#I said this somewhere else but they feel like a spore creature someone just kept slapping parts on

[batfossil-fr]

my two cents on the everlux drama

am I a fan? no, but keep in mind I haven’t been a huge fan of any ancient breed. I have a number of issues with their design but it doesn’t involve the concept of being a grub kinda dragon or how fat they are. mostly it’s just that all their different components feel a bit jarring when all put together so I find them kinda cluttered.

but on the other hand, I’m used to being disappointed in ancients for entirely different reasons. I’d SO much rather be disappointed that they went a little too cluttered for my tastes than getting the same “this ancient could pass for a modern easily” that we’ve gotten so many times already

so good on staff for trying something new, I hope we get more attempts like this. maybe the first one didn’t hit for me but there’s always more chances. there is also a lot of valid feedback that I really hope the artist(s? might just be Undel) receive, but this wasn’t just an everlux issue (don’t get me started about fathom M and aether M and undertide M and)

and I hope the next breed is even fatter

[sleepysailorghost]

There are a lot of reasons why it's better for Boone to walk behind the Courier.

Tactically, it doesn't hurt. He's trained as a sniper, and ED-E alerts them of any dangers ahead of them. The Courier can dispatch any enemies with their six guns, plasma rifle, or cowboy repeater. What they don't take down, he takes out with his rifle.

At least part of it is an attempt to assuage the guilt he feels. He had seen the Courier injured before, but he didn't think he would have to see them nearly die. In hindsight, he probably should have-he was cursed, after all.

The Courier had told him he wasn't cursed. That no one was punishing him. He didn't know if he believed that yet.

He didn't hear anything when the Courier had slipped down the cliff. He agonized over that day-wondering if he had heard something and just ignored it. A shuffling of rocks, a scream or shout. But there had been nothing.

He had just kept walking, the Courier's chirping little robot at his side. Even he didn't know when he had noticed the Courier's absence.

When he had finally found them, it had nearly been too late. All his field medical training seemed to go out the window when he saw the Courier laying broken in the ravine. He had used so many stimpacks on them, they nearly died of stim sickness.

But they didn't. Hard to kill, or something. He tried to pull away after that, tried to piss off the Courier so they'd hate him.

They didn't hate him.

Maybe they just didn't know how.

The Courier drags him all over the Mojave and he follows and watches their back.

He doesn't know how that became how he feels now. He's never been good with emotions anyway.

It isn't something he knows how to handle, so he decides to ignore it. He doesn't want it. The Courier is his friend, not Carla. And for him, it was only ever Carla.

Watching the Courier's back desn't keep them from being taken from him, not any more than it prevents them from getting into trouble. He was behind them when they were knocked out and taken away.

But he was there when they returned and he helped them put their peices back together. It would be easier to just let both of them fall apart. It would be easier to deprieve themselves simply because it's too much work to do anything else. Too much work to eat or drink.

Instead, he makes an effort. It isn't easy, but he isn't alone. In time, they grow to being two individuals who want to live. They always were a bunch of problem solvers.

Once, after he and Arcade had convinced the Courier it was safe to rest for a time, Arcade had said something to him.

"It's rotten work, taking care of them."

"Not if it's them. Not to me."

Arcade smirked at them like he had won something in this exchange. Boone ignored him. Whatever Arcade thought that admission-that he cared about the Courier-proved meant nothing.

He was just trying to keep his friend alive.

The Courier has gone to meet someone from their past. They've gone somewhere he can not follow, just as they had been kidnapped away to the Sierra Madre, abducted to the Big MT. Only, this time he's chosen not to follow.

Whatever the Courier finds-if it ends up being the home they had forgotten-he'd rather they didn't have to worry about him.

When the Courier does return, they run to him and grab him in a hug faster than he can react. They burrow into his chest in a way that would have been intrusive if it was anyone but them.

"I misssed you!" they mumble into his armor. "You won't believe-"

But before they can finish, their little robot is beeping so frantically to get their attention. The Courier's arms drop and they take a step back from him, seemingly embarrassed by their affections.

As the Courier and ED-E engage in a conversation Boone can only half understand, he looks out into the desert to compose himself. That's when he sees it first. A glint of something out in the sands.

Initially, he has no idea what it could be. His eyesight's sharp, but not that sharp. It doesn't look like Legion, so he doesn't shoot it.

The Courier is so proud of their new name. It's taken from an Old World battle, and someone had given it to them.

Boone thinks its a mouthful. It takes some time for him to adjust. He had been so used to refering to them as Six or just Courier. Eventually, he decides to just shorten it to Tie.

It's not because he's stupid, no matter what Arcade says. Antietam just takes too long to say.

The name wasn't the only thing Tie had brought back with them. Their bounty-hunter attire is retired in favor of a blue duster with an Old World flag on the back. It certainly makes them stand out against the Mojave.

The Glint he had sighted back in Novac didn't disappear. It followed them. Boone is fairly certain it's a person, but he can't gage their intent or why they are following them. He's fairly certain it's non-hostile-they had plenty of opportunities to kill both of them.

New Vegas looms large in front of them. There's business to be settled here, he knows, but it isn't his.

Instead of tracking down the man who stole their life and shot them in the head, Tie seems happy enough to serve as errand runner for Freeside.

Maybe that's why they had originally became a courier. The reason why doesn't matter much to them any more.

No matter how silly or monotonous a job seems, Tie is willing to complete it. They do a day's work for the Van Graff's and Boone can't help but stand a little closer to them after the attempted bombing.

The King certainly appreciates their work. He tells them as much, bringing Antietam to his room to discuss some task or another The King sent them out on.

He sits down on his stupid bed-what kind of a bed is that-and insists the Courier do the same. Boone stays standing, frowning a mile a minute.

"Darlin', could ya ask your soldier boy to wait outside a minute? I think we oughta have a discussion without an audience."

Boone has seen Antietam face hoards of Legion assassains without fear. He's seen them struggle to recover after whatever they saw in the Sierra Madre. Right now, he doesn't think that they want to be left alone with The King.

"Body guards work better if they're in the same room." Boone says, and leaves it at that.

"I guess, if the Courier trust ya that's enough for me." The King looks him sharply in the eye.

"Thank you." Tie says, but Boone knows that was for him. If his blood wasn't full of rage, he might be smilling right now.

When they return to their room at the Wrangler-not without Beautrice and Old Ben trying to offer their services to Antietam-the Courier says "You're not a body guard. You know that, right?"

"You didn't want to be alone with him." Boone says in response.

"T-That's not-I didn't want to be seperated from you."

"Huh."

And then they pretend that conversation didn't happen. They go to sleep, and their room at the Wrangler only has the one bed. It's not all that awkward, and Boone was just thankful that Tie wanted to sleep. in the morning, they get up and head off on some other grand adventure.

This time, it's investigating what's wrong with the water at the NCR Sharecropper farms. The Glint darts closer to them than it normally strays.

Close enough for Boone to get a decent look at it. It's a man. He moves a little like a Legion man, but he doesn't look like one of Caesar's. His duster is the same as the one Tie brought back back from the Divide.

Tie never had told him too much about the Divide. He sort of expected that. They didn't speak about the Sierra Madre or the Big MT, or even about their trip to Zion unless he asked.

Small talk has never been his strong suit. Arcade, the nosy guy, would be much better at getting this sort of stuff from them.

"Your duster's new." He says casually.

"Yeah. Ulysses gave it to me." They respond.

"Ulysses...What's that guy like?" He asks.

Antietam thought for a moment and then answered.

"He's the strongest man I've ever met. Eyes like a hawk, really skilled in hunting and tracking."

Boone hugged his riffle a little tighter. It was a massive weapon, one lovingly assembled by Tie. He puzzles over that, and then decides that was what he meant. Antietam had lovingly assembled the Anti-Material Rifle for him, handing over dozens of caps to the Gun Runners for peices and parts for it. Any time he started to run low on ammo, Tie handed him another box of .50. They didn't have to, but he always appreciated it.

"Huh." Strongest man they've ever met, huh? An incrediably stupid idea forms in his head. "Hey, Tie, do you think I can carry you?"

"W-What? Don't be stupid-I'm carrying a bunch of gear right now."

"I could do it. Who do you think carried you out of the ravine?" He answered defensively.

"I'm not saying you couldn't do it. I'm saying you shouldn't." Tie settled their beret, and then fixed their pin in their hair. It glinted a little in the sun. "Who are you trying to show off for? There's no one around."

They were heading into a vault. Boone hated vaults.

Dwellers themselves were alright, but if there was a vault where people worked together and Vault-Tec didn't shoot them in the foot by drugging them or something, it wasn't in the Mojave. Boone still thought about the spore-creatures.

This vault isn't any different from other vaults. It's partially flooded, and Tie's geiger counter keeps on beeping.

"Alrright, I'm going to dive down now." Tie says as they stand over a flooded section of the vault. They loved water, always seemed so transfixed and mystified by large bodies of water. Only, they didn't seem to like being in the water all that much. Boone had asked once, and the Courier had just said "Have you ever been buried alive?" and left it at that.

Antietam is not very good at swimming. It's not all that surprising-most bodies of water are too tainted for swimming.

They strip down to their underclothes, all lanky limbs and scars on show. Handing their beret and duster to Boone and removing their boots, they strap on their rebreather. The spurrs of their boots clack against the ground as they wade into the flooded chamber.

He hates waiting for the Courier to reemerge. Anything could go wrong and they would be unable to defend themselves. Eyes on the water, watching for any disturbance, he thinks about something else.

He hasn't seen The Glint since they entered the Vault. Maybe it didn't follow them down here. He'll bring it up when the Courier resurfaces. It should be any second now, but that doesn't stiffle the feeling that they've been down there too long.

Shit. Maybe they ran into an issue with their rebreather. He knew that was a peice of junk. He drops TIe's clothing and is frantically taking off his boots when the Courier rises from the water.

"Christ, Tie. Don't scare me like that."

Antietam drops a handful of ammo on the vault flooring.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to. I found a lock box at the bottom, but I knew I couldn't get it back up to the surface so I popped the lock. " The Courier wrings a little water out of their hair. "Should have done this part last, huh? I'm soaked through."

It's when they leave Vault 34, sick with rads, that he brings up The Glint. He's looking directly at The Glint.

"Do you see that? Do you ever feel like something is watching you?"

"Yeah? I got you, don't I?"

"That's not what I meant."

As Arcade treats their radiation sickness, Boone watches for The Glint.

It was better if he did this alone, he reasoned. He felt uneasy leaving the Courier, especially while they were sleeping, but he knew that there was little threat of anything getting into their room at the Wrangler.

He was facing the real threat: whoever was following them. That, and however sore Tie was going to be if they woke up and found him missing.

