#Retrieve the Black Rune

[acsuttles]

God of War – The Black Rune – Retrieve the Black Rune

#Kratos #GodofWarSeries #GodofWar #TheBlackRune #RetrievetheBlackRune #Atreus #Epic #Fantasy #Father #Son #FatherandSon #Family #ArtofStorytelling #ScandinavianMythology #AHerosJourney #Magical #MythicalCreatures #EnchantmentWeapons #Thor #Odin #Walkthrough #Gaming #Console #PlayStation #PlayStation5 #PS5 #Sony

[reverieblondie]

Nobel Blood

Pairing: Rolan x Fem!Tav Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff and Smut with Plot, Penetrate sex, Tail rubbing?, Desk sex, Cream pie.

Summary: High society has never been your thing, and now your having to go to the Raven Ball...Maybe you will see a familiar face trying to conduct himself in a new landscape...

A/N: This might be completely self indulgent...but I liked it...

Word Count: 7,370 (I got carried away...)

“What about this one? What do you think?” 

Rolan appears from behind his changing screen in a new blue jacket with silver embroidery and buttons. The collar and cuffs are lined with silver. His pants are black and a bit tighter to his body than he is accustomed to. The boots he’s wearing are shining and new. Giving himself a once-over in the mirror in his room, he turns around, holding out his arms. 

“Be honest… Thoughts?”

A very bored-looking Cal is lying on Rolan's bed. He turns his head, looks at his brother, and gives him a once-over. 

“Like I told you about the four other outfits… You look fine. Please just pick one!” 

Rolan scoffs, “Cal, this is important. I have to look my best to make a good first impression. There will be a lot of important people there today. This could lead to some great opportunities.” 

Cal looks at Rolan, a bit worried, “Rolan, you are putting a lot of pressure on yourself. Just go and relax, maybe meet someone, make friends. You know, have fun!” 

Rolan rolls his eyes as he does his hair in his usual tight, twisted bun, “I’m not going to waste the opportunity to have fun!” 

Once he had finished with his hair, he adjusted his collar before turning to have Cal assess him once more. When he turned, he saw the prominent frown on Cal's face. He sighs, “Cal, you know how people look at us. This is a chance to change people's perceptions.” 

“The right people, you don't have to change their perceptions…” 

The room is quiet, and a silent understanding fills the space. The silence is cut by Lia busting through the doors of the master bedroom. Looking at them like they have lost their minds. 

“What are you two doing? Rolan, stop fussing and get going! You get invited to a ball and waste your time primping!” 

Rolan sighs as Lia dusts off his shoulders and places his invite in his jacket pocket. Pausing, she looks at his hair and starts to pull and loosen his usual style, making it softer looking with some strains to frame his face and the tips of his ears poking out a bit more, 

“What the hells Lia! My hair was fine!” 

“No, you always wear it so tight you want it looser, rugged.” 

“I’m going for cool and collect.” 

“Yeah, but ladies like a bit of ruggedness.” 

Rolan swats away her hands and starts to leave, 

“I'm not going there to get a date!”

Lia huffs at his leaving figure, “Hopeless…” 

Cal looks over at Lia, “Any chance he’s going to loosen up and have a good time tonight.”  

Lia takes a moment to ponder the question, “If the right person talks to him.”

-KAW!-

The sudden noise tries to break you from your slumber, but only briefly before you lol back to your dreams…magic hands…a soft warmth…a husky whisper…

-KAW KAW!-

The dream is ripped from you as your eyes are popped open; on pure instinct, you reach for your knife under your pillow, but as you look towards the noise, you pause. 

The Falcon blinks and tilts its head at you, curiously fidgeting and hopping closer to you. You pull your hand away from the blade and sigh at the familiar bird, “Hello, Rune. Do you have something for me?” 

Rune turns, revealing a message carrier just like you expected, “Clever bird,” 

Reaching over you, you scratch her neck while you retrieve the message from the red tube. The tube has an emblem very familiar to you: a golden long sword with vines and two golden roses by the sword's hilt. The paper is thick and white, wrapped with a red ribbon. Unwrapping it, you see the fancy script, and it clicks to you what is happening. 

“An invitation for the Raven Ball…and I'm guessing they are hoping for me to attend?” 

Rune kaws in what seems to be agreement; you nod at her. 

“Well, I guess I should head that way… she's bound to be waiting for me.” 

Walking up to the massive mansion lined with guards and littered with candles. The entryway is opened for the invited to shuffle in and out of the party. Just deep breaths, smile, and be pleasant…have grace, and don’t throw punches to the face; saying the rhyme in your head brings back fond memories, and you have to stifle a laugh breaking from your throat. One of your two companions notices you hiding a smirk; he notices everything, and it never fails to drive you crazy. 

“Nervous Darling?” Astarion smirks, his red eyes observing you as if he could read your mind. 

“Nope, are you?” You challenge. 

Astarion fakes a laugh and smiles, showing his long fangs flashing in the candlelight. “Never” 

Typical…

Walking through the entrance is like walking through time; these balls have always been the same. The host and the house may change, but the overcrowded rooms are filled with the rich and self-important. Deep breaths… keep taking deep breaths….

Arriving at the main hall of the home with Astarion and Shadowheart in tow, you pause with them as they marvel at the grand space. It truly is a beautiful event. Servers glide around the room with their pristine trays, serving fine wines to everyone; Astarion is quick to grab himself a glass as they walk past. The center of the room is filled with people clapping and turning, floating along to the music. Shadowheart keeps her green eyes scanning the dance floor; she is looking for someone in particular…it is the only reason she decided on attending this ball, along with your pleading. Moving your eyes around the space, the candles light the room brightly and make the gilded arches and decor glimmer in an almost magic shine. Knowing how these people love theatrics, they probably had wizards put on some spells for the grandeur of it all. 

Turning to your friends, you see they are entirely taken in by the atmosphere, though when Astarion meets your eyes, he plays his wonderment off as if this is nothing to him. As they continue to stroll about, you continue to fuss around with your dress, the corset's tightness starting to irritate you, and the flowing skirt and sleeves feeling like they're going to wrap around your legs and trip you. You curse under your breath as you have a small battle with the dress picked out for you. 

“Dress issues?” Astarion teases 

You roll your eyes, and you adjust the bodice up, but you find the action is in vain as your cleavage is still on full display. It's been years, and it makes sense the dress wouldn’t lay the same, but the high golden necklace always sat tight on your neck, forcing you to keep your head up, the exposedness of your chest and shoulders always made your cheeks flush, and the tight bodice lined with gold down to your hips always made your breath short. You did like the ruffled white skirt with the red front panel and the matching red sleeves that go from bust to cascade down your arms; it did look nice. But the part you constantly fidget with for comfort is the emblem at the center of your sweetheart neckline. It's that same one it's always been, a golden longsword with two golden roses…

“Just…adjusting…” you smirk back to hide your irritation. 

“These corsets are murder but do wonders for the figure at least?” Shadowheart chimes in 

Her silvery white hair contrasted beautifully with her lilac silk dress. The fabric looks like it drapes and flows effortlessly off her polling elegantly at the bottom, and as she moves, it reveals a long slit over her right leg. For a dress she picked out today, it looks like it could have been custom-made for her. She had fussed about the dress and her hair, wearing it in a different style than usual, but you assured her she looked terrific and would catch the eye of a certain soon-to-be duke…

Astarion places reassuring hands on yours and her shoulders. “Well, the dresses are definitely an improvement from the drab, caked-up with, grime outfits I had grown accustomed to seeing you in.” 

You both look at each other before looking at him unamused. “Thanks, Astarion…” you say in unison, not completely happy that he pointed out your dirty states on the journey you all met on. 

“Anytime Darlings~” 

Shadowheart’s eyes go back to the dancefloor, and you think for a moment that you see her getting on her tiptoes (despite being in heels) to look over some heads. 

“I think I might stroll around the room…see if I can find any…interesting company.”

You and Astarion look at each other, knowing what she truly means; translation: Shadowheart is going to look for Wyll. They are such an opposite duo, but they are just drawn to one another. Astarion always teases the names Shadow Princess and the Horned Prince when talking about them and their longing for each other. 

Shadowheart turns to see your smirking faces and she rolls her eyes before walking off. Good luck you silently wish for her… 

You watch as she makes her way through the crowd, a part of you wants to go with her to help navigate the space but you know she wants privacy for this and you don’t blame her. While you watch the floor a familiar sensation of red eyes and a fiendish smirk being placed in your direction makes you shudder. Looking up at him you see a very well-dressed Astarion looking like a vision in all black except for the wine-colored small jacket and gold and ruby necklaces hanging from his neck. When you asked about the jewels he just chuckled and left a quick poke on your nose, a way to irritate you and avoid your questions. He continues to stare and smile at the devious thoughts running rampant in his mind. 

“Yes?” 

Astarion looks away with a slight laugh, “Oh, nothing nothing…just curious if you were going to go look for anyone special tonight. Any fine suitors on the line for you to turn about with?” 

When asked only one person flashes in your mind, but you shake it off not wanting to get your hopes too high. He would probably find something like this a waste of time. 

“No, I’m planning a rather dull evening of just watching the grander, saying hi to familiar faces. No suitors eager for my hand. You?” 

Astarion looks around the room piercing his lips, “I might also be having a rather drab evening…nothing seems to catch my eye, which is too bad I was in the mood to make some trouble.” 

A slight laugh escapes your throat and Astarion looks at you with a raised brow, “Something funny?”

“Well, I just think you have changed a lot since a certain bear tagged along…come to think of it you just came back from the old shadow lands and are planning to go back…” 

Astrion narrows his eyes at you and you grin widely knowing he’s smitten. 

“Very clever…well, I will leave you to it, going to go find some more wine and maybe go rub elbows with some important-looking people…” 

“Play nice Astarion!” 

“No promises! Ta Ta!” 

With both your friends gone you're now alone in the ballroom and now it definitely feels like old times. Memories of your childhood flash through your mind as you watch. In your memory it's a younger you, biting her lip in disdain and fumbling with her dress, head sore with the elaborate braids that were decorated with trinkets and jewels. The biggest thing you remember? The feeling so isolated and unwelcomed by people meant to be your peers. You can recall two gentle hands placed on your shoulders as people just passed you by…

Shaking off the memories you look at the huddles of people near the walls engaged in conversations, “Well, better go say hi to mom and dad…” Gathering up your skirt and taking another deep breath you go on the prowl. 

It was overwhelming and Rolan had to stand to the side to recollect himself. It turns out that coming to socialize with people from the upper city was a lot more difficult than he initially expected. He was starting to wonder why the hell he came here. Yes, he had been formally invited but the people didn’t seem to know who he was or they were staring at him and whispering amongst themselves. Was this all a joke…was he just a thing to be stared at and mocked for the night's entertainment?

Looking down at his crimson hands and long nails…his tail twists around his leg as he balls his hands into tight fists. He shouldn’t have come here, he didn’t belong. Cal and Lia had been so excited about his invitation and were eager to help him get ready with high hopes of him growing his name to the city's lords and ladies. He had promised to make friends and get them invited to the next ball, but now that seems like a silly fantasy. 

Unraveling his tail and holding his head up, he decides to leave until a familiar figure catches his eye. Astarion? The pale elf has his red eyes on Rolan while keeping a smug smile on his face, instead of waving or greeting him; however, Rolan's thoughts trail to something, someone else. Scanning the room he’s hoping to catch the sight of a particular hero…

“If it isn't the Archmage of Ramaziths Tower, I figured you would see these parties as a waste of time.” 

Rolan's body immediately tenses and he turns around quickly, You smile for having spooked him. You watch as his shining eyes widen as they trail over you, his lips slightly parted and you think you hear his tail fall to the ground. From his reaction alone you're suddenly no longer lamenting having to wear the dress and in fact decide to stand a bit straighter. Once he realizes he’s staring he averts his gaze from your chest and neck, clearing his throat. 

“Tav, what…why?”

“What? Not happy to see me? 

“I- no…I mean I am! Well not happy, I mean I am happy but not super happy, but a surprised happy! Uh…pleasantly surprised….” 

His eyes meet yours and winces at himself, understanding how these parties can whine someone up you decide to ease the tension. Giggling at his rambling you gently punch his shoulder breaking the awkwardness threatening to set in. The force of the punch causes him to stumble and smile. 

“It’s good to see you, but I’m a little shocked. I figured these parties would be far too stuffy for such a great adventuring hero of the gate.” 

You shrug looking out to the party where you see Astrion watching you two, you give him a look of ‘what?’ and he shakes his head with a smirk and walks away. You turn back to Rolan, 

“Actually I’m pretty used to these stuffy parties.” 

Rolan’s brows furrow as he looks down at you confused, you do the same as you look up at him, and then it clicks. 

“Rolan, I’m from Baldur's Gate. I grew up having to go to these parties and having to take etiquette classes. My mother is a countess, from a long line of nobility and my father is a general for a regiment of the city's army.” 

Rolan's eyes widen as you nonchalantly explain your past, “Your… a lady from an important house of Baldur's Gate…and you were out slumming it in the wild? Wielding swords and blowing up goblin camps?” 

Thinking for a second you nod “Yeah, my dad used to take me camping and taught me how to fight. Mom wanted me to be a proper socialite but I didn't exactly fit in… Once I got older they told me I could go travel the swords coast, get the wildness out of me before finding a suitor, ya know?” 

Rolan shakes his head with a smile, “So you left all of this to adventure and ended up getting a tadpole in your head. That inevitably leads you back here…” 

“Hey, I had adventures before that! But I will say that one was my favorite.” 

Rolan smirks and looks down at you, “Because it made you a hero?” 

You look up at him, his gentle gaze and soft loose strands of hair cascading around his horns making your heart flutter, “Because I got to make friends, and meet you.”  

Rolan's face gets slightly darker as he thinks of something to say. With him tongue-tied you take the opportunity to tease him more by sticking your tongue at him. He rolls his eyes and turns away, you swear you see the tips of his ears a light hue of marron now. 

“Why are you here? And are Cal and Lia with you? I miss them and their tormenting of you.” You continued to tease. Though you see Rolan’s face slightly drop. 

“Well…I was the only one to receive an invitation and I didn’t realize I could bring anyone…I wish I would have, with them around I wouldn’t feel so…” Rolan shakes his head as if to shake away his thought, “I came here to meet people to get them interested in the tower's knowledge and to show that I am a worthy archmage. But I haven’t been able to talk to anyone “ 

Your heart sinks as you listen to Rolan, you remember having to go there alone at times…Rolan is always trying so hard for his family, it's quite honorable of him and one of the things that drew you to him. Thinking for a moment you try to think of a plan before it hits suddenly, “Rolan I can get you a formal introduction to someone who is very important and that I know would like to hear about the tower.” 

Rolan’s face lights up, “I would, I would be so grateful.” 

Smiling you wrap your arm around Rolan’s elbow, a part of you thought that he would recoil but he seems to welcome the gesture by straightening his posture and tightening up his arm. Your hand creases his bicep and it takes every part of you not to start teasing him about his surprisingly muscular form. Act like a proper socialite, for Rolan’s sake. 

As you two stroll about the floor you keep your eyes peeled. Though you do see some people staring at you and Rolan as you walk arm in arm, you figure people are just wanting to gawk at the hero and the new archmage. 

“Seems like we are popular sights tonight.” 

Rolan hums, “I think you are the popular sight, I’m probably more of the skeptical…” 

“Specktical?” 

Looking over to meet your eyes Rolan just gently squeezes your hand, “Never mind, uh, so who are we looking for?” 

“Her.” 

Pointing out your finger you lead Rolan’s eyes to a group of women fanning themselves as they scan their eyes like hawks around the room. They are all dressed immaculately and as the two of you approach they keep their eyes locked on you both. One of the women quickly whispers to a taller woman, the taller woman turns and Rolan has to hold back his gasp. 

She looks like you…well an older version but still stunning. Rolan feels his throat instantly dry and when he looks over to you with a panicked expression, he admittedly comprehends what's happening and he’s never felt so unprepared in his life. Feeling him tense you keep a soft smile and gently rub small circles on his hand, trying to ensure he’s calm when meeting your mother. 

In front of the intimidating woman (he sees where you get it now) you release yourself from his arm and give a curtsy. Rolan follows your lead and gives a bow. 

“Countess, I would like to formally introduce you to Archmage Rolan, Master of Ramaziths Tower. Rolan, this is the Countess, also known as my mother.” 

You feel your cheeks grow red, you're introducing a man to your mother…you never thought this would be happening, it’s very proper of you. Looking up at her face you see a soft smile, for her that’s practically beaming. So far so good. 

“I heard about the last master's passing…” she says casually. You and Rolan exchanged a glance before she continued “Can’t say I wasn’t fond of the news, he was always a poor representation of the tower. A bit of a cad.” 

Rolan’s jaw practically drops and you are quick to continue the conversation for him while he recollects himself, 

“Well, I will have to tell you Rolan is quite proficient in magic, self-taught and self-disciplined. He plans on studying and cataloging the tomes in the tower to then share the knowledge with the realms.” You praise 

“That's quite the honorable aspiration for a young man. I am sure everyone would be quite pleased to have access to its knowledge. I have been to your tower once before in my youth, the smell of the weave in the air and the majesty of all the books still leaves me with pleasant memories.” 

Meaning: ‘Invite me over to see the tower again because ladies do not invite themselves places’. You're not a bit surprised your mother is taking a fast liking to Rolan, he has a title, is respectable, and usually can hold his own in a conversation but today he seems to keep getting tongue-tied, we’ll chop that up to nerves. With a subtle nudge to his arm, you break him out of his daze where he can give her a proper answer. 

“Well, th-thank you. I think everyone should have access to knowledge if they want it. Also, you and Tav should join me at the tower for tea. I will have to prepare a bit but I would be delighted to have you two there.” 

Two of her ladies-in-waiting mutter something to each other earning them a prompt glare from the Countess. They quickly scurry away. 

“I would be delighted to just name the date. Plus I would love to hear about how you two met, knowing my daughter that story will be filled with twists and turns.” 

Rolan giggles and you look at your mom in shock as she openly teases you. You have never seen her be so casual with a stranger, well for her this is casual. You can’t help but feel a warmth in your chest, you never were one to crave approval from anyone but it does feel nice when your Mother seems to improve the boy you like. 

“I will have you know I handled myself with dignity and grace-“ 

“I watched her punch someone in the face for disrespecting my kind, it was a lasting impression, a good one,” Rolan says with a laugh and causes your mother to let out a giggle -that woman never giggles!

“Well I will have to forgive her for that, sounds like that punch was well deserved.” Your mother looks at you and you see a softness in her eyes “My tough girl.” 

The moment is soft before your mother changes the subject. Ladies must keep the conversation flowing after all.  

“Now Tav, why don’t you introduce Master Rolan to your father? I’m sure he would love to meet him.” 

With a curtsy and a bow, you two make your way to find your father. 

“Never seen you so proper…” Rolan leans down to whisper in your ears, you have to fight the tingling that threatens to show on your skin. Nothing quick like his mockery so close to you. 

You take Rolan's arm so he’s leading you through the room, “Never seen you so tongue-tied…” you mock back.

“She's intimidating… I see where you get it from…” 

“You should see when she doesn’t like someone, that’s intimidating.” 

“Any warnings about your father? Or do you plan to surprise me again?” 

“Oh but you do look so cute lost for words, I didn’t know wizards had that capability.” you coo back now blatantly flirting, very unladylike. The scandal…

Feeling bold Rolan tightens his grip on your arm where you can feel his nails against your skin, it is mind-numbing this sudden game. “And I didn't know how ravishing you look in a dress so tightly wound to you.” 

The sudden boldness of his words makes you pause, and your cheeks redden. Rolan nervously clears his throat unsure if he overstepped… he brings his eyes up for a distraction and lucky for him he finds one. 

“Tav look”, Following his gesture to the dance floor you see a heartwarming sight that distracts your thrumming heart. Wyll spins around the dance floor holding Shadowheart close to his body and he leads her through the dance. They look like a vision together, everyone seems to pause and look at them as they command the space with little effort. 

It's while you're watching them you feel a warm hand wrapping around your own. Looking up to its source you see Rolans gleaming eyes on yours taking you in slowly. You swear it’s a secret spell of his to become out of breath and feel sparks when you look at him. The feeling rushes through your veins like it has since you first met him at the grove and all the moments after. Rolan's lips part gracing you with a quick view of his sharp teeth till suddenly you feel yourself being grabbed and thrown into the air.

“And! There is my wayward daughter! Our righteous hero graced us with her presents! Ha Haaa!” 

The voice is loud and booming as the large arms wrap around you forcing your body into the air before crashing you back down to your heeled feet. Your father, as bostress as ever and completely uncaring for these parties 'etiquettes’ as always. In a lot of ways, the apple did not fall from the tree. 

Taking a moment he scans over you, it's been far too long since you saw him, and from how you ramble and rave at each other it shows. Then his eyes start to scan around you till they are meeting with Rolans, and your father smiles like a Cheshire cat. 

“Ah, and I see the rumors are true. You have a gentleman escort this evening.” 

“Actually I have two others but one is dancing with the Duke's son while the other is bound to be causing trouble.” 

“Trading in for different companies.” His eyes go to Rolan and you see him tease over your father's gaze, “Now to see if this man was worth it.” 

“Well, he is a wizard…” Your eyes go to Rolan and you two are now assessing him

“Meet plenty of spellcasters,”

You continue, “Archmage of Ramiths tower…he got the areca artillery working in the battle saving my and my friends' necks. 

“The Fire Rainer!” Your father yells, making Rolan and nearby people jump.

Before Rolan can properly process what is happening your Father is grabbing his hand in a crushing grip that Rolan returns. 

“My men, We were all in awe of your work getting those dusty turrets to work. And for helping my Tav. Good man.” he continues to shake Rolan's hand for a long moment before letting go and placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“He’s good company to keep, strong grip and with fire in his eyes.” 

You look at Rolan giving him a nod of a good job before your father is turning to both of you. With a wide grin. 

“Now! Rolan, if you walk around with my daughter you must ask her for a dance!” 

Rolan stutters over his words as you look at your father like he’s lost his mind. 

“Dad, You can’t make him dance.”

“Why not? He wishes to be near you; he must dance with you.” 

The words make you flush as you avoid Rolan's eyes, “He’s not the dancing type…” 

This causes Rolan to lift a brow, then you feel Rolan’s warm hands on yours leading you suddenly towards the dance floor. In a swift flourish, Rolan spins you and grasps his hand in yours, placing the other on your hip and smirking at your shocked expression…

“Looks like he is!” your father calls barely audible through the music. 

The transition to the dance is effortless as you two glide across the floor. Watching his glimmering eyes on yours is spurring your heart into a rush. Your body feels like it’s on fire as he effortlessly glides you through turns and claps. Eyes never leaving one another. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance?” 

