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veliseraptor · 5 years ago

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fic rec meme: 2019 edition

Rules: Post links (Ao3, ff.net, etc.); specify fandom/pairing/etc; don’t answer the same fic twice - spread the appreciation; tag other people; you don’t have to answer all the questions, but leave them in the list so the next person can answer if they want.

I was tagged by I think a couple people - @aphrodaisyacs and @aninfinitenumberofmonkeys. I’m going to try to keep this pretty short because I have a tendency to go on and then not finish these kinds of things because I overwhelm myself.

I also cheated a bit on a few (a lot) of these because I read a lot of really good fic this year. And tried to include some recs I haven’t seen from others in my circle/fics I don’t see recced that often (though that’s not true of all of them).

I also shuffled things around so I didn’t repeat them, though a lot of these could be included in more than one category.

1. Favourite complete fic you’ve read this month (multiple chapters/parts): I did not read a single complete multichapter fic this month. Meant to, but didn’t do it.

2. Favourite complete fic you’ve read this month (one-shot): The mirror has a mirror in its teeth by deadendtracks. Peaky Blinders, Tommy/Lizzie, messy as hell in the way that I love.

3. Favourite WIP you’ve read this month: But I’ve read so many good WIPs this month. I’ll go with Contraction by NamelessDragon, MCU, Loki/Bucky, sequel to Compression (also amazing), which I’m finally catching up on after being stuck on reading almost everything for months.

4. One fic/series you’ve read which you keep coming back to again and again: (those yesterdays bleeding through by wnnbdarklord (MCU, time loop set during The Dark World) comes to mind, as, of course, does Bargaining by proantagonist (alas! for its vanishing), but to pick one that kept coming up this year I’m going to have to go with the nine in the tree by bereft_of_frogs, MCU, Thor & Loki-centric, post-Ragnarok AU.

5. Most underrated fic you’ve read this year: It feels like cheating to do this for a small book fandom, but you know what? My small book fandoms deserve more love. Based on lowest kudos I’m going to go with that he on dry land loveliest liveth by skyvehicle, Lymond Chronicles, post-Pawn in Frankincense.

6. Most underrated fic you’ve read EVER: God, I don’t know. Again, it would be a small book fandom. You know? Because it deserves it and I love it and it probably is the most underrated fic, if only because it’s in a tiny fandom - In Memoriam by Tedronai, Malazan: Book of the Fallen, I love grief/mourning fic.

7. Favourite whump/angst fic of the year: This was tough since this is the genre I read most of in general, but because I managed to get a lot of fics on here via other categories, I’m choosing Into the earth I trampled it down by deadendtracks, Peaky Blinders, grief/mourning featuring Polly and Tommy. This fic was ouch all around, and beautifully written, and excellently characterized, and just...well, I’m clearly going to be reading everything that deadendtracks writes from here on out.

But I’m also going to slide In Cold Blood by NamelessDragon (MCU, Loki & Bucky, canon divergence AU) on here too, because it just updated and it really is fantastic, and I am so excited for more. It has all my favorite tropes written all over it, and promises some truly excellent whump based on the writer’s history.

8. Favourite hurt/comfort fic of the year: Again, a category with a lot of faves, but I settled on Walked In These Quiet Hazes by ratsats, MCU, AU where Loki comes back from the dead and is majorly fucked up, as is most everyone else. It’s rough, and it’s beautiful. And calling it “hurt/comfort” is probably...well, it takes a while to get to the comfort, I can say that, but it’s worth it.

9. Favourite fluff fic of the year: Did I. Did I read any fluff this year? I suppose some of the Good Omens fic I read probably qualifies, though it doesn’t feel like fluff to me so much as...comedy? Wait, I’ve got one: Love Wounds Me With Soft Pillows by verbaepuchellae, Lymond Chronicles, Francis/Philippa, post-Checkmate.

Oh yes, after I wrote this I found another one: such surpassing brightness by Handful_of_Silence, Good Omens, Crowley/Aziraphale. Beautifully inventive, and fits into a very specific genre I can’t get enough of.

11. Favourite smut fic of the year: Shockingly, I didn’t read a lot of smut this year. I’m going to go with The Beast That Chose It’s Own Bridle by thespectaclesofthor, Doctrine of Labyrinths, Felix/Murtagh, post-series, (less than) kink negotiation, WIP.

Oh, and also Chains of Gold by Anonymous, Lymond Chronicles, Lymond/Gabriel, hoo boy. My glorious Lymond/Gabriel fic I received for Yuletide. I can’t wait to find out who wrote it so I can lie down on their doorstep and beg for them to write more like this.

10. Favourite gen fic of the year: The Thanos Problem by Ranowa, MCU, post-Ragnarok AU. Okay, this is technically a series, so sue me. I especially liked When the Hammer Falls.

12. Favourite fix-it fic of the year/ever: This might be the hardest one. I read a lot of fix-it fic this year. I wonder why. I’m going with “the year” because otherwise it is just far too overwhelming and I couldn’t choose.

After a lot of debate with myself, and by eliminating other fic by virtue of sliding it into other categories, I settled on two: the only soul I’ve ever saved by valkyrisms, MCU, Loki survives Infinity War fix-it. I overall got pretty quickly annoyed with the genre of Loki-and-Peter Parker fics, but this one was just...so good. The Peter voice was amazing, the working with Loki’s Jotun biology as part of the whump was inspired, it was well written as all of valkyrisms work is, and just...so good.

The other (I told you I was cheating!) is Keep It In Your Sights Now by LuckyDiceKirby, Shades of Magic, Lila/Kell/Holland, fix-it fic. I needed this fic in two ways - the threesome it involves, and the fix-it it involves. Delivered on both.

13. Favourite crack-fic fic of the year: I really don’t read crack-fic anymore.

14. Favourite sick-fic this year: Castaway by ariaadagio, Lucifer, Chloe/Lucifer, is me cheating again because “sick-fic” it is only loosely, but I want to include it because it was very good. Though I think technically I reread it this year. Apparently I didn’t read much sick-fic? Weird.

15. Favourite kid-fic this year: Another thing I don’t read very often, and apparently this year (at least based on my bookmarks) don’t have a rec for.

15. Fic this year which you didn’t expect to love as much as you do: Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm, Good Omens, therapy fic. Okay, so, in premise and everything this did have “me” written all over it. But I certainly didn’t expect to find it, and I definitely didn’t expect it to be as good as it was, right down to making me love an OC (which is rare).

16. Fic which convinced you to ship a pairing: This is cheating because technically it was another fic on this list, but since I wouldn’t ship it without it I’m going to rec As much what it is as what it’s not by deadendtracks, Peaky Blinders, Tommy/Lizzie.

17. Favourite AU you’ve read this year: I slid some of my fix-it fics over here, because canon divergence AUs are my jam and maybe that wasn’t the intent of this question but I don’t care.

After some debate with myself, and rereading several favorites, I’m settling on my fearful trip is done by valkyrisms, MCU, the one where Steve runs into an unexpected child of Thanos in Wakanda. It’s real good, you guys. And yes, this does mean that I’ve put two valkyrisms fics on this list and I’m not sorry.

18. Longest fic/series you’ve read this year: This one’s easy! Eden!verse by ImprobableDreams900, Good Omens, Crowley/Aziraphale, the first fic in the series made me cry more than anything I’ve read in years.

19. The last fic you’ve read: The last new fic I read, since I reread a bunch of new things on this list while I was sorting through what I was going to choose, was to prove they are not dead by alreadybroken.

20. Wildcard fic you haven’t mentioned but deserves a shout-out + why: I waffled back and forth between two fics and what the hell, you know what, I’m going with both. The first is Miles to Go by josiepug, Peaky Blinders, which satisfied my desperate Tommy whump itch (for a time, it’s back now); the second is Where Is the Power That Made Your Pride? by Drag0nst0rm, The Silmarillion, aka the one where Celegorm lives and things are still bad. Not an AU I knew I wanted, but I guess I’m not surprised.

Bonus Category:

Best horror fic: dark underground//violent sky by bereft_of_frogs, MCU, I can’t tell you more than that because it would spoil it. I love horror fic and I have missed it since leaving Supernatural fandom. This one scratched that itch and I’m still thinking about it. Maybe it’s time for a reread.

As usual, I’m sure I’ve missed/forgotten some faves. I always do.

I...lord, I feel like most of the people I’d usually tag have already been tagged for this? If you’re a mutual of mine and you haven’t been, go for it! I’m always excited to see more recs.

#long post for ts #fic rec #meme

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isidar-mithrim · 5 years ago

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Forgotten fighters

Few words are enough to bare the soul of a centaur – few words, to make him master of his own fate, to make him part of a strenuous fight for salvation. Few words are also enough to describe the helplessness of a gargoyle, the braveness of a knight, the fury of a little giant and the thoughts of many other characters whose effort we often forget about – wrongly so. After all, even a single grain of rice can tip the scale.

[Read on Ao3]

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Thoughts of a centaur

He saw the lifeless body of the boy held in Hagrid’s arms.

He heard the half-giant harsh reproach, but he did’t dare to move nor speak.

A memory played before his eyes – the same boy on Firenze’s back seven years ago, and his own blatant disapproval.

He gazed at the star, looking for their comfort – finding just their judgment.

He took an arrow from his quiver, and suddenly he knew what fate he wanted for it.

Bane gathered the other centaurs around him, he nocked the arrow to the bowstring and for the first time, without regrets, he chose his own destiny.

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Thoughts of a gargoyle

Motionless.

Except for the only move I was capable of.

Anchored.

Unless I heard that word.

I stood by, awaiting for my one shot at something.

Then, I saw a breathless boy – I recognised him by his unruly black hair.

I wished I could simply let him pass, but without the word, my feet were tied.

“Dumbledore!”

The boy’d spoken without thinking, but he’d said the right word and I welcomed him with joy, moving aside with practiced ease.

Waiting for his return was grueling.

I wanted to wish him luck, but he passed by with dreadful determination, not sparing me a glance.

The boy came back, two weary kids at his side.

I was knocked aside, dizzy – motionless as always.

“Can we go up?” he asked.

It was the first time someone asked my permission.

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Thoughts of a knight

The clanging of his armor was almost deafening, and he was heavily burdened by the weight of the iron suit he’d been so jealous of.

It was part of every knight’s duty: polishing and oiling his best defensive weapon, caring for it like for their own horse.

That day, he got out of his armor for the first time. He looked his pony in the eyes, and he knew he wasn’t going to need his spurs anymore.

He conveyed his drive in the grip of his hands, that clenched tight sword and bridle.

Sir Cadogan wasn’t really able to protect who fought at his side, but his cries of encouragement were balm for his allays tired limbs, and for the first time he felt like a true Knight.

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Thoughts of a little giant

Isn’t it brave, willingly fight your own blood, if their choices turned out to be unacceptable?

Isn’t it true, that history can repeat itself?

How often the outcast redeems his own kind…

They giants were there, scary, huge, colossal, but he kept pursuing his only quest: protecting Hagger.

His fury flared up – relentless.

His strength was unlashed – unpredictable.

His war cries, barer of death, raised – unbearable.

It was a loss cause, but he fought nonetheless, and that was Grawp’s true victory.

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Thoughts of sinister creatures

Invisible.

Inexistent to human eyes, that had been the standard.

That night, though, a war was being fought – that night, there was no place for normal daily life.

They appeared without warning, oddly sinister – oddly unsettling.

