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nanagoswife · 4 years ago

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Please, Don't Go. - Chapter 11

Summary: There's a few moments that Obi-Wan and reader go through with some serious conversations in between.

W/C: 2.5k

Warnings: angst, implied intimacy

- - -

You were pacing nervously. The last you heard was that Qui-Gon was being pursued and Obi-Wan had sprung into action. You knew the ship had lifted off, but you weren’t sure if your other Jedi protector was alright.

So, you were in the usual meeting spot you had with Obi-Wan. You weren’t sure he’d be able to get down here, but you went there all the same. If he wasn’t able to come, then you had some time to think. You would have time to ease your worry.

When you heard the door slide open, you were faced the other way and you paused mid-pace. Turning, you were met by a sight you weren’t expecting. Beside Obi-Wan stood a young boy.

“Anakin, meet Princess Y/N Y/L/N,” Obi-Wan said as he guided the boy further into the room.

“Oh please,” you say before kneeling in front of the boy, “you can call me Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you Anakin.” You reached your hand out and he happily took it and shook it.

The smile on his face was large and bright. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he replied with a bubbly sounding tone.

Without much warning, he hugged you. You didn’t hesitate hugging him back. Whatever it was, you were drawn to this boy. What it was? You couldn’t say.

When Anakin pulled away he smiled, “I like you. You feel welcoming. It’s a nice change from everyone at home.”

“I’m glad you like me because I like you too,” you reply with a boop to his nose with a finger. He giggled and squirmed in the spot he stood as you wiggled your finger against his nose.

As Obi-Wan watched, his heart warmed. He wasn’t surprised you were good with children, but it was different to actually see it. One day, you would be an amazing mother. The thought darkened. If you stayed with him, you wouldn’t have that opportunity. Not unless he wanted to go against The Order even more than he already has.

He snapped back to the moment when he noticed that both you and Anakin were looking up at him. You wore a concerned expression as you clearly saw his smile fade. The look in your eyes told him you wanted to talk. Whether it was because you started having second thoughts before or it was because of seeing him, he knew you just needed to talk.

Clearing his throat, he finally spoke, “Anakin, go find Qui-Gon. If he’s in the cockpit, you should convince him to let you learn how to pilot the ship.”

“Okay!” Anakin’s face immediately brightened as he could hardly contain himself when he practically ran out the door. Obi-Wan closed it behind the boy, leaving you two in privacy once again.

“Is Qui-Gon alright? Are you alright?” you immediately questioned. Your initial worry was the Jedi Knight, but now you were worried about Obi-Wan. What could’ve happened that dropped his smile that quickly.

“Qui-Gon is fine. There is something that we discovered, but I can’t speak of it until we’re sure,” he replied. His voice was low, meaning that he was thinking of a lot more than that.

Taking the few steps, you took away the distance that was between the two of you. You needed to feel his arms around you.

He returned your embrace, but it wasn’t the same. He seemed distant, like he was second guessing what the two of you have. Please, Maker, don’t let it be that Obi-Wan was thinking of ending it.

When you pulled away, you dropped your arms from him and crossed them in front of you, almost like you would when you were sad and trying to gain comfort from yourself, while taking a step back. It pained Obi-Wan to see you distance yourself because of him. He wanted so badly to pull you into him so he could comfort you, but you clearly caught him in his thoughts.

You were the first to break the tense silence, “You want to end it. Don’t you,” you say in a pained whisper as you look at the ground. If he was going to say yes, you couldn’t bear looking into his eyes when he did. You didn’t want to see the sureness he would have in them.

Only, Obi-Wan was taken aback. He never thought that you would think that. His eyes went wide and took a small step towards you, but you only stepped back. You still weren’t looking up, so you couldn’t see his true feelings.

“Of course I’m not, dearest,” he said, reaching his hand out. He was asking silent permission to take your hand in his.

When you didn’t take it, his heart sunk a little.

“Y/N, please, at least look at me,” he pleaded. He wanted you to know he wasn’t leaving you due to the thoughts he actually had often. He did, however, want you to look in his eyes when he finally voiced these worries. Obi-Wan wanted you to know that you weren’t that he was upset, but that he was upset at himself; that he was upset that he may never be able to fulfill all of the usual things couples do.

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to his. It had taken a few moments, but you did. Obi-Wan’s heart shattered when he saw tears in your eyes. It was far from the first time, but it was the first time that he was the cause of them.

“I’m not ending it,” he started, softly. He wanted you to see just how serious he was. “You aren’t the cause of my worries. It’s myself that I’m disappointed in.”

That had gotten your attention, changing your sad countenance to one of confusion, “What do you mean,” you said shakily.

“When you saw my smile drop, it wasn’t because I was planning to leave you. You were so good with Anakin and I started thinking about how I can never make something like a family happen for you. Kriff! I can’t even properly marry you if we wanted to!” His voice began to grow louder as he expressed more and more frustration with himself.

Immense relief filled you as you realized exactly what he meant. If the two of you made it through everything, he would never be able to provide for you. Not the way he would like to. Not without breaking The Code or leaving the Jedi.

Stepping up to him, you cut him off as he was still rambling about it all by placing a hand on his cheek. You offered a sad smile, showing him that you already had thought about it.

“It’s alright, Obi. That was something that I’ve already come to terms with.”

He tried to offer at least a smirk, but he couldn’t. He hated the fact that you accepted it already. You deserved so much more. You deserved a family. You deserved a husband that you could actually love openly.

You painfully could see what was running through his mind. When he went to open his mouth to speak it, you instead kept him from voicing it and pressed your lips to his. It took him by surprise, but he kissed you back.

