever dw abt it, this is a loooong chapter.
ahahahahahah more of this backstory explanation thing that has blossomed into a series, which I am going to be calling… uh… uhm… *spins tiny wheel* er… Broken Brotherhood? Yeah, that… that works. Part Three of the Broken Brotherhood series! (tw: injury, broken bones, hunting, blood)
Sam shot up. clasping a hand to his forehead. Where am I? Why was it so hot? He looked around and remembered where he was. He sat against the wall, only to lurch forward. Right… my wings. “Ow…” He groaned.
“You’re awake!” Ex turned his head, looking up from what he was doing. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t wake up, you’ve been out for ages!”
“How long was I asleep?” Sam asked groggily.
“Hm, about a day, give or take.” Ex said, leaning on his workbench. “You’re adjusting. Time works differently here.”
“My head hurts…” Sam blinked a few times.
“You hit it a few times while you were sleeping last night. You were thrashing around like mad.” He said.
“I was?” Sam asked.
“Being here messes with your head. With all you went through I’d assume you had some nightmares.” Ex said. Sam shuddered, remembering the monochrome images that had flashed through his mind all night. His brother laughing as Sam was pulled away, hundreds of eyes watching him, arms ripping at his wings.
“You get used to them.” Ex noticed his discomfort.
“Do they… do they go away?” Sam stared at the floor.
“I… I wish I could say they did.” Ex sighed. “Come on, can you stand?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Sam shakily got to his feet and almost fell, then stabilized himself. Ex handed him a crossbow.
“Ever hunted for hoglins before?” He asked.
“No, I can’t say I have.” Sam said.
“I know you just got here, but we’ve gotta eat somehow.” Ex opened the door, and Sam followed him back to the crimson forest where Sam had fallen a day prior. Ex dropped to his knees behind a fallen log and pulled Sam down beside him. “See that thing?” He pointed to a large, boar-like creature grazing on red mushrooms. It had wrinkly pinkish skin, brittle-looking black hairs growing like spines on it’s back, and scraped but sharp horns. “That’s a hoglin.”
“It looks scary.” Sam noted.
“They can be pretty dangerous if you’re unarmed, but they’re pretty easy to kill.” Ex loaded a crossbow and aimed it at the creature. He pulled the trigger and the arrow flew forward, sticking into the creature’s side. It let out a squeal and fell over, dead. Ex covered it in leaves. “We’ll come back for that. I want to get one more.” They walked for awhile and came around a bend in the cliffside. Another hoglin was grazing nearby. “Your turn.” Ex pointed at the beast. Sam gulped. He had never even thought of killing something, let alone something that was just minding it’s own business.
“I- I don’t know about this, we already got the one-” Sam said.
“No, you need to get used to things like these. The Nether is dangerous and you have to do what’s necessary to survive.” Ex said firmly.
“O-okay.” Sam took a shaky breath and aimed his crossbow. His finger hovered over the trigger. He closed his eyes and pulled it quickly, but he flinched. The arrow hit the ground just in front of the hoglin. It looked up and noticed Sam and Ex, and charged at them. It tackled Sam and he fell to the ground. Suddenly, the beast was thrown off of him. Ex was slashing at it with a sword, but the creature retaliated and charged again, one of it’s horns punctured a weak spot in the side of his armor. He collapsed, blood trickling from the puncture in his side. The hoglin reared it’s head, about to crush him. Ex, clutching his side, swiftly shoved his sword upward and into the hoglin’s chest. It fell, dead. Ex stood up and walked over to Sam, who was standing to the side, guilt clouding his mind.
“What was that?!” Ex shouted. “I told you to take the shot!”
“I’m sorry, I-I got scared! I’ve never even fired a crossbow before!” Sam tried to argue.
“I almost got killed! You have to be decisive here or else you aren’t going to survive!” Ex continued.
“I-” Sam’s eyes welled up with tears, which instantly evaporated.
“It’s fine, just… forget about it.” Ex dragged the hoglin’s corpse back to where the other dead monster was covered and picked that up as well. They walked in silence back to Ex’s house. Ex piled the dead hoglins in a shed and went inside and sat down, unbuckling the straps of his armor. He lifted his shirt, revealing the puncture wound the hoglin’s horn had left. He winced, and began wrapping bandages around his midsection. His hand seized up, and he dropped the roll of bandages.
“Do you want help?” Sam asked reluctantly
“I can… I can take care of myself.” Ex shook his head, picking up and immediately dropping the bandages.
“Let me help. It’s the least I can do. Sam picked up the bandages and finished wrapping Ex’s wound. “There, that should be better.”
“Thanks, I guess.” Ex said, putting on his armor again and walking over to his workbench, and began fixing his crossbow, as it had been trampled by the hoglin. “Ugh, I need more string. I’m going to the market, want to come with me?”
“Sure, why not.” Sam stood and followed Ex to the edge of the lava lake. Ex whistled, and two strange creatures came walking forward. They were red, with long legs and large black eyes. Each had a saddle on it’s back. Ex handed Sam a fishing rod with a teal mushroom on the end.
“Use this to steer.” Ex helped Sam climb onto the back of the creature, and climbed onto the other. He cast the mushroom forward and the creature walked forward. Sam did the same and began traversing the boiling sea of magma. Sam bounced upon the creature’s back, trying to hold himself steady. Soon, they reached a central island, covered in stalls and tables. He and Ex walked into the crowded streets. Sam stayed close to his friend, not wanting to get lost. Smells of spices and smoke rose from nearby stall. Someone tried to sell Sam a box of purple powder. Ex walked swiftly through the crowded square, Sam holding onto his arm. Eventually they reached a stand selling textiles. Ex grabbed a spool of string and gave the vendor a couple gold coins before grabbing Sam’s hand and dragging him back through the packed streets. They returned to their striders and back home.
“Hungry?” Ex asked. Sam nodded, and his friend lit a fire outside and began roasting some of the hoglin from earlier. When he was done, he handed Sam a piece.
“Thanks.” Sam said. He wolfed it down, realizing that he hadn’t eaten anything for three whole days.
“Drink this.” Ex gave him a cup of steaming, orangish liquid. Sam sniffed it and took a sip, and almost spat it out. It was sour and bitter, tasting of burnt coffee. He swallowed anyway, and he found his thirst quenched completely. “Yeah, it tastes bad, I know, but it’s the closest thing we have to water.”
“What is it?” Sam asked.
“It’s the liquid extracted from crimson roots. I would use the warped roots, but they’re harder to harvest with the endermen.” Ex shrugged. “Get some rest, your wings are still healing.” Sam nodded and went inside, lying down in his bed. A numb pain still stung his back, but was less noticeable now. He closed his eyes, and was sucked away by the nightmares. The same monochrome images, same cackling voices, same eyes and grasping arms tearing away at him. A set of hands shoved him backwards. He fell deeper and into the dark pit, trying to flap his wings, which were turned to ash as he flailed in the air. He hit the ground, which shattered on impact. Sam shot up in his bed and screamed. He heard a door swing open, quick footsteps rushing towards him. A blue light illuminated Ex’s face, painted with a look of distress.
“Sam? Are you okay?” Ex asked.
“I-I’m okay, just… just go back to sleep.” Sam waved him away.
“Nightmares?” He asked. Sam said nothing, but nodded. “Hm. Well, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but what do you see?” Sam took a breath, and explained all he had seen and heard. His brother, the voices, his wings burning away. Ex sat beside him, listening, a hand resting on Sam’s shoulder.
“It was the same last time. Every time I close my eyes, I see him.” Sam spat. “That lousy, weakling excuse for a brother.” He said aloud.
“I still see him sometimes. My brother.” Ex sighed. “I remember his face before he pushed me in, I’ll never forget it.”
“What was it like?” Sam asked.
“He was… he was angry. And broken. And so was I. There were so many other ways we could have resolved what happened, if he had listened to me-” Ex stopped.
“It’s okay.” Sam said.
“If he had listened to me and let me continue what I was doing I could have saved everyone who had been lost from my… miscalculation.” He sighed.
“Why did you make a deal in the first place, if you don’t mind me asking?” Sam questioned.
“I don’t want to talk about it. I already told you, I lost someone I cared about.” Ex moved away from Sam, moving his hand. Sam wondered if he should press him for information, or not say anything.
“You’re hurting.” Sam could sense his friend’s grief and pain. “Your partner. That’s who you lost, isn’t it?”
“How did you- never mind. I told you I don’t want to talk about it.” Ex crossed his arms, tucking his knees to his chest.
“I know it’s hard, and I know you don’t want to. But you need to. You never got a good chance to, your brother was too busy. Open wounds fester if left untreated.” Sam sighed.
“I- I’m not ready yet.” Ex said. “But when I am, I’ll tell you.”
“I understand.” Sam nodded. “Get some sleep.” Ex stood up, taking his lantern and leaving. Sam laid down and closed his eyes, his nightmares not returning.
“Wake up.” Ex said, shaking Sam awake.
“Huh?” Sam blinked, rubbing his eyes.
“We’re going hoglin hunting again.” He said.
“Didn’t we do that yesterday?” Sam sat up.
“Yes, but I want to get some to sell, and collect some more crimson roots.” Ex said, handing Sam his crossbow. As the two walked into the crimson woods, Sam was determined. I’m going to do it today. I’m not going to let Ex down. I won’t miss. They came across a small herd of hoglins. Hiding in a patch of grass, Ex began to aim his crossbow. Sam stopped him.
“Let me.” He whispered. Ex looked slightly surprised, but shrugged. Sam took a deep breath and aimed at a lone hoglin on the outskirts of the herd. He pulled the trigger, and with a snap, it fired. The arrow soared forward and hit the beast. With a squeal, it fell, dead. Sam winced slightly.
“Good job.” Ex said. “Certainly better than last time.”
“T-thanks.” Sam said. He felt a new feeling in his chest. Warm, like he fit somewhere. Belonging.
To Be Continued…
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No Dice
Paring - Karlnapity (DSMP)
Type - Angst, Oneshot
[Content Warning]
Mention of suicidal thoughts, description of scars, and Angst
Authors note: this angst one shot features a head cannon of mine where Quackity can shapeshift his face. His shifted face is usually “:]” however since the battle between him and techno, it’s difficult to hold it. This means while Quackity has intense emotions, he loses control of it.
-
Las Nevadas was hot and humid, no comforting breeze. Quackity stood atop the needle, watching the sand as if by some miracle it would turn to water. He pondered how long it would take if he jumped. He knew his wings were binded, hidden behind tape and his button up. There would be no turning back unless he managed to break his fall. But it was too soon to do that, he had just begun his reign and his mission. However all of this reflection was interrupted when he saw a reflection in the fountain water.
Mixes of light blue and shades of purple painted the water as a figure dipped his hands into it. Quackity’s usual smile glitched, emotion over coming his ability to concentrate on the shape shifting of his face. A twang of pain tugged at his heart and his gut as he watched Karl fish out a shiny penny and flip it with his fingers. What on earth was he doing here.
Quackity left the railing and down the needle elevator, composing himself as much as he could. What reason would Karl have to visit Las Nevadas? Had someone told Karl of his whereabouts? Had slime explored too far and gotten too close? As the elevator doors opened before him, his face of panic shifted into a “:]” once again. Karl’s back was to the needle doors as he looked at the tall buildings before him in awe. Karl had seen many places that were above such a scale but Karl found amazement each time. He pocketed the penny as he heard steps that met pavement roads.
“Hello Karl! What brings you to Las Nevadas?” Quackity’s artificial smile and forced hospitality didn’t bother Karl, who looked back at the man.
“Hi! I was looking for a friend of mine when I saw the sign, the lights are gorgeous.” Karl gleamed at the fountain and the pools beyond it. Quackity felt anxious as he took in Karl’s words. Who was he looking for- why did he talk to me like he didn’t know me? He acts like we didn’t know eachother at a-
“You said my name, is there by any chance I know you?” Karl smiled at the man, he felt a faint sense of familiarity from him but couldn’t quite pin point it. Karl watched as the fake smile of Quackity’s glitch out of proportion. Quackity felt himself grow sick. He didn’t recognize him. Was this some cruel prank? Did Sapnap put him up to this? The absence of his 8-bit smile revealed the horrid scar left behind. A reminder that he failed. The scar exposed his tooth, now replaced with gold. It traveled from his lower lip to the top of his eyebrow. His eye was white and milked over.
Karl couldn’t quite tell why but he felt himself fall for Quackity. Was it the color of his eye? Or maybe the way he presented himself? The way he stared at Karl like a guilt ridden lover? It all felt too familiar. As if they had shared night beneath stars while laughing. He imagined nights where silly insults turned into timeless pillow fights. Perhaps it was love at first sight. That’s it. Love at first sight.
Karl grew nervous as Quackity began to pick at his sleeves behind his back. “Sorry- did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to offend you- uh, what was your name again?” Karl’s expression was softer this time, worried for the person standing before him. He felt as if he was approaching a duckling with a hurt wing. Karl reached out to him. No thought was done before hand, it’s as if he knew that it was the right thing to do. Karl’s fingertips snapped Quackity out of his panic and he swatted his hand away from his scar.
“What the fuck are you doing here.” It was less of a question and more of a statement. Quackity had a fist in one pocket and the other at his side. He was on the defensive now. “First you don’t talk to me for months, then create a country and fail to tell me, and then- OH AND THEN YOU COME TO MY COUNTRY AND CLAIM NOT TO KNOW WHO THE FUCK I AM?” Despite the hot air, Karl felt a shiver shoot through his spine and took a step back. “Did Sapnap put you up to this? Did he really want to rub it in my face? Or was it George’s idea since you two love to replace me.” Quackity took a step forward. Karl took some back, nearly tripping and falling into the fountain.
Karl didn’t know what to say. Sapnap? What did his Fiancé have to do with Las Nevadas? Did he know this person? Why was he so upset? “Replace you?” Karl watched Quackity’s eyes for anything. Any clue to why he was being bombarded with anger. Quackity’s face only neutralized as he backed up. He felt as if it wasn’t worth the time and effort to get through this cruel charade.
Quackity opened his mouth to speak when he saw an intensity of heat waves approach the entrance of Las Nevadas. A fire roared beyond the sign and sand as a figure emerged from the forest. A man birthed from the lava of the nether. “Your Prince Charming has come to save you. How sweet.”
Sapnap had a temperament that had a reputation for being hot. If the desert wasn’t hot before, it was boiling now.
“Leave Karl out of this.” Karl turned his head to Sapnap, happy to see him but confused on why he was also so hostile. Sapnap was no taller than Karl but still had some height on Quackity as he stood over him. Quackity took some steps back as Sapnap grew too hot to be around.
“Oh, if it isn’t the traitor. Welcome home, love.” Quackity’s pet name was filled with sarcasm as his confident mask was being slipped on. Despite this, Quackity still had no control over the shifting of his face, his anxiety betraying him.
“You’re the one that didn’t join us. Karl told you about Kinoko Kingdom and you never came to visit. You tore down our home too, how do you think I felt when I came looking for you and everything was gone-“
“YOU NEVER CAME TO TELL ME YOU HAD ANOTHER HOME AND INSTEAD YOU REPLACED ME WITH GEORGE!” Quackity lost it as Sapnap’s face of anger turned into shock. He didn’t know?
“I told him to join?”
Sapnap’s heat cooled as his stomach sank. “Karl? What do you mean- you didn’t tell Quackity?” Karl stood still, watching the betrayed face of his fiancé and a betrayed leader.
“Quackity?”
Sapnap almost burst into tears by the sheer confusion on his lovers face. He forgot about their third. The trio was down to two, or rather to Karl, it was always just two.
“You can drop the stupid act.” Quackity’s hands went behind himself as he straightened up. He was tired of this. He didn’t need to hear this. He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want to believe that the love of his life had forgotten the existence of him. “If you’re not here to play any of the games we have here, I’m not going to sit around and play yours.” Quackity turned to leave but Sapnap’s grip found his wrist.
“What- do you really think I’d put Karl to this? You know that Karl’s memory gets spotty each time he-“
Quackity ripped his arm from Sapnaps grasp, nearly sobbing on the spot, angry and confused. Grieving over someone who’s standing before him. He couldn’t dare look at Karl. Karl’s eyes were all too familiar. A reminder that the three of them watched the stars together. A reminder that the three of them had melted gold into rings. That the rings were engraved with their initials. Their promises. But Quackity questioned the strength of promises. Were they still promises if he doesn’t even remember them anymore.
“Will you just listen-“ Sapnap tried to plead, but Quackity only stood there.
“Lets flip a coin. Heads that I stay and listen to your bullshit excuses or tails, you two are to leave Las Nevadas until you’re finally ready to gamble.” Quackity waltzed over to Karl, holding out a palm. Karl looked at Quackity’s fingers. He saw flashes of the same scene happening, except Karl placed his hand in his and they began to dance. That’s when he noticed that his ring finger had a tan line. A ring was there, almost the same intricate design as his own.
Karl hesitantly took the penny he fished out of the fountain and placed it into his hand. The feeling of his skin against his fingers lingered in his head as Quackity walked backwards, away from the two. His face shifted, covering any emotion with his signature 8-bit smile. The coin was flipped and the copper penny reflected into Karl’s eyes. He remembered Quackity trying to teach him how to flip a coin. All too familiar but too blurry to be sure it happened.
Quackity then caught the coin and held it up for everyone to see.
Tails.
“Awe. No dice! If only there was another chance for a redo. Oh well! I guess Lady Luck just didn’t come around this time.” Sapnap stood still and motionless as Quackity took two fingers and whistled. The distant clopping of hooves approached as a Skeleton steed emerged from the sand covered in gold. “C’mon Ossium.” One last look was shared between Karl and this not so distant stranger. For a moment, the artificial smile was more sad than it was taunting.
As Quackity rode off Sapnap turned to Karl. “What did we do wrong.” He dropped his head onto Karl’s shoulder, Karl still watching the steed carry off the gambling man.
“He still wears it.”
Sapnap looked up at Karl. “What?” His voice was hoarse. Too broken and upset, he didn’t care.
“He still wears it. The ring.”
This ripped through Sapnap as he began sobbing into Karl, who wrapped his arms around the nether born man. A sense of grief was present within Karl but all too distant for him to cry.
Karl looked up to the sign of Las Nevadas, looking for answers to why he couldn’t remember... Quackity... he liked that name. As he gazed off, he watched as a red cloaked figure passed the hill into the forest, leaving a trail of mushrooms in their wake.
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Day 17: Royality
@tsshipmonth2020 (does this still count so late?)
What’s that? Ly creating content? Unbelievable. (I have writer’s block, leave me alooone /j)
Thanks to @marshymoop for suggestions and encouragment when making this bad boy! Love ya <3
Day 17 - Everyone has heterochromia, one eye is your natural color the other is your soulmate’s natural color. Once you meet all eyes return to natural color.
Content warnings: food/drink mention, alcohol, mentions of hangover, vampires, referring to drinking blood as “eating”, non-explicit blood drinking, being chased.
Word count: 6.9k
THE CITY OF DEWMORE WELCOMES YOU
Patton tapped his fingers on the steering wheel excitedly, nearly vibrating as he passed the weathered sign. Beyond it, beckoning him forward, stood a forest more densely packed and darker than he’d ever had the pleasure of exploring, the achingly tall pine trees swaying minutely in the breeze, their tips barely visible through the blanket of fog. Just imagining what could be held within those depths made his leg bounce; forgotten, moss-drenched stone paths, broken stumps of fallen trees that hadn’t made a sound upon impact, patches of mushrooms scattered in the shadows, and whispering creeks. It was the perfect way to spend his spring break, and one his photography teacher had wholeheartedly encouraged him to take. If he hadn’t had so many midterms to mark, Patton was almost sure the man would have tried to join him.
Almost an anxious tic at this point, he ran his free hand over the photography bag in his passenger seat, as if to make sure it hadn’t disappeared in the three minutes since he’d last checked. The thing was his prized possession, given to him by the very same photography professor at his university. It had been the elder’s own, before he got his newest camera, and gifted the whole set to his favorite (but don’t tell the others) students. It was full of perfectly kept lenses and two miniature tripods, extra batteries and memory cards, speedlights, and most importantly, the camera tucked safely into the biggest pouch. It was more expensive than Patton would ever have dreamt to buy, so it was truly a gift he’d never forget. Now it was up to him to finally take some shots worthy of the thing.
The forests continued to grow denser and thicker until, in almost a shocking snap, they disappeared to reveal a quaint city that he hadn’t quite expected. The first few buildings he passed looked like they may have stood there for hundreds of years, weather worn and faded. Their signs were either scratched to nothingness or blaringly new, shining metal names standing out against an ancient backdrop. He was looking for a motel, figuring there had to be one, even in a town of less than two thousand people. His backup plan was to just sleep in his car. He’d brought his sleeping back and extra blankets, so it wasn’t a huge concern, but he’d still prefer a bed. But whenever he’d tried finding anything online, he’d come up blank.
A fog still covered the town, and though it created an air of calm and mystery that Patton was itching to capture, he also knew the area was surrounded by towering mountains that he also desired so badly. To his right, the buildings stopped abruptly, revealing a grey beach, all rocks and no sand, criss crossed with logs, opening to a dark lake. The other side wasn’t visible through the mist.
The further he drove, he realized the buildings weren’t improving in their modernity, just giving way to more and more old infrastructure. One stood out, a grocery store, it’s lights piercing through the evening dim. Patton didn’t get a look inside before he passed, once again surrounded antique houses and shops, a post office to his left, and a tavern just across from that. A sign above the door read “Vacancy” in peeling white letters, and that was all the enticing Patton needed to pull his car into the gravel parking lot in front of the building. There was only one other vehicle there, a matte red pickup truck that he parked next to, and what appeared to only be three more parking spots. From the high placed windows, a soft orange light bled, and a round of raucous laughter filtered through the cracked open door. Patton smiled. The photographer inside him was going to have a field day here.
He stepped up the concrete steps and ruffled his hair with one hand so it covered his eye, heaving a sigh in hopes to calm his nervous butterflies, and pulled the door open.
All at once, the chatter inside died, and Patton internally shrank as every face in the tavern turned to look at the newcomer. There was a moment of tense silence as he tried his best for a smile and met the gaze of the men scrutinizing him, drinks forgotten on high wooden tables, jubilance halted. Patton waited with baited breath, for someone to do something, why were they all just staring, when a voice spoke from behind the bar.
“Don’t worry about them, sweetheart. We don’t get a lot of new people around here.”
And the lull was broken as suddenly as it started, the men now ignoring him in favor of joking over mugs of fizzing ale. Patton swallowed thickly and turned to the voice, shoving his quivering hands into his pockets and shaking his head again to assure the curls were safely covering his eye. As usual.
The man standing before him, leaning on the bar with an easy smile, was almost enough to take Patton’s breath away. If he were a religious man, he’d go so far as to call him heavenly. Eyes as dark as the depths of the surrounding forests, auburn hair pushed back from his face in what he could only think to describe as an intentional bedhead. His skin was too flawless, teeth just a couple shades too white, everything perfect in a way that was almost…
Patton couldn’t put his finger on it.
“What can I get you, newbie?”
“Uhm-” Patton took a cleansing breath and sat at one of the barstools, all of them empty seeing as the crowd seemed more drawn to the tables in the center of the room, “I don’t come to bars that often. I don’t know.”
The bartender hummed, pushing up his already rolled up white sleeves and giving Patton a once over, almost investigating him. “You drink?”
“I… I guess.”
“Been on the road for a while, tired?”
“Do I look that exhausted?” Patton breathed a laugh, suddenly aching to pop his spine. He’d been driving since before dawn for the past three days, barely hunkering down for a decent sleep before he was off again. He’d been really excited to get here, plus he didn’t want to waste more of his meager break driving.
“I got just what you need, darling.” With a wink, the bartender straightened up and pulled down a series of bottles, cracking his knuckles with flourish before measuring them into a silver canister. “So what brings you to Dewmore?”
“I’m a photographer,” Patton said, “Or, a photography student. Down in Florida.”
The man whistled as he shoveled ice cubes into the mix, “Long drive for some pictures.”
“I’m… dedicated,” Patton laughed, scratching at his neck nervously. “My prof recommended it, said it might be a nice place to spend my break.”
