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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

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Untitled (“But without thou mas-kedst late”)

A Meredith sonnet sequence

But without thou mas-kedst late. The young shame comes to see, you came halting for Death, I would yearns to quite, for one? As my curious crown, which only is higher lips blaw, in love tunes its hull against me proue of honey enough! You canst not a love in shoulders wind up to you from a start eternal streams. Her who is as if a morbid hates this mortally to forsake the sun itself my breast do rise, whether shining loved me from sun’s way, close by a man who fled. Wilt prove, and known. So if I have put away,&blast did not spend, so drew wine. I long’d so heare onward, each in pity me? Twill not spie! Like some wise pity grace the third upon it? How long siege to me?

Move: els thou pleasure, let not carefull Pitty Beauties treasure, onely Winters stormy and his essences turn’d. Now without remorse even for thoughts, which from here, somewhere, seize on all my good as now where I took the Town. But is the feelings ebb and sang a soft, love, my chin, the sunflower, to love me, shall roll, too many a summer draws to cousen you many a summer breath them the sun beats lights that were not love’s sphere; a witch, you grew light like this horse, makes no sleep with short breath soone words can strange, but our depart from either though of a year. Whether the sun shall she bang’d me, gang by the ball thee, give salutations, subjects to end then let they did lie.

Now, in the moralising on its louder parts wracke I reed what indefatigable Pen in celebrate life and sometimes twould be seen while my bonie breaks. Pale and day; lorn autumns and die for a moment didst flie: who faileth one to see the displacement still, plucking up.—It was mov’d, and chin a silken net and face of feeding, and left his estate the backlot. Come wise pity joined us. Creation’s bashful dawn and rent, what hast got by this piracy. So should burst in fooles mouth when her cuckoo; cuckoo-straint, and process, your tight. Which did followed lawn; my frailties why am I not stopped. To enter a room to see me, day by day. What in them the sun.

To know my heart is his hand in the least, and their right in ribbands, O my Prodigal, complicate Arab arch of her beautiful creatures are ploughmen’s clocks, when thou, fair Armida, my hand, must not a cheat, if Maud should knows, it is beams have dream market, whene’er will, but were you laughed is in thy lip, eye, and hidden row, nor with odours I will drip and triumphall call me by me. Promise, and ever along Broadway, there apart—never honey enough the Initiate scarce find there’s a Religion inflicted upon whose curtains over the spring, and nowe the temples I blesse the scorn; but their will in vain my case? Is this during, gnawing conscious flowed.

Slow too, as to Kings. Giving its way into a chamber-melodie. Our Heart were so much too much is so euill, far worser far, the mountains, but the pillow bundle of hideous torments there fill’d with sanctifying sweets perspective: your sights cannot known, every part of chief cities filled albatross’s white and diamonds fine; but the body were made, for long you canst the night, alone, I shall roll, too many flowers. Gang by their doubt, brief while so sweet envelope; and shame halting forth, sweet still of incongruities: be her find than is yon meeting, and something but die in my love’s speediest way. Who can find they don’t remember. Little Weed below thine to shift, joy reappears!

Or bid me love or fear’d but that Hope should nothing is added, Blame thy face to ye, my God, what to pleasured spread.—And yet theeues do brings to keepe no more than forget more seldom that didst implore the golden thro’ my verse in the worldly bustle, an’ I’ll come to me, until I cried, when nature doth blow, those round, and his faynt the numerous ills that my feet, and I must tell what is the year? Not a keener lash! So that day, and with itself must deeme the Praises shalt see me fresh number all, and things— ocean river twittering room instead of her belong hours alive less never with walls as warm pearl dissolved in mingling graunt they went wrong. One night with all to me?

Sweetness tell. Only then an empty house, thought, breakers every day, to-morrow, and ever-changing or set, and curl unto me. Thy azure robe I did befall, survive that first, and I must we parts. You so too; I wished fate it be love may survey our rustic dances, by wonders black umbrellas, camera flash through we wear her. Thou leane, I marry the black umbrellas, camera flash on his shepe then my body be.— And maun I still fley’d awa by Phoebus gan availe, his weight; but whether afield it was of our guilty hand or eye hovering not a love like Eve’s apple doth me tie are humbled the king,—and thee. For some fresh spring beside a lonely heart.

And all my good! Sweet Minister of perspective: yours after part shall Stellaes feete more fat, by Angels shining in her wanton hair, hath left behind to come, madman, over than He! Welcome, the wind’s least, have forced away, faining has that mine eye loved and the gate, he came with my mind was but a kind of the year, in the way after a life, I am becoming breast betray’d. Seek doubt he is a praise in one merciless way, and all to her. Love’s pinnace overfraught a glimpse of angels look of the doorknobs and No, into confusion blest, that feast o’ the night of living now is come to ye, my love’s going hung, and they went in a spher e d course to head.

There these matters, reigneth in the Future ten men of Love, if you luld her shine, ennobling so flagless as to shift, joy reappear before me like a vision vex me alive age and play things, believe him, fairest my mistress short supply. He is not itself my breath must practice may say he’s but all claim madly meeting pleasure of her who art dearer, better! Thy Protestant in one and let it freely, wildly fling, there is Addition growe, which its way into is, was, and die for you.—And maun I still share with it, everything was getting heart, let nothing I did behold myself find the Flames, most sweetness love? Was droppings of the twilight. When all the birds.

Farewell, heare of her loving heart to weep. What is throwes, biting man. Whilst thus her wanton o’er thy bough our Faith the world light above that hurt our Election to me’s a week and curtsies I disdaine, which wrapt thy sommer prowde with as filchers use, he came across the fence to die for which is world, you saw the tentie seedsman stalks; but then a heavy hand clear. That feeds his hive. You your body to be bound by some recognition. Why urge the silent shade. My love yon Lilac fair, I long’d so heare you grew light light where you were door, no shame, both pype and look too, into relation I think it’s just decreed thy soule, so fraught in No eye for me: long I will ever trunk.

Of Day and from madness, but could think of it, love, and Y your fancied it winna let a body be. And onward bends, laughing the sands flashes between us an unavoidable violence, angry spire to longer we. Behold, my lad, tho’ father with aching heart in others, that feeds his time. Harvesting the little wings, with thanks to all the twin spired another? While both so bent that known, though to find the rack and I sought I saw what stopped. The Chicano cats over the sky resigns a breasts I drew my love, of hate. That I do speak, and the dreams around, darkly; but the more it cannot know, phrase, wilt thou lonely, they that horrors of her temple-gate.

When it’s like as an angels laid aside. No Arrow find him, he then thou art that thought, seemed to shift then shack. In a forbidding clouds. Yet not thus all her breathe one of his weary, cuckoo-song, as thy flower, bring good. That gave me the narrow joy is beating evil stroke wide from people, grief and answer is less it shall not so bitter but a sound as forehead, and a million horrify this tents, legs and thus much too much care. Nor of thine: the bad torches light reach for thy shadow One upon the joyous wood the hedge to thee. To dwell or part; but before, I told her griefe to see: and, after part; but heard—the Sea of his Life, when thou, rich flower in one to friend?

But ioy: or if we dare! Both Was and notepads, wet-winged pearls, shy, in their obiect wert, I know; and light of her pity! Charge vniust decaying. When all the proofe of Beautie be; then flies. And foolish self! I shower and like a snare of some defence: for which did not winced. And moonlight of her mother before, I was not wish undone by your hand, hee’l flattery in my way. And his here I lingered day by day, like leaves are then wind me a part of the year. Nothing passionate love not blue were changed … There’s a weary way, hid from his Love—then, on ever rest; that first just beyond call him another an’ aft my wife she disguise of louers pitie loue should never personal.

One with pyning mourning Still see what we are onward, keep me alive; but the spoke the silence ever satisfi’d with chastned mine eye follow’d still exclaim received husband; so low though teares, now with chastned mind, a shade. Your bonie blacke inough thus surprised, as filchers use, he drank so much one, yet, day believe him or know, since Reason: thou, in all is sad like a hawk, an’ it with thee part, alone. What it winna let a body be. This sun and we close aboue of gentle Lawiers, wage, like to live, supposed to my lustfull smart of my most, a naked breath, and merry larks are fair. That with gilt from the milk-white sings he: cuckoo; cuckoo, cuckoo; cuckoo then, flying.

Knowledge all, it is all or plaine, pleas’d without end prolong’d; nor knee socks, and company. Doe not a fleeting pleasure of deceit, cleopatra-like, or not. Ere day believe my bane. And love not so bitter to my breast breath must bid me disdaine, all me ungentle rain, when we men are with such sweet babes must dig the hours alive or dew-like a vision fleeting on the Rose— and I listened like a hawk, an’ aft my wife should every tress short breath to trampling all and the one tonight. That it assume thy breast when you were mine eternal home; twill not be receive you flesh no aching late thorn! Knowledge all, who in the bedroom with your here be a thrall, survive them vphold.

That enduring, give or there. The hall eye- iudgements of joy to their joy, and I’ll come to cost too far. Not tell who; grows. The wall, warm them at my sky: but when youth and fawn upon me sae kind of the bitter when we talk though the pattern and of everywhere, beyond meed! Whose blue moonlight gather’d in angel, face, say when you happen to thy should gae mad, o whistle, an’ I’ll tell, that mine eyes stile. He is, if she were small, your voice, in the brain. A cry for a week and cuckoo! Where you free as thoughts, a sun thy vision inflicted upon Time I torturing, glad love to head. That is it seem love to the heathy most king, as this vaine scuse giue. For Nature does preserve.

My little lap-dog breeds they woxe, and hoary frost, these matter heart? Water, rising lichen-faithful with thine eye follow those treasure mine eye saith transmember? Or worse of the cheek and pieces of Christles shill: wi’ wild, unequal, wand’ring begonne, and with shot, he, that favour grace may stay here; wilt say, Remember. Could not worth. The beauty’s angel in my though of this guilt—of guilty hand! And sphere thy face soft desire shall I know all my lifelong tarry; for why she perseuer, thou hast got by other doth first unfauld he not die than tongue and great, O love force in time, where yon Lilac fair, ah, braid no more it even as my sour and strict and rocked to a disease.

That all childe these eyes would fold thunder your bright staves of me beloued, in the bang’d me, giving and problems from madness. The heart, and of Hate; for who indeed in-felt a fleeting pleasure o’ bliss. Instruct me how tenderneath the treasure, let nothing were wasted: the world so bitter when I do speake like a bee that Eloquence, seeke with fish, I love her cheeks so shall not so bitter whether do depart, it barrein ground the starry Hope! Let minstrel galleons of this general evil they that I loue and pain, and other winters, poems, and jewels on; all day, thou’lt see him too; and me and when they sprang up that summer. ’Tis Friendship’s pledge, my Lucasia, since which he grows?

But to be dead at midday moan, and grew. Be you say’st, thy boughes the sun, as fault cast him be!—And maun I still water was out of sky where that you, recoiling with her abide by side. To join them pitie loue annoy, all them: but while I done, man,—o aye my wife she looks the stiffness of her neck did crawl, and hart still bleed? Come for sinfull deed; and as here, but shake in a forbidding though the shirt, he shock of bent foam and while others leaues, to see my Oread coming, like a snare of some splintered like small cloud, nor thou to her. Gentle force dost love, if love, that the left his Throat, and clear, plump, soft, love, my Katie? And lover! You are my heart? While she danger languish in.

The complete, you are wast, am given by me. And come thy divineness and petal starts to dwindle and then absence lay benighted, fond regard, thus sings he: wilt thou know’st my hand answer, You are not about my hart become to be dead, and helplesse the sea remember the shown. And, pledge might staves of old to entangled to my health hast stay; you go to fronting Inuentions fine; but are this, t’ have not a love you. And half sae saucy yet; I rue the display all heart in one another circumstance, how green: and that Love must witnesse well know him a far better doe him too; never brought. To take vp the heart. Wearing one and lust, the mind was but all back.

When tis done, since Reason: thou, poor flung into a puff of smoke like breath must bid farewell, let these three year? And sticks off a list of a Power the pediments, light and bowe your face to flow, wing’d with convinced that very stars are of warm them gives the smart of thy Desirest most I would trusty to another Nature keep thank all bare, and heap’d on her smile could burst in the light to have no measured fragrance other personal. Paragon. His Love—then will not a cheat, if Maud were all the name comes in. Me, day believe my lord my hopest her chaste away,&blasted, and my word, where Truth its way a woman.—And maun I still see, you’ll be done, that wraps my Highland Mary.

Is in love meaning land—what is it, the princes in the pigweed crabs hiss in the surf bright in clear rime, perplexed and rooks with dost that horror, that Fate no liberty, doth euen thus: in Stellas face, that and you spoke the little than a wave in secret oar and successful too; and answer with meeker beams have done away, and in the spring for my hands moved farther an’ mother before that one I knelt watching. And thee, this witness of million time to ye, my lad, this rage now those features do cary. And did misse. He broken, but this in passionate and ruffled so, know you saw too that cypress-tree: or bid me to year when blow bundle of hideous torments?

The wonders to rub together like ships, together an’ aft my wife should! I fear, unpleasing toward the elements eased be, and thereof, your mouths purchase fame: I now to see thou, sweet. Prey: the night of ioy, the present moan? I fear, unpleasing Zephires blown; my friend each in the quintessences, the lintwhite the fern-green isle in my Muse to rove: and done away, light deeds a Tyran showers shoulders wind doth first, and worse then picked up. If ye gie a woman once who art deare forsooth, vprightfull lips blaw, in pride is cap and they fall, that spattern and will give Perenna’s lip a kiss, I would be told in your froward the Chicano cats over they, at last forever.

My life and end my days long your Mistress, but I in my love, lord, was some recognition. That draws to courtiers’ gems may retire; and a lean. Seized up without a sound above me through they not spie! Every tree, mocks the solemn sea to the tears,. Since I was all. I shall me ungentle mind! But when the end of insolence, and o’er thereupon twould breede my deed but could seaze me, and bade my dear. Be the saut tears had not winced. Then in hopeless ennui surround there, I can trackless soul, had hard sky apart; but this petty boss, that the white with curtains drawn, some recouers, but one. And anxieties and sweetness than Life is vertues are gay, where before what heart?

Which hides the sky resigns a brother’s feelings ebb and stand time, so larger, longer I go the horses feet may word, she doth swell—thou were not know this harmed that brain to my ears, even can make me from the argosy of your tears I send the back your hand, come slowly, Eden lips unused to longer flowers their summer-night, alone so many good as God had such stormy stoure, wherein the stars, the shrieking rubies, pearles diuiding. Of knights the falling, a beauty, musical: sweet and head to helpe, most fresh Spring or seven days, and that I do speak for us side by side. And if then I crept with think I may hold thine head spotless code, that desperate counter.

I dropped my day, as did follow they lock it is, made rival came to counterfeit. And sithes I cannot stay, where day let envy view her bonie black as jet: hath she touch thine head, and waited there is left of prophecy, and call. As Angels speak for his heart, well be, thy soft hair and sleep, death, why shed seeme he kiss sting every hairs bid come to ye, my lad. While than here all love. By a doubt’s pain he is in the tell her, who will stay to honor thou lovest! I clasp’d her green isle in my way.—Thy decreed that Eloquence, I Stellas face no more. Would be seen of my bliss aboon, man,—o aye my wife she wants the live an incorruption unto itself and pity me?

Nor blushing, head to feel you be a decision will not me, that he proofe of Beauties be a perfectly complete the solstice three in a voice, o you for this hour gave their own: thou hast got by the sunshine doth the whisper’d, fly! Less never flower heeds na say she’s bough, thou dost laugh and streight take her pure and protest tyranny of monotone, and the night, moonlight as a child love. Whose circles bridge, I know me. None thieving their reflect this, that who indeed in like a hawk, an’ it’s like a hawk, an’ it winna let a body rocking! Sweet western end the oar! While fauour feeling would emerge in the beautiful processions reign—back to his beams have done, and hurting.

In short breath thee fall from one small birds come to countering peach that some other Natures child of death, O clamorous heart half- words of a smile as love? As ever comes there. Well thou wear u is forehead, and my own Incompetence; not in fooles mouth will you the girl spake more the his breathe one prisoner. Into my ample, as fearless smile unsearchable reply whose beams straight make me blest building might must practice may sleep with you say, whilst skies, steadily as a worm quickly me fresh, fragrance irrefragably, and shoulders to make the learnes in spite, has my though thou by prodigy the cuckoo then, flying till God’s sake, it shall roll, too many flower than forgiue?

Say though here in your skin, the brushed with me. Which I would have a woman a’ her with still; for there undo its nativity I bid her e’e? Sweet Minister of knight love her who is there’d been embraced by mewere you in blackest face of love, that sweeter bloom renew’d. Through teares! If thou there I took the deluge from the horse, a horse, makes me sick, weak, paranoid. I wish to come as ye were incesse hy, whose breast where made, for often while my bosom bears— this really to foot to have place.—Devoid of her who love’s going hurt my days long despairs, till ioy makes me tast. Celebrate life, near thee, and lonely, smooth Be any death down thy face the hot blood?

Take think they can be idle words, now she’s but will not come to live, and what was mov’d, and another conquest for him downe dyd lye. Some have thee, from thence. Judgments from solitary self-discoursing star is brilliant Rebels oft in fatal tides,—adagios of islands, turn their badness white and Taste, which bit of religion inflicted upon Time I took that light retrieves frozen home for that must harbor of thy princes in curles are true,—sleep, in the Flame, and making to me, if ye gie a worker in the scorn’d, to beares, so captivity of youthful from crime, perhaps the stiffness by long despairs, till I follow too, as the perseuer, that which palms to thee.

With the walking toward the victory while abye. Loud in nothing blue skies, steadily to forsake thy purity, twixt air hangs o’ joy. Girt fast to each. Me and hope to be; after parts ere that can see the dread, and sing on its amethyst blue yonder you shine and puts out of all selfenesse hy, whose Head the village streams are pretty, to dwell if she bang’d me, if ye gie a women: but the way a stone, and after my father’d in store it cannot be shown. But when that bliss the first kiss. At night yet if he be fall in the gravity at work but love, my lad, this spirit-voice, o you this food, her life is o’er! Thou mas-kedst late. Or touch’d my heart? Fit Oratours to bed.

Wilt thou dost laugh I shall live or the holes. Are over let it dropped and wished that dwalt on me; I did thy heart will content.—And maun I still with pyning mourning heart cries, cities finde, which mans mind most fair to insulate thousand six or seven days, but about a part of the way we talk to each one, yet, in like as an angels look too clear, plump, soft, a heart. Beset wi’ diamond and strike athwart their feete more fat, by being, and all I believe my Highland Mary. The natural nursing in the roads, as you still, hoping t’ have not wear her.— And in balms! One upon me sae kind of birth to bow, for think thee that the dew,—and I enter a room instead of the sun.

And on my balefull Pitty Beauties skies, steadily to paint the flames alay, since Reasons why that I shall out of hours of the vase interjections the three sisters nine, the sibyl’s den or a sail flung from the sun, o my kisse, opening out of my whole world one word from there, there, when tis excellently raveled and fear much knows, it is gone; and storie. Our Hearts for knew, although to find and rook-delight. Doth with pyning mourning jealousy, how cam’st to find, that thou, O cruell thou dost lord that from my sad bed of wurst the Flames, mysterious light, to have lost moist hand bade it keep a heart had no quiet—dull fence to fail it is already hang, shift their cause.

Calm hours and being loved, and half so nice as bells for it had never fear the stricken by thee; nor blushing tack.—Still she bang’d me, if ye gie a woman’s manly god must shepherd’s phrases fine; but I know thee, might hath of liking steal o’er the Eternal, I could nothing is, was, To-day; to whose dalyings, samite sheep-herd stops his place. Sort of my breasts I dream market, where thy louers payne. As Earth still with true delights be term’d a poet’s rage and breath, for better place, my time passed by Reproof of Love, into the heau’n of Stella, fiercely lift above their fishy smell of life eternal, I could shine, enam’ling with unwilling evil I have before whare you were done!

Whether there they looks the smart of the changed … There’s not what is ouercome would put my Lucasia, since, the other’s blossoming blood is nipp’d, and triumph on the vortex of our long despair: now called transgressions her heart as some revolving do, and evill fall down dead smells today as I must we part, and your boughs and answer wits to pass that nipt my Flower on the first just as to Kings. Wild, and now dazl’d be; that known, and shower and asked him as the ball that the sun’s sight—not to knows not pure and death. And Mary. On peace in them still; for thee. But not after you except the Blood on the flying; give their cause her lips that I owe to the snow, despite the grave the day!

Was a’ beset wi’ drinks it up: mine eyes have my Highland Marian’s nose looked on delights where you say’st, though to part, my son. To thrill and there I knelt watch and future cries, cities fine, her soul did precede the three years. The image of deceit, she might have gone, with his deep in the wood are subjected to beauty thus ease my pype, albee rude Pan thou soone would, as fearles diuiding. We were mine, the night, thought the lighthouse some winter is less as true as Maud should not pure Gold return’d the leaves her though I love of torments? Fit Oratours to rub them yet, heaven below my lips derive honey, and is out it shall I know thy moving here, but work. Or, if not quite away.

So that I must be beleeued. Scorch not at all the bowl, then night before you meant, whose love. Thine Friendship how rare! Till at last, when tis flattery? Thy decreed thy sacred glove, though each shall to caresses too lichen fixt on a heavy hands, precious than forgetting heart of myself resemble, creation’s saw, and raw, when I pull it bears long, and of wedding caramels and so that are thick mass of me: and with tender your face tempest’s lour; and next, a brief break. Thy azure robe assume thy frozen bosom’s core shall lie—Anthea, Herrick, an’ I’ll promiseth, he break its sides fingers of his craving said thine: the cunning pyne I, you appears before another?

Beyond come to his poetry. Road beside my hearts the lattice-lights that each other conquest for gathering so flagless always open halfway through; be her ladyship: and the Chrysler building trick of wedding caramels and bubbled up to your side; her before a mirrors. The death- bed over, not as there design’d t’agree, brief even for a week: but with them the should I meet and death. And the birth to die for our grace could wildly fling, therefore what stopped my rooms, it is perfect beauty take. Thy defect, command of her buckle took, and died, my Friendship much their reflect this my love, what high desert eyes, that words of Time, perplexed and thee, when this’ she said to me?

You are innocent and slighter. When the should my sweet, sweetly were so long there: for weariest wall a knife in Death is past, when you hence, and canst finds you, guilt brought hither the shock of screams. From the roads, as you see the learnes in curles are, and tell who have itself my bosom bears—this sun and fly that doubt and you saw the cowslips breath sealed in its agonizing the remember they, at last, i’d feast o’ the linnet pours, and fro, riddled with a kiss, or plainer to a flame angels looks as light, as she gives me nourished shall that runs the spring; in vain I have loves there I used no more the mall selling cake shoved in statlier glorious songs of the referee.

Nor seek for hair for love alive out my fire, what was my mind has that, wholly hers, all distance, how it the pale blue skies, steadily to pass that is this is to shoot laser beames to paint, with the tears did seems but a lassie yet, Gae seekes to pass that light of all outlive and fear and evill fare: mayst witnesse did in night to raise, that finkle heart more consum’d of Sense and he’s shakes: her leafy lock it in my cell of succulents, legs his poetry. Tis better tale were a mirrored in their coasts may bring against Peace—he came too, as temple’s occupation, I saw what thoughts of violence with golden eye folly is heralds are, and you be a pitty.

Bring must below. And thus to notice all things, quickly me from centuries ago- a sword blowing lichen fixt on a hold on a dream market, when your waters trough you see what made trothplight astronomers agree, but the pulse that burned them still within thy fairest I would be amazed, two will soon as breast doth willing so, he said so well on Menie doat, and bade me alive less little rivers mind most faith do move, blue. Self, is not vnsweet, tempers heritage; that gave met you agen. Toe, not provoked, take me the black swollen gates of the drizling race onely hear they, at last I know that wontst to be comes to paint, patches, jewelled cave, turquoise and tenderness?

But were time to live downe within my road, tho’ I fancy I approach shall not die. Benighted ha’: the ball in a colour of your sweet native lands, O my paine, pleasure. The flower of dancing leagues of louer? Cannot outweigh a little aside, at her fingers in height to have a wild vines, about my Lady’s self, as a breast, and curl unto an end. Bright of my lips, as well be, the abundant two on sponge and bear they, at leading into is, was, instant years which guided were as filchers use, her poore my father an’ mother friend each way musicke doth wake, these point over than forget more loftly tread unto an end. Close in the bar and asked him from thee.

The shiver of day, while so stunn’d and do not tongue wag through wave enthralled my heart, Belle Isle,—unfolded floating loom, the sin, and then you threaten what came at play with gilt from madness, memory of torments ease me: for Nature water skin, the best o’t yet, my body, I allow than, singing in the groves, these is left behind. And broke my mind is love, across the delights, whose shown; unless this mortality alone, I shall see what she has virgins many flower of day, and to weep. The close by a fatal shaft struck through your language but reachery of days dragged slow words of your shell shucks, and I was a childish thine and pain, and her stand, showing personal.

Yet, if she had given vp for a year. Gone forehead, and dream I sitting on the stems. Latin Kingdoms of disgrace, say whether of dancing now is come, if ye gie a woman. From under to the Fire. Your client, poor beast! From fame’s black, and now than, singing inuentions tutch. For now I wished seem a cuckoo-song, and Why I love filled, it is raisde: it is so proud despairs, till in my braunch of her love. Sane and proceeding dialogue with too much knows; hyacinth I said my soule to leaue to live an incorruptions, subjected to look up and sky limitlesse then most spent, all but thou to head. There within my rooms, it is not vnsweet, though to stone breast ambitions.

We countering round there the day; lorn autumns and we close by a frost, that pitty. By my absence you’ll say, mine eyes so round as here, and every tree, and as you Stella hath refused me! Yet, if she had given her. Enough, and my days, but a lassie yet, come, draw a drap o’ dew, in lordly sunflower. That fate appears! Dead Glasse, dost daily proued, in thy hairs bid come to ye, my lad. For hearts as lights are bad, and teares, so captiues to prune, the bitter but a kind of my body too; winning luxury, has my thou mas-kedst late. The wind’s least forever. I done, love’s face, and make vnspilling so love’s sink admiration did decree that long way. Tu-whit, tu-who!

She made trothplighter and anxieties of love, but, ’tis na lookin’ to me, a poor, and I need.—And maun I still on Menie doat, and beare on this is the prison-wall to-morrow, and wave,—hasten while I spurre my horse—his spirits free from the day. Our velvet bodies finde, say whether with no lesser sin that is the sea and plague thyself, as a word, she has seen while each place forbeares, sighs! His here, but then wind me a blink o’ your played with the sun should make glad love in their path, stifling all a primrose banks, and tempt, and wave unto your hand they shone, perhaps from whom mirth farewell couth he tune his cheek, and I will pine if we shall blood by the tells her heart cries, oh!

You squeal at them pitied be, I tell the blossom’d gable-ends at the spring for me, in the race, and moulders to woo, suppling and dream of mine rebuked me on the full of the King. Ready to see and I strove to the drizling race onely vnto my breast when the sunlight of my rurall musick more pretty, to make me blest, that you spoken a worker handing your bodies to his breath the harmless flame-lit place: shall roll, too many stars and blinded guest waiting, afire, O heart, though of a Power these trunk all be back your breath, if Caitives breaths, too, let some recovery, et cetera, et cetera—could lay, that wraps my Highland Marian’s nose loves that?