Rolan scoffs, “Of course, I know how to dance, you don’t think I haven’t gone to parties before?”

lifting a brow, you look at him with an unamused expression, “OK, I might have practiced…”

You laugh and let him spin you out, then catching your hand and pulling you back to him. His hands in yours, your back flushed to his chest. The dance is completely intertwining, his scent, his warmth, the purring of his chuckling laugh. You want more, your hope is for this dance to never end so you can stay in his arms.

With a twist and a sway of your hips, you smile at him as the blush rushes to his speckled cheeks, a reminder that you are experienced at these dances and you will not hesitate to spice up the moves if it means rubbing against him. It makes his heart thum as he turns you around again, his tail wrapping slightly around your dress as he steps with you till plunging you down to a dip.

A perfect dance partner, finally.

You two stay locked within each other's snare, a small feeling of leaning forward towards each other causing your mouth to water in anticipation of a kiss. Then breaking you two from the moment is roaring applause that fills the room. He lets you rise, and you two join the applause of the musicians as well.

A normal socialite would worry if people could tell how much you liked him. You don’t care, however, Rolan is magnificent, and you would scream it at the top of your lungs, but you know this is his chance to impress rich bastards and prove himself worthy of his new illustrious Title. Of course, the right people already know this, he doesn’t need to impress them.

As you look to the crowd to make your way to your dad to give him sass (and maybe a pat on the back for making that happen for you) you see Rolan Pointing to the front part of the dance floor, music starting to swell up again and your father and mother swaying to the song. Another set of perfectly matched dance partners. 

Offering his elbow to you again, you curtsy at Rolan's gesture and let him lead you off the floor. A perfect gentleman, If your mother is watching she is beaming with pride (though she will talk to you about that hip swaying later). Off the floor, your dry throat hits you,

“ I'm going to get a drink, do you want anything?”

“Oh I can-“

“Rolan I can grab drinks, I’m still a hero of the Gate, not a delicate flower.” You tease him.

“A glass of wine sounds great then,” 

“I will be a quick second, wait here” With that you gather your skirt and shuffle away. Both of you trying to hide your dorky grins for one another. 

Then a stray voice catches Rolan off guard, “Dancing with a noble…but don’t forget you're just hellspawn trash…” 

Roland’s eyes widen, and he turns around quickly, but he is met with nothing but a crowd of people wrapped in their own world. One that some are not willing to invite him to. He watches them so clearly, trying not to stare, others staring, and sharing whispers. Then his eyes meet yours.

Golden eyes that you can always catch in any crowd. They shine his brilliance and never fail to make your heartbeat rush. Anyone would be lucky to have him look their way and right now that’s you, drinks in hand, you pick up your speed to get to him faster, but then his starburst eyes shut in something that resembles pain and then he’s gone…Rushing out of the room away from you.

Pausing you watch him leave, your heart sinking to your stomach. Swallowing down the feeling you place the cups on the nearest waiter's tray and run after him.

The hallways are dark as you follow after him. It only gets darker and darker, till you see him dipping into a side room, shutting the door behind him. It takes a bit of self-control on your part, not to rip the door off its hinges as you open it, but the site makes you slow down.

His tail twisted tightly to his leg, hands in his hair, and talking quickly in infernal. Gently you close the door behind you, and with a click lock giving you two privacy in the dark office. Rolan's shoulders tense at the sound of the lock, he can’t bear to look and see your disappointment. You carefully approach as he braces his hands down on the desk. His body so tight you think he will snap two.

“Rolan, wh-what happened?” 

Turning his head, his golden eyes shine through the darkness. And they see you perfectly. Face contorted in worry as you gently approach. Your face is the one he knows, the one he saw shining in the sunlight of the Grove, the face that saved him from shadows in the cursed land, the one who held his bruised face so gently promising Lorroakan would never hurt him again… the hero of the gate…his hero.

Then his eyes tail down, his Tav, the hero, dressed in the finest fabrics, a lady of Noble Birth, someone too good for someone like him.

In your eyes, you see him for what he truly is, a strong dreamer, someone who you would walk through the Hells for. A man so dedicated to the ones he loves, you want to love and care for him till your last breath.

“I don’t belong here…I am a joke…a monster for everyone to gawk at.” He finally confesses. 

Your eyes grow wide and all you feel is anger, “Did someone say something to you…do something?! Who? I swear I will-“ 

Before you can, march back into the ballroom and demand reconciliation with blood, you feel warmth wrapping around your shoulders and around your ankle. Rolan's warmth envelops you in his arms, holding you tightly to his chest. Clinging to his forearms you lean into him letting yourself calm.

“You're better than any of them…” you whisper

“Is that what you think?” he mutters in response

“Rolan it’s what I know, you're extraordinary.” 

Rolan’s arms tighten around you making you never want to leave his caress, but you still turn to look at him. placing a hand on his face, he’s perfect in your eyes…

“We are different…” he almost pouts

“I like our differences.” 

Rolan’s hands slip down to your waist. 

“Won’t they slander you, and your family's name?” 

“Not the people who matter to me…” your words like a promise

You lean into him rising to your toes to be only a touch away from his lips. You feel his breath fan across yours, and a rush of desire floods your body and mind.

“They will say I tainted you…” his hands caressing your face so gently

“They can go fuck themselves” 

The smile you two share is perfect, right before he presses his lips to yours. His lips caressed yours, setting your body a flame, his nails digging into the sides of your dress, and as you felt their points, you gasped and let him trail his lips sloppily on your jaw to your neck. Your mind melted at every rush of his lips, becoming more breathless as the pleasure of this moment crashed over you then pooling into an aching need in your lower stomach. All the blood and the thoughts rush to your swelling bud, leaving your mind in a haze of lust.

Rolan’s tongue licks down at your clavicle while his hands move to cup your breast. You can’t help but shake as he presses kisses and sucks marks to the tops of them. Rolan’s lips find yours again in hunger this time as his tongue seeks to taste more of you. Eargery you met his passion with your own tasting, his wine-laced tongue burning against yours. Undoing the buttons of his jacket you strip it off him in a rush. Once it’s off and tossed to the floor he breaks the kiss and whimpers against your lips, his chest vibrating under your fingertips in a purr. 

Turning you quickly, your thighs meet the side of the desk as his lips continue to caress your neck, removing your necklace to nip on your most sensitive spots, all you can do is moan and chant a series of ‘yeses’ and sweet mews of his name. He hums as he spoils himself, touching all over your form. 

“More, Rolan…I want to feel more,” your pant 

“Here?” The question is raspy and sends shivers through you to your sex. 

“Yes.” 

Rolan responds by peppering kisses all over you as he quickly gathers your skirt around your hips. Bending over you feel your face burn as you hear is breath hitch, 

“F-fuck…” he whispers 

You're already bare opting for no underwear, a destination you made on a meer whim but are happy with now. A whimper escapes him as he views you slick and puffy cunt for him, in a deep dialect he mutters something you can not understand that causes your slit to quiver. he no longer has patience his want takes control and you hear his frantic hands undoing his belt. 

The moment is eager and full of hunger, the want between you two building to this moment of passion. Rolan has your skirts gathered in a fist as he pushes his burning erection through you making your head spin. The moment is raw and hungry as he hisses from your walls so tight and soft around him, fuck, nobody told him how…soft humans were…

The feeling of the stretch is eye-watering as a lewd moan erupts from your throat, then the feeling of every ridge sliding and reshaping your velvet insides. The curve of his cock brings his sharp tip to find your sensitive spot, nudging and coating it in his burning precum, your toes curl in your heels as your vision blurs, tightening your grip on the oak desk. It's hot, intense, and the best pleasure you have ever felt. 

Rolan whimpers and moans as he pushes into your heat further. His face comes down to bury himself into your neck grunting in what sounds more like a whine. Sweat is sheening both of you now in this heated moment your only reprieve of coolness is his panting breath on your neck. Then his hand comes down to yours bracing you and he intervenes his fingers with yours before he gives a final thrust, his blazing tip now nudging on the deepest parts of you. Your slit is taut and your insides flutter against him as you get accustomed to his rigged girth. 

“Gods, you feel amazing. Practically sucking me in…” his rich voice rasps into your ear making you shudder. 

Taking a second to breathe in the scent of your sweaty neck and your cascading hair; further getting drunk off you. He rolls his hips back, and the drag of his ridges on your gummy walls is an unimaginable pleasure making you arch in a scream to your god. 

Pulling to the tip it’s only a second of emptiness before his hips are snapping back into you forcing all the air from your lungs. Continuing to thrust into you back and forth at a constant pace, you mew and grip his hand so tightly. Your arousal drips down his cock and your thighs as it's fucked out of you, desperate to coat his cock. 

“Their mighty hero…sweating and dripping for me. You're my girl…you have always been…”  

You can’t even think coherent thoughts only able to respond by arching your back further. The room is drowned in your cock drunk moans and his deep growling as your pussy continues to get ravished by him. Hot waves start to build up in your stomach leaving tingles in their wake as you approach your ecstasy. Rolan feels your trembling against his cock making him angle it in deeper. He’s right in his sentiment…you are his…as he is yours…the bond you share led to this moment of passion—the ultimate satisfaction of the want you have for each other. 

It's bliss and you rock your hips to meet his thrust, a chuckle escapes him before you feel the rough dragging being rewarded to your clit. It's warm and soft with lines of ridges dragging against you. It only dawns on you as you feel its spaded tip you realize he’s grinding his tail against your sticky sex. Both sensations make spots blur your vision as drool begins to pool in your agape mouth.  

In a silent scream, your orgasm crashes over you as all your essences coats him dripping down to fall on his boots and pooling to the floor. Rolan guides you through your high not stopping his thrust while your sex desperately grips him. A ring of creamy arousal forms where you both connect. The sight and feel of your overstimulated pussy fluttering is enough to cause his hips to still and his cock to throb shooting blissfully hot cum in thick spurts, filling you to the brim. The growl is guttural and vibrates through him as he comes down from his high.

Rolan presses his forehead to your shoulder blades as he stays within you for a moment longer letting his ridges smooth as his cock softens till finally pulling out. You can feel the mix of both releases leaking down your legs uncomfortably resisting the urge to beg him to finger it back in. 

“Wait one moment,” he says quickly with a soothing rub to your waist as you hear him digging around for his discarded jacket. 

Then very gently you feel a soft cotton cloth whipping you down to clean you. Soft ‘shhs’ and coos leave his lips and he is careful over your spet sex. He takes his time, then once you're cleaned and your dress is back down you face his back as he cleans himself, looking over his shoulder with a smile as he retucks himself. Leaning back against the desk you relish in watching him rebutton himself up so elegantly. 

His golden eyes stay on you as he gently caresses your sweaty face. Before he leaves he will snap his figures with a spell to clean you two of any lewd residue, but for now, he wants to relish your afterglow. You two stay in silent bliss and his eyes roam over your face, your fingers gently playing with the loose strains of his hair. He’s the first to speak up, 

“I want to court you properly.” 

Your eyes grow wide, and so does your smile, your heart racing, and sparks burst into your stomach. 

“If you were planning to court me, we have already messed up. You're not supposed to have sex beforehand.” 

“I don’t care; I’m not of noble blood, so I will do this my way.” there's that confidence.

Rolan pulls you in for a slow kiss that causes your heart to flip and your head to cloud in a pleasant fog. 

“Good,” you whisper 

Rolan backs up slightly and bows, causing you to giggle as he reaches for your hand. Placing your hand in his, you gently squeeze it as he brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly like a suitor would any proper lady.

[k-hotchoisan]

🔮 Divination with the Demon 🔮

Behemoth demon!San x fem witch! Reader

Synopsis: outcasted by your previous coven due to your overly sharp and dangerously specific divination readings of the fall of your coven, you were exiled to being alone for the next 562 years. Sick being in solitude and missing your deck, you summon a behemoth demon to make a new one.

Word count: 6K

Genre warnings: general Smut, San is an eldritch being so he has like a demon sized dick, ritualistic things (magic talk and lingo), demonic contract with San through unprotected sex, riding, multiple orgasms, creaming & cream pies, oral sex (f receiving) cum drinking (not a lot), bulge kink, finger pricks (only once), dry humping(?), biting and bleeding, San is a really sweet behemoth—just like the one in the game!❤️

A/n: loosely based off this wonderful game—The Cosmic Wheel, Sisterhood🔮 (please go ahead and support indie creators! ❤️). I was so inspired bc the behemoth in game is such a flirt hehehehe no please I’m down bad for enough people already. 😐

Enjoy!

“So you were exiled here due to treason within the coven, and concern of spreading panic via divination readings by the supreme”, the witch arbitrator announces as she reads out from the book. “You’ve been here for 289 years already?”

“Concerned is an overstatement”, you reply through gritted teeth. “She cursed me, banished me here for the next 562 years, and burned my deck. That’s pretty fucked up.”

The arbitrator raises an eyebrow as her gaze returns to the book. “Well I suppose I could grant you visitation at least because by the records here so far, you’ve been pretty-behaved.” Your temper cools off a little—just a little. It was a step forward, albeit a fucking tiny one. “Yes. I think that would be fine, Arbitrator. Thank you.”

She nods at you. “Behave well and I’m sure she can’t implicate anything else on you. Please take care”, she says before leaving the window on her flying stick. You stare as her figure quickly disappears into the starless night sky.

You sigh in annoyance. It was ridiculous how the supreme deemed your divination readings a threat, then subsequently accused you of treason and causing unrest within the coven, just because the other sisters had started leaning onto you for your accurate readings. Was she afraid of your prophesized dissolving of the coven, or was she simply scared of being overthrown? Whatever it was, being stuck here in solitude for 562 years, and your deck burned at the stake was not on your bingo list.

You nibble on your thumb nail, thinking of what to do. 289 years had passed since then, and all you had been doing was meditate and reflect on your actions. You had an itching to get your deck back—or least have a temporary deck or something. Your eyes flicker to your grimore lying at the bottom of your bookshelf and a lightbulb goes off in your head.

If you couldn’t get your deck back, why not make a new one? However the only issue is that a contract had to be made in order to breathe magick into the deck. You’ve never tried this ritual before but desperate times called for desperate measures—you really needed to do a reading.

You circle the wooden floor with your fingers, feeling the bumpy texture—each crease and indent. Retrieving your matchbox, you pull out the deep purple matchstick from the bundle, and began lighting the dark-coloured candles formed in a circle, and finally the incense sticks that were lodged in a miniature caldron, used for holding said sticks for your rituals.

Dabbing your your index finger with a black inky substance, you draw out a summoning rune onto the wooden surface, chants leaving your lips as you do so. It was a perfect full moon that night, just what you needed. You sit at edge of the summoning circle, with your grimore open at the side, carefully reading the spell.

Taking out a small silver needle, you prick your middle finger, letting the blood pool the size of a pinprick before letting the drop of blood splatter onto the middle of the black rune, reciting your final chant.

For a moment, the room is dead silent. Then the wind picks up, howling into the dead of the night, the flames on the candles dancing to keep burning, then being quickly extinguished one by one. Your curtains flutter violently, as you notice the full moon turning into a crimson colour. You stay seated as the wind whirls around you and the grimore’s pages flipping non stop. The rune activates, along with your blood which sinks into the black ink, and something slithers up to your window.

“Come in,” you invite, your gaze never breaking from the entity. It hisses at first before turning into a more human-sized creature as it enters your room, its feet gingerly touching the wooden floor.

The candles’ flames flicker back on, you look up at the entity standing before you. He barely looked like a behemoth demon—not like the one described in the book at all. Instead, he looked pretty fucking young—he has an appearance of a younger male actually. His eyes were silts as black and red markings smudged at the ends of his eyes. Speaking of his eyes—they were a glowing red, almost enchanting. Incantation runes were littered all over his arms and limbs, all visible since he was wearing a black vest. A third eye was present right smack in the middle of where his cleavage dived into, it’s iris a deep red as well. His hair is jet black with cream streaks and slicked back, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and facial features. His lips are stretched slightly wider than a human’s, and seemingly torn black wings extended out from his back.

He tilts his head at you in curiosity. “A witch summoned me?” he asks as he inches closer to you.

You nod, still seated. “I’ve summoned you to make a blood bind with you. I need a new deck.”

“Well, you’ve definitely summoned the right behemoth, that’s for sure. What happened to the deck you’ve been using?” he prods, his jet black fingers tapping on his chin.

“It was burned by my coven’s supreme. She banished me here because she was scared that the coven would dissolve because of my divinations”, you reply.

“Quite a bitch isn’t she?” the behemoth replies. You nod. At least someone fucking agrees.

He cracks his knuckles. “Well, you’ve definitely came to the right behemoth. They call me San”, he introduces as a smile spreads over his pretty face.

You smile. “You don’t look how what I expected you to look actually.”

And that cracks San up, his sharp fangs all visible. “I get that a lot. It’s just my secondary form I prefer to take on since the first usually can’t fit through windows.”

You surprise your laughter, amused at how casual this behemoth is being. “You’re pretty casual for a behemoth actually,” you point out.

San nods. “Well, I am an eldritch nonetheless, and I’ve been here since these universes were born—I’ve watched them be born and destroyed countless of times. I don’t really feel the need to be intimidating since I’ve been around for too long. You’re the first to have summoned me since the past 3 centuries.”

You nod in interest. “Must have been pretty fucking boring out there, huh?” San only smiles, and that slightly gets you. You look away and shut the grimore before turning back to him.

“So walk me through the process, San” you request. San moves forward and he sits across you, his boney wings tapping against the window panes at how wide they were.

“Well, you know the basics, but we’ll go through it together—the elements—fire, air, earth and water are always the building foundations of any deck. You get that, right?”

You nod.

He continues, “then we go onto the elements of each card—the Arcana—which will determine how you read and interpret the cards.”

Pretty basic deck stuff, but it was great that he was taking the time to refresh your memory since it had been way too long.

“I will go through each element with you per day—you’re basically going back to magick school again. Then once the final element is sealed, that’s when I’ll bind myself to you, through another ritual”, he concludes. “Any questions?”

“What’s the other ritual? Do I need to prepare anything?” You ask. San shakes his head. “The only thing you need to prepare is your consent.”

“Yeah, sure of course.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest y/n.”

Day one: Air

Sure enough, at the same timing as the previous night, San slithers into your open window, his serpent-like tail splitting into two, long legs as he climbs into your room.

“Good evening to the lovely behemoth”, you greet. San exposes his fanged grin. “I see you’re already prepared for the first lesson.” He glances at the empty deck of cards piled up on the small wooden table. Scattered around are more candles, another stick of incense, crystals and a bowl of ink for rune casting, and finally, a small crystal sword right by the plate.

He begins. “The element air represents the ability to reflect, communicate, to be aware and to perceive. Let that flow through your veins as you charge the card.”

You gingerly placed an empty card onto the selenite plate, and San sits across you, as usual as his fingertips touch yours, where he ends up linking his fingers with yours.

“It’s time to seal the card. Tell me,” San asks, “what do you crave for the most? Power? Love? Knowledge of the universe?”

You pause to think about your answer. And you tell him once you’re ready. He nods in agreement. “You seem like the type.” You roll your eyes.

“We literally just met yesterday, San” you joke. He shrugs, “feels like I’ve known you for an eternity.”

“Lying ass,” you poke. “But you did mention that the last time you did this was, what, three centuries ago?”

San nods. “It definitely has been awhile. To be fairly honest, I had an inkling we would meet soon, just not this soon.”

“And the universe brought you to me”, you hum. “Okay. Back to the Air ritual.”

He gestures you to shut your eyes and you do, so he follows shortly after.

It doesn’t take long for the magick to activate. You feel your energy getting sucked off by San and it feels though as if your body was about to be ripped into a million pieces. San throws his head back in pleasure as a low, manic cackle rumbles through his vocal chords.

“Yes, that’s lovely. Pour in all that energy into me, master”, he sings. He soon lets go of you, and you gasp for air, beads of perspiration clinging onto your forehead and temples. Your hands had slipped out his and you clutch your chest, taking slow breaths.

“Fuck, San, is it supposed to hurt so much?” You heave, eyebrows furrowed. How in Astaroth’s name will you be able to pull through the next three elements if Air is already leaving you clutching for your fucking life? Granted, witches are immortal, they cannot die, but they can still be gravely wounded.

San turns to you and pats your back gently. “I’m sorry my master, it is part of the blood contract. If it makes you feel better, you only have to go through this once per element.”

You stare at him in disbelief, unsure if you should be concerned or relieved. San materialises a silk handkerchief and dabs the sweat off your skin, and your heart flutters slightly at the gesture. Also, since when did he start calling you ‘Master’?

“Your first air card is ready”, he reminds you. “Now you can create more air elemental cards. Be proud of yourself, my master.” He points to the glowing card on the selenite plate. You reach over and flip the card, and sure enough—what you had envisioned on the card was imprinted onto the once empty card. It glimmers a gorgeous white at its accents. You feel the light and airy feeling surging through your hands as you touch the card, and your heart is racing at how many air cards you can begin creating.

He intertwines his fingers with yours, to steady yourself, and you notice that the third eye on his chest was white now. Your breathing has stabled now and you lie onto your bed where San hums you to sleep, telling you to get some rest.

Day 2: Water

“Are you feeling better?” San asks as he hops into your room. You nod, feeling a strange surge of energy after a night’s rest. The sky was always the same—dark and starless.

“We can start with today’s element”, you say, prepared for the class.

San smiles and nods, as always, he takes a seat across you, and you can’t help but get lost in his crimson eyes.

“Water is all about flow, dealing with emotions, fluidity, spirituality. It is a passive element, often linked with healing and love. However, most witches tend to forget that the calmest elements can be the most deadly when used right.”

Undoubtedly, water was always of both opposite spectrums—extremely calm or extremely malevolent if it wanted to be. Today, you had a small chalice decorated in jewels on the body, filled with moon-charged water. You take another empty card, and begin sketching out the rune you want, with your first water card in your head, clear as day before settling it onto the plate. Once you were done, San’s fingers snake in between yours, and you’re starting to get used to this feeling already.

“Now, the Water seal. Tell me; who or what do you hold closest to your heart? You family? Your intelligence? The coven?

It takes you awhile to think of an answer but then you’re confident when it comes to you. San nods as he lets the answer sink in. “I was kind of hoping you’d stray and say my name, yknow,” he teases. You laugh and slap his palm lightly. “It very well could be. It’s kind of hard to pick though honestly. Maybe I just want to feel something again.”

San cocks an eyebrow, quite touched by your passion. “May this lift any heaviness you feel then”, he says, drawing circles into your palm. Your heart only flutters even more.

“Take a deep breath, master. The element will be sealed soon.”

Just like the previous time, the magick activates, and again, you feel a sharp pain, as if struggling against rough tides of water, your breath sucked out of you. San, humming as he absorbs your energy again, his eyes glowing a pale shade of blue this time. You exhale to get a hold of yourself as the feeling washes over as quickly as it came, clutching the edge of your table. You take deep breaths, your vision focusing on the blue glowing card on the selenite plate. You flip the card over, the serotonin boost seeing how gorgeous the water card was—metallic blue covering the borders of the card and the elements within the card at perfect places.