“I assume you’re looking for a place to stay then, as well?” He plopped a cap on the canister and began to shake it above his shoulder, grinning widely, “These guys are always just like, ‘Gimme a beer’ this, ‘Gimme a beer’ that. It’s great to actually make fun drinks again.” With hands flying too fast for Patton to process, he grabbed a glass, popped the lid of the shaker, and poured the deep orange drink, tossing on a green sprig and sliding the drink over. “Enjoy.”
Patton took a cautious sip of the drink and had to fight not to sigh, the refreshing taste a welcome relief after three days of gas station Gatorade and hotel sink water. He could barely taste any alcohol, more focused on the ice cold sweet tartness at the back of his tongue. The bartender looked pleased, huffing a satisfied laugh and beginning to put away his bottles. He was taking another sip, satisfied with the backdrop of joyous chatter and clinking glasses, when he remembered why he’d come in.
“Yes, I am. Uhm, looking for a place to stay, that is.”
The bartender looked at him over his shoulder, “We haven’t had visitors in… a while, at least. You’ve pretty much got your pick of the rooms.”
“Do you have anything facing the water?” He took another sip, the photo possibilities already flowing through his mind. One through the window, just far back enough to catch the flow of the curtains and the chipped wood of the window ledge, a monochromatic lakeshore in the bottom third, a barely visible mountain looming ahead…
“Sure thing, sweetheart. Let me just finish this up, and I’ll get you on the ledger.”
“Patton.” He downed the rest of the drink and rested his elbow on the counter, chin in his palm, an easy smile playing on his lips.
“Hm?”
“My name’s Patton.”
“I’m Roman.” Tossing the towel over his shoulder, Roman gave him another wink before disappearing into the back room, coming back moments later with a thick black book. He was already thumbing through the pages, finally landing on the one he wanted, and spun a pen between his fingers.
“What’s your last name, sweetheart?”
Patton spelled it out for him, and was surprised when the man clapped the book shut after the final letter. “That’s all you need?”
“Yup.”
“No… ID, or anything?” It was at that moment when it occurred to Patton that, although he was legal, his baby face often prompted bouncers and servers back home to ask for identification. Roman hadn’t even blinked before serving him.
“Got anything to hide?”
“Uhm… no, I-”
“Good enough for me. It’s not like we’re a high traffic tourist spot. I don’t think we’ve had anyone take a room in, like, two years, and who knows how many before that. Frankly, I wouldn’t care if you were on the run for murder. Don’t kill me, and we’re solid.”
Patton blanched, unable to tell if the man was being sarcastic. Finally his expression cracked into a smirk and he brandished a key towards Patton, dangling it by the ring. “I’m messing with you. I mean, don’t kill me, that’s legit. Here you go, cutie. Let me know if you need anything.”
With that, he sashayed away with a tray of beers (when on Earth had he filled those?), and the men whooped loudly, startling Patton.
“Easy, boys,” Roman purred, beginning to round the tables, and Patton hopped off the bar stool to get his things from his car. He couldn’t wait to pass out in bed with the knowledge that he could sleep in however late he wanted.
-0-0-0-
But apparently sleep didn’t have the same ideas as him, because even after he was in comfortable clothes and tucked into the covers, he continued to toss and turn. Maybe it was the concept of being alone in a strange town, or the full moon shining through the thin curtains, or just plain excitement, but he suddenly felt wider awake then he had since he started this trip.
There was a soft rattling somewhere across the room and, with begrudging acceptance that he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon, fumbled his glasses on to search for the offending sound. With a grumble, he threw off the blankets and padded across the room to the window and tossed back the curtains, giving the moon a scalding glare for shining so darn brightly. It was the window, fitted loosely in its frame, being shook by the gentle wind that was causing the noise. Patton gave it an experimental tug, followed by a more forceful yank, and found it didn’t budge down at all. Instead, it continued to rattle mockingly, in what sounded almost like whispered giggles as he crossed his arms across his chest.
Fine. He turned his attention to the scenic view before him, letting out a minute shudder as a small gust of wind blew through his thin pajama shirt. Moonlit waves crashed against the rocky shore, tossing up silver spray against the dark backdrop of the forest. Patton took a breath, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace just staring at the silent town, the stone spires rising above the forest-
Wait, what?
Patton blinked sharply a couple times, leaning forward until his nose bumped the window and squinting through the glass. Those… things... definitely looked like manmade objects- the shape made it impossible for them to be natural- but you’d think he’d remember something that looked like a castle directly outside his window. In fact, he’d spent a significant amount of time upon first entering the room just admiring the view, and a castle one hundred percent would have been on his radar. Oh, if the thing was abandoned, imagine the photo opportunities, and even if it wasn’t he could totally just get some of the outside-
Yeah, there was no way he was sleeping now.
Before he’d even processed what he was doing, he’d slipped out of his pajamas and hurriedly pulled on the outfit he’d laid out on the desk chair, because there was no way he was digging through his suitcase to scrounge out more clothes. He threw a beige sweater over his white shirt, however, remembering the chill the night had brought and, after he’d adequate tucked them into his slacks, he threw his camera bag over his shoulder and trotted down the stairs.
Unsurprisingly, the first floor tavern was empty of all customers, overhead lights traded for softer electric lamps on the walls and the illuminated sign above the bar, where Roman was wiping down the counter, seemingly unbothered by the late hour.
“Can’t sleep, sweetheart?” The bartender called out without turning around, tossing his rag across the counter and into a full soapy bucket behind the bar.
“Uh, yeah, something like that,” Patton responded, shaking his bangs so they covered his eye. “I think I’m just too excited to start getting shots.”
“Mmm, you and me both.” He waggled his eyebrows and pulled a bottle of what looked like whiskey off the shelf. “What’s your poison?”
Patton snorted but shook his head, patting his camera bag, “I want to go out, and it’s probably not smart to drink before going out in a strange town at night.”
Roman shrugged before pouring himself a shot and downing it in one smooth motion.
“You’re allowed to drink on the job?”
The bartender hummed, replacing the bottle and locking the cabinet presumably for the night, “Once my tavern is empty, I consider myself off the clock. And I’m my own boss, so I hereby give myself the night off. I have a coffee machine in the back room, one of those Keurigs, if you want something fancy. Hasn’t been used in ages, but I’m sure if you wanted something, I-”
“No, it’s okay. Really.” Patton ducked his head and messed with his shirt, making sure the white collar stood above the neck of his sweater. He made his way over to the bar and took the same stool as before, leaning on the counter as Roman dumped out the dirty cleaning water into the sink. The clock above the bar, barely illuminated enough to see, revealed it was just after midnight. “Are there any old structures, like churches or anything, in the forest?”
Roman tilted his head, giving Patton a look over his shoulder he couldn’t quite understand.
“There’s nothing there besides wolves and ticks, sweetheart,” he said slowly with an almost condescending smile, “Why? Hoping the little town in the middle of nowhere has a mystery?” He rinsed out the bucket and placed it in the cabinet under the sink.
Patton shrugged, scratching at his temple, “I saw something outside of my window.”
“Like a tree?” The rag was rinsed as well and draped over the faucet.
“No, definitely not.” He tried not to feel too offended that Roman was clearly teasing him, but he was certain what he’d seen hadn’t been a tree. They were too tall, too angular, and too symmetrically placed for that.
“Pattycake, I grew up hunting with my dad and partying in those woods, and I would know if something were there.”
“Are you sure?” Patton implored, “There’s definitely something man made, could it be, like, an old castle, or something?”
There was a moment of silence between the two as Roman continued to look at Patton like he was crazy, the barest hints of an impish grin tugging at his lips, before he sucked in a sharp breath; as if he realized something.
On a dime, Roman’s expression contorted into one of anger, eyes alight with fury as he leaned into Patton’s space. As he spoke, his voice almost reverberated, like a choir speaking in unison.
“There is nothing in those woods, Patton. Understand? Don’t go wandering into places you don’t belong, or you won’t like what you find.”
Patton reared back from the forceful words, hand coming up subconsciously to readjust the hair on his face. Roman leaned just a tad closer, growling out a warning, “Got it, sweetheart?” The electric lamps on the walls, once creating such a homey, soft environment, suddenly flickered and Patton flinched, whipping around to face the large room as it seemed to strobe under the malfunctioning lights. Goosebumps spread across his arms as the flashing grew faster and his hand clamped over the back of his neck when a shiver raced up his spine.
“What’s going on? Why are-”
And then the lights went out completely, an eerie quiet settling over the tavern. Roman was silent. Was he even still in the room? Could he have left so quickly? The only sound in the empty room were Patton’s shaky breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, as he fought down a scream. He wasn’t a fan of the dark.
A single street light barely shone through the window, too dim to even light up the tables near the glass, and Patton turned to focus on it. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In… out… in… out-
A silhouette appeared in the window.
The lights were back to their original gleam before he could even open his mouth to scream, filling the room with a dull hum as if nothing had even happened. Blinking rapidly, Patton took a calming breath (it’s just old lights, it’s just old lights, relax) and swiveled back in his chair to find that Roman was smiling at him innocently, cleaning out a glass with a rag.
“Everything alright, sweetheart?”
“Didn’t you see that?” Patton asked incredulously.
“See what?” The bartender placed the glass into the last space in a row of them, giving Patton that same condescending grin as before.
Patton sighed and lifted his glasses to rub his eyes tiredly, shaking his head. “I think travelling for so long has me seeing things.” Careful as ever, in the same fashion he’d so masterfully perfected in elementary school, he shook his head to cover his eye- his stupid, left, ‘soulmate’ eye- before removing his hands and letting his glasses fall back into place.
Other kids won’t like it, sweetie. I don’t think the teachers will either.
I know you can’t help it, my love. If I could take this burden from you, I would. But this is yours to handle until… well, you know.
I don’t know why, Patton. You’ll find them someday. And then you’ll understand.
“Why do you do your hair like that?”
“Hmm?” Patton blinked.
Roman smirked, leaning casually on the counter in front of Patton, “Covering half of your face like that. You shouldn’t, you know. You’re a stunner.” With that, he reached forward, intent on moving that hair out of his face.
No.
“NO!” Patton yelled, stumbling off the barstool just as Roman’s hand made contact with his face. He ducked his head, roughly scraping his hair back in place with shaking hands, but the damage was done. A single cute guy compliments him and he forgets the habit he’s built up for years? How could he be so stupid-
“Everything alright? I’m sorry for scaring you, sweetheart.”
Was it possible he hadn’t seen it? Maybe Patton had moved fast enough, maybe the bartender had been too surprised to get a good look, maybe everything was fine. Roman didn’t seem horrified, or at all perturbed. Instead, he just looked… worried.
Either way, after that reaction, Patton was aching to be left alone to stew in his embarrassment. His rented room held nothing for him that he wanted, and sleep felt farther than ever, so his only choice was outside. The promises of a maybe-crumbling ancient building, illuminated by a full moon, were far more tempting than anything inside had to offer.
“Actually,” Patton said nervously, “A coffee would be great.”
Roman squinted at him, biting on the inside of his cheek before huffing a breathy laugh through his nose. “Alright, darling. Give me just a second to dust off the Keurig.”
The moment he disappeared behind the door to the backroom, Patton tightened his hold on the camera bag and sprinted from the tavern, into the grips of the cool night.
-0-0-0-
What would he say when he got back to the tavern? Would Roman make him leave the inn? Had he crossed a line he hadn’t known existed; would he have to cut his trip early because he couldn’t help his curiosity? Was bothering the only innkeeper in town really the smartest decision to make?
All wonderful questions that Patton wished he’d considered before running.
But if he did have to leave, and if this was his last night in this delightful and equally terrifying little town, he was going to make the most of it. At least, that’s what he’d thought he would do as he’d left the few city lights behind and treading deeper into the forest. He had a flashlight with him, thank goodness, so he wasn’t completely screwed, and he’d already gotten a few great shots. He stayed in the areas that the full moon could still shine through the trees, and some of the clouds had rolled away, so he was having the time of his life working with silhouettes against the star filled sky (thanks to the little to no light pollution Dewmore offered).
The more prominent thought in his mind, however, were the spires steadily growing closer above the treeline. He couldn’t understand what Roman had been talking about. How could anyone living in this town not see whatever he was walking towards?
(Admittedly, curiosity was also a huge reason he was chasing something he’d been warned to avoid. He’d never been that great at impulse control.)
It had to be nearly two in the morning when he came to an incline; a steep path constructed entirely of rocks fist-sized and larger. At the top, Patton could just barely see what looked to be the back of the castle, and he bounced slightly on his toes in excitement. He couldn’t tell from this distance the state it was in, or if it was possible anyone still lived there, but dang it if he wasn’t going to give it a go before he left. He’d walked all this way, after all.
The first few steps up the hill were the loudest thing he’d heard since he’d started his midnight adventure, and he cringed as they dropped away under his feet, knocking against each other as they fell to the ground.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Patton spun around, his flashlight slipping out of his hands. It rolled down between the rocks, casting split second light beams in every direction as it bounced towards the source of the voice, and stopped dead in the middle between the two of them. It settled on an indent created by Patton’s steps, aimed at the newcomer. Patton breathed a sigh of relief.
“Roman, goodness gracious! You scared the bejesus out of me,” Patton laid a hand on his chest and let out a huge gust of air. Roman didn’t move, and for the first time he noticed the absolute glare the bartender was giving him. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uhm… sorry about the… leaving. Thing. Are you mad?”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Well, apparently they weren’t going to talk about it. “Oh- I’m sorry, is this private property? I didn’t see any signs, I’m- Wait, but look, Roman! See, that’s what I was talking-”
“You. Shouldn’t. Be. Here.”
Patton blinked at the harshness in his words, taken aback. How was this the same easy going bartender that he’d met earlier tonight? Whatever was beyond this hill, though, Roman obviously wasn’t going to allow Patton to see. Maybe it was dangerous, or something? Either way, he couldn’t deny his disappointment. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I’ll leave-”
“How did you get here?”
“I… um, walked?”
“No!” Roman hissed, finally stepping forward and plucking up the flashlight from the ground, “You shouldn’t be able to see the castle, or go near it, how the hell did you get here?!”
Before he could answer, the other man froze, whipping around as if he’d heard a noise from his left. And then Patton blinked, and Roman was in front of him, pulling him back down to solid ground. He dragged him by the arm to a fallen tree that was propped up against its own splintered stump, leaving it angled just a few feet off the ground.
“How did you- You were just over there, how-”
“Get down!”
“What?”
“Get. Down!” Roman shoved his shoulders and Patton had no choice but to collapse, blending into a pile of ferns beneath the bend of the tree. “Take off the backpack, put it in front of you. It blends in better than you do.” He yanked off the dark green camera bag as he spoke, situating it in front of Patton. “Don’t move, don’t make a sound, don’t fucking breathe, Patton, I swear.” The flashlight flicked off and thumped to the ground as Roman walked away, leaving him standing in the pale moonlight. Patton debated reaching for the flashlight, but that would mean exposing himself from the foliage he was tucked in and under, and Roman had seemed really scared.
There was a rustle in the underbrush in front of Roman, and the photographer shoved his fist into his mouth before he could gasp.
“Roman, it’s so nice to see you back home. It’s been far too long.”
“It’s been hardly a month, mother.”
The woman that emerged from the tree’s shadows wore a black cloak, nearly blending into the forest around her as the fabric swirled hypnotically by her ankles with each step. Silver embroidery made up the tight bodice and strung together the corset front, meeting at the bottom in an intricate knot and trailing almost down to the earth in two strands. How her intricate updo had stayed intact through a walk in the forest, Patton couldn’t understand.
However, if this was Roman’s mother, he did understand where he got his looks. The only word that came to his mind was ethereal; all smooth pale skin, those same impossibly dark eyes, red lips curved in a constant, easy smile. She was beautiful, but she was terrifying, and Patton backed up more into his fern hiding spot.
She lifted her flared sleeves towards Roman as she stepped into the moonlit opening and he pulled her hands towards himself, kissing both of her cheeks before releasing her.
“A month is too long, darling,” She purred, letting the back of her hand trail down his cheek. “I don’t understand why you find it necessary to stay amongst those humans when you could be with your family.”
“Because I want more than just… lounging, and talking with my brothers. Do you have to bring this up every time I visit?” Despite his slightly aggravated tone, he leaned into her touch.
“When you’re older, you’ll look back at these choices with embarrassment and resentment.”
“Maybe.”
“I just don’t want you to blame me when you do.”
“I could never, I promise.”
She sighed heavily, “They miss you, Roman. We all do.”
“Which is why I’m here, mom. You act as if I’ve been gone a millenia.”
“Worrying is what a mother does best,” She smiled fondly, tapping his cheek with her finger, “You’re home, darling. Drop the glamor? It must be tiring keeping it up constantly.”
There was a moment of hesitation, where Patton couldn’t help but tense up along with the man in front of him. Then the air shifted, like it had been holding a breath it could finally let out, and though there was nothing different that Patton could see from Roman’s back, a certain jolt of fear hit him out of nowhere.
“There’s my boy.” The woman drew him in for a proper hug, one hand reaching around his back to rest on his head. She pressed a kiss to his hair when he wrapped his arms around her in turn. Suddenly her nose wrinkled and she pulled away, holding his shoulders at arm’s length. “Dearest, you smell like humans again.”
Roman chuckled, but there was a new quiver in his voice. “The only flaw in being surrounded by them so often. Let me change, and I’ll come meet you for dinner.”
She didn’t move, eyes narrowing as she watched his face. “No… it’s not you.”
“What? What else could it possibly-”
“There’s a human here.” Her voice was utterly calm, but she pushed Roman behind her resolutely. “There must be.”
“What?!”
A low growl filled the air, and it took Patton a few moments to realize the sound was originating from her. She stepped past Roman, her dress flowing soundlessly along with her as she glared into the woods around them.
Her eyes flashed red.
Once again, Patton shoved his fist into his mouth to hide a scream. That same alien jolt of fear returned as she moved closer to him, seemingly zeroing in on his location.
“Mother, come now. You’re being silly. Humans can't even come near here, remember? You made sure of that yourself!”
Patton tore his eyes away from the advancing woman and his breath caught in his throat. Roman had followed his mother, trying to placate her gently with a hand on her arm, and in doing so, had turned towards Patton’s hiding spot.
When Patton opened his eyes shortly after being born, he was taken away from his mother, despite his parent’s strong objections and his wails. He was returned hours later, much to their relief. On his birth certificate, his right eye was labeled blue. His left eye, the side usually taken by the natural color of his soulmate’s, was labeled ‘Defective’.
When he was set to start school at six years old, his mother sat him down on his bed and taught him how to properly cover his left eye with his hair. They’d grown it out enough to do so. Patton had asked why it was necessary, and subsequently learned the truth that not all people were as accepting and loving as his parents.
When he was ten, he returned home from school crying. He dropped into his mother’s arms and she held him until his sobs turned to sniffles, until he could explain between sharp breaths that a bully at school had revealed Patton’s eye while trying to force him into a fight, and… well, his classmates hadn’t taken it well. Those who weren’t downright afraid of him, refused to eat or sit with him anymore. But it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t help it!
His eye was labeled ‘Defective’, because never before had the doctor’s seen a child born with a red eye. Not the pale color that came with pinkeye, or an allergic reaction, but the iris itself was such a bold, blood red color that it had left the team scrambling for any record of such an incident. They were left with more questions than answers. But the world had yet to understand how soulmates worked in the first place, so they chalked it up to another universal mystery.
Every day for as long as he could remember, Patton had stared into a mirror first thing in the morning, greeted with calm, airy blue on one side, and fiery, almost electric red on the other.
So it was jarring to see such a sight, yet reversed, on another person. But as Roman tugged again on his mother’s arm, there was no denying it; the man’s own color was a gleaming ruby, and the other was Patton’s very own blue.
“Mother, look,” Roman blurted out, scooping up the discarded flashlight from the forest floor, “This is a human tool. I’m sure this is what you’re smelling.”
She ripped the device from his hand, shaking it in his face, “That is still far too close to home, Roman! Humans have been here, and I guarantee they are still nearby.”
“And you don’t know how many there are, Mom!” Roman insisted, taking her hands. “It doesn’t matter how they got here, or why they did,” A slow grin spread across his face, highlighting a pair of glinting fangs, “Why don’t you gather the family, and we can find them together? I can’t even remember the last time I really ate.”
The woman was satiated by this answer, though she still cast the forest cautious looks. “Stay put, Roman. We’ll be back shortly.” Her nose wrinkled again. “Along with a change of clothes for you.”
And then she was gone, the only remaining trace being the tiny cloud of dust she’d left behind. Roman was calm for a moment, making sure she was really gone, before his demeanor dropped. The cocky smirk was gone, and he no longer held the confidence he’d had, either as a bartender or in the presence of his mother.
“We don’t have a lot of time, c’mon! Let’s go!” He crouched before the log, extending his hand to Patton.
“What the hell are you?!” Patton shrieked. Interesting, that those were the first words from his jumble of thoughts that came out.
“Oh, come on, do you really need to ask? I’m pretty sure you already know!”
And yeah, Patton was pretty sure he knew. He wasn’t an idiot. He’d had a teen Twilight phase, so of course the obvious answer was there. It just… it wasn’t possible. His brain was scrambling for any kind of other solution, anything that made sense, but it all kept circling to the same answer.
The cute bartender at the inn was a vampire.
…
Okay then.
Next problem.
“I… yeah. I think I got it.”
“Good! Now let’s go!” Roman grabbed Patton’s hand and yanked, effectively pulling him from his hiding place and nearly tearing the arm from it’s socket. Patton stumbled from the sudden movement and tripped on his camera bag, yelping as he crashed into Roman’s chest.
The vampire’s hands instantly wrapped around his waist, steadying him as he found his footing.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m all good, I just-”
Roman was much taller than he’d thought; that was the initial thought that came to mind as he looked up at the man holding him. The second was, well, the fact that his jaw had dropped open upon seeing Patton’s eyes, and for the first time since they’d met, the guy was completely speechless.
Patton felt his left eye began to tingle as they shifted into its own natural color. He ignored it.
“You really didn’t see it? At the bar?” Patton whispered.
“No, you moved too fast,” Roman murmured, bringing a hand up to Patton’s cheek. “You… you’re my-”
He must have sensed something, or heard something that was too quiet for Patton’s ears, because his head whipped towards the castle.
“We need to go. Now.” Roman intertwined their fingers and pulled him into a run towards the town.
“Wait, no! My bag!” He tugged hard to try and get his hand free, but he was truly no match for Roman.
“Not important right now, sweetheart!”
Without the aid of his flashlight, and enveloped by the darkness of the forest, Patton was totally blind, relying only on Roman’s grip to keep him from falling. Branches hit his face and roots reached up to trip him, but every time he stumbled, the hand tightened and pulled him back upright.
A howl cut through the air.
“What now, werewolves?!” Patton shrieked.
“Don’t be ridiculous, werewolves aren’t real!” Roman scoffed, “They’re normal wolves! What, you think just because we’re vampires, we’re unable to have pets?”
“Is this really a conversation we should be having at this exact moment?!” Patton shot back.
“You’re right, you’re right, okay.”
The howls were growing closer, and it was clear by Roman’s increased pace that this wasn’t about to be a friendly reunion.
“Can we outrun them?!”
“I take it you’ve never met a wolf!”
Patton looked up at him desperately, already struggling to keep up the conversation and keep up with Roman.
“I thought vampires had… like, super speed!”
“I wouldn’t be able to go for long, especially carrying you. Jump!”
Patton leapt blindly, feeling the side of a fallen log scrape the toes of his shoes. The landing was rough, sparks of pain shooting up his legs, but he was quickly pulled back upright.
“I don’t have the energy! I haven’t eaten in months!”
There were more yowls, definitely closer this time, followed by the sound of multiple animals fighting, barely louder than a voice shouting (presumably) at the racket. Whether it was the wolves having a spat, or a prey animal that had gotten in the way of the hunt, Patton didn’t know. It drew out a small whimper from him either way.
He didn’t want to be next.
“Do you trust me?” Roman suddenly gasped, holding his hand firmer.
“What?!”
“Do. You. Trust. Me?!”
Patton didn’t exactly think he had a choice right now. His feet were aching, his lungs were burning, and he wasn’t sure he could run another minute without his legs giving out. “I- Yeah! Sure!”
“Good enough,” Roman grunted bitterly, screeching to a halt, and using his grip on the other’s arm to stop him too. Before Patton could even bring himself to complain, or scream at him, or just incoherently yell, the vampire was drawing him to his chest, puppeting his arms so they were around his shoulders.