The Glint was on the roof of a building adjacent to the Wrangler. His focus on his quarry is stedfast. The Glint doesn't move.

The Glint turns out to be a man, as he had thought. The man isn't anyone he recognizes, but he recognizes the duster the man is shrouded in.

This must be Ulysses, he thinks, although his evidence is shallow at best. Ulysses-if this is him-is sleeping with a hunter's awareness. The Mojave night is warm, and Boone walks away from that roof.

He isn't sneaking. If the man wakes, he wakes. He's fairly sure that Ulysses is no enemy of the Courier, not with how fondly they had spoke of him.

A few days later, the Courier leaves without warning. Leaves of their own volition-not abducted-this time. Comes back in an Old World suit, eyes red from crying. Before he or Arcade could ask what's wrong or why they left, Antietam is pulling the researcher into a hug, muttering some story.

Arcade removes the Courier, holding them at arm's length.

"Hold on, I can't understand you when you're muttering like that. You did what?"

The Courier can't meet Arcade's eyes and is definitely avoiding Boone's gaze.

"I said, I went to go settle things with Benny."

"Ah, yes. The man who shot you in the head. Well, he doesn't appear to have finished the job. You aren't hurt, right?"

"No, it didn't come to that. I'm alright." They find something fascinating in the dirt of their nails. "Reputation might have taken a hit though."

"What did you do, Antietam?" Arcade was something like the Courier's brother, and he often had reason to be concerned for them.

"Tried to seduce Benny."

Arcade looks at Antietam for a second, like he's sure he's heard wrong.

"Sorry, run that by me again?"

"I tried to seduce Benny."

Arcade inhales deeply, and then sighs. He rakes a hand over his face.

"Why? Where did you even get that idea?"

"I thought it was the best way to get him alone! I wasn't going to do anything!" They still aren't looking Arcade in the eye-too afraid to see disappointment. "It didn't work anyway."

"What were you going to do? Talk to him? He tried to kill you!" Arcade says. And then he snaps. "It's your life anyway. Just don't come crying to me when you make a mess of it. Although it seems you already have."

Boone does not say anything. He just doesn't know what to say. This was not a situation he had ever anticipated. He's mainly just shocked by the Courier's actions, and by the blinding fury of his own jealousy. That's probably a thread, but he's doing his best to not pull at it.

"Arcade.." Antietam tries, but Arcade responds with a quick. "Just go to bed, Courier. We'll talk in the morning."

Dejectedly, the Courier climbs into the Wrangler's lone bed and tries to sleep.

"Trying to seduce the man who shot them in the head. What will they think of next?" Arcade mutters , more to himself than to Boone. "It's late. You can take the floor."

In the morning, Antietam wakes up in bed with their brother and their fight the prior evening seems less severe. They get up, get dressed and head over to Mick and Ralph's for odds and ends. New Vegas was a grand place, sure, but it wasn't somewhere Antietam could live. All the lights hurt their head, for one.

Another gift from Benny, packaged in lead wrapping paper. As the Courier steps out they are accosted by Vulpes Inculta. He isn't dressed as he was as a Nipton, but the Courier's reflexes take over and they draw their sixgun.

"Patience, Courier." He says, and then bestows the Mark of Caesar upon them. Antietam instantly feels worse for it, craving a bath if only to wash this man off of them.

The Wrangler doesn't have such amenities, but it does have Boone and Arcade. Two of their favorite people, and the support Antietam happens to need at the moment.

Already, a plan is forming in their head. Barely a step outside of the Wrangler, blood pooling at their feet, they turn and reenter the building.

James Garret tries to get their attention-maybe for work, maybe because he heard of Benny's rejection. It doesn't matter to them at the moment. With the mark burning a hole in their hand, they climb the stairs to their room.

"Antietam, your hands are looking rather empty. Did you forget your caps or something?" Arcade says, smiling at the Courier.

Antietam doesn't say anything, walking up to the table and dropping the medallion. Arcade examines it, eyes wide.

"I got the Mark of Caesar."

"How? Why?"

"They just gave it to me because they're impressed with my work."

"You have killed a fair number of their men."

"Yeah, we're a bunch of problem solvers."Boone chimes in.

"Yeah, we are. Anyway, that's not all. They invited me up there-to their fortress-so I can meet with Caesar." Antietam was smirking. Pointing a finger at Boone, they asked him. "Say, what do you think about wiping out the Legion's Fort, huh?"

"I'd say we're outnumbered." Boone responded, a grin growing on his face despite their very apparent outnumberedness.

"But we've got the element of surprise?"

"Sure, we'd have to be something awfully stupid to try and attack the fort with three men." Arcade added.

"We can probably stop by McCarran on the way, see if Col. Hsu can spare any men for the attack. First recon hasn't left for Forlorn Hope yet, yeah?"

"You head out to McCarran and they'll keep you there all day. "

"I can run errands for Hsu if it gets us men." Antietam responded. "I took care of their messenger, so we should be have some time."

The Courier stretched, and then got to work preparing for their trek across the Mojave and their upcoming battle with the Legion.

It was stupid, and he had a million other things to do, but Boone had an idea. He looked over at Antietam, who was currently comparing different side arms. They put Cram-Opener to the side. Really, they weren't much of a melee or unnarmed fighter, but Little Buster had been something like a friend to the Courier.

"Tie?" He asked, and they looked over at him, putting down their weapons. "Remember how I said I could pick you up?"

"Yeah, but I-"

"You aren't carrying any gear right now." He stepped forward, pulled his friend into a secure hold. It wasn't all that difficult, even if he and Antietam were about the same height. "Told you I could do it."

"Yes, you're looking exceptionally virile." Arcade said, narrowing his eyes at the duo. "Put Antietam down so they can get packed."

Boone rolled his eyes, but put Antietam down.

It was a fast enough walk to Camp McCarran. Hsu, for once, didn't have a grocer's list of errands for them. He was mostly surprised to see them.

Antietam explained their situation and their plan to attack the fort.

"The mark of Caesar? You never cease to surprise, Courier." Col. Hsu never referred to the Courier by name. For what reason, Boone didn't know and didn't really care. "Regardless, we can't spare the men. We just diverted some of our forces to Bittersprings, and the First Recon left for Camp Forlorn Hope this morning. Even if we could, we shouldn't place military troops in the hands of a civilian."

The Courier had fought and seized Nelson from the Legion. Had the NCR forgotten that? But the Courier bites their tongue.

"Yes, I suppose that would be the case. I guess we'll have to take care of Caesar ourselves, huh? Alright, I'll be back to collect the bounty on that-there is a bounty, right?"

"I'm sure we can rustle up something." Hsu said, although it was evident from his tone that he did not think he would see the Courier again. "Goodbye, Courier. Thank you for everything."

"So that was a bust." Arcade said as they exited McCarran.

"It was a long shot anyway. Couple of hours walk to the fort." Antietam said, settling their bag on their shoulder. They had dressed for a fight, assassain suit concealed by their duster, beret on their head, and Arcade's pin in their hair. "Yeah, I recon it's probably about several hundred men against the three of us. Uh, that's the thing. Y'all don't have to go with me. It's likely that we would die or worse and I-"

"And what, leave you to take on the Legion by yourself? I'm going with you, and if we go down, we'll take as many of them with us as we can." Boone said. In a quieter voice, he added "And if you get captured..."

His voice trailed off, but they both knew. Arcade was walking ahead of them a little. Antietam nodded, a consent to things that were too awful to say aloud.

"I'll do the same for you." Either that, or die fighting like hell to get him out. "It might not come to a direct confrontation. I've got a couple packs of C4. Could lay those around the camp, set 'em off. I have some stealth-boys too, if you wanna try that."

"How much?"

"A dozen packs of C4, and 4 stealthboys. Not exactly a surplus. Could stop and get mines too. Didn't think to bring any."

As they walked, he scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of trouble. He knew Ulysses was following them, but he didn't anticipate any fight with him.

All the confusion and jealousy of the prior night had been forgotten in the wake of the Courier's plan to attack the Fort. It certainly had been a wild day.

They reach the Fort via the Cottonwood Cove waterway. Arcade elects to stay behind at the Cove and to send reinforcements if they don't return in time.

But miraculously, they survive. Caesar is dead, and the Courier is victorious. It's almost certainly the heat of the battle getting to his head, but Boone wants to kiss Antietam. Badly.

He settles for picking the Courier up and spinning around. They're both laughing, a rich thing in the air between them, half drunk on victory.

Someone's voice cuts through their reverie.

"Say, wouldn't you let a guy loose, baby? At least before you start macking on each other?"

Shit, had they forgotten someone? He thought they had cleared the camp. Weapons drawn, they quickly find the speaker. It's a man in a checkered suit.

"Oh, if it isn't my baby! Come to rescue me, huh?" Despite the heavy bruising on his face, he smirks and it's almost half charming. "Told them you'd come for me. Just couldn't get enough of me?"

"I didn't know you had left Vegas." Tie says quickly, shutting him down. The man's face fell.

"So what was all that then? Business as usual?"

"Just about, yeah."

"Tie, you know this man?" Boone asked.

"Not really. This is Benny, y'know the one who shot me in the head. What are you doing here, actually?"'

"You gonna untie me if I tell you? What kind of a name is Tie anyway?"

"A good one." They said, feeling their energy level begin to wane as they spoke with Benny. They just didn't make guides on how to speak with your would-be murderer who you tried and failed to seduce. "I'll think about it. Why are you here?"

"Those bullets must have scrambled your egg pretty good." Benny said. "What's it look like? I got captured sneaking into the fort."

"You want me to take care of this guy for you?" Boone said.

"No?"

"Oh, come on, baby! You can't still be sore at me."

"Where's the platinum chip?"

"Caesar's got it. Or had it, considering he's probably worm food now. Baby, you don't know what-"

"Stop calling Tie your baby." Boone snapped.

"Bye, Benny." Antietam pulled a switchblade from their pocket and slashed his restraints.

"You're letting him go?"

"I don't care any more. Let's get the chip and loot and then head back to McCarran."

"What kind of bounty do you think Hsu rustled up?"

"None, probably. Still, we killed Caesar. Won't end the Legion, but it's a blow for sure."

"Sounds like what Ulysses would say. C'mon, let's get back to Arcade before he calls for the cavalry."

ED-E beeped cheerfully, and Boone smiled a little. Just a little.

As they walked through the river, Antietam stopped and then wrapped their arms around him.

"Thanks. For everything, y'know?"

"Yeah, sure, Tie."

Wounded and tired, they made their way back.

[the--highlanders]

Mycological Mishaps

In which the Doctor and Jamie fail in finding a restaurant, succeed in finding mushrooms, and don't quite have a romantic day out. 

on ao3.