The Thestrals teared through enemy flesh without mercy, knocking down those gigantic beasts.

The other fighters laid stunned eyes on their wiry bodies – they let their gaze take in the their majestic wings.

None of them was ever going to just imagine the invisible horses carrying Hogwarts stagecoaches to the gates.

None of them was ever going to forget the unforgettable memory of the war deaths, nor the burning imagine of the lifeless corpses scattered on the ground.

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Thoughts of a poltergeist

He felt at ease, in the rising bustle.

Stirring up the students’ hysteria had always been is favorite pastime – along with making Filch miserable, of course.

When he saw the caretaker he flew toward him scornful and sneering, ready to grab Mrs Purr from the tail to swing her in the air.

“Peeves!” he shrieked.

Peeves answered blowing a raspberry.

“Stupid Poltergeist,” said Filch, panting, “McGonagall is looking for you! You-know-who is coming at Hogwarts! Get a move on!”

Peeves actually listened, and for the first time he flew over the corridors packed with students without annoying them.

Resourcefulness.

He’d always used it for the art of teasing, until now.

Now, for the first time, he directed it toward higher aims.

He saw the castle walls crumbling around him, while he fought to obstruct those hooded figures.

New feelings.

For the first time he’d tasted fear, that night.

For the first time, he knew what it felt bing proud of himself.

And yet, only when he saw the motionless body of one of his favorite mischief-maker he knew what pain was.

___________________________________

The castle

Hogwarts walls were impenetrable.

Or better, they’d been – until now.

Now, the chance a wizard saw the school as a Muggle would have was high, because the walls were collapsing, killing indiscriminately friends and foes – a tragic reminder of the devastating power unleashed by the armies.

And yet, in its own way, the castle was fighting back.

The empty armors McGonagall had enlivened became lethal, their violent blows too unpredictable even for the best wizards.

The stampede of angry desks run through the halls full of rubble, trampling the masked figures and rendering them helpless.

Hogwarts had opened all its doors, had unveiled its most intimate secrets to the young boy who – turned monster – didn’t care about its doom anymore.

When the first brick fall, the castle had already picked its side.

When that brick made the cups of the trophy room rattle, only Tom Riddle’s Special Award for Services to the School dropped to the floor.  

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Thoughts of a hippogriff

He descended upon the humungous giant, wounding his grotesque face with his sharp claws.

He had just the time of a flutter to escape the hungry and angry hand that tried to knock him down.

He pretended to fly away, then he steered abruptly and pounced the beast again.

His proud and hooked beak snapped rapacious, and blood gushed from the injuries orbits of the colossal creature, blinded by fury and pain.

The giant swung his arms wreaking havoc among the fighting Thestrals, he drifted on his unsteady feet, making the earth quake and almost trampling on the fighters below.

Then, ropes from nowhere tied the giant’s legs together and he crashed on the ground.

Buckbeak glared at him with triumph and descend upon him again, ready to make sure the giant wasn’t going to see the end of the battle – because Hagrid’s friend were his own, and that creature had hurt Grawp.

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Thoughts of a house elf – Part one

The pot crashed on her bottle and it shattered to the ground, spilling Firewhiskey on her anorexic legs.

She stood up trying to avoid the fragments of glass surrounding her, but she staggered despite the effort, clouded by the alcohol and the shock.

She fall on her hand and knees, the sharp glass piercing through her flesh, and no one stopped over to help her.

A shiver run through her spine when that cold voice echoed for the umpteenth time, and somewhere in the kitchen an elf was brandishing a cleaver, speaking of Masters and fights and regular lockets, saying they should hurry with the pottery.

The other house elves shouted and cheered, fired up, and they disappeared as the food usually did when sent to the Great Hall.

Left alone, Winky crawled on the floor to reach the dark corner where she kept her Firewhiskey. Horror rushed upon her when she realised most of the bottles were shattered, and she searched with trembling hand for a full one.

She eventually found one intact bottle, and after struggling to uncork it she resumed drinking, unaware of how many her wounds were, how deep they’d became while she'd dragged herself over that secluded corner in desperate need for another dose.

Above her, young elves were conquering their freedom on the battlefield or dying in the attempt – below her, the pool of blood was spreading as fast as the alcohol descending down her throat.

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Thoughts of a house elf – Part two

When the castle trembled above their heads, several pots crashed on the hard floor.

The elf stumbled on a metal pan and fall down swearing, instinctively dropping the tray he was holding to put his hands ahead.

The fall cut out his breath for a moment, and he felt his left knee aching against the cold stone. He pushed himself up with tentative movements and glanced at the spot were his right knee had impacted with the floor, wondering what the soft thing that had protected it might be.

He saw a messy bunch of colorful clothes – a tea cozy, a wool sweater and several mismatched socks decorated with moving images and flashing, colorful lights.

He knew immediately to whom they belonged, and he had to drove out the anguish for his prolonged absence.

Then, he saw the only plain garment of the bunch – a single black sock.

The sock of freedom.

The castle trembled again and again, and when the Dark Lord voice announced his triumph over Master Harry and Kreacher get ready to fight in the name of his deceased Masters, it was a free choice of freedom.

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captainkurosolaire · 6 years ago

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Demise... I am...

<“This voyage... It spells of an End. I am a foolish, flawed and overall sinful man, do not mistaken this as my apologies or sincerity, for I cannot wipe away anything I’ve done or take it back nor would those simple words be justifiably allowed to let me off. These should stick to me, ingrain, devour me wholesomely. I brought wrought to those in my waters of haven, I’ve involved to many to give themselves to my cause and affairs... And I’ve failed, every single time. Not once did I win. Or fight solely to capture that by any means. I leave now, to the unknown. To slay a demon who possessed my dearest matey even if I have to give that release personally, I will. My sweat runs rivers, not of fear, but anticipation. I made a vow a promise, t’ not die. Though in honesty, I cannot assure this. If I never hunted those Damned Relics, this would haven’t happened, I wouldn’t have those lives buried and sunken to the depths, tattooed into my inner design. This Lair of a sprawling Devil, will ensure I don’t leave unscathed, though it’ll learn --- The souls inside me, they wish to torment have already done the job of self-destruction.”> A passage was written while extending vocally a monologue in the same simulations, printed to a worn-down stained Captain’s log over-top his desk. Unpacked and several wrapped layers of loose variant astonishing silk was drawn on a scarred up canvas, often this individual didn’t wear anything but himself and a familiarized hat. Though he was shaken to a core, undeserving of holding the mantle of the Captain until he properly slew the demons and plagues that he tried drowning out through feverish one night stands to get by or the thicket of a brew, giving replacement to dealings. A recently engraved Sigil was inked to a chiseled frame right above his left-pectoral which was carefully wrapped to layers subtly behind his chosen appendages. Its properties enhanced the wielder and gave them a more even playing field against the atrocities that awaited in the stain of darkness. He sat on the edge of a reflected bedside and drew a set of wrapped field dressing around his fists in combination. Every delicately wearing apparel was in preparation, a trip to the Unknown..

Removing his family heirloom compass coated and imbued with the last extracted increments of Kahzoo’s own essence to pin-point and confuse the transportation he was seeking to hit certain homing coordinates.Delving through a portal through the making of his fellow Voidal Peers for a usage. He dropped from nasty lilac textured stormy clouds and fell in a hard dropping thud. “Ow.” He silently left before standing up and draping off his dust. A long pause followed as he observed. “Wow... whole lot of nothing. No wonder they invade us. This place is more depressing then last time..” Breathless how a place could exist with nearly nothing of extensive value. He brazenly shrugged off before shouting loudly throughout the whole realm, “HEY, Dumbass! KAHZOO, Get yer sorry-excuse for an ass out here! I..., just want to talk...” He shouted attentively with little braved concerns on who or what may be waiting to call in answer... Fumblingly lower off breath with mumbles, <Firstly though..., I need to wrangle a noose around the throat before I banish ye once and for all.> More silence broke....

Before, ~ “You came here searching to slay someone certain... But you only found your deathly demise, inferior.“ Feet of a charred black landed with three separations in sharp nailed toes like talons. Immensity of gloom settled in with a rising shift in aetherial pressure, it whirled chaotically and stung like a chain of administered whips. A thick blanketed of dark fog... or a cloud. Hung around its upper body swirling like a shroud of finery. The pitch of the screaming eeriness that cultivated fear that boiled goosebumps and chills, bred formation. As it’s tongue rolled from a putrid poisonous mouth holding more unsavory words that tone enough shattered the carriers of hearts in control. “You called a brother of mine...You must be the one so highly mentioned in spiteful complaints... A failure Captain who led his crew astray that allowed not only his dearest and only other remaining tatted brethren to his painful demise, you abandoned him and allowed him to be consumed by us. Giving my own brother a new suit of flesh, oh how, I like humanity.” It drew manically laughter to the crag-spires in underline vibrations. “Humanity. A storied flaw of what is between us. I hold little, you hide yours but overall hiding doesn’t abandon them. It’s why you’re weak, helpless. Emotions eat and fester attached to your hearts take you to travels out of stupid blind passion. But commonly, its their end they walk on. A grave they dig for chasing vengeance, ambitions, things too lofty for humane hand’s to wrap around, they’re too feeble.” A flex of this unidentifiable demon crackled its bones wickedly through its inner palms as it licked to attempt provoking uneasiness, before its targeted prey in the pirate opposing him. Jaded eyes seething of devouring, that only could be described otherworldly peered through the vapor.

The smug Seeker who typically should be blown away but was warded to the sinister tricks of the Voidkin currently. “My, my. You don’t shut up do ye lad? Humanity, this, humanity that.. News flash, I don’t hide mine. Why else do you think I’ve survived this long pencil dick? I’m flawed written on a blighted canvas! -- This place... Leviathan, it’s cozy to me even though aesthetically you’ve no talent for decor. Can say I feel at home. Cause like you, and you’ll learn if you listened to those whimpering moans of yer brother Kahzoo, I am a monster too. One who eats sins up like another pass-time. I don’t really give a shaded chub for the majority of the reasons, I am brought here. A hunt of those Relics, I obtained all those Summers ago, has brought me here to provide release of yer own unpleasant brother to one way or another for the benefit of mine... I’ll set him free, It’s my obligation and coded in my own set guidelines!” Pointing outwardly and show a symptom of no regard of what stood before him or where exactly they were in. “Fool, fool, FOOL... I feel like that is something you’ve been told. ~ Yes...” The overwhelming foul beast drew an arm up and closed its silted eyes.. Scanning for the heaviest memories and recent sorrowfulness affairs to stir pots. “You were told under crying beloved tears not to venture here. To not be so... densely stupid. Yet, here I find you. Avoiding their words? Ha, I would curse you of misery but it already awaits even without a guide of my touch. Ahhh, but there is more... You left a crew alone, You left behind without taking care of someone who holds yer heart closely and ever devotedly unwavering you have given them the keys of your inner-world but you cast ruination on all they hold precious attached to those sleeves out of this stubborn notion, you’ll prevail here. That what you sought would be claimed and answered... I even think you, -think you’ll honestly win. -- That won’t be a scenario. Here you’re in my Lair. I am infinite, I am eternal, unwavering, no ripple you make can shake me.” An unholy blasphemer quips further to regulate dread throughout a poorly designed creation in accused mortal. Nearly falling asleep while standing up from the sheer boredom and passing out a yawn as he was attempted to be riled, finally snapping back and eye-rolling, he’d shake his head playfully as the pirate launched to a springing jump and kicked in velocity his loosely worn studded leather-boots that pulled pins hung to his toes that detonated at a few second delay. A huge random holy explosion caught against the opposing demon developing him in a bright flash and hearing a screeching in frustration.