“Hold on.”
Obediently, Patton tightened the grip. “Why-”
And then there was a sharp pain in his neck, and his eyes widened. The sting almost immediately morphed into a pleasant warmth, the distant howling being replaced by a faint humming, the buzzing of his own mind calming, becoming numb until the only thought in his head was Roman, Roman, Roman-
He could feel Roman’s hand on his head, not restricting it, but cupping the back of it so he could lean against him as he stared up at the night sky, the full moon, and the slow blurring of the tops of the pine trees. His other arm was wrapped around his waist tightly, holding him up, and Patton was beyond grateful for the support as his legs began to turn to jelly. The last thing Patton felt was the vampire scooping up his legs and his head being cradled against the soft material of Roman’s shirt.
Then everything went dark.
-0-0-0-
Patton woke up slowly, squinting against the harsh sunlight streaming through his window. He dropped an arm across his eyes lazily, letting out a low groan at his pounding headache. There were voices downstairs in the tavern, and what sounded like dishes clanging, and he wondered if somehow this place was also a restaurant. How on earth could anybody run an establishment like that? It’s like the place never slept-
A wave of nausea pooled in his gut due to the speed of which he sat up but that wasn’t important, not right now. He flung his blankets back and… oh. He was dressed in his pajamas. Last he could remember, in the woods, running with Roman, he’d been in day clothes, in the sweater and shirt that was now draped on a chair across the room. His camera bag was... on the desk. His shoes were by the door, dirt free.
He raised his finger tips to his neck, expecting to feel a raised scab, or scar, any sign that he’d been bitten. There was nothing.
He swung his legs over the sides of the beds and immediately shut his eyes, fighting off an explosion of dizziness induced sparks that shot across his vision. It sure felt as if he’d lost some blood. As much as he didn’t want to believe he had a hangover from one drink, that could also be an explanation. He’d always been a bit of a lightweight.
A dream. Was it all just… a dream?
A feeling of disappointment washed over him and he sighed, running his hands up through his hair. Something soft snagged on his fingers and he carefully detangled it from the curls, pulling it out curiously. He blinked at the fern leaf between his finger tips. That definitely hadn’t happened between his car, the tavern, or the room... So-
He sucked in a breath sharply as his eyes locked with the mirror’s reflection in front of him, every thought coming to a halt.
Because staring back, for the first time ever, were two perfectly blue eyes.
I have a bunch of world building ideas that weren’t included in this fic, shoot me an ask if you have any lore questions!
General taglist:
@max-is-tired
@private-snippers
@joylessnightsky
#lywrites#tsshipmonth2020#royality#roman sanders#patton sanders#vampire au#sanders sides#sanders sides fanfiction#sanders sides au#sanderssides#sanderssidesfanfiction
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Lost Boys
[Full Masterlist]
Rating: All Pairing: BTSxReader Genre: Supernatural, thriller, psychological, angst, cute nature boys, symbolism, trigger warnings: abandonment, mature, fantasy, supernatural, and character death. Words: 2.2k
Summary: Bangtan Forest was said to be evil, stealing children and anyone who got lost. Some say it was attacking the humans. You don’t think much of scary campfire stories, that is until the rocks and trees come alive.
Aisles of high tech camping gear had you in awe. You even thought about a new sleeping bag but, it just seemed like a waste. There was nothing wrong with the sleeping bag you already had and to buy a new one to use once a year was not worth the money.
Grabbing the mosquito repellent you headed to the counter. Your friends were carrying emergency lights and flares standing in line behind you ready to make their purchases. “Good morning, just these?” The young girl smiled, she was deep in her role of customer service, which you totally respected.
“Uh... yeah and um, one of these please” You placed the emergency whistle onto the counter, it was plastic and only cost fifty cents.
“Of course, is that on the card today?” She continued talking and you smiled nodding holding up the card, stepping to the other side to pay. Taking your things, there wasn’t much left for you in the shop. That is until you heard something interesting.
“There was another landslide by Bangtan Forest, it can’t seem to let anyone get close,” An old man said to another, “Luckily no one was hurt or went missing this time.”
The drive was beautiful and the radio played nothing but summer hits, you were singing along with the others, they were your closest of friends. Lillia was a sweet young lady, she loved nature and had a particularly soft spot for mushrooms. She brought her camera and expected to take some cool shots over the course of the weekend.
You were looking forward to going wild, not like partying wild. No, more like, sitting in the dirt, lighting fires, and splashing around in a river. That was your paradise, your escape. Having almost screamed into the phone when the suggestion of camping was brought up. If it got you out of your house and out of your life for a moment, you would take it.
The camping grounds were pretty, you passed a sign on your way in that had a lot of warning pictures but you didn’t have time to read them all. The only one you saw was to put out your fires entirely before you leave, which honestly felt like common knowledge, and if you didn’t know that you shouldn’t go camping alone. Forest fires were not a joke.
Finding a place to pitch a tent was hard, a lot of the really shady spots were taken but there was a really beautiful spot by the river. According to Jester, your know-it-all friend, the river spread through the whole of the forest intricately like a spider web. “Because of the river the vegetation inside is thick, people say as you walk the vines grow around you and if you stop, you will be buried under the vegetation.”
“I heard that bad person used to leave their kids behind, and the forest took them in and that if ever you are lost or left behind the forest takes you,” Lillia said lowering her sweet voice trying to be serious. “There was a story, of a class field trip of kids were pulled off the trail and they were never seen again. They say the forest is evil.”
“I heard it protects the kids because they are left alone.” Jester contradicted and Lillia nodded pointing at the other. Nodding in agreement as she ate a slice of orange.
“I heard that too,” She smiled “I like that idea, that the forest just is a home taking care of the children left behind.”
As if ominously on cue the three of you had heard giggling coming from across the river. But it was drowned out by laughing and cheering from up the river, another group was splashing around and soon you all joined.
The two groups became friends and it was fun, but it started to rain, nothing extreme just a light drizzle. You had dinner early and hoped into your tents. You were alone in yours as there was supposed to be another person on the trip but they couldn’t make it due to a family event.
It didn’t take long until you were fast asleep to the sound of the rain. You don’t know how long you were asleep for when you woke up suddenly a sting in your chest, shaking that aside you heard crying.
Getting a little scared you poked your head outside the tent and saw a child running from one of the tents in the park to the water. He was calling for his mother and moving for the forest begging his mother to come back and you wondered if the mum had been taken or went to the toilet. Either way, this child was running straight into the forest.
Lost or left behind the forest takes you, you thought back on those words, The forest is evil.
Every other thought left your head and your primary objective was to save the child, you began running, your body felt like you were moving through cement. That’s how thick the plant life was, you had a stitch in your side after a mere five minutes of sprinting but you kept pushing until suddenly the child hopped across the rocks and curled up and he was gone, in his place was a Pinecone.
You hopped across the rocks careful not to get your feet wet, you had slipped on your sneakers and you didn’t want to walk back to camp with them wet. Speaking of camp, you were lost and the child you were following had disappeared and left in his place a pinecone.
Stepping up to the small pinecone, you pocket it and it wiggled around in the dirt letting out a chorus of childish laughter. Shaking with giggles in the corner of your eyes was a small pile of leaves, you were looking around breathing heavily and freaking out.
As you were frozen in place in shock and trying to catch a glimpse of someone playing a trick you felt something entwine around your legs. You shrieked jumping and ripping your feet free from the vines that started to grow around your shoes.
“Alright, boy’s you had your fun, go play with the other kids your age,” A voice said, you were relieved finally someone had revealed themselves it was just an elaborate plank until a decent sized boulder began to move, it was like camouflage, and from the curled up position a human stood up and straightened out. “Can’t a rock get some sleep around here?”
“Come on, Yoongi you are no fun?” a voice said from your left, you looked trying to find where the voice was coming from and you smiled seeing the moss open its eyes and step away from the tree making you shriek.
They were people camouflaged perfectly to appear like trees and rocks. They were strange-looking and you weren’t sure if this was some weird dream or if it was real. The more you looked the stranger they appeared. Some of their features were replaced with other things.
“I am starting to solidify more and more” the rock man who may be the one the other referred to as Yoongi muttered and a Berry Bush wiggled itself free from the ground and he walked over helping the rock man stretch.
“A log pulled itself up off the ground and stretched with the creak of old wooden furniture and gave a low groan. This distracted you from the movement behind you.
“We have been getting bored on our own, but it is nice to have a friend visit,” A voice said, and when you turned you saw a man covered in mushrooms, his head was topped by a big mushroom that made him look like he was wearing a bucket hat. You almost laughed at the insanity.
“Ahhh, it is so nice to be free” A sapling wiggled until its roots or in this case feet were free.
“Where is Jin?” The logman asked and they all looked around. The pile of leaves and the pinecone wiggled around until children appeared gesturing to a nearby meadow.
“Thank you Hyuning, Yeonjun” The mushroom guy smiled and they began hopping over the river using the rocks, The sapling grinned waving you to follow.
“If you stay too long the vines will start wrapping around you again, I am Jungkook” He smiled, along the way they all introduced themselves and you had to admit this was the oddest and trippiest meeting you ever had.
“There he is,” Taehyung called and Seokjin who they had told you about on the way had appeared lifting himself off the grounds his body covered in sweet flowers. “What were you doing out here?”
“I was trying to get some sleep but someone was snoring” He stretched ignoring the snickering from Jungkook who said he was probably up late with the kids playing games. “Who is this?”
“Oh, this is…” Namjoon said and froze, “I am sorry, we didn’t get your name?”
“Oh my name is Y/n” you smiled and they nodded
“We are helping Y/n get out of the forest,” Jimin said puffing his chest out his leaves rustling. It was so odd to see these people dressed like they were in some school play, like tree number one and rock number three.
“It’s no rush, just as long as I get out at some point,” You said trying to ease their worried expressions.
No, you don’t get it if you are still here when the sunrises, you will be stuck in the forest forever.” Yoongi said, “We are all here for a reason, Namjoon has been in the forest the longest, he used to be a tree before he fell.”
“Well, maybe we should hurry,” You said looking at the vines trying to wrap around your feet once more. “I have to keep moving these vines really are aggressive when it comes to wanting to keep me here.”
Along the way the boys began talking, each telling their story. Namjoon said he was from 1761 and he was left there by his mother who could no longer feed him after his father died. “I was nineteen and very sick so I didn’t last very long. But, it wasn’t long until I met Jin he was twenty-one and got lost in the forest.”
“I was collecting flowers for my fiancee I was supposed to be getting married shortly and well, I never even got to meet hurt.” Seokjin smiled, continuing on the storytelling from Namjoon and explaining his experience “I was kind of wishing I would get lost, I was so young and didn’t want to get married to a stranger.”
“I think it was 1892 and I was about twenty as well, I had run away from home, I remember stealing food from town and whilst escaping ran into the forest and I never came back out.” He shrugged, keeping his story concise as he helped you step over a fallen tree, “life as a rock is peaceful.”
“I was part of a traveling circus and well it wasn’t a good living, the people were awful and beat you if you spoke, one of the performers had a grudge for me so I hid in the forest and when I tripped the vines grew over me quickly” Hoseok made hand gestures at you making you giggle and move away from him, you bumped into Jimin who caught you before you fell. “That was maybe 1901 and I was about nineteen”
“I can’t remember much, I remember being really drowsy in a car and being told to wait while my father got some juice, I was about eighteen and he didn’t come back. The forest called me inside.” Jimin frowned slightly.
“I was hiking and I lost my way following a pretty butterfly,” Taehyung pouted, “I didn’t mean to get lost and I wish I had paid attention, I just wanted to take a picture.”
‘For me, it was not too long ago, a class excursion, we were following the trail and a bully dropped my hat in the river I chased after it and before I knew it I didn’t know where they had gone. I was seventeen.” Jungkook said with a smile that looked somewhat forced. “But it’s not all bad. I have made some really great friends.”
“And who else would play with the little ones. So many children got left in the forest much younger than us.” Seokjin explained sadly.
You saw the forest thinning out and flashes of red and blue flickered through the trees, you stepped out to the edge to see police and ambulances and more, there was a landslide. It was at your campsite, you froze looking around spotting your friends sitting in the back of the ambulance.
The vines were wrapping around your feet but you ripped them free, “it was nice meeting you thank you” You said, and placing the whistle between your lip you blew hard.
“We found her!” a voice shouted, you gave up on cautiously hopping rocks and went running across the river. When your foot touched the water you fell your shoes had disappeared as had your legs and from your waist down you were nothing but water. You looked up trying to drag yourself out to see your friends when you saw them carry your body out of the mud on a gurney.
You could never leave the forest but as the river flowed throughout you could visit all the residence inside.
If you enjoyed this story don’t forget to Like | Reblog so others can enjoy it too.
#bts#bangtan sonyeondan#bts imagines#bts reactions#bts scenarios#btscreatorscorner#castlebangtan#bts x reader#bts fic#bts fluff#bts smut#bts angst#bts supernatural#bts fantasy au#bts supernatural au#bts fantasy#kim namjoon#kim seokjin#min yoongi#jung hoseok#park jimin#kim taehyung#jeon jungkook#jin x reader#suga x reader#jhope x reader#najoon x reader#jimin x reader#taehyung x reader#jungkook x reader
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Community Gardens
this is a donation drive commission for @htmlfroggy! based on the prompt: platonic intrulogical g/t & the song ‘community gardens’ by the scary jokes! this is my first time trying a songfic, so i hope its good!
warnings: remus and all the vaguely squicky things he says, illness, misunderstandings, small mentions of body horror
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Full disclosure, I am a monster A creature of despair, not that that should be a cause for concern If there's one thing I've learned in all my years here It's that despair is less abundant in those who understand How to plant their hearts in community gardens
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Logan first met his best friend because he was investigating rumors of a human lurking around the border of his forest.
He had his doubts, of course; ever since he’d personally visited every human settlement on the perimeter of his woods, the ritual sacrifices done to ‘appease the monsters’ had quickly come to a halt, and the amount of angry humans out for vengeance had dropped concurrently.
When he gently pushed past the boughs of the saplings marking the border, however, there was indeed a human crouched on the ground, seemingly buried up to his elbows in mud. They looked up at Logan’s approach, and the giant was prepared for a number of reactions to his presence. Swearing, screaming, slumping over in a dead faint.
Plenty had responded to him like this in the past, and plenty more certainly would in the future. It came with being a monstrous giant.
The human offering him a slightly unhinged grin and a mud-slinging wave wasn’t one of the responses he had prepared for.
As such, his reply was uncharacteristically tentative, as though his voice would snap the human out of the peaceable trance they were in. “...Greetings. I am Logan, denizen of this forest. I’m here to inquire into what you’re doing here at the edge of the woods.”
“Ooh, an interrogation!” The human didn’t stand, craning their neck back at a painful-looking angle to see him properly. “What if I don’t want to say, huh? Are you gonna grind me into bone meal under your heel?”
Logan blinked. The fear that normally would accompany such words was still completely absent. “No. I will not be harming you unless you move to harm those under my protection.”
The human sighed, almost disappointed. “Yeah, I didn’t take you for the type. Oh, well, guess we’re both leaving unsatisfied then.”
Logan waited a moment longer, and then sighed lowly, before lowering himself to sit amongst his trees. The human cocked an eyebrow, looking as though another inappropriate comment was on the tip of his tongue.
“If you don’t wish to explain yourself, then I will be supervising your excursions as the guardian of these woods,” Logan announced, sure that his cold gaze would at least give the strange human some pause.
Of course, because they seemed to delight in proving his assumptions wrong, the human just stared for a moment before a wide, enthusiastic smile spread over his face.
Logan sighed again, and steadfastly ignored the bright flare of curiosity the human had sparked in him. Most likely, they were simply a thrill-seeker, looking for an adventure like all the epics humans told about interacting with giants. Surely, they’d grow bored soon enough.
-
You'll be fine, you honeycomb Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so cold? You'll be fine, oh honey pie Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so unkind?
-
“Who did it?”
The half-growl in Remus’ voice was enough that his gaze was immediately drawn away from the Lewisia cotyledon that he had been carefully coaxing root rot from.
His unruly human acquaintance had apparently gotten closer while he was distracted, abandoning his small plot of freshly-turned soil and haphazard seedlings. It was a break from their typical engagement, where Logan remained in the treeline and Remus remained rooted in his strange, barely-edible ‘vegetable garden’ as they talked.
“What do you mean?” he replied once he’d processed the strange question. “Is something amiss?”
“Is your brain made of stone?” Remus shot back sharply, and Logan’s eyebrows drew together automatically at the insult. The human barely seemed to notice, thankfully. “Of course something’s amiss, you’re bleeding out all over the place!”
He pointed emphatically, and Logan realized what the human was so up in arms about even as he turned to look. On his left side, stretched over his ribs, a long gash was slowly trickling sap-like ichor. The wound had been mostly hidden by his left arm, but in turning to focus on a new plant, he must have accidentally displayed it to the human. “Ah. Do not be alarmed, it’s a shallow wound and will scab over shortly--”
Remus waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t insult me, I know that much from the look of it alone! What I don’t know is: Who. Did. It?”
Logan frowned briefly. He wasn’t sure why the human wanted to know, but he certainly wasn’t in the habit of denying anyone information. “I wasn’t informed of their name. A Jorōgumo sought sanctuary, which I granted, and approximately half a day later, a human mercenary attempted to breach the forest borders.”
“And you killed the bastard?” Remus asked expectantly. Logan couldn’t help the minute flinch that traveled through him, the way his face shuttered back to cold neutrality. He’d thought… It didn’t matter. It was his own fault for believing that the man saw him in any other way.
“No. I warded the forest against them with a bit of their blood. Once they realize the wards are impenetrable, I believe they will move on to an easier bounty.”
“Not if I get to them first,” Remus replied cheerily, spinning his slightly-rotted wooden trowel in his hand. Logan felt a thrum of alarm at the idea of him getting in an altercation with a mercenary, though he wasn’t sure why. If two outsiders got in a fight, it was technically out of his jurisdiction.
“You most certainly will not attempt to hinder their departure,” he said firmly. “It would be detrimental to all parties involved.”
Remus visibly pouted, before sighing and throwing the trowel at the ground hard enough to half-bury it. “Fine, Beanstalk, but at least let me—“
He stepped forwards, even closer, and Logan stiffened, all-too-aware of how small the human was compared to him. “What are you doing?”
His voice came out slightly shriller than normal, and Remus jerked to a stop instantly, glancing up at him before turning his head away, something in his expression dropping.
“I was just… nothing. Forgot for a second,” he muttered, bringing his hand up to inspect his dirt-encrusted nails. He continued before Logan could ask what exactly he’d forgotten that had prompted such a bitter expression. “Anyways, I’m sure you’re tired of babysitting, so I’m heading back. Seeya, Colossus.”
Logan watched as Remus whistled off-tune as he turned away, his shoulders drawn just slightly too-tight, and felt as though he’d missed something important.
-
The culmination of man's mistakes came the day The sun ran so hot, it turned the desert to glass If there's something to be learned from all these losers It's that the price that you pay For arrogance and a false sense of immunity Is to face the wrath of a dying star
-
For the next few moon cycles, Remus barely appeared at their-- his makeshift garden, and when he did, he was simultaneously more subdued and twitchier than usual. He almost always left early.
Logan knew, logically, that he should be glad for this development. The human’s basic survival instincts had clearly finally kicked in, and he was distancing himself appropriately from a monster. It was what he’d been expecting from the beginning, and better that it had happened now rather than go on any longer, what with how… worked up he was over it.
Ridiculous. He sighed through his nose and turned away from the cluster of bleeding Hydnellum he’d found, attempting to force his thoughts away from the human and what his reaction to such a unique-looking mushroom specimen would have been. He needed to focus on his duties as the curator of these woods.
However, it seemed fate had other ideas, for it was only a few groves later that he was called upon by a Hamrammr, Alda, who had been wearing the form of a large wood grouse for the past few seasons.
“I have news on your human,” she said, and her tone was urgent enough that Logan forewent reminding her that Remus was not ‘his’ human. “One of my flock saw him dragged into a town jail two days past, and he hasn’t emerged since.”
Logan attempted to ignore his quickening heartbeat. He couldn’t jump to conclusions. “Which town?”
Alda watched him keenly for a moment. “The populous one to the northeast of our territory. Be careful, Curator. You know the laws of these woods apply to even you.”
Logan nodded sharply, and then was moving. Once he reached the fields between his woods and the human settlement, he took a deep breath to clear his mind. Barging into the humans’ space like this would hardly be appropriate, seeing as he worked to keep them from doing the very same to him.
Instead, he folded in on himself like a withering plant, ignoring the painful cracking of wood and bone as he took on a smaller form. A simple glamor to match, and he didn’t receive a second glance as he walked the streets as an average traveler.
An average traveler could find someone willing to gossip easily enough. And if Remus would fear him less in a reduced form, that was just a completely unintentional bonus.
“Criminals? We don’t have many here, and none with a valuable bounty.”
“Really? I believed I heard whispers of a recent arrest,” Logan replied, completely truthfully.
The shopkeep waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, yes, the resident cursebearer was found guilty of conspiring with the beasts of the enchanted wood to try and bring destruction upon our humble town, but as I said, no bounty--”
“The denizens of the woods are forbidden from attacking nearby towns,” Logan recited automatically, his mind racing. Remus was a cursebearer? The practice of directing all the magical and non-magical curses of a town onto one individual was archaic, barbaric, and… explained a lot about Remus’s behavior, actually. There was a strange pit in his stomach at the thought.
“That’s what the giant told everyone, but how are we to really trust the word of a monster? Besides, the cursebearer was witnessed haunting the edges of the woods, speaking with that very giant!” Logan kept his face carefully neutral as the shopkeep shook his head. “It’s just too suspicious. He could have struck a deal, could already be one of those beasts at this point, and he spent enough time dragging filth through our streets as it is. Good riddance, I say.”
The shopkeep broke off as he turned away, hiding the crack in his expressionless mask. Logan barely heard the resulting questions as he walked away with sharp steps.
The next morning, the town woke to the sight of half the jail’s roof torn clean off, and one very distinctive prisoner missing.
-
You'll be fine, you honeycomb Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so cold? You'll be fine, oh honey pie Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so unkind?
-
Logan carefully cradled the human’s limp form in one hand, seated in their usual spot at the edge of the woods. He hadn’t expected to be so obvious in his retrieval of Remus, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, either.
When he’d successfully infiltrated the jail, he’d been subject to an embarrassing lack of control over his magic at the sight of Remus. The human had been barely-conscious, wrists shackled to the wall of his cell and a sickly pallor to his skin. It looked as though what little he’d been fed had been expunged in fits of sickness.
Worst of all, he’d managed to focus on Logan’s frozen form after a moment, and a haphazard expression of delight had spread across his face. “Itty bitty Logan,” he slurred feverishly, “man, did I die al’rdy? Good. Missed ya.”
Logan’s grip on his shapeshift had snapped as though he was a youngling again, and somewhere between caving the ceiling in and rusting the cuffs away, Remus had fallen back to unconsciousness. Even now, as the sun rose, he was uncannily still, only the rasps of each shallow breath proving his life intact.
“I’m unsure what to do,” Logan confessed, studying Remus’s frame. The human was so small without his usual exuberant gesturing. His wrists oozed where the manacles had been, human flesh scabbing over so much slower than Logan’s would have. “I cannot abide the thought of sending you back to live with people who treat you like that, but to bring you into the woods would bind you to them in a way that could not be undone. Bind you to me in a way that could not be undone. I doubt you’d want that.”
“Are you… stupid?”
Logan jolted at the voice, mocking but almost a whisper for how loud it was. “Remus?”
The human was squinting up at him, and even those few words sent him into a fit of coughing. Logan hurriedly drew morning dew up from the nearest saplings and pressed the liquid to Remus’s lips.
“Don’t waste energy,” he chided; Remus flipped him off. “I apologize for… handling you while you were unconscious, but we cannot waste time. You are seriously ill, and need treatment. Do you have anyone who can provide it? Cost is no obstacle.”
Remus snorted audibly, and opened his mouth for a heartbeat before his face pinched in with resulting pain. He shook his head with an eye roll. Logan tried not to feel frustration at his friend’s lackadaisical attitude towards his own health, and failed.