“Just you wait.” The Doctor was trailing behind by a few metres, far enough that Jamie lost sight of him when the track turned a sharp corner, but he had kept up a happy chatter ever since they had left the TARDIS. “There’s this restaurant – does the most wonderful spicy rice, you know. It’ll warm us right up, that’s for sure.”

Grumbling to himself, Jamie clutched at his upper arms more tightly, digging his fingers in until he could feel his bones. A drizzle had set in over the forest, somehow all the more chilling for its softness. It had long since soaked through his shirt and worked its way into his skin, turning it cold and clammy no matter how much he stomped his feet and rubbed his hands against his arms as he walked. “Aye, I’ll need it,” he mumbled, more to himself than to the Doctor. “’Spose it would’ve been too much to ask for ye tae land the TARDIS right outside the front door.”

“She doesn’t like landing in this century,” the Doctor protested. “They’ve just discovered time travel, you know – lots of nasty particles floating around. A sort of time-ship junk food, and, ah – the TARDIS does like to keep in shape, you know.”

Jamie shook his head. Four years of travelling with the Doctor had not brought him any closer to figuring out when he was lying about the TARDIS. “Aye, ‘course.”

“So she chose to land as far away from people as was reasonable. Oh, look!” Veering sharply away from the path, he turned to wade his way through a clump of bracken, struggling to lift his legs over the thick, grasping strands. His eyes were fixed on something, and Jamie craned his neck to see further into the forest, wondering just what had caught his eye. It could have been anything, he thought. The forest was so full of natural minutiae to distract the Doctor. It was a wonder they had made it so far without him stopping for something. But the Doctor had barely wandered more than a few metres before he was pointing, calling to Jamie over his shoulder. “Conks!”

“Eh?” Jamie made as if to wade into the bracken himself, but paused, staring back at the dripping fronds. Perhaps it was best to stick to the path, for the sake of not scratching his already-frozen knees. “Conks?” he called over instead.

“Conks!” the Doctor repeated happily, like Jamie ought to know exactly what he was talking about. When he turned to see Jamie’s blank expression, his shoulders slumped, betraying his sigh. “Bracket mushrooms,” he tried instead. “The, ah, the spore producer – the woody part, you see – it’s called the conk.”

Sure enough, the tree he was standing beside was riddled with mushrooms, great swathes of them running up and down its thick trunk. A small creature could surely use them as a staircase to the very top of the tree. The sight was so disconcertingly Earth-like that Jamie had to blink at it for a moment, searching for a flash of luminescence or a funny shape or something else wrong to remind himself that they were on an alien planet. But the most alien thing in sight was the Doctor, tramping back through the bracken to stumble out onto the path, the lower legs of his trousers darkened with water and his hems muddied. He did not seem to notice, simply linking his arm through Jamie’s and carrying on through the forest.

“How charming,” he said, shaking his head. “Something of an endangered species by now, that one. They don’t like the time pollution either. Rather rare to see them covering a tree like that.”

Humming idly, Jamie nodded along with him. Now that the Doctor had pointed them out, he could not help but see mushrooms sprouting out of almost every tree around them. Most of the growths were all but identical to the ones that had caught the Doctor’s attention, dark and fleshy and fat. It could be his untrained eye, he supposed, not seeing the difference between the types of mushroom. Or the people in the nearby city might be trying to bring the rare ones back. They had bumped into that sort of thing often enough, in their travels. He ought to ask, if they ever ran across anyone else in the forest. It was the sort of thing the Doctor would like to hear about.

Not that they stood much chance of running across someone, if they carried on as they had been. The forest was alight with activity, chirping creatures and rustling plants and the incessant dripping of rain from every surface, but it was filled with the sort of heavy silence that came only from total isolation. There was no far-off chatter, no distant rumble of traffic, no acrid tang of fuel or earthy scent of tame beasts. Just the pleasant loneliness he had come to associate with planets that were empty of people.

“Are we far from the city?” he asked. It would be just like the Doctor to land them miles away and have them tramp through the forest for hours, all for the sake of getting to a favourite restaurant. “We’ve come a fair way already.”

“Oh, not too far at all, I should say.” The Doctor glanced up at the sky, tilting his head this way and that, like a cat trying to pin down a sound. “Close enough that we should make it there before it rains.”

Jamie grimaced. “Isn’t this drizzle enough?”

“Oh, no. No, there’s bound to be -” Opening his mouth a little, the Doctor drew in a sharp, sudden breath. He seemed to hold the air there for a moment, weighing it up, then breathed it out. “A few millimetres of rain, quite soon.”

“I hope ye brought an umbrella.”

“Oh – ah -” An improbable series of clangs, rustles, and rattles issued from the Doctor’s coat as he rummaged through his pockets. He leant over, reaching deep inside one until his arm had almost completely vanished. The outside of his coat did not even bulge with the motion, and Jamie bit the inside of his cheek, muffling an uneasy laugh. The inside of the TARDIS was natural enough to him, by now, but he was sure he would never grow used to the way the Doctor could disappear into his own pockets. “No,” the Doctor said at last, straightening up and shaking out the fresh wrinkles in his coat. “No, I didn’t.” He said it confidently, like he had meant to leave the thing behind, apparently forgetting that he had been digging around for it moments ago.

Tightening his grip on his own arms, Jamie hunched his shoulders against the thought of rain. “So we’re gonnae get wet.”

“Oh, no, we’ll be quite alright in the restaurant.” The Doctor squeezed Jamie’s arm against his side. “It’ll be, ah – quite romantic, I’d say.”

“Don’t you start.” Jamie let go of his own arm to bat at the Doctor’s hand, but did not move away afterwards, pressing down to push his fingers in between the Doctor’s. He glanced up at the sky himself, taking in the dark clouds gathering under the lighter ones above them. “Are ye sure we’re close tae the city?”

“Yes, of course – oh!” Pulling his hand out from beneath Jamie’s, the Doctor pointed to a soft rise ahead of them. “We ought to be able to see it from up there.” He dragged Jamie onwards, stumbling over the fallen sticks that littered the path in his haste. “Yes, that ought to be high enough to see the taller buildings.”

As they drew closer, Jamie realised that the slope was instead a crag of rock, sticking out from the ragged cliff’s edge at a dizzying angle. Moss and trees had taken root in the thin layer of dirt that coated its surface, disguising it as an odd jut of land. The Doctor strode onto it with all the confidence and pride of some heroic explorer, and Jamie followed more dubiously, unable to take his eyes away from the ground dropping away beneath him. But the Doctor faltered as he reached the top, his grip on Jamie’s arm slackening, like he did not want him to see what he had found. Jamie pushed himself up alongside him anyway, his fears forgotten in his curiosity, and he rested his hands over the Doctor’s hips as he scanned the expanse of treetops below.

“There’s no city,” he said flatly.

“Ah – no.” The Doctor’s hands were twisting together, his lower lip worried between his teeth. “No, there isn’t.”

They were probably on the wrong side of the planet, Jamie thought. Unless -

The quietness over the whole place. The mushrooms that ought to have died out by now.

It had been a little obvious. He should really have figured it out sooner.

“An’ where should we be?” he asked.

“In the middle of it.” The Doctor sounded so resigned. He knew perfectly well what had happened – and more importantly, he knew that Jamie understood, too. “We’re in precisely the right spot. The TARDIS didn’t land us so far away after all.”

“So...”

“So we’re a little – ah – a little early, for the restaurant to be open.”

He had been so terribly silly, expecting the Doctor to get things right this time. Just because the Time Lords had given him some new remote control gadget. The Doctor’s sense of direction was at fault just as much as the TARDIS itself. “An’ how early are we?”

“Mm – well -” Licking the tip of one finger, the Doctor held it up in the air, like he was testing the direction of the wind. “About eighty million years, I should think.”

Jamie’s grumble of frustration – only half-joking – was drowned out by a far lower rumble of thunder, rolling off the mountains and resounding through the valley that cradled the forest. “Let me guess, we won’t get back tae the TARDIS before the rain comes.”

“No. No, I’m afraid not.”

Wrapping his arm around the Doctor’s shoulders, Jamie pressed him close against his side. “We’ll just have tae wait it out.”

The Doctor glanced up at him. “Wait it out?”

“Aye, ye know – sit under a tree or somethin’, until it passes.”

Dubiousness was still written across the Doctor’s face. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather head back to the TARDIS and try somewhere else?”

Jamie snorted. “Somewhere else’ll only end up worse.”

The trees around them were something like pines, their trunks tall and straight and branchless until almost the very top. They were already sodden from the mist and the drizzle, their leaves bent over and the frayed edges of their soft bark clumped together. Perhaps it would be better to make for the TARDIS after all, Jamie thought, and accept that the storm would roll in over them no matter what they did. He wandered from tree to tree aimlessly, patting each in turn, as if one of them might turn into something that would give them a sliver more shelter.

His hand slammed down onto something soft and squishy, not the solid bark of a tree.

He leant back, hand clutched to his chest like he had touched something poisonous. But when he looked down, he realised it had only been one of the mushrooms, sticking out from the side of the tree. It might have been poisonous, he supposed, for all he knew, but more importantly it had sheltered a half-moon of dry ground. It was broad enough for two, and the mushroom was just high enough that someone could sit comfortably beneath it, and he dropped down with a huff of relief.

“We can sit here,” he said, nestling himself back against the trunk. The Doctor was frowning at him, but he crawled in beside him anyway. “We can at least rest for a wee while. I’m fair tired.” Walking had dulled the ache in the soles of his feet, but sitting had awoken the feeling, and he wondered if he would even be able to stand by the time the thunderstorm had passed. His skin had grown clammier with sweat, and he rubbed his hands together, huffing out his warm breath onto his fingers. “An’ hungry, too. Have ye got anythin’ in those pockets of yours?”

“Let me see...” Leaning over, the Doctor shoved his arm into his pocket again. “Ah – no, that’s not – yes!” He pulled out an apple, brandishing it proudly beneath Jamie’s nose. “An apple from fifteen seventy-three. Quite a year for apples.” He paused, his hand stilling, then sighed. “Not quite the romantic outing I had imagined, I’m afraid.”

“No, it’s not.” Whacking gently at the Doctor’s shoulder with the back of his hand, Jamie grinned at him. “But is it ever?”

“Just once would be nice,” the Doctor pointed out.

“Aye, ‘spose so.” Another clap of thunder rumbled over them, the sound half-blocked out by the crowns of the trees. It did not take long for the rain to follow, beginning to drip and then to pour like the thunder had split the sky open. The mushroom did not entirely cover them, and Jamie drew his knees up to his chest, ducking his head to see out from beneath their little makeshift shelter. “It’s fun, though,” he called to the Doctor over the drumming of rain on the forest floor. “Havin’ things be a wee bit messy, an’ all that.” The Doctor simply shrugged, pressing his lips together. “I don’t mind,” Jamie said, nudging his side. “Honest.”

