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melliae · 6 months ago

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Refraction Railway Line #2 Abnormalities Part 1 (Analysis)

The Möbius strip. The famous 2D manifold that has only one side, meaning that no matter how much you walk, you will always end up where you started. There’s no other path in front of you beyond that which endlessly repeats itself, forever.

Without escape, without release…

“Be still. Just be still, and do nothing more than breathe. For now, that’s how you must live. You cannot fly.” - ??? (Sang Yi), Chapter 48: Bud, Canto IV.

But only to the extent you allow yourself to be trapped in such a cycle, too afraid of soaring away and getting your wings hurt again.

“This is an adequate place to get off this train without getting lost. The refraction rate is already off the charts. For the first time since we embarked on this journey… I see a signpost. Maybe, this is where this railway line ends. Or maybe...this is where we meet our ends.” - Dante, Terminus: The Garden, Refraction Railway Line 2.

Nobody knows what lies beyond the known, familiar and soothing cycle, if there’s a dead end or true freedom. Nonetheless, you must walk towards it, for your and…

For Everyone’s Sake

“Are the talismans filling the room for a wish? Does this wooden doll wish for anything?” - Abnormality Encounter.

An effigy is, in essence, a sculptural representation of someone or something made with the express purpose of acquiring the dignity of that person/thing: whatever happens to the effigy, it will happen to its “model”. Yet one has to wonder what a stiff, featureless wooden doll represents? What kind of person can even begin to bear that quantity of curses on them?

No one.

No human can hope to be strong and resilient enough to carry all that hatred, despair, and sadness. Only a copy of one can do such a thing, especially crafted to be a faceless caricature that will never amount to anything more than that—no one.

It will be forever trapped in that room, bearing all the evils of the world because someone has to do it, and what better “person” to do it than the one specifically made to do so? It can’t wish to be anything but the nameless scapegoat of humanity, the star that weeps for everyone.

“When we look up at our sky… all we see is a pinch of muddled light. But here… I can see lone stars looking down at us. Since the city I can see from here is filled with cries of pain and despair… I’d rather… gaze down at people from the loneliness up in the sky and shed tears with them…” - Unknown Boy, Blossoming League of Nine Littérateurs, Canto IV.

I implied in my post about the RR3’s Abnormalities that Siltcurrent represents the experiences and memories of Mermaids at some level. Thus, it shouldn’t be surprising that the Tearful Thing, a human monstrosity with a boundless heart that cries for all misfortunes that befall people, can also participate in the creation of an Abnormality.

However, So That No One Will Cry (“STNOWC” from now on) is not only a manifestation of the Tearful Thing’s trauma and wishes; it’s also one for Yi Sang’s past conflict to an extent.

“Those were the kinds of achievements we accomplished in T Corp’s district. Which is why… I became more engrossed in the mirror. Untainted, unadulterated… I wished to immerse myself in the pure exploration of knowledge. So that… I wouldn’t have to take anything from anyone.” - Yi Sang, Blossoming League of Nine Littérateurs, Canto IV.

It isn’t a coincidence that its namesake skill, “So That No One Will Cry”, is Gloom-based: the expression of bottomless despair born from witnessing the evils of the world and those who one has caused. After all, who doesn’t know the bitterness of not wanting to do anything after doing or getting something wrong? The taste of the lies when someone asks you how you are doing? Those countless cases of martyrs for their loved ones? Maybe that’s why its mid-combat Event has Sloth advantage, because it keep things as they are and were, with the burden being too much to bear for the chosen Sinner.

At the end, someone has to cry, to purge all the accumulated pain, and you can't really be bothered with it.

… But as Project Moon does, things aren’t that simple: for some reason, all STNOWC’s remaining skills are Lust-based and give Cursed Talismans on hit. This last effect can be easily attributed to a mere side effect by the Abnormality’s attack or activity in general, as its mid-combat Event and Logs suggest. The Lust affinity, on the other hand, is a bit more tricky, though thankfully I already explained it in my RR4 post: Lust, in its most general form, corresponds to the Sin of love and passion, which is something STNOWC has in spades—an absolutely selfless love that leads it to carry countless curses.

“We start removing every single talisman in the room. The wooden doll paces here and there, uneasy and anxious. We ignore it and continue removing the talismans. As we were almost finished with removing the talismans, the wooden doll stands before the Sinners as though to tell them that enough is enough.” - Abnormality Encounter.

And like a great part of the Sin’s examples in the game, STNOWC is heavily attached to its role as a bearer of pain too, not wanting to abandon it by any means. This situation is repeated somewhat when you choose to remove the Doll’s talismans, despite the final ambiguity presented by Dante at the end. Personally, I think the Abnormality is ultimately afraid of someone else carrying the talismans.

“The wooden doll at the center seemed to be liberated from a binding force. It walked to you, offering an object.” - Abnormality Encounter.

Because even when you give it freedom through choosing to remove the room’s talismans, STNOWC decides to give you a copy of itself, as if to say that you should still use it to carry curses, brushing aside your sacrifice.

Such stubborn behavior makes the Sin advantages of the previous choice pretty ironic: you either don’t want the Doll to be trapped by your sins out of a slothful refusal to change, or, more importantly, because you hate allowing someone to bear all that suffering alone. And by that matter, the Abnormality’s weakness to Wrath is explained by that last part, because just as well have felt on some level the bitterness of hiding things from others, the frustration that comes from a loved one doing the same surely is familiar; but no matter how much you worry about them, if that loved one keeps ignoring or rejecting any and all help, only a wrathful worry can truly “save” them, and not more (misdirected) love (which in turn explains its resistance to Lust).

At any rate, the main idea should be obvious at this point, about how the answer to suffering isn’t to make someone carry it in complete solitude; that’s nothing but wishful and magical thinking. To stop the pain you must share it, just like the Talismans in both the battle and with Red Sheet Sinclair, lest everything becomes too heavy for anyone to bear.

Only when everyone shares their curses, truly no one will have to cry.

Refusing to Change

“Did the Steam Transport Machine return to when it was first produced? Leaving behind everything it’s gone through. The older the machine gets, the more of itself it will have to reconstruct.” - Mid-Combat Event.

By definition, meaning must exist in our lives. That’s not an idea anyone can argue against, because I’m not even speaking about any sort of metaphysical reality, let alone some kind of deeper, transcendental truth. It’s all a simple psychological fact: the drive to find (or construct, or whatever word you fancy) is an essential fundament of our psyche, of who we are as a species. We are literally programmed to see them anywhere, anytime, and we can’t function without one.

However, just as the outside world keeps on changing, so does our inner reality, and with it what we hold (or held) as true fades away. Thus, when confronted with the reality of our meaning—our life—disappearing to never return, despair sets in and we wonder what we will do. The answer, as most things in life, depends on the individual, but Steam Transport Machine surely shows what a sizable amount of people did and do.

“Hohmm… ‘twasn’t that it released tiny machines to repair itself; it was as though it un—did the damages that had already transpired.” - Don Quixote, Abnormality’s Observation Log #1.

To regress to the past. To act as if things haven't changed, or to try to restore them to what they were. That’s what the Accumulated Past mechanic is all about, being reflective of the work the Machine does and thus the turns the battle is taking, with a higher count indicating an increase in the use and degradation of its body; RR2 follows the same principle, though it was tied to the overall “time” (i.e., turns) the Sinners took.

Now, since the “past” is “accumulated”, asking where it’s stored is a natural question, and the Logs, the MD Encounter and the mid-combat Event give an obvious answer: Steam Machine’s past is 100% literally gathered in the nixie tubes (incorrectly called “vacuum tube” by Don) in its body. In fact, reducing the number shown by the tubes allows the Abnormality to return to a previous, less damaged state, as seen in its “Returning Past” passive. You can compare it to save scumming in a way.

Accumulated Past is so important for Steam Machine that it literally affects every other part of its kit, including its Poise or, as stated by Don in the Observation Logs, steam generation… or it should in theory.

While Don seems to be pretty sure about the relationship, there’s no gameplay element that reflects such a relation. The closest thing to it are how some of its skills do more damage based on the Machine’s Accumulated Past, and its RR2 exclusive passive, “Overlapping Past”, which grants it 1 Attack Power Up for every 80 Accumulated Past. It’s possible to make the connection between “more steam means more skills used, and more skills used means more turns”, but I don’t think the Logs referred to that…

At any rate, “Overlapping Past” is a curious name, because it implies that Steam Machine is somehow overlapping (duh) its past states within its current one to achieve greater strength in every attack. Something equally interesting happens with its other passive, “Metronome”, named for the instrument used to set a regular tempo by musicians and dancers to help maintain the rhythm in their work, which means the Steam Machine’s Accumulated Past helps it to set the “speed” of the fight, explaining the defenses and attack modifiers acquired through the tube’s numbers.

All of that clearly shows the Accumulated Past is not some sort of abstraction or symbol for something else; it’s an essential part of the Abnormality. Its past is a tangible reality to which it can not only return, but also clearly manifest in the present, and that ultimately controls it. In fact, one may say that the past is the thing that makes up Steam Machine’s own existence, as shown with the story presented through its skill set.

Beginning with the two “oldest” skills as indicated by their names, “853” and “5384”, these are Sloth-based and thus indicate the mindset the Machine had “back there”: a complete lack of zeal for its “work”, mindlessly carrying luggage without any deeper consideration about its existence. Such a state is as soulless and robotic as you get… or maybe not. Maybe that is its soul, its entire being from which its very own sense of self and thus pride grew as defenses against its meaninglessness, as shown with the Pride skills, “6463” and “6753”.

“A purposeless machine is bound to lose the meaning of its existence, even if it is functional.” - Abnormality Encounter

But it doesn’t matter how many swords are used to defend one’s ego, everything inevitably has to change, especially within Steam Machine’s absurd lifespan. Thus, when confronted with that truth, what can it do besides raging against the world, as “6475384” demonstrates? It’s unknown if it was betrayed, abandoned or something along those lines, but its hatred is a real and dangerous thing; we all know the horrifying things people and even we can do in order to make our lives feel meaningful (again).

And finally, at the end lies “974569A”, the only possible destination a being that refuses to change can arrive at: envy for all those who can move beyond a monotonous existence, finding meaning within their selves that change with every step of their journeys. For the first time, the Machine finds itself broken in a way its ability can’t erase, for it has gone through an untold quantity of time trying to hold onto the only thing it has through reliving its past, all the while ignoring that single, insulting fact.

This understanding is reflected in its Sin resistances too, especially to Sloth since it’s touched upon when you choose “order it to do nothing” during its Encounter: because it was made with the purpose of carrying things and do work in general, Steam Machine will simply blow up when confronted against a situation in which it can’t do anything, unable to fulfill its only purpose. That’s to say, the Machine won’t give up on its meaning and core essence by any means, despite its own affinity for inertia and refusal to change, which in turn explains its resistance to both Pride and Gloom—it’s too stubborn and bitter to question its ways, let alone be distracted by the despair of losing its meaning.

Steam Machine will keep doing the same, over and over again, for all eternity. And you, the Player, are the only one who can free it from its self-created cycle.

“It was working ceaselessly. The machine has never stopped working since its pressurized, scalding hot steam turned its first gears. We must break the cycle in which it has long been trapped to continue on our path.” - Dante, Station #2: Servitude, Refraction Railway Line 2.

However, during its Encounter, you are also free to perpetuate it through your own indolence and needs.

“Machines exist for a purpose. You feel like you should give it an order.” - Abnormality Encounter.

That’s the reason behind the Sloth and Gluttony advantages in the “order it to carry luggage” choice, and why Steam Machine kind of “turns off” in case you fail the check: the order lacked a purpose, an actual need behind it. But that leaves the Envy advantage unexplained, because what does a Sinner’s envy has to do with the purpose of an order? The only answer I can come up with is that the advantage reflects a twisted desire to maintain the cycle out of fear the Machine might one day break it, to bring it down along with the chosen Sinner. And considering how susceptible and weak the Abnormality is to Envy, it’s plausible.

But if you, ignoring and tempering your own fears and necessities, decide to help it through destroying the cycle in which it trapped itself, there’s only one thing you must do: to break its nixie tubes. Only there, with its past misplaced and lost, out of the shadow of what happened, Steam Machine can truly begin to live in the present, unbounded by the refusal to let go of its past, creating its own life instead of endlessly repeating all it has done.

Maybe that’s why its mid-combat Event has a Gloom advantage, for it’s hard to suppress that desire to act as if nothing has changed. It’s a path full of despair and anxiety that most people fear. Nonetheless, you must walk towards the future and live in the now, because when you take the first, second, third step forward, you will realize it.

Changing isn’t as painful as you think it is.

Note: For those who still haven’t noticed it, all of the enemy debuffs during RR2 are inspired by the non-history Abnos + Fairy duo. In Steam Transport Machine’s case, the buff corresponds to “Hardening”, with the icon literally being the nixie tubes.

Umbrellas of Love

“There is no way to know why the fox remained buried under the umbrellas, but perhaps removing them all will inspire it to move to a different spot. The fox gently holds the old and worn umbrella in its mouth and yips at us, as though it did not want us to take it away.” - Abnormality Encounter.

Driftig Fox is an interesting Abnormality, because I believe is the only who has an excerpt of the Lobotomy Corp.’s original documents, and four different iterations of its EGO: Sunshower Yi Sang, Sunshower Outis, Lobotomy EGO Heathcliff, and Lobotomy EGO Dongbaek. It has a lot of material to analyze, to the point I really don’t know where to begin… So I think its overall kit is a good place to start.

Unlike the previous two Abnormalities, the Fox lacks any gimmicky status, making its fight quite straightforward. The closest thing to Talismans and Accumulated Past is its Gloom skill, “Cries Seeking Something”, that normally allows it to summon Old Umbrellas, which in turn have access to a single Gloom skill that inflicts both Rupture and Sinking. In RR2, the end result is the same despite the differences in mechanics.

From this, we can obviously deduce that hopelessness, despair, and the like are the core part of its existence, with even its defense skill, “Waiting”, reducing the Sinners’ SP through pity alone (apparently). That much is obvious, mentioned even by the Logs.

“In particular... it sometimes does nothing and waits, but the attack that comes after was especially powerful. ...Huh. The fox... sometimes cries. Looking at the sky, howling for long... as if it's laying bare some kind of sorrow into the sky.” - Sinclair, Abnormality’s Observation Log #2.

But that’s not all, because, just as the effect of its skill shows, the Fox focuses on its survival too. The RR2 version of the skill demonstrates it better, since it gives it the special status “Protection Umbrellas”, which grants it Protection scaling with the former’s quantity; that’s to say, the Old Umbrellas are meant to shield the Fox from the rain, apparently lodging into its body as answer to its cry. The normal version lacks the mechanic and directly summons the Umbrellas, though the overall meaning is kept the same.

This desperate desire for survival is represented by its two Gluttony skills, “Sorrowful Recoil” and “Sorrowful Torrent”, used only by its umbrella-perforated body: even if they are painful and make contact with others unbearable, causing it to recoil, the Fox “gladly” accepts such mutilations in order to survive. This behavior is reflected perfectly in the excerpt I quoted under the image, from the “take the gathered umbrellas” option, and in a couple of battle mechanics:

Its passive, “Last Struggle”, causes the Abnormality to desperately call for help every turn when it’s on its last legs (less than 15% HP), getting weaker and slower every turn. Naturally, those who answer will do everything they can to protect it (Umbrellas with 30% more HP).

Based on the name and effects, the Umbrellas’ “Scattering Sorrow” skill seems to represent how they try to perforate the Sinners and deflect the rain towards them, despite how tattered they are.

It doesn’t matter if one likes it or not, the Old Umbrellas are the only “shield” the Fox has and knows, and they will try their best to protect it… which makes Sinclair’s conclusion in the Logs much more horrifying.

“I, I see where it's coming from. We have to take away the worn umbrellas on that poor child, and embrace it ourselves. We-” - Sinclair, Abnormality’s Observation Log #3.

At first glance, it sounds perfectly fine and sensible, repeating the information given by the fragment of L Corp.’s document in Dongbaek’s Log. However, we know that Sinclair felt bad for destroying the Fox’s umbrellas (for a reason) thanks to the second log, and that removing them as well would have caused the Fox greater pain, as seen in many parts:

Its “Broken Umbrella” passive grants it 3 Fragile every turn once its umbrella-filled body is broken (during a normal fight; the RR2 version was modified to be harder I believe).

The Umbrellas actively hurt the Fox through applying “Umbrella Splinters” once they are destroyed. This happens with Sunshower Dongbaek too, but through degrading her mind with Sinking instead of applying Rupture to her body.

In the RR2 version, two unique Glooms counters were added to its kit, “Volatile Response” for the body and “Volatile Reaction” for the head. Taking into account their names, the Thorns they grant on use, and the previous mechanics, it’s quite obvious what they represent.

And finally, there’s the “pull out the umbrellas” option in the Encounter

“Those umbrellas seem to be causing it pain. When you pull them out with force, bits of its flesh come off with them. The fox yelped sharply and gave us a glare. Then, it smacked you with the umbrella in its mouth. It seemed to reprimand your attitude of pursuing resolution without forethought.” - Abnormality Encounter.

It’s quite telling that Heathcliff—the one who has the Identity with the Sunshower Lobotomy EGO—was the one that snapped (somewhat literally) Sinclair out of his “panic” state

Don’t misunderstand, though. There's no doubt about how the umbrellas harm and bring pain to the Fox, but living in such a state is much more preferable for it than being in pain and exposed to the rain simultaneously. In fact, this paradoxical, self-destructive drive to survive is also seen in Dongbaek’s kit—with two of her skills aptly named “Self-defense” and “Sink It All”—and Outis’ Sunshower, which, beyond her Gluttony affinity, has an interesting contrast between the Awakening and Corrosion voicelines

“I don't need... any pointless attention!” - Outis (Sunshower), EGO Awakening.

“Don't—leave me this time…” - Outis (Sunshower), EGO Corrosion.

I normally don’t do this, since EGOs are better reserved for a character analysis. But I’m going to do an exception for this version of Sunshower due to how well it translates the Fox’s ambivalence regarding the “affection” given by people: at its best, the Abnormality knows that the people called by its cry will only hurt it, notwithstanding their good intentions; at its worst, it accepts any and all attention without care of the resulting pain, as long as it can take refuge from the rain, however small it is.

At the end, it doesn’t matter how many people come to its help, Drifting Fox will forever remain out in the open, constantly assaulted by the rain as it wanders in dark and damp alleyways, for the umbrellas are too old and worn to be of any help. That’s why it will always be hungry for more, too scared and distrustful of people to not allow itself to be touched and thus satiated, explaining both its affinity and weakness to Gloom and Gluttony.

… But there’s something else regarding the Fox, something that doesn’t fit with its perpetual hunger for a place to rest: why does it keep on crying for help instead of just moving out of the rain? Why does it insist on roaming the darkest, most humiliating places? Those questions were implied in the first quote of this section (again), and then by the two Lobotomy EGO versions.

“Look. See how she is helplessly caught in the falling rain. She must have no intention of avoiding it. She is simply showering herself and all others in the rain…” - Yi Sang, Dogbaek’s Observation Log.

“But… When I'm done, the chill reminds me that I'm alone. I go back to wandering damp, dark alleys… Now I can hardly sleep anywhere else.” - Heathcliff, Lobotomy EGO Uptie Story.

Due to their circumstances in which they are, both Dongbaek and TLA Heathcliff are stubborn individuals trying to bring great changes to the City, with the latter even planning to “go back [somewhere] with pride” after creating a world without technology—to keep enjoying life. Yet, in the following quotes he states that he has no friends left and rejects all sources of possible comfort, sleeping in the cold streets, akin to how Dongbaek lets herself exposed to the rain without care.

What I’m implying here is that the Fox ultimately doesn’t care about stopping its suffering once and for all. Maybe it’s because it doesn’t know better, or because it finds comfort in the pain; there’s no way for us to know. Even so, it keeps on crying out loud for people as it refuses to move on from the circumstances in which it as abandoned, as seen with its RR2 exclusive passive “Vain Heart”, the source of the Protection Umbrella status and that which allows it to summon Old Umbrellas through its defense skill—through Waiting.

This unwillingness to change and simply move on is the last thing that characterizes Drifting Fox, as seen with Lobotomy EGO Heathcliff’s third skill and Sunshower Yi Sang, with their Sloth affinity. Naturally, it’s also reflected on the remaining skills of the Abnormality, all of them being Sloth-based except for the (RR2 exclusive) Gloom skill, “Pleading Cries”, though the name does fit with the Fox’s “vanity”… or better said, its pity-inducing nature.

That’s why all the Sloth skills inflict Sinking, for they are representations of the dangerous notion that one day the Fox is going to receive what it truly wants if it remains on such poor conditions, instead of more unwanted attention. Its last passive, “Ragged Umbrella”, lends the most on such “tactic”, allowing it to inflict more Sinking once the umbrella in its mouth (i.e., its head) is broken and rendered “useless”.

However, nothing really suggests that Drifting Fox is deliberately manipulating people. By definition it can’t due to its fully animalistic nature. If there’s someone to blame, it would be the people that are unable to stand the sight of ugly and miserable things tainting their day, just like when it rains during sunny days. Nevertheless, such events happen, and the solution isn’t simply to lash out against that ugliness without forethought (likely explaining its Wrath resistance), but to simply celebrate it—to share the love during the “wedding of the fox”.

“Its growl recedes. You stroke it once more, and it closes its eyes, pleased. You stroke it once more, and it settles on the ground, comforted. You stroke it once more, and it shrinks to become a statue.” - Abnormality Encounter.

When it finally finds what it wants, the Fox can rest in peace knowing it’s in good hands. That’s the reason behind the Lust advantage of the “pet the fox” option, with the Sloth advantage being its total opposite—utter apathy and indifference for its surroundings and appearance, lacking any judgment or reaction. The Pride advantage is similar to the Lust one, though much more self-centered for obvious reasons; less sensual and warm, but more confident in a way.

Now, beyond trying to comfort it, there’s also another method to confront the Abnormality, shown with the mid-combat Event, where the chosen Sinner is sent to approach the Fox and its Umbrellas. Since it has Gloom advantage, it’s easy to see how the identities who are most familiar with despair and pain are able to reach the epiphany the Fox lacks easier than any other: that its cries and thus the umbrellas are ultimately unneeded. That revelation is so shocking that it even causes the Old Umbrellas to lose 30% of their HP, representing their loss of meaning.

“The umbrellas look like they've been standing there for Wings know how long trying to protect the fox, but it certainly doesn't seem like they're doing a good job at it.” - Mid-Combat Event.

Although, things are a little more complicated than just “waiting for the rain to stop”, since the Fox is already waiting, isn't it? In fact, that mentality is its main problem, and what led Yi Sang to not do anything when Dongrang began to doubt himself.

“Some considered the assemblage to be mere noise… While some considered the commotion to be growth. As for me… I saw it slantwise as always. As heavy rain might pour for days after a spell of clear skies… I saw no meaning in attempting to fathom the caprices of the weather. Yi Sang: I would simply wait for things to calm, looking out for the day’s arrival.” - Rowdy League of Nine Littérateurs, Canto IV.

And we can’t forget K Corp. eagerly “awaiting” for the Tearful Thing to cry, nor the bitter conclusion of Dongrang right before the Fox’s battle, about how there was no need for him to do anything thanks to K Corp.’s ampules.

Waiting for the end of things you can’t change is good and all, but sometimes doing nothing can actively worsen things. So even if you can’t do much, you still must stand up and brace yourself to fight against misery, unless you want it to consume and rust you like it does with the “little world” that surrounds you.

“I ran off and roamed the Backstreets like a thrown away umbrella until they took me in…” - Heathcliff, Lobotomy EGO Uptie Story.

“We know, however, that the umbrellas piercing its body are not there for the rain. For the fox has not once opened them for itself.” - Dante, Station #3: Rainfall, Refraction Railway Line 2.

And naturally, what better way to confront the rain than through sharing an umbrella~?

Devouring Lives

“The fairy's smile stretches into an eerie grin. The strangeness didn't need to be pointed out for everyone to share the same sentiment. Even though we knew we shouldn't trust things by the looks, we still fell for it. We'll have to pay the price for it.” - Abnormality Encounter.

Everyone should know what kind of being are fairies within the British Isles’ folklore by now. It’s one of “curiosities you must know” repeated ad nauseam in every article, video or media that deals with them in any capacity, no matter how bare-bones the actual explanation is. Thus, there’s no need for me to explain in-depth those aspects, especially when you consider all the other fairy-related Abnormalities that Project Moon has created.

So to begin, Faelatern isn’t really that connected to Midsummer Night’s Dream beyond its tricky behavior, despite what the name of its first EGO gift, “Midwinter Nightmare”, may suggest. There’s a complete lack of commentaries regarding the play’s main theme, the fickleness and irony of love (or Lust, in Limbus), which seems to have been replaced by the predatoriness of the “fairy” itself, cunningly acting upon its gluttony instead of… any other goal, really.

However, a parallel with a certain character of the story can still be drawn: Puck, the servant of the fairy king Oberon. This is not solely due to his role as the one who charms and tricks the human characters of the play and queen Titania herself, but also thanks to one of his folkloric sources, the celtic púca/pwca/pooka.

The legends of the púca, as most stories, are varied, but they mostly focus on the fairy’s penchant to trick (mostly drunk) people during the night, shapeshifting into diverse animals to offer them a ride to their homes… just to lead them anywhere but there. Still, there’s a particular version I think is important to the Abnormality, the one that came from “British Goblins: Welsh Folklore, Fairy Mythology, Legends and Traditions” by Wirt Sikes:

“Pwca, or Pooka, is but another name for the Ellylldan, as our Puck is another name for the Will-o’-wisp; but in both cases the shorter term has a more poetic flavour and a wider latitude. [...] This form presents a peasant who is returning home from his work, or from a fair, when he sees a light travelling before him. Looking closer he perceives that it is carried by a dusky little figure, holding a lantern candle at arm’s length over its head. He follows it for several miles, and suddenly finds himself on the brink of a frightful precipice. From far down below there rises to his ears to his ears the sound of a foaming torrent. At the same time the little goblin with the lantern springs across the chasm, alighting on the opposite side; raises the light again high over its head, utters a loud and malicious laugh, blows out its candle and disappears up the opposite hill, leaving the awestruck peasant to get home as best he can.”

As far as I know, the equalization between the púca and the will-o’-wisp isn’t common, but it kinda fits at the end: both entities (commonly) lead astray people that decide to accept their help/follow them. One can even say the play supports this, with Puck claiming that he can appear like “fire” as he leads people through “bogs, bushes, brakes, and briers” during the third act, despite the more well-known domestic nature of the hobgoblin—an aspect that is present at some level in Faelatern’s illusion.

In more than one sense the Abnormality is a distorted mirror of the three fairies: while the púca, the will-o’-wisp and the puck/hobgoblin act during the night, either through helping people or causing (relatively speaking) harmless scares, Faelantern presents itself during the day as a homely and mysterious light that promises rest to people, with its true nature as a voracious abyss lying underneath the “fairy fire”.

If the púca/puck causes all sorts of pranks and tricks that, as the literary Puck said, are no different from dreams, then Faelatern is a nightmare that begins with a hypnotizing beauty whose true nature will soon be learned and never forgotten.

… And yeah, that’s the possible inspiration behind this Abnormality, and the hard part to analyze. The rest of it, like its skills and game mechanic, are quite self-explanatory:

“Snagged Lure”, “Burrowing Roots” and “Encroaching Stems” are all Gluttony skills to represent how survival-driven Faelantern is.

“Expanding Roots” is Sloth-based thanks to its Modus Operandi, resting and waiting in a single place until a prey appears.

The “Leading Lure”, “Evolving Lure” and “Charmed” passives explain how it works, continuously trying to “improve” its Fairy Lure to catch more people.

The “Broken Stump” reinforces the Gluttony affinity, with the Abnormality focusing on stealing the nutrients so it can (apparently) restore its broken body.

Lastly, and as curiosity, the “Fairy Dust” passive is an obvious reference to another fairy, Tinker Bell. But where her dust allows people to fly, Faelantern’s dust only makes them faster and more agile (i.e., Poise).

The only part of its kit that requires a higher level of interpretation is the passive and Pride skill that share the name, “Uncovered Abyss”. In tandem, the two elements likely point that, whatever higher thinking the Abnormality has, it’s more preoccupied with a self-absorbed appreciation of itself as an “abyss” that devours everything in the forest than with meaningfully improving its hunting tactics.

