#Might have her head to Glaciers Forge | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ihatesocialmedia45 · 10 days ago

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Chapter 14: Push Comes to Pull (Comes to Shove)

Ashley's Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_2DLs478cw Dr. Rangel's Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GyNpG8E9PCE&t=1687s "Am I... a Fetish to You?": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0QpyPI2fAEE

Stan walked the halls of Vought with a determined step, irritation flickering across the placid expanse of his eyes. Throngs of Vought personnel parted as he approached, as though he were a glacier, and they the waves that broke against him.

The woman.

After that disastrous therapy meeting with Rangel, Stan had went to work, his normally composed demeanor crumbling in the face of the notes. To the untrained eye, he'd looked a bit distracted, maybe even slightly ruffled... but inside the CEO's head, a whirlwind brewed, dark and tumultuous. He'd humored her up till now, expecting Homelander would lose interest with her doe-eyed facade... but it had been three months since their meeting. Homelander seemed just as besotted as he'd been in January, and gave no indication that he would change course. She would have to go - but to plot her removal would require all of his cunning. Everything Homelander had ever let go of was marred with claw marks.

Stan entered his office, poring over the same mountain of documents he'd complied on the woman at the start of this fiasco - but now, a new addition to the record stood proudly atop the pile. This, Stan thought, was the lynchpin that might finally break her hold on him. Everyone had leverage that could be used against them; this woman was not special.

It was true that she had no ulterior motives for romancing Homelander. She had no connections to rival corporations, and no need for his money - for she didn't seem to care for it. Her biggest aspiration, it seemed, was to open a consignment shop and sell knick-knacks. Stan snorted; she'd have an uphill battle, trying to convince Homelander to trade in his life of celebrity for working behind a counter in a humble shop - outside of New York, no less.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, Stan shook his head. She was too smart for that; if anything, she'd likely be content to watch Homelander flourish, while she worked quietly in the background.

Hell. It was exactly the dynamic the man-child would think he'd needed.

He'd scheduled a meeting with Homelander this afternoon, where he'd lay everything he'd gathered on the woman plainly, and let him judge for himself if she was truly worthy of his time. That was what Homelander thrived on - and what he sought from Stan, above all else; the illusion of equal footing. In actuality, Homelander was more of a boy to Stan than the Supe realized; that truth, however ugly its implications may be to him, would be his saving grace now - and hopefully the domino that would set in motion the woman's permanent removal from the Vought Family.

Ashley watched from outside the Seven's meeting room with a curious air about her; ever since Homelander and the woman had agreed to participate in the group sessions with Rangel, she'd been asked by Stan, and the rest of the Supes, she thought, frowning, to make trips to other parts of the building during their hour with Therese; check in on Crime Analytics, to ensure things were running smoothly. Pick up invoices from Finance - there was reason to suspect embezzlement on one of their employee's fronts. Even head meetings with some of their sister companies - today, she was scheduled to lead a meeting with Vought France, to oversee the construction details of their newest building there. A few months ago, Ashley would have been delighted with the tasks; she would have seen it as the next step in Stan's plans to forge her into the next CEO. Now, she knew better; they were keeping her out of the way, while the grownups talked.

She was more than capable of sitting in on a damn therapy session, she seethed inwardly. Stan - and the Seven - just didn't think she was important enough to be there. All of her work at the company, all of her sacrifices, and instances of saving them from PR disasters... it meant nothing to them, it seemed. And she couldn't even quit - she knew too much to survive a resignation. Even A-Train had sided with the rest of the team when she'd complained.

"Come on, Ashley," he'd sighed, running a hand through his hair. He'd kept his glasses on, even though they were indoors; she'd always hated that. She couldn't see the minute tightening of his eyes behind the dark, reflective material - only her own face, drawn tight and pinched, with worry. "What - do you think they're moving you out? That we have some other, new Ashley, ready to take your place? Stan probably just doesn't want to have to replace you, in case Homelander goes on one and starts lasering. None of us want that. It's about keeping you safe. We need you - you know this."

Ashley closed her eyes as he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. As badly as she wanted to... she couldn't find true solace in his words. A-Train was a smooth talker - and a good one, at that. But she'd seen behind the mask, once - at least, she thought she had. She remembered consoling him when he thought that Vought was pushing him out of the Seven, holding him in her arms as his body wracked with quiet sobs. She'd been there for him, and now that the roles were reversed... a sour look crossed her face. She'd been naive to trust him - to think that her solidarity meant anything, when put up against the allure of fame and status.

"Fuck you," she'd hissed at him, jerking her head away. "You know damn well that's not what this is. And you don't care!" Now A-Train's face had soured.

"You used to get my fucking coffee; you don't talk to me like that!"

"And now I schedule your doctor's appointments, to make sure you don't fucking overdose on V, you damn junkie!"

A-Train's countenance darkened - but Ashley only smiled, the flatness in her eyes like the sharp edge of a paper. "What?" she asked, cocking her head. "It's not like they'll fire me."

This had been an exhausting start to the year, Deep thought. Homelander's girlfriend - that was weird to think about - had moved in almost overnight it felt, and the rest of the Seven could little but watch on in wary acceptance. He'd moved her furniture in, even; Kevin had seen Homelander through the window one night, flying in to Vought with what looked like a deep cushioned couch, and a giant suitcase, full of all the woman's things - all while she hung from his back, whispering and giggling in his ear.

If it had been anyone else, Deep would have called them whipped. He thought it of Homelander, too - but he quite liked the idea of his insides not becoming his outsides, so he stayed quiet. After all, what was the saying? Happy unhinged ruler, happy life? Yeah, that sounded right.

Now she was even a part of the therapy meetings, he thought, holding back a sigh. Even he knew that that was a poor choice - but Stan had meant it when he'd said she was a part of the Vought Family... and so, there she was, hip to hip with Homelander, holding his hand and looking unto his eyes like they might start Frenching, right in front of everyone.

When the woman had first joined, Maeve and Sage had said it would be the perfect time to analyze her - gauge her reactions to therapy, record her answers. It seemed to complicated of an investigation to get into - and what was the point, really? They knew she was crazy, and they knew she had Homelander's heart. There didn't seem to be much they could do. Deep thought at least Maeve might understand his resignation; after all, she was the poster child for giving up. But she'd fixed him with that sharp glare - how she'd managed, he didn't know; she was hitting the bottle early again - and told him that as long as this woman was here, it meant that Homelander was even more unpredictable than usual. It was in their best interests to figure her out, and get her out.

"Think about it, Kevin," she'd said. "There has never been a time where Homelander has fallen in love, and it hasn't backfired on him - and the rest of us. It's only a matter of time before we find out what she really wants, and we use it against her."

He'd rolled his eyes. "You saw her at Voughtland, though! 'I think you'd better let me get back to him' ? We offered her everything! Money, an escape - she wouldn't bite! And," he said, the meeting they'd had fresh in his mind, "Stan told you to stop making plans without his say-so!"

Maeve nodded, her eyes dulling in the face of Deep's retort. He'd felt a surge of pride blossom in his chest. He could make valid points.

But Sage had stepped in after that, fixing him with her own look of calm determination. " We're not 'making plans', " she'd said, voice dangerous. "You do not spread that. Do you hear me?"

Deep nodded, all former bravado gone. Sage looked him over, before giving a derisive nod in turn.

"And as for Voughtland.. that just meant we didn't have what she wanted. But that doesn't mean we won't find it."

They'd set off then for therapy, leaving Deep to stew - but still, the thought nagged at him. What if they weren't finding what the woman wanted... because she'd already gotten it?

The Seven sat in a circle, while Dr. Rangel listed off the agenda for their current session; Starlight had suggested art therapy, to which the rest of the team had agreed - and so she'd brought easels and paints with her to this session, and watched, almost maternal in her gaze, as they'd looked to her for further instruction.

"There are no rules for this session, in regards to these pieces. Simply paint what you wish, and we'll share in about 30 minutes," Rangel had told them. She'd moved to the side while the team got to work, and read up on her files.

It had honestly come as a surprise that Homelander and the woman had decided to join them for group therapy, she'd reflected, watching the two with quiet distaste. They clearly had no intentions of taking therapy seriously, something she knew might negatively impact the rest of the team's growth... but Homelander himself had insisted, marching into her office - the woman in tow, of course - and stating that as leader of The Seven, it was only right that he be there to oversee their sessions. She'd raised a brow, but humored him, remembering Stan's insights on the Supe. Homelander thrived on getting his way - but it was more prudent to let him believe he'd won his way into it. So she'd feigned arguing, and let him talk her into inviting him.

Now, she wasn't sure if her decision was the right one; from the first session, they'd instantly made a mess of the environment she'd crafted with the rest of the Seven. Homelander snarked at everyone the moment they opened up - mocking Deep for using his real name in session (You think if anyone saw you on the street in that getup, they'd say, 'Oh, hey, Kevin!'), laughed when A-Train recounted the moment he'd first discovered his powers (Running faster than the bullets? That's one way to beat becoming a statistic') and flashed his lasers whenever Dr. Rangel so much as tried engaging him in conversation. Then, to top it off, he and the woman had left early, once they'd had their fun tormenting the group.

The woman... she was no better. While she wasn't as overtly malicious as her better half... her presence proved to be insidious in its own right. She'd gone toe to toe with Sage - something she must have known wouldn't have turned out in her favor... but she pressed on, arguing her down about the underlying emotions that motivated her actions, and asking her pointed questions, until Sage had had enough, and stumped her with a riddle: I speak without a mouth, and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?

The woman had sat, fuming, for a few minutes, before Homelander gritted his teeth, and lasered sharply at the ground next to Sage's feet, smiling nastily when she'd jumped.

"I guess we'll never know," he said smugly, daring her with his eyes to challenge him.

Dr. Rangel started lightly as the timer went off, signaling the start of the sharing half of their therapy session. Making her way to the group, she cast a look at the pieces they'd created, nodding thoughtfully at each one.

A-Train had painted a series of overlapping skid marks on a road, with small sparks lighting the path of his feet.

Maeve had sketched a couple's embrace - and then painted over it a thick, dark cloud.

Deep made a seashell, nestled in Firecracker's hair, while Firecracker had drawn the hog from Voughtland's contest, a troubled look in her eye; Therese resolved to speak with her after the session.

Noir had drawn a human ribcage, teeming with moss and greenery.

Sage hadn't drawn anything; rather, she'd peeled the stickers off of the markers and paint tins to create a message on her easel: What a productive use of Vought's resources!

Starlight had drawn a lunar eclipse, the rays of sunlight peeking behind the moon, and Homelander had painted a scene of the sky at dawn; he'd painted himself in the picture, holding the woman, while they looked down at Mount Everest.

The woman... Therese wasn't quite sure what it was she'd created - but she was sure she'd be happy to explain, come her turn. She held her composure, even as the disquiet mounted within.

"I think we'll start with... Noir," Dr. Rangel said, taking her place in her chair and gesturing to him. Noir bowed, before rising to his feet and fetching his notepad and pen. He wrote carefully, nodding to himself, before passing the message along to Starlight, who touched her heart, before passing it on to the rest of the group.

Deep was the last to read, and he looked up at Noir, a soft smile on his face. "It's so weird to say this, but... you really do always know just what to say, don't you?" He passed the notebook on to Dr. Rangel, who also smiled.

There is always time for growth, Noir had written.

"I think that's a very insightful, if understated, observation, Noir. The image of the moss growing over the ribcage... it reads like a symbol; even when things seem final, the potential for change, and for life, always remains an option." Noir flapped his hand, bashful, and the Seven laughed along with Therese.

"I mean it, Noir! It's a very hopeful piece - one that reflects a belief in the better nature of people, whether it's us, at Vought, or humanity as a whole. I'm happy you shared it with us."

"I'll go next!" Deep volunteered. He stood up, painting in hand, a shy smile on his face. "I kind of cheated, and used a picture I already had, but... this is of the time me and Misty, uh, Firecracker, I mean - when we went to Costa Rica, to watch the blue whales give birth." Firecracker flushed, smiling at the memory.

"I loved that," she murmured. "We rode on the back of one after. Her name was Agape; she... sang for us."

Deep fished his phone out of his pocket then, scrolling for a moment until he found what he was looking for: a recording of the blue whale's song. The mythic sound flowed through the air, and the team hushed as they looked at his painting again, the sound all but taking them to the coasts. Starlight looked like she might cry; even Maeve seemed to soften as the whale's song played.

The team seemed almost at peace, Agape's song winding around their hearts and binding them, if only for a moment, together; they sat there, in the lull of the ocean's melody, a much-needed calm washing over them, until it ended with the faint sound of Firecracker's laughter.

A-Train was next; he stood up with his art, a contemplative look on his face.

"I... I don't know. This is supposed to be from the first 100 meter I ever won. My brother, he'd told me that it wasn't enough to be the fastest because of my powers - I actually needed to train. And so I did. I was doing cardio, eating right, sleeping right, training with him, day in and day out... and when it was time for the race... I'd used maybe ten percent of my powers? And... I still won!" He brightened at the memory, watching as the rest of the Seven shared in his joy. "I actually won... and I'd worked for it. It... I don't know. I've been thinking about that a lot."

Homelander snorted then; the team withered as they took in his spiteful expression - but Dr. Rangel shifted to him, turning her body to face he and the woman. Maeve held her breath.

"Would you like to share your piece, now, Homelander?" she asked, opening the floor to him.

Homelander almost looked surprised at the invitation - but, quickly saving face, he stood, brandishing his piece with a self assured air.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll share," he said, tone easy, but eyes tight. He held the painting a bit higher.

"This is what the sky looks like, from my point of view. It's... clean. Well... this is at Mount Everest; New York air is filthy, especially at... the level you all see. But up there... you can actually balance the water droplets on your finger, and..." he stopped himself; the entire team was looking up at him, almost... invested, he thought. A rare feeling of validation passed over him - though he quickly quelled it. They should hang onto his every word; it was a given that they'd be impressed. He was a very impressive man. The only one who's validation mattered was the woman's, anyway, he thought, keeping an eye on her as he spoke. He cleared his throat.

"It's real air. Nothing like this cesspool here. So." Nodding once to himself, he retook his position - standing, while the others sat - and smiled faintly when the woman stroked his leg from her sitting position at his feet.

The room was silent for a moment - nobody had expected him to actually partake in therapy, aside from the occasional jab here or there. Homelander looked around, drumming his finger on the table next to him. "Well? he said, raising a brow, giving a tight grin that looked more like the baring of teeth.

"You included me," the woman said softly. Of course, Homelander thought.

"It's like... you took me with you, to this place I would have never seen before. It feels... like you're bringing me into your world. Like I'm a part of it."

The rest of the team scrambled to add feedback - it wasn't as real as when the woman had said it, Homelander thought, displeased. Where she'd been admiring, the rest of them seemed stupefied, too afraid to offer anything. Deep spoke first, raising his hand and then lowering it, embarrassed at his schoolboy reaction.

"I really like the gradient. It's subtle; like... you got it almost black, but nothing in nature is black, except for, like... maybe when you close your eyes? Even the bottom of the ocean is really dark gray, or blue - I think that's my favorite part." "I liked... the way you're holding her," Starlight said cautiously. Homelander raised a brow. "It's like... you're puzzle pieces," she said. The woman smiled at Starlight; Starlight felt a chill go up her spine.

"I feel the exact same way," she said softly, curling a hand around Homelander's calf.

Dr. Rangel nodded, but, to the team's relief, it didn't seem as though she was going to push Homelander. Homelander seemed disappointed; he flicked his gaze at her, as though awaiting some sharp analysis of his drawing, but she'd only smiled at him and said, "I think my favorite part of this piece is the way you hold her, as well." Homelander brought his gaze back to her, almost waiting for more. She smiled, understanding then, and continued.

"There's... a tenderness in your grasp, and a certain duality within the image. You've clearly drawn this place from memory; perhaps it's somewhere you visit often - and you've taken someone else that is precious to you, to this precious place. I think it speaks to..." the Seven looked at her, a silent warning in their gazes. It was one thing to give Homelander the validation of a response - but it was another matter entirely to dissect this painting, lest she reveal something he'd rather keep hidden. Calling the painting "tender" was toeing the line, they knew; they waited for the end of her sentence, and prayed Dr. Rangel knew what she was doing.

Time to put that double board certification to the test, Sage thought, raising a brow.

"I think... you're more than Vought, aren't you, Homelander?"

Maeve let out the quietest of sighs. Homelander seemed to be brought up short by her observation; he sharply turned his gaze to her, but Rangel only smiled back, a kindness in her face that almost floored him. Nobody had ever said anything like that to him before... and he wasn't sure how he liked it. The muscles in his face twitched; Deep fidgeted in his cross legged position, reaching for Firecracker's hand. Starlight gave a cautious look to Rangel, but kept her peace. Maybe... this was what needed to happen, she thought. Rangel was playing a dangerous game, with unfair rules that changed according to Homelander's whim. She couldn't say nothing... but Homelander was clearly not there for therapy. For a second, a hot flash of anger coursed through her. Why show up, then? Was it because he just couldn't stand the thought of the getting something out of the experience? Did he have to ensure they were all miserable with him - did he have to keep them from any semblance of healing, just so he wouldn't be alone?

The team waited for Homelander to respond - but instead, the woman spoke, the light in her eyes like the sun. "Of course he is," she said, looking up at him. Homelander smiled back, before straightening his spine and looking Rangel head on.

It was over, Maeve thought. They'd survived... for now. But the woman's piece... it puzzled her. She couldn't tell what it was - it was a strange, peachy portrait, a faint rosy hue dappled in the center - and the tension would only mount the longer the group stayed on Homelander's piece. She pointed to her painting then, diverting their attention. "What is that?" she asked her - and instantly regretted it, as the woman smiled.

"Oh, this?" the woman replied, standing at Homelander's side, painting in hand. The team watched, wariness growing by the second, as she presented her portrait, before looking to Homelander. "May I?" she said, bringing it closer to him. He cocked his head, before comprehension dawned on his face, and he nodded, the faintest hint of a flush gracing his cheek.

She held the portrait up to him, and Firecracker gasped, before holding back the sound with her hand. The woman, somehow, in the span of 30 minutes, had painted a near photo-realistic copy of a patch of Homelander's cheek, complete with the tips of his lashes at the edge of the canvas. It blended nearly seamlessly into his face, creating the disturbing illusion of his cheek going on for miles; the canvas itself felt like a monstruous extension of his skin, like a tumor that had grown malignant.

Homelander took the painting from her gently, with an expression like nothing the Seven had ever seen from him before. He stared, eyes dangerously close to misting over, and ran his thumb over a light smattering of freckles the woman had dotted across his cheek. They were too small to see, unless one was especially close to him; Homelander brought his gaze to her then, quickly, before returning to the painting. How long had she looked at his face, to recognize those tiny specks? Holding his head in her lap, smoothing his hair, even washing it in the sink as she'd done before the meeting... had she done it then, in those moments? Had she counted them, as he slept? It was the shrine, all over again. She saw him - and, what's more...she liked what she saw.

Homelander cleared his throat, before turning to face the team, an expectant look in his eye. Dr. Rangel spoke first, regarding the portrait... warmly, Homelander realized.

"It's... an impressive piece, to be sure," she started, taking a tentative step closer, adjusting her spectacles. "It speaks... to a lover's level of attention. Care. I wonder... how often must you have studied him, to produce something so accurate?" The woman flushed, donning a sheepish smile. "I don't want to say," she joked, grinning when Homelander laughed - surprise coloring his face when he heard the answering, quiet chuckles of the Seven around them. He kept his face in that same charismatic mask, but within, his mind whirled. This didn't sound like the same laughs they usually gave - the ones he felt he all but had to force out of them, Homelander thought. He dared a quick look around; Maeve... was smiling softly. A-Train and Starlight looked... happy for him, he decided. Deep and Firecracker looked stupid, yes... but even he couldn't deny it; the looks of quiet joy on their faces were present.

Homelander prided himself on his sensitivity to the inner feelings and expressions of others; he had no choice to know, by virtue of his enhanced senses. Adrenaline had a certain, spiced scent to it; fear tasted stale on the air. But this... he'd never experienced the taste of joy, of affection, at least until the woman came into his life. But so fed on the emotion now he was, the faintest note of it was plain as day to his newly introduced nose. They... were happy for him.

They were happy... for him.

"That's, like, uncannily similar to his face," Deep joked, offering the woman a smile. "Might need to get you checked for V." The team laughed, and Homelander felt his heart race in his chest.

Maeve looked up; she'd gone back on her vow not to monitor his heart beat the moment he stepped into the meeting room. This sounded... like joy, she realized. As insane as the woman's painting was... Homelander was happy. Not maliciously gleeful, or relishing in someone else's suffering... happy. Content, even. She cast a look at Sage, who eyed her in turn.

Should they even go through with the investigation? Was Deep right? The woman clearly had his heart... and, for the first time since meeting her, it seemed as though that was her goal in and of itself. Was there truly no other motive to loving Homelander, other than the desire to be with him?

For a moment, she flashed with resentment. Of all the people to find someone... she grit her teeth. And, deeper still, another thought lingered: Why hadn't she been able to manage him?

Homelander was... unhinged. Erratic - sadistic. She knew this... and yet, watching him hold the woman close, she felt an irrational envy creep up her spine like ivy. It wasn't that she wanted him, per se... rather, it was the idea that someone could be his other half, and make away with all that unconditional love, all that smothering affection, and thrive within it.

It wasn't healthy; she'd painted a portion of his fucking skin...

And he loved her for it, Maeve thought, the words like bile. All she'd had to do was be completely insane... and it would be her, feeling the warmth of arm that would never let go, with all the strength to bind her back together. She sniffed, and turned her head, pushing her painting away with her toe.

The timer sounded then, and Dr. Rangel looked around the room, a new levity dawning on her face as she regarded the team. "Alright; that's our hour!" she said, gathering the painting supplies. A-Train collected brushes, and Firecracker rolled up the unused sheets of paper. "We'll finish the rest of this exercise tomorrow, so I'll keep the paintings we haven't reviewed till then." When the room was clean, she faced them again, giving each member a soft smile. "As always, I'm honored to have heard from you today - and I hope to see you again next week. Great work, everyone. Truly."

With that, she left, supplies in hand; Deep held the door for her as she left. Even A-Train, who normally would have mocked the gesture, gave a small wave as she exited, before looking over his painting again, and then briefly at Starlight. Maybe she'd been right to take therapy seriously, he thought.

Homelander walked to the door as well, preparing for his meeting with Stan - but before he left, he, too, graced the team with a slight nod, and a quirk of his lip. "Yeah," he said. "Great work." And, turning smoothly on his heel, he swept open the door and left, his cape billowing behind him.

Stan was waiting for him when he walked through the door, Homelander saw as he stepped inside the CEO's office. The shorter man was seated at his desk, reading over a paper with a coffee mug staged casually to his left. Coffee, Homelander smelled. Arabica - black. He'd never known Stan to drink coffee; this must have been an act.

After the therapy session with the team, this small moment of pretense felt especially heinous, but Homelander held his tongue. It didn't matter - not really. Not when the woman had promised him that she'd take him searching for four leaf clovers this afternoon. He'd told her that they weren't real - but she'd risen to the challenge with a gleam in her eye. The image of rolling through a clover field with her filled his mind, and he walked a little faster. Whatever it was that Stan had to say, he hoped it was brief. Rangel was right; he was more than Vought.

"Homelander," Stan said, offering him a slight smile that he didn't return. "Let's make this quick," Homelander replied curtly. The coffee smell had grown stronger as he'd stepped closer, and it was beginning to grate on his nerves.

"This will take as long as you need it to, actually," Stan said, ushering him closer. "But, please, do take a seat." Homelander paused, before sitting, drawing his cape neatly beside him and facing Stan. He eyed him silently, waiting for the CEO to break the silence.

"As you know, the woman has been brought into the Vought Family, and is now under all the protection the label implies. Full amenities, access to anywhere in Vought Tower, totally able to avail herself to any and all of its resources." Homelander scoffed.

"She didn't ask you for any of that. I'm tired of you treating her like she's some... gold digger."

"Of course not," Stan agreed easily, smile locked in place. Homelander gritted his teeth. "I only mean to say that, to that end, as you know... this protection comes with the caveat of a full panel investigation into all of her affairs - past and present."

"She's not a spy," Homelander spat. "I'd already checked." Stan's smile grew.

"But of course; I'd expect as such. You are Vought's most profitable asset; it's only natural that you'd protect your interests - our interests." "I'm not - " Vought's asset. "Can you j- what is your point?"

Homelander felt a chill run through him; Stan's heartbeat, normally so composed, gave a rare leap in his chest; he watched with dull dread, as the silver flash of his glasses reflected the sunlight. He smiled, again, steepling his hands.

"My point... is that we've found something regarding her, that may be of interest to you. Personally."

I don't want to know, Homelander thought - and in that moment, he truly didn't. Whatever it was... he could walk away now, back into her arms, her love, and wash this ugliness that was beginning on encroach on them away. Don't tell me. Just... don't. I can't.

Stan thumbed through the stack of papers at his desk with care, taking his time to ensure he'd picked the right documents out of the formidable booklet he'd created. Homelander read through the backs of the pages; lists of residences the woman had stayed. Comprehensive analyses of her mental state, each more troubling than the last. A flash of writing - Oh, Homelander... I want that love. His heart seized.