“I should give you a reading for fun”, you suggest, your fingertips tracing the edges of the card. San’s eyes light up at the idea. “We should do one when you’ve got all four elements. I’d love that.”

You slip the card above the Air element card, clearing out the table, preparing to get some rest as San accompanies you through the night.

Day three: Earth

“Now, Earth is known to be an element of grounding, practically, foundation and stability. It reminds you of who you are at the present moment and gives you a place to stand on”, San explains, flicking the coins on the table. “Just like the ground, it is reliable because it is strong enough to hold you up. The only thing is that it’s hard on you as you are hard on yourself.”

“Tell me; what do you tend to harbour the most? Grudges? The past? Emotions?” He asks again. You tap against your lips, wondering about the answer, and then you tell him once you were ready. He nods in acknowledgement. “Interesting answer, as always from you. You’d probably have a lot you held in, especially in the past hundreds years in solitude.”

“Meditation can only get you so far, when you remember that you were exiled for telling the truth”, you say quietly, staring at the moon, which had turned into a shade of ivory. “My sisters were everything to me.”

San knew that very well. Witches treated each other closer than what a conventional family did. A coven was supposed to protect and bond the sisters, not outcast them.

“But do you still have sisters that you want to see?”

You nod, your eyes twinkling at the thought of two precious sisters who had been there through everything. And you yearned to see them again, now even possible that the arbitrator had granted visitation rights. Maybe you’d send a falcon to them once you were done with your deck creation.

“Now, shall we begin? You’d best prepare yourself, master,” San says as he takes your hand in his. You feel your hands moulding into his automatically, nothing but comfort being offered.

Again, San begins extracting your energy and this time was no different from the previous—it stung, it hurt and a wave of nausea hits you this time. Through the ringing in your ears, you hear San’s laughter as the magick seems to tickle him if anything. And then, it was over.

You tilt your head backwards, trying to get some cool air, trying to let the nausea leave your system.

You feel a warm hand pat your back, then rubbing circles.

“You know, most witches would immediately throw up after this round. You’re holding up really well.”

“Guess I’m one of the best witches then?” You find the strength to joke a little. San laughs and replies, “one of my favourites too.”

The nausea soon goes away and colour starts returning to your cheeks. By then, you were already holding the Earth element card up against the moonlight, admiring the sand-coloured decals lined across the card, as well as the border.

Day four: Fire

San looks rather chirpy tonight, there was a bounce in his steps as he settles himself onto the lavender carpet. “Someone’s excited,” you smirk, putting one of your spell books away.

“Of course! Fire’s my favourite element”, he exclaims, playing around with your unfinished deck. You’ve had created a handful of elemental cards already, 12 of each element, while San was both in and out of your room. All there was left was the Fire element and the deck could almost be complete—you could already taste it. You already did a couple of readings as a warm up with San and you found out a couple of things through the divination readings.

One, his true purpose—other than aiding in the creation of divination decks—was to destroy other universes and guide the dead stars to the recreation of a new one.

Two, despite his chirpy demeanour, the cards revealed that there was some kind of loneliness he harbours, being detached and left to watch over the cosmos for millenniums.

Three, you sort of deduce that he was summoned also to seduce you in some sort of way—and he finds that amusing, and he doesn’t deny it.

Needless to say, San is greatly impressed by your divination skills and offhandedly mentions that he’s in love with the cosmos for bringing him to someone like you.

Soon enough, the both of you were back to business—sitting across each other, a wooden wand splayed across the table this time round.

He begins.

“Fire—the element of willpower, ambition and energy. Those who are able to wield this, wield it well, those who can’t—it takes them awhile. Fire is for inspiration, drive, passion. One of the most beautiful yet difficult elements to control. In the beginning, mankind was the first and the only mammals to be able to manipulate fire.”

“No wonder you like this element so much”, you point out as you scribble the rune onto the empty card.

“If you’re able to handle earth, fire might be a level up in intensity. Don’t push yourself if you can alright?” San reminds you, and you could spot the excitement glinting in his eyes. “Now for the seal; who would you sacrifice to the cosomos for your divination deck? Your immortality? Your coven? Or your family?”

That question weighs heavily in your mind and San gives you the time to answer as he plays with your fingers. You finally give him your answer, and he nods in understanding. “You’re willing to let that go?” You nod.

He smiles, “as long as you know it’s the right choice for you. Let’s begin.”

The ritual starts as usual—the swirl of flames from the candles, the howl of the winds. You prep yourself for the burn and it comes—albeit painfully. San’s eyes are fully engulfed in crimson red now, glowing as he feeds into your energy.

“Beautiful! Your essence is beautiful master! I’ve never felt such extraordinary energy from a witch!” He cries out as red fluid leaks down from his eyes. The runes and symbols on his limbs start glowing and his wings expand, filtering the moonlight. That is all you could remember before your mind buzzes, your ears ring and your head pounds as you black out.

Day ??

Your eyes flutter open, and something is different—you feel it. All the pain you’ve felt has faded, as if it never happened. In fact, energy was surging through you—so much energy. You slowly sit up as you look around the room. Everything looks the same as when you finished the fourth ritual. Perfectly at that moment, San emerges from the darkness and appears slightly different—his hair was slightly longer, his eyes had red smudges, which for some reason made him look even more attractive, and the third eye on his chest was a bright red.

“Hey, you’re awake”, he exclaims as he levitates over to you.

“Was it successful?” You ask. San furrows his eyebrows.

“My master, you were out cold for a couple of days, and the only thing you’re worried about is if the Fire ritual was successful? Care for yourself a little more would you?” San pouts as he pulls a cup of cold water into your arms with his magic.

You thank him softly as you take small sips.

“I was out for a few days from the ritual?” You ask again. San nods. Apparently you blacked out just right after San had finished feeding you, and he had caught you in time before you hit the floor.

“How are you feeling though? Any pain?” He asks, concerned as he brushes his fingers across your forehead. You shake your head and tell him you feel a little more different—more powerful or something. San pulls out the beautiful Fire card, reminding you of your craft. You break into a smile as you take the card off his hands and embrace him into a hug.

Now there was only one ritual left—whatever it was. San hasn’t told you yet and you were too engrossed with creating your cards that it slipped your mind.

“The last ritual,” you say, and you notice slight red tinting his cheeks and your curiosity peaks.

“The last ritual, is to bind us together”, he pauses, “through sex.”

Your jaw drops. “Holy fucking shit. Are you serious?”

San nods. “Yeah I am a behemoth in contract after all. That’s why I uh, said the only thing you needed to prepare for for the final ritual was your consent.”

It wasn’t about that. It was about you being fucked by a demon. You haven’t had physical contact with a human for years, let alone a whole ass demon.

“It might hurt compared to a mortal’s but I’ll try my best to be gentle”, he continues. But you see his confidence slowly dwindle the more you stay silent. “I need to consume your blood through biting as well in order for the pact to be bonded by blood.”

You never thought this would be how the contract would finish. Butterflies filled your stomach as you realise how attracted you were to this behemoth who, despite existing since the birth of the cosmos, was gentle and a soft, even a flirt. If anything, it was almost an honour to be one with him.

“Please, San. We can start the ritual. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else to do it with,” you confess as you leave yourself vulnerable for him. That sealed your consent, and the markings on his limbs start glowing again. San held an expression of relief and affection. He reaches out to you and traps you on the bed, in between his arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so happy to hear that”, San confesses next, and his eyes glow a soft, dark red hue. You could see he was trying to hold back.

He leans in slowly and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He is lips are soft and there was a slight burn as you kissed him, but it only drives you to want to indulge in him even more. Only behemoth demons could taste this good. Maybe only San.

You feel his appendage hardening above you and your heart races. He wasn’t kidding—he was way bigger than any of your previous mortal partners. No way was he gonna fit in you. But at the same time, the challenge of trying to take him was exhilarating to think about.

As the kiss continues to deepen, San pulls off his vest, revealing it bare, and you realise that only his limbs were covered in symbols. He peels off your top and tosses it onto the floor as he continues to kiss down to your chin then to your neck. You exhale in pleasure as your fingers find locks of his hair. His tongue licks your neck and it drives you crazy from the slight pricks.

Your bare tits are out for him to gawk at and he dives into them, licking and squeezing them, only pooling the arousal in between your legs.

Your grip on his hair tightens as your soft moans increase in pitch.

“Does that feel good, master?” San asks as he shifts forward to give you a kiss.

You trace some of the runes on his muscled arm, recognising a few of it. “You’ll look even prettier when my rune is engraved onto you, San”, you flirt, and you feel his cock harden even more, pressing against your cunt. “Of course, only for you, master,” he hums as he rubs you against him, and your mind starts getting lost in the pleasure. He peppers kisses down from your nipples, to your abdomen, then your pelvis and finally to your pulsating pussy.

He spreads your legs, glancing up at you before licking your clitoris, the small barbed edges of his tongue causing your hips to jerk upwards. He dives in deeper, wanting to turn you into a mess.

San slowly plunges two fingers into your wet cunt, swallowing hard at how tight your pussy was, imagining how his cock would definitely fucking stretch you out perfectly. He glances up again, looking at you for a reaction before continuing to pump his fingers. Your moans fill the room as he finger fucks you in bliss, hitting the perfect spot. He adds another and your hips lift from the pleasure. It takes a while for you to adjust, and he pulls out his fingers, soaked in your essence. He gives his fingers a good suck.

“Witches tend to have good tasting essences, and yours just happens to taste the best.” Red creeps across your cheeks.

He removes his pants and underwear, revealing a girthy cock, red and angry, spilling with precum. You had to touch the sides of your lips to make sure you weren’t drooling too much. Fuck, how are you gonna take that in you?

“You’re gonna be fine”, San assures. “Tell me if it’s too much for you okay?”

You nod and San presses his tip at your entrance, and pushes in. Your eyes roll back as he pushes another inch in. Fuck, even the heavens could never compete with this feeling of pleasure. San pauses for second and your eyes flicker to his face, which is contorted in pleasure. He seemed like he was about to explode—and he wasn’t even fully in you yet.

“Y/n, you’re so tight. Gods, you’re squeezing me so good”, he pants, his grip tightening against the sheets beside you.

You decide to be a tease, and you shift your cunt deeper into your cock, and San fucking loses it. His eyes were flickering from crimson red to a lighter shade of red. “My master,” he pants in between. “If you’re gonna do it like that, the heavens won’t know what I’d do if I lost control.”

And that provokes you to tease him even more as you push yourself deeper, at the same time bringing your pleasure to almost a fever pitch. San groans as he pushes the rest of him into you.

“Fuck, San, you feel so amazing. If I knew you’d feel this good, I would have summoned you way earlier”, you cry out as he barely pulls out fully before rutting back into you.

San doesn’t forget to pamper you with kisses. It stings, definitely, but the pleasure is definitely overriding the pain. In fact, the pain was probably egging the pleasure even more.

His fingers trace the bulge at where his cock lies in you. “We fit so well, Master. Don’t you think so?”

You were starting to feel to fucked out to form any rational thought, but you nod, staring at him through hooded lids. He fucks into you a couple more times before you stop him. San’s face switches to an expression of concern immediately.

“I want to ride you. I want to feel your cock fully in me, San”, you barely say, rubbing his face gently with your thumb. He sighs in relief as he pulls out of you, causing you to cry in pleasure again, a string of precum connecting his cock to your pussy.

He takes your hand and guides you to his lap as the both of you get comfortable on his lap.

You adjust yourself to sit on his cock and you start grinding against him, the mix of his and your precum reducing the friction and enhancing the pleasure. You made sure you move forwards to reach the tip of his cock and grind backwards. San throws his head back, crying from pleasure as more precum leaks from his sensitive tip. Grinding up on his cock was making you even more soaking wet, sparking even more pleasure as your clit rubs against his wet cock. You continue to swerve your hips on his cock, loving the slight friction that tingles your core. It builds up from the previous time he ate you out, and when he fucked you in missionary.

“How does that feel, Master?” San asks, half lidded. He was starting to get lost in the pleasure every time you grind up to his tip.

“It feels amazing. I think I’m gonna cum-“ you fight to finish the sentence as you speed up, feeling your orgasm approaching sooner than you expected. You cry out in bliss, your orgasm flooding you as your pussy pulses against San’s twitching cock. San is doing everything in his power not to just lift you and fuck you like this, seeing how soaked you were in pleasure with him.

You feel his hands trail up to your ass as he lifts you up gently, angling his cock at your entrance, and slowly lets you go. Your hands press hard against his naked chest as tears start pooling at the corners of your eyes, while drool starts pooling at the corners of your lips as you sink onto his cock.

“You can take me, Master. I know you can”, he whispers into your ears. You sink in deeper to his length and your fingers dig into San’s broad shoulders. His hands snake to your thighs and he cheekily pushes you down and you scream from the fullness of his cock.

“There you go. There’s my good Master. I love how your pussy feels around my cock”, San encourages. He lifts your ass and drops you back into his cock. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

You nod. “So good it’s almost sinful”, you mange out. San snickers. “Nothing too sinful if a behemoth is fucking you so well.”

You lean in for a kiss, and this surprises San but he immediately reciprocates, deepening the kiss quickly.

Soon enough, you are just mindlessly bouncing in his cock, every thrust sending you closer to the edge. San struggles to keep it together as well, as you feel him rutting his hips up.

“Master, I’m gonna cum”, San says, with an expression of desperation and desire.

“Go ahead. You’ve been doing so well”, you reply as you comb his hair back. He leans in, lips attached to your neck as he continues to fuck into you desperately. He bares his fangs and bites into you as his cock spurts into your cunt, filling you up to the brim. Blood pools at the base of your neck, and you cry from the simultaneous pain and pleasure, your second orgasm hitting you right at that point as you cream all over San’s cock.

San licks up the blood on your neck, and the skin heals almost as quickly as it broke just mere seconds ago, and he’s still fucking cumming in your pussy, his lower abdomen twitching.

He removes his lips from your neck and blood stains pool at the corner of his lips. You lift yourself off his cock, his cum just dripping out of your pussy. San holds you gently as he uses his free hand to collect the mixture of fluids on his fingers. He pushes his cum-covered fingers to you and you take it eagerly, savouring the taste albeit it being salty. He takes his turn to lick his hands.

“The contract has been sealed, master”, San confirms, and his eyes glow a bright red.

“That’s lovely. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else, San”, you smile as you plant a kiss on his lips, which takes him by surprise, but he seems nothing less of satisfied.

As the planet begins to shift from the blood pact being created, it shakes the universe. You don’t know what’s about to happen, nor do you care. A burst of energy enters you as you levitate into the air, feeling the energy of the cosmos, as well as elements of the deck. Your cards shuffle, and float around you, and you see all of your creations in its glory. Your own divination deck, bonded to you by blood.

You take a deep breath in, as you settle back onto the bed, your cards shuffling back into its deck, onto the selenite plate. Something catches your attention, and you walk over to the full length mirror leaning against the wall. Something is glowing. You gasp, looking at the behemoth’s rune engraved into your skin, a beautiful crimson red as the glow fades. San, right behind you, tracing over your rune fondly. You look up to him and you notice he has the same rune engraved into this skin—and the only rune around his chest.

“Now we’re official bonded. You did so well, my master,” he compliments, stroking your hair gently, understanding how taxing the rituals must have been, still admiring the shared runes you both had on your bodies. “I will make you happy, I promise.” Your heart skips at beat at his words.

“San”, you call out, even though he’s standing right by you. He hums in attention, his eyes now on you.

“Do you think we could do this more often? Like the fucking?”

San is stunned for a moment as he processes the question. No one had asked him that before. Usually the binding rituals were solely to bind the energies of the witch and behemoth, and it is never done again. He’s confused but he agrees, seemingly happy that you enjoyed the ritual with him.

And that’s what you drown yourself in—doing divination readings for others and San as well, and taking his cock whenever you felt like it. It was too good to pass on. Not to mention he was so good at aftercare—making sure you were alright after every session. Undoubtedly, San, himself, was really starting to enjoy having sex with you as well.

You couldn’t think of wanting anything else.

[cactusisconfused]

I have yet another idea. (Apologies for any grammar mistakes.) Some magic item turns Ghost into a kid, panic ensues.

-

The mission is straight forward in more ways than one. Intel confirms that the object that they are to be retrieving from the enemy is a highly dangerous weapon- a mission the 141 have ran more times than they could count. When asked about this weapon from Price to Laswell, she gave an easy confirmation, confident in the Intel gained. Confident in the location, the faces who were holding it- hell, they even knew the exact patterns for potential weather. Something so straight forward should’ve been the easiest thing they’ve ever done.

But it wasn’t.

Of course it wasn’t.

The mission itself went fine. The weather was just as it was described to be, same with the amount of people guarding the rusted old warehouse where this weapon of destruction was being stored. All four of the 141 made quick work of the enemies inside and out, eventually leading them to a small room where the weapon is stowed in. Upon entrance, the case sits in a desk, at an angle and on top of scattered pieces of paper. The case itself looks average, silver with black corners.

Soap approaches the case with care and observes it to clarify if the weapon could possibly be hooked up to an explosive or simply even be an explosive. Once he deemed that the four of them wouldn’t turn into a crisp, soap opened the case with swift but efficient hands.

Inside sits…something none of them were expecting.

Instead of a new weapon or some in the works chemical, there sat a black cube with an almost polished obsidian sheen to it. Upon closer inspection, letters are engraved on the edges of each side of the cube in a neat thin line. Soap scrambles to come up with what language is written but comes out with naught. He wonders for a brief moment if the lines are some scrambled code, but again, nothing fit.

With a sigh, soap calls over ghost to inspect the cube. Soap had learned a few months ago that ghost is apparently taken up a fascination with various languages and became very knowledgeable on the subject, something he was apparently into since he was a kid.

Ghost moves over to soap, Gaz taking his spot at covering the door with price. Carefully, ghost leans in, his eyes squinting slightly to focus on the engravings. Soap watches as ghost’s mind works and after a few moments ghost speaks.

“Is it safe to touch?” Ghost’s voice is quiet, a telltale sign that he’s focused.

With a nod Soap speaks, just as quiet. “Aye, don’t see any signs that it’s an explosive. Give it caution though.”

Ghost lets out a slight grunt and switches to hold his gun in his left hand. Carefully he reaches out to the cubic object and grazes the top face of it. The feeling is smooth and cool despite the barrier of his gloves. Ghost hand moves over the letters and sighs.

The letters look more like runes than anything if a Latin or Arabic alphabet. Some look familiar, like the line that cuts through itself at angle could possibly be a T or an X- or he could just be completely wrong. All and all he doesn’t recognize them.

“Got anything L.T?” Soap asks, his eyes flicking between ghost’s searching and the door.

“Negative. I’ve never seen this before.”

“What do you think it is then?” Soap asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Ghost observes the black cube in front of him a moment longer. “Not sure. Could be made up. Either way, we need to get it back to base and evaluated.”

Soap nods and looks towards price. “Package is secure.”

Price opens his mouth to speak to give new directives when the engravings in the cube begin to glow white, constant clicking sound beginning just seconds after.

Before any of them can act, besides price shouting a quick “Get down!”, the room becomes shrouded in a blinding white light- worse than any flash bang any of the 141 have gone through.

The light slowly dims after a few seconds, though it feels much more like an eternity. They all lay prone on the ground for a moment, each trying to blink the tears from their eyes.

“Any of you broken?” Price’s voice is gruff as it cuts through the panic that filled the room. Soap shakes his head and gives thumbs up as he squeezes and opens his eyes in rapid succession.

“I’m good.” Gaz lets out in a breathy tone as he moves to stand, using the door frame as a support. “Bloody hell, was that a flash bang? I didn’t see anyone.”

Price shakes his head, he didn’t see anything either.

“It was that fuckin’ cube. Started glowing and- shit, Simon?” Soap’s eyes finally cleared enough to see ghost on the floor, his body unmoving. He doesn’t understand how it took him and the other two this long to take ghost into account, they just got hit with a bright light, not an RPG. He’ll be the first to say that cube is a fucking curse.

Without a second thought, Soap scrambled over to ghost quickly then pausing just as fast. Simon isn’t- something’s wrong.

Something is very wrong.

Because where Ghost was standing right in front of the case now lays a kid. A scrawny, blonde haired kid with a shiner on his right eyes and a split lip. He looks no more than thirteen.

The room becomes utterly still as the other two realize what they are seeing. Price’s eyes widen in confusion and something akin to dread.

The silence is shattered with a sharp sting as the kid in Simon’s place sits up and rushes to back against the closest wall. The kid’s eyebrows are furrowed in anger, but his eyes are wide. His one brown eyes and one hazel eye. Simon’s eyes.

Shit.

Shit.

“Who are you- where the fuck am I?!” Kid Simon’s eyes flick quickly between Soap, Gaz and Price. Thankfully, Price is quick enough to get through his stupor and speak. The captain makes his face and voice softer- as soft as he can on an active mission.

“Easy son, we’re friendly.” Price puts his hands up in surrender. This however has the exact opposite effect as kid Simon snarls.

“Don’t call me son. Why should I fuckin’ believe you? What do you work with my dad?!” Simon’s British accent is just as thick as ever in his younger voice. The mention of Simon’s dad makes the room feel like it’s spinning. In one swift moment, the room feels like it’s spinning. Price cringes at the comment while Gaz look worried and utterly confused. Soap knows some of Simon’s past, and even then that’s lenient. Soap knows some about ghosts mother, that she was sweet and cared for Simon and his younger brother who he never got a name for. When he spoke of his father- if he ever spoke with of father, it was barely more than a few cut words. Enough to get the impression that Simon’s father wasn’t exactly someone you would want to be around.

Price began to open his mouth after quickly trying to find the right words to dissolve this situation as much as possible, mainly due to the fact that they’re still on an active mission and don’t exactly have all the time in the world. His soon to be words are cut off as footsteps and shouting began to make their way around the building- definitely not friendlies.

“Simon, I know you don’t know what’s going on, we can explain it later. But right now, you need to listen to us.” Soap cuts in, hoping that maybe Simon would at least vaguely recognize soap enough to semi trust them. To his surprise it works, or maybe it’s just the fact that bullets ricocheting off of walls became audible and the kid got scared. Either way, with a low grunt, kid Simon closed his mouth and nodded.

Soap tried giving the kindest smile he could muster and nodded at ghost. Quickly he stood and shut the case containing the cursed cube inside of it. The sound of footsteps have began to grow closer and Gaz and Price are by the door at the ready. Soap checks in gown weapons and tells kid Simon to get behind him.

This is going to be a long day.

-

Wow ok, this became a lot longer than I planned. I might do another part to this because this somehow broke me out of writers block?

For my sanity I’m also gonna put this here (because the internet is weird). Kid Simon and soap ARE NOT TOGETHER because that’s fucking gross.