“I know you think I deserve more,” you say when the two of you separate, resting your foreheads together. “But I don’t want it if it means I don’t have you. Even if I never have a true family, we’re enough. You are more than enough.”

Obi-Wan almost broke right there. He almost let himself go and crumble in your arms. He almost said that he was going to give everything up for you, but you wouldn’t have that. You wanted him to stay a Jedi because you knew he loved it. You didn’t want him to change who he was just to be with you.

At the thought of just how much you thought about his future as he did yours, it was the final push.

Tears built up in his eyes and he fell into your arms. Gently, you guided him down to the floor as his face was pushing into your chest, nose pressed into your sternum. You guided him so that you were both on your knees, until Obi-Wan instead rested on a hip as he wrapped his arms around you.

Resorting to your usual method of comfort, you started to stroke the hair on the side of his head, starting just above his ear and trailing down to the nape of his neck. Your other hand gently rubbed his back. You could feel the material of your gown grow wet with Obi-Wan’s tears, but you couldn’t care. All you cared about is that he was finally letting it all out.

This was why you loved Obi-Wan so much. He not only had the ability to constantly comfort you, but he trusted you enough that he let his normally composed stature drop, allowing you to return the favour.

When he began to calm, you retrieved a handkerchief from a hidden pocket in the gown. After he pulled away, you used it to wipe his cheeks dry and handed it to him to take care of any other needs.

“Thank you.”

“I love you, Obi-Wan. That’s all that matters. I don’t need everything else if it means that I have you,” you replied, bringing a hand to cup his jaw.

Smiling, he moved his head to kiss your palm.

The day on Coruscant was a lonely one. Instead of joining Padmé in all of her diplomatic ventures, you stayed in your temporary apartment. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had taken Anakin a few hours ago, not long before the Queen of Naboo joined Senator Palpatine to address the rest of the Senate about their planet’s issue with the Trade Federation.

The time with Anakin had been amazing. Despite what he had been through as a slave, he was quite a happy boy. He was excited about every little detail of the planet as you looked out the window and pointed things out to him.

Now, though, you were alone. You were passing the time by reading a holo book before you heard a knock at the door. A little too quickly, you got up to answer it.

After pressing the button, the door slid open to reveal Obi-Wan. He quickly looked around the room, surveying for anyone else, before suddenly enveloping your lips in his. There was an eagerness behind it that the two of you hadn’t been able to act on in almost a week.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “My, my, the padawan is eager.”

“Only because this is the only night we have on this planet. Alone, if I might add,” he said between kisses, slowly removing the outer layer of your dress. You couldn’t help but move your hand to undo his belt so that you could remove his robes and tunic.

“What about-”

“I’ll tell you later,” you quickly said, cutting you off. Letting out another giggle, Obi-Wan lifted you and carried you to the bedroom.

You were tracing circles on his chest as his breathing was starting to even out again. The layer of sweat made the feeling of his skin the best thing you ever felt.

Obi-Wan was relishing in the feeling of your hair pressing against his chest and shoulder. Looking down at you in the soft light of the lamp, he brushed a strand behind your ear. Your eyes sparkled in the beautiful way that he knew was only for him.

“Are you going to finally tell me what happened?” you asked before pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

You pressed a few more, each one making their way up his neck.

Suddenly, he flipped you to your back, which earned a squeal from you, and he hung over you, letting out a chuckle before saying, “Not if you keep doing that. I’m afraid I would tell you something slightly different. Again.”

Giggling, you pulled him down from his position on his elbows so that you could kiss him.

“Okay,” you said with a chuckle as his lips moved back from yours, “I’ll be serious now.”

“About which part, darling?” He said in a teasing tone as he looked down at you with raised eyebrows.

Although he knew you thought that you looked like a mess, he thought that you were utterly beautiful.

“Who said that it only had to be about one,” you quipped back. Obi-Wan practically growled as he dove his lips back to yours.

This time, you let Obi-Wan have some time before imploring him to tell you what happened. You wanted to know if Anakin would be trained as a Jedi like he had been promised.

“Unfortunately, my prediction was correct. The council said he was too old.”

“But,” you said. You knew there was more. There was no way that his master would take no for an answer. Not when Obi-Wan had told you how much Qui-Gon studied the prophecies.

Obi-Wan chuckled, “But, my master is adamant about the boy being trained. He said that he would train him, which took me by surprise before saying I was ready for the trials.” He sighed, “I tried to step in to defend his decision, but I’m afraid I had spoken out of turn. Then, they let us leave without giving a straight answer. I know Qui-Gon will train the boy with or without the council’s permission.”

“Poor Anakin. He’s such a sweet one,” you said. Obi-Wan hummed in agreement. He had only known the boy a couple of days, but he liked the boy. Clearly, you did as well.

“I just hope they will change their minds. We don’t want anyone with that kind of signature in the force to fall onto the wrong path.”

You looked up at Obi-Wan from your place on his chest. He was staring at the ceiling, no doubt deep in thought. Lightly, you played with his padawan braid. It had been something that he’d let you do more and more as days went on.

“I’m sure, whatever way it is, Anakin will be properly trained. He deserves it,” you say before attempting to stifle a yawn.

Obi-Wan’s attention was brought back down to you, stifling his own yawn. He encouraged you to sleep as he drew patterns on your back. You were partially on top of him, and he loved it. It allowed him to feel your heartbeat not far from his.

His attention was fully on you as he watched as you drifted off. Only when he was sure you were asleep did he allow his own eyes to close. He focused on the feeling of your skin pressed to his as he let sleep overtake him.