You have it.

Put the damn papers away, Stan. Let me go.

Stan fished a good twenty something pages out of the dossier, before bringing his gaze to Homelander. For once, he dropped the smile. The air seemed to crackle around them.

"Homelander... John," Stan said, leaning in. "I trust that you know... that when I say that I'm working with your best interests at heart... you know that I mean Vought, as well. Yes?" A beat of silence passed between them, until Homelander gave one, stiff nod.

"Then you know what it means... for me to say, that this woman... and her interests... do not serve Vought." With that, he gestured to the papers, and leaned back.

Homelander stared at the compilation Stan had lad out before him, taking the stack with hands that no longer felt like his own. He felt rooted to the chair; even if he was of the mind to fly away, he wasn't sure he'd be able to.

His vision went blurry as he read the texts, the posts... the fanart. The fiction. This was the blog that he'd seen before, and had looked over, in his haste to find the woman at the start of their union. It had all seemed so uninteresting to him, so useless in comparison to his goal... but now, the words haunted him, sending his stomach into a volatile waltz.

There were drawings of him - edited photos, imagined scenarios... all depicting him as a monster, as some craven beast. Such a freak, she'd written on her blog. Need that. None of the pictures looked like him; not really. They were all... distorted in some way; emphasizing his fangs to monstrous proportions in one photo - depicting him as a hulking, thoughtless mass in the other. In one, he held a woman in his arms, lips at her throat - and a hand delicately holding the stream of her intestines in the other, the ropes of her insides looped around his neck.

The fiction was no better; in every depiction, he was some sort of creature; a vampire, a werewolf, even a Sasquatch... but there was nothing of the man he'd shown her, not a trace of the sweetness he'd offered. Not one mention of his smile, or the curly cue she claimed to love... it wasn't there.

Homelander looked up then, the light tremor in his facial muscles almost imperceptible. Another long moment of silence rolled between them before he rose to his feet, tossing the papers onto Stan's desk. He was right, Homelander thought faintly. The meeting did only take as long as he'd needed.

"And Homelander?" Stan said. The Supe turned, his eyes flat.

"My working to serve Vought's best interest... is to serve your best interest. Please... never forget that."

Homelander marched through the halls, shouldering past the crowd of employees on the way to his suite. The memories he'd shared with the woman felt like ash on his tongue, each one ripping through him till he was tattered inside.

The dinner bowl she'd used to serve him - big enough for a beast.

Consoling him after the China warehouse burning - had she even truly believed? Or had it aroused her, to be in the presence of a monster?

Even the kiss they'd shared at Voughtland, in the wake of his destruction... she'd flung herself into his arms, stood against the Seven to fight for her place at his side... but now, he couldn't see it as love - only a perverse fascination with being claimed by some eldritch abomination.

She was fascinated by him, the way onlookers stared at bears, balancing on balls at a circus. They'd laugh, toss peanuts, and cheer when it roared - but they'd go home to dog, or a cat, nonetheless.

Was this anything other than a sick thrill to her?

Finally, he reached the door - and, just like the night they met, he held a hand up, hesitant. He inhaled slowly, the scent of her conditioner burning his insides.

Bergamot. Vanilla.

Kiss me. Please. He pushed open the door, and instantly, the urge to forget it all slammed into him. The woman was packing sandwiches into a picnic basket, wearing her hair in plaits, swimming in the baggy pair of overalls they'd found on their latest thrifting excursion. She looked beautiful, he thought - like everything he'd ever wanted.

She bounded over as soon as she heard his entrance, and tried to take him into a hug, a kiss - but he held firm, his body unyielding to her embrace. At once, she pulled back, confusion furrowing her brow. "Homelander?" she asked, eyes lost as she tried to catch his gaze, gasping when he looked above and away.

"Homelander!" she said again, this time reaching for his face. The moment her hand grazed his cheek, he snapped his gaze to her, the low drone of his lasers violent in the once placid air. She pulled back slowly; her heart was starting to race.

For a second, the sound gnawed at him, and he ached to take it back. But he found his resolve and stared her down. This was what she wanted, after all. The monster. He felt his lip curl in disgust.

"Homelander... what's wrong?" she asked, moving to touch him, and drawing her hand away. "Please! Talk to me!"

He chuckled bitterly, taking a step back, before he spoke, with a voice like shrapnel.

"I finished my meeting with Stan," he said simply, his eyes molten. She waited for more - but when nothing came, she matched his backward step. "And?"

Homelander's hands began to shake.

"I think you know what 'and'..." he spat. He looked at her - still confused - and away again. The map of her face was painful to behold.

"I don't!" she implored him; she tried for another step. The sound of the lasers severed the air.

"You don't -" Homelander laughed again, running his hands in his hair. He started pacing, the expressions cycling on his face; bitter amusement, roiling anger - and hurt, like the flash of steel in the moonlight.

"You don't know," he whispered, turning away from her. The sound of her heartbeat, frantic and raw, pulsed in his ears, dancing with his own. He turned.

"Well - let me fill you in. I walk into this meeting with Stan - and imagine my surprise, to hear that he's found something interesting. Something... about... you."

"He's lying," the woman breathed, clutching her heart. Homelander's jaw twitched - and he rushed to her in instant, his breath wafting her hair.

Say it again. Make me believe it.

"No. You're lying,"

"What am I lying about?!"

Homelander looked down at her; within the reflection of her eyes, he saw himself, the red glare of his lasers casting shadows on her face.

"You tell me," he breathed.

The two of them stood there, neither willing to break - until Homelander spoke again; he closed his eyes hard, and when he'd opened them, his eyes were blue again - deep, cerulean, and beginning to shine crystalline.

"Am I... a fetish to you?" he asked, his voice threadbare. The woman gasped, horrified.

"No!" she exclaimed. Paying no mind to the threat, she took his face in her hands, fought to meet his eyes. "No," she said again, shaking her head. Her heart was hammering in her chest, Homelander heard - fear. And yet... she took another step closer. He snarled, and removed them.

"Stop lying to me!"

"I am not lying to you!"

"Stan showed me -" the woman cut him off with an incredulous laugh.

"Stan?! Are you serious?! Stan! Can't you see what this is? He's manipulating you!" Homelander scoffed, closing in with a dark glint in his eye. The woman raised her chin.

"How dare you," she hissed, meeting his stride once again. "How dare you. I bared myself to you - I gave you everything... and for you to turn away, the moment Stan offers you a hint of affection? You are the most powerful man alive... but you're letting him treat you like some lost, little boy."

At this, Homelander raced for her in an instant, his hands bruising in their grip as he forced her to the wall. His breath came in hot pants against her face, and he saw the glow of his lasers again, brighter this time, lighting up her face. He snarled, the inferno within igniting them hotter by the second. The woman leaned in, unblinking.

"Then do it," she whispered. He held his position - but inside, his heart stuttered. The woman narrowed her eyes.

"Do it," she repeated. He could smell the fear wafting off of her, but for the first time since this encounter, he wasn't so sure that it was fear for her life that set her heartbeat fraying.

"If there really is nothing left between us... if one word from Stan is all it takes, to snatch you away..." She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"End it all - and do it now... or I will. I will die, before I go back to how it was before you."

Homelander looked into her face, her wide eyes, and flushed cheeks... and felt something within him give. The fight wasn't genuine - it never was. But the question haunted him - if it wasn't true... if it wasn't true...

"Then what was that, that I saw on your blog?"

The woman paled; Homelander turned his face away again, his sigh bitter and sharp.

"It's not what you think," she lilted. "Just please... let me explain." Homelander hissed.

"Explain what? That you get off on imagining I'm some... freak? A monster?" "That's not what that is!"

"Then what is it?!"

"It's that I! Am a monster!"

Homelander stopped short, freezing in place - and, against all reason, he hoped, and waited. The woman took a shuddering breath before she spoke.

"I... I never told you about this, but a few years ago... I was sent to live in an asylum. I spent... two years there. I... loved someone once. Someone who didn't love me - and so... I... followed him. Everywhere." Now it was her turn to look away.

"I broke into his house... I collected his things. Called his family, staked out his job... for years. And... one day, I'd seen that he was with another girl. And so... I started plotting. My friends found my journal, where I'd written my plans, and they had me committed."

"After the asylum, I had nothing left. None of my family wanted anything to do with me - and my friends were afraid of me... afraid of what I was capable of. And even after they'd said I was safe to leave... I knew that wasn't true. I just... believed that it was all because he wasn't the one for me. The real love of my life would never be afraid of something like that. I wouldn't be." She fidgeted with her plait, before continuing.

"Around that time, I saw... you. You, with your perfect smile, and the way you held the world on your shoulders - and especially the way you loved Maeve... I needed... to believe that you felt the same. That I wasn't alone. But how could that be true? You were nothing like me - and so... I had to create a version that was." The woman's eyes began to shine; Homelander stopped himself from brushing away the unshed tears.

"If I was a monster - and I couldn't stop being a monster... and you were the only one who could love the way I did, there was only one way I could make myself believe that... that we could be together. We both had to be monsters. I didn't love you because I thought you were one - it was because... because... even if I'd made it up - you were one, too."

"That was why I was so relieved when you'd told me about China - why I ran to you, at Voughtland. I don't think you're a monster - but if you were... at least then, you would have me."

The weight of the woman's words settled heavily on his chest, forming a balm around the fractures created in his heart at Stan's revelation. He looked down at her once again, hands shaking, and finally, he grazed her cheek with his palm. The warmth of her seeped into him - it was their first touch, the memory weaving through time and tying him together. She was warm. Real.

"You are not a monster," Homelander breathed. "Then, neither are you," she answered, pressing a hand to the one cradling her face.

"I can't believe I listened to him," he spat; the woman shook her head. "I can. He does this on purpose; he knows you, whether we like it or not. And he's more than willing to use that knowledge to his own benefit." She leaned in, and kissed his nose.

"But, Homelander... that's just the thing. He does this to you... because he's made you believe that you need him - even though it has always been the other way around." darkness passed over her eyes.

"And I think... it's about time we reminded him of that. Don't you?"

#diabolica writes #homelander #don't save her #homelander x reader #the boys amazon #the boys tv #homelander x you #ohhh it's about to go DOWN

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mrneighbourlove · 7 years ago

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Beacon to Damnation: Ch 7. Epilogue

Leere watched the sun set with empty emotion as the sun finished setting on the ocean. The rest of the crew gave her plenty of space. As the night came her adrenaline finally started to die down. She felt the weight of her wounds to her body…and her soul. Sharp pain came from her hands and back. The moon came up showering her in a new glow.

Looking at her hands she saw how her nails had turned a dark black and blood leaked from her finger tips. She didn’t need to see it, but she knew that her tattoo on her back had begun to leak as well. But finally, worse of all, she didn’t care.

Necromancy was different than Blood Magic. With Necromancy all she had to do to manipulate a body was make sure it had no living soul. The soul provides protection, a field of life. Without it creatures become nothing more then bone and flesh. Blood Magic took sacrifice to utterly dominate flesh, to push past the safeguard of a soul.

Her own blood had to be used, for one, but she also had to give up a part of her soul. It wouldn’t have been as bad if she was calm when employing it, but she rushed its use, and was consumed by anger at the time. The effects always made her feel numb emotionally. Physically it made her pale skin even more so white and her hair darker. And finally, it brought the princess closer to whispers of the dead, usually the damned. The soul could recover with time and rest, but her mind was another story. It opened her up much more to her own inner demons, unbearable guilt hitting her. The alternative was giving up her empathy and care.

So many dead wracked Leere. How many had perished? She couldn’t even save her own friend. Why did she live? Why did someone like her have to survive? Carlos shouldn’t have had to die like that. He was so scared, alone, and she failed him. She was a monster compared to a sweet soul like Carlos.

Leere wanted to cry, but couldn’t. She knew this process by now. If she lived through the numbness, the emotion would crash into her later. She had to get back home before that happened. If she wasn’t near family…..No. Better not to think about that.

Looking one last time at the moonlit ocean she frowned. She only hoped every soul could at least find purgatory after the suffering they attained in death. “I’m sorry Carlos. If you are watching down on me….forgive me.”

Leere rode out back to Hyrule in silence for the rest of her trip. No one dared talk to her. On a sail boat she couldn’t even have a shower, having to settle with using dry towels to clean herself. Leere scrubbed and scrubbed, only getting rid of surface level guts and blood. The stench stuck to her, and the blood stained her pale skin. It was unhealthily white, so the patches of blood stuck out.

Getting off the boat she traveled the rest of the way on horseback. It was easy enough to flash a bag of rupees. No one argued with the walking blood soaked woman. A whole day of slow travel she finally arrived at Hyrule castle. One guard wasn’t sure who the hooded character that was approaching.

“Halt. I need some identif-“

He halted when he saw the look Leere gave him, not only recognizing her, but realizing that something was horribly off. Examining her further he almost gagged in horror.

“P-Princess Leere. Do you need-“

“No. Move aside.”

Leere continued onwards to the palace. Her limbs were sore from the lack of magical treatments. Getting off her horse she avoided the blue dragon that sniffed at her. All she wanted to do was get inside and not be harassed. “Hmmm, you smell terrible….”

“Ba’Puu was it? Please do not tell my family that I am here. I am not presentable.” Getting off the horse had opened up some of her wounds. Blood leaked down her arm and onto the ground. Ba’Puu wasn’t sure if he should force the tiny human to seek help, or even stop her from entering. She reeked of death.

“….Very well. I’d advise you seek help though.”

Leere was thankful she wasn’t stopped by him. Entering through the doors she kept walking forward, quickly avoiding family members. Her dark cloak kept her covered as she continued down the halls. All she wanted was to be alone.

The sound of clicking got her attention behind her. She whipped her head to the corner of the hall. Did she movement? Was it her imagination? The clicking happened again above her. Instead of looking she ran the rest of the way to her room. Entering she locked the door and panted. A bath. She needed a bath.

Why was it at the end she felt her weakest. Dragging her feet she entered her bathroom. She took one look at her reflection and was frozen. She looked like….she didn’t know who she was looking at. The amount of blood on this woman’s sickly pale face, with shining red eyes through the messy black hair was, well, unsettling would be an understatement.

She started her bathtub. Thankfully for her it was designed for her Gerudo siblings, so her body had plenty of room. Grabbing some sewing tools she bite down on her teeth fixing her stitches. God she was tired of bleeding.

Stepping into the water burned all her senses, and her heart finally started to beat faster. Taking the soap she started to scrub herself clean of all her layers of filth. The bath grew from a crystal clear water to a big red tub of red gunk. Taking the soap she scrubbed hard on her breasts, wiping away the guts of her friend. Finally she washed her head, desperate to get the smell off her. She just kept scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing, but mentally she felt there was always a bit of stench that just didn’t come out.

Nearly finished she saw in the still water the image of Carlos. Leere’s eyes intensely looked at the water, the torn apart remains flickering in the waves. He smiles a sad smile, his lips curling a bit too wide, than reaches for her. His mangled arm actually comes out of the water to touch her. Leere yells in alarm at her mind bending on her, and smacks at the water to get rid of the image, her foot kicking out and unplugging the drain.

Getting out as quick as she could she looks back at the tub, the arm no longer there. Slowly she pears back into the tub, the tension building, crawling down her back. No Carlos. Upon this she tiredly laughs to herself. “Of course…how about a shower for the rest of my clean.”

Leere let the hot shower clean the rest of her off. Getting out she dried herself off, and entered her room. It was dark and quiet. Sitting down she curled up into her queen sized bed. Panting Leere gripped her bed sheets, smelling the sweetness of the clean fabric. Why then, did felt so empty. Everything felt so empty. Nothing mattered to her, nothing except the pain.

Feeling her pillow case she found her hidden knife. It had a simple leather sheath to stop her from stabbing her head while sleeping. Taking it out all her dark thoughts swirled in her brain. The guilt of being the only survivor and the recent horrors that wracked her mind. Leere, pressing the blade to her neck, pushed. Rest. Just one motion.

A knock came at her door. A small amount of blood leaked as she nicked the side of her neck. Leere held the knife to her throat for a few more seconds, but dropped it. She couldn’t commit to it. At least not with the knocking. Hobbling over in sea of self doubt and judgement she opened the door to tell off whatever servant so she could try again.

Only it wasn’t just any housemaid, it was Rinku. She had an angelic warmth that came to Leere just from looking at her. Rinku had a great amount of alarm in her eyes. “Leere, are you alright? There was blood leading to- By god those cuts!”

“Rinku. You’re here? You’re back?”

“Yeah, I came back a month ago.” Rinku steadily holds Leere’s shoulders. “Leere. What happened to you!? Are you doing ok?”

Leere felt the weight of Rinku’s hands on her. The love and concern coming from her voice. It flipped a switch on in Leere and the Princess started to hyperventilate and cry, all her emotions pouring out like a geyser. “Oh-oh god! Oh God! OH GOD!”

Rinku let Leere practically collapse on her, holding her adoptive sister close. “I’m here Leere. You don’t need to let go.”

“Why am I alive?!”

Rinku squeezed Leere close, their chests pressing together, the flow of their heartbeats in sync. “What matters is that you ARE alive. Just let it all out.”

Leere kept crying and crying until she passed out in Rinku’s arms. Her mind took its toll processing her survivors guilt. It wasn’t until the next morning she woke up. Leere was afraid to open her eyes right away, in fear of seeing another nightmare. Moving around she felt something warm in her bed. Finally opening them she saw Rinku resting with her. On a nightstand were empty bottles of fairy extracts and clean bandages.

Feeling her body Leere noticed much of her recent scars were gone do to the potions effects. Felt good to have fresh bandages as well. Taking a deep sigh she snuggled closer to Rinku’s warmth. The hero slowly woke. “You feel better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Rinku squeezed Leere’s hand. “I felt a deep pain within you Leere. It was terrifying for me to see you like that. I used what potions and medicine I could. Even some of my Triforce to make you feel better.”

“You got a pretty big soul to help little old me.”

“Hey, I got plenty to spare. Especially for you.”

Leere pressed her face against Rinku’s neck. “Thank you again. Really. It means more then you know to me that you care.”

“Hey. I’ll always care about you. Always.”

Leere put a hand over her heart. “Rinku, will you accompany me to the countryside?”

“Hmm? Of course.”

The two woman got out of bed and Leere got properly changed. Leaving the castle Leere smiled at family members where she could, promising to catch up when she could. Going through castle town Leere went to the market and bought a charming locket from a shop woman and continued out to the fields. She was grateful to have Rinku beside her. The Hylian Hero helped push away the lingering thoughts of guilt and voices.

Taking a shovel she dug a small hole and put the locket inside. Burying it Leere wrung her hands in worry, doing her best to not have another breakdown. “I’m…sorry Carlos. I couldn’t take anything of yours back with me, so I bought something I thought you might like. I know how you loved to get jewelry for your dates.”

Leere looked up at the afternoon sun beaming down on her. “I can’t keep saying I should have done more. It’s not fair to either of us….all I can say is….I hope you are at peace once again Carlos. And I’ll do better to protect people next time. I’ll do better….goodbye.”

Leere turned away from the small memorial she built. She wasn’t going to recover from her latest journey in one day, but this was a start. “I’m ready to go home.”

Rinku smiled brightly at her. “Glad to hear it. Covarog convinced his wife that we should have Lasagna tonight.”

Leere’s interest perked. “Chicken or Beef?”

“Chicken I think!”

“That sounds rather good.”

Leere focused her thoughts on home. Her family was all she needed to focus on. Taking a break for a while would be just what she needed.

https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/172116483546/beacon-to-damnation-ch-6-a-melancholy-sunset Previous Ch.

#Leere Dragmire #Beacon to Damnation #Finally done #Let me know if you want more Leere Stories.#Might have her head to Glaciers Forge #Thanks for reading!#For Figmentforms #s-kinnaly #ridersoftheapocalypse

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elegantwoes · 2 years ago

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I remember the smells of those nights, my lord—perfume and sweat, melons ripe to bursting, peaches and pomegranates, nightshade and moonbloom. I was a young man then, still forging my chain. The heat did not exhaust me as it does now.” Pycelle’s eyes were so heavily lidded he looked half-asleep.

I am only at page two but Maester Pycelle is already pissing me off with his feigned frail old man act. I have half the urge to pull at his long white beard.

“I have heard that you sent Maester Colemon away.” The Grand Maester’s nod was as slow and deliberate as a glacier. “I did, and I fear the Lady Lysa will never forgive me that. Maybe I was wrong, but at the time I thought it best. Maester Colemon is like a son to me, and I yield to none in my esteem for his abilities, but he is young, and the young ofttimes do not comprehend the frailty of an older body. He was purging Lord Arryn with wasting potions and pepper juice, and I feared he might kill him.”

Last time I checked purging is the first step in curing someone who is poisoned. By sending Maester Colemon away Pycelle has basically murdered Jon Arryn. Yet here he is, trying to act like he was saving Jon when he did the opposite. He is such a slimy piece of shit.

(╬▔皿▔)╯

“You have been most courteous,” Ned told him. Then, almost as an afterthought, he said, “One last question, if you would be so kind. You mentioned that the king was at Lord Arryn’s bedside when he died. I wonder, was the queen with him?” “Why, no,” Pycelle said. “She and the children were making the journey to Casterly Rock, in company with her father. Lord Tywin had brought a retinue to the city for the tourney on Prince Joffrey’s name day, no doubt hoping to see his son Jaime win the champion’s crown. In that he was sadly disappointed. It fell to me to send the queen word of Lord Arryn’s sudden death. Never have I sent off a bird with a heavier heart.”

Dear Ned, surely you can see to what conlcuson you should come to, right? Cersei. is. not. responsible. for. Lord. Arryn's. death. I beg of you please.

The night the bird had come from Winterfell, Eddard Stark had taken the girls to the castle godswood, an acre of elm and alder and black cottonwood overlooking the river. The heart tree there was a great oak, its ancient limbs overgrown with smokeberry vines; they knelt before it to offer their thanksgiving, as if it had been a weirwood. Sansa drifted to sleep as the moon rose, Arya several hours later, curling up in the grass under Ned’s cloak. All through the dark hours he kept his vigil alone. When dawn broke over the city, the dark red blooms of dragon’s breath surrounded the girls where they lay. “I dreamed of Bran,” Sansa had whispered to him. “I saw him smiling."

Such a beautiful passage, especially the bolded part. It obviously means the Starklings (Jon, Sansa, and Bran) will survive the Long Night. Though, I worry about Rickon. George RR Martin I beg of you. Spare the innocent child.

Yet someday he may be the lord of a great holdfast and sit on the king’s council. He might raise castles like Brandon the Builder, or sail a ship across the Sunset Sea, or enter your mother’s Faith and become the High Septon.” ... “You,” Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, “will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon.”

To use @istumpysk own words here. The fate of the remaining Starks is in this passage

Lord of a great holdfast and sit on the king’s council. Bran Stark

He might raise castles like Brandon the Builder. Jon Snow

Sail a ship across the Sunset Sea. Arya Stark

Marry a king and rule his castle. Sansa Stark

Become a High Septon. Rickon maybe?

Let the last one be about Rickon. Please let it be so.

Inside his chambers, he stripped off his sweat-stained silks and sluiced cold water over his head from the basin beside the bed. Alyn entered as he was drying his face. “My lord,” he said, “Lord Baelish is without and begs audience.”

Ugh. What in the fuck does he want?

“And as tiresome,” Littlefinger added, “though I daresay he should do well in the tourney. Last year he unhorsed the Hound, and it was only four years ago that he was champion.”

HA. In this small nstance I like Barristan Selmy. Anyone who humiliates Cujo come again is good. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

“Lord Petyr,” Ned called after him. “I … am grateful for your help. Perhaps I was wrong to distrust you.” Littlefinger fingered his small pointed beard. “You are slow to learn, Lord Eddard. Distrusting me was the wisest thing you’ve done since you climbed down off your horse.”

When someone shows you who they are always believe them, Ned. You will spare yourself a great deal of pain.

Next chapter our sour patch kid Jon Snow.

#asoiaf reread project #rereading agot #Ned Stark

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bloodycassian · 3 years ago

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Cauldron Damned.