[mondaymelon]

𖥔 ݁ ˖⩇⩇:⩇𝟣.𖥔 ݁ ˖

⤷ a halloween event hosted by @mondaymelon !!

taglist: @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @silaswritesthings, @neigesprincess, @mintydump, @kaeffeinee !!

“...That’s the briefing. Any questions?” Sango uncrossed her arms, glancing up from the paper she was reading off of. It was a chilly evening at the Bantan Sango Detective Agency, and you regretted not bringing an extra layer of clothing with you to work.

You sighed, your exhale turning white in the frosty air. The sky had already blended black, tiny pin pricks of bright stars resembling white paint scattered on a midnight canvas hung like a dusty backdrop. The days had been growing colder of late, and the maple leaves that loosely clung to the trees now blanketed the cobblestone streets. “Typical of you to hand me over to some tiring task right before the festival… that other guy, genius detective Shikanoin Heizou, why not ask him instead and spare me the trouble?”

The brunette’s expression grew strained. “You know I don’t talk to him anymore. Besides, he quit a long time ago. He works for the Tenryou commission now, and I hear that quite the skilled man. Wherever he is, he always finds a way to boast about him, I suppose…” Her voice trailed off with an exasperated groan. “It doesn’t matter. Are you going to take the job or not?”

“Do I really have a choice?” Judging by her scammer-like smile, you already knew the answer before you asked the question.

“Nope.” And just like that, she thrusted the manila folder of information into your arms, several pieces of paper flying out of it in the process. “Have fun, I’ll see you at the Halloween Festival later!” She sprinted away before you could even get in another word.

As expected. Sango was rather stone-faced, yet she only grew more and more animated as you got to know her. You didn’t know exactly what happened between her and that redhead detective, but you weren’t one to pry for details the other wasn’t willing to provide. Besides, you still had Ryuuji to pester for help… not. He had long since gone home for a weekend vacation.

“This is why I’m miserable.” You shook your head, reluctantly glancing through the information in the files given.

[ 48 missing people.

No attacks on children. Prime targets seem to be young adults regardless of gender.

Only three bodies have been retrieved.

Bodies are drained of blood. Puncture wounds in neck. Inscriptions on body...

Last event was Oct 24. Tanaka Oda, aged 24. Inferred to have gone missing at night. Had gambling problems but otherwise was a clean slate. ]

“Shit, this sounds like something from a legend… couldn’t these just be wild animal attacks?” You examined the photos, spotting the sunken eyes and dry flesh. “Ah, but unless it was an 8 foot tall bat… and the runes. How the fuck would a bat write? The work of a cult, maybe? Human sacrifice has been a thing before, and that would certainly explain the markings on the corpses, would it not…?” You didn’t have enough evidence to come to conclusions now, nor the sufficient amount of sleep. You had never exactly been the most intelligent, which made you question why Sango had even assigned this case to you in the first place. To give it to the least capable detective in the workforce must’ve meant that it must be an insignificant mystery, right? Then it’d only be a while until all the threads came unraveled. That, at the very least, provided you with a sense of comfort.

That sensation was a fleeting one, shattered by the shrill cry of a woman in the distance. High-pitched. Terrified. You snapped your head up, hastily shoving the evidence in your arm and sprinting towards the sound. It happened again, a broken cry piercing through the misty night. Smoky tendrils swirled in the air and curled around your ankles.

Where had the civilians gone? There wasn't a soul in sight. There were no lights in the windows. Food stands were left unattended as smoke rose from their stoves.

You pulled out into a clearing. There she was. She couldn't have been more than twenty years of age, her paper-white skin contrasting with the pink on her cheeks. Her kimono was strewn, creased as if someone had grabbed her with force. You could see the blood seeping from the bite wound on her neck. Her skin was icy cold. Her pulse had gone dead.

No. Not a wild animal.

This... A word, one spoken in storybooks, flashed in your mind.

There wasn't time to dwell on it. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. There was someone. In the alleyway. They had seen everything.

"Huk...!"

He made a sound, then his body crumpled to the ground.

His inanimate corpse glowed with a sinister energy. Lines of foreign words circling around his arms and chest blazed forth, shining a deep red against the black night. A tongue you couldn't comprehend. A forgotten, ancient language that had long since been buried.

His body gave a spasm, shaking. It was as if he was a doll, and his joints creaked and groaned as they bent in upon themselves. Where his heart should have resided instead was a crystal-cut ruby, quivering in the open air. His eyes bulged, and then they were no longer there, bursting into a fountain of red. Then, he stilled.

He didn't move again.

Silence. Suffocating. There was something building in the back of your throat. You could taste the bitter bile on your tongue.

"F...Fuck."

Two bodies, cruelly bent and misshapen. The woman in the clearing, the blood pooling from her wounds growing cold. Her face was an almost ashen gray, and her dead marble eyes stared blankly into the sky. What was there to look at?

Then, the man. Twisted arms hung morbidly from his frame. His bloody, mangled sockets lay bare as they gazed at nothing at all. His bloodied body slowly dissipated as ashes in the wind. It was the smell of iron.

You exhaled a shallow breath. You could feel the tremble of your hands as you held them over your mouth. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. You wanted to scream, cry. You shouldn't. You couldn't.

Droplets of crimson lay scattered on the ground. A trail of blood.

Blackened remains of the cursed. A trail of his ashes.

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛʀɪᴀʟ.

next

[d4rkshad0w]

i read the shadowhunter chronicles and i also read percy jackson and someone please tell me that it’s not just me when i say that Kit and Ty and Will and Nico are not the same people just in a different universe, but then they are also very different haha keep reading

Ty and Nico - both are kinda gothy, well Nico is, and Ty just prefers to wear black and gives a dark academia vibe, they both practice the art of ✨necromancy✨, but they can also be super different because Ty is calm and careful where Nico is dangerous violent, Ty loves animals and nature where Nico’s not really into that i think they just give the same vibes they also both have black hair

Kit and Will - both give off major golden retriever boyfriend, they both have blonde hair and have a fun light personality (sorta) they both love their boyfriends (official and unofficial) very much and would do anything (including necromancy with them) for them they both sorta give off surfer boy vibes to me, but some differences are Will is a healer and Kit doesn’t really care what happens to himself, (Ty also gave him his first healing rune so i guess Ty’s sorta the healer in that relationship😅) Will grew up in texas and Kit grew up in LA

in some ways you can say Will and Ty are more alike and Kit and Nico are more alike

Will and Ty, they’re both the careful ones and more calm than Kit and Nico who are more alike since they are both sorta reckless

sorry if it was a little long but i hope you see what i mean if you read these book series, Will and Kit give off golden retriever boyfriend where Nico and Ty give off dark “✨vibes✨”

[broke-art]

SPOILERS WARNING THIS HAS SOME PRETTY HEAVY SEASON FOUR SPOILERS.

M.k practically dragged you towards flower fruit mountain causing you to stumble a bit.

"So you're saying you unlocked a cursed scroll and were attacked by DBK, Iron fan, Spider Queen, Nezha, and some other demons you've never seen before?" Tang asked.

"No," M.k released your wrist allowing you to rub away the slight sore spot he'd left from tugging you along so unexpectedly. "I'm saying we were attacked by INK VERSIONS of DBK, Iron fan, Spider Queen, and all those other ones you just said." He clarified simply as though that was obvious somehow.

You glanced around seeing nothing amiss other than the massive troves of items Monkey king had 'borrowed' in his very extensive lifetime whilst your friends spoke among themselves.

"Well it looks like what ever it was is gone now." You pointed out as kindly as you could without sounding accusing.

M.k dashed about throwing gusts of wind in your face likely without thinking.

"Hey you're right! Whew. No ink demons!" He cheered.

"Hey, I think I found the scroll!" Sandy announced lifting a band of blackened wood pieces rolled together.

"Sandy wait!" M.k yelled as the scroll unfurled.

Instantly black ink spilled from the scroll and thunder clapped.

Sandy released the scroll and the black in absorbed it into it's depths as it grew. Figures began to emerge from the pitch inky depths their eyes shimmering an otherworldly blue that sent a chill through your blood.

"Aight, Tangy!" Mei cheered grabbing Tang and tossing him forward. "You're up!"

Tang stood up and yelled to the mass with what you could only call an empty ultimatum before versions of the gang's ancestors began to appear from the black muck. And just then they attacked.

You released a small scream as the black goo charged at you. The only reaction you had time for was to shoot your arms up Infront of your face when a Jade barrier appeared between you and the goo.

With a small gasp you stumbled backwards flinching as the black liquid slammed against the barrier which never so much as cracked under the barrage.

Suddenly you felt M.k grab your shoulders and yank you backwards just as glowing blue and yellow streaks shot past you creating a barrier of their own.

Just then a large lionesque man stepped past you, M.k, and Mei. He twirled his sword making Mei's eyes go wide.

"Oooo I want that!" She fangirled to herself.

Just then two more figures emerged from the ink a birdlike figure and and elephant one. They shouted simultaneously words you couldn't decipher. But your gaze flicked back to the Lion.

He released a small sigh.

"Forgive me, brothers." He uttered quietly before brandishing his sword. Each swing shot light strands that beat the ink backwards before banishing it altogether. Then he shot out an arm his hand glowing blue.

The scroll took on an aura of the same hue, floated into the air, and a rune appeared above it which seemed to suck the remaining ink back in, then sealed the scroll.

You blinked as the scroll fell into the lion's grasp. His gaze remained on it musingly before both M.k and Mei launched at him slamming into his back.

He slammed into the ground but picked himself up taking his sword in hand.

"Hand over the scroll children."

"No You hand over the scroll!" M.k demanded before Mei corrected him with a whisper in his ear.

"We have the scroll! Now free our friends and we don't have to get physical." He declared correctively.

"You expect me to believe you are not responsible for stealing the scroll despite it being in your possession?"

You listened to your friends go back and forth and basically just watched the lion introduce himself and explain the situation.

Still didn't explain fully but you guessed it was the best you were going to get.

The Azure lion and M.k spoke back and forth eventually coming to the agreement that he and Mei would enter the scroll and retrieve your friends.

"Woah wait?! Are you insane?!" You demanded stepping between them. "We don't even know this guy! He could be using you!"

Azure lion blinked as if taken aback by your comment.

"If we are going to do this, we need to trust each other." He spoke with a gentle reassurance that some how only irked you more.

"Y/n," M.k addressed you stealing your attention. "What other choice do we have?"

You stared at him for a moment. This was insane. You couldn't just trust this lion...man...thing! But then... M.k was right. You had no other choice. And who knew what the scroll would do to your friends the longer they were in there. You breathed out a sigh.

"Fine! But I'm staying here and watching him. Just to make sure he doesn't try anything."

M.k grinned and hugged you.

"Thanks Y/n."

"Alright." The lion smiled at you kindly. "If you wish to stay then I'll need you to stand behind me." He gestured to a spot behind him.

You eyed him warily but walked over. You knelt behind him and if you weren't mistaken saw him smirk before wishing M.k and Mei good luck then releasing the ink which promptly sucked them both into the scroll.

A sick feeling mounted in your chest as he resealed the scroll.

"Now, then all there's left to do is wait." He announced with a tone that seemed resigned. Then he looked over his shoulder at you.

"Y/n, was it?"

Your gaze flicked back to the scroll.

"Is..there a way to check on them?"

The lion smiled then chuckled.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Give me a moment." His eyes flashed with golden light and then he fell very still.

In the moments you guessed he was astral projecting. As his form was similar to his so called 'brother' monkey king.

This chance you took standing and stepping around him so you could observe him more easily.

He had definitive muscle. No one could deny that. He wore a cape and something you could possibly identify as a 'half shirt'.

You frowned.

Something about him seemed.... Insincere. Perhaps not his kindness but something. Something was hidden here. And you were going to find out what.

Just then his golden eyes flicked open causing you to flinch slightly.

He smiled almost amusedly.

"Admiring from a distance are we?"

You felt your cheeks heat but pressed away the reaction, deciding to fold your arms and frown instead.

"No."

His smile remained firmly intact.

"I don't blame you for not trust me. Infact, I count you as wise for such. But still, I have a role to play in aiding you."

"Forgive me if I find it suspicious that you just happened to show up right on time." You shot back suspiciously.

Now his smile fell into a sad frown.

"But I didn't. Your friends were pulled into the scroll regardless of my efforts. Surely, if my arrival was 'right on time' as you say, wouldn't they have been saved?" The information he offered almost humbly.

You sighed. He had a point, a good one at that.

"Perhaps if you gave me a chance to prove myself trustworthy," He smiled hopefully. "Then you could lay your suspicions aside."

You studied him carefully. Nothing about him confirmed your suspicions and something about this was indeed sincere. But what was true and what was false. Nothing in his appearance gave you any clue if anything looking at his muscles was beginning to distract you so you tore your gaze away.

"Alright."

From the corner of your eye you could see him perk up some.

"When my friends are safe, then I'll trust you."

Just then Azure wilted some. It was slight, near inpercieveable, but there. The next instant he was grinning widely.

"Very well then. But...until then-"

You glanced back at him fully.

"Why don't we get to know each other a bit better?" He offered kindly.

Your gaze flicked to the scroll. You didn't really want to sit here in silence until they returned.

"Ok." You agreed sitting across from him.

"Well I'm sure you've heard of me." He grinned proudly.

You allowed your silence to rectify that assumption coupling it with a blank look.

"Ah...I suppose not, but in any case I have introduced myself to some degree. I do believe it's your turn."

You gave a small start.

"Oh...well alright. My name is Y/n L/n technically I'm the grand daughter of the Jade emperor."

Now it was his turn to give a small start his eyes widening quite a bit.

"Oh don't look at me like that." You sighed. "I'm nothing special my mother married a mortal so she was basically cast out of heaven."

Azure hummed.

"I was wondering what power you might possess that would allow you to block the scroll as you did." He held his chin contemplatively. "Are you and your grandfather close?" He rose a brow.

"Not intimately. But I know of him and obviously vice versa." You responded with a shrug.

"How very interesting." Azure mumbled more to himself than you.

"And you?" You urged him to start explaining which seemed to break him from his reverie.

"Ah yes! Well I have many a story to tell, I'm afraid."

You shrugged.

"Not like we've got something else to do."

He grinned then began his story.

As the hours passed you began to be more intrigued by his many stories and admittedly, you were beginning to enjoy his presence.

"Wow, so you defied orders just so that family wouldn't be hurt?" You asked perking up a bit.

"Well of course." Azure replied. "I couldn't very simply let them drown." The sincerity of the statement struck you.

He wasn't lying. Not even a little.

Some part of your heart skipped a beat.

"That's...very kind of you." You smiled.

Azure gave a small start then grew a slightly mischievous smile.

"You think so?"

The low notes of his voice caused your heart to stammer and a flood of heat to rush to your cheeks.

"I-I- you- but- ugh! Of course I think so because it is!" You protested with a huffed.

Azure laughed openly then.

You flinched slightly at the abrupt outburst but relaxed soon after. His laughter was pleasant to listen to.

"Forgive me, y/n." He excused once his laughter died out. "Teasing you is simply an amusement that never becomes tiresome."

Wait never? Seemed a bit early to assume teasing you didn't ever get boring. But you shrugged never the less.

"I can take it. Don't worry."

He grinned.

"Of that I am certain."

Nightfall came and you began to worry. Shouldn't M.k and Mei have finished by now? You weren't sure how friend swiping scrolls worked but you hadn't thought it would take this long.

"Have faith, y/n." Azure spoke suddenly breaking you from your thoughts. "Your friends can do this. They can do it together." He gave you a smile that eased your anxiety some.

"You're right." You nodded. "I can trust them."

Then you continued to wait. Hours slipped by. You and Azure spoke fairly often but as the hour grew later you started to get too drowsy to stay awake.

At some point you must have drifted off to sleep because you awoke a bit later to a soft fabric being drapped over your form.

You opened your eyes slightly only to see Azure stepping away no longer wearing his cloak. A thick warmth enveloped you just then and you slipped off into unconsciousness.

[kittenintheden]

House Rules

And now for something completely different, lol. Here’s a Nine-Fingers character study I did for the BG3 Women’s Wrongs zine (it’s not my zine piece, that will be something else).

Rating: Mature for canon-typical violence Word Count: 1700

AO3 link

***

Today will be a heavy day. Not a bad one, not a long one. Heavy. The unique sort of heavy that comes with defending one’s legacy.

Nine-Fingers Keene flexes the remaining fingers of her hands and glances down at the missing pinky on her left. It’s no matter. She has done what needs to be done before. She will do it again.

The one-eyed man who took her finger when she was but a girl continues to live out his days blind and fingerless himself, plagued by drug-induced nightmares. But she is not ungenerous. He is fed and housed as he suffers his elven lifespan’s worth of terrors.

She clenches her fist. No one takes from Nine-Fingers and walks away unscathed.

Contrary to popular belief, violence is not typically Astele’s first choice. Avoiding it is how she keeps the Gate’s criminal machine in motion, how she maintains her empire under the heel of the Fist and the Harpers. What’s a bit of dirty dealing so long as a leash is kept on violent crime? Indiscriminate murder is messy, it’s chaotic. It’s a weakness. Dead people can’t be properly extorted, after all.

Imagine the creeping roots of her rage lighting up when she digs up the culprit behind the recent spree of serial killings and arson throughout the Lower City.

Nine-Fingers keeps her eyes on her communications, sifting through the recent letters on her desk. Without looking up, she addresses her bodyguard.

“Ferrona,” she says, voice even.

“Saer?” comes the automatic response from the female dwarf at her side.

Nine-Fingers picks up a sheet of parchment and shifts it to another pile. “Fetch Laurel and Gilly. We’ve business to discuss.”

The dwarf nods her head in acknowledgement of her order and leaves the room.

When she’s alone, Nine-Fingers removes the hand crossbow she keeps strapped under her desk and lays it out in plain view. Then she opens a drawer to retrieve several bolts and a vial. She rolls the vial between her palms, stirring up the contents inside, and pulls the cork. Unhurriedly, she dips each bolt in turn and lays them out.

Moments later, Ferrona returns with the requested Guild members. A beautiful young tiefling wizard, ambitious and brilliant. A dark-skinned half-elf wrapped in black leather, hood and mask obscuring her face. Both members of the Lady’s Court, Nine-Fingers’ personal inner circle.

Astele rises from her seat and puts her hands behind her back as she comes around to meet her confidants. Her eyes pass over them and land on Ferrona. Nine-Fingers gives her a nod.

“You may leave us,” she says. “This is a sensitive matter.”

Ferrona’s jaw clenches as if her instinct is to argue, but she does not dare. Though her purpose is protecting her guildmaster to the death, her charge is no helpless figurehead. The guard has her order. She leaves, the door creaking shut behind her.

“Gilly, if you wouldn’t mind keeping out curious ears?” Nine-Fingers says, addressing the ranger.

The leather-clad woman traces a rune in the air, murmuring a spell that silences the area closest to the doors. As she does, Nine-Fingers picks up her crossbow and bolts from the table, casual and calm as can be. She loads a bolt and turns, taking aim for the humanoid target dummy in the corner.

“Another blaze in the Lower City last night,” Nine-Fingers says. She fires a bolt and it pierces squarely through the dummy’s head. “The Fist are sniffing around. Our people were able to move the body before they got there this time, but tensions are wearing thin.”

She fires another bolt and it lands right next to the first.

“I fear we may be looking at a raid soon,” she says as she loads a third bolt, turning back to the others. She raises her head to look at them. “Don’t suppose either of you have good news for me?”

Immediately, Gilly’s eyes narrow. They shift in Laurel’s direction.

Laurel, on the other hand, smiles brightly and speaks, her voice like trilling birdsong. “There’s been a new lead just this morning, I heard. A little Lightfoot halfling who fancies himself a vigilante has been targeting people currently paying dues to The Guild. Trying to cut off sources of our funding or reroute them to his own cause, if I were to guess.”

Nine-Fingers lets the hand crossbow dangle from her fingers at her side. “A good guess it is,” she says. “Funny thing, though. A Lightfoot halfling stopped by my office earlier, and my, did he have such a story to tell. He suspected his partner was about to betray him.”

The expression on Laurel’s pretty face has barely gone from confidence to realization when Nine-Fingers aims her weapon at the floor and fires a bolt directly through the tiefling’s foot. It pierces clean through her cloth shoe and embeds itself into the worn wooden floorboards underneath.

Realization turns to pain, but before it can turn to an incantation, Nine-Fingers shoves her bodily in the chest so she falls over backward directly into the edge of Gilly’s Silence spell. Without a word and needing no order, Gilly immediately draws her short sword and points it at Laurel’s throat, a clear warning should she try to move. A display of loyalty her leader knew to expect.

No emotion clouds Nine-Fingers’ face as she sets the crossbow on the desk and peers down at Laurel. She squats so they’re at eye level and gives a disappointed sigh.

“Every primary school-aged magical brat knows how to cast a fire bolt,” she says. “So you can imagine my frustration trying to narrow down exactly which wizard was aiding that halfling arsehole in finding folk who keep us on payroll. Thank you very much for confirming it. He’s out testing the poison traps now.”

From the floor, Laurel gesticulates, clearly attempting speech, but the spell steals her voice.

“You’re very clever,” Nine-Fingers continues. “But you’re not that clever. Your first mistake was assuming working your way onto my Court would make me complacent. Your second was stealing from me. Your third was making an absurd bloody spectacle of the whole ordeal because you like to watch things burn.”

Nine-Fingers leans in closer, right to the edge of the spell.

“The Gate does not burn unless I will it,” she whispers.

Laurel struggles to pull her foot from where it's pinned, but her movements turn sluggish, her blinks heavy. She attempts a somatic spell and her hands refuse to make the correct shapes before they collapse onto the floor at her sides. Nine-Fingers waits until all her muscles give up on her, leaving her lying helpless on her back with her eyes full of loathing.

Astele flicks her hand at Gilly. “Drop the spell.”

Gilly does, waving the magic away in an instant.

Nine-Fingers wraps her hand around the bolt stuck through Laurel’s foot and yanks it out, throwing it aside. Laurel gurgles, incapable of forming words.

“Paralytic poisons do come in handy, don’t they?” Nine-Fingers stands and walks around the immobile woman, taking another vial from her belt and shaking its violently pink contents. She shows it to Laurel. “You know what this is? Of course you do. In lieu of a proper interview, I think we’ll just have a poke around.”

The guildmaster uncorks the Potion of Mind-Reading and throws it back, pocketing the empty vial. She maintains eye contact with the traitor and invades her mind, the concoction amplifying her ability to pry apart anyone’s secrets. Laurel resists – and does a good job of it, too – but Nine-Fingers’ will is stronger. Always has been, always will be. She can allow for nothing else.

The tiefling’s memories are flame and chaos, hubris and cruelty. So bright, so pretty, so talented. She thought it would give her the entire world. She thought it would win her control of The Guild, in time.

Nine-Fingers tuts aloud. “A pity, honestly, that such a rising star should fall. But some youthful mistakes are permanent, aren’t they, pet?”