“Oh – well, in that case -” The Doctor tipped the apple into Jamie’s hands. “You won’t mind having this for lunch instead, then.”

Fumbling to catch it, Jamie tilted it towards the Doctor in thanks before he took a bite. “It’s good,” he said, passing it back to the Doctor. “No’ your spicy rice, mind, but it’ll do.”

“Yes.” The Doctor smiled around his own bite. “Yes, it will.”

[insomniac-arrest]

The Mushroom Shepherd

Genre: gay fairytales, action fantasy

Words: 8k

Summary: A fungus fairy is born and cast out by her people, she befriends the fairy sent to watch her but something begins to stir close to home

Spores, the fungus fairy, decides to prove herself against a dark enemy to earn her place back in The Canopy and maybe grow closer to her watcher

warning: for violence and fighting

Birth

She knew what she was.

She knew what she was when she unfurled her wings from her back and flapped the wetness off the tips. She knew when took a deep breath into her spongy newly formed lungs, a gasp of air like a kick to the stomach. The first breath.

She knew when the spores settled in her hair and her spotted skin shone in the weak daylight.

The spores hung in her feathery feelers and the whispering began immediately. The whispering as loud to her ears as thunder strikes, there was no thick cocoon to mellow out the sound now.

She turned her head slowly, slicking back her bangs and trying take in the many pods around her with little dazed heads emerging from within. And the figures watching at the edges.

“What is that?”

“She shouldn’t…”

“Was there a mistake?”

The whispers felt like a hot breath on her neck and she had a sudden rush of emotion, creeping prickle in her neck, she opened her mouth to speak.

Her vocal cords were not quite clear yet, she coughs, they kept talking.

She notices the golden tone of the fairies next to her, breaking out of sunshine yellow pods and the light of the sky glinting in their wings. Down below were little twinkling wings bursting from their blue cocoons with dew and honey in their eyes.

She looks down at herself. Her body was spotted red against a dull gray. She holds her breath again, trying to hold herself erect as the others around her one by one are offered soft spiderweb blankets to dry themselves with.

“Water!” A call resounds around the nursery, the spotted fairy can only stand there with wet wings and shivering thoughts.

She waits, the whispers subside and the eyes avert themselves, perhaps trying to find anything else to look at. The others disappear from around her one by one.

They take their first little faltering flaps on drying wings, lifting into the air with the gentle breeze and helped by the arms of their compatriots.

She watches carefully, a frown setting deep on her face and a little wonder in her mind if maybe the lights would turn off, and it would be like she had never emerged at all.

Finally, a green fairy with fuzzy moth wings and curling grass hair gestures to her, her hand waving in the air stiffly and never looking directly at her.

The spotted fairy has no choice but to flap her layered wings and take off from her sturdy leaf, leaving her red and gray cocoon behind like a curse.

The green fairy doesn’t let her approach too closely and the spotted fairy wobbles and falters her way forward, she sees a long string of lights and newly born figures like her. They wait outside what appeared to be a very long hall and some sort of twisting tree, she felt her heart stop.

Something leapt out of her chest, the spotted fairy felt a surge of warmth and light, belonging. She felt in an instant this, this was her queen.

She felt a gush of affection and delight, nothing else mattered, she ignores the others and gets in line. The warmth in her chest had to mean something.

They were beckoned forward one by one, she crept up through the line, pushed to the back and waiting as the sun slowly set on the leaves. All she could do is listen to the drops of distant dew and the rustling of the forest beyond.

Her breath stuttered in her chest as a few lingering whispers followed her, she barely processed them as she walked forward.

She could feel her heart slowly fill as she grew closer and closer to her queen, a steady voice in her head said it be alright after that. It had to be.

She sees the long grassy yellow carpet and a shining bow of golden tree branches leading forward, she leaps to follow the path, a hand clothed in orange and angry barbs shoots out, someone catches her by the shoulder.

“Not yet,” The red fairy’s voice grunts, she glances at her, her glowing eyes flick over her, “Not you.”

Her mouth hangs open and clutches her hand to her chest, but she waits.

“You shall be called,” the queen’s voice carries all across the room and she tears her eyes back to the front of the room. A sun fairy was waiting with sparks coming off of her like shooting stars, “Aditya.” The queen declares, “Of the dawn.”

The fairy, now Aditya, bounced on her heels and thanked her profusely, red spotted fairy grinned from ear to ear. She was whole now, named.

The other newborn fairy is rushed out the throne room, ready for her home at the top of the skyline, the spotted fairy bites her own lip.

The guard next to her frowned, looking her up and down then back to the queen.

“Send in the last nursling.” The queen beckons, the spotted fairy froze, her grin widening- that was her.

There was still whispering, the red guard was narrowing her eyes and hesitating.

“That’s me!” She declares and runs forward to present herself.

Her queen was a glistening creature almost made of light and fluorescents, a crown of twigs and feathers floated around her brow. Her height was daunting even in her wooden throne and her face was a placid pool of cool water, her skin a shimmering mixture of dappled sun.

The spotted fairy lands and step forward earnestly, she would be whole next.

But something happens in her queen’s face, it darkens, it folds, it turns into a grimace. A twitch in her lip, a wrinkle of her nose. The spotted fairy’s heart sinks into her feet.

“What is this?” Her queen says coolly with a malice of arrows on her tongue. The spotted fairy’s heart twists painfully in her chest. A blue sparrow fairy raises herself up and whispers into her ear, the queen narrows her eyes further, “She just came out?”

The blue fairy nods and look back and forth between, “Please!” The spotted fairy calls out hoarsely, her throat finally clear, “My queen, I don’t know what they’re saying, I’m, I’m.” I am yours.

The queen’s eyes were slits at her throat, “You mean to tell me you are not a fungus fairy?”

Her shoulders raise up like a metal box to protect herself, her mouth falls open helplessly. She knew what she was born as.

The spotted fairy lowers her chin, the queen raises her hand, “Speak up now.” She looks down at the red circles and touches the spores in her hair, her wings divided by soft gilled paper. The undersides of mushrooms.

She swallows her heart, “I am, I could be...many things.” She clutches her hands, “I am loyal.” The queens lip curls, “So you admit it?” She took a sharp breath, “And we were so careful.”

“I am yours!” She reaches around uselessly, “I am of The Havens.” She knew that, she knew that deep in her core, desperately, reaching for something in the queen’s eyes. The queen sits back and gives her nothing but a discerning, disinterred glare, cold as it was rough. “I have no interest in fungi in my kingdom.” She tilts her head, “It only brings death. Despair.” Her lip curls, “a bottom feeder.” She flinches at every word, the blue fairy once more descends and whispers in her queen’s ear. The queen does not look happy.

“But that would be cruel…” The queen murmurs, but the blue fairy speaks again. A long deliberation of sharp looks and unsaid words ensues.

She stands perfectly still. This was her queen. She drops her hands, it was over.

Their is almost a long moment, something pregnant and heavy before the queen turns to her.

She looks up hopefully, the queens lifts her hand, “You shall be Spores.” Her mouth hung open, “Fairy of the base.” Everything around her stalls, Spores, that was...She was Spores. Her whole body sinks and her queen waves her hand.

“You will not come in my presence again.”

They turn her around and lead her down down down to the base of the tree, she can barely feel the moonlight on her cheek. She is out of her cocoon.

She curls up and cries for the first night, she wished she hadn’t emerged.

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

Life

Fungus fairies were considered bad luck. Cursed. Bringers of death as their powers crunched up the world and ate up the decay of everything. They were bad omens.

Spores learned that as she grew up, she learned it slowly in starts and fits as she tried to figure out what she was, why she was. She was still answering the last question.

The other fairies did not address her, in fact, they rarely ever come close enough. She lived on the forest floor and they lived in the canopy.

She was the fungus fairy and they said she would bring rot to the wood, so she lived underneath, making small beds for shelter and walls to keep out the storms.

Her queen believed in efficiency though, if they were to live with her, she would work.

Spores was alright with that, she didn’t want to be the beggar at the edge of their whole world.

She remembered the day she arrived. A moth fairy with soft brown speckled wings and little feather antennas that arched past her shoulders. She had sharp features and long face, cheekbones that were somewhere between scooped out glaciers and rising peak.

She wore a fine leather skirt and heavy shoulder pads that made her appear bigger than she already was, and the she tall enough as it was.

Spores felt a little antsy around her, the same kind of strange pressure. She wore a thin grass tiara around her brow.

Spores stumbled back quickly when she descended, a moth fairy with touches of sun below her eyes and nothing about that sounded good from Spores experience.

But the fairy watched her carefully, readily, she didn’t look ready to strike or gawk at her. Spores peered over her boulder anxiously. She still didn’t like this.

“Come out,” the moth fairy said in a bored tone, “It’s important.” Spores grit her teeth, they left her alone for weeks here, she could only assume the worst. The other fairy gestured at her weakly again anyway, “I swear, I’m not happy about this either. We can get it over with.” Spores didn’t like her tone either, she shook her head. She opens her mouth ever so slightly, “The queen said I am to be left alone.” She responds weakly and crouches further behind her boulder. She didn’t need anymore fairy’s coming down from above to stare at her. Enough was enough.

The other fairy rolled her eyes, “I was sent by the queen.” She put her hand out, “I am Lymantria.” She flicked her gigantic speckled beige wings. “Fairy of the blood crown.” Spores stands up slowly and watches her with a wary eye, “The blood crown?” She sighed deeply, “I forget you don’t get to come up to the Haven.” Lymantria approaches with a straight back, “Crown? You know. Born, connected to the Queen’s blood.” Spores blinks a couple times and then stumbles backward, “A princess.” She folds her arms across her chest, “If that’s what you want to call it.” Spores opened and closed her mouth, she holds her hands to chest and looks up, “I am allowed down here.” “I know,” She didn’t look amused anymore, “And you take up our sun drink. Here.” She lifts up a little brown bag and Spores cocks her head to the side. “I have this for you.”

She tosses the bag at Spores feet and they have a long stare off before Spores finally kneels down stiffly to open it up.

“I...seeds?” She stares at a handful of little webbed egg looking lumps.

She lifts her chin to study her, “Spores,” Lymantria puts her hands on her hips, “Wandering mushrooms and fungi.” She sniffs, “Delicacies. You should be honored to grow them.” Spores looked down at them, “How…?” She shrugs, unfurling her great wings, “You’ll know. Ground. Water. Watching them before they do anything.” Spores wrinkles her nose, “Do anything?” She starts to flap, looking back at the canopy above, “They wander.” Spores can only look back down at them dumbly and try to dig down deep inside herself to see if she somehow knew how to grow mushrooms. She blinks, this isn’t what she hoped for. She squares her shoulders and takes a deep breath and watches Lymantria leave.