- - -

@stardancerluv @where-fantasy-meets-reality @mackycat11 @generousrunawaydonut @jaydenwoo @madmax2003

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lyricalimerence · 5 years ago

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No Matter The Season - JJ Maybank

a/n: so this is based off the song no matter the season by sara kays, it's an incredible song you should listen to it. this is my first time writing on tumblr so i hope it's okay and y'all like it!

word count: 1879

warnings: little angsty, some fluff, lots of hating on yourself, lack of body confidence

summary: you're insecure and jj lectures you because YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. all of you are beautiful and i know that it's just my word against what you think about yourself, but know that i think you're beautiful so don't beat yourself up or give up on yourself bbys. you're perfect.

i got my long sleeves on. baggy and way too long

The world was spinning on its axis, the sun rose in the east and set in the west, the tides pushed against the shores before being pulled out again. Everything was normal. It was just another day on the boat with the Pogues. Swimming, fishing, drinking cheap beers left over at The Wreck that Kiara’s dad so graciously donated to his daughter’s friend group. It was just another day. But as you stood in the mirror in the bikini Kie coerced you into buying when you two went to the mall as a girls’ weekend, you couldn’t help but notice everything you deemed was a flaw. Every little mark and every curve that was on you but not on Kie or Sarah.

Practically hearing the Pogues start to get antsy for you to hurry up, you reach into your closet and pull out your only warm clothes that were normally preserved for December and January. You let out a shaky breath and held up the hoodie to your torso, itching to just cover up all the insecurities that you have. Throwing the sweatshirt back onto your bedspread, you hold the pair of JJ’s sweatpants that he let you borrow but you’ve never returned, to your waist, remembering how safe you feel when they cinch in your waist and fall down past your ankles.

Dropping the pants to the laminate flooring underneath you, you hug your waist, as you suck in your stomach, feeling a manipulative dosage of serotonin surge through your brain when your arms follow your stomach into your ribcage and your stomach looks thinner in the mirror.

nobody has questions in december, but five months later, all i hear is:

Before you can pull the hoodie and sweatpants on to erase how you truly feel, a quick knock followed by the squeak of your bedroom door hinges rings out, revealing your blond haired boyfriend in your doorway.

A smile etched its way across JJ’s face as he looked you up and down. Scanning every inch of your body, he soaked in your features and how perfect you looked in that bikini, “Damn, Y/N! You ready?”

You clear your throat and retreat into the skin you hate so much, “Yeah, gimme a minute?” JJ nods and respects your request, walking out of your room and closing the door, but leaving it open ajar. You grab the hoodie and sweatpants, turning to see the connecting bathroom, it looks so tempting to just try to make yourself throw up, but you know JJ will hear, and you can’t bear to disappoint him. He just likes you so much.

You pull the sweats on, covering every bit of skin besides the sandals that cover your feet, your fingers that barely stick out of the oversized hoodie, and your face that is on full display as your ponytail pulls your hair back. You slip out of the bedroom quietly, hoping that JJ was already back in the boat, but there he was, his goofy, fun-loving smile playing at his lips while he hears the door creak.

aren’t you warm?

“Y/N?” JJ asks when he sees your oversized clothes, his smiling dropping into a look of concern, “You know it’s August, right? It’s, like, hotter than Hell.”

“Yeah, I just got a chill or something. Might not swim today.” JJ cast one last glance of uncertainty before throwing his arm over your shoulder and walking out of the back door towards the boat with you, bumping your hips together as you walked.

aren’t you sweating up a storm?

Kie jumped up when she saw your and JJ’s shadow from behind the back screen door, excited to see you in your new suit because she’s wearing hers too. Her expression drops when she sees your sweater paws and your sweatpants. “Y/N? Aren’t you warm?”

“I’m freezing, guess I’m comin’ down with something,” you say, your voice becoming raspy as you look at the ground, feeling too self conscious at the idea of just being there, in a bikini, when Kiara and Sarah look that effortlessly good in theirs. You and JJ hop onto the HMS Pogue, settling into a comfortable position at the stern of the boat as John B pulls the boat away from the dock and across the marsh.

JJ leans his head slightly to rest his face in the crook of your neck as he starts to whisper sweet words to you about how gorgeous you look, whether you’re in a skimpy bikini or a fully covered in his sweats or in the dresses Kie lets you borrow when she drags you to the Midsummers parties so she isn’t alone.

are you aware that it’s hotter than hell out here?

You smile slightly as you prop your elbow up against your knee and rest your head in the palm of your hand. Sarah had veged out across one of the seats in the boat and is now fanning herself as sweat starts to collect at her hairline. “Phew, Y/N, aren’t you sweating up a storm?”

“I’m doing okay, actually,” you say, the drops of sweat forming a patch on the back of your hoodie. However, you can’t help but revel in how good it feels to cover up and not to worry about how you look.

Pope drops the anchor into the marsh as Kie, Sarah, John B, and JJ pull off their shirts to get to their swimsuits. They dive into the marsh as you lean over and rest your head on the edge of the boat. JJ stops just before he could follow Pope into the water. “You’re really not coming?”

maybe i would dress for the weather if i would feel better, but i have to tell them all i’m freezing

The sweat forming around your hairline and underneath your arms and on your back starts to accelerate as you become overwhelmed with another lie. You mumble under your breath as the fragment of your friend group swims farther away from the boat, “I would dress for the weather if I felt better, but I don’t.”

“What?” JJ asks, following your eyes with his, managing to secure eye contact with you despite your fidgeting glances. Fixing your gaze on the floor of the boat, you swallow and shake your head, refusing to repeat what you said, not wanting to have said it in the first place. “Feel better about what, Y/N?”