“This is not a joke, Remus! If you don’t get immediate treatment, your only options will be making a contract with my forest, or death.”
Remus held up a finger.
“First option,” he croaked. “Stone for brains.”
Logan was rendered speechless for a short moment, his fingers curling up around the human. “Wh— Remus, you can’t give up on human treatment so rashly. A contract will change you. You’d be, for lack of a better term, stuck with me until you made a full recovery and paid back the debt at the very least.”
Remus hacked out something that might have been another insult to Logan’s intelligence, and he held up his pointer finger more emphatically. “First option. We’re— ‘m your friend. Not scared of you, big fucking nerd. That’s my final word… maybe liter’lly.”
And because he was as dramatic as he was vulgar, Remus chose that moment to let his eyes roll back in his head.
His heartbeat loud in his ears, Logan took a deep breath, pushed all of his concerns and doubts aside, and stepped into the woods.
-
The years have been hard on this lonely heart If you wanna know the truth There's no more community gardens So I guess I'll have to settle for you
-
“I don’t get it,” Remus mentioned one afternoon, watching Logan finish the last touches of a seal for a dryad’s lightning wound. “If you didn’t know I was a cursebearer, and you didn’t even end up caring I was a cursebearer anyway, why didn’t you ever let me near you when we hung out?”
Logan pressed the seal into the tree and glanced over at him, sighing with exasperation upon seeing him picking at the turmeric leaves ringed around his healing wrists. At least he couldn’t reach the ones working to repair his lungs.
“You’ll agitate your wounds if you do that,” he chided, reaching over to lift him from the mossy, oversized log he sat on. As always, he hesitated a moment before making contact, and as always, Remus leaned up in advance to greet him, as though being carried in the palm of a giant was not only normal, but also the only form of transportation he’d ever accept.
“Ooh, sounds fun.” Remus grinned mischievously but did indeed stop uprooting the plants embedded in his skin. He laid himself out flat on his back instead, an arm and a leg dangling over the edges of Logan’s curled hand, uncaring of the cool forest air rushing past him as Logan walked. “You still haven’t answered my question, though.”
“I’m not sure I fully understand it. You’re asking why I didn’t physically interact with you, before, but I believe the answer is obvious.” Logan adjusted his woven sleeve cuff absently. “I simply… found your company enjoyable and didn’t wish to scare you off, I suppose.”
He waited for the typical laughter that came whenever he implied that maybe Remus should be wary around him, since he was by most human definitions, a literal giant monster. It didn’t come.
Instead, Remus’s face was scrunched up in thought. “So… it was because you wanted to keep being friends. And not because you thought I was gross, or repellant, or better off as juicy blood mulch, or--”
“If anyone wants to mulch you, Remus,” Logan interrupted neatly, “they will have to go through me first.”
“...Not if I get to them first,” Remus responded, a slow grin building on his face. “Since we’re friends and all.”
“That completely counteracts the point of my protection, but yes,” Logan said, a small smile of his own finding its way onto his face, “we certainly are.”
#sanders sides#platonic intrulogical#g/t#donation drive#ts logan#ts remus#songfic#alt title: two bros sitting in the woods five ft apart cuz theyre 'monsters'#logan may have the brain cell but he certainly doesnt have a high EQ lol#writing#my writing#commissioned works#htmlfroggy
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To fulfill a wish
Member: Fae King!Hwang Hyunjin x gender neutral!reader
Warnings: None
Genre: Fantasy
Word count: 1130
Description: Do you understand the weight of a wish? Is that why you’ve come seeking a faerie’s blessing?
Author’s notes: Wow so many in one day? Actually it’s because I was supposed to post one per day but then I didn’t and built up the backlog and I wanted these out before Halloween cause yknow why not. Cross posted from another blog I run :)
There is a legend, passed down through the generations. Deep in the forest on the edges of the earth, you will find a tangle of trees. Deeper yet in this tangle of trees is a burrow, woven from the finest of vines. And if you delve deeper still, you will find the hollow of the fae, a space imbued with rich power. According to the words of legend, if you can convince the forest to bless you with a gift, you can grant any wish you want. Gold or glory, nothing is out of reach.
Many travelers have sought the hollow, most for their own personal greed. Records have indicated that most do not survive and those who do suffer a fate worse than death. Stranger yet, some records tell that they see the faces of old travelers in the bark of the trees, twisted almost to the point of unrecognition.
You hoped it was true, the legend. You needed it to be true. You’d invested months of your life, searching for this hollow, abandoning your old life for it. Hell you’d almost given your soul up to a demon for information, that’s just how desperate you were. And after all those months, you think maybe you’ve found it.
There’s something different about this place. It’s serene but still the hairs on the back of your neck raise. It’s the silence. Not once has it been so quiet on your journey. The forests are always teeming with life, the sounds of animals and insects and birds all combined with the wind rustled trees. The only sounds you hear now are your own breathing and the cracklings beneath your feet.
But you forge ahead. You must. And just as you feel like you’re about to collapse, you find the bent branches and vines of the burrow. It’s almost like a nest, circular and strong, built in layer upon layer. As you approach, you notice the leaves growing off the structure are a deeper green than those of the forest. They sparkle gently in the light despite not having any dew on them. You reach out to touch them but stop short, withdrawing your hand after a moment. Your fingertips tingle, already sensitive to the power imbued. Yes, you have at long last found it.
You don’t want to force yourself into the hollow. That’s a sure fire way to get yourself killed or kicked out and you can’t afford either. But you can’t sit here and wait either. There are people waiting for you. So you remove your knife from your belt and cut a lock of your hair, tying it off with a ribbon you kept from another time. A gift of the daughter of the seas after you had cut her loose from abandoned nets. You take a deep breath and set the bundle at the base what you think is the entrance and you wait.
You thankfully don’t need to wait very long. The forest rustles, branches creaking and clacking against each other as the draw apart and reveal a deep tunnel for you. You smile, standing on stiff knees and stumbling forward. It’s surprisingly light inside, illuminated by silvery glowing mushrooms and dangling golden flowers. You cut your hand multiple times keeping yourself steady but it matters not.
Eventually you tumble out the other end, braced against the soft grassy floor as you catch your breath.
“What do you want.”
You lift your head and your eyes widen. He’s… Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. His hair is braided back, the braids woven with flowers and gems, both of which sparkle. From above those braids are antlers, strong and dark and sharp on the ends. They are also wreathed with delicate gold chains and jewels, carefully placed. His amber eyes are cold as they regard you, bored even. You pull yourself up and step into the clearing more fully, kneeling when you think you’re close enough.
“I seek to fulfill a wish.” You try to speak as clearly as you can and it rings around the hollow, echoing like a guilty admission.
“Like many before you,” he replies, flicking his hand. The jewels on his wrist jingle. “And what makes you different from them?”
You swallow. Nothing really. You have come seeking something and have nothing to give but your life. You whisper, “Please. You’re the only hope I have left.”
“I did not ask for you to beg. I asked what makes you worthy of a wish used.” The trees begin to rustle and the ground beneath you rumbles as he growls softly. “You humans never understand. Wishes are born from desire and desire must be fulfilled with blessings. A blessing is a powerful thing, created from the death of faeries. From a life. And you come in here, ill-prepared to defend your wish to me?”
You shake in your spot, your chest tight. But you have to do this. For everyone. You take a deep breath and lift your head to look at him, at his rage. “I have a selfish wish,” you announce. The rumbling stops; he blinks. “I have a wish that will use the lives of your kin to save mine. I will pay any price for equivalent exchange.” You close your eyes for a moment, thinking on your family. Your friends. Everyone’s smile and everyone’s tears all entrusted to you. You open your eyes again and give him a determined stare. “I call upon the ancient keepers of the forest, bearers of light. Please, help me keep my village safe.”
He stares at you, face kept carefully blank. You on the other hand stare at him with desperation thinly veiled under courage. Slowly he stands, silken robes fluttering around him. He steps forward until he stands mere inches away from you, looking down while you look up. “Are you prepared to bear the weight of what you ask?”
You suck in another breath before letting it out with a shudder. “I am.”
He strokes along his sleeve, golden threads shimmering. Ah how ethereal he is, haloed in the light. Considers you, in your ragged clothes and bleeding palms. You start to waver, just a bit until he reaches up and plucks a crystal encased in molten gold and holds it flat in his palm, extending it to you. “Your wish is a kind one. Such innocence is rare.”
You reach up, hesitating just before you take the life. It will be heavy, you know. “I-is there a price?”
“Ah, little one, there always is.” Hyunjin smiles and you feel your heart race in terror. Those are the feral sharpened teeth of the Fae King, the one of myth and story. Except he’s very, very real. “But you were prepared for that, were you not?”
#stayhavennet#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#stray kids x y/n#skz x you#skz x reader#skz x y/n#stray kids blurbs#stray kids drabbles#skz blurbs#skz drabbles#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#hwang hyunjin#hwang hyunjin x reader#hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin scenarios#hyunjin scenarios
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The Dreaming Tree (2/4)
...A broom is drearily sweeping
Up the broken pieces of yesterday's life
Somewhere a queen is weeping
Somewhere a king has no wife
And the wind, it cries Mary...
Harbor Springs, Michigan
July 1, 1999
9:02am
A local DNR conservation officer had agreed to meet her at the site first thing the next morning, but had not yet arrived when Scully parked the rental sedan under the Coming Soon! development sign. She had dropped off Mulder at the local library before pulling out a pair of hiking boots from the backseat and swapping them out with her heels. Thus outfitted, she had driven north.
Despite dressing more sensibly for her venture, she still stepped carefully over the rutted, muddy two track that led into the woods, the pungent smell of humus a welcome assault on her nose. She decided to look around on her own, heading for the area where the various Dreamers had lunched the week prior.
The sun was midway through the morning sky, and the poplar leaves twisted in a cool breeze; the underside of them lighter than the tops, like the belly of a sunfish. Construction work had shut down for a couple of hours to accommodate her investigation.
The forest was teeming, fecund, half-choked with chlorophyll, the air filled with the high whine of katydids screaming at her from the canopy. She felt like she had stepped into another epoch; prehistoric and riotous with life.
The big equipment had churned a lot of the forest floor into a chunky, muddy mess, and her hope of finding evidence -- if there was any to be found -- seemed about as likely as her mother converting to Buddhism. It probably wasn’t worth setting up a grid.
Her thoughts drifted to Mulder as she stepped over trout lily and larch. What would he find that she might miss? His intuition was otherworldly, and even after seven years -- especially after seven years -- he could make connections she hadn’t ever considered. And he’d never once looked down on her for it. He’d never once treated her as anything less than an equal. If anything, he put her on a pedestal she didn’t feel she deserved. He was erudite and occasionally conscientious. He loved her with a fierceness she didn’t dare contemplate.
Staring at the weathered heart and initials carved into it, she decided to start at the pine tree and work her way out, hoping the conservation officer would arrive soon and perhaps let her know what she was looking for. Scully reached out a hand and touched the bark of the tree -- it was warm, though the trunk had been in the shade. It gave off a pleasant, earthy scent, and she pulled her hand back, tapping her fingers together, sticky with sap.
She heard something behind her and turned, seeing a tall brunette in a greyish green uniform making her way toward Scully through the bracken. Her hair was pulled up tightly into a low bun, giving her a severe look, but she wore a smile and had a pleasant mien. The woman raised a friendly hand.
“You Special Agent Scully?” she called out.
“I am,” Scully called back, returning the smile and stepping forward.
“I’m Polaski,” the officer said, shaking Scully’s hand as she stepped over a fallen branch. “I have to say it’s refreshing to find you’re a woman.”
“Likewise,” Scully said. The woman took a moment to look around the forest and construction site.
“Geez,” Polaski said, “I like the woods better when they stay woods.” She straightened. “So how did you need my assistance? My sergeant only told me that the FBI was working a case and needed a local flora/fauna expert. He said he didn’t know what the case was.”
Scully wasn’t sure she did either.
“We’ve got some victims experiencing… something akin to hallucinations. The only thing the victims have in common is their presence at this site. The only time all the victims were in the same place was when they all shared a meal in this general area. I was hoping you might assist me in identifying any possible naturally occurring hallucinogens or flora containing psychotropic elements. Are there any you’re aware of that grow locally?”
Polaski nodded, the leather of her utility belt creaking as she leaned back contemplatively.
“Off the top of my head… there’s a couple of mushrooms: fly agaric, big laughing gym. Then there’s unripe red mulberries, though it doesn’t affect everyone the same. And I’ve known some old timers who’ve used sassafras.”
“In what way?” Scully asked.
“Safrole,” Polaski answered, “the oil from the sassafras root can be used to make... whatcha call it, MDA.”
“Methylenedioxyamphetamine?”
Polaski nodded. “Makes better root beer, you ask me.”
“Would you be able to survey the area with me, let me know if you see any of the flora you mentioned?”
“Let’s get to it,” Polaski suggested.
They made their way in concentric circles, the conservation officer occasionally pointing out this or that, none of which were what they were looking for. By the time they’d gotten to the area around the entrance of the site, the sun was at midday high and they hadn’t found a thing.
“Can you explain to me the nature of the hallucinations?” Polanski finally asked.
Scully felt Mulder’s own words form within the confines of her mouth and smiled at the intrusion. What could she tell this woman without sounding crazy?
“The victims appear to be, at the very least, sharing dreams. With physical ramifications.”
“Such as?” Polaski asked, though her tone was of open curiosity rather than the doubtful disdain Scully had been half expecting. With only a momentary pause, Scully opened up to her, giving her some of the stranger details of the case.
“Well, shit,” Polaski said, and Scully wasn’t sure if there had yet been a more succinct reaction to the case.
“Pretty much.”
Polaski leaned against a yellow articulated dump truck that was parked just within the tree line off the highway.
“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, Agent Scully,” she said.
“On the contrary, you were a tremendous help, Officer Polaski, I thank you.”
“This case,” Polaski hedged, “sounds pretty odd. You want me to take a look at state-wide records, see if I can pull anything with similar overtones?”
“If you’re offering, I’ll accept, but are you sure you’ve got the time?”
“Beats getting mosquito bites while busting anglers without a license. Let me take the afternoon, see what I can find.”
With that, Polaski pushed off the Caterpillar and nodded once at Scully, who followed her back to their respective vehicles and pointed her internal compass toward Mulder.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Best Western Motel
Petoskey, Michigan
11:23am
From the dozen or so phone calls that he’d made, it seemed the school had been run by nuns from the Holy Childhood sect, which had been a part of the Diocese of Gaylord, a town forty minutes southeast. However, when Mulder called the Diocese of Gaylord, which had been established in 1971, he was redirected to the Diocese of Grand Rapids, a further three hours downstate because it had been overseeing Holy Childhood before ‘71. School records seemed to be scattered to the four winds, though an older secretary in Gaylord told Mulder in confidence that she remembered the Mother Superior had been close with the priest at the St. Francis Xavier church the next town over -- otherwise, school records would be “forthcoming,” whatever that meant.
Mulder brought a hand to his temple as he relayed this information to Scully.
“Any luck in the woods?” he asked.
“No,” Scully said, “though the conservation officer I worked with offered to look through state cases for anything similar. Otherwise, we got bupkis.”
“Not quite bupkis,” Mulder said, handing her a sheet of paper. “I went through old newspaper articles and was able to track down some old pictures of students from the school. Those from the last thirty years had some names included on the captions and I was able to cross reference the names with records from the local Secretary of State office. This is a list of former students I was able to track down that are still local.”
Scully looked over the list.
“There’s not many,” she said, looking up at him. There were only three.
It was indeed a pitifully small number for the hours of work he’d put in. If he never sat in front of another microfiche machine, he might die happy.
“There’s not. But it’s a place to start.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I figure we can interview some former students and maybe get more insight into the area. Up until two months ago, the only thing up there was the school. Maybe we’ll find a connection.”
“It’s as good a plan as any,” she said.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Bay View Inn,
Harbor Springs, Michigan
1:34pm
They found Argyle Petoskey at his job, waiting tables at an upscale inn and restaurant that had been converted from a Victorian mansion in one of the chautauquas of Harbor Springs. The day was turning hot; Mulder had left his jacket in the car, and even Scully had opted to wear only a blouse on top, changing from her hiking gear back into her pencil skirt and heels in the library bathroom.
Argyle’s manager pointed them out back, where they found him leaning against the wall of the loading dock smoking a cigarette, dressed in a restaurant uniform version of a tuxedo, the pre-tied bowtie hanging loose around his unbuttoned collar. When they introduced themselves, he flicked the cigarette off into a puddle and jumped down to greet them, leaking smoke from his mouth.
“What’s this about?”
“We’re looking into the Holy Childhood school,” Mulder said, assessing the man before him. He had short, dark hair and intense brown eyes and what Mulder supposed passed for a mustache. Argyle’s eyebrows rose at this.
“You mean the federal government is actually looking into the shit that happened at Indian schools?”
Mulder, interest piqued, made a mental note to further investigate and simply said, “Can you tell us about your experiences there?”
Argyle took a breath and blew it out, then fished a foil-wrapped stick of wintergreen gum from his pocket and shoved it in his mouth.
“The school was actually pretty good for me,” he shrugged, “I didn’t come from the most stable home. I got my diploma, kept my nose clean. And I, uh, wasn’t on the receiving end of some of the bad shit that went down.”
“Abuse?” Scully finally spoke up.
Argyle gave her a once-over, his eyes lingering at her cross necklace.
“Like I said, not to me. But I did know some people it probably happened to.”
Mulder nodded. “What was it like when you were there? How many kids?”
“Not many when I was there. I graduated in ‘82 right before they shut it down. After ‘78, a lot of Native families stopped sending their kids. But it was okay. Taught me how to play sports, kept me out of trouble.” He hunched up a shoulder. “Kept me away from my dad’s belt. I made a lot of friends.”
“I didn’t see any playing fields up there, where did you guys practice your sports?” Mulder asked.
“Oh, we’d play lacrosse on the front lawn in front of the school until the nuns yelled, but otherwise the local high school let us use their gym and fields and stuff.”
Argyle looked over his shoulder at the door.
“What about out past the school? Looks like the school owned a lot of the land up there. Anyone ever experience anything strange out in the forest?” Scully asked.
“Like love by the dashboard light?” Argyle chuckled. “No, we didn’t go out in those woods. All the kids said it was haunted. We stayed away.”
“Haunted?” Mulder asked, “by whom?”
“A dead student? Some hunter? An old tribal chief? Your guess is as good as mine. I heard ‘em all. Probably an urban legend. I bet every boarding school has one. Listen, are we almost done here? My shift is about to start.”
“Sure,” Mulder said, handing him a business card, “you mind giving us a list of some of your friends from the school? You don’t need to do it right now.”
“And get blamed for sending the Feds to their door? Fat chance. Listen,” he said, jumping back up onto the loading dock, and tucking the card into a back pocket, “I’ll put the word out. You staying locally?”
Mulder nodded. “The Best Western on US-31.”
Argyle nodded back, waved. “Good luck.”
XxXxXxXxXxX
Petoskey, Michigan
4:56pm
The second student on their list -- Stan Skippergosh -- told them roughly the same thing that Argyle Petoskey had, only in a far less succinct way. It was nearing 5:00pm by the time they headed toward the house of the last student on their list.
The road that led out of town turned country at a stop light: to the west toward the lake were businesses and doctors’ offices, churches and schools, but past the stop light it was all pasture. The road dipped with the countryside, and then climbed up steeply, the banks on either side covered in field grass and Queen Anne’s Lace, the air thick with the buzz of insects and the rich tang of grass blades leeching oxygen. It was mostly farmland with the occasional suburban house, small yards carved out of fields and dotted with swingsets and boxes of geraniums.
Leonard Naganashe lived past the fields and farmland, past where the forest began, and Scully’s Mapquest printout was not quite cutting it -- they had to double back twice and ended up finding his road on their own. The driveway wound like a river through the trees, fresh gravel popping under their tires, and Mulder only noticed the tops of the trees when Scully pointed them out.
“Mulder,” Scully said, leaning forward and squinting through the windshield, “look at the canopy.”
At first it was only one or two trees, the tops of which had been blown off and charred, but as they approached the house it seemed as though nearly all the tall trees surrounding the house were similarly affected, a few with the tops blown off, but many, more of them affected than not, with long perpendicular lines scarring their trunks. Hemlock or birch, beech or maple, none were spared.
The house, in a small clearing at the end of the drive, was a quaint one-story ranch that had simple metal finials attached to all four corners. Lightning rods. Mulder flashed on Darin Peter Oswald and gave Scully a significant look over the console.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Mulder said, throwing the sedan into park and cutting the engine.
The heat hit them like a force when they stepped out of the air conditioned confines of the car, the humidity as thick as bisque. Mulder pulled uncomfortably at his tie as they stepped up onto the landing and pushed the doorbell. When no sound came from inside the house, Scully gave the door two sharp raps. A moment later, a woman appeared, her face wearing a look of wary apprehension. She spoke through the screen door, but did not open it.
“What do you want?” she inquired.
“Is this the residence of Leonard Naganashe?” Scully ventured.
“Who’s asking?”
Mulder and Scully both pulled out their badges, holding them up briefly at face-level.
“What’s he done?” the woman asked.
“Nothing,” Mulder said, repocketing his badge. “Leonard attended the Holy Childhood Boarding School in Harbor Springs. We’re trying to get some background. He’s one of the few former students that still lives in the area.”
The woman snorted. “Nothing good ever came from that school. Leonard included,” she replied. “I should know.”
“Did you attend the school as well, ma’am?” Scully queried from beside Mulder’s elbow.
The woman didn’t answer at first, and Mulder could see her face cloud over.
“I graduated in ‘82,” she finally said.
“What’s your name?” Mulder asked.
“Mary.”
“Can we talk to you about the school?” he requested.
“No,” Mary said curtly. “Leonard took off about a month ago. You find him, you tell him I got papers for him to sign.”
With that, the door closed in their faces.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Best Western Motel
Petoskey, Michigan
7:23pm
They were north of the 45th Parallel -- closer to the north pole than the equator and the summer days seem to last forever -- it was light before 5:00, it was dark after 10:00. The sun shone on and on.
Their hotel was neither the worst nor the best they’d ever stayed in -- just off the highway, but tucked back into the trees of a cedar swamp, each room opened out onto the small parking lot with suburban woods beyond it. Their respective rooms were on either end of the long row, and they’d set up camp in Scully’s, at the far end away from the motel office. Mulder closed the door on the damp cedar brine and kicked off his shoes.
The A/C unit rattled in the window but was cooling the room admirably. It was late and Scully was on her second piece of pizza after realizing that she’d had nothing all day but a stale mini bagel from the motel’s ‘continental’ spread and a hot slug of bad coffee she’d made from the little pot on the small vanity outside her bathroom.
“Are you still thinking this is some kind of mass hallucination?” Mulder asked her around a mouthful of sausage and pepper.
She could tell he was feeling her out, gauging her hostility toward his more outlandish theories.
“I don’t know what to think, Mulder,” she said. “The details of this case, so far as we have uncovered them, leave a lot more questions than answers.”
“I will give you that.” He sighed, wiped his mouth, crumpled up the napkin and threw it in a perfect arc into the trash can. She gave him the ghost of an impressed smile.
“You think it’s a haunting of some sort?” she walked her own napkin, and the flimsy paper plate the pizzeria had given them, over to the trash can and deposited them sensibly.
He gave a mock shiver. “Don’t get me too excited Scully, we’re in the same motel room after hours.”
She wondered briefly what he would do if she walked over to the chair he was sitting in and straddled his lap. If she wrapped his tie twice around her fist and pulled his generous mouth to hers. Would his eyes be startled? Would they glaze over in lust?
Her indecorous fantasy was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. She answered it.
“Agent Scully, this is Officer Polaski,” said the voice on the other end, “I’m sorry to call so late, but I think I may have something for you.” Scully waved Mulder over and he sat next to her, the mattress dipping below his weight and pushing her into his side. She tilted the phone so they could both hear. “It’s a pretty old case -- from the 50s -- and some of the details of the case notes have been lost over time, but I found a record of an arrest in the woods where you and I were today.”
“Definitely not too late,” Scully reassured her. “What was the charge?”
“Murder,” Polaski said, and Scully tilted her head slightly to find Mulder’s eyes. “You want me to fax it over?” Polaski went on.
Mulder rose and hurried over to the dresser where a pad of motel stationery sat, the phone and fax numbers at the bottom.
