#I post this and immediately A03 dies again wow

[lenle-g]

Just a Bruise | Chapter 4

Surprise! The latest installment of @tsarinatorment and I’s fic is up!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32484601 

Gordon and Alan, who John has somehow found himself lumped with under strict orders from Grandma that they make sure he gets to bed, must have heard their big brother’s stomach rumble because they latch onto the idea of a hotel buffet breakfast faster than Thunderbird One shooting from its hangar. John - doomed from the second they were grouped together - can’t turn down those twin, shiny puppy eyes to save his life, no matter how tired he is or how much he’d rather just go to bed. The weakness is a common big brother flaw and so sleep is forgone a little longer, sacrificed to croissants and pancakes and Alan grinning at him over a shiny spoon and a bowl of suspiciously sugary cereal that’s almost as big as the kid’s face.

It’s all well and good until John nearly passes out face-first in his orange juice, so at least they get the guilt trip of that in penance for their pleading.

[leswansong]

Marichat May - Kitty Cats & Ballet Shoes

Day Twelve: Post Reveal

[ A03 ]

  Adrien wished he had called Gabriel something different at that moment, any number of names would have done but no his mind had settled on father and in his rush to get Marinette out of the building as quickly as he could he didn’t even register the fact that had even called him that. He hoped Marinette didn’t realise who he was but he knew it wouldn’t take long, one billboard ad or even a newspaper article would inform her as to who he was. He was going down a dangerous road with her knowing who he was, she could tell anyone and every one although he doubted that she would she was still a risk to his identity. He had to talk to her sooner rather than later even if he never wanted to face it.

   Plagg was having a field day with this recent revelation, The Kwami hadn’t stopped his teasing even into the early morning as the sun slowly started to rise across the rooftops. It was his usual teasing consisting of a slew of I told you so and you would listen but eventually, the Kwami stopped long enough for them both to get some sleep.

   Adrien looked over at the alarm clock on his bedside table and groaned before sitting up, it was past midday already and Marinette would already be awake. Plagg was still asleep on the pillow beside him which meant if he wanted the suit he’d have to wake him and waking Plagg was no easy task. He retrieved his spare mask from the night before off of the dresser and put it on, it was a little uncomfortable but then again all masks were when he was used to the one that came with the suit.

   Marinette wasn’t anywhere to be seen when he exited his room, a note had been left on the dining table for him. She had left to pick up some groceries for the week, he sighed and looked around at the silent apartment before picking up the note again and writing a response.

  He headed towards the safe hidden behind a stack of books on the bookshelf, the necklace was still sitting within, he grabbed it and stuffed it into the black bag it had been transported in. He left the tiara and earrings behind and headed for the door, Plagg would know where he went and follow him.

  He removed his mask and stuffed it into his jacket pocket just in case he needed it later.

  The streets although busy were easy to navigate, the old massage pallor was only a few short streets away. Adrien kept looking over his shoulder to make sure that he wasn’t being followed as he walked towards the parlour, he was used to being followed and this happened to be the one time he didn’t feel constant eyes on him, it worried him.

   Gently he pushed on the old bamboo door, the old man, Master Fu, was as predicted, waiting for him, a cup was already waiting for him as well as a newspaper sat in front of him open to the front page where Adrien could see the words written in big bold letters, Stolen and a picture of the necklace.

  “Chat Noir, I see your latest heist was a success, I congratulate you.”

  “Thank you, Master Fu, but I had some help on this one,” he picked up his cup and took a sip of the green tea.

  “I was under the impression that you had no partner.”

  “I don’t but I would like her to be… She knows who I am under the mask.”

  “Adrien…”

  “I didn’t tell her,” he assured, “Last night at the Gala… We ran into my father… She’s trustworthy.”

  The old man nodded, “It is up to you whether or not if you trust her, I can only guide you to your next target.”

  Adrien gave the man a small smile before he pulled out the box that contained the necklace.

  “I believe this yours Master Fu.”