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

There were three different fungi: one with wide red hats, a paler white hat, and a kind of iridescent moss she had yet to understand. Spores watched them carefully.

She slowly grows the the little plants, figuring out how to nourish the roots and give them enough sunlight, nutrients. She watches their little heads pop up above the dirt and slowly felt out how to push bits of time magic from her fingertips into their soft skin. They grew quickly after that.

They were also playful, careless, going where they please. And they didn’t stare.

She fashioned her own little brown cape out of foliage and honey when her clothes became threadbare, she fixed a little red hat on her head when the weather became colder. She watched her brood grow.

They didn’t walk at all at first, they never walked when she was watching in general. But that was when she was watching.

She slept in bouts and increments to make sure they didn’t exit The Haven boundaries, she built traps and walls to keep them from getting too far. She built a staff out of oak wood and shepherded her troop.

It wasn’t bad, they were good listeners and she gave them names and talked to them frequently. At first, she would get distant visitors who would watch her shephard the mushrooms and point when she poured a little of her brown sparkling magic to get their roots to steer a different direction. They giggled and pointed at her ragged cape.

However, the canopy fairies eventually grew bored of the spectacle of her, ‘The Decay Fairy,’ they moved on.

They stopped bothering, and she grew used to it. The only fairy that didn’t stop bothering her was her watcher, Lymantria, apparently assigned to her from her mother and made to deliver supplies.

It wasn’t pleasant at first. But then she kept coming.

“And I just can’t believe it,” Lymantria said as she pulled at her feathery antenna. “She led a practice match and didn’t even spar with the winner! What kind of engagement with her people does that show?” “Uh-huh,” Spores kept her eyes trained on her mushrooms, lying down on her stomach as Lymantria talked.

“And mother still won’t listen to reason. That everyone should be able to join the bouts for a chance,” she scoffs, “or at least join a part of the procession.”

Spores glanced at her, “You’ll live in the heart of the sun tree one day either way.” She says slowly, pointing her staff high in the air at the oak.

Lymantria shook her head, “And if I don’t? We’ll all fall apart if Appalla is allowed to get the throne. She won’t even prepare for a potential breach!”

Spores blinked and rolled onto her back, “There hasn’t been a breach in decades.” Lymantria folded her arms across her chest stubbornly, “That means we’re due for one.” Spores chuckles, “That sounds like you.” Lymantria gives a brief smile, “Well, things like that certainly got me in trouble. That’s how I got,” Lymantria paused, glancing at Spores, “Uh, things.” Spores snorts and stretches her arms, “That’s how it got stuck looking after me.”

Lymantria frowns and looks away, “They just don’t know.” Spores raised an eyebrow and smacked one of her growing mushrooms to stay in place, “I appreciate you always bringing me things Lya. Some other fairies might have stopped.” She threw her hands in the air, “They just don’t know!”

Spores look away, rubbing her nose roughly, “it’s...bad luck.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth.

“Oh please,” Lymantria blew a piece of hair out of her face, “I know you hate it way more than I do.” She looked away with a short shrug, “I like looking after my mushrooms. I’m used to it.” Lymantria shook her head and looked up, “None of it is fair. Mother won’t listen.” Spores reaches toward her, “Just...look out for everyone up there. They wouldn’t want me around anyway.” She gave a watery smile, Lymantria looked back at her fiercely.

“The times are changing.” Spores raised an eyebrow, “Old Grandmother Waters said there is salt on the southern wind.” Lymantria unfurled her large wings to position herself up.

Spores eyes her, “Is that bad?” Lya glanced back at her, features pinched, “Things will be different.” She focuses her eyes, “We need to listen.” Spores didn’t know what to make of that, but Lymantria’s time was up. She had duties of guard and nobility and Spores needed to watch her plants. It’s what she was named for. Among other things.

Her chest still squeezes when she looks up and watches Lya disappear.

She didn’t have much hope in the southern wind.

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

The southern wind had salt in it.

Even Spores saw their bowed heads and whispered concerns from down below, other Sight Fairies were tasting it now. Bitter, dangerous.

A tremble in the leaves, a distant shadow overhead.

Things could only go well for so long, that’s what Lya always said, that if you don’t prepare for trouble it is sure to find you anyway.

Another troop of red mushrooms was born under Spores care, she gathered decayed leaves for them and told them stories of a squirrel that conquered a great acorn.

She shepherded her largest white mushroom away from the edge and followed her favorite one, Honey Break, over to a fresh pool of water that Lya left for her.

She was seeing less of Lya for that moment.

There was salt in the southern wind.

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

They came in a shadow with maws as large as stars that swallow worlds (as the night fairie’s described), they came with no hunger, but something vengeful. Sharp as the winter chill.

At one point they were said to be fairie’s, good kind creatures of the mammals. They lived on the ground (as fungus fairie’s did Spores noted) and harmonized with the creatures there.

Fairies, like them. But, fairies with charges and steeds and something new lighted in their hearts, an understanding of control. They wanted not just communion with the mammals but use of them, to bend their will to their own purposes.

The pure heart of creation, the heart of all trees struck out, it’s children were not meant to twist the reins of power. And they changed.

Their wings turned to bone and blood and their mouth curved into a hardened beaks. The yellow light streaked across their backs like stains and their eyes grew hard and cruel. They took the shape of those that were bound to them, the owls of the fae.

But they were no longer fae, but not mammal either, their minds were left intact, their powers were left to claws and talons and only bitterness replaced their light touch. They were said to want to swallow the light of the trees whole and all it’s children. The queen of the fairies led a charge against them. Sil the Wise forced them out of the woods and into the distant lands.

But hunger is hard to staunch for so long, hard to keep out forever. The ravagers visited the fae’s sanctuary's one by one, or at least, that was the bedtime stories they told the newborns to scare them into sleep.

But revenge comes in blood and tombs.

The Queendom quivered. There was no escaping when the large shade played across the leaves and stained the ground. Their first blitz reached out and plucked a robin fairy, a dawn fairy, and a red fire fairy right out of the tree tops.

Claws like outstretched blades of moonlight that tore through flesh with unrelenting ease.

They gobbled up the three fairies and the whole Haven shook in terror, and so they came.

Spores heard the screams and the cries and hid under her expansive mushroom, holding her staff close and screwing her eyes shut. Her mushrooms did not move at all as she huddled under them and she murmured to herself.

“I am death, I am death, I am death.” She almost prayed, begging for once to be the decay they always told her she was. The owls didn’t touch her.

She heard the screech between the unnerving calm air and she could sense her fungi leaning toward her, huddling. It felt like it lasted forever.

But it was only ten minutes, nightmares are sometimes lightning quick. It was fast and dirty and all Spores can do is look up helplessly at the clear sky above where clusters of fairies had once been.

She smelled a salt and sweet metallic taste in the air that made her stomach churn, a nasty queasiness as the fairie’s above hugged each other close.

They had come.

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

“It’s unbelievable!”

Spores was perched atop her largest mushroom, one she called Sal, and nodded. She adjusted her thick acorn helmet on her head and camouflage leaf cape. Though the ravagers did never swooped close to her.

Lymantria was pacing back and forth and throwing her hands up like she did, “they are going to have us all burn! Eaten! Dead!”

Spores watches her pace back and forth, a funny feeling still frozen in her stomach that hadn’t settled yet after three days of the attacks. There had been two more hits.

“We must be able to deflect them a little,” Spores mused out loud, “Apalla must have some sense of that.” Lymantria flickered her wicked eyes aside, “My mother and sister haven’t faced a threat in decades. A century almost. They,” Lymantria balled her fists up, “Ugh.” Spores looked up at the climbing oak tree and circle of trees that was their Haven. Doors were boarded up left and right.

“Mmm,” Spores hummed into the open air, “Was the order to hide?” She asked softly.

Lya shook, “Among other things.” She huffed, “We should be preparing the army is what we should do.” Spores cocked her head to the side, “they have talons and beaks and somehow can pass through our barriers.” She drums her fingers on the wide mushroom head, “There might just have to be a different way.” Lya set her jaw and looked up, “Our arrows must be able to pierce their chests. We’ve done it before.” She wrinkled her nose, “We are not weak. Even if my mother has made our fear apparent to them.” Lya looked ready for a fight, she turned angrily on her heels, Spores reached out her hand and grabbed onto the end of her silken cloak thoughtlessly, “Be careful.” She gulped and looked up, “Alright?” Lya’s eyes softened as she looked over her shoulder, her hand reached out, “Are you safe down here?”

Spores looked down at her feet and then back up with a stiff smile, “I’m decay, remember? They wouldn’t risk it.” Lya’s fingers ghosted over jaw, as if a caress, “Take care of yourself.” She looked back up to the lowering sun, “We need as few fools in this war as possible.” Spores blinked a couple times, a little in shock. She hadn’t heard people talk about her like that.

But Lya was already gone, her moth wings flapping with a heady strength. It seemed she was waging a war.

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

Since Spores emerged from her cocoon, since she reached out into the cool air and tried to grasp at new life, she had accepted on some level her queen would never see her again. And a queen was her people, Spores would never reach them.

Spores would be the distant spore that took root down below and a visitor you tolerate could never really be whole like the others. She was a loose fall leaf that they better yet forget.

However, battling for your life often changed all that. Many things were bound to change, there was salt on the southern breeze.

Spore remembered distinctly when she was awoken in the night, a rustling and then a the shadow of a head and shoulders popping up.

For a second she imagined sharp unforgiving swords of talons ripping through her home and forcing her to scramble back, but instead it was a curly redhead with long feathered antenna.

Lya was looked across from her, breathless, “Come with me.” Spores turns over and rubs the sleep out of her eyes, “What?” She tries to put her thoughts together and straighten her loose nightshirt- almost falling all the way down her shoulder. She tugs at it.

Lya was bouncing, “Come with me!” She put out her hand and Spores for a second is sure she is dreaming, she had dreams like this before. Spores knits her eyebrows together and she opens her mouth to speak, Lya is all energy, “I told you,” She says fiercely, “I need people by my side.” Spores swallowed dryly, “For what?” She wish her voice wasn’t so thin and quivering.

Lya just tries to struggle through the window, “I am making one.” Her cheeks were flushed with exertion, “A proper volunteer army. I am not going to let us all live in fear and be picked off one by one.” Spores rubbed her eyes again, “But…” She looks around carefully and then whispered. “It’s forbidden.” “We’re training on the ground, they’ll barely see us,” Lya finally took her hand, “Be my second in command.” Spores froze, “I need someone I can trust.” Her eyes were wide and Spores had no idea what she meant by that. How she could mean it.