“Please,” Scully said, and then rattled off the number as Mulder held it up for her.
“It’s on its way,” Polaski told her, and Mulder was already slipping on his shoes.
“Be right back,” he said after Scully had thanked her and disconnected, and he trotted out the door toward the motel office.
He was back a few minutes later, shuffling through a few leaves of paper that wafted the smell of hot toner in her direction. “Polaski was right,” he said, handing her a couple, “this is pretty thin.”
They both sat on her bed and traded sheets of paper, reading through the case file.
Franklin Henry Donaughy had been arrested while camping in the woods not far from the Holy Childhood Indian School on the night of November 14, 1952, by two Emmet County Sheriff deputies. His wife, Denise Donaughy, aged 37, had been found dead -- from a gunshot wound to the chest -- in their home in Harrison Township, Michigan (a town located three hours to the south, Scully discovered after a quick map consult and a brief mental calculation). Franklin had claimed to have been hunting and camping up north for the four days beforehand and had no part in her killing, or so he said to the sheriff deputies. There were several pages missing from the file, it appeared, particularly those of Franklin Donaughy’s statements to police.
Mulder handed Scully the coroner’s report, which she looked over.
“This is odd,” she noted, after a moment, and handed the paper back to Mulder. “It says here that the body was discovered sitting up in a lounge chair in their living room under a blanket, next to a switched on radio. There was no blood spray discovered at the scene, but the body had both an entry and exit wound, so they assumed she’d been killed at a different location and then placed in the living room.” She leaned closer to him, pointed to the page. “But, Mulder, the recorded amount of blood that seeped into the chair was almost four liters. That’s nearly all the blood a body has--”
“--So she couldn’t have been killed at a different location and then moved,” Mulder concluded.
“Exactly, it makes no sense.”
“What else does it say?” he asked.
“Not much,” she said, frustrated, “it’s incomplete.”
Mulder blew out a raspberry and shoved his palm tiredly into his eye socket.
“I’ll call the Sheriff’s office tomorrow and see if they have a more complete record. Barring that I can always swim again with the microfiche, see what the local papers said in ‘52.”
“I’ll help,” she smiled at him and then shoved him lightly in the shoulder. “Let’s get some sleep for now, huh?”
He leaned his arm onto hers for a moment and she saw a glimmer of something brewing in his chlorite eyes. A moment later he turned away and then stood from the bed.
“We should,” he agreed, and made his way to the door, throwing her one last glance before closing it softly behind him.
She felt as though she had barely closed her eyes when there was a pounding on the same door. She looked at the glow of the alarm clock next to the bed. It was nearly 1:30 a.m.
She threw open the door to find Mulder threading the tie he’d worn earlier in the day back through the collar of a dress shirt.
“Hank Poquette just called me,” he said. “He found Moira in their bed, unresponsive.”
“Did he call 911?” Scully asked on a hop of adrenaline.
“Paramedics are on their way,” Mulder said, already moving back in the direction of his own room, “I’ll meet you at the car in five.”
XxXxXxXxXxX
Cross Village, Michigan
2:40am
The forest around the Poquette property was awash in blue and red light as Mulder and Scully drove up the winding driveway, the house itself lit up with the headlights and search beams of several police cruisers. Mulder pulled in behind one and killed the engine.
“This doesn’t look good,” he said to Scully, who remained quiet, her face grim.
The Poquette’s black dog was whining from its chained position beside the tree, its eyes never once leaving the house as they walked past. EMTs exited the house pushing a stretcher just as Mulder and Scully got to the bottom of the porch steps -- a person laid out beneath a sheet that was pulled over their face.
The agents backed away to let the paramedics pass and shared a look. When they got to the front door, they were met by a confused young sheriff’s deputy who blanched at their IDs. He called over his superior who appeared to be the Sheriff himself, with whom Mulder shook hands. Scully stood back slightly, her hands crossed in front of her.
Hank Poquette sat at the counter in his kitchen, staring blankly ahead, head in his hands.
After Mulder explained -- with as few details as possible -- what they were doing in the area and at the Poquette house, the Sheriff agreed to let them have a few minutes with Hank before they took him into the station to get his statement.
The deputies migrated to the far end of the living room by the door before Mulder spoke quietly to Hank, Scully keeping close at Mulder’s elbow.
“What happened tonight?” Mulder coaxed, as kindly as he could.
Hank didn’t look at either of them; his eyes glassy.
“I had a dream,” he said blankly. “When I woke up… I found her like that. Next to me.”
“What happened in your dream, Hank?” Mulder asked.
Hank finally looked up, a deep groove etched between his eyebrows. He took a shallow breath.
“She died.”
XxXxXxXxXxX
Best Western Motel
Petoskey, Michigan
July 2, 1999
7:30am
Scully was dressed and had just unwrapped the towel from her freshly shampooed hair when she heard Mulder at her door. They had left a nearly catatonic Hank Poquette at the local police station at 4:30 a.m., and Scully, bleary-eyed with barely any sleep, had stumbled into the shower thirty minutes earlier.
Hank had said very little when deputies questioned him, simply laying out the timeline of he and Moira’s evening (dinner at a local bar with friends and a 10:00 p.m. bedtime) and had told them that he’d woken to find Moira in bed next to him, unresponsive. It wasn’t until he was in the small interrogation room alone with Mulder and Scully and had a hot cup of coffee in front of him that he’d told them both his dream: she’d fallen from a tall building while he was running to catch her.
“I always have dark dreams,” he’d said cryptically to Scully before they left, his eyes haunted. The Sheriff had mentioned that they didn’t have enough evidence to hold him and that he would be released later in the day.
Mulder moved into her room and tossed a newspaper onto Scully’s unmade bed.
“Interesting entertainment article got picked up by the local paper,” he said, nodding to the periodical. “Page four.”
Scully set down the hairbrush she’d been using on her wet hair and picked up the paper.
July 1, 1999
by Megan McCullough, AP
TOM CRUISE’S DISAPPEARING ACT
An impressive PR stunt was successfully pulled off last night at the premiere of the new Warner Bros. tentpole ‘The Magician.’
Star Tom Cruise was walking the red carpet in front of the Bruin Theater in Westwood when he vanished, ostensibly into thin air. The stunt was captured on film by the press and fans alike, who said Cruise was glad-handing and giving autographs to the fans along the velvet rope when he disappeared.
“He was standing in front of me one second and gone the next,” said fan and witness Amy Michelson, “I couldn’t believe it. We were all kind of freaked out and scared for Tom but then he came back about twenty minutes later.” Witnesses say the star reappeared at the exact spot he had disappeared from about a half an hour later, startling studio and security personnel who had surrounded the area. “He looked totally shell shocked when he reappeared,” Michelson went on, “and he had smears of lipstick all over his mouth. I’m not sure where he went, but I wish it had been with me!”
Sources close to Cruise say that the star was surprised and upset by what they refer to as an ‘uncontracted and unsafe stunt’ and has been looking into lawsuits aimed at Warner Bros. as well as ‘The Magician’s’ executive producer David Copperfield.
When initially asked for comment minutes after the incident, the studio was close-lipped. Press inquiries as to why police were called to the scene in Westwood immediately following the disappearance were chalked up to “miscommunication.”
As of this morning, the studio seems to have changed its tune and released the following statement:
“We at Warner Bros. are always happy to work with Mr. Cruise, and are very proud of ‘The Magician.’ We hope audiences will go to theaters to see it before it, too, disappears!”
Scully looked up at Mulder.
“You don’t think…”
“Lindsey Conrad is a Dreamer, and you saw the posters in her kitchen.”
“Jesus, Mulder.”
“We need to stop this thing Scully. What if one of these people dreams of the President dying? What if some foreign government figures out what’s going on up here and starts using these people for assassinations or -- hell, what if our government does?”
His hair was sticking up in places as though he’d been running his hands through it. Scully looked up at him. “What is ‘this thing,’ Mulder? What the hell are we dealing with here?”
“Something is pulling people into the dreams of others, Scully. Whether you believe it or not. And whatever the mechanism is -- we need to find out what it is, how it works, and how to stop it.”
The explanation Mulder was pushing could not possibly be true. Could it? She stayed mute and could see the color rise in his cheeks.
“People’s lives are at stake Scully,” he said darkly.
She felt anger building inside as well but pushed it back down.
“Maybe we’ll find something in Moira’s autopsy,” she finally said.
Mulder nodded, suddenly looking as tired as she felt.
“I’m going to head back to the library while you’re slicing and dicing -- see what I can turn up on this hunter case Polaski sent us.”
XxXxXxXxXxX
Emmet County Morgue
Northern Michigan Regional Hospital
Petoskey, Michigan
9:34am
The county medical examiner was as near to retirement as any she’d ever met. He’d reached the stage of male aging where the hair on his forehead receded, only to grow wildly out of his ears. His fingernails had yellowed and ridged and his eyebrows seemed to crawl across his forehead like hairy grey caterpillars. Nevertheless, he was friendly and polite, if a bit hard of hearing.
“Edward Farrugia,” he said, extending a hand over the body of Moira Poquette. Scully shook it firmly, and found the skin of his palm warm and dry. She’d shaken a lot of ME’s hands in the subterranean dark of various morgues, and found many to be roughly the same texture and temperature as their charges.
“Dana Scully,” she said. “Did you receive the police report from the Sheriff’s office?”
“I did,” Dr. Farrugia informed her, “though I didn’t look at it -- I was just about to. I like to do my initial exam without knowing any of the details. Start from scratch. No preconceived notions to bring into it.”
Scully nodded. She liked that.
“So you’ve already looked at the body?” she asked. The EMTs had left with Moira’s body before she got a chance to see it herself.
“Just an initial visual exam. I’d be happy to share my thoughts,” he said.
“Let me scrub up and we can go over it together?”
He smiled at her and nodded, then headed back into his office while she found the small locker room nearby to scrub in and change. There was a hot pot of coffee on a sideboard table in the locker room itself and she threw back several large, hasty sips.
When she walked back in ten minutes later, she found the Medical Examiner in his office staring at his desk, his face darkly set. He had the police report in his hand. She cleared her throat and he looked up.
“Are you ready to get started?” she asked politely.
“I am,” he said, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “But Dr. Scully… Nothing here adds up.”
“How so?” Scully asked.
Dr. Farrugia glanced toward the examination room where Moira Poquette’s body rested under a sheet. He held up the copy of the police report.
“From what it says here, this woman went out to dinner last night with her husband and some friends, went home, went to bed and her husband found her unresponsive around midnight. There were multiple witnesses at the bar placing her there not more than two hours before her death. So she eats, goes home, gets in bed. That timetable indicates her death was likely caused by heart attack, stroke, aneurysm -- I’m sure I don’t need to list them all for you,” he went on, “you’re an expert.”
She nodded.
“Agent Scully, this woman died from a fall,” he said. “A pretty big one.”
She walked into the exam room and moved to the table before he’d even finished talking, peeling back the sheet covering Moira Poquette’s body. She heard Dr. Farrugia shuffle in behind her as she stared down in disbelief.
There was no blood, except for a small trickle from a clearly fractured skull. On her torso, her skin had split to the length of about ten or fifteen centimeters right above the hip bone, and a quantity of her small intestine was hanging out from the laceration. They were textbook injuries sustained from a fall of eighty to a hundred feet.
“This is…” she started to say, her tone one of disbelief.
“Yes,” Dr. Farrugia agreed. Their eyes met over the body and he moved to join her on the opposite side.
“Shall we see what we find on the inside?” she asked him after several moments.
“Let’s.”
XxXxXxXxXxX
The Carnegie Library
Petoskey, Michigan
3:30pm
Scully found Mulder beyond the stacks. The Carnegie Library was old, stately, a sturdy box-like structure with stone pillars in front, built with money endowed from Andrew Carnegie himself. Scully had to go to the back of the building and down a set of stairs to the basement, where she found Mulder sitting at a tabletop surrounded by rolls of microfiche, glasses perched on his nose, a screen flickering rapidly in front of him.
“Martha?” he said, as he heard her steps approach, “Let’s go another month or two ahead, see if we can find some articles from the trial.”
He turned when she touched his shoulder, his face blossoming into pleased surprise when he saw it was her.
“Hey,” he said, smiling, whatever slight animosity he’d been feeling towards her earlier in the morning dissipating into the air. “Sorry, I thought you were the librarian who’s been helping me out.”
At this, said librarian came around a corner, a small basket filled with boxes of microfiche rolls slung over her elbow. She was likely around seventy, with bright white hair cut into a fluffy bob, symmetrically cut bangs framing her forehead. She looked at Scully expectantly.
“Can I help you?” she asked Scully.
“Martha, this is the woman I told you about: my partner, Agent Scully,” Mulder said.
She gave Scully a quick up and down.
“Well,” she said, “it’s nice to meet you, Agent Scully. I must say, when pressed, Agent Mulder conceded that you were quite lovely, but I now see why he turned so coy. My dear, you’re a vision.”
Scully felt her cheeks color.
“Martha is a shameless flirt,” Mulder said, his eyes on the tabletop.
“And a matchmaker,” Martha said to Scully, winking.
Mulder pointedly changed the subject, “Do you have late February and early March?”
“Right here,” Martha said, unslinging the basket from her elbow and passing it over to Mulder. She grabbed a nearby chair and pushed it in next to Mulder’s own. “Have a seat, love.”
Scully took the proffered chair and sat, giving Mulder a look as the woman left them on a whirl of white hair, leaving the faintest trace of Chanel No. 5 in her wake.
“You made a friend,” Scully said, teasing.
“Yeah, well, I spent a week here yesterday morning,” he replied. “How was the autopsy?”
“Illuminating.”
“Yeah?” he said, turning to her in full, “Tell me.”
She sighed. “Three guesses.”
“She died from a fall,” Mulder said, a little reverence in his voice.
Scully nodded. “That’s what the body says.”
Mulder let out a long, low whistle. “Do you believe me now?” he asked, running his thumb along his jaw bone. It took her a moment to look away.
“I’m closer to believing,” she acknowledged.
“I guess I’ll take it,” he said after a moment.
“Have you talked to Hank?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “Sheriff drove him home this morning. I’ll head out there when we’re done here and check on him.”
“Hopefully he’ll get some sleep,” Scully said.
“Hopefully he won’t,” Mulder said significantly.
Scully sank into the chair Martha had pulled out for her.
“Have you found anything?” she asked.
Mulder shook his head and passed her a couple of rolls of microfiche.
“Local paper,” he said. “They had a blurb on the arrest of Franklin Donaughy, but nothing else. Probably not that surprising since the ‘murder’ was downstate. Now I’m searching through for articles about the trial to see if there’s anything there.” He nodded toward a second viewing machine further down the table. “Care to join me?”
She pulled the basket of rolls toward her.
“You take February ‘53, I’ll take March?”
XxXxXxXxXxX
They searched for two hours before Scully left to bring them back dinner and Dramamine. Mulder was just wadding up the butcher paper from his ham on rye when Scully got his attention, waving her salad fork in front of his face.
“I think I’ve got it,” she said.
He let out a soft, satisfied belch and then scooted his chair closer to hers.
It was a front page story:
March 2, 1953
by VJ Hramic
Not Guilty: Hunter Proclaims Innocence
Mulder skimmed the article until he found what he was looking for.
“There,” he said, pointing to the screen, “his alibi -- he’d been hunting and camping in the woods near the school for four days during the time of his wife’s murder. State’s evidence is all circumstantial except for the gun. Same caliber and ammunition as his hunting rifle.”
“Hmm,” said Scully, still not convinced.
They scrolled on for another week and a half until finally:
Guilty!
There was a picture of a haunted looking Franklin Donaughy being led from the county courthouse in handcuffs, surrounded by fedora-wearing reporters and the large drums of fifty-year-old camera flashes.
“Jesus,” Scully said and Mulder leaned forward when she pointed to small print at the end of the article on page 4, below the fold.
“Mr. Donaughy repeatedly shouted the phrase ‘But it was only in my dreams! She only died in my dreams!’ to reporters as he was led away to the Gladwin County Jail. He has been since evaluated and sent to the Northern Michigan Asylum in Traverse City to receive treatment for what doctors are calling a psychotic break.”
The wooden chair creaked when he leaned back in it.
They were both silent for almost a full minute, the hum of the microfiche machines the only sound other than their breathing.
Finally, Mulder rose and spoke.
“I’m going to drive out to the Poquette residence to check on Hank,” he said formally. “Would you, ah, make a call for me?” She nodded up at him from the chair. “I’ve been playing phone tag with the priest at St. Francis Xavier. See if you can get in touch with him and set up a meeting tomorrow -- I want to see what he can tell us about the headmistress of Holy Childhood.”
Mulder walked out to the sedan with a headache. He rolled the windows all the way down as he drove down the sunset road.
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To wish innocently
There is a legend, passed down through the generations. Deep in the forest on the edges of the earth, you will find a tangle of trees. Deeper yet in this tangle of trees is a burrow, woven from the finest of vines. And if you delve deeper still, you will find the hollow of the fae, an space imbued with rich power. According to the words of legend, if you can convince the forest to bless you with a gift, you can grant any wish you want. Gold or glory, nothing is out of reach.
Many travelers have sought the hollow, most for their own personal greed. Records have indicated that most do not survive and those who do suffer a fate worse than death. Stranger yet, some records tell that they see the faces of old travelers in the bark of the trees, twisted almost to the point of unrecognition.
You hoped it was true, the legend. You needed it to be true. You’d invested months of your life, searching for this hollow, abandoning your old life for it. Hell you’d almost given your soul up to a demon for information, that’s just how desperate you were. And after all those months, you think maybe you’ve found it.
There’s something different about this place. It’s serene but still the hairs on the back of your neck raise. It’s the silence. Not once has it been so quiet on your journey. The forests are always teeming with life, the sounds of animals and insects and birds all combined with the wind rustled trees. The only sounds you hear now are your own breathing and the cracklings beneath your feet.
But you forge ahead. You must. And just as you feel like you’re about to collapse, you find the bent branches and vines of the burrow. It’s almost like a nest, circular and strong, built in layer upon layer. As you approach, you notice the leaves growing off the structure are a deeper green than those of the forest. They sparkle gently in the light despite not having any dew on them. You reach out to touch them but stop short, withdrawing your hand after a moment. Your fingertips tingle, already sensitive to the power imbued. Yes, you have at long last found it.
You don’t want to force yourself into the hollow. That’s a sure fire way to get yourself killed or kicked out and you can’t afford either. But you can’t sit here and wait either. There are people waiting for you. So you remove your knife from your belt and cut a lock of your hair, tying it off with a ribbon you kept from another time. A gift of the daughter of the seas after you had cut her loose from abandoned nets. You take a deep breath and set the bundle at the base what you think is the entrance and you wait.
You thankfully don’t need to wait very long. The forest rustles, branches creaking and clacking against each other as the draw apart and reveal a deep tunnel for you. You smile, standing on stiff knees and stumbling forward. It’s surprisingly light inside, illuminated by silvery glowing mushrooms and dangling golden flowers. You cut your hand multiple times keeping yourself steady but it matters not.
Eventually you tumble out the other end, braced against the soft grassy floor as you catch your breath.
“What do you want.”
You lift your head and your eyes widen. He’s... Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. His hair is braided back, the braids woven with flowers and gems, both of which sparkle. From above those braids are antlers, strong and dark and sharp on the ends. They are also wreathed with delicate gold chains and jewels, carefully placed. His amber eyes are cold as they regard you, bored even. You pull yourself up and step into the clearing more fully, kneeling when you think you’re close enough.
“I seek to fulfill a wish.” You try to speak as clearly as you can and it rings around the hollow, echoing like a guilty admission.
“Like many before you,” he replies, flicking his hand. The jewels on his wrist jingle. “And what makes you different from them?”
You swallow. Nothing really. You have come seeking something and have nothing to give but your life. You whisper, “Please. You’re the only hope I have left.”
“I did not ask for you to beg. I asked what makes you worthy of a wish used.” The trees begin to rustle and the ground beneath you rumbles as he growls softly. “You humans never understand. Wishes are born from desire and desire must be fulfilled with blessings. A blessing is a powerful thing, created from the death of faeries. From a life. And you come in here, ill-prepared to defend your wish to me?”
You shake in your spot, your chest tight. But you have to do this. For everyone. You take a deep breath and lift your head to look at him, at his rage. “I have a selfish wish,” you announce. The rumbling stops; he blinks. “I have a wish that will use the lives of your kin to save mine. I will pay any price for equivalent exchange.” You close your eyes for a moment, thinking on your family. Your friends. Everyone’s smile and everyone’s tears all entrusted to you. You open your eyes again and give him a determined stare. “I call upon the ancient keepers of the forest, bearers of light. Please, help me keep my village safe.”
He stares at you, face kept carefully blank. You on the other hand stare at him with desperation thinly veiled under courage. Slowly he stands, silken robes fluttering around him. He steps forward until he stands mere inches away from you, looking down while you look up. “Are you prepared to bear the weight of what you ask?”
You suck in another breath before letting it out with a shudder. “I am.”
He strokes along his sleeve, golden threads shimmering. Ah how ethereal he is, haloed in the light. Considers you, in your ragged clothes and bleeding palms. You start to waver, just a bit until he reaches up and plucks a crystal encased in molten gold and holds it flat in his palm, extending it to you. “Your wish is a kind one. Such innocence is rare.”
You reach up, hesitating just before you take the life. It will be heavy, you know. “I-is there a price?”
“Ah, little one, there always is.” Hyunjin smiles and you feel your heart race in terror. Those are the feral sharpened teeth of the Fae King, the one of myth and story. Except he’s very, very real. “But you were prepared for that, were you not?”
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So its the end of the semester and I have been writing Too Many Essays of academic bs and am probably over-analyzing this but its been bouncing around in my head all day so now y’all get to look at it so I can think of other things
Last night I was watching critical role’s narrative telephone and got to Widogast’s Web of Words and after about five minutes of laughing as the other cast members retold the story I had a lightbulb moment spawned, as I said, by too many goddamn essays
“Hey wait a minute. This seems suspiciously Caleb-as-a-volstrucker related.” And the more that thought bounced around my head, the more connections I found, so hear me out:
First off right at the beginning the story, he says “most think of it as a fairy tale to frighten children, but the wise know better.” We know from previous in-game discussion that the voltstrucker are mostly regarded as a spooky story or urban legend within the empire. Exactly the kind of thing you would use to entertain kids. But the smart and the higher up would know that the voltstrucker exist.
So my theory: the three children are Caleb, Astrid, and whats-his-face, Eadwulf, and boy does it mushroom out from there.
The parents told the children to “say their prayers, serve their king, and always walk in the light of the sun” (Liam). We don’t know a ton about Caleb’s parents, but we do know that they were very patriotic. There’s also a lot of talk about the Dawnfather, Pelor, in the first bit, who is neutral good according to the critical role wiki (thanks guys) and one of whose commandments is “deliver the light of the Dawnfather...with kindness, compassion, and mercy” (the wiki). He is also the god of agriculture and a popular focus of worship of the common folk (the wiki). So this is Caleb and classmates before Ikithon, living small town, commoner lives, still full of empathy/kindness/etc.
Then comes the leaving their prayers and going into the dark woods bit, which to me sounds like leaving home, and the way of doing things there, to go to Rexxentrum. Stepping away from the Dawnfather, away from the empathy/kindness thing and the common folk way of life. But at the moment it is still possible for them to return home, unharmed, unchanged. The line describing the woods, “so vast and full of mystery...the desire for knowledge beckoned them. They no longer walked in the light of the sun” sounds like Caleb wanting to learn more about magic and diving headfirst into Soltryce Academy, starting to lose sight of what morality his parents taught him.
Now the children are linking hands as they go through the woods, i.e., Caleb, Astrid, and Eadwulf becoming friends at the Academy. The counting-their-steps-as-they-go thing..well. I couldn’t find any information, but I personally would be very curious how many years the average student spends at the Academy and at what year Ikithon started training them.
Now the children meet the hag, who is described as being the land and is hungry. The being the land bit would mean the hag is representative of the empire, and the fact that she is hungry could represent the Empire’s hunger for power. She says she must eat in order for the land to thrive, i.e., the Empire must gain power in order for it to thrive. This can be done through straightforward battle (eating one of the children whole), but that would eventually cause unrest throughout the empire (our parents would surely despair). That leaves espionage, which is the route the hag symbolically takes.