Another element that requires further analysis is, obviously, its weaknesses. While Faelantern’s resistances to Gluttony and Gloom should be obvious, being a monster that fully accepts its hunger and that genuinely doesn’t care about anything else, it being weak to Pride and Lust likely derive from how those dispositions can interfere with the Abnormality’s behavior: a pride that sees the Fairy’s “gift” as useless or irrelevant from the get-go, or maybe messing with its (lack of) love in a no so dissimilar way to Midsummer’s Puck.

And finally, there’s the mid-combat Event with Sloth advantage, implying that one needs to be “guided” by the Lure without question or care to destroy it along with the question given: Who will answer the bait?

I like to think that part shows the underlying meaning of the Abnormality, how it’s a symbol for an all-devouring thing that conceals itself through charm and light. It may be a person, an organization, or even an ideology; it doesn’t matter, because all it smokes and mirrors, a trick, a sick and twisted hoax. Faelantern doesn’t care about anything else but to satisfy the gaping hole of its “stomach”, unlike, say, Siltcurrent and Skin Prophet, who completely believe their own delusions.

You should always take care when you walk the (dark) forest of life, for no matter how bright it may be, disguised predators are bound to appear.

Note: Following the pattern I mentioned in Steam Machine’s section, Faelantern’s buff corresponds to “Inhaling”. The symbol likely represents the Abnormality’s stump/branches forming into a mouth to “steal nutrients”, which is also seen in its EGOs’ healing (beyond its own passives, of course).

Post-Commentary

This time I bring the first four Abnormalities of RR2. I began to write about them a couple of weeks after I finished the RR3 post, before RR4. However, since I only have one of the Abnormalities for the next part done (Shock Centipede), the second post will take some more time. Not much though, considering Wayward Passenger and Sign of Roses are on the easier side to analyze.

Anyway, in regards to some other thoughts I had while writing… I already commented how Steam Machine and Portrait of a Certain Day are similar on how they represent the weight of the past. The difference falls, I suppose, in that one is born out of love and nostalgia, while the other out of fear—Steam Machina lives to work, unable and fearful to imagine any other life beyond what it has done from its birth.

Another thing I wish to note is about Faelantern, since while I’m pretty sure about its meaning, it’s not so in the folkloric inspiration. In the first place I searched about the Will-o’-Wisp since the Lure acted like one in a way, and I found (in wikipedia, naturally) that the púca may be related to it. I lost a couple of days watching videos about it xD I wonder if Fairy Gentleman and Long-Legs will have a similar inspiration…

And since we are speaking about a “fairy”, I think it is funny that Drifting Fox is a trauma-related Abnormality and not a fairy-tale one, despite its EGO name’s origin. So instead of focusing on any folkloric element, I tried to see the meaning behind the colloquial names of sunshowers: the devil beating his wife (or doing anything undevil), or an animal’s wedding. I ultimately reached the conclusion it was because, just like animals or the devil don’t actually get wedded, there shouldn’t be a rain during a sunny day. It’s something that doesn't make sense.

#limbus company #refraction railway 2 #abnormalities #So That No One Will Cry #Steam Transport Machine #Drifting Fox #Faelantern

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winters-mistress · 10 months ago

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in this life and the next

They're both watching her, Ciri knows it. Both of them have been staring since the moment they all staggered out of that gods forsaken castle, bloodied and broken and exhausted. They haven't stopped since she pushed them both onto a broken bit off what used to be a turret, before taking a couple of minutes to pace and breathe deeply, before marching silently back into that fucked up building that nobody ever should have been in.

She smashed all the windows on her way to retrieve the four bodies, carrying them all one by one, shoulders across one arm, the other hooked underneath bent knees. The sound is satisfying as she goes into each room, grounding her in the reality that she had survived another day.

The broken glass makes more blood gush out of her palms, but the injuries Bonhart had given her combined with the butchered bastards blood, they all melt together in two long, muscular arms that are covered in crumbling blood, more blood seeping onto her ripped tunic as she carries her would be father's companions out, before dragging Vilgefortz and Skellen by their heels.

They don't deserve the honour of dignity, and the girl simply piles up the bodies of the soldiers on the other side of the courtyard. Their families deserve the honour of burying them at home, because she knows now that people like this, boys too young to even fully grow facial hair, are no evil entities. Just toy soldiers born in the wrong time to the wrong king.

By the time she's finished, her would be witcher father comes over to her and hands her an old shovel, keeping one in his own hands. Together, they dig four large rectangular holes, grunting with the effort and sweating with the exertion of the repetitive digging, until the graves are deep and hollow, and the witcher's face is crumbling with grief once more.

"Sit with her." Ciri whispers to him, placing her shovel on the floor. "I can handle this part if it pains you." It's not over, nothing is. Cirilla may have overcome Vilgefortz and Skellen and Rience, but chasing Ehmyr off isn't enough, he is still a problem to be dealt with. Avallac'h and Eredin and the hunt and the elves still loom over her, and she aches with that knowledge. But, here and now, she can save her witcher father this pain by burying friends so dear they gave their lives for a girl who only one of them had ever met.

Geralt staggers off to the fractured sorceress. Gone is the beauty, her fingers are snapped and pointing in the wrong directions, her face is covered in cuts, her lip is bleeding and her nose is broken. Yennefer is no beauty in this moment, but the witcher walks to her and sits with her and places an arm over her to keep her warm as they watch Cirilla's muscles flex as she picks up Milva first, burying the brave dryad with her bow and arrows clutched in her arms. Angoulème gets her dagger, and she spares a moment for her and Cahir, when she slowly places him into his grave. A man she was so terrified of as a child, who had followed the frightening witcher and gave his life all for a girl he had spent maybe two hours with in his lifetime? The frightening feather helmet is gone, he is no looming Knight. No, he is now just a boy who was so brave, and the girl was just as strong as him. The girl was younger than Ciri, she thinks, but gave her life for her nonetheless, and her heart hurts with the grief and the unfairness of it all.

Regis is the last to be buried, and Ciri spares him a few moments to cut her palm and cover his face in the blood that the universe will rip itself apart for. Geralt says nothing at this, only getting up when all four of his friends are in the graves and his girl begins to grab her shovel once more.

"Do you want to save anything?"

"No. They already know." Geralt whispers, and Ciri nods after a moment, helping him fill the graves, not mentioning the tears that begin to roll down the witchers cheeks as he buried people he loved so dearly.

She gives him a moment with Yennefer, taking the time to split the two bodies into unnamable pieces, stamping on them and spitting and kicking as she went. They're already headless, she had thrown Bonheart, Skellen, popped back in time for Rience's and took great pleasure in Vilgefortz's heads as she threw them one at a time at the coward prick emperor who tried to turn up after the battle had ended.

These pricks don't deserve to be burned or buried, they're going to be left out for the birds, for sure enough, their stink will attract beasts alike soon enough. It suits them, she thinks, spitting one last wad of saliva at one of the chunks of enemy flesh, before turning around and walking to the soldiers.

There's no pomp or pagentry or ceremony, they're stacked underneath a tree and that is that.

Her exhaustion wanes and she struggles to make it back to Geralt and Yennefer. Her heart hurts, the truth of Ehmyr and their blood connection, fighting his army off before ripping through his mind and sending him running. It's not over, she has to go back and take his head, just as she took his cronies' and begin picking off the lodge members and the villains at the northern courts, not to mention the hunt that still walks three steps behind her wherever she goes. It's exhausting work, and she's already so tired of it, but there is no choice but to go on.

Her heart will never heal, she will never be clean of blood, there will never ve a soul that looks to her as a savour, and she will go down as just as much a villain as any who she took the life of, but this cannot be helped or changed. All she can do is clean herself up of the blood from a nearby trough of basically clean water, and stagger over to her would be parents. There's been so much time since Thanedd, it's been so long since she could be vulnerable.

"Cirilla." Yennefer's voice is soft as she looks up at her almost daughter when the girl emerges from behind the castle. Geralt looks up also, but they so not get a response, because the girl holds her hands out towards the building, and two thick streams of flame explode from her palms until the entire place is up in flames. Thick, black smoke emerges, and Ciri feels tears in her eyes as the watches it burn.

"It's the best thing for it." She whispers.

Geralt walks over to her and tucks her into his arms, pressing her head to his chest and letting her listen to his slow heartbeat, as she had as a child all those years ago.

Yennefer joins their embrace, and Ciri closes her eyes. It's been what feels like years since she did not have to be the strong one, that she could be vulnerable and not have to watch her back and enjoy the moment.

So she wraps her arms around her would be parents and just let's herself cry.

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #witcherfanfiction #witcher fanfiction #geralt and ciri #fanfiction #ciri and Yennefer #cirilla of cintra #geralt of rivia #yennefer x geralt #yennefer of vengerberg #dadralt #geralt is the best dad #ciri is his baby #book spoilers

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frobby · 2 years ago

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yuuko-San, shiroishi-San and owner all posing with text over saying "we're going to beat you to death"

#Otherworldly business owners who peddle unknowable horrors #I know shiroishi-San is a detective but hes still peddling evil knowledge #This post is going out to the like....3 people who know who I'm talking about #Taking a new approach called 'doing the photo desc first because I cant draw'#Imagine it please I've been plagued since I started phantom tales #phantom tales of the night #jigoku kurayami hana mo naki #xxxholic #Edit* shiroishi-San is a consultant agent #Basically a detective tho #Still filled with evil knowledge nonetheless

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aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

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Burden

Characters: Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,261

Warnings: None

Premise: Xiao fell in love with your goodness, with your selflessness and generosity towards others. Perhaps, however, in doing so he had misunderstood your own complexities.

In which the reader feels they are a burden.

Author’s Note: I feel like I should note that there are going to be some relatively extreme emotions, mostly negative. I don’t feel like it’s enough or specific enough to be given a warning, but if anyone wants to tell me to tag it for something I will gladly. That being said I’m pretty proud of this one

Xiao

Ever since your first interaction you had been helping Xiao. It had seemed so natural, even then, even when nothing seemed natural about interacting with a human, those strange people from who Xiao must always be separated. Yet there you were, asking if this perfect stranger was alright. And there Xiao was, suddenly seeing his world opening up before him.

Perhaps it was for this reason that your relationship had developed in the way it had. To Xiao your selflessness, your never ending kindness, the fact that you would stop to help someone regardless of circumstance, all of that was normal. It was innate in your personality, and perhaps that was why Xiao never questioned what effect having that kind of personality might have on you. It is easy to assume that a kind and selfless person is also one with a short memory. After all, how could they stand it otherwise?

So when the first, barely noticeable, traces of that burden which Xiao saw so often began to swirl around you the yaksha’s initial reaction was that of utter panic. Was this not the exact reason that Xiao had chosen to disconnect himself from humanity? Was this not proof, right before him, that the chains he carried could not be contained. Though Xiao generally thought of humans as vaguely useless, deserving of protection because Rex Lapis proclaimed it be so, the idea of harming any one of them with the legacy of his own sins, it was something that he could never stomach, no matter how many times he feigned apathy. That you should be the person upon who his burdens should be transferred, how could he bear it?

Of course a small, more logical, part of him urged the adeptus to stop and think. The miasma that Xiao attracted in such high concentration was everywhere, and humans were not exempt from this burden by themselves. After all, did humanity not channel great evil as well as good? Did not the most ordinary human, dejected by their lot in life, become swarmed by little wisps of evil? Yet those were other, ordinary humans. Ordinary humans couldn’t understand the sheer capability to love that you seemed to possess. No, if Xiao could sense such a miasma around you then it was surely his fault.

Still the idea of leaving you was something quite painful to Xiao, to the adeptus who had so recently learned what it meant to love someone wholeheartedly. He told himself that it was best to leave immediately, best to disappear with the wind and never look back. Yet a part of him couldn’t seem to bear the idea; and that was the part that won out as Xiao approached you later in the day, as if in a desperate last attempt to prove himself wrong.

“Are you alright?”

“Xiao!” You jumped slightly, having evidently been lost in thought. Smiling widely you shook your head. “Of course I’m alright! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I…” Xiao paused for a moment as the idea of telling you what was going on flitted through his head. Almost immediately the thought was squashed. After all, would the knowledge not worry you more? “I was just asking.”

“Well thank you Xiao, it’s very kind of you to think of me.”

“It’s my duty.”

“Still,” your smile never faltered. “You deserve thanks for what you do nonetheless.”

Xiao tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, tried to block out the emotions that crashed over him like great waves as you leaned in to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. Was this not a good thing? After all, if Xiao was what cause this miasma to float around you, then was that not your salvation? Xiao knew how easy it was to drown in the burdens that one must shoulder. He knew how easy it was for humans to sink to the bottom of their despair and never once more emerge for water. Why should it not be a blessing that you would never have to fight to keep your head up, to keep yourself from a life full of burdens? Why, why did it hurt so much?

During the night, Xiao would leave during the night. After all, you deserved one last evening of happiness, if the yaksha could even believe that he brought you happiness. Or maybe it was for his sake that he refused to leave before the world was plunged into darkness. Maybe it was simply that Xiao could no longer imagine a world without you, and that such nightmares came out easier at night. Lying on top of the roof, eyes closed, ears focused on the familiar tread of your feet, Xiao willed himself not to think. He could regret when he was far away from you, when you were once more safe. For now he could only follow that ritual which had so long kept him sane, kept him from joining his brethren. For now he thought only of the contract he had once made.

The sound of your feet on the ground below came all too soon, as the sun finally began its descent across the heavens in earnest. Keeping his eyes closed, as if to stall the darkness for a little longer, Xiao took a deep breath in. He needed to steel himself for this evening; if not, well, Xiao had no wish to cry for the first time in a millennia.

Only once these thoughts finished flitting around in his head did the yaksha finally recognize the change in your footfall. Usually you were very light on your feet, dashing this way and that, stopping to ask Goldet or Yanxiao some mundane question, inquiring after the old lady who had basically set up permanent residence on the bottom floor of the Inn. This time, however, you seemed to drag, as if you were indeed carrying something very heavy. Alarm flashing through him, Xiao willed himself into perfect stillness. He wished to hear more, wished to understand what had caused such a change in you.

What he certainly hadn’t expected was the labored breathing of someone seconds away from tears.

The moment Xiao heard the door to your room close the sobbing began in earnest. Though you certainly seemed to be trying your hardest to hide your tears the sound of your muffled sobs rang through Xiao like a siren, flaring up every bit of alarm he had to offer. Jumping off of the roof Xiao catapulted his way through the hallways of the Inn, not bothering to hide his presence to the few, very confused, residents that were out. Reaching your room he didn’t allow himself a moment’s hesitation before grabbing the knob and opening the door.

Your head snapped up, eyes a mixture of dark emotions as you stared at him. For a moment you seemed ready to flee, to run and hide somewhere, or perhaps to throw him out. However almost immediately you seemed to sink back into yourself, and though Xiao could still sense your distress, at least the initial shock of his arrival seemed to have passed as quickly as it would otherwise.

“Xiao! I, I didn’t expect you. I, could, could you leave? I don’t, I don’t want, I don’t want to be seen right now.” It was all you could get out before another round of sobs wracked through your body.

Trying to remember what you had done for so many people, for himself, Xiao grabbed the pitcher that sat at one of the tables in the room. Pouring some water into a glass he crept towards you as softly as possible, hoping that he could convey his worries in these odd, brusque actions. He knew that he didn’t have the talent you had to comfort people, knew that all his gestures of kindness inevitably came out cramped and awkward. Nevertheless he shoved the glass into your hands, staring just past you as you tentatively downed the water. Taking the glass from you Xiao then reached out one of his palms to you. His relief when you placed your own palm on top of his was indescribable.

“I guess you probably would like an explanation,” you rasped out.

Xiao said nothing, waiting for you to act on your own. If he knew anything the yaksha knew that attempting to force the truth out of anyone would never worked. Hadn’t his own years as a pariah taught him that.

“It’s just,” you finally continued, taking in deep, labored breaths. “It’s just so hard. It’s so hard Xiao, I can’t stand it anymore!”

“Stand it?”

“Stand the… the hurt!”

Your eyes filled with tears, and you went to grab the handkerchief that you left on your nightstand. You always needed one with you, as your eyes stung terribly whenever you began to cry. Xiao said nothing as you sobbed once more, only moving to draw small circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

“It hurts so much, to see other people. To hear their problems. Not that it’s their fault, or that I don’t want to help them. I do, I really do. I look at all the people suffering near me and I just want to take all their burdens and give it to myself, after all they don’t deserve all their sufferings. But it’s so hard Xiao, it’s so hard to take on people’s burdens, even a little bit. And I feel so selfish when I think that, so selfish and so worthless. How can I say that? But it’s true, it’s really, really true. And when I think about that, when I think about all the other people suffering worse than me, it just makes me feel so horribly selfish. Like, like all my problems are so stupid and selfish and telling others would only hurt them, and didn’t I want to take everyone else’s burdens away? I’m so stupid. And it just, it hurts.”

Xiao sat there quietly once more, waiting as you cried. At one point you seemed to collapse in on yourself, leaning against his shoulder as if to support yourself. Only then did Xiao allow himself to move. Carding his hands through your hair he said nothing, he merely waited.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. You already have enough burdens, I know. I shouldn’t be complaining to you of all people. I, if you want you can tell me if something is wrong. I mean, you always can, I, just. I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“My burdens are my own,” Xiao replied softly, finally letting the emotions swirling through him try to string together as words. “It has nothing to do with you. It never will. You, you should come to me when you feel burdened.”

“But then I’m only passing my problems onto you!”

“I told you, my chains are my own. They are the payment for my contract. They aren’t what you tell me or push on me. If you feel these burdens then give to me. That is my duty.”

“But Xiao, I, I don’t want to. I don’t want to be a problem.”

“How can you say something so stupid,” Xiao scoffed. Bringing his hand to your cheek he sighed softly. “You will never be a problem. You will always be dear to me. Let me help you. You help so many humans. I want to help you.”

“I, I don’t know,” you spoke, voice faltering.

Though Xiao could still feel the tension in the air, could still see the miasma which swirled around you, there was something fragile about it. It was as if Xiao could reach through the tangled threads and pull them away, if only he could find a way to do so. Stroking your cheek softly Xiao pressed his forehead to yours. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath in. After a few moments he heard you do the same.

The rest of the evening Xiao stayed vigilant by your side, listening as you finally let yourself say all the things that had been weighing down upon you. It was painful, listening to you. Xiao constantly had to fight the urge to tell you how wrong you were, how much you mattered and how far he would go to bring you all the happiness he could possible gather in his stained hands. Still he said nothing, for if you had taught him anything it was that simply listening could do infinitely more than promising to fight or trying to shoulder each burden as you lay them out in the daylight.

Eventually you grew exhausted, a combination of the crying and the talking and the reliving. As Xiao listened to your breath even out, softly shifting your head from leaning on his shoulder to resting in his lap, the yaksha thought about all that had happened.

Xiao had assumed that you were somehow above all the humans around you. Purer, gentler, kinder. He hadn’t stopped to think how that might have affected you. Now that he knew that wasn’t true, now that Xiao knew how deeply you felt, how sometimes your mind too chased after darkness or found itself struggling to keep above water, he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d missed something before. Perhaps you shouldered these burdens and perhaps you were just as human as the rest. You were still kind, kind and selfless and utterly beautiful. And Xiao still loved you in a way that continued to burn brightly through his soul.

#genshin impact #xiao x reader #xiao #alatus #genshin impact fanfiction #requested #oneshot #my writing

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loaffofbred · 4 years ago

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SPOILERS FOR WTIT :

Foreshadowing of Logan's Outburst or Snap and Indications of Future Problems

After rewatching some of the Sanders Sides past episodes, it seems very clear that Logan's outburst is fairly unsurprising. But, there may be some other foreshadowing thats taking place other than his outburst, and maybe his future dilemma's maybe indicated as well.

One example i saw is his question in the musical number of the puppet episode, where Patton explains his repression of emotion, and Logan seemingly asking if it worked in some way. And almost seemingly shocked by Patton's answer.

It almost seems like he was trying to find the answer to his own problem. He's repeated before that he has NO feelings or emotions, and that he has no care of sentiments. He's in denial of his emotions and Patton's situation seem to fascinate him because he seems to have the same problem. Almost like the more he ignores his emotions, the more he believes they disappear altogether, like what Patton said. The answer seemed to shocked him either because of Patton learning and applying the lesson he learned, or because he had a similar problem and shocked by an unexpected answer. This feels like a foreshadow to Logan's problem, and this is not the only example of that. All instances of Logan denying his emotions are just further evidence that thats his problem. His acceptance of his emotions. This is me not doing too much research here, so bear with me if theres a way to debunk it.

Of course this isnt a surprise to some, but this is a foreshadow to his outburst. The further you fill this jar of emotions, the closer it is to bursting into a field of emotions and outbursts. I think maybe the future episode might tackle that problem. Denial is a form of deception, you cant have deception WITHOUT denial in some capacity. You can tell that Janus in some way knows Logan's dilemma, he is deceit after all, he knows that Logan has a tendency to deny his own emotions. Even the other sides seem to know this as well. Logan always clarifies he has no emotions and this further feeds deceit.

Janus and Remus' push comes to shove

This can also explain why Janus and Remus push Logan to a different level than all the other sides. An example of this is the newest asides video(WTIT) and both SvS and SvS redux. Why are there methods of pushing Logan away different from the other sides? Well, lets first see how the other sides do this. First, the other sides never do this intentionally or in a malicious way. They explain Logan why his point of view doesnt particularly matter, and that their argument is more feasible. They dont FORCE Logan aside, they just dont put the effort to listen and comprehend his input. Example of this is the end card of WTIT, Patton choosing to ignore Logan's input on SvS Redux, and Thomas, Patton, and Roman almost ignoring and nonchalantly putting aside his wants in the Moving On episode. They dont force Logan away, they just dont give value to his input enough for him to feel worthy.

Remus and Janus' way is through FORCE. Theyre upfront and malicious with their tactics. Remus blatantly targeting Logan specifically on the introductory episode of him. Janus disguising himself, two times, as Logan to remove him from the equation. They both force Logan down, to try and bring themselves up. I dont particularly know why theyre pushing Logan to his limits. Either an entry for the Orange side?

But this is whats weird. Janus is responsible to who or which side can be seen. Hes responsible on who is hidden away from Thomas, and who isnt. Thats why in Remus' song mentions this;

Recently a snake offered me a morsel from the tree of knowledge

He said "you're wanting to be more honest

And be direct dealing with your issues

No longer will you deceive yourself about the ugliness within you"

(a certain thing i suddenly realize is that the 'tree of knowledge' is referenced in WTIT. The last end shot where it pans to Logan and the roots of the tree to Janus. Just a small thing i realized :) )

So why does the orange side need 'influence'? Yes, Thomas has a say on what he wants to see and what he doesnt, but what about Remus? In a way its far more fitting for him to just barge in rather than have permission to show up. But if we were to assume Orange as rage or a form of it, why does he NEED influence (assuming he does) to truly be seen? A question that im hoping will get answered in future episodes.

Janus' power and deniability

Janus has more power than we think. He can shut the sides up about a certain side in order for Thomas to be unaware. So maybe, in the end card, Janus is hinting for the Orange Side to finally being seen because of his help. His power stems from something but what?

Have you noticed something in common with all of the dark sides introductory episodes? They all speak about DENIAL. Denial of Thomas' capacity to deceit and the denial of imagination having an 'evil form' of it. His denial is what keeps the dark sides at bay, and what keeps him from knowing about the other sides. I think thats the main reason why Janus has the power to show Thomas the other sides, because denial is a form of deceit, and Janus has power over that.

And who else has a BIG problem with deniability? Logan. Logan denies that his emotions even exist in the first place. One example of denial being a big part is this line that really stuck with me,

No longer will you deceive yourself about the ugliness within you

Janus is speaking to Remus yes, but this also resonates with Logan and Thomas. 'Deceiving yourself' is lying to yourself, denying the existence of bad within you. Remus KNOWS that Logan is lying to himself, because it seems like Remus had the same experience with how Janus told this to him specifically. He knows Logan's problems and the whole "Now youre speakin' my language" makes even more sense. He saw Logans truth. His ugliness within him.

Another line also stuck with me is this;

Why deny yourself knowledge

Say knowledge of yourself?

You don't need to feel ashamed with your dear old Duke

You need not feign decency

This also seems so targeted to Logan. He feigns that he has no emotions therefore has no flawed and hurtful emotions that can target Thomas. He feigns decency. Also! 'Why deny yourself knowledge, say knowledge of yourself?' seems to resonate with Logan as well. Im not saying these lyrics are TARGETED SPECIFICALLY towards Logan, but resonate instead.

Logan's deniability of emotions

Think about it, denial is the reason why dark sides are hidden. And Logan denies his emotions. Connect the dots and its understandable why some people believe Logan to be either hiding something about the Orange side, or him being the Orange side in general.

Few mentions

Another targeted insult (while not surprising coming from Remus) also acknowledges Logan's problem,

He knows his problems, and this is where Logan denies this entirely

Which seems like a lie to me, but nonetheless

Remus pushes the take that he has an effect on Logan

Logan also denying this entirely

Even though, that is the exact OPPOSITE of what happened to him with Remus on the latest sanders asides.

TLDR; Logans denial of his emotions is a big problem that may be addressed in future episodes. Denial is a big part of the dark sides anonymity and Thomas' deniability is the very reason for hidden dark sides.

Both Remus and Janus push Logan for either an entry way for Orange, but still skeptical because of Janus having the power to make dark sides be seen based on his control of deniability, so why put the effort?

Logan's connection to denial maybe a more reason why he seems to be the only side that explicitly shows anger to the point of physical pain towards others or other outbursts. Deniability and the dark sides having a connection seems to further push the theory of Logan showing his true colors or self. Of course that theory has many flaws in of itself, i think Logan's denial has a big part as to why he showed orange eyes

Remus affects Logan in quite different ways compared to Virgil and Patton

anyways, this has been long enough, i hope this was understandable, and as always

THIS IS ALL THEORIES,

do not take them as truth or fact, but rather speculation

anyway, peacee

#sanders sides #sanders sides theory #orange side #ts logan #ts remus #ts janus #ts orange side #thomas sanders #ts spoilers

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flyinglotus777 · 3 years ago

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Netflix’s Squid Game

SPOILER ALERT! If you are interested in watching the series, I HIGHLY suggest you do so. This article will be an overall synopsis and my review of the show. For an in-depth analysis of the symbolism of the show and ending, scroll down to the fourth to last paragraph.

The Netflix show, “Squid Game,” written and directed by Hwang Dong-hyuk is a phenomenal Korean drama centered around our victor, Seong Gi-hun, played by Lee Jung-jae. Contestants were recruited to play in a life or death competition due to their lack of luck, financial knowledge, and influx of impending debt they have accumulated throughout their lives. We first meet Gi-hun as he is down on his luck. Living with his elderly, overworked mother (which in countries outside of the United States is not strange nor uncommon) Gi-hun was a friend to gambling, but that toxic love caused him to be in debt to a gang of (what seemed to be) loan sharks. When luck finally strikes him on the race track, life simultaneously decides to take an excrement on his reality. His debt seekers catch him on his hot streak and involuntarily sign him up to be a participant in the Squid Game.

Similar to many other of the 456 participants, they all shared a common denominator of being in situations it seemed only money could fix. Upon arrival the contestants were asked to voluntarily sign wavers in order to participate in the game, while unknowingly risking their lives, for the opportunity to win 456 billion won (which would be roughly over $3.5 million in US currency). The challenges were mostly based on nostalgic childhood games, both based in the United States and South Korea.

Now I knew due to the explanation in the introduction of episode one that if any player were to lose, they would die. So during the first challenge of red light green light, when players were bulletly penalized for losing I was not surprised. After the game, the players decided to rally together and quit playing. The influence of the cash prize split the decision down the middle, leaving the old man, player 1, to be the final decision. To my surprise he actually chose to decline, freeing all of the players. During the voting, many players screamed at each other as to why they would choose to stay in the hell hole as other players responded that the outside world was not any better if not the same as the harsh environment they were already in. This reality struck many contestants as they returned back to their reality of debt, dependents, and for some bounty hunts, thus resulting in them returning to the game.