“Lya,” her voice croaked, “I will only bring-” “Death. Yes, that’s the point.” She tried to lift her, “You are smart and more capable than half of us. My mother can’t say no!”

Spores can’t really digest that, believe it. But she follows Lya to her feet. She would follow her no matter where her little golden feet trod, even if it went into the beast.

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

They avoided her. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but after all this time she wasn’t altogether prepared for the bent heads and constant dribble of whispers in her direction.

They were back to averted eyes and dodging the very air she flew in. There was more than one war they felt like waging she supposed.

But Lya kept her by her side, they couldn’t poke and prod her like an attraction if Lya was having her throw a javelin through an apple. They couldn’t laugh at her when she struck a leaf to smithereens.

A few of them tried to practice swords on her mushrooms but she shooed them off easily, canopy fairie’s knew very little about how to survive on the ground. Spores had been battling off slugs and rodents for ages now.

They were given swords and arrows and flames and one expansive strategy: survive, survive, survive.

Spores could live with that. And sometimes they even called her by her name, sometimes they even hid behind her as the dark inky shadows on the ground reappeared.

They would survive.

Perhaps.

Three days passed without an attack, and on that fourth night one of the little water fairies waved her hand in the air. Spores had no idea what that meant.

“Come on,” The water fairy, Sweet Rain she thought, was gesturing to her, “It’s been enough of this. Come eat with us.” Spores blinked, and then blinked again, she had never been invited to eat with someone before. She hobbled to her feet and brought her thin stew over to the circle.

Some of the more distant fairie’s glare at her, but Sweet Rain and her friend move over and sit her down with them around the bonfire.

I can just keep my mouth shut, she thinks to herself. Maybe they can like me.

She falters into a little corner seat as far away from them as possible, Sweet Rait smiles at her.

“Come on, come on.” Sweet Rain nudges her closer to the others and the fire. Spores can only shuffle up somewhat and keep her mouth shut, a brown sparrow fairy’s mouth falls open next to Sweet Rain.

“Are you eating that?”

Spores looks up gradually, “I, uh, yes.” She flinches at herself.

Sweet Rain shook her head, “have some of ours too, we have more than enough.” A rainbow fairy and daisy fairy glare at Sweet Rain like she killed their mother plants, Sweet Rain just floats forward and gets a thick bowl of lemon stew.

Three or so other fairies gather closer to Spores.

The sparrow fairy blinks at her, “they call you Spores?” “Yes?” She ventures quickly. The sparrow fairy wrinkles her nose, “I never thought that was very nice.” “Oh,” Spores really doesn’t know what to say to that.

She beams and puts her hand out, “I’m Wicket and that’s Sweet Rain,” she announces cheerfully, “we’ve been meaning to meet you.” Spores looks down at her hand blankly, “I’m not supposed to...uh.” Spores mumbles to herself, almost unsure what to do with their bright faces. The mushrooms didn’t have faces.

“Nonsense!” Sweet Rain is back, “Lya has been bucking the rules for days now. That’s why we’re here.”

“And to kick feathery ass!” A inferno fairy that had inched a little closer pumped her fist in the air.

Sweet Rain laughs, “if they don’t hear you yelling from a mile away.” The inferno fairy, Castor, goes a little red, the crowd around her laughs. Spores blinks, they were laughing around her.

Castor and her two friends turn back to her, the lean in, “did you really kill a chipmunk with your bare hands?” Spores mouth just falls open, Sweet Rain steps forward and hands Spores the stew, “hush, we don’t want to freak her out.” “You’re so pretty,” Wicket’s mouth was open and Spores was taken back to whole other plane of existence.

A glade fairy with round, full cheeks laughs, “careful, you don’t want Lymantria hearing you say that Wicket.” Wicket shrugged, “I’m being friendly. She said it was time to get over ourselves. She’s included in that.” “Oh,” Spores looks back and forth between them, “You don’t have to be nice to me if Lya just ordered it.”

“Lya?” One of the Tulip fairies gives her a sly look, Spores eyes go a little wider.

“We were not ordered to,” Sweet Rain huffs and gestures for her to eat.

“Yeah!” Castor cheers again, “You totally cut through that entire tree branch earlier. Plus, you’re ground thing is metal as hell!”

Spores feels like she’s going to trip over her own tongue, “metal?” “I’d like to live on the ground.” The glade fairy says dreamily. “It’s almost romantic.” Spores frowned deeply, “it’s really not.”

Sweet Rain clapped her hands together, “eat, eat, there's a lot of fairies here who want to talk.” She starts to eat her lemon stew, it was thicker and infused with more sun drops then she ever had before. Something hopeful grows in her chest and she tries to push it back down, this could only be temporary.

She begins to smile despite herself, the group of fairies begin to joke and plan and talk about the future and what a hardass Lya was. And they kept asking her questions, questions about the ground and her troop and archery techniques.

She tries not to talk too much but she’s almost euphoric by the time she reaches the bottom of her bowl. It was unreal.

“I like your red spots,” Wicket touched one of her little red patches by the end of the meal. “They must make you blend in.” Sweet Rain swatted at her hand, “don’t make her uncomfortable.” Spores shook her head, “Thank you.” She croaks and pushes her bowl away, “thank you so much.” “The queen is silly,” the glade fairy, Heather Light, declares, “I haven’t got poisoned once down here.” Her eyes flick to Spores and Spores tensed. “The queen’s the poison,” Castor grumbled, “I can’t wait for Lymantria to take over.” “Don’t say that!” One of the fairies from across the way said shrilly, glancing at Spores momentarily with with her lip raised, “the queen protecting us.” She shifts from side to side and looks at her lap, “we just have to deal with the owls for her.” The other fairies just shake their heads, they begin another round of Guess the Cup and Spores even joins.

Lya comes out once and pauses to smile at her, Spores can’t help but smile back. Her heart was starting to fill with something.

----------

Spores clutches the javelin in her hand and whipped it around, hitting the tree branches around her and slicing them in half.

“It’s about the momentum,” she says steadily, “they are going to be larger than us. So we’re going to have to be more clever, use more leverage.” Some of the other fairies nod, “what happens when we lose a weapon?” Heather Light asks with her hand in the air.

“We scream real loud,” someone else calls and they chuckle.

Spores grins, “Well, I know we don’t have much time. But we should be able to use our natural gifts if we could hone them a little.” The other fairies glance at each other, their natural abilities were not made for destruction. But the word survival also rings their ears.

“Finally,” Castor lights her hands up in sparks of flames, “finally!”

Tep, the glass fairy, rolls her eyes, “not all of us are made of flames or death you know.” She says pointedly.

Spores flinches slightly, “Bird Callers have a shriek.” She says slowly, “you can control water. Light, air,” she gestures around her, “We are not weak.” She sees Lya at the corner of the fray watching her, gazing at her with some unreadable expression. Spores smiles gently back.

Lya nods and steps forward, “We are not weak.” She says forcefully. Several fairies around Lya jump and push backward to give the Blood Crown fairy some room. “Of course!” One of the daisy fairies says shrilly.

Lya nods at them all individually, “You are doing well.” She says, “We’ve come along farther than I ever thought in such a short amount of time.” Spores can feel the crowd swell with pride, “We’ll need it.” She gestures, “go train. I need a word with my lieutenant.”

Spores straightens up at that, standing up tall at her mention. Lya clears them out and gestures for Spores to join her in her war hut next to Spores own house.

Lya’s expression remains neutral until they close the door behind them, then Lya pulls angrily at her own short red hair, “where are they?” She says with a huff.

Spores pats her shoulder, “their schedule is meant to be random. That’s how they unrival us.” Lya shakes her head, “I know, I know, but I don’t like this. It’s been too long.” Spores just hums, “It’ll give us more time,” Spores smiles up at her with her head bowed shyly, “more time for you to prepare us.”

Lya shifts her eyes to her, “they’re planning something.” Spores just nods back and Lya taps her chin, “and my mother is growing suspicious.”

Spores tilts her head, “She’s secluded up there though.” Lya turns around in a frantic circle, “she’s still barricaded herself in her throne room, yeah. But her spies have probably told her something is happening on the ground by now. I don’t think she buys my explanation.”

Spores steadies Lya’s shoulder and walks her over to the window to look out, “I’m sure they’ll let us fight the ravagers when they come. They’ll change their tune then.” Lya’s eyes flick over to her, “My mother is a proud woman.” Spores looks down at her hands and then off to the side, “I’m sure she…She’ll accept us after we prove ourselves.” She trails off softly.

Spores jumps when she feels a warm hand grab onto hers, Lya looks at her fiercely. “She has made many mistakes.” Spores lifts her head ever so slowly, she meets Lya’s wide green eyes, “I can’t agree.” She speaks lowly, “her blood made you.” Lya’s breath ghosts over her cheek, “I’ve made many mistakes.”

Spores heart pounds in her ears and she’s sure Lya can hear it, thumping painfully through her chest. She can’t look away, “not as many as you think.” She says softly.

Lya’s pupils are huge and she wets her lips, “Fungus fairies are said to be wise.” She dips her head down and lowers it to Spores level, “I trust you.” The world goes very still and quiet, all she can see is her princesses dilated pupils and feathery antenna reaching for her. She almost feel an almost-touch of skin again skin.

“It comes!” A boom of voice breaks the air, shattering the soft touch and running down her spine like a tremor, “it comes!”

One of The Sight fairies roars from the top of the canopy, her visions being shared with the quaking community.

Spores shares one silent loaded look with Lya before they both turn toward the door, Spores reaches for her javelin.

--------

“I am death,” Spores mutters the phrase under her breath manically, the words an imprint on the back of her existence. “I am scourge.”

Castor glances at her with a questioning look but doesn’t say anything, they stand at the front line. Their eyes are trained on the sky, civilian homes being boarded up with everything they can find, the lights are off in the throne room.

“Steady,” Lya repeats from the back, riding her King Moth back and forth over her troops, “Steady!” Someone squeaks when the first ghost of a shadow materializes from up above.

“Oh no,” someone whispers, Sweet Rain it sounds like, “Oh no, oh no, oh no.” “Steady!”

Their collective breaths were held as a second shadow appears and the knew the swarm was on the horizon, silent as death and dread.

“Oh no.”

“It’s alright my love,” Wicket calms her mate.

Those are the last words Spores hears before it begins, starting with a bloodcurdling screech ricochet through the air, sharp talons descend from above followed by ugly black wings that throw gusts of wind across their faces.

The first one tears through the home of a Rainbow fairy and the wood shatters under it’s powerful shredding claws. They hear screams.