Reader x Cassian + Feyre BFF

Prompt - bestie bestie bestie a cassian x reader fic where reader helps feyre with the cauldron - not rhys and she ya know like rhys did and cassian basically breaks down and it’s super angsty but rhys lives so the reader gets to aswell ig tag @ bellefleurs and @ eerievixen

Her hair was a mess and painted to her neck with sweat but you still held her. Still gave and gave, until you were out of breath. Until you could feel yourself slipping. "Keep going.... You're doing so good." You panted out, trying to put a smile in your tone. She was the Mother herself, forging that cursed Cauldron back together. Rhys was breathing heavily behind you after being knocked out by Lucien. You had given the Autumn court son a look and he had known what you needed him to do. Rhys would be snarling mad when he woke, but you knew what you had to do. To save your home, to save the entire world. Feyre was ready to risk it all, fearless and full of hope. You had to save that hope for your Court. Better you than her, better the high lady and lord survive than just an officer. You smiled at the thought of what you'd told Cassian before this final battle. Before you knew it would turn into saving the entire world from the Cauldron's vengeance. "You better make damn sure my memorial statue looks fantastic. No priestess, though. Make sure it makes my wings stand out." You joked on the flight to the base camp. Cassian danced around death like he was it's balancing point. Like he was in tune with each and every death or life dealt. He laughed at your abruptness on the subject. After months of skittering around each other, of trying not to stare too long or acknowledge that pull you felt towards him... It was nice to finally be alone. To let that tension ease out with a few jokes. It was too easy to be with him, like you'd known him much longer in the year of preparation for this battle. "And you better make sure my wings are bigger than yours on that sculpture." He banked around a large cliffside and you followed, like a magnet. Like you could read his mind, you turned when he did. He rose with you, compensating for the cool mountain wind. You rolled your eyes dramatically, flapping a bit higher than him for emphasis as you drawled out "Poor War General, his wing size matters so much to him." He shrugged, circling lower and lower with you until you were on the ground together amid a clearing. The grass was soft, covered in early morning dew. "Some say wing size dosen't matter, you know." You said with a wink, making him double over with laughter. It made you begin laughing too when he started running out of breath. Once you had both collected yourselves, You began building a fire together. Rather, a massive bonfire that was to act as the signal to the army for where to move. His face was grim when he threw the last of the logs together. You understood why. "The Kings army will be here before us." You said, voice low. He only nodded. You kneeled in the wet grass, one knee down the other one supporting your wrist bracer. He followed you silently. You spoke in unison, the ancient words from all the Illyrian warriors before you: "Name me God of Death today. Let us bring that name to those who do us wrong." + Feyre muttered something you couldn't hear. The darkness crept further in on you. You could see some light between your blurred vision. You could see how her hands lit up the cracks in the ancient stonework. You could feel her practically vibrating with the strain. Your tears dribbled on to her shoulder, knowing these would be your final moments with her. Your final moments in this world. There was no better way you'd spend it than saving her. Spending those last few minutes being able to tell her how amazing she was. You felt her smile when you leaned your head against hers. Your heart ached. You whispered what you hoped were encouraging words in her ear. A rupture of sound- a crack fully mended -and your chest filled with blooming pride at your friend. There was something crackling, ripping. You weren't sure if it was inside you or if it was the magic Feyre was performing. There was a gasp behind you and rustling, but you dared not take your concentration away from her. Away from how she leaned back into you. Dared not speak a word to distract her other than giving her those little jabs of confidence when she started to shake. "You got it, Feyre. You can do this." You managed, before that caving feeling in your chest seemed to give in. You were breaking, you knew that much. But she wasn't done yet. Your breath leaked out from you, like you were being squeezed. "Make it all worth it, Feyre." You managed to whisper out before you could no longer hold yourself up anymore. You laid back, your legs wrapped around her, mirroring her own. You hooked a foot on top of hers and gave her what you could from where you crumpled. Death was easy, slow. Like a soft lullaby taking you away. You knew what lay before your body, and only hoped you were enough to get Feyre to where she could mend the rest on her own. You gave her all of your soul, all your being. She had to make it. You let the wave of that soft lullaby take you under. + Cassian didnt think before shoving his way through the crowd into the tent. Didnt consider what he might find there, and how his heart may be ripped from him at the sight of it. The death that crept at that tent was a feeling he wouldnt forget in a thousand lifetimes. His best friends lying unconscious on the floor before the cauldron. He went numb, still like a cold glacier. Lucien frantically shook Rhys, attempting to wake him. Cassian's head roared and he was falling to his knees at your side. He took your head in his lap, gently. As if he could still hurt you. He didn't notice he was crying until he saw the fat teardrops on your cheek. He wiped them away, leaving dirt smeared there. Another yell of anguish, and Rhys was coming to. From the sound of the yelling or from Lucien shaking him. Azriel entered the tent then, solemn. Then his eyes widened. Those shadows darted around the room, taking each member of the court into account. The shadowmaster rushed to Feyre, checking her pulse and sighing. He noted the way your leg tangled around hers. His heart gave a painful squeeze. He saw both his brothers in agony. And he swore on his life there would be no place for the cauldron to be found again. Cassian cradled his mate's head in his lap, rocking gently. Rhys' dark power cracked the sky outside the tent once he was conscious. Rhys rushed to Feyre, scooping her in his arms. He brushed her hair back from her face. Azriel could practically hear the mental screaming coming from both of them. The shadowmaster laid a hand on top of yours, closing his eyes and letting his tendrils of power, of those whispering shadows reach out. They circled your head, slowly like a snake. He felt that song then, singing back with his own. The essence of your soul, dancing around your aura. His eyes flashed open in surprise, then a manic laugh rumbled from his chest. "Rhys-" He breathed, pulling his attention away from a waking Feyre. Cassian looked up in a flash at his brothers, watching them exchange looks. "Bring my mate back now." Cassian growled at Rhys. The tone was utterly deadly. Promises of death from the Lord of Bloodshed if his command was not answered. Azriel's eyes darted between his brothers. As if he was expecting Cassian to attack. The high lord would have been gaping at him if he hadn't experienced the same pain of almost losing a mate. He nodded, pulling himself together long enough to enter your vacant mind. Then the cauldron was humming, as he dipped a mental hand into it as well. + Rhys' commanding voice rang out over your land of lavender and sunshine. "She will miss you." His voice was soft, but the attention it drew was still there. The meadow you laid in was softer than any silk in Velaris. More luxurious than any chair made to accompany your wings. You sighed, taking in the sweet scent before he spoke again. "Too much, I believe. Especially when she hears about what you did to save her." He appeared at the edge of the soft meadow, the grass around him waving like the sea. You sat up, dazzled at the sight of him here. In such a bright, lovely place. His tanned face seemed to glow with the smile he held for you. "I'm tired." You said, voice groggy. You wanted to lay back down. You closed your eyes, for just a second and when you opened again he was in front of you, crouched. He held a tattooed hand out, giving you a nod. "Just come with me and you can nap all you want." His eyes sparkled. Not with that starlit power, but with tears ready to spill over. You took that hand and closed your eyes. + Feyre's warm hand in yours was the first thing you felt when you woke. Rhys held her in the corner atop a pelt rug beside you. The brothers leaned against each other. Rhys played with Feyre's hair as she rested. The sight of them together, him protecting her so well made your heart sing in approval. you knew she always deserved someone as good as Rhys. The fire where the Cauldron once was made the tent cozy. There were no sounds other than the soft breathing and the occasional pop of wood on the fire. Azriel sat at the door, sword on his lap. Ready to kill if anyone dared enter. Then, you looked to the softness that cradled you. Cassian's face was covered in dirt, blood and more. He looked exhausted. Like he had been beaten, lost and beaten again. You tried a weak smile at him. Clean rivers ran down from his eyes, revealing the dark skin underneath. "I couldn't let you get a statue without me." He said, voice trembling. You smiled the best you could and reached a hand to stroke his cheek. "How-" You began, but he shushed you. "Just..rest for now. We can talk in the morning." He brushed a thumb over a silent tear that trickled from your eye. You nodded, and let him pull the blanket more firmly around you. Lulling you to sleep with soft humming.

#cassian x reader #cassian #acotar #the cauldron #acotar fic #bellefleurs #eerievixen

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isha-feinberg · 3 years ago

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eulogy | ruina rex

‘I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the leaders of this... this Colony’. She remembered the feral disdain in his voice, wild among the plastic mistletoe and stilted conversation. Without reservation he had stood before the Colony and addressed them; reminding the Infected of their strength, and reminding the NWRF that they know just how strong the Infected are too.

At the time she had thought it reckless. All eyes on him, for nothing. But, it hadn’t been nothing, had it? He had established himself as a key player; a touchstone by which people could validate their own feelings about the regime, and reassurance that they weren’t alone.

People often compared him to a wolf. He howled loud, his teeth were bared, and everybody knew he was there. You just knew, too, that if he sunk his teeth in he’d never let go. Isha would compare herself, on the other hand, to a snake. Hidden in the long grasses, striking once, fatally, and then disappearing once more. That is what she is good at, and Isha likes to feel confident.

Now that she’s standing here at Kaiser’s funeral, though, she doesn’t feel at all confident. She feels cowardly. And she doesn’t know what difference she could make anyway -- one fatal strike would be pointless, because even if Quinn, or Clove, or whoever else was to die, another would take their place just as fast. You can’t cut the head off a hydra. Revolutions aren’t forged on the blade of one sword. They’re stoked up from the embers of a thousand angry throats.

But looking around, it’s hard to see the anger. Everyone drifted politely here and there, a glass of wine in hand, taking careful bites of food. What if Isha smashed a bottle of wine and sunk a sharp shard into a Reformist’s throat? Today would just be remembered as the day she lost control -- only she really does feel that she might lose control, because whatever anger exists is smothered beneath placidity, and for what? Not a single person here could imagine their calmness respected Kaiser’s memory.

Isha looked down at the wine glass in her hand, and watched the ripples from her shaking hand skitter across the surface. If Ada were here she might recognise the look in Isha’s eyes: like cracking glaciers. Setting her drink firmly down, Isha made her way to the fore of the room. She hated being the centre of attention, and she hated speaking in front of crowds, but she hated this out of control anger more.

It took a moment for the crowd to realise someone had gone up to speak -- it was early, and few had had the courage yet -- and Isha waited patiently for them to fall quiet. When she finally spoke her voice was barely raised. The soft, rounded vowels of her accented speech didn’t ring out, because she wasn’t Kaiser. She didn’t rely on brute strength; she relied on the will of people to look at her, if nothing else out of surprise. In Isha’s six years here she had never once spoken in front of a group of her own volition.

“Do you remember Christmas?” Isha paused, scanning their faces and willing someone, anyone to remember. “Kaiser Bähr thanked the government for suppressing the voices of the Infected, because it was a reminder of how strong you are, that they feel the need to suppress you. He talked about how he refused to be snuffed out. You have no idea what you can do together-- - do you remember now?

“And here we are at his funeral, all talking so politely and being so careful not to discuss the elephant in the room; as if he didn’t spend every day fighting the NWRF. If you came here thinking to honour his memory, I ask you to look in the mirror and consider if this is doing him any justice at all. He wanted you to use your voice. You’re allowed to be angry. I am.”

With that off her chest, Isha returned to her glass of wine with a quiet scowl on her face. She really wished Ada hadn’t been kicked out already; she knows Ada would’ve lost it at Isha getting up in front of everyone. She probably won’t even believe that it happened, now.

And after all that, it didn’t feel as pointless as she had thought. Isha had said to Corbin that she was quiet, and patient, because then nobody expected her. But how long can you be patient before it stops being patience, and blurs into soft, sickly complacence?

#self para #the actual words are short n sweet #bc isha is not a public speaker #she just wants you all to know she's disappointed in u <3

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magic-and-moonlit-wings · 3 years ago

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Chapter 57: Gatto’s Keep

Becoming The Mask

Trollish and -text messages-

I hope we all enjoy the movie when it comes out this Wednesday! Remember, today’s the last day to start binge-watching and still have enough time to watch every episode of all three shows before the movie airs!

+=+

Four humans, one Changeling, and two unaltered trolls were scatted around an underground library, researching notable locations around the world.

"Whoa, listen to this," said Jim. "Surrounding the Hero's Forge of Heartstone Trollmarket is a chasm known as The Deep, which was enchanted through unknown means by the Trollhunter Kanjigar the Courageous."

They were hoping to find notable mountains, in particular, but 'caverns deep' had also been mentioned in the riddle, and hey, maybe Strickler had been wrong about where the Eye was before the Changelings got it.

"Anyone cast into The Deep will suffer death at the hands of their greatest fear. It has since been used as a means of execution for particularly heinous criminals. No troll is known to have entered The Deep and lived."

Jim frowned and traced over that last sentence with his fingertip.

"How does anybody know it works if no one has ever come back?" he said. "Maybe they just die on impact after getting dropped off a cliff. Or maybe there's, like, a little society down there now and they're just choosing not to leave."

"I saw a cartoon like that once," said Toby.

"Also," Jim continued, "I understand why, if you think somebody deserves to be tortured to death, you would use magical means to get them to come up with a customized torture for themselves to maximize their suffering; but why would you kill someone, who you definitely want executed, in a way that makes it impossible to check and confirm they're dead?"

"Isn't that how oubliettes work?" said Mary.

"Good point."

"You understand torturing people to death?" said Darci.

"I understand trying to do a thing a thoroughly as it can possibly be done."

"Maybe Kanjigar pretended to enchant the place so he could have a spot no one would bother him if he wanted to get away from his job for a while," said Toby.

"Surrounded by the bodies of executed criminals?" said Darci.

"Depending on how hard they landed, they might already be gravel," said Jim. "It's a little unsettling when you know that used to be a troll, but you get used to it. Besides, Kanjigar was only Trollhunter for … what, just under a hundred and seventy years? How many 'particularly heinous criminals' could there have been down here in that time?" He turned to Blinky. "No, really, I'm asking."

"Offhand I can only think of three cases, all involving treason. Perhaps Kanjigar can explain the enchantment next time you visit the Void. Ah!"

Blinky turned his book so everyone else could see the illustrated mountain.

"Gatto's Keep! Deep in the realm of the Volcanic Trolls, in what you humans call 'Argentina', under the volcano Ojos del Salado."

"The eye of the salty?" said Claire.

"Believed to be named for the many salt deposits found on its glaciers, forming eye-like lagoons of meltwater," said Blinky, brushing the interruption off.

"Salt gets expelled through volcanic ash," said Toby. "Or chlorine gas that fuses to nitrogen later. Underwater volcanic activity is part of why the ocean is salty."

"Fortunately, this particular site is not underwater," said Blinky. "Gatto's Keep, a vault of treasures untold – treasures deemed too powerful for the underworld to possess, and kept locked up by Gatto himself."

"Have you ever met this Gatto?" asked Jim.

"Uh … no. Truth be told, I've done everything in my power to avoid him. Very few ever return from his keep."

"I see." Jim frowned down at the book in his lap. "Then maybe you guys shouldn't come."

"What?"

"Are you kidding?"

"The last time we went on a Triumbric Stone quest, a supposedly mostly safe quest, we ended up in the middle of a violent revolution!" Jim reminded them. "I'm not leading a bunch of kids somewhere I know in advance is going to be dangerous!"

"He makes a fair point," conceded Blinky.

"But you can't just go on your own!" Toby protested.

"Of course I won't. Blinky's got to drive the Gyre, and I'll bring Draal for muscle, and –" Jim cut himself off, looking quickly around the room. "Maybe someone else, but I'll have to ask. And if she can, it'll have to work around her schedule."

"You're bringing your mom?" Darci asked.

"No!" Jim recoiled from the idea. "I – Look, there's a Changeling I know who might be able and willing to help, especially for a chance at a legendary vault of forbidden treasure, but I have to ask."

Toby got out his phone and texted Jim rather than asking out loud.

-It's the museum lady, isn't it?-

Jim just glared at him. Both boys deleted the message.

+=+

"Have you ever heard of Gatto's Keep?"

Nomura raised her eyebrow at the Trollhunter.

"Not much. It was one of the places we suspected a piece of the Bridge might be hidden, but considering it had a reputation of no one ever coming back from it, we weren't actually sure if it was real."

It was just as likely to have been an old story that got passed down until it became a figure of speech. The Janus Order’s references to it were all from before Nomura was even stationed on the surface – she'd happened upon them while on archive duty decades ago.

"Blinky says it's real." Jim shrugged. "Or at least Gatto is real, and lives in Argentina. We're planning to go see him about an artifact he might have."

"You're not looking for the Triumphant Stones, are you?" she asked. "Draal's told me that story." Years ago, back when he'd first tried to convince her to change sides. It was the closest he'd ever been to philosophical. "Building a weapon is one thing, but chasing prophecies is another."

Jim shrugged again. "If I'm going to do this, I might as well take every advantage I can. The Triumbric Stones might not be the key their reputation says, but they'll still help."

"Assuming the stones aren't just a trap that will put the Amulet under Gunmar's control."

He snorted. "Oh, come on. If they worked that way, Bular would've been the one to bring them up."

"Not if the conspiracy went deep enough." She snorted as well. "Sure, I'll help loot the place."

"If diplomacy fails," said Jim insistently. "I want to at least try cutting a deal first. When do you have time?"

"I don't work Wednesday or Thursday."

"Great. I'll text. Oh, also," he suddenly looked much more shy, "this comes with a risk of a human or several finding out about you. Still in?"

Nomura leveled a glare at Jim, letting him squirm while she thought it over. (He didn't squirm at all, the shameless wretch. Just looked at her with that stupid timid hopeful expression.)

"For a chance at a legendary treasure trove like that, I might transform in public."

Human public, where they could make up some excuse about hidden cameras and movie costumes and practical special effects, not Trollmarket public, but most Changelings wouldn't need to clarify that.

+=+

Nomura had a duffle bag slung over her shoulder and was wearing a wide-brimmed brown fedora.

"Isn't that Stricklander's hat?"

"It's traditional garb for archeological expeditions."

"You stole it, didn't you?" His inflection made it clear this was not really a question.

"I'm going to send him a selfie and see how long it takes him to realize it's his." Nomura held her phone out and snapped a picture.

"Hi, museum lady!" Toby greeted. They were meeting in the canal. "I brought tacos!"

"… Why are we bringing him?"

Jim sighed. He hadn't wanted to, but Toby made a good argument.

"Diversity of perspective. A human might notice something a troll or Changeling would miss, just like vice versa. We don't know how organized this Gatto guy's collection is. We might have to go looking for the Birthstone."

Thankfully Claire had a 'family thing', Darci had an 'extracurricular commitment', and Mary had a date, all on Wednesday, and he had been able to get that information without revealing Thursday was also an option.

Inside, Nomura shifted to her troll form, keeping the hat showing. Toby gasped.

"You're so tall …"

"Toby, Nomura," introduced Jim. They started climbing down the glowing staircase. "Officially, she's one of Draal's old sparring buddies who's agreed to come on this mission for extra muscle."

So please do not address her as 'museum lady' where anyone can hear you.

"Isn't Draal coming too?" asked Toby.

"Which is how she got invited."

"I don't get it."

"She's going to meet Draal while you and I go to the library, and then we're all meeting up at the Gyre station."

"Why didn't she just –" Toby stopped and readdressed the question to Nomura. "Why didn't you just meet up with Draal at Jim's place?"

"I'm avoiding the chance Barbara will try asking me for life advice again," said Nomura lightly.

Jim's eyebrows went up. He hadn't questioned her suggestion to meet in the canal, but now he really wanted the story there …

"When did that happen?" asked Toby.

"We're in the same krav maga class."

Which did not completely answer the question, but Toby seemed to think it did, and Jim didn't want to push when Nomura was arguably doing him a favour.

On the one hand, he could claim to be doing her a favour, taking her along on a treasure hunt where she could sneak out an artifact or two for herself, but on the other hand, she was loaning her experience in identifying and handling ancient artifacts and dealing with stuffy curators. The situation was roughly neutral and Jim didn't want to tip it.

The walk to the library, and to the Gyre station after that, were peaceful. AAARRRGGHH accompanied them as far as the station entrance.

"Good luck," he said, tapping his horns against Blinky's, rubbing the top of Jim's helmeted head like he was fluffing his hair, and giving Toby a very gentle pat on the back.

"I will look after them," Draal promised, arriving with Nomura. "We will all return from Gatto's Keep."

"Well, now that you've said that," Nomura teased.

+=+

Jim's first impression was that Ojos del Salado looked like a construction project was underway. Or, maybe a mining operation? The mountain was hollowed out, with another mountain inside, and the inner mountain was covered with ladders and scaffolding.

"Ugh, it's so hot," Toby complained. "I know it's a volcano, but still." He pulled at his sweater vest but didn't take it off.

The local trolls wore what looked like welding masks over their faces, and had faintly glowing orange lines carved into their skin. Two appeared to be standing guard near the Gyre station – but facing in, towards the complex, rather than outwards to new arrivals.

Very few ever return, rang loudly through Jim's mind.

"Excuse me," said Blinky to one of the sentries. "We would most graciously request an audience with Gatto."

The troll wordlessly pointed them to the top.

"Ah … thank you, kind friend."

Toby was groaning after the first few ladders. By the time they neared the top, he had stopped, probably to conserve energy – but he managed another when they realized the platform was empty.

"Where is he? They pointed 'up' but there's no more 'up' to go … Did he leave while we were climbing up here?"

Jim eyed the stone the scaffold was built by. It might be climbable. There was a long but narrow ledge about level with the platform, and a tall, V-shaped protrusion probably taller than AAARRRGGHH, and – the ledge split apart. It glowed inside.

"Who has awakened Gatto?"

The mountain-in-a-mountain opened two glowing yellow eyes. A chuckle made the platform shake.

"A human Trollhunter?" the mountain-in-a-mountain said. "How interesting. How … unique. To what do I owe this … pleasure?"

Jim cleared his throat and leaned back a little so he could look Gatto in the eye. "We've come to ask –"

One of the masked trolls arrived, pushing a wooden cart of rocks. The delivery-troll darted away just in time to avoid a massive tongue, and ran back off the platform into the lower scaffolding. Jim reflexively summoned his knives. It was difficult to will them away.

"You must excuse me," said Gatto. "I never talk business without something to eat. Go on."

"We've come for the Birthstone."

"Birthstone of Gunmar?" The mountain troll chuckled again. "Very powerful. Tell me … why should I give it to you?"

"Of course we don't expect you to just give it to us."

Jim ignored Draal's quiet, "We don't?" He took off his backpack, handed it to Blinky, and unzipped the top.

"We've come prepared to trade."

"We did?"

The first thing Jim got out was black and rectangular. Its cord was plugged into a crystal array which some trolls used to substitute for electrical outlets, to power the neon signs and Christmas lights and televisions down in Trollmarket. Blinky had one for his phone charger.

"This is an uncommon human device. You activate and deactivate it with this button here." Jim pushed the button twice, demonstrating. "By turning these knobs, it's possible to generate a custom frequency of audible static."

He put the white noise generator back in his bag, and got out a lumpy object wrapped in a towel. He draped the cloth over his shoulder and held the item where Gatto could see it.

"This is the head of Bular, son of Gunmar, taken as proof that he was slain. Proof that Gunmar's line is not unkillable."

Gatto looked intrigued. Jim rewrapped the head in the towel and switched it for a book. Blinky grimaced during the exchange.

"And this is a document stolen from a Janus Order base; an unfinished medical study of foods that provide nutrition to both humans and trolls."

He flipped through a few pages so the text was visible, proof he wasn't scamming Gatto with a blank notebook, and put it away.

"Seller's choice. Rare artifacts that carry entertainment, power, and knowledge. Which of those would you accept as payment for the Birthstone?"

"Hmm …" The mountain troll pondered the selection. "I think I will have all three. Along with the answer to a little riddle. Answer it correctly – the Birthstone is yours. Answer it incorrectly – I eat you all."

"WHAT?" Toby yelped. "Did I understand that right? Did he say 'eat'? He said 'eat'!"

"Breathe, Tobes." The Sword of Daylight was in Jim's hand. His first instinct was to pick Toby up and bolt for the Gyre. He should be strong enough for that if he switched to troll form, right?

But they needed the Birthstone …

"Master Jim, we must not enter into this binding agreement," Blinky hissed in English. "I'm beginning to catch on why so few trolls ever leave this domicile."

"We'll play!"

"Nomura?!"

"It's simple – either we figure out the riddle and he gives us the stone, or we refuse to answer, which is not technically answering incorrectly, and fight our way out."

"… When you're right, you're right," Jim agreed.

"You think you are clever," said Gatto. "So answer me this. What begins and has no end, and ends all that which begins?"

Blinky blinked, in full unison for once, all six eyes together. "… I have absolutely no idea. Those words mean nothing! Indecipherable!"

"Begins and has no end," Jim repeated to himself quietly, "and ends all that begins."

"I … don't think I can help," said Draal reluctantly. "Rocks for brains, remember?"

"Well, that attitude's not helping, for sure. Begins with no end, ends what begins …"

"School bus?" Toby guessed, switching back to English. "Uh, meatloaf? Hair?"

"Let's think logically," said Nomura, also in English. "In these situations, the answer is almost always one of four things: death, nothing, eternity, or a riddle itself." She counted them off on her fingers. "The answer to a riddle is its end. Eternity by definition doesn't have a beginning or an end. So it's either death or nothing."

"Ten more seconds," said Gatto ominously.

"You didn't tell us we were on the clock!" Blinky protested.

"What begins and has no end, but doesn't end when it begins –?" Jim punched his hand. "Shoot, that's not it! Could you repeat the question?"

"Kangaroo! Golf! Socks! Magic! Warhammer! Baby deer!"

"DEATH!" shouted Nomura. "The answer is death!"

"What?" Gatto gasped. "No one has ever answered that before … and lived to tell about it."

The celebration at getting the correct answer ended immediately.

"And that's the hazard of riddle games where the answer is death," said Nomura. "Most riddle-givers pick that answer because it's what they plan to give the riddle-solvers anyway."

The group was surrounded by four masked trolls, all armed with axes about twice the size of the hammer Toby carried.

"Your entire keep is a trap!" Blinky accused Gatto. "You hoard treasures as nothing but bait!"

"Oh, come now. A mountain has to eat, you know." He opened his mouth, like he expected them to just obediently walk in.

Jim summoned Daylight. The volcano trolls all flinched back from the burst of light.