During the whole season, I was trying to find the purpose of these games. We knew why the participants felt motivated to play, but I wondered what was the purpose of having them fight for their lives in the first place. When the PlayStation faced soldiers forced the doctor (player 111) to dissect the bodies for organs to sell at the black market, at first I thought that it was what the original game maker wanted which I thought was genius. Soon to learn that it was actually a violation to a code of equality that was placed inside the arena applying to all of those who existed, soldiers and participants alike. Which struck me as odd due to the soldiers being able to tote guns and wear masks based on their own hierarchy and the participants being collectively isolated and given numbers as if it was a remake of the Stanford Prison experiment. Nonetheless many soldiers faced the same fate as the players, and my pondering would meet the solution come the finale.

Let’s discuss players. I only favored Gi-hun because he was the protagonist, but throughout the story he grew on me as his big heart prevailed through the madness. I knew Choo Sang-woo, the embezzling business man and hometown friend of Gi-hun played by Park Hae-soo, was a psychopath when I saw him in a fully filled bathtub with his suit on. Running from the police, in debt or not, that’s just as much of a red flag for serial killer tendencies as sleeping with socks on or having too thin and highly arched eyebrows. The episode that he crossed Ali, the father of one from Pakistan with the missing fingers, made me hate Sang-woo for the rest of the series. I was infuriated and frustrated with Ali for being that naïve to believe that they could escape the round as a duo, but understood his perspective since up until that point Sang-woo was a dependable, trusted ally to Ali. However after that episode I didn’t care who won, I was just ready for Sang-woo to die.

Kang Sae-byeok, the skeptical and beautiful warrior from North Korea played by Jung Ho-yeon, deserves her own paragraph. Along with her beauty, her presence and demeanor was so bad ass. She was thrifty and intelligent, as her talent being pick pocketing. I was waiting for her to just be so bad ass. As the punk disguised to be gangster, Jang Deok-su, pushed her around which seemed to be normal behavior between the two, I was ready for Sae-byeok to twist his arm, send a plunging round house kick to his nuts, and cut his snake tattoo right off of his face. Although her exterior was tough, her heart was made of malleable gold which we got to see as she opened up to her female companion during the marble challenge and sobbed from her loss afterwards. Although she was not the killer bad ass queen I had wanted her to be, I still call her a warrior because of her resiliency throughout life’s and the game’s many obstacles and her drive to provide her younger brother with a better life.

Thankfully Deok-su got what he deserved as Han Mi-nyeo poetically decided to take both of their lives during the glass challenge. “You said we would be together till the end,” she said before diving into her inevitable death with her short lived lover. Mi-nyeo was incredibly annoying as I would often pinch the inside corners of my eyes and scratch my eyebrows when she would appear. However that crazy bitch served justice, and I love her for that.

I was highly disappointed by the demise of the detective Hwang Jun-ho, played by the handsome Wi Ha-joon. I was rooting for detective Jun-ho, as I’m sure we all were, on his pursuit to find his brother. I was not surprised that his brother was Front Man, as I had suspected that his brother must’ve died or been apart of the game making due to his absence in real life and the current game. After discovering his brother was the victor of his year, to me it only made sense that he would be apart of the game enforcement. As we saw from Gi-hun, a normal life is impossible to live after experiencing something so traumatic as a series of death ridden children games. However I was saddened and surprised that detective Jun-ho was unsuccessful in closing down the whole operation. I mean the man was close to performing forced, aristocratic fellatio in the name of serving and protecting the law. I truly thought because he had gotten so far and was so close to exposing the operation that the only choice he had was to be successful. At last he was shot and killed by his own blood, the one he had been looking for; providing us with a cinematic and heart jerking ending to detective Jun-ho.

Lastly lets discuss the old man, player 001 named O Yeong-su, whom I also nicknamed Poppy during the series. Deceivingly innocent and weak, I genuinely liked Yeong-su throughout the game play. I thoroughly enjoyed his relationship with Gi-hun and saw him as a valuable player in most instances. I believe he was one of the main reasons that Gi-hun continued to lead with his heart. Gi-hun claimed that Yeong-su was the reason he returned to the games and later found out that Yeong-su was the reason there were games in the first place. The climatic episode of the marble challenge was when their relationship had been defined as “gganbu” (which is a term for trusted, close friends in Korean, as explained in the series), thus Yeong-su establishing a special place in Gi-hun’s heart. During the challenge, Yeong-su begins to have an episode of what we all assumed to be dementia as the arena they are playing in is designed like his old neighborhood and he abandons the game to take a trip down memory lane. Gi-hun screams in frustration at the old man to play with him only to end up losing in their even and odd game and resulting in deceit, tricking the old man to let him be the victor. Now if I was Gi-hun, I would’ve convinced Yeong-su to let me hold his marbles for safe keeping and let him have a fun time reminiscing on his life while he ran down the clock. Then when it was time, I would’ve turned in all 20 marbles just as Sang-woo did and went about my business. It would’ve only been right for the old man to forfeit as he was already on his death bed, or so we innocently thought. Before I get into the ending, I want to talk about the last match between Sang-woo and Gi-hun.

Finally, the last game to see who would be victorious in a highly anticipated game of Squid between Gi-hun and Sang-woo. It seemed as if it were a battle between good vs evil; Gi-hun representing a more benevolent side as he would often optimistically look to help other competitors and extend the kindness he had been shown versus Sang-woo who represented a more vindictive and ruthless side, determined to hurt anyone in order to receive his highly coveted and long awaited prize in an arena that erased any foundation of morals or ethics as soon as the light turned red. Luck was on Gi-hun’s side as he had the opportunity to play offense. With a cunning mind and a vengeance for Sae-byeok’s death, Gi-hun delivered a can of whoop ass to his opponent. As the saying goes, the good shall always prevail. Perhaps his heart was too pure as Gi-hun halted from crossing the finish line and offered Sang-woo a chance to live, thus forfeiting the prize money. Needless to say, I applauded when Sang-woo committed suicide as it was the only right thing to do in his position.

A year passed by and Gi-hun seemed worse than before. Physically his style was bummy wealthy, a look pioneered by Bill Gates, but mentally he was in shambles. How could you blame him? Gi-hun discovered that the responsible party for these horrendous events was none other than his ggangbu, old man Yeong-su. The biggest, jaw dropping plot twist of the entire series. As they were joined on Christmas Eve and Yeong-su on his death bed, they placed one final bet on an assumed to be drunken, homeless man who sat on the streets as it snowed and waited for help to arrive. Yeong-su explained how he actually wanted to help people and give his money to people who needed it, but wanted to do it in an “entertaining way.” As Gi-hun flared with outrage towards the old man for finding amusement in killing people, the old man rebutted using horse races as an example of people’s amusement. Yeong-su also said he participated in the games because it was more fun to play than to be a spectator, which I had noticed him treating the competition as if it were adult summer camp. I had just assumed since he was old, he didn’t care if he had died or not.

I think most people will think that this show was a metaphor about how money and rich people are evil. However I think it can be seen as commentary on society as a whole, not just the wealthy. Yeong-su says on his death bed that it’s a test of humanity, and asks Gi-hun if he still has faith in humanity after what he has experienced. Although money was the luring motivator to win the game, people still chose to return to the competition to escape their problems. Sure, money was apart of their problems as all of the players (excluding Yeong-su) were in debt, but that was due to choices that they had made. Whether it had been through embezzling, gambling, lack of luck, or financial ignorance, it was the people who had gotten themselves into those situations. Money doesn’t have a personal vendetta against anyone nor does it have an inherent quality of good or evil. Money is a neutral energy used to be exchanged for goods and services. It’s people who designate that energy to their humane or inhumane desires.

Leading to the next point of the wealthy and how they are seen to be evil due to having wealth. Although I do believe that there are some wealthy people who act as villains, money didn’t create the villain inside of them. Those people were going to behave maliciously whether they have money or not. The VIPs, who were spectating the finale of challenges, were tied to a bank devoted to the wealthy and gambled on the competitors who played (and most likely helped subsidize the events). We place judgement on them, but as Yeong-su said, people gamble on horse races. Although people are not animals and by my knowledge I don’t believe most or any horses die during these races, it is still the principle of watching an entity being tortured for amusement, which is not only confined to the wealthy population. When the concept of killing and tormenting living breathing beings for amusement is normalized within society, the lines begin to blur on who is okay to perform and who is not. Take the audience of this show for example, we all watched a show where hundreds of people were mercilessly killed for the desire of winning a cash prize for our own amusement, thus making “Squid Game” the number one show on Netflix at the moment. Although the show is fictional and brilliantly written, this Hunger Games concept is not new. We come in contact again and again with the idea of people who are disadvantaged given an opportunity to better their lives through inhumane means, including risking their own lives or actively sacrificing the life of another, and being spectators on the edge of our seats who can’t seem to look away. It is no different than a Roman gladiator match in a grand colosseum, which in modern day would be a MMA fight at the MGM hotel. We blame it on the rich who are ridiculed for creating these events, but at the end of the day it is the people, rich,poor, and everyone in between, who continue to still go along with it and to some extent desire it. Which makes me question, what does that say about humanity, and do I actually have faith in us? Although Gi-hun went through hell and back, he still remained pure of heart and used his wealth to enhance his life and those around him; proving that wealthy people can still be benevolent and desire righteous good. Similar to Gi-hun, the optimist in me wants to believe that there are still people in this world with good hearts, but I guess we just have to wait until the time comes to see.

Ultimately the show was phenomenal, and definitely sparked a desire inside of me to watch more Korean dramas. I don’t think the show will have a second season. Simply because I think the story line would be better cut off there, thus leaving the audience always wanting more. However if season 2 ever comes out, I’m ready for Gi-hun to take a Liam Neeson approach to ending the Squid Game and hopefully with a beard. Thank you for reading my article. I know it was incredibly lengthy. I have just finished the season after a 2 day binge watch, and have a lot of emotions and thoughts ruminating in my brain. Let me know what you think of the show and what you think of the article. Did anyone else notice the paintings of the games on the walls of the dormitory?

God bless.

#squid game #netflix #review #korean drama #kdrama #series review #web series

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lostinthewiind · 3 years ago

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White Lies: Chapter 1

The Legend of Vox Machina

Rating: Mature

Warnings: death, gore, mature themes, extreme violence, sexual themes, blood

The kingdom of Tal'Dorei was a beautiful place; the sun was almost always shining, the birds spent their days singing happily in the trees, and the land was filled with magic, wonder, and mystery. That was, until a great evil appeared, looming over the citizens and bringing with it darkness and despair.

Many a brave soul had attempted to wipe out the unknown evil and bring peace back to Tal'Dorei once again, but as the body count rose, the volunteers began to dwindle. Very few who had mustered the courage to face whatever lurked in the shadows had returned, and those who had would never be the same again.

Fei was one of the lucky few who had escaped with her head still firmly attached to her shoulders, and although the experience had been gruesome and terrifying, she had experienced far worse in her lifetime. Maybe that was the reason she found herself back in Sovereign Uriel's palace again . . . well, that and the promised reward for saving the kingdom.

"The knowledge you possess will be useful," General Krieg said, his accent as thick as his eyebrows.

"I don't have any knowledge." Fei pulled her hood down further over her face, hiding her dark skin, pointed ears, and blackened eyes. She was well aware that the present company knew she was a drow, but the habit persisted nonetheless. "I've told you hundreds of times already. There was a surge of darkness, a terrible roar, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in a puddle of blood and dismembered limbs. I didn't see anything that can be of any use to whatever band of idiots decides to march into their death next."

Lady Allura scoffed, her harsh tone contrasting her otherwise prim and proper appearance. "They will probably perish anyway." She turned to address the Sovereign. "We need to start hiring professionals if we ever wish to rid the kingdom of this beast."

"No offence, but no professional would touch this job with a ten-foot pole after this many people have turned up missing or dead afterward," Fei explained, nervously shifting her weight as the room of high-ranking individuals looked at her. "At this point, sticking with desperate mercenaries is probably your best bet."

Sovereign Uriel smiled wide, his gray beard twitching as he did so. "So you'll do it then?" He clapped his hands together. "You said it yourself, we need mercenaries, and I can think of no one better than a mercenary who has already faced the music once before."

"I said desperate mercenaries," Fei corrected the Sovereign. "What makes you think I want to return to certain death after just barely escaping it?"

"Along with the previously mentioned reward, I'll absolve you of all your debts in Tal'Dorei," Sovereign Uriel replied, the smug grin on his face a telltale sign that he knew his offer was too good to pass up. "And continue to look past the fact that you are currently wanted for theft of approximately 800 gold in Emon."

Fei chuckled nervously. "I didn't know you knew about that."

"I know about everything."

Folding her arms over her chest, Fei shrugged. "Yeah, you got me there. I'm in."

Later that day, Fei found herself perched upon the railing of a ship that was supposed to take her and this foolish group of mercenaries to Shale Steps, the village closest to the most recent attacks. Everything about that day had been a whirlwind of confusion, so the fact that the ship was currently sitting on land instead of in the water was the least of her worries.

"They should be arriving soon." Lady Allura approached Fei, her tone as calm as ever but her body language and the clear distance she put between herself and the drow woman proving that she was less than comfortable. "They go by Vox Machina, apparently."

"Vox Machina," Fei repeated the pretentious name. "I've always found that groups who put a lot of effort into things like appearance and titles often don't possess the skills to match."

"Well, for the kingdom's sake, let's hope they are an exception." A distant commotion alerted Lady Allura to the arrival of the group and she turned to leave, but not before adding one last thing. "Oh, and don't be alarmed when you see the bear."

Fei opened her mouth to ask a follow-up question, or maybe even just to make a shocked noise, but before she could get a single sound out, Lady Allura was out of earshot. Not a minute later, a group of 7 individuals—all wildly different from one another, except for two half-elves who looked to be related—boarded the ship followed by a brown bear wearing armour.

Suddenly, the mysterious evil that had murdered her entire previous group was not the weirdest thing Fei had seen that week.

"Vox Machina, this is your guide." Lady Allura gestured to Fei and the group turned to look at the woman on the railing. "I would recommend listening to her lest you wish to end up dead."

With that, Lady Allura left the group of 8, plus the bear, to introduce themselves.

"A pleasure, Darling." A female half-elf with a bow and quiver strapped to her back stepped forward, her accent posh and slightly intimidating. "I'm Vex. This is my brother, Vax." She pointed to the male half-elf beside herself.

"They're twins." The largest of the group, a pale goliath, piped up. His voice was deep and his manner of speech simple. "Even though one is a boy and the other is a girl."

"Grog, that's not how twins work." A male gnome dressed in all purple sighed from his spot upon the goliath's shoulder. "We've been over this."

"Yeah, but you said twins are the same." The goliath, Grog, seemed confused. "Boys and girls are not the same."

Placing a hand on Grog's leg, a female gnome with white hair smiled warmly. "I'll explain it again later," she told him.

"Okay."

"Not the best first impression, but when do we ever make a good first impression?" Another female half-elf, this one with red hair, a druid circlet with antlers upon her head, and a green dress chuckled. "I'm Keyleth, and that's Scanlan and Pike." She pointed to herself, then the male gnome and the female gnome, respectfully. "And that's Percy," she nodded her head in the direction of a pale human man who had wandered away from the group and was standing next to the railing, "but he isn't a big people person, so don't take his lack of interest personally."

"You certainly seem like an . . . interesting bunch." Fei tried her hardest to seem civil. "I'm Fei."

The male gnome, Scanlan, furrowed his brows. "So, ugh, not to pry or anything, but what's with the hood?" He hopped down from Grog's shoulder and onto the railing so he was eye-level with Fei. "We're all about to face an unknown evil together so no need for secrets, y'know?"

"We aren't ones for upholding appearances, if that's what you're worried about," Vex assured her.

Fei instinctively tugged on the hood of her piwafwi and lowered her gaze to the wooden boards of the ship deck. Before she was forced to answer, however, the ship began to lift from the ground and the group, Fei included, became way more interested than the flying ship they were on as opposed to a measly hood.

Before long, the ship had ascended high into the sky, among the clouds, and the gang of suicidal, money-hungry mercenaries were on their way to Shale Steps.

"Isn't this ship amazing?" Scanlan exclaimed after returning from giving himself the grand tour. "There's two bathrooms downstairs." He narrowed his eyes toward Vex and Vax, who were engaged in a hushed conversation. "Hey, by the way, why are you both whispering like we can't hear you?"

"Can you mind your business for once, gnome?" Vex huffed.

Scanlan rolled his eyes and began to mutter under his breath, mocking Vex as a child would.

"As you can see, the creature has already razed three villages and miles of farmland." Lady Allura appeared once more and looked down over the railing at the decimated, smoking villages they were passing over. "If this evil persists, the kingdom will starve to death."

"This mission sounds kind of deadly." Keyleth's pale face went even paler, making the freckles on her cheeks stand out even more. "Do we really want to do this?"

"Yes, this task is dangerous, which is why only the most noble, heroic, and true-" Lady Allura began before getting cut off.

"Yeah, yeah, nobility and heroism is fine and all, but we're in this for the money," Vax said.

Lady Allura nodded. "I see. So it's coin over character. Not surprising. You'll fit in with this lot just fine then." She looked to Fei with a disapproving glance. "We'll be landing soon. Best you share what little knowledge you have now while the rest are still calm enough to heed your advice."

As Lady Allura stalked off with her head held high, Fei felt seven pairs of eyes glued to her and knew they were all waiting for her to say something. "There isn't much to share," she started. "Like I told the Sovereign, everything went dark, I heard a bone-chilling roar, and then my entire crew was dead."

The others went silent. "I'm so sorry," Keyleth shuttered. "I can't imagine how hard it must have been to lose all your friends."

"I wouldn't say we were friends, but yeah, it was . . . rough."

"So how did you survive?" Vax questioned. "That's the only advice I'm interested in."

Fei shrugged. "No idea. I guess I was just lucky. I didn't exactly stick around to find out for sure."

"Do you have any idea of what the beast could be?" Vex followed up with another question. "Anything that gives us a slight idea of what we might be fighting?"

"All I can say is that it was big," Fei answered. "We didn't stand a chance. I'm only here because unless I get my hands on enough reward money to get out of Tal'Dorei, it'll only be a matter of time before I wind up dead, mysterious beast or not."

There was yet another wave of silence. "Well, that was uplifting." Scanlan smiled. "Any final words of wisdom before we land?"

"If it brings you any comfort, our deaths will be quick and painless." Fei finished. "Probably."

Scanlan frowned. "How cheerful."

After touching down, Fei led the way off of the ship and onto solid ground once more. "The Shale Steps are beyond that hill, " Lady Allura instructed. "Good luck. Please don't, oh, fuck this up, as they say."

"Thanks for the sweet ride," Scanlan called after her. "You'll be back to pick us up later, right?"

Without an answer, Lady Allura disappeared and the ship took off once more, quickly leaving the group in its dust in the middle of nowhere.

Scanlan fiddled with the gold chain that hung from around his neck. "Ugh, she will be back, right?" He turned to Fei.

"Nope." Fei shook her head as she turned around and started toward the village. "There probably won't be anyone or anything left for her to pick up anyway."

"You're really good at putting a damper on things, you know that?" Vax shuffled along behind Fei.

"Reality sucks," Fei retorted. "Get used to it."

After twenty minutes or so of walking, Fei and the others reached Shale Steps, which was a town comprised of little more than small wooden homes and a quiet village atmosphere.

"What we doing here again?" Grog asked.

"The last attack was just south of here," Pike explained. "We're gonna ask around, see if anyone knows anything."

Grog smirked and scratched his chin. "Ask around."

"Excuse me, green friends." Keyleth approached one of the many pine trees. "Have you seen any evil wizards or giant monsters passing through here?"

Fei stopped in her tracks and eyed the strange druid girl. "Do the trees ever talk back?"

"Not that I know of," Pike tilted her head, confused. "But weirder things have happened."

"Of course, they have," Fei sighed before continuing on her way.

As the group travelled down the main path through the village, they asked the citizens if they had seen anything unusual lately. Most of them, however, had no useful information to share. A few mentioned things like dark clouds and lightning, but that was more indicative of a storm than any sort of monster.

While Vex and Scanlan continued their line of questioning and Pike got roped into blessing a woman's home, Fei kept her distance, observing her new travel companions and trying to decide how quickly they would get her killed.

Thus far, she didn't know much about any of them aside from basic things. Grog was big and strong, but he seemed too simple-minded. The twins looked competent at first glance, but they seemed focused on personal gain over anything else. Pike was the healer due to her connection to the Everlight, but her gentle nature made it hard to believe she could hold her own in a fight (despite her sturdy suit of armour). Keyleth was probably too innocent for her own good, and Scanlan was probably too annoying for his. Percy was a complete mystery and the bear, Trinket, was, well . . . a bear.

"You look like you're trying to decide whether to cut and run or not." A voice pulled Fei from her thoughts and she looked over to see Percy, who had yet to say a single word to her.

Immediately, she was afraid that her hood had slid backward and her face was showing, but after a few seconds of panic and a quick grab at her cloak, she realized that he was referring more to her standoffish body language rather than any sort of facial expression.

"So you do speak," she responded.

"Sometimes. I usually try my best to blend into the background so people don't associate me with these idiots."

"Hate to break it to you, but your lack of participation kind of makes you the weirdest one out of all these weirdos."

"Well, thankfully the whole mysterious-hooded-figure thing you've got going on is definitely making me look more normal."

Fei scoffed a little, unsure if her slight amusement peeked through or not. "You went from talking too little to talking too much."

As Pike finished stumbling her way through a bullshit blessing, a boy emerged from behind his mother's back and approached Vax, his eyes wide as he watched the coin the half-elf was flipping between his fingers intently.

"Wow," the boy gasped. "Are you a wizard?"

Vax chuckled and knelt down in front of the boy. "Nah. The magic's all in the fingers, kid." He made the coin disappear before pulling it from behind the boy's ear.

"Wow!" the boy exclaimed once more as he reached behind his ear.

"And now it's in yours." Vax placed the silver coin into the boy's hand. "That's real silver. Keep it safe. There's a monster roaming about."

The boy's older sister, who had walked over to look at the silver coin, shook her head. "You mean flying."

"What's that?" Vax cocked a brow.

"Something flew right over us," the girl explained. "It knocked down the big tree on the hill. We heard wings beating but we couldn't see it in the storm."

The boy nodded. "But it was big. Really big."

"Well, you got it half right." Scanlan looked up at the broken tree on the hill before turning to Fei. "Forgot to mention the flying part though."

"Yes, because I'm intentionally leaving out key details," Fei huffed. "I also forgot to mention that its favourite food is gnome and the colour purple makes it extra angry."

Scanlan turned his nose up. "You're a bad guide."

Fei clenched her fists at her sides and grunted. "How have you guys not killed him yet?"

"Believe me, we've tried more than once," Vex said. "He's like herpes. Once you've got him, you can never get rid of him."

"Scanlan has herpes?" Grog asked.

Percy shrugged, raking his fingers through his short, white hair. "Probably."

"I do not!" Scanlan snapped back. "I'm clean, I swear!"

"Guys, let's maybe not have this conversation in front of the children?" Keyleth suggested, causing everyone to turn toward the two children who were now watching them argue among themselves.

Scanlan chuckled nervously. "Stay in school, kids. And remember, abstinence is the safest form of-"

The group let out a collective groan and before Scanlan could finish his sentence, the woman quickly ushered her children back inside their newly blessed house and Vax grabbed the gnome by the collar of his low-cut top, carrying him out of the village like a feral cat.

Once the gang had made it up the hill to the broken tree, the actual work began. Thankfully, Trinket quickly proved his worth and managed to locate a large footprint in the dirt.

"The tracks are too muddy to discern," Vex concluded. "But it looks like it took to the air and flew along the coast."

As the sun began to set and the sky grew darker, the group continued along the coast, descending rocky terrain and following a path that Fei did not recognize at all. When she had tracked the beast previously, it had been found closer to the village and nowhere near as deep into the wilderness.

Everyone—except Trinket, of course—stumbled over loose rocks and uneven ground; even Keyleth, whose staff helped support her along the way. By the time they made it to relatively flat terrain again, it was a miracle no one had twisted an ankle or broken a leg.

The rocky coast, with its vast open space, thick layer of fog, and scant scattering of pine trees, gave Fei an uneasy feeling. The fact that there was nowhere to really hide set her nerves on edge and she couldn't help but keep her head on a swivel, constantly on the lookout for whatever they were hunting.

"Now they look . . . human?" Vex crouched down in front of human footprints in the mud. Suddenly, she grimaced and her hand shot up to her head. "It's close," she warned. "Everyone, get ready."

With a rustling in the bushes ahead, Fei reached underneath her cloak and withdrew her dagger. As everyone else readies their weapons as well, Fei swallowed hard, suddenly hating herself for picking money over her own life.

Just then, however, a small lamb leapt out of the bushes and bleated at the armed gang of mercenaries.

As Grog burst into laughter, the lamb trotted away. "Get the fuck out. What, a little lamb was behind all the mayhem? Oh, don't let that thing bite you, Vex."

With yet another pained grunt, Vex doubled over, both hands on her head now.

In the distance, the lamb continued to trot away. Just before disappearing, however, a large claw emerged from the fog and crushed the lamb beneath it, splattering bright red blood all over the ground.

With a low rumble, a large blue dragon emerged from the thick fog, its piercing eyes glaring down at the ragtag crew who had declared themselves its next opponent.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck." Scanlan's small hands tightened around his lute, which doubled as his instrument and his weapon.

"Fucking run!" Fei shouted, flashbacks of what happened to her previous comrades flashing through her head.

Not a second after everyone had scattered in different directions, the dragon expelled a burst of blue electricity from its mouth. Fei felt the sparks tickling her back before surging through her entire body and sending her smashing into one of the nearby trees.

Unsure whether anyone else had managed to survive the initial attack or not, Fei kept her back pressed firmly to the tree trunk, determined to stay hidden for as long as possible. Usually, striking from the dark with a stealthy advantage was more her style, so this out-in-the-open bullshit was nowhere near her preferred method of battle.

Beside her, Fei watched as Scanlan darted through the trees, only to be snatched out of harm's way by Vax just in time to avoid being devoured by the dragon. After biting the tops off of multiple trees with nothing more than a single snap of its jaw, the dragon lifted its head up high before bathing the area in blue electricity once more.

Before long, the entirety of the sparse forest had been set ablaze. The tree trunk she had been hiding behind now on fire and no longer offering any sort of protection, Fei ducked out of the way and over to where Vax, Scanlan, and Percy were hiding out.

Huffing, Percy reached underneath his trenchcoat to retrieve something. "I suggest we run. Right now!" Percy's hand reappeared and a glint of metal caught Fei's eye.

"Fuck that!" Grog brandished his double-edged axe and let out a war cry. "We fight!"

"Grog, you dumb, brave asshole!" Vax exhaled as he and Scanlan raced after the revenge-fueled goliath. The others followed suit, aside from Fei and Percy.

Fei was frozen in place, overcome by fear at the sight of the gun Percy had pulled from beneath his blue coat. Percy was staring at her, bewildered by her unusual and visceral reaction to his weapon.

Fingers tightening around the hilt of her dagger, Fei felt her heart hammer against her ribcage as she stared wide-eyed at the pepperbox revolver. The sight of that gun caused her entire body to tremble, instantly transporting her back to that night.

The first time Fei had found herself the lone survivor of a massacre was not when she had encountered this dragon before. No, it was three years earlier, when she had returned to her camp in the woods to find every single one of her friends dead, bullet holes in the middle of their foreheads, their bodies scattered among the fallen leaves and twigs. Everything had happened in such a blur, and with the passing of time, the details of that night got less and less clear, but she would never forget the sight of that gun.

The figure retreating from the camp had been hooded and dressed in all black, but the barrel of the pepperbox glimmered brightly in the moonlight that shone through the canopy of trees overhead. The gun was unique, personally designed and crafted, which was why Fei was never able to get it out of her head.

That was the gun that ripped her friends, her purpose, and her life out of her grasp.

"Hey." Percy reached out to her, his fingers just barely brushing against her shoulder as he tried to shake her from her daze. "You okay?"

Upon contact, Fei jumped backward, landing harshly on her behind and accidentally pulling her hood off of her head in the process. Poorly braided white hair sprung loose as her wide black eyes locked with Percy's. "Y-you. It was you." She stumbled over her words. "You killed them . . . killed them all."