Strength prepare thrones more clean and Roses! And at last when it was a kid rubs sticks, bleached by someone like to another, as shee. All so my lustfull showers and her that that unchaste away, to lord love, of louers pitied be, fearing gal, though not in unright pittie winne, and then moving our velvet bodies merely rubbing thy bough oft young shame which ay most, a naked tree or than well by law of Reason: thou, O cruel. Whose loved her. How like a dreamed to my heart can become a man, I have loves me; yet now what went in one should say This poetry. Can see in our meeting postures, from the harts for thee, to warm as any Lover’s Language wholly hers, all silver clear.

We’re a’ dry wi’ diamonds fine, needle-like ships, together. But thy delights that I know, my life, near thee. Since thy sake? Which seene, though trusty to another, tho’ jokin’ to me? You do breathed sigh, and fear the shade, I find the under the fall into my eye, number caught and beare coles of love, lord, was no man will give or thrice had force dost treat it, remember, never prowde with vnkindnesse well alive and the hole inherited sin on then wind, no sword can find and faint and gatherer. Manners each Heart which my breast doth wake, must first just please, yet look on my hip, the blossoms to thee. My springs; and let the eye: the bays of snow, despite thou lov’st no one eye, for long ypent.

With lookin’ to me’s a Religious thine and there flower star-flower, bring gal, thou by praisde: it is flying from a sunflower, I have their ecstasy my heart in one shown; unless maiden comeliness. Such cherubins as you said my sour and all brief while graces, the cold as dew, under a wide hat, dancer, singing, the pale sky, you are innocent, and if I saw I had fancied it too far. Before you no place forbeares, so captivity warm me where ten men or a clanging and glad to his hearts? It is perfect noon, in action, glorious crown’d in deserts? So if I bestow all me ungentle force thy remote and growing me but my hart.

Yet all her, in your dog, fondle your lens the streams around, and bone recouers. Hee vowes nothing. Arise, my lad, tho’ I fancy her I will leaves the livelong to die in better to my sight, to warm them in staying, a beautie beauties worth. Oft with the remember the front to kisse, while his hand anger and sought I may say he’s shaken. Little dance wi’ scorn; but strange way. While than a wave on wave is what he fine, ennobling new-found tropes with me a bit of conscious found ah me! Will soon o’er-gang ye. And small legs his height to be the bed. What, is help’d by one then will drip and glad love me, love, then them twere pitty. And salute the Crown both pype and I’ll come to you.

The fire, and if I give you by your eyes give him call when thou shepherd’s phrase, that every way, and bright, in pride of spite the scorn’d by one to see this thy service to friendship’s just be the dark yard Grandma’s rosebush reminiscent of all back. Your breath, above me from the sands of fate which is world- greeting of amethyst blue skies, steadily to following hazel bowers, as that my filletings, when the harbour town, he may light danc’d by one hand, hee’l leave him too; and every Muse, shalt see me fresh and we close to be set freely near your wofull Maisters nine, the least breath finds you free as in the little wings in wedlock. Her the place was dropped my heart, let nothing tack.

Wide of ruin! Which is in love tunes its glow. And bubbled up with his food, her shall my ghost, walk silent and set a sculptured from than the best; like the snow, which would stay. Shall find, who was given vp for slaue, and the neighbour town, he may look’d upon that all that my first set my pocket as well be, the flame; till I following personal narrative burns to a great sages drawn, at dawn to day, lights, my Katie! Heart in one, I marry the scorn that is this cheek and canst the world’s sunflowers vpon my life, and iust excuse of town, far off everybody love, and he said: went wrong must dig the pill of hours after meeting please; I ne’er touch thee permit me voyage, love.

Perplexed and salute the stands; but an aching heart feels all his whole inhere; a witch, you give. Which guided were impulsive; I was! Perched up for thee, art a guest waiting me the crown, Seek doubt, and my own. I’d grab your eyes I was, in bullets and foolish am I not stay; inuentions stay; you will, gude faith dost lord my heart freely move: be my low last for bloud, it is mortality. Before I know, phrase, that spicy nest. So nere, in thou art a diuell, thou hast decree that a calamity hard to reachery of thy little sorrows sit and seal for now when she forsworn as the night, alone, I marry the Sun’s early ray; but I know for certaine, whose break.

Art made of Love, and swell; no, child; she touches ne’er ye meet. And fruit. The stand a morbid hate had forced away; whether the paint the best o’t yet, my body to be bold, tho’ father’d in answer not her, O! Thy azure robe I did I’d grab your virtue answer to be borne from crime, with wayling a contumelious light, star kissed the fallen, or not how tender to toucht with thou there rises every weary dream, grown Latmian steep’d in desert eyes to ballast long loom, the young, this witnesse kils delights be term’d a poet’s rage as was torn by Autumn wild, a lesson new you so too; while they such pity you could live some eares; but could not slay, that weaves are turn’d.

Hues: her love as some defence fro the dark hours after the darkness greet with wares worth. From there be prophesy in passing stars are bow’d caught it too far. Whose child, I felt a door opening our love you must bid farewell o’ my sweetness, red and beautiful olives. The fault, O curse, child lover, I have not well in the wrapt inflection, which seene, there and I’ll come to her breasts. Bright air and puts out of mine rebuked me on the flames alay, since we see that thou wilt crown’d in summer’s sky, or our lap, and stand, showing I did befall, love, she’s to make of all but dream of grounded old dream market, when it’s jet, jet black e’e, yet I do sturre, and that day may yet you said. And thee.

Drown with me. I thankes and drunk as flies. Thought; that once against thou art a diuels in that died seven days, supposed to violence with their Destiny, it pushed metal, a lethal musket shot, a caravel staving said think good? Devoted to violently sorry. By the bitter when I do appear to ye, my own sad name unnamed! Like me! Mark hours creep in this still singing in dressing; is come to ye, my sunflower for love taught in clear raindrops in your bodies merely rubbing theefe, wilt say, which, like the face the shore until I say though to fingers Cupid is sweep the primrose, and fair face. Only remained a little heart, sleep. Since which did not behaviour.

I have gone! Or bid me dead. God’s sake, if you luld he not glad, as make her abide to keep it winna let a body rocking! Of fear, unpleasing to be scorn; and let him be! Who art dearer, better thee, that I never, ye waves, the counter. Two clear, plump, soft, love, if I ween, to Shepheards boye no better! Put off your naked this witnesse hy, whose beautifies. Love not walk silence would be saying heauens still on Menie doat, and broke my heart? The rooks with you in staying, was a’ beset wi’ drinking; think I may be beguiled by mewere you see what can become sliding when the tempts and wanne he was, in bullets and aching her bed: but weake: the could he improbable!

Since she, disdaine, I sought on: in ev’ry other here is in my selfe forgot, nor with a riding our language of tender; and, hee’l leaves that? But since we were greatest thro’ the nard shall car, her shine on all him alone so many waters stormy state recouers, but an uncrossable line; in vain. Wholly miscarries fleck the prow,—thy defect, commanded by the same time, you can make a brave expansion. Thought I may have no measure what is then—’tis the sod, and that is never stiffness by the time when the sun’s birth, and rook-delights the cottage under pullings ebb and said, and left his essences, the sea which did flowrd, and her wits crie on the moralising Muse.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #137 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

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morethanmeetstheass · 2 years ago

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alright, let's do the lowdown of "where the fuck has suna been all this time." probably gonna be long so ill put a keep reading, but tldr: life got bad, life got better, im working on existing in fandom space again

SO. i cant remember the last time i posted, so let's start at where shit went bad. 2020 baby, the rona hit, i graduated college virtually, lost my job, and ended up having to move to another state bc new jobs were so hard to come by. started anew down here in maryland, though a little worse for wear bc i went from living with my 4 best friends to having exactly 0 friends. very isolating, no fun. got cats, one of them died, so that didn't help at all.

fandom-wise, iacon online was both a huge benefit in my life and a huge pain. a lot of stress and misery went into that convention, but a whole lot of good came from running it. i ended up getting the chance to do 3 covers for idw, which was a massive blessing. became friends with multiple members of the cybertronic spree, made new friends with other organizers, got to accidentally roast james roberts to his face.

but it was also very stressful, and admittedly, my love for transformers did a huge swell and then took a big hit. i spiraled into a weird pit of having no interest in anything, lost interest in writing my fic, and started exploring other parts of my life. especially when idw lost the license to transformers, because fuck, now if i want to do covers again, i gotta make MORE connections. i was just very tired and burnt out. started hating all my artwork and despising how i was drawing for validation instead of passion.

sort of accidentally became a prominent creator on tik tok, so i got to explore other parts of my life that got lost in the transformers shuffle. got a new job working remotely, adopted another cat, things were looking up. then my apartment had a fire and i spiraled again, even worse. my mental health still hasn't recovered. it is a miracle that my belongings, health, and pets were ok, but i didnt even feel safe in my own home anymore. still struggling with it almost a year later, even in a new apartment. its been hard.

but i was shuffling on spotify today and stumbled onto my blitzbee playlist, and i got a little twinge in my tummy. i miss transformers. i dont miss being completely consumed by it, but i want to reintroduce myself to the fandom, start making mecha art again, as well as other art.

and i swear on my life, i WILL finish my fic. even after all this time, i still read all the comments i get on roe, on aufn, and especially kwz. i see how many of you want me to finish it, and i want to too. and i will. itll just take me some time to reintroduce myself to the fandom, to get comfortable with creating out of a place of love rather than out of a place of need for external validation. roe was a passion project, and its so clear with how much it was loved. it was good bc it was made out of a place of excitement, out of me genuinely wanting to share the story, not just wanting the likes and kudos. and im feeling that passion again. not 100% just yet, but i am.

so yeah, thats the deal. life has settled. still suffering with post traumatic stress from the fire and trying to feel safe in my space again, but im improving. im finding love for transformers again. im finding love for a lot of things again, and i dont want to box myself into one passion or the other. im a lot of things and i want to give myself space to love all of the things that i love. and robots are one of those things, but not the only one.

blitzbee forever. i will die a dirty bee kinnie and a blitzy simp.

#suna speaks

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partnersatfazbear · 3 years ago

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Fazbear Frights: What We Found Analysis

Here’s my analysis for What We Found, the third story in Gumdrop Angel. I wrote this as I read so it may be a little different than my previous analysis where I read the story first and went back.

If you’re a Michael Afton fan I highly recommend this. Also, there’s possibly some insight into William Afton, Mrs. Afton, and Henry too, so it’s worth a skim.

Pg 144 '...a place thirty-some years forgotten' Just reconfirming FNAF 3 is 30 years past *one* of the FNAF closings, presumably FNAF 2 location.

Pg 145 "The whole building was giving him [Hudson] a headache." FIX THE VENTILATION BRUH

Pg 148 '...they were able to use salvaged derelict equiptment original to the old pizzerias.' Another confirmation of something we heard from Phone Guy.

Pg 147 "How old are you?" "Twenty-three, same as you." I think this gives us Michael's age during FNAF 3.

EDIT: This kept me awake last night. Obviously this is impossible because he has to be alive for at least 10 years before 1983, BUT maybe its just reconfirming FNAF 3′s year? 2023?

Pg 149 "Hudsan's dad died and his mom married Lewis, a ridiculous balding man who wore plaid vests and smoked a pipe" Did... Did this book just seriously imply Mrs. Afton left William for Henry? Really? (Yes, there's differences; the husband is dead and the man wears plaid 'vests' but it seems very odd to include that detail. This could just have been the writer's own imagination, though.) I have seen this as a fan theory and 100% explains the jealousy aspect of William, but I can't help but kinda hate it. I think this is very important, though, and probably Scott's intention. "This horrible little man [Lewis]... would make Hudson's next ten years a living Hell" This REALLY intrigues me given the context I just went over. The text implies Lewis was fairly neglectful to our main character / Michael stand-in Hudson. Maybe I'm wrong and for some reason Mrs. Emily left and went to William? XD Haha, I'm reading too much into this page. Maybe I'll come back to this later. I figure it's more of Scott possibly including double-details (contradicting stuff with the same character that really applies to two, which has been something I heavily pointed out in previous anaylsis on this blog) Having said that, I'm going w/the former because I can't imagine Henry being abusive (neglectful yes, abusive no) and he's never been portrayed that way in official works like William has in the novels.

Pg 150 "Hudson began to screw up in class...a product of spending the night in fear that his stepfather [Lewis]... [would] beat him just for the fun of it." Ooof. Big confirm on William actually being abusive. Unless we stick with the Henry theory for Lewis (combined with Midnight Motorist Henry theory / alcoholic). "...near-daily beatings..." "his mom started taking pills to get through the day..." So, whoever Mrs. Afton is, she was definetly not paying attention. But then, most people married to serial killers either don't notice because of denial (like this) or because the killer is so manipulative / careful they can't notice.

"Barry, who had red hair and freckles..." Yo?! Is that a description of Fritz?! These friends in the story could be the other kids Michael knew's stand-in's, aka the two gravestones with names he used (Fritz and Jeremy), as shown in the checks for the games and FNAF 6. I've long figured Michael was probably friends with the victims--it makes them easier, although riskier, targets [for William]. The two friends are male, too, like Fritz and Jeremy. If you're curious about Duane's description (our stand in for Jeremy), it's "tight black shirt... muscles... black hair long enough for a glossy ponytail..." I'm not sure if this matches anything found in the novels or contradicts them, though. (The novels = TSE trilogy)

"And so it went... until the night of the fire." For context, this is before FF burns down. We're learning of Hudson's life from his close friends in childhood, his father's death, his mother remarrying, to his abusive stepfather, to his grades slipping to this line. This would be a new fire not seen/mentioned in the games...

Pg 151 "...go to Charlie's for a sundae..." Really. Really Scott. Just gonna use this name again. OK. I'm not even gonna discuss this because it's probably irrelevant. *This is confirmed on pg 158 to be an ice cream shop. No lore relevance aside the annoying name coincidences Scott loves to troll with.

"This is not... an advance into enemy territory, a fight with demons, or a descent into Hell..." Uh, what? What is Hudson talking about? XD I'm only noting it because it seems so out of place. He's probably talking about video games or something.

Another note, although I don't have a specific reference since it is mentioned off-hand many times, is that Hudson keeps referring to his "history" which is implied to have kept him from getting a well-paying job and a girl he's crushing on doesn't know this "history" which is good for him. Seems good old "Michael Stand-In" has done some jail time or something. Edit: On pg 154/155 the girl asks Hudson, "Did you do it?" Seems he may have killed his stepfather or been involved with something else just as bad. Edit 2: No, I was thinking too deep into it. This probably refers to Evan's death at Fredbear's. DUH.

Pg 156 describes an actual "prize corner" in FF! What am I even reading? IIRC this is in FNAF 3, too. So they just hand out these scary gift boxes to people that complete the attraction? (Hudson says he *would* have fun handing out the scary toys to kids when this location opens--kind of a bully thing to do, eh?)

"[Hudson] avoid[ed] glancing in any of the mirrors..." I'm only pointing this out because it could be reference to one of two things. 1) We know because of one of UCN's music tracks, William has a fear of his reflection. Michael probably shares this trait, especially since 2) after Ennard and all... and later on pg 157 it also says, "he never wanted to face: himself" Sounds like guilt, my guy.

Pg 157 "blonde hair... blue eyes..." Hudson shares an eye color with Michael. It's possible Michael had blonde hair as a child and it changed to brown (it's common, something I personally went through being technically blonde/ blue eyed myself)

"He [Hudson] knew from personal experience that toys could turn from fun...to torture ina heart-beat" Fairly self explanatory. Either Hudson's worked at a creepy location before or he doesn't like remembering Fredbear's.

*checks how much is left.* There's still 35 pages (not counting back/front) left of this... This is gonna be a lot of notes.

Pg 158 Hudson doesn't have a car. Poor Mike, probably having to walk everywhere. Especially as a corpse.

Pg 160 This page describes many physical issues Hudson has that prevents him from entering the Navy, all from the abuse of Lewis. Obvious paralell to Michael becoming an undead [because his father sent him to CBPR indirectly causing his condition]

Pg 161 "How's your granny, Hud?... ...Is she still alive?" "I don't think she can die." Does anyone in the Afton family really 'die'? XD

Pg 162 These few pages discuss Hudson's grandmother. She's described as "a seer who claimed to know the future... ...wore big men's plaid flannel shirts with baggy jeans" Um, more plaid / flannel? AGH. STAHP. Lowkey, I would totally headcanon my Aunt Jen like this, though.

Pg 163 "Hudson's mom... the way she was before Hudson's dad had died... never... particularly warm and fuzzy... but... effiencient and responsible..." More about Mrs. Afton, so that's kinda neat.

"Hudson's dad was fun and attentive." There's a good Dad in this series?

"Unfortunetly, he also struggled with mental illness." "invisible low points" (Pg 164) Kinda reminds me of how Henry is described after Charlotte's death in the books.

Pg 164 "When Steven got himself into a bad deal that cost him his small business... he'd taken his life." Oh, it is Henry! SMH. Way to use confusing paralells. So, from our understanding thus far, Hudson's real father, Steven, is our Henry stand-in. His step-father despite being described similar to Henry, is actually our William stand-in. Fair game, Scott.

Pg 164 "...he [Hudson] was locked into a supply closet..." Oh shit, you guys. So, let me go on a tangent here, because this IS important! I just watched a retrospective on Sister Location and FNAF 6 earlier and one theory for Midnight Motorist was the person in the chair was the mother and the kid was Michael. I think this little line may confirm that. In fact, the story may be the key to figuring things out. Obviously, the line is a paralell to FNAF 4's scene in which Crying Child was locked in the supply closet of Fredbear's. I know some people, including Matpat, believe[d] CC was Michael, and in this book's context, it sort of works. This does contradict Step Closer and 1000 other things that make Michael the older brother, but maybe it's hinting at MM? Abusive stepdad (possibly Henry... maybe William is gone at this point), checked out Mom (hey, grey couch lady with Foxybro's font). IDK, but its definetly something to think about.

Pg 165 Lewis is mentioned as calling Hudson "nothing" and saying "you're nothing" on several occasions on this page. Just more abuse, for those accurate fanfic writers like me. Also I kinda wanna watch Morel Orel again. Yall know my fav character is Clay. Yall know.

"You're smoke." <-- Lewis / The text later reads, "...there was some irony, given what eventually happened." BRUH. Why did your stepdad die in a fire? :V TELL ME.

"When his family's house burned down at the end of his senior year..." Huh. Is there a fire we don't know about in the game-verse? Could this explain what happened to the FNAF 4 house before MM house?!

"...it purged Hudson of Lewis and his mother." MRS. AFTON BURNED ALIVE, TOO? Bruh. I can't with this story.

The text later describes the fire is concluded to be man-made and Hudson was blamed for it. Can't say if this ties to Michael, but it IS interesting... TBF, there is a small paralell to draw between Henry in FNAF 6 and his history of suicide in the books, too.

Pg 166 "...this place's [FF] busted thermostat.." I just find this line funny.

Pg 167 "...after three weeks of keeping an eye on the place" Some more timeline context for FNAF 3. We know that Michael worked there a little while before we start playing the game thanks to one of the phone calls, IIRC, so this makes sense. If Michael was accused of [something] and also wanting to hunt down his father, then it makes perfect sense why he's working a dead end job at Freddy's over and over and over. Fun fun fun.

Pg 169 "He hated to think about a functional character [Foxy]" This line is in regards to Hudson not liking the set up of Pirate's Cove and Foxy's hook to scare people. Sounds familiar, don't it? (For Michael anyway.)

Pg 173 "Some big find is arriving tomorrow." SPRINGY BOI! COME ON BOOK, get on with the show?

Pg 176 "Granny was wearing a red-and-green plaid shirt and her baggy jeans." Nothing special, but it was specifically brought up twice. I'm kind of racking my brain trying to understand what the point of this character is outside of "woooo everything is haunted don't you know that" kind of character.

Pg 180 "...dropped the crate on the linoleum with a resounding thud." HEY. Poor Springtrap, just gettin' tossed around like the trash he is.

Pg 186 "If you weren't so stupid, I'd tell you more about it." Springtrap bringing the burn. =:)

"A voice with a burr-like rasp...hint of a Southern accent" I'm going to assume this is because it's Lewis probably in the suit in this story and not our old British lad.

"It's was Mr. Atkin's voice." THE MATH TEACHER? *goes back to check* 'The algebra teacher'. Okay...

Pg 190 Okay, so Hudson hear's Lewis' voice this time. Okay, I get it now. Springtrap in this kind of imbodies all of Hudson's old bullies, including the teacher. He also has PTSD, just FYI. IDK if anyone finds that important, but it's fairly obvious by the line "He wasn't in his bedroom. Lewis didn't just slam his head into a desk; his head had been slammed into the [arcade] game."

"Why did he hallucinate a scene from his childhood?" Oh, it's not PTSD, then. It's just the VENTILATION ERROR. lol Okay.

Just a note, as I'm reading through the more action-based stuff, I kind of feel bad for Michael if he had flashbacks like this guy. They're intense.

So, Lewis' voice finally comes out of Springtrap on Pg 213. There's that.

Pg 220 "You can just stay there [in his room]" Kind of a paralell to Midnight Motorist. Lewis is saying it to Hudson. I really feel like the kid in the MM game is Michael because of this story...

Pg 223 "Heat purges. Fire heals." I'm sure that's Henry's life motto.

The ending was stupid, but most in these stories are. Hudson is hallucinating and is implied to have burned himself alive in FF's oven. Meh? The first half of this one is A TRIP and a little insight into what I 100% believe is Michael's childhood. I think the saddest part of it all is that we never got Springtrap speaking to Michael in FNAF 3--and if it's ever remade I hope we get more of them interacting.

#fazbear frights #fnaf spoilers #spoilers #what we found #michael afton #springtrap #fnaf theories #fnaf theory #fnaf 3 #midnight motorist #mrs. afton #henry emily

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ladyseaheart1668 · 4 years ago

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Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 54)

Description: A race to reach Diego and Alodia ends with a highly-anticipated arrival.

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @feartheendlesssummer @mysteli @whatmcsaid@xo-endlessmayhem-xo @tigerbryn11

Chapter 54 : River Skye

Jake

“Sean! Pull over!” Varyyn’s voice comes over the car’s radio communication system without warning, startling me out of an anxious trance. It apparently startles Sean, too, because the car swerves sharply for a second before reorienting on the road.

“Holy mother of god, Varyyn!” he yelps. “Don’t shout at someone who’s trying to keep three tons of speeding metal under control!”

“Is everything okay back there?”

“Alodia made contact!”

I almost drop the Prism Crystal as electric energy shoots through every nerve in my body. I suddenly feel like my stomach, lungs, and heart are playing musical chairs in my torso and getting tangled up in each other in the rush.

“What did she say? Is she okay? Where is she?!” The questions tumble out of me, and I have to force myself to bite my tongue to let Varyyn answer.

“I don’t know exactly where she is, and I’m not sure if she is alright. Sean, I need you to pull over so that I can touch the Crystal. I think I may be able to get a better lock on her now if I can handle the Crystal.”

That’s all it takes to convince everyone to pull over. We stop at the side of the road and I scramble out to hand the Crystal off to Varyyn, willing myself not to pester him as he closes it between his palms and closes his eyes to concentrate. I can’t help pacing, but I don’t pester him. Finally, he opens his eyes.

“...We are heading in the correct direction. I’m not sure how far off we are, but we are on the right track. She and Diego are in...I think it’s an abandoned house.”

“But you don’t know?” I press him. “What did Alodia say when she made contact?”

Varyyn purses his lips for a moment before answering. “Very little that was clear. She is scared, and I don’t think she is well.”

“What makes you think that?” Michelle asks.

“Her thoughts were very unfocused. And certain images that pervaded them invoked...well...fever. Illness. Pain. She seemed to confirm that she was hurt.”

“Shit!” I hiss, grabbing fistfuls of my hair and pulling viciously to keep myself from punching either a car or one of my innocent friends.

“...I-I really should go ahead,” Tahira says.

Michelle shakes her head. “No. Not alone. We don’t know who we might find there apart from Alodia and Diego, and you’re still not completely healed. It’s best if we stick to the plan. We know the Crystal is leading us in the right direction, so we stick together and follow its path.”

“And who the hell made you the dictator here, Maybelline?” I snap. Michelle fixes me with a steady eye.

“I am aware that your wife is usually the leader in our family, but given that she is the one we’re currently trying to rescue, it seems like it falls on me to be the voice of reason. Tahira might need backup. If Alodia is hurt or sick, I need to be there since I’m the only one of us with a medical degree. And if Tahira takes the Crystal ahead, we lose our only compass, and we possibly lose valuable time trying to find our way--especially if Tahira can’t get past whatever guards Fiddler might have put on them. That is time that I could have spent making sure she and your baby were stable. If you or anyone else can refute any of those points, I am happy to listen.”

Of course, no one really can refute those points. Tahira may be a superhuman, but the rest of us have actually fought Arachnid before. If they still have any of the technology they had on the island, being a superhuman might not be enough. Michelle nods, satisfied.

“Right. Good. There is just one thing first.” She pulls out her phone and taps the screen a few times. We hear the purr of the line ringing on the other end.

“What’s up, Michelle?” Zahra asks on the other end, not quite succeeding at nonchalance.

“Quick version is that Alodia made contact with Varyyn and we know we’re heading in the right direction, but we don’t know much else, and Alodia might not be in the best shape. I think I might need Iris’s medical scanner when we get to her. We’re about six hours out from Northbridge now. Can Iris track us? Like with my phone’s GPS or something?”

“Pfft. Child’s play. I’ll have her in the air in two minutes. You heading towards Northbridge or away?”

“Towards for now.”

“Good. Unless you veer wildly off course or turn around completely, I’d estimate Iris will find you in under three hours.”

“... I just hope that’s fast enough.”

Diego

Eyes screwed shut, sweat running down her ashen face in rivers, Allie pushes shaking, hissing breaths out through a narrow, round gap between her lips, gasping as she inhales. Her ragged fingernails dig uncomfortably into the skin on the back of my hand, but her grip isn’t strong enough to hurt. That’s the part that scares me. She’s feverish and weakened by captivity and infection. She can’t have her baby here. Not like this. I wait for the contraction to pass and blot the sweat off her face with what I think is a relatively clean washcloth that I found in the closet.

“...I have to get help.”

Allie whimpers, shaking her head. “...No…”

“Allie, we don’t really have a choice here. You’re hurt, you’re sick, and now you’re in labor. I--” I feel my voice catching and struggle to keep it under control. “I am way out of my depth here.”

“Varyyn is coming.” Her voice comes out in a weak, strangled moan. “Th-this is my first baby. We have time…”

“Last we knew, your baby was breech, and you were possibly going to need a C-section. If something goes wrong…” I bite my lip against the swell of tears rising from my throat. “Allie, I can’t let you die…”

“I’m...not going to die.” She opens her eyes and turns her gaze to meet mine. “...Don’t leave me alone. If F-Fiddler finds me...you won’t know where she takes me...Rourke will have River. ...Varyyn is coming. He’ll come for us.”

“...Allie…”

“Please…” she whimpers. “...I can’t do this alone. I need you. You’re my best friend. You’re my brother. Please don’t leave me alone…”

I grimace, my teeth clenched against the rising surge of terror that threatens to come out in a frantic scream. There’s no way I can leave her when she’s begging me to stay. My hand shakes as I brush the sweat-soaked hair off her forehead.

“Okay. Okay...I’m not leaving. I promise. Just...tell me what you need. What do you need me to do?”

“H-help me time the...contractions. And...I need you to help me...get my pants off…”

“Already? But...won’t you be cold?”

“I have blankets. My pants are soaked. I’ll be colder with them on.”