  The old man slowly opened the box and smiled, “Thank you.”

  The old man smiled and pulled the necklace from its confines to inspect it, the Kwami, Wayzz, floated over to inspect it.

  “It’s her Master, she’s home.”

  Adrien smiled, reuniting a Kwami back with the others was always a joyous moment for all parties involved. Master Fu walked over to the second gramophone on his shelf, it was larger than the first one but only slightly. He opened it and placed the necklace within before it sealed shut again.

  “Do you have any leads on any others?” Adrien asked.

  He wanted to know if he should start planning his next heist after the heat of his last heist dies down.

  “Not yet Chat Noir but there will be in time, I have a solid lead on your next one, we just have to be patient.”

  Adrien finished his cup and stood up, “You know where to find me,” he replied and walked towards the door.

  “This Girl… Do you trust her with a Miraculous?”

  He looked back at the older man and left without answering the question.

  He didn’t know if he trusted her that much but he trusted her. The Miraculous was something different, Master Fu didn’t trust anyone but him with one, some event in the mans’ past had led him to that and he had left Adrien to choose who he trusted. Adrien would have at least some time to decide whether he trusted her to the effect of a Miraculous being bestowed on her, he knew he wanted to work on his next heist with her to see if she was actually dedicated to his cause.

  She would question everything and he wouldn’t be able to tell her anything but if she trusted him enough her patience would be rewarded in time. He just hoped that she would wait that long for those answers.

  He looked up in through the bakery window at the older couple then at the name on the building, he smiled and pushed on the glass door to enter the small bakery. They greeted them cheerfully but didn’t let slip that he knew their daughter.

  “And what can I get you?” the woman, Marinette’s Mother, he assumed, asked.

  “Uh… Three of chocolate croissants, Please.”

  She smiled and nodded, she picked up a brown bag, he didn’t see her slip the croissants into the bag because her expert hands move so fast.

  “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  He handed over the correct amount and picked up his bag of treats.

  Her parents seemed nice and trustworthy just like her making him question if dragging her into the dark world he lived in was right, he had never wanted to drag her into this world that part was clear to him but Marinette was Marinette, strong and brave, somehow she had gotten him to take down the walls and let her in to a world that no one should even get a glimpse of, a world he had long since grown used to and now… Now he had to decide, decide if he should let her descend further into that dark world.

  He wanted her as his partner, she seemed to understand him better than anyone else he had encountered and he hated that he was even questioning himself right now, he should immediately talk to her about his identity and swear her to secrecy, a large amount of cash each month should help keep her mouth shut and then never let her back into this dark world he called home but he couldn’t bear to let her go just yet. There were still so many things he wanted to learn about her and do with her, his fondest memory although sad was of her at the ice skating rink, her laughter and giggles when she was happily going round and round.

  Opening the bag he reached in and picked out one of the croissants, it was warm and sweet on his tongue, he resisted the urge to eat the other two in the bag.

  He pressed the button to call the lift then the one to the top floor, he prepared his mask for if Marinette was home, he wasn’t ready for her to see him without his mask. He slid the spare key into the lock and pushed open the door his mask raised up to his face, Marinette was in the kitchen so he pushed the mask further on his face and closed the door behind him.

  “You’re back,” she said cheerfully.

  He smiled at her, “Yeah… I dropped the necklace off to someone else who will take good care of it…”

  She looked down at the floor before she continued unpacking the food she had bought.

  “I didn’t sell it if you’re wondering. I never sell them, they all get returned home where they all belong.”

  “Oh… Is that why you steal them?”

  “Mainly,” he shrugged his shoulders, there were many reasons as to why he did it.

  “What do you mean by that?” she said in confusion.

  “Doesn’t matter, do you some help?” he asked quickly changing the subject.

  He didn’t bother waiting for an answer, he pulled out a bag of potatoes and put them in the large pantry cupboard.

  “Are we going to talk… about last night?”

  He winced at her question, “what about it?”

  “You and I both know.”