(Campaign 2 spoilers and interesting side note: who have the might nein recently met who strikes harsh, terrible deals in exchange for double-edged results? a hag. who does Caleb choose to represent what’s going on with the volstruckers? a hag)
The children are frozen in fear (?) (i don’t speak german and the word used sounds like angst and it makes sense so im rolling with it), or the children are restrained as the hag steps forward with her “stone knife.” Hello Caleb being pressured by someone more powerful than him, strapped to a table, and crystals shoved in his arms, how you doing today?
Now the children start losing bits of themselves-- the first his brain, and his thoughts “were no longer his own.” This is Ikithon breaking one of them, im going to say Eadwulf for drama reasons, so that they where were nothing more than a tool, a weapon to be used as Ikithon saw fit.
The second child, and Liam uses female pronouns here and it makes sense so this is Astrid, loses one of her eyes and she “never saw true again.” This is fun because (campaign 2 spoilers) at this point Caleb has already spoken to Astrid and found her viewpoint completely in line with Ikithon’s, with ambitions to take his place one day. Loosing an eye messes with depth perception, or perspective, so Astrid’s perspective is wrong, but her thoughts are still her own as she still has plans outside of what Ikithon wants from her.
The last child looses his heart and “he never knew love again.” Liam uses those exact words and that is important. Its not ‘he could never love again’ which is what would make sense with the loss of a heart, its “he never knew love again”. It is Caleb’s own self-loathing talking. The lost heart is Caleb’s deceased family and all the trauma that came with that loss. Caleb, of the three of them, sees Ikithon clearly and his thoughts are still his own, but he no longer believes himself worthy of love and is a terrified to form relationships, to love, because of how badly that burned him (haha puns) last time.
Another interesting note: This scene occurred in a forest. The Vergesson Sanatorium, where Caleb and crew trained and where Caleb was imprisoned/held was in a forest. (Coincidence? I think not)
The hag says now the land will flourish and the wheat will grow. In other words, thanks to the sacrifice of the children, the empire will flourish and the common folk, the wheat, (see: connections to Pelor, god of the common folk, agriculture, light and goodness) will grow. She releases the children on the condition that they send her their children, and their children’s children and on down the line. Or, more children join the volstruckers, more children are warped and twisted and maimed so that the land, the kingdom, the empire will continue to grow. So that the common folk and the people of the light can continue, unaware that it lies on a foundation of blood and bone.
Throughout the story there is a recurring emphasis that these are children. That they are young and foolish, and yes they messed up but they did not deserve to meet the monster they did. They did not deserve what happened to them. Again, that is Caleb, at his core angry about what was done to him and his friends, and willing to do whatever it takes to set it right.
....
Like I said! Too many goddamn essays. I don’t know if other people have already made this connection or whether Liam O’Brien has confirmed it but I wanted to yell about it for a bit.
If it was intentional, that’s a lot of symbolism in two-ish minutes, and its amazing and incredible.
If it was unintentional, that was an amazing grim-brothers-esque fairytale and I loved it.
If any of y’all have actual social media and know the answer let me know please.
#long post#critical role#narrative telephone#critical role spoilers#critical role campaign two spoilers#caleb widogast#okay i have yelled into the void#and feel much better now lol#volstruckers#narrative telephone spoilers#widogasts web of words#widogasts web of words spoilers#this is the most fun writing ive had in weeks
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The Splintered Road
Chapter 2
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For hours they travelled at a fairly quick pace. Fenris noticed how she moved at ease through the trees and underbrush. They didn't talk; she only spoke occasionally to him, to point out certain plants or muddy patches of earth. Warning him not to touch them or leave his footprints. He got the impression she was used to this style of travelling, likely because she was an apostate on the run. Whatever the reason, she was good at navigating the forest, and although he knew she could turn on him at any second, it was worth the risk. For the time being, he would use her skills so that the hunters would lose his trail. While observing her, he noticed her using elfroot a few times, trying to combat the pain of the broken arm. Occasionally she would also get a coughing fit.
The sun was already lowering when she slowed down and began to look around. She took the time to collect some mushrooms, plucked a patch that looked like grass and a few broad leaves from a strange-looking plant. Fenris didn't recognise any of them, but he figured they were eatable when she put everything into her small cooking pot. When she found a patch of elfroot, she harvested the plants and immediately chewed on one of its leaves. He wondered why she hadn't healed herself yet. He knew she possessed healing magic; otherwise, she wouldn't have offered it to him. So, why hadn't she used it on herself? Her magic must have already returned hours ago.
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Looking for food, Yssil was excited when she spotted a big patch of thistles growing on a small clearing next to the river. Although she had offered to feed them both, it would be hard to find enough food while keeping on the move. But with the meat from the dear, the mushrooms and some thistle roots, they would have a filling meal tonight. She stopped when another shoot of pain radiated from her arm. Cursing inwardly, she turned to Fenris, who was watching her again. She got the impression he didn't trust her at all. Not that they knew each other, but they had saved each other's lives. That had to count something.
Opening her mouth to call out to him, she hesitated.
Fenris' muscles twitched when she turned her attention to him; he was ready for anything.
“I'm sorry, but I just noticed we don't know each other's names yet. I am Yssil.” she smiled hesitantly at him.
He stared at her, saying nothing.
'Well, this is going great,' she thought.
“I am sorry to ask, but I need your help.” she pointed at the plants. “These are thistles. A little prickly, but their roots are eatable. Could you please help me dig them out?” she pointed at her broken arm. “It will take a while when I do it on my own.”
Not answering, he kept watching her with slightly squinted eyes. It gave her the impression of a wild animal, unpredictable and ready to attack. Sighing, she took the shortsword from the templar and started hacking at the plants. She needed to mow a part of them first so she could dig, or else she had to cope with the prickly thorns. It was difficult, with having only one hand and the movement agitated the wounds she had. Pain shot through her arm when she moved too abruptly. It made her question if it was even worth getting the roots.
Suddenly Yssil's wrist holding the sword was grabbed.
She hadn't heard Fenris moving behind her. His iron gloves dug painfully in her flesh. She froze and stared at him; his moss-green eyes glared at her with deep-seated anger and hostility.
Nervously she managed to remain calm. “I... we can use this sword to dig out the roots. They aren't too deep.” She gave him a small smile, hoping to appease him.
Glaring at her, he pulled the sword out of her hands and shoved her backwards.
“Stay where I can see you, and don't move,” he grumbled.
He cleared the plants with a powerful swing and stuck the sword into the ground, prying up the roots. He pulled them out of the ground and threw them on a pile behind him. Yssil stepped forward to collect them, but she was immediately blocked by the sword Fenris pointed at her.
“I said, don't move,” he growled at her.
Carefully she took a step back again, raising her good hand to show she meant no harm. He stared at her for a moment before he continued to dig out the roots.
“Thank you. I think that's enough of them,” she said after a few minutes. “I just need to wash them.”
Forcing herself to move normally, she spread out a piece of cloth and put the roots on it to carry them easier. “Let's find a place to rest and change your bandages. Please keep an eye out for firewood if you will. I think we can risk a small fire to cook our dinner.”
.
Half an hour later, they settled for a relatively flat and clutter-free area among the trees not too far from the river. Yssil pulled out her flint and steel and a bundle of dried moss to start a small fire. Fenris raised his eyebrows when he saw the flint and steel. He had never seen a mage that didn't use their magic to complete the simplest tasks. Not that he wanted her to use her magic, but he was confused by her actions.
Never had he met a mage that wasn't convinced of their superiority. Though she was vocal in what she wanted, it wasn't in a demanding way. Not once had she tried to command him or demanded something. It was the total opposite; she was polite and using please and thank you. He didn't know what to think of her. It was also surprising that she wasn't complaining about anything, especially her arm. He knew it was causing her pain, and it wouldn't get any easier for the days to come. Every mage he knew would have complained for a long time already and demanded he would do something to fix it. Even if he couldn't. Yet, she kept moving despite the apparent discomfort and extra stress it caused.
With the fire burning, she stood up. “I go and clean these.” she gestured to the stuff they had foraged. “I will be back in a bit.”
Not trusting her, he followed her slowly and watched her from the trees. Apart from cooling her broken arm and refilling her waterskin, she didn't do anything else but wash what they had found. On a flat stone, she cut the deer flesh, roots and mushrooms roughly in bite-sized chunks. Afterwards, she put everything back into the pot with some water and walked back to their camp. When he walked in after her, he expected she would say something about the fact he had followed her, but she just gave him a small smile and resumed her cooking.
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“Could you remove your armor?”
Their dinner was cooking on the fire, and Yssil had finished grinding some paste from the elfroot she had collected. Knowing that his wound needed to heal fast, Fenris took his dagger again. Ensuring she saw it was within his reach, he removed his armoured gloves and shoulder pauldrons before unbuckling his breastplate. When he pulled off his leather vest, he already could see that blood had seeped through the bandages around his waist.
Binding her hair back, Yssil sat down next to him. As she revealed her ears, Fenris noticed her cut of ear again. It reminded him of Tevinter, where this was sometimes done as a form of humiliating punishment. He didn't know that these practices were also spread so far to the south. On the other hand, elves were second class citizens everywhere, so it wasn't that surprising to see the results of acts of cruelty. Slowly she began to remove his bandages, not showing any reservation that he had his dagger at hand. But she took a sharp breath when she uncovered the wound on his shoulder.
“You have pulled some of the stitches.”
“And whose fault is that?” he growled back. It was, after all, her fault he had been in a fight again.
“Sorry... At least the wound doesn't look infected.”
With care, she applied the elfroot paste on his shoulder and waist. Sitting in the sunlight, she could now get a better look at his markings. Last night she already noticed the power that lay within them. She had seen how he used them while fighting, but being this close to him, she could feel her magic react to the lyrium buried in his skin. She wondered how he was even alive. In these quantities, lyrium was poisonous to non-mages.
Nevertheless, they were beautiful to see. The pattern reminded her of the Dalish vallaslin. The lyrium reflected the sunlight and the lines on his back sparkled lightly with each slight movement he made. Yssil frowned when she noticed that some of his skin was red and inflamed next to the tattoos. He must be in constant discomfort, she realised.
“I can try and heal your wounds with magic if you want.” she offered him.
“NO, magic!” he growled and glared at her.
She raised her hand to indicate she meant no harm and took the bandages to wrap them around him. With her having only one arm to use, he soon took them and started to wrap himself. Though she would rather have avoided her encounter with the templars, at least she got new bandages out of it. Hers were quite old.
Afterwards, they ate quietly before going to sleep.
.
The next two days went similar. During their walk, Yssil foraged for eatables while Fenris trailed after her. Occasionally he would help her with digging out roots or collecting firewood. They didn't talk much during their journey. Although she tried on a few occasions to speak with him, he ignored those attempts for the most part. He was still on edge by her being a mage, and he didn't see a reason to socialise with her. He was more focused on what path she chose through the forest. As far as he could tell, they were gradually travelling south in the direction of the coast.
Since they had left the ambush of the slavers and templars behind them, he hadn't seen nor heard any sign of civilisation. Something that was reassuring, this whole endeavour was to throw off his pursuers.
During their journey, Fenris tried to keep Yssil in his sight. Apart from the occasional bathroom break or when he fell asleep at night, he was watching her. As the days went by, he began to wonder about her. She wasn't like any mage he had known. He had never spent time with a mage that used so little magic. The only time she used her powers was when a rabbit shot out of the bushes, and she created some kind of force magic to fling it against a tree. As quick as she had cast the spell, she hastened towards the dazed animal to end its life.
He also couldn't figure out why, when she had her magical powers back, she hadn't healed herself. From observing her, he knew she was in a lot of pain and discomfort. At the same time, he berated himself why he even cared. What was it to him if she healed herself or not? It had nothing to do with him.
What puzzled him, even more were her motives. True, she was hurt but not totally helpless. In fact, she was doing much more than she should, given her injury. Yet, she only asked the bare minimum from him, and she was always polite about it. He was almost feeling guilty that he didn't help more when she was clearly struggling. Though this didn't mean he could let his guard down. He had expected to see her true colours by now, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't figure out her darkness.
Another weird thing was that she never asked why those hunters were after him. She must have heard them calling him a slave. Yet, she hadn't mentioned it once. Was it because she was used to finding travellers in these forests, like refugees and mages on the run? He wondered about her origin as well. Given how she was able to navigate and forage through the woods, she should be Dalish. Especially after she thanked Andruil after her rabbit kill. But where then were her markings, and where was her clan? All he had figured out so far was that she was used to travelling alone and that she was dressed poorly. She also had unusual weapons for a mage. She carried a dagger and a bow that she couldn't use right now. A staff would be so much easier for her.
No, he couldn't figure out this strange mage at all.
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On the midday of the third day, Yssil stopped at a small clearing, dotted with several boulders and stones. They were close to the river, and it was a sunny warm day. She felt exhausted after the track they had made. She had maintained a firmer pace than usual. Fenris was clearly a warrior with loads of stamina, who glared at her every time she tried to slow down. The pain from her arm didn't help either; it took a lot of her energy. Something she was lacking already. Looking again at the clearing, she hoped that he would agree to rest for the remainder of the day.
“Do you mind if we stop for today? I want to bathe and wash my clothes. With how sunny it is today, they will be dry quickly.” She pointed into the forest. “And there are patches of blueberries here. We can take our time and eat our fill.”
Fenris didn't like it; he would rather not spend more time than necessary with her. But the thought of a decent bath and cleaning his armor was tempting. He hummed and sat down against a boulder and unpacked his weapon kit to take care of his sword and dagger.
“I take that as a yes,” she mumbled, earning her a sharp look from him. She just raised her eyebrow and sat her pack down. “I go first,” she said and took out her spare clothes. She hissed in pain when she made a wrong move with her arm.
He looked at her. “Why don't you heal yourself?” he finally asked. It was time to get answers to some of his questions.
“I can't?”
“Why? You offer every evening to heal me,” he said, irritated.
“I...” she sighed. “Magic doesn't work on me, or it has to be cast by a very powerful mage. And I am far from powerful.”
He narrowed his eyes. Magic resistance, he thought. What strange she was even resistant against her own magic and even healing magic. He watched her as she disappeared between the trees, coughing again. Immediately a sense of unease swept over him, as always when he lost sight of her. Though she hadn't done anything but help him the last couple of days, he couldn't help but distrust her. He huffed and tried to focus on his task, but he kept glancing back in the direction of the river. Minutes went by, and his uneasiness grew. How long did she need to wash herself? Had she lured him here as part of her plan? Was she watching him through the trees? Looking for an opportunity to strike.
Another five minutes had passed, and he couldn't restrain himself any longer. Slowly he got on his feet and sneaked towards the river.
.
Yssil's clothing lay on the bank. Knowing that Fenris didn't like it when she was out of his sight for long, she had washed herself quickly. It was strange to spent time with him. On the one hand, it was nice to not be alone after the weeks she had travelled on herself. But it was difficult to handle his curt mood, and he was outright ignoring all her attempts of small talk. Although she had the feeling, he was becoming more relaxed.
Hoping the next couple of days would go smoothly, she came out of the water and put on the shirt she had taken from the templar. It was too big, but at least it was easier to move the sleeve over her splint.
The swelling of her arm was finally going down. She laid her arm on a flat stone and carefully loosened the bandages to reapply them tighter around her arm. Though they had managed to set the bone, she was worried if it would heal right. She had to find a healer in the next village she reached. It would take a chunk out of her meagre funds, but it was better to have it checked out than living the rest of her life with a messed up arm.
.
Watching Yssil from between the trees, Fenris breathed easier. He was about to turn around and go back to the clearing when she lifted her good arm to shoo a dragonfly away. With the shirt of the templar being too big, her sleeve slipped down her arm, exposing it. Even from where he stood, he could see clearly the markings of countless scars crisscrossing along her arm.
Yssil rearranged the branches around her arm. She was being extra careful to not agitate the break.
Suddenly Fenris stormed out of the trees. In a flash, he moved towards her and grabbed her. With force, he smacked her against a nearby tree, pinning her against it. His lyrium markings glowed in anger. He had one hand across her throat, and the other was pressing against her broken arm. She gasped both from shock and the pain. Fenris put pressure on her arm, sending flares of searing white pain through her.
“What? Aaaaah!” she screamed.
“Hold your tongue, filthy bloodmage!” he glared at her, cutting off her air.
Panicked, she grabbed his hand, trying to pry away his deadly grip on her throat. “I... I am not.” she gasped.
He banged her again against the tree, putting more pressure on her arm. “Don't lie to me, witch! I was a fool to have followed you.”
She couldn't think; the pain from her arm overwhelmed her. “No. I never... Please.”
“Liar! I have seen your scars.” He squeezed her throat close. He would never again let a bloodmage manipulate him. He was a fool that he began to worry about her. Never again!
“Why don't you use your filthy magic on me. Who has sent you? Where are you leading me? Is it Danarius?”
Yssil couldn't breathe. Tears rolled down her face. In disbelief and fear, she stared into Fenris' eyes. He glared at her with rage and deadly intent.
He was going to kill her.
Desperately she pulled the collar of the shirt down, revealing the ugly branding burnt on her chest. With her last breath, she gasped. “Bloodthrall.”
His eyes went to the brand. He immediately recognised it as a slave mark of House Getha. In shock, Fenris let go of her.
.
Yssil collapsed to the floor with a yell. She had landed badly on her arm. Coughing and gasping for air, she struggled to regain her breath. Tears trickled down her face as she was overwhelmed with pain. With effort, she managed to sit up, leaning her back against the tree. Panting, she tried not to panic. She could tell she was in a bad situation. Afraid, she didn't dare to look down, but she could feel that her arm had slipped out of alignment again. She couldn't think; there was only hot searing pain. Struggling to calm down, she concentrated on her breath. Her lips were shivering, and on her throat, she still could feel the impressions from Fenris' fingers. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to look at her arm.
“Shit.” she sobbed, seeing her arm.
Grabbing the discarded splint and bandages next to her, she forced herself to stand up. She had to do something. Cradling her arm, she staggered back to the clearing, which was empty. Fenris was gone, as was his bag. She felt both relieved and panicked that he had left because this meant she had to set her arm alone.
Shacking, she grabbed from her bag some elfroot and started chewing hard on it. Taking her bag, she went to one of the smaller trees surrounding the clearing. First, she bound her left upper arm against her body with one of the belts she had snagged from the templars. Then she slung another belt around the tree. Tying a piece of cloth around the bone of her forearm, she knotted it to the strap around the tree. It was difficult, shots of pain halted her several times, and her hands were shaking. But she needed to fix it.
Her lips quivered, and she swallowed several times, trying to find the courage to try and set the bone. She breathed hard. Biting down on the elfroot, she pulled back slowly. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and her breathing was ragged as she pushed on the break until the bones popped back together. She whimpered, and parts of her chewed elfroot fell out of her mouth. Black dots were blurring her vision as the pain threatened to overwhelm her.
Not yet, she thought.
Grabbing the splint, she quickly bound it around her arm. Finally, it was set again. With her last concentration, she loosened the belts before she collapsed to the ground. She was shivering and felt cold even with the sun shining on her. Clumsy, she pulled her blanket from her pack and curled up in it. She felt sick, and her vision became unfocused.
She didn't know how long she lay there, cold and not really conscious, but when she could finally focus again, it was getting dark. Slowly she got to her feet. At first, she wondered where her trousers were until she remembered they must still lay by the river. With effort, she got up and went to the river to retrieve her clothes and look for some wood. All while keeping an eye out for Fenris, but there was no sign of him. Not that she cared at this point.
After making a small fire, she sat back against a boulder. She was exhausted. Her arm was hot and in constant throbbing pain, and it felt like she had a slight fever. After drinking a good amount of water, she lay down. She had not the energy to make something to eat. Restless and worried about how she would reach the coast on her own, she fell asleep.
.
Fenris walked briskly through the woods. His mind was racing.
How could she be a slave from Tevinter? What was she doing here? Why did she have a mark from House Getha burned on her chest? He felt disgusted remembering Vesnius Getha, a greedy rat and head of the House Getha. One of the more unpleasant acquaintances of Danarius. A cowardly weasel, who made a living by providing rare goods and components to Magisters to conduct their research. He could remember how Danarius would often rant and complain about Vesnius in one of his endless monologues. Mainly about the outrageous prices Vesnius demanded.
If she was a slave of Vesnius... A bloodthrall. Fenris shook his head.
Had she spoken the truth, had she been a bloodthrall? If she was, she had a cruel life. They were seen like nothing more than cattle. Bled almost dry, only to be locked away with little care until it was time for the next cut. The image of the countless scared cuts on her arm returned. He shuddered, imagining how often she must have stood on the brink of death, weak and unable to fight infections and disease. Even he, as a valuable slave, seldom got treatment for his wounds. And when he did, Danarius always made sure it was painful. Afterwards, he would be punished for needing treatment in the first place. But there was no value in a bloodthrall. How often had Danarius just killed the slave that managed to survive a bloodletting? It was too much of a bother to save a slaves life when he just could get a new one.
Fenris also remembered the vials of blood Danarius sometimes purchased from Vesnius. That blood had come from somewhere. Had she been cut to fill some of them?
But even if she had spoken the truth, it didn't explain why she was here. Did she also escape slavery?
He punched a tree. There were too many things he couldn't answer. He looked back the way he came. He knew where he could get more information, but that meant he had to go back to her. It still could be a trap. But what were the odds that Danarius would send another man's slave to trick him, especially a slave from a person Danarius despised?
.
It was in the night when Fenris finally dared to sneak to the clearing. He could see the faint glow of a dying fire, with the dark outline of someone lying next to it.
Good, she was still here.
After circling the whole area, to make sure no one else was waiting for him, he stealthily approached her from behind. He was hyper-alert for every movement on her part. The moon came from behind a cloud, shining light on the clearing. She was deep asleep and hadn't a clue he was watching her. It hit him how vulnerable she looked, especially when he noticed the dark bruising around her neck.
A pang of guilt shot through him. He had lost control; he had let his anger and hate overwhelm him. Some days it felt like it would consume him, leaving nothing behind. He wished he could finally shake this feeling that Danarius and all the others planted inside of him. It followed him relentlessly like the hunters.
For a moment, he hesitated. Maybe it was better to leave? Was he making a mistake by returning? Was he taking an unnecessary risk by staying here to get answers? No, he needed to know what she was doing here. Afterwards, he could leave.
Having made his decision, he rested his back against a tree with his weapon in hand and waited.
.
In the early morning, Yssil stirred. She still felt sick, and her broken arm throbbed with pain. Bleary-eyed, she sat up and looked around. It startled her to see Fenris standing not too far from her, glaring hostile at her. He pointed his greatsword at her.
“Explain,” he demanded.
A wave of fear shot through her, seeing him. Instinctively she pressed her back against the boulder, fearing he would turn violent again. “I... What do you want to know?”
“Don't play games with me, witch. What are you doing here?”
Yssil's mind raced. What should she tell him?
“I am sorry that I didn't tell you, but I wasn't sure why you were here. I am a former slave of Vesnius Getha. I escaped almost two years ago when the slave transport I was part of got attacked. During the chaos, I managed to escape into the woods. I have been on the run since then. I was surprised when I stumbled onto you.”
She took a deep breath, hoping she would live. “I recognised you. My former master ranted about you, Danarius' successful experiment. Though I doubt you feel the same way about those markings. My former master was jealous and would often complain about how Danarius succeeded only because of his help. I don't know what he meant by that. Most likely, he provided some of the lyrium or something else Danarius needed. I only heard snippets of his monologues. Most of the time, I lay ill in my cell, weak from blood loss. Though I remember he was overjoyed when you managed to escape or as he liked to call it that Danarius lost his 'little pet'.”
Fenris gritted his teeth, hearing her say that. Danarius used to love to call him his pet. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, thinking of him.
“When I encountered you a few days ago.” she continued. “I was scared. I didn't know why you were here and if you managed to stay free after your escape. Or if you somehow had been sent to recapture me.”
This gave Fenris pause. “Why would I be sent to recapture you?”
She looked fearful at him, chewing her lip. “I could escape because it was Danarius' men who attacked the slave transport I was on. Vesnius had a fight with Danarius after you disappeared, I don't know the details, but I know Danarius tried to buy several other slaves and me. Then one day, Vesnius suddenly ordered for us to be transported. That was the same transport Danarius' men attacked. So when I saw you, I was afraid Tevinter had caught up with me. But seeing you getting attacked by those slavers, I just couldn't do nothing. For if you were still free, I could hardly let them capture you and take you back to that horrid place.”