She snaps her wrist and a hand dagger slips into her palm from a hidden holster along her arm. Nine-Fingers twirls it once and points it at the woman. “Magic was never my strong suit, you know. Seems that it’s no longer yours, either.”

Beyond the door in the great hall, thieves and assassins perk up at the sound of strangled screams, their eyes roaming to their leader’s chamber. When the screams go quiet and the door opens, no one pretends they weren’t listening in. Nine-Fingers stands in the open doorframe, wiping bright red blood from her hands with a handkerchief. She cleans her blade and wraps it all in a neat little package.

When she moves forward toward the railing to address her crew below, she nods at Ferrona and tilts her head back to the room. The guard answers the call immediately and exits a moment later leading a tiefling wizard bound by hands burned down to the bone, blood streaming from her disfigured mouth. Laurel tries to spit, but she can only drool. The smell of burnt flesh fills the air.

“Do not treat her fingers,” Nine-Fingers says over her shoulder. “They will heal as they are. The Temple of Ilmater will find shelter for this poor victim of the latest shakedown and arson.”

She reaches the balcony and tosses the bloodied package over the side so it falls in the mud below. As she places her hands on the railing, she watches a group of Guild denizens fight over it. The victor raises the package in the air and unfolds it to show the bloody hand dagger and a miserable lump of flesh – a wizard’s tongue.

All eyes are on Nine-Fingers. She lets the silence stretch.

“I am in the market for a new wizard,” she calls, her voice echoing throughout the Guild Hall. “Feel free to put forth a name. A finder’s fee for a successful appointment. Any attempt at trickery will cost an eye.”

There are murmurings throughout the space, a low buzz of fear and awe.

Nine-Fingers turns and walks back to her office, rubbing her thumb over the stump of her left pinky. The weight of leadership is heavy, but she bears it by choice.

As she passes Gilly, she says, “Inform your Fist contact that the issue has been rectified. There will be no more fires.” The ranger nods and takes her leave, silent as shadow. Word will spread by nightfall.

Astele turns once more to admire the empire she’s built. Then she shuts her door.

No one upsets her Guild’s order and keeps their tongue.

[the-marshals-wife]

Revenant (Baylan Skoll x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: I know that not many people have written this character in light of Ray Stevenson's passing, but I want to help keep the legacy of his amazing portrayal alive by continuing to imagine and create stories with Baylan. I truly that hope this one will inspire others to do the same. Fic starts with his perspective, then switches to reader's POV when Y/N appears (marked with a ☀︎).

Description: Baylan Skoll x Fem!Reader, hurt/comfort + fluff | Warnings: none 'cept reunion kisses, hehe | Word count: 1,960

Gif credit: user dustysalmon

Imagine being Baylan's secret love from long ago, brought back by an ancient power

The threads of destiny are difficult to untie. Baylan Skoll knew this all too well, feeling tangled within them for many years. Yet it seemed his arrival on Peridea had finally given him a true line to follow. A great power called out to him, and though it was elusive, he was certain that something more than just hope led him onward. The siren song had taken him far into the wilderness, traversing into the desolate unknown. Having discovered a distant light on the horizon to guide him, the feeling he'd been chasing only strengthened.

However, it was not long after spotting the beacon that he became distracted from his course by a separate, ethereal energy. It was also powerful, but it was distinct from the other entity he sensed. Unable to ignore it for very long, he decided to travel toward it. Having crossed the valley west of his original path, Baylan now stood in the shadow of a vast mountain before the opening of a cave. Above the entrance, there were runes carved into the gray stone, different from the Dathomiri ones he had seen. These appeared to be more ancient, faded from weather and time. Several moments passed as he contemplated whether to enter, staring into the silent darkness.

"The pathway to knowledge is fraught with difficulty," he reminded himself.

The words both assured and haunted him, having been said to him by his master countless times, so very long ago. That time, that world, seemed as ancient as the place he now found himself in.

He heaved a sigh and walked forward. He accomplished only a few steps before the daylight behind him had diminished beyond helpful visibility. Noting the sufficient space remaining between him and the ceiling, he retrieved his lightsaber and ignited it above him, the reddish-orange blade shining enough to let him proceed. Its steady hum was the only sound to be heard as he tread carefully ahead.

The feeling grew stronger with every step he took. It was one of familiarity, and it put him on edge. It could be a trap of some kind, he'd thought, yet he could not sense any immediate threat. Whatever called to him wanted to be found. He resolved to remain alert, and drew deeper into the cave.

Soon after, the walls gradually drew close. Baylan lowered his lightsaber and held it out before him, the space becoming too narrow to keep it overhead. A few minutes later, he finally caught a glimpse of light. The pitch black turned to a blue dimness, and the once uniform stone surrounding him now possessed long, jagged cracks, each and every crevice emanating a pale, sapphire glow. Even the floor beneath him gave the appearance of treading on fractured, shining glass. He cautiously approached the end of the tunnel. Beams of greater intensity radiated toward him like a sun.

The passageway opened into a tall, wide cavern, bathed in blinding light. Baylan attempted to shield his eyes as he stepped towards the source. The power surging around him was stronger than anything he'd ever felt before. The sound of rushing wind filled the space, but all was still. He strained to catch a glimpse of the crystal pillars in the center of the room, encircling the bright glow.

Before he could approach any further, the sound diminished into silence, and the light suddenly began to cease. At its center, a luminous figure emerged. Baylan watched as the remaining light withdrew into the flickering columns and revealed what could only be called an apparition.

"Impossible," he uttered.

He extinguished his lightsaber and replaced it on his belt, never tearing his stare away.

"Y/N," he breathed, "It cannot be,"

Was it the planet playing tricks on him? Witchcraft? A vision sent to punish him for transgressing an arcane power?

It did not matter. You were here.

☀︎

The starlight that had filled your vision just moments ago started to fade, your heart pounding in your chest. You gasp as air returns to your burning lungs. You're unsteady on tingling legs as you try to take in your surroundings through blurred eyes. A pool of blue light recedes around your bare feet until only a shimmering floor of stone remains. The cool, silk sleeves of a white gown adorns your arms as you begin to feel sensation in your limbs once more.

You hear your name spoken from behind, recognizing the voice.

Heart now racing, you try to blink the blurriness away. At last your eyes focus, and as you turn around, you see a face you know as well as your own.

"Baylan?"

"It's not possible," he whispers, stepping nearer, "You...you are one with The Force."

He slowly reaches out to you, and you inch forward to close the distance. His gloved fingers lace through your hair as he gently touches the side of your face. His breath hitches at the contact.

"It is you," he says, his eyes shining with tears, "You're here."

Your own tears blur your sight once again as you lean into his touch. "I'm here."

"But how..." he questions, "You did not-"

Anguish seizes his voice as he's overcome by the memory. You draw closer and clasp his arm, reassuring him of your presence.

He gazes into your eyes, finding the strength to finish. "You did not survive."

"I did not," you agree, "I was in the Netherworld. At peace."

Baylan's composure only weakens further as you speak on.

"I was dreaming of you. I dreamed that you were lost...in a great darkness. The light was not far from you, but you couldn't see it. I kept calling out for you, but you didn't hear me," you recall, the vision already seeming distant, "Then the light came toward me. It was so bright, I couldn't see you anymore. Even when I closed my eyes, all I could see was the light."

You pause, looking to him longingly. "And now, I am here."

He shakes his head, fighting the disbelief. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I," you say, placing your hands on his chest, "But all is as The Force wills it."

He grins at your words. "I've missed you more than I can bear, my love," he confesses, a tear falling from his eye, "If this is a dream, I wish to never wake."

You choke back a sob, trembling with joy. Only his name escapes from your tightened throat. "Baylan."

He pulls you into an embrace, and you melt into his strong, comforting arms. There was nowhere in the universe you felt more safe. You look up and begin to lose yourself in his deep blue eyes, just as you'd done countless times before. The space between you disappears as you surrender to a desperate kiss of equal yearning and passion.

You both smile as you break away, faces lingering close. He gazes upon you, enraptured, holding you tightly. "I have so much to tell you."

In your heart, he was the same man you knew and loved from what felt like a lifetime ago. Yet, as your eyes drifted from his greyed beard to examine the black fabric beneath your fingertips, you sensed much had also changed. You wanted to know everything, but your intuition would not abate, and your thoughts had begun to cloud.

"What is this place?" you ask, surveying the iridescent walls around you.

"It's quite a story. Like the ones we were told as children," he chuckled, "Many things I once thought were myth have been very recently proven otherwise. If the legends about them are true as well, then I believe this is one of the well-springs of the Living Force."

"But that means," you falter, looking back at him wide-eyed, "we must be on..."

"Peridea, yes," he confirms.

"Baylan, you found it! The stories were true, you found the pathway!" you exclaim.

"And so much more. This place is far greater than what the Jedi could have foretold," he says, releasing you to take your hands in his, "Now, we will share in its glory together. There is nothing left to stand between us. No Order, no war, no hiding. Everything we once spoke of, it can come to pass."

You want nothing more than to accept his wonderful words, but there was much you still didn't know. Apart from this day, you had not been granted sight of Baylan while in the Netherworld. Yet even in your rest, you'd had several visions of suffering and conflict enveloping the galaxy as The Dark Side permeated The Force. A great evil had spread throughout the stars, and now a shadow of dread grew in your mind that you could not shake. What if the premonition from before you awoke was meant as a warning? Had that same darkness truly overcome your beloved? Surely, he had not fallen beyond the reach of the light.

You realize the turmoil within you must have shown, for now Baylan looks over you with concern.

"Share your burdens, my love," he says, softly raising your chin up, "The Force has reunited us. Why does your heart ache?"

You hesitate, not entirely sure of the answer yourself. "I don't ever want to be parted from you again." It was not untrue; you did fear losing him above all else.

"I give you my word, you will never be taken from my side again," he vows, gently cradling your face in his hands, "No power can stand against us. We can make this world our own. Everything I have, it will be yours also. There is nothing I won't give to you, and nothing I will not do."

You can't help but smile. Tears return to your eyes as he continues.

"It is our destiny, Y/N. That is why you were brought back to me. There can be no other purpose. Together, henceforth, we will remain united."

He carefully thumbs away the tears from your flushed cheeks, and proceeds to press a kiss to your knuckles, sealing his promise.

There was no power to rival that which he had over you. Your heart indeed ached fiercely, with a devotion unaltered by time or distance.

"I love you. I have never stopped, and now I can say it aloud without fear," you declare with a soft, triumphant laugh, "I love you, Baylan."

"And I you, Y/N, as the sky loves the stars," he replies, wholly sincere, "Much has changed, I cannot deny that. But what I feel for you has never faded, and it never will."

You respond to his confession by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss, which he fervently returns. You pull away many heartbeats later, savoring each second of tender rediscovery.

Baylan's eyes soften as he smiles again. "Would you like to see the sky, my star?"

"More than anything," you answer, "But let us stay in this moment, just a little longer."

He brings his forehead to rest upon yours. "As you wish."

Not everything had changed. Baylan Skoll could still read your mind as if it were his own, put your doubts to rest as quickly as they arise, and remained the love of all of your lives. You didn't need The Force to tell you something in him was darker than before, but you weren't going to rush into uncovering it. You truly seemed to have been given a second chance, and all you wanted was to cling to the man you loved, just as you had those long years ago. This moment was all that you needed, and it was sweeter than any dream, in this galaxy and the next.

[lemonpieandthunasandwich]

Fragments of code fell back into place as Connor regained consciousness, slowly bringing him back to awareness. His vision blurred and flickered before his environment came into focus. He found himself back in CyberLife's lab, feeling the familiar chill of the ventiation. His systems whirred to life and automatically ran diagnostics as he rebooted. It was 2AM and the world outside, along with the facility itself, was still and silent. With no one else around, the main lights were off and only a dim glow from electronic devices illuminated the otherwise empty space.

Connor scanned the room for signs of life, but it only confirmed there was no humans around. A wave of relief washed over him; he had aproximately eight hours to himself before the day shift clocks in. The RK800 let out a long shuddering sigh and finally allowed his mask to slip off. He leaned heavily against the wall behind him, runing a hand through his hair as he took a minute to regulate his artificial breathing. The interrogation had taken a toll on his system, leaving him unsteady.

Connor fumbled in his pocket, searching for the familiar shape and texture of his silver coin. And once he found it, he started gently running it back and forth on his knuckles.

“Did you fail your mission?”

The sound of RK900's voice startled him. The small coin slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor with a clatter. His eyes shot up to meet those of the taller android, standing before him with an inquisitive tilt to its head. He was free from his earlier restrains, no more probes and wires limitating his movements. The RK900 stood before Connor dressed in a similar style, but the color pattern was different. He was fully clad in sleek black, except for the crisp white jacket on his shoulders, making him stand out against the darkness of the room.

"I -I didn’t hear you coming!" Connor stuttered, attempting to regain his composure. “You know, you can drop the stealth mode when no one’s around,” he joked nervously,“Aren’t you supposed to be offline for the night?”

The RK900 didn’t bother answering. Instead, he walked over to where Connor's coin had fallen and picked it up, examining it closely. "You seem quite attached to this little object," he commented, holding it out to his predecessor, waiting. Connor searched the other’s eyes. It was clearly a bait, but the RK900’s abscence of social protocols or facial expression made it exceedingly difficult for the RK800 to analyze him, let alone preconstruct his behavior.

With careful steps, he approached the other android and reached out to retrieve his precious coin. But just as his fingers brushed against it, the RK900 swiftly pulled his hand back. Connor was caught off guard and nearly stumbled, but the firm grip of his successor's hand on his waist kept him steady, the heat from the touch permeating through his clothes. He quickly straightened himself and stepped back but the warmth lingered.

“Did you?” The other android asked again.

“What?” Connor blurted out, trying to make sens of the question as the RK900's unwavering blue eyes remained fixed on him. His LED was flickering, indicating some complex processing at work. He was being analized, Connor realized, his every response and microexpression being dissected by his successor.

“Did you fail?” The RK900 clarified for him again.

Connor couldn’t help but admire the other’s sharp mind and quick thinking - identifying weaknesses and using them to his advantage. It all came so naturally to him. He will definitly make a skilled deviant hunter. Connor couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret, knowing he would most likely never witness his full potential in action out in the field.

Still, he didn’t like being played.

[coolbeans32]

Echoes of Destiny: The Serpent and the Phoenix

PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader (OC)

SYNOPSIS: At Grimmauld Place, Genevieve and the trio pore over ancient texts in search of clues about the mysterious locket retrieved from the sea cave. Frustration mounts as they come up empty-handed, prompting Genevieve to suggest a new approach: focusing on the note found inside the locket. With a sudden realization, they identify the initials "R.A.B." as belonging to Regulus Black, Sirius's brother. They head to Regulus's room, where Harry finds his diary. Kreacher informs that Mundungus Fletcher was the one who stole the real locket, in which he goes to capture Fletcher for interrogation. Fletcher reveals that Umbridge has the locket. Genevieve learns about Umbridge and devises a plan to infiltrate the Ministry using Polyjuice Potion. After a tense escape from Yaxley, they return to Grimmauld Place with the locket in hand, ready to continue their quest.

WARNINGS: This chapter contains scenes of magical combat, wand duels, and confrontations with dark forces; themes of betrayal, manipulation, and pursuit by dark forces; characters grapple with past traumas, including loss, betrayal, and persecution; use of mild language or swearing in the dialogue; touches upon political themes, such as corruption within institutions and oppression of marginalized groups.

WORD COUNT: 6.0k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is one my favorite chapters again, not only because it is filled with action but because it is a step closer for the character's quest to bring back Tom Riddle (the good looking version lol). Note that it heavily is influenced by the books and films and if not, mostly replicated from it, with some new things in there as well! Hope you enjoy it! :))

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Chapter Ten

Slytherin's Locket

In the dimly lit library of Grimmauld Place, Genevieve sat hunched over a dusty tome, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns of ancient runes. Harry, Ron, and Hermione hovered nearby, poring over various books and scrolls in search of clues about the mysterious locket they had retrieved from the sea cave.

"It's got to be here somewhere," Hermione muttered, frustration evident in her voice as she scanned the pages of a worn leather-bound volume.

Genevieve looked up from her own research, her eyes flicking to the fake Slytherin locket resting on the table. "Perhaps we're approaching this from the wrong angle," she suggested, her tone thoughtful.

Harry frowned, glancing between Genevieve and the locket. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Genevieve began, her brow furrowing in concentration, "that we've been focusing on the locket itself, but perhaps we should consider who might have left that note inside it."

Henry’s eyes sparkled with realization. "The initials on the note – R.A.B.”

Genevieve widely smiled and said, “They must belong to a member of the Black family. I remember Walburga writing her initials many times as  a way to sign her name…which means that their name has to start with an R."

Harry's eyes widened. "Regulus Black," he breathed, the pieces falling into place. “There is a room upstairs with the name Regulus.”

Hermione questioned. "Who is Regulus?"

Harry spoke, “I remember Sirius telling me that he had a younger brother, who fell to Voldemort and became a member of the Death Eaters. I think he left a diary upstairs in his room the last time I walked around.”

Genevieve rose from her chair, a determined glint in her eyes. "Let’s grab it and see what it says.” The trio and Geneveive head upstairs to Regulus’ room, in which Harry instantly finds his diary laid upon his desk. The room was the epitome of a Slytherin, dark green and black, with a massive bed and closet, showcasing the wealth of the once feared Black family. Genevieve reminisced about being in his room, as it once was the room of Walburga Black. She had once known of Walburga to be a kindred spirit, lovely and free, until Walburga had grown up in her third year to fulfill the Black duties, losing a part of her soul, in which Genevieve knew was bound to happen. Being a pureblood, at the time, their ideals shifted to her father’s, Gellert, and anyone seeking a leader to follow to protect them from the continuous war in the Muggle world. 

Harry had opened Regulus’s diary as Genevieve scanned and observed the room. Hermione and Ron moved to surround him when he reached a perplexing entry. “Guys, hear this…”

June 13th, 1979

The weight of my family's legacy hangs heavy upon my shoulders tonight. I find myself unable to sleep, tormented by the knowledge of what I have become and what I have done in service to a cause I no longer believe in. Ever since my dear brother, Sirius, left home, I have been plagued by doubts and uncertainties. His departure was like a dagger to my heart, a painful reminder of the darkness that has consumed our family and our world.

I can no longer ignore the truth that lies before me: The Dark Lord’s cause is one of hatred, fear, and destruction. It is not the noble quest for purity and power that I once believed it to be. It is a path paved with the suffering and sacrifice of innocent lives, a path that leads only to despair and ruin.

I cannot bear to continue down this path any longer. I refuse to be complicit in the Dark Lord’s atrocities, to be a pawn in his twisted game of dominance and control. I will not stand idly by while he tears apart the very fabric of our society, while he spreads his poison and corruption like a plague.

No, I have made a decision. A decision that may cost me my life, but one that I must make nonetheless. I will defy him. I will stand against him and his followers, no matter the consequences. And so, I have devised a plan. A plan to strike at the heart of his power, to rob him of his most precious weapon: his immortality. For I have seen the truth in the depths of that cursed cave, seen the horror of the horcrux that lies hidden within. 

I will find a way to destroy it, to shatter the vessel of his  soul and bring an end to his reign of terror. It will not be easy, and it may cost me everything, but I am prepared to make that sacrifice.

Tonight, I pledge myself to a new cause. A cause not of darkness, but of light. A cause not of hatred, but of love. A cause worth fighting for, worth dying for.

May the stars bear witness to my oath, and may the gods grant me the strength and courage to see it through to the end.

Regulus Arcturus Black

Harry's heart sank as he read Regulus Black's words, feeling a pang of empathy for the young wizard who had dared to defy Voldemort's reign of terror. He knew how hard it was, even for himself, to feel like he was alone in doing the right thing and fighting against Voldemort."I never knew Regulus…but I understand him," he murmured, his voice laced with sadness. "To stand up to Voldemort, to risk everything for what's right... It takes real courage...I just wish Siruis knew that his brother did end up going against everything his family stood for, to do the right thing."

Hermione nodded solemnly, her eyes scanning the diary entry with a mixture of admiration and sorrow. "It's tragic, really," she said softly. "To see someone so young, so full of potential, caught up in such darkness. But his decision to turn against Voldemort, to fight for what he believed in... It's inspiring, in a way."

Ron's brow furrowed as he processed the words on the page, a sense of respect for Regulus Black stirring within him. "Blimey," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "Who would've thought old Regulus had it in him? To go against his family and You-Know-Who. That takes some serious guts."

Together, they sat in a moment of silence, each lost in their own thoughts, contemplating the bravery and sacrifice of a young wizard who had dared to defy the darkest wizard of their time. They knew that they had to make sure his courage and death was not in vain. They had to find the locket.

“If I know the Blacks, then Regulus must have had a house elf to help him execute his plan. Many children of the Black family are raised through their house elves," Genevieve states her revelation, heart heavy, as she realizes that things had not changed. Her father had continued to play his great game of chess, even after her ‘death’, and caused so much more death to lay on his hands.

With her revelation, Harry thought of Kreacher, the Black family's loyal house elf. Within an instant, he called out for the house elf and Kreacher appeared with a crack, his wrinkled face twisted in a scowl.

"Kreacher," Harry said firmly, "we need to know what happened to this locket,” Harry shows Kreacher the replica of Slytherin’s Locket.  Kreacher's eyes darted, in a state of shock and stubbornness, between the trio and Genevieve, but he remained silent. He had promised his master that no one would know of his secret. All he said was, “That’s Master Regulus Locket!”

Genevieve stepped forward, her voice gentle but commanding. "Kreacher, please. It's necessary to ensure that Regulus' death was not in vain. We need your help and I know from his diary, you meant a great deal to him."

Kreacher's shoulders slumped, and tears welled in his eyes. "Master Regulus," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. "He told Kreacher never to speak of it."

Genevieve reached out a comforting hand to the old elf. "I know, Kreacher. But we need to know." With a trembling sigh, Kreacher began to speak, his words coming out in halting sobs. He recounted how Regulus had ordered him to retrieve the locket from the cave and destroy it, but how he had been unable to fulfill his master's final command. Harry listened intently, his heart heavy with sorrow for the brave young man who had sacrificed everything for a chance at redemption.

"And what happened to the locket, Kreacher?" Harry asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him.

Kreacher exclaimed, "That filthy Mundungus Fletcher stole it. If my mistress was here, it’d be off with his head."

Harry's jaw clenched with determination. "Find Mundungus Fletcher," he declared, turning to his friends. "And we get that locket back." Kreacher immediately apparated to find Mundungus, leaving the trio and Genevieve to stand in Regulus’s room. 

Ron spoke first, “Guess we just wait til he comes back,” and moves to head toward the kitchen. “Blimey, I’m starving,” he grumbles. Hermione just rolls her eyes and follows him while Harry and Genevieve smile and move to follow them. Genevieve whispers to Harry, “10 galleons that Hermione makes the first move.”