Landing back with light-steps. “You didn’t want to keep the mouth-flaps locked, I chose to do you the favor, I typically save the whole gags for another encounter of pleasure, but this was on the house.” As the crags debris and rubble all scattered and picked up a dust cloud. In the silhouette a bridle of crowned tentacles squirmed over head half of the opposing demon’s face was entirely obliterated off. As he was gargling against his own saliva the cloud that wore around started to draw into the exposed injury and rejuvenate at an accelerating rate. Tension drew in and instinctively a meteor formed above the Seeker to dodge from the heat in combination with a secondary hand of the purest of darkness etched into its violently purple complexion. A set of beams followed in tracking suite as the pirate started nimbly putting every bit of his athletically heritage running tantrum to the finesse placed on alert test to juke and dodge as many as possible. Anger was now tipped over and the time of talk finally concluded for now. No matter how swift one ran, It could not attend with so many concentrated beams. As pains of agony flinched against him from welted hits smoldering hence of fog his flesh burnt in several spots already one mean puncture against his arm that made carrying the weight of his scimitar difficult as it was unsheathed to coiled clutches. Stammering with his teeth bitten across his bottom lip drawing own blood it left a scent as he hung behind a spire to steadily, formulate a counter. Silence broke through out the dimension by standby and as the pirate took a peeking look over to see if it could determine the location of its monster. He was senseless and felt ready to run towards another spot to secure himself, in mid-step in a cosmic set of speed a thunderous connected kick echoed through out the jaw of Kuro and sent him spiraling through a layer of terrain and momentum. Raw overwhelmingly monstrous strength cracked against his spine threaten to shatter every bone in a throttle. His grip lost hold of his blades nearly by handles.

Barely his exposable fingertips hung on in desperation, only seconds already into the Void and already his own headspace was reeling back nearly wanting to go unconscious there... A blurriness to his one amber-eye watched these taunting and tormenting steps being heard against the brush of his feline ear... Slowly, methodically drawing out. Every echoing thud against the cryptic soils and nearly no sign of life in the dimensional realm. The fiend pausing purposefully before halting away a few ilms off distance. As the pair locked up once again in eyes. Kuro hardly saw the look of the ferociousness pumping in virile unadulterated and matched strength. A singular gulp was prepped as the Miqo’te braved himself for a thrashing watching that contorted face start to merge back its skin its lips still chunked off. In a split shifting speed once again the demon clutched the throat of the intruder and before the scimitars could be mustered to cut they were swatted ferociously with a tail as helplessness settled in defensively. He was being manhandled and being raised swatted with excruciating whelps by the stinging tail, his tendrils hung over head grabbed and bounded his ‘preys’ four limbs before swinging him around back and forth, over and over in crashing thwacks. His eye was blanking out and becoming more hazy as he was donning the horizon of no return. Even with a Sigil to nullify a lot of the Void’s age progression and overall corruption or to break the illusions it didn’t overall grant anything extraordinary in feats. Pain cried throughout the emptiness of the dimension. After enough invented fall-away slams, the demon got bored with his toy and threw it off to watch it try to slump up and stand. It hung back and crossed a leg just simply levitating a balance on one. Though slowly and surely that reckless and stupid, stupid, man spit out blood over himself drooling slops of streaming saliva before wiping his chin and ripping his rags off that were just decimated this point. He weakly and surely slumped over back to his two feet, his face left blank and darkened across. Before lightly wrapping a set of hands around his coveted eye-patch and rippling it off breaking his own hold. Glistening and glowing two set of the more brilliantly golden hues peered from his eyelids. Yes... Now he could see, truly. He glamoured up a smile in curvature, It didn’t need following words only the expression in his look the blood oozing and battle-worn frame that took a tremendous pounding from a far superior and overall overwhelming enemy. Round two had just began!

B L A C K

D E V I L

S A G A

~ Master-List of Previous Chapters

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voidvoyeur · 5 years ago

Note

015. — Grab my muse by the hair.

the ides of myers ( hurt michael meme ) || accepting ! @obsessicn chose: 015. — grab my muse by the hair.

Loss is what brings her here. Time and time again, he has watched Laurie drift and fumble through the empty rooms of her home, fragile floorboards creaking under her slight weight. Usually, she inspects her belongings drawn from her own memory – as if pulled from printed words on a page to crystallize into something tangible; her crocheted floral blanket, her red, heart-shaped cushion, her telephone and its coiling wire – frayed from being cut. She can touch these impressions of her past, and his fingerprints join hers not long after she has left him in their not-Haddonfield, left him alone in her room. Tonight, after he first saw her figure through a window frame – unaware of how long she had lingered there, he strode across the road towards her as he is pre-destined to do. Trailing her familiar path much like a dog who regards everything their owner does as a supreme point of interest. However, tonight, the loss Laurie suffers does not manifest in her way of handling keepsakes but in a much more critical condition. Inside her house, he finds her. Curled into herself halfway down the stairs, back facing him. When watching her from the doorway, his first assumption was that she had fallen unconscious but then her shoulders jolt, joined by a light sniff and hiccup. It’s far from the first time he’s witnessed her cry. Oblivious to her audience, he goes unnoticed for some time, even when the proximity between them closes and he approaches her in a heavy stupor, stopping at the side of the stairwell. A pair of stained blue shoulders and a pallid face hovers above the parallel architecture of the steps she shrinks against – her knees folded, face hidden in her hands. His unseen gaze peers through the banister railing, sanctioning her out of reach – only to observe. Eventually, her weeping quietens enough that she hears a plume of plasticated breath muting her own hitched gasps. All too often now had she registered his presence not with wide-eyed shock but with an agitated crease in her brow – he sees this in the miniscule light granted by the overhanging bulb as she turns her head to look back at him, her cheeks glistening with running tears. Finally seeing her, his head tilts to the side.

Laurie contains a certain simmering rage – the kind of bridled aggression that girls have no choice but to bury for the sake of functional decorum. Yet, still, she is alight with uninhibited hatred. If her features soften, brow flat-lining – it is only for a moment. If her fingers outstretch – body twisting around, reaching through the gap in the railings to gently weave her hand through the coarse, matted hair of his mask, if there is such tenderness in her enclosing grasp – it is only for a moment. For when these moments have passed, her anger pulls his head back to its upright position. Michael instinctively scrambles for the neck of his mask, gripping at the rubber hem with a stifled, alarmed grunt – cinching it in place. Laurie stares down at the gaze she has half-blinded – grey-cobalt and clouded white irises looking back up at her, waiting. There is nothing she can do to physically hurt him here, not when they are both ensnared in this otherwordly mid-threshold that suspends their ability to feel pain. Even knowing this fact, it wasn’t going to stop her from scowling in defiance and trying. So she yanks at the hair glued to his scalp again but — this time — towards her, his forehead banging against two wooden railings pillared in line with his eyes. Michael only feels the impact, dulled by his perspiring facade, but agony doesn’t disperse through his skull, nothing compels him to move. She tugs his head away from her and, again, wrenches it towards the barrier. No bruising. Again – she growls from the effort. Numb. Again – the wood cracks and splinters. Nothing. Again and again, she tries to drive pain into him, echoes of her attempts tremoring through her house. Her now-glassless stare tears away from her hand arresting his head, meeting his half-lit eyes fixated on her face. Now, he moves, each breath perforated by a primeval grunt as his hands shoot up to wrap around her wrist. Before she can recoil back against the wall, he has her in his stone-set hold. All it takes is a tug, and her entire arm is through the gap between the railing – shoulder flush against the barrier between them. Her head bangs against the wood – she grits her teeth but doesn’t wince. The tourniquet around her wrist swiftly clambers up to her tricep, wrinkling her sleeve – keeping her close in front of him, as close as their oppressive propinquity allows. He traps her stare, Laurie’s eyes raised above him like a needle priming to pierce flesh, her gaze a bloodletting in itself. As unblinking and steadfast as Michael’s own gaze is, he breathes with the delirious humidity of a sick and heavy beast, desperate and cure-starved, a malady of a man who only knows what is ‘loved’ by who he can wordlessly call ‘mine’. If his grip softens, fingers releasing their unmarked pressure – it is only for a moment. But it is enough so that Laurie can claim her escape.

#obsessicn #bad seed / DEAD BY DAYLIGHT.#( close to me ... so close to me :-)#not for long bih!!!#in this house we love and appreciate laurie lookin down at michael from stairs ..#i think this is the longest thing i've written on tumblr lmao #drabble ..#hence the cut #laurie in next trial: imma bad bitch you cant trap me !!!#yeets this onto dash... mayb a couple mistakes but ..#feeling RECKLESS

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collectorofstarstuff-blog · 7 years ago

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Maria and the Kelpie [Sleeve and Starling]

The beast was watching Maria and the King was watching the beast.

No one wanted to carry a squirming baby but Levi, who offered to carry the princess home. The King insisted on carrying his daughter himself, while the guards carried the Queen’s body and watched after their new prisoners. After ensuring Maria breathed and swaddling her tightly into the sheet Leanna had brought, Leopold set his eyes on the beast again. The golden bridle seemed to do nothing. The animal was already transfixed with the bundle in his arms and it walked behind him as if in a trance. The two hunters he arrested came quietly. They seemed only concerned with the Ancient and insisted nobody but themselves touch it. Something about “special gloves” and “if you value your life.” The King allowed them to lead it into his sleeping Kingdom.

Leopold had awoken to a stupid thing. The damned sheet was missing. Why? Who would nick a sheet from a royal’s bedchamber? But that stupid thing had saved his daughter’s life. He was too slow to save his wife’s.

As per carefully crafted decree, when the suns of the royal family return to waking, the people must go to sleep. The paradox of the common folk being entirely too excited to sleep since the royals should not have woken for several hours made the grainy sleeping pills necessary. Leopold lamented this rule; he never liked sleep, and missed the days when he did not need it. Enormous star, enormous waste of energy. He was exhausted already. So, though he didn’t dwell on it too much right now, Leopold felt badly that the order was issued to everyone to take their pills as soon as they got up, but it couldn’t be helped. His wife and daughter were missing. Not that he missed his wife.

He barely remembered handing Maria off to a very irritated astronomer and lowering himself into his throne to hear the pleas of the hunters. He looked over their heads as they spoke, or rather as the shorter one spoke.

“Sire, we did not know the Queen was near the lake. We have known its location for some time, but considered it no threat to your kingdom because of how deep into the woods it was. It is still young, Your Brilliance. An infant maybe two or three weeks old, we did not think it capable of leaving the lake.”

“How is that possible?” the King said dreamily, still not meeting anyone’s eyes. Levi, standing on one side of the throne with his captain, looked at his King. The astronomer hushed a fussy baby. The hunters exchanged a glance.

“How is what possible, my lord?”

Leopold seemed not to know that he had spoken. “Carry on.”

“Yes. Well, we were setting out to capture it when all of this happened. We came to the clearing after the time your Queen was already dead, I swear it on my pitiful star.”

Leo held out his arms as though expected to be handed something. For a moment, nobody understood then, hesitantly, the astronomer came forward and put Maria in his arms. He touched the baby’s forehead, utterly confused.