"What?" Percy was utterly dumbfounded by what Fei was saying. "What are you blabbering about? Stop muttering like a fool and get up before we both get killed!"

As Percy jumped to his feet and pushed past Fei, the stunned woman finally came to her senses. By the time she had returned to reality, Grog had already been downed by the dragon and the rest of the gang was busy firing everything they had at the beast. Unfortunately for them, everything they had was nowhere near enough.

When the glowing orange arrows that Vex fired or the magical purple fist that Scanlan conjured did nothing against their foe, Fei knew that her blades would be useless. That, and the fact that her mind was currently elsewhere, kept her cowering behind a fallen tree, waiting for certain death.

A glowing golden shield appeared in front of Pike as she charged forward, but even with Vax wielding throwing stars and Percy firing a few shots to cover her, the desperate attempts still failed.

Vex tried to convince Keyleth to use her magic in an attempt to turn the tides, but the druid woman was about as frozen with fear as Fei had been moments before. Eventually, however, Keyleth regained her composure and grasped her staff firmly, summoning thick, dark clouds overhead.

A thunderclap echoed through the sky, distracting the dragon just long enough to give everyone enough time to regroup. With a loud shout, Keyleth brought a bolt of lightning down onto the beast.

For a split second, there was silence as dust and smoke filled the air, but when the debris cleared, the dragon was still standing. With a ferocious roar, it spread its wings and straightened to its full height.

"Did I just make it worse?" Keyleth shrieked.

As the dragon got ready to fire another shot of electricity at the group, Pike stepped to the front and shielded everyone the best she could with her same golden barrier from before. But of course, the dragon's electricity shot clean through the shield and into the rocky mountain behind them, sending a shower of rock and boulders raining over Fei and the others.

"Look out!" Vex cried, but before they knew it, darkness had encompassed them all—and Fei was convinced this was how they were all going to meet their ends.

By the time the debris had settled and Fei had managed to draw in a few shaky breaths, she had realized that she was not dead. In fact, the only weight on top of her was that of a soft person—well, soft compared to what a giant boulder would have probably felt like.

The ground shook as the dragon took a few steps closer to the pile of rubble, and after concluding that its enemies were most likely dead, it flew off. Once silence had fallen over the coast, aside from the sound of the trees crackling as they burned, Scanlan began to grow restless.

"Get me out!" he mumbled loudly. "Get me out! I'm trapped under Grog's ass!"

With a shift of body weight, Grog and Trinket managed to free themselves and push some of the larger boulders out of the way. With an abundance of light now spilling into the small space the rest of them were stuffed into, Fei noticed that Keyleth had summoned a tangle of vines that had kept them safe from the rockslide.

With one swift motion, the vines extended even farther and pushed the rest of the rubble away.

"So this is what rock bottom feels like," Percy huffed from his position at the bottom of the dogpile.

Slowly, one by one, the group untangled themselves from one another and stepped out into the clearing again. A bright orange glow illuminated the coast as the pine trees continued to burn, but thankfully, there was no dragon in sight.

"At least we're still alive, thank the Everlight." Pike dusted herself off and clutched the pendant she wore around her neck.

"And thanks to Keyleth for the giant shrub." Vax pulled something small and sharp out of his back. "But did you have to make it so thorny?"

Remaining beneath her canopy of vines, Keyleth hugged her knees to her chest as she stammered about the dragon and how they had almost died.

Mind wandering, Fei stepped away from the group. Her hood remained down, no longer shielding her true appearance from the others, but that wasn't the most pressing issue on her mind. She tried to convince herself that what she remembered was wrong—that Percy's gun was not the same one that she had seen that night—but she was unable to trick herself into believing otherwise.

After Pike had convinced Keyleth that everything and everyone was okay and had gone through the group one by one, healing anyone who needed it, she turned to Fei. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

Turning around, Fei didn't answer.

"Whoa, so that's what you look like," Scanlan commented before turning to Grog and lowering his voice, although everyone was still very much able to hear him. "I get why she wore the hood now. Kinda scary."

"You finally gracing us with your appearance aside, care to explain why you completely froze out there?" Percy spat. "You could have gotten us both killed!"

Fei narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth. "You go around murdering drows for fun and wonder why they falter at the sight of you and your cursed weapon!"

Percy, once again confused, shook his head. "I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about."

"Spare me the act of innocence," Fei snarled. "You were there. I saw you and, more importantly, I saw your gun. You killed them all! Every last one of them dead, bullets to the skull, point-blank."

Keyleth gasped. "Percy!"

"I did not kill any drow, let alone a whole gathering of them," he defended himself. "Look, I don't know what you think you saw, but you most definitely did not see me because I didn't kill your friends."

Fei pointed a single, shaking finger toward the pepperbox in Percy's hand. "That gun is unmistakable. I've never seen one like it before in my entire life."

"Well, of course, you haven't! It's one of a kind. I designed it myself."

Vex placed a gentle hand on Percy's shoulder. "Darling, you're not exactly proving your innocence here."

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Percy exclaimed. "We've known this woman for less than a day and you're all seriously going to believe her over me?"

"That's not what we're saying." Vax shook his head. "But considering we all just narrowly escaped death, maybe we should circle back around to this topic at a later time?"

"That's a good idea," Pike agreed, swaying slightly on the spot. "All that healing really took it out of me."

As Pike's eyes began to flutter and she started to tip over, Scanlan rushed to her aid and caught her before she could hit the ground. Almost instantly, the tension among the group dissipated and the two gnomes quickly pushed away from one another.

"All right, fuck Uriel and all of this, we're done here," Vax announced. "We didn't sign up for certain death."

"Must I remind you we gave our word to the council?" Percy sighed. "That should probably mean something."

Fei rolled her eyes. "Oh, so the mass murderer has a moral code?"

"Oh, who gives a soggy anus about the council?" Scanlan retorted angrily. "The only word I care about is 'Scanlan Shorthalt.' And, yes, I know that's two words, but you know what I'm saying."

"Yeah!" Grog agreed. "What have those fuckity-fucks ever done for us? Except give us a job and a bunch of gold and treasure and stuff?"

"I'm on board with this whole 'fuck the council' sentiment," Fei said, deciding to set her rage aside for the moment. "They've tangled me up in this suicide mission twice now and I think, and I can't believe I'm going to say this, but the gold just isn't worth it."

Keyleth, who had finally emerged from the vines, gripped her staff tightly. "We've fought a lot of things . . . but a dragon? An actual dragon?"

"It's not about the council or the contract," Pike said. "It's about these people. They need us. We can't just run away."

"This is why I hate travelling with holy people." Percy pressed his fingers to his temples. "They're too goddamned good."

Fei was about to make a snarky remark but managed to hold her tongue at the last second.

"Pike . . . this creature is beyond us." Vex hung her head solemnly. "When Vax and I were young, one of those monsters killed our mother. I've studied dragons my entire life, hoping to find the one that did it. I can feel when they're close. A horrid pain in my head."

"Then it's settled." Percy pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose and crossed his arms. "We'll go back to the palace and get out of the contract."

"You don't understand, Percy. I felt it there, too, at the palace," Vex explained.

Scanlan took a second to process the information. "You're just telling us this now?"

"I'm sorry," Vex apologized. "I wasn't certain until the dragon . . . it's been years since Mother . . ."

"Are you sure, Vex'ahlia?" Vax placed a comforting hand on his sister's shoulder.

Vex nodded. "I know what I felt. Someone on the council must have been in contact with the dragon, or . . . I don't know, but I'm sure it was real."

"Then we walk away from all of this," Vax decided. "It's not worth it. You heard her. One of them might be working with that monster. Let's just get the hell out of here and never set foot in Emon again. Can we all agree on that?"

With dusk upon them now and the sky a faint shade of dark blue, the twin half-elves led the way back along the coast and up to Shale Steps. Defeated, Fei and the rest of the group followed behind, all of them remaining silent for the journey back.

As the gang of failed dragon-killers walked, a blanket of dark clouds formed overhead, bringing a downpour of rain that, although cold and uncomfortable for the travellers, was much needed to put out the many fires the dragon had left in its wake.

Reaching the crest of the final small hill before the village they had passed through earlier, Vex stopped in her tracks. "Oh, no," she gasped at the sight of the smouldering buildings.

"It wiped them out, all of them," Pike whispered as Vax ran ahead, his sights set on the house that Pike had blessed where the two children lived.

By the time Fei and the others had caught up and followed Vax inside the small home, he was sitting upon a table, eyes glued to the charred remains of the family that had lived there. In the middle of the room, the corpse of the mother was cradling the corpse of the daughter.

Just then, a weak groan could be heard over the sound of the rain. Rushing over to the source of the noise, Vax and Grog lifted away a fallen piece of the roof to reveal the young boy.

"Pike! Get over here!" Vax called as he scooped the bloody and badly injured boy into his arms.

Kneeling down in front of the child, Pike closed her eyes tight and a faint golden glow began to emanate from her pendant. The glow, however, only lasted a second or two before flickering out. "Please, Everlight, let your power reach him." The glow flickered a few more times but the boy continued to wheeze and groan, still no better than he was before.

"Pike, please," Vax begged.

"Shit!" Pike cursed under her breath as the glow went out for good. "No. I can't do it. I'm still too weak from before."

Letting out a strangled gasp, followed by a breathy exhale, the boy fell limp in Vax's arms. "We could have stopped this." Vax stared at the blood on his hands. "Should have."

From the doorway, Scanlan began to pluck at the strings of his lute.

"What the hell are you doing, Scanlan?" Vax snapped.

"Thinking of a rhyme for 'dead dragon'," he answered matter-of-factly. "'Cause I . . . I guess we're killing one."

"I'm in." Keyleth nodded. "I mean, I'm not gonna lie, I'm terrified out of my mind. But I'm in."

Head hung, Grog grunted. "I don't like losin' . . . but now I'm feelin' things, on the inside. They don't feel right. So yeah, I'm with ya."

"That was . . . actually well stated, Grog," Percy commended the goliath.

Grog quirked a brow. "What was?"

"Uh, never mind," Percy exhaled slowly. "Count me in as well."

"You guys . . . we're doing this." Pike stood back up again, determination set on her face.

"You all realize we're going to die a truly horrible death," Vex added.

Vax leaned down and picked up the coin he had given the boy earlier from the ground. "Perhaps, sister. But we'll die gloriously, and we'll kill a fucking dragon."

With that, the company of Vox Machina turned to Fei expectantly. "So, what do you say?" Vex inquired. "Care to stare death in the face once more?"

Fei thought for a moment, her eyes glancing over toward Percy for split second. While she didn't really want to be around the man who had murdered her friends in cold blood, she also couldn't deny the spark of genuine bewilderment she had seen in his eyes when she had accused him. Maybe he hadn't been there that night after all, or maybe he had, but either way, Fei was going to find out for sure and, apparently, kill a dragon along the way.

"Sure, why not?" She slumped her shoulders in acceptance. "I've survived the fucking beast twice now, so I'm feeling pretty good about my chances."

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jeongyunhoed · 4 years ago

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Past-Present-Future Black Dahlia

Two major tragedies bring Lee Mirae closer to the edge as she goes through the stages of grief in a more violent manner that would affect not only her relationships with her boyfriend Jeong Yunho and her half-brother Choi San, but also has her becoming closer with the immortal mutant Kang Yeosang. Fueled by rage, grief, and pain, along with a very rude awakening that has Mirae spiraling out of control and questioning everything she holds dear.

Group: ATEEZ Member: Yunho Pairing: Jeong Yunho / OC Genre: Action, adventure, angst, fantasy

Watch Out! : Violence, blood, death, grief and loss, major character deaths, use of weapons, some jealousy (but no cheating ofc), implied smut (not sure if there is any but i’m putting it out there nonetheless), mental illness (probably?), gambling and alcohol

Anything else? : Mentions of other idols of course as well as other characters. SuperM, Dean, Chanyeol, Zelo, soloist Park Jihoon to name a few.

Author’s Note: First chapter is here! Compared to the previous stories from the AU, this might have very long chapters, like more than 10 pages in google docs long. But anyway, tag list is open, and yeah. Enjoy the first of a rollercoaster of emotions.

This whole first chapter also, is me giving brief backstories of what happened before/backstories of many characters here. Basic plot is mine, characters are not. This is all for fun/entertainment/emotional anguish.

Masterlist

Chapter 1

When one is at their breaking point, everything begins to change. The lines between right and wrong are blurred, and one’s moral compass begins to spin into oblivion.

9:00 p.m.

Laughter filled the almost empty space of Viva Polo, having closed for the night except for a table occupied by Lee Mirae, Park Chanyeol, and Kwon Hyuk. The rest of the tables had already been overturned, marking the end of another day at work, at least for Chanyeol. The three of them had a tradition of meeting up every week, something they started doing after the previous adventures they had.

The three of them were mutants, and to their knowledge, they were the last surviving members of the group that saved the country, if not the world during the Seoul attack. A year after that, the three of them found each other again, reuniting to save the country once again from an evil cult bent on achieving utopia through taking control of its citizens. Two adventures that had major consequences on the three of them, and events that they will forever remember.

Two of them, Mirae and Hyuk, were classified as omega-level or level 5 mutants, with powers that were impossible to surpass by any other mutant thus far. Mirae was not only gifted in a mastery of hand-to-hand combat, both armed and unarmed, but she had the gift of manipulating potential energy into kinetic energy. She could turn virtually any object into an explosive and if channeled to an extreme extent, was able to level a skyscraper.

With her abilities came the secondary gift of a healing factor that made her almost immortal and slowed down her aging immensely. Because of her ability to manipulate energy, she was also able to generate static that resulted in a very strong psychic block that was only made stronger by another omega-level mutant, Jang Ino. From the adventures she had on her own and even after the Utopian cult, another ability manifested itself in her; taking souls and trapping them into objects, usually her deck of cards.

Meanwhile, Kwon Hyuk, a well-known music producer and songwriter, was a level 5 telekinetic and could move anything with his mind. His psychic abilities also gave him the gift of producing shields that were almost impenetrable.

In their adventure into the Utopian cult, Hyuk developed his telepathic abilities, which he used to extract memories or read into memories of others. Hyuk was nearly captured by the goons from the Utopian cult when they met again, and has since tried to use his powers as discreetly as possible with some difficulty.

Hyuk didn’t formally join Mirae and Chanyeol until the later days of the Seoul attack, having laid low, undiscovered by Ino who was at the time, serving his father Professor Inhwan Jang. Hyuk had openly used his powers in front of the group during a time when Mirae and one of her other colleagues, a telekinetic named Luhan, were affected by the goblin king’s inducement of traumatic memories that caused their powers to manifest for the first time.

It was there that Hyuk realized that he could do so much more with his mutant gifts, rather than use them solely for trivial purposes.

Hyuk had a cousin, the singer Lee Midam, who was under his entertainment agency, in the 10-member group called Silver. Midam was, like him, a psychic, but of a different kind. Midam was a psychic that could make the worst fears or strongest desires of another person come to life before them. Midam also had the ability to sense when a person will die in the near future.

Park Chanyeol was a level 4 pyrokinetic, also known as an alpha-level mutant. He created and manipulated fire in all its aspects, from turning into a fire being to being able to put out and set fire onto virtually anything. In his fire form, he was granted the ability to fly and heal and even out of his fire form, Chanyeol could withstand extreme heat.

He worked with Mirae in the Center for Paranormal Research upon his discovery by Ino, leaving his work in his mother’s Italian restaurant behind to find purpose for his abilities. For some time after the Seoul attack, Chanyeol thought he was the only one left, until he was seen by another survivor, their tech guy Choi Junhong, looking over the remains of what used to be the Center, the epicenter of the entire attack.

From the adventures they had, the three of them still managed to continue with their lives. Hyuk stayed in his agency to work on music, Chanyeol helped around his parents’ restaurant and live club, while Mirae ran the music store that she took ownership in after the passing of her adoptive parents. Hyuk and Chanyeol also helped other mutants like them, Mirae’s old colleagues from her days as an assassin under a sanitarium, practice controlling their powers.

With the way the events of the past years shaped them, their lives would forever be intertwined and they knew it. Even with the disagreements that occurred in the final days of the Seoul attack, with the three of them being the only survivors from that group that acted, they were like family to each other.

“One of these days, we’ll go on a mission, do something, just the three of us again,” Chanyeol said fondly, finishing the last slice of pizza from his place.

“Even if we don’t go on something like that, we should still do something, just the three of us,” Mirae repeated with a grin. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, someone needs to watch your back this time, you nearly got your powers taken away,” Hyuk pointed out, taking a sip of his iced tea.

The last adventure Mirae went on involved a demon and their followers, the one responsible for a long-running conspiracy that went behind the glitz and glamour of the country’s entertainment industry. Mirae was outmatched and captured, her powers being used to channel the summoning of the demon Ose. It left her boyfriend Yunho and her half-brother San, along with her old colleagues including immortal mutant billionaire Kang Yeosang, to be the ones to save her and the world.

Mirae shook her head. “It was only one time. Just one. But I’m starting to think I’m losing my touch, to be honest,” She looked down at her now-empty plate.

“I wouldn’t think of it that way if I were you,” Hyuk patted her shoulder. “You still have your powers, don’t you? Didn’t Junhong say your powers only got stronger after that? You’re practically invincible.”

“Says the person who is also practically invincible,” Mirae grinned.

“But I don’t heal like you do. Chanyeol doesn’t even heal like you unless he sets himself on fire.”

“Can you stop talking about injuries now? I think we’ll be late for that training session both of you promised the guys,” Mirae nudged the telekinetic.

Chanyeol got up at the mention of the training session. All of their plates floating in mid-air, the cutlery and glasses sorting themselves out, as Hyuk followed the taller male into the kitchen, making sure nothing dropped. Mirae smiled to herself as she removed the tablecloth and the napkins.

The boys at the safehouse would be waiting for them, San and Yunho included. Choi San was her half-brother, and had almost the same abilities as her, including her healing factor and a mastery of martial arts. Unlike Mirae, who channeled her powers mainly through her extendable staff, San channeled his into a harpoon gun.

San’s powers first manifested in his high school years, as a result of the constant pressure placed on him by their father, who wanted him to pursue a career he himself wanted. Upon learning how to control his abilities better, San ran away from home, eventually learning the skills he knew to become a paid hitman. San also witnessed Mirae getting taken away to be interned at the sanitarium, and he looked everywhere for her.

Jeong Yunho was Mirae’s boyfriend. Yunho was also like her, skilled in hand-to-hand combat, both unarmed and armed. Yunho was also a mutant, an immortal mutant who possessed the ability to teleport, but could only do so in dark places.

Yunho’s powers manifested when he was killed in Morocco during what would be Mirae’s final mission before she was discharged. Her memories of him were seemingly erased in the final electroshock therapy session used to alter her recollection of missions. They only found each other again when Mirae was being targeted by the Kang crime family, descendants of Yeosang who held a disdain for mutants.

Hyuk returned from the kitchen. “What’s that smile about?” He asked.

“Nothing, nothing, I just realized how it’s been a while since we did something like this together,” Mirae replied.

“Lee Mirae, you’re getting sappy.”

“Did I lie?” She laughed.

“No, but that’s weird of you,” Hyuk laughed as well. “I mean you are right. I’ve been busy practically managing the group, Chanyeol’s busy here, we’re just busy living our lives.”

“My point stands that we’ve never done anything together in a while, unless those goblins come up again and try to kill us,” Mirae joked.

“Hopefully not,” Said the psychic, the table in front of them turning itself over on top of another table. “Even with the way things ended back then, I’m glad the three of us found each other.”

The kitchen doors opened and Chanyeol returned, wiping his hands, with his backpack in tow. “Whose car are we using?” He asked.

Without another word, the three of them extended their fists. Both Mirae and Chanyeol had scissors, while Hyuk’s hand remained curled into a fist. “Guess it’s yours then, Mr. Psychic,” Mirae grinned.

“Be glad I stopped for gas before coming here,” He gave them a look as they left the restaurant.

The car pulled up in front of a brick-walled building that had a vending machine. It was the entrance to the safehouse that now became the headquarters of everything mutant-related. It was also where Mirae’s old colleagues were now staying, with the exception of two; Jung Wooyoung and Park Seonghwa.

The three of them got out, sensing the slight change in the air as they approached the machine. They knew there was a sort of cloaking over the spot that shielded anyone from seeing that the vending machine moved to the side to reveal a secret passage. Chanyeol, Mirae, and Hyuk entered the dark passageway and stopped at the red door at the very end.

The safehouse was similarly modeled to the recreation room in the Center for Paranormal Research, with a couch and beanbags surrounding a flat-screen television and several game consoles. There was a sleeping quarters and a shower area and a kitchen that was only stocked with instant food. Ino and Junhong’s labs and offices were in the two other doors in the kitchen area that had a small dining table where they would at least take turns in eating.

This time, the safehouse had since expanded thanks to Ino’s ability to manipulate matter. Junhong’s lab was much bigger, more beds were added to the sleeping quarters, and there was a small training room that Junhong fortified. A shelf was behind the television, showing all the weapons carried by the group of men who now resided in the place; a rapier, a set of nunchaku, and a few axes and shurikens. Those belonged to three people: Kim Hongjoong, Choi Jongho, and Song Mingi.

All of them were trained assassins, skilled in hand-to-hand combat both unarmed and armed. While Mirae and Yunho were no longer part of the group, the remaining members were turned into personal guards of the Kang crime family and underwent several experiments to turn them into super soldiers. All of them were impervious to pain and were a lot more agile in their movements.

It was those experiments that triggered the mutant gene in each of them, their own mutant abilities manifesting around the same time. Hongjoong possessed superhuman speed and could be as fast as the speed of light that also enabled him to heal if wounded. Seonghwa was a telekinetic, whose powers also made itself known if his eyes and fingertips glowed green. Mingi, like Chanyeol, was also a pyrokinetic, but unlike Chanyeol, could only manipulate flames that already exist.

Wooyoung on the other hand, possessed the ability to turn into a shadow being. His shadow form allowed him to be intangible, as well as give him superhuman strength and a healing factor. But along with his shadow form, Wooyoung developed a kind of extrasensory perception, where he could see past and future events from a person or an object, or even a name.

Jongho had the painful ability to manipulate his bone structure, and his arms and legs would produce a sharp spike that could pierce anything.

They immediately noticed that a few other weapons were shelved, as they were likely in the labs or in the training room; a set of sai, katanas, a bow and a quiver full of arrows, and the harpoon gun. Everyone was indeed present.

“Hello?” Hyuk called out as they closed the door behind them.

“We’re here!” Chanyeol called out as well.

“Yunho? San?” Mirae spoke, looking around the empty living room.

Suddenly materializing in front of them was Ino. “Good! You’re all here! The rest of them are in the training rooms, but can you wait a little bit? There’s something I’m finishing and I hope the three of you can test it out for me,” He said.

Jang Ino was a prime example of a true omega-level mutant, with abilities so powerful he was almost like a god. Ino had the gift of manipulating matter, inter-dimensional teleportation, telekinesis, telepathy, duplication with sentient clones, intangibility, precognition as well as the ability to see everything as it happened. Ino’s abilities manifested much later than the rest of them despite not being much older than Chanyeol, Hyuk, and Mirae, and thus had more difficulty trying to control each of his abilities.

“Really? What is it?” Mirae asked as Chanyeol put down his backpack while she put down her staff.

Ino looked excited. “Another training room, or…?”

“Another Danger Room,” Hyuk nodded. “Can it not turn into a vortex manipulator again?”

“I can’t promise that, but it’s as safe as ever, right? Just like old times,” Ino was beaming. “Ah, well, you might as well see it for yourself. I’ll call the rest of them,” and he disappeared.

“Are we supposed to wait for them here?” Chanyeol glanced at them, and they shrugged.

A commotion erupted from the door that was Junhong’s lab, making them turn around. “For a telekinetic, you could’ve aimed better! You could’ve killed me!” Hongjoong appeared, shooting Seonghwa a look.

“You sped away in time! You knew it wasn’t going to reach you anyway!” Seonghwa argued back.

“Well I wasn’t able to, not when Mingi keeps playing with that lighter of his! It’s like having to pass by a dragon each time I’m next to him.”

“So your situation is actually my fault, is that what you’re saying?” Mingi spoke, looking at them incredulously. “I was practicing my pyrokinesis the way Chanyeol hyung showed me, right, San?”

“Stop including me!” said the male who had a visible white streak in his hair similar to Mirae’s.

“This was a department store-bought shirt and Jongho just had to ruin it!” Wooyoung shrieked, pointing to the tears in his sleeve.

“Welcome to my world, Wooyoung! Live with it!” Jongho shot back.

“At least I don’t have spikes coming out of my sleeves and pants!”

Chanyeol and Mirae exchanged looks. Hyuk stifled a laugh. “Kind of reminds you how much we bickered back then, huh? I bet those guys would’ve loved to see a repeat of this,” He chuckled.

“Nothing seems to have changed after all,” Mirae laughed, their reactions making the group stop in their tracks. “We just had dinner,” She explained. “I see training’s been going well?”

“Not so much when the rest of them bicker more than San and I do,” out of the group came Yunho, who immediately swept her up in a hug then exchanged high fives with Hyuk and Chanyeol as he pulled away.

The taller form of Junhong appeared from the crowd as well, with scorch marks on his lab coat and a hole in his clipboard. Ino had materialized again as well. “So, the Danger Room, Junhong?” Hyuk asked.

“Yes, yes, the Danger Room,” Junhong led them to the pair of doors on the other side of the space. He pushed the button, the doors opening up to reveal a dark room covered in what looked like steel tiles. There was a panel of buttons near the doors from the inside and on one side of the room, was a booth. “Ta-da!” He announced, looking over at the three of them, while the rest looked amazed.

“A little shift in elements here and there, I was able to expand this entire space of ours, make it a little more familiar, don’t you think?” Ino smiled.

Mirae approached the panel of buttons near the side. “Ice fortress, dystopia, post-apocalypse, zombie invasion, alien invasion, gladiator arena,” She read out. Mirae turned to the next set of buttons and looked over at Junhong. “Why is my name at the top of this panel? Am I a level of difficulty?” She asked, looking puzzled.

“The highest,” Ino spoke. “But that level’s reserved for the three of you, not that these guys can’t do it, but the three of you are more experienced.”

“San and Yunho are just as experienced, if you ask me,” Mirae pointed out with a shrug, choosing not to argue any more.

“Yes, but they’ve never been through the same missions as you and Chanyeol did back at the Center, remember?” Ino reminded her. “The creatures at the museum, the goblin warriors at the train station, and their throne room, and the jewelry store at night?”

“I remember the jewelry store one,” Hyuk said, glancing at her. “We were coming from dinner when the store exploded. It was the time I found out Mirae was a mutant.”

Mirae smiled at her friend’s recollection. “Yeah, you came from that singing competition too.”

Chanyeol grinned. “The train station, I remember that well. Everyone hated us when they saw what was happening in broad daylight. Junmyeon got hot coffee thrown at him...” He looked down the more he remembered.

Ino noticed Wooyoung squinting at him, the rest of them looking fascinated by their brief trip down memory lane. “Well, I thought I’d show the rest of them how the three of you would do things in these simulations. Hyuk, I know you joined us late at the time, but you still know a thing or two on how to handle non-human entities, right?” He said.

“Oh yeah, I was with you all at the Esteholm,” Hyuk smiled. Sensing everyone else’s confused expressions, he chuckled. “It’s a hidden marketplace for non-humans, goblins, witches, warlocks, ogres…”

“You mean those things were actually here all this time?! On this planet?!” Mingi gaped at him and they nodded.

“Okay, okay, we’ll have a lot of time to talk about that later, but let’s have the three of you take this new Danger Room for a test run?” Ino suggested. “The rest of you follow Junhong into the booth, we’ll all watch from there.”

“What are we taking on?” Mirae asked.

Hyuk approached the panels. “What about…” He stopped when he read the mode at the bottom. “Evil villain mansion? What kind of mode is that?” He laughed.

Chanyeol and Mirae laughed as well. Mirae glanced at the booth, giving a thumbs up to Yunho and San, who looked excited as did the rest of them. “It’s exactly what it is. The mansion of the bad guy,” Junhong said from the booth.

“Alright then, put up the difficulty rate to my name, I guess,” Mirae said.

“That’s what I had in mind. Initializing evil villain mansion, Lee Mirae difficulty,” Junhong announced.