  “Yeah…”

  “I won’t tell anyone,” she assured him placing a hand on his shoulder, “as long as you don’t tell anyone that I helped you in stealing the necklace.”

  He chuckled, “Trust me I won’t, it’s just… Do… Do you want to continue with…?”

  “Stealing? I don’t know,” she replied shrugging her shoulders.

  “I’ll have another heist within the next month or so.”

  “You always find them this quick?”

  “No, the last one was my first one in about a year and it took a year to plan it.”

  “Wow…”

  He reached into the bag and pulled out a bag of carrots and handed it to her.

  “But… The reason why I’m asking you is because… I would like to continue this… arrangement between us. It’s been nice having someone around and…”

  “I don’t mind helping just… why? I don’t exactly have a reason to do it anymore.”

  “I’ll pay you for it…” he replied shrugging, “Last time I checked you don’t exactly like working after rehearsals.”

  “True…”

  “So what do you say?”

  “Am I allowed to think about it?”

  He nodded and resumed unpacking the food.

  “Chat,” she sighed, “Adrien…”

  It felt strange to hear his name from her lips but he turned to face her.

  “Why does me knowing who you are such a bad thing?”

  “It… I’ve always done this job by myself,” he explained, “The world of highly trained thieves is a dangerous one; you knowing who I am, makes you, your friends and family a target.”     She didn’t respond and he didn’t force her to.

  Adrien had been kicked and beaten, he had almost had his prize taken from him and many people had tried and failed to find out who he was. It wasn’t the best line of work to get involved with but it made some decent cash on the side when Master Fu paid him, the old man knew that Adrien couldn’t live off of just stealing and he did have plans to move out of the mansion that had materialised into an actual plan. Deciding to live this life was a massive undertaking and not an easy one to make.

  “You make it sound like mission impossible.”

  He laughed, “Sorry.”

  “If… If I do this, we become partners, we plan the next heist together.”

  It was a solid agreement, one he could easily agree to, he extended his hand out to shake on it. She looked at his hand then at him.

  “Shake on it?” he questioned.

  She understood and slowly shook his hand.

  Marinette returned back to the bags of food, he hadn’t noticed that she had purposely left out some food meant for dinner. He reached up to his mask and pushed it firmly back into place before quickly removing it from his face like a band-aid. He looked back over to her and smiled, she smiled back, he rolled up his sleeves and immediately was put to work chopping vegetables for Marinette.

Made For @marichatmay

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[novantinuum]

Death and All That Follows (Ch. 2)

A03

Fandom: Trollhunters

Rating: K 

Words: 4000~

Summary: When Merlin's elixir began to work its magic, it cleaved the then-human trollhunter's soul in two. One half lived on in a hybrid's body. You know how this portion of the tale goes, of course.

But what of the other half? What happens to him?

Well... this is his side of the story.

Chapter One

Note: Unfortunately, fic circulation online is getting harder and harder as the months pass. Please, if you read to the end and enjoy, consider helping me out by reblogging this post, or even commenting/giving kudos over on AO3. Thanks! :D

Chapter 2

His soul eclipsed with sheer happiness and relief, he practically threw himself at his once-thought-lost friend. For a split second he feared it was all grief and smoke and mirrors, that he’d merely phase right through the troll’s blue tinted spectral form, even though grabbing Kanjigar’s hand earlier surely proved this world had some degree of solidity. But blessedly, this was not so. Draal stumbled one step backwards as Jim wrapped his arms as far around him as he could, dropping his head against his chest.

“You’re alive,” he gasped in relief.

“Not alive, regrettably. Not really. This is the Void, remember? I’m nothing but a ghost, same as all the others.”

“I don’t care! I watched you die,” he said, barely able to croak out that last word in his hoarse state. “You took that knife for me, and then you fell and you turned to stone and died, a- and the cavern collapsed, and I couldn’t even stop, couldn’t mourn, o- or-“

“Jim,” Draal reminded in an almost uncharacteristically gentle manner. “My death is not your burden to bear. It is my life and my honor to serve the trollhunter. To… to watch over my friends. And I can rest easy knowing that at least that part of my duty has been fulfilled.”