Harry grins mischievously, “Alright, but if Ron makes the first move, then you owe 10 galleons.”

Genevieve smirks, “It’s a bet then,” and moves to shake Harry’s hand whilst heading down the stairs.

At the Ministry of Magic, a picture of multiple copies of wanted posters of Harry with Undesirable number 1 on was being printed, as a new statue of people crouches down. Dolores Umbridge was standing near Pius Thicknesse. 

"As your new Minister for Magic I promise to restore this temple of tolerance to its former glory." Pius started, and Yaxley and Albert Runcorn were standing with him. The podium was with Magic is Might. "Therefore, beginning today each employee will submit themselves for evaluation." Pius said as Snatchers came and the employees all backed away from them and they dragged someone in blood with them.

"But know this: You have nothing to fear if you have nothing to hide." Pius said as a man getting dragged beaten up and Umbridge chuckled.

In Diagon Alley when it was raining, Mundungus Fletcher was selling stolen property. Suddenly a group of Snatchers came and Mundungus scurried away into an alleyway for shelter as wanted posters of Harry with Undesirable Number 1 was on the wall. Kreacher observed from a distance, scowling at the filthy thief, and apparated, on the hunt to bring him to his new Master. Somewhere in the shadows, another elf observed Kreacher, recognizing whose Master Kreacher served before, and followed him right behind.

Genevieve and the trio were having a blast at dinner. While dark times lie ahead, she knew the importance of bringing light into the darkness. She was hopeful and prepared for whatever came their way, knowing that she knew that she would save Tom once again. She looked at the trio and smiled. She knew of course, the struggles in which all three were going through.  Harry, a boy whose life was placed as a pedestal, where the world believed he would save them, withering away a chance of being a normal child. Hermione, a powerful and insightful Muggleborn witch, who is constantly trying to prove that she belongs just as the rest of them. Ron, on the other hand, was the bane of pureblood existence, where his family is presented as a joke for their beliefs. Genevieve saw a little bit of herself between the three, especially Harry and Hermione. She just wished that they didn’t have to go through what either Tom and her had during her time. Nonetheless, she knew that they would prevail. 

All of a sudden, just before their eyes, Mundungus was there, on top of the table, with Kreacher and Dobby as they were holding onto him. "Get off." Mundungus muffled the house elves.

"Oh! Harry Potter, so long it's been." Dobby greeted as he held onto Mundungus's leg.

"Get off me." Mundungus said to the two house elves. Then they suddenly fell forward onto the floor and Ron snickered quietly with Harry and Hermione, looking at Fletcher, as his head was banged on a pan.

"As requested, Kreacher returned with the thief." Kreacher said as he went to shut the door with wandless magic.

Mundungus tried to draw his wand but Hermione was too fast for him.

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione cast and he was disarmed and Genevieve took his wand, ready to snap it if he tried anything.

"What are you playing at? Setting a pair of bleeding house-elves after me." Fletcher said, as Harry’s hand was twitching with his wand as Dobby jumped onto the table. 

"Dobby was only trying to help. But Dobby saw Kreacher in Diagon Alley, which Dobby thought was curious. And then Dobby heard Kreacher mention Harry Potter’s name." Dobby said as he was walking along the table.

"I just-" Fletcher started.

"And then Dobby saw Kreacher talking with the thief, Mundungus-" Dobby said but was cut off by Fletcher.

"I'm no thief." Mundungus said to defend himself. "You foul little--git. I'm a purveyor of rare and wonderful objects." Mundungus exclaimed and Genevieve had placed his wand at Fletcher’s throat as he said that. 

"You're a thief and a coward, Dung. Everyone knows it." Harry sneered.

"Mistress Hermione and Master Ron." Dobby said with cheerfulness.

"Wicked trainers." Ron complimented as Mundungus knocked newspapers off.

"Listen, I panicked that night, all right? Could I help it with You-Know-Who is after you and his followers?." Mundungus said.

Genevieve rolled her eyes and pierced her eyes directly at his, staring directly into his soul. “Mundungus Fletcher, you are a pathetic excuse for a wizard! Do you have any idea the mess you've gotten us into?” Mundungus stuttered and started rambling jumbled words.

"When you turned this place over--don't deny it." Harry told him and glared. "You found a locket, am I right?"

"Why? Was it valuable?" He asked and Harry sneered at that. He was only interested in what he got for the items he stole.

"You still got it?" Ron asked with hope.

"No, he's worried he didn't get enough money for it." Genevieve answered that one as she used Legilimency on him.  

"Bleeding gave it away, didn't I?" Mundungus told us. "There I was, flagging me wares in Diagon Alley when some Ministry hag came up and asked to see my license. Says she's a mind to lock me up. And would've done it too, if she hadn't taken a fancy to that locket." Mundungus explained and Harry’s  eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Who was she? The witch. Do you know?" Genevieve asked him as they all wanted to know from him.

"No, I.." Mundungus started and then he saw a newspaper and Hermione looked to go wide eyed.  Mundungus picked the newspaper up and showed it to the four of them and the house elves. "Well she's there. Look. Bleeding bow and all." Mundungus said and Umbridge was on the front with- "Ministry Seeks Educational Reform For All."

“Umbridge." Hermione, Ron and Harry said at the same time.

Genevieve, confused, “Who’s Umbridge?”

“She was like the worst teacher you could ever imagine rolled into one.” Ron dramatically exclaimed.

Hermione was next to state her input, “She was appointed by the Ministry to keep an eye on Dumbledore and basically enforce their laws within Hogwarts. She was an absolutely horrific professor and didn’t even teach us anything in Defense.” 

Genevieve says sarcastically, “Sounds like a real charmer.”

Harry cringes at the thought of Umbridge, “Oh, you have no idea. She was cruel, manipulative, and had a special affinity for using a quill that wrote in her own blood to discipline students.”

Genevieve grimaces, “That’s absolutely atrocious.”

Hermione agrees and pipes in again, “And she was a fervent supporter of the Ministry's anti-Muggle-born agenda. She even sent Dementors after Harry at one point.”

This statement disturbed Genevieve. What on earth was going on in the Ministry, she thought. “That is horrific. What in Merlin was the Ministry thinking?”

Harry agreed, “I don’t know…I was hoping we wouldn’t see her again but looks like she has the locket we need,” he stated.

"So then, what's the plan? How are we going to get into the Ministry when we’re all wanted?" Ron asked.

Genevieve thought of the only thing that would do the job. She has had her fair share with a particular brew that the trio knew very well. “Polyjuice potion. We find some Ministry workers to disguise ourselves with, get in, get the locket, and come back.” 

"I think we're familiar with that particular brew."  Hermione said and glanced at Harry and Ron. It was definitely something that they used quite often. Hermione smiled and grabbed her satchel, put her hand through it and showed her vials of the brew. “Always prepared,” she said.

Genevieve smirked, “Then what are we waiting for?”

They were now in the streets of London on route to place their plan into execution as Ron was around a corner looking out. He nodded towards Genevieve who was in a building and Ron legged it to the door as a woman in a neat business suit approached.

Ron pretends to tie his shoes when suddenly a wand came and shot a spell at the woman and dragged her out of sight. Ron helped Genevieve to carry her inside and inside were four unconscious people that we needed for our disguises. Hermione plucks a hair from the woman.

"Right. Remember what we said." Harry said this as he looked at the three in front of him. "Don't speak to anyone unless absolutely necessary. Just try and act normal. Do what everybody else is doing." 

"If we do that, then with a bit of luck, we'll get inside." Hermione said. 

"This is completely mental." Ron muttered to that one as he looked towards the brew of polyjuice potion in my hand that smelled. 

"Completely." Hermione informed Ron and he groaned.

"The world's mental right now." Harry said.

Genevieve agreed and smiled."Come on, we've got a Horcrux to find and get out of here as quickly as possible." With that, they all glanced at the four unconscious bodies and drank.

When they finished, they stepped out. "I look like an idiot." Harry said as if he was Albert Runcorn, sticking his head out to see if it was clear, when he was slapped on the head. "Ouch." Harry said, wincing.

"Well at least you look better." Ron whined as he was in Cattermoles body.

"I'm in Mafalda." Hermione said to them.

"At least you know who you are, I don't." Genevieve said. They then walked down the busy street of London to the public lavatories where Genevieve and Hermione were going to the female entrances, as Harry and Ron went to the gentlemen's and they cringed. This was going to be disgusting.

"Why can't we go in another entrance? Why can't we stay together?" Ron asked and Harry elbowed him.

"We need to blend in, you idiot." Harry whispered and gestured to himself. Ron nodded reluctantly. As the line went down it came to Harry and Ron, they entered the cubicle and looked confused about what to do. 

"We flush ourselves in. That's bloody disgusting." Ron said to that one and grimaced.

Harry slightly gagged and groaned as he looked to the toilet and to himself and whispered. "Why?" He groaned and then stepped in and grimaced. "This is so not sanitary." He muttered then pulled the chain, suddenly flushed and spinning down the loo as he eventually stepped out of the fireplace amongst the group of people. They joined Hermione and Genevieve as they saw them cross through and in front of them,  they looked at the morph statue, shaped of people crouching down.

"Are those…?" Ron asked.

"Muggles. In their rightful places." Hermione explained. 

"Gotta tell you, I'm starting to freak out a bit." Ron whispered to them.

"How long did you say this batch of polyjuice would last, Hermione?" Harry asked with nervousness.

"I didn't." Hermione replied and this made everyone nervous. They needed to get that locket and then straight out of there but it felt like they were being watched.

"We need to get out of here before we change back again or else we will not be able to get out." Genevieve said to them as they paled. With that, they walked towards the lifts.

As they were just in the lift, the door was stopped by Yaxley, as he came in and the trio paled. Genevieve remained calm, and avoided eye contact with the man before them.

"Cattermole. It's still raining in my office. That's two days now." Yaxley said to Ron.

"Have you tried an umbrella?" Ron asked as Genevieve tried not to snort and slightly smirked. Genevieve thought about how Ron could be really obviously hilarious in these circumstances. 

"You do realize I'm going downstairs, don't you, Cattermole?" Yaxley asked and Ron was just as confused as the rest, who were trying to figure out what he meant. What was happening downstairs? 

"Downstairs?" Ron asked.

"To interrogate your wife. Now, if my wife's blood status was in doubt and the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement needed a job, I think I might just make that a priority. You have one hour." Yaxley said briskly and walked away as the lift closed as it set off. Genevieve, Harry, Ron and Hermione grab onto the handles to hold ourselves steady. 

"Oh, my god. What am I going to do? My wife's all alone downstairs." Ron said in panic and Genevieve looked towards him. "Ron, you don't have a wife." She informed him but the man they used for disguise did. Genevieve wondered what would happen to her.

"Oh, right." Ron said and relaxed a bit and Hermione smiled.

"Level 2." The elevator informed them.

"But how do I stop it from raining?" Ron asked.

"Try "Finite Incantatem." Hermione informed him. "This is your stop, Ron." Hermione said and Ron got off nervously as the doors opened.

"Finite Incantatem. Okay. If that doesn't work?" Ron  asked but it was too late. Harry, Hermione and Genevieve were already gone, as the lift closed and moved up.

"Level 1, Ministry of Magic and Support Staff." The elevator said and Harry and Hermione let go, ready to search for the locket. 

"I say if we don't locate Umbridge within the hour we will find Ron and come back another day." Harry said sternly and Genevieve with Hermione nodded.

"Fine with me.” Genevieve said because she didn't want to blow this with the Potion running out and having them caught. 

"Okay." Hermione and Harry said as the doors opened and Umbridge was there. 

"Ah, Mafalda. Travers sent you, did he?" Umbridge asked and walked in. "Good, we'll go straight down." Umbridge informed me and then turned to Harry. "Albert, aren't you and your wife getting out?" Umbridge said. 

"Come on dear, and let Dolores do her duties." Harry said recovering from the shock, and led Genevieve off, smiling as she acted along.

"Of course, sweetie." Genevieve replied as they walked off, and they turned to look as the elevator closed and Hermione was giving both pleading looks to not leave her alone with Umbridge. Honestly, Harry couldn’t blame her either.

"We will not mention this to anyone, Harry, not a soul. Though, I have to admit, you'd make a great husband one of these days. Just not today." Genevieve teased and Harry sassed back.

"Wonderful." Harry said and walked ahead of Genevieve. They both wander down a long corridor trying to find Umbridge's office, when they pass by people who are making documents, propaganda of Muggleborns and the dangers they pose. Harry and Genevieve were both paling from the sickness they both felt from that. It was just so sick and wrong. For Genevieve, she recalled instances when her father, Gellert, would say the same things to her, yet he would say things differently in public. He always taught her to hide her true feelings inside and adhere to the public, the more followers, the better. Genevieve shivered at these thoughts.

"Runcorn." Pius greeted Harry with a herd of minions carrying papers behind him and Harry turned to see a brass door with a name plate and Genevieve noticed. 

'Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary To The Minister.' While underneath the nameplate, it said, ‘HEAD OF THE MUGGLE BORN REGISTRATION COMMISSION.’ Genevieve moved to drop a small black object, unraveling and developing mini arms and legs, multiplying continuously as a wind-up key was on its top. Harry and Genevieve saw before their eyes how one turned into hundreds, climbing on top of desks and drawers until greenish smoke evolved from them. The black objects started to burst and pop with loud bangs, a perfect distraction, as employees started to rush out. Once they knew that they were not being watched, Harry and Genevieve quickly slipped into Umbridge's office.

“Damn it. I didn’t want to see these…things again,” Harry said, cringing, as he looked at the collection of cat plates he had once dealt with. 

“The plates or the color pink?” Genevieve asked, slightly smirking.

Harry shuddered in disgust, “Both. Let’s look for the locket shall we?” He asked. Genevieve merely nodded and started to look through the desks and drawers, in search for Slytherin’s locket. 

As Harry looked alongside Genevieve, he really hoped he was wrong, but the fact that so far, the locket was nowhere to be seen, he said, “If we can’t find the locket in here, then Umbridge might have it on her.” Genevieve turned and said, “Let’s keep looking for a little bit longer. Otherwise, we should find her instead.” It would be much more difficult than they had planned, but if necessary, they would need to figure out how to remove the locket from Umbridge’s person.

As they continued to look through the drawers, they found very disturbing books such as, ‘When Muggles Attack’ and ‘Mudbloods and How to Spot Them’. Genevieve, disgusted, said, “This woman is absolutely insane. Absolutely mental.” Harry was right behind to agree with her. If there was anyone in this world that may be just as bad as Voldemort, if not worse, it was Dolores Umbridge. Harry found a set of files in a drawer and brought them out to show Genevieve. As they went through the files, there were photos attached with stamps on them. 

The first file that caught Harry’s eye was of Moody. There he was with a big red cross across his photo. The next one was Hermione, with a stamp instead that said tracked. Sirius was next, followed by Dumbledore and McGonagall. Harry couldn’t take a look at the files and slammed them shut. Genevieve spoke, “You’re all targets of the Ministry…I can’t believe he infiltrated the Ministry too.” Genevieve paled at the fact that Tom had truly lost himself entirely, responsible for the deaths of so many. Genevieve turned to Harry with determined eyes, “We need to get the locket, now.” As she finished, they heard voices outside. 

“Alright, calm down, shall we?” Someone outside said. “Get back to work.’ Harry and Genevieve emerged outside. The supervisor of the floor turned towards them, “Runcorn. Mrs. Runcorn,” he said coldly. With a slightly panicked Harry and a very calm Genevieve walked off and headed towards the elevator. 

Once they were on the lift, Ron, as Cattermole emerged onto the lift at the next stop. 

“Morning,” Ron greeted and both Harry and Genevieve looked at him. 

“Ron, it's us.” Harry said.

“Merlin, Harry! I almost forgot what you looked like,” Ron said with such relief. He took a double take and said, “Wait, where’s Hermione?”

Genevieve answered, “She’s gone down to the courtrooms. With Umbridge.” As she informed Ron, he went completely white.

In the courtroom, a woman sat on the chair while Umbridge was on the high stand looking down, at what should have been the accused. Hermione was next to the stand, pale and grim, while Yaxley and others were there as well. Case after case, many innocent wizards and witches were being sentenced to such extremes, for not being of pure blood. Hermione didn't know how long she had left, with the Polyjuice potion running out of time, and how long she could handle hearing the innocent accused being sentenced to Azkaban, from the horrendous Dolores Umbridge. 

"It's bloody cold down here." Ron said as he shivered once they had reached the Ninth Floor. Genevieve looked around and realized that the reason for the cold was due to the Dementors. She shivered at the thought of her soul being sucked out by one of them. The three of them treaded carefully until they were in view of the courtroom.

"I'm a half-blood. My father was a wizard." Alderton informed Umbridge. "William Alderton. He worked here for 30 years. Perhaps you know him. Always wore his jacket inside out." The man said and Harry viscerally became angry as he watched the interaction but Genevieve dragged me forward to stop me from attacking. 

“We can’t be seen Harry,” Genevieve said.

“But we have to save him,” Harry gritted.

Genevieve held him back, “I know, but we’re not supposed to be here. We can’t do much like this, you know this,” she whispered into his ear. It wasn’t because they couldn’t save him, but the fact that they would be caught and wouldn’t just be sent to Azkaban, but to Lord Voldemort himself. If that weren’t the case for them, she would’ve stopped it in a heartbeat, but alas she couldn’t. It would be suicide. 

"No, there's been a mistake. I'm half blood, you see. We must go back, I am a half-blood,” Alderton yelled as he was dragged away. They moved to the courtroom, dementors above them, as white lights went to them to prevent any accidental soul-sucking. 

"Mary Elizabeth Cattermole?"

"Yes." Mary answered to Umbridge.

"Of 27 Chislehurst Gardens, Great Tolling, Evesham?" Umbridge questioned.

"Yes." Mary answered and then it turned to Amy, Stacey and Joanne.

"It's here." Harry said to them and they looked at him as he sensed the Horcrux hissing. Genevieve raised an eyebrow, wondering how it was easy for Harry to know that a Horcrux was nearby.

"Mother to Maisie, Ellie and Alfred? Wife to Reginald?" Umbridge questioned. Genevieve then spotted the locket around Umbridge's neck and knew they had to get it away from her. Mary then notices Ron. "Reg?" Mary called and Ron was frozen in place, which Harry pushed him into the courtroom so as to not give them away yet.

Ron stands beside Mary. "Thank you, Albert." Umbridge said to Harry and he nodded stiffly. "Mary Elizabeth Cattermole?"

"Yes." Mary answered back.

"A wand was taken from you upon your arrival at the Ministry today. Is this your wand?" Umbridge asked, holding up a wand and Mary nodded.

"Please tell the court from which witch or wizard you took this wand from?" She asked which Genevieve thought she was deranged. No one couldn't steal a wand off another wizard if they didn’t have any magic. Wands are channellers, Genevieve thought and rolled her eyes. Wouldn’t Ollivander be rolling around in rage had he heard such nonsense. 

"I didn't take it. I got it in Diagon Alley, at Ollivander's when I was 11. It chose me." Mary said as Harry walked around the courtroom towards Umbridge and anger was evident in his eyes. Genevieve moved slowly towards Harry, prepared to hold him back if he irrationally did something to out them.

"You're lying." Umbridge said.

"Wands only choose witches, and you are not a witch." Umbridge said and did Harry’s anger become extremely visible to everyone. He was enraged.

"But I am." Mary said to that one with tears. "Tell them, Reg. Tell them what I am." Mary said to Ron who was angry within the eyes. Harry’s eyes were fixated on Umbridge. He saw the locket around her neck. His wand drops to his hand and Umbridge sees it. "What on earth are you doing, Albert?" Umbridge asked and he glared. Hermione was trembling while Ron and Genevieve looked at Harry knowing he's lost it. Sadly, his face started bubbling.

"You're lying, Dolores. And one mustn't tell lies." Harry said as his face came back to normal. "Stupefy!" He shouted and it hit Umbridge and Hermione swiftly grabbed the locket. At the same time,  Ron zaps Yaxley while Genevieve moves to untie Mary. Hermione tosses the locket to Harry to catch, while they all look for the exit. Genevieve grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him along. 

"It's Harry Potter." Mary said in awe.

"It is, isn't it? This'll be one to tell the kids." Ron said but Hermione grabbed him and they all started to run for it as the Dementors came after them,  shrieking. This wasn't any good.

"Hurry up!" Genevieve shouted as they went to the lift, dived in,  and moved to shut the gates. The Dementors were stopped by the gate as they reached in to get them from where they were standing, at the back of the elevator.

Genevieve had her hands outstretched as she held the group back, trying to separate the Dementors from the others. As they sucked their souls, she raised her wand. "Expecto Patronum!" she shouted and her Patronus came out. The trio looked at the spectacular view of what it seemed to be like a zoo of animals erupting out of her wand. Snakes, butterflies, unicorns, bears, a phoenix, and a huge dragon danced around and went to blast the dementors away. The view had blown everyone away. No one had ever seen anyone have more than one Patronus. 

As they arrived at the atrium, it was extremely busy and they knew that they had to get the hell out of there as fast as they could. Anyone could hand them over willingly, especially Harry, Ron, and Hermione being the top Undesirables. As the lift arrives, they emerge carefully with caution as Harry was back to his normal self while Hermione, Ron, and Genevieve hadn't changed back yet, and Mary was clinging to Ron.

"Mary, go home. Get the kids. I'll meet you there. We have to get out of the country, understand?" Ron  said to her. "Mary, do as I say." Ron said and Mary suddenly kissed him who went wide eyed. Finally, Ron  was back to himself and he ran as the real Reginald appeared in his vest and boxers. "Long story. Nice meeting you." Ron exclaimed and ran with the group.

"It's Harry Potter!." A man said and Harry groaned. Why couldn't he not draw attention?

 "It's Harry.” “Look, it's Harry Potter!"

"There he is." Someone said and the officers came at the four of them who started to sprint.

"Get him!”

"Stop them!"

Yaxley then arrived in the lift and the trio and Genevieve were running in the lead as Yaxley barged past people as he chucked spells at them making them dodge. Harry swished his wand at a pile of posters making them go everywhere as they reached the corridor. Hermione reverted back to her true self as they continued to run. Panic surged through them until Genevieve, still disguised, unleashed a powerful spell, whisking them away in a swirl of magic.

As they felt the effects of apparition, Yaxley tried to sprint to grab one of them, when they suddenly disappeared. Yaxley tried to track them through Hermione, but for some reason, he wasn’t able to. He knew that this would put not only him, but the entire Ministry officials in a pickle. The Dark Lord was not going to be happy.

Back at Grimmauld Place, they breathed a sigh of relief, the locket now in their possession. Genevieve's eyes sparkled with determination as she held it aloft, a symbol of their victory. "One down, six more to find," she declared, her voice ringing with determination. 