Hyuk backed away, until he was back to back with Chanyeol and Mirae. They heard tiles shifting and a swirling of colors all around them, bringing in a strong gust of wind. Mirae took out her staff from her jacket pocket and extended it. After a few moments, the swirling was disappearing, and they found themselves in what was the ballroom of a large, abandoned house that had some bits of modern technology on the locks of the doors and the windows.

“Okay, so this is the evil villain mansion,” Chanyeol mumbled as they took in their surroundings. “Where’s the evil villain, then?”

Mirae took a step forward, seeing two metal circles near the large fireplace. There was a seven-pointed star engraved on one circle, a hexagon that had the shape of a keyhole in the middle engraved on the other. The circles began to turn, until it slowly went up to reveal coffin-shaped tubes.

“This is oddly specific,” She muttered.

Hyuk and Chanyeol stared at the tubes as well. The closer they looked, they saw bodies, blackened and as if they had been mummified. “This is very specific,” Chanyeol nodded, feeling a chill down his spine as they approached the tubes.

Back at the booth, the rest of them stared at what was happening. “Can they see us?” Jongho asked curiously.

“I don’t think they can, can they?” Hongjoong glanced at Junhong, who was looking at the panels of controls. “But the surroundings look so real.”

“I know I should be used to this, but this is something I’ve never seen before…” San was staring at the tubes that were opening up in front of the three.

“Me neither, and I thought I’ve seen everything,” Yunho nodded.

From the side of the room, Wooyoung could suddenly see flashes of scenes in his head. He looked back at what was happening, seeing Hyuk, Mirae, and Chanyeol nearly destroy the surroundings they were in as humanoid demons with large talons began to attack them. The flashes kept coming. He could see people he hadn’t seen before having been inside the very booth they were in. Yet, Wooyoung wasn’t sure if this had already happened or it was about to happen. He stayed watching the simulation that Mirae, Hyuk, and Chanyeol were in.

“Kind of familiar, isn’t it? The train station,” Mirae’s eyes and fingertips were glowing as she sent shockwaves towards the two demons, but to no avail. Instead, the demons clapped their hands, sending similar shockwaves towards her. “They’re parrots.”

“What do you mean parrots?” Chanyeol had transformed into his fire form, dodging the attacks that were coming towards him.

“They’re copying everything we do,” Mirae spun her staff a few times before hitting the demon, only to be sent back by the other, who had turned into a fiery figure as well.

“Can they copy this?” Hyuk waved his hand, sending the two demons in mid-air. His eyes widened when the figure also raised their claws at him, lifting him up and off the floor. “This is impossible-” He crashed into the wall, moving away when some of the decor fell down.

“Looks like Junhong had his work cut out for him,” Chanyeol tried to burn down the doors of the room until the surroundings changed into what looked like a massive dock full of zeppelins and tables full of volatile chemicals in test tubes and beakers. “Yeah, now I can see why Mirae turned into a level of difficulty.”

“Let’s try not to touch anything, or interact with anything on those tables,” Mirae looked around on alert.

They heard a blast from all the way on the other side of the room. “Looks like they found us,” Hyuk said, trying to move the zeppelins as carefully as possible towards the source of the blasts.

“Those might explode if you let them get blasted,” Chanyeol called out at the telekinetic.

“Would you rather we get out of here with those? We don’t even know what to use these for” Hyuk pointed out, still trying to move the airships as the blasts grew louder, the impact exploding the tables closest to it. “At least they get blasted and we don’t-”

Boom.

There was a blast on their side of the dock, sending the three of them to the floor, as bits of shrapnel and the chemicals on the tables exploded. A large cloud of smoke enveloped them, soon revealing that they were no longer at the dock. They were back in the Danger Room, or at least what was left of the Danger Room.

Mirae opened her eyes, feeling considerably beaten as she looked around, surprised at what she was seeing. Her clothes were scorched, her staff was gone, and from the gust of wind that hit her, she realized what happened.

The safehouse seemed to have exploded.

Mirae looked around for a sign of Chanyeol and Hyuk. Was she still in the simulation? “Mirae! Mirae! Mirae! Are you alright?” She turned around, seeing Junhong, Yunho, and Hongjoong run up to her. “The machines overloaded when I was about to take you three out of there,” The tech guy explained.

She nodded, a feeling of dread suddenly overcoming her as she looked around the area. “Chanyeol? Hyuk?” She called out, kicking away a few bits and pieces of the rubble that surrounded them. “Chanyeol-” She stopped, feeling her heart sink.

Chanyeol was lying on the floor, a puddle of blood near his head, and bits of shrapnel having hit his sides. Mirae looked around for a sign of the telekinetic, only to realize that he was also lying on the floor, eyes glazed over. A piece of shrapnel hit his head.

“Chanyeol, Hyuk,” Mirae bent down, moving the rubble away from her best friends. She refused to believe it, refused to think that what happened really happened. “Chanyeol, Hyuk,” She took one of the sharp rocks and cut open her wrist, pouring some of the blood into where Chanyeol was hit. “Come on, both of you, this isn’t funny,” She saw that they weren’t moving while her wrist had already healed.

Junhong bent down to check Hyuk’s pulse, only for his expression to fall when he realized there was none. “Mirae,” He tried to say.

“No, I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t believe you,” Mirae shook her head profusely, crawling up to Hyuk. Tears were already falling from her eyes as the reality was hitting her bit by bit. “No, no, this can’t happen, not here, not now, no,” She patted his face, but no response. “No, Hyuk, no, don’t, please-” A sob escaped her as she held his body. “Hyuk, no, no, no, no, no,” She sobbed, reaching out to hold Chanyeol’s hand that was going cold. “No, please no, Chanyeol, Hyuk, you two can stop it now, please…”

“Mirae,” Junhong said again.

Hongjoong and Yunho exchanged looks, hearing the rest of their colleagues including San appear, all of them had traces of the smoke from the explosion on them.

“No!” Mirae shook her head again, until she broke down. They were gone. Her best friends. Gone.

17 notes · View notes

whumpingcrow · 4 years ago

Text

Pt.19 "Out of the Fire"

CW: captivity/pet whump, memory loss, drugs/alcohol (explicit), party theme, noncon/dubcon (explicit), tics/tourettes, blood/gore, injury description, mouth whump, restraints, August being nasty, emotional abuse/gaslighting and the aftermath of that, multiple whumpers, pocket knife used as a weapon (let me know if i missed anything!)

What was his name? Elias couldn't remember it, he could taste it on his tongue and hear it like a distant ringing in his ears, but when he tried to say it he always came up blank. He knew the face, he remembered his voice a little, he knew that when this nameless person popped into his head it was always with pleasant memories. But his name? It was diminished to nothing, not even an echo, just a blank slot where something once was.

His own name he knew, even if no one used it anymore. Elias, or Eli, sometimes. But even if that was his name, it wasn't who he was, not anymore. Now, he was “Bunny”, he was “sweetheart”, he was “pet”. August had turned him into nothing more than those words, and everyone around them followed suit. All of the lavish people who showed up to August’s parties reinforced that these names were all that he was, now. And there was nothing he could do about it except stare down his bloodied and mangled reflection and whisper his name to himself when he was alone. His cracked, bleeding lips moved almost soundlessly as he repeated his name, then he could taste tears when he murmured the name of the city he had to get back to.

"Elias," he whispered (he had to make sure it was never above a whisper because August was drunk all the time lately and had been jumping at the chance to punish him for any little thing, and he couldn’t risk being hurt for being loud), "Elias, you have to remember Los Angeles. You have to get back to Los Angeles to be with...to be...with… Fuck." Yet again, the name slipped his mind right as he tried to speak it. The idea of this person he missed was just a face. No Name.

A knock on the door startled him, and he hastily wiped the tears from his cheeks and the residue from the words off his lips, then opened the door. August stood there, looking him over with his lip caught in his teeth. It was hard to tell if he was sober or not, his eyes were shadowy with something, but sometimes being inebriated and being a shitty person with shitty motives could look about the same. Elias bit his tongue hard so he wouldn’t slip up and yell something like that right in August’s stupid face. This was becoming a habit, his tongue had scarring on it by now. Most of it was from himself, from physically biting back tics so that August wouldn’t use it as an excuse to hurt him. The rest of the scarring was closer to the back of his tongue, and even thinking about where he got it from made him sick to his stomach.

It was the reason why he made such great effort to stay quiet, why he was so afraid of opening his stupid mouth in front of anyone, especially August. Even accidentally brushing the scar against his back molars always made him vividly remember how much blood there was, how loud he had shrieked. The entire scene was soaked through with actual, pure violence, and Elias was horrified of August even more after it.

Elias had been high, like always, and nervous, because August had friends over. They weren't immediately familiar, but August had told him that he'd met them before, and that made Elias wonder if they'd been at one of the parties, if Elias had entertained them. He couldn't remember, though, and he was left jittery and ticcing, the coke August had given him certainly wasn't helping his case. And then August was next to him, with his smug smile and his evil hands, and Elias hardly even processed himself shouting "you cocksucking faggot!" until it was too late. Until August was pushing him to the ground to crawl on top of him, pulling his small pocket knife out at the same time.

"I told you not to speak to me like that, you slut!" August was screaming at him. Elias would've tried to apologize, if August wasn't shoving his fingers into Elias's mouth forcefully. Elias choked on his hand, then the metallic taste of the blade was on his tongue, and then he was screaming, thrashing under August desperately. August had warned him before that he'd cut his tongue out if he misspoke, Elias just never thought he was cruel enough to actually do that. And yet, here he was, trying to cough up the blood trickling down his throat around his mangled screams.

August would've kept going if he'd been allowed to, but at some point one or two of August's guests realized the severity of the situation and bolted up to rip him off of his poor pet. There was blood all over the both of them, on August's hands and arms and face, and Elias's entire front half was soaked. His tongue had a deep, jagged slice across it in the back, if August had kept going there was no doubt in his mind that Elias would've lost the entire thing. That took a week or so to completely heal, and since then Elias had tried everything he could to be quiet and well behaved.

"You feeling ok?" August asked him, even though his tone was exactly the opposite of caring. August had started to resent him, now, he was so far gone that he wasn't fun anymore. He was reduced to pure submission, a shell of a person that couldn’t be filled anymore. He didn’t scream and cry and fight quite like he used to, and August was more or less pissed off he had to deal with the aftermath of the damage he caused. Sometimes, though, he could get a reaction out of Elias, if he was in the mood to really mess him up. But that was typically draining for the both of them, and August didn’t enjoy cleaning up after himself, so mostly it was reserved for special occasions.

Elias prayed that this was not one of those special occasions.

"Yes, sorry," he replied. The words sounded so...dry, even in his own ears. He didn't have any more passion or emotion to put into them. He felt like he needed a nap, a nice long nap with silk sheets and feathery pillows and the whole mattress to himself with absolutely no unwelcome hands grabbing at him. He scolded himself, reminding himself that he wasn't allowed to want things. August was making sure that was one rule Elias really understood. Above everything else he was taught, the idea that desire was above him was the most easy to sink into. His entire life he'd been unlucky and disappointed when he didn't get his way, but really it had just been because he didn't deserve his way. And as for thinking about a nap, luxurious and soft and alone, he wasn’t worth any of that, and he was so lucky that August miraculously thought he was pretty enough to share a bed with, to touch whenever he wanted. He was lucky, he was in this beautiful place, he was sometimes allowed to go stand at the edge of the ocean and let the water come up to his shins, August shared his expensive drugs, and occasionally he held him closely, arms tight around him, and called him very sweet names. Yes, he was very lucky. He just wished he actually felt lucky, it was getting rather hard to keep trying to convince himself that any of this was pleasant when he felt like he had swallowed one of the circles of hell and now was the host of all of that evil and pain.

August let out a heavy sigh, his annoyance tangible. The fear that buried into Elias's chest at just that simple, scornful sigh was slightly muted from how exhausted he was, but still there nonetheless. It always was. "I'm having people over again tonight, I'll have to put you away."

Elias could sob at the words, at the knowledge that he would be back in the cold room downstairs, with the chains. After the first party, when August was angry at him for allowing all those people to use him, things were fine for a bit. They didn't have people over for awhile after that first time, August would instead opt for dragging him along to clubs or bars. When August finally did decide to have people over, it went south yet again. It was alright for a while, Elias sat quietly and looked out the window at the waves lapping at the beach, pretending he was out there instead, as August spoke to his guests about whatever it was they were talking about in words Elias couldn’t understand. And for whatever reason, when Elias felt fingertips brushing against his collar and turned his attention away from his land of make-believe, August wasn’t the one touching him. Elias really didn’t know how to make them stop this time, his begging was more desperate and he cried harder than ever, yet they never let up. August was even more furious that time.

So, he decided that Elias would be banished to the basement anytime he had people over. That horrible basement, with the horrible chains and the horrible dark and the horrible loneliness.

"August please don't put me down there," he whined, dropping his head down in fear that he would be slapped for arguing, "please, I'll be good. I won't even look at anyone-"

"It isn't about you, Bunny," August cut him off, grabbing his shoulder with a shocking tenderness, "you're always good. But other people aren't, and I can't risk that. Don't worry, I'll give you stuff to keep you busy."

Elias cringed hard, squeezing his eyes shut with a tiny huff. He didn’t want to argue, really he knew that this was just a surefire way to get hurt, but he couldn’t stomach thinking about being taken down that dreadful staircase another time. "It's so cold down there...I don't want...please, please August..." Before he could keep begging, he was pulled against August's chest tightly, he could feel August trace his palm over his shoulder blade.

"It'll only be for a little bit, sweetheart. Now quiet down."

And that was that. August gave him a few shots of Grey Goose and some weed and then walked him down the stairs, hooking up one of his wrists to the chain on the wall. "Stay here, nice and quiet," he was told, and he could only watch hopelessly as August made his way back up the stairs.

He was thankful for the muted sound of the music upstairs, it at least gave him something to focus on. He leaned heavily against the wall, trying not to think too much about the soft aching spreading through his legs from standing too long. It was even harder when the fatigue began to mix with the alcohol and he had to put in great effort to stay upright. He was miserable, and he found himself missing being able to interact with people at the party, even though the interaction was always vile and agonizing. At least if he was upstairs someone would touch him, would look at him, would acknowledge him. If he were upstairs, he would exist to someone besides himself. Down here he was nothing, he wasn't real. In the basement he was neither person nor pet, he was just...not there. And it frightened him more than August or the strangers upstairs.

He flinched hard when the music swelled suddenly, pushing himself off of the concrete wall to peer up the stairway, watching the shadow of a pair of shoes hesitating on the top of the steps, light flooding in past them. Was August going to let him come up? Did someone figure out he was down here and came to use him? He felt like maybe he'd be ok with that, it had been hours and the boredom was hurting him more than anything.

"Elias?" A woman's voice called. His chest tightened uncomfortably at the sound of his own name, having been the only one to use it lately, and the chain rattled as he stumbled over a bit. "Elias are you down here?"

"Y...yes." he answered, his voice wavering nervously. As soon as he did, the door closed again and her footsteps were bounding lightly down the steps toward him. When he saw her familiar red hair he sucked in a shaky gasp of relief. "C-Camille?" He whispered.

She looked him over, at the chain his arm was dangling lazily from and his battered and bruised skin, sighing in disdain at his state. She had felt bad before about taking so long to come back to him, and upon seeing how much worse he was since the last time gave the guilt an extra reason to eat away at her. "Jesus christ what are they doing to you?" She muttered, setting down her bag as she approached him.

"I forgot you...I didn't think you'd come back." When she reached out to grab his arm to inspect the lock of the shackle, he flinched back and closed his eyes. "Shit, sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's ok, darling. We have to go, though, there's not much time." As she spoke, she pulled at the metal around his wrist, groaning to herself when it didn't immediately come undone. "One second, wait here." He watched her turn on her heel and sprint back up the stairs.

Elias closed his eyes, swaying where he stood and trying to get his racing thoughts together. They were leaving, she was taking him home to that nameless face that he missed like an organ that he'd had forcibly removed. No more August, or parties, or basements. But it seemed so impossible, he'd been here for so very long that the idea of a world, a life, outside of it was mostly unimaginable. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he felt like he did need August, to some extent. He hated his guts, sometimes so viciously that Elias was shaken to his core by the violent thoughts it caused, but he needed him nonetheless. Elias was broken now, shattered glass, and August had done it so he was the only one who knew how to handle it. If he left, he feared that he would just stay broken and No Name wouldn't be able to even touch him without hurting himself, too.

His thoughts were cut short as the door opened again and Camille came back down, a second pair of steps behind her. An older man was following close, they were talking to each other in French, and Elias was immediately uneasy at not knowing what they were saying about him. They approached him, the man reached into the bag he was carrying as they got closer.

"Who is that? What's going on?" Elias rushed, shuffling away from them as much as he could, but the wall was closer than he thought and his shoulder thudded against it hard.

"It's ok, Elias. This is my older brother, he's going to help us get on a plane. You can trust him." She threw a nervous look over her shoulder to the staircase, grimacing a little. "I know you're scared, but we have to go now. August is distracted now but I don't know for how long."

Elias took a deep breath, using his free hand to rub the stress out of his eyes. "Ok," he groaned, "fuck, ok."

Camille's brother took her place in looking over the restraints, and it only took him a few moments to figure out the thin lock and free his arm. Elias couldn't help but stare up at him with wide eyes, shocked and nervous at the idea of not being chained up.

Camille began to pull out clothes from her bag, looking over Elias's slender frame with a frown. "Can you get this on? I can help if you need."

Elias shook his head, taking the hoodie from her and slipping it over his head, then he put the hat on that she handed him as well. The brim was wide enough to droop over the top half of his face, and he was relieved to be hiding behind it.

"Ok Elias. Ok. Alright." Camille seemed rather frazzled, and it wasn't making Elias's own nerves feel much better. "How are you to walk? Can you make it up with us to the car?"

"I can walk." His voice was just a mumble, he knew if he allowed any of the emotion he felt into his voice he would freak out.

The walk up the stairs felt unsteady, each step seemed uneven and rickety, and he was dizzy by the time they got to the top. "Camille?" He whispered, reaching out to grab the wall to right himself. "If he...if August sees me leaving he'll flip out. He'll kill me."

"We're not going to let him touch you, ok? I promise, we'll get you out of here. But we have to go right now."

Elias whined a little, then nodded his head and followed her. He was thankful when she reached over and took his hand to hold him closer, it made it easier to push through the people without looking up. The party was buzzing still, the light chatter, laughter, and music felt near suffocating. It felt like the time August's friends tied him up and shot at him while he was drowning, each step was a kick towards the surface, a desperate fight for fresh air. This time, though, when he was suddenly walking on the gravel of the driveway he wasn't bombarded with pain and more atrocities, just fresh air and the night sky. The music faded quickly behind them, and he relaxed his hand against Camille's, unaware he was gripping it so tightly. He was...out? Now the collar on his throat seemed constricting, more so than usual, and he felt his hand jerk up to grab at it, to make sure it was still there.

They approached a black sports car, and Camille held the door for Elias as her brother got into the front seat. She crawled in after him, then watched anxiously out the window until her brother had the keys in the ignition and was starting the car. Elias looked out the window as they sped away from the house, watching it get smaller. He looked until he couldn't see it anymore, and then he slowly turned to face forward, staring blankly at his hands. He didn't even feel tears falling from his eyes until Camille reached over and grabbed his hand gently, mumbling "are you ok?" when Elias turned to look at her. The question made him break, collapsing in on himself in a fit of muted sobs. Camille was quick to pull him against her, holding him close and running her fingers through his hair and down his back with such comforting softness that Elias wondered how it could be real.

The car ride to the airport seemed shorter than when August first got him here, because soon the three of them were walking through a near empty building, their shoes scuffing against the linoleum offensively loud. The bright lights bothered Elias, and he pulled his hat lower over his face to ease the discomfort. They walked up to the largest desk Elias had ever seen, a detail that he couldn't find any importance in but that was still intimidating. Then he realized that everything was intimidating; the desk, the floor, the lights, the people. Camille spoke to the woman behind the desk, pulling out a few papers and pointing back to Elias as they talked. He wondered if they would tell him he couldn't fly back home to Los Angeles. Where would he go then? Back to August? Because really, besides No Name, he didn't have anyone else. He watched them talk with his hands twitching nervously at his sides.

When they seemed to reach an end to the conversation, Camille thanked her and began to lead Elias away. Her brother didn't follow. Elias didn't know if he wanted to be alone with her. For probably the first time since she approached him at the party, Elias didn't know if he could trust her. He wanted to, there were some days, when August was particularly rough, that the only thing keeping Elias alive was the hope that Camille would come save him. But now she was saving him, and he realized all at once that he hadn't even thought about the possibility that this might be a trick, that maybe she would send him somewhere that would only ruin him further. It didn't help that the only information he had was that they were in an airport and he was supposed to be getting on a plane home, but everything else had only been said in French and Elias was left relatively oblivious.

"Camille?" He tried, his voice small and shaking. "What's going on?"

She stopped walking for a second to look at him, her face falling from it's tight frown to a saddened smile. "Sorry. Let's take a second to breathe, you and I. This is a lot, isn't it?"

He nodded along with her, forcing himself to take a deep breath. They did this until Camille seemed satisfied, then she cleared her throat. "I'm walking you to a plane right now, there will be flight attendants and security sitting close by to watch you. Once you get home, you'll have an escort to take you from the plane to a hospital, and then you can go home."

Elias blinked at her, at how plainly she put it. "It's that easy?" He whispered.

She laughed a little, a lighthearted sound that made Elias feel much better almost instantly. "It will be, now."

Once they were at the gate to the plane she was sticking him on, Elias was shaking, but this time mostly in excitement. After Camille's reassurance, he realized that this meant safety, freedom, and he couldn't wait to get on the plane. Camille was standing at his side, eyes darting over the few people around them skeptically. At one point she looked over to see Elias bouncing on the balls of his feet, and she felt like an idiot when she saw he was still wearing that damn collar. She figured he would've taken it off himself once they were out of the house, but it was still tight around his throat. She coughed a little to get his attention, then once he was looking at her, she pointed to the collar.

"Do you want help taking that off?" She offered. She watched him reach up to feel what she was talking about, fingers brushing tentatively over the leather like he didn't actually want to touch it. He gave her a reluctant nod, holding his breath when she stepped toward him.

He felt unbearably naked once the collar slipped off, his skin felt over exposed and cold in its absence, and he surprised himself when his vision was clouded with tears. Camille asked if he was ok, which he responded to only by stepping forward and wrapping his frail, banged up arms around her.

"Thank you, Camille," he whimpered, "thank you so much. I can never repay you."

Camille smelled of flowery perfume as she hugged Elias back with more strength than he would expect her to have, slightly crushing him in the friendliest way. "You don't have to thank me, Elias. Just...you just stay safe now. Go home and take care of yourself." She pulled away from him and wiped his tears away, Elias frowned when he saw she also had started to cry.

The plane boarded after that, Camille walked Elias all the way to the door, handing over his ticket for him and then hugging him once again as a goodbye. He thanked her again, a million times, then he allowed one of the stewardesses to lead him down the long hall to the plane, to home, to relief.

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thejollyroger-writer · 4 years ago

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THE WASTELAND - Chapter Four: THE ATHENAEUM // THE CABIN, Part 2

Some triggers: this story is rated TEEN, mostly for violence. It takes place during wartime, and some of the characters go through some violence and torture. If you need more information about this, please just message me!

SUMMARY: In a world that has been saturated in war for as long as anyone can remember, Emma Swan has rebuilt her life as far away from the chaos as possible, opening her own maternity hospital after spending too many years in makeshift battlefield aid stations. But one night, a bloodied and battered soldier finds her hospital trying to get away from an enemy with a penchant for torture and a personal vendetta against him. With the help of Emma’s childhood friend Prince David and a motley collection of humans and magic-wielders, the quest to save Killian Jones’ life from the poison used by the enemy takes them to places even beyond the known world.

a/n: Now we’re getting into some really deep worldbuilding shit, and even deeper magic. This chapter took me so long to perfect, continually questioning the viability of the magic and magic-teaching and the Atheneaum as a whole... hopefully it makes sense to everyone else!

Header and the art for every chapter by the lovely @spartanguard – special thanks to @cssns for making this monster happen!

Prologue on AO3 // Prologue on Tumblr // Chapter One (ART) // Chapter Two (ART) // Chapter Three (ART)

Chapter Four on AO3

ART

– – –

“I’m so proud of you, brother,” Killian says, clapping his hand on Liam’s shoulder as he fixes his collar in the mirror of their shared barracks.

Liam meets his eyes in the mirror, flashing a large smile before reaching around to wrap his arm around Killian’s shoulders.

“Thank you, Killy.”

If anyone else ever even tried to call him ‘Killy,’ he would probably throttle them, but no one has ever tried. Only Liam has ever come up with a nickname for him, and though he knows the tips of his ears turn red on the rare occasion Liam calls him ‘Killy�� in public, he would always take ‘little brother’ over that any day.

It wasn’t a lie, though: Killian is proud of his brother. Very proud. Today is his promotion — both of their promotions, actually, though Liam’s is a much bigger deal than his own.

The youngest admiral the Nephilysis military has ever seen. The only dryad to even become a high-ranking officer in the navy. Gold’s son, Baelfire, even called him the ‘most skilled fae’ he has ever seen. All because he has honed his abilities in a way no one ever expected, combining his air manipulation abilities with his love for the ocean and working with an Elder and a Fae to create a whole new system for travelling: the airship.

So today is more than a promotion for the elder Jones brother; it is also the day Liam gets a ship of his own, the perfect and pristine Jewel of the Realm, whose flying technologies include the best of everything Killian and Liam, with the help of Merlin and the rest of Gold's elders, have created over the last eight years working for Gold.

The ceremony, though filled with age-old traditions, does not take nearly as long as Killian anticipated, even with both of them receiving promotions: Liam to Admiral of the Jewel of the Realm and a small fleet of ships equipped for air travel and Killian as Captain, serving directly under his brother for the time being.

The ceremony does not take long, but the meeting that he and Liam have directly afterwards, where they are getting their first assignments in their new positions, is proving to be the opposite.

Killian had assumed that the only business of the meeting would be giving them their assignments, and he had been dead wrong. Instead of only them, he and Liam found themselves meeting with Gold’s entire war council, which included the Elders for each Nephilim faction, other admirals and generals from all across the Wasteland — not to mention the Prince and his band of Elders and guards, much younger and less traditional than Gold’s men. It’s a stark contrast in the room, really, between the Elders who follow Gold and those who follow his son, between those in traditional Nephilysis uniforms and those in jeans and sweatshirts. Killian would never dare to show up to a meeting with Gold the Elder, the King of Nephilysis, the man that he serves under, wearing jeans. Hell, he would be embarrassed to even be seen by the King of Nephilysis wearing jeans — but he supposes that Baelfire and his collection of followers lead a very different, and much more privileged, life than he does.

Finally, after what feels like hours — though, according to Killian’s wristwatch proves to only be an hour and a half — Gold turns his attention to the Jones brothers for the first time.

“Now, as for the newest members of this council,” he says, his voice odd in a way Killian struggles to describe, though slimy comes to mind. He smiles, though there is not a happy thing about it, more sinister than anything else. “Many of you should already know about Admiral Jones’ work with his airships, so now it’s time to give him and his small fleet of Captains their first destination. I’m very pleased that we are now able to go to far-off places thanks to the hard word of Admiral Jones, and so it is an honor to finally announce that he will be leading an expedition to somewhere my advisors and I have had our sights set on for a while now.”

He says nothing beyond this, waiting for every eye in the room to be on him. The last to look up, Killian notices, is Prince Baelfire, who rolls his eyes when he realizes what his father is doing, but looks up at him nonetheless. Finally, Gold turns back to Killian and Liam, that same sinister smile on his face again.

“Neverland!’ he says with a laugh even more sinister that chills Killian to the bone.

There is just something about him that Killian strongly dislikes but he can’t figure out what. He realizes, perhaps a moment too late, that he may have let his disgust with him show on his face, and tries to wipe off all expression --and then realizes exactly what Gold just said to them.

When he turns to Liam, his brother looks just as confused as he feels. “How is it I’ve studied maps of the world practically my whole life and yet I’ve never heard of this place, this Neverland?”