“But you’re my friend too,” he said, peering up to meet his green and gold rimmed eyes. “I should’ve protected you, should’ve saved you! I was so close, and then…”

Instinctively, he lifted his hand to dab away tears with his palm, before finally realizing with shock that he hadn’t actually been crying at all. He didn’t notice until now but he never had been here, at least not in any physical sense. His heart wept, and he felt like his eyes were puffy and wet, but they somehow… weren’t. Why weren’t-? Oh. Oh, of course. He was a spectral being now. His body was nothing more than an outline of hard light, woven together by the might of ancient magic. And much like the Void’s window to reality, this instinct to feel the tangible effects his emotions summoned was merely an afterimage of the human life he’d left behind. Unneeded habit. Distantly, he wondered how long it’d take for habits like these to fade away, but at recalling the centuries many of his predecessors had spent in this place he quickly shoved this distressing notion into the back closet of his mind. He’d address that elephant in the room later. Much… later.

One day, just one day without a double dose of existential crisis, that’s all he wanted. Wow, it’s almost depressing how low the bar was.

Draal moved Jim’s small hands off his stone skin, breaking their embrace. His expression shone with genuine affection, but also a lingering sense of duty.

“Nevertheless, it in the past. Now is not the time to mourn what could have been, not when there’s still a battle to be fought.”

“He’s right,” Deya spoke up from behind them. “Deep beneath Arcadia’s streets, while the trollhunter trains under moonlight, the dark magic grow stronger with each minute that passes. We can sense it.”

“Morgana,” spoke a distant, stray soul in a mournful baritone, flitting about around them in a flickering azure haze.

“Morgana!”

“Morgana is free.”

“The Pale Lady!”

He swallowed hard. The reminder of the eldritch witch who’d tormented his friends only served to heighten his anxiety, festering like an incurable itch in his overactive mind. Another soul moved in haste right past his ear. He bit back a yelp as he flinched, dodging it. Its whispers were fervent, in rhyme, teetering on the edge of madness:

“She returns in haste and fury, Clad in emerald without light! Crystal’s flame will burn no longer, Snuffed out by Eternal Night-“

Deya lifted a hand towards this restless spirit. “Peace, Heliosa, peace. I promise, our hour of glory will soon come.”

Heliosa’s cryptic whispers abated at her words. Her spectral form grew still, hovering in the space between Draal and Jim. It seemed she didn’t plan on manifesting fully like the others, however. Odd. He scoured his mind as he gawked at the spherical light, trying to test if his knowledge could place a face to her name, but he came up blank. History lessons in Blinky’s library felt so achingly distant now. All those lazy evenings between missions spent in the warmth and familiarity of Trollmarket… the nights Aaarrrgghh let Claire and him lean against his back as he rested, and how his mane of hair always engulfed them… Toby, twisting the amulet’s antiquated translations of A Brief Recapitulation into endless puns… the in-joke he shared with Blinky once upon a time, with their running tally of the (rare) occasions they caught Vendel smiling…

His features softened at the rush of fond memories.

“-may recall from Blinkous’ many, many lectures, is one of the most spiritually attuned trollhunters, and-“

Hold on, when exactly did Kanjigar start talking again?

“Wait, wait, wait,” he spluttered, holding up a hand. The elder trollhunter paused, peering at him with pursed lips. “Sorry, what? I, uh- I kinda blanked out there a bit. Sorry,” he repeated, desperately ignoring the slight embarrassed crack in his voice.

Draal titled closer to whisper in his ear, or at least as close to a whisper his bombastic friend could manage. “My father was introducing you to Heliosa the Harbinger.” He gestured towards the soul still hovering between them, its inner light pulsing at a heartbeat’s pace.