Nomura lunged at the guard nearest to the ladder. She caught the axe between her swords and twisted it out of the masked troll's grip, flinging the weapon into Gatto's mouth – he yelped when it caught his tongue – and in the same spin she kicked the masked troll off the platform.

Draal punched a masked troll, then grabbed them and another one and bashed their heads together.

Blinky swung Jim's backpack like a flail at anyone who got too close to him. Jim heard a cracking noise, either from the head or the white noise generator, but that wasn't important.

Jim swiped a masked troll across the belly, leaving a shallow cut and causing them to bellow in pain. He threw a knife at another one that was going after Toby, who was doing his best to parry their axe strikes.

Nomura kicked another one off the platform, and Draal threw a third, but more were climbing up, and driving the group back towards Gatto's mouth.

"Get them!" Gatto egged the smaller trolls on. "Prepare the chimichurri!"

A masked troll landed a punch on Nomura and knocked her backwards into Toby. Gatto's tongue flicked out and tossed them both into his mouth.

"I don't want to be food!" Toby howled, before Gatto's jaws snapped shut around them and the mountain gulped.

"Toby! Nomura!" Jim screamed. "TOBY!"

"RAH!" Draal charged Gatto –

"Draal, no!" Blinky shouted.

– and Gatto simply opened his mouth again and swallowed the rolling troll.

Jim's helmet sealed as he switched to troll shape. He threw a volley of knives at their attackers, who backed off for the few seconds he needed to shove Blinky to the ladder.

"Get to the Gyre!" he roared. At one level down, below that horrid mouth, he turned and lunged at Gatto.

Swallowing wasn't instant. If he could get the throat open, he could still save them. He didn't know if he could gut a mountain but he'd find out if that was what it took to get Toby back –

Daylight was a sword, not a pickaxe. Jim slashed and stabbed, and scratched with his now-clawed gauntlets and boots, and made barely any headway.

"Jim!" Blinky was now several levels of scaffolding lower, and fending off more of the smaller volcano trolls with an axe he must have grabbed from one of them. "Were we not attempting to vacate?"

Jim let go of Gatto and slid down the mountainside, and with another roar he stabbed the troll nearest to Blinky through the eye with one of his daggers, shattering the lens on that side. The troll bellowed in pain and clutched their face, dropping their axe. The dagger vanished, leaving an open wound, and reappeared in Jim's hand. He sliced into the arm of another attacker.

The troll with the injured eye staggered and, between the pain and the sudden loss of depth perception, knocked the other masked trolls off the platform. Blinky threw the ladder after them, reducing pursuit from above.

Jim turned to start burrowing through Gatto's hide again.

"Jim!" said Blinky again. "We must leave!"

He barely heard Blinky. He certainly didn't hear his phone, chiming the alert for an incoming text.

+=+

The stomach was even hotter than the 'outside' had been. Toby had gone through both his water bottles during the climb up to meet Gatto and didn't have any left. Not that this was his primary concern at the moment, considering –

"We just got eaten!"

"I noticed," said Nomura scathingly.

"Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh, this isn't happening, this isn't happening –"

"Do you have an international plan?" she said, interrupting his entirely justified freak-out.

"What?" asked Toby. "What does that have to do with anything? We're in a stomach! It doesn't matter what country the stomach's in!"

"Ugh. I'll take that as a no." She got her phone out of the duffle bag she carried and shoved the device into Toby's hand. "Text Jim. We're alive, Gatto's Keep is Gatto's gut," gesturing at the gold and artefacts around them, "and we're going for the Birthstone."

Assuming the lava-acid, which was rising, didn't get them first.

Draal came down the tunnel, fast enough he shot over their heads and over pool of lava-acid, skipping once (with a roar of pain) and landing on the other side.

"Draal! Are you okay?" It was a stupid question that Toby asked without any conscious thought.

Draal uncurled and growled. He gingerly touched his right arm, which looked shinier than usual and must have been what touched the lava.

"Where are we?"

"Gatto's Keep," said Nomura. "I guess that's one way to deter theft. Find the Birthstone. And be careful what else you touch, some of this might be cursed." She put a triangular thing with green gems on it into her bag. "We'll crawl up his throat and choke him or something once we've got it."

Wow, Nomura was not a detailed texter. Toby saw the last few messages she'd exchanged with Jim while he was typing.

Jim: -Today still works to check that collection?-

Nomura: -16:30- -canal-

Jim: -Okay, see you there!-

Toby, on Nomura's phone: -still alive- -gatto's keep in stomach- -going for birthstone-

Toby put her phone in his pocket and started digging through the piles of gold.

Curses or no curses, if Nomura got to take souvenirs, Toby was totally stealing some of these gold coins.

And maybe that glowy purple rock –

Wait –

"I think I found it!"

+=+

Jim – Jim couldn't do it, he couldn't stab deep enough to cut Gatto open and protect himself and Blinky at the same time –

He kept having to abandon his spot and climb down a few levels, and start over at an even thicker part of the mountain's hide –

Blinky kept urging him to the Gyre, but they couldn't leave, not yet, they had to get Toby back, they had to get Nomura and Draal, they couldn't just leave them behind –

Jim drew one of his poisoned knives. He carried more varieties on him than just Creeper's Sun. Gatto couldn't get away with this. Jim was the Trollhunter, he wasn't going to let some troll eat a human right in front of him. He wasn't going to let some troll eat Toby and live.

He drove the knife into a cut he'd already started with his sword, and left it there while fending off the masked trolls again, then ripped it out.

If Jim didn't manage to kill Gatto today, the troll would suffer a much slower death.

+=+

Draal had been favouring his burned arm. He looked up the steep tunnel of Gatto's throat and tried to lift his burned arm, and grunted in pain.

"I … I can't climb out. You'll have to leave me behind."

"What is wrong with you today?" Nomura demanded. "You've never been this – this fatalistic before."

"Guys," Toby interrupted. "There's another way out, but you're not gonna like it. If this is his stomach, then there's a 'back door', and if we upset the stomach," he tossed a nearby crystal into the acid, where it dissolved with a flatulent sound, "then we might have a chance to be passed through."

Nomura grimaced. "We're going out that way eventually." She started tossing things into the acid as well. "I'd rather go out alive."

"What are you both –? Oh." Draal's eyes widened and he looked like he might have an upset stomach himself. "That's – ugh. The shame of being remembered for that."

"There's no shame in survival," said Nomura.

Draal grabbed an entire shelving unit of bottles and threw it into the acid, where the potions exploded with blue light. He fell back and began coughing.

"Draal?!" Toby cried.

"I'm alright, I'm – is that my voice? Is that my" – he coughed again – "voice?" The high squeak had gone back to its normal gravelly depth. Draal shook his head and helped Nomura shove a heavy crate into the acid.

Toby started coughing too. It was so hot and smoky …

The troll, the Changeling, and the human climbed onto a boulder that hadn't melted yet. The lava continued to rise. They balanced precariously. Draal and Nomura were both forced to duck as they got closer to the ceiling.

"I guess this is my last chance to eat these," Toby lamented, taking out a taco. Nomura's eyes widened. Toby had only taken a single bite when she snatched the food and the bag out of his hands and threw them into the gut-lava. "What –? No! Those were Diablo Maximus!"

"And if this doesn't work, you'll die with that taste in your mouth."

The acid level started to drop – spiraling like it was going down a drain. Draal wrapped his arms tight around his two smaller companions.

"The back door!" cried Toby. "It's open! I gotta text Jimbo!"

All three of them screamed as they surfed on the boulder through Gatto's volcanic intestines.

+=+

Blinky kept an eye on Jim as they climbed and ran and fought and climbed some more. It had taken until they were nearly halfway down Gatto's sides to convince Jim to flee instead of continuing to attack. Blinky was ready to physically pull the boy along if he tried it again.

This was awful. Horrible. And all Blinky's fault, besides. Coming to Gatto's Keep had been his suggestion, and it had cost three lives already, and if they died here as well, the Amulet would become another part of Gatto's collection, no good to anyone.

But there would be time for blame and grief and stewing over what else might have gone wrong once Jim and Blinky were out of there and no longer in mortal peril.

Gatto tried to grab them with his craggy hand. Jim roared and nearly deprived the mountain troll of a finger.

Gatto said something, but his head was too far away now for Blinky to make it out. It might have been 'nachos'?

Another taunt about how he intended to eat them, no doubt.

"No more guards?" said Jim. They were off the scaffolding now, and it looked like a straight shot to the Gyre station.

The ground started to crack and rumble ominously. There were spurts of lava, and a smell Blinky hadn't expected but regretfully recognized. They ran faster.

Someone screamed behind them.

"Start it up! Start it up! START IT UP!"

"Toby!" Jim yelled.

Tobias, Nomura, and Draal erupted out of a rock wall nearby. They all cried out when they crash landed, and then ran for the Gyre just as Blinky and Jim were doing. Draal grabbed the Gyre's outer wheel and, with a bellow, set it spinning to jumpstart the vehicle. They piled in, and zoomed away.

It was a miraculous escape. Blinky would have to record this for the history books.

"I am – so sorry," he said to them all. Even at the Gyre's speed, it would take some time to get to Arcadia from Ojos del Salado. "If I had realized the nature of Gatto's Keep, I never would have brought us there."

"He did have the Birthstone," said Nomura. Blinky turned just enough to see her with his outermost eye. She seemed unscathed, and was still wearing a hat. Her bag was now bulging with whatever else she'd … claimed as recompense for the trauma of today's experience.

Blinky turned the other way to check as best he could on Jim and Toby. Draal was in the centre of the Gyre bench and hardest to see without turning around, though Blinky could at least tell he was there.

Jim was wrapped around Toby. His helmet was open again, and his eyes were glowing. Toby was clinging to Jim as well, and breathing hard.

"I saved us," Tobias bragged. "My tacos were the key to our grand escape." Jim tightened his grip.

He didn't let go of Toby until they reached Trollmarket. AAARRRGGHH was waiting for them at the Gyre station. (And oh, that made Blinky's gut twist, to think AAARRRGGHH had been sitting there awaiting their return and they might not have come back because Blinky had led them into danger.) AAARRRGGHH reached into the basket to help Toby and Jim disembark.

Jim let go of Tobias and swiped at AAARRRGGHH with Daylight.

AAARRRGGHH recoiled, unhurt physically – Blinky had seen the distance between his hand and the sword – but wounded all the same.

"Jim?" said Toby. "Dude, calm down."

"Red eyes," said AAARRRGGHH. Jim's eyes were still glowing. "Hurt?"

Draal, who had been climbing down the other side of the Gyre, grunted and lost his balance. When he got up, Blinky finally got a proper look at him.

"Great Gronka Morka, Draal, what's happened to your arm?!"

His right arm was half grey, with pits starting to form where the dead stone had cracked, and the patches that were still blue were far glossier than was natural, like he'd spent a month buffing and polishing his hide.

"Gut-lava," said Draal. His eyes were out of focus. "And straining. And that fall, just now."

"He used his arms to shield us while we were – getting out," said Toby, giving a sideways look to Jim before finishing that sentence. "And he landed badly coming in."

"Need Vendel," AAARRRGGHH decided. He offered his open hand to Jim and Toby again. Jim growled and readied his sword.

"You two take him," Nomura said. "Jim can't go through the market with his eyes like that, and he's not going to calm down until he stops thinking he has to protect his human from another troll any second."

Blinky and AAARRRGGHH looked at each other. Blinky split his focus to look at AAARRRGGHH, Jim, and Draal at the same time. AAARRRGGHH looked from Blinky, to Jim, to Draal, then back to Blinky, and nodded.

AAARRRGGHH moved to stand on Draal's injured side. Blinky climbed out of the Gyre – Jim turned the sword towards him for the moment it took to get to the steps, moving closer to the human and Changeling than he'd been whilst at the controls – and stood at Draal's other side.

He was loath to leave, but Draal needed medical attention, and Nomura was right that proximity to larger trolls seem to be increasing Jim's distress.

Blinky turned an eye back to Nomura.

"What about you?"

"I'll stand guard and make sure no one else walks in on this." She sat on the floor and opened the bag she'd been carrying. "I can get started on cataloguing while I wait."

"And will you be alright, Tobias?" Blinky asked.

"I think so?" The boy looked at Jim uncertainly. "Dude, it's Blinky and AAARRRGGHH. They're not gonna hurt us. Shouldn't it be my turn to be freaking out right now?"

+=+

"I'm sorry," said Vendel to Draal, as gently as the brusque elder was able. "The damage is … severe. I suspect your arm cannot be saved. I advise that we amputate, to keep the cracks from spreading higher, so your shoulder can be fitted with a prosthetic."

Draal grimaced. He stared at his cracked, pitted arm and flexed his fingers with a wince. A few more chips came loose. He touched one of the worst with his uninjured hand.

For the examination, the leather strip that usually wrapped around his right wrist was removed, showing the scarred crack that extended onto his hand. Vendel remembered treating that wound – he'd been worried Draal would lose his hand then as well.

"What if we used metal packing?" asked Draal.

"You lost some mobility in your wrist last time," Vendel reminded him. "If we tried that now, with your more extensive injuries, the amount of metal necessary and immobilization while you healed would likely lock the joints in place for good. And we would need to clear out the dead stone before we begin. Depending on the depth of damage," which was already and obviously deep, "your arm might come off in any case."

"… Can I have some time to think about it?"

In a sense, no, because the longer he went without treatment (beyond the painkillers Vendel had already given him), the worse his injuries would get, and the more likely it was the decision would be made for him.

"If you can remain still while you decide, I can give you a few hours."

"Thank you."

Vendel was not a prayerful troll, but he prayed he wasn't just giving Draal false hope.

+=+

"Hey, your eyes are blue again!" Toby cheered. "That's a good sign, right?"

"Maybe."

"And you're using words!" He patted Jim on the shoulder. "Think maybe we can get off the Gyre now?"

Jim looked at Nomura, still sitting on the station floor in troll form with her stolen treasures spread around her, and shook his head.

Early on in her sorting process, she'd propped up one of her treasures next to the Gyre – a trident with a red gem set on a ring below the fork. The red gem had started glowing when she'd turned the ring and seemed to be sucking all the heat from the room, which was an incredible relief for Toby's overheated skin.

"Dude, come on. I thought she was, like, your friend?"

Nomura laughed. "Oh, we go way back."

"… I can't tell if that was sarcasm or not."

"It wasn't," said Jim.

"So why is she scary to you?"

"Excuse me, are you not intimidated by me?" she asked, casually running her finger along the length of one of her cool swords. Which seemed like kind of the opposite of helping Jim calm down.

"You helped us," Toby reminded her.

"And we're all richer for it," she agreed.

Seriously, was she being sarcastic or not? Or, maybe not sarcastic, but … teasing? Was that it?

"You got eaten," said Jim, as though Toby could possibly have forgotten this. "By a troll. You getting eaten by a troll is literally one of my worst nightmares. I can't … I can't let you be in Trollmarket right now. There's too many trolls I don't know. I probably shouldn't fight them all, but I'm going to want to."

Toby sighed and turned back to his phone. He loved Go-Go Sushi, but there were only so many times he could play it in a day.

Oh, hey, wait, phones.

"Here, you should take your phone back." He put it as far down the Gyre's foldaway steps as he could reach without getting off the boat and having Jim grab him again. Nomura waited until he was back in the boat before standing to get it.

"Why do you have Nomura's phone?"

"From when we texted you we were alive. She's got an international plan and I don't."

"I didn't notice the text come in," Jim admitted.

"That's fair. You would've been pretty distracted."

+=+

Draal didn't want to lose his arm.

He had no regrets about what he'd done – if he hadn't been there, Nomura or Tobias would have been the ones hurt, or might even have fallen off the boulder and died – but he would rather have been able to save them without ending up in this position.

Draal liked his body. He liked his arms. He liked his strength and agility, and his reach, and how easy most weapons were to use, and how easy it was to switch between going on two legs, all fours, or a roll.

Whatever happened now would change that. Patch job or prosthetic, he'd have to restart his training to compensate for the change in balance. He wouldn't have the same reach or flexibility anymore. His grip on two-handed weapons would change.

It would have been easier, in a way, if he'd been hurt badly enough for the arm to come off on its own. Then at least he wouldn't have to decide whether to have what was left of it cut off, or to try and salvage it and risk seeing it crumble away in any case.

He wished his mother still lived in Trollmarket. Ballustra was a weaponsmith, but she had done prosthetic work as well, and helped with injuries that needed metal packing. He trusted Vendel to give him good advice, but … Draal wanted his mother.

(She'd gone back to the Old World a few centuries ago, after she and Kanjigar had divorced. Draal hadn't actually seen her in person for almost twenty years now. He hadn't realized how much he missed her until he started thinking about her.)

He sighed heavily. The movement of his chest caused his arm to move on the table. A few more pieces flaked off. Had they been already broken and sitting there, or had they just broken away? Was it his imagination, or did some of the cracks just get a little bit longer?

With the depth and spread of the fissures, metal packing would noticeably increase the weight of his arm. Draal would be fit to return to the field far sooner if he accepted a prosthetic, which could be graded to a compatible weight. He'd have use of two hands again more quickly, too.

Draal's blue hide had been nearly seared off in some places, exposing the veins of purplish crystal underneath. He couldn't stop himself from rubbing some of it. So smooth; a bit itchy at the edges.

Vendel had not simply left him alone. The Elder was looking through his supplies, giving Draal an illusion of privacy while keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't aggravate his wounds.

"Vendel. If … If we try to save it. What are the odds it'll work?"

"Very low, I'm afraid. We can keep it attached, if that's your wish, but it would likely not be functional."

"Meaning?"

"In the worst case scenario, it would be like an immobile prosthesis with bits of your living stone embedded in it. In the best case, you would recover about half the mobility you had before."

Draal grimaced. He studied what was left of his arm again. Gorgus, some of the pits were so deep they nearly went halfway through.

"Cut it off."

+=+

"Then we all reached the Gyre, and Draal worsened his injuries to start the mechanism."

They were waiting outside the Gyre station. Blinky had just finished reciting the day's events to AAARRRGGHH.

"This is my doing. I knew Gatto held a place on the Tribunal, but never even thought to ask Vendel's assessment of his character. So now Jim is terrified of us all, Tobias is probably also mentally scarred, and Draal is grievously injured for my failure as a researcher."

AAARRRGGHH, always a troll of few words, had no words that could make Blinky feel less responsible for what had happened. He tried anyway.

"Attacking was Gatto's choice, not Blinky's."

"He didn't attack us, AAARRRGGHH! He made his terms clear, and I knew better than to accept but I did anyway, and now –" He flailed his arms. "I can only be thankful Jim didn't actually hurt you, and no one actually died."

"I'm sorry about that."

They both jumped, and turned to see Jim and Toby. Jim's helmet was sealed, and he was between them and Toby, but he was unarmed.

"I shouldn't have agreed to the riddle game either," said Jim. "That was a stupid gamble. I should've just stabbed him in the face the second he started talking about eating us."

"I feel like that's not the lesson we should take from this, but at the same time I can't argue," said Toby.

"I wanted to say, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let my fears get the better of me when I – I trust you. I know you would never."

"Forgiven," AAARRRGGHH assured him at once.

Blinky looked passed the boys, into the Gyre station. It stood empty.

"Where has Nomura gone?" And how had he not noticed her leaving? She would have had to go right past them.

"She wanted to see Draal before we left," said Jim.

+=+

"Hey," said Nomura.

"Hey." Draal lifted his new prosthetic hand in greeting. It made a faint clanking sound.

"… I came to show off all the stuff I took," she claimed, rather than admit she'd been concerned and wanted to check on him. Draal leaned forward.

"Show me."

+=+

Previous Chapter (Otto keeps unintentionally sabotaging his own coup.)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (As though Draal hasn’t been through enough, he turns human.)

This was the longest chapter yet! Helped along by how I had a few hundred words already prepped from the early days of fic writing, back when I thought they would be doing to search for the Triumbric Stones in canonical order and Blinky was still going to be the troll who turned human. How far we've come, eh?

There are two non-Tales of Arcadia cartoon references in this chapter, one to a show and one to a movie. Spot them for imaginary prizes! I'll reveal them in the notes for the next chapter.

I do not know what regular lava would do to a troll, but since Gatto digests that poor unfortunate troll in his introductory episode (seen sinking into the gut-lava when Toby and Blinky arrive in the stomach), I assume that particular type of lava can mess stone-flesh up. The term 'gut-lava' was used in one of the spinoff comics.

Out of curiosity, I looked up 'Ojos del Salado', which is a real place. Some fun facts: It is the highest active volcano in the world, and the second-highest mountain in both the Western Hemisphere and the Southern Hemisphere. It's actually on the Argentina-Chile border, and the mountain has two summits, one in each country. There is a crater lake on the eastern side that is believed to be the highest lake in the world.

Draal's mom Ballustra was named in the spinoff novels. I have not yet decided how much of the novels' depiction I will use, beyond the name and the job and the bit about her and Kanjigar being divorced. Or separated? The novel does not actually use the word 'divorced', but it does say they were married when Draal was born, and heavily implies they were not married anymore by the time Kanjigar died without providing a word for how the end of a marriage is described in troll society.

#Trollhunters #Changeling Jim #Becoming The Mask chapters #Tales of Arcadia #canon divergence #tw: loss of limb #Draal #Nomura #Tobias Domzalski #Blinkous Galadrigal #Vendel #AAARRRGGHH #Claire Nuñez #Darci Scott #Mary Wang #My Fanfiction #Monday is fanfic day!

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shyinadarkplace · 4 years ago

Text

Bucky are you still there?

Summary: When their Soul bond is broken, the reader unable to bear the pain tries to end it all. The only question is will Bucky make in time to save her? (Please be kind this is my very first time publishing a work)

Pairing: Bucky x reader. *I do not own Bucky Barnes or Sebastian Stan or any of his works*

Word count: 5k (I am sorry I might have gotten carried away)

Back ground info: This is an AU where there are Soulmates. If the connection between soul mates is somehow broken the mates have usually at max four years before everything gets unbearable. Also Tony is alive.

Prompt: Mountains/Forest and the song “Jealous” by Labyrinth. I also included another song “Dark side of me” by Coheed and Cambria. There is also an original poem by me in there. *I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE ANY OF MY WORK AS A WHOLE OR IN PART, IN ANYWAY, ON ANY PLATFORM. *

Warnings: Proceed with caution. TRIGGER WARNING: There is mention of blood, extreme depression, suicidal thought and tendencies. That’s all I can think of, but please if you need help with any of the above mentioned things https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ 1-800-273-8255. Please please reach out.

Title: Bucky are you still there?

Outside a winter storm raged deep in the Taiga, and while you were warm physically inside you felt just like that storm. You felt like the swirling mass of ice and snow, like the -54° C that currently raged outside your home. The added fire that sat blazing in front of you did little to assuage the pain that wracked through your chest. The ring on your hand glinted in the firelight. A familiar wave of heartbreak began crashing through you, even after all this time. When the much too familiar tears fell, another layer of ice layered around your heart. You stared into the fire and let your mind wander where it would, allowing your grief take its course.

Memory of your first meeting:

There was a pull in deepest part of your being. A tingling in the back of your mind. He was close. You could feel him brush across your consciousness like a gentle rain, and you returned the gesture. The room seemed to full of people why did Stark tower feel so crowded today? All you could do was stand frozen where you were running up a metaphorical flag screaming here I am. Your eyes quested searching desperately for someone doing the same, for the one who turned your spark into a firestorm. Suddenly there he was. Your eyes met and suddenly it was like you were falling, but gently, into warm blue eyes, into dark strands of hair and stubbly jawline. In man and muscle. Falling into him. Your feet were moving before you even realized it. Standing face to face with him, you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest “Hello, I’m (y/n). I have been waiting for you.) Your voice barely above a whisper almost afraid that if you spoke to loud it would somehow be just a dream. “Hello doll, my name is James Buchanan Barnes. I am so glad you waited.” Thus began your world wind love affair with the Winter Soldier, Bucky, White Wolf. And it was perfect. You two were perfect for each other been through so many of the same things. It was like you had discovered the theory of everything right then and there.

“6 years ago. Can you believe it Benji. Just six years ago Earth was upside down as a planet, but personally I was in heaven. I had met my soul mate.” The big wolf hound/wolf mix just laid his big black head on your lap, offering the silent comfort he always did. “We were married for three years. It was like magic.” A fresh batch of tears ran down your face. It had been 3 excruciating years. 3 years of feeling utterly alone. You had heard what it was like when someone lost their soulmate, it was like they were a zombie. They lost some of their humanity. It was like when a clinically depressed person masked, they looked and sounded fine for the most part but something was just off. Most of the time when one lost their soul mate they died too, unable to carry on without them or unwilling too. So many times you had been tempted to walk out in weather like this and let the Taiga take you. So many times you sat staring into the flames and thought about ending it all. After all there were thousands of ways to die. It had been 6 years since what the world came to call the Endgame. Since something had snapped inside Bucky during that battle and he had vanished. The end of the third long and bitter year was coming up, a person can only take so much.