Lya puts her hand in the air and hovers in the front, she glances behind her.

“Fire!” The first round of archers go soaring through the air, half lit and the other half tipped with smoldering green poison.

They arch beautifully like a swan dive before digging themselves deep into the breast of the first owl fae, it releases an anguished wail, a look of surprise on it’s face.

Some of the arrows bounce off it’s touch wings, but this one wasn’t ready, it falls. Spores releases a breath, they had faced the first ones.

Two rainbow fairies peer over the edge at the small rag-tag army, relief flooding their features.

Scrrrrrrrccchh

The archers reload, three, no four, no, more than Spores can count descend with wrecking claws upon the canopy, smashing through homes and trying to grasp at fleeing fairies.

“Fire!” Lya roars.

The air smells like metallic rust and Spores lets loose a series of javelin throws as the owl fae bear closer.

“Ah!” She yells a battle cry and the ravagers start to bear down on the army. They start to release an endless barrage of arrows and spears.

Spores begins to lose track of time, sending sprays of attacks out, owls and fairies falling alike, she fights back to back with a series of comrades, covering herself with dust and blood.

Lya starts to guide them up into the air and toward the destroyed homes, pushing back the ravagers inch by inch.

“Hold!” The word became a constant ringing in their ears, “hold!”

Time was a mere a illusion, long and short and frozen all at once, her limbs ache and Spores knows their is a deep cut in her cheek from flying debris hitting her. She doesn’t flinch.

“Hold!”

They push forward.

“Hold!”

They raise slowly in the air, pushing the hoards back from the homes.

“Hold!”

They were winning, something leaps in Spores chest, the dark nightmares were being pushed back and back, she slew one in the chest and it retreats- it actually retreats.

“Yes!” She calls, “Yes! Forward.” They surge.

And then she hears the first worried and desperate cry from the very top of the canopy, “My queen!”

Castor was the first to yelp, Spores felt the inevitable and gripping pull all at once as well, an echo of ‘My Queen!’ rang through the haven in unison, they felt her. It was an intoxicating pull.

A giant and gruesome creature with dark wings and the body of screech owl had plowed its way through the doors of the throne room. Intent in its cruel eyes.

They break rank, Lya bellows at them to stay in line, keep the ravagers at bay for just a moment longer, but the throne room was being attacked. They swarm to their queens aid.

“My fairies!” She could hear Apalla and the queen yelling, “it’s here! It’s here! Come to me.” She was shrieking with the force of a thousand winds, Spores follows them, facing down a row of three more fae owls.

Spores stabs at them quickly and only lets herself wail for a moment when she sees Heather Light fall in the commotion, her lifeless body being wrecked across a wall and thrown across the edge.

“No!” She turns toward the giant screech owl.

“Protect me! Protect me!” The queen was more persistent, Fairies were throwing themselves thoughtlessly in the war path of the owl there. Spores runs toward her as well.

“I’m here for you!” She reaches out to her queen to pull her away to safety outside of the room.

The queen’s eyes were wide, “you disgusting creature!” She heaves away from her, “who else would bring death upon us now!”

Spores flinches and fumbles backward like she had been slapped, she sits dumbly on the floor as owl fae swarm and her head seems to clear like water being filtered.

“Mother!” Lya was at the door, Spores turns to her as she cries out, “the Haven will fall!” Her eyes were wide, “release them.” The queen reaches out her crooked hand in a grotesque claw, “They are here for me.” She wails, the screech owl was inching closer through the wiggling crowd of warm bodies, The Queen focuses on her daughter, “Protect me, usurper!”

Lya’s eyes glaze over, Spores gasps, “no.” She reaches forward uselessly, “Let her go!”

“You’ve never done anything good in your whole entire life usurper life,” The queen was huddling behind her chair and clawing toward Lya, the owl fae stomps forward, “do something with it.” “No!”

“Yes.” Lya throws herself forward, but so does Spores. She dives right toward her friend to stop Lya from jumping into the owls warpath.

“I won’t let you!” She roars and jumps into the claws of the dark creature, letting Lya fall to the ground and away. Spores gets one last glimpse of her and then the queen, she snarls, “I won't let you. You wretched Queen.” Something breaks inside her, and then everything else does.

-------

Death

Spores does not remember the next moments, she doesn’t remember anything, a blank slate in her mind was devoid of anything. Beyond memory.

But she remembers the soft sting, the light aching touch that surged through her core and brought her consciousness into a gradual inhale of pain. Her nerves flare, thoughts slowly trickle back into her head.

Mushrooms feed off death they say, the decay fuels them.

Spores takes a new wheezing breath, warmth flooding her system and sound coming back to her in a chaotic mess one piece at a time, there was yelling.

“Lya…” She hisses with her first breath, and then her second. There was a shadow over her, she blinks a couple times. A paper and cream canopy, Spores rolls over and touches her mushroom, it’s feathery skin hovering over her as spores rained down from up above.

They had come for her, her wandering mushrooms had come for her.

Spores clears the tears from her eyes and felt at the closed gash in her chest and sides, she closes her eyes for one long moment, she had been saved.

She opens her eyes again now, amid everything, she knew what she had to do.

There was endless screaming, Spores claws her way to her feet and sees the body of the Queen, headless and bloody on the floor. Apalla was nowhere in sight, Lya was sitting next to the lifeless body of her mother, the once proud princess looking slack and empty.

Spores lifts her head, she turns and faces the rampaging screech owl, “I am the filter of the forest,” a mold, the ones she didn’t understand before, raises around her. Dark and floating like a storm in her wake. “You have overstayed your welcome.” The owl fae turns to her in a moment, it’s wide slit eyes steadying her, focused on the dark mold that followed her hand movements.

“I am the decay,” she grits through her teeth, “I am death.”

She floats the black mold closer to the beak of the sharp creature. The owl fae takes a step back

“Leave!” Spores pushes her clumps of black mold at their wings, glueing their feathers together and weighing them down. They screech, trying to tear the substance off of themselves, trying to free their feet and mouths. The mold only begins to grow.

Scrreeee

They turn and start to flee.

Spores shares one more look with the gigantic King of the Owl fae, he lets out one last roar, tearing at the mold and then swooping away with two pushes of his powerful wings. The ravagers retreat pursued by the troops of mold from a fungus fairy, a fungus fairy of all people.

She exhales.

Spores feels her muscles relax and a surge of pure weariness and ache wash over her system, her head goes dizzy and swims with bright popping lights.

“Oh,” she sways in place and then begins to wobble backward, she feels a pair of powerful hands grab at her sides before she falls. She looks up and speaks weakly, “Lya…” Lya looks down at her with wet eyes and something tender in her gaze, “My beautiful lieutenant.”

She gives a weary smile, “They ran.”

Lya shakes her head, “You did that. Oh Spores.”

She glances at the body of the queen, “I’m sorry.” “No,” Lya turns her around in her arms, “No.”

She bends her head down and Spores feels a delicate kiss pressed to her lips, firm and real and bloody against her lips. Every tension in her body escapes and she feels something grow whole inside of her.

Lya nuzzles her neck before placing her gently on the ground next to her mushrooms.  Lya stands tall and faces a swelling crowd of fairies, wandering back and forth, holding their wounds and crying. Large wet tears streaming down their faces for their queen.

They hung their heads and appeared lost amongst each other, Lya holds her arms out wide.

She draws a deep breath, “I am your Queen now!” She bellows and grabs their attention. She studies each of their faces as they turn to her. “My mother is dead. The ravagers our gone.” “The queen,” the murmur as they clutch their hands together and look to Lya, she nods at them.

“I am the queen.” She repeats and adjusts the metal helmet on her head. “We will rebuild.” She declares, holding their attention and drawing herself up to her full height, “We will be... different.”

Someone cheers from the back and a relieved chorus replies, ‘the ravagers retreated! They really did,’ The crowd surges with mixed emotions and Spores lifts herself up gradually to her elbows. Spores reaches up from the ground and takes Lya’s hand, “You did this.” “No,” Spores said and presses up for another kiss, “You will make a lovely queen.”

Lya holds her until she passes out from exhaustion, telling her she had a place in the canopy- where she always belonged. 

[piddle-puddle]

Some Old Tikal Drabbles

SO SOMETIME A GOOD 4000 YEARS AGO IN THE RP VERSE, EVERYONE WAS DOING THIS ONE DRABBLE ASK GAME AND I TOOK FOREVER TO DO ANY OF THEM. of course ol Tikal mun sent a few and I did these a while ago but just to have them somewhere I figure i’d post em just cuz. so yeh.

Enjoy some old writing of the two. here yall go.

Leave a “Quiet Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to calm yours down [be it from crying, from lashing out, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Unbind Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about your character freeing mine, or the other way around, or something among the lines [be it freeing them from jail, from handcuffs, from a trap, from a curse, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Remember Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to get yours to remember them [be it from an accident, meeting them after years apart, feel free to specify.]

Unbind me:

It was almost nightfall, Tikal didn’t usually take this long to come home. Chaos was getting a little worried, but she’d been gone much longer then this before and been okay. He was originally waiting for the little orange mammal to return to the shrine as his indication feed the Chao dinner. Perhaps this would be one of her more lengthy walks. 

Considering the possibly she might not arrive until much later, the aquatic form decided now would be as good a time as ever to go check on that weird area over yonder on the opposing side of the island. He picked up a faint energy signal while experimenting with exactly how much energy he could drain from the Master Emerald without causing any change in the island’s altitude (his results were rather depressing). It didn’t appear to be a threat and leaving the Chao after just messing with the Master Emerald didn’t seem like a good idea, So he’d put investigation off until someone else was available to watch the Chao while he was away. 

It’d been a while since then, and he finally convinced himself they’d be fine for the few minutes he was out. Proceeding to the nearest chao-fruit-tree to him, knocking down some of its produce, and instructing the three eldest Chao to distribute them to the others; Chaos warped himself near the source of the signal.

aaaaaand found himself in a mess of jungle, vines, and vegetation all around. This was a pretty dense forest, the person emitting the energy must have gotten lost in the middle of it. The poor fool… 

Not much time had passed before the deity found himself within range to sense the origin point himself, though at this point he didnt really need to sense it to determine the location. Whatever it was was doing a huge amount of moving. Enough to the point he could hear it over the rest of the jungle. That is, until the noise suddenly stopped.

Chaos followed suit, did the target sense his presense? He thought he was being pretty quiet, much more then they were anyway. His question was answered as a burst of chaos energy shot into the air. Chaos stood still shocked for but a mere moment before beating feet toward its origin.