“Oh!” Distantly wondering if there was any way to save this conversation, he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. God, he might as hell have stuffed them in his mouth. “Uh- hello. I’m… Jim. Jim Lake Junior. Although you probably all know that already, so-“

Deya bestowed him a thin, pitying smile. “Be aware, she’s become a troll of few words within the past decade or so. Today is quite the rarity.”

“Hence why we’re introducing her,” his immediate predecessor nodded. “She only speaks in verse. You’ll soon grow used to it.”

Heliosa, still manifesting as a burst of spherical energy, began to dance in unpredictable corkscrews around the small gathering. The display left him mesmerized, gaze obediently following the faint trail of her glow like a cat’s paw to a pen light. Once more she spoke, her willowy voice laced with an unquestionable arcane authority:

“I foresaw the choice of Merlin, Knew the Lake of fate’s design, Centuries prior, time predicted Hunter born of humankind. Born of flesh, remade forthright Daylight’s child chained by night By wizard’s magic forged anew To eclipse Darkness with their might.”

The three trolls standing beside him gawked— Deya and Kanjigar in noticeable awe— clearly not expecting such a vocal presence from this trollhunter of old today. However, where their reaction brought pleasant surprise, all he felt was… well, the only way he could think to describe it was as a sort of reverse dread. His brow creased, her prophetic truth leaving him hollow. It stripped him bare, like a pumpkin with all its guts scooped out. With a spoon. He found the mere idea that destiny wove the threads of everything he’d experienced— that despite his many gambles and unpredictable strategies she’d led him by the hand to this very moment unhindered by chance— deeply uncomfortable. If fate really was his master, then… then he must be nothing. A minuscule, predestined knot in life’s tapestry. A mere pawn, his choices be damned.

Not that he ever had one to begin with.

He felt his spectral form collapse into a dense pinprick of light, perhaps to match how tiny he truly felt.

“I- sorry, excuse me,” he breathed, genuinely not knowing if he’d said these words aloud or if they merely existed as an echo within his mind.

Everything revealed since he awoke here suddenly becoming too much for Jim to process at once, he pulled himself away, immediately taking to floating as if second nature. The presence of Draal and all the others grew smaller and smaller as he sank further into the shadows of their metaphysical forge.

Betrayed, by destiny…

Confused.

Alone.

So, so alone.

I have to finish the fight! Alone...

If you walk out that door, you will die!

What choice do I have?

Oh there’s always a choice. Run away, save your skin!

My amulet does not make mistakes…

Despite whatever doubts you may have, it is now bonded to you. This is a mantle you cannot refuse.

I thought you said I had a choice!

I care, I do! I just see the bigger picture...

Your humanity is not enough, you are not enough!

In order for Merlin’s magic to work, something had to be left behind.

...

So what am I, then?

“Jim.”

Ambient noise emanating from the dull thrum of the forge became all but absent at the call. Impossibly stubborn and not desiring visitors in his current state of distress, he shifted his presence further into the shadow.

He was being stupid, he knew. The voice calling was clearly Draal’s. Why the hell was he hiding from Draal? And after all they’d experienced together...

As he tried to evade him, he bumped directly into a solid, warm surface instead. Living stone, life energy pulsing beneath. He felt a hand swipe towards him and he dodged. At this point he genuinely didn’t know if it was out of reflex or because he actually wanted to avoid his friend.

“Jim,” he repeated, stressing his name. “Look at me.”

Even if the only stimuli he could truly intake right now in this form was sound and touch, he swore he sensed the moment he himself pulsed with light, matching the wave of annoyance cresting within his mind.  

“In case you haven’t noticed, I kinda can't do that right now,” he shot back.

“I do not mean-“ Draal sighed, the rough sound betraying his otherwise calm facade and revealing his concern. “Look with your soul, not your eyes.”

Despite his current cynicism towards everything in the universe, he gathered his wits and began to focus in on himself. Soul, not eyes. Soul, not eyes. Puzzling, and infuriating. He had no physical form, how on earth was he supposed to—

Oh. Oh. That’s new, he thought, feeling the slight pricking of another consciousness against his own. The consciousness’ shape intrinsically matched with what he knew of Draal, like how one might recognize someone by scent or the timbre of a voice.