“Dead,” he repeated. Leanna was dead. He had longed for this day so many times yet now, how could he not feel guilty it had actually happened? He would not shed a tear over someone he so loathed, but he did feel terrible, almost as though wishing for it had made it come to pass. “What’s wrong with my daughter?” he demanded after such a long silence that the bigger hunter jumped.

“Sire?”

“Something’s wrong with her.” He lifted Maria up and stared hard into her little face. She gurgled. Her father’s face was the one that made her smile. He cared for her more than Leanna had ever touched her. Through his exhaustion, he couldn’t quite tell but something was odd. “She’s heavier.” The astronomer looked puzzled. “Bigger. My god, is she…? She’s bigger! She’s older!” Before the night’s events, she had been barely able to lift her head. But now Maria was wide awake. Alert. Maybe the potency of a child one year old, even her cheeks a little fuller. But she’d only been born two months back.

The hunters were unable to explain. Levi hadn’t noticed. Neither had the astronomer. She was just a baby after all, and there were other things that consumed their attention.

Leo’s confusion and exhaustion and sorrow did not equip him for all that had happened. He handed Maria off again and sat down again, trembling. “We will discuss this tomorrow.” He pointed at the hunters. “Go. Guest rooms.” He had never in his life ordered anyone to a dungeon and he wouldn’t start now. “Put the beast in the stables. Guard it.” The guards ushered all of them out, giving the strange animal a wide berth. It turned slowly and followed the hunters’ command after one long look at Maria again. Its uncoordinated tail knocked over and broke a vase on its way out. Nobody bothered to clean it up.

“Estelle.” The astronomer stepped forward and bowed as low as she could with a baby in her arms. Leopold brushed the gesture off. “Please, I know you must be tired, but look into this. The Ancient. I want to know everything you can about it. Contact your friends. Anything they know. And Mariana’s star. The black hole.” He was gesturing lazily as though she knew what he could mean by these random statements. Better than he did, at least. “Just please figure it out.”

Estelle nodded and gave the princess to Levi, who followed the King down the hall and to his room. Once inside, Leo took Maria and put her in her cradle, then turned to Levi, the lines of his face standing out as though it had been ten years.

“I have seen the Ancient before.”

“Sire?”

“Don’t call me that. And I’m not crazy.” He sank into his bed and put the crown he hated on the table beside it. “I didn’t just see an Ancient that looked like that one. I saw exactly the same one. Only it was dead. I touched it. That’s how I got my star in the first place. It was never this big.” He said all of it very slowly and in short sentences, as if Levi couldn’t possibly understand. And it was just as well, because Levi didn’t. But he just nodded and kept listening. “I don’t know what’s happening,” Leopold confessed by burying his head in his hands. He was still trembling.

“You just lost the Queen, your wife,” Levi started, intending to console him. But the King laughed in an entirely joyless way and turned soured eyes on his friend.

“I know you can’t possibly think that bothers me.”

Levi hesitated. He knew. But this Leopold, this Leo always scared him. The one that didn’t care about losing his wife. Nobody liked Leanna as a princess and they had hated her all the more as a Queen. But he would be lying if he said he wished her to die. He hadn’t wanted to watch her die. But he knew he had to protect the princess. It sounded as though the King had killed her himself and didn’t feel a thing while in the act.

It wasn’t true of course. Leopold felt responsible for Leanna’s death entirely, even felt some sorrow; even knowing that she had tried to kill his only daughter. But his mind was on the creature. Had it come back for him? He hadn’t killed it. It was already dying when he touched it. A two-decade memory was resurfacing so clearly, he felt the ten-year-old fear again. Why was it so fixated on his Mariana? Was it here for revenge? Why hadn’t it killed her?

Leopold got to his feet and forced them to the window. Maria’s star was gone. In the stables below, he knew the source of the black hole was standing. But there was no black hole. It was as if the creature and Maria fit together and created something only they could see. Levi waited for Leopold to ask him to stay, as the King did so often when in need of comfort. But he didn’t ask, so Levi left. Leopold checked one more time on his daughter and lay back on his silken sheets, very afraid. But within ten minutes, he was asleep, his star quieting down to nothing just like Maria’s.

Sleeve and Starling were waiting for the sun to disappear before they acted. They knew from reports and research of their own that Leopold was a fair and just King. And they knew that if the King knew what they were planning to do, he would have them locked up for life. So they chose to keep their plans secret, of course, until a better time might come. The fact that Leopold had given them adequately comfortable guest chambers with the closest guards being down the hallway showed them just how fragile a state the King occupied. WIth his wife murdered and his daughter altered, this was the time to act. They had to get out now before he woke up and understood the reality of the situation.

The Gliphen was backwards enough to have a whole farm dedicated to the breeding and sale of Ancient beasts. But no one knew about it, certainly not the King. It was a business not quite off the ground yet, what with all the occupational hazards. And they had a record list of zero customers and already one bad incident. Starling had put hard work and too much money into the project to give up for that reason.

Starling was not a cruel man. He did not treat the Ancients poorly and sought to take care of them well. They were precious merchandise, after all. But to hold an ancient is not only illegal by law, but chaos by nature.

Ancients take care of their own and they’re very hateful of people. If they knew that Starling had gotten a hold of any of them, they would send out an army of hooves and teeth and tails to destroy the farm and all its human inhabitants. Starling knew that only too well, having studied Ancient beasts for almost thirty years, which was why he was clever enough to stalk them and take in those who had been cast out of their pack. Namely, pregnant beasts or their infants.

He’d come to learn that being pregnant is a curse for Ancients even more than it is for humans. It happened very rarely, and only by some strange accident. There was no mother and father, only the parent and the child. But even these labels seemed inappropriate; Starling had observed that not only does the infant rip itself from the parent’s body, it also tries to kill the injured parent. Usually, the younger, stronger beast wins. On occasion, the parent is able to overcome and kill off the child, thus finding its way back into the herd. Starling rejected the idea of this cycle as ‘cruel’ almost on principle.

“Fascinating creatures. No love within the bloodline, but within the pack?” Starling shook his head and glanced around a corner. “They’re inseparable.” Sleeve had heard this all a dozen times, so he just nodded once.

Most of the guards were asleep, given the King’s order that everyone take a double sleep shift. He hadn’t even had any guards awake to guard the entrance to their rooms, at least not directly. But it was weird, the King was asleep as well, meaning that his sun was gone. They were sleeping through the night, when they were normally up and working. That was bound to throw off many schedules. Given recent events, a few oversights like this would not be unusual, but they could certainly be problematic.

Mind elsewhere, Sleeve nearly ran into his smaller companion. “Sorry, chief.” Sleeve wasn’t a total idiot, but he was very simple. He was strong and calm, and this earned him a certain respect among the few Ancients under their combined care. They responded better to him than to Starling, a fact that made the smarter man incredibly jealous, as he knew more about them than anyone. Sleeve was just more sensitive. He had been the one to insist on a larger pasture for the Kirin who liked to roam, and to demand heated coal for when they were able to stumble upon a pregnant dragon. It had not yet happened, understandably. Dragons were near impossibly rare. But what they were after now was something never heard of or seen by human eyes until twenty years ago, when the King watched one die.

They had just found their way into the grand entranceway when they saw their charge making its very slow and confused way into the palace. Starling threw out his arm and caught Sleeve in the middle, regretting it instantly because of his partner’s hardened body. They watched as the Ancient picked its way, carefully, cautiously, as though crossing a swamp. Starling was not at all surprised the beast had managed to get free of its pen considering its observed power, but he couldn’t understand why it had decided to come into the palace of all places, rather than returning to the lake.

He slipped on special hide gloves and motioned for Sleeve to do the same. They crept down the stairs into the entranceway and began to follow the creature. It soon became obvious they didn’t have to keep their voices down at all, or even tiptoe. Everyone was asleep and the Ancient paid absolutely no attention to them. But the palace was silent, so they went silent anyway.

The grand entranceway to the palace of Gliphen was the oldest part of the palace and the oldest building in all the country’s long history. The entire country was forested and rivered. It was a beautiful, wild place away from the big cities that were now being built closer to the ancient desert in the middle of the continent. And so, of course, the perfect place for a temple, for the emotional recluse, for the green-friendly priests and priestesses to study the Ancients and nature and the stars.

And that’s where they were now, Sleeve, Starling, and the Ancient. The ceiling was easily five or six times as tall as Sleeve and just as wide too. Since its original plan, many doorways had been added to the lower floor to access the many new hallways of the palace, but the main arch was still intact. A great, elaborate stone thing carved by those who did little else but sit and pour their lives into tiny patterns that made up a much larger portrait. It was the ideal arch. The oldest arch. Even crumbling, it looked just as ornate and symmetrical as the day it was made. Hinges had been attached to it in the last century to add in an oaken door that fit into it, but when it was a temple, all the arches and windows opened to the outside, letting the moonlight pour in. There was no sun in the Gliphen at that time, the priests made sure of that. All was night and quiet and peace.

But now it was all shut in and protected from the outside. It was now a fortress. Some of the building had taken place when Leanna’s mother Etienne took over the castle and shut down the city to refuse the return of her husband from war. As the King at that time had half of his force, she needed many renovations to keep her and her daughter safe. The temple was not a place of openness and worship, but a place shielded against any outside force, including moonlight and the sky; two of the priests’ biggest deities.

It was once a haven of the Ursa of the Nightplains, the ancient peoples that humans, whether fondly or aggressively, called dogs. Their priests would have wept if they could see their great temple now. The remains of their life’s work lay forever carved in the walls, but their works were forbidden from them now. Estelle, being a priestess herself, had a great deal of fascination with the stories they told in pictures, but very little time to actually study them. She had since deduced, as could almost any laymen, that the reason the country got its name must stem from “glyph” or carving.

But Leanna had cared little for etymology or the Ancients. She was planning to destroy the writings, sand them down and imprint her own story. Estelle would be bitterly glad her ambitions would never be realized now.

Every pawstep made a sort of clinking sound on the marble, like a teacup on a glass table. Sleeve and Starling worried that it was because the Ancient had its claws out. Was it planning to attack? If they were responsible for a second royal death, they could be sure they’d be sentenced to death. But it picked its way carefully over the bodies of sleeping soldiers, not intending, at least, to harm any of them. The whole room was filled with the sounds of slow breathing, which grew louder as Sleeve and Starling approached the ground floor from what Estelle called the observatory. Really, it was just part of the room. Two staircases on either side of the arch extended up to a loft part of the same grand temple room. It had obviously used to house a window that encompassed the entire upstairs wall, but was filled in with guest rooms, which was where the hunters descended from. The Ancient had come through the arch from the outside, but how it had managed to get in, they had no idea. The huge door was still closed and bolted.

As they came down, Sleeve accidentally trod on the face of a guard on the floor, and the poor man grunted, lashes fluttering in possible waking. But Sleeve took immediate action and swung his water-filled metal canteen at the soldier’s lifted head. He was asleep again in an instant. Starling wanted to throttle his partner, but he decided to save it for later. Their main priority was getting away, going through an identical arch underneath the loft which once led to a beautiful plateau overlooking an endless forest, but now went to the throne room and branched off into other royal chambers.