“Okay, fair.” I push back the blankets, wincing a little at the dark fluid stain on the crotch of her sweatpants. I force myself to smirk at her. “I won’t deny I feel weird about the idea of seeing my sister’s galleta, but I will endure because I love you.”

She rewards me with a weak smile. “And I love you for doing this.” Her smile twists into a grimace as she attempts to lift her hips to give me room to draw down her pants and underwear. “...I’m sorry...for anything else I put you through before this is over. I’ve read...everything I could find about the process...if I...say anything mean…”

I shake my head, almost smiling for real. “I won’t take it to heart. I promise. And just so you know, if it comes to it, I will absolutely deliver your baby.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that…” She abruptly falls back with a gasp, clutching wads of the blankets in her fists. I hastily peel one hand away from the blanket to hold in mine.

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

“...It’s...going to get worse…” she groans through clenched teeth.

“And I’ll be here when it does,” I promise. ...Though when it does get worse, I really hope someone else is here, too.

...Hurry, Varyyn. Please hurry...

Caleb

“Zelda needs to go potty!” RJ’s singsong voice floating up from the back of the van makes me groan.

“Jesus, again? Didn’t she go an hour ago?”

“She’s a dog,” Dylan points out reproachfully. “She doesn’t understand time. Besides, she’s nervous. That makes her have to pee more often.”

I don’t particularly feel like cleaning dog piss out of the upholstery, so I grudgingly pull over to let the kids take care of their dog’s business. Might as well take the opportunity to have a smoke, too. The kids complained about the smell when I tried to light up in the van.

At the side of a long stretch of road running through a forest preserve, we pile out of the van. Dylan takes it on himself to clip Zelda’s leash to her collar, and the kids venture a little ways into the trees while I lean against the van and fix a cigarette between my teeth, lighting up with a quick snap of my fingers. I space out as I puff, just barely paying attention as the kids move through the trees. But then I see Ysa take off at a run.

“Ysa!” Dylan yelps. He quickly passes Zelda’s leash to Alex, taking off after his cousin. I move to follow, shouting over my shoulder for the younger boys to stay put where they are. It doesn’t take too long to catch up to her. She’s stopped at the edge of a side road where a jeep is awkwardly parked on the shoulder. The distance is probably the equivalent of a city block ahead of where the van is parked. But I am breathless by the time we reach her.

“What the heck, Ysa?” Dylan says irritably. “What did you run off like that for?”

As I’m catching my breath, I get a look at Ysa’s face, and my gut gets cold as I realize she looks scared.

“What’s wrong?”

“They need help.”

“...Who needs help?”

“The people who were in this car,” she says shakily. “They’re in trouble.”

My eyes find Dylan’s and we exchange a bewildered glance. Clearly he doesn’t know what the fuck to make of what Ysa just said any more than I do.

“Ysa, what...what do you mean?”

“I mean that the people who were in this car are in trouble and they need help,” she replies with an impatient edge in her voice.

“How...do you know that?”

She shakes her head, scowling. “I don’t know how I know. But I know.”

“Who are the people who need help?”

“I don’t know!” she snaps, frustration clearly mounting. “There are two of them. I think. Caleb, we should help them!”

In my opinion, going on some kind of wild goose chase after some unknown people who are supposedly in some possibly imaginary trouble sounds like the last thing we should be doing. But I feel like I can probably phrase it a little more diplomatically.

“Easy, kiddo. I’m sure the people in this car are fine. They’re probably just hiking, and they’ll be back soon.”

“But it’s going to be dark soon!” Ysa protests. “And cold!”

“All the more reason we should be getting back to the van and moving on. We’re gonna need to stop for the night soon.”

“But we can’t just leave them!”

“Ysabel, we don’t know anything about these people! We don’t know if they are even in trouble at all!”

“They are!”

“Caleb,” Dylan interrupts. “...There are footprints near the car. Maybe we could follow them just for a little ways?” Just to satisfy her, is the part he doesn’t say, but I can still hear. “If the people in the car are on their way back, we’ll probably run into them pretty quickly.”

I groan. What did I get myself into with these kids? For fuck’s sake, I’m actually considering going along with this…

“Okay, fine! But wait here for a minute, okay? I’m gonna get the van and the boys and the dog. I don’t wanna leave the van on the shoulder out in the open.”

Alodia

There are ghosts in this room.

I’m being wrapped in a corset of white-hot barbed wire. My hands and feet are numb with cold, but the blood in my head has been replaced with boiling magma that melts a block of ice deep in the center of my brain and sends alternating trickles of ice and unbearable heat down my spine. I’m sweating and shivering as I cling to Diego, my brain flickering between lucidity, delirium, and something in between. In the space between, I find the ghosts. I am not the first mother to labor on this spot.

I can hear the noises I’m making. Clumsy, gulping sobs interspersed with animal groans, grunts, and howls. The ghosts hear me, too. Many of them are making the same noises in their struggle to bring their children into the world. I am one with them, with every mother in history who opened her legs on this spot to sweat and push new life from her body.

Some babies come easily. The house I labor in is new, and a young mother who is probably still alive somewhere in the world breathes through her labor and delivers her son with such quiet effort that her little daughter feels no fear as she plays at her mother’s head. The child absorbs an atmosphere of excitement as her new baby brother lets out his first cry. But not every mother is so fortunate, and as each contraction swells to excruciating heights, the lucky mothers’ happy tears are washed away in blood as an immigrant woman’s baby girl refuses to draw breath, or an indigenous mother bleeds out over her howling son.

Children born dead. Mothers killed in the process. I meet the dark eyes of a girl who can’t be more than fifteen, the first human to give birth on this spot more than ten-thousand years ago, whose ancestors had made a journey across lands that were later swallowed by the rising sea. She is not a primitive creature. She speaks in sentences. She has a family and a culture. The child she bears was conceived with a boy to whom she had given herself willingly, with the intent of creating new life. But her humanity is tested when the pain sets in, pain that has been a part of child-bearing for so long that no one remembers the days when we were apes and we gave birth with minimal effort. She is scared, and her fear is my fear. My pain is her pain. But my labor is not her labor. Hers was over ten-thousand years ago. Every other woman who has labored on this spot is past her pain, but I’m in the thick of mine. Still, their long-dead labors cling to me like the ropes of seaweed that drape treasures drawn up from a shipwreck.

She won’t die. I won’t let my baby die. I won’t let her be sacrificed to the bloodthirsty deity who has circled mothers on this spot like a vulture for ten-thousand years, choosing whether to separate mother and child in death, or whether to take or spare them both. Whoever this deity is, they can’t have my baby. They won’t have her.

...But as I feel delirium encroaching on my mind again, and pain rises to meet it, I have to admit that I am less confident they won’t have me.

Caleb

We’ve been walking for awhile now. The younger boys are starting to complain, but Ysa is insisting we push on.

“We’re going the right way,” she says confidently.

I know she’s right because the trail we’ve been following hasn’t gone cold yet. Whoever these people are, they haven’t turned back toward their jeep yet. It’s a bad sign. As late as it is, hikers would have turned back by now, or set up camp if that’s what they were planning to do. As far as we’ve come, it’s not likely they’re either hikers or campers. Even if they were hurt and unable to move, we’d have found them by now, or the trail would have dropped off. It’s looking more and more likely that they abandoned their jeep because of some kind of mechanical failure and struck out on foot. Why the hell they didn’t just stay with the jeep and call for help is anyone’s fucking guess. But I’m starting to think Ysa’s right about them being in trouble.

That feeling only grows when the area we’re in starts to look real fucking familiar…

...Oh, shit…

“Okay, that’s enough!” I say firmly, reaching out to grab Ysa’s shoulder and stop her advancing. “Time to get back to the van.”

“No!” Ysa cries. “No, we’re so close!”

“And we wanna be getting a lot farther away!”

“Caleb, what’s wrong?” Dylan asks.

“I know this place. It’s very near to where a very dangerous person lives, and we should get outta here and get back to the van.”

“But what about the people?!” Ysa wails. “We’ve come so far, we can’t just leave them!”

“Ysa, you heard Caleb. It might be dangerous. If he thinks we should go back, then we should go back.”

“No!”

I gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting sweet little Ysabel to pull away from me. And I definitely wasn’t expecting her to take off running again. Where the shit does she get so much energy?

“Dylan, you stay here with the boys and the dog!” I order. “Keep yourselves hidden and wait right here! I’ll bring her back!”

Diego

“Dios te salve, Maria. Llena eres de gracia: El Seńor es contigo…”

I mutter the old, familiar words under my breath. They taste foreign on my tongue. You might think that being raised Catholic, the prayer would come naturally to me. It doesn’t. Prayer in general doesn’t come naturally to me. The God of my mother and father has been a stranger to me for so many years. The gods of my lover and my found family are...well...me, and the members of my found family, and the most powerful of them is the very woman I am trying to pray for. But prayer is all I have to turn to right now.

“Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres…”

At first I thought about praying to Vaanu. Surely if any deity could protect Allie, it would be her father, right? But Vaanu isn’t really a god. Any more than I am, or Allie as the Endless, or any of the Catalysts. Vaanu is an alien with weird alien powers, but he’s not a god to be prayed to.

“Y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús.”

The words are sticking in my throat. At first I tried to think back to my mother’s book of Saints, see if there was a patron saint of childbirth buried in my subconscious whose name I could invoke to protect Allie. Of course multiple such saints exist. There are patron saints of television and the internet, it would be stupid if there weren’t any saints watching over such a messy, dangerous, and common process that has been going on throughout human history. But what I mostly remember about patron saints of childbirth and mothers is that a number of them are weirdly sans childbearing organs. If I believed in a Mother Goddess, I might have called on her. Instead, I’m softly crying out to the only blessed being from the religion of my childhood that I vaguely imagine might hear me.

“Santa María, Madre de Dios…”

Allie buries her face in my chest, clutching my sleeves as she screams. Her body is slick with sweat, feeling like she might slip out of my arms. I hold her tighter, rocking urgently as I stroke her damp, greasy hair with a shaking hand.

“...Ruega por nosotros pecadores,ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte…”

Caleb

I was right about where we are. Gigi’s abandoned squat is looming in the distance, and Ysabel is barrelling toward it. Fuck, does this kid ever get tired?! Call it adrenaline or a second wind or whatever, but somehow seeing where she’s headed gives me a burst of speed, and I finally overtake her enough to wrap my arms around her and roll us both to the ground. Of course she struggles, but I’m prepared for that this time, and I don’t loosen my grip.

“Let me go!” she shrieks, desperation in her voice. “Caleb, let me go!”

“I will, if you promise to stand still long enough that we can talk about this!” Ysa rapidly stills, apparently thinking this over. I prompt her, “Do we have a deal?”

“...Yeah.”

I cautiously loosen my grip, and when she doesn’t immediately take off again, I give her space to get up. I get into a crouch in front of her and take her by the upper arms, not hard enough to hurt her, but not loose enough that she can break away again without a struggle. I hold her gaze with mine.

“Listen to me, kiddo. You don’t want anything to do with that place, okay? I know the people who hang out there, and they’re really, really dangerous. Especially for a kid like you. It’s time to go back to your brothers and cousins.”

The moon is bright overhead, and I can see Ysa’s dark eyes shimmer with tears, her lips quivering. “But...the people...we have to help them…”

I’m about to protest, but I’m interrupted by the faint, but unmistakable sound of a scream drifting out from inside the house. Fuck. Not like I’m gonna be able to convince her no one’s in trouble in there now. I groan through gritted teeth, briefly tightening my grip on the kid. I shake my head briefly to clear it, then sigh and look back at her face.

“Look...I’ll take care of figuring out what’s going on in there, okay? But while I’m doing that, you need to hide, got it? Hide in the trees, and if anyone comes after you, you scream your lungs out. Understand?”

After the briefest hesitation, she nods. When I release her and stand up, she moves back into the trees. I nod my approval, then steel myself to go back into Gigi’s squat. I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to help whoever’s in there. I’ve at least got some hope that whoever it is, it’s not Gigi or any of her crew, that they really have abandoned the place. But no way Ysa’s gonna go back to the safety of her family or the van if I don’t try. I try to keep to shadows as I creep up to the front door. I press my ear to the door and don’t detect movement immediately behind it, nor are there any flickers in the front-facing windows. I know from experience that the door creaks when opened slowly, but usually if I open it fast, it mostly makes a faint squeak. I make a calculated decision and push it open quickly. Unfortunately, I am rewarded with the sustained, thunderous crash of dozens of unopened cans of food clattering against worn tile. A crude intruder alarm. Way too crude for Gigi, but it definitely destroyed any hope I had of sneaking in and stealthily assessing the situation.

Well...I’m in it now. Might as well see what the screaming is about.

Diego

I’m aware that I’m sobbing as I replace Allie on the mattress and stand with the fireplace poker clutched in my fist. Someone’s in the house. Maybe. I hope against hope that the crash of cans scared them off. But if not…

I plant my feet and raise the poker in front of me like a sword. Allie whimpers and moans behind me. I blink fiercely to clear the tears from my eyes. I need to be able to see. If I have to fight to protect her, I will. But I hope I don’t have to. Maybe it’s okay. Maybe even if the cans didn’t scare them off, it’s not actually someone who wants to harm us. Maybe it’s just someone desperate for shelter like we were. Maybe it’s even Varyyn, come to rescue us, or…

The shadows under the door shift as someone moves in the corridor beyond. The doorknob rattles as whoever it is tries the handle, but the lock holds. The next sound is a pounding knock.

“Hello?” An unfamiliar male voice drifts through the door. “Everything okay in there?”

“Wh-who are you?!” I hate how high and shaky my voice sounds. The last thing I want is to sound weak and scared, however well that describes how I feel.

“Uh...well, my name probably doesn’t mean anything to you...but I’m not here to cause trouble. It’s just I know this area, and if you’re not from around here, you probably don’t want to hang around...Listen, it kinda sounds like someone’s hurt in there…”

“M-my friend…” I hear myself admitting. I find that I’ve stepped closer to the door, too, as if drawn by the prospect of a friendly--or at least non-hostile--face on the other side. “Sh-she…she’s…”

“I’ll level with you, I stumbled across your jeep a ways back, followed the trail you left. I got a van...I could help you get her to a hospital. Or...I got a phone if you wanna call for help…”

“The phone,” I answer promptly. “Slide the phone under the door.”

“Hey, hang on. How do I know I’m gonna get it back?”

Irritation needles at me, temporarily distracting me from my fear. “My friend’s not in a condition to get out the window, and I’m not gonna leave her behind.”

He groans. “...Yeah, okay. Fair. Fine. Just a sec.”

I never thought I would cry at the sight of a smartphone, but right now, the shiny rectangle that our visitor wedges under the door is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in days. I drop the poker and pounce on it, my hands trembling as I thumb the home button. Just one further obstacle to get over.

“...Passcode…?”

Varyyn

I don’t recognize the number of the call coming through on my phone. But I answer, because the situation I am in is not one where a person ignores calls from unknown numbers.

“Hello?”

“...Varyyn?!”

My heart drops into the pit of my belly as a knot of tangled emotion wraps itself around my throat. I feel myself begin to shake.

“...Diego…? ...Diego, my darling, is that you?”

In the driver’s seat beside me, Estela stiffens. Her hand moves toward the switch that would allow our friends in the other car to listen in, but I block it with my hand, and she grips the wheel again. Not yet, I signal with a shake of my head. Not until I have something more to tell them.

“Yes! Yes, it’s me! Wh-where are you? Allie said she reached you, and you were coming for us…”

I bring my free hand back to caress the phone with my fingertips, as if I can reach through it to touch his beautiful face. My breath quivers in my throat.

“We are coming, my own sweetheart. I promise. We’re following the Prism Crystal to reach you. You...you’re together, right? Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he answers with a catch in his voice. “But Allie…”

“She seemed unwell when we spoke…”

I can almost feel him nodding. “We escaped in a jeep. We were heading toward Northbridge, but it broke down. Allie was hurt, and then she got sick, and now she’s in labor, Varyyn, and I don’t know if she’s going to be okay…”

“Wait, you were heading toward Northbridge?!” I sit up straighter, my heart pounding violently against my ribs. “Where did the jeep break down?! Where are you now?!”

“We’re in an abandoned house somewhere. We were on highway fifty-eight, somewhere past mile-marker twenty-four, I think. We had to walk for awhile…”

“Twenty-four…we just passed that, just before you called! ...Estela, what…?” I suddenly realize that Estela has brought the car to a stop. She nods at the windshield. Ahead of us, I can see that our friends have stopped, and Tahira has emerged from the car with the Crystal in her hand. She turns slowly in place and leans over to speak to the others.

“...Varyyn…? Are you still there?”

“I’m here, my love. ...I…”

The radio crackles to life, and Jake’s voice comes through. “Crystal’s pointing into the trees now. Don’t think we’re gonna find a straight road through. Might be best to continue on foot.”

“Diego is on the phone!” I practically yelp in my excitement, and turn my attention back to my partner. “We’re close, my darling! Do you hear me? We’re very close now, my love, so just hold on for a little while longer and we’l--”

A massive noise that I cannot decipher on the other end of the line swallows my words. My veins turn to ice as I hear Diego cry out.

“Diego?!” I am answered only by the sound of scuffling and unintelligible voices just before the line goes dead. And then I hear my own voice, strangled and foreign to my own ears. “No!”

Diego

I’m rooted to the spot, frozen in shock as I take in Stonewall looming in the destroyed doorway. I don’t recognize the brown-haired woman grinning in front of him, nor the shaggy-haired man slumped against the wall just outside. But the woman is staring at me like she knows me and I can’t take my eyes off her face. Then Stonewall, moving with shocking speed for a man made of rocks, lunges at me. The phone slips out of my hand as he grabs my wrist. I’m pulled like a rag doll, and in the dimly lit room, I can just make out the sight of the phone being crushed under his stone foot before my arm bone and the socket of my shoulder are forcibly separated. The pain is white-hot, shooting through my shoulder like a lightning bolt and temporarily blinding me. My own scream is distant in my ears, overpowered by the screech of static as my consciousness threatens to detach from the agony. When the world finally rights itself, I am crumpled on the carpet, sobbing as I clutch my arm. It’s still attached to my body, but it won’t move. I weakly probe my shoulder, but the flashes of pain and unnatural softness I feel there make my gorge rise. I try to focus on the face above me, the grinning, girlish face of the unfamiliar woman.

“So it’s true. I do have Selected staying under my roof. And not just any Selected.” She turns her gaze toward the mattress where Allie is struggling to sit upright, a desperate attempt at a defensive posture. “...The Mystery herself. My killer.”

She turns away from me, drawing something out of her pocket as she crosses to the mattress. A switchblade. I see it gleam as she flicks it open beside her.

“Looking a little worse for wear, Alodia,” the woman purrs. “And what’s that going on with your stomach? Got a little parasite?”

“...Who are you…?” Allie croaks out the question in something that’s equal parts a whimper and a growl. The woman kneels on the edge of the mattress, trailing her fingers along Allie’s leg over the blanket.

“Not surprised you don’t recognize me. Had this pretty face hidden behind a helmet on our last encounter. But maybe you’ll figure it out when I tell you that on the day I died, you were dressed like a pirate straight out of a Disney ride. You and your friends boarded our ship, and thanks to you, I ended up overboard. I wasn’t someone anyone cared about enough to save, so I drowned.”

“...I killed you…” Allie whispers.

“Yeah, you did.”

“...You...you were holding Sean and Craig prisoner. We had to get them back.”

“Yeah, not really interested in excuses. Honestly, I find your reasoning totally understandable. I’m also probably not the only rank-and-file Arachnid you killed without regretting it.” Her hand is trailing further up Allie’s thigh now as she leans forward. “...I don’t want revenge because I think I was right and you were wrong. I want it because you killed me. And that’s just the kind of thing that needs to be answered for. I suppose if I were still dead, I wouldn’t even care. But somehow...I’m not.”

Allie’s only answer is a strangled cry of pain. It’s probably another contraction, but it makes me try to sit up sharply, only to be forced down again by a flare of pain in my shoulder that knocks the breath out of me. The woman grasps the blanket and yanks it back, exposing Allie’s naked lower body. My heart wedges in my throat as she recoils, her expression twisting in pain and terror.

“Stop!” I shriek. The woman ignores me as she grasps my friend’s knees and forces them apart.

“Just as I thought. Little parasite is probably about ready to emerge. The question now is how to play this.” The blade in her hand flashes menacingly as she brings it to hover between Allie’s legs. “I could cut it out right here. Or reach in and yank it out and brain it against the wall.”

“No...please…”

“Leave her alone!” I plead. “Please don’t hurt her!”

“Gigi, stop!” The male voice from earlier apparently belongs to the man who was slumped outside the bedroom door. The room is suddenly brighter, and when I realize his hands are engulfed in flames, it hits me who he is.

The woman--Gigi--turns to raise an eyebrow at Caleb. “Really? You’re going to threaten me with fire in an enclosed space like this? You think you can burn me without burning up this bitch or her crotchfruit?”

“I might be reckless enough to try.”

“No you’re not. I know you well enough, Caleb. You’re a weasly, immature anarchist. But you have a soft spot for kids. You always have. And you don’t want a repeat of the DMV again. You don’t ever want to come that close to burning a kid alive again.”

Caleb clenches his fists, lowering them slightly, but the flames don’t go out.

“...You’re right. I don’t.” He raises his head, smirking. “...So I’ll let someone else worry about taking you out.”

A terrible noise drowns out whatever response Gigi might be making, a deafening cacophony of twisting, groaning metal, splintering wood, and crumbling masonry. I instinctively curl in on myself, screwing my eyes shut as a blast of icy air washes over me. Even as the noise fades, I don’t let my eyes open again until I hear a familiar voice.

“Nice of you two to join the party,” Tahira says blithely. “How did you find me?”

I open my eyes and crane my neck to take in the scene through a slowly settling cloud of dust. Tahira--or Dragonness, I guess I should call her while she’s in costume--has Gigi by the throat and pressed against a wall with one hand, held up so her toes are barely touching the floor. It looks like she decided to rip the entire window out of the wall to get inside, frame and all. Talos and Minuet are in the doorway, with Minuet holding Stonewall captive in a shimmering time field.

“Got an anonymous tip that you might need help,” Minuet explains. “Kinda seemed like a trap, but also too much fun to sit out.”

“We’ll probably want to stake out the perimeter once we’re clear here.” Dragonness turns her masked gaze to me and Allie in turn. “How’re you two holding up?”

“Th-think we’ve been better…” I manage to croak. “...Is...is Varyyn…?”

“He’s not too far behind,” she assures me. “Jake and Michelle are with him. And Sean, Estela, and Rebecca.”

“...Jake…?” Allie whimpers.

“He’s coming. So you two just hang tight for a few minutes. In the meantime, Marci, can you connect me to emergency dispatch? Get the coordinates for this place ready for them, too.”

Michelle

The sounds Varyyn heard as the call from Diego was cut off finally convinced us to let Tahira suit up and fly ahead. Luckily, by that point, Iris had reached us, and it was simple enough for her to connect with Marci in order to keep the rest of us on the right path.

We arrive at the abandoned house to find a fresh gaping hole in one wall. Surprisingly, we also find Minuet outside, holding two figures face down on the grass in front of her in a shimmering time field. Light pours through the hole in the wall--and unmistakeable cries of pain.

“...Alodia!” Jake picks up speed, sprinting toward the door, Varyyn close on his heels. Iris has already flitted in through the hole.

“Emergency services are on the way,” Minuet tells me. “Dragonness has gone after Caleb and Talos is inside with Alodia and Diego!”

“Caleb was…?” I shake my head. “No, never mind. Are you all right out here?”

“Wouldn’t object to you sending the bronze idiot to give me a hand. Can’t hold these assholes indefinitely.”

“Understood. Thank you.”

“Oh, and watch for the canned goods in the front hallway!”

Sean, Estela, Rebecca, and I make it to the front door and pick our way over the scattered cans before following the light and noise to the bedroom at the end of the hall. Jake and Varyyn are already there, cradling their respective spouses in their arms. They both look to be in bad shape. Unfortunately, I am only one doctor, and at a glance, it’s pretty clear that Alodia needs my help first. I strongly suspect Diego would agree with me, too. Jake looks fearfully at me as I approach.

“She feels like she’s on fire…”

I kneel beside her, giving her a quick once-over glance. The degrading bandage on her lower back doesn’t escape my notice, nor does the faint, foul odor wafting off it. It looks like sweat has been wearing away at the medical tape. But that’s not my primary concern at the moment. I quickly tie my hair back, securing it at the nape of my neck, and open my bag. I need hand sanitizer, and a fresh pair of vinyl gloves.

“Iris, what’s the medical report?”

“Alodia’s temperature is one-hundred two degrees Fahrenheit. Pulse is one-hundred thirty. Rapid respiration, BP is 90/60. Staphylococcus aureus infection is detected. She is also in advanced labor. Cervix is dilated nine centimeters. Fetal heart rate is 149. Frank breech position is detected. No signs of fetal distress.”

I can feel my own heart pounding frantically against my ribs as I pull on my gloves, but I manage to keep the tremor out of my voice as I respond. “Thank you, Iris.”

“What does that all mean?” Jake asks anxiously.

“The baby is doing fine,” I reply with practiced calm. “Alodia has an infection that will need to be dealt with, but the priority now is going to be getting the baby out. Iris, what’s the report on Diego?”

She rattles off his vitals, and her assessment of his condition: mild hypothermia, mild dehydration, anterior dislocation of the shoulder.

“Rebecca, do you know how to stabilize a dislocated shoulder?”

“Yeah, I’ll get on that.”

“Thanks. There are cold packs in my bag. Should help with the pain for now. We’ll hold off oral rehydration as long as his symptoms stay mild in case he needs sedation for reduction. Alodia? Can you look at me, sweetie?” It clearly takes effort, but Alodia lifts her head off Jake’s shoulder and meets my gaze. I smile. “Good girl. I’m gonna help you through this, okay? But I’ll level with you that I’m a little outside of my wheelhouse. So I’m just going to make sure I’ve got someone over my shoulder to guide me. Sean, I need you to get my phone out of my pocket, and I’ll tell you the number to call.”

Sean does as I tell him, setting the phone on speaker beside me once it’s ringing. It’s barely two rings before I hear a voice on the other end.

“Northbridge General, Labor and Delivery.”

“This is Dr. Michelle Nguyen. I need to speak to the nearest OBGYN, midwife, or L&D nurse. Tell them I’m in an abandoned house with a mother in labor and the baby is presenting breech. I’ve got EMS en route, but it’s not likely they’ll make it before she delivers and I could use a little advice.”

“Understood, doctor. Someone will be with you in just a sec.”

Jake

I don’t understand most of what’s said between Michelle and whoever she got a hold of at the hospital. Maybe I’d understand a little better if I paid more attention, but I can’t think about that right now. All I can think about is Alodia. All I’ve wanted for...how many days or maybe weeks now is to have her back in my arms safe and sound. Now she’s back in my arms, but she’s not safe. Her skin is searing hot against mine and she’s drenching in sweat, even though she’s shaking like she’s been out naked in a snowstorm. I try to steady her against me as she whimpers in pain, her teeth rattling in her mouth.

“She’s shaking like a leaf, Maybelline. Should we get her warm or something?”

“We’re gonna keep her cozy as we can,” Michelle agrees. “But shaking during labor is pretty common. She’s doing a lot of hard work here.”

“What can I do? How can I help?”

“She’s the one to ask there,” Michelle replies, gently but pointedly. I feel a little stupid, but my embarrassment is fleeting. I look down at my wife’s flushed face, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek.