“Ah, so you’ve found it. As you can sense now, we exhibit a different kind of sight here.”

“What… is this?”

“We’re the souls of the dead. How else would souls communicate, without the form granted by the amulet’s binding magic?”

“So. Let me get this straight. Basically, you’re saying the physical Void as I know it only exists through Merlin’s magic?”

He gently hovered beside his presence as Draal paused to consider his next words.

“As far as I’m aware, yes? Do remember,” he said, before Jim could probe for information he apparently didn’t have, “I arrived here mere nights ago. Father has only explained so much.”

“Okay, and about that.”

“About-?”

“You. I- I thought the Void was, y’know. Just for trollhunters. How did you…?”

“It was my father’s doing,” he explained. “At his request the elder trollhunters made an exception for me, against the normal rules. That’s all.”

“Well, I’m glad they did,” Jim said softly. “If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that some rules are worth breaking.”

“Some, yes.”

The troll’s presence pulsed with genuine warmth against his soul’s own. He wondered, if he had capacity for sight right now, if he’d see his friend smiling.

“Now tell me, flesh bag. What distresses you at this hour?”

His heart skipped a beat. Well, if he still had a heart, it would’ve skipped a beat. (Language technicality was going to be the death of him here.) In lieu of working organs, he was pretty sure his soul did about the equivalent.

“I’m fine now, really,” he hastily attempted to cover up.

Draal was absolutely not having it.

“Hmm. Interesting.”

“Wh- what is?”

“Your strange definition of ‘fine.’ You ran away, and then hid in the shadow for twenty minutes.”

“Uh- okay, okay. Fine. Or, or,” he stuttered, “not fine, I mean. Just…. there’s a lot to unpack. That’s all.”

“Are you planning to elaborate, or leaving me to ponder forever?”

Jim lapsed into momentary silence again as he considered. Draal was only wanting to help. He knew this. Also, where once his worry was vulnerability, now he literally had nothing left to lose.

“Well for one,” he eventually began, biting sarcasm coating his words, “I’m dead. I killed myself, and now I’m stuck here with a bunch of- of moody former trollhunters for all of eternity. And then. And then! Apparently, it sounds like every day of my life was bound by some divine destiny, or whatever. And I was fine with that, at first, with the idea of destiny. Because I thought-“ the emotion he’d been stifling began cracking through his level headed facade- “I don’t know! I thought it was something I could control. I thought that the amulet chose me for who I was. For being... special, as stupid and selfish as that sounds. But all of this was prophecy, Draal! It was always meant to happen! So what’s the point in it specifically picking me if I was just a pawn to fate all along? And not only that, but one of my predecessors literally knew Merlin was gonna blindside me with all this half-troll business and do they ever consider giving me, you know, a little heads-up? No!”

“It was only a prophecy.”

“Yeah, well it was a prophecy about me! I would’ve wanted to know. Maybe if I had more time, i-if I had the foreknowledge, could actually think on it before just- God, this was all such a mistake!” he cried. He could sense his spectral form growing cold and dim, only suspended by a single thread.

Draal’s consciousness brushed against his in what might have been his attempt at a metaphysical pat on the back.

“You miss your friends,” he observed.

Jim considered levying him a snarky ‘no duh’ in response, but his soul was too weary for sarcasm right now. Instead, with a little focus and a shimmer of daylight, he manifested himself physically once more and wrapped his arms around the one true friend he had left. He pressed his forehead against his chest.

Draal lowly huffed through his nostrils, slowly returning the embrace. While the fierce troll would never admit it, Jim knew from the hours spent fighting by his side that he cared far more than one might assume. Most of the ‘tough guy’ act he exuded was precisely that: a facade. Draal was actually fairly sentimental, and more soft-hearted than a lot of other trolls he knew. (He’d kept a few knick knacks gifted to him by his father in the basement.) If Jim ever brought it up he’d probably throw him in a headlock, though. Some things never change.