What he found though, left him speechless 

A small, orange young girl hung tangled in numerous tree vines and was clearly frustrated. Chaos, holding in a laugh, surveyed the mess the poor echidna had got herself into. How that even happened was not something he planned to ask, as he himself would have been far too embarrased to answer that question. Not that the question he finally did end up asking was any better. No not by a long shot

“Are you in need of assistance?”

Tikal stopped her squirming for a while, letting a dead silence set in. 

“No of course not! Just thought spending an entire day struggling to get out of these vines would be a great way to spend my time~!” Her voice was delightfully snide. For a moment Chaos considered returning the favor, but she already looked miffed enough for one day.

“A-apologies, Tikal. Here, cease movement while I cut you out.” With that, Chaos dissolved into a puddle and began to encircle the floor right below the girl. In one simple, swift movement, a wave shot up from the very edge, slicing straight through the vines. Traveling the circumference of the circle, Chaos cut each cord in such a sudden fashion that Tikal didn’t have time to angle herself, and she fell right to the ground with a little peep. the deity just sort of giggled, reforming a bit off to the side. “Shall we be off toward home?”

“Thanks..” The echidna remarked, not quite appreciating the sudden drop, but very thankful to be free. She attempted to get to her feet, struggling slightly. She’d been stuck there for quite a while. The girl nodded to her friend though, “I wouldn’t guess you already have food prepared there?”

“It shouldn’t take long to fix up something. Wouldst you I carry you back until your feet regain their fullness?” He smiled. Or at least attempted to.

“I’ll be fine… Thank you again. That was really unpleasant.”

“Not to worry dear. I only wish I arrived sooner.”

Quiet me:

Had this sort of circumstance happened to anyone else, she might have managed to chuckle a bit at it. However, Tikal knew how much the deity loved gardening; she knew that next to caring for Chao, that was the thing that brought him the most joy.

The sheer scale of the issue also took a large hit on the humor value. Gigantic, towering fungi loomed over the whole zone, it was a wonder none of them were harmful to anything but the vegetation. This whole place was somewhat of a natural miracle.

Chaos had another word for it however. Several in fact, “Disaster”.. “monstrosity”.. “abomination”… Those seemed to sum up pretty fairly the sort of feelings Chaos was emitting through the energy he naturally produced. Often times, he took great care to keep his energy from reflecting his emotions, as this would allow those able to sense Chaos energy, like Tikal, from knowing how he felt. However, this time he was far to focused on being demoralized to bother with that.

“Knuckles said they call this place Mushroom Hill Zone now..” The girl remarked, recalling how he had just a mere few moments ago been so enthusiastic about taking her to his private garden. many times when she was younger seeing her friend appear at the shrine from this direction every now and then. He couldn’t speak clearly during that time, but he had seemed to have a sense of pride about him when returning home. At this moment, she could tell even without his aura actively communicating it, that he was filled mostly with despair at the sight of what had happened. That prooooooooobably meant the gargantuan mushrooms weren’t supposed to be here. “I’m sorry Chaos.” She said, attempting to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Aaaand it went right through him. He apparently wasn’t even mentally present enough to focus his body into a semi-solid state. The comfort hugs would have to wait a while then.

In the meantime, Chaos continued his whimpering. There had been outbreaks of the spores before, but he was always there to cut them down before they had the chance. He’d been tending to that garden for what felt like ever sense he adopted the Chao. In fact they actually used to live there until the shrine was built for him and the emerald. It’s beauty was awe-inspiring; lush, green, glimmering and filled to the brim with life, blooming flowers and fruit the hundreds. It was his pride and joy, second to only the children he cared for. But… this was all that work had resulted too..

After what seemed like half an hour, he managed to whimper out a “h-h-…how..??” That was almost rhetorical though. His energy had a bizarre strengthening effect of living things, which was mostly how he managed to get so much verity in his garden all in one place. The area was always plagued by some kind of fungus infestation, an issue he realized a little too late. But as long as he kept them under control it was fine. The problem, was that they were allowed about 4,000 or so years to grow without his constant maintenance. That was something both he and Tikal managed to piece together a little while after the fact. Of course, unaware he had been able to guess at that, Tikal explained the whole theory to him outloud, and being rewarded with a severely upset groan. Chaos then proceeded to flop on the ground and continue his moping until the poor girl couldn’t take it anymore. 

She stayed there until sundown, trying to think and say and do things that would cheer him up, although it appeared to accomplish nothing. She eventually gave up and had to drag him back to the shrine using a water basket; where he continued to sit and mope and the foot of the stairs with all the Chao sitting with him, trying to be of some comfort.

Needless to say, Chaos never went to that half of the island ever again.

Remember me:

Dust clouds filled the air, pile upon pile of rocks falling to the ground after each earth-shattering blow struck the ground. She’d arrived late, and had missed whatever was causing the creature to begin his rampage once again, but it hardly mattered. Chaos’ mood was easily effect by surrounding forces, and it certainly seemed someone around here had been putting out a lot of negative chaos energy. Even without the concentrated pool radiating off the elemental himself, Tikal could sense someone else had been here before, most likely driving the poor being over the edge.

Perhaps Chaos’ sluggishness was a blessing in disguise, because he was having one heck of a time landing a hit on the girl. This was a new experience for the both of them, never before had Chaos ever attempted to harm Tikal throughout all the time he’d been acquainted with her. It was… frightening.. to see him like this. Not just because he himself was quite dangerous, but because of how caring she knew he was underneath. She’d only been able to witness his drastic shift of personalities from a far, but up close and directed at her was a whole nother story..

And to think, it was yet another blessing he only took one emerald with him, she could only imagine how her family felt facing him at the shrine was all those years ago. On his face was a cold, dead expression. His aura radiated hate and rage, being near him was sickening.

Another three jabs struck the ground with no contact. Chaos had never been exceptional at one on one combat. His aim was atrocious. Easily dashing backward, the echidnan girl called out to her friend once again in hopes of reaching his conscience, but to no avail. Just once she’d like for that to work. To not have to put herself and her friends at potential risk of being hurt by getting up close and personal. One blow to his brain ought to keep him still enough to try and transfer some positive energy to him, but that meant hurting him. And while hurting him was a much better option then wait for him to get lucky and land a hit, not only did that mean she’d have to fight him, but he had a horribly bad guilt-inducing cry. It was like kicking a puppy to her, you just can’t do it and remain happy afterwards.

She spent too much time in thought this round, Chaos was already right above her with his next attack, charged and ready to break more earth. She acted quick, leaping of the ground at the enraged deity. If Chaos was rearing to punch, he’d have to solidize his fist in order for it to have much an impact. She’d seen this technique of his a number of times, Nicknaming it Chaos Impact, after the large shock-wave it produced. Mid-way through Chaos’ strike, Tikal reached her arm out, placing her palm on what equated to his wrist. She pushed off right when his punch struck ground, the impact aiding the girl in her flip over her friend. This would have provided the perfect opportunity to return fire, but still feeling conflicted over the situation, Tikal failed to take advantage of this. 

This proved to be a bad decision, as Chaos had anticipated this. Hearing a loud smack, the orange girl found herself spinning uncontrollably through the air, a sharp pain in her side. Her vision blurred, unable to identify anything she caught a glimpse of. Chaos however, having just swatted his opponent upward with his tail, aimed to make the most of his upper hand. 

Not that he had any specific idea what he was doing. Thinking was exactly something he was capable of at the moment. He was fighting something before and it… did something and now there’s this other something and everything just kind of meshed into one indistinguishable mess. All that was functioning properly in him was pure instinct, and that was telling him very clearly that whatever was making him feel so horrid would go away if he kept fighting. That was usually the only thing his instinct ever told him and it was usually a load of bull. Chaos often wondered why he ever listened to bit, but again, thinking was a bit out of the question at the moment. Anger dulled his senses, and he behaved according to any impulse he had.

Liquid planted itself firmly in the ground, the rest of the tail trailing back to its origin on the deity’s body. In one simple, swift movement, Chaos flicked himself up into the air. The arm that had once held the charge for his first attack now swung out, and the liquid form flipped himself upward. Tikal, who had finally begun slowing down enough to see what was going on, found herself being caught rather comfortably by the god. The spinning finally stopped, and it was strangely reassuring Chaos didn’t punch her when he could have. Although she knew it wouldn’t last long.

Chaos flipped their positions on the decent, pushing his friend to the ground and landing on his feat. The arm he used to catch her was now pressed down on her stomach, pinning her to the ground. He realized he couldn’t keep up with her, so he knew he had to stop her movement completely. Succeeding in doing so, Chaos raised the one arm he hadn’t used, containing yet another charged chaos impact, shooting a cold, cruel glare at his opponent.

This situation was extremely bleak; breathing was getting increasingly harder, and Tikal knew what was going to happen next. Yet.. somehow she didn’t feel scared. She stared Chaos straight back; and not with a face of anger but one with compassion. She didn’t feel mad, just sorry. All at once, every action in the aquatic being’s body halted. Instinct told him to attack, but he could not force himself to drop his fist. Neither moved a muscle, and silence fell over the battle field.

Seeing the confusion in the others eyes, Tikal spoke. “…Chaos.. c-can you see me now?”

There was no response. The beast just continued to stare, eyes big and bright with bewilderment. His ability to think seemed to have returned, but nothing he was seeing was being understood.

“You tend.. to forget yourself at times..” Her voice was calm and quiet. “That’s.. that’s okay Chaos, really.. you j-.. just need a reminder sometimes..!”

The hand raised only a little from her abdomen, allowing her to breath easy again. Silence fell once again while the echidna gathered her breath. Chaos had frozen completely still, paralyzed in shock and fear. Thoughts were now running wild through his head and he was unable to grasp a one.

“You’re.. you’re a kind and gentle guardian. A-and you protect those who cannot defend themselves.” She rested her hands on his, softly patting it in a reassuring manner. Gone was the anger that pulsed from his being, replaced by fright, regret, and panic. Tikal slowly began concentrating her own positive energy into her palms, hoping to channel them to him.

“You’re not a monster Chaos, no matter what you or anyone else say… Don’t ever think that, because it’s wrong.” It seemed that Chaos finally regained most of his consciousness. Tikal smiled at him in her friendly way, although she was beginning to feel faint. Reaching up, she shut her eyes, hugged his arm and said the last bit she wanted to add.

“You’re my friend Chaos, and I can’t think of anything that will change that.”

…

 When the little orange girl next opened her eyes, she found herself in a familiar location. Chirping was heard a moment later from a Chao sitting next to her, apparently waiting for her to wake up. She soon realized that she was back at the shrine, resting on an incredibly shoddily made bed composed of leafs. Chaos lay curled up on top of the master emerald, obviously attempting to take up as little space as possible. 

She’d have to smooth things over with him later, but for now, she was just happy to be back home.