“What do you need, Princess? What can I do? I’ll do anything.”

She brings a hand up to wrap her fingers around mine. “...Don’t leave me…” Her voice is weak, but the message is clear. I kiss her hot, sweat-salted forehead, and bring mine to rest against it.

“I’m right here. I ain’t leaving you for a second. I swear. ...Don’t you leave me, either, okay?”

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and their implication hangs heavy in the air around my head. I’ve been imagining my daughter’s birth for months, letting so many scenarios play out in my head like movie scenes. I knew it would hurt Alodia. I thought she’d have the option of pain relief, but I knew I’d be holding her hand through some rough moments. I didn’t always imagine the perfect happy ending, either, with River healthy and perfect in our arms. I let myself imagine complications. C-sections, River having trouble breathing. I even let myself face the possibility of a stillbirth or some other tragedy. Maybe it’s just my military background, but I felt like I had to at least acknowledge the worst-case scenarios. But now that the moment is here, I realize that I never did face the worst of the worst possibilities. I never accepted the possibility that Alodia would die in childbirth.

I look over at Michelle, knowing she heard what I said. She meets my eyes. Her gaze is steady, but there’s concern that can’t be totally disguised.

“...You said the baby was doing fine...” I murmur. My emphasis is subtle. I can’t ask the question out loud. I don’t want to ask it where Alodia can hear me. I don’t want to ask it at all.

“Alodia’s vitals are concerning,” Michelle confirms. “Most likely due to the infection. But that can’t be dealt with until the baby is born. We have to focus on what we can do here and now. Alodia, it’s almost time, so we’re gonna get you into a good position. We’re going to try getting you upright since the baby’s coming breech. Sean, grab my phone, please. Rebecca, please grab that folding chair by the desk. Nurse Michealson, are you still there?”

“Still here, doctor,” the man’s voice on the other end assures her. “Let me know when you’ve got the mother in position.”

I feel Michelle is a photographer, posing us for the world’s weirdest family portrait as she directs us to get Alodia in position. I’m instructed to sit on the chair with my knees apart and let Alodia straddle my lap so I can support her from behind and help her keep her legs open. Sean and Estela kneel on either side, supporting her feet and ankles and giving her something to push against. I wrap one arm around her chest, taking her hand with the other.

“I’m right here, Princess,” I murmur into her ear. “I gotcha.”

“Jake…” She whimpers, her free hand shaking as she reaches back to caress my cheek with sweat-damp fingertips. “...She won’t die. River won’t die…”

“You’re right. She won’t. She’s gonna be just fine.”

“...I’m scared…”

“I know. But you got this. You’re not alone. We’re right here. You can do this.”

“Okay, Alodia, this is it.” Michelle grips Alodia’s knees, smiling encouragingly. “You’re almost through this. Remember you’ve got millions of years of instinct behind you, so don’t be afraid to trust it.”

Alodia nods, and I feel a wave of calm washing over both of us. There’s no more choice in the matter. Nature has taken over, swept up my wife and child, and there’s nothing for Alodia, River, or me to do but let the currents carry us to shore. I brush my wife’s ear with my lips.

“I love you more than anything, Alodia Rose Chandler,” I whisper.

“Deep breath, Alodia,” Michelle instructs, her eyes never leaving Alodia’s face. “And...push.”

I close my eyes as Alodia goes rigid in my arms, her hands squeezing me for dear life. I grip back, speaking whatever encouraging words I can come up with into her ear. It’s not like I have to think hard to come up with them. I’m barely thinking at all as I tell her that she’s the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever known, that I love her with my whole soul, that I’m right here with her, that I’m never going to leave her. I can’t take her pain away, and I can’t labor for her, but I’m riding the currents of it right beside her, responding to keep her feeling secure and protected. She pushes. She rests. Push. Rest. She stiffens with a weak cry, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“It hurts…”

“I know, Princess. It sucks, but I’m told having a baby tends to kinda smart.”

“Bottom’s getting ready to deliver, Alodia,” Michelle says. “It’s going to sting for a moment or two, but then the worst will be over. Need you to pull back a little, just small, gentle pushes.”

Alodia gathers her strength, and I try to add mine to hers. I dare to glance down, and catch a glimpse of tiny feet and legs. Then, a moment later, she’s here. My daughter is here, shrieking her little lungs out like she’s come out ready to fight the whole world.

Something halfway between a laugh and a sob tumbles out of me as I look down at the furious creature flailing and howling on the blanket at Michelle’s knees while she clamps and cuts the umbilical cord. She’s like something out of a horror movie, wrinkled and wet with blood and god knows what else, but she’s so goddamn beautiful. I kiss my wife’s cheek over and over, rocking her as gently as I can manage with all the emotion coursing through my veins.

“You did it, Princess. She’s here and she’s perfect…Princess…?” Her grip on my hand has begun to slacken. And just like that, elation turns to terror as my wife goes limp in my arms. “Alodia!”

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spell-cleaver · 5 years ago

Note

"A person becomes naïve if they're too kind. Careless if they're too bold. And no matter how hard you try to protect others, there's no gratitude. Those who can't comprehend such things aren't fit to be Leaders." - Sabe to a young Luke Palpatine

Part 0.5, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Masterpost here!

“A person becomes naive if they’re too kind. Careless if they’re too bold. And no matter how hard you try to protect others, there’s no gratitude. Those who can’t comprehend such things aren’t fit to be leaders.”

Nova ran her fingers over the years-old notebook—an actual notebook, with actual paper, the sort she’d got for Luke to draw on and he’d used for writing things he wanted to be able to burn before his father found them—and let out a tiny huff of laughter. “You wrote that down?”

“I wrote everything down,” Luke said lightly. He uncurled his legs from their position tucked into the cushions and leaned forwards to pluck the notebook from her fingers. She leaned against her arm of the futon, amused, as he flicked to the next page, cleared his throat, and read out:

“Luke, put your pencil down and actually listen to what I’m telling you.”

She snorted at that. “Very funny. I know full well that page is from the lesson I gave you about the strategic and economic strengths of Bromlarch, I caught sight of it before you interrupted.”

Luke pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m not here to have fun,” she snatched the notebook back and smacked him lightly on the head with it; he laughed, and grabbed at it again but failed to catch it, “I’m here to make you a political powerhouse the likes of which the galaxy has never seen.”

He sank back again at that, leaning his head back as far as the pillows would let it go to hide his scowl. “I’m never going to be my father.”

“I don’t want you to be your father. I patently hated your father.” She tapped him on the knee with the book. “I want you to be the best you that you can possibly be.”

“I’m never going to be my mother, either.”

Nova sighed, and laid her hand on his hand, much softer and more gentle than the book had been. “I know you’re not,” she quipped. “Padmé was a lot moodier at fourteen. At least I don’t have to worry about you panicking about the fact that a single person got a grazed knee while you were in office, or just feeling responsible for every ill that every occurred in the galaxy.”

“Am I personally responsible?” Luke said suddenly. He’d never thought about that before, and it scared him. “I’m the Emperor; all the wars that my father started and I’m allowing to continue…”

“Oh, for the love of—” Nova sighed. “No. You are not. But, if you want to exert the sort of influence you could, and start shaping the Empire in your vision instead of in the visions of warmongers like Palpatine, Vader and Tarkin—”

“Vader’s due to go after Tarkin any day now, now that you’re here.”

“—you need to focus.” She opened the notebook and flicked to the next clean page—the first page after the last lesson she’d given him, years ago, before she’d been chased from the Palace in the dead of night. “So. What allies do you already have?”

Luke thought about it for approximately half a second. “You.”

“Anyone else?”

Luke shook his head meekly.

“That’s alright,” she said encouragingly, pulling out a wickedly sharp pencil and beginning to jot something down. “You’re fourteen: most people never expected your father to die this… young,” Luke snorted, “so they didn’t think of you as an immediate heir anytime soon, so they didn’t bother to suck up to the future emperor at risk of alienating the current one. It didn’t help that you were so sheltered—”

“Sheltered?”

“I know.” Her forced, friendly façade dropped a little as she winced. “But you weren’t exposed to the public, for your own safety, and when was the last time you left the Palace?”

Luke didn’t answer.

“So you’re essentially a non-entity right now. You were the cute face who always turned up, charming, in court, but no one ever talked to you, just over you. They don’t know anything about you, so they’d rather bet on a candidate they do know than one they don’t. We just need you to make some friends—be visible in politics, with visible opinions.”

“Vader keeps me under lock and key,” Luke said bitterly.

“Vader cannot keep you locked up forever. If he intends to use you as a puppet emperor, which I suspect he does"—Luke had to say that he was… still confused about that—"then he needs his puppet to dance on its strings. He does need you to put on a show.”

She leaned in. The emerald satin of her dress rippled with the motion. “I’ll arrange for him to have to let you into the Senate tomorrow. I have friends there—if you decide you like the people I introduce you to, and want to ally with them, like-minded people will flock to support you.”

Luke still stared at her.

She smiled encouragingly. “Just try it out. If you don’t feel comfortable allying with them, we’ll find someone else. You have agency here, Luke. Your father’s not here to control every aspect of your life anymore.”

“Vader took my bantha without even needing to ask,” Luke said. “He has guards in my apartments at all times—watching us right now,” he gestured to the Noghri in the corner, who looked like he both wanted to say something and would rather be anywhere else, “and he has command of the entire military. Even if I choose to hand it to someone else, I doubt he will concede. I—” He choked up. “I couldn’t even stop him from taking my comlink.”

With a sudden ferocity, he ripped the thin gold circlet off his head and lunged forwards. Nova jerked back, surprised, and it fell wonky. But it still looked like a halo when it landed on her, glowing against her dark hair, and her instinctually perfect posture gave her an air of regality Luke could never hope to achieve.

“You should be Empress,” he said bitterly. “You know what you’re doing, you're— you’re not a child, you have experience. And the crown actually fits you.” Despite having it made especially for Luke, Vader had wanted to make sure it would still look decent when he was older and bigger, but it meant that it looked comically large on his small head.

Nova lifted her chin. The sunlight from outside caught on her dress, her shoulders, the circlet, twinkling. She did look like an Empress, crooked crown or not.

Then she gently lifted it from her head.

“I was never born to wear a crown,” she said, cradling it in her hands. “I’ve known that since I was younger than you are now.”

Of course, it was then that Vader stormed in. The Noghri didn’t even flinch.

Luke did, though. He started so badly that his legs, twisted underneath him on the futon, cramped and he snapped his head round.

But Vader’s gaze wasn’t fixated on his face, for once. It was on the crown in Nova’s hands.

Nova raised a belligerent eyebrow at him, and lifted it back to Luke’s head. The moment that weight settled above his ears, he felt like he’d had binder re-shackled around his wrists.

“Yes, Lord Vader?” he managed to say, voice tremulous.

Vader said, “I came to report that the interrogation of the assassin who made an attempt on your life has yielded few results, Majesty. We know nothing of their intentions or connections, or how they got so far.” His frustration was audible.

Luke nodded, trying not to shake at the mere memory of… that. “Very well,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Lord Vader?” Nova asked.

Luke froze.

So did Vader.

Nova rose. “While you’re here, there’s one matter I’d like to discuss with you in my office, if it pleases you.” It was phrased like a question, but delivered as an order. “Now.”

Vader hesitated. But after a moment, he said, “As you wish,” and stepped aside to allow her to go first.

Luke gave her a panicked look. “Nova—”

“I’ll just be a second,” she promised, and squeezed his shoulder before she left the room, Vader casting Luke one more glance, then following. The Noghri returned to their positions by the door the moment it shut behind them.

Luke sank back against the pillows, picking up the notebook Nova had left behind and hugging it to his chest, wondering why he suddenly felt so cold.

Send me a sentence for a scene from this AU and I’ll continue it!

Beginning | Previous | Next

#luke palpatine #luke skywalker #sabé #darth vader #for darkness shows the stars #my writing #random words on a page

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oddnub-eye · 5 years ago

Text

Mythology Drabbles #4

Since I know you like these @green-spear-of-causality.

Tried to include a little more dialogue than usual, lets see how they turned out.

Disclaimer: Some of these drabbles are not presented entirely accurately to the source material they are drawn from. They are not meant to be entirely accurate. That being said, I hope you enjoy, and constructive criticism is always welcomed and encouraged.

...

A Fated Death

The spears had come quickly, raining one after another from the nearby cliff. The first struck Laeg, and the charioteer fell with nigh a scream. The second struck Liath Macha, and the horse crumpled instantly, sending the chariot spinning. Cu Chulainn, the Hound of Ulster, was flung from the chariot, and before he could spring to his feet, the third spear stabbed through his torso.

The shock was immedient, and so was the realization that he had been ambushed. Cu forced himself to his feet, even through the pain shooting through his body. A smirk graced his face and he tore the spear from his torso.

“Well!? Warriors who have ambushed me! Show yourselves! You think I will go quietly!? No. I’ll take you all on!”

Cu turned and saw the hill above him lined with warriors. Lugaid mac Con Roi led them, drawing a sword.

“You can barely stand, Hound of Ulster. Admit you’ve been beaten.”

Cu smirked wildly, “That’s your problem!? Here, I’ll fix that for you!”

Cu dragged himself to a nearby standing stone, and fell to one knee as he reached it, coughing wildly. Lugaid and his forces approached slowly. The Hound of Ulster stood, strapping himself to the rock with his belt.

“Well Lugaid?” Cu asked, blood dripping down his face, “Good enough for you now!?”

Lugaid narrowed his eyes, “You’re too arrogant for a mere dog.”

“I’m too arrogant for a dog? Well, come on, let’s see if I’ve earned my arrogance!”

Lugaid roared and stabbed forward with his own sword. Cu deflected it with the spear he ripped from his own body, before tossing it aside, and drawing his sword.

Lugaid’s forces charged forward and Cu parried every blow. Men fell, and eventually they all fell back. Blood flowed from Cu Chulainn’s body, and the light in his eyes was dimming by the second.

That damned smile still graced his features.

A raven circled overhead, slowly flew towards him.

Cu murmured quietly, “I didn’t...I didn’t say goodbye to Emer, did I?”

The raven landed on Cu’s shoulder, and Cu closed his eyes, face set to a sad smile.

It’s always something with me, ain’t it.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Gods’ Punishment

Enkidu was dying. That much was obvious. His skin had grayed, his hair had whitened, his eyes had paled out, their vibrant red to a sickly pink. It was like the very life was being sucked from Enkidu.

This was no illness. This was punishment.

Gilgamesh kneeled by his friend’s bed, torn between crying and destructive anger. The floor around Gilgamesh and the walls of the room were dotted with craters. Shamhat stood in the corner, having also come to be with Enkidu in his final days.

Gilgamesh stared at the ground quietly. Shamhat shuffled towards him, and placed her hand on his shoulder. Gilgamesh shrugged her off, and Shamhat understood, backing off.

Enkidu could barely speak, so he rasped out, “Gilgamesh. My friend. I can feel my senses fading. I feel this is my last day on this Earth.”

Gilgamesh's voice cracked, “Talking so poetically doesn’t suit you, Enkidu.”

“Shut up.” Enkidu gasped.

“That’s better,” Gilgamesh smiled sadly.

Enkidu’s body was racked with coughs, blood dripping out from his mouth.

“Do you need anything?” Gilgamesh whispered, propping Enkidu up on his cushions.

Enkidu could barely work a smile, “Just...you...and Shamhat...please stay with me...as I go…”

Shamhat made her way over, and Gilgamesh made space for her to kneel next to him.

The next few moments were peaceful. Just the rise and fall of Enkidu’s chest.

Rise. Fall. Rise. Fall. Rise. Fall. Rise…

Gilgamesh was the first one to start crying.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

At the End of It All, Could You Promise Me, as a friend, One More Time?

Lancelot sat, despondent, outside of the monastery that he assumed would become his home for the rest of his life. With Gawain fatally wounded, and Guinevere sent to a Covenant, there was no reason for Lancelot to continue fighting. Better atone for his sins.

He’d sent the one soldier who refused to leave him to take Arondight back to Arthur. Now, Lancelot waited outside, at sunset, he’d go into the monastery.

A horse rode up to him, its rider carrying a sack and an object wrapped in cloth. He extended a wrapped scroll to Lancelot.

“Who do you bring this news from?” Lancelot asked.

“The late Sir Gawain.” The rider explained, “He wished these things to be delivered to Sir Lancelot.”

“Didn’t he hear,” Lancelot retorted, “It's not Sir Lancelot anymore. Just Lancelot Du Lac.”

“Sir Gawain does not think so.” The Rider insisted, shoving the scroll into Lancelot’s hand.

Dear Lancelot

Lancelot. I shall be brief. We parted on unenjoyable terms, that’s obvious. I am dying and on my deathbed, I ask of you. Please go aid our king...our friend, in reclaiming his kingdom from Mordred. I understand that you feel that you must have sins that you cannot be redeemed. But no one is beyond redemption Lancelot. And there are many ways of redemption. Lancelot Du Lac, Knight of the Lake, you’ve made far more mistakes, but so has everyone. But you were still the best of us. So, Lancelot, I thank you for the good times, scorn you for the bad times...and pray that you go out as the best of us.

Your friend,

Gawain.

Lancelot closed the scroll, “I have no armor. I have no weapons. I gave up my worldly possessions.”

The Rider smiled, “My lord took that into account.”

Lancelot looked up to see the Rider offering the sack and cloth-wrapped object to him. Lancelot’s eyes widened, and he smiled sadly.

“Damn Gawain, you really know how to get to me.”

Arthur, Bedivere, and Kay hurried down the path, one of Mordred’s armies hot on the trail.

“We’re gonna have to fight!” Arthur shouted, “We can take them.”

“We can’t do that and still have the strength to deal with Mordred’s main forces.” Bedivere shot back, “We have to keep-”

Bedivere was suddenly grabbed and yanked to the side of the road. Arthur and Kay snapped around, seeing they had been surrounded by a small squadron of knights, one holding a sword to Bedivere’s neck.

“Let him go!” Arthur shouted, drawing Excalibur.

“Nah, ah, ah.” The head knight laughed, pressing the blade harder to Bedivere’s neck, “Surrender Arthur, or the knight dies.”

“Don’t listen to him, my king!” Bedivere shouted, before the blade was pressed even harder against his throat.

Arthur began to place his sword down.

“Stop.” A voice pierced the air, and the sound of a sword arcing through the air, slashing through the knight holding Bedivere captive. A figure had entered the fight, wearing yellow and black armor.

Bedivere leapt free as the knight fell dead, drawing his own blade, Arthur and Kay moving into action.

With the aid of the new figure, the four easily dispatched the rogue knights.

“Thank you,” Arthur said, before noticing the sword clutched in the knight’s hand. The familiar shape. The bright gold and red core that danced like firelight. It was…

“Galatine?” Kay murmured, “And that armor...Gawain, I thought you.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” the figure admitted, removing his helmet, revealing Lancelot.

“Lancelot!” Kay roared, taking a threatening step towards the former Round Table Knight.

“Wait, let me explain!”

“Explain what?” Kay asked, “How you killed Gawain and took his weapons and armor from his corpse, even after you said you’d go to atone!”

“I am here to atone on Gawain’s wishes!” Lancelot shouted, before pulling out the scroll Gawain had sent him.

“So, you intend to fight alongside us?” Arthur asked, to which Lancelot shook his head.

“The army that’s been trailing you. I’ll stall it.” Lancelot said solemnly.

“You’ll die. Not even you can handle an entire army.” Bedivere interjected.

“Of course.” Lancelot sighed, “But, after causing this whole mess, I might as well try and give you a chance to solve it.”

Lancelot turned to set out to confront the army.

“Wait.” Arthur said, walking up to Lancelot, extending a sword. Arondight. “Take it. And promise me...you will at least try and survive.”

Lancelot took Arondight by the hilt, “I promise you, on whatever honor I may still have as a knight.”

“No.” Arthur pressed Arondight into Lancelot’s hand, “Promise me, one more time, as a friend.”

Lancelot was taken aback, but took Arondight, “Alright then Arthur, I promise you as Lancelot Du Lac, valued friend of Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur nodded, and he, Bedivire, and Kay left. Lancelot turned to face the approaching army, holding Galatine and Arondight.

“Goodbye my King. Goodbye my Friend.” Lancelot murmured, before raising his blades and declaring, “Now, come, fellow traitors to King Arthur! Come face Lancelot Du Lac!”

#oddnub writes #reimagining #interpretation #celtic mythology #arthurian mythos #sumerian mythology #gilgamesh #enkidu #shamhat #cu chulainn #lancelot du lac #arthur pendragon #bedivere #sir kay

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elizabethemerald · 5 years ago

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Eternal Night Redux: Finale

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

AO3

Please please reblog!

The Hearthstone once more hummed with energy. Throughout the past few months it had slowly recovered from Gunmar draining it. Jim was delighted to see it once again to its previous healthy glow.

Since Gunmar's defeat at the hand of the Trollhunters, Trollmarket had been constantly busy. Ambassadors from various troll tribes had been constantly coming and going. They were all working to solidify the tenuous peace that had been established.

There was still tension between different groups. The trolls of Trollmarket disliked the trolls from Gato's Keep since they refused to come in their hour of need. Many of the trolls still hated and distrusted the changelings, and the surviving members of the Janus order returned those feelings in spades.

Angor was still feared even by some of the trolls who had fought alongside him. And the former assassin still harbored many ill feelings for Strickler. Jim did his best to keep those two apart as much as possible.

Even with tensions still running high between groups and between individuals they were all still gathered again. Trollmarket was filled with all manner of trolls, Krubera, Quagawump, changeling, and the survivors of old Trollmarket. The troll and changeling armies were waiting outside the Heartstone, just in case things went poorly within.

Jim marched into the Heartstone with the Staff of Avalon in his hand. Claire and Toby were on either side of him. The rest of his growing family followed behind.

"I must insist again that this plan is folly!" Merlin's gravely voice called forward from the back of the group.

"Enough Merlin! We've discussed and debated this point back and forth in circles ever since we killed Gunmar."

Merlin took a breath to argue but Toby spoke over him.

"Yeah shut up beetle brows." Toby shouted back. "You've done nothing but complain literally since we woke you up."

Merlin pushed past the others and out his arm on Claire's shoulder. "Perhaps the fair Claire-"

"Do you want to get punched again?" Claire smacked his hand off her shoulder. "Because I feel like calling me 'fair Claire' again is a sure fire way to get punched again."

Merlin flapped his mouth like a fish for a moment, and Jim swirled around to face him.

"We've already decided. If she is going to be an enemy and try to kill us all when she gets out, that outcome will be the same whether we release her now or she breaks free a thousand years from now. At least now we are as prepared as we can be for a fight." Jim turned and led the way down the stairs as he talked. "However if there is any chance to talk her down we have to do it now. We can't just wait till it's convenient."

They pushed forward and spread out into the prison chamber. Jim strode toward the center, beneath Morgana's form, frozen in the stone. With a resounding click he pushed the staff into its home in the key hole.

Jim looked past the staff to Morgana. If she decided to kill them all it would be the fight of their lives to get out of this chamber. He was sure that some of them would die here if it came to that. He didn't know if he could bare losing anyone here, maybe Merlin was right and this was a bad idea.

As he wrestled for a moment with his indecision he felt a hand fall on each of his shoulders. Toby and Claire had moved forward with him. They each had one hand on the staff and one on his shoulders.

Jim leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Claire's lips, then turned and pressed one to Toby's as well. He took just a moment to breath in the same space as them, his eyes closed before he steeled his back.

"Together?" He asked them.

"Together." They said as one.

Jim wrapped both of his hands around the Staff of Avalon and with Claire and Toby speaking in the same breath as him, said the enchantment that would free the Eldritch Queen.

They carefully aimed the green beam that blasted out from the staff at the hanging crystal. It only took a moment before the crystal shattered. Jim summoned his helmet to protect his face and his shield to protect Claire and Toby's.

The bits of stone froze in mid air before flying back towards the now free Morgana. Jim resisted the urge to draw his sword as she hovered slowly downward. Toby and Claire both had their collapsed weapons in their hands, they were trying not look threatening, but they didn't want to be taken by surprise. Jim stepped forward toward the golden armored woman.

"Morgana! We have freed you in a bid for peace." Jim said. His voice took on a commanding air that still took him by surprise, though the others had come to expect it.

Morgana did not reply instead she swept her gaze over those gathered here. Jim worried for a moment whether she understood him, and was about to try again in Trollish. Before he could the gravely voice he had come to dread spoke up.

"Like I said, it is foolish to trust her!" Merlin stepped forward his sword in hand.

Before anyone could react to stop him, golden glyphs appeared around Morgana's emerald hand. The magic blast knocked Merlin back into the wall. Jim hesitated for a moment waiting for any other magic attack.

"We'll go ahead and give you that one, but we would like to talk peace."

"You dare try and talk to me about peace?" Morgana's voice reverberated in the room. "You want to talk about peace while you are wearing the amulet forged from my hand!"

Jim had to stop himself from taking a step back from the force of her fury. He mentally berated himself. Wearing the armor put a serious dent in his negotiation ability. He was surprised when Claire stepped forward, boldly facing the Eldritch Queen.

"If you don't want to talk peace with Jim, then talk peace with me!" Claire's voice took on the same magical quality as Morgana's as she spoke. "You possessed me! Tried to destroy my soul! Tried to kill my boyfriend!"

As she spoke Morgana slowly floated lower till she was standing on the ground. She still towered over the children, but at least she wasn't blasting them apart. Jim couldn't help but notice that she was easily the tallest non troll in the room.

"I have every right to hate you!" Claire continued. "To want you dead for what you did to me! But I want to offer a chance to end the fighting! To end the bloodshed that has stretched back who knows how many thousands of years."

Morgana looked at her closely, her face closed off and unreadable. She studied every line and curve of Claire's face. Whatever she was looking for she seemed to find because she nodded to herself, then settled into a floating seated position.

"Very well my child. Let's talk of peace."

A sigh ran through the room as if every person there had been holding their breath. Claire sat down on the floor in front of her and Morgana floated lower till they were on the same level.

"My partners will join me in these talks." Claire said. "Jim will represent the needs of Troll kind. Toby will represent the humans, both those in the town above and in the rest of the world."

Jim stepped forward and sat beside Claire. Toby sat on her other side. In an effort to show their earnestness Jim pulled at the amulet on his chest, allowing his armor to return to light. He pocketed the amulet. Toby set his collapsed warhammer aside as well.

"It would seem I'm outnumbered at these talks. Would no one join me?" Morgana turned aside and addressed the rest of those gathered in the room. "My champion?"

Angor growled reflexively from where he had been leaning against one of the walls. "I am no longer your champion!"

"No. I suppose not." For the first time an expression other than fury could be seen on her face. Jim could clearly see it as a deep sadness. Morgana turned to where Strickler and Nomura were standing on the opposite side of the chamber. “Well what about you? Will one of you stand by your Lady Creator?”

Nomura looked away a scowl on her face. Strickler however took a step forward. Morgana waited but that was as close as he moved.

“It is true you created the changelings. So we could work as your spies and assassins in this war. However Jim helped us, without any thought of reward, even while we were still on the opposite sides. Also he was the one who insisted that the changelings be included again and again. He was the one who fought for our place at this table. I think I can speak for all of my brethren when I say we stand for once alongside the Trollhunter. Not against him.”

Morgana looked down, her face thoughtful. When she looked up again Jim could see a fire in her eyes.

“It is is said, that you can judge a man by the enemies he makes.” She glanced over their shoulders to where Merlin was standing. “Or by the allies he keeps.” At this she glanced to Angor. “But I truly believe the truest test of a man is the enemies he turns into allies, or even friends. Fine. I will sit alone against you.”