You look up at your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who would flirt with Kie before you two got together, calling her hot and gorgeous. Sure, JJ says the same about you, but he called her hot first and she made it clear that her door was closed. Crossing your arms over your chest defensively, you stand up, digging your toe into the rough vinyl you stood on out of nervous habit. As you straighten up, you suck in your stomach, almost involuntarily. “Look at me, J!”

“I’m looking!” JJ yells, his exasperation rolling off his tongue in the same way as sweat rolls down your back. “And I think you look beautiful, you’re perfect, so if this is about how you look, I don’t understand!”

“I don’t understand either!” You shout back, immediately biting your lower lip as you analyze what you just said. JJ’s expression contorts, his look of concern and confusion falling into one of realization and anger. He reaches out to you, grabbing the cuff of your hoodie and drawing you into him. He shifts his arms once or twice around your body, trying to avoid the places where you sweated through the fabric, but in the end he didn’t care about it.

“You don’t think you’re beautiful?” JJ asks softly, the volume showing an air of compassion and love, but his tone showing his anger at you for thinking of yourself that way. “You are.”

“You can’t just tell me I’m beautiful and expect me to believe it.” You retort, your eyebrows furrowing as you grasp your bottom lip with your teeth even harder, drawing blood in an attempt to halt your lips from quivering.

“Why don’t you believe it?” JJ inquires, his tone softening to concern instead of anger as he pulls you into a seat next to him.

“You have eyes--”

“Yes, I do.”

“I don’t look like Kiara and Sarah do, and they’re actually beautiful.” You say, your voice dropping to a whisper as JJ watches your every move, overanalyzing every little twitch your lip makes to avoid your eyes from spilling over and every time you subconsciously tug at the hem of your sweatshirt, making sure your tummy stays completely covered.

“Obviously you don’t look like them. They have different DNA, silly.” JJ says, attempting to get a laugh or even a giggle out of you, but you don’t budge. Your arms crossing over you tighter, whatever you can do to encase yourself in armor. “Y/N, just because you don’t look like someone who is beautiful doesn’t mean it takes away from your own beauty.”

“I know that.” You mumble as JJ reaches out to push the cuffs of your sleeves up to your elbows.

“You need to believe it. It’s like evolution. It is factual.” JJ insists, tracing images onto your wrists and twisting the bracelets that wrap around your wrist into different shapes. “Your hands help so many people when they’ve fallen and your arms have pulled up the anchor so many times.”

JJ motions for you to take your hoodie off, to which you begrudgingly oblige, immediately wrapping your arms around your torso in a hug as you do so. “Your stomach has eaten so many of my molding PB&J’s without complaint, and your abs have beaten Pope in a push-up contest.”

“My stomach complained, you just weren’t there for that part.” You say with a smile as you tease JJ, his hand coming to clutch his heart in fake pain. You laugh at his antics, only for him to pump his fist into the air in triumph for your laugh.

You shimmy off your sweatpants, showing your tanned legs. You curl into an upright fetal position, trying to hide your thighs and your stomach in one fell swoop. JJ lifts his hands to bring your knees in to lean against his stomach so he can draw circles around your kneecaps. “Your legs have taken you on so many fun adventures.”

Intertwining his fingers with yours, JJ pulls you up to a standing position, holding you an arms length away by your shoulders as you squirm, very aware a passing fisherman could see you. “And your body has danced at so many parties with me and swam to find great treasures in sunken boats.”

“Y/N, you are perfect. You’ve always been perfect.”

“You can’t expect me to--”

“You’re right, I can’t expect you to believe anything I’m saying because the only opinion that matters is your own. But, you are perfect to me and to the rest of the Pogues, and it is okay for you to be insecure about things. But, never, never ever, put yourself down because that shit hurts me too.”

no matter the season.

#jj maybank x reader #jj #obx #outer banks #jj maybank #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagine #jj maybank fic #outer banks fic

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jcmoneydick · 4 years ago

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TharnType SS2 Episode 7

*sigh of relief* Thankfully, that wasn’t a marriage proposal. I’m really happy Tharn took the time to show Type some loving. The romantic staycation seems to be exactly what they both needed. Type is being so shy about it after 7 years! They’re so cute!

Also, is that rooftop’s floor marble? The Kiriguns really got dough.

THAT’S NOT HOW FRIENDS SLEEP. I don’t know what lies MewGulf and MaxTul have been telling you Fiat, but you don’t snuggle up to anyone like that and not catch feelings. How can he possibly think that doing this with Leo and chasing Type at the same time is okay? And now Fiat is stalking Tharn’s instagram… I told yall, Lhong is Kengkla is Fiat.

So, what’s going on with Cir? Is he kinda noncommittal? I don’t think Cir should have anything to worry about, so I’m confused as to why this conversation with Tharn happened. The scene would’ve been just fine without it. I can only assume they are setting up for a sequel/spinoff for CirGun, or they are gonna have a really big role in later episodes.

They are playing Uno wrong. Even if they are cheating, they are cheating wrong. There was no finesse in this game. No flavor. It’s like they’re playing to please No (which is prolly true) and mid-way Type was like “I wanna win”. Also, why is Techno calling Type “Daddy”? Again. Did he hear something again? Pro tip: if you cannot shuffle the whole deck of Uno cards, don’t be the dealer.

I was today years old, after 7 weeks, that I learned Type’s boss’ name: Thiti. Yes, Type punch him. You can do it. I will support you.

I despise work gossip. As someone who used to be in Type’s shoes, I really feel his pain. It’s hard to deal with people who don’t know what they’re talking about and don’t care to learn the details. I know Dr. Khunpol means well. I don’t think he’s going about it the right ways. I fear Type will punch him too.