Memory: You were probably 100 yards away from him when it happened. You could feel something wrong with Bucky, you had to get to him and help him. You got distracted next thing you knew a long thick metal rod had you staked to the ground. You couldn’t move it was embedded too far in the ground behind you. So you fought on like that, on the ground taking blasters and weapons from anything you fought with as the Super serum running through your veins kept you alive, easing the bleeding. You kept fighting hoping somehow you would be able to get up to get to Bucky. Hot tears streamed down your face and a scream ripped savagely from your throat as suddenly the constant connection that you had with Bucky was gone. It was like it had never existed. All you could feel was an iron wall. Utterly impenetrable. You couldn’t tell if it was just the limit of your consciousness or if it was him somehow cutting you off. Or if the worst had happened. Then the world went black.

When Steve found you, you had passed out from blood loss. You were in a coma for a week due to the severity of the wound but you remembered your dreams and they were sweet.

In your dreams it was just after you and Bucky had gotten married. A week to the day actually. You had curled up beside him and asked you could read him something you wrote. He didn’t need to say anything. All of his attention focused on you. A blush crept up your neck as you read what you had written.

“You always looked like trouble but the very best kind.

Even before I knew what you looked like.

You looked like everything I wanted at 16.18.20.26.

You looked like whiskey and smoke before I even knew the taste.

You looked like a hot rod idling at a stop light.

You looked like my addiction before it developed. Like my favorite kind of pain.

I don’t know how but I always just knew, that your eyes where blue. Blue. Such a cool tone. The kind that reminds you glaciers or ice cubes against passion heated skin. Like Blue flames, that seemed to sear clothes off with a glance, and pool fire in my belly. And when you smiled I really knew you were trouble then. But the best kind. The kind I couldn’t live without. The kind that kept me breathing. When you smiled at me the first time, I was yours.

The first time with you…oh god it was like nothing before. I had spent so many hours over the years before I met you, day dreaming about my fingers in your hair, your hands blazing trails of fire against my skin. Your lips crushed against mine…

By the time you placed your hand against my cheek and started kissing me, it was like you had kissed me a thousand times before. By the time your hands caressed my skin in expectant reverence (a shock to my system) it was as though your hands had always known my skin.

When I touched your skin, I was in awe at the newness of the sensation and yet it was so familiar. As I felt like your hands had always known my skin, I felt I had always known yours.

That first time didn’t feel like the first time. It felt like we had been together since the beginning of time. I didn’t need to question anything, because we knew each other so intimately words were not needed.

No need for words because I knew where to kiss you, as if some instinct worked within me. Knew where to touch. Knew how to kiss you wherever my lips landed. Knew when to bite and when to soothe. I knew it because you had always been mine. I was made for you.

No need for words because you knew, knew when to be gentle, when to be firm, knew everything you needed to get me high. With you it was natural as breathing. You brought me back to life the way a smith does a cold forge. With you it was the first time but it felt as though we had been there a thousand, thousand times before.

When I first saw you it all became real, I had already spent years falling in love with the idea of being with you. In the ease and comfort and debauchery of your presence. Suddenly every dream I had ever had about my soul mate blazed into existence.

You looked like my addiction when it formed, like my favorite kind of pain. You looked like someone I had loved a thousand, thousand times. “

You two had been so tangled up in each other it was hard to tell where he ended and you began, the line between him and you blurred. You were in complete bliss. At least while you were sleeping.

Steve was there when you woke up. As soon as you saw him and not Bucky your heart began to fracture. It looked like he had been crying, like he had not been to slept. Everything inside you went cold. Your mind reached out for Bucky, for the comfort of your soulmate and touched…nothing it was like he was dead. But he couldn’t be right? Even though you felt like you were dead, with the only sign that you were alive being the beeping of the monitors in the room, he couldn’t be, right? But that is what it felt like because there was just…nothing like the connection had never been. You tried again and again to push past whatever was stopping you but it was no use because there was nothing for you to grab on to. “(y/n) you have to stop pushing against that wall. It won’t help.” Steve’s voice broke and he took your hands. “It won’t help, he’s gone and…and we don’t know where he is or if he is gonna come back. So you…you have to stop pushing and focus on you right now.” He wiped the tears from your face and gave his best smile, though it did little to ease the pain “You have to be stronger than ever. I know that I am asking a lot. But you’re his best girl and you gotta be ready to kick his ass when he comes back.” All you could muster was a small twitch at the side of your mouth. “If …I was his best girl…why’d he leave me Stevie?” you whispered so softly he could barely hear but damn if it didn’t break his heart.

Then it was dark again. This time there were no comforting dreams. Steve sat there by your bed and let his chest heave as he cried quitely. He cried for a lot of reasons. After a while he stood up, and left the room for the first time in days. He knew he would have to be there for you if you were gonna make it so it was time to get cleaned up and eat something, maybe try to catch some sleep. There was a long road ahead.

It was a whole day later when you woke up again. Steve was sitting in the window of your hospital room. “Hey Stevie… see anything good out there?” He jumped at the sound of your voice and grinned at you. “Hey there sweetheart, how are you feeling?” he said softly coming to sit next you once again. He took your hand and when he squeezed gently, you squeezed back. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Honestly? I feel like my insides have been scrubbed with sandpaper. I feel raw and bloody…I feel the most incredible pain and yet completely numb. But…” You paused trying to steady the sick feeling in your gut. You looked directly in Steve’s soft blue eyes and they offered a little comfort in their familiarity. “But…” you continued “I know I need to get out of this hospital bed. I need to regain my strength and take care of myself, because I know he is out there. I have to find him Stevie. Now I need you to tell me everything.” Steve nodded a slight grin coming to his face “I knew there was a reason you were meant for that punk. I will tell you everything but how about you shower, get changed and we get you some food first huh?” You sighed, it bothered you to put off the inevitable but you knew you probably smelled like a trash truck and you were hungry. So you did what Steve asked and you two had lunch together. For a couple hours you both pretended like all was right in the world.

When Steve finally started talking it sounded more like a debriefing and less like his best friend was missing, honestly though it was almost easier that way. Thinking of it like another mission rather than losing your soulmate. “Well, to be honest I can’t tell you a whole lot. All I know is that Buck and I were maybe 10 feet apart. Everything was fine. Everything was fine until it wasn’t. I can’t say what happened, one second I looked over and he was fine. He was Bucky. The next he was Winter Soldat. Then Tony snapped and the fighting stopped, but I lost sight of him. I guess once there was no enemy he just took off. We do know that he stole a Wakandan air ship, but he must have damaged enough of the important components to make it untraceable. We don’t know where he is. I can guarantee though that he learned from last time, we won’t be able to find him if he doesn’t want to be found.”

You took a deep breath eyes closed. The urge to just give up right then and there was almost overwhelming. You knew there were ways to kill a super soldier. Hell you had come pretty close to it in the past. “Sweetheart, don’t go there. We both know it won’t it won’t work.” Steve’s voice yanked you sharply from the dark thoughts that crept into your mind. You sighed “Yeah, I guess you are right Stevie.” There was nothing either of you could do, except move on. Survive.

After that you and Steve were as close as could be. When you couldn’t sleep you it always seemed like Steve was up to. If you needed comfort he was there. You did everything together. Both of you knew it wasn’t really healthy but at the same time it helped with the healing. You went to therapy and got mental help. You stayed combat ready. You continued blowing minds working with Tony and Shuri on tech. You picked up new hobbies like gardening, and painting and drawing. You did everything you could to keep yourself somewhat distracted from the hollowness that ate at you.

You never cried in front of anyone but Steve, but everyone knew. Even if they couldn’t hear the crying they could hear the music that came from your room. No matter the tune no one knocked when the soft static of your record player was on. You were living in the past, trying to cope the best way you could dancing alone to songs that you and Bucky loved. Listening to your past and his with every pop of the speaker. Sometimes Steve would stand outside your room with his head pressed against the door and just listen. He’d sway along with the music because it brought back memories for him too. Eventually he would feel guilty because he wanted nothing more than to go in and take you in his arms. Kiss you. Comfort you. Part of him believed that Bucky really was gone. Part of him didn’t think he even had a soul mate and he was so fucking lonely. But he never did. If anyone ever noticed, they never said anything.

A year had passed since Bucky left. A year you spent in therapy, spent pretending every god damn day that you didn’t want to just die so the pain would stop, clinging to Steve like a fucking life raft and Steve clung back. You both knew it wasn’t healthy but you needed each other in ways that other people couldn’t understand. Steve was the only other person who really knew Bucky. Who could understand the things that you had went through. Who was just as lonely as you. Steve was your best friend. The day after the one year Painaversary, something incredible happened. Steve finally met his Soulmate. It hit you like a slap in the face from Hulk. You had already lost your Soulmate but now you had to lose your best friend too.

Steve sat on the edge of your bed staring daggers in to the floor. He kept his eyes down when you came out of the bathroom. “Hey there (y/n/n). You wanna tell me why you have what’s the word ‘ghosted’ me for the past week.” His voice was cold and harsh. Not what you expected. Not that you had been expecting Steve to be sitting on your bed when you came out of the shower but the tone he used was the more shocking thing at the moment. “You know why Stevie.” You said moving quietly to get dressed, unable to bring your voice above a whisper. He didn’t look up until he heard a soft sob. You were standing fully clothed in Bucky’s sweats and a worn t-shirt, with your head against Bucky’s dresser. “You know why. Just because Soulmates can’t be unfaithful doesn’t mean this is okay, Stevie.” In his heart he knew you were right but it killed him, gently he picked you up, turned off the lights and tucked you into bed. Then like most every night before he climbed in behind you. His body heat a silent invitation more of a pull like a magnet, one that you couldn’t resist right now. So you snuggled into his arms your back against his chest. As he wrapped his arms around you, he whispered voice rough with emotion, “This doesn’t have to end (y/n/n). “You knew what he was trying to do. “Stevie. It’s okay. We’ve been holding on to each other so tightly because we both were drowning. You can’t make Janey hurt. It’s okay. We will still hang out, but no more late nights like this.” It hurt to say. If it was possible he pulled you closer and held you closer. His heat wrapped you up like another blanket. You sighed. He just nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He could feel your tears on his arm as he held you. Why did it feel like his heart was getting shredded? For a while there was silence. “Stevie?” “Yeah sweetheart.” “I miss him so much, this hurts so fucking bad. Why did he leave me? I wish I would have just died there. It would better than this.” You curled up in a ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible, hoping somehow it would help. Steve sat up, propped all the pillows behind him, picked you up like you were a child and tucked you safely against his chest. The sobs and half screams that tore from your throat brought tears to his eyes. All he could do was hold you, stroke your hair, kiss the top of your head and whisper “I know sweetheart. I know. I’m here. I got ya. We’ll find him I promise. We will make all of this right. I promise.” Eventually there were no more tears to cry and you relaxed. Your voice was hoarse when you whispered “I was to move to the Taiga.” “Alright sweetheart we will make it happen.”

A month later you had everything you needed to move. Tony had help you engineer a sort of mini arc reactor that supplied your home with 100% clean energy, and all of the wood used to build your house and furniture (which admittedly was a lot) was sustainably farmed, all of the pipes that brought water to the house from the lake had all been lain with minimal disruption to the landscape.

Stevie was the one who came along and helped you actually build the little house. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen and living room. It was a cozy little place, all the modern amenities but an old time feel. Plus you had your 1945 Jeep and a snowmobile. You had everything you needed.

You and Steve held hands as you stood back admiring the house one last time.

“Looks good sweet heart. You sure you are gonna be okay out here?” His voice was light but the concern was evident by the gentle squeeze he gave your hand.

You heaved a deep sigh “Yeah. Yeah. I think I will be fine. I feel better here and now than I have since he left. I promise I will keep in contact. I mean how could I not according to Tony I have my own satellite.” You returned the squeeze of his hand to reassure him. Gently he pulled you into a great bear of a hug. You were pretty sure if you hadn’t been a super soldier he probably would have broken you, you just laughed and hugged him back. “I want you to know I love you (y/n/n) and hell I’m going to miss you. So please be safe and if you need anything call, okay?”

“I love you too Stevie, I will miss you too. I promise I will call okay. Hey you better get going you got places to be.” He held you for a moment longer, kissed the top of your head and said “Yeah you are probably right. But before I do I have one more thing for you.” He goes over to his jeep and pulls out a box with holes in it. As soon as he sets it down you open it, to be greeted by the most adorable ball cute you had ever seen in your life. You picked it up finding that it was a puppy. “Janey picked him out for you. He is probably going to be huge, but she thought he would be perfect to keep you company out here.”

“Tell her I said thank you. I think this is just what I needed.” You said cuddling the sleeping puppy to your chest. Steve nodded and smiled. You watched as he went and started his jeep and drove away. You felt as close to content as you could with your heart in ribbons.

Present

By the time you snapped back to the present the fire was low. Benji was asleep at your feet and the howling outside had stopped. You decided to grab some coffee, bundle up and go outside to watch the night sky. It was breath taking. The Northern Lights danced and swayed shifting colors as they went. The stars shone brilliantly uninhibited by light pollution. You sipped your coffee and mindlessly started to hum as you watched the night.

No one knew you could sing. All evidence destroyed from your operative days, no one knew except Bucky. Your heart swelled and your eyes closed. You lifted your face toward the sky and started to sing and you thought it was fitting when the words only came to you in Russian, while the one person you wanted to hear was god knows where. Still he was the one you sang for…or perhaps you sang for the memory of him.

“Я завидую дождю. (I envy the rain)

Он падает на вашу кожу (It falls on your skin)

Он ближе, чем мои руки.(It’s closer than my hands)

Я завидую дождю.(I envy the rain)

Я завидую ветру (I envy the wind)

Она течет сквозь твою одежду (it flows through your clothes)

Он ближе, чем твоя тень. (it’s closer than your shadow)

О, я завидую ветру(oh I envy the wind)

Я завидую ночам. (I envy the nights)

Которые я не провожу с тобой (which I can’t spend with you)

Интересно, с кем ты лежишь рядом? (I wonder who you lay next to)

О, я завидую ночам. (oh I envy the nights)

Я завидую этой любви (I envy this love)

Любовь, которая была здесь. (this love that was here)

Осталось поделиться с кем - то еще (left to share with someone else)

О, я завидую этой любви (oh I envy this love)

Потому что я пожелал тебе всего самого лучшего. (Because I wished you all the best)

Все, что может дать этот мир.(all this world can give)

и все же ты меня бросил. (still you left me)

но мне нечего прощать.(but there’s nothing to forgive)

Но я всегда думал, что ты вернешься и скажешь мне, что все, что ты нашел, это ...

(but I always thought you would come back and tell me all you found was…)

Горе и страдания(grief and suffering)

Мне трудно сказать, я завидую этому пути.(its hard for me to say, I envy the way)

Ты счастлива без меня (you are happy without me)”

Your voice broke as the last note sounded. Subconsciously you reached for ghost of the connection you shared with Bucky. For a moment you almost thought you felt something brush back. Tears welled up as you fell to your knees in the snow. You couldn’t take it anymore. A scream of pure anguish ripped through your body.

After a moment you collect yourself and took the knife you always carried from its sheath. You stripped off your coat and laid it on the ground. Rolling up your sleeves you smiled softly thinking that maybe once you were gone in a way you would be with Bucky again.

There was no hesitation as you drove the knife blade into the pulse point of your wrist and slashed up, not waiting to repeat the process to the other side. You lay on your back and gaze up at the sky. In the distance you hear a motor. No it couldn’t be. Felt something brush against your mind. You smiled at the thought of your brain trying to make you fight. You knew it was going to take a bit longer to bleed out since it was so cold. You didn’t mind it would be over soon anyway.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but your eyes started to feel heavy. Black started creeping into the edge of your vision. You let out a sigh finally.

“(Y/N/N)!!!!!!!! NOOOOOO (Y/N/N) PLEEAASSEEE!!!”

You could see a blurry figure coming toward you. You knew that voice. It was like they were moving in slow motion and talking underwater. But that couldn’t be right.

Suddenly you heard that stupid motor again. Then something touched your skin. For a moment you felt fireworks. You opened your eyes. “Fuck (y/n/n) please hold on. I am so sorry doll. I’m so sorry, please don’t go. Please.” Bucky’s voice rang in your ears like a call to prayer. “Baby girl please.” His voice was hoarse and choked up. Barely able to speak through the lump in his throat at the sight of you.

You forced your eyes open and took in the sight of him for what would probably be the last time and whispered “Buck?” Then the world went dark as a scream that was like the torture of a thousand hells ripped and tore through the landscape.

In the aftermath a melody played

"In those discouraging days

I always missed the mark When we were comfort and close I would neglect to keep

Oh, you safe and unexposed A portrait of time repeats This moment now replaced With an empty wish to give I give, I gave

I gave my everything For all the wrong things In this cold reality I made This selfish war machine

Oh, this has become hell How can I share this life With someone else? I promise you There is no weight that can bury us Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me

Now in your absence I wade Through the coursing, lonely, lost And in this tragic dismay I never could believe what I became

I gave my everything For all the wrong things In this cold reality I made This welcomed war machine

Oh, this has become hell How can I share this life With someone else? I promise you There is no weight that can bury us Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me

Oh, I couldn't give you What you needed It's all my fault Too coward to believe I lost it all

I gave my everything For all the wrong things In this cold reality I made This selfish war machine

Oh, this has become hell How can I share this life With someone else? I promise you There is no weight that can bury us Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me"

"Buck are you still there? I don't want to die."

#@imanuglywombat #@littlefreya #first ever posted fanfic #please be kind #would love feedback #bucky barnes x reader

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path-of-fire · 4 years ago

Note

If you're writing AUs, could you write a Modern!AU where MC is a detective and she's on a case involving a string of murders of well known (but secretly corrupted) government officials? And Caspian is her long time partner and best friend (but also the assassin behind the murders) and they've been in love with each other for so long, but have yet to act on those feelings? I can just imagine the sweet angst...

Important Note: This is NOT done, but I wanted to make the first part available for you all to read to see if you like it so far. As I think it's going to be pretty long, and I want to make sure you all like the direction it's going in. (As well as liking it too.)

-----

The clicking of my pen against my palm is the only sound within the confines of the bullpen. My gaze staring in front of me, but I wasn't seeing anything. My mind was too occupied by the thoughts running rampant through my mind. All centered around one thing.

The case that I haven't been able to solve for the past year.

At first it seemed like a straightforward case. A senator had gotten murdered in his brownstone on January 21, 2019. His throat having been slit from ear to ear. At first I assumed that it had something to do with the mafia, but as the case wore on other leads had started becoming apparent. The greatest of which was the fact that Senator Henry A. Greene was only the first of many. Each victim being connected to the government in someway, but having varying levels of clearance. Not to mention each victim was killed in different ways.

District Attorney Pauline Davies had been asphyxiated. While Governor Everette Cooper had been shot, execution style, in the head. Not to mention the many more victims that kept appearing. All with different stories to tell, and ramping up the fear that was beginning to grow in the streets of New York.

Closing my eyes I pinch the bridge of my nose. Trying with all my might to find a connection within my mind. Anything that would tie the people together, besides the obvious, which is something that I have been doing for months on end. Many of my days were entirely fueled by coffee and energy bars instead of sleep. I just couldn't find it within myself to sleep knowing that someone was going to be killed, and that I could have potentially done something to stop it.

Of course, I had tried the mafia angle but none of their enforcers had this M.O. And if there's anything I've learned about the mafia is that they're sticklers for tradition. Plus, the fact that none of the other victims, besides Henry, had connections with them.

A sigh escapes my lips as I roll my shoulders. Trying with all my might to relieve the tension that has built up. I could feel the familiar ache that seemed to seep into my bones. The knots that were already forming from my continued posture, but I've gotten used to these things after a while.

Running my hand through my hair I glance back at the file. The simple file that has become to bane of my existence. Showing me how I've failed in everything a good detective should never fail in. 24 people were dead because I haven't been able to stop the person responsible. 24 people that had lives and families, and because I wasn't able to find a connection they would never see them again. Children lost their parents and other's either lost their daughter or son. All because I wasn't good enough to stop this.

Leaning back in my chair, I bring the heels of palms to my eyes. Trying to rub out the sudden tiredness that had been creeping up within me. I couldn't sleep now, not when a body had just recently dropped. This time with something that had changed the entire case.

A partial bloody fingerprint was found against the victims throat. Hidden slightly behind her ear from the scuffle. Beverly Townsend had been one hell of lawyer when she was alive, and it seemed to have translated when she was fighting for it. Somehow she must have injured the killer in some way. Allowing forensics to be able to forge a path that could lead to the killer. It was the first really break in the case, and I was more than grateful for it. But that didn't mean that my work was over. Far from it in actuality, I still had to find the ties the bound them. As well as the motives behind the scenes. There was always a story within each murder, no matter how menial, and I was going to try my damn hardest to find this one.

Sighing I lean my elbows against the surface of my desk. Bracketing my arms on either side of the file, and I stare. Stare at the inanimate object that has ruled my life for so long. Dictating my sleeping and eating habits for the better part of a year. All because it's contents were filled with hidden threads. Threads that tied everything together in a neat little bow, but for now it was simply a clump of knots. Completely useless until I figured out how to untie them.

Groaning I slam my head against my desk. Wanting nothing more than for this case to end, but my stubbornness refusing to let it be given to anyone else. I had to see this through. There was no other option. I just wished it wasn't so mind numbingly difficult to do.

The soft footsteps approaching me pulls me out of my reverie. My countenance brightening slightly at the familiar gait. That and the smell of freshly brewed coffee didn't hurt. Raising my head I'm met with the sight of my best friend and partner, Caspian. His sparkling glacier blue eyes staring at me, but I could easily see the concern he held for me. He has been with me throughout this entire case. Has seen the mental breakdowns I have gone through at each new body, and each subsequent interview with the family. Each one more accusing than the last. Their angry eyes pleading with me for answers on why I haven't solved this yet. The children's innocent gazes as they wondered why their mommy or daddy wasn't coming back. He has been my rock throughout this entire thing. I don't think I could have ever continued without him.

Leaning back in my seat, hearing the old chair groaning in protest, I grin at him. Already holding out my hands for the warm mug in his left hand. Feeling the warmth seep into my chilled fingers as I clasp it. Smelling the aroma of the coffee as it wafts into my nose. A happy sigh escapes me as I take a sip. Already feeling the way the caffeine seeps into my body. Giving back some of the life my hours have taken away from it.

"You should really go home and rest, Lauren," he says, his voice tinged with concern at the sight of the dark circles underneath my eyes. Setting down his coffee and touching my hand lightly. The touch sending a wave of butterflies through my stomach. "You have been burning the candle at both ends for months. It's not healthy and soon you won't have any candle left."

Trying, and failing, to smile I respond. Wanting to appease his fears. "I'm alright Cas, I feel fine. Especially with this delicious coffee you just brought me." Turning towards the file once more I flip it open. Quickly scanning the contents of the first page. "Now has the lab come back with the results yet?"

"The results for what?"

Raising my gaze in confusion at the question, I couldn't help but frown. Before I remembered that Caspian hadn't been at the crime scene that morning. Feeling slightly foolish for not filling my partner in I immediately begin to explain.

"You heard about the body drop on 27th Street, near Madison Square?" At his nod of confirmation I continue. "Well the body was Beverly Townsend, the recently up in coming defense attorney, and apparently Ms. Townsend was able to get some of the attackers blood on their hand, because there was a bloody fingerprint right underneath her ear. I guess the killer didn't notice it because of her hair." I glance down at the file in front of me before looking back up towards Caspian, and almost blanche at his expression. I don't think I've ever seen Caspian look so pale before.

"You doing okay partner? You sure you're not the one who needs to go rest?" I ask trying to keep my tone light, but even I could hear the tightness that suddenly appeared within it.

At my words Caspian seems to snap out of whatever daze he was in. "No-" he trails off for a moment and I could feel a concerned frown pull my brow down. "No, I'm quite alright but I just remembered I have to go see Oliver down in the labs. Something about one of the cold cases he's been looking in to, I'll make sure to ask him when I'm down there."

Giving a small nod I look back down at the file in front of me. Listening as Caspian retreats away from my desk. His steaming cup of coffee still sitting on my desk. I didn't want to but I feel something stirring inside of me at Caspian's words. A frown pulling at my brow and a gnawing feeling growing in my gut.

I have to go see Oliver down in the labs. Something about one of the cold cases he's been looking in to. The words repeat in my head like a taunt. Causing the gnawing feeling to grow into one of nausea.

Oliver hadn't been in for the past two weeks for medical reasons.

So why was he going down to the lab? And why did he lie to me?

#caspian #snippet #angst #modern au #anonymous

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years ago

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 67: Cauldron of Despair

Chapters: 67/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Mature Warnings:

Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go)

Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel)

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Loki Has A Bad Time, But Like, Dude Did Some Bad Shit

Summary: It’s easy to forget what he did.

Thor circled the Frost Giant's corpse trying to decide what to do about it.

“Well. This is a mess.” He said, staring down into his brother's azure face. “And I'm not just talking about body cleanup.”

“She doesn't listen!” Loki seethed. “Why does she always go headlong into danger; does she not realize what it does to me? I have never run so fast in my life!”

“Mortal women seem blessed with an excess of virtues.” Thor shrugged. “Curiosity, courage, and responsibility among them. Jane was no different. You remember.”

“I do. I also remember that she managed to avoid getting badly hurt, because she knew how to run and hide!”

“Perhaps. But she also-”

“Norns, I don't care! Get this thing off me, you great oaf!”