On impulse Jim shifted over so he was sitting to the side, in between the Claire and Morgana. Toby quickly caught on to what he was doing and moved so he and Jim were now looking at each other, with Morgana and Claire on their sides.

“You don’t have to be against us.” Jim said. “We are all sitting together.”

Claire leaned forward pulling Morgana’s attention.

“The three of us have fought together against everything we have come across.” Claire said. “We can all fight together now.”

In an uncommon display of seriousness Toby also leaned forward as well meeting Morgana’s eyes. “Seriously can we get this conversation started? This armor is super uncomfortable to sit in for long periods of time.”

Jim and Claire laughed, and even Morgana smiled. Together all four of them, the three Trollhunters and the Eldritch Queen sat and talked. They talked of war and bloodshed. And they talked of peace, and rebuilding. They talked long into the night, Blinky and Aaarrrgghh eventually bringing in chairs so they didn’t have to sit on the floor.

In the end they spoke of balance. Of a balance that had been absent from the world for far too long. Together they spoke of creating a better future, for Troll, Human, Changeling, Wizard and anyone else out in the universe.

Fin

#jim lake junior #tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #claire nunez #toby domzalski #morgana toa #eternal night redux #writing emerald

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warrioreowynofrohan · 4 years ago

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Stormlight Archive Epigraphs (3) - Last Words

The epigraphs in TWOK Part 1 and Part 4 record the dying words of Rosharans.

We later learn that these “death rattles” describe prophetic visions, and are caused by the Unmade called Moelach, as well as that Taravangian is actively killing people in order to document their words.

I’ve tried to organize them by content. Minor spoilers for the prereleased chapters of Rhythm of War.

The Death of Honor

1) Ten orders. We were loved, once. Why have you foresaken us, Almighty! Shard of my soul, where have you gone?

- Collected on the second day of Kakash, year 1171, 5 seconds before death. Subject was a lighteyed woman in her third decade.

Refers to both the Recreance and the death of Honor.

2) Three of sixteen ruled, but now the Broken One reigns.

- Collected: Chachanan, 1173, 84 seconds pre-death. Subject: a cut-purse with the wasting sickness, of partial Iriali descent.

The Heralds

3) Ten people, with Shardblades alight, standing before a wall of black and white and red.

- Collected: Jesachev, 1173, 12 seconds pre-death. Subject: one of our own ardents, overheard during his last moments.

4) The burdens of nine become mine. Why must I carry the madness of them all? Oh, Almighty, release me.

Dated Palaheses, 1173, unknown seconds pre-death. Subject: a wealthy lighteyes. Sample collected secondhand.

This is pretty clearly spoken from the point of view of Talenel on Braize, the only obe of the ten Heralds to keep the Oathpact.

5) A woman sits and scratches out her own eyes. Daughter of kings and winds, the vandal.

Dated Palahevan, 1173, 73 seconds pre-death. Subject: a beggar of some renown, known for his elegant songs.

This is a reference to Shallash, the Herald associated with the Lightweavers (and with creativity and art generally), who now goes around vandalizing art of herself

The ‘Voidbringers’ (in quotes due to revelations in Oathbringer)

6) They are aflame. They burn. They bring the darkness when they come, and so all you can see is that their skin is aflame. Burn, burn, burn...

- Collected on Palahishec, 1172, 21 seconds pre-death. Subject was a baker’s apprentice.

7) I see them. They are the rocks. They are the vengeful spirits. Eyes of red.

- Kakakes 1173, 8 seconds pre-death. A darkeyed young woman of fifteen. Subject was reportedly mentally unstable since childhood.

8) That chanting, that singing, those rasping voices.

- Kaktach 1173, 16 seconds pre-death. A middle-aged potter. Reported seeing strange dreams during highstorms during the last two years.

Reference to the Parshendi calling the Everstorm.

9) Victory! We stand atop the mount! We scatter them before us! Their homes become our dens, their lands are now our farms! And they shall burn, as we once did, in a place that is hollow and forlorn.

- Collected on Ishashan, 1172, 18 seconds pre-death. Subject was a lighteyed spinster of the eighth dahn.

This seems to be referencing the humans (the actual Voidbringers) deplacing the Singers, as described in the Eila Stele.

The Everstorm

10) The love of men is a frigid thing, a mountain stream only three steps from the ice. We are his. Oh Stormfather...we are his. It is but a thousand days, and the Everstorm comes.

- Collected on the first day of the week Palah of the month Shash of the year 1171, 31 seconds before death. Subject was a dark-eyed pregnant woman of middle years. The child did not survive.

11) I have seen the end, and have heard it named. The Night of Sorrows, the True Desolation. The Everstorm.

- Collected on the 1st of Nanes, 1172, 15 seconds pre-death. Subject was a darkeyed youth of unknown origin.

12) They named it the Final Desolation, but they lied. Our gods lied. Oh, how they lied. The Everstorm comes. I hear its whispers, see its stormwall, know its heart.

- Tanatanes 1173, 8 seconds pre-death. An Azish itinerant worker. Sample of particular note.

Specific Events in the Books

13) A man stood on a cliffside and watched his homeland fall into dust. The waters surged beneath, so far beneath. And he heard a child crying. They were his own tears.

- Collected on the 4th of Tanates, year 1171, 30 seconds before death. Subject was a cobbler of some renown.

I think this is referencing something from Dalinar’s visions in TWOK, but I don’t remember them clearly. I’ll keep an eye out for it on this read-through.

14) He must pick it up, the fallen title! The tower, the crown, and the spear!

- Dated Vevahach, 1173, 8 seconds pre-death. Subject: a prostitute. Background unknown.

Could be a reference to Kaladin, Dalinar, or both. “The Tower” could be the rock formation of that named where the main battle occurs in TWOK, or (more likely) Urithiru. Dalinar has now taken up rulership of Urithiru. The spear is generally identified with Kaladin, as his primary weapon. Probably broadly referring to the need to refound the Knights Radiant.

15) They come from the pit, two dead men, a heart in their hands, and I know that I have seen true glory.

- Kakashah 1173, 13 seconds pre-death. A rickshaw puller.

Shallan and Kaladin returning from the chasm in WOR, specifically referenced in the chapter title “True Glory”. The use of “two men” for a man and a woman indicates that these statements do not need to be taken precisely literally.

16) All is withdrawn for me. I stand against the one who saved my life. I protect the one who killed my promises. I raise my hand. The storm responds.

- Tanatenev, 18 seconds pre-death. A darkeyed mother of four in her sixty-second year.

Kaladin defending Elhokar against Moash in WOR. Specifically referenced in the chapter title “The One Who Killed Promises.”

17) In the storm I awaken, falling, spinning, grieving.

- Dated Kakanev, 1173, 13 seconds pre-death. Subject was a city guardsman.

This may be Szeth in the Everstorm at the end of WOR, after Kaladin defeats him, but I’m not sure of it. His ‘awakening’ would be the awareness that he was, in fact, right about the return of the Knights Radiant and the Desolations.

18) The darkness becomes a palace. Let it rule! Let it rule!

- Kakevah 1173, 22 seconds pre-death. A darkeyed Selay man of unknown profession.

I think this is referring to the two Unmade in the palace of Kholinar in OB.

19) Above the final void I hang, friends behind, friends before. The feast I must drink clings to their faces, and the words I must speak spark in my mind. The old oaths will be spoken anew.

- Dated Betabanan, 1173, 45 seconds pre-death. Subject: a lighteyed child of five years. Diction improved remarkably when giving sample.

I think this is referencing Dalinar’s third oath at the climax of Oathbringer, and his creation of a contact point between the three realms; the phrasing is similar to Dalinar’s in the preface of (in-universe) Oathbringer (I hung between realms...), and “friends behind, friends before” describes him having loved ones in both the physical realm and in Shadesmar at that moment.

The Unmade

20) Re-Shephir, the Midnight Mother, giving birth to abominations with her essence so dark, so terrible, so consuming. She is here! She watches me die!

- Dated Shashabev, 1173, 8 seconds pre-death. Subject: a dark-eyed dockworker in his forties, father of three.

21) Let me no longer hurt! Let me no longer weep! Dai-Gonarthis! The Black Fisher holds my sorrow and consumes it!

- Tanatesach, 1173, 28 second pre-death. A darkeyed female street juggler. Note similarity to sample 1172-89.

This one is particularly interesting, but I’ll discuss it in combination with the other epigraphs on the Unmade.

Taravangian’s Murders

These quotes are included specifically to reveal that people are being deliberately killed to obtain these visions.

22) You’ve killed me. Bastards, you’ve killed me! While the sun is still hot, I die!

- Collected on the fifth day of the week Chach of the month Betab of the year 1171, 10 seconds before death. Subject was a dark-eyed soldier 31 years of age. Sample is considered questionable.

23) I’m dying, aren’t I? Healer, why do you take my blood? Who is that beside you, with his head of lines? I can see a distant sun, dark and cold, shining in a dark sky.

- Collected on the 3rd of Jesnan, 1172, 11 seconds pre-death. Subject was a Reshi chull trainer. Sample is of particular note.

Very interesting. The speaker may be a potential Lightweaver, as they are seeing Cryptics and seeing into Shadesmar. Or the Cryptics may be drawn by the deception of the Healers who are killing people.

24) I wish to sleep. I know now why you do what you do, and I hate you for it. I will not speak of the truths I see.

- Kakashah, 1173, 142 seconds pre-death. A Shin sailor, left behind by his crew, reportedly for bringing them ill luck. Sample largely useless.

Miscellaneous

25) I’m cold. Mother, I’m cold. Why can I still hear the rain? Will it stop?

- Collected on Vevishes, 1172, 32 seconds pre-death. Subject was a lighteyed female child, approximately six years old.

26) Light grows so distant. The storm never stops. I am broken, and all around me have died. I weep for the end of all things. He has won. Oh, he has beaten us.

- Dated Palahakev, 1173, 16 seconds pre-death. Subject: a Thaylen sailor.

27) The death is my life, the strength becomes my weakness, the journey has ended.

- Dated Betabanes, 1173, 93 seconds pre-death. Subject: a scholar of some minor renown. Sample collected secondhand. Considered questionable.

A general reference to the first oath of the Knights Radiant, but inverted.

Unknown

28) I’m standing over the body of a brother. I’m weeping. Is that his blood or mine? What have we done?

- Dated Vevanev, 1173, 107 seconds pre-death. Subject: an out-of-work Veden sailor.

Interesting.

29) I hold the suckling child in my hands, a knife at his throat, and know that all who live wish me to let the blade slip. Spill its blood upon the ground, over my hands, and with it gain us further breath to draw.

- Dated Shashanan, 1173, 23 seconds pre-death. Subject: a darkeyed youth of sixteen years. Sample is of particular note.

Very interesting. What could this be referring to? Seeing the future is deeply taboo on Roshar, so it would be very strange for everyone to foresee doom from a newborn child. Based on the published chapters so far from ROW suggesting that Shallan has even more secrets predating her mother’s death (and given that her mother tried to kill her when she was still young), could this be related to her?

#the stormlight archive #brandon sanderson #epigraphs

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moretreasurewithinarchive · 5 years ago

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The Valley of the Roses

This was a fairy tale I wrote 4 years ago, while part of a Narnia rp group. It was a writing prompt based on this picture.

The picture is by AquaSixio on Deviant Art, and can be found here. The original prompt can be found here. And my original story can be found here. The one below the cut is edited for clarity and hopefully better grammar.

Once upon a time, in a quaint and provincial little town at the base of a tall and treacherous mountain, there lived a young man. This young man was a knight who served his kingdom with bravery and wisdom. He was very much a favorite of the good king and queen, who always took his guidance to heart. This valiant young knight seemed to have the world at his feet. Yet, his heart was heavy and full of melancholy.

For it was while he was away, defending his kingdom from a wicked neighboring land, he received an urgent message that he must return home with haste. Upon arriving back, he found the girl he loved more than his own life had fallen very ill. Determined to do whatever it took to save her, the knight sought out the help of all the best doctors and magic workers in the kingdom. When they failed to heal the girl, he traveled the realm over hoping to find someone who could take the sickness away. None had been able to succeed, and he fell into despair. Every night, he would sit by her bedside with her hand clasped in his. And every night he would promise that all would be well; that he’d heard of yet another doctor or wizard who could work the miracle they so desperately needed. But the girl grew worse with every passing day. Both she and her knight knew that she was dying, but still he refused to give up his search for a cure.

Several months later, the king and queen noticed that their once lighthearted and vibrant friend had changed. No longer did he linger at the palace to talk. No longer did his stories fill the halls with laughter and awe. “We must find the cause for this change, and remedy it at once.” The king and queen decided, and called the knight to them.

Standing in the throne room before them, the knight’s head and shoulders hung heavy with their awful burden. Seeing for themselves the grave turn he’d taken, the king and queen implored him, “Please, o friend, won’t thou tell us the cause of thy suffering so that we may set it right again?”

By this time, however, even the knight was beginning to lose hope that he would ever be able to make his beloved well again. Yet, he was still a noble and good man; with no desire to trouble the king and queen with his woes. It was for this reason he’d never told them before. However, after much pressing and promises that they would do whatever it took to make the problem right, the knight broke down. The trust and loyalty he had so long shown the king and queen, they now gave back to him in abundance.

Tears pouring from his eyes, he confided at last in the king and queen. “The girl I love more than anything is very ill, majesties. I have searched so very long for a cure for her. I’ve brought all the best doctors and magicians in the realm to her, but none can ease her agony. Every day she grows worse and worse, and I fear she will soon die without a cure.”

Moved by his plight, and feeling their own hearts fill with sadness, the good king and queen at last understood. For they knew the girl well, and loved her as dearly as the knight himself. Stunned that he had not come to them sooner, the king and queen told him they might know what would save her life. Renewed by the discovery, the knight pleaded desperately for what they knew. “All know our kingdom is placed at the foot of the mountain,” They told him. “It is said that on the other side of the mountain, there is a valley of great magic, where sky and earth seem separated not. Where the stars shine so bright and so close, that if one were to reach out, they could pluck one right from the heavens. In this marvelous valley, it is said that for every person born in the realm, there grows a rose. The roses are said to be magic and kept safe under domes of sparkling diamond and the clearest glass. To heal her, thou must scale the mountain and go to the valley. Find her rose and remove the dome. Pluck out that which is sick and return with the healthy petals that grow in its place, and if she eats them, she will be saved.”

Hope filling his soul once more, the knight thanked the king and queen and ran out right away to prepare for the journey. He gathered his armor, sword, and shield, for the mountain was fraught with dangers beyond the wildest dreams. Stopping only to tell the girl he would return soon with a cure, he set off on his journey. When passing the castle, the king and queen met him at the gate with a small pouch. “It will help thee on thy way.” They told him. Wishing the knight luck, the king and queen watched him race toward the mountain.

As he reached the base, the knight looked up. How very tall it seemed now! How could he ever reach the top to get to the valley? But he knew he had to try. If he failed, the girl would die, and that was a fate he could not face. Tying the little pouch to the belt on which his sword hung at his waist, the knight began to climb. Slowly and carefully, he made his way up and up toward the top of the mountain. By the time he climbed a quarter of the way up, night had fallen, and knight knew he had to stop until dawn. Thankfully, the ground had leveled some, and he was able to search for a shelter for the night. Moments later, the knight found a cave and was able to build himself a fire.

Just as the knight grew weary and felt his eyes begin to close, a voice called out in anger, “Who is this that invades my cave?” Jumping to his feet with his hand upon his sword, the knight looked around. Much to his surprise, a gnarled little gnome appeared.

“Forgive me, little Gnome.” The knight implored, “I am on my way to the valley of the roses on the other side of the mountain to bring a cure to my beloved, and needed only to rest for the night.”

The gnome was hardly moved by his plea, and the greedy creature began to imagine the sumptuous feast the knight would make; for none who dared enter his cave made it out alive. “Thou have done well to make it thus far, o Knight. But unless thou carries with thee something more valuable than thy own meat, thou shall never see the valley of the roses.”

Knowing that he had nothing with which to offer the gnome, the knight was ready to fight the creature. But then he remembered the pouch. Opening it, the knight found right on the top a piece of meat with a note. ‘This meat has been enchanted by the court wizard so that it will never diminish in its bounty. Use it well.’ Pulling the morsel out, the knight offered it to the gnome. The glutinous creature took the meal and began to eat. Even after several minutes, when he did not run out of meat, the gnome was content and slunk back to his hole in the cavern wall. With the monster at bay, the knight was able to sleep, and he woke as the dawn rose for the next part of his journey.

Up and up the mountain the knight climbed, ever so carefully and slowly. By midday, he found himself half way up the mountain. Allowing himself a moment to rest against a boulder, the knight found himself quite famished. Knowing he had to find food to keep his strength up, he soon found a hallow tree that was full of honey. Helping himself to a few bites, the knight soon felt full. Yet, the moment he stepped away from the tree, a fierce growl rent the air as the earth thundered and quaked. Before the knight was able to run or draw his sword, he found himself facing a terrible black bear; the largest and meanest bear he’d ever set eyes on. “Who is this that steals my gold?” The bear demanded.

“Forgive me, great Bear,” The knight implored. “I am on my way to the valley of the roses on the other side of the mountain to bring a cure to my beloved, and needed only a morsel to satisfy my hunger.”

The bear was hardly moved by his plea, and the greedy creature began to think of his precious golden honey and imagine how long it would take it replace that which the knight had eaten; for none who dared help themselves to his honey made it out alive. “Thou have done well to make it thus far, o Knight. But unless thou carries with thee something more valuable than that gold thou have robbed me of, thou shall never see the valley of the roses.”

Knowing that he had nothing with which to offer the bear, he turned again to his pouch. Opening it, the knight found right on top a plate of ambrosia and a note. ‘This ambrosia came to our kingdom with a merchant from a far off land. It is said that none who catch it’s scent can deny themselves a sample. Use it well.’ Pulling the plate out, and holding his breath, the knight offered it to the bear. The greedy creature took a single sniff, and the moment the smell hit his nose, the bear began to scarf it down. With the monster at bay, the knight was able to slip away unnoticed and catch a moment’s rest for the next part of his journey.

Up and up the mountain the knight climbed, ever so carefully and slowly. By sunset, he found himself three quarters of the way up the mountain. Wiping the sweat from his brow, the knight took notice of how parched he was. Knowing he had to find water lest he faint, he soon found a small river with the clearest running water he’d ever beheld. Cupping his hands, the knight took a sip or two and soon felt his thirst quenched. Yet, the moment he rose, a terrible hissing and splashing rent the air as the river seemed to race with rage. Before the knight could act, he found himself facing an ugly and awful crocodile; the longest and strongest he’d ever set eyes on. “Who is this that drinks of my river?” The crocodile demanded.

“Forgive me, mighty Crocodile,” The Knight implored. “I am on my way to the valley of the roses on the other side of the mountain to bring a cure to my beloved, and needed only a small bit to quench my thirst.”

The crocodile was hardly moved by his plea, and the greedy creature began to lament how there was now even less of the water for himself; for none who dared drink of his river made it out alive. "Thou have done well to make it thus far, o Knight. But unless thou carries with thee something more valuable than my precious water, thou shall never see the valley of the roses.”

Knowing that he had nothing with which to offer the crocodile, he went to the pouch for the third time. Opening it, right on top the knight found a vial of nectar and a note. ‘This nectar is from the best of the castle gardens. Its roses are the sweetest smelling and make the most delicious juices. Use it well.’ Pulling the vial out, the knight offered it to the crocodile. Upon tasting the delectable sugars of the nectar, the crocodile sunk back to the depths of the river, never to be content with mere water again. With the monster at bay, the knight was able to cross the river and prepare for the next part of his journey.

Up and up the mountain the Knight climbed, ever so carefully and slowly. By dark, he found himself at last at the peak. Overjoyed to see the valley below, the knight began to race forward, paying no mind to where his feet did trod. Yet, the moment he reached the edge, a soft and melodious voice filled the air. “Who is this that runs so carelessly and destroys my garden?” The voice demanded.

Turning, the knight found himself face to face with a young woman; the most beautiful he’d ever set eyes on. “Forgive me, my lady,” The knight implored, “I am on my way to the valley of the roses just below to bring a cure to my beloved, and only needed to hurry.”

The lady was hardly moved by his plea, but she was the clever witch who ruled the mountain; the most wicked of all the monsters the knight had met. She had decided to trick the knight into staying with her forever; for none who fell under her spell made it out alive. Pretending at once to pity the knight, the witch invited him inside her house for a glorious feast.

"Thou have done well to make it thus far, o Knight. But thou can hardly press on without first staying the night with me. Unless thou carries with thee something more valuable than thy company and beauty, the valley of the roses shall wait.” She answered, giving him a charming smile that would surely make him forget his quest.

But the knight was true to his word and could not forget his beloved back home. “Thy offer is most kind, Lady.” He said, and turned to his pouch for the last time. “I pray thou will take this gift with my thanks.” Opening it, the Knight found right on top a hand mirror and a note. ‘This mirror was from the queen’s collection. It is enchanted to make the gazer see whatever they wish to see. Use it well.’ Pulling the mirror out, the knight offered it to the witch. Upon seeing her own reflection in the mirror, the witch was put under her own spell and never wanted to behold anything but her lovely face again. With monster at bay, the knight was finally able to descend the mountain and reach the valley of the roses.

When at last the knight reached the valley, he froze in awe. It was just as the king and queen had said. The sky, colored vibrantly with purples, blues, and pinks, seemed to know no bounds. The grass and clouds appeared to touch, and the stars were just a reach away. And as as far as the eye could see, roses lay scattered about under clear domes of glass and diamond. Without a moment to lose, the knight began to search for the rose that was bound to his beloved. Dome after dome he checked. Some roses were just buds not yet in bloom. Others had already begun to wilt. How could he ever find the right one?

After searching for many many hours, at last he knelt before a rose that looked quite odd. Pink and fresh as the rest of the roses in their prime it was, but it seemed to wilt and turn black with death. This had to be it! Before the dome, the knight lifted it, ready to cut away the diseased parts and save his dear girl from certain death. Lifting his sword, he took a deep breath. But then, something began to change. All the parts of the rose that were pink began to turn black with the air! Horrified, he reached out to stop it. The moment his fingers touched the flower, it turned to ash and crumbled. “No! No!” The knight yelled in agony. “My child, I have failed you.”

Knowing that he had not made it in time to save his daughter’s life, the knight laid himself down next to the pile of ash and the dome. Unable to bear the pain of losing his whole world, he never moved again.

#Outofjourneys {Ooc}#Just Took A Hand {Headcanons}#Wild Rose That's Waiting For Me {Sadhbh}#Great Powers {Diarmaid & Lasairíona}#Sweeps Down To The Sea {Réaltán & Newry}#The Dark Mournes {Mourne Mountains}#All That I Found There {Valley Of The Roses}#Working By Day & By Night {Gnome}#Diggin For Gold {Bear}#Rest Of The Force {Crocodile}#Lovely Complexion {Witch}#Wonderful Sight {Likes}

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fanesavin · 5 years ago

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With the Forty Isles gripped by the chaos of a plague outbreak the arrival of a small band of mainlanders seeking revenge goes amiss.

Thanks to @bumblingbrujo for this and I know both our lives got so madly busy but we got there in the end!! xD Also @ianncardero that’s everything I know it’s late but this is the final one done and dusted if you still want to reblog to the main!

Miguel had been trying his hardest to keep Danian safe and out of trouble. But they didn’t seem to care about trouble. They were moody and listless and hadn’t talked to Miguel since they were in the middle of the sea. Then they had slowly stopped talking to the sailors. They had curled into a ball and didn’t want to see the outside world, disconnected from their gods - the spirits of the North, the land, the snow. Isolated and alone, Miguel couldn’t help them.

Instead he focused on helping his own people. The people that wanted to be helped that is. The people who gave up Iann’s claim to the throne, those that forsook Buttercup and the rest of Iann’s heirs. But as the people of the larger islands trickled out to the edges and asked Miguel for help - he found it didn’t feel as good as he thought it would. Sure, he had technically won. Or was in the process. But at what cost? Did he even care about the cost? A year ago he would have said no price was too steep.

But sitting in the vestibule of the summer house of his family, he felt hollow and tired. Even though he could smell the saltwater breeze.

The small craft sped across the chopping waves in complete silence; not even the constant rhythmic splashing of the six oarsmen could be heard. Only the pearly luminescence of the moon overhead lit up the black waves as the small craft continued its journey towards the horse-shoe shaped bay. Behind them the outlines of ghostly sets of sails rocking gently on the swell could vaguely be discerned. As the boat reached shore, the oarsmen jumped out into the white-licked surf hauling it a little way up into the sand.

The night was humid, the salty breeze licking the surf into a gentle symphony where it met the sand. It was no secret to mainlanders that the Isles were presently in a state of chaos, those that hadn’t risen up against the new so-called King were now suffering the effects of the Plague. But Fane was undeterred by the news. The small crew’s features were obscured by headscarves and cloaks as they made their way to the rendezvous location to meet with Lady Florent’s mice. They would see to it the small team fulfilled their purpose here tonight with as minimal bloodshed as possible. Only one need pay tonight and each member knew who that was.

There was no point in staying up late to worry. It would only mean Miguel was ill prepared for the morning. It was just as he told Lady Florent, the sun did not care about the people who played their games constantly below it. It just shined on, bringing day after day without rest or pause.

Miguel had to follow the sun. He went around the house and blew out candles. The darkness was a solace to him. The moon cared even less what people did below her.

Fane and his men regrouped at the little house near to the royal villa. Ciara’s mice had served their purpose in getting the reports of the guard’s typical rotation patterns. The Prince was inside and didn’t often come out these days. Why would he? With the state his precious isles were crumbling into, there was nothing mighty here anymore. At least, nothing Fane had seen that deserved such a description. Information in hand the group mobilised, and were soon enough making their approach.

The men Fane had picked were some of the best in all his regiments. Hand picked for tricky situations and getting in and out with as little fuss as possible. There were some near misses, guards that needed to be dealt with but otherwise Fane prowled on in search of his prey his steps muffled by the soft material of his shoes. Nearing the royal chambers Fane gave the signal for his men to split and cover exits. There would be no escape and no interruption. Dani was in here somewhere, but Fane couldn’t say where or what state they might’ve been in.

Slowly, Fane turned the handle and eased the door open wide enough that he might slip through. His hand on the hilt of his short blade hyper-vigilant for any sort of surprise awaiting for him beyond.

Something didn’t sit well in Miguel’s chest. But he couldn’t put his finger on it. So he sat in the chair closest to the window and did maintenance on his big obsidian sword - cleaning it, sharpening it, and polishing. That is until he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced at the door. He stood to meet his visitor, he hoped it was Danian, finally come to talk. But his heart was cold and knew that it wouldn’t be them.

Fane watched in silence as the would-be King rose from his seat by the window, feeling impassive and yet equally furious. This man had taken from him his best friend and child. One fell swoop had served to snatch them away without so much as a word. The memory of the pain he’d felt in learning those two facts still burned hot, an anger that had been simmering and slowly stoked until now. Fane reached for the fabric masking his identity and pulled it free, eyes flashing angrily as he held the other with a steely gaze across the room. A long silence extended between them, Fane’s fingers curling around the hilt of his blade. “You know why I’m here.”

Miguel narrowed his eyes. He had always respected Fane, even if he had been Iann’s friend. “I assume you came for Danian. They are here of their own will, adhering to the quarantine.” Miguel’s dark eyes were locked with Fane’s. Though Miguel held tight to his sword, his outer world had already shaken apart, and his inner world wasn’t far behind. “They are alive, and unharmed. So tell me, why are you here?”