“They won’t ever- they don’t know I’m dead,” he said, words sticking in his throat. “They’ll never know, ‘cause to them I’m not-! I-I… can never see them, ever again.”

“I understand.”

He stood there leaning against his friend in relative silence for a time, his breath shaky as he allowed the rest of the emotion coursing through him like an avalanche to gradually dissipate. Draal didn’t budge an inch, still resolute in his duty to support the trollhunter. The smallest of smiles broke through his anguish at this thought, curving across his face. He was so grateful for that.

“Blinky,” he began, small and hesitant, as he pulled away from their hug. “He always said that destiny… that it’s a gift. Thing is, it really doesn’t feel like one right now.”

“Would you like my input, Trollhunter?”

He met Draal’s eyes, the troll peering into his in such a knowing way that it almost made him squirm. “S-sure. Go wild. I’d take anything at this point.”

“You’ve chosen to define the sum of your life as the destination every action leads you towards. But have you considered that perhaps… what matters isn’t where, but how?”

“I’m not following, sorry.”

“Destiny may guide you, act as a beacon for days to come. But in the moment, you decide how you react to the challenges life throws at you. That choice is yours, and yours alone.”

“Oh, great,” Jim muttered, a sour cynicism corroding his tone. “Helpful. So life may suck, but hey! At least I can approach it with a smile!”

“No. That is not what I mean. What happens in the moment has far more impact than you realize, Jim. Consider me, for instance,” he explained, jabbing a finger solidly against his chest. “You chose to spare my life in our duel. A single life. Do you really think the elders’ vague prophecy could’ve ever predicted a young human having the courage to break entirely from tradition, to forge his own path? I wouldn’t be here right now without your intervention. Your camaraderie, and your friendship. Every action— even the smallest— creates ripples, Trollhunter. Do not be so quick to forget that.”

At this reminder, the hollowing of his chest receded, his anxieties ceasing to eat away at him so quickly. Draal was absolutely right. Even moving through the patterns of fate, he still exhibited a great deal of agency. Even within the framework of a game he didn’t create, he possessed the capacity for free will. His grim assumptions earlier were wrong. He wasn’t somebody’s pawn, he was the hand strategically moving the pawn.

Nevertheless, a pang of melancholy ran cold like a shiver through his bones. At the edge of war, he sure hoped his living counterpart realized this too.

“So… what do we do now?” he said. “Not like, about the battle,” he clarified hastily, “but. Just in general? It’s way too quiet here. I could do with some sparring, or something.”

Mischief glinted in his friend’s eyes.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Blue clashed against blue in a myriad of sparks, the magic that held together their physical forms flickering like television static each time they struck a hit. Jim Lake Jr. grinned as he leapt clear of the latest attack. Draal, compressed into a dense ball and unable to slow himself down, continued rolling up the side of the practice ring and clear into the rafters. Somewhere far above, the troll condensed himself to light and all but dissapeared.

“Hah, missed me!” Jim shouted in triumph, backing a few steps up as he scoped the area. His fingers wrapped ever tighter around the hilt of his sword. “Still one hit ahead of you. Y'know, my offer to play easy is still on the- Whoa!"

He manifested his shield in one hand just as his friend, chuckling boisterously, appeared from thin air and swung a playful punch at him. Even in the Void, the contact shot dull vibrations all the way up his arm.

"Not a chance, novice! Tied!" Draal countered, and immediately tucked himself into a ball again. The rumbles of his movement across the stone reverberated powerfully throughout the vast halls.

“What in the name of-!“  

Uh-oh.

Jim almost regressed back into his spectral state himself right then and there, the surprise of the elder trollhunter's voice merely the cherry on top after Draal's sneak attack. His form flickered as he returned Daylight to its mount on his back.

“Oh, Kanjigar!” he said, plastering an innocent smile on his face. Draal rolled to a stop in between them, looking equally as sheepish. “Are you here to, uh- to spar too?”