Gold’s slimy smile grows, somehow. It takes all of Killian’s energy not to cringe, though he’s useless against the confusion he feels when the Prince answers Liam’s question instead of the King. “Well, because Neverland isn’t on any map, it’s not somewhere you can navigate to.”

It’s time for Killian to voice his concern, turning to the Prince. “Then how are we supposed to get there?”

But Gold himself answers instead. “There’s only one man who has ever made it to the island and returned, so he is going to join you.” He gestures towards the door just as a young man — much younger than even the youngest recruits, Killian notices — pushes through the door, as if on cue. Out of anyone in the room, his eyes meet Killian’s, a smile just as sinister, if not more, than the King’s, spread across his face. “Admiral, Captain, this is Peter Pan.”

Liam slams the door to their barracks behind him, the anger that he’s been trying to keep off his face suddenly obvious.

“He can’t be serious, can he?” he practically yells, furiously pacing between the close walls of their cabin. “That Pan, he’s — he’s just a boy. He speaks so highly of himself, as if he has more knowledge than anyone else in the room.”

“I hate to say it, brother, but I do believe there is more to that boy than meets the eye,” Killian responds, sitting down on one of the chairs in their common area.

Liam whips around. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t — he could be…” He shakes his head, then rests it in his hands. “One of the books I read recently spoke of these… these beings who don’t age, who are from all of these weird lands, and I thought it was fantasy, just a myth, but then I saw this—this boy, and I got this… I don’t know, this feeling that he was one of them.”

“Killy, that’s insane.”

“I thought it was insane, too, but now I’m not too sure.”

Liam pushes his fingers through his hair, huffing, but sits down next to him anyway. “What else did your book say about them?” he asks finally, the words coming out slowly.

“Dark magic, Liam. They’re creatures of pure black magic.”

Liam shakes his head. “King Gold does a lot of things, brother, but I cannot believe that he would go to that extreme.”

“That’s not all. Not only are they dark magic, but the places they come from are the same, are home to the darkest magics of the world, items and poisons and weapons. This Neverland, I’ve never heard of it, but I can only imagine that it’s one of these places.”

He is still shaking his head. “No. No, I refuse to believe it. King Gold is— he’s corrupt, yes, but dark magic? That’s insane, Killian.”

“I’m just telling you what I read.”

Liam stands up again, continuing with his pacing where he left off. “Dark magic,” he whispers, scrubbing his face with his hand, then he starts to unbutton the jacket of his dress uniform. “You don’t think King Gold would send us on a mission to collect dark magic, do you?”

Killian does, a fear that he feels seeping into the deepest parts of him — but he just shakes his head. He may think Gold is evil enough to send them to a land of dark magic, but to say it out loud, even to his brother, would be treason. Bad form.

The gates to the Athenaeum loom above them, shining in the golden sunlight of the dawn. It took them a whole day’s drive to get there, opting to go around the bulk of the city instead of through it, hoping to keep as much attention off of them as they can, even if it meant adding another four hours in the car.

Regina has never much cared for the second entrance to the Athenaeum, never afraid to travel through the city because of her immunity, both an atheneid and an Elder on the Gale Council. But she understands how careful Emma and Mary Margaret want to be, being so close to the Prince himself.

With a huff, Regina checks her watch. It’s been almost a minute since she knocked on the door, and there has still been no sign of movement on the other side of the gate. Finally, one of the gates swings open, revealing a dark-skinned Naphilm soldier in a dress uniform — something Regina hasn’t seen for years, since she was a young woman studying to become an elder and an atheneid. Something she never thought she was going to see again once she left Nephilysis behind.

"State your business." His voice is sinister, angry, but he is unable to deny them access once Regina shows him her credentials as an atheneid, which allows her access to the Athenaeum and no questions asked about her allegiance. He doesn’t let them any further than inside the gates, though, barring them from walking any closer to the building.

Even still, Regina rolls her eyes when he stands in the middle of the path, keeping them from going any further. "We're here for a meeting with Magistra French, she's expecting us."

He doesn’t budge. "You're going to have to wait here for her to come get you."

Both Emma and Mary Margaret take a terrified look around, noticing all of the Nephilim in uniform around the building, both as guards and simply sitting in the gardens in the gated area around the Athenaeum, more than either of them have seen in a single place.

Regina stands her ground, conjuring a fire ball in her right hand without breaking eye contact with the guard. "Both you and I know that's not the protocol." Her voice is hard, confident, one she has had more than enough practice with as a member of King George’s council.

"Gold has changed the protocol," the guard growls. He tries to make himself taller, tries to tower over Regina, but he is still a few inches shorter than her in her heels.

Her fireball grows bigger., her eyes wider "He doesn't have the power to do that, not here."

"Tell him that yourself and see how willing to listen to you he is."

A flash of fear crosses her face, and the guard laughs, only to be stopped by the doors behind him opening to reveal the Magistra herself. She, unlike the guards, is dressed much more casually, in a pair of black jeans and a yellow button-down top. After narrowing her eyes towards the guard, who has now stepped to the side, she smiles at the three ladies, her eyes landing last on Emma, holding there for a moment before returning to Regina.

"Please, Regina, come in."

She has a thick accent, different than Emma has heard, though she assumes it’s from the southern parts of Nephilysis, perhaps even the islands off the coast, knowing the accents get stronger the further from the Wasteland.

“Thank you for travelling all the way out here, ladies,” she says, leading them through the entryway to the building and through the stacks. “And on such short notice.”

“Thank you for seeing us,” Mary Margaret says, voicing the words that Emma is somehow unable to vocalize.

Instead, she is focused on the sights around her, the wooden stacks of books that stretch to the high ceilings. Emma has been to some of the smaller universities around the Gale, traveling with Johanna while honing her medical and magical abilities, or with David after she formally became personal aide to the prince, but none of them are anything like this, even the biggest ones in the Gale.

Emma has always wondered — silently, never voicing her questions — why this is the place that every Elder must come to study the arts under the Magistra, thanks to an order by one of the previous King Gold’s (Emma can’t remember which one, never needing to memorize it for academia.)

But she understands it now, following the Magistra and Regina through the building with Mary Margaret taking the rear. There are rows and rows of books in every direction, seemingly endless in the monstrous building. Every once in a while, the repetitive rows are dotted with a collection of tables; broken by a staircase, leading to another floor; or a small study room surrounded by glass walls, some of them covered in writing from the people inside.

Belle leads them up one of these sets of steps and down a small hallway, placing her hand against a biolock not unlike the ones Emma uses in the hospital to open one of the identical doors. Emma notices the large, intricate “M” carved into the dark wooden door as she walks through it, and her suspicions are confirmed when she finds herself in a large office, the walls lined with bookshelves only broken by a window that overlooks a small courtyard. The books, she notices, are some of the oldest she has ever seen, and meticulously organized in some sort of fashion that puts the dusty, cracked ones with pages visibly falling out near the edges of the bookshelf, allowing the bulk of the entire middle to be lined with matching sets and collections of different-colored leather-bound volumes. Many of them do not have words printed on their spines, some of them only letters, if anything at all.

Belle sits down behind the desk, folding her perfectly-manicured fingers in front of her. She allows herself to look at each of them for a few seconds, once again ending with Emma, but this time she does not look away.

"Your phone call sounded urgent, please tell me what I can do to help."

Even though the call did not come from Emma, the question is obviously directed at her, but when Emma fails to voice any response, Regina speaks up. "Emma, this is your story, I think it's only fair."

She takes a small breath, gulps, then clears her throat. For some reason, just the thought of relaying the story to someone as important as an Atheneid — as the Magistra herself — brings a new sense of realness to their situation.

And with that comes a new sense of fear.

From the first time she felt the way the wound on Killian's chest reacted to her magic, she found herself afraid to share it with anyone, sure that it was some sort of secret that she would never be able to discover the meaning behind. (Sure that Killian wouldn't be alive long enough to allow it, really.) And when she learned that it was her magic that did it, and not just light magic responding to the darkness and the poison in the wound, she was even more sure that this was not something to take lightly.

So needing to recall the whole story to the most important fae in the world at the hunch of Regina made her a little uneasy.

But she does it anyway, every eye in the room on her as she tells a shortened version: finding Killian in her office, her ability to heal his wounds save the ones seeping with dark magic, and describing as best she can what happens when she tries to use her magic on them, since this is the detail that made Regina so sure they had to come here.

At this, Belle's eyes go wide, and she jumps out of her seat and starts to search the wall behind her for something.

Emma is too stunned by her response to say even another word, though she did come to the end of her tale, save the very little information Regina gave them in the cabin before they left. Sensing either her shock or the fact that her recollection has come to its end, Regina takes over. "I remembered what you showed me once in one of the obscure healing books that you insisted I memorized, something I haven't thought about in years, and when I gave him a vial of SOMETHING she was able to extract the Dreamshade from his wound for just a moment."

Belle turns around from the shelf, bright eyes wide with both excitement and awe. "So you're thinking she's—"

Regina doesn't let her finish. "Yes, I'm almost sure of it, but I knew I had to bring her here to know for sure."

“Has she tried it with other poisons?”

Both Regina and Belle turn to her, waiting for an answer. “I’ve never dealt with other poisons. Only Dreamshade once before, and I never tried to do anything to it with my magic.”

Belle nods. “And what about this man? The one you healed? Are you also thinking that he's—"

"The one from the—"

"Yes."

"I'm almost sure of it."

“What about him?” Emma asks, having enough of their half-conversation.

“Did you try any other magic on him? Any other strange reactions?”

“What do you mean, strange reactions?”

Belle's response comes in a rush, more words than Emma is able to focus on as she thinks back to try to answer the questions: “How about when you tried to heal him, did anything else out of the ordinary happen? Any… energies that seemed off? Weird feelings from either of you, but especially you? Did anything work better than you expected, or seem to happen instantly when you know it’s taken more time in the past?”

The breath leaves Emma's lungs. She really wishes things would stop taking her breath away. Belle must sense something, must know that this has riled Emma's memory, and she watches her in anticipation across the desk.

"Well, yes," she says finally, once again able to regulate her breath. "Many of his wounds were less severe, just cuts and gashes on his chest, and many of them not only healed in response to my magic, but disappeared entirely. Not even a scar."

Belle's eyes go wide, even wider than they already were, and she turns back down to the book spread across the desk in front of her.

Silence overtakes the room, and Emma tries to decipher some of the writing that Belle is looking so intently at, only to find it written in a language that does not look familiar to her at all.

"Can somebody please tell me what's going on?" she asks, trying to keep her voice calm, but her heart is pounding wildly in her chest — another side effect from the events of the last two weeks that she wishes would just disappear.

Belle shuts the volume in front of her, folding her hands on top of it. With her head hung, she takes a breath, obvious in the rise and fall of her shoulders, before looking back at Emma.

"There's a prophecy," she says.

Emma scoffs, stopping her mid-sentence. "You're kidding, right?"

Belle shakes her head, but decides to tackle the subject from a different angle. "What do you know about your lineage?"

Emma scoffs again, this time rolling her eyes. "No, really, you've got to be kidding."

"I can assure you, this is no joke to me."

There's something in her voice, a hardness and a seriousness (and perhaps a dash of magic) that makes Emma suddenly very sure that the Magistra is telling the truth. "I'm — I'm an orphan. I know nothing of my parents, or of any part of my lineage. I was left on the steps of a university outside of the Gale when I was a few days old, raised by the Elders there for a while until I took to the streets."

Even after making Emma spill that, Belle says nothing for a moment, though her eyes search Emma's face for… something. Emma isn't sure what, and is even less sure whether she finds it or not.

"And they were the ones who helped you hone your abilities?"

Emma shakes her head again. "I'd left the university by the time my abilities started showing themselves, and it wasn't until David — until the Prince helped me find an apprenticeship with the palace healer that I started to focus on medicine."

"And you've never attempted any art other than the one that showed itself then? Terren, or dryad?"

The question catches Emma off guard. From everything she's heard about the Elders, and about the Magistra in particular, they are supposed to be able to sense these things about a person without having to ask.

"Well, actually, I've — I've never really been sure. Plants, sure, and I've never much tried with the wind or whatever, but I once saved David by using a large boulder to protect us, and I've calmed some waters, but I've mostly just harnessed my own energy for healing purposes."

"Plants, earth, water," Belle mumbles, turning her chair around to face the bookshelf once again, this time finding one of the more used volumes, with a cracked spine and unattached pages in every direction. She places it on top of the other on her desk, but does not open it. "Plants, earth, water… energy." With the last word, she meets Emma's eyes once more, her whole face seeming to light up. "Regina, I'm assuming you've come to the same conclusion I have?" she asks, not even looking over at Regina.

But Emma does, and the wide smile spread across her face just makes Emma more curious.

In the silence, Mary Margaret gasps, bringing a hand to her mouth. "Of course," she breathes.

“What?” Emma says, at the end of her patience. “What conclusion have all of you come to that I somehow still can’t see?”

“See,” Mary Margaret says, completely ignoring Emma’s question. “Emma didn’t have… formal education, really, so she was never fully introduced to all of the factions, and probably never really heard about all of it, so it makes sense that she never—”

“I am right here,” Emma practically yells, stopping Mary Margaret’s words in their tracks. “Now, what the hell are you talking about?”

“A Vis,” Belle says. “Emma, I think you have the Gift. I think you’re a Vis.”

A Vis. She’s — she’s heard of them, sure, maybe read about them once or twice, but…

A Vis. The rarest of all magic-wielders, with the ability to create their own energy instead of just using those around them.

“As rare as Vis are, it’s pretty common for some of those with the Gift to simply go through their lives thinking they are just a simple fae.”

Emma has so many questions. How, mostly. How has she gone her whole life without knowing this? 30 years, almost half of that time as a fae.

As a Vis.

She doesn't have enough time to process this. When Regina said they had to come to the Athenaeum, the last thing she expected was something like this. She assumed it was to find a way to save Killian.

Killian.

"What does this have to do with Killian?" she asks, the first words spoken for almost a minute.

Both Belle and Regina turn to her, wide-eyed, not understanding the question.

Mary Margaret does. "Yeah, you said he had something to do with this, right?"

"Oh," Belle says, closing the book in front of her again. "No, that's not related to the Vis thing. If you're… well, if you're the Savior that the prophecy foretold, then there's reason to believe he's your True Love."

"You can't be serious."

"Athenaeid do not joke about prophecies, Emma," Regina scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

"But true love? Is that — you can't mean —"

Mary Margaret cuts in, stopping her sputtering. "Does that mean we can save him?"

Belle opens one of the books in front of her again, silent for a few moments before shaking her head. "I really can't say for sure. True Love is a fickle thing, and Dreamshade even more so."

"And True Love is the most powerful magic there is," Regina adds, a brightness in her eyes that Emma has never seen before.

(She's not too fond of it, either.)

"What the hell does this even mean? That I can—what—true love's kiss the poison away?"

Belle and Regina share a silent glance. Belle wets her lips. Regina raises her eyebrows.

"Well," the Magistra mumbles. "Yes, there's a chance of that."

A loud, gasping laugh escapes her chest, one she just couldn't keep down. "This is crazy. Absolutely insane."

"There's a chance it's much more complicated than that, too, though," Belle says quickly, trying to save Emma from spiraling too far. "In fact, it's much more likely to be more complicated. Something more along the lines of your being the only person who can save him."

It works. This is much easier for her to wrap her mind around, unlike the rest of the information Belle and Regina have sprung on her in just the last half-hour. This, at least, makes sense. More sense than her being one of the most powerful types of fae, or the fact that there's a prophecy. This, at least, she can deal with.

"So now, she needs to be trained, right?" Regina asks, and Emma feels her heart beat in her throat.

How long could that take?, she doesn't have the ability to ask. There's a time crunch, she has to save Killian, she can't—

"Well, if she wants to save this man from Dreamshade, she certainly doesn't have time to stick around here long enough to master anything," Belle says, once again saving Emma from the spiral she was threatening to get lost in. "Honestly, you should get back to the rest of your group and make way towards Neverland as soon as possible, in my opinion."

"What?" Emma blurts out, even though she agrees with everything the Magistra just said. "You're just going to drop this information on me and… send me away?"

Belle shakes her head. "Of course not," she says cheerily. "I have to come with you."

Killian’s heart is in his throat as David knocks on the door to the cabin. He thought he was going to be okay, back here where Smee was killed and he was kidnapped, but he’s thinking the worst: that no one will open the door. That all of his friends, practically everyone he has left, are gone, taken by the same for that he barely escaped from. For what feels like forever (but in reality can’t be more than a few seconds) no one answers the door.

And then there’s a thud on the inside, followed by the muffled “Bloody hell” that can only belong to Will Scarlett. Killian and David exchange a smile, an almost-literal weight lifted from Killian's shoulders, and the door opens.

At first, Will can’t believe his eyes, which are practically bugging out of his head (Killian’s pretty sure it’s the longest he’s ever seen Will not speak). He doesn't blame him, though, because he can only imagine the conclusions they drew about Killian when they returned that day to find him missing, with Phillip dead on the floor of the kitchen.

It's the first he's thought of this, really, since he has been spending so much time trying not to hype himself up with the thought of them surviving an attack from Pan and Baelfire, but now that he knows they did, he wonders. What did they think when they returned back that day? They all knew his history, knew that he spent the first years as a soldier working for Gold. Did they think him a traitor to his newest allegiance, think that he returned to the Nephilysis army that betrayed him all those years before?

He hopes not. The only thing he has ever wanted to be is a man of honor, and he hopes that the men he has spent the better part of the last ten years with understand that.

Killian is pulled from the worst-case scenario in his mind when, instead of saying anything, Will practically jumps through the door and wraps his arms around David, who, after a moment, hugs him back.

Killian smiles. Even if they believed the worst of him in the weeks he's been away, returning at the Prince's side is a sure sign his allegiance has not shifted.

"Holy shit," Will whispers, shifting his hug from David to Killian, then he says it again. “I saw someone coming up towards the cabin on the radar but I never expected—”

From behind him, Robin emerges from the kitchen, dish towel slung over his shoulder. "Will, who was at the—" And then he meets Killian's eyes over Will's shoulder, then David's. "Holy shit."

"That seems to be everyone's response here," David says, rushing through the doorway to embrace his oldest friend.

"Why didn't you say you were coming? You could have contacted one of us?"

"Honestly, mate," Killian says, taking his turn in giving Robin a hug. "We weren't sure if any of you would even be here, since I was kidnapped by Baelfire from here. If it was still safe, or if any of you were still alive."

"Who else is here?" David asks, closing the front door as he finds a way to ask the question that Killian was too afraid to: was anyone else killed when they came for me?

"Graham was out back somewhere, but I imagine he should be in any—"

Robin's words are cut off by the man in question coming through the back door and calling out: "Is someone here? I got a notification that someone drove through the sensor in the driveway and I—" He comes around the corner, holding his phone out in front of him, but when he sees Killian and David standing inside the door, his words stop. For a moment, the entire cabin is shrouded in silence, waiting for someone to break it.

“What are you doing here?” Robin asks, and David wraps his arm around his shoulder.��

“I think we should all sit down,” David breathes. “This might take a while.”

“So, what, we just have to find this Merlin guy?” Will asks, his mouth still full from the last bite of his sandwich.

“Christ, Scarlett, don’t you listen?” Robin scoffs. “Finding Merlin is the first step.”

“And the easiest,” David mumbles.

Killian leans forward on his elbows, momentarily forgetting about the worst of his injuries, though he is painfully reminded almost immediately. “Once we find Merlin, hoping he still has my brother’s ship hidden away somewhere, then we have to fly to Neverland.”

“And what if — pardon me for asking, but what if he doesn’t have your brother’s ship?” Graham asks, always the most level-headed of them all.

All eyes turn to Killian, who turns his gaze down to the table.

But David speaks up with an answer: “Then we just have to find another way to get to Neverland.”

The room is silent for a minute, until:

“I thought you said this ship is the only way to get to Neverland?” Will asks, once again missing the feeling in the rest of the room.

Killian nods. “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Another beat passes, all attention on Will, waiting for him to understand what Killian is trying to say.

“Oh.” He scrunches his face, a soft embarrassed red spreading across his already-red face. “So what’s our plan then?”

Killian turns to David, who gestures for him to take over. “Well, our only hope is Merlin, and I haven't been able to get a hold of him. There's rumor he's somewhere in the Northern Mountains, hopefully still with The Jewel of the Realm, and I have a pretty good idea as to where, so I suppose that's our next destination."

The room falls silent again, each of the men around the table trying to decide just how to feel about all of this — Killian’s torture, the need to travel to new lands, to fly. But David doesn’t let them ruminate for long.

"Pack your things, fellas. We probably have a few days still, but we leave as soon as the ladies meet us here."

TAGS: @shireness-says @cssns @kmomof4 @thisonesatellite @teamhook @darkcolinodonorgasm @cocohook38 @ultraluckycatnd @facesiousbutton82 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @tiguanasummertree @angellifedeath @pepperpottss @mariakov81 @scientificapricot @kday426 @xarandomdreamx @ohmightydevviepuu @xhookswenchx @nikkiemms @carpedzem @superchocovian @resident-of-storybrooke @snowbellewells @courtorderedcake @captain-emmajones @killian-whump @officerrogers – want to be added or removed? let me know!

#my writing #captain swan #cs fics #cs ff #cssns #cssns 2020 #wordsbymeganmichael #slow burn #world building #fantasy #dystopia #kind of?#original world au

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years ago

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Good Tidings We Bring || Morgan & Nell

TIMING: The day after the solstice

PARTIES: @nelllraiser & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Are we out of the woods yet?

CONTAINS: soft witches, mention of sibling death

Morgan poured her energy into walking steady and holding her package without crinkling the paper or dropping it. She hadn’t been to this house in so long, all she remembered was that first time, coming to dinner and being so petrified that she would be accepted by the Vurals. That they would believe she had something to offer, that she was more than the awful things destined to follow her. Rejection, she was old friends with. The way it cut her was almost soothing. So she never would have dreamed walking up to the house unannounced, asking to be let back in. But Yule was the time of light in the dark, and the miracle of the world turning back to light. There was never going to be a ‘good’ time to try, so it might as well be now.

Morgan knocked, swallowing what little was left of her pride. When the door opened, the speech she prepared dissolved into one clumsy outburst, “I want us to be good again, can we please be friends?” She stuck out the present with both hands. “These are for you. A-and a few extra for your sisters, but mostly you. I mean, you’ll be able to tell, uhh…” It was all very undignified, but after everything Morgan had done, she didn’t figure dignity was something she was going to come by soon anyway.

Hard choices such as the attempted exorcism in lieu of torturing Constance were something of a familiarity to Nell at the time she’d made the decision to go against Morgan’s wishes. By then she’d learned well enough that sometimes the greater good came at the cost of your personal good, but that didn’t mean it had been easy to knowingly destroy the bond of her and the witch turned zombie. She’d been the villain in someone’s story before— willing to take on the burden of severed ties and judgmental words if it meant that there’d be less pain for others in the end. It never got easier, especially when the severance in question was someone like Morgan. So as she opened the door to a familiar face that had been long absent from the daily rotation of her life, she did her best to squish down the flare of hope that bubbled up, quickly replaced with worrisome apprehension. Thankfully that too was fleeting, and her initial faith was restored, eyes cautiously bright with the renewal of her initial reaction “You want to be...friends?” she asked tentatively, as if she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Morgan’s jumbled words, feeling as if there was another shoe about to drop. Without thinking she reached out to accept the box that Morgan had brought, staring at it a touch too long. Was she meant to open it now? Or wait? Her momentary silence was less than intentional. Apparently where Morgan was struck with an inability to stop her words, Nell didn’t know where to begin her own. “I don’t understand- aren’t you upset?”

Morgan had replayed this conversation a lot in her head, most of them involving Nell interrogating her, or saying I told you so or asking for proof about her being really, really sorry and really understanding all the ways she might have been mistaken. She hadn’t thought that Nell’s question was about how she felt. Morgan looked at her, stunned and grasping at air now that she no longer had the present to cling to. “U-uh, well...I was. And, okay, I don’t think it was fair to lie to me. Doing what you think is right is one thing, but pretending to help is something different, but that’s just...not important right now. Or it’s not more important than you. And…” Morgan shrugged haplessly. “What I wanted didn’t even work out anyway. It was bad. I got all this stuff and I hated almost every part of it and yes, in retrospect, only having informed support from my evil friends should have been a tip off, but I just couldn’t. And Constance poltered anyway and people died because of that, which is also because of me and so, no, I don’t know exactly how I’m going to trust you like I did before knowing you can just casually do that, but I don’t want be so stuck in my pain that I destroy everything that’s important to me. So if you can...I don’t know,” Morgan shrugged. “If you feel like it’s not destroyed yet, I’d like to be the kind of friend that does more than just send you sad birthday presents. I’d like to try. And I’d…” For some reason this was the most difficult part of all. Morgan tried. I’d like to be a witch again. A witch without magic. A mundane witch, who burns too much incense and works her will with glorified mind tricks and normal people stuff. The kind I used to smirk at and feel sorry for. In the end, she couldn’t. “The rest doesn’t matter right now,” she said. Holding herself up with all the strength she had, she looked at Nell with hope. “But what do you say, Nell?”

Quick on the heels of Nell’s hopeful question was the memory of the sourness the conversation between herself and Morgan that had followed the failed exorcism held, the bitterness of it still lingering in her mouth despite the sweetness that was trying to cut through the ugly sensation. Following behind that was the anger that had filled her when the news of the Common had broken— the knowledge that Constance had killed again and that this time it had been seven lives taken, and that Blanche had been caught in the crossfire as well. How could Morgan have let it come to that? You don’t know me at all, do you, Nell? It had been written to the younger witch after their initial fallout, and for a moment Nell wondered whether the words were truer than she’d thought at the time. How could she be surprised about the deaths and injury that had come to pass and still claim to know the woman that stood before her? Stars, Nell, you are the closest thing I have to family right now besides Deirdre. Family didn’t always know every inch of one another, and that was a lesson she’d learned well when Bea had died, a lesson all her sisters had learned. And then Nell had learned it again when she’d been kicked from the coven, her family ripped out from beneath her feet. But Morgan had been there. Morgan Beck, the woman who was saved from the choice of whether or not she’d follow the coven’s decree by the grace of literal death and her subsequent separation from the witches. She was family that Nell couldn’t afford to lose after having the rest of it already taken. Morgan Beck who Nell was certain wouldn’t have followed the demands of the coven and their banishment of the Vural daughters even if she hadn’t been the victim of a family curse. The same curse that had brought them to this exact moment in time that had Nell fiddling with the paper of Morgan’s gift that was still held between Nell’s uncertain hands.

“I don’t think it’s destroyed,” Nell answered in a tone that was surprisingly quiet in lieu of the jumble of emotions that were avalanching through her chest. She swallowed hard a single time, trying to make sense of the words floating in her head, all of them demanding to be spoken at once, but struggling to pluck them from the churning sea of what she wanted to say, what she should have said, and what she was going to say now. “I just- I’m not a fixer, Morgan. Not when it comes to people,” she finally managed to settle on, voice trembling with the effort to try and contain the dull tones of her sadness, the heat of her former anger, and frustration of being unable to find the medium between them. “I’m really fucking shitty at it. I never know what to say, or how to talk about things without getting upset again.” Even now she could feel the beginnings of her temper being dampened by the knowledge that whatever she was feeling about the situation, Morgan was most likely experiencing it ten-fold— the love she still held for the zombie making the witch unwilling and unwilling to dole out any more pain onto her. “I...I want to try, though.”

“...You...you dont?” Morgan repeated Nell’s words slowly in case she’d misheard. The young witch was so uncharacteristically quiet, she couldn’t be sure. She stayed clenched, feeling her impending disappointment hanging over her like a pendulum in a horror show. She’d done shitty things, and the earth didn’t judge or get angry, but people did and had every right to. Nell especially. But then she spoke again.

“You can be upset with me,” Morgan said softly. “I uh...I did a lot to be upset about. And you don’t have to... I don’t know if there’s such a thing as a ‘fixer’, you know? It’s not a box you get sorted into or not. You just learn and you try and maybe it happens faster for some people than others and--” She reached out her hand, fingers contracting and flexing as she tried to gauge whether she could, should, touch her. “We can just take it a little bit at a time and uh…” She sniffled and smiled bravely. “Can I hug you? Real question. N-no is super understandable. But--” It would be great if she could. It would feel like forgiveness even if she wasn’t yet. “Can I? Is that weird?”