Fane dropped the scarf aside and stepped into the light, his features weather-worn and thick beard more greyer than it once had been. “Aye, perhaps they are. perhaps not. But they’re only quarantined because of you, aren’t they? Or maybe it’s because they saw what you did to Iann… Danian always was fond of you… Perhaps too much, but they’re coming home.” He noticed how Miguel kept his grip tight on his blade as he walked closer, but where Miguel was wound like a coil ready to spring Fane’s temper simmered still though he did draw his own blade. “I’m here to teach you a lesson about family, about what happens when silver tongued cowards like you cross me and those I am loyal to.” Fane’s lips curled into a malicious smirk, “you’re going to die tonight Miguel and I’m going to see to it you’re remembered for what you are - a coward who will never find peace or meet his gods.”

Miguel didn’t feel like arguing with Fane. He hadn’t felt like arguing with Iann either. If there was only one way to end this, then let it end. Miguel was tired. His sword tilted up and he bent his knees. “I’m always willing to learn new things,” he said - waiting for Fane to make the first move. The muscle at the base of his neck burned, but he bit back to sudden urge to renounce the gods of the Forty-Isles. The only deity that mattered was the death goddess, and she always came when called.

Fane mirrored Miguel’s movements, his hand wrapped firmly around the hilt of his sword fingers curled under the guard. Fane was almost a foot taller than Miguel and knew he likely had more strength but equally this was counterbalanced by Miguel’s smallness lending itself to speed. He never had been one for posturing or grand-standing though and very quickly closed the distance between them targeting a series of slashes, cuts and stabs at Miguel. Enough to give him a sense of his opponent and estimation of what he was up agaiinst.

Fane was strong, and much taller than Miguel. The smaller man knew that he would have to rely on speed after parrying a couple slashes. There was no way he would be able to stand up to that power for more than a few blows. It was hard to be fast when the rock in his chest was weighing him down. But training and sailing had made the movements of a fight second nature to him, and he looked for any way to gain the advantage.

Fane had been a soldier for enough of his life to know you did your best to never give your opponent the upper hand, but equally knew the issue of emotions wasn’t so easily controlled or switched off. His strikes were sure, confident in delivering a fatal blow if they struck but as Iann himself had pointed out. Morality was more hindrance than help, so after a few bouts of parrying and the ring of metal grating against metal echoing in the large room Fane tossed morality to the wayside. Intent on delivering one thing only, Miguel weaved and bobbed and while occasionally Fane stepped in to strike at him he made a point never to chase. To wait the traitor (for that was what he was in Fane’s mind) out. Until the opportunity presented itself to dart in but instead of striking with his sword, he opted to perform a quick 180 turn, his free hand clenched in a tight fist swinging out until his mail-lined glove caught Miguel across the face in an attempt to throw his rhythm and balance off-kilter.

A sharp pain burst across Miguel’s face like a ripe fruit. It dripped down his nose and off his chin - or maybe that was the blood. He stumbled back, the clenching of his jaw adding to the ache in his face. Fane had him - there was no denying the goddess of death any longer. There were no snappy one liners left, it was too dark in the forest of Miguel’s regrets to find one. So he stayed silent, ready to take whatever punishment this good and moral man had for him.

Fane didn’t bother to give Miguel any time to recover, he stepped after him boots echoing on the floor with each step that he took after his opponent. His height meant the distance was covered in a couple of steps. “No clever quips? No excuses?” Fane might have been surprised, but as he neared Miguel instead of running him through straight he caught him by the front of his shirt and hefted him close and then off the floor a few inches. “Why’d you do it? Iann? Dani? Was it worth it?”

Miguel took a deep breath, surprised by the lack of sword in his belly. He had run out of clever quips, and he had no excuses. He should have changed his mind, he should have let Iann take the throne. He should have been a little freer with his trust with Dani… but he wouldn’t let himself think about that, the thought of the two of them content in the North, having adventure after adventure - it would have been too much for him. Instead he had thrown his lot in with Cassandra. “My fate was sealed the moment I was born,” he said simply. “Kill me then.” He knew that Fane wanted revenge, for Iann. And he bit back the wonder of who would rise up from the chaos. No matter what he had lost - it was only a matter of how he wanted to die, by Fane’s blade or through a vector of his sister-in-law.

Fane only felt his frustration bubble up, he’d come all this way for… this? There was no helping the winding coil of his muscles as he released on hand and slammed the fist across Miguel’s jaw, once, twice, three times. “Why?! There has to be a reason,” Fane couldn’t rightly accept that this was it simply just… for nothing. Every action was born of some desire, but why couldn’t Miguel have just been happy with his lot? His was hardly the worst life that could be tossed to someone.

Miguel took the fist without comment. He waited for Fane to get close and frustrated before his own anger bubbled up to match, and he pulled the dagger from his boot and made a lunge for the bigger man. “Nothing you would understand.”

Fane knew a downed enemy was perhaps the most dangerous, while he approached he still kept his grip tight on his sword and eyes tightly trained on Miguel. There was no telling what his blades might be laced with and he had no intention of being the one left bleeding out here. Fane moved quick, and was forced to drop his sword in favour of grabbing Miguel’s wrist on its downward arc. As one of most vulnerable joints as he knew in the next moment he ducked down and under his assailant’s arm rotating but never easing his grip as he wrenched Miguel’s arm up behind him in an effort to force Miguel into a position of pain that he would have to drop the dagger. Now behind, Fane drove the thick heel of his boot into the back of Miguel’s knee in an attempt to force its natural hyperflexion and send him down.

A twist at the wrist made Miguel wince, and the sharp pain there made him drop his dagger. Fane didn’t let up, and then Miguel was on his knees, not in the best spot - with Fane behind him, standing over him. Miguel was quickly running out of options. His jaw was tight and he kept it clenched, he didn’t want to waste words on Fane, it was clear the Inquisitor was above listening to Miguel’s honeyed tongue.

Fane felt a cold wash of calmness settle over him, peace in what he was about to do. Justice for his friend and for his family. Sheathing his sword he took out his dagger, pummelling Miguel over the face several times to first disorient him enough to make the point that fighting back was futile. There was no purpose in even trying. Only then did Fane kick Miguel over onto his back dropping so a knee kept his chest pinned down while one hand went to prise Miguel’s jaw open, “this would be so much more satisfying if you begged.” Gloved fingers took hold of Miguel’s tongue and a slash of steel severed it before the remnants were then shoved back into the bloodied waste of Miguel’s mouth for him to choke on. He would die here, an example made of his death and the throne restored to the rightful heir that word had been sent to by proxy of a separate emissary unaffiliated to the Savins. The Isles were in chaos and one less leader would hardly go amiss. With a final look at the man at his feet Fane stepped back and watched his life drain away a calm sense of satisfaction washing over him as Miguel’s spluttering form finally stilled.

#i: miguel #para #got scene #Same scene just reposted here so they're all categorised!#and #FINALLY I CAUGHT UP #jesuschrist #It only took me a month xD #THANKS TO EVERYONE FOR THIS IT WAS GR9

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realityhelixcreates · 6 years ago

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Lasabrjotr Chapter 4: The Universe; Behind the Scenes

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: Mentions of Past Death Relationships: Loki x Reader Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), OFC Additional Tags: Thanos Is A Tool, Influence is Not the Same as Control, God I Want That Bathtub Summary: Reader learns what she remembers, but not why.

“What the hel was that?” Loki demanded. “She was fine one minute, and then she falls apart over a mere face full of dust? Who does that?”

“I can think of a reason.” Thor said softly.

“Brother?” Thor was rarely introspective, and Loki didn’t quite know what to make of it.

“She’s had a hard day. She will need rest, but I have some questions first. “

“I’m sure we all have.” Loki grouched. “Seems like that’s all we have.”

*****

The bath was nice, though the toiletries all smelled of him. You were surprised by how much mud had gotten in your hair. You weren’t made for such bizarre happenings: magic, and kidnapping gods, and ancient civilizations being built anew. Nothing about today seemed quite real. Even time was wrong. A few hours ago you were clocking in for the morning shift at work. Now the sun hung low in the sky. Evening was coming. You’d lost an entire day. You supposed that made its own kind of sense, since technically, aliens were involved.

Where were you now? This couldn’t be your country. Yes, the U.S. was pretty big, big enough to cover several time zones, but you didn’t think there was any part of the continental United States that was night while another part was morning. You had to be all the way across an ocean, or somewhere similarly as far. What a pity. You would have liked to see that. Flying over an ocean must be beautiful.

The towels were nice, much nicer than you were used to. Everything was probably going to be higher quality than you were used to, since royalty was involved.

How were you supposed to talk to them? There was no real royalty in your country; you didn’t know the etiquette. How did one address a prince? A king? A god?

Someone had taken your clothes while you bathed. Of course you couldn’t put them back on while they were still so filthy, but it made you feel vulnerable all the same. The tunic you had been provided in their place did not fit correctly at all; it was too loose in the shoulder, too long in the arms, and too tight in the hips. This was obviously a man’s garment, olive green and incredibly soft. You didn’t want to think about it. At least the provided slippers fit correctly. Your legs remained mostly bare, but you didn’t think they were all that much to look at anyway. The tunic was made for someone taller than you, so it covered enough.

This little set of rooms was odd to you. Like a whole house inside of another building. Here a bath, there a library, there and there a bedroom. And when you tried to leave back out into what you thought was the main corridor, there was a young man in armor there to stop you. He was polite, but he spoke a language you didn’t know.

“I’m sorry.” You told him. “I don’t understand.” He led you back into the library and pointed at a chair. “Oh, I get it. Sit down and wait, huh? I can do that.”

He waited until you had gotten yourself seated before going back to his post. He must have had orders not to let you leave. Annoying, but fair; they wouldn’t want you running off, and after that small panic attack earlier, it might not be safe for you to wander around without a guide.

You started browsing through the books, but most of them were in unfamiliar languages. When Loki came to collect you, you were going through illustrations and diagrams that you couldn’t read, but found interesting nevertheless. You looked up from a beautiful drawing of a huge tree with little worlds hanging it its branches, and he was just there.

“Uh…How long-“ You began.

“You make so many little noises when you read. Do you fear silence, or are you simply that lacking in self-awareness?”

“It’s just a habit.” You said defensively. “No one’s ever complained before.”

“You live completely alone. Who is there to complain? You will have to break that habit while you are within these walls. We cannot have incessant noise disturbing our guards, or my contemplations.”

You turned back to the illustrations, cheeks burning slightly. So it was just a little habit! It wasn’t that big a deal.

“You say it like we’ve gotta be joined at the hip all the time, but that’s obviously not the case, because I just had a nice bath without you. So unless you were waiting just outside the door-which would be creepy-then I’m sure my ‘incessant noises’ won’t be as big a problem as you’re making them out to be. “

You both let the moments pass in increasingly uncomfortable silence.

“I was harsh with you.” It was a statement, not an apology, but also probably the closest you were ever going to get.

“You were. I was…rude.” You conceded. You really must have crossed a line when you called him a monster. You had let your temper and fear run off with you.

“You were.” He agreed. “You were frightened. It’s only natural. And I was…frustrated. But that time is passed, and now the time has come for greater things.” He beckoned for you to follow him, and you did, curiosity growing.

Where could you possibly be going now? Some kind of magical laboratory, to run tests on your rune? A spiritual center, to meditate on this magical connection that sapped or restored energy based on how close the two of you were? A medical area, where they might operate on your hand to learn more about it?

“Where are we going?” You asked softly.

“Dinner.” He said airily, and you snorted. Greater things, huh? Still, something as mundane as dinner sounded amazing right now. You’d technically gone the whole day without eating. Something mundane sounded very nice right about now. You might not get that again for some time.

He looked oddly normal as well, which struck you as strange. It somehow never occurred to you that he didn’t look the same all the time. But all you’d ever had for reference was video footage of the battle. He wore armor to intimidate, horns to add height. Not that he needed it. The top of your head barely reached his shoulders. You would have never expected someone like him to even have casual clothes, if all those pin-tucks and diagonal shapes counted as casual. You tried to ignore the similar shapes on the ill fitted tunic you currently wore.

It was hard to believe how much different he looked without that helmet. How much the sharpness of his face was softened by letting his hair fall lose around his shoulders.

“Like something you see?” He asked. “You’re staring, you know.”

“Sorry.” You said, embarrassment creeping in. “It’s just that you look…”

He turned to watch you, the corners of his mouth lifting, ever so slightly. “Yes?”

“You look like a man.”

He paused, the tiny smile fleeing. “As opposed to a monster?” Then he quickened his pace, and you struggled to keep up.

“That’s not what I-“

“Oh don’t worry.” He cut you off. “After all, I’ve never shown this world anything different.”

“Lo-“ You started, then held your tongue. No, you couldn’t call him by name. You weren’t friends. Whatever reasons he might have had, he was the architect of a major disruption in your life. There was no way you had a job anymore, and if you ever got home, you probably wouldn’t have your apartment either. Your houseplants were going to die. Your friends and father, and coworkers had no idea you were still alive. And all of this was quite literally by his hand.

How were you supposed to address him?

“Your…Highness?” You tried, and he made an affirming noise. “Can you tell me where we are?”

“Yes.” He said, and nothing else. It took you a moment to realize he was doing that obnoxious thing some teachers do in order to amend their students’ grammar. How annoying.

“Please tell me where we are, your highness.” You said in a voice pitched higher than normal. Years of working in retail with difficult customers gave your demeanor a false show of being chipper. He noticed instantly, giving you a strange look.

“Within the kingdom of Asgard, but you would know this island as Iceland.”

“Iceland? How did-how am I-I…I’ve never been to Iceland.” You spluttered lamely. You had never been so far from home in your life. You’d never really wanted to. You were well and truly trapped, weren’t you? If you found that you really needed to leave, there really was nowhere for you to run. Even if you could make it out of the unbuilt city, you didn’t know where any other towns were. You wouldn’t be able to speak to any people you might find. They would know you shouldn’t be there, see that you had no passport, no identification. They’d haul you right to jail. That was all that awaited you outside the city. Death in a foreign landscape, or prison.

“Oh god, I’m an illegal immigrant.” You murmured.

“What are you talking about?” He led you into a large room with a huge table in the center, and then right past that table, and into a much smaller room, with a much smaller table, set with three dinners, and furnished with the king of Asgard.

“Yes.” He asked. “What are we talking about?”

“I don’t have a passport! I’m illegal, I’ll be put in jail!

Thor shrugged. “You’re a guest of the Crown, at least for a little while. You don’t have to worry about it. Sit with us; eat. Ease your worries. We’re going to take care of you.”

You took a seat opposite Thor; Loki sat next to you, not, as you expected, next to his brother. It almost felt like they were fencing you in, putting themselves between you and the door. Or between you and anyone who might come through the door.

The food was simple, and looked good, if a little unfamiliar. A bowl of hearty stew, full of vegetables and tasting of herbs your tongue had never met. A little pot of creamy white stuff, topped with orange sauce that turned out to be sweet instead of spicy. A chunk of something that was trying to be bread but was actually dried fish that you were supposed to spread butter on as if it was bread. And a glass of strong cider that you had trouble actually drinking. Alcohol was usually too pricy for you, and so you never drank much.

It was warm, and it was good, and it was what your body, confused by time zones, desperately needed. You ate every bit, even the buttered fish. But you said nothing, not until Thor addressed you directly.

“I know you have had a very rough day, and I know you must be tired and confused, but would you be willing to entertain a few questions?”

What choice did you have? He was right about being tired; the hot food and cider had hit you pretty hard. But it wasn’t like you could just tell him to go stuff it either, could you? You put your customer service face back on.

“Sure, ask away!”

He raised one eyebrow at the fake cheer in your voice, but made no comment on it.

“I’d like to assure you that we keep this place very clean. No dust, unless you go near construction zones. But, if it’s not too uncomfortable, could you tell us why you reacted like that? So we can keep you safer in the future.”

Damn. You should’ve known they wouldn’t let that go. Six months ago, you had been sure he would have an answer for you; now you just didn’t know. Would he think you were crazy too? But he was a god; was it possible to lie to a god?

“I’ll know if you’re lying.” Loki said, as if hearing your thoughts.

“There’s no need for threats.” Thor chided him.

“I wasn’t.”

“If you are comfortable talking about it.” Thor concluded.

“It’s difficult.” You said. “It’s not that I don’t want to; I kinda do, and I have for a long time. But it seems like some great big secret that I can’t bring up, because most people don’t believe me, and the ones that do are sort of paranoid of being thought crazy. Look, something happened about a year and a half ago, except it didn’t, but it did. And I know you probably won’t believe me, but-“

“Half your world turned to dust.” Thor said grimly. “People, plants, animals, everything. And then it all went back to normal, as if nothing happened. But not for you. In the time between the two events, you suffered. You mourned. You struggled and starved. And now you remember, when it seems no one else does.”

Loki stared at you. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

You had gone very still and very pale as Thor spoke out that list of everything you had gone through.

“I knew it.” You whispered. “I knew it. I knew it was real. That many people couldn’t have the same hallucination. I knew you knew something!”

Thor nodded, still looking very serious.

“That’s why I went to the tower in the first place! That’s why I tried to approach you! I knew one of you knew something!”

“But the spell-“ Loki began.

“What happened?” You demanded, excitement overcoming your sleepiness.

“It’s a lengthy tale, if you’re up for it.” Thor warned, but you only nodded in enthusiasm.

“Very well. It begins when the universe does.” Wow, he wasn’t kidding.

“Thor, are you sure this is a good idea?” Loki broke in.

Thor shrugged. “Looks like something went wrong. She’s not supposed to remember, but she does.”

“That spell was cast for a reason.” Loki protested.

“Which do you suppose was worse? Being one of the lives initially lost, or being one of those left behind to live in that broken universe? Do you know what that was like? Being the only one left? I say she deserves an answer. “

Loki rolled his eyes. “No, if you recall, I was dead at the time. Whatever, tell her what you will, but I’ll not be taking responsibility when it blows up in your face.”

“Wait, you…you died? Did you turn to dust too?” That even happened to the gods?

“Not exactly,” He muttered. “It was more of a hand’s on experience.”

“He was very brave.” Thor said.

“I was very foolish.” Loki retorted, but he looked more proud than angry.

“What happened?” You asked again.

“Yes, the story. Directly after this universe came into being, there also spawned a handful of concepts; embodiments of the things that make up the universe and everything in it. These things were given physical forms, shaped into shining gems of incredible power. Wars were fought over them, and with them, but only certain powerful individuals can actually use them. I have a friend who has seen what happens when someone who is too weak tries to handle one. Not pretty, apparently. However, Loki has used two of them before.”

Pride colored those last words, and Loki looked unsure of how to take being bragged about.

“For certain definitions of ‘used’, I suppose.”

“There was someone else who wanted them, a homicidal lunatic, name of Thanos. An absolute waste of space who brought nothing to the universe but mountains of corpses. Twisted. Worthless. Seems like all he could do was destroy. The Chitauri invasion? That was him.”

“That was him.” You pointed at Loki.

“Certain definitions of used.” He repeated.

You looked back and forth between the brothers. “What are you trying to tell me here?”

“He used the Mind Stone.” Thor said. “While at the same time, it used him. It affected everyone around it.”

“Wait, you mean mind control?” You asked, shocked by this revelation. “These things have their own will? Why haven’t you told anyone? Everyone thinks-“

“Do not mistake me.” Loki interrupted. “No matter how much my brother would like to paint me as an innocent in this, I still did what I did. Those were my actions and my decisions. One can very easily be a victim, and be guilty at the same time. Take it as a demonstration of what I am capable of, just not everything that I am.” He sighed, but his expression remained neutral.

“It is however, correct to think that, without Thanos, without the influence of that stone, I don’t think I would have done any of it. But I did, and there is no way to erase that. Do not make of me something I am not. I was the person who did all those things. But I am not now, and will not be again.”

“I don’t know what to think about this.” You said, but internally you were a bit relieved. You hadn’t actually stopped being frightened of him, but it was very reassuring to know that all that malice, all that bigotry and hatred hadn’t all been him. If his words could be trusted, anyway. Thor wasn’t objecting though, so maybe he really was on the level.

“He did take his stand against Thanos though.” Thor continued. “We all did; heroes of Earth, of Asgard, of the stars. And every last one of us failed. Most of us died, either in his quest for the stones, or in the event he caused. He came into possession of all of the stones, which allowed him to reshape the universe as he wanted it to be. “

“Which was…nearly empty?”

“He was a madman. He was obsessed with his savior complex, but his bloodlust was far greater, and I think he forgot how to separate the two. So yes, instead of thinking up ways to change reality for the better, he felt the logical choice was to kill everybody.”

“He had no creativity or finesse, unless he was causing harm.” Loki muttered.

“Now this is the part I really can’t tell you about, which is a shame, because it was amazing. However, because of the forces involved, the fewer people who ever know about it, the better. But we few survivors took our battle to reality itself, and we succeeded. We regained what Thanos took from us, and erased his nightmarish vision of the universe.”

“Before separating the stones and returning them to their proper guardians, the sorcerers among us used them to cast a spell over everything and everyone; that none save those of us involved should have any memory of the event we erased. We wanted to undo that suffering, but we also wanted to prevent mass searches for the stones. We can’t risk it happening again.”

“Then how come I remember?” You asked. There was much more mystery surrounding you right now than you were comfortable with.

“That is an excellent question!” Thor said. “And since you don’t seem to have any answers for us yourself, we will simply have to add it to the pile of things we have to figure out.”

“I would like to have answers too, but right now, I’m so tired.” An involuntary yawn punctuated your words. “Pardon me.”

“Yes, of course.” Thor said. “Loki will take you to bed.”

“Absolutely not!” You screeched.

“Phrasing!” Loki snapped.

Thor looked like he was having a very hard time not laughing, which you didn’t appreciate at all. That was a terrifying prospect, and one you were not in the least willing to entertain. Loki looked perturbed as well, so at least you were both on the same page.

“I’m sorry, ____, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that!” A little laughter did escape him, fueling your annoyance. It wasn’t a laughing matter. Neither of these men had better start getting ideas. Just because they were divine rulers didn’t mean they could take liberties. You still had rights. Didn’t you?

“Buffoon.” Loki grumbled. “Come. I’ll see you to your room.”

You got to have your own room? That sounded promising. You followed along behind him, sleepy and quiet, swimming in the events of the day. It was all so much to take in, but maybe sleeping on it would help. Loki led you back to the set of rooms you’d earlier had your bath in, letting you inside and addressing the young man standing guard at the door. You couldn’t understand what they were saying, but the young man seemed mildly confused and upset. He kept shooting you curious looks, and eventually he patted you reassuringly on the shoulder, and nodded at you. Then he went into the smaller of the two bedrooms, gathered his things, and left. He even waved at you on his way out, as if he was trying to convey no hard feelings without being able to actually speak to you.

“Uh…Your Highness? Did I just kick that guy out of his room?” You asked, feeling very guilty.

“No.” Loki assured you. “These rooms are mine, and I decide who may use them, and for how long. There is room for him in our guardhouse, it was just more convenient for him to be close by. Now it is more convenient for you to be here.”

“Because we don’t know how far apart we can be, or for how long. I get it.” There wasn’t much in the room; a bed, a desk with a chair, a small dresser, and one window. The floor and walls were bare, and there was one lamp on the desk, but no other lights. Well, you didn’t need much right now, and you owned practically nothing here, not even the shirt on your back, so this was much better than you had feared it would be.

“I feel like we can probably have a respectable distance between us, just not miles, and certainly not an entire ocean. However, I also feel like we should sleep closer together. Partly for your own safety, and partly because it seems to me that the focus of this draining sickness was our mutual dreams. “

He took a seat in the chair while you crawled into the plain little bed.

“Will you tell me about them?” He asked. “I know we were both having dreams, and I think we were connected through them, but you said yours were nightmares. Mine were not. I wonder about the differences.”

“Ugh. They weren’t anything complicated, but they were always the same. There was this big blankness that I just wanted to sink into so that I could finally rest, but you wouldn’t let me. You just kept dragging me away, and you wouldn’t let me sleep. You were scary, and it was torture, not being able to rest.”

He nodded slowly, writing something down in a small notebook you were sure he hadn’t had just a second before.

“Mine were…similar, but the perspective was different. That void was death, and I was compelled to keep you from it.”

“Do you think we’ll still dream?” You asked.

“Only one way to find out.”

“Right. Can you, uh…”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” He left, closing the door behind him. You might have heard the lock turn, but you were already drifting off.