“Temper, temper.” Thor chided, rolling the body over with his boot. “You're so angry, you've gone blue in the face.”

“I will kill you.” Loki snarled, squirming free.

“You were certainly insistent that she not see you. Still keeping that secret?”

“Shut up. We have to get this cleaned up. We have to assess the damage, and we have to check the tunnels for more. How did it get here? Is it a relic from the old war? How many are down there?”

“I will go check.” Thor volunteered. “You should go to the healing wing and try to calm things down. No doubt it's a little hectic there right now.”

Loki nodded, waiting the few moments it took to regain his milky complexion, then the brothers parted ways for opposite sides of the palace complex.

*****

“So he was frozen in here? Like some kind of cell?” Thor glanced around the scintillating bubble in the ice. There was a large slot in one wall, where the giant had presumably been sleeping. There were objects strewn about, covered in ice, that to Thor, looked like they could be a Frost Giant's version of a soldier's mess kit.

Thor knew that no humans had been down in these tunnels. The government of Iceland hadn't even known they were there. This Jotun must have been here for a very long time, sleeping in the ice. Perhaps a trapped soldier, perhaps a lost traveler.

His journey was over now. It was actually rather unfortunate, Thor mused. Even though they had invaded and killed many humans, a Frost Giant could do much good on Earth now. They could generate ice at will. On a world where important glaciers were rapidly disappearing, a Frost Giant ally could be quite successful.

How frightened he must have been, to wake up suddenly, alone, not knowing how many years had passed. Still in the mindset of a war that had long ended, surrounded by enemies. Everywhere he ran, more enemies, more unfamiliar surroundings, more fear and desperation.

Yes, he had killed people on his rampage, and yes, Thor had killed him. But, as a warrior, Thor sympathized. This was tragic, all around.

“We need to clean this area out.” He said. “Gather and clean all of these objects. Do not proceed with digging unless accompanied by einherjar. We won't know if there are more until I bring Heimdall down here.”

“What shall we do if there are more, my king?” One of the clean up crew asked.

“We dig them out.” Thor said. “Slowly. Under my supervision.”

“Could we not just...leave them there?” One ventured. “Stop digging and leave them encased in ice?”

“The climate on this world is changing.” Thor explained to him. “There is a strong possibility that the ice will melt no matter what we do, and free them anyway. Best to do it under close watch, where they can be subdued, and their situation explained to them.”

“Mercy, my king?”

“It is a new age, and we are a people reborn.” Thor proclaimed. “We can try doing things in a new way.”

*****

“She will be fine.” Bjarkhild assured Loki. “It turns out that our Blood Burn remedies are very effective on mortals. She will have sore spots on her arm for a few days, no more.”

“And Kolla?” Loki asked.

“Two broken ribs, a broken wrist, and a broken nose. She will have to stay under a Soul Forge for a week or so, but is expected to make a full recovery.”

“Very good. The messenger lad?”

Bjarkhild sighed deeply. “He will lose the arm. A terrible shame, but the damage was just too great. Perhaps if he had stayed laying down when he was hit, but pushing himself to go find you...”

Loki sat silent for a moment.

“We will Retire him.” He said finally. “It's the best we can do for him now. I will draw up the papers, if you will sign them.”

“Yes, your Highness.” Bjarkhild agreed.

Asgard loved it's heroes, and provided for them, whether military or civilian. A soldier had a pension, guaranteed care for if they were grievously injured during noble battle. A civilian, however, wasn't expected to put themselves in harm's way. For those that did, and suffered for it, there was the institution of Retirement. All of his needs would be taken care of; he would never be without food, home, quality clothing, or respect.

Bjarkhild was right. The messenger's arm might have been saved, had he simply lay still and waited for medics to come to him. But instead, he had found Loki, to warn him of the danger, which gave him the head start needed to reach you in time. This was a heroic act on par with any einherjar.

One day, they would have their technology up and running at the capacity Old Asgard once had. And if the man wanted it, a nearly seamless prosthetic could be offered. But Asgardians tended to cherish their battle wounds, which was why Odin never got an mechanical eye, and great-uncle Tyr never replaced his hand. They could have, of course, but they had earned those wounds in the defense of Asgard. It was a matter of personal pride.

“Shall I have you notified when I release her, or should I just send her to you?” Bjarkhild asked.

“Send her to me.” Loki said. “You need all your people here. How many are...”

“Beyond my help?” Bjarkhild finished. “Six. The other ten are in various stages of injury, but expected to pull through.”

Loki nodded solemnly. Six of their all-too-rare people.

He left the healing wing, noticing Gloa hovering anxiously in the corridor outside. He approached, and took her by the arm.

“Gloa, I want to thank you for-”

She whirled with a startled cry, and struck him across the face.

Loki quickly stamped down the stab of rage within him, watching the emotions fly across her features: Shock, realization, acceptance, and finally ownership over what she had just done. She jerked herself out of his grasp.

“Don't just grab me!” She snapped. “I don't care who you are, you don't have permission to lay hands on me whenever you want!”

“Gloa...” He growled.

“Don't talk to me right now. Not when your filthy kind has robbed me of yet another person I love!”

Loki flinched. Gloa's family had not come through Ragnarok whole. He knew she blamed him for it, for unleashing Surtr, and he didn't know how to explain that it had been Thor's idea without seeming like he was just passing the blame.

“Gloa, your father and uncle were brave warriors, and we honor them-”

“My father and uncle were heroes, and they died saving the people of Asgard!” Gloa interrupted. “I am satisfied for them. They rest in Valhalla with all those who died well.”

“Then why do you blame me?” He demanded.

“Not for them! For my brother!”

“Your brother?”

“You don't even remember. My brother was chosen as a guard in the Allfather's vault. We were all so proud.” Gloa scoffed bitterly. “The eve of Thor's coronation-the first one-he was guarding the Cask of Ancient Winters. He was murdered by invading Frost Giants, who sneaked in to steal it.”

And just like that Loki's throat closed, a fist of guilt squeezing his heart.

“I know it was you who let them in.” Gloa accused, tears rimming her eyes. “Maybe you didn't directly admit to it in that horrendous, self-aggrandizing play you had written about yourself, but I could read between the lines. The sick justification for your actions- all because you had decided that Thor was unfit to rule! That he didn't think things through, and he would get us killed through his bad decisions. But how are you any different? You were perfectly willing to sacrifice Asgardian lives-the very lives you claimed to have been trying to protect-for your own agenda! And it got you nothing! You shattered my family for nothing!”

Speechless, Loki stepped back under the sheer unexpected force of the tirade. What could he possibly say?

“You wanted to thank me for standing next to your little pet project? Pah! She is feeble, and brief, and weak, but she's not a coward, and she actually stood for our children. She may not be worth much, but she is still too good for you.”

Gloa stomped away, furious tears streaming down her face, leaving Loki stunned.

*****

Thor gazed over the objects arranged on the table before him. All the scattered debris from the frozen cave, cleaned and brought to him for observation. These definitely made up a soldier's mess kit, and perhaps a higher class soldier, if the quality of the items we an indication. There were dishes and cutlery, hewn from bone and ivory, carved with foreign designs-Frost Giant art. There was decayed leather bedding and bags, waterskins, and a pack for rations that had long since rotted away.

And, untouched in the ice near where the giant had slumbered, a diary. Velum and ink from the strange sea creatures of Jotunheim, bound in leather, with ivory plates, it was a precious artifact from a thousand years before.

Thor picked up a page turning stick and very carefully opened the book. The ink that the Frost giants extracted from their oceanic beasts was thick, so thick that it raised slightly from the pages, making the letters look carved, rather than written.

Thor was not familiar with Frost Giant writing; until recently, he would not have thought they were literate at all. He had to wonder if examples of Frost Giant writing had been more common before their defeat at the hands of Asgard's armies, before the claiming of the Casket. What kind of dark age had that defeat plunged them into?

As Thor gazed at the unfamiliar runes, they resolved themselves in his mind into something he understood as if he had been raised on it; it was simply automatic. He read a few pages, absorbing what they revealed, until he realized that he could, in good conscience, read no more. This was meant for someone else.

This was meant for Loki.

*****

Consequence. Every action set off a chain of events that never ended. Loki would never get the chance to be a good man again, because the fallout of his deeds would stretch out into forever. He would never actually be able to make amends. He could not restore Gloa's brother to life. All of eternity would pass without him. Without her brother, and without the other guard. He hadn't even considered their lives while he schemed. Hadn't known their names, nor attended their funerals. They really had just been a means to an end for him, acceptable casualties.

And he had considered himself more concerned with the safety of Asgard than Thor had been. What a fool! He had been exactly the same as his brother, only more secretive about it. Moreover, Thor's actions regarding Jotunheim, while irresponsible, had not actually cost any Asgardian lives. But Loki's actions regarding Thor's irresponsibility had. In a way, Loki had tried to play father to Thor, but he wasn't a father yet, and had failed in all of the ways he had blamed Odin for failing. And Asgard was poorer for his actions: Families shattered, people bereaved, grief and emptiness that would flow on until time ended.

Perhaps Gloa had been right all along. Perhaps he simply was the actual worst, undeserving of the happiness he had attained. Unworthy of you.

Certainly you had never done anything to endanger your world, or any others. You only had one murder under your belt, and it was not only self defense, but it had also been erased by the great reality reset. You were practically innocent. What had he actually done to earn your love?

All he had done was kidnap you and destroy your life. Take you away from your home and family, and force you into a new life and career, been rude, frightened you, kept secrets. Was still keeping secrets.

He shouldn't have yelled at you. He had been overwhelmed by fear, and adrenaline, the fog of war, but he still didn't have to yell. He had acted like an ogre to one of the few people who loved him.

His dazed wandering had brought him back to his only place of real safety; his bedroom, the black sheepsking rug in front of the faux fire. The place where he held you. He needed to hold you.

He ached for you. For your warm embrace, the comfort of you. Bjarkhild had said you would be released soon, mostly unharmed. He waited, wallowing in his torment.

He shot up to his knees the instant he heard you enter the chambers, hope suffusing him. He heard the door to your little room open and close, then nothing else.

His heart split and sank down, as he laid down flat on the rug.

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

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raendown · 5 years ago

Link

A commission for @chinchilasarereallysoft that I had a lot of fun writing!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4149 Rated: G Summary: A child lost to the sea in more ways that one, a creature of water curious about humanity, and a human who finds beauty in the water. Can meetings still be chance if you sought them out yourself?

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Ice Bound And On Fire

Ice cracked and parted above his head as Tobirama surfaced, freezing water dripping from the strands of hair that hung in his face no matter how he tried to shake them away. The moon was out. Perhaps his resting cycle was simply attuned to the planetary body that pulled at his ocean, he mused; the moon always seemed to be up each time he chose to crest the waves. Shouting in the distance brought one of his long finned eats swivelling around but his eyes closed without turning to look. He knew what he would find. Humans had been finding their way deeper and deeper in to his waters over the past decade or so and the blighted creatures were very rarely anything but cruel at worst or ignorant at best.

Only a handful of the legged ones had ever escaped such judgment from him and of those few most had been small, clearly young among their kind, pressed in to service by their elders and victim to abuse if they failed to do as they were told. Tobirama had been curious about humans once upon a time, spent hours and days silently travelling alongside the massive crafts of wood and metal that bore the legged ones through his ocean, unstoppable by even the tallest waves. Now he understood that curiosity was a dangerous thing when it came to the land species. His queries were better spent exploring the sea and her creatures where only his own kind had the capability of ever truly threatening him.

Today, however, it seemed the universe was determined to intrude upon him in ways he had promised himself he would not allow.

A sharp high cry of dismay cut the air, followed quickly but the shattering splash of something heavy breaking through the ice, but when Tobirama twisted his upper half to look all he could see was the shadow of fully grown humans standing against the side of their vessel and looking down towards the water. A frown wrinkled the soft scales on his forehead. What garbage were they poluting his home with this time?

When he dove his gills opened instinctively and the flap at the back of his throat snapped shut to block the second opening in his trachea. Breathing was always so much easier underwater when he didn’t get distracted and try to suck in through his mouth. Sometimes it was so inconvenient having a body only half built for a part of the world he could never truly live in but he could admit that his curiosity would have driven him to find a way to breathe above water even if he hadn’t been born with the proper anatomy. He was like that. And it was a good thing too, as it turned out, since his first reaction to seeing what the humans had dumped in his sea would have been a gasp that would undoubtedly have been wildly uncomfortable.

His second reaction was a growl that bared his teeth, powerful tail lashing out and propelling him through the water with all the force and speed of a marlin strike. Unlike his warmer water cousins, however, rather than attack the small creature invading his waters Tobirama reached out both arms to curl around the human. Then he twisted for the surface and prayed that he had been in time. Humans were notoriously poor at breathing underwater; their young could only be more so considering their fewer years of experience in the world.

Together they broke through the waves a second time and relief swept through Tobirama’s cold blood to feel the tiny body in his arms hack with wretched-sounded coughs, the way his ineffective body heaved a sure sign of continued life. Young of any kind were precious. Most of his encounters with humans may have gone poorly in one way or another but that had done nothing to tarnish his belief that young were always innocent. A pup did not hate until it was taught to do so.

When at last the human was able to breathe properly it became apparent that his body temperature was somehow insufficient, every limb shaking enough to disturb the water already choppy around them. His mouth opened but all that came out was the same garbled nonsense with too much tongue that all humans seemed to communicate with. Always too reliant on their hard palettes. Tobirama clicked gently in a manner that had always helped to sooth the eggs Hashirama’s mate laid for him. Instead of calming the young human looked back at him with terror in his eyes and began to thrash with obvious panic, completely the opposite reaction he’d been hoping for.

Blowing out an exasperated whistle, Tobirama turned north and began moving away from the ship still looming between them and the stars. First he would get this pup safe. Calm could come after safety and warmth. Then he would see about wracking his brain for the trick Hashirama had shown him once for trading languages with the legged ones.

Rubbing his hands together and stamping his feet, Madara watched the air misting in front of his face with a reluctant smile. The cold was a bitch against his skin but coming up here where it felt as though one were standing on top of the whole world was always worth it. Nothing had ever been more beautiful to him than the sight of endless pure white, ice and snow and titanic glaciers as far as the eye could see, bordered only by the icy depths of black water. If only his body could learn to acclimate properly he might almost consider searching out one of the tribes that somehow survived in this climate and beg to learn their ways.

Any plans of that sort would have to wait until after he had found his son, however. Kagami was the precious jewel of his life. Very few would dare to spirit away the only son of someone like him so it hadn’t been all that difficult chasing rumors and gathering evidence until he knew which name to follow. The difficulty had been in tracking them when his crew refused to cross that of the infamous Hidden Sound. Making his way here in a single man craft had not been easy but Madara was nothing if not determined in his mission to feel Kagami safe in his arms again.

The half-smile faded quickly as thoughts of his lost son came filtering back through this temporary moment of ease, rare and appreciated as much as he knew he needed to focus on the task ahead. Any enjoyment he found in the beautiful northern environment was put aside this time when he looked around him. What horizon was not made up of endless ocean looked empty in every direction and Madara’s fingers curled anxiously against the tiller, tighter and tighter each time his eyes flickered back and forth without anything new to see. Still nothing but ice and snow.

Landscapes that should have given him only the pleasure of admiration twisted his gut with worry every league he travelled with no sign of life, no marks of passage, let alone the sight of the one he’d come looking for. Things had begun to look hopeless days ago and yet here he was forging onwards. Just the thought of giving up made it hard to look at his own reflection - but he’d always been a stubborn bastard anyway. Lots of people had agreed on that over the years.

He would have liked to send a hearty ‘I told you so’ to every one of them a moment later. Or rather he would have liked to if he weren’t busy gripping the tiller so hard it was almost a miracle the wood didn’t crack under his fingers.

That voice. He would know that little voice anywhere.

“Stop!” he heard his son cry. “Stop, I give up! No more, please!”

Rage swept through his body. If he’d had a direction to focus himself at that moment Madara would have torn his own ship apart and drained the very oceans beneath them to reach his boy and crush whatever horrors were being inflicted upon him. His vengeance was muzzled by the fault of his useless human ears, too insensitive to figure out which direction that echoing cry had originated from. It took a great effort to stifle the urge to call back and reassure his son but he clamped his teeth together and held back, unwilling to give up the element of surprise.

Desperately snapping his head from side to side, Madara tried to take in to account how far voices could travel in this terrain and relate that to all the places in visual range that might be able to hide at least one child and one adult body. Since that automatically excluded most of the flat ice he was left with blessedly few of the smaller glaciers that could have open pockets concealed on their far sides. All that was left was for him to choose one to investigate. Doing so was hard with his child’s cries ringing in his ears, knowing that every moment he delayed meant another moment of pain for Kagami, but his instincts had always been good. Madara closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When they snapped open again he spun the tiller in the direction that felt right in a way he'd never been able to explain.

“No-o-o! Stop!” Kagami hollered again, followed by a series of strange clicks and glottal moans.

“Be strong,” Madara breathed through clenched teeth. “I’m coming, I promise.”

His vessel cut silently through the water in a way any full sized ship could never have done. It was, he reflected, perhaps a good thing after all that his crew had refused this journey. That left him with no one to hush but himself as he steered his little cog at a sharp angle around the glacier he had chosen to investigate. Every fiber of muscle in his body tensed for action, ready for any sight that might greet him around the bend. Words could not describe the shock that left him loose and motionless as he took in the sight of his son for the first time after weeks apart.

Kagami shrieked again and kicked his little feet, unrestrained but for the massive pile of furs nearly drowning him in a comfy looking nest, arms clutching one layer of covers around his shoulders while his body rolled and writhed to muffle his helpless giggles. At the edge of the surprisingly stable outcropping a man’s naked torso rose out of freezing waters to reach across and tickle the exposed kicking feet. When he smiled the teeth exposed were much too sharp to be human but the joy in his face was enough to translate between any species. Skin so pale he could have laid down in the snow and disappeared was broken only by spiraling patterns of what almost looked to be red scales, hair like a crown of frost around his brows dripping with water, whoever this creature was he seemed entirely unbothered by the arctic temperatures of his environment.

Frozen in place by the realization that his son was not in danger after all, Madara was captivated.

“Stop!” he heard Kagami cry out again. When the next round of muffled giggling had passed he fluttered his feet and opened his mouth to let out a series of clicks that only appeared to amuse his inhuman playmate.

The creature trilled and whistled and finished with a groaning sound as deep as the ocean surrounding them. He looked oddly proud when Kagami laughed in response, like he’d told some great joke without saying any words.

“I’m not a fish!” the boy said. “They’re called feet, not fins.”

His companion shook out his hair, spraying fat droplets in all directions, but the screech of protest as Kagami ducked for cover was not what held Madara’s attention. Without so much water weighing it down all that snowy hair fell in different shapes to reveal elongated ears ending in thin membranes like fins.

A mermaid. His son had found a mermaid.

The idea that this creature could have been the one to take Kagami away did not even warrant consideration. Madara had never been blessed to meet any beasts of legend before, let alone piss any of them off, and it was hard to imagine a creature so obviously comfortable in the high north of the world swimming his way down to tropical waters just to spirit away a random human child. No, clearly however they met was a story he would need to hear.

Before he could begin to worry about catching their attention the creature went stiff and between one moment and the next he was hauling himself out of the water to spread his body out in front of Kagami, lips pulled back to release out a dangerous sounding hiss. Madara swallowed thickly. This thing couldn’t have known the human child behind him for long and yet here he was protecting him from some unknown threat. Half fish or not, Madara couldn’t help the warm feeling gathering in his belly - a feeling that was absolutely not helped at all by the powerful muscles in that thick, glorious tail . The patterns he’d observed creeping up the beast’s waist spiraled all the way down like battle scars and he wanted to trace every single one of them.

“Dad!” Scrambling to free himself from his mountain of furs, Kagami beamed and waved as best he could. “You found me! Dad! Over here Dad!”

“I can see you,” Madara rumbled while his concentration whipped back and forth confusedly between the beautiful sight of all those vicious teeth and the son he’d travelled half the world to find. Eventually, because he was a good father damn it, he settled for locking eyes with the tiny figure still wrestling with endless fur. He looked unharmed, thank the gods.

“Look, I made a friend! Tobi’s really nice, I promise.”

Gradually the hissing stopped as ‘Tobi’ seemed to understand the welcoming tone in his ward’s voice. Without taking his eyes off the potential threat before them he clicked and whistled, to which Kagami clucked his tongue and made the same peculiar groaning sounds from before. They were communicating. Somehow his son had learned to speak the language of the sea. Madara had never seen anything so incredible before - and as someone who had sailed as much of the world as he had that was saying quite something.

“Will he let me come aboard or is he going to attack me?” he called.

“Oh Tobi won’t hurt you! Hug! I want a hug!” Something warbled in his voice, smile crumbling ever so slightly. “It...it’s been a really long time. I missed you, Dad.”

“I missed you too,” Madara choked out.

As gently as he could he steered the cog in until it was just close enough for him to reach out and toss a loop of rope around a thick jagged spire of ice, mooring himself to the glacier. Without bothering to even pause and make certain the vessel would stay Madara was clambering off and slipping his way across until he could stop just before where the pair of them sat.

Tobi’s form reared up in a way a beast without legs should not have been able to, a testament to just how powerful that tail of his was, and only the fact that he was such a good parent kept Madara’s eyes on the boy leaping down from his pile of furs to throw himself bodily forward. For a moment the entire rest of the world ceased to exist. Cold wind pulled at them, a creature straight out of legend hovering on guard less than an arm's length away, and all Madara cared about was the tiny arms that threw themselves around his neck and the solid weight against his chest as he lifted Kagami in to the tightest hug he could safely give. It was quite some time before he could bring himself to let go again.

When he did it seemed only polite to thank the one who seemed so intent on protecting his most precious person. Peering to one side, he found deep red eyes looking back with naked curiosity buried under the wary caution. They were, he couldn’t help but notice, very pretty eyes. Kagami squirmed until he was set down but he stayed pressed against his father’s leg where Madara could lean down and murmur to him without breaking eye contact.

“Can you ask him if he understands me?”

“I understand you just fine.”

Madara’s heart nearly stopped in his chest and it was honestly hard to tell if that reaction was all shock from discovering this creature knew human speech or if part of it was just because he wasn’t expecting a face that pretty to produce a voice that deep. One scaled brow rose up in judgment and he decided it was definitely both. Even the strange way that sharp jawline worked to form the words wasn’t enough to deter his stupid libido; sharp teeth gnashed together as Tobi almost seemed to chew each syllable out, tongue dancing just out of side and oh so tantalizing. Izuna always did say he had poor taste but this? This took the cake.

“Thank you, Tobi,” he forced out. “You protected my son from the ones who tried to hurt him.” Bowing slightly at the waist in a gesture of respect he had granted to few in his life, Madara hoped the words carried as much weight as he meant them to. He certainly didn’t expect a watery snort in reply.

“Your youngling may insist upon butchering my name but I am not required to accept the same from you. I am Tobirama and you, I am told, are Dad.”

“Dad isn’t my name! That’s just - it’s what a child calls their father! My name is Madara.”

While he was still spluttering and grumbling down at the top of his son’s head with embarrassment Tobirama carefully loosened the muscles holding him up, coiling his tail beneath him like a cushion so he could remain upright more comfortably. Madara was very glad to have such a perfect distraction at his side to keep him centered otherwise a display like that would have no doubt left him a little tight in the trousers. Were all mermaids this pretty?

He didn’t realize that question had been murmured out loud until Tobirama made a glottal hum.

“I do not know what pretty is by human standards. By my own species I am known to be quite attractive, in part for my rare coloring and in part for the symmetricity of my markings.” He flashed his teeth again and Madara bit his tongue to hold in a whimper.

“Dad.” Kagami tugged on the edge of his thick jacket. “I think he’s pretty too. And really nice. Can we stay here with Tobi, please? He said it was nice to make a nest for me since he doesn’t have any pups of his own. I dunno what dogs have to do with that but I like it here! The cold isn’t so bad! Can we pleeeaaase stay?”

“Uh…well…um....” As much as he wouldn’t actually mind living up here in the cold north with no idiots around to bother them, Madara wasn’t so sure the local fauna would appreciate their presence. Specifically he wasn’t so certain that just because Tobirama had willingly cared for a child, probably out of some pack instinct or the like, that didn’t mean he wanted a fully grown human tromping around his territory with all the destructive tendencies built in to their species' rather unfortunate nature. He couldn't imagine any legendary creatures like Tobirama to have had many positive interactions with humans.

Madara knew more than most how stupid his kind could be.

Guilt withered the already meager height of his stance as he watched Kagami’s lower lip wobble pleadingly. The poor thing was only eight years old, barely versed in the ways of the world. How was he meant to explain that this simply wasn’t the place for them?

“I don’t think we’re allowed to stay here,” he said eventually. “We don’t have shelter or food or tools, nothing. How would we live?” Logic had never been his best friend but it was worth a shot now.

“Tobi said he would show me how to hunt when I get bigger!”

Madara chanced another peek over only to find Tobirama unravelling himself with the distinctly uncomfortable face of someone whose secrets had been outed by another. Dorsal and pelvic fins fluttering, he used his arms to guide the sinuous length of his body over the side of their little platform and slipped beneath the surface of the ocean with barely a ripple. Kagami went stiff with a cry of dismay but his new friend was back in view only moments later. In view, of course, meant that his head rose out of the water until just below the eyes, white hair plastered to his skull. Hovering as he was he looked almost like a chink of ice broken away from some larger structure and set adrift. A lonely image, really.