Tharn and Type wouldn’t fight nearly as much as they do if they both knew how to talk about their feelings. Like, Type, just tell Tharn you’re jealous of Gil. Like just talk. Please. I’m sick of it. He’s not laughing and joking all day. He is literally a music producer. Gil is pretty much his management.

Alas, Klui is good for something besides eavesdropping. His house is a mess though. He so busy in other people’s business, he can’t clean his house.

Seo’s back! Standing at Klui’s door like a reset sim… Seo is crying. Seo didn’t debut… The mascara trails. The broken Korean… the tissues... Poor Seo...

Let’s be honest, Type deciding listening to Seo cry is less of an annoyance than being around Tharn is a mood. (unrelated note, whatever highlighter the makeup team has been putting on Type’s cheekbones is *chef’s kiss*)

Not Fiat texting Type about his job mid break down.

Another thing I don’t understand. Instead of telling Type to quit and “let me take care of you”, why don’t you say “quit and let’s find you something new”? It takes away the “dependency” Type doesn’t want. I am so good at taking apart Type’s character. I knew since ep 1 that the boy named “T” didn’t wanna be gossiped about again. I feel so bad for Type. All that said, look at Type’s face. Tharn is his safe haven. And Tharn called him “my little Type.” Like his parents. I’m so soft right now.

Tharn, how does one conveniently forget to tell their significant other, the love of their life, their mia that they are leaving for TWO (count em, uno, dos) weeks.

So I took an ethics class once, so I think I’m an expert logic dissector. If A (Type being credible) is B (Thiti’s business) and B is not C (Type having a boyfriend), then C is not B. Simply put, mind your own business. This is made in a time where workplace discrimination should not be a thing. A person’s sexual orientation has nothing to do with their capabilities as a medical professional. I didn’t see this energy when you were picking on Type for “dating” the nurse you wanted, Thiti. You look like you would cheat on your wife. You look like you throw food on the floor when it’s too salty. You act like your mama didn’t give you affection as a child. You look like you were bullied as a child for having braces. You spineless, rotten sow. You deserved that punch and I wish Type would’ve pulled you back for a second. There should’ve been 4 punches in this scene. One to the boss, one to lil bitch #1, one to lil bitch #2, then another to the boss. Triflin wench.

Onto the trailer: Tharn should punch Fiat. Full stop.

#tharntype #tharn kirigun #type thiwat #TharnType 2: 7 Years of Love #episode 7 #khunpol #champ #thiti

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inshadowofthegods · 6 years ago

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A Deal, Part 2

“Okay now, there’s no way in hell we can afford this,” Edan stated flatly, looking between the four very excited nocturnes.

“Actually, there is!” Zuehal said jovially, patting Edan on the shoulder. “Mister Marshall there seems to have a skill for digging up useful gems. In fact, Edan, I think you all might want to try to focus on that. I don’t think anyone’s tried mining out where you live. You might be sitting on a goldmine. Literally, even.”

“I don’t fancy digging too deep out there,” Edan replied brusquely. “Taboo.”