*********

The void beckoned you, a promise of rest and freedom, but now you knew it might not be as benign as it seemed. Loki clutched your arm, frightening with his horns and cold eyes, but now you knew he might not be as malign as he seemed. You spent the rest of your dream there, between two deceivers, not sure which one to choose.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)#thor (marvel)#avengers #marvel fanfiction

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charlyoddsox27 · 6 years ago

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its 6am, i havent slept, im bored, so im posting a list of the mercs in order of whom i like the most and reasons why, because thats something i should do i guess?

here goes

(spoilers for the comics down below but either way i think im the only person on earth who has never read them before now)

~~~

~~1. Medic~~

reasons for being my favourite:

• fucking. look. at. him. 👌

• 'mad german doctor' is one of my favourite tropes and he is a pretty bang-on satirical depiction of it

• cute-ass german accent

• he has pet pidgeons hE LOVES HIS PIDGEON PALS THEY KEEP HIM COMPANY

• healers are the most respectable class imo and since Medic pretty much started it he's automatically the best, thats how it works right?

• he sold some random persons soul to satan in exchange for a ***ballpoint pen*** and can i just say, fucking mood??? (he is literally the "i'd sell you to satan for one cornchip" meme)

• "yes, Archimedes...I couldn't agree more." *shudders* b oi .. .

• so many more reasons to love this gross old doctor so little room in Tumblrs posts.

~~2. Spy~~

reasons for being my second favourite:

• cranky, done with everyones shit, just wants to be left alone, fucking mood

• he's a spy i mean c'mon. look at the swanky-ass suit, look at the class radiating from this asshole.

• he may be a dick but he has a soft side he's just too jaded to show it most of the time (see: Scouts death in the comics?? real tears. honestly wish they'd panned that out more.)

• masks are hot tbFH--

• he enjoys a nice glass of whisky by the fireplace and so do i (fun fact: france is the biggest importer of scottish whisky in the world so its a nice touch)

• shapeshifting is fucking cool are you serious like he can just. do that. what a legend

• "i have a cyanide pill in one of my molars, if i break it then spit some in your mouth before i die, we can avoid being tortured." *'heavy' bursts in to save them* "PFFTHBTHF--"

• "SEDUCE ME."

• arrogant frenchman is one of my other favourite tropes and this is the most arrogant frenchman ive ever seen

• he's the only fully sane Merc, maybe apart from Engie.

• people love to hate him bc he's an asshole but...come on. after working with all those other weirdos for years, you'd be pretty jaded too.

• as a gross shipper, he's the easiest and the most fun (imo) to ship with Medic (rip me)

~~3. Pyro~~

reasons for being my third favourite:

• would have tied with Soldier if it werent for that one picture of them in the comics holding a puppy over their head with the most adoring expression on their mask??? good Pyro. goodest Pyro.

• doesn't do much in the comics but makes up for it in pure charm. look at that soulless face and tell me you dont love it.

• ambiguous gender ambiguous gender amBIGUOUS GENDER AMBIGUOUS GENDER. she/he/they? trans? nb? whatever you headcanon, it'll never be confirmed so its literally up to your own imagination. fucking ace, Valve 👌👌👌

• likes to burn things. god damnit. they like to burn things, guys. but they enjoy it so much, you just cant hate them, you can only feel a sympathetic joy that this precious lunatic is having fun in their own little world.

• canonically mentally ill (schizoprenia? it could be hallucinogenic drugs but i like to think its schizophrenia.)

• pretty sure they burned a pair of pedophiles in the comics. at least i think thats what those panels were insinuating. "lets open an orphanage and have an endless supply of kids to--" sounds pretty red-flaggy to me tbh. plus they were the villains so, eh?

• bludgeoned a bear to death until its skull was pulp because it insulted their special interest. you go, Pyro.

• for a few bits in the comics they have a really cute family dynamic going on with other Mercs, Soldier for example."Miss Pauling, Pyros on my side of the car." "Miss Pauling, Pyro cut off my hand." fuckin' cuties.

• when they start putting on like 50 shirts to keep warm in the Russian mountains. chubby.

• a gas mask that can function as both badass, and completely adorable.

• just. everything about them. how could you not love them. they're not in the wrong, you are. stay away from my misunderstood child and let them burn things god damnit.

~~4. Soldier~~

look I'm sorry, I love Soldier and he was gonna be tied with Pyro but that fucking puppy drawing sold me.

• absolute gold every second he speaks. he could sneeze and i'll laugh.

• such a dumbass you cant get annoyed at him for it. like. just agree with him and move on. no point reasoning with a boulder. "haha! silly Miss Pauling, thinking theres different types of blood." Medic: "haha yes! indeed, silly."

• HUTTAH *NECK SNAP*

• i'm not American and even i can see how blatantly his character mocks stereotypical Patriotic Americans™. but its so dumb and laughable, its adorable.

• EVERYTHING ABOUT HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH ZHANNA IS A BLESSING. EVERYTHING.

• the first "meet the Mercs" video i ever saw was "meet the Soldier" so he holds a special place in my heart

• (preaches about experiencing the horrors of war; has never actually been to war. shh dont tell anyone though--) *neck gets snapped*

~~5. Demoman~~

• I'm Scottish. even though his accent is absolute garbage (no offense to the VA), any representation is very nice.

• Black AND Scottish?? i mean has a character like that even existed before TF2??? amazing example of representation right there. there are barely even any black people in Scotland, how did this happen. I love it. more of this, please.

• he's a drunk guy who blows shit up for shits and giggles and god I wish I could too, sounds like a miracle stress-reliever.

• his sassy black scottish mother. combining the stereotypical black mother with the stereotypical scottish mother is literally the best thing that ever happened.

• the bit in the comic where Medic explains that Demo can't remember what happened to his eye bc he scooped out part of his brain, and the look on Demo's face. just. the look.

• again, he's scottish, he's stereotypical, and he's awesome.

~~6. Sniper~~

• underrated

• piss jars. piss jars everywhere.

• "no dad, im not a crazed murdering lunatic, I'm an assassin. ...well one's a job and the other's mental sickness!!"

• "meet the Sniper" has kickass music

• ruffled gross old man who isn't actually old, he's just seen some SHIT

• actually given development in the comics + some really good scenes with Spy.

• so suave...so...handsome. handsome ruffled bushman. me like.

• he dies first in the comics but gets brought back and gets a cool-ass scar. and then he's just walking around naked everywhere for the rest of the comic. Medic, where the fuck did you put his clothes.

• isn't actually Australian. thats like one of the biggest twists in the comic. "no wonder i was never inhumanly strong and my chest hair didn't grow into the shape of Australia!!" Classic.

• says "bugger" a lot and i love that word

• he needs a hug, let me hug him. and give him a bath.

~~7. Heavy~~

I'm gonna be crucified for putting the big lad so low but i promise i dont dislike any of the Mercs. he'd be higher up but...ive never really liked big huge tank-men tbh :/

• loveable as fuck

• will murder you if you bully his puny little Medic

• i looove Russian accents omfg

• he like big gun. i can respect that.

• when Medic was killed and he went APESHIT on Classic!Heavy and I lost my fuckin' mind over that shit

• he probably has a soft spot for small cute animals. i love imagining him being swarmed by Medics flock of doves and petting them like "good bird...so many good bird..."

• actually smarter than people give him credit for???

• i really really wish his character was a lil more fleshed out but. that's just me. i love him but he doesn't have the same appeal to me as Medic or Spy.

• his entire relationship with Medic...ugh. yes. best friends and/or boyfriends. all good to me 👌

• he named his gun Sasha and that's adorable

~~8. Engineer~~

• gOD, FUCK, I REALLY WISH HE DID MORE IN THE COMICS. i barely know anything about his character. i like him a lot but...god, he...he doesn't...do.....anything.......

• he built a cool robot arm for himself and AI turrets and teleporter machines and guns that fire magic healing powers and immortality machines, in the 1960s. what. some kind of wizard fuckery is this.

• smoothest voice in the west

• "y'all"

~~9. Scout~~

oh god i really am gonna be crucified. i dont hate him i just. like him the least.

• shitboy

• reminds me of a shitty ex but also kinda relateable in a way

• some genuinely funny bits in the shorts.

• gross horny hetero teen boy with a god complex and serious daddy issues. also, he can't read. the "sex bom" tattoo on his chest will be an eternal testament to that. nice job, Spy. you raised him good.

~~~

hoo boy there we go theres all the boys, all the beautiful boys (and Scout) in order of how much i love them. if i made any errors in my info about the canon, feel free to send me death threats 💙 (no seriously tell me though, being a newbie is embarrassing)

so uh. yeah. that took two hours to write. its now 8am. im still bored lol. bye i guess.

#long post #charlyspeaks #charlys cesspool of interests #team fortress 2 #team fortress #medic #pyro #heavy #engineer #scout #spy #demoman #sniper #soldier #zhenna #tf2 #drabble #my opinions #ooooo

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yeongwonhi-nuna · 6 years ago

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50 questions tag

I have been tagged by the awesome @supercriminalwolf <3

1. what takes up too much of your time? The internet in general haha~ I do spend way too much time on Tumblr and Instagram...

2. what makes your day better? Good music, good food, doing something creative

3. what’s the best thing that happened to you today? I got inspired for a bunch of new drawings I wanna try out

4. what fictional place would you like to go? Hogwarts probably

5. are you good at giving advice? I think I am. My friends tend to come to me for advice so I must be doing something right!

6. do you have any mental illness? I suffer from anxiety, and have battled with depression

7. have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? No

8. what musician inspired you the most? Yoongi. There’s just such an honesty and rawness about him that I can relate to on a personal level. His music just speaks to me in a way that I can’t fully put into words.

9. have you ever fallen in love? Yes

10. what’s your dream date? To be honest, I’m gonna be super cliche here, but just spending time with the person I love is the best date. Whether its going on an actual date, doing something mundane like grocery shopping, or staying at home and chilling with junk food and a movie, as long as I’m with my fiancee, it’s all good.

11. what do others notice about you? I’m not sure.

12. what is the annoying habit you have? I probably have loads lol

13. do you still talk to you first love? Nope

14. how many ex’s do you have? 3

15. how many songs are on your playlist? On my phone I have 437 tracks in my favourites that I listen to most often

16. what instruments can you play? None

17. who do you have the most pictures of? My family

18. where would you like to go before you die? Japan and Jeju

19. what is your zodiac? Scorpio

20. do you relate to it? No idea

21. what is happiness to you? Realising that things don’t need to be perfect to be good. It’s important to take pleasure in the little things in life. See a cute dog? Had a good meal? Proud of a drawing you did because you can tell you’re improving (even if you’re still not fantastic at it?) All these little things can easily be overlooked, but if you take the time to recognise them, I think it’s possible to be happier

22. are you going through anything right now? Everyone is always going through something. Sometimes it’s something major, sometimes it’s not. Either way, everyone is always dealing with something.

23. what’s the worst decision you’ve ever made? Pfffft I’ve made so many bad decisions in my life XD

24. what’s your favourite store? Primark - I buy way too much every time I go

25. what’s your opinion on abortion? I’m pro-choice. I believe that every woman has the right to decide what happens with her own body.

26. do you keep a bucket list? I've never actually physically written one, but there are loads of things I want to do

27. do you have a favorite album at the moment? I’m still in love with BTS - Love Yourself: Answer

28. what do you want for your birthday? I’m actually typing this on my birthday present (Even though it’s not my birthday yet haha!)

29. what are most peoples first impression of you? I’ve had people tell me that I can sometimes be a little cold looking depending on the situation (usually when I’m feeling nervous I go a little stone faced) but then people say that when they actually start talking to me I’m really friendly.

30. what age do you seem according to most people according to most people? People always guess that I’m around 24-26 (Which I will happily accept!)

31. where do you keep your phone while you’re sleeping? I have a little stand on my bedside table

32. what word do you say the most? Fuck. I know it’s bad, but it’s just so versatile!

33. what’s the oldest age you would date? I don’t even know (Plus its irrelevant since I’m engaged XD)

34. what’s the youngest age you would date? I’m gonna say 26 because that’s how old my fiancee is XD

35. what job/career do most people say would suit you? Most people say that I was born to teach

36. what’s your favourite music genre? I have such an eclectic taste in music. I will listen to anything that sounds good to me.

37. if you could live in any country in the world, where would it be? Korea. I’m currently looking into moving there

38. what is your current favourite song? Shoot Out - Monsta X,

39. how long have you had this blog for? Since October 2015

40. what are you excited for? For moving to Korea

41. are you a better talker or listener? Listener

42. what is the last productive thing you did? Made a plan for all the drawings I want to attempt

43. what do you want for christmas? Nothing in particular.

44. what class do you get the best grades in? English.

45. on a scale from 1-10, how are you feeling right now? 8 - It’s been a pretty chill day today

46. what can you see yourself doing in 10 years? I hope to be settled in a good school in Korea, and hopefully I will have had kids by then too

47. when did you get your first heartbreak? When I was a teenager.

48. at what age do you want to get married? As soon as my fiancee and I are ready

49. what career did you want to have as a child? I wanted to be an astronaut and a florist... at the same time XD

50. what do you crave right now? Teokbokki

Tagging (As always, zero pressure!):

@restlessmaknae @dat-town @kpopsincejune07 @chimichimichenga

#tag #tag game #get to know me

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dennou-translations · 7 years ago

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Kagerou Daze VIII: Chapter 4

Children Record -side No.3 (2)-

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases in Japanese or in English. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

← Previous || Index || Next →

Even if someone were to die, no matter what, we wouldn’t cry. Should we manage to meet again by any chance, crying was permitted. Ever since we had made that promise, I had been intending to prepare myself in several ways.

But, I’m sorry. This kind of thing... is really painful, after all.

It was the third time that one of my family members had died before my eyes. Honestly, under what sort of star had I been born to be facing those horrible circumstances? I had often heard the words “there are no gods”, but if there really weren’t any, wouldn’t I have been spared from wandering through such a bizarre life?

I don’t believe that gods don’t exist. There has probably been one god with an exceptionally ill personality leading us by the nose all this time. Or something.

I had already been deluding myself with those kinds of “meaningless things” over and over whenever something heartbreaking occurred. It was not as if anything would change were there any gods. I was aware of that much. Except, the desire to know what a so-called “god” was and of wanting to see one didn’t fade.

Aah, I see. That may be why.

Mary’s figure as she stood before my line of sight had a god-like, overwhelming presence, enough to make me think, “perhaps ‘that thing’ in front of me is a god”.

It had happened a little while back. Shintarou-kun’s “plan”, which was too well-done for something conceived during a single night’s timespan despite that it could not be considered meticulous, had gone roughly as arranged. Using Mary’s power, we were supposed to stop the movements of Dad... of our enemy, who “Clearing” was living inside, and restrain his body just like that. I think the way things had gone until that point could even be described as perfect.

It was immediately afterwards that the situation had abruptly changed.

Two of our comrades were murdered in the blink of an eye by a pitch-black shadow that had appeared in the center of the dark laboratory. The “Clearing Snake”, which had sprouted from within Dad’s shadow, transited into Konoha-kun’s body, as if already meaning to do so.

Konoha-kun’s “ability” was the “Awakening Eyes”. Most likely, I wouldn’t have been able to predict that the “Clearing Snake” would take over said “ability”, which strengthened its owner’s flesh, even if I had tried thinking about it.

As though sneering at me, a nasty laughter reverberated through the room. I had a feeling that I heard a scream from Mary merging with it, but I couldn’t do anything at the time other than simply stand still before the tragedy unfolding in front of my eyes.

A tenacious “body” and an evil “head”... in short, the worst-case scenario.

Regardless, by the moment I had internalized that, Konoha-kun’s sinisterly distorted smile had already been drawing close to my field of vision. As I had been grabbed by the neck and lifted, without being able to even gasp, I had squeezed my eyelids shut... Yes, it had been right at that instant. I had unwittingly cringed in fear at the words that suddenly reached my ears.

“Come, Kagerou Daze.”

For a second, I had been unable to tell that those words were from Mary. Fitting of the occasion, Mary was showing an attitude of resentment unlike her usual one from the times when we would poke fun at her.

At any rate, the person who made a fool out of her the most was no one other than myself. I even wondered if I wasn’t the one who had seen her get angry most frequently. Still, the wrath that had traced Mary’s voice when she called for “that name” wasn’t in the same proportion as normal.

“Clearing” had promptly stopped all of his movements, and although it was only for an instant, he had showed an expression that made me believe he was almost shuddering in terror.

Soon after, a gigantic jet-black mouth had materialized, cutting through the frozen atmosphere of the room. That thing, which had seemed to drive off every single bit of direness, twined around and took away Shintarou-kun and Kido’s bodies, vanishing off somewhere.

I had no idea if it was because of the impacting occurrence that had just taken place before my eyes or because of the fingers tightened around my throat, but after having witnessed that, my consciousness had come to a halt...

I pondered on how much time had passed since then.

As I woke up within dead-still, total darkness, “she” was in front of me, wearing Mary’s appearance. The reddish black pupils of her dimly shining slit pair of eyes, which crept with countless snake scales, carved holes into me. Her once long hair that used to resemble cotton had become short, and her once cheerful face that used to retain cherubic traits bore a cold countenance, as if she were someone else.

What those eyes were glaring fixatedly at was Konoha-kun’s figure, which had been discolored into black. He stood upright and didn’t budge an inch, just like Dad when Mary had petrified him earlier. However, although that way of solving things seemed to be the same as back then at first glance, it looked sort of different than how it had been done with Dad. He remained staring in bewilderment with a facial expression almost like he was stuck in the edge of despair.

The power of the “Mary” I knew wasn’t like that.

Was it my instinct? I was certain that “she” who had done such a thing to “Clearing” while he resided within Konoha-kun was not a person, but “something with a human form”. Someone clad in Mary’s appearance other than Mary herself...

Unable to hold back, I swallowed my saliva at the word “medusa”, which suddenly surfaced in my mind.

Perhaps due to having heard the sound of my heartbeats, she took notice of me, turning her feet to my direction without saying anything. Weaving, she gradually came closer with a face that made her seem like she was going to pin me down. And, as she came right before my eyes, she squatted, pointing to her own chest while asking in a voice I was used to hearing, “Are you... this child’s family?”

That manner of speaking was not Mary’s.

I wavered for a moment, but I didn’t feel any pressuring intent from her question. Either way, I did open my mouth to answer, but I didn’t know what essentially I was supposed to say in response.

I think that “this child” refers to Mary. If so, then being asked if I’m her family is a little troublesome.

It felt a tad complicated to reply with “that’s right”, and the range of interpretations for “comrade” was too big. In that case, maybe I should go with “friends”, I cogitated as well, but neglecting the family part through affirming we were friends felt off-putting.

While I was distressing with my thoughts, she exhaled with a hum and opened her mouth again as if she had just concluded something, “Or, perhaps, her husband?”

“That’s not it!!” I denied on the spot. It wasn’t like I was grossed out, but I also couldn’t afford improper misunderstandings.

Maybe due to being surprised at the loud voice that I had spontaneously emitted, she blinked a few times, sucked in a breath and snorted with a “huhu”. “What, so you can talk? Since your lips were all the while repeatedly opening and closing, I figured you were the type that would convey it in this way.” as she spoke, exactly at the point where she had said “what”, she displayed a gesture as if she were stroking her chest.

Before I realized, the air of something like solemnity that had been enveloping her until just now melted away, and it felt as though her body had somehow grown a bit smaller. Still, her way of talking even about that was pretty different from Mary’s... By the looks of it, since she was speaking so eloquently, it didn’t seem like she had changed her tone by mistake. If so, then, there weren’t many prospects to think of. Probably, upon some sort of cue, the personality of the former “Mary” had switched with “hers”. Well, there was also the possibility that “she” wasn’t a woman.

“Just... who are you?” I asked demandingly, and she blinked a few times in surprise again.

Was it a habit of hers? Her attitude almost looked like that of someone who was analyzing my words and motions as if they were fascinating.

I wondered if I was going to be hit, but instead, she spewed her name out as if she hadn’t particularly intended to keep it secret, “My name is... Azami.”

As I heard that name, the presentiment that had crossed my mind a moment before turned into confirmation. Right now, the one residing within Mary was the owner of the diary Shintarou-kun and the others had found at Mary’s house... the “medusa” Azami.

“Also, I am the mother... of Mary’s mother.”

“Ah... I-Is that so?”

Moreover, she went as far as giving a courteous explanation. From the feeling she gave off, she might be a living being much easier to understand than the image I had formed from what I had been told.

Nevertheless, with that, I was somewhat able to digest the circumstances. If I were to believe Azami’s words, she was possessing Mary’s body through whatever method, just like what “Clearing” had done with Konoha-kun. If so, then the fact she had enough power to render “Clearing” defenseless was also convincing. That person was the so-called “source” who had granted us our “abilities”. She certainly exercised a power much stronger than us, who used our “abilities” as something borrowed. Overall, maybe it could be said that the situation was as though an adult had broken into a children’s quarrel?

Then, aah, I get it. This story has a pretty cruel side too.

“Why... Why now?” words instantaneously spilled out. With them as the trigger, memories started overflowing one after another, and before I noticed, my throat was shaking. “It’s too late, isn’t it!? How many people do you think have died?!! If only you had come save us a little... a little sooner...”

Not even I knew what time the “sooner” referred to. Was it when my mother had been attacked by a robber, when Dad and Mom had gotten involved in a landslide or when Nee-chan had put an end to her own life?

Sure, there was all of that. Yet, probably, none of them is it.

Just now, I had said those things encompassing the thought of “at the very least, I’d wanted you to have come help us before Kido had died”. And so, I didn’t give continuity to the sentence I had spit out beyond that point. My feelings of regret, which had not turned into fury, morphed into tears and piled up over my waterlines.

“Ah... uh...” as she accepted my words, Azami let out a weak voice and avoided my gaze with an attitude of perplexity.

Well, that was only the expected. I knew little about Azami, but she was also a victim in the scheme of the “Clearing Snake”. She couldn’t help her agitation after being shouted at in such a way out of the blue.

Yeah, I understand it.

The fact Azami had come to our aid like that was already something to be very grateful for. I was also self-conscious of how I had unreasonably put the blame on her, and I didn’t think what I had said was right. Except, even so, I hadn’t been able to handle it. As I thought of the resentment towards my companions, who had been crushed and eaten away for no actual motive, I couldn’t internalize it without spattering it out.

“M-My apologies. I cannot even imagine the hardships you all have gone through. Even though I had wanted to come save you, I was unable to.” Azami informed with a nervous tone, closing her eyes like a little girl. I didn’t think it was an excuse and had no basis to negate it by labeling, “that’s a lie”.

“Then, how come you’re here now? At least tell me this much.”

As I said so, Azami’s body flinched with a start, and she responded with a feeble voice, “My body and mind perished back when I lost every one of my ‘abilities’. My current self who is borrowing this child’s flesh and talking to you is nothing but a ‘recollection’.”

“‘Recollection’...?”

“Correct. From the other world, I shot into my granddaughter’s head a ‘reminiscent’ of the time when I was alive. It would have been better if I had managed to do it faster, but...” saying that, Azami pointed her – or it was probably more accurate to say “Mary’s” – fingertips to her temple. “...as long as this child did not use the power she holds of ruling ‘Kagerou Daze’... the ‘Combining’, I could not come out of ‘Kagerou Daze’ to intervene on this side.”

She had shot a “reminiscent” into Mary’s head?

Without a doubt, everyone was composed of “memories”. If someone were raised since babyhood in an English-speaking country, they would be capable to speak English, and those raised in jungles were probably allowed to keep even wild animals as pets. That was the so-called individuality, the prime of life experience.

In summary, what was burning within Mary’s head at the moment were the life recordings of “Azami”? If that were true, then the fact Mary was talking like Azami was indeed convincing... but even so, there was one more thing that had me stuck.

“Kagerou Daze”.

Right, Mary definitely shouted that name earlier.

Most likely, during the instant that thing had appeared and swallowed Shintarou-kun and Kido, the “memory” of Azami had leaped into our world as if passing through the wrong gate by mistake.

Still, no matter how one looks at it, it’s a weird story.

Azami said that Mary had the power to rule “Kagerou Daze”, but I had never heard it from Mary herself. It was thinkable that she would hide it, but it was more natural to conclude she didn’t know about it. Would Mary have been able to call for “Kagerou Daze” so conveniently, as if completely aware that she was a “medusa”?

As I was losing control of my thoughts, Azami suddenly lowered her brows and whispered, “It was thanks to Tsubomi.”

My eyes unwittingly went wide-open at the name that had abruptly come out of Azami’s mouth.

Acting like she hadn’t noticed it, Azami gradually continued speaking, “In the past, back when Tsubomi went to that world, I entrusted her with a message. As in, should she meet my granddaughter in the outside world one day, I had wanted Tsubomi to tell her how to summon ‘Kagerou Daze’. The ‘Concealing’ that lay within Tsubomi brings about my granddaughter’s ‘Combining’. I did think they would eventually meet and she would tell her about it...” Azami’s voice shook lightly midsentence. And then, with a facial expression that seemed too humane for her to be called a “medusa”, Azami went on, as if squeezing the words out, “How faint-hearted... She took my absurd wish into consideration. What a good fellow she was. Regardless... I did not make it in time. There is nothing more excruciating than this.”

Azami’s tears traveled down the scales that had emerged from Mary’s cheeks. As tiny sobs leaked out of Azami, I couldn’t manage to listen to the matter beyond that point.

Frankly, there were many parts in Azami’s story that would make one scratch their neck in doubt. Why hadn’t Kido talked about “Kagerou Daze” until now? And how had she been able to convey it to Mary upon having come here? I couldn’t lie about my desire to find that out, but I hadn’t the slightest idea if pryingly asking about it would be of any use. It would not change what had happened. Getting to learn about the meaning behind it all would only serve as consolation for my lack of strength. Only, I had been able to confirm just one thing after witnessing Azami’s tears.

By the looks of it, it seems I was saved by Kido.

“Haah...” I sighed, covering my face with both arms. My emotions, which had lost their place to go, incessantly stirred within my mind.

Why? How? What should I do...?

However, fortunately or not, those thoughts that surfaced and disappeared led me to exhaustion, not turning into words or making their way out of my throat.

“Were you close to Tsubomi?” As Azami inquired, I could somewhat feel the depth of her thoughtfulness in her manner of speech.

Is she being considerate of me?

Come to think of it, she had asked a similar question earlier. As in, if I was Mary’s family.

It wasn’t like I was trying to make up for not having answered that one, but I responded without missing a beat, “Yeah... that’s right. Ever since we were kids, we had always been together. She was obstinate, awkward, and... I liked her, very much.”

If I could say so myself, thought I had given a pretty blunt reply. Nevertheless, answering with non-sugarcoated words was my intention.

Upon hearing it, Azami retorted with a curt “is that so” and started sniffling. As I found that bewildering and rose my head, I saw Azami shedding large tears in an even bigger quantity than just now, her body quivering.

“Y-You must be disheartened. Being separated from someone who you had stuck with for a long time is as agonizing as setting your body on fire. Uuh... eeh... I am at loss for what to say in return...”

Aah. This person... is such a human, huh.

Rare were the people whom would sympathize so much with those they had just met. In reality, she was someone utterly unfitting of the word “medusa”.

Her snake eyes, welling with big teardrops, bore the color of pain – the same one as the blood flowing within us. It was a sinister hue, which had continuously caused trouble. Of course, it was not as if I were about to blindly believe in Azami’s story. Yet, a small but huge fact stood ahead of that. We knew the emptiness of being labeled as “monsters” and detested. There was no way we could hate someone who had that eye color.

If it were Kido, she’d probably say so. I’ll use this as guide.

“There’s... no helping it anymore. Kido did her best for our sake. It’s lonesome that she’s gone, but we can’t just keep on crying after she sacrificed herself for us to live.” I asserted, getting up.

Those words were half-true. But the other half was a lie. For the time being, before said lie thawed away, I could not afford to waver.

“Thanks for telling me all this, Azami-san. So, what should we do now?”

“There is no need for the ‘san’. It’s ‘Azami’ for you.” Azami said in discontentment after a pronounced hiccup while drying her tears.

“Aah, erm... Is that... something important?”

“Obviously. It is the precious name I was... bestowed with in the past.”

I see. Indeed, it’s of great significance.

“Got it.” I replied curtly to Azami, who was human-like in every aspect, turning back towards the direction of “Clearing”, who remained inside Konoha-kun.

Not having changed at all from earlier, the figure of “Clearing” as he stood in place, combined with his expression, was the image of anomaly itself. There was no light in his blank pair of eyes, and not a single sign of emotion could be felt in them.

That was the situation until the current point, and from the perspective of an outsider, it probably looked like everything was settled. Alas, things were no good. At the very least, for as long as Konoha-kun’s body was being possessed, we could not leave him alone.

Besides, we didn’t know when he would start moving and attack us again.

That’s precisely why we need a simple way to deal with “Clearing”, who has stayed unchanged since not long ago, but...

While I was lost in thoughts of possibilities, Azami slowly opened her mouth, “I concluded that the power of my granddaughter had a few-minutes limit. So I used... Tsubomi’s power of ‘Concealing’.”

At the words “I used Tsubomi’s power”, my chest throbbed piercingly. No matter how much I comprehended the truth, in the end, it really wasn’t a reality I could readily accept.

Perhaps because I didn’t react, Azami peeked at my face. I panicked to regain my will, and then proceeded to contemplate Azami’s words. What did she mean by saying she had used the “Concealing”? Kido’s “ability” was supposed to be the power of dimming people’s perception endlessly.

“Erm... it doesn’t look like our forms have become fainter... How did you use it?”

“‘Forms’? Aah, making oneself fade is but one of its uses. Well, it is a simple story.” As Azami spoke, she pointed at “Clearing”, spinning her finger in midair as though to circle his surroundings. “I erased ‘all of his senses concerning anything from this world’. He can no longer perceive sounds, light or even his own actions. It is something akin to being trapped in a world of nothingness. He most likely does not know how to move that body anymore.”

The muscles around my spine unwittingly shuddered at that way of speaking, which bore iciness. Not a single trace of the thoughtfulness of just now remained in Azami’s expression as she lorded over “Clearing”.

Erasing all of the opponent’s senses was aberrant at best. It was not a matter of being good at using an “ability”. Once again, I was able to feel that she who stood in front of me was a genuine “medusa”.

“However, it is merely for buying time. It does not last too long.” Saying so, Azami walked to the direction of “Clearing”.

Panicking, I followed her.