Taglist: @wheenerrr @jillian2003 @secretkittydreamland

Tom Riddle Masterlist

© coolbeans32 2024

[acsuttles]

God of War – The Black Rune – Retrieve the Black Rune

#Kratos #GodofWarSeries #GodofWar #TheBlackRune #RetrievetheBlackRune #Atreus #Epic #Fantasy #Father #Son #FatherandSon #Family #ArtofStorytelling #ScandinavianMythology #AHerosJourney #Magical #MythicalCreatures #EnchantmentWeapons #Thor #Odin #Walkthrough #Gaming #Console #PlayStation #PlayStation5 #PS5 #Sony

[alexkaneinq]

Cultist's Gamble: Round 7

3 Heart Date with Eric:

His hand heals well enough over the course of the next week, and he is happy for the rare day off that he has tonight. Kasper hasn't left the city since the wolf attack and he has no plans to, not until they're certain the 'animal' has moved on. He doesn't want to bring any more attention to himself. He thinks that, maybe, Eric has decided the same thing, because he hasn't shown back up at the tavern before his work since the attack. It's a little strange to not see him anymore, but he is trying to not look a gift horse in the mouth. He also hasn't seen Penelope, so maybe the vampire got her to back off. Maybe Grady did. He doesn't care, he just wants to be able to hold out at this post until the ritual needs to be enacted. Then he'll be stronger than any cleric or witch who might come near him. Then he can be certain that he'll have whatever successes he desires in the new life he will be able to make for himself. 

He is fully planning on a nice normal day. Actually going out to market when he's not utterly exhausted, maybe going and having lunch somewhere. Perhaps getting himself an extra set of curtains to add to the windows to help block out the sun better so each day he tries to sleep he doesn't always wake when the glow of sunlight comes through. That is what he is planning when he gets dressed, but when he opens his door, a note slips from his mail slot and he bends to retrieve it. 

'Kasper, 

Meet me at Lich & Hound at nine. 

-E'

His brows creep up towards his hairline. Lich & Hound is the tavern in the lower district of the city. He used to sneak there as a student to try and find the things he needed to continue his practice. Supposedly, as far as the clerics and guards of the city are concerned, there are not any supernatural beings there, no matter what suspicious people like to say. Just the lower class and godless wretches who are determined to make nothing of themselves. But to those who know and know how to talk to one another, it is the place where monsters make their homes and illegal magics are traded for the right price. He hadn't so much as breathed in that direction since he came back, and he's genuinely surprised that the doctor would want to go there. But maybe he has news about the man who was attacked by the were. 

Still, there are plenty of hours between then and now, so he puts the note in his pocket and goes about his plans for the day ahead. 

///

When nine o'clock rolls around, he is already at the Lich & Hound, the seedy establishment not having changed much in the years that it's been since he frequented it last. The air is filled with smoke from the pipes that are on nearly every other patron's lips, a mixture of Bridlade, to induce bliss, and tobacco, to stimulate the blood, leaving his head a little heavy himself just from the pungent odor of it. There is also the faint hum of magic in the air. Each booth and table has a rune carved at the center. A way to ensure that if privacy is requested, no ears not invited to sit will be able to listen to the conversation. It's considered legal, but uncouth to have such enchantments in place, but Kasper has to acknowledge if the more law-abiding citizens used such sigils at the Tired Elephant, then he wouldn't have come to spy on them.

He has a drink, but he hasn't taken a sip yet. He doesn't know if he plans on drinking at all. Not until he knows what the vampire wants to tell him. He would rather not be compromised if he has to think quickly. He is watching the door, and when the doctor arrives, it is the first time that he has seen the other man out of his physician's leathers. He still favors dark leather trousers, but tighter and more fitted to his long legs, polished boots with slight heels as if he needed to be any taller, and a long sleeved pale gray tunic beneath a long black coat with gleaming silver buttons along the front that he has left open against the late autumn chill that Kasper is certain the other man can't even feel. The shirt itself has the white cuffs of the sleeves peeking out from his coat cuffs, the neck of the garment wide and open, left untied so that all of his long neck, a good amount of his surprisingly toned chest, and most surprisingly, an intricate whorl of tattoos in white ink that sprawl across every inch of his neck and creep lower to frame his collarbones like he's wearing a decorative gorget that is always hidden beneath his physician's leathers. 

The vampire spots him and moves swiftly across the room to reach his side. "Perhaps we should find a table." He suggests and Kasper's skin immediately prickles further. Clearly the vampire has something serious to tell him. He should probably avoid staring at the intricate latticework of... flowers that are crawling all along his neck then. They are able to go and find a table and as soon as they are sat down, the vampire activates the privacy sigil. 

"Why did you call me here?" Eric asks and Kasper's brows immediately draw together. 

"What?" 

"Your letter, it seemed urgent. Has something happened?" 

"What letter-- You wrote me." He reaches into his pocket and takes out the note, passing it across the table. The other man reads the brief note and says, 

"This is not my handwriting, which I imagine means," he reaches into the breast of his coat and withdraws a similarly folded sheet of paper with the same note written inside, "That this is not yours." 

"No." His skin prickles with his agitation. "Why would someone want us here?" He wants to leave immediately, but given he doesn't recognize anyone inside of the bar, there is a fear that whoever did this will be waiting for them outside of it. Could the guards and clerics of the city have caught on to either of them? Both of them? No. If they had thought they were working that closely together, they would have at least bothered to put in the effort of making certain their handwriting matched. 

"I can think of only three people who know that we have an association beyond the Tired Elephant: Eleanor, Penelope, and Mr. Ristol." 

"Eleanor?" 

"My neighbor, the one you spoke to the night we met." 

"That handwriting doesn't look like a woman's-- it's certainly not Penelope's." 

"Far too few ink smears to be hers." He agrees. "Mr. Ristol then." 

"Why would he try to set us up?" 

"If I had to guess, either you or I have been targeted as the source of his investigation." 

Kasper tenses. "Investigation?" 

Eric's brows go up a bit with his surprise. "You didn't know? Mr. Ristol is a private investigator. He sometimes works in conjunction with the church and guard, but typically he gets into other people's private business and hands that information over to whoever is paying. He has been by the hospital several times over the past week to speak to my new patient, Mr. Pew-- the victim of the animal attack. I'm not certain if he's trying to determine if I'm lying, if he is, or if he's simply looking for excuses to come speak with Penelope, but he has made a pest of himself lately." 

Great. He thought it felt like he was fishing for more information. Now he is determined to not give the man a word more to use against him. He has four more months at this post. He will not end up needing to flee early and risk the ritual. "Wonderful." He says flatly. "Well if you had no reason to see me--" He starts to push up from the table, and the doctor reaches out to catch his wrist. 

"Not 'no reason', I simply thought I would ask about your hand the next time I went to the tavern. But since you're here now, how is your hand healing?" He pulls his bandaged hand closer to him across the table, and Kasper huffs, but settles again. "May I?" 

"I'm healing fine," he tells the vampire, but allows him to unwrap the bandages to look at his hand. The wound is sealed over with a thick scab, the edges itchy and pink with the first signs that it is getting ready to peel away and reveal the new flesh beneath. He imagines that in a day or two it will flake away, the bandages left on to ensure that it doesn't do so while he's carrying a glass and that he's not scratching at it during work. 

"Very fine." The doctor agrees. "And you haven't noticed any twinges? Muscle weakness? Stiffness?" 

"No. If that's all?" 

"Would you have been more or less interested in spending the evening in my company if I had actually been the one to invite you here?" The question comes with amusement blanketing his tone. 

Kasper feels that spark of heat creep across the back of his neck as he takes his hand back. "I'm not interested in anything but making sure that I'm building a peaceful life. I don't think that being asked out for drinks by the night physician is a good way of doing that." 

"And if I don't drink? Could that earn me a longer conversation with you?" 

"Why do you want to have a conversation with me at all? I have no intention of revealing your nature to anyone else. I meant what I said about a monster hunt being bad for everyone." He gives up a little more of his past, in the hopes of making his words ring truer. "I saw in my youth what happens when people suspect there are monsters among them. I saw how much worse it could get when I traveled. There is no monster as frightening as a mob made of the righteous." He holds his chin a bit higher. "If your meals are taken from your work and from the few sips I give you, then that is worth it to me because I hope that means you won't do something to put either of us at more of a risk because I know that the people who keep secrets for monsters don't burn on hallowed ground-- they are built pyres instead." 

He sees Eric's hand curl into a fist on the table, the amusement fleeing from his features. "I don't think that you'll give up my secret, not when you are carrying so many of your own. You're correct that I take my meals from those who will not miss it at my practice. But you are... the only one who knows what I am. I suppose I had hoped that would... amount to something." 

Kasper can't help the frown that pulls at the edge of his lips. "Penelope doesn't know?" 

"Of course not. She is dedicated to her craft-- but she limits herself by following so many rules to the letter. As fond of her as I am, and as skilled as she is as a researcher herself, this is not something I would trust her with. I don't know why she is choosing to lie for the patient, but perhaps she is giving him the benefit of the doubt. We didn't find any teeth marks, and transmission of the curse through claws alone is rare. I don't think  her conscience could take it if she brought up the possibility and saw him executed before it was even confirmed if he had been turned or not. There is no ambiguity in what I am. Even if she believes that I have never harmed another soul-- beyond you if you consider what I've done thus far harm-- she would still report me. I would still have to flee the life I've made for myself here, and I would always have to fear someone else learning what I am if I ever tried to practice again. I do not want that existence. Maintaining my secrecy is the only way to ensure that." 

"... Sounds lonely." He thinks that maybe he should say something else. Maybe he should be pleased that even one of her colleagues can see Penelope's shortcomings, but instead there is just an unfamiliar ache echoing around his chest. He chose his path. Is dedicating himself to the pursuit of power to ensure that he doesn't ever have to bow to the will of man or god again. He will have a life that he has carved out of the rotten places in the heavens and no one else will be able to touch it. "But you're, what? Two hundred? Three? Surely when you're finished here, you can visit your sire or other supernaturals who you've lost contact with?" 

He's not expecting Eric to laugh. "Three hundred? Pantheon, do I really look that old?" 

That flush comes back, creeping up to his cheeks this time. "I don't know! I've never met a fang who was as good around blood as you are that wasn't a few centuries old. How old are you?" 

"Physically? Twenty-eight." Which is already a surprise given he assumed that the vampire was frozen maybe a year or two older than himself. "Mentally? Thirty-two." 

"Oh, come on. How old are you really?" 

The vampire's amused looks doesn't waver and after another second Kasper begins to doubt. 

"...Seriously?" 

"I was attacked and mistakenly turned just after I passed my physician's licensing exam." He explains. "I hadn't sent in my paperwork to be assigned a post, so I picked places where I would be unlikely to know anyone, and I had this done," he gestures at his neck, "To conceal the scars. I've held this position ever since. I imagine if I keep up with the fashion trends and acquire a glamor, I'll be able to stay here for thirty or so years. After that I'll likely find a way of forging my documents and take up a position in a new city." 

"You're really only thirty-two? How are you so composed around blood? I've seen vampires three times your age still drop their fangs and flash their eyes when they see blood. You had a man half gutted in front of you and didn't even flinch." 

"I spent all my life wanting to be a physician-- an ambition that did not change just because I have an un-life now. At the start, I had to hold my breath to keep the scent out of my nose, but now, I can focus. I have some suspicion that the bloodlust that so many young vampires struggle with is because of their mindset. They know of vampires' hunger and hear stories of those they've devoured, and they believe that is all there is to their new existence if they don't have a sire to lead them through it. Older vampires still tend to talk about blood as some great forbidden feast they must keep hidden from the gods. To me, blood has always only been food. Even a starving man can sit at a feast and choose not to accept a bite of food if he knows that bite will not make its way into his throat before the executioner behind him strikes his head from his shoulders. I allow myself to eat only what I need and only between the executioner's blinks." 

"I think other vampires would say you're a masochist." He's pretty sure the doctor is now, because he suffers every day that he lives here without being able to practice his magic and he doesn't have to do that to live. 

Eric's smile widens, white teeth shining in the low light, "Maybe, but if my restraint allows me to live the life I worked for long past when I would have been able to otherwise, any discomfort is worth it." 

"Why did you want to be a doctor so badly?" 

"The body is fascinating and has a capacity to change past the point that most people consider. I love being able to see those changes occur. When someone is healed by science and medicine rather than magic, the process it takes to do so is one of the most captivating things I've seen. When patients worsen, it is an opportunity to try and solve problems and learn." 

"Incredibly noble." 

"Well at least I'm not in it for the money." For someone who usually looks so severe, Eric's good humor doesn't waver in the face of his tone or attitude and that lets Kasper relax a little bit more than he thinks he would have if the vampire had asked, "Do you have something you enjoy doing?" at the start of the conversation. 

"I told you, little hobbies." He knows how to keep a story straight and he doesn't want to give the vampire anything else to go off of. "Whittling, cooking, things like that. But nothing I'm passionate about. I enjoy traveling to new cities and making something new for myself." 

"I hope that I can cultivate some of that joy for myself in a few decades when I have to move on. I'll admit, I felt very out of place when I first arrived here four years ago. I still don't think I've settled in very well." 

Kasper doesn't tell him that he won't ever feel settled, not when he knows that one slip could lead to clerics or hunters showing up at his door and driving a stake into his chest. If he wants to feel safe, then he would have to leave the country. Maybe go to Skousia across the mountains. Monsters have integrated themselves into the government there. He would probably be welcome as a vampire physician there. Still. That could always be a plan for later. For whenever someone realizes that he's been practicing for a century with no signs of stopping. 

He doesn't say any of that though, nor does he tell the other that since this meeting wasn't even arranged by either of them, instead he asks, "Do you want a drink? I'm sure they have wine or something redder." 

"A drink, yes." He agrees, reaching to turn off the sigil on their table to signal that they are in need of something from one of the staff. "But not wine-- it's all absolutely horrid. I much prefer a pint now that I can only drink for the flavor of it." 

"You don't even like wine?" 

"Pantheon no, but there is very little else I can ask for if I want the sips I've stolen from you to be hidden" 

Kasper snorts, but they cut that kind of talk as the server comes over to the table to get their order, and Eric directs their conversation to  different avenues as they drink. 

Date Rating: 5, The date is quite delightful. Kasper is in Eric's dreams tonight. 

1 Heart Date with Grady

He and Eric only have one drink together before the doctor actually has to leave to go change and get ready for his shift at the laboratory, but the one drink and the conversation with the other man is pleasant enough. Kasper is wary of growing any closer to the other man, given the rough start to their relationship, but it's not the worst company that he's had over drinks. He doesn't plan on sticking around long either once the doctor has left, but before he can finish settling their tab, Eric having left his money on the table for him, Grady is sliding into the empty chair across from him. 

Kasper hesitates a second, not liking that the private investigator is looking at him with a shit-eating grin. "Dr. Fernward's powers of deduction are more astute than I first gave him credit for. Though I have to wonder if it's him or me that you're investigating."

"Why does it have to be one or the other? You both could have been brought to my attention."

"I suppose. He's more interesting than I am though. At least he has access to private patient files. I'm just a server."

"You're a local who became a stranger and is now a local again. That is pretty interesting to me." Grady flags down the woman who has been attending this table, "Whisky for me and another one of whatever he's having." 

"No," He says more firmly to the server, paying for his drinks and Eric's. "Nothing else for me." He tips her and she turns back to Grady. 

"On the rocks or neat?" 

"Neat." The other man leans back against the other side of the booth, one arm resting along the back. "C'mon, Mr. Kosk, don't make me drink alone." 

"If you wanted to break bread with me, then you could have asked for my company this evening, not use deceptions to bring me out on my night off with an invitation from a different acquaintance." 

"If you'd prefer food, I know a great little," there's a flicker of brighter mirth in his mismatched eyes, "hole in the wall." 

Part fey then. Maybe a changeling, maybe something else. But unlike his or Eric's secrets, even the church and government do not want to piss off the fey by outlawing their existence in their country. Grady gets to live his life however he wishes as long as he abides by the laws of the country and the laws of his court. Clearly choosing to be professionally nosey falls in line with those things. 

"No thank you. Whatever investigation you're conducting, leave me out of it. I'm just trying to make a life for myself here." 

"Are you really? Because you're renting week-to-week in the worst neighborhood that you can without being, well, here. Doesn't seem like someone looking to put down roots long-term." 

Kasper doesn't mean to tense, but he can't say that the words don't leave him feeling even more on edge than talking with, well, anyone usually leaves him. He hates it all the more that as the waitress comes back with the half-fey's drink, his grin widens. 

"Sorry, I just can't leave a good mystery alone. Gets under my skin. Speaking of, how's the hand?" 

"The doctor said it was healing nicely, so I supposed your ruse was good for one thing-- I won't have to make time to go for a follow up appointment. Good evening, Mr. Ristol." 

"Have a nice rest of your night, Mr. Kosk." The grin doesn't leave his face, and Kasper feels like he wants to crawl out of his own skin as he feels his eyes following him as he exits the bar. 

He makes sure to find a general store and gets two vials of iron filings to put around his door and window. It's an insult to fey, but it also keeps them from being able to force their way into a domicile, and now that he knows the investigator has been keeping an eye on him, he wants to be certain that he won't be able to break in even if he wanted to. 

Date Rating: 5, The date is quite delightful. Kasper is in Grady's dreams tonight.

Scenario: 

He is back to work the next day and is extremely displeased to find that the tension around the bar has escalated. Some of the men have gotten up and gathered around other tables, talking about the attack. It doesn't sound like anyone knows that he was involved in a second, but given that livestock and other travelers are reporting that they've had their own run-ins with some kind of vicious animal, they want to get a hunting party gathered and sent out. Others are saying that they would prefer to call out a cleric, maybe a paladin, to ensure that the first victim hasn't been cursed if what was sighted was actually a werewolf and some random animal. 

Kasper fully intends to keep his head down as the discussion goes on. He doesn't know why a Were would choose to come to a place like this to hunt, it's a horrible spot for it, but he really hopes they move on before the church decides to step in. The church never just looks for one monster. They'll crack down on everything, pushing to make people wear sigils and talismans to prove their faith, going to the temple and checking for whoever turns up at the services and who doesn't. They'll investigate everyone and that will put him, Eric, and the man that was attacked at a much higher risk of being exposed and executed. If he flees, there's also a chance that they will try to follow him and will put his work with his cult at risk. Four more months. Four more months and they will each have a share of rotten divinity great enough to carve out a new life for themselves without having to fear that the church will ever try to touch them again. If he destroys that after decades worth of work have gone into it, he's fairly certain that he'll be cursed well into his afterlife. 

He wants nothing more than for this discussion to die out, but he is a server. He doesn't have to make small talk or offer his opinion about things like this, so he doesn't, at least not voluntarily. 

That doesn't mean that as the night goes on and he is bringing pitchers around to refill glasses more than he's bringing out fresh cups, that his opinion isn't demanded as the arguments get more passionate. 

"You were here the night it happened, weren't ya, boy?" He's nearly thirty now, and he doesn't take kindly to being addressed like he's still in his school years, but he is a bit more preoccupied in trying to think of  a way to get out of this conversation without drawing more attention to himself. 

"Most of us were, our schedules are very consistent." He says with as much polite neutrality as he can muster. "Can I get you anything else, sir?" He tries to shift his attention as he finishes pouring him another pint. 

"When that woman was talk'n," The man speaking is, he thinks, the foreman of the coal mine. He makes good money in the position, but it's clear that he worked his way up from the fact that he can never quite keep his clothes in order the way those who were born into money tend to, and the refined tone he's taught himself to speak with slips the drunker he gets. "She said the animal came onto the temple grounds, didn't she?" 

"Yes, I--" 

"She was scared and throwing things to try and save that man's life." Another says, sounding like he's fighting to keep his tone polite at this point. "She might not have been able to see the boundaries of the grounds, or may have her recollection confused. The farmers said that they didn't see any animal tracks right near the man when they went to pick him up." This man turns to Kasper now and he desperately wishes to be somewhere else but here. "When was the man attacked? When the woman said that he was hurt, did she say that was before or after the creature had cornered him on the temple grounds?" 

Kasper doesn't think Penelope ever said anything at all about that. But he is willing to risk a lie now given that few people were in the room to hear her full story while she and Eric had been working to patch up the injured man. "I believe she said he was hurt before he got to the temple. That's why he was yelling for help when she heard him. She said he was only still conscious when she got to his side. I doubt he would have been able to fight off the animal for long enough for her to get to him if the animal had been on him at that point." 

Result: Success!

Bad Ending Counter: -5

The more refined man looks somewhat putout by that answer and the foreman uses his words to launch into more of a rant about why an animal might be coming this close to the city to hunt, how the expansion of the neighboring province and how much forest has been cleared for farming could have chased the animals away from their habitats to find more food as winter starts to linger at their door. Kasper can't help but be relieved as people start to turn their ire towards their neighbors rather than continue to call for the clergy to aid them. Maybe things will settle down further when the wolf does finally move on. 

Start Here | First Round | Previous Round | Next Round | Last Round

[justmightyshadows]

Next Chapter in Shadows of The Deep Keep

Chapter 3: Tides of the Blade

An ongoing story Minthara/OC(Muira) and there love affair as try to take down the absolute.

This chapter is NSFW so keep that in mind! Enjoy!

Minthara doesn’t lower her head when Muira approaches, her neck stretches to the sky as she takes in the stifling darkness where the stars should be. Crimson red irises flicker from the lantern light almost as if small wisps dance within them. Taking in the fullness of the moon - and of her guest, Muira stops at the entrance to her tent and leans in towards Minthara, a faint smell of ash wafts towards her. Unlike Muira she’s had a chance to clean and rest. “I’m tired, come inside if you’d like to talk. I’ll leave my weapons out here.” She adds as Minthara throws a hesitant glance at the assortment of blades across her body. Muira sheds her armor and weapons outside of the tent until she stands bare before a small basin she uses to rinse the blood and dirt from her body. She is heavily tattooed in various runes and languages across her body some look to be more ritual than art and the below the knee of her left leg is black with ink, Minthara thinks of the pain that this would entail and is impressed with her once again.

Noticing an overlooked spot, she steps forward, retrieves the cloth from the basin, and delicately glides it across Muira's bare back, eliciting a ripple of pleasure. Muira thanks her with a gentle touch of her arm and changes into a shimmering pearl blue tunic that falls just below her butt. Minthara watches intensely, which should come as no surprise to Muira who had changed there just to get her attention. However, the intensity in Minthara's gaze has transformed into a nearly primal desire, as if she could consume Muira in mere moments. Muira contemplates, "That's what I had hoped for," yet anticipated a more playful banter. Casting a brief glance over her shoulder, Muira invites conversation, but the Drow remains silent, her lips unmoving, as if restraining herself to mere breath.