Crawling out from underneath his father’s arm, Kagami scampered towards the edge and knelt to reach out with one short arm. “Don’t go,” he whined.

It took several minutes of coaxing for Tobirama’s face to come fully back in to view and when it did Madara’s cheeks immediately flared with enough heat to match the pretty blush dancing across pale cheeks. He couldn’t help it. Whatever had embarrassed Tobirama could only be praised if feeling so left him looking quite so attractive.

“Now, now, let’s leave him be for a minute.” Unable to deal with a sight playing such havoc on his heart, Madara stepped forward to place a hand on his boy’s shoulder. “This is his part of the world and we come from another. If he needs to go back to his life then it’s not for us to stop him, alright?”

“If shelter is what you need I would not be opposed to sharing my den,” Tobirama finally spoke again. His words froze Madara in place.

“Y-your den?”

“What few tools I have may not be what you are referring to but I can show you where to find materials to craft whatever you need. Food would not be an issue either; you are large enough to hunt the ways I have seen other humans do and I can show you which places will yield a good kill.” Tobirama looked away with a deliberately casual expression that fooled no one. “I suppose a bit of company might be pleasant - so long as you do not sing. My brother likes to sing. I despise it.”

“Oh! Oh! I promise to never ever sing! That means we can stay, right Dad? Right? This is so awesome!”

Madara swallowed hard but the lump in his throat refused to move. He wasn’t sure whether this beautiful man-creature meant for them to stay a short while or forever but either way he was inclined to take the offer. They had a ship. So long as they found a good supply of food there was nothing stopping them from staying for as long as they wished to and if the time came that they overstayed their welcome there was more than enough room on the cog for both of them to set sail for home.

“I hope you won’t regret that offer once you get to know us a little better,” he murmured, one hand lingering near Kagami’s shoulder in case the boy’s enthusiasm made him slip. He was unprepared for Tobirama to turn back and level him with a considering stare. Even more unprepared for pretty lips to split open and bare their teeth in a feral grin.

“Ah. I must say I’m looking forward to...getting to know you a little better.”

Then he winked. It was the wink that did it. With a squawk and a twitch Madara lost his footing, tumbled off the ice and in to the northern ocean with a splash he couldn’t hear over the bubbles and ice rushing by him. When he came up spluttering Tobirama was laughing with a peculiar clicking sound and Kagami knelt at the edge still with his arm outstretched again.

“Good thing Tobi brought me all these furs,” he said. “Don’t worry, Dad, they’ll keep you warm until you dry off again!”

What he couldn’t bring himself to say was that seeing Tobirama spasm with joy and feeling the small hand of his son clutch his own freezing fingers had already warmed his heart.

#rae writes #commission #madatobi #madara #tobirama #kagami #fantasy au #fanfiction

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tirrea · 5 years ago

Text

Bogwing’s Blogroll

Hello there! ♥ While I’ve been inactive recently on Tumblr, I’m looking to get back into RP! I prefer Discord or in-game over Tumblr, but I’m open to the latter. Feel free to message me here or on Discord (Bogwing#5031, I reply faster via Discord!) if interested. Please view the individual blogs for more info (They all have an about section!) and know that I am kind of silly OOC, so some of these bullet points below are a bit tongue in cheek!

All follows come from this blog as it’s my main!

Horde

Tirrea Emberward ( @tirrea )

Sin’dorei and phoenix fangirl.

Magistry Arcanist (Abjuration Specialist)

Never leaves the house without a full formal fit

Head of Azeroth Pen Pal Project

Flower fancier, can tell you the meaning of near any bloom but too shy to send the messages she wants

Tirrea in-game, WrA

Orlenna Voyant ( @orlenna )

Nightborne and night owl.

Sorcerous Soothsayer & Stylist

10k+ years old and still a party girl

Will read your cards and maybe read you

Crafter of enchanted cosmetics; magic never looked so pretty!

Orlenna in-game, WrA

I don’t know why it won’t let me tag my damn character.

Aneirra Gravesworn ( @aneirra-gravesworn )

Sin’dorei (She’s blue but she’s no void baby!)

Necromancer, doctor to the undead

Revenge is a dish best served cold and baby she’s a glacier

Duelist, wields a rune rapier (and only 50% for the aesthetic)

Victorian goth bat babe

Aneirra in-game, WrA

Sidney Ravenscraft ( @ravenscraft )

Forsaken opportunist

More tattoos than morals

Likes big bombs and cannot lie

History, insect, and gun nerd with a love of goblin fashion

Would kiss your mother with that mouth

Ravenscraft in-game, WrA

Geti Moltenhammer ( @hammer-sister )

Blackrock Mag’har feeling out of place and out of her comfort zone

Hammer bigger than her ex’s hammer

Thinks the forge is more lit than any party

Likes to crush skulls and the hopes of mouthy menaces

Wolf girl who likes your dog more than she likes you

Geti in-game, WrA

Alliance

Amalea Ainsley ( @detect-magic )

Human (?) Kirin Tor detective mage

Frost magic made her face stick like that :|

Uses floating gems in all of her decorating

Withdrawn only because she’s as socially awkward as she is skilled in magic

Lives for order and reason, yet hired Azeroth’s Most Chaotic Crowgirl as her assistant

Zaedana in-game, WrA

Hiatus

I am not actively playing the following characters, but if you have interest in them don’t hesitate to reach out. I might just need the right spark to breathe some of my attention back into them!

Keonna Duskveil @void-bolt

Ren’dorei researcher of questionable morals and even more questionable experiments. 1000% over your shit. 1000% ready to subject you to hers.

Mercy Swales @mercy-swales

Gilnean witch of the woods and medium. Broker of shady deals with a love of loopholes. Prefers talking to ghosts than guys.

Kieroan Dawnveil @kieroan-dawnveil

Sin’dorei romance author whose number one muse is himself -- as is his number one priority. Pretty boy with pretty lousy morals. Keonna’s useless little brother.

All art done by bad bitch @ybeedraws. Thanks for reading this! ♥

#blogroll #wra rp #wow rp #warcraft rp #lfrp #long post #sorry about that

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brandstonethings · 4 years ago

Text

Forge of Souls

Following: Nemesis

It was like walking into the stomach of some menacing beast. Only, this beast was more machine, made up of steel, bones, and fire. The Forge of Souls. It was not a place Joe expected to wander into at any point in his lifetime, yet here he was with his lover and his friends.

The four crept cautiously across long walkways of steel, crossed in a web-like pattern. They were suspended by towering chains hung from the ceiling above, of which he could not see where it ended. The enormous cavern, hollowed out to house this twisted machinery, was dark and cold. What warmth they had seemed to only be sucked out of them by the cool steel. The only light and heat emanated from the braziers spread out along the walkways, the red glow of what appeared to be massive grinders spinning dangerously fast below, and the fires shooting out of the sides and top of floating spires, suspended in the same manner as the walkways. It was the central spire that the group was headed for.

The sounds of the hammering of an anvil echoed through the darkness as the group finally reached the spire. After hastily tracking down the robed woman who escaped them previously, they had at last caught up. The walkway turned and the four followed it up a ramp and into the spire’s platform. It was there where their eyes bore witness to a great fire dancing above them, only it was incredibly unnatural, floating and being fed by a fuel source unknown. Joe had never seen anything like it. Along with it, an undead drake was spotted flying overhead with its death knight rider. The robed woman was in the center, tending to the recovery of her master, Neregory... Joe’s nemesis.

Their fight began with a burst of speed and intensity, Lithvia, Genny, and Joe quickly became locked in combat against Neregory’s two apprentices while Tralaia did her best to suppress the master from the fight with her arrows and traps. Yet, he was not kept out of the fight for long.

“Enough!” Neregory shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing through the chamber as he freed himself. At the same time, a sheet of ice was blasted off in all directions, freezing everyone in the chamber, friends and foes. “Each of you, naught but wretches! Dying for a feeble man without the will to protect his own family!” He barked. “Fools, each of you. You have marched here to halt me, yet you have only marched to your deaths!”

Joe had stood over the drake rider, about to bring his axe down on him when he had been frozen in the ice. Yet, his gaze moved from the rider to Neregory now. His words had added to the fire of rage that already burned inside of him. Memories of the night his four-legged companion Hic had been brutally slaughtered by the same monster that stood before him flooded back into his mind. It was the same that night. Joe had stood unable to help, being trapped in a prison of ice. It was a lie, what he had said. Joe would die in an instant to protect his family, a fact he knew was true in his heart. His voice came forth with a growl and a deep rumble. “Say that again about me...”

It was then that the plated menace had begun to march toward him. Joe tried with all his might to break out of the ice, as he tried on that terrible night. He figured that if not with his pure strength alone, then maybe all of his rage would lend to it. It was not enough, Neregory was upon him now and took him in his grasp. “My weapons, my helm. Forged with the souls of innocents, the souls of those long dead. The souls of whose -children- could not help them!” The cold, gauntleted fingers found the back of Joe’s neck before he could even respond and launched him flying across the chamber. He landed hard and tumbled near the very edge of the platform, with what looked like the abyss below. Luckily, he did not fall off the edge, though he coughed up his own blood. Pushing himself back up with Tralaia’s help, the fight would then rage on relentlessly...

“Your struggling is pointless.”

Joe let out a cry of pain as Neregory’s sword came crashing down on his pauldron, sending him to a knee. “It’s not pointless... I’ll fight for my family to the death! Somethin’ you’d never understand! There was a time I loved you like a brother... but you betrayed me!” Joe reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out the crystal orb he had used to defeat Neregory before, preparing to use it once again. He was struck across the face but caught himself at the cost of dropping the orb, which rolled away, dangerously close to the edge.

“A brother? You speak of betrayal, yet it is -I- who have been betrayed. By all I knew. By you. By my closest friends... By the fucking -Light-! Where were you when my soul was tormented? Where were -you- when I was made into nothing but a vessel of darkness! No. I have seen the true way of things, Joseph. You’re all lost, for death is inevitable, and betrayal is hardwired into the heart of every man!”

Joe had slowly begun to stand against the weight of the sword crushing his shoulder. “It wasn’t me who tormented you! You were nowhere to be found! Part of me wept for your loss, despite our fight that night you wrecked my eye! You came back an’ betrayed ME!” He swung his axe wildly at the once noble paladin, biting into his plate and forcing him back. “You left me to die! That’s what you did! Worse than the wicked man that brought me back to this shithole! You abandoned me, you abandoned your parents! You’re a coward, Joseph! You’ll never be anything more than that! A drunken, useless, coward!”

Joe stopped to catch a break as the fight continued for his friends behind him, the both of them more focused on their fight with words rather than steel. “So... that’s why you came back ‘n tormented me. It weren’t jus’ for ‘entertainment’ as you put it... You wanted revenge on me?” He spat more blood. “You left by yourself without a damn clue for me to follow! I never left you to die! I never abandoned my parents!”

“Never? Then where were you when they were slaughtered! Where were you when their souls cried out in anguish! Where the -fuck- have you been?!” Neregory descended down the ramp the opposite side from which Joe and his friends had entered. He stretched his hand out and a string of unholy energy shot out to grasp Joe, tugging him closer and threw him over Neregory’s head where he was slammed onto the metal walkway behind. Still coughing up blood, Joe moved to stand, rage fueling his strength. He heard the faint sound of Genny crying his name back in the chamber, yet his stare remained glued to Neregory. “You’ll pay for tormentin’ them. I might be late... but I swear I won’t rest till I make you pay!”

“Will you, Joe? Do you really believe that?” The death knight turned, stepping down the ramp with a great swing of his blade. “Or will you finally perish! Useless and unloved?! These fools may be under your sway now but it’s only a matter of time before you turn your backs on them as well!” Joe parried that swing and used his momentum then to deliver a series of powerful swings of his own, letting the axe guide his steps as he simply followed it, hungering for blood. “I will never betray my friends! Unlike you, I don’t believe two wrongs make a right!” Their fight with steel resumed, now out of view from the others. In the background, Joe could hear the loud roar of the frostwyrm and the beat of its bony wings just before it landed. It wasn’t long though before he put that thought out of his mind. He was going to kill this husk of a man, he wanted to kill him a hundred times over. He had him on his back foot once again and now had caught Neregory’s sword in the hook of his axe. He was going to end him now.

It wouldn’t be that easy, however. The death knight used the catch to pull Joe off balance and into a block of ice that formed around his fist. The frozen chunk of glacier was slammed into Joe’s face, making him stumble back down the ramp, though he shook it off, unrelenting. He charged up the steps again with a bloodlust roar and hurled the heavy axe at Neregory, who managed to block the axe. Not slowing his charge, Joe came up behind the screen of the axe and grabbed onto the runed blade, attempting to wrench it away from the knight as he bashed his shoulder into him. Neregory was shouldered, but had an iron grip on his weapon and would not release it. Stepping around Joe, he wrenched the blade away from Joe as a hot blue flame danced upon it. It left Joe with a look of panic written on his face as the flame heated his gauntlets to the point he could feel his hands burning inside. He had many times smelled his own flesh burning as the result of torture. It was something he dreaded deeply. He frantically ripped the gauntlets off and threw them to the ground. “You wish to end our game, Joe! I will see it ended!” the knight called to him as he backed down the ramp. There was a loud crash behind him and a painful wail of the drake. Despite the burn he suffered, Joe charged recklessly at the knight, throwing his arms around him and clamping Neregory’s arms to his sides, rendering him unable to swing.

At that moment, Joe felt something shoot through him, yet it did not hurt. It was warm and made some of the pain that wracked his body go away. It wasn’t the same for Neregory. The beam of Light was sent by Lithvia who had rejoined him, along with Tralaia. The Light burned Neregory, who roared and broke free from Joe’s grasp with a burst of strength. He kicked Joe down and turned to deal with his friends.

Joe forced himself to stand, taking a moment to get his bearing of the situation. He saw Lithvia hung off the ledge of the walkway, clinging on for dear life as Tralaia clung onto her friend, trying to pull her up. He also saw Neregory approaching behind Tralaia with his blade ready. She had no choice but to hold on, otherwise leaving Lithvia to fall. Joe looked around for Genny, but she was nowhere to be found. Was she hurt? Or was she dead? The thought made him even angrier. He took a breath... one thing at a time. Joe rushed over to Neregory and clamped his arm around his neck as he kicked his runeblade free of his grip, clattering off the edge and falling to the abyss below. His helm was next. Pulled free, the lich fire in Neregory’s eyes instantly faded. He was struck again by a gauntleted fist, but it barely phased him. He charged him again, clutching his neck with his burnt hands and threw a series of wild punches at him while not letting go. He was panting by the time he threw his last punch. It took every ounce of him to keep his grip strong, gritting his teeth against the stinging pain of his palms. “You... You’re weak without your souls...” Joe lifted Neregory up and moved him over to the ledge, hanging him over it. Directly below awaited one of the massive spinning soul forges.

“Yet still stronger than you will ever be.” Neregory groaned as he produced something in his hand and held it out to Joe. “Joe I’m... My work in this world is not done. Destroy it, you’ll know of what I speak.” He forced a key into Joe’s palm. “Ironforge, my home there, from before...” He clenched his weak hands into fists, frustrated at his defeat. “Do me this last favor... brother.”

Joe stared into Neregory’s cold dead eyes as he listened to his last request. He quickly glanced down at the key before back up at Neregory. “Why should I do a favor for you? After all you’ve put me through?” He cackled, “Because this is not me, this is a husk, a shell. You won’t be doing a thing for -me- Joseph.” Joe growled, “Release my parents...” Neregory spat in return, “Destroy the helm.”

Joe glanced back at the helm which laid on the walkway, back down at the key, and then finally back up at the man he once trusted. He dared ask for a favor after tormenting him all this time. On top of that, he dared to call him brother.

“This is the end for you...” said Joe, his stare cold and unwavering.

“I know.”

Joe closed his fist around the key and then threw Neregory off the ledge, his limp body torn and split into pieces in the great grinding forge below. At last, Joe let himself to shut his tired eye and out of his mouth escaped a sigh of relief.

It was finally going to be over...

@steelmantle @tidesage-crestwell @tralaia and Lithvia… THANK YOU so much for the epic RP and being a part of this!

#long post #story conclusion coming soon!

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aweebwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Allies Ch6

The journey up north was longer and colder than expected on both sides. The Knights could have taken a boat which would be much faster than horseback, but it ran the risk of them being ambushed on water which they could hardly defend themselves on. Kai couldn’t swim, Zane has yet to have a buoyancy update so he would sink like a rock and while Jay and Cole could swim, Jay didn’t have much stamina and Cole’s strength is negated in water. Speaking of, the Earth Knight was still sore about their loss over the Golden Scythe. Figuratively and literally.

“When I find out who’s the dirty rat selling secrets to Garmadon, I’m gonna wring them until they pop.” Cole grouched, rubbing the back of his head that still throbbed with pain before placing the chunk of ice wrapped in a piece of cloth Zane gave him back there.

“We’ll worry about that later. Right now, we’re leaving the Taiga area and entering a thin strip of Tundra before we reach the Arctic zone.” Zane told them as he looked ahead.

“Jee. It’s almost like I couldn’t tell.” Jay huffed, able to see his breath as he rubbed his shoulders.

“Isn’t that a good thing? It means we’re getting closer to our next destination.” Kai pointed out.

“Yes. But it is a good and bad thing.” Zane told them, gesturing to the vast plains ahead. “From here on out, we won’t have any cover against Garmadon’s Generals nor the harsh cold of being this far up north. Should there be a blizzard, we may end up in trouble. While our horses can handle the cold for some time, a blizzard would be pushing it.” He warned them.

“Well we can’t stop here. We have to keep going and pray for the best.” Kai says, as he pulled the hood of his snow coat up.

“Luckily…” A voice says and they all jolted, whipping around with powers charged ready to attack. “The best is here.” Nya says as she walked out of the Taiga forest and they deflated.

“Nya” Kai says with a smile, walking over to hug his sister. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to stay with Emperor Wu?” He asked her, confused.

“Yeah- until we figured out Garmadon knew about the plan with the weapons. I was sent to warn you but I saw you already realised that.” She told them as Zane slid off his jacket he didn’t need to give her once she rubbed her arms. “He sent Ultra Violet to stop me and if it hadn’t been for an out cold dragon in the ground, I don’t think I would have made it here untouched.” She admits and Kai looked horrified.

“It would be best to keep this conversation going while we travel.” Cole spoke up and they nodded, Nya slipping on the hood.

Up high in the trees some distance away, Emperor Garmadon’s team watched them as they went.

“It will be significantly harder to stay out of sight while tracking them across the Tundra and Arctic biomes ahead.” Cryptor says as they all hovered mid air on their Floating Cougars.

“Indeed. But we must follow them nonetheless.” Kozu huffed as Lloyd pondered the situation.

“We’ll be able to keep our distance.” He told all three Generals. “There’s snow collected on the ground and the sky is clear for now. We will use their footsteps in the snow to track them.” He told them and they nodded, lowering to the ground and allowing their cougars to walk along the path they took.

"That will be a task easier said than done. I'm cold blooded. I wasn't made for cold temperatures." Pythor says with narrowed eyes at the cold that had his tail curling under itself to keep the tip somewhat warm. "Had I known we would be coming to a place like this, I would have packed warmer." He huffed.

"You're the only one to fail at doing so." Cryptor huffed as Lloyd pulled a thick coat from the carry on satchel the cougar had attached to its saddle.

“Take it.” Lloyd says, tossing it at Pythor and they looked at him surprised. “I’m not fully cold blooded like you are. You’ll need it more than me. It has dark crystals inside so it should keep you warm.” He says as he focused his eye on the empty horizon.

“This isn’t a point to be considerate. Pythor can-”

“We’re still taking a risk being out in the open like this. The Knights are ahead of us still. They have a greater number than we do now. It would do us poorly for us to have our numbers lower now. If the Knights plan on ambushing us with Pythor down then we’d be in serious trouble and they might be able to take back the scythe.” Lloyd says, cutting Kozu off, glancing back at them. “So if I have to get a little cold to ensure our success, so be it.” He says focusing ahead again and the three Generals were quiet- that is, until Kozu cuffed Pythor over the head.

“Ow!- em...” The serpentine was quick to cut off his protests at both Kozu and Cryptor’s pointed glares. “Thank you for your kindness, my Prince.” He spoke with a bow, not surprised when Lloyd hadn’t acknowledged him any further.

He lowered his head so he could rub the back of it, grumbling under his breath about Stone Generals and the toughness of his hand.

_______

“Is that it?” Jay asked as they stopped at the edge of a large glacier covered in snow, looking at the large conical structure of ice down below.

“Yes. Let us make haste. No doubt Garmadon’s Generals are close by.” Zane says then turned his shaking horse away from the edge of the cliff so they could travel down the easier slope.

“Will this place have a dragon too?” Kai asked Zane, riding up next to him.

“Well, Emperor Wu did say each location would be protected by a guardian and since a dragon was at the last, I’d say yeah. Only, this dragon will no doubt freeze us if we aren’t careful.” Cole says, scanning the area for signs of their enemy.

“Alright. Then Kai and I will head for the Shurikens while you, Jay and Nya will keep an eye out.” Zane instructed.

“Sounds solid to me.” Jay says, his face barely visible from the white fur lining the inside of the hood of his jacket, the sight pulling a small smile out of Cole.

He really was an adorable little gremlin.

“You’ll need to set up somewhere for the horses though. Much more of this cold and they’ll give out on us.” Nya says from her space behind Kai.

“Right.” Zane nodded as they moved in.

“The Shurikens of Ice must be there… And so will its guardian dragon.” Lloyd murmured to himself as they watched them move towards the structure.

“More reason for us to keep our distance.” Cryptor says irritably, the weight of his mechanical body sinking him pretty deep into the snow, despite his position lying on his stomach.

The same was also true for Kozu, the larger General sunken so deep into the soft snow that only his eyes were visible. It made for good camouflage however. They were adorned in black, a very striking colour in an endless wasteland of white. A gust of wind blew by then and Lloyd shivered despite him trying not to. His fingers and toes had long gone numb with the cold and despite the mask over his nose and mouth he wore, he was sure both were tinging blue by now. But none of that mattered. They had a mission and-

“Head back with Pythor and the animals to keep warm. We’ll keep watch.” Kozu says with a tone of dismissal though his voice was slightly muffled by the snow.

“This isn’t for consideration either.” Cryptor says, cutting off any protest Lloyd was about to voice. “How do you expect us to succeed if you go around succumbing to hypothermia and frostbite? You need fingers to hold the Golden Weapons and toes for balance if you've forgotten.” He reminded and Lloyd frowned, not pleased with that but knowing they were right.

Without a word, he shuffled his way down the small hill of snow before he got to his feet, walking over to the base of a blue glacier where they had used dark fire to carefully melt a cave in, the Cougars and Pythor close around the purple and black flames inside. Pythor wisely didn’t comment when Lloyd sat closer to the fire than all of them. He knew when to keep his mouth shut sometimes after all. Lloyd stared at the dark, dancing flame that bore the colours of his father. He wonders how he fairs…

___

“Emperor Garmadon. Emperor Wu is fortifying the Golden Peaks in preparation for the arrival of the golden weapons. He has arranged for a very powerful elemental master to guard the area until they return.” Shade reported to Emperor Garmadon from his throne as an Umbrian servant handed him his prepared helmet that sustained significant damage from the first battle with his brother in decades.

He however, left with mere scratches. Wu was the one who walked away with the most damage. But he had always been a fast healer. He has no doubt recovered by now.

“Which brings me to even more news.” Shade spoke in a lighter tone and Garmadon narrowed his eyes as he slid his helmet on.

“Well? Spit it out.” Garmadon says impatiently and Shade smirked, meeting the Emperor’s glowing red eyes.

“Emperor Wu has a son.” He says and Garmadon huffed through his nose, darkness escaping them as he did.

“That I’ve found out on my own. What else?” He asked Shade, dismissing that piece of information.

“He’s a wielder of wind, a Prince kept secret from even the middle walls of his palace and he is the one to guard the Golden Peaks. He is very powerful. Perhaps even more so than the Knights of Fulgor themselves.” Shade was quick to continue and Garmadon frowned, leaning back into his throne, thinking tactically.

Any child of Wu’s would hold great power. It was good Wu hadn’t sent him after the weapons, otherwise there would be a chance that Lloyd and his Generals would fail. But if he was guarding the Golden Peak he needed access to once he had the Golden Weapons, then he might have some trouble. Forging the Golden Weapons into the Megaweapon will take time. He smirked however. He too had an advantage. His Stone Army was impervious to wind. They were too heavy to be moved by even the strongest of windstorms. Garmadon chuckled to himself, clasping the fingers of his upper arms under his chin while folding his lower ones. As long as his son brings him the Golden Weapons, his victory was certain.

“He’s also obsessed with the title of Green Knight since Wu suspects it will be him.” Shade continued and Garmadon rose a brow at that.

A weakness. Excellent.

“Tell me Shade, what is his name?” Garmadon asked him.

“His name… Is Morro.”