“You don’t live on a burial mound, though, do you?” Zuehal scoffed. “Not that I’m going to force you, of course. But gods, what a waste of opportunity. At least consider it, you could bring such… prosperity to all of us!” “I’ll keep digging,” Marshall stated. “I can sniff that stuff out, I swear.” “You should listen to Edan - ” Clade began, but then stopped himself and shook his head before looking over his own scroll. “Or… I’m sure there’s a safe way to do it, right? You said other dragons mine, right?” “That’s right,” Zuehal nodded. “Ugh,” Edan shook his head and growled. “Look, we’ll look into this more… later. We’ll talk about it. That’s all I’m promising.” “And that’s all I ask!” Zuehal replied, clapping his hands together before turning back to the nocturnes. “So, let’s go over this one more time. Don’t read the scrolls until you are safely home, and I would advise you to not all do so at once. Transformations can be quite… difficult, though to my understanding most aren’t too painful. I can assure you mine wasn’t. Don’t be alarmed if you have trouble adjusting at first! You should feel normal about… a week or so after your shift.” As Zuehal instructed the quartet, Edan checked over the rest of the group. Rorin was carrying a delicate necklace between his teeth, Solveig had a rather fancy-looking box of chocolates clutched to their chest like their life depended on it, and Ila had several small packets of what he assumed to be seeds. When he caught her eye, she smiled and headed over to him. “Hello, Edan!” she greeted cheerily, looking from him to Angie, who was seated by his side. “And hello to you! My name is Ila!” “This is Angie,” Edan stated, nodding toward the pale nocturne. “She’s… going to be part of our clan, for the time being.” “Angie!” Ila exclaimed, beaming down at the smaller dragon. “What a cute name! It’s very nice to meet you!” “Oh, th-thank you,” Angie replied, blinking in some vague surprise at Ila’s enthusiasm. “It’s nice to meet you, as well.” Zuehal seemed to finish up briefing the nocturnes, and started to head in their direction. “How about you come with me and I introduce you to the others?” Ila offered, holding out a hand. “Alright,” Angie replied, carefully taking Ila’s hand and allowing herself to be led off toward Sol and Rorin. “So, Edan, does it look like everything’s been covered?” Zuehal asked, stepping forward and holding out Edan’s list. “Uh. Looks like it,” Edan replied, swallowing thickly as he looked over the series of check marks Zuehal had made on the page. “Gods damn, man. I still don’t really get why you’re doing this.” “It’s an investment,” Zuehal replied simply. “And besides, I take care of my… friends, you know.” “You’re still taking all of this,” Edan stated simply, shoving his bag of coins in the wildclaw’s hands. “Edan, that’s not ne - ” “Hey, I don’t have anything else to spend it on! It’s just a liability taking up space in my house, you take it!” “Alright, alright,” Zuehal stammered. Then he laughed. “I suppose that makes sense. I can certainly use it, bring more wares your way in the future.” “Sounds like a plan,” Edan replied with a firm nod. “Any ballpark on when that’ll be? So we can be prepared, and all.” “I’d say… late Spring. End of Tidelord’s, start of Gladekeeper’s,” Zuehal mused. “Does that sound sensible?” “Yeah, gives us time to rebuild our… stocks, I guess.” “I look forward to seeing it all,” Zuehal grinned. “And to see how much bigger your clan gets by then.” “Hopefully not that much bigger,” Edan snorted. “We already need to build another house.” “We’ll see, I suppose!” Zuehal replied. “Do you need any help getting your bags sorted?” “Nah, we can manage. Thank you, Zue,” Edan took a moment to bow his head, showing more proper respect for the merchant. He’d almost forgotten, entirely due to how hard is was to wrap his head around it all. He turned to call out to his clan. “Alright, everyone secure what you’re getting! Pick up a bag and strap it on! We’re about to head out!” The sun was beginning to set as they soared over the trees, each dragon laden with goods from their trip. Edan was having a particular struggle; Angie’s wings were too burned to be used for long, and he’d been carrying her much of the way. Solveig drifted toward him, Ila trailing behind. “I’m going to go see Praz,” they stated. “And introduce her to Ila. We may both stay over for the night, since it’s getting late. Is that alright?” “Yep,” Edan nodded. “Be safe.” “We will,” Solveig replied before veering off. Ila offered an enthusiastic wave with both hands before following suit. Angie giggled to herself quietly, then hunkered down against his shoulder blades as a chill wind hit the group. “Ugh!” Hazel remarked from somewhere behind him. “See, this is why I wanted to be a tundra,” Marshall huffed. “It’s so godsdamned cold out here!” “It’s winter!” Edan shouted back, rolling his eyes. “Summer hits and we’re gonna have to shave you down!” Much of the group was laughing at this point. “…Fine!” Marshall replied, some vague amusement in his tone amidst his annoyance. “I bet I can do it myself, though!” “It’s better for smelling rocks, though!” Angie offered, voice nervously raised to be audible. “What?” Marshall shouted back. “Tundras! Better at smelling!” Angie shouted. “You’ll be better at sniffing out rocks!” “Oh. Cool!” The rest of the flight went smoothly, the group in high spirits in spite of the growing windstorm. They threw jokes and playful banter back and forth until the wind drowned everything else out. They landed before it became too much to stay airborne. Thankfully, they only had to walk another 20 or so minutes to reach home as the trees around them whipped wildly, at some points bent sideways with the strongest gusts. “I hope Ila and Solveig are okay,” Rorin said worriedly. “They are, we pretty much flew directly over Prazien’s home when they left,” Edan replied, shrugging his wings. “They might be worried about us, though.” Up ahead, the lights from their house came into view. Edan let out a relieved sigh, speeding up to a trot as he made his way to the front door. His second sight showed that Saerun was waiting just inside it. “Oh, good,” she remarked as the threw open the door, only to start and then blink in confusion at the sight of Angie. “So, yea, we’ve got a new friend,” Edan began before reaching into one of his satchels and pulling a bottle out of it. “Got your wine too. Damn heavy.” “Fantastic,” she breathed, obviously still distracted as she accepted the bottle and backed out of the doorway to allow the clan to flood inside. Edan unstrapped the bags he’d been carrying and helped Angie get settled in. “I’ll uh, start dinner soon. I just need to rest for a few minutes.” “Actually, Ciron and I got pretty much everything prepped already,” Saerun replied. “We can manage it. Figured you’d all be pretty tired.” “I’m gonna use my scroll now!” Hazel shouted excitedly. “No, I should go first,” Marshall retorted, putting a talon to his chest. “I made us the most money just with stuff I dug out of the ground! And I’m sick of being cold!” “I have a job I’m specifically supposed to be doing when I change,” Hazel replied. “You don’t. I obviously should go first.”

“…I don’t mind waiting,” Clade said quietly, stepping away from his bickering clanmates and carefully starting to put some of their new items away.

Espen pranced off to find Ciron, a wrapped gift held proudly in her foreclaws.

Rorin watched her wander off, and then - evidently motivated - carefully made his way over to Saerun, taking the pendant from one of his bags. “Um, Saerun?”

“Hm? Yeah?” the skydancer turned to face him, raising a brow.

“Here, this is for you,” he said, holding out the necklace and looking nervously away.

“What?” Saerun asked, staring down at it in confusion. “I uh, oh.”

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t like it,” Rorin said hurriedly. “I just thought you might - sorry if I was wrong, uh - ”

“No - no! I do like it,” Saerun replied with a nervous smile. “I just… I guess I didn’t expect it. Sorry, and thank you, Rorin.”

Saerun carefully took the pendant and put it on, and Rorin trotted off and busied himself with helping Clade put things away.

Edan snorted. He wasn’t sure if he should be amused or not by how awkward that scene was.

Saerun was silent for a bit, fidgeting with the jewellery’s chain and setting up the kitchen area. Then she called out: “Hey, Cir! Can you come help me cook?”

“Yeah, sure,” the pearlcatcher replied before trotting out of the side room, an unfamiliar shawl draped over his shoulders.

“That’s a nice look,” Saerun remarked, then chuckled to herself as she slid a pan over the fire.

“Espen put it on me,” Ciron replied furtively. “I don’t know.”