The beast was being surprisingly careful, given its very young age and regular clumsiness. And yet, in its eyes, they could see that it didn’t seem to be paying attention. It was only looking forward, seeming to feel with a different sense when it needed to step over something. The hunters stayed a few yards back, knowing the animal’s lengthy tail could lash out at any moment and effectively kill them. It didn’t seem in the killing mood, however, its tail, about the length of its body, was traveling side to side aimlessly behind it, very alert. In the relaxed state that its eyes showed, the tail should be trailing the ground over the bodies of a dozen snoozing men. This worried Starling immensely. Its entire body was awake, but it appeared to be following some otherwordly force none of them could sense.

But it was coming up on the arch’s door. Surely that would slow it at least. Sleeve prepared his gloved hands to grapple it to the ground. But at that moment, the hair on the Ancient’s back and the scales on its front shimmered in the almost nonexistent light of the torches. For the second time, Starling held Sleeve back, both men mesmerized as the animal collapsed into nothing but water. Then, as though wind were pushing it, the puddle seeped under the locked door, leaving them both woefully behind.

Sleeve produced a lockpick from the crux of his sleeve. “Let us hope no one wakes to see us breaking into the King’s domain.”

The animal rematerialized on the other side of the arch. The event had not escaped Starling’s notice; how easily it had dissolved! Not two days before, they had observed it struggling to learn the powers of its birth. But now, so quickly, its concentration had intensified.

But the hunters were behind it now. The beast lifted its long, damp muzzle to sniff at the stilled air. Then, its eyes lit in life once more. It pranced side to side like a crab, claws scratching the marble. It was lost, confused, and between walls. Not natural for a wild beast. What’s more, it was unable to get a firm grip on the floor with its claws. It scrabbled, helpless, for a perch before it was able to half retract its weapons and use the padding of its paws.

As if on cue, the scent of a human entered its large nostrils; a particular human. Two particular humans. Its eyes clouded again, tail whipping about in case someone followed. It lowered its great head and trembled in excitement. It didn’t ask why it felt that way. Animals, especially Ancients, go by the road of instinct, and don’t gather on the philosophy of it. It merely carried on down the long, embellished hall.

Sleeve and Starling were having an understandably difficult time with the royal door. It would be a long time before they could catch up with the creature.

Levi had left his post only for a moment. It wasn’t even technically his post. No one had ordered him to stand by the King’s door. By all rights, he could’ve have induced sleep and gone back to his own bed. But he was uneasy, and knew sleep would not soothe him. He wanted to wake the King; he knew it would be difficult to manage the schedule after both the commoners and the King slept. It might take weeks to sort out a favorable solution. Or perhaps Leopold would sleep two shifts. But on such a large star, on the sun… two star-dampeners, one after the other, might make him fatally ill. But more than that, he wanted to wake the King because he was lonely. He didn’t know how many guards were awake, probably no one but Levi and those playing cards in the hallway where the hunters supposedly slept. It was foolish of Leopold to let that happen, but the King was unused to conflict. No one was interested in such a country kingdom these days, not enough to fight for it or over it.

For that reason, Levi stayed. No one else was awake. No one except the astronomer.

He looked around when he heard footsteps and there she was. She looked like she didn’t belong there, like she was a dream in the hallway. But she was grounded now, real, by the trouble in her face.

“My Lady?”

“Something is coming,” Estelle whispered, ushering Levi away from the door and peering inside at the sleeping King. “But it’s obviously not here yet.” She looked at Maria. The girl was sleeping too.

“You’ve seen something?” Levi felt that all his fears would come to pass.

“No. But don’t you hear it?”

Levi had been listening for the last two or three hours, and had heard nothing. But now, as he strained to hear what she heard, he felt something more than heard it. The soft pushing of air as something moved back and forth towards them, side to side. Something making gentle contact with the floor. Vibrations of water. Water. Levi felt water coming from the other end of the hall. Without waiting for an explanation from Estelle (not that she had one), he drew his sword as silently as he could and followed it around the bend and away from the King’s room. The astronomer followed him, entranced by the feel and with more than a little concern touching her brain. Why was there water in the palace?

They would never be sure why they felt the vibrations coming from the other side of the hall. Perhaps the beast had planned it. But when it arrived around the opposite side, and saw the King’s room open and unguarded, it knew there would be no fight. The animal paused, lifting its paw delicately as if about to dip into cold water. It sniffed. The same scent was coming through the open door. It nosed it open, didn’t hear the moaning hinges, and was inside. Because it had been moving through the castle so slowly, Sleeve and Starling whipped around the corner in time to see the shimmering tuft of its tail disappear into the King’s room. Of course they didn’t know whose room it was, but they could only assume it wasn’t empty and now knowing the Ancient’s power, feared for whoever slept there.

It took an unusually long time for the beast to find the one it smelled. It was a strong odor, not of baby powder or even dirt from the bottom of the lake. But she smelled like the animal. The Ancient’s powers of scent overcame its eyesight easily, and it felt as though it were seeing itself in a pool’s calm reflection. Only sleeping, and small. Behind it were furious whispers of how to trap the beast without waking the man in the bed and the baby; it didn’t seem to hear. It only moved close to the cradle and peered inside, not expecting to see anything important.

Maria slept on after that tiring evening, worrying of nothing. She didn’t know her mother was gone or that she was in danger. She was unable to sense a beast looming overhead, leaning forward to touch its wet nose to her forehead. It snorted, confused. It was as if something had touched its own forehead with a wet nose. The beast was sharing her senses.

Sleeve had withdrawn the golden bridle, a last resort they’d hoped not to use, but before he could step forward, a thin sword scratched his throat and he was forced not to move. His first thought was to retaliate, but when he saw who held the blade, he remained still.

Leopold was there, in all his protective, fatherly glory. Even in his nightgown, he was formidable, but Sleeve couldn’t say why. He wasn’t an intimidating man at all normally. He was light; light hair, light skin, light eyes, light frame. But the color of his eyes didn’t mask the utter hatred he had for Sleeve, a man he barely knew. He thought he sensed some intent to threaten his baby girl, and reacted. But he didn’t seem to notice the beast at all, who was already at her side, standing alert and still, staring down at Maria as though she might attack him. He had only seen the intruding hunters.

“Your Brilliance,” Starling began in a whisper of his own defense. “We were-”

But Maria coughed, and it startled everyone present—none so much as the Ancient. It reared up on its hind legs, roaring as an answer to her innocent challenge and Leopold abruptly turned to come to her rescue. Sleeve was faster, however. He took the moment of confusion to dodge around the sword and into the range of the beast’s tail. Sensing danger from behind, the tail lashed out and caught Sleeve hard on the shoulder. If the gaping wound caused him any pain, no one could be sure by looking because he ignored it, wrestling to get the golden bridle over the beast’s head. It was a losing battle. Starling raced forward to help and Leopold dropped his sword and snatched Maria from the cradle and ran to the bed, the safest place in the room from the whirling tail and searching fangs.

There was no way the hunters or Leopold would have survived if not for the action waking the Princess. She screamed, not understanding the noises of the fight, even though her father’s arms were enclosed around her. Leopold’s stomach rose to his lungs then plummeted to his knees as the beast whirled on him. His sword was on the floor, far away. He clutched her tighter and she screamed louder. But Leopold looked into the animal’s eyes. He couldn’t believe that it was the same beast he had watched die beside the lake when he was a child.

But it had to be. And the Ancient seemed to know. Its eyes reflected the same human it saw before it had died. The ancient eyes weakened, then gave up. A shudder went through the floor as it dropped back onto its paws. There was no more fighting. The golden bridle slipped over its head, flattening its ears and they stayed there, relaxed. It looked away from the King as though ashamed it had given up so easily. Even when Levi burst in with Estelle, it didn’t look away from the floor.

There was a tense minute of anger from Levi. After the roaring beast had woken all the guards on the same floor, they quickly surrounded the hunters, weapons inches from their faces. Levi was breathing hard in restraint of himself; he had more than half a mind to kill both of them and the beast. Estelle used her binoculars to check on the sky, but there was no black hole. No princess star. They seemed to have eclipsed each other as they had at the lake, as Levi had described to her. The King’s sun had been pulsing in fear, but now it slowed, both he and his daughter unharmed and the beast subdued.

Levi was just hinting strongly to the King that both Sleeve and Starling should be executed, and the hunters were protesting their innocence when Leopold, who hadn’t been listening to any of them, spoke.

“What is it?” He was ready to listen. He pushed through the guards and waved away their weapons with a weak hand. He looked from Sleeve to Starling fiercely. Sleeve let the smarter of them speak.

“Your Brilliance, this is an Ancient we have been tracking for quite some time.” He seemed to think that was sufficient, but the King eyed him sharply. Estelle was taken aback by this crude behavior. Leopold was a sweet man and not all that prepared to be a ruler. Yet know there was command in him.

“Go on!” Every shout was louder.

“W-well it’s quite young, still an infant, sire, even though its been alive for years. It’s an Ancient.” He didn’t know what the King wanted to know. “It’s sort of a water beast.” As if to emphasize this point, the beast’s shimmering fur began dripping, almost weeping. The King looked astonished. “I call it a Kelpie, sire. There are old writings that suggest… Well, they’re not very known. I think Sleeve and me are the only ones to get one.”

“Get one.”

Starling shrank. “Yes, sire.”

“You mean keep one.”

Starling was smart but seized under threat. Sleeve took over more assertively. “Your Brilliance, I don’t know how much you know about Ancients, but when they get pregnant, they’re left behind by the pack. Starling and I take them in. We have a sort of… farm.”

Leopold practically shoved Maria into one of the guards’ arms. The guard handed her off to Estelle, uninterested. Within minutes of the excitement, Maria was asleep again. “You have a farm for pregnant animals?”

“Just Ancients,” Sleeve began as Starling said “They die otherwise.”

Leo waved his hand frantically in Sleeve’s face in the same way he used to get his wife to stop talking and stared at Starling. “They die when they are left by their herd?”

Starling reached into his pocket and, all alert, there were six swords pointed at his neck. He swallowed and slowly produced a thick book, which could only be used as a weapon if thrown very hard. Leopold wondered how such a volume could fit in his little pocket. He ordered the guards to sheathe their swords and took it, curious. Estelle stepped forward, eyes alight. If Starling had information on the Ancients, she wanted it. There was nothing like knowledge of what should be a mystery to excite them both.

Leopold opened it to sketches of Dragons and Kirin and Kelpies, all bordered thickly by scribbled notes. He started to read fast, take it in, then realized what he should be most concerned about. He closed it calmly, though his hands shook badly. “Come down to the dining hall. Bring the Ancient. I want to hear everything that you know.”

“My King,” Levi spoke quietly. “I must protest.”

“Must you?”

“Sire, do you think it is at all wise to keep the animal in the building?” Estelle stepped closer, still eyeing the book. “As curious as I am to know about the beast’s origins and the farm and all the information they’ve gathered, it seems to be fixated on the princess. And given all that has happened tonight, maybe you should be worried about that.”

“Yes,” Leopold faltered, brushing his hand over the leather cover. “I don’t want it here.” He couldn’t guess what it wanted with the princess, other than to swallow her star. But it had eclipsed the black hole, and the hole eclipsed it. He was worried that was some sort of sign of what might happen if they stayed together. But he faltered because he was interested to know everything he could about this Kelpie. He took it in and saw what Levi couldn’t. How intriguing, how regal. Even now, its old eyes were peaceful on Maria as though it had known her all of its life; her constant companion, it would never leave her side. He almost felt a kinship with it. Any protector of Maria had his love.

And two decades ago, he had no daughter to fret over. He knew it shouldn’t be here. But he wished he didn’t know that. He wished he had nothing but his own life to risk. Perhaps he had misjudged the situation.