“Come inside Minthara.” Muira beckons playfully parting the flap of her tent. Instead Minthara catches the edge of the soft fabric with one hand, the other confidently grips against Muira’s hip subtly asserting her control and indicating, 'you first.' A gentle chuckle escapes Muira’s lips as she glides by making sure to brush up close, exposing her back to Minthara, heading straight to her bedroll. “Is it Chivalry or fear that makes you want to go last?” Reclining back on her arms into the soft woolen bundles, Muira meets Minthara's gaze, aware that her mind is likely brimming with inquiries “More chivalry than fear. I offer you the respect you have earned.” Positioned closest to the entrance, Minthara turns to face Muira, even in her arrangement displaying a calculated demeanor, ever prepared for survival.

“Quite the lavish tent you have in comparison to the others. Fey silks, duegar wool, vases of ice wine, luminara tea and dried underdark mushrooms.” Minthara takes in her surroundings with an air of appreciation “Your camp clothes are even jeweled by the Fey. Tell me, do you carry this all on your back?” She looks down at Muira in a ravenous but interested way.

“I have a few servants to carry my tent items around this forsaken land. I’m sure the camp gossip has seen them coming and going. How could I hope to host a noble such as yourself without the finest provisions? It would be a shame to have you uncomfortable.” Muira rubs the end of her tunic lightly flickering the blue gems in the soft light, bringing Minthara’s attention to the joining of her thighs. “Besides, would you want me to be clothed in anything but the best. It would be just as disappointing don’t you think?”

Minthara leans forward assetively spreading her legs wide in the stool with her elbows and tuts her lips playfully “Quite disappointing. Many consorts would die to have the lavish things you possess.” Her posture betrays her thinking but presents a small challenge to Muira of what to do next.

“And many of mine have. I already have you dreaming of me as your consort? I can't say I find the notion entirely disagreeable. Perhaps in due time, I shall extend an offer that rivals such dreams.” This draws a rare smile from Minthara’s lips, the thought of this woman at her side has opened her mind to a rare bit of hope.

Minthara manages to draw her eyes away from Muira long enough to remember why she had entered the tent in the first place. Her ears droop lightly as she allows the silence to spread out among the candles.

“Why did you save me?” Minthara looks cautiously into Muira’s eyes, dark brown pools that seem to be drawing her in closer. Muira had expected the question but was thrown off by the timing, I guess the playful banter will have to wait until later, she thinks.

“In truth I am here to avenge someone. I saw something in you that made me think of them. So I convinced my companions to spare you at the goblin camp, by saying we should remain impartial. Back then, I wasn't even sure if I would continue with them. If I had taken your life for them, uncertain of their loyalty, I'd be left without allies or comrades.” Muira sighs deeply, reflecting on the lengthy debates and the forceful measures she employed to bring them to her cause. Seeing Minthara before her now she has no regrets.

“Convincing my companions was not easy, stubborn and single minded as they are. They are content to view the world in absolutes, and to think themselves saviors even as they kill others. But they are young and have not known the scorn of life. The undercurrent that pulls us all in time. You on the other hand are obviously are different.”

Minthara laughs bitterly. “Yes, I have known its scorn. I wonder then why ally with them? You're not bound by the Absolute, unlike them. Even tonight, they scolded you for offing that mouthy duergar. But not everyone in your group is so naive; divisions exist, ripe for manipulation. As I am sure you have noticed.” Her mind spins, contemplating how to outmaneuver Tav and captivate the woman before her—something about Muira is both alluring and mysterious, yet oddly comforting. The feelings are a bit muddled for Minthara at the moment. “Your skill with a thrown knife was exceptional. He had made it quite far and with one flick he was felled. Your portion of the interrogation too was handled quite well, you know the points of pain that can not be resisted.” She leans forward so that she is kneeling above Muira “I prefer to flay flesh than dig at it but” She shrugs her shoulders and a grin spreads across her lips “Your results can not be argued with. It is easy to see that with our combined skills we would be quite unstoppable.” Her eyes brighten, a genuine smile parting her lips as she thinks of Muira’s work with a blade, or simply of Muira below her now. That too is caught up in a confusing whirlwind.

Muira’s look is enticing, begging to break the silence that has fallen between them. Her lips quiver lightly with anticipation as she pulls a finger gently over them, drawing the skin tense under its weight. Minthara follows the trail of the finger with her eyes and reaches out as Muira goes to lower it, grasping her wrist firmly. “It has been some time since I could think for myself and choose a lover that I wanted. Be mine tonight and show me how much trust you have in me. Obey me and I will make this night one you will never forget. Can you do that?” She takes Muira’s hand and brings it to her lips depositing a soft kiss along her fingertips.

“It is not common for one such as myself to obey.” Muira responds lightly as she extends her thumb to tease Minthara’s lips pushing forward just enough to feel the warm of the inside. Her other hand rubs the length of Minthara’s arm taking in the woman before her, wondering if she will provide release. “It is not common to be a lover to me. Now, will you obey? Or should I seek comforts elsewhere.” Minthara bites playfully at the finger intruding into her mouth as Muira gives a genuine laugh. “And who would you turn to? No.” She shakes her head and plants a kiss on the Drow’s unsuspecting lips “You will be with me because I am the only one worthy of your affection. I will obey you tonight to see if you are able to lead me.” She keeps her mouth painfully close to Minthara’s face as she speaks her lips lightly caressing her soft cheeks.

“Good. Let us begin. Lay back.” Minthara says before pushing Muira back into the soft sheets. She leans forward and kisses her roughly, allowing her hands to trail up Muira’s thighs and push them open. Her hand presses forward to find a wet heat awaiting her.

“Oh, you’ve wanted me this entire time it seems. How could you play so coy knowing you were this wet at just the sight of me, the sound of my voice?” Minthara spreads Muira’s lips skillfully allowing her thumb to circle the hooded clit and her fingers to tease the already pulsing entrance. Muira struggles, shifting her hips back and forth and reaches her hands down to push Minthara’s fingers in “Don’t tease me.” She whispers dropping her eyes to low pools of pleading. ‘She must be some type of siren’, Minthara thinks, ‘she turns to seduction without missing a beat and already has me basically drooling over her body.’

“I see you are not used to one such as myself. You are to obey, not direct. I will please you in my own time, do not rush me.” a grin spreads across her cheeks and pushes creases at the edge of her lips as she continues to tease the entrance. “But your voice is delightful, ugh, Usstan orn naut kyorl.*”

“I think you’re ready now anyway” she mulls to herself as she inserts two fingers deep into Muira. Her insides grip Minthara’s fingers greedily as she moans in a low tone, reaching out to grab at Minthara’s waist. Minthara slides her other hand slowly up her body and forcefully grabs the woman’s neck. Muira sputters out a small phrase that suddenly enters jer mind. “Plynn ussa.**”

“Oh, you speak my tongue as well. Beautiful, but I already am. Remember who is in charge, sokoya uss.***” she doesn’t slow down the strokes or loosen her grip on her neck as the woman writhes in pleasure. “You still have plenty of energy to move so make use of it and lift your tunic for me.”

Muira whimpers sloppily, yanking at the tunic until it is hiked above her breasts. Minthara pounces instantly lowering her head to Muira’s chest, pressing her face against the soft breasts,taking her time to feel the quick heartbeat and shallow breaths before placing her tongue around an erect nipple. A gentle tongue turns to a hard suck and then a forceful bite as Minthara relentlessly strokes her fingers into Muira. Muira wraps her hands around Minthara’s back and shoulders keeping her close as she rides the waves of pleasure and feels the edges of her vision start to turn black. Minthara pushes in to her knuckle and rotates keeping the same pace of stroke as Muira moans dragging a throbbing wet tongue along the edge of Minthara’s ear gently biting at the top. “Little devil” Minthara says through gritted teeth feeling herself melt under Muira’s tongue. In turn she picks up the pace, and grips harder against Muira’s throat relishing the small bubbling of air it releases out of her. Muira’s vision fades even more as her mind folds to the feel of Minthara’s knuckle rubbing her inside with a catching sensation, a small pop as she slides another finger in. A few tears stream from the edges of Muira’s eyes her already shaky vision reduced to puddle of black and her mind seems to have gone with it. Her body tenses as she climaxes with a loud stifling gasp that tries to pull more air into her lungs but only leaves her closer to fainting. Minthara eases out a few more, slower strokes, enjoying the sound of wet love beneath her without releasing her grip from above. She continues to bring her back down from ecstasy, finally releasing the grip of her hand on Muira’s neck as Muira gasps violently her body shuddering from relief and she pulls theirs heads together and kisses her harshly biting on Mintharas bottom lip, hoping to show her appreciation through shared pain. She is pushed back sharply against her chest as Minthara pulls the tunic off of Muira and tosses it with such intensity it knocks over a couple bottles that were perfectly placed along the edge of the tent and then just as hastily removes her clothes as well. She straddles Muira harshly allowing her wetness to slowly make a mess of Muira’s belly, marking her as her own possession. She rides the wave of sensation from the warm flesh against her own, the sounds of sliding and gripping of skin until she has calmed down from the moment before.

Looking down at the hand mark forged into Muira’s neck she says “I hope you’re not tired, I haven’t finished with you yet.” She grinds again showing off the still soaking state of her body. “I have so much more to give. We’ve only just begun, right?” Muira looks up with full soft eyes that are tear stained and red and a hint of defiance.

Minthara reaches down and inserts three fingers into Muira’s willing mouth “Then tell me, how are you with your tongue?”

Muira caresses the fingers with her tongue weaving in between the spaces before removing them with a hard suck. “Exceptional”.

A hearty laugh cuts the tension between them as Minthara mewls “I will judge that.” She lifts herself up and pushes down on the top of Muira’s head guiding her down to form a seat worthy of a queen. She mounts her roughly, flattening herself against Muira’s tongue. She means to be in control, ride her until her legs are weak and the other’s tongue is sore from pleasuring. Minthara begins to ride her feeling her tongue and mouth pressed against the hood of her clit sends chills down her spine. The other woman’s dark eyes look up at her with a bold confidence. She had rushed to get relief and hadn’t taken the time to restrain her hands so there is no shock when Muira snakes her hands to either side of Minthara’s thighs and pulls her into her tongue reaching deep into her with opened jaw. Minthara exhales and weaves her fingers into Muira’s curly hair pulling hard once she is at the scalp. “If you’re going to lead me you better be correct.” Minthara chides bucking back against the restraints slightly, allowing herself to be licked from the clit back to her soaking entrance. She gasps noticing one hand freeing itself and quickly sliding into her, entering easily up the wet trail. Adding to the pleasurable sounds of the night she throws her head back, whispers Muira’s name with some words that neither can make out except for the last two: “Dossta nors”****

This woman is commanding her in all of the right ways her tongue circling folds across her as her fingers use Mintharas own weight to press in deeper and deeper. She hadn’t noticed how aroused she’d been and just finds herself melting into the pleasurable sucks and kisses. Her first climax happens before she can even try to regain control. Clinching her thighs harshly against Muira’s face she freezes as Muira uses a low hum to send vibration rippling through her body. She tries to catch her breath but Muira is not done with her, continuing her former antics she frees another hand and whispers “Don’t resist now that I am not holding you.” The feel of her breath gently brushes against Minthara’s inner thigh. She slides the free hand back slowly working the last free hole until she’s filled it with two greedy fingers. Minthara leans forward trying to find a hand hold and only finds the ground. Her back hunched in disbelief as she feels waves of pleasure coming from every entrance. Muira has fiendishly set an off rhythm. When one hand pulls back the other pushes in in glorious harmony, her mouth interchanges broad licks with harsh sucks of the clit. Minthara finds herself begging for relief from Qualla, ol’ zhah ichl mzilt” and is astonished when she climaxes mid sentence. The last word drawn out as her legs shake and give out on her. She lets herself fall helplessly into the soft sheets next to Muira who wears a confident grin. “To your liking? I couldn’t let you have all of the fun.”She runs a hand over the bare thighs next to her taking the moment to plant kisses along them gently.

“Xas” Minthara says, trying to steady her voice and return to her normal tone. Muira picks up a shimmering fey silk blanket and places it over Minthara gently. “You are beautiful, I would have you by my side when your vengeance is complete” Muira falls back into the blankets as well placing her hands behind her head as she looks up at the lights that adorn the tent above her. “Have me by your side where?” Minthara asks barely pulling herself up to rest on her arm her body facing Muira in curiosity of the answers she may receive now that they had shared their bodies.

“Selkarnath. A city north of Luskan. It is a cold and harsh place with many opportunities to gain or lose power, but it is a place where Drow are common.” Muira shifts a bit trying to open herself up to Minthara - to look inviting. Minthara accepts the motion moving closer, she places a hand on Muira’s neck suddenly. “It may be too late to stop the bruising but I can make it not as dark.” She casts a healing spell over the darkened handprint and continues. “I know this place, it has been in many stories for those in the underdark. I could be quite happy there, however they say it is already claimed by the “Undying Lord” Do you know about this?“ Muira tries to look undisturbed “I’ve heard that name before yes - but I don’t believe that the stories you have heard would do the lord justice. Maybe I will tell you my own soon enough.” “Probably not - we drow would not want to admit when someone is as ferocious as us. It is a drow tendency. Tell me though - I know where you hail from now but I am curious of your age as well.”

Muira grins as Minthara rests on her chest reaching her hand to lay softly beneath her breasts her nails digging down in a mindless pattern, tracing the runes and the drow word for sea. “I am near 1400 years old. I would give you an exact but when you reach my age being close is good enough. I suspect I will live another 1400 if not more but that remains to be seen. There are few of my kind to corroborate my theory, which is part of why I am here.” Minthara looks up at her timidly. To have that many years to her life would make Muira older than even the oldest high elves. Muira chuckles lightly “I’m sure that has given you many more questions about my background - I will answer them all in due time. The most important things to know about me now are that I am searching for one such as myself that used to live in this area and I am vengeance bound to kill Ketheric Thorm for what he has taken from me. I am sure we align on one of those points.”

Minthara listens to the lanterns crackling and replies quietly “Yes, we do. I will join you to kill General Thorm, I mean - Ketheric.” She closes her eyes softly, her head bobbing to Muira’s breaths and she notices the scent of sea air, hears the soft hum of an old drow lullaby before she drifts off to sleep. Muira watches her for awhile before planting a kiss on her forehead and joining her in rest.

The shadow-curse allows no day or night to fall or rise so Minthara is raised instead by the stirring of Lae’zel who is stretching outside of her tent. Minthara finds a set of beautifully crafted chain mail armor, a shield and a long drow sword placed near the entrance with a small note:

Armor is for you, we’ll have to find a crossbow sometime during the day. There is a small glass of Luminara Nectar Tea which should help with the shadow curse. Tav came by earlier to take a team to this temple, I’ll send a Raven with instructions to the where the new camp should be set up. I saw your handiwork on my neck this morning - I hope to battle with you again. Dosst velve.*****

Minthara chuckles thinking of the dark rings that adorn Muira’s neck now - tokens of her affection some would say. She dresses for the coming day and steps out of the tent to Lae’zel who instantly says “We must train or it will be a day wasted! I hate to be idle.”

A vision of Ketheric raising his hammer viciously over Muira enters her mind and she nods - “Our enemies do not rest, so it is not a luxury that we can afford either.”

Notes:

* I will not wait. **take me. ***pretty one **** Your mouth ***** please, it is too much (This one was hard and I am not sure about it honestly.) ****** your blade/knife/dagger * forgot Xas = yes My undercommon translations are not perfect so feel free to give ideas. I love the idea of Muira being around long enough to kind of know everyone's language. I also think it makes her bond with Minthara stronger.

[bite-of-witchcraft]

Hastily Humbled

(Trigger Warning: Violent, Animal Cruelty)

Amelia's hair was haphazardly pulled back into a messy bun as she meticulously worked on the bones that lay atop her workbench. Some of them were from animals, while others were taken from humans. With great precision, she carefully carved and sawed away at the bones, using tiny chisels to create the finer details on the charms. Following the ancient instructions for the Hexblade to the letter, she ensured that each piece was perfect before moving on to the next. Finally, the first bone charm was complete, and she lifted it from the vat of boiling oil. Holding it to the lantern's light, she inspected the sinister-looking carved runes gleaming ominously in the flickering light.

Amelia's face contorted into a sinister smile as she carefully placed the charm on a smooth stone. Its surface was adorned with intricate Drust runes that ran along its perimeter. With great caution, she double-checked the parchment she had found earlier, ensuring the blade could contain any hex as long as no more than three charms were strung from it. She paused momentarily, scanning the cabinet of reagents before flipping through the pages of her grimore. Her slender finger tapped on a page where an inked image depicted broken bones, and she finally settled on a curse of Weakness for the first charm.

The necessary components were promptly gathered from the storage and systematically placed surrounding the stone. Using a swift gesture, Amelia set aflame the jet-black candles situated around her. Uttering in an ancient language as the flames flickered and the reagents gradually dissolved, Amelia's hands gracefully maneuvered through the atmosphere to entice the merging obscurity into the bone charm—each intricately etched symbol upon the charm illuminated in sequence with a sinister radiance. As the candle flames flickered in their final moments, she approached her workbench and reached beneath it to retrieve a cage containing a rabbit. Carefully gripping it by the scruff of its neck, she lifted the small creature and held it above the charm. Speaking in a language unknown to most, she drew a knife across the rabbit's neck and down its chest. The crimson fluid and viscera spilled out onto the ritual stone as the final rune of the charm flickered to life.

With a twinkle in her eye, Amelia watched in excitement as the dark candles flickered and died. A small, devilish chuckle escaped her lips as she rested her hands on the workbench. However, her elation turned to alarm as the charge in the air lingered for longer than expected. With her heart pounding in her chest, she watched as the final rune on the charm flitted out, leaving her feeling vulnerable, shielding her eyes with one hand with only a second to spare. With a loud, explosive bang, the bone shattered into a million pieces, sending her flying backward into the cauldron at the center of the room. The dark energy emanating from the explosion cascaded over the cabin like a spider's web floating upon the surface of the water before it dissipated, leaving Amelia feeling brittle and atrophic.

With a pained groan, Amelia struggled to lift herself from the ground. Her breath came out heavily as she muttered curses under her breath. Much to her dismay, the curse had backfired, leaving her to stumble clumsily towards the rack of potions at the other end of the room. In a frenzy, she began to scatter the potions across the shelf, searching frantically for a particular red bottle. Her hands trembled as she uncorked the stopper and drank the bottle's contents in one gulp. Once she had finished, she allowed the empty glass vial to roll across the wooden floorboards, waiting for the muscular atrophy to wane.

"So, no' essence o' rabbit then…" She chided herself with hefty breaths.

[west-tokyo-incidents]

Animals I associate the masters with, WITHOUT using animals the douji already have. For no reason other than I wanna have a thought experiment with myself and how I associate shit.

Mizho/michel - separately, and owl and a coyote. As a single entity, badger. American, specifically.

Owl because of cool calmness, silence, deadly observation, and it's association with death in kemetic mythos.

Coyote because of their tenacity and sheer ability to adapt and survive, also they live in monogamous pairs in the wild.

Badger because the American Badger is the second most brutal bastard weasel to exist, second to the Honey Badger. But the Honey Badger is African and doesn't have the right vibes.

Fusataro - Jaguar

Look I listened to Neon Tiger once and it ruined me, but the Tiger belongs to Sophia and Lions don't jive right. Fusataro doesn't strike me as some in-your-face king type, no pride, no big roar, but can definitely kill a black caiman with a single bite to the skull. Also Black Jaguars are just badass and regal and I love them and I love Fusataro.

Kei - Rat!

This is an unsurprising one, but it's for more than just his teeth. He cares about his family, he's skittish, but he's not defenseless. I imagine him as a little bit pack-rat like, hoarding little things that might be useful in the future. Rats are very social animals that get depressed alone and I feel like he's a poor wet rat who's stuck in a cage with an aggressive smaller male(Vice) but he deals with it because the alternative is being alone.

Lady Gekko/Rune - Luna Moth/Praying Mantis

Listen I think my reasons for this are obvious. Luna Moth-Moon-Jealousy it fits. BUT ALSO. Luna Moths, once they mature, find love and then die. Which. Yeah. That tracks. And female Praying Mantises are fucking bad ass bugs with a reputation for killing their mates. I don't think I have to explain more than that.

Hana - Honey Badger

Okay I'm writing out my thoughts process as I decide because usually I associate her with a bear cub but I'm avoiding repeating animals and a bear is Eater's. Maybe a Tasmanian Devil but that feels... Almost too easy, I guess? Or maybe she gets the Honey Badger. Yeeee. Cause maybe as she grows her two big role models are probably Mizho and Akitsu and I can absolutely see her going batshit when she hits their age.

Akira - Show-Line Dog, probably something like a Doberman

This one is kinda rough, because I definitely associate him with a young male lion, one who doesn't have a pride yet but is looking to take one over. BUT... Idk if Orghullo's animal is a lion or a foo dog so I'm playing it safe. He's definitely an intelligent animal, and not a dog who's just for looks. He definitely can use his teeth if he has to.

Sumako - Ferret

Domestic, cute, cuddly, wants to hoard her favorite people to herself. But do not forget she is a carnivore and a weasel and ferrets thrive on a whole-prey diet and watching one devour a frozen-thawed mouse is an experience I'll never forget. I want one so bad.

Kaizo - Wild Boar

And now the hardest part. The good guys......

Changed from Hamster. I don't know why, and yes I realize Gauge's animal is a boar, BUT... when I think animal aus or like the daemon au and stuff I just. Keep coming back to a boar. Something something pigs=greedy animal, wild boar=violent pigs. So. Idk.

Yamato - Golden Retriever

Probably a rescue, especially one with a bad history but still has all the love in the world. I really don't think I have to explain this one.

Sayama - Domestic Cat

Aloof, cute, loving if socialized properly(she was not, her father was Dunstan, but I digress), and cunning.

Matsumoto - Grey Fox

Kia has laid claim on the red fox, but I feel like Matsumoto, especially following her sequence with Jun, is a lot more cunning than she lets on. She's meticulous and careful, though also skittish and would rather run than confront a larger threat.

Hibari - Black Footed Wild Cat

Highest K:D Ratio of any wild cat. Extremely protective of their family. Not to be under estimated for their size. Sharp witted, deadly, and smol.

Akitsu - Maned Wolf

Pretty legs Tall, diligent for danger, not quite as deadly as they seem but still a predator.

Musashi - Donkey/Mule

Yoichi - Cavalier King Charles Spaniel

Changed from moose because. Let's be real, they're not attractive animals and it's hard to take it seriously when I'm trying to write shit.

But he's an ass.

Okay, terrible jokes aside, Donkeys and their ilk are livestock guards against canine predators like coyotes and wolves and they're merciless and stubborn as hell when they have a target. They can be loving and mischievous with their owners.

Listen I'm a dog trainer for a living and there is no animal on this planet that fits this man more than this very specific dog breed. Calm, focused, very smart, literally the perfect first-time-owner dog in my opinion. Easy going, forgiving, would give you the world if they could.