“I guess it’s just a thing they do here,” Saerun replied with a shrug. “Grab some pine nuts, okay?”

Alright, so gifts seemed to make them uncomfortable. Edan frowned to himself, then sighed.

That would be a talk to have later.

#fr nuzlocke #fr lore #fr writing #flight rising #oc: edan #oc: angie #oc: hazel #etc #isotg

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pumpkin-bread · 6 years ago

Text

“Okay now, there’s no way in hell we can afford this,” Edan stated flatly, looking between the four very excited nocturnes.

“I don’t fancy digging too deep out there,” Edan replied brusquely. “Taboo.”

“I’ll keep digging,” Marshall stated. “I can sniff that stuff out, I swear.”

“You should listen to Edan - ” Clade began, but then stopped himself and shook his head before looking over his own scroll. “Or... I’m sure there’s a safe way to do it, right? You said other dragons mine, right?”

“That’s right,” Zuehal nodded.

“Ugh,” Edan shook his head and growled. “Look, we’ll look into this more... later. We’ll talk about it. That’s all I’m promising.”

“And that’s all I ask!” Zuehal replied, clapping his hands together before turning back to the nocturnes. “So, let’s go over this one more time. Don’t read the scrolls until you are safely home, and I would advise you to not all do so at once. Transformations can be quite... difficult, though to my understanding most aren’t too painful. I can assure you mine wasn’t. Don’t be alarmed if you have trouble adjusting at first! You should feel normal about... a week or so after your shift.”

As Zuehal instructed the quartet, Edan checked over the rest of the group. Rorin was carrying a delicate necklace between his teeth, Solveig had a rather fancy-looking box of chocolates clutched to their chest like their life depended on it, and Ila had several small packets of what he assumed to be seeds. When he caught her eye, she smiled and headed over to him.

“Hello, Edan!” she greeted cheerily, looking from him to Angie, who was seated by his side. “And hello to you! My name is Ila!”

“This is Angie,” Edan stated, nodding toward the pale nocturne. “She’s... going to be part of our clan, for the time being.”

“Angie!” Ila exclaimed, beaming down at the smaller dragon. “What a cute name! It’s very nice to meet you!”

“Oh, th-thank you,” Angie replied, blinking in some vague surprise at Ila’s enthusiasm. “It’s nice to meet you, as well.”

Zuehal seemed to finish up briefing the nocturnes, and started to head in their direction.

“How about you come with me and I introduce you to the others?” Ila offered, holding out a hand.

“Alright,” Angie replied, carefully taking Ila’s hand and allowing herself to be led off toward Sol and Rorin.

“So, Edan, does it look like everything’s been covered?” Zuehal asked, stepping forward and holding out Edan’s list.

“Uh. Looks like it,” Edan replied, swallowing thickly as he looked over the series of check marks Zuehal had made on the page. “Gods damn, man. I still don’t really get why you’re doing this.”

“It’s an investment,” Zuehal replied simply. “And besides, I take care of my... friends, you know.”

“You’re still taking all of this,” Edan stated simply, shoving his bag of coins in the wildclaw’s hands.

“Edan, that’s not ne - ”

“Hey, I don’t have anything else to spend it on! It’s just a liability taking up space in my house, you take it!”

“Alright, alright,” Zuehal stammered. Then he laughed. “I suppose that makes sense. I can certainly use it, bring more wares your way in the future.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Edan replied with a firm nod. “Any ballpark on when that’ll be? So we can be prepared, and all.”

“I’d say... late Spring. End of Tidelord’s, start of Gladekeeper’s,” Zuehal mused. “Does that sound sensible?”

“Yeah, gives us time to rebuild our... stocks, I guess.”

“I look forward to seeing it all,” Zuehal grinned. “And to see how much bigger your clan gets by then.”

“Hopefully not that much bigger,” Edan snorted. “We already need to build another house.”

“We’ll see, I suppose!” Zuehal replied. “Do you need any help getting your bags sorted?”

“Nah, we can manage. Thank you, Zue,” Edan took a moment to bow his head, showing more proper respect for the merchant. He’d almost forgotten, entirely due to how hard is was to wrap his head around it all. He turned to call out to his clan. “Alright, everyone secure what you’re getting! Pick up a bag and strap it on! We’re about to head out!”

The sun was beginning to set as they soared over the trees, each dragon laden with goods from their trip. Edan was having a particular struggle; Angie’s wings were too burned to be used for long, and he’d been carrying her much of the way.

Solveig drifted toward him, Ila trailing behind. “I’m going to go see Praz,” they stated. “And introduce her to Ila. We may both stay over for the night, since it’s getting late. Is that alright?”

“Yep,” Edan nodded. “Be safe.”

“We will,” Solveig replied before veering off.

Ila offered an enthusiastic wave with both hands before following suit.

Angie giggled to herself quietly, then hunkered down against his shoulder blades as a chill wind hit the group.

“Ugh!” Hazel remarked from somewhere behind him.

“See, this is why I wanted to be a tundra,” Marshall huffed. “It’s so godsdamned cold out here!”

“It’s winter!” Edan shouted back, rolling his eyes. “Summer hits and we’re gonna have to shave you down!”

Much of the group was laughing at this point.

“...Fine!” Marshall replied, some vague amusement in his tone amidst his annoyance. “I bet I can do it myself, though!”

“It’s better for smelling rocks, though!” Angie offered, voice nervously raised to be audible.

“What?” Marshall shouted back.

“Tundras! Better at smelling!” Angie shouted. “You’ll be better at sniffing out rocks!”

“Oh. Cool!”