But then he glimpsed the fangs that curved over its lip and the claws, half-peeking under strange, damp skin, and the open, bleeding gash on Sleeve’s shoulder. The King wasn’t the King. He was a father. He was terrified. When he was beside that lake all those years ago, he had been only fascinated. That was before he had a daughter. Now he feared the Ancient’s obsession with her.

“Yes,” he finally decided. “Call the healer here, Levi. No, Estelle, please stay. I want you to observe Mariana’s star and the Kelpie’s as they depart. Record absolutely everything. Even the uninteresting details. Here, give me Mariana. You two… sorry, I don’t know your names… sit over here and wait for the healer. And keep hold of the Ancient; the Kelpie. Guards, you may go back to your rooms and rest.” He was in command mode. It didn’t often happen. Normally, Leanna held the city down with a forceful hand and Leopold either studied with Estelle or went ‘traveling.’ He was often the peaceful and rational diplomat representing their small country whenever he went to the big cities. And he only went because he was tired of Leanna, not because he was called. He loved his country otherwise.

Not that it mattered now. He was in charge, and he never hated it more.

Leopold bade Estelle perform a star-dampener on him so she could get a better view of the skies without his sun brightening everything. It made him sway, but he was wholly undamaged. He had survived four years of his youth on a constant star-dampener. Every six hours, he had to have it done. He was used to the feeling, though it had been months since he last used it, and only then to leave the country. He left his astronomer to the window and her telescope and approached Starling, who held the golden bridle close to him, the Kelpie lying with its paws under it, eyes half-closed like a sleepy doe. But Leopold could see it still looked at Maria.

“I want to visit this farm,” he said, staring down at the book in his hands, turning it over as though checking to see if it was real. When Starling nodded very stiffly, the King continued, “I won’t arrest you or shut it down. I want to learn about the Ancients.” The healer, who seemed very anxious around the animal, dabbed at Sleeve’s arm and did not look up. But not an unear was unturned to this conversation. “This belongs to you,” Leopold gestured at the book. Even his hand seemed to disagree with his word, since he didn’t offer it back. “But I’d like to make a copy.”

Starling ducked his chin again. “Keep it, my lord. It’s only some of my notes.” He paused. “And I am sorry about your Queen.”

Leopold felt the surgings of guilt, which was then tackled to the ground by hatred. “She died trying to murder my daughter. It was never your fault. But tell me.” He put the book on the bench and sat beside the hunter. “You said it was an infant. Only two or three weeks old. But I’ve met the Kelpie before. By the same lake. Over twenty years ago.”

Sleeve answered him without surprise, completely ignoring the healer who touched him. “Ancients are immortal in a way. I’ve never seen one truly die, but they live a lot longer than we do.”

“I know that much,” Leopold nodded. At her telescope, Estelle was straining for information, both from the eye of her telescope and the ear turned towards her King.

“The old books say that when the Ancients were free and the first people watched them, they moved slow.” Starling mimicked this with his hand, moving one side to side rapidly and the other slowly. “But when they got closer, the Ancients were so fast they couldn’t catch them.”

“What do you think that means?” Leopold was already formulating a theory of his own, as he was wont to do.

“Ancients,” Starling began as if speaking to a classroom now instead of the country’s solitary Sun. “Are no more immortal than you or me. They live on a different time stream. This one,” he jerked the bridle lightly. The Kelpie glanced at him, but didn’t care enough not to look back at Maria. “This one’s young. Just born. But you might’ve seen the same one. Because twenty years ago to you, was probably around the time he was born.” Starling let go of the Ancient, which gave Leopold every anxiety that a parent could experience, and gestured wildly with his hands. “Which means this here’s a baby! We’ve never had a baby before.”

Estelle moved closer, examining the uninterested animal, forgetting her orders as Starling went on, “We estimate each of their weeks is about ten years for us.”

The King’s tired brain was too cluttered now with activity to ask why, if in their perspective the beast escaped twenty years ago, had they only begun looking for it now.

Leopold watched them go. Sleeve and Starling thanked him for not arresting or executing them. Leopold thanked them for trying to save Maria’s life and for the book. The Kelpie, still sedated by the bridle, would occasionally turn its big head and look back at them. The King was still in his nightgown, holding onto his daughter under the beautiful arch in the old temple. Levi stood by him quietly, refusing to leave his side for the remainder of the night. The King wished more than anything at that moment that they could stay, but the guard was all too happy to see the beast go. And he was right to be.

As soon as they got a certain distance away, the black hole appeared explosively and silently, Maria’s tiny light pulled away from it. Somehow, this must have released the star-dampener, because Leopold’s sun burst forth, nearly blinding them. Levi caught the King’s arm as he suddenly collapsed, the darkness reaching into his star again.

Levi made to draw his sword, but didn’t have time. Maria almost tumbled out of Leopold’s arms, only Levi managed to catch her before he hit the ground, supporting the King’s near-dead weight with one hand. As he looked up at the retreating Ancient, he could see it stopped, ignoring the hunters’ efforts to pull it away, then as if confused, shook its head and let the sun go, bringing the King back to life.

“Levi,” the King coughed, asking for Maria with weak arms. “I’m promoting you to captain.” Then he collapsed and the light of his sun went out. But Estelle had seen it all from her telescope and the healer was already on his way.

#mariaandthekelpie kelpie stars space fantasy fiction story chapter4

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dfroza · 4 years ago

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Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for monday, October 26 of 2020 with Proverbs 26 and Psalm 26 accompanied by Psalm 35 for the 35th day of Autumn and Psalm 150 for day 300 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms completing its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 26]

It is totally out of place to promote and honor a fool,

just like it’s out of place to have snow in the summer

and rain at harvest time.

An undeserved curse will be powerless to harm you.

It may flutter over you like a bird,

but it will find no place to land.

Guide a horse with a whip,

direct a donkey with a bridle,

and lead a rebellious fool with a beating on his backside!

Don’t respond to the words of a fool with more foolish words,

or you will become as foolish as he is!

Instead, if you’re asked a silly question,

answer it with words of wisdom

so the fool doesn’t think he’s so clever.

If you choose a fool to represent you,

you’re asking for trouble.

It will be as bad for you as cutting off your own feet!

You can never trust the words of a fool,

just like a crippled man can’t trust his legs to support him.

Give honor to a fool and watch it backfire—

like a stone tied to a slingshot.

The statements of a fool will hurt others

like a thorn bush brandished by a drunk.

Like a reckless archer shooting arrows at random

is the impatient employer

who hires just any fool who comes along—

someone’s going to get hurt!

Fools are famous for repeating their errors,

like dogs are known to return to their vomit.

There’s only one thing worse than a fool,

and that’s the smug, conceited man

always in love with his own opinions.

[Don’t Be Lazy]

The lazy loafer says,

“I can’t go out and look for a job—

there may be a lion out there roaming wild in the streets!”

As a door is hinged to the wall,

so the lazy man keeps turning over, hinged to his bed!

There are some people so lazy

they won’t even work to feed themselves.

A self-righteous person is convinced he’s smarter

than seven wise counselors who tell him the truth.

It’s better to grab a mad dog by its ears

than to meddle and interfere in a quarrel

that’s none of your business.

[Watch Your Words]

The one who is caught lying to his friend

and says, “I didn’t mean it, I was only joking,”

can be compared to a madman

randomly shooting off deadly weapons.

It takes fuel to have a fire—

a fire dies down when you run out of fuel.

So quarrels disappear when the gossip ends.

Add fuel to the fire and the blaze goes on.

So add an argumentative man to the mix

and you’ll keep strife alive.

Gossip is so delicious, and how we love to swallow it!

For slander is easily absorbed into our innermost being.

Smooth talk can hide a corrupt heart

just like a pretty glaze covers a cheap clay pot.

Kind words can be a cover to conceal hatred of others,

for hypocrisy loves to hide behind flattery.

So don’t be drawn in by the hypocrite,

for his gracious speech is a charade,

nothing but a masquerade covering his hatred and evil on parade.

Don’t worry—he can’t keep the mask on for long.

One day his hypocrisy will be exposed before all the world.

Go ahead, set a trap for others—

and then watch as it snaps back on you!

Start a landslide and you’ll be the one who gets crushed.

Hatred is the root of slander

and insecurity the root of flattery.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 26 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 26]

A song of David.

Declare my innocence, O Eternal One!

I have walked blamelessly down this path.

I placed my trust in the Eternal and have yet to stumble.

Put me on trial and examine me, O Eternal One!

Search me through and through—from my deepest longings to every thought that crosses my mind.

Your unfailing love is always before me;

I have journeyed down Your path of truth.

My life is not wasted among liars;

my days are not spent among cheaters.

I despise every crowd intent on evil;

I do not commune with the wicked.

I wash my hands in the fountain of innocence

so that I might join the gathering that surrounds Your altar, O Eternal One.

From my soul, I will join the songs of thanksgiving;

I will sing and proclaim Your wonder and mystery.

Your house, home to Your glory, O Eternal One, radiates its light.

I am fixed on this place and long to be nowhere else.

When Your wrath pursues those who oppose You,

those swift to sin and thirsty for blood,

spare my soul and grant me life.

These men hold deceit in their left hands,

and in their right hands, bribery and lies.

But God, I have walked blamelessly down this path,

and this is my plea for redemption.

This is my cry for Your mercy.

Here I stand secure and confident

before all the people; I will praise the Eternal.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 26 (The Voice)

[Psalm 35]

A song of David.

Make a case against those who struggle with me, Eternal One.

Battle against those who battle against me.

Be my shield and protection;

stand with me and rescue me!

Draw the spear and javelin

to meet my pursuers.

Reassure my soul and say,

“I will deliver you.”

Shame and dishonor those ruthless enemies

who wish to end my life.

Turn back those who conspire against me,

defeated and humiliated!

Let them be separated from the righteous as chaff is separated from the grain,

blown by the wind,

driven far, far away by the Eternal’s messenger.

Make their way unsure and dangerously dark,

a gauntlet of gloom

chased through the darkness by the Eternal’s messenger.

For no reason at all, they set a trap for me—a net, a snare—

then, without cause, they disguised a pit to capture my soul—another cowardly snare.

May they be surprised by their own destruction.

May they become tangled in their own net

and fall into the pit which they, themselves, dug.

When that day comes, my soul will celebrate the Eternal

and be glad in His salvation.

Every fiber of my being will shout,

“Eternal One, there is none like You!

You save the poor

from those who try to overpower them

and rescue the weak and the needy from those who steal from them.”

False witnesses step forward;

they ask me strange questions for which I have no answers.

When I do good to them, they do evil to me,

bringing misery to my soul.

When they were sick,

I mourned for them and wore sackcloth;

I chose to humble myself by fasting.

But my prayers came back unanswered.

So I mourned more deeply as if I grieved for my brother or friend;

I went around bowed down by sorrow, dressed in black,

as if I were weeping for my mother.

But when I stumbled, they gathered together

and celebrated my fall with joy;

People attacked me when I wasn’t expecting it;

they slandered me with no end.

Like godless mockers at a festival,

their words tore at me.

Lord, how long will You do nothing but watch?

Save me from their evil assaults, plots, and plunder;

rescue my life from these hungry beasts, these ruthless lions!

Then I will praise You and thank You at the great gathering,

in the company of the entire congregation.

Do not allow my enemies to boast at my expense,

for they despise me without any cause—

yet they wink at me—malicious, taunting winks.