______

“Father, I don’t understand. Why send Nya? Why not send for me instead?” Morro asked his father as they walked through the inner walls of the palace.

“Because you are needed elsewhere.” Wu told him, glancing at the frustrated expression his son wore, the green cape attached to his dark green stained armor billowing behind him.

“Elsewhere?” Morro asked, bewildered. “Where else is so important that I should go there instead of on the quest to find the Golden Weapons that will decide the tides of this war?” He asked Wu, unable to comprehend anyplace more important.

“The Golden Peaks.” Wu says quietly and Morro stood firmer at that. “Should the Knights bring back the weapons, we will need uninterrupted access to the peak to craft the most powerful weapon of all and end this war once and for all. Should they fail… We need for Garmadon to not have any access to it.” He told Morro, turning to his son.

“I know you are impatient, that you wish to fulfil the Destiny of the Green Knight, but you must understand Morro. We do not have the weapons to confirm nor deny that you are. You must brace yourself for either great triumph… Or great disappointment.” Wu told him, walking over to place a hand on his shoulder. “One thing is certain. We will find out the true identity of the Green Knight soon, whether we’re prepared or not.” He says and Morro sighed through his nose then nodded, both of them continuing on their path to the stables where the rest of the Elemental Masters had gathered.

“You will lead them to the Golden Peaks and protect it until the Knights and I arrive.” Wu says to Morro and he nodded, taking his jet black steed the palace servants brought to him.

He then mounted it, grasping the reins tightly.

“I don’t see my horse anywhere.” Skylor spoke up, looking around to see everyone else with their horses.

“That is because you aren’t going with the others.” Wu says then nodded at them, signaling them to take off.

“What? Why? I-”

“I need you for something more urgent.” Wu says instead, cutting her off and Skylor frowned. “I need your help flushing out a pest…” He began and she looked intrigued.

______________

(Next chapter gets... Deep isn't the right word. Just know that we're getting into the story of how Lloyd lost his eye and it is not pretty. No gore is involved but they sure as heck mistreat the poor kid. Thanks for reading!) _____________ Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5

#ninjago #lloyd ninjago #kai ninjago #cole ninjago #jay ninjago #zane ninjago #nya ninjago #kozu ninjago #cryptor ninjago #pythor ninjago #shade ninjago #Lord Garmadon #garmadon #Sensei Wu #morro ninjago #skylor ninjago #aweebwrites' work

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vemodalarna · 5 years ago

Text

The Glacier House

Characters: Fire Spirit Cookie & Sea Fairy Cookie (mentioned: Moonlight Cookie, Angel Cookie, Devil Cookie and Peppermint Cookie) Ships: none Word count: 1892 Description: Fire Spirit visits his sister.

wow! this blog has been seriously inactive, huh! here’s a fanfic i found on my phone and finished at 2 AM the day before the last day of school this year. not really edited but i love FS + SF content so it was just a matter of time that i posted this anyway. cross-posted on AO3!

-----

Magic was an odd concept, even for deities like himself. How air could be filled with its properties, morphing and affecting everyone within its range was a mystery. Simply using a spell took a large toll on the sorcerer that cast it. It would drain one both physically and mentally, to the point where they would turn delirious. Only a few prodigies and masters could use spells safely.

Fire Spirit, even though he was made from a spell so powerful it could take down an army, felt these limitations too. The fire underneath his skin would bubble aggressively and he'd feel the ground spiral beneath him.

It made Sea Fairy's final creation all the more impressive.

His fingers ached and each time he moved them they groaned and cracked. Despite being made from ashes, forged by fire and nursed in its flames, Fire Spirit could feel the creeping cold crawling up his back.

The more he thought about how much turmoil Sea Fairy must've felt and how the magic must have started to seep out of her cold, fragile skin, the more bitter he became.

Sea Fairy was barely younger than him. When he started terrorizing the lands under the orders of the Witch, the silent woods and crashing ocean grew anxious. After many moonlit nights, the sea emerged and the forest joined shortly after.

Wind Archer never paid him much attention. The guardian was busy tending to the small villages of the first civilisations of cookies. The destruction Fire Spirit had caused was tremendous; almost no cookies had survived.

The guardian made of sand and water, however, was quick to join Moonlight's side to defeat Fire Spirit and his realm. She had no emotions in her eyes when she first struck at him, her mind was somewhere else when she had him pinned to the grass under him.

He remembered the sharp pointed edge of her crystal sword and the fear he felt when she stared into his eyes. His arms felt scratchy when he remembered the water of her hair hitting his skin, his burning arms turning solid and dark.

Sea Fairy was a deity filled with justice and wisdom. When they first met, she had only existed for a year or so, but her posture and speech made her seem like she was a millennia old.

She was the only reason the fire legend even betrayed the witch. Her hidden kindness and passive interest in his well-being made Fire Spirit realise how pathetic and unhealthy his intentions were.

Their relationship kept on blossoming afterwards. Sea Fairy taught him justice and peace, while Fire Spirit taught her how to let herself feel and disconnect herself from her duties and destiny.

She eventually started falling apart. Fire Spirit could do nothing as he watched his friend- no, sister- desperately long for something else. Being a woman of few words, she never told him what bothered her so.

It only made the sour feeling Fire Spirit had in his stomach worse.

Could he have prevented this? It had been so long since he heard her voice. Where did his morals that she taught him so lovingly go?

Fire Spirit was a prankster. Nobody trusted him; not even his own people. They'd sacrifice things- belongings, money, food, or even other cookies- to keep him 'entertained'. He was a seducer, a gainer. Not someone to trust.

He had pushed away Moonlight when she came to console him. Fire Spirit was a shell of his former self and when he saw Moonlight's concerned eyes, he couldn't feel any pity. Just anger and sadness towards his lost family.

Shaking his head, he dragged his hand against the cold wall of her tower. The frozen bricks sizzled under his hand, but it didn't melt or deform. The enchanted ice was unbreakable, and he wondered how she managed. Just moving a simple flame for a longer period exhausted him- how had this spell not been broken yet? It had been centuries. Her power must surely have run out.

His heels clicked as he briskly walked upwards in the frozen columns. When she first froze all those hundreds of years ago, the tower wasn't a tower. It was merely a swirling wave, connecting at her waist. He vaguely remembers Moonlight making plans in Sea Fairy's honor, to make her final statement to this world a beautiful one. Fire Spirit just thought it was rude.

Grumbling, he grew impatient. Tapping his staff twice, he blasted up the halls, not wanting the lingering guilt to grow any larger.

He landed roughly on the glass surface at the top. Staring down at his reflection, Fire Spirit braced himself.

All around him was an even circle of sea foamed colored blue ice, mirroring the night sky above him. It was barren, nothing misplaced because there was nothing, except her and the small gifts placed around her from cookies brave enough to climb the tower. Enchanted flowers, potions and vials, and conchs and shells.

Frozen and destroyed she stood in the middle, her anguish and exhaustion written as clear as day. For anyone else, Sea Fairy would look longing and mysterious, but Fire Spirit knew her too well.

Her hands were reaching up, her back arched and her long pointed ears pulled downward. The moon shone bright, its light bouncing off her in waves. Sea Fairy seemed almost translucent in the soft light.

The edge of her sword was burrowed into the glass. It stood tilted, as if it froze mid throw. There were no cracks or unevenness around it; the plane stood untouched.

Fire Spirit had many times tried to pull it out- to feel it's comforting weight in his hands and give his beloved friend her life-line back. No matter how hard he pulled or how much he tried to melt the ground around it, the sword would not budge.

Tears were molded into her cheeks, a permanent sign on the aching in her heart. Despite the rumble of grief seeping into the air, her face was gentle and accepting. As if she had no regrets about giving up her life for the moon whom she loved, as if she knew this was the end of her pain.

Fire Spirit swallowed the clump growing in his throat as he looked at the familiar scene in front of him. "You... You idiot," he muttered, no malice evident in his voice. "You really went and did it this time, huh?" The fire deity chuckled, his mouth tasting like ash.

Sea Fairy did not respond. Obviously. Nothing but the waves could be heard, and Fire Spirit peered at his hands to avoid staring at the unmoving face of the individual he considered a sister. The fire under his skin bubbled in shame, and he could feel the weight on his shoulders pressing him down.

"... Actually, I'm the idiot here, right?" Fire Spirit squinted. "I haven't visited in so long, at least a couple of decades. Time flies by so fast when you're busy protecting the world, I guess. Yeah, if anyone's a fool, it's me.

"So much has happened since I last spoke to you- uh, Moonlight rebuilt her tower! Y'know the one... I knocked down- accidentally! But you probably know that," He could hear the sheepishness in his own voice and he cringed. "I have kids now- twins, actually. Devil and Angel cookie. They just showed up and slotted themselves into my life, which is saying a lot- I never was the father type," He smiled despite himself. "You'd like them. I know you always had a soft spot for kids. Even though my kids might both be tiny demons in disguise."

The moon shone quietly above them, luminating her face. Fire Spirit bounced impatiently on his feet as he looked anywhere but her almost closed, melancholic eyes. He hated this. Hated seeing her like this. He knew there was nothing he could do, not really, but the pain latched onto his core and would not let go.

"There's a new kid on the block, too. Pep- Peppermint? I believe? They're a good kid, very quiet," he chuckled, looking at the small blue conch at the bottom of her dress. "They hang around Moonlight a lot. Barely looks at me, but once they looked me straight in the eye and, uh... They have this conch, right? Pretty blue thing, they play tunes on it when they think nobody is around, and- yeah. Anyway, once they looked at me and took our their conch, and said that- ..."

Fire Spirit looked out at the horizon, watching the shores move softly. The moon shone and dispersed among them, and the fire deity couldn't help but feel nostalgic for something long, long ago. Sniffing, he forced himself to look back at the very cookie he considered family and look at her soft, clear eyes.

"... they got it from the sea," he smiled softly, feeling gushy. Stressed, he scratched his pointy ear. "Guess you don't have anything to do with that, huh? Of course you don't."

His feet clinked on the ice below him as he carefully strode closer to the statue. "But, if you do," he mumbled, stopping right in front of the statue. Hesitantly he wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling his face into her cold shoulders. It wasn't very comfortable, but his eyes stung anyway. "Can you at least give me a sign? Don't tell anyone, but by Moonlight, I miss you so much, Sea Fairy. I really do."

And so he cried. Warm drops of lava flowed down his cheeks, and slid down to the icy body he held. Despite his destructive tears, Sea Fairy's shoulder remained as still and as cold as ever. Fire Spirit still felt bad though, the twisting warmth of guilt pooling in his stomach. He could feel the orb at his very center cooling down, shifting uncomfortably.

He had no idea how long he stood there, weeping. He did not know whether he was weeping for her, her faith, or what she could have been, or if he was weeping for himself. For what he is, or what he could have done, or what he should have known. He swore he could feel her breath, feel her tears on his back, feel her cool presence drilling into his very soul.

When the sun was rising, he decided it was time to leave, before his surrogate children woke up to find an empty house. But he found as he tried to pull away, that he was locked in a close embrace. His swollen eyes glanced down at the shoulder he was resting on. It was no longer clear or shining by the sun, but rather warm and freckled like the beach. With a shaky inhale, he felt hands grabbing his arms gently, pulling him back.

And there she was. Her blue eyes alive, golden spots reflecting the yellow hue from the rising sun. Her freckled cheeks were peachy, her smile was small and her tears flowing. And before Fire Spirit could try to shake himself awake from this cruel dream, only to find himself alone in his home far away from his family, she spoke. She spoke in that voice he never could replicate in his mind, the voice that was the first thing to get lost to memory.

"Hello, brother."

#cookie run #my stories #i should get a better tag for that.#vemo fics #there we go #fire spirit cookie #sea fairy cookie #peppermint cookie #moonlight cookie #devil cookie #angel cookie #cr #fanfiction #cr fanfiction #long post #q

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tanadrin · 5 years ago

Text

Reordberend

(part 20 of ?; first; previous; next)

The entire process of breaking down the shattered machine took three days. Katherine was impressed with the methodical approach the salvagers took. Under Andrac’s direction, everything was sorted: useful metal here, pieces too big to transport for now over there, tools in another pile, parts of tools in another. Using rope they had brought, and cables from the salvage, they began lashing together sleds from some of the spars, which they would have to drag over the rough slopes of the mountain pass, until they came to flat ground--it meant a lot of labor in the short term, but once they were back on the ice, it would mean they could bring back far more salvage than merely what could be carried on their backs. Though they would load up their packs and bags, too. The return journey would be considerably slower, but the reward for all this work, Eadwig said, was a bounty that would last them for many years. The most precious thing they found were the solar panels and some self-contained energy cells that still had considerable charge. The nuclear power plant was too heavy and too dangerous to remove--apparently some salvagers had tried that once, on a different beast, and poisoned their whole village. But the energy cells could be safely distributed among the different valleys, to power essential things like forges and the underground moss farms. At least for a little while, life in the Valleys would be somewhat easier, the threat of some sudden disaster a little more distant.

Katherine supposed that this was, in a way, what all human life had been like until not too long ago--you were one bad growing season, one bad drought or some other natural disaster away from ruin. To say nothing of more human disasters: war or tyrants or some plague brought by traders from a distant land. It was hard for her to believe that the ancestors of the People had really understood what they were signing up for. Who would intentionally condemn their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren to a life of difficult labor and privation, even in the name of lofty ideals? But if any of the Dry Valleys People resented their ancestors’ choice, or thought it had been unwise, they didn’t show it. This was simply, for them, the Way Things Were, and there was a safety in that. The eternal, conservative urge of the human heart--and of societies schooled by scarcity--that says, we’ve got a tolerable thing going here. Let’s not upset the apple cart. It was a sentiment Katherine hardly shared, though she could appreciate the place it came from.

When they had finished with the first dragon, Andrac, Katherine, and a few others went to inspect the second. It was deeply buried; only part of its flank stuck out from beneath the ice and rubble that covered it, though the part that they could see didn’t look to be too badly damaged. A furious debate between Andrac and the others ensued, about whether they should attempt to salvage anything from this one, too. The party seemed to be of two minds: it would be dangerous, if the ground proved unstable or the repair and defense systems were still active. On the other hand, the reward was potentially greater. Even in the dry Antarctic air, which preserved much, wind and weather had rendered some of the most sensitive tools on the other platform useless. If this one had been buried not too long after it had ceased to function, it was possible it would yield even more valuable salvage.

“What do you think, Outlander?” Beonna asked.

Katherine was startled by the question. “Does it matter what I think?” she said.

“Sure it does. You’re in this same as us.”

Katherine shrugged. “I don’t know if it would be worth it or not, but even if it is, I don’t think we’re getting in to this one anytime soon. None of the hatches are exposed. There’s no interface for me to try like there was on the other one. You might be able to cut through the side there--but I don’t know how far you’d get.”

“It’s true,” Andrac said. “We can always mark the spot--come back later, with more men and tools.”

Beonna seemed to agree, and the decision was made. The haul they had was enough for the time being. The others went back to help load the sleds, but Katherine lingered for a little while, exploring the back of the great beast.

Dragon, dragon, she thought. From the Latin word, if she remembered correctly. When she was a kid she had been fascinated by old words, the way they reached out of the past and seemed to carry immense secrets within them. She had thought, when she was a teenager, that maybe languages or history would have been the thing to study--but there was nothing in that anymore, her teachers had told her. You had cybernetics and modules now. You didn’t have to spend years of your life in school, and years more of immersion in a foreign country to learn to communicate with people. The old grief of Babel had been reversed, and whether that was a good thing or a bad thing depended on who you asked, but it meant that the study of languages was as dead as the Romans. With it, too, had gone the study of ancient languages. Oh, sure, there might be modules out there for Latin or Greek, the really popular ones. But the world was no longer very much interested in the minutiae of its own history. It contended itself with the outlines. And it surely had no space for scholars to sit in dim offices in the corner of some university humanities department, poring over the work of long-dead philologists. Go into the sciences. Learn something useful! her teachers had told her. Well, maybe she hadn’t done exactly that. But she was still a scientist of a kind.

Something caught Katherine’s eye--a hatch or a compartment, a small one, just by her feet. She squatted down, and carefully pried the outer cover off, then popped off the access panel. Inside was a mess of electronic components. She poked around for a little bit, but she couldn’t make heads or tails, and there was no terminal or anything here. Something was still functioning inside this thing--there were a couple of indicator lights slowly blinking--but none of these seemed to be critical components. She poked around a bit more, then found something of interest.

It was a little black cylinder, about the size of her palm, with big block letters on it that said BACKUP DATA RECORDER - DO NOT REMOVE. Naturally, she removed it. She held it up; on the other side, it said PROPERTY OF ANTECO MINING INC - IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN - REWARD OFFERED. Some kind of retrievable storage? The equivalent of an airplane’s black box, maybe. It was a curious object, anyway, and Katherine liked curious. She slipped it into a pocket.

Underneath, in the spot where it had been seated, there was something that shined beautifully. Katherine reached in and pulled, and it came free--what looked to all the world like a dazzling, clear gemstone, set in silver. It was clearly some kind of electronic component, but despite its mundane nature, it looked like something out of a fairy tale. Perhaps she would find someone back in the Valleys who would enjoy something like this. That, too, she stuck in her pocket.

“Hey, Outlander!” someone called out. She stood and turned around; it was Andrac. “We’re almost ready to go.”

“Coming!” Katherine shouted back. She stumbled her way back down the side of the platform, and jogged over to help the others finish packing.

* * *

The first day of the return journey was brutal--a lot of pulling sleds up steep slopes, a lot of almost losing her footing and sprawling onto the stony ground, and a lot of cussing (on her part) and shouting (on others’). Mostly words of encouragement, but also some words Leofe definitely had not taught her. It took the whole expedition to get the heaviest sleds up the top of the ridge, and they could only be brought down the mountainside a couple at a time. If they lost control of one, it was likely to go careening down a slope or over a boulder--crash, bang, a god-awful mess, and, in the darkness, probably no way to recover the lost cargo. So they went slowly and carefully. But once they were on the ice again, they moved much more quickly. They all took turns helping to pull the sleds, even Katherine, though she didn’t feel like she was contributing much. Her time in Antarctica had definitely toughened her up a bit--she had muscles now in places she didn’t know you could have them before--but she still felt a little like the expedition mascot.

They didn’t head back to Leofe’s village--High Settlement, the one Katherine thought of as her home base--since that was pretty far up the Middle Valley. Instead, they made for one of the smaller outlying villages, which was barely more than a few cottages, less than half a kilometer from the edge of the glacier. They left the sleds below and staggered up the hill to the nearest house; despite the fact that nearly twenty exhausted, hungry people had just showed up, the villagers seemed happy enough to see them. They were even happier when they learned they had just come back from a salvage expedition. They began talking with the salvagers excitedly, then a few of them rushed off to their own houses.

“What’s that all about?” Katherine asked Andrac.

“They’re going to get ready.”

“Get ready for what?”

“To send word to the other villages. To bring more here. To help distribute the salvage. What, you didn’t think we were going to go around to every village ourselves, did you?”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t going to.”

Andrac laughed. “No, people will come here to get the things they need.”

“Who decides how everything is distributed?”

Andrac looked confused. “People will take what they need.”

“What if more than one person needs the same thing?”

“They’ll figure something out. Or they’ll share. Do they not having sharing where you come from?”

“Is there some kind of system of barter? Or trade? Money?”

“Money? Why would we need money?”

“Uhh--” Katherine didn’t know the word for ‘economics’ in the Dry Valleys tongue. “Your system, your system of, ah, distributing scarce resources. Some societies use money. Some exchange favors and gifts. Some rely on, er, relationships of kindred and friendship. I am curious about your people. What they use.”

Andrac raised an eyebrow. “We talk to each other. We make sure everybody has the things they need.”

Katherine suspected he was being deliberately unhelpful, but she didn’t press the question. Instead she thanked the villager who handed her a bowl of something hot and meaty, and settled herself down by the fire to rest. Every muscle in her body ached; she hoped they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Within six hours, the first people from other villages began to arrive. Katherine watched as they did; everyone went up to Andrac and Eadwig first, greeting them by name, complimenting them on the success of their expedition. There was a little ritual to it, even if it wasn’t a formal one. Only then did they go down to inspect the haul, looking over it all very carefully, talking to the salvagers about what they’d found. When they came back, they made pleasant small talk about the journey, the weather, how each other’s relatives were doing--but they did not discuss the salvage itself, and this surprised Katherine a little. When one of the men sat down near her, she spoke to him.

“I have a question,” she said.

“You’re the outlander, aren’t you?”

“My name is Katherine.”

“Mine is Gar.”

“So what do you want from the salvage, Gar?”

Gar shifted in his seat uneasily.

“This and that,” he said. “Some of it could be very useful.”

“Like what?”

Gar looked uncomfortable, and Katherine wondered why. Andrac, noticing from across the room, came over and cut in.

“Now’s not the time to discuss that sort of thing,” he said. “We’ll all talk about it once everyone is here.”

Ah, thought Katherine. Maybe they want to give everybody a look first. No dibs, no deals worked out beforehand.

Over the next two days, as more people arrived, her suspicions were confirmed. The same pattern held; and only when there were men and women from just about every village in the Dry Valleys present, did they all gather in the largest house in the village; and then a great discussion began. It was like the longest, most agonizing committee meeting of any bureaucracy anywhere. First, every single item salvaged, from the smallest piece of metal to the most sophisticated laser cutter, was enumerated. Then, starting all over again, they went through every piece in order, and talked about who had a use for what. Then the competing claims had to be worked out.

There seemed to be a rough logic to this part. First, anybody who had claimed too much was pressured to pick only the things he or she really needed. Oh, Eadgifu, you don’t need the wrench, and the three loops of cable, and the plastic sheeting, do you? That’s quite a lot, don’t you think? All Thorgar here needs is a little of the plastic, surely you can give that up? And where there was really steep competition, for things like the laser drills, the expedition leaders got called in to mediate. Here, Andrac, what do you think? Eadwig, weren’t you saying the other day that our village really needs one of those? And whenever the bargaining got a little too heated--what do you mean, you need all that metal? Hasn’t your village taken more than enough already?--someone would step in, always a scrupulously neutral party, and say, wait, I’ve got something I need, shut up for a second and we’ll come back to you.

It was tedious in the extreme, but there was a ballet to it: nobody’s feelings were hurt, everybody’s opinion was taken into consideration, and everybody was set to go home with something. A few of the really big ticket items--the power cells were one--were divided up according to preexisting rules. Nobody got to claim those. But anything else, anyone in the room was entitled to make a claim on. And a particular phrase was repeated more than once--everything’s up for grabs. Nothing is to be held back.

Only as this process was winding up did Katherine think of the two little objects she held in her pocket; she had been fingering them absentmindedly, turning them over out of sight, when she realized one might very well consider them part of the salvage, too. And might consider that at least one of them might have non-trivial value. She began to worry more, as she saw the intense discussion over the last few items, which very nearly broke out into an actual argument more than once.

“Hey, hey. Enough!” Andrac finally said. “We’ll all sleep on it, okay? No use in getting mad, there’s enough to go around. Here, shake his hand, Alfstan.” He pushed one surly-looking man toward another. They shook, and the room relaxed a little; after that people began filing out, heading over to the other houses or to tents they’d brought along. “Back here in the morning!” Andrac called out. “Eadwig and I are heading home after breakfast. So let’s get the last of the business done early!”

Katherine had been watching this from the back of the room; she slipped through the thick knot of people over to Andrac, and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Can I talk to you? Outside?”

“Sure, outlander.”

She took him around the side of the house to a quiet spot.

“I have a question about the salvage.”

“Go ahead.”

“If someone held something back from the salvage, what would happen? How would people react?”

“I don’t know. Nobody would do that.”

“Nobody?”

“It would be… strange. Selfish. Really wrong. I’ve never heard of it happening.”

“Is there a law against it?”

“There doesn’t need to be. It just wouldn’t happen. Why? You’re not accusing somebody of something, are you?”

“No, not at all. I was just curious. You know me. Nosy outlander.”

“Hm.” Andrac didn’t seem convinced by this. “You sure everything is all right?”

Katherine winced. “I’m sorry. It was me.”

“What?”

“I took something. Just before we left. I didn’t think about it until just now. It didn’t seem important. But I think I violated one of your customs by accident. I didn’t mean to cause offense.”

She took the data module and the jewel out of her pocket, and held them out to Andrac.

“You should take them. Tell the others--I don’t know, tell them you found them in one of the sleds or something. Or tell them I didn’t know your rules, and I didn’t mean to steal.”

Andrac took the objects from her, and turned them over in his hand.

“They say a thief brings a great curse down on themselves when they steal,” he said. He tapped the data module with one finger. Then he handed both objects back to Katherine. “But you’re right. You didn’t know. You’re not a thief, just a stranger to our ways.”

“You should still take them.”

“We don’t buy and sell among ourselves--but we’re familiar with the concept. Consider these your payment for your help. Honestly, I don’t think anybody here has a use for these trinkets. If for some reason someone does give you trouble about them, just tell them to speak to me.”

“You think it’s really okay?”

Andrac nodded seriously. “Yes. It would be different if you had not spoken to me--but you have shown understanding and sympathy to our customs. I respect that.”

“Thanks.”

“Now go get some rest, Katherine. We’re heading home early tomorrow.”

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