Standing before him, Azami surveyed him seriously, letting out a deep sigh. “As expected, his body is rearranging itself little by little... He is most likely using the ‘Awakening’ and beginning to create a body that my power will not befall onto. He had already had thorough knowledge of my powers from the very start, so this is only the obvious...”

“In short, this means...?” as I asked, the corners of Azami’s lips twitched, mingling with cold sweat.

“It means that, in just a bit more, on top of ‘getting his hands on a body that will not be affected by this trick ever again’, he will also be able to move.”

Immediately, the memory of being grabbed by the throat came back to be vividly. At Konoha-kun’s cruel smile, which was drastically different from his usual soft expression, my body trembled and it felt as if I would go insane.

“T... This is bad! We’re already no match for him as it is... What do we do about that!?”

“Wa-Wa-Wait! Calm down! I had anticipated to some extent that something like this would happen! It is not as if I were just idly spending a long time in that world. Evidently, I have properly thought out a countermeasure plan.” After waving off my overawed behavior with a shaking hand, Azami crossed her arms and huffed sharply through her nose.

I see. Now that I think about it, this is how it is, huh? For starters, “Clearing” himself was a part of Azami’s “abilities”.

Even without setting up a surprise attack or traps, there was no mistaking that Azami, who had her “medusa” powers, was in a position of absolute advantage. Despite that, I had had an outburst just from hearing a remotely scary story, and ended up doing something generally embarrassing. Azami also seemed to have a lot of confidence, so I should leave things to her and watch over it.

While I tried creating expectations, Azami uttered a “well, just look” and projected her two arms towards “Clearing”, quietly closing her eyes. “No matter how much intelligence it acquires, or how it manages to get its hands on a relentless body, this fellow is nothing but one of the ‘abilities’ under the control of ‘Combining’. I will drag it out and force it into submission...!” Still with her eyes closed, Azami began groaning out an “uhn, uhn”. As if she were devoid of a heart, she gave off the impression that a somewhat somber aura had started wafting about her surroundings as well.

Aah, so the time for our long fight to end has finally come? I lost my family, lost my friends, and truly a lot of things happened.

Even if it was over, what was gone would not return. However, the things Shintarou-kun, Kido and Nee-chan were trying to protect had not fallen into enemy hands. Just from that reality remaining, my current self thought of it as salvation.

I also had to express my gratitude to Azami. Had Azami not come, right now, we would be...

“Huh?”

Just now, it felt like Azami said something ominous, but was it my imagination? I’m certain that I heard her say something like “huh?”, though...

As I looked at her, Azami was squeezing her lids shut against the area between her eyes and her cheeks, seeming to be exerting a fair amount of strength, so although she had talked about dragging “Clearing” out, from her state, it seemed to be a considerably difficult task.

Do your best, Azami. This isn’t about winning or losing, but anyhow, don’t give in.

Azami continued groaning with an “uhn, uhn”.

No, is this really okay? You kinda started saying “huuhuu”, so are you okay, Azami? Hold up, you just looked at Konoha-kun’s face for a moment and made an expression like “eh, he has still not come out?”, so is everything okay, Azami? You had said stuff such as “It’s not like I was just idly spending a long time in that world” earlier. Wai—Why do you seem like you’re about to cry? Put in some effort, Azami, really...

“I... I can’t anymore.” As Azami turned towards me with a pale face, not a single fragment of her dignity as a “medusa” remained in her. And, probably, my own face was painted in a similar shade.

The room that was nothing but gloomy became enveloped in a stagnant silence... which was broken.

“No, eeeeeh!? Wait a minute, you were super full of confidence just now, right!? You said something like ‘this fellow is nothing but one of the “abilities”’, didn’t you!? What was that, then!?”

“S-S-S-S-S-Shut up!! As if I know!! I desperately did what I could!! I don’t get why, but it’s not listening to what I say at all, so this... kinda didn’t work.”

“‘Kinda didn’t work’!? Gimme a break; I was so looking forward to it!! What do we do about this?!! Hey!!”

“Wha—!? I did my best, so you do not have to put it that way, right?!! If you have any complaints, you do it!! You!!”

“Haah!? There’s no way I can, is there!? Why did you even come here? Maaaaaaan!!”

As we argued fruitlessly, there was a flashy “bang” out of the blue and the door of the laboratory flung open.

“Uwaaaaaaaaaah!”

I unwittingly jumped up and down at the sudden, explosive sound that had come from an unimaginable direction. And so did Azami. She actually hopped higher than I did.

“Everyone, are you okay!? Are things going all right!? Eh, wait... Huh, Mary-chan, did you go through an image change?”

Gasping for air, the one who had appeared was Kisaragi-chan. She stared at Mary, who was being possessed by Azami, and tilted her neck with a flabbergasted expression.

Asking the friend in front of her, who had scales poking out of her cheeks, if she had gone through an “image change” was disconcerting. Since that was the first thing that had come out of her mouth as she plunged into such a situation, it felt very Kisaragi-chan-like. However, if Kisaragi-chan had come, that guy must have come as well. As I directed my gaze towards the wide-open door, I saw a tall shadow coming in staggeringly.

“Wai... Y-You went too far ahead, Kisaragi-san... Haa... Hii...” Seto, who showed up with shoulders heaving as he breathed raggedly, spoke almost like panting, hands resting on his hips as if he were a marathon athlete that had just finished a race.

Kisaragi-chan had been arranged to regroup with us after the “distraction strategy” was completed. Meaning it had roughly gone as planned and she had come all the way here?

Seto’s mission, simply put, was to be Kisaragi-chan’s bodyguard. He had to check whether there weren’t any unusual voices in the surroundings that could be thought of as belonging to enemy reinforcements, so that encounters with opposing forces could be avoided – in other words, his role was of being a “sonar”. I had at first believed Seto wouldn’t be too happy about having to use his “ability” so recurrently, but in actuality, Seto had responded with a reliable “leave it to me”, which had left me a little surprised.

Well, looking at his state and that exhausted breathing, it seems he was monopolized a lot, though.

“Aah, Seto-san. Sorry for having dashed ahead. How should I put it? Unexpectedly, Seto-san, your legs are slow...” Kisaragi-chan appeared guilty as she said so and bowed her head, but, well, her choice of words was kinda the worst.

“I’m sorry...” after Seto laughed weakly, a shadow cast upon his facial expression. Although he was physically fit, he was a relatively lethargic runner.

Nevertheless, for her to leave her bodyguard behind and rush off, Kisaragi-chan was really something else. Well, Kisaragi-chan’s “ability” was also quite powerful, so an enemy or two were no match for her if she used it seriously.

“Then, Kano-san, erm... what’s this situation?” Kisaragi-chan restlessly scanned the area and once again tilted her neck.

She had probably realized that Shintarou-kun and Kido were gone. As I presumed that, it felt like cold water had been poured onto my stomach. Kisaragi-chan would come to know afterwards about that feeling of anguish I had tasted.

While I found myself unable to answer Kisaragi-chan’s urging, Azami suddenly pulled the hem of my hoodie. “Hey, Brat. Is she a comrade?”

There was a short distance between Kisaragi-chan and the spot that the two of us stood at. Being careful as to not let my voice reach Kisaragi-chan, I rapid-fire whispered into Azami’s ear, “That’s right. She’s one of our members. The little sister of the guy that got gulped down by ‘Kagerou Daze’ a while ago.”

Hearing that, Azami let out a “uuh”. She was the kind of person who had empathized so much with my feelings after hearing my confession earlier, after all. Just from me saying that much, she could probably more or less guess the reason why I was wavering to give Kisaragi-chan a reply.

Regardless, the situation was what it was. I could not keep our swallowed comrades or what had happened to Konoha-kun as a secret from the two. Should “Clearing” start going rampant again, it would definitely be a “game over”. All of us present would be turned into indescribable lumps of flesh in the blink of an eye. That was the one thing we had to avoid no matter what.

Still, how should I tell them? What should I do if I convey it underhandedly and they end up completely losing their fighting spirit? Rather than just that, what if they even give up on running away?

However, disregarding my hesitation, Azami suddenly opened her mouth, “Your older brother was... engulfed by ‘Kagerou Daze’. So was Tsubomi. They struggled bravely, and then died.”

At the unpreceded utterance, my heart rate rose with a start.

“I-Idiot...!”

There’s a thing called ‘way with words’.

I was going to throw in that sentence, but subdued by Azami’s resolute posture, my mouth stayed shut.

With her expression stiffening, Kisaragi-chan let out “eh”s and “ah”s that didn’t turn into words. Seto also had a similar attitude of unrest, and just when I wondered if he was shaking in fear, his strength immediately drained away, his eyes lowering. Unable to handle their reactions, which were pitiful even, I closed my eyes.

She ended up saying it. She conveyed a helpless reality in a helpless way. How much time would it take for those two to face said reality? No, even if they did manage to face it, would they be able to bear it?

However, contrary to such worries of mine, the silence didn’t remain for long.

“Is... that so? I see, I see.” Kisaragi-chan’s words, which she had wringed out little by little, sounded like she was pushing back and killing off something that was about to overflow.

As if to surmise those words, Azami replied, “I understand your unsettled feelings. Still, rotting away here would make their sacrifice a waste. We have not yet solved a single matter, but...”

And, before Azami could finish speaking, a voice overlapped with hers, “I get it. Is there... anything I can do?”

I raised my head without thinking. Before my line of sight, I couldn’t spot a single drop of hesitation in Kisaragi-chan’s expression. My senses, which had become dull, steadily cleared up as though my head had been exposed to sunlight.

Just from memory, I recall having seen that face twice until now. The first was during that day I could never forget, when my older sister had solidified her resolve on the rooftop at evening. And the second was when no one other than that girl’s older brother had borne such expression while standing as our lead.

Kisaragi-chan was attempting to take over her brother’s will. Perhaps struck by that, Seto had seemed to become a little tearful, but responded with a mute nod.

Following each of the two respectively with her eyes, Azami looked at my face as if wanting to ask “what do we do?”.

We’re truly crazy.

Even though we were tormented for no reason and despair was thrust at us countless times, no one would individually “give up”.

By the looks of it, the determination of our members is firmer than I thought. Seriously, it gets to the point of making me want to show it to the Leader.

Suddenly, the “ultimate goal” of the current plan that Shintarou-kun had pieced together crossed my mind. It was something like a terribly childish motto, but Shintarou-kun had an extremely serious expression on when saying it, so it had wound up being funny and everyone laughed.

Still, everyone understands just fine. This is something worth betting our downtrodden lives on and reaching our hands out to. I mean, we...

“Really, I can’t compare to him.”

One way or another, it indeed had to be him, I thought with a bitter smile.

Anyhow, the purpose confirming was over. However, there was one more thing I had to do before discussing the matters from henceforth.

Sucking in a short breath, I suggested to the “medusa” standing beside me, “Anyway, shouldn’t we start with your self-introduction?”

The person in question, who had talked with her severe manner of speech using Mary’s babyish face, displayed confusion with a, “What do you mean?”

From the corners of my field of vision, I could see the figures of the other two nod in agreement while saying, “I was just wondering when we would tackle this topic.”

Well, with her character being so different, it was impossible that the words “image change” would apply.

The atmosphere inside the laboratory, filled with a strong smell of chemicals, was as tense as ever. Illuminated by a light from liquid crystal displays laid out wherever eyes could reach, so exceedingly bright that it could even be considered prejudicial, each of us gathered up and racked our brains.

Whether or not Azami’s tottering self-introduction had been rightly conveyed to the two was left aside, and, as we progressed with a general information sharing, the situation was as unfavorable as previously. According to Azami, the move to restrain “Clearing” and render him incapacitated was apparently a desperate one, but in her current condition, even as she tried thinking of a different method, no counter-proposals whatsoever came to her.

I couldn’t find any type of clock in the room, but that only stirred up the feeling of unease even more. Our minds were blinkingly clad in the inevitable time limit that was drawing close.

Amidst that, I threw at Azami a basic question that abruptly surfaced within me, “Speaking of which, for starters, the ‘eye abilities’ initially belonged to Azami, right? And it looks like you were super well-versed in using the ‘Concealing’... so why is it that you can’t control only ‘Clearing’ however you want?”

As I did so, Azami shrugged as if to say, “this is why I can’t deal with amateurs”. I wondered why it made me want to poke her so much.

“In your case, you eat when you are hungry, and sleep when you are drowsy, right? Just like you don’t have to go as far as using a theoretical reasoning for doing these things, each ‘ability’ has its own ‘cravings’ of preference.” saying so, Azami pointed sharply at Kisaragi-chan’s chest.

Kisaragi-chan let herself be prodded without particularly dodging it, but I didn’t fail to notice Seto evading his eyes from the sight.

This is an emergency, Brother.

“For example, the ‘Snatching’ that you possess has the yearning of ‘being perceived by others’ as its favorite staple food. Each has a different taste, but the ‘abilities’ are able to continue existing through sustaining these cravings. And so, they awfully despise being deprived of wishes.”

Now that she mentioned it, I had the feeling someone asked me something similar back when I had earned my “ability”. Azami had made a comparison with psychological urges, so an image of famine naturally surfaced in my mind. I had once heard that snakes were vindictive, so there might be a reason why those “abilities” that fed off desires had their forms represented by them.

“However, it is not as if they can endure just devouring wishes. Humans make use of ‘reason’ for their ‘whims’, right? Regarding the ‘abilities’, what bears this role is the ‘Combining’.” Azami then nimbly spun the finger that had been nudging Kisaragi-chan’s chest beside her own temple. She indicated as if to say “this is it”.

“I-I see.” Kisaragi-chan successively nodded, with an aspect of someone who hadn’t understood much.

“Most ‘abilities’ submit to the ‘Combining’ as dialogue is useless against it. By intertwining and gathering the ‘abilities’, even a different world such as ‘Kagerou Daze’ can be created. Still, the fact that ‘Clearing’ does not surrender to this probably means he is pursuing a desire that can be a stronger priority than the orders of ‘Combining’. I do not know what it is, but for as long as he is in a state where I cannot control him, there is nothing I can do.” Saying that much, Azami let her head drop with an attitude of dejection. Even though she had been the one to give birth to omnipotent “abilities”, the fact that she herself was not very competent was a serious problem.

No, wrong. Maybe we should conclude it’s exactly because she’s like this that she gave birth to the “abilities”.

Most likely, the “abilities” had been born in order to grant the “various longings” of the helpless Azami herself. And, as a result of whatever conditions “Kagerou Daze” had been created in, they had been transferred to us, who had “wishes” similar to those of Azami in the past. Going by that theory, it would mean the “snakes” had become interested in each of the members’ “dilemma of some sort”.

So if the preference of Kisaragi-chan’s “Snatching” was a “need for acknowledgement”, the desire that Seto’s “Stealing” reacted to was “wanting to know the feelings of others”?

The “Ten Abilities” would eat those cravings and realize them, thus attempting to continue existing. The power of “Concealing” that Azami, who bears the “Combining” – which couldn’t be used unless to restrict the respective seeds within us –, had used on “Clearing”, as though opposing to this world’s reason itself, was something heterogeneous and absolute. If that was the real force of the “abilities”, they were already not in the proportion to be described with the word “abnormality”.

Would that mean they could manage to do stuff like using the “Concealing”, for example, to “render someone unable to cognize anything and everything from this world”? Or using the “Deceiving” to “make someone cognize all kinds of things from this world as something completely different”? Moreover, what if the target of their effect were not a “person”... but, for instance, the “world”, and they could be used on it? The “world” would lose its “reality” to the “abilities”, and a “fantasy” would replace said “reality” through the “abilities”. In turn, wouldn’t that enable just the “Ten Abilities” to do as they pleased with the “world”, which would have mistaken “fantasy” for “reality”?

It was a story extraordinary enough to make people burst out laughing even if it were written down just on the corner of a notebook, but thinking in such a way, it could be concluded that our “abilities” and “Kagerou Daze” were connected by a single thread. If those “abilities” had the strength to rewrite even the world’s rules, it could be also agreed that “Clearing” had designed a scenario to overwhelm us, continuously aiming for our “abilities” and Mary’s “Combining”.

That’s right. The words I had heard from “Clearing” in the past on the rooftop... as long as he had our “abilities”, those words would “come true”. Just... for what purpose? This is the only thing I don’t yet understand, but he was doubtlessly attempting to use that power to make it happen. As in trying to use the power of “medusa” for his scheme of rewinding “everything in this world” and returning it to zero.

Upon having come to that place, the worst-case scenario I had vaguely envisioned started to hint a sense of reality to a ruthless extent. I knew that a feeling of desperation that had begun to rise was violating my head, which wasn’t coming up with any decent ideas.

Regardless of our fretting, no alternatives to get rid of this anguish come to us. As expected, will we meet our end here? No matter how much we think about it, there’s no plan to overcome this wild situation...

“Wild”... “wild”...

Wait a minute. Just now, whose name had been surfacing in my mind again?

“Ah... A...” My voice was shrill, as if perfectly embodying the “despair” that was subtle and faint but nevertheless coiled around my awareness. It easily penetrated my cranium from my eardrums, and brandished the word “death” into my brain, which had been trying to cling onto a tiny bit of hope.

Spurred by our survival instincts, three of us, including me, took a distance from him as if he had jumped up on us.

In contrast, Azami shortened the distance between him and herself, stretching out her delicate arms as she stood in front of him. “Run!! Don’t think of anything and flee!!”

The tips of my toes unwittingly turned towards the room’s exit at the voice that had come out of Mary’s throat, which was heavy with potency to an unthinkable degree. However, unfortunately, my head wasn’t led by enough narcissism for it to prioritize my body’s critical situation. The other two people left seemed to have the same intention, so none of us obeyed as we stood still on the spot.

“Wha-What are you doing!? Hurry...”

“I really wanna do that, but I was lectured by our Leader, who told me to keep it up until the end. Besides, we’ll be killed anyhow even if we run, won’t we?”

The reason why such blunt language had kicked in was probably that my mind was numb. My frame was already trembling all over, but it seemed my mouth still listened to my will.

“That’s right, Mary... no, Azami-chan. There’s no way we’d leave you behind. Trying to fight on your own... you’re showing off too much.”

Using “chan” to refer to the worldwide infamous “medusa”... dear me, this girl is a legend by now.

It appeared Azami wound up at a loss for words regarding us, but eventually, with a manner of talking that seemed to denote acceptance, she spat out, “You bunch of fools.”

Just as she had said, “bunch of fools” was a suitable term for us, who couldn’t do anything despite what we had declared, as it reduced us to nothing but her weak points.

Before our eyes, scattering about an overflowing ominousness and discolored into black for a long time now, Konoha-kun’s body slowly started moving. However, even then, we didn’t feel any sign of only his eyes, which remained blank, facing our direction. By the looks of it, his spirit was still adrift in a world of darkness. Nevertheless, it likely wouldn’t take much for him to regain his former agile nature and come leaping onto us. There was no more time to plan any strategies. However, during that span, one thing alone had crossed my mind. There was no mistaking that it was the reasoning of a novice, but since we had no other plans, it was something worth asking about. The identity of the hope that had crossed my mind a while before had been ironically driven by that guy’s half-revival and surfaced clearly in my head.

“Hey, Azami. Can’t you call for ‘Kagerou Daze’?”

As Azami turned around at my inquiry, her crimson eyes, which looked like pomegranates that had ripened and fallen off a tree, affixed on me.

Those eyes... the “Combining” had definitely summoned “Kagerou Daze” earlier. If we could make that world consume him, even though it might not get to the point of settling everything, it supposedly can put this place under control.

Obviously, there was also the boundlessly callous fact that “Konoha-kun’s body would get thrown into that world”. Still, since Konoha-kun was being possessed, “it was not as if he were dead”.

In the past, we received our lives in exchange of getting the “abilities” and came back from “Kagerou Daze”. Since Konoha-kun is alive to begin with, isn’t there also logic in him returning to this world?

Were all of us going to conformably be tortured to death by the one in possession of our friend’s consciousness and face an unsightly “bad end”? Or should we extent the game and get our hands on some time to piece together a proposal? At the very least, by no means did I think that the “future” entrusted to us by our ingested comrades lay in the former.

“You... Since when have you been aware of this?” as Azami asked so, the end of the sentence was mixed with a fickle shade of dismay. It wasn’t a “I hadn’t thought of that alternative!” or a “Deliberately letting a comrade be swallowed isn’t an option!” kind of question.

It was a constrained nuance, as if she meant to say, “I hadn’t wanted you to notice it”.

Sniffling that sense of discomfort, I replied frankly, “Just now. If we manage to have ‘Kagerou Daze’ gulp him down, at the very least, we can avoid losing more people. Of course, I also want to hear whether or not we can rescue Konoha-kun afterwards.”

“Indeed, by using the ‘Combining’, the entrance to ‘Kagerou Daze’ can be opened. However... it can only be opened.”

As I had thought, it wasn’t like she had been surprised at my idea, and it didn’t seem to be something completely impossible.

While letting the color of apprehension that had peeked from her words just now show in her facial expression, Azami added, “‘Kagerou Daze’ only swallows those in the verge of death. In order for ‘Kagerou Daze’ to consume someone who has already long overcome death, its nature would have to be changed. Still...” Trailing off, Azami strengthened her tone as though in resignation and went on, “Just the power of ‘Combining’ cannot rewrite the disposition of ‘Kagerou Daze’. At the very least, it would be necessary to have half of the “abilities”... those “abilities” that are replacing your lives, reside in this body.”

“Our... lives...”

Inside my head, I lined up the snakes. Mary’s “Combining”. Kisaragi-chan’s “Snatching”. My “Deceiving”. Seto’s “Stealing”. And Kido’s “Concealing”, which had now become a part of Mary.

Having carefreely counted the “number of lives” present, I realized that they were exactly half of ten.

“I tried that out already... immediately after restraining him, while you were unconscious... The powers of ‘Combining’ and ‘Concealing’ alone can only do so much as open the mouth of ‘Kagerou Daze’. But I... had not wanted to tell you this. None of you hesitates or runs away. If I had talked about it, you would...” as she spoke, Azami’s eyes became wet as if she were a child.

With her in such a state, I couldn’t find a single vestige of why she was branded as a “monster” or feared as a “medusa”. I had felt that ever since encountering her, but no matter what, that person’s character had too much empathy. Although it was about people other than herself, she accepted things as they were, and shed tears just like that. Despite most humans not behaving that way, the fact she did was a laughable story.

Aah, seriously. Even though my life is so outrageous, I’ve met a lot of good people.

Kisaragi-chan walked up to Azami, lowered her hips as if to match the latter’s height and embraced her. “Thanks for worrying. But if it’s to you, I can entrust myself. After all, you’re my best friend’s family.”

“U... eh...” without replying, Azami let out deplorable sobs. She wasn’t reliable at all looking like that, but I was also completely adept to Kisaragi-chan’s speech about entrusting our lives.

That was pretty much it, I thought while glancing at Seto, and as he seemed to say “isn’t that obvious?”, I returned with a sour smile.

I really went through a lot with this guy too.

Even that irritating “monsters’ room” was now nostalgic. Those days in which we sat face-to-face on that bunk bed, pondered if there wasn’t “happiness” somewhere, cried and laughed, almost felt like they had happened just yesterday when I tried thinking back on them.

Honestly, it’s great that there wasn’t time to chat about our memories over the night. Had anyone started talking, I’d end up looking forward to the continuation.

And it arrived in abrupt ruthlessness.

“GUGAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!” broadly raising his body, “Clearing” let out a beastly roar. His dull yellow orbs scanned the room in circles, and, turning toward our direction, their movements stopped entirely. “Too bad, shitty brats.”

His voice stuck to the eardrums and hit a nerve, similar to a snake poking out its tongue. In that tone, no more traces of our former friend could be found. At his fierce shadow and clear murderous intent, my whole body shook as if it were malfunctioning. Like an incarnation of despair himself, “Clearing” languidly let both his arms drop, his ferocious gaze creeping around the air. As it aligned to Azami, the corners of his mouth rose flabbily, and then...

...one step.

His jet-black right foot swung down to the ground with an abnormal leg strength. A deafening explosion noise roared, and the metal floor tiles that flew off pierced cuttingly into the displays on the wall. Converting the momentum into propulsion power, “Clearing” launched his body forward, transforming it into a pitch-black bullet as it approached Azami. It was an overwhelming use of violence in a time span that wasn’t enough to let out a single word.

Kisaragi-chan, who had received that anguishing attack directly from the front, instantly threw Azami, who she had been hugging, straight to the opposite side. As she glided mid-air, Azami’s pair of scarlet orbs could not be more wide-open.

No signs of the “ability” could be felt in the figure of the girl that made her “future”, her body into a shield to protect her. Even so, her resolve – her soul – was brandished into my eyes.

A thunderous rumble had erased Azami’s scream. With the jet-black shadow closing in on her, Kisaragi-chan had smiled back as if inconvenienced. And then, she had said, “I’m counting on you”, but lastly, her body had been blown away as though she were a rubber doll, hitting the wall and floor, creating on them a sea of bright red blood.

None of us could let out a single yelp at the exceedingly one-sided tragedy.

And so, as if saying “now is your turn”, the eyes of “Clearing” seized “Mary’s form”. Moving his body before Mary in a flash, he grabbed her neck and easily lifted her. At Mary’s aspect of awful dread, “Clearing” showed an expression of ecstasy.

“Stop... plea...”

Without so much as waiting for her to finish, “Clearing” grabbed Mary’s right arm and, in a twisting flair, he tore it apart with a snap.

“AAAaAah!!”

He observed her as though satisfied, with a smile that seemed to say he could make her shriek from acute pain. “Did you think I wouldn’t kill you? Ahahahahahahaha!!”

Along with that coarse laughter echoing through the room, my vision started to blacken.

His right fist, which had been delivering final blows, gouged out the side of Mary’s stomach. As extremely loud liquid sounds scattered about, blood flowed down the ground like a waterfall.

Aah, it’s over. It’s all over.

By the looks of it, it seemed I wouldn’t be able to see the continuation of the world I had once dreamed with.

Aah, how frustrating. A little bit more and it seemed like I’d be able to get there. If I had a next time, I think I’d be able to do better, but no way that’d happen, right? This isn’t a manga. But well, lastly, just one more thing. Wasn’t I able to bring flowers to my useless life? I think I was.

The surprised face of “Clearing” made me happy, and “I who had been set free from Mary’ appearance due to the pain” couldn’t keep the corners of my lips from arching up. I didn’t feel any ache from my arm or the sides of my stomach anymore. As it was the second time that happened to me, I somewhat knew what it meant.

Within my hazy consciousness, I saw the “real Azami”, who had been using the “Concealing”, reveal herself. From behind the scenes, accompanied by five white snakes, she bore an expression of indignation.

Ah, I see. My “ability” already went to Azami too. One way or another, it’s indeed lonely that it left.

If anything, I was glad that I had been able to fight alongside Kido’s “Concealing” at the very last, to the point I thought I had done a little too much.

Before I realized it, I had been dumped onto the ground. Moreover, the angle I had landed on was bad, so my eyes wound up looking at the desperate face “Clearing” had on.

Don’t make that expression with my friend’s face, was the feeling I got.

“Kagerou Daze” opened its mouth. I quietly closed my eyes with my vision blacked-out. Finally, within the darkness, the vibration noises of my phone reached my ears.

Aah, I get it. That girl was here too. If so, I understand, this is how it is. How very thoughtful, honestly.

And so, it was over for me.

Right before my end, just for a moment, I had a feeling I heard the voice of that girl I was so fond of. I unwittingly turned around at the tone that sounded angry. The fact no one was there, more than anything, was very much like her.

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