Their words have no ring of peace.

They plan evil rumors and incriminations

against those who live peacefully in the land.

They speak lying accusations against me;

they say, “Aha! Aha! We know what you’ve been up to.

We’ve seen it with our own eyes!”

You have seen what’s happening, Eternal One; don’t remain silent!

Lord, do not stay far away from me!

Wake up; come to my defense!

Fight for me, my Lord and my God!

Pass Your judgment, Eternal One, my True God;

do it by the standards of Your righteousness.

Do not allow my enemies to boast over me.

Do not allow them to gloat over me,

“Aha, we have won! We got what we wanted!”

Do not allow them to brag,

“We chewed him up and spit him out.”

Shame and confuse those who celebrate my suffering;

may those who exalt themselves above me be covered with shame—

wrapped in a cloak of dishonor!

As for those who desire my vindication,

may they be joyful and glad.

May they forever say,

“The Eternal is indeed great!

He takes pleasure when good things happen to His servant!”

That’s why I will speak of Your righteousness

and sing praises to You all day long.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 35 (The Voice)

[Psalm 150]

Praise the Eternal!

Praise the True God inside His temple.

Praise Him beneath massive skies, under moonlit stars and rising sun.

Praise Him for His powerful acts, redeeming His people.

Praise Him for His greatness that surpasses our time and understanding.

Praise Him with the blast of trumpets high into the heavens,

and praise Him with harps and lyres

and the rhythm of the tambourines skillfully played by those who love and fear the Eternal.

Praise Him with singing and dancing;

praise Him with flutes and strings of all kinds!

Praise Him with crashing cymbals,

loud clashing cymbals!

No one should be left out;

Let every man and every beast—

every creature that has the breath of the Lord—praise the Eternal!

Praise the Eternal!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 150 (The Voice)

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d-a-anderson · 4 years ago

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They told her the mission: “bring the novice Pythian to the city Urduk under armed protection.”

When she met the Pythian, who’d yet to be inducted, the girl wore an alabaster mask to hide her features. She was disallowed from anyone seeing her face. Only the priestesses at Urduk were allowed to remove it, and so it was bound at the back of her head, with a slightly opened mouth just enough so she could drink water.

“She may not eat on the journey,” they said. “It is part of the ritual fast. By the time you arrive, her fast should be complete. Then she’ll be initiated.”

So Surya, the escort, gave the girl an outfit to match her own: a red sash, marking her as an armed Toweg, the desert wanderers; her second scabbard, to back up the color’s threat to passersby, even though it was empty; and a sunbrella. The last was mostly for the girl’s own comfort. Surya’s dune-ram, Chikshuk, was a hardy creature whose species ate desert brambles and scaled tough cliffs, and passed for a beast of burden among the Toweg. Chikshuk was tough, wily among strangers, but as long as Surya was close and kept a firm grip on his bridle, he obeyed nearly every command she gave—only when he caught a scent he didn’t like did that wiliness come out and she had to pull back on his reins. He sniffed the girl a few times before they headed out. The girl didn’t like him and he didn’t like her much either at first; she’d never seen a dune-ram before, had only heard the stories, and he brayed at her after sniffing her in the face, but Surya tugged at him and gave him a sugarcane. With more cooing, and assuring the to-be-initiate that dune-rams were only hostile to people they didn’t know—which was a good thing in the desert, where they’d be crossing the territory of bandits—she managed to get him calm as the girl mounted his saddle.

“What’s your name?” Surya asked the girl. But she just looked down at the ground from behind that polished mask.

“She’s forbidden from telling you; don’t ask,” said the missioner. “Pythians take a new name after their initiation. She shouldn’t be reminded of it during the fast—the fast is not just in food, but in identity.”

Surya sighed. These Pythians, she thought, are so aloof and secretive. The Toweg didn’t trust them, saw them not so much as fortune tellers and oracles than witches and spies. Rumors had it that they didn’t so much see the future as make the future. If you met a Pythian, and they spoke a riddle to you—as they often did, even when unasked—it was said to be a fortune you had to either fulfill or dispel.

Surya didn’t like that. She liked to be in control; she didn’t like being a pawn in someone else’s game. That’s why she rode the deserts with Chikshuk. That nomadic Toweg impulse still lived on in her, and she savored the wide open sandy seas, the infinite sunsets. She tired quickly of luxurious cities and their hotbaths. She preferred a good, cool, cave spring.

But a job’s a job. So she put the girl in the saddle, costumed her to look like herself so bandits had to pick their target if they ever ran into them—of course, the goal was to not to. The girl would have the comfort of the saddle. Surya herself would walk.

They left at dusk, heading west over the open desert. They’d travel until it got too cold, and then she’d build a fire in one of the cliffs so they could warm up, unroll their mats and go to sleep. She wondered why the girl had chosen the Pythians—or why the Pythians chose her, if that was how it worked. And why the mask? It was a nice piece, a good enough treasure on its own. She was better at traversing the deserts alone, Chikshuk her only companion. She could handle him. She could handle bandits. But something about the girl unnerved her. It wasn’t just that this mission’s cargo wasn’t a bauble but a living person, someone aged enough to be a younger sister to her; it wasn’t just that impeccable mask, or the “fast,” or whatever it was the Pythians wanted from her. She was getting paid handsomely this time, more than usual. Sure—that was why she took the contract in the first place. But sometimes a hefty sum implies more about the mission than the requirements themselves. It says: “don’t screw this one up.” And citydwellers, so many of them, are liars. They always have a plan within a plan. She was still Toweg, if only half; she took her lessons from the desert, and the desert was always honest, brutally so.

—

Art Source: Tomas Ducheck - “Envoy”

#daily #writing #prompt #desert #fantasy

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nightmareonfilmstreet · 7 years ago

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Toronto-Based Bloody Mary Festival, Celebrates Female Directors in Horror

New Post has been published on https://nofspodcast.com/toronto-based-bloody-mary-festival-celebrates-female-directors-horror/

Toronto-Based Bloody Mary Festival, Celebrates Female Directors in Horror

Toronto’s BLOODY MARY FILM FESTIVAL, which celebrates female-identifying directors making horror, science-fiction and fantasy genre films in Canada, recently announced the full lineup for their second annual festival. The festival was founded in 2016 by Laura Di Girolamo, Krista Dzialoszynski, Melissa O’Neil and Nadine Brito.

The Bloody Mary Film Festival aims to highlight the achievements of female directors across Canada working in genre films, and to inspire future generations of female genre film fans to make their own work.

Over the course of two nights, the festival will screen shorts and feature-length films, including work by first-time filmmakers, Women of Colour and LGBTQ+ films. New this year, short films will be eligible for the Audience Choice Award sponsored by Dazmo Camera. The winning filmmaker will receive a $5000 donation of camera rentals towards their next project.

The Bloody Mary Film Festival will be held from November 30th – December 1st, 2017 at the Imagine Carlton Cinemas.

Check out the full lineup below!

Blood Hunters (2016) Director: Tricia Lee

When a single mother wakes up in a medical facility filled with bodies, she discovers she is nine months pregnant

Undress Me (2017) Director: Amelia Moses

A socially awkward college freshman begins to experience a mysterious and gruesome physical deterioration after a chance encounter at a frat party.

Love You To Death (2017) Director: Monica Garrido

Chloe is ready to start a new romance with Nat but someone from her past might be rolling over in her grave before this happens.

Tik-Tik (2016) Director: Larica Perera

A young Filipino girl, along with others from her village, attempt to protect a woman and her unborn child from a creature known to feed on newborns. The TIK-TIK is based off of a popular creature in Filipino folklore known as the Aswang.

The King and Queen of Halloween (2014) Directors: Anna Maguire & Stuart Spears

Halloween is a magical time for everyone, old and young alike. But when two teenage boys destroy a strange older man’s meticulous pumpkin display, he decides to play the long game and get his revenge, in the most seasonal way imaginable.

Night Light (2016) Director: Kennedy Bailey-Parker

While at a sleepover, a group of girls accidentally unleash an evil spirit unto the world, The Unabara. Now the girls must team up with a new found friend and put the demon back into it’s prison before its too late.

A Woman on the Telephone: Carol (2017) Director: Erica Genereux Smith

Carol, a receptionist for ‘Infotech Communication Services’ is imprisoned inside a circular desk, answering phones and perpetually reordering light bulbs for the office. When she takes a call from someone looking for the company’s previous receptionist, she begins to realize that she has no memories of a life outside of the office.

Henna (2017) Director: Fami Kaur Biji

We all have our own power struggle within ourselves; sometimes the struggle between darkness and light in the brain is too real. Henna is an experimental short film symbolizing the struggle between darkness and light inside one women’s mind. Using the symbol of Indian Henna, traditionally representing life and light, we explore a deep struggle of darkness and death. One wrong step towards the darkness means we can lose the light forever. When darkness is the only way out, which side will you chose?

Madre De Dios (2015) Director: Gigi Saul Guerrero

A woman wakes up bound to an altar, helpless as she is transformed into a flesh and blood statue of Santa Muerte by two elderly Brujos whose sole purpose is to conjure the anti-Christ into our plane of existence.

The Drop In (2017) Director: Naledi Jackson

Joelle is an entrepreneurial young woman seeking to carve a new life for herself as a hairdresser in Toronto. But her long-buried past catches up to her one quiet evening when Grace, a new client, drops by her salon, giving Joelle a choice she can only respond to by resurrecting skills from her former life.

Berkshire County (2014) Director: Audrey Cummings

Kylie, a bullied teenager, reluctantly agrees to baby-sit in an isolated country mansion on Halloween. When a boy wearing a pig mask knocks on the door, Kylie’s night turns into a horrifying and violent cat-and-mouse game.

The Man in the Rabbit Mask (2017) Director: Ariel Hansen

An innocent sleepover becomes a nightmarish evening when two girls summon a cryptic masked man known as Mr. Rabbity.

Talking Heads (2017) Director: Alyx Melone

A frightening surrealist fable about the lengths a woman will go to be beautiful.

La Peau Sauvage (Wild Skin) (2016) Director: Ariane Louis-Seize

The quiet life of a young and solitary woman is disturbed when she discovers a baby python in her apartment. This mysterious presence unleashes her deepest urges and will let her express for the first time who she truly is.

A Brief History of the Apocalypse (2016) Director: Erica Genereux Smith

A Brief History of the Apocalypse explores the claustrophobic friendship between two young women on the verge of adulthood. Paralyzed by anxiety, Amy has shut herself indoors and begun relying on her roommate, Corey, to fulfill her emotional and practical needs. Corey, who bridles at the prospect of confinement, is obliging but openly resentful. Their battle of wills comes to a head when a torrential storm traps them both inside together, forcing them to contend with their own worst fears.

Sea Monster (2017) Directors: Kassandra Tomczyk & Daniel Rocque

Cooped up in a seaside motel, a young woman’s monstrous pain has been too much to digest, lurking in the depths of her subconscious until now… Emotional and physical trauma is transmuted into empowerment through a series of surreal and bizarre episodes.

Atlas World (2017) Director: Morgana McKenzie

A malignant spirit forces a girl into a perilous journey through a watery underworld.

The Sleepwalker (2017) Director: Anna Cooley

Lily must defeat the demons that lurk in her nightmares if she is to save herself and the woman she loves.

Bestia (2017) Director: Gigi Saul Guerrero

A man wakes up on a desolate lake, and unbeknownst to him, a beast lurks within.