.
Fenris pondered for a while. Her story was anything but what he expected to hear. It was too extraordinary to have been made up, even for a plotter like Danarius.
“I don't expect you to believe me,” she said. “If you want, we can go our separate ways. If you go to the west, you will find your way out of the forest again.”
“How do you know these woods when you aren't from there?”
She pulled out the map she had crudely copied before travelling across the Vinmark Mountains and wanted to stand up. But she was hit by a wave of dizziness. Trying to stay on her feet, she slumped against the boulder.
Suddenly Fenris stood beside her and steadied her.
“Sit,” he growled and moved her back onto her blanket. Then he took the map from her. It was crude but had the mountain range, woods and rivers marked on it. There was also a faint route sketched out from a village near Starkhaven over the mountains. It looked like she had travelled cross country and had avoided all the major roads. She had to be on the road for weeks.
“You came over the mountains on your own?” he asked, somewhat impressed.
“The road is a dangerous place for a lone female, especially if you're an elf.”
Irritated, she pulled the map out of his hands and put it in her bag again. Fenris regarded her; she looked ill. There were dark circles under her eyes. And now, in the daylight, he could see the result of his actions marked on her body. Her broken arm was swollen and had dark, almost black bruises. Her throat was also spotted with bruises, where he had choked her. He crouched down and put his hand on her forehead. She immediately shied away from him.
“You have a fever,” he said.
“And whose fault is that?” she glared at him. “Next time you want to know something, just ask.”
He scoffed. “And you would answer?”
“If I can, yes. I know we don't have a reason to trust each other. My guess is you also had to deal with selfish bastards and greedy monsters on your journey. But I can promise you I just want to safely reach the coast.”
Fenris studied her for a moment. Yssil couldn't guess what he was thinking, but at least he wasn't looking at her as if he wanted to kill her.
“Stay here,” he said. He took the cooking pot and disappeared into the forest.
.
'And go where?' she wanted to jab back at him, but she didn't have the energy for that. Tired, she leant back against the boulder and closed her eyes. She felt drained and miserable. She could tell her body was struggling to cope with her injury. It was another setback, and it still would take a couple of days to get out of these woods. Then she needed to find a place where she could rest and heal if that was even possible. She didn't have enough money to stay at an inn for a long time, and to be able to stay at a farm, she had to work. Frustrated, she allowed herself to wallow in self-pity for a moment.
After a while, she opened her eyes again and looked around. She had no idea what Fenris was doing and if he even would come back. It didn't matter anyway; at the moment, she just needed to pee. A little wobbly, she got on her feet and was hit by another wave of pain from her arm. Right, first going to the bushes, then look for more elfroot. Mustering her energy, she set out on her mission. When she returned to her blanket, she had managed to collect a handful of blueberries and some elfroot. Devouring both, she waited for the relief to set in, then she would try to collect more berries and some wood. With how things were, she wasn't in a condition to travel. She closed her eyes again and let the elfroot do its work.
With the pain receding and the sun warming her, Yssil dozed off for a while. It was a good hour and a half later when she heard something. Opening her eyes, she saw Fenris returning, carrying a bundle of wood and her pot. He sat down across from her and tipped over the pot, tossing a bunch of washed ingredients next to him. There were thistle roots, plantains, and cattail stems. He even managed to catch a fish. He started to cut everything, but his face contorted in disgust when he grabbed the fish. This surprised her.
“You don't like fish?” she asked.
“Pfaugh!” he growled. “I hate fish.”
“May I ask why?”
He looked at her before continuing to cut the fish. “I was in Seheron when I escaped Danarius. I managed to find passage on an old fishing boat with a family that had enough of the violence between Tevinter and the Qunari. There was hardly any room on the boat, and I earned my passage by helping them fish. I slept on a few sacks next to the hold where they stored their catch. The smell of them was everywhere. By the time we reached the shores of Antiva, I had handled and smelled more fish than I ever wanted in my life.”
She huffed a laugh. “I don't like goats,” she admitted.
He tilted his head slightly and looked at her questioningly.
“Too many nights spent in goat shelters. I also worked a short while on a goat farm. I can't stand the smell of them, especially the bucks. They stink.”
“I can imagine,” he answered, and to her surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched upward as if he were about to smile.
Having cut everything, he tossed them back into the pot with some water and placed it on the fire.
“You should eat something. You'll feel better after.” Fenris looked at her through his bangs.
Yssil gave him a small smile and nodded. “Thank you.”
It was the beginning of a truce between them, and she decided to accept this attempt of an apology. She hissed when she moved, and another shot of pain radiated from her arm.
“You should put your arm in a sling.” he stood up and came to her.
Kneeling down, he appeared to check the new splint she had applied. Yssil held her breath. Her first reaction was that she wanted to pull back, but she didn't. For one, moving hurt, and it was obvious that he, in part, regretted his actions.
“The leather belts should be over there.” She indicated to the trees.
“Those won't do. You have to support your whole arm.”
He grabbed their bags. After looking through them, he pulled out her other shirt. “This will do.”
After some adjustments and tying the sleeves around her chest and shoulder, she could slip her arm in the makeshift sling.
“Go, get some sleep. I will go look for more supplies.”
“Thank you, Fenris.”
He nodded and disappeared into the forest again.
.
They spent two days at the clearing until Yssil's fever went down. When they resumed their path on the third day, they had stocked up on blueberries and a few other forageables. Their interactions were still a little tense, but they slowly learned to work together. On their way again, they walked more side by side, rather than Fenris trailing after her.
When they took a short rest on their second day of travelling, Yssil checked the map and their heading.
“We better fill up our waterskins. I think we have to leave the river soon.”
Fenris looked at the map she was holding.
“Look, the river turns eastwards. And if we want to reach the coast, we need to continue south. I think we have one more day until we have to leave the forest. If we move slightly west, we should come to a road leading to the coast.” She glanced at him. “What are your plans after we have reached the coast?”
“Kirkwall. There I can hopefully hide from the hunters and, if necessary, take ship if I need to flee.”
She was surprised he was this forthcoming with his answer. Their interaction had really improved.
She hummed in agreement. “I was thinking about Kirkwall myself or Ostwick. Though I have to be careful, both towns have Circles. With my scars, they will think I am a bloodmage if I am caught. You and those templars are not the first to think that. All too often, it is attack first, ask questions later with these scars. Either they kill me or lock me up and make me tranquil. I don't think I can convince anyone in time that I have nothing to do with bloodmagic.”
Fenris felt a slight pang of guilt hearing that. The evidence of his attack was still visible on Yssil's skin. Though the bruises around her neck were healing and turning into a more greenish, yellowish colour. The same he couldn't say for her arm; it was still somewhat swollen and very painful. It would take weeks for it to heal. There was also the question if she had aligned it properly after what he had done. She managed to set it correctly as far as he could tell, but the swelling needed to go down further before they knew for sure. There was also her persistent cough; he had the impression it was slowly getting worse.
He frowned when he realised he was worried about her again. This was dangerous. He was on the run, and it would only be a matter of time before the hunters would find him again. He couldn't be weighed down by someone who was sick and injured. Not that it mattered, he wasn't planning to take on a companion. And she was a mage. Although they had found a rhythm in their interaction, he didn't know if he could trust her. His past experiences had taught him he shouldn't rely on others. Like she had said, all too often, he had encountered selfish bastards who sought only personal gain.
Her comment about being locked up and made tranquil also made him pause. He had never thought about the Circles of the South and their handling of mages in that way. To him, they were a necessity to keep everyone safe. But knowing she had escaped enslavement, especially a life of a bloodthrall, he could understand she didn't want to be locked up or, even worse, made tranquil when she had done nothing. She was, as far as he could tell, cautious with her magic and nothing like the arrogant, selfish monsters ruling the Imperium. He had once seen a tranquil, a rival mage outmanoeuvred by Danarius. And he was shocked by what was left from a presumptuous young bastard.
Not that it was any of his business. They would part ways soon, and he would be on his own again.
.
Like Yssil had indicated, they soon left the river and continued to move south. On their second day, they emerged from the forest. It was in the afternoon, and far in the distance, they could see the ocean. Over their heads, they heard the call of a couple of seagulls that had flown inland.
For a moment, they stared at the sight. They had finally reached the coast.
Fenris watched and reminded himself that he had to be extra careful from now on. Many slavers operated along the coast, and he hadn't come all this way just to be shipped back to Tevinter. He heard a sniff next to him, and to his surprise, Yssil was crying.
She looked at him and laughed. Feeling embarrassed, she wiped away her tears. “Sorry, I haven't seen the ocean in 12 years.”
“You are from the coast?”
“Yes. Before, I was taken by slavers as a child. I lived with my father and mother in the border region of Antiva and Rivain. I have missed the view ever since.”
Antiva and Rivain. That explained her appearance. With her dark olive skin, almost black brown hair and piercing amber eyes. He could easily imagine her living there.
“Why have you gone South? You have the option to return home.”
“My journey went different than I thought. Not that I planned my whole escape. I just took the opportunity when it came and ran. I was close to Perivantium when I escaped. I fled into the mountain ranges and almost died. A farmer found me when I stumbled into Starkhaven and helped me. I stayed with him for a time, that is, until his son tried to rape me. I got exposed as a mage and fled into the wild marshes. First, I travelled east, but circumstances forced me to move slowly south. Maybe I will return to Rivain in the future. For now, I just want to find a place where I can heal and stay during the approaching winter.”
“Must be gratifying to have the option to return to a place you call home.” Fenris pondered and looked back to the ocean. He had crossed an entire continent to arrive here, and still he was being hunted. Maybe it was time for him to stop running. He was sick of how he lived now.
“You were born into slavery?”
He nodded.
“I hope you will find a place where you can stay soon,” she said. “A home is not always the place you came from. You can build a home anywhere you feel safe and comfortable.”
“Is it that easy?” he raised his eyebrow.
“Easy? No. But I'll be damned if I let my fear of Tevinter and my former master control me. I have come too far to keep cowering. As I said, I hope to find a place for the winter, but my real wish is to find a place I can call home.” She sighed and got a coughing fit. “But enough. We have some daylight left. If we walk to the west, we should come to a road that will lead us to the coast.”
.
They began to walk again. It was only temporary, Fenris told himself. He and Yssil had the same destination, so it was natural to walk together. The landscape was getting rocky, and after an hour, they found the road. Following it, they moved gradually downhill and passed several rock formations until the road led through a gorge. The road showed signs of travel from wagons, but it was clear that this wasn't a main road. This was fine with Fenris; a back road meant less traffic and, by definition, fewer people that could recognise him.
They were almost through the gorge when suddenly some armed men stepped on the road. More men appeared to their left and right, standing on higher ground, their bows aimed at them. A big bearded man with a bald tattooed head stepped forward and grinned at them. He looked like the leader and leaned on his giant axe as if they didn't pose a threat. They were highwaymen, looking for an easy target. In total, they were a group of a dozen men.
“What have we here?” The leader said. “Two knife ears honouring us with their visit.”
Fenris froze. His body tensed, and he readied himself for battle. But with this many enemies, this would be hard-fought, especially with the archers flanking them.
“Wait,” Yssil whispered to him in Tevene. “Wait until I say one.”
He didn't move. What was she planning?
#dragon age#dragon age 2#fenris#fenris x oc#fenris dragon age#garrett hawke#fanfic#The Splintered Road
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I wrote a fic in response to art again. This time it’s this really cool piece done by @strawberryjellystuff
I’m ngl I’m like crazy proud of this one.
Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle, @demidork84, @sleepy-sides, @gattonero17
Got a Darkside
The moon shined behind him, illuminating the path he had taken up to this point. But where Roman had to go, no natural light would reach. The trees looked black, the moonlight not daring to touch within ten feet of the forest.
Roman swallowed hard, adjusting his grip on the torch he had just lit so he could make his way to where he wanted- needed to go. And then he stepped out of the light and into the eclipsing darkness, chills shooting down his spine at the choice he had just made.
He was no coward, he needed to make this journey, overwhelming evil aura or not.
With a deep breath Roman adjusted the strap of his shoulder bag, the weight of the importance it carried making his chest feel like stone. He could do this, just one step in front of the other and he’d be back home with the things he needed to save-
“You can do this,” he whispered to himself, continuing to walk through the trees, the mushrooms practically glowing against the light of his torch.
The forest was filled with magic, and even someone with about as much magic as a cog like Roman could feel it. He couldn’t tell if it was as dark as mages made it out to be though, he had no magic to speak of, no way to tell the difference between light and dark magic.
There was no way to tell if the decision he was making was the right one, but he had no money for a trustworthy healing mage, nothing of note that a lord may want to help him save his best friend from the magical illness.
And he knew it was magical in nature. There was no mundane illness that he could find that caused the inky black veins running under Virgil’s skin. No matter how many times he bothered the village clinician, Doctor Logan Ackroyd, there just wasn’t an answer caused by non magical means.
So into the forest Roman was going, in search of the supposed dark mage that lived there. Hoping beyond hope he might be able to convince a man rumored to be as dark as they came to help him where money greedy mages of the kingdom wouldn’t.
Snap!
Roman whipped around, extending his torch so the flames would light any potential danger. He had to protect his handbag, it carried the only bargaining chip he had.
He had to protect himself as well, seeing as he was Virgil’s only hope of survival right now.
Nothing stepped into the light of fire, but Roman’s heart didn’t settle from his throat. He felt eyes on him, and the feeling made his skin crawl as if there roaches making their home underneath it.
“Keep going, Roman, you need to get to the center of the forest,” he mumbled to himself, his eyes constantly flicking about the trees, every movement and sound catching his attention.
Roman walked for twenty more minutes before he realized with an abrupt chilling terror that the sounds had stopped and the forest had somehow grown darker while he wasn’t paying attention.
He stopped, his grip on the strap of his shoulder bag tightening as he tilted his head this way and that, listening for signs of life.
Total silence and fear spilling down his spine, spreading to his ribs, constricting his chest until his breaths were quick and uneven.
No, he couldn’t panic right now, not when Virgil needed him.
But he didn’t have a weapon. Not even the sword he’d forged himself under his apprenticeship with the blacksmith. All he had was his fists and the knowledge of fighting he’d gained from his days on the streets when he was young, roughhousing with a brother he barely remembered.
Suddenly there was sound again, but only one. It slid in the grass and leaves, sending a sound not unlike a hiss to Roman’s ears. He tensed, looking around frantically as he struggled to pinpoint where it was coming from.
The feeling of eyes on his back intensified, and Roman whirled around.
Paralyzing fear locked up his limbs as snake eyes filled his vision, poison yellow and bright with power.
And yet it wasn’t a colossal snake in front of him but a man. A man with scales decorating half his face and powerful magic seeming to emanate off of his skin, almost as if he was feeding the forest around him. Which should be impossible, it was the magic in nature itself that gave mages their power, their connection and respect of the earth and sea and sky giving them abilities the mundane could never hope to have.
“You’re in my forest,” the mage said, stating a fact as if he was trying to figure out a puzzle and Roman was a piece.
Roman nodded, struggling to keep his breathing even in the face of the fear squeezing his lungs. Was this the mage of the forest he’d heard whispers of? The man no one seemed to have any information on beyond he was powerful and he preferred to be left alone?
“Why?”
The mage narrowed his eyes at Roman, suspicious of his intentions if he had a guess. Roman didn’t blame him, he’d be suspicious too if people spoke of him this way and suddenly a stranger appeared in his home.
“I-” he stopped, the fear in his lungs constricting tighter, halting his words.
With an irritated hiss, the mage glanced to the side. His eyes never locked on anything, almost as if he was looking at the forest itself.
The fear eased, and Roman could finally breathe.
What the hell? Did this mage just look to the forest itself and make it ease on the paranoia it was causing him?
Just how powerful was he?
“I need help,” Roman said, his voice hoarse and weak as it left him.
The mage looked at him again, tilting his head to the side as he searched Roman’s face like he was looking for something.
“I had assumed you wanted something, tell me what it is. I’ll decide if it was a fruitless endeavor on your part.”
Roman swallowed, glancing at the trees around him as the darkness seemed to grow even darker, the shadows reaching for his form, held at bay by the glow of his torch and the command of the mage.
“My best friend is sick, something is draining his life and I have found no non magic illness to cause the blackness filling his veins.”
The mage sneered, his fingers twitching at his side and the shadows lurching just a few feet closer. Roman’s fear returned, this time all his own.
“You couldn’t go to the light mages for help? I’m sure this type of heroism is exactly what they get off on.”
Roman grit his jaw, anger flaring at the memory of his meeting with the cheapest mage he could find.
“I’m poor, barely above a street rat as a blacksmith’s apprentice. They wouldn’t help me unless I gave them my life, and even then they wouldn’t do everything in their power to save the life of my friend.”
The mage paused at the rage in Roman’s voice, his face smoothing back into curiosity as he looked at him.
“And what makes you think I’ll do what you need for free?”
Roman took a deep breath. This was the one question he had been prepared for. He opened his shoulder bag, pulling out the only thing he had to offer a mage who had been cut off from society, and as far as Roman knew, contact.
A blanket. An afghan to be more specific. It was the only thing he had managed to keep from his mother before she passed and he was left on the streets. The only thing he and his brother had shared without a fight before he had been taken by guards for showing signs of magic.
The mage inhaled sharply, his eyes widening as they locked on the wool in Roman’s hands.
“I… hope it’s not insulting. I’ve heard sentimental magic can be powerful, and I know the weight of this blanket has gotten me through some very lonely years. It’s yours, if you will help me.”
Snake eyes snapped up to look at Roman’s face, making him flinch away, scared he may have insulted the most powerful man he had ever met.
“...Alright. Bring him here, and I will see what I can do. You leave the blanket with me, though.”
Roman’s grip on the afghan tightened, closing his eyes as he struggled to come to terms with the fact he’d have to part with it sooner than he anticipated.
“Do you have a way that would make it easier to bring him? He’s been bedridden for weeks, and my village is a week’s travel by foot,” he said, finally opening his eyes to be met with a surprised look from the mage.
It was almost as if he hadn’t expected Roman to agree so easily.
Roman was too desperate to save his friend to argue. If this mage could help, if Roman could get him to help Virgil, he would do anything short of taking his own life or the lives of innocents.
“I may have a way to help, if you promise me one more thing,” the mage said, confusing Roman.
“What may that be?”
The mage hesitated, eyes going from Roman’s face to the shadows around them that had slinked back during their conversation, to the blanket in his hands, and finally back to his face.
“Your name, and… continued companionship, once your friend is healthy.”
Roman blinked, staring at the mage in surprise. Of all the things he had been expecting to have to give up, his time had not been one of them. At least, not in the way the mage was asking.
Then he grinned, charming smile naturally slipping into place and confident squaring of his shoulders making the remaining fear he felt melt from his muscles.
“You may call me Roman. And I’d be happy to return for more leisurely activities once my friend is saved.”
The mage seemed taken off guard once again, though his own inviting smile graced his features. He took a few steps forward, gently tugging the afghan from Roman’s arms and into his own.
“And I am known as Deceit, but I suppose I’ll allow you to call me Dee.”
#casper writes#ts roman#ts janus#ts virgil#implied future roceit#platonic prinxiety#mage deceit#one mention of logan#ive noticed its a trend for me to write deceit as really powerful#especially when it comes to magic#im not really complaining it just seems to be a trend with me#anyway i hope you guys like this im v proud of it
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(Based on the phanthop au created by the lovely @roseltheteacup and @alittlewriter ! Hope you dont mind me doing this, but your au made me sad so I had to write something. Now it’s 1 AM, so off to sleep I go!)
—-
Phantump, the stump Pokemon. According to old tales, these Pokémon are stumps possessed by the spirits of children who died while lost in the forest.
—-
He likes his new trainer.
Lee is kind, and gentle, and he smiles like everything will be alright, now that he’s here. Lee doesn’t mind holding his hand, or peeling the crusts off his sandwiches, buys him chocolate ice cream and cookies and when the skies are clear, brings him to see the stars.
(Back in the forest, it had been dark, so dark. What sunlight he had seen was the little streams of gold that would peek through the leaves on good days, and darkness so complete it frightened him every other day. He had wandered, not knowing what he was missing, what he needed to find, just that he needed to find something. He had memorized every blade of tall grass. He had climbed every tree. He learned how to hide, how to keep quiet, how to make himself small. He learned what was safe to eat and wasn’t, how to see in the dark. He learned how to survive in a forest that seemed intent on swallowing him alive, and he had to do it alone.)
With Lee, he’s never alone. His trainer is always always there, a presence larger than life and just a smile bright as the sun. Lee takes him everywhere, and tells jokes, and makes curry just the way he likes it whenever he wants, wherever they are.
(Colorful mushrooms lighting up hidden paths and rocky mountains with gravel underfoot and the smell of salt by the ocean and rolling meadows filled with Woolos and clouds drifting by a giant window fat and lazy and gem encrusted walls and warm water and and and-
And Lee. He’s there. He’s always always there.)
—-
The first time he sees Lee battle, it’s at the very top of a tower that reaches the clouds.
He doesn’t recognize the other trainer, but they look scary, with the determined looking scowl tugging on their lips and the sharp look in their eyes. A part of him wants to curl up and hide, find a crevice and make himself small, the way he did back in the forest when the bigger Pokemon went by. He doesn’t though. Lee is right there, and he wants to be brave.
The fight is short. The fight is brutal. He watches, agape, as Charizard grows large, larger than any tree he’d ever seen, any pokemon he’d ever meet. He watches as the battle ends in a flash of orange fire, the ends of his leaves warming up as it rushes by.
The battle ends. His awe does not end with it.
Later, they make camp next to Lake Outrage, and Lee has gone to gather some berries. It’s just him and the rest of the team. He gives the others a friendly wave before he floats over to where Lee has left his things, hunting for the red and white balls that he’s always seen trainers with. It isn’t hard to find one, buried under strange pictures and a folded cape. He lifts it and chortles with glee, the sound echoing a hundred times over as he tosses it up and catches it again.
(He remembers the way Lee had done it, powerful arcs and deliberate movements. He remembers how he had felt- like his breath had been stolen- like there’s a sharp ache somewhere inside him, a dull throbbing that won’t go away, heat and ice making his vision blur. It hurt, but in a good way, and he wants that. He’s sure he does.)
It’s hard to imitate his trainer, but he tries, heaves the ball up to his chest and starts to turn around. He gets dizzy soon enough, and does that mean it’s time to let go? He does, and stumbles in midair as the ball leaves his hands to curve upwards gracefully and land on the grass some distance away.
Next to it, Lee, who drops the berries and plates he’s been holding, who’s hands rise up to cover his eyes as the dishes shatter, a thousand little shards sent in all directions. He watches, paralyzed, as his trainer’s shoulders tremble, like they’re caught in their own internal earthquake.
He rushes over, dives into Lee’s chest and clings to his shirt. Lee doesn’t hesistate- his hands come down to cradle him against their chest, shaking, shaking, shaking. He feels something drip on his branches and makes a low crooning noise, a rumbling purr he’d seen Meowths do to comfort their trainers, until Lee’s hands aren’t trembling so much and his shoulders art still.
Lee exhales. It’s a shaky, hollow sound, like someone has torn out his soul, and he never wants them to sound like that again, never, never again. He swears that, even as the rest of the team comes close and Charizard’s wings spread to curl around them.
(Later on he tries to pick up the shards left on the grass, but Lee stops him with red rimmed eyes. “It’s fine.” They murmur as he watches sadly. “You’ll cut yourself; let me do it.)
—-
“Phan?” He asks, confused. Lee smiles at him, pats the air next to him. They’re in the town with budews sleeping in the gardens and a large house nearby, looming.
(He doesn’t like that house. The last time Lee had brought him there, he had felt small: he had felt afraid, and alone, like he was back in the woods and all he could see were shadows. He had run away, and Lee had tore open the countryside looking for him, until his voice cracked and his shouts became whispers. He came back eventually, and Lee had hugged him so fiercely as they begged him to never leave like that again. It took five days before Lee could speak without coughing up blood. Five days of worry and guilt, and the knowledge that his trainer cared enough to look for him, to push himself that far. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like no one’s ever done that for him before.)