“No...no, I don’t,” Nell affirmed, thinking of all the times she’d lost friends and counted them long gone, not at all accustomed to getting a second chance, but willing to take it and hold it tight nonetheless. “And you can be upset with me,” she quickly echoed, knowing things wouldn’t instantly be right. The witch’s shoulders relaxed, sagging in the slightest as Morgan did what she always did— somehow always having the perfect and right words for the situation and Nell’s self-consciousness. “Well then...I guess we can try, right?” She watched as Morgan’s hand opened and closed like a door in front of her, offering Nell a way in should she want to take it. Uncertainly she reached for the offered touch, using it as a way to pull Morgan into the hug she’d asked for. Her arms were softer around the zombie’s shoulders as she embraced her, still tired and sore from her less than comforting ventures at Neveah’s demon mansion the night before but holding on despite it. “I don’t think it’s weird,” she mumbled. Perhaps it was a little stiffer than their hugs had been in the past, but if this was the form the peace offering was taking, Nell wouldn’t be the one to shove it away. “Did you wanna come in? I actually have a present for you, too.”

Morgan clung to Nell as tight as she dared. They fit so easily against each other, head to head and hand to hand. The movement wasn’t fluid or effortless, but Morgan could almost feel the energy that still existed between them, flowing in and around, back and forth until it could reach some kind of equilibrium. Nell still wanted her in her family. She might be the only Vural to think so, but she was the only one that mattered.

“Come in?” She repeated, lifting her head from Nell’s shoulder. “Are you sure? I mean, that it would be okay--?” She tried to peer into the house, waiting for Bea or Luce or some spectre of guilt to pop out and declare that she wasn’t allowed to come inside at all, ever, and furthermore, she had no business asking forgiveness from Nell or anyone else. But no one came out to spoil the moment, and Morgan didn’t have enough fear or sense to turn away from Nell’s offer. “But I do. Want to. You didn’t have to get me anything though.” She pulled away, sniffling as she smiled. “But thank you, Nell. Really, really. Thank you.”

Nell bit down her lip as Morgan squeezed, trying to swallow the pang of pain that surfaced as Morgan’s arms unintentionally found the bruises and cuts she hadn’t healed from her and Adam’s continued infiltration of Ma’al’s demon cult. Those in visible places were always safely healed away, but the ones beneath her clothes and long sleeves were kept in secret. After all, Nell had to save every ounce of strength she had for what happened within the mansion’s hellish walls. But she also needed to keep unwanted questions at bay, unwilling to have her friends tangled in the mess she’d thrown herself into. Brushing away the darker thoughts of her current affairs, she pulled back to focus on Morgan, letting the brightness of the zombie’s face and their renewed friendship brush those shadows away. “Of course I’m sure,” she insisted, confidence re-entering her voice. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have offered. And I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” Nell gave Morgan’s hand a last squeeze before moving to tug the other woman over the threshold of the home, leading her to the living room where she’d kept the gifts she was planning on giving. “It’s this one,” she began as she handed Morgan a carefully wrapped package, her nerves returned for this moment as she hoped she’d gotten this right.

Morgan took a moment to look at the gift. If it wasn’t so wildly inappropriate, she would get out her phone and take a picture of it, so she could always remember the care that her friend had shown her, the love she didn’t deserve made visible in a carefully tied ribbon and a full package. She wanted to remember that care like this still existed. That even after doing some of the worst things she’d ever attempted, someone like Nell still wanted to give to her. But she would have to settle for her memory and hope that a hundred years or more down the line, she would be able to see Nell and this gift just like this. “Should we open them at the same time?” She asked, taking the package from Nell. “That’s how we did it at home when I was a kid. I’ll be careful with the ribbon. at least. It’s all so pretty…” She smiled sheepishly, moved and almost embarrassed by how much this meant to her. She nodded to Nell to indicate go and tore into the wrappings.

The first thing she saw were the Yule smudge sticks, so potent that she caught a whiff of cinnamon and pine. It was like the Yules from her childhood all over again, when they hung freshly cut firs and holly from every door and entryway. When the tapers ran down the sides in gothic, runny clumps, and the candlelights flickered and their shadows leapt along the wall like pixies in flight. It was everything. Underneath: vials of bath salts, colored in cleansing tones and filled with herbs that symbolized renewal, a fresh start to wash away the hurt that still stuck to her. And beneath that-- “Oh, Nell,” Morgan gasped. “How did you know? About any of this? I haven’t told anybody…” Her eyes filled up again. “After everything happened I went to Strawford Cemetery and tried to do a chord removal. I know it’s all like, jedi mind tricks, but I swear I felt lighter and I felt...something. Not a live energy something, but a connection to something. And I know you’ve been trying to tell me this all along, but I actually feel it now…” She clutched the package to her chest, gripping with all her might. “I want to be as much of a witch as I can be. I want to belong here, and put out things that...help, even a little. And that’s vague and dopey and I haven’t figured out anything more specific yet, but I just want you to know why this means so much. Thank you.”

Nell unwrapped her own gift with much less delicacy than Morgan opened her’s, the still present nervous energy making her a little overeager as she tore into the pretty packaging. She almost forgot to look at her own gift as she heard Morgan’s reaction to the present she’d been gifted, but her attention was easily re-captured by the crafting tools inside the box, instantly recognizing them for what they were. The hoops, twine, and other assorted supplies tugged at some place between her heart and gut, nostalgia gripping her as she counted a set of three. One for her and each of her sisters. “For wreaths and Yule!” Morgan had to have known this would be the girls first season without their family and coven, and given them something to do together in response, no doubt truly understanding the gravity of the girls’ situation and the way it seemed to stifle the usual traditions of the holiday. The cocoa supplies and taki bags beneath it all were obviously meant solely for the youngest witch, and Nell touched the gifts with a thoughtful hand, still in slight disbelief that Morgan was even here in the first place. “Thank you, Morgan. I- well, I love all this.” But what she loved most of all was that Morgan had wanted to give her a gift in the first place.

“I didn’t necessarily know,” Nell continued, still unable to shake the last of the nerves that had settled around her and Morgan. That would be normal though, right? They’d said they wouldn’t turn back into place at the drop of a hat. “I know it’s not anything remotely the same as you, but after the stuff that I went through well- I could only begin to imagine what you might have felt, and even though I didn’t lose my magic, I know that I would have still wanted my family after it. And everything I grew up with and stuff. Even if I...hated it at first.” That’s why Nell had grouped the witchy books under the bath salts and Yule sticks wanting to return them to Morgan long after the witch had lied and said she’d handed them over to Nisa and the coven. “It’s not vague and dopey,” Nell instantly rebutted. “We- we need it too, you know. Need another witch here.” Their mother’s coven was long gone out of their lives, but perhaps they could make a little one of their own. Looking down at her present, Nell waited a moment before making another offer. “You know- you could always make them with us. I could call Bea and Luce and see if they can come right now.”

“Yeah! I figured, something all of you can do together might, you know…Nothing’s going to make things like they were before, but they can still be good. And maybe this new turn of the wheel will be better too.” Morgan said, gushing with relief now that her gesture had been accepted. “But I didn’t want you to have to share your whole gift, that’s lame, right? So hopefully you can use them to enjoy the rest of your day, or any other traditions you get to do, or just, you know, cozy time to yourself. You do still get time like that, right? Anyway, I’m glad you like it…” She trailed off, uncertain how to proceed.

At Nell’s insistence that she consider herself another witch around, that she should stay with them for the day, Morgan’s eyes watered again. “O-oh, I don’t… I meant these for you and your sisters, and you should have your special time together, and I don't want to be the reason anyone…” Doesn’t come. Leaves you alone during yuletide. Morgan shrank back, out of the doorway, her bright smile only a little weighted by sadness. “But I do, want to be around. Maybe after the regular new year? I’m just gonna be traveling, for my birthday, as it turns out. But still-- I’d like to. Just, you know, not at the risk of making things weirder or harder after everything I’ve done…” Her resolve gave way for a second and she dove back to Nell for another swift press of a hug before ducking out the doorway again. Maybe for Imbolc we’ll have a big cleaning party together, huh?”

Nell nodded with a half-sad smile, unable to pretend as if the loss of her coven didn’t sting at the mere mention or thought of it. Still— Morgan’s comforting words were more than welcome, and brought back a trickle of warmth to drive out some of the cold and drafty winds of the hole left where her family had been. “Thank you, Morgan. I know you’re right.” Unfortunately, the knowledge that new and good things would come didn’t always help to lessen the wounds of the past. That would take time if such wounds could ever be truly healed. “And yeah- of course I’ve always got time for hot chocolate.” The brief answer was an easy enough way to brush away the real answer of her having been far too busy with the twisted rituals and gatherings of the cult amongst the other day to day problems of White Crest that claimed her attention.

Morgan’s reluctance to join in the festivities wasn’t all that surprising, and Nell didn’t feel the need to push it at a moment like this. It was probably for the best if they wanted room to breath and return to normal or create whatever their new ‘normal’ would look like. “Oh shit, well- I hope you have a good trip. You’ll have to tell me about it when you get back, obviously.” There was a flare of jealousy in Nell as she offered Morgan the well wishes, remembering her own travels around the world before she’d returned to White Crest. She doubted she’d ever experience something like that again, not when there were so many things and people tying her to White Crest now. “We’ll figure it out, though. With all of us. And then we can do that big cleaning party with some midnight margaritas, and maybe even make some Brigid crosses.” As she headed with Morgan back towards the front door of the home, Nell held the zombie’s present to her chest, the anger that had gripped her earlier finding a temporary solace that let her enjoy the bond that had been restored on this day. No doubt it’d return when they had to speak of things less pleasant than travel and parties and gifts. But for now, she could simply enjoy the hopefulness buzzing within as she leaned against the doorframe, giving her farewell. Finally, she would relax in the knowledge that it wouldn’t be their final one. “I’ll see you later, Morgan.”

#good tidings we bring #wr nell #wr chatzy #wr nell chatzy #sibling death tw #wickedswriting

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lov3nerdstuff · 5 years ago

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Being Human {Part 1}

*Loki x reader*

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part: 1 / 4

Words: 4.8k

Genre: angst (and fluff)

Warnings: mention of blood

Summary: ~Loving Loki was a one-way ticket to misery, a vortex of sadness and pain and solitude. It was like willingly drinking poison and accidentally becoming addicted to it.~

Loki has been ignoring you from the very beginning. You were only human, after all, a representative of a species he so obviously despised. But when an accident in the lab puts your life in danger, Loki has to reconsider his strategy as he is forced to work together with you. And you suddenly start to see that his reasons for staying away might’ve been entirely different from what you had always assumed.

A.N.: So this is another story in more parts! The first chapter is in reader’s perspective, while the second chapter will be in Loki’s and we’ll see about the rest! This is based on a request by @waitforthehurricanrose and I dearly hope it’s any good at all! Hope you guys enjoy 💚💚💚

______________________________

It was already dark outside when you decided that you would go for a walk. Needed to go for a walk. Or was it really going for a walk, not fleeing from the deafening silence of the compound? Through the night, through the forest, in the comfort of only your own company. Maybe you were fleeing indeed.

Living with the Avengers meant living at their headquarters, and that, in the end, meant living alone. Most of them didn’t actually reside at the base, as they had homes, families, friends to return to after a long day of work.

You on the other hand were one of the few people who stayed at the base permanently, day and night, having your own bedroom to retreat to. Other than that, there were only Steve and Bruce, and Thor and Loki. A house full of men, each of whom was more secretive and brooding than the other. And then there was you, boring, fragile, unimportant you… who was nothing more than a publicist, an observer, an ordinary mortal. A necessary evil, required to keep an eye on them at all times.

Most of them actually seemed to have come to terms with your presence, and with you being required to know of just about everything that was going on in the compound, and the team. It really wasn’t your fault after all, it had been a government thing that neither of you had been able to prevent.

As you made your way outside, over the damp, neatly trimmed lawn and towards a small pathway leading into the forest, you asked yourself when your job had started to become so difficult. Or rather when your LIFE had become so difficult, so different… so painful.

Yet, if you were being honest with yourself, you knew when things had started spiraling downwards. It had been the day you had taken a liking to the god of mischief. To Loki, of all people, who despised mortals more than anything. Who had been ignoring you from the very beginning. Who was literally the only person in the team refusing to accept you as one of their own. Who you couldn’t help but love nonetheless.

And loving Loki was a one-way ticket to misery, a vortex of sadness and pain and solitude. It was like willingly drinking poison and accidentally becoming addicted to it. He didn’t look at you, ever. Nor did he ever say a single word when you had tried speaking to him, so you eventually had stopped trying at all.

Now, as you sauntered through the blackness around you in silence and breathed in the moist air, filled with the smell of dead leaves and soil, you thought for the millionth time how stupid you were for even feeling so much pain upon his cold rejection. His ignorance. His distance.

He was Loki, after all. An Avenger, despite his unwillingness to admit so. The most intelligent, intense and intriguing being you had ever come across. A god from another world.

You should have known better than to fall in love with him, and you should know better now than to feel hurt by his silent rejection. He’d never made a secret of his distaste for mortals, his opinion that you all were dumb and shallow and meaningless. And honestly, you did feel dumb and meaningless in comparison to him. Foremost you felt vain, in loving him. You had no right to feel pain like this upon the loss of something that never was yours in the first place.

Maybe the only thing more irritating, more all-consuming and more vile than pain of the soul, the heart, is the anger you felt at yourself upon the dull ache of realization that you should not feel pain in the first place. Like a black raging monster, lurking in the shadows of your mind, an angry guilt comes out in the darkest of times to make them darker still.

And then, you knew, there’s two roads you can take: either you let the darkness consume your very being to the core, merging with it to become one, or you become your own light to keep the darkness at bay.

And currently, it was becoming more and more difficult to be your own light. Every day spent pretending to be fine felt like a new arrow to your back, while every day spent in Loki’s ignorance felt like a dagger to your heart.

You were so lost in your own thoughts, drowning in the depth of your own mind, that you didn’t see the roots wending across the path in front of you. Black like the night, winding like a snake, strong like rock. And being equally in your way as your feelings for the trickster, you didn’t see them until it was too late.

You let out a surprised yelp as you tripped and fell, a pang of energy exploding within you at the realization that there was nothing you could do now to prevent the inevitable.

A sharp pain forced its way through your body, through the adrenaline, to your mind as your knees and palms connected with the hard ground, causing tears to spring to your eyes immediately, involuntarily. You landed in the dirt as ungracefully as it could be, body flush against the mud, the pebbles, the roots… and you slipped down a little slope, feeling your skin being scraped off your bones.

To say it hurt would’ve been an understatement, and you let out a pained whine, biting down hard on your bottom lip to keep from crying. Maybe taking a walk in the forest in utter darkness hadn’t been the brightest idea, no, it had been stupid and silly and falling even more so. And yet all you really felt was pain and… relief? Yeah, relief it was, a weight being lifted off your heart that you didn’t even know was existent in the first place.

It had only been a short moment, a brief speckle in time, but the realization hit you deeply as if it was a constant, lingering hand on your shoulder. The physical pain that surred through your body was numbing out the emotional pain you’d been feeling for days, for weeks, as it was spreading out from your knees like poison from a snake’s bite, and the relief you felt upon that scared you way more than the pain. This knowledge was dangerous, and you would not let your mind delve into that.

So you only frowned to yourself as you got back onto your feet carefully, hissing at the pain that was just everywhere within you now, as you limped back towards the compound.

_______________

The distance was way longer than you would’ve assumed; how far had you even ventured while so deep in thought? The walking really didn’t do your knees any good and once you stepped into the entrance hall of the base, once you could finally see something again, you frowned deeply at the sight of your hands and legs.

Well, your palms were only scratched and dirty, that would be fine after washing and cleaning with some antiseptic, but your knees… The fabric of your jeans was ripped and drenched in blood and mud, leaving you only guessing what the skin beneath it actually looked like. Great…

With a quiet groan you made your way towards your room, half hoping and half expecting to see no one anyway, for there was NEVER anyone around at this time of night. But of course tonight you would have no such luck as to count on the ordinary for once. Why was it that the things you specifically wanted NOT to happen would always end up happening as if only to prove to you how little you had to say in the composition of the grand picture of reality?

As you crossed one final corner and stepped into your hallway at last, your eyes fell upon the tall figure crossing over at the other end immediately. Your heart skipped a beat, while the only thing on your mind was WHY?!

Of course it had to be Loki who stopped dead in his track, eyes locked on you from where he stood a good fifty feet away. You didn’t doubt for a second that he could see every little scratch on your body, every streak on your cheeks that the few tears had left, every ounce of pain in your gaze.

His eyes locked with yours and for a few seconds you both just stood on your own end of the hallway, looking at each other. This was actually the first time he ever looked at you for longer than a few seconds and you felt the depth of his eyes devouring you even with such a great distance between you. It covered your skin in goosebumps and made your heart beat faster than your mind could bear.

And despite everything, you smiled at him. Through your pain, through your tears and through your hurt, both because you didn’t want him to see how deeply shattered you were and because he needed some kindness in his life just like everyone else. And since nobody was being kind of the god in front of you, it shall be your mission to see to it. Sure, he had hurt you, but not once intentionally. It wasn’t his fault that you loved him so unconditionally, so stupidly.

But you also weren’t going to torture yourself any more than necessary, and thus you averted your gaze after a moment, once you couldn’t bear his intense eyes on you anymore. With as little limping as possible you crossed the final distance to your room and fled the hallway like the coward you knew you were, only allowing your eyes to water once the door had closed behind you. He didn’t need to see how weak humanity could be, how hurt you were now, and how stupid you had been to fall in the first place.

Very carefully, but not without pain, you got rid of your coat and shoes, scarf and hoodie and finally peeled your jeans off your shaking legs. Some dried blood made the fabric stick to your skin and you had to tear it all open again with a small whimper.

Then, there was a faint knock on the door, making you halt in your attempt to get the dirt off your legs. You expected Steve, hoped for Bruce and longed for Loki, but honestly you had no idea who would knock on your door at this time. Quickly you put on some very loose jersey shorts that at least covered everything that needed to be covered, before finally moving to open the door a tiny bit only, for you didn’t want anyone to see the bloody mess that were your legs right now.

In front of you stood neither of the men you’d thought of a second ago.

“Hey Y/n…” Thor greeted you in an unusually quiet voice, offering you a small smile.

“Oh, hey Thor.” You replied with as much of a positive expression as you could manage. Thor was a lovely fellow and you really did consider him a friend, but right now you just wanted to get yourself cleaned up and stop the bleeding. “Is everything alright?”

“That’s actually what I meant to ask you… there’s a small trail of blood leading from the entrance right to your room.” He frowned at you in sincere worry. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, sure…” You lied, a too high pitch to your shaking voice that made even Thor realize that you weren’t telling the truth. With a sigh you opened the door completely, thus allowing him to look at your wounded self. Really, considering what THEY sometimes brought home in the terms of injuries, this was completely ridiculous.

“That looks horrible!” Thor started immediately, his frown deepening as he inspected your knees. “What happened to you?”

“C'mon, don’t act like it’s anything worth mentioning.” You sighed, crossing your arms in front of your chest in discomfort. “I tripped and fell and that’s it. Only scraped knees, nothing serious.”

“But it looks really painful!”

“It is painful, Thor, and I’d very much like to take care of it now. I’m sorry if I made a mess in the hallway, I’ll clean it up in a bit. Okay?” You tried to stay polite, but it was honestly getting difficult. Not even because of him, or because of the pain, but simply because you felt stupid for getting hurt in such a mundane way. Embarrassed, and stupid.

“It’s not about cleaning up the building, Y/n… Do you even have anything to clean the wound with? Maybe you should go to the medbay?” He asked, looking at you rather wearily.

“It’s honestly not as bad as you make it out to be. And I don’t want the entire team to know by tomorrow…” You sighed yet again, thinking that you actually didn’t have any medical supplies at all in your room indeed.

“Can we at least go to the lab and have Bruce take a look at it?”

“I’m not a child, Thor. Nobody needs to take a look at anything.” You rolled your eyes at your friend, appreciating that he worried, at least.

“But they have that medical stuff in the lab that I know nothing about…” He whined. “C'mon, Stark will be mad if he finds out that all of us didn’t do what we were told. Please, Y/n… if you don’t want to get it checked for your own sake, please do it for mine.”

You groaned with yet another roll of your eyes, and limped out into the hallway as you closed your door behind yourself. If he made you go down there already, he’d just have to deal with your stupid pajama shorts and bare feet.

“What did Stark tell you to do that you didn’t?” You wondered with a frown as you made your way to the elevators slowly enough for you to feel as little pain as possible. And without the fabric of the jeans constantly brushing against your open skin, walking actually was pretty bearable.

“He told us to look out for you, like he does every night when he leaves. We’re supposed to make sure you’re safe and unharmed so that they won’t send anyone else in replacement.” He shrugged, then blushed a little at his own words. Thor really was more muscles than brain, but you liked him nonetheless.

“So you were supposed to make sure that nobody breaks the only non-avenger? So that you don’t get anyone worse than me?” You snorted, shaking your head to yourself. That really did sound like something Tony would say.

“Yeah… but as it seems we didn’t do the job very well.” Thor stated as he pressed the button on the elevator that would take you down to the labs.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just dumb enough to go for a walk in the darkness.” You sighed deeply, tapping your feet against the marble floor impatiently. Luckily the building had floor heating… you felt cold anyway. “Loki is right after all, us ordinary humans are weak and stupid.”

“He said that to you?” Thor asked incredulously, frowning deeply as the elevator door pinged and you continued your journey towards the large room at the end of this short hallway.

“Obviously not!” You replied in an instant. “He doesn’t talk to me at all. That really tells me more than words ever could.”

“So he’s never insulted or mocked you either?”

“No, like I said… He doesn’t talk to me at all. Until today he didn’t even look at me, like he just refused to acknowledge my existence.” You snorted, as that was the only thing you could do that didn’t completely give your hurt at his behavior away.

“He must REALLY like you then.” Thor chuckled, smiling to himself which only made you frown.

“LIKE me?! How on earth did you get that out of what I just said?” You asked with wide eyes, lips agape. Thor wasn’t bright, but he wasn’t stupid either and misunderstanding you this badly wasn’t something he could seriously do to you.

“He insults everyone. All day, every day. Especially the people he doesn’t respect. The only things he keeps to himself are his honest thoughts, and his emotions. And if he doesn’t insult you, chances are good that you’re the only person he doesn’t despise. Also, he talks about you sometimes when you’re not around. Only ever positive things, as far as anything Loki says is really positive.” Thor explained lightly and somehow his words made you shiver. There was no way Loki didn’t hate you… he hated your entire race after all!

But your thoughts were brought to a sudden stop once you walked into the lab, spotting Bruce sitting at a PC in a corner.

“Hey Banner!” Thor started loudly, making the man in question jump rather badly.

“How often do I need to remind you that scaring me isn’t exactly the best idea?” Bruce sighed as he turned in his office chair with a roll of his eyes. Only once his eyes fell upon your legs, his face fell and he rose to his feet in an instant.

“Geez, what happened to you?” He asked in a careful tone. “That looks rather painful.”

“Thanks for the brilliant evaluation, genius.” You snorted sarcastically, moving to prop yourself up to sit on top of a table and yet forgetting that your palms weren’t exactly fine to support your weight. Wincing, you rubbed over them gently with your fingers as you sat on the table in relief at being off your legs finally. “Thor made me come down here… I’m just here because he wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Because she refused to go to the medbay.” Thor added with a sigh. “She doesn’t think her injuries justify proper care.”

“I didn’t say that! But it’s kinda true. You guys get hurt all the time, way, WAY worse than this silly incident and don’t need anyone to take care of it. I honestly would’ve been fine just washing the dirt off in my room.” You argued, looking first at Thor and then at Bruce. “It’s just a little skin that’s peeled off.”

“Well, it’s bleeding quite a bit for ‘just a little skin peeled off’… I think Thor is right, we should patch you up properly.” Bruce nodded at the other man and you rolled your eyes.

“Fine… but don’t tell anyone about it, alright? I don’t want them to think of me as any weaker than they already know I am.” You grumbled, watching Bruce with a small pout as he moved around the lab to gather some supplies.

“Nobody thinks you’re weak, Y/n…” Thor said calmly, placing a large hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you.

“Loki does for sure…” You muttered under your breath, hoping that neither of the two men in your company had heard you.

“You’re human, and that’s perfectly fine.” He added, assuring you in your hope.

“Natasha is human and she isn’t weak at all. Same with Clint, or Tony… Rhodey, Scott, Sam… Would you like me to continue?” You smiled at him in exaggerated sweetness.

“This is gonna hurt now.” Bruce mumbled and wiped your sore and torn skin with something that made you hiss at the deep burning that followed, rippling through your body and leaving your nerves aflame.

“I can really do this myself, Bruce. Please, you don’t have to, just let me…”

“Nope. This is my lab, so I’m patching you up. No protest.” He smiled at you. “Makes me feel of use to somebody at least. I’m only human too, after all…”

“You’re not human… Not really, I mean. You’re Banner!” Thor laughed, frowning at Bruce in amusement and you only rolled your eyes, letting Thor have his fun and Bruce his wish of attending to your knees.

With actually appropriate curiosity, you let your eyes wander through the lab slowly, taking in all the smaller or bigger projects Bruce and Tony were working on. Some of the stuff that was stored down here was just so alien that nobody really knew what it was yet… because if anyone would’ve known, it was you.

You were no scientist, not really, but smart enough to understand what everyone was working on and sly enough to find out as much as possible about everything and anything. So yeah, maybe your only value lay in the knowledge that was safely stored and organized in your head. That’s why you had been picked for the job in the first place… not because you were physically even remotely able to keep up with the team, but because you surpassed almost everyone intellectually and cognitively. Well, maybe not Vision, but he was something else after all. And who knew if you surpassed Loki, for no one really knew too much about him in general. But you definitely could compare to Bruce and Tony, if not do them one better.

Your eyes fell upon the tesseract. The strange blue cube had been in the lab for some time now, ever since Loki had brought it from Asgard. A few feet away lay the other infinity stones the team had acquired after defeating Thanos.

It had been such a close call back then, he had almost gotten all the stones and finished his mission… Yet, with the Avengers having Loki’s magic and the tesseract, they eventually had defeated the mad titan during the battle of Wakanda. Shortly after that it had been decided that you would need to watch over them, both the Avengers and the stones, permanently.

You jumped a little as Bruce started wrapping a bandage around your left knee, before putting a large bandaid on your right one. This really did feel like you were back in primary school, but since the two dorks currently in the room with you refused to have it any other way, you could at least make the best of it and use the situation for some casual snooping.

“How’s the energy project with the tesseract coming along?” You asked Bruce with a badly hidden dash of curiosity. Really, snooping in their research was just too much fun.

“Not as good as we want it to, but better than we want the public to know.” Bruce chuckled, finishing up on your legs and thus causing you to sigh contently. It didn’t hurt any less now, but just knowing that it was properly treated was making you feel better already. If you just put on some longer bottoms now, nobody would be able to tell you had hurt yourself so stupidly.

“At least it is actually coming along, I’m glad you and Tony are making some progress.” You smiled at him, then looked down at your legs dangling off the table. “And thanks for patching me up… it really was my own stupidity that caused all this trouble in the first place.”

“Don’t say that, Y/n… You’re very welcome, and it wasn’t trouble at all.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think it was trouble either!” Thor said, picking up random objects around the room and inspecting them before putting them back with a confused look.

“And who asked you?” Bruce chuckled, looking at the god with a smile and a frown. “You’re just creating a mess in the lab.”

Thor held his hands up in defeat, grinning at Bruce with that slightly irritated look he always sported. You only shook your head at both men as you got off the table and tried walking, making a few reluctant steps towards the cabinet with the infinity stones. Somehow they just seemed to call you, to draw you in like they possessed their own gravity and you were happy to comply.

“Don’t get too close to those…” Thor chuckled. “I’ve seen too many things going very wrong upon humans touching them.”

“Oh, don’t worry… I’m done getting myself into trouble for today!” You laughed, turning to the god of thunder in amusement. “I’ve seen what they can do, and if even you guys as gods have trouble in carrying them, I am sure as hell the last person trying my luck.”