The Bloody Mary Film Festival runs from Thursday, November 30 – Friday, December 1 at the Carlton Cinema. For more schedule and details, head to the festival’s website

#bloody mary #bloody mary film festival #female director #female directors #film festival #horror #women in horror

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the-worst-mercenaries · 8 years ago

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A Battle of Wills

Sokhatai Mol clearly lived for these moments: the heavy shadows that seemed to cling to her were absent, the scheming on her face replaced with a clean expression of contentment as the chocobo in front of her kweh'd and wark'd under her tender care. It seemed she was grooming him, checking feathers and talons after a walk and some exercise the two clearly needed.

It had been a long fornight for the elezen hunter. The majority of his waking hours having been spent in deep research, many of which came at the expense of proper rest. This was the way of things, however, when it came to the prey that he chose to stalk. Preparation was tantamount to survival and success. There was more knowledge than that which could be garnered from a tome or studied individual and he placed great value upon it. It was this very same form of knowledge that had led him to inquire with Odile regarding the whereabouts of Sokhatai and setting out immediately to meet with the woman. His journey did not take long, Odile's directions having been precise and effective. Valeriaux Marquaile (( @autochthonousone )) did not immediately approach the auri woman. Not after bearing witness to the vastly different mood that she seemed to be harbor to on this day. He simply pressed his lips together and observed quietly. There was a part of the man that wanted to allow the woman her moment of peace.

Sokhatai Mol may have been oblivious, but the bull chocobo that was overjoyed at her solo attentions was not. He was looking up, eyes trained on the elezen as he approached with feathers fluffed to give him a bigger, more bulky appearance. Sokha for her part was still unaware, looking up at the taller bird and tugging at his halter a bit to reclaim his attention. Probably just an antling wandering too close, and she tried to soothe him with a few gentle words in her native Steppe speech.

Valeriaux Marquaile remained silent for several moments longer, even as the bull chocobo fluffed up and postured in a stand of defiance. The man listened quietly to the unfamiliar tongue before he decided that it was time for him to announce his presence, much as he was sure that it would ruin the woman's calm. "Fair day to thee, Lady Sokhatai." He greeted her in a polite and smooth tone, beginning to make his way toward the woman; one step at a time.

Sokhatai Mol let go of the bridle, turning to look over her shoulder with an instantly more soured expression at the voice. Her face darkened, and the weight around her returned like a physical force slamming down around her. "You cannot even let me have an afternoon? I haven't set any fires recently, I haven't even spoken to anyone. What could I have possibly done now that you seek me out?" The chocobo shifted from foot to foot, sensing the woman's shift and mood and seemingly absorbing it.

Valeriaux Marquaile 's expression immediately narrowed, however slightly, at the arrival of the weight that he was accustomed to feeling around the shaman. He did not both putting on a false smile for the woman, though he made certain that his expression was controlled and reserved. "I am not here to chastise thee for aught, Lady Sokhatai." He shook his head slowly, taking a few steps forward, "I am here for naught more than to speak with you."

Sokhatai Mol: "Funny, because that seems to be all you do when we are in the same shared space together." Sokha hissed back at him, taking matching steps away as he neared her. To her credit she had her hand back up on the chocobo's bridle, controlling his head to keep the beast atleast somewhat in check. Birds growled, especially bulls of her current companion's size, and he was making a low rumbling threat as he sensed Sokha's growing displeasure. "If you want to speak, do so. All the sooner to be done."

Valeriaux Marquaile turned his gaze toward the chocobo, his severe eyes squaring upon the cloudkin's with an unwavering intensity before looking back to Sokhatai. A slow breath filtered its way through his body and his head shook in a subtle motion, "So it is, Lady Sokhatai, but there is an express purpose for all that I do. There no pleasure to be had of mine from all that is occuring."

Sokhatai Mol continued to watch him, her face hard and suspicious of him even as she tried to guess at his whole purpose of being there. "You had me fooled," she spat back, turning to look back at the bird and stroking his neck. When in doubt, if you pretended it wasn't there maybe it would go away. "What's your purpose then this sun?"

Valeriaux Marquaile shakes his head slowly, "Thy history amongst the Mol, Lady Sokhatai." He pressed his lips together into a thin line and made his way to the ledge, eyes cast out over the placid body of water, "Thy lineage amongst their kind is ... improbable. Yet, by some stroke of luck, thy ... ancestor ... finds a descendent in thee. Does that not bring questions to thy mind? Clear lines of heredity seem as important to the Mol as water itself."

"I told you, nearly all of us share one ancestor or other by way of Dotharl. They scattered their seeds far and wide." Sokha was scowling at him, before she turned back to the bird and pushed him off to graze some distance away. She wanted to give the man her full attention and she couldn't do so if she was policing Qadai. "They used some ritual to determine my lineage, if you must know. It wasn't random guessing."

Valeriaux Marquaile folded his arms over his chest, eyes remaining firmly out upon the still waters before him. The man's expression, while difficult to see from Sokhatai's position, was a severely sharp one. A deep breath filling his lungs, "By way of the Dotharl..." he repeated quietly, "Is such is a true as you say, Lady Sokhatai, would not nearly any denizen of Steppes be eligible to be given such a ... privelige?"

"No one else rode into their camp, bloody, naked and dying." Sokha grumbled back, folding her arms as she carefully watched the man. "And had I not been connected to a familial line thought long dead, I would have been cast out all the same. Your conspiracies speak of your own lack of knowing, and how could you?"

Valeriaux Marquaile lifted his brow slightly, "Mine lack of knowing?" he repeated her words as a question, though his gaze never seemed to stray away from the waters, "And why is it thy source is proven to be of greater accuracy? How many summers had come and gone before thou found your way into their camp?"

"Because I lived it, every bleeding bell while I waited for the elders' decision. The White shamans wouldn't even look at me, because I wasn't a named Mol. Not yet, and they urged the others to send me back out into the plains to die." Sokha frowned, biting back her words as she considered her next scathing commentary. She did not like to share, the look on her face almost akin to pulling her scales out one by one, but maybe if he understood the breadth of it he'd leave her alone her magic and the dead voices in her head.

Valeriaux Marquaile remained silent for time after she provided her answer, his expression still and unreactive. His fingers drummed along the sides of his arms, likely due his mind being deep in thought. When further words did come they came in a cool, calm voice. "Thou takes it on faith, you mean. Merely believed that which they had to say without any proof of thy own." He lifted one hand away from the opposite arm, holding it out toward the water with the palm upturned, "The White Shaman say that thou has has blood of the Mol. So it must be." His voice was laced with skepticism.

"It wasn't the White," Sokha corrected, words as sharp and bitter as broken glass. "They made it clear I was beneath them. A stray that wandered in too stupid to know I was dead and refusing to accept it. It was the Black that took me in, used my blood to find some way to take me in when I would have been refused. When they found my bloodline, my ancestor that had been thought lost to the ancestral pool they all draw from, I was healed, I was fed. I found a new place."

Valeriaux Marquaile turns his gaze back toward Sokhatai, arms falling back toward the auri woman as his sharp gaze held onto her with a steady intensity, "Yet thou still was provided no proof. Thou merely takes the word of these Black Shaman as truth when reason to believe such has not been provided."

"What proof would you need? I have nothing. I came to Eorzea with nothing but my horse. Some things must simply be taken on faith, because I cannot give you what you seem to so desperately crave," Sokha murmured almost petulantly.

"Were I to surrender mine body to a foreign spirit the likes of which I know naught ... " he paused for a moment, merely referring to the 'creature' as a spirit seemed distasteful to him before he did so anyway, "... immeasurable." He began to move towards the woman again, "What are thy thoughts on children, Lady Sokhatai?" He asked, a subtle tilt to his head.

"Grandmother did not have to share her knowledge, her strength. If sharing my body was the price to be paid, I knew that before I was made a full shaman. And she has more than held up her bargain. Several times over infact." Sokha's mouth pressed into a line, not much liking the current line of questioning and fighting to regain some of her hardwon control even as her anger threatened to ignite. "And I do not wish... I do not wish to raise a child alone. Without a partner or my tribe to aid me."

Valeriaux Marquaile nodded his head slowly, lips pressing firmly together as he considered her words, "A reasonable stance to take, Lady Sokhatai. However, it is choice that is not being left to thee to make." He kept his gaze firmly upon the au ra, as he delivered the words as though they were unwelcome news.

Sokhatai Mol staggered on her feet a moment, Qadai behind her making a startled noise at the sudden palpable shift in the air before the smaller woman lunged forward. She tried to grab fistfuls of his coat, jerking for emphasis as she glared up at him with bright, dangerous eyes. "It is not your place to interfere, yet I find you at every turn meddling. Is that how you became so scarred, so ugly? Sticking that foul nose in places it does not belong?"

Valeriaux Marquaile knew precisely what the movements foretold and he braced himself adequately. At least enough to keep himself steady upon his feet when she latched onto his robes. The was a subtle shift into Valeriaux's eyes upon the arrival of the 'ancestral spirit'; predatory. "Yes. It is, Shadow." He answered with steel in his voice, "For it is thou that does not belong. ot here. Not in Lady Sokhatai. Not upon this plane."

"But that is where you are wrong, you hideous child. She made her bargain, she accepted me into herself. And one way or another I intend to collect." The woman tightened her grip on his robes, jerking again for emphasis though she was limited in what she could do. Sokha wasn't strong, and unless she was willing to risk a fight with the man she could not raise her aether. "I do not intend to go back to that sullen place, and no hunter will chase me out. I will see you burn first. And anyone else that means to try."

Valeriaux Marquaile didn't seem to react to the veritable lashing that he was given from 'Bayarma', least of which was a direct threat upon his life. There was an element of the man that wished for nothing more than to strike now and put this creature down now and be done with it. When he finally replied he did so in a quiet but deadly tone, "Many of thy ilk have said the same to me, Shadow." He moved his hands to grip around her wrists and pull her hands free of his robes before letting go. "Where do thou believe them to be now?"

"Where all fools go," The woman spat back, the words nearly catching fire as she glared at him. She resisted his hands on her wrist, trying and failing to hold fast as he pried her fists free. "But I will not be among your prey. I have lived more lives than you can count, seen the world through many, many sets of eyes. Do you think your filthy, minute existance will be enough to weather the storm if you continue to interfere with me and the one who gave herself over to me?"

"As surely as thou believes thyself to be the exception." He answered with cool derision, "Whether thy host is willing or captive means naught to me, Shadow. Thy days in this realm are numbered." It was with this statement that Valeriaux began to move away from Sokhatai and back to the road.

Sokhatai Mol glared after him, willing the insufferable man to be struck dead by the sheer rage and violence behind her eyes. She was scowling, watching him go before turning herself to the water. "Try again to tell her of these little talks we have," she called out, goading him. "I am always listening, always watching. I will not warn you again. Say one word I do not care to hear, and I swear my retribution will be swift. If I must make her run again, so be it. But I will not endure your interference."

Valeriaux Marquaile paused in his step for but a moment, becoming entirely still and gazing out into what appeared to be nothing. After this moment of stillness he slowly glanced over his shoulder toward the au ra gazing out over the waters. He simply stared in silence for near a minute before looking away once more and making his way up the trail, saying not another word. There was work to be done.

#Sokhatai Mol #Valeriaux Marquaile #A Battle of Wills #IC #RP #roleplay #FFXIV #Final Fantasy XIV #Balmung

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