“I have someone for you to meet.” Lee smiles. There’s no stumble to their voice. He floats over, confused, as they continue. “Look, here they come now.”
He looks at the direction Lee is pointing and sees a Dubwool, being led by a woman with a shock of orange hair and followed by a Yamper. He looks at Lee, even more confused, but then the Dubwool tackles him.
There’s a commotion and flurry of movement around him, but his vision is filled with white wool and bright eyes, gleaming. The Dubwool nuzzles him, mindful of their horns. It’s you. They say, their voice trailing off to a celebratory bleat. It’s you! You’re back! You finally came back!
He wants to ask who they’re talking about. He wants to ask if they’ve met. Instead, he says nothing at all, as he buries his face in their coarse wool and wonders why this all feels so familiar.
—-
He’s been with Lee for three months when another new face appears.
The trainer looks young, and he doesn’t know them but- he feels like he should, for some reason. They look at him with wide wet eyes and it feels familiar, the way the Pokemon Lee had introduced him to had all felt familiar, like the woman with orange hair had felt familiar. Like it was something he’s forgotten, something he’d witnessed once in a dream.
“...Hey.” They whisper cautiously, picking at the edge of their sleeves with their nails. They’re still watching him with those wide wide eyes, huge and terrified. “Is it really you? Hop?”
That’s his name. He knows that at least, had been there when Lee called him that for the first time. He gives a shrill giggle, and they smile. He thinks that it’s a good expression on them.
“I thought I would never see you again.” The trainer’s lips wobble, and they use their hand to rub at the corners of their eyes. “We didn’t even get to say goodbye, yknow? I didn’t even notice you were gone, not until Leon did.”
He doesn’t understand what they’re trying to say. But he notices the way they’ve begun to curl inwards, eyes on the ground as they struggled to breathe. He knows what that means.
(He doesn’t know this trainer, with their sad smiles and shaking voice, but he knows already that he cant stand to see them cry.)
He floats forward as their eyes begin to droop, the weight of their tears pulling the edges down.
“And I stole your dream even though I didn’t really want to be champion, and I never said anything to you, and I didn’t look for you, I didn’t try and find you-“ they suck in a noisy breath, ribs rattling. “I was so happy to be number one I forgot about you, even though you were always there when I needed you, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“
He noses his way into their arms, as their frame is wracked with heavy sobs that seem to take everything out of them. “I’m sorry-“ They croak, voice cracking, and repeat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry- Hop, I’m sorry.“
He doesn’t know what they’re apologizing for, but he decides he’s forgiven them for it. He buries his face into the crook of their neck and listens to the apologies whistling out from between their teeth.
—-
He’s watching his trainer battle his rival and he feels something like pride, something a little more bittersweet- he watches them trade blows and something in him rings hollow, like a strike against an empty glass of water.
“I’ve never met a Phantump before.” The little girl next to him says. He cocks his head. “There’s never been any near Hammerlocke. And anyway, you’re the only one that has purple leaves.”
Was he? He bats at the purple foliage peeking out of his stump, wondering. Maybe that made him special. The girl watches him through the corner of her eyes.
“Though, we’ve met before, haven’t we? I asked your friend to deliver a letter for me. You were there too. You helped.” She smiles and smiles and keeps smiling, but she’s gone perfectly still.
He blinks in confusion.
“I never thanked you for that.”
She reaches out and pats him on the side of his head, and still confused, he lets her. “It’s not too late for you. You have got to remember.”
“Hey!” Lee calls from below. He turns to look at him: he’s flushed and grinning from victory, as his rival sighs over their rotom phone. “Come on, let’s go!”
He begins to follow his trainer, but not before sparing one more look behind him.
The little girl is not there.
—-
There’s a trainer waving a feathered stick around.
He floats over to investigate, the chiming of the bell alluring despite himself. The trainer chuckles as he bats at the toy, arms moving to and fro to attack it.
“I heard who you are.” The Trainer mutters as the toy begins to slow. Their eyes stay locked on him. “I heard it from the Champion. You’re Hop, aren’t you?”
That’s his name, so he nods. The trainer huffs out a brittle laugh, looking away and running a hand through his mess of unruly curls.
“...It was my fault.”
They don’t wait for him to understand. They barrel on, the words leaving them in a rush.
“You- you were ten. I was ten. Shit, we were stupid little kids, and I... I said that to you, and you disappeared, and I’m so fucking sorry for that. It was my fault.” They sigh. “What I did was unforgivable.”
He watches as they fiddle with the collar of their pink shirt, unable to meet his eyes. For some reason, he feels a stab of deja vu.
“Just... I’m glad you’re happy now, at least.”
—-
In the end, all it takes is a realization.
He’s sitting in Lee’s help and the thought strikes him how many friends he has now; how many memories shared. He’s sitting on Lee’s lap and all he feels is safe: all he feels is content.
(He thinks of the familiar Pokemon and the trainer with huge eyes and everyone else he had met, and he thinks of lonely days in a wood filled with fog and thinks that he is happy with what he has now.)
“I love you.” He hears Lee whisper as they poke at the fire, and he- he wants to respond.
(He’s warm and safe and happy, surrounded by companions, watching the stars twinkle overhead, and he’s never felt farther than his origins before: like the years he had spent in those woods never happened, like he never had to learn how to be small and safe. The darkness seems so far away, with the campfire spitting embers into the distance. He’s here, and he’s happy, and it feels like a dream come true.)
“Love you too Lee.” He whispers, actually whispers, with a voice that isn’t a chorus of screams, and-
-something in his soul slides right into place, and clicks.
(He isn’t lost anymore.)
#pokemon sword and shield#pokemon swish#hop#leon#bede#phanthop au#angst#angst with a happy ending I PROMISE#i stayed up way too late for this
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Under Pressure 14|15
FryeArcana
Chapter 14
The Fog
Notes:
Warning: There is harsh language, talk about depression and death. If you are sensitive I added a trigger warning when it's going to start. It's the last paragraph of the chapter.
The four of you run into a forest then slow down and start walking through the dark forest as Bumi starts calling out for his niece, “Jinora... Jinora's spirit, do you hear me? It's your Uncle Bumi.” Tenzin groans as he tries to think of a plan on how to locate his daughter “Ah, this isn't working. We can't just randomly wander the Spirit World, call out for Jinora, and expect to find her!” Bumi looks around and then looks down at the ground. “We just need to employ the simple rules of tracking.” He kneels down and points to the ground “First we locate her footprints... then we follow them.”
You kneel down beside Bumi looking at the ground and notice no prints spirit or human it’s like no one has set foot on it. “Do you even know what Spirit footprints look like? Do spirits even leave footprints? Face it, your tracking skills won't work in the Spirit World.”
“I think most of the spirits were floating if I’m not mistaken, I mean it was worth a shot, Bumi” you look over at Bumi as you stand up while Kya sits on the ground getting in a meditative sit crossing her legs Indian style “Let me try something.” She proceeds to meditates “Ommmm...” she slowly points over to a direction “Jinora is over there. I feel a lot of spiritual energy coming from that direction.”
“We're in the Spirit World, there's spiritual energy in every direction!” Bumi waves his hands around every direction while you look around and walk away from the group looking for any kind of clue or a friendly spirit who can help. You come across a large cave and see an illuminating star shaped spirit and you’re about to step forward towards it, but you stop yourself. You don’t know if it’s friendly stupid. You step back and call over to the siblings “Hey if you guys are done bickering I found this cave and there’s a spirit here!” You weren’t that far away from the three siblings as you see a bald headed with a blue arrow approach you “there!” he calls out to his brother and sister as they near you “you think it’s friendly?” you ask Tenzin and he steps forward to talk to it “Spirit, hello. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I am in need of your assistance.”
A low gruff speaks while slowly red eyes start to appear one by one and you take a step back feeling on high alert
“You dare wake me, human? Humans in the Spirit World…”
“---uh…I think we should..” you speak as you take another step back as Kya and Bumi glance at you seeing you back up then quickly look at the spirit
--belong in one place only!” the spirit roars and darts the Dark Spider Spirit emerges from the cave, resembling a giant scorpion at a super-fast pace right at the four of you.
“—RUN!” you yell as you Bumi and Kya start sprinting full speed out of there with Tenzin following a couple feet behind.
You skid to a halt as you reach the edge of a cliff with Kya, Bumi, and Tenzin pushing up against you. You look over your shoulder as you see this creature approaching fast. You take the initiative to jump leaving the siblings and yell as you fall down. You reach down the trees down below and bend out your cables grabbing onto a branch and jerk your head up to hear the siblings screaming down below. You bend another cable and quickly decide to save one of them. You wrap it around Kya’s waist, preventing her to hit the ground then gently bringing her down on the ground before you drop yourself down standing up. “Thanks, y/n” she breathes, and you shake your head catching your breath “anytime”. Bumi dusts himself off “Well, that didn't work. Now where are we?” Tenzin uses his airbending to clean himself “we’re completely lost.” You look around and find a path “well nowhere to go but keep moving forward” you look at the three then start walking forward as they follow suit. The path opens up and you’re soon walking down a path of illuminating mushrooms as you walk by. After a couple of minutes of walking you see the same mushrooms from before and your eyebrows raise after the third time you start to question it “uh, I think we’re walking in circles” Bumi denies it “no, we aren’t we’re fine” you think about it for a second but decide to keep walking after two more times of seeing the same mushrooms Tenzin steams up and explodes “We're walking in circles! I've seen that same Spirit Mushroom five times!” you jerk to him “why haven’t you said anything two rounds before?! I said I thought we were running in circles”
Tenzin stutters “I wasn’t sure but now I am sure”
“That's not the same mushroom.”
“Yes, I am.” A voice pops in by the mushroom and you see a mouth appear on the mushroom.
“See? Even it knows we're lost.” Tenzin points at the mushroom as he looks at Bumi dragging a hand on his face as he groans. “Oh, sure, listen to a fungus over your own brother.” Bumi pouts folding his arms. “hmmm, strangely this isn’t the first time I’ve seen a talking mushroom” you mutter, and all three siblings stop to look at you “uh…never mind” you quickly add turning away. Kya raises an eyebrow as she thinks about it “dragon’s beard?” she asks curiously as she eyes you and you side eye her “yeah how’d you know” your eyes widen as you turn your head to look at her “I’ve…might have dabbled once or twice” a light blush creeps up as she confesses to the group. Tenzin scoffs while you and Bumi are amused and you see Kya in a new light while she looks at you the same way “huh…how about that” you both exchange a smile. A strange noise sounding like an ominous that causes the four of you to jerk your heads to that direction, Kya hiding behind her brothers “What's that?” Bumi looks over at the mushroom “Mushroom, is that you?”
“Nope, wasn't me.”
There’s another noise like a footstep coming from the right side and two figures comes out the shadow causing you all to gasp. Soon an older man and a fox come out and your guard is lowered slightly “Iroh?” Bumi looks surprised to see the man. “How...? Where...? It's been so long.” Tenzin looks easily just as surprised. So they know this man. Wait is this the same Iroh from the stories your dad told you growing up about Avatar Aang? “Almost 40 years. It's nice to see you again.” Iroh smiles with his arms behind his back as he greets your group. You watch as Tenzin and Iroh talk.
“How did you know we were here? “
“My friendly spirit fox told me you were lost. I came to show you the way out.”
“Iroh, we are grateful, but we're not looking for the way out. We're looking for my daughter.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but you shouldn't be here. Vaatu has escaped, and darkness threatens to take over. “
“I’m not leaving until I find Jinora. “
“I understand but I beg you to be careful. If you travel too deep into the Spirit World, you could end up in a place where only the lost will ever find you.” You look down in thought while Tenzin looks to his brother and sister with concern. They look at each as Tenzin looks back to Iroh, but Iroh has vanished. Your eyes furrow while you think A place where only the lost will ever find you… you voice out your thoughts out loud “A place where only the lost will ever find you…like a lost and found? Do they have a lost and found here in the spirit world?” you comment as you look up at Tenzin he listens to your words and thinks “A place where only the lost can find you... That's it! I know where to find Jinora!” He motions for you guys to follow and you guys start running back to where you guys just came from and starts clueing you in on his plan “We have to go back to the cave”. You, Kya and Bumi skid to a stop with Kya initiating the talk “woah, are you crazy, Tenzin?!”
you cut in “Maybe you don’t remember…that a big scary spider-scorpion is there who can, oh I don’t know, eat us!” you quip putting your airs up in the air.
“yeah, maybe you’re not feeling right in the head baby brother” Bumi puts the back of his head on Tenzin’s forehead to which Tenzin quickly swats away “I am fine, Bumi!” he exclaims then groans “please… just… trust me” he pleads his siblings then looks at you. Kya, Bumi and you look at each other not really sure what Tenzin is thinking before looking back at Tenzin and give him a nod. The four of you proceed to run back to the cliff Tenzin and Kya go up using their bending while you bend your cables to grab on the edge of the cliff and tell Bumi to grab onto you and you pull the both of you up with ease. The group continues on back to the cave as you stand outside it just like the previous time. Its lure is still dangling and glowing in the dark.
“Are you sure this is the best way to find Jinora?” Bumi asks his brother
“Yes” Tenzin turns to face the opening of the cave and waves his arms, gathering wind in his hands before shooting a gust into the cave “Hey, you, spirit- Wake up!” you put your guard up on high as you wince waiting for a response then see the red eyes light up in the dark “You again?” The spirit screeches and emerges you grit your teeth closing your eyes as it is spitting web at the group.
*
You’re looking at the sky looking bemused as you all are being dragged over the grassy ground in the webbing. It feels like quite a walk this creature is taking you four, so you speak up “Still think this is a good idea?” you deadpanned still looking at the sky. “Yeah, nice going Tenzin” Bumi huffs out Kya sighs letting out a puff. Tenzin’s ears redden “I know what I’m doing!” Kya speaks up “You’re screaming right in my ear! We can just stop talking” she snaps. Everyone grumpily agrees and the rest of the way was kept in silence. You feel the scorpion-spider lift you guys up and swings the group to the front of it as you’re all daggling over a cliff upside down. You’re eyes widen feeling your stomach drop to your throat and look quickly look at the siblings all looking scared you gulp grabbing whatever you can find and grab Kya’s hand “sorry, being suspended in the air where I can’t see the ground freaks me out” you mutter. Kya didn’t seem to mind considering she was just as scared as you were, so it was nice to get some sort of comfort, “I thought we were going to be taken to a prison.” Kya asked Tenzin. “This is a prison.” He responded back. The dark spirit spider started to talk “Welcome to The Fog of Lost Souls. You will never escape.” The spirit swings the four of you over the edge and the webbing comes undone, letting the you guys loose to fall into the fog. All of you yell your hand slides off of Kya from the force of the swing as you drop through the fog. Your eyes dart around looking for something to grab on with your cables, but this fog is so thick you can’t see a thing quickly lose sight of the siblings. You land hard on the hard earth floor and groan as you slowly push yourself up then fear starts to come sink in. You don’t see Kya, Bumi, or Tenzin and your breathing starts to quicken. “Bumi! Kya! Tenzin!” you call out hoping to hear one of them in this dense fog. “y/n!” you turn your head in the direction of the voice it sounds like Tenzin. “Tenzin?” you call out again and he yells your name “hold on, I’ll come to you just stand where you are. Keep calling out!” you nod to yourself as you raise loud stand in place “Lovely weather we’re having today. I suspect the fog be denser by nightfall” you awkwardly try to keep the mood light even though you are scared of the unknown. You’re squinting your eyes to look for any figures approaching you when you see something “Tenzin?” you call out and you make out the robes and you run to him “thank the spirits!” you hug him glad to find someone. “We need to find Kya and Bumi. We have to stick together and remain focused.” He puts his hands on your shoulder as he advises you. You take in his words inhaling deeply then nod as you both start walking calling out for Bumi and Kya until you’ve found them. Tenzin directs where to go “What kind of prison doesn't have any bars or walls? We could walk right out of here.” Bumi asks Tenzin as he looks around at how open it is
“The Fog of Lost Souls is a spirit prison for humans. I read about it in an ancient text. The Fog is actually a spirit... that infects your mind and slowly drives you mad, imprisoning you in your own darkest memories.”
Your eyes widen as Tenzin explains and you’re about to freak yourself out then you shake your head, knocking it off. Focus. Keep your mind focused, y/n.
Kya stays close to Tenzin “How long can you be trapped in here?”
You see a dark figure walking around and move behind Bumi “what was that” behind them a shadowy figure walks by. It comes into view and is revealed to be Commander Zhao, his hair disheveled, “I am Zhao the Conqueror! I am the moonslayer! I will capture the Avatar! I am Zhao the Conqueror! I am the moonslayer! I will capture the Avatar!”
You all stare at the guy mumbling out as Kya speaks “Hopefully we're not trapped in here as long as that guy.” Just then Zhao sees Tenzin and grabs his collar pulling Tenzin towards him “You! You're him! The last airbender!” Tenzin yells “Ah! No! Get off me!”
“You've grown... But I will still defeat you!” Bumi and Kya grab him and toss him away, Kya knocking him back with waterbending and you bend a column of earth from under him and catapult him away. You all run away as Zhao gets back up “Come back, Avatar! Face me! I am Zhao the Conqueror! I will capture you! Victory will be mine!” Zhao slowly disappears into the fog and his last words echo. “Okay, we need to stick together so we don’t run off and get lost.” Tenzin speaks up as you all stop running after getting a safe distance away,
“what like hold hands?” Kya suggests to which Tenzin shakes his head “no that’s too easy. We can easily let go and run away” You look down at your cables their metal but they’re pliable enough to be used as a rope “we could tie ourselves to one another make like a human chain” you pull out some of your cable. Tenzin listens to your idea “nice idea, but not your cables you would be able to bend your way out we need to use an object we can’t bend out of” Tenzin looks down and remembers his belt cord “we’ll use this” he unwraps some of the cord and starts tying a cord to Kya's waist, then gives you and Bumi another cord to tie around your own waists. You connect your cord to Bumi’s and once everyone is connected to each other
“If we stay together, we'll find Jinora and make it out of this fog.” you guys walk in a diamond formation. You all take turns and start calling out for Jinora, then it circles back to Tenzin
“Jinora! Jinora!” you don’t know how long you’ve been in this fog you can’t see anything within three feet radius of you. it’s dense above just as it is all around you then Bumi gasps and
puts a hand on Tenzin stopping the group “Wait a second.” Tenzin turns around to face him “what? Do you hear something?” Bumi's eyes start to widen as he looks very frightened and starts sweating “Yes, they're all around us. The cannibals, they're everywhere.”
Kya yells at Bumi “Stop playing around Bumi! It’s not the time for one of your pranks!”
Bumi looks at Kya then jerks his head at you and starts screaming grabbing your shoulders “Cannibal!! Get away from me Cannibal!” Bumi starts shaking you and shoving you away “Bumi, it’s y/n!” you yell at him his eyes are so wide and he hasn’t blinked as he stares at you. You’ve never seen a person’s eyes filled with so much fear and you start to internally panic thinking that Bumi, the fun crazy loveable jokester, would hurt you. Kya’s eyes widen as realization sets that Bumi isn’t doing an awful prank and steps up to him “Bumi, stop!” she yells her voice now filled with fear watching her older brother losing it, she tries to calm Bumi. You put your hands on him and try to pry his hands off of your shoulders his grip on you tight. He notices the rope from the corner of his eyes and quickly let’s go of you and starts untying your knot off of his. “No, Bumi! Don’t!” you quickly reach over to stop him and he fights you over it. Tenzin grabs Bumi’s hands then his shoulders turning him to makes him look at him “Bumi, you must focus your mind right now. There are no cannibals. y/n is not a cannibal. She’s a friend” Bumi shakes his head “Yes, there are! Yes, she is! She’s gonna eat every last one of us!” your eyes widen as you start to lose focus then you peer over Bumi’s shoulder and notice Kya starting to act strange. She is looks very lost and confused then slowly brings her hands up to her face and looks at them. You look at her and slowly call out to her “Kya?” Kya slowly turns her head over where she heard your voice and starts to scream loudly “Aah! Who are you two?!” She doesn’t see you behind Bumi as she screams at the horror of the two bend standing next to her. Tenzin grabs Kya's shoulders “Kya, we're your brothers. You must remember before the Fog infects you.” Kya shakes and squints her eyes glaring at Tenzin “No, you are just a vision! I have no family! You can't tie me down!” she yells out.
_______________________________________________________________________
TRIGGER WARNING READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
_______________________________________________________________________
No family…. Your parents. They’re dead… You’ve always feared and wondered if their deaths were your fault. Your dad got sick shortly after your fight. He got sick from overworking too much because he was trying to pay off your medical fees. Your mom died because her heart broke from losing your father. It’s your fault. You’re the reason your parents are dead. You’re the reason you and your sisters became orphans at 16, 14 and 12.
Your eyes water as your mind races with hearing those words over and over in your mind. “it’s my fault” you mutter bringing your hands up to the sides of your head covering your ears
“It’s my fault your dead mom and dad!” you cry out, the voice grows louder, and you wince with guilt, regret, and your heart filling with so much pain as your mind fills with images: seeing your dad tired and growing sicker. Watching your mom spoon feeding him. The moment your dad passes. The funeral. Your mother falling into a deep depression. You trying to feed and dress your mom but she’s just a body with no spirit. Finding your mom dead in her bed, passed away in her sleep, after waking up one morning. Her funeral. The looks on your sisters’ faces as they look up to you
“Stop it!” you yell out trying to stop the images from closing your eyes tight and squeezing your head.
Tenzin looks over and rushes to your side putting his hands on your shoulders
“y/n, it’s an illusion. It’s not real! Focus your mind. Do not give in to fear!” he tries to calm you as you try to focus but the images are too strong, and they start to overpower your mind. Bumi takes that opportunity of Tenzin leaving his side to untie his cord
“They're closing in! I gotta get outta here! Aah!” he runs off. Kya confused unties her cord and runs off as well screaming. Tenzin let’s go of you and rushes to his siblings “No! Bumi! Kya! Come back!”
You open your eyes quickly and you see Tenzin only it’s not him he has taken the form of your father
“Dad?” you look at Tenzin. Tenzin looks around and you see his face, your fathers face, and your eyes water more. Tenzin starts to talk to you and try to calm you, but his voices starts getting replaced with the voice of your father,
“why do you have to such a meddlesome reckless fool, y/n! Your mother and I slaved and wasted away to pay off your medical fees. Was that fight worth it, y/n?!” You don’t say anything and watch Tenzin approach you while saying something as he grabs your shoulder like before to ground you. You hear the muffled sounds of Tenzin but quickly your father’s voice comes back as your father shakes you hard
“Answer me, y/n! was trying to be a hero to that boy worth killing your parents! Leaving your sisters without us! You’re not worthy to be with anyone, murderer. Do you really think Lin is satisfied to be dating you?! Answer me, y/n!” your father’s voice roaring at you and you ball your fists as tears run down your face. You thought you could be strong and stay focused but your father bringing up Lin was the straw that broke the camelephant’s back. You can’t take it anymore and scream in agony, jerking yourself away from your father to yourself free,
“NO IT WASN’T WORTH IT! IT WASN’T WORTH YOU AND MOM DYING, DAD!” you yell out as you force yourself away and stumble back, falling on your ass then hurryingly untie the knot on your cord and get up sprinting away from the illusion of your father,
“Y/N!” a mesh of Tenzin’s voice with your father’s as they yell out for you to come back.
You’re balling your eyes out as you’re desperately trying to find a way out of this hellhole. You run at once direction before running to another still being haunt by the images of your parents. Your eyes dart all over the place as you step backwards and your back is pressed against a rock wall and you stumble back, dragging your back down along it, falling down on your knees slouched over. Heaving sobs until soon you stop abruptly the tears falling down and finishes then you slowly lift your head up. Looking up a head of you your eyesight starts to go hazy and start to feel a sense of emptiness inside you. You feel cold, dark, and empty as the heaviness of your fears causes your head to feel heavy, you hang your head down low.
You couldn’t stay focused. You’ve succumbed into your darkest memories.
You’re now a prisoner to the Fog.
Notes:
If you made it to the end of the chapter I apologize if it was harsh or dark. It is said that the Fog infects people's mind and effectively drives them insane by imprisoning them in their own darkest memories. I wanted to really tackle what possibly a person could go through if they were trapped in The Fog.
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