Your mind inevitably reverted back to Loki as you looked down at the crisp white bandage around your leg. He was able to carry the stones, you knew that, and exactly this was where the problem lay: you were coming home with scraped knees and he was concerning himself with the greatest powers of the universe. Two very different levels, at least on the outside. You understood why he would think of you as puny and weak, for your body really was just that. And he had never given you the chance to prove to him that your mind was everything but weak and could most likely intrigue him for eternities. That’s what you told yourself at least.

It was impossible to believe what Thor had said earlier… there was no way Loki could actually like you. But falling in love with someone without ever having talked to them was equally unlikely. So maybe… you would just have to find a way to figure out if he did like you indeed.

“I better go clean the hallway…” You sighed after a moment, looking at Bruce who was back at his computer.

“Why would you want to do that?” He asked in return, leaning his head to the side as he looked between you and the computer screen.

“I bled all over the floor.” You shrugged. “That’s why Thor came knocking on my door in the first place.”

“Well, the security cameras don’t pick up a single spot of that…” Bruce gave back in irritation as he turned the screen for you to see the live footage.

“I swear I didn’t imagine it!” Thor said immediately, frowning at the screen. “C'mon Banner, I know droplets of blood could be missed by Stark’s weird camera system, but muddy footprints? Hell no.”

“Weird…” You mused, watching Bruce as he got back up and walked over to check another screen at the opposite wall. “I did think too that I left footprints at least.”

“See! I’m not making this up.” Thor grinned at you, playing with a scanner that he most definitely didn’t know the use of. Then however Thor’s grin slowly fell, turning into a deep frown. You looked over at Bruce, who was frowning in an equal manner, almost frightened for all you could tell.

“Guys? Do I have something funny in my face or…” Your voice trailed off as you noticed how they weren’t looking at you, but rather at something behind you. With one swift movement you turned around, and your mouth dropped open while your eyes widened quite a bit. You found yourself staring at the metal container that held the stones, as it was floating a few inches above the table, shaking ever so slightly as if the entire surface was vibrating.

“Don’t touch it!” Bruce said immediately as you moved the tiniest bit forward, making you jump.

“Darn it, Banner! I wasn’t going to!” You complained, frowning to yourself as you watched the box, well aware that you indeed would’ve touched it out of instinct. But no one needed to know that.

“Does that happen more often…?” Thor asked reluctantly, upon which both you and Bruce shook your heads. “Maybe someone should call Stark, or Fury, or both…”

“Nah, we will be fine… I know everything they know. And I wouldn’t want Fury’s wrath on me for calling after midnight.” You mused as you took a few careful steps backwards, eyes not once leaving the odd occurrence, while Thor stepped towards the floating metal container in newly found confidence.

“I think we should open it!” He stated, upon which Bruce immediately let out a very loud NO while jumping backwards instinctively. You on the other hand found yourself agreeing with Thor, knowing full well that the stones didn’t do anything without a reason. They had a mind of their own, if one could call it that, and right now they were clearly trying to tell you something.

“Open it.” You ordered calmly, taking up a more defensive stand even though you knew that was a ridiculous reaction. There wasn’t any physical opponent, or any opponent in the first place… just a mystery to be solved.

“That’s not a good idea Y/n…” Bruce argued, already hiding more and more behind tables and putting distance between him and the floating container. “Not even you can predict what’s going to happen.”

“Well, if anything was to happen, it already would have.” You stated in a calm that surprised you a little. Somehow, this wasn’t making you nervous at all and you couldn’t help but wonder why. “The stones would never let themselves be contained by anything as simple as a metal box. If they wanted to, they could have destroyed the compound weeks ago.”

“Sounds reasonable enough.” Thor shrugged and once Bruce failed to come up with any more counterarguments, he reached out to place a hand on the vibrating metal. It stilled immediately, and Thor looked at you over his shoulder. You gave him a more or less certain nod, upon which he opened the lid. A second later, you felt a liquid cold run through your veins and then everything turned black.

______________________________

General Tags:

@its-remy-not-ratatouille @wegingerangelica @thidls12333 @tomstoobeautiful @dreary-skies-stuff @averyhill4445 @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @theweirdlunatic @caretheunicorn @kthemarsian @lady-of-lies @sadly-falling-through-wonderland @strawberrysandcream @noplacelikehome77 @theoneanna @mishaandthebrits @mygodisloki @i-am-a-mes @nonsensicalobsessions @exygon @hiddles-lobotomy @myworddump

If you would like to be tagged in the second part or put on the general tag list, let me know 💗✨ also, I would REALLY appreciate some feedback on this story as I’m feeling very insecure about it 🙈 hugs!

#loki #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston #loki of asgard #loki (marvel)#loki odinson #loki fluff #loki angst #loki story #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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samaelserpentine · 4 years ago

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An Odyssey Through Music, Muses, Madness and Magic

(Buckle up Tumblr, this is a long poem) 1. The isle guardians of vinyl Unwittingly nervous to the necromancy I have planned An inner storm so terrible But I was Struck by his Occult missive So laden down was I By all the lyrics, the words With characters told through dark supergods As Aleister Crowley is to Led Zeppelin is to David Bowie And now me Lost among them Buried within them The pages of ancient texts And the liner notes of the albums Held far too close to the heart Though I tried, perhaps I merely formed mystery at my own doom The records of the sorcerers Performing an infernal scratching on my psyche Breaking down what was there and carving out what could be But whether it should be Is still uncertain to me. 2. I found the darkness in riffs The wall of sound I was into Inhabited by self-admitted aliens Aleister’s hellfire brought to light My heavy work held up The symbolizing of some god Archaic and forgotten Through a ring Art cracks All the people that stare loveless Into your eyes But I would be different I would be realized Something broken Mended Yet still wrong But I would Make myself into something else With your words The fascination told fables A way out, a way through I would find my way to you Through the cracks. 3. Once artwork I became their voice Lurking in the shadows of time On the periphery Of reason Madness could be a thrilling companion And with the records transcendent And the races lost The shout rang out Are You Experienced? I am and am not Like an abysmal and sunken ship Lost in the depths of the ocean Alone and devoid of meaning Abandoned everything to Grooves, characters, truths And once there inhabiting these my psyche Broke open spilling out visions, words Like arcane knowledge Dancing carelessly over the line Between the sacred and profane Whispering it’s so nice to see you here again And my mind became a bookshelf filled with ancient wisdom A record player Playing albums that told lies like they were the truth I uncovered the Necronomicon Had lives in Atlantis Sat with the sound and vision Of a populated landscape Woven through history Like a single thread Linking everything I became a fixture Fantastic Within the hidden music of a paperback I would not be forgotten there. 4. Of those who sought And those who chose A wriggle of religious fanaticism in claim And its origins an apparent expression of salvation I say You are nothing and have nothing for me With your hierarchy and worry over the threat Of music and sexuality And your constant waging of war against me When mine and yours is a history of burning I have nothing to give you You’ve already taken too much from me I want what was mine back With your wicked face as old as These chords I worship And your evil work to further ministers As meaningful to me as a rotten turnip Yet of my conjuring powers You disbelieve When honey, you should fear me And not the other way around I hope that when you are most afraid You say my name. 5. Mobs make parents worried They claim the rock audience chaos Is just hormonal fury A response to what is true Inside of both me and you There is more than this A kind of magic If you look for it Religious In the way we turn musicians Into gods and goddesses Idol worship But is that all it is? In the truest sense An ancient rite Long buried and forgotten Rising up inside us all Those who dare to dance And by prohibiting and demonizing The ones who shake their fists Lose their sense Always the sound of agitation But I saw these pagan spirits first Before I heard your protesting words Theirs speak louder to me Than your hatred ever could. 6. To the electric teenager Finding your way Rebellion is autonomy It is tradition To push boundaries Yet each new generation of adults Somehow forgets these Eternal truths It's not your fault They're afraid of your youth Don't listen Hold on Your fire will make the world a better place For you. 7. Could this ancient thread Of reality and magic infused with dangerous potential Normally inhabited by far greater Magicians than I could ever be Break me? I am traversing this rough terrain Of shared perception With aliens These common visions a violence What could I even be? Nothing more than a mystery To those around me Lost in this metaverse I have accessed Through song, collage, words Chaotic, such occult meanings They and often I End in something Beyond reason Scratching out messages of methods The angels referenced spoken vast by terrifying qualities These opposing sorcerers Like a guitar screeching endless feedback Which demons? Sex? Drugs? Words? Palpable as suggesting a penultimate hidden secret Impenetrable beyond nothingness and Nonetheless I must find it Even if I have to destroy myself trying Nothing is more important Than this truth. 8. Years go by and I come about left handed Shaped by a tarot card about the arts and earlier The room Space Death I know spirituality I see it in my brother’s eyes Only the inner outer world collides But of the Beatles or beetles They didn’t understand How To make the world bend at your command Of this phenomenon devotees are Reckless Breathtaking in their beauty And chaos It takes a certain kind of madness Or perhaps maybe genius To choose this path To withstand the pressure Of reality kneeling At your feet Bending to your will I will break it before it breaks me Oh brother, don’t you worry I always find my way out of the darkness And besides, hell has never bothered me I am the master of my own design The maker of my own making Nothing else can touch me. 9. Imagination turns listeners into participants Gives power to the powerless Those converted shaped by few ideas Dreams Had rock’s Hare Krishna LSD Asking questions Whose inner world could I be? And as it moves, a cultural generation Becomes magical More magical than entire rock bands Than holy men and women Fashioned by the young The carbon copy progressives Lying like Houses Already vast Led by the words of the Bhagavad Gita You should have listened to me When I had the cards already free I tried to warn you what was coming But no one ever hears me Invisible as I am Until so repulsive, so strange You can’t look away from me You really should have listened You can't say I didn't try to warn you. 10. This is bigger than I am Stretched too thin like skin Over bone was and into The board, into the planchette Could enchantment make me forget? The board is vibrating Shaking like hands The grazing of sleeves Culture, vinyl Seemed out from under our covers Like what was hidden There, even tucked away those records Though of nothing gatefold came No reason to be afraid Other than the fingers that have become potent The light that has now dimmed And what could I have been To all who pulled that woven magic Out of my childhood? Could it be the way was manifest Curled up snugly against your breast? As warm candlelight over the Ouija Plastic memories came From which I had imagined the feelings like air between Bewitched but hovered from Somewhere above our heads I wished that I was dead Or that something would end. 11. Experiences divorced from reality Covers rock personas Cut out images appear worse But Dionysus would love this His child Who has people staged Like personal shamanic relics Thinking writing something mystical That I would seek this That I sought this Is surely a form of madness But all the logical illogical reasoning shows A kind of rare dedication to the cause These rites are magical Why speak of demons And why speak of devils? I have conjured and created Something new out of the ancient Like nails Scratching deep grooves into a record album I have altered something Broken it As their gods create chaos simulating insanity As if they even have to in me I am the false image of a human performed By a front magician Playing at being god In these moments of desperation Carrying the weight of lives As though my power were absolute My belief almost religious Fanatical My concerns become concerts When I am on my own Wondering why happiness has abandoned me And where all the merrymakers have gone Why I am more Anubis than Pan Why myth seems written in lyrics As musicians play me like a fiddle Play me for a fool I am possessed Into thinking I am appearing as many legends Something older than time itself A life bringer A life destroyer With the power to stop or start it all I needed to believe I had the power To save all of you To destroy all of you To protect myself If I needed to And I don’t know if I can save myself From the things I want to do As the darkness envelops me And my mind becomes unglued So go ahead and do what you always do And blame it on the music When we all know the truth It’s always been you. 12. Rumination is realization I wandered alone Within the elements and to God Unintelligible Words became strange as Rogue faeries genuine Approach looking wing Impenetrable as I have become What I’d produced went away from me Flew out of my control Reborn in catastrophe When where into situations I went From film to film I sense in time a song Things start about a room and again Became revolt But maybe that’s just what happens when you’re Involving the occult Bring out the old rock n roll safeguard Make it out of symbols and sigils A complete thought catalogue so arcane It would leave you spellbound for days My mind prison And that in myself some Christ was born A thought so seductive to be sure I would take control of these pursuits But unlike you Hatred would never do I would never fight against passion Your fear I came to hear Against spaceships, rituals, the mystical, Sex, magic Your terror So absolutely Psychological I felt protection close at hand And I was real myself, as I really am In and out of my depth Battling against you and your demands I came out cleaner Stronger And what became of you? Shhh, no telling I won’t spoil the ending No good to warn the enemy Of what is coming But You really should have been listening You should have been watching What was happening. 13. He said, you should have started with Kether Been sure of the path you were following After all Magic, like blood, stains But these moments were wonders They could drive out the fear of fortune, destiny Hanging over my head I was taking control Creating my own instead As thin as the thread that links us all Tenuous, fragile Like a mind on the verge of breaking Under the weight of a cruel reality The walls would speak to me Whispering When will you come to me From here or there And find me in a room High above the clouds Where we could build our love? It’s not enough It’s a drug And I need it As lovers we were And I, such as the mountains Looming, shy Unable to look you in the eye But here is the stuff of legend Sound soars like a movement Lost to the ages I never thought myself better than this moment Lost as I once was Now flashing light and colour Connected to everything Raising you like the devils they spoke of Dancing my way to Malkuth A fearless necromancer Disregarding all the rules. 14. I am the sun I am the ocean I am the mountains and the streams I am the demon who would be with you In all your wildest dreams Where men circle around you Desperate to keep you You land like sand flowing through my hand I did not try to hold onto you So you let me keep the thread Through this glass I was searching Broken as the cracks But now I am returning Now I am mending And once you were evasive Elusive Like a high I was chasing Or the first drink, the tenth, or the last But now I find you woven into everything Believing we were thrown together like darts Bending like space and time I was searching for this Searching for you In desolate stations We would be protected Dredging the world to a ditch Just to find you Just to become more than this You are a wonder Among wondrous things And I am bird Who has found his wings Overlooking humanity From up on high I have found me in you This time And of all the things they can take from me That will never be one of them For I am the sun I am the ocean I am the mountains and the streams I am the demon who would be with you In all your wildest dreams But above all else What is more I have found peace Dancing in the flames of this madness They tried to call a disease I am me I am me I am me.

#poetry #poets on tumblr #my poem #dadaism #beat poetry #writers on tumblr #writersociety #poetry is magic #my writing #long poetry

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tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors · 5 years ago

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Shed-Skin

Prologue: Waste Not, Want Not

Her plans haven’t been working out. She’s not entirely sure what happened, but She does know something went wrong. Good thing She’s got another one, and all it involves (for now) is waiting. She’s gotten good at that.

Warnings: Spooky Eldritch Shadow Nightmare Monster Mama being Eldritch (She’s doing Her best), referenced antagonist death, implied unsympathetic!Deceit?, vaguely implied gore, SESNMMama’s interpretation of main character death and grief, I’m trying to cover all my bases but honestly this isn’t that bad I think.

Words: 2658

Violet “Writing so good it gets a fandom wiki and fanfics based off it because not only is the world compelling, the characters believable, and the plot fantastic, they’re a fantastic, lovely, genuinely good person who manages to make everyone feel comforted by their mere presence” inspired me after 2 ½ years without writing. And because I’ve been reading LAOFT since… Brother came out I think? (gosh how has it been that long.) I decided to give in and do something for it. And as I started drafting, Putting Others First came out and gave us more of our Evil Just a Snek Boi and inspired me even more, and then I made up like 3 mental pages of true name lore for reasons that at the time of writing this isn’t /technically/ wrong, but two cakes! This cake just happens to consist purely of ultra-specific hyperfixation lore that I aggressively made to fit with my Plans. I could honestly rant about all my fun facts about this for days, but I’m trying to keep this coherent. (Tolkein I love you, but there is a time and a place for excessive worldbuilding) So if you love to hate The Serpent King, but also really like sympathetic Dee, well… So do I. And so, apparently, does my brain. I don’t know how long it will be, but the answer is going to be “too long”. I already have two chapters properly plotted out.

☙❀❧-☙✿❧-☙❀❧-☙✿❧-☙❀❧-☙✿❧-☙❀❧-☙✿❧-☙❀❧-☙✿❧

Something was Wrong. It was Spring, and it was far too dark. She liked the dark, and the cold, but everything had it’s time, and this was not the time. Her Virgil was awake, and Her town had changed, and Her Durant had a ghost. These were not Wrong. Her Virgil had only recently fallen asleep, being awake was his usual state. Her town was always changing, filled with mortals as it was, even with its ever-growing Presence. Her Durant having a ghost was new and unexpected, especially with the state it was in, but not Wrong. And if it was not Her Virgil, or Her town, or Her Durant, then it was Her. Her Forest was Wrong. And She did not remember Her Name. That was not Wrong, or even new or unexpected, but it was something She noticed, as She felt She had in the past. This was more disconcerting than it should have been though, so much that She nearly missed Her Younger Son dying. Key word being nearly.

That was not Wrong, but it was not Right either. It was the ghost’s fault, who was no longer Her Younger’s. Perhaps the ghost was more Wrong than She had thought. Catching Herself before She missed what was clearly Important, She focused, and there It was, the flickering remains of what She had given to make Her Durant. She pulled it back to Herself, returning the essence of Her Youngest to Its source before It could fade out of this world completely. A distant Part of Herself, the Part that still had a Name, felt like she should feel something… painful? Sadness was the closest match she had felt from Her Virgil, but that was Wrong. The thought that She should be feeling was Wrong too, so as with all that was Wrong She pushed it away, crushing it beneath Her Presence.

Turning Her attention to what She had gathered, She focused inward. It was easy to distinguish from the rest of Herself, with sharp edges and a coiling, scale-smooth surface, like the snake It had used to be part of. She started to Shape It, return It to Herself as It had been before She Made Her Youngest, but It would not stick. It molded Itself into Her shapes, broke and tore like Her Youngest’s body, and reformed together at a thought, as the rest of Her would, but It refused to return to Its original state, as part of Her. Unless… It was not? She had taken part of Herself, and Given it to Her Youngest, the closest she could come to Giving a Name, and She had done that as well. She had Named the parts She had Shaped into Her Youngest, and Her Virgil, and His Sisters. It made sense that They were no longer Her, as She had thought. This sharp, coiling, scaly shadow was not returning because It was already complete. It was what was left of Her Youngest, that She had Given to Him, and as a Gift It was not Hers to Take Back anymore. That… Complicated things.

She remembered Her Virgil telling Her that Her Youngest was Wrong, and She was dimly aware of talking, fretting, and explaining. Explaining what had happened. She was not sure She understood well, but She thought She understood well enough. Her Youngest had caused this Wrongness in her forest, this too dark Spring, or at least Her Virgil believed so. And Virgil was Her Regent. She could not return Her Youngest to the Courts while Virgil still lived, it would cause anger and sadness and more than likely end up in Her having to gather Her Youngest’s Essence again, it would not be worth it. She did not want to get rid of It, that would be a waste. Even waiting for Virgil to die would not be foolproof, though She had clearer knowledge of how Her Son was separated from Her, Virgil was still Like Her and could fade like She had. And even if Virgil did die, Her Youngest had not worked as he had been supposed to the last time. Her Youngest would need a guide, but there were none to be had at the moment, and She could not take that mantle on. So She resolved to put away the issue for the moment and turned Her focus to Her Son, and then to the Mortal, Witch, and Spring that seemed to have captivated Virgil. She examined them, curious as to why exactly they had caught Her Son’s eye. Apparently, however, Her interest caused them fear, so She decided to respect Virgil’s desire to have His Loves left alone. She had enough information now anyway.

One was a mortal. Blessed, but a mortal nonetheless. One was a witch, magical, but ultimately mortal as well. One was a Spring, a powerful one at that, but a green-man. Wild. Her Son was setting Himself up for sadness, yet they brought Him such joy. Every one of them was absolutely priceless to Him. This was Important. She pondered on this, though she kept it to the back of her mind. It seemed She needed to be more present, lest She cause Virgil undue concern. Then, so soon, She sensed joy coming off of Her Son like snowdrifts, and excitement. She did not remember Him ever being so happy, so She paid attention.

It was exhausting, forcing Herself to follow the days and nights alongside the Inhabitants of Her Forest, but soon enough it proved itself worth it as She watched Her Son and His Loves bind themselves together, swearing by Moon and Stars and Sun, and Dark and Light, and Rivers and Fire, and Air and Earth alongside everyone else They called Family. For the first time in centuries She Saw and Heard, instead of sensing, and tiring as it was She undeniably did not remember ever being so happy. She was There for Her Son’s Wedding! Time slipped by Her more than usual after that, but She was still Present, still Aware of when Virgil would speak to Her, and that was far more Important.

Then They began wanting a Child. She could not Feel the others, but Her Son felt Wrong, and as with all that was Wrong She wanted to push it away, to crush it beneath Her Presence, to make the Wrongness Right. Well, that was something She could help with. It had been some time since She had Made someone, but not nearly so long that She could not remember how. She was as gentle as She could be as She took what She needed from each of Them, gathering the pieces not all at once, but slowly. They wanted a Child, so she would make them a Proper Child. Bit by bit She balanced out what would make this new creation Different. On the First Day of Autumn, She was ready. The Child would have no Mothers, so a Name Given by a Grandmother would suffice.

I Name You Linda. You Are the Daughter of Winter, Mortal, Witch, and Spring. You Are a Lynx. You Are a Princess. You Are Autumn, Unseelie, and Fae. Wake.

There is less of a difference between Granddaughter Asleep and Awake than She expected, but the Witch-Hazel is blooming, and She must bring Her Son. It takes Pushing and Pulling, but Her Son goes, and brings Granddaughter to His Loves. She draws back. Everything has been going quickly, and She has not thought about what this, Her Son marrying His Loves, Her Making Granddaughter, means. So though She stays alert, Her focus shifts from Her Son and Granddaughter to Herself, and the issue of the sharp coil that remains safely tucked away. She thinks, and considers, and questions, and finally by the end of it all has a plan. All it involves for now is waiting. She has gotten good at that.

☙❀❧-☙✿❧

The Witch died. She has a new word for a feeling, a name for the unnameable pain: grief. He had sworn on his body of Fire and Earth, and had fulfilled those vows. She does not remember it well, but the first time He met Her, He had tried to hide His fear with boldness and brightness, and kept His Spark until He could keep it no more. It is curious, She thinks, how Important one mortal witch could be. She leaves Her Son and the Mortal and the Spring and Granddaughter to mourn. (It feels Wrong, not being able to truthfully think “His Loves”, but this Wrong cannot be made Right. She can only push it away.)

☙❀❧-☙✿❧

Granddaughter was crying. Time was harder to grasp, but the Witch’s death had been three seasons ago. She was unsure of how long grief kept its hold, but Her Son and His remaining two Loves seemed better. She did not want Granddaughter to cry. Without thinking, She reached out a shadow and prodded at Granddaughter’s mind. An incomprehensible flood of feelings and words poured out, like blood from a wound. She cannot understand, cannot translate what She could do to Right this Wrong, cannot speak, but She tries her best, and sends an old picture, one of Her Son and His Sisters and Linda curled up together in an old hammock. It just makes Granddaughter cry harder. She leaves.

☙❀❧-☙✿❧

The Mortal is dead. No one is shocked, but that doesn’t seem to make Their grief any less. By the Rivers and Earth of His body he had sworn, and she remembers the rivers He had cried on that day. He tried to stay steady and grounded to counteract the Air in his Blessing, to keep Himself rooted even when everything seemed to be crumbling. She cannot bring Herself to feel much of anything, even though every moment She is aware of means a moment from which she can measure the time she has left to wait. She still does not understand. The part of Her that could have, perhaps, felt and empathized with Their grief is gone. But this time She does not ask. She does not understand, but She has learned that some Wrongs cannot be made Right, or pushed aside, or crushed. She does not like it, but lately She has learned She does not like many things, including, to Her surprise, waiting.

☙❀❧-☙✿❧

Granddaughter is mourning again. This is fresh, a mortal that Granddaughter had cared for had died. This mortal had not been Family, so She was confused in a way She thought she could fix. She reached out a shadow, but this time She did not prod, only wrapped Granddaughter’s wrist; gently, She remembered. She had never properly spoken to Granddaughter before, so She tried to send words instead of images as She asked

Why do you grieve?

Granddaughter startled, and couldn’t seem to respond. Flashes passed through Her, memories and feelings that She could only barely understand, until they stopped abruptly and were replaced with something She could.

He was family.

She understood what it meant, but did not understand why Granddaughter said that. They shared no blood, and had not bound themselves together through vows or oaths. But She did understand that Granddaughter meant it, and just because She did not understand, that did not mean it could not be understood. She let Granddaughter be.

☙❀❧-☙✿❧

Time passes. She has moved beyond Ancient, and can barely bring Herself to consciousness most of the time, let alone remembering. She does still remember some things, a blooming Witch-Hazel, Her Son, four pairs of hands bound together with silver, and Granddaughter, but sharpest of all is the Essence She holds that is Of Her and is Her no longer. She cannot remember what It is for, besides that She must Make something, but must wait to do so. There will come a day where Her Plan will be complete, and until then She must wait a while longer. She is simply waiting, season by season, cycle by cycle, until all at once She feels pain. For a single moment She thinks grief, then dismisses the thought. This is not just grief as She has learned to recognize it, this is Wrong. She gathers Herself and focuses on Her Son and His… heartbreak that even now is quickly dulling into shock.

The Spring is gone, just as broken in body as Her Son in spirit. She switches focus to the pond where Granddaughter and Granddaughter’s Love and the Summer are, and cannot bother being gentle as She grabs Granddaughter’s attention.

Grandmother?

Come.

She registers confusion and hesitance and there was no time.

Come now.

Granddaughter followed Her lead to Her Son and the moment Granddaughter saw the scene, She could feel it. But that did not matter, because Her Son could not live on without His last Love, so rule of Her Forest would pass to Granddaughter, and She was almost done waiting, but Her Son was dying here and now and She had to pay Attention. She tightened around Granddaughter as She spoke.

Goodbye.

She knew Granddaughter understood, as Her Son was laid down. She wrapped Herself around Their hands and tried to give reassurance.

Mercy. Mercy.

I know.

She forced herself to be Present as she had not been in centuries, Her Son deserved proper Words, and Granddaughter needed the comfort.

My Son. My Son, Give Me Your Name.

He was apologizing, and the Summer was soothing Him in a way She was unable to do. Though She could not soothe, this, finally, was a Wrong She could make Right.

Dear Child. Your Name.

I am Virgil. Spider Prince of the Winter Court, Lord of the Forest, Bruderspinne, Husband of Mortal, Witch, and Spring, Father of Autumn.

A moment, a last goodbye, and then-

Virgil. Spider Prince of the Winter Court, Lord of the Forest, Bruderspinne, Husband of Mortal, Witch, and Spring, Father of Autumn.

Go Home.

It is painless, and that may be the worst part. A string has been cut, severing Her Son, severing Virgil’s connection to life and to Her and to Her Forest and the heartbreak She had felt was gone but so was Her Son! She retreats, and thinks that perhaps She finally understands grief.

☙❀❧-☙✿❧

As Her Forest changes, so does She. The Courts are in safe hands and as they are moving on, so is She as She begins to bring to fruition centuries worth of waiting. She knows that this will Right a Wrong, though She cannot remember what or why or how it was Wrong, She knows what and why and how She must do this. She takes the sharp, scale-smooth shadow and begins to work. Some pieces are taken out, and She does Her best to take this essence that She had Shaped before and return It to what She had first Made. It is memories that She most concerns Herself with, and it is difficult, delicate work based mostly off of half-present instincts. She takes immense care, both with cutting the memories and with the parts of Herself that She shapes and shaves off to Give. She tries to Give what She thinks She remembers Her First Creation had, things to soften Its sharp coils. It is nearly done when She lets It shift and slither to the Witch-Hazel. She Makes It a body, a little younger this time than before, and binds essence and form together. There is a child in the Witch-Hazel, who She does not think She should call Her Son, and who is the solution to a very old problem. It takes more effort than She’d like, but She coalesces to speak, to Give Him a Name from a Mother.

I Name You Durant. You Are a Snake. You Are a Prince. You Are Winter, Unseelie, and Fae. You will be Protected. Wake.

The Child wakes. For the first time in centuries, the Witch-Hazel is in bloom.

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V: this is absolutely STUNNING and i love it so much! oh when i say i CRIED alskjak im so SOFT

#laoft fic #not mine #shed skin #submission

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