The elder trollhunter pressed his palm against the ridge of his forehead. “Am I here to- no! No, of course I am not! We do not wage battle in the harmony of the Void! And Draal, you too?” he exclaimed, widely gesturing at his son. “Must both of you make a mockery of this sacred space?”

Without so much as a second thought, Draal pointed at Jim. “It was his idea.”

“Hey, excuse me!” he hissed at him under his breath, embarrassment growing evident in his posture. That rat! He bailed him out, and in front of one of the greatest trollhunters to live, no less. Still, Kanjigar  was  his father, (and Jim couldn’t imagine ever lying to Blinky, himself), so he supposed he’d have to excuse the betrayal. He sighed deeply, and leveled his gaze towards the great troll with a demeanor of assured confidence only a fellow trollhunter would ever dare summon. “With respect, I’ve only been here for like, barely an hour, if that, and I’m already dying of boredom.”

Kanjigar blinked, utterly failing to capture the deeper meaning of his words. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. By all measures you’ve already died, Jim.

“I know that I’m-“ he groaned, carding his fingers through his hair. “Never mind, it’s- it’s just a figure of speech. My point is, I’m not gonna just float about the ether and armchair quarterback every single little fight my other self has like you, okay? I- I need something to do. Something that won’t be stressful as hell."

"What, like sparring? Sparring is not customary here."

"Why?"

Draal huffed in annoyance, and began to hollowly recite words his father had likely imparted when he first arrived. "Because the Void is a peaceful domain wherein trollhunters should seek the calming pursuits they never had opportunity to give thought to in life. Supposedly."

"We do not wage battle because our lives were a battle, young trollhunter," Kanjigar stated simply.

"But that's not fair, it's calming for me!"

He pondered on this fact as the words passed his lips, upon reflection surprised at how accurate they were. He'd actually grown to look forward to his training sessions with Blinky or Draal, back before the loss of Trollmarket. They were routine, ever-evolving, and functioned as wonderful stress relief. Many a day he'd spent letting his frustrations out on the forge machinery after a bad Spanish or algebra exam.

“Wow," he said under his breath, mostly to himself. "That's actually true, it really is. Huh. Crazy how much can change in a few months. But!" He lifts a finger for emphasis, talking directly to the others once more. "As I was saying."

"Yes, do continue," Kanjigar said, peering between him and Draal with narrowed eyes. He crossed his arms, thoroughly unimpressed.

Jim's hand moved to cover the amulet, hanging directly over the space his heart once occupied. He glossed his thumb across its rim. "I guess... the crux of the matter is, certain customs of the troll world had to change when the amulet picked a human. And now, with part of me dead, it’s the Void’s turn. I'll keep my distance from everyone else while sparring for courtesy's sake, but for the record, it makes me happy. I don't aim to stop."

And with that bold statement, he let his armor fade into light. The expression of dumfounded shock that crossed that old troll's stony face in response was almost enough to make him audibly bark in laughter for the first time today. He pocketed the amulet, and walked past his elder.

"You coming?" he said, gesturing to Draal. "I thought I'd explore around a bit more."

"Count me in."

“I heard you shouting in the distance. Tell me- what did I miss?” Deya asked as Kanjigar returned to the others.

“Nothing important,” he groused. “Only Lake and my son desecrating every rule they happen to lay their eyes on.”

She tilt her head at him, in a matter-of-fact sort of way. The knowing smile she presented— top row of sharpened, squarish teeth showing between her lips— whisked him back to the time when he the foolish youth called by the amulet, and she was one of his elders. Long, long ago.

“They’re sparring, aren’t they?”

“Exactly! And as dictated, the Void is a place of eternal peace. A peace that currently, they’re uprooting by way of their irresponsible foolishness!”  

Deya’s laugh rang out as clear as a bell. “Oh, lighten up, you old misery,” she teased, swinging a punch at Kanjigar’s shoulder. “To hell with the rules. It's perfectly harmless, sparing here. Let the youth have their fun.”