The rest of the flight went smoothly, the group in high spirits in spite of the growing windstorm. They threw jokes and playful banter back and forth until the wind drowned everything else out.

They landed before it became too much to stay airborne. Thankfully, they only had to walk another 20 or so minutes to reach home as the trees around them whipped wildly, at some points bent sideways with the strongest gusts.

“I hope Ila and Solveig are okay,” Rorin said worriedly.

“They are, we pretty much flew directly over Prazien’s home when they left,” Edan replied, shrugging his wings. “They might be worried about us, though.”

Up ahead, the lights from their house came into view. Edan let out a relieved sigh, speeding up to a trot as he made his way to the front door. His second sight showed that Saerun was waiting just inside it.

“Oh, good,” she remarked as the threw open the door, only to start and then blink in confusion at the sight of Angie.

“So, yea, we’ve got a new friend,” Edan began before reaching into one of his satchels and pulling a bottle out of it. “Got your wine too. Damn heavy.”

“Fantastic,” she breathed, obviously still distracted as she accepted the bottle and backed out of the doorway to allow the clan to flood inside.

Edan unstrapped the bags he’d been carrying and helped Angie get settled in. “I’ll uh, start dinner soon. I just need to rest for a few minutes.”

“Actually, Ciron and I got pretty much everything prepped already,” Saerun replied. “We can manage it. Figured you’d all be pretty tired.”

“I’m gonna use my scroll now!” Hazel shouted excitedly.

“No, I should go first,” Marshall retorted, putting a talon to his chest. “I made us the most money just with stuff I dug out of the ground! And I’m sick of being cold!”

“I have a job I’m specifically supposed to be doing when I change,” Hazel replied. “You don’t. I obviously should go first.”

“...I don’t mind waiting,” Clade said quietly, stepping away from his bickering clanmates and carefully starting to put some of their new items away.

Espen pranced off to find Ciron, a wrapped gift held proudly in her foreclaws.

Rorin watched her wander off, and then - evidently motivated - carefully made his way over to Saerun, taking the pendant from one of his bags. “Um, Saerun?”

“Hm? Yeah?” the skydancer turned to face him, raising a brow.

“Here, this is for you,” he said, holding out the necklace and looking nervously away.

“What?” Saerun asked, staring down at it in confusion. “I uh, oh.”

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t like it,” Rorin said hurriedly. “I just thought you might - sorry if I was wrong, uh - ”

“No - no! I do like it,” Saerun replied with a nervous smile. “I just... I guess I didn’t expect it. Sorry, and thank you, Rorin.”

Saerun carefully took the pendant and put it on, and Rorin trotted off and busied himself with helping Clade put things away.

Edan snorted. He wasn’t sure if he should be amused or not by how awkward that scene was.

Saerun was silent for a bit, fidgeting with the jewellery’s chain and setting up the kitchen area. Then she called out: “Hey, Cir! Can you come help me cook?”

“Yeah, sure,” the pearlcatcher replied before trotting out of the side room, an unfamiliar shawl draped over his shoulders.

“That’s a nice look,” Saerun remarked, then chuckled to herself as she slid a pan over the fire.

“Espen put it on me,” Ciron replied furtively. “I don’t know.”

“I guess it’s just a thing they do here,” Saerun replied with a shrug. “Grab some pine nuts, okay?”

Alright, so gifts seemed to make them uncomfortable. Edan frowned to himself, then sighed. That would be a talk to have later.

#flight rising #fr lore #fr nuzlocke #the whole gang is mentioned #except Veldr

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dennou-translations · 7 years ago

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K SIDE:GREEN Prologue

Feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, please support the creators by buying the official releases here.

Index || Next →

The King and the Beast

When the sliding doors were opened, nightly winter air made its way inside.

He was looking up at the sky, hands joined behind his back. Since a while before, innumerable light needles surfaced in the jet-black sky. He merely observed the stars that could not be seen through naked eye over the city lights from the place where he normally led his life.

At the center of said night sky stood the silvery Moon. He narrowed his eyes while staring at it.

Although he was an elder reaching his nineties, his body did not denote the slightest hint of decay. He was a giant over two meters tall, standing straight as a tower and heavy as a castle. The only thing that delated his age were wrinkles engraved on his reddish copper skin, and the fact that his hair was of the same color as the Moon.

The elder’s name was Kokujouji Daikaku. He was the king of his country.

“My Lord.” A servant that had been squatting by his side all along called out to him. “The ‘Colorless King’ has arrived.”

“Let him through.”

At the curt order from his superior, the servant lightly bowed and disappeared. A little after, there was a sound of doors being opened behind him.

Kokujouji turned around. Beyond the door in the opposite side of the tatami room, a man was standing at the end of the corridor. He was clad in a worn-out hat and traditional clothes. Even though he had not reached his forties yet, his features had grown old, and a hermit-like atmosphere wafted from him.

The man’s name was Miwa Ichigen. He, too, was a king.

“Happy New Year.” Ichigen took off his hat, giving the New Year’s greetings with an uplifting smile.

Kokujouji Daikaku would spend the first three days of the year in the Kokujouji family’s other residence. Although about a hundred people had come to greet him on the first and second days, the only one allowed to visit on the third day was Miwa Ichigen.

Kokujouji stared fixatedly at his complexion and opened his mouth, “Is your sickness all right now?”

“I would not say ‘all right’, but it does not seem to be worsening, either. In any case, it is an incurable disease.” Speaking of the matter as if it were nothing, Ichigen laughed.

Kokujouji did not. He usually did not laugh much. He simply turned on his heels and went back into the tatami room. The sliding door behind him was closed, the cold air shut out.

“I have tea ready. Take your time.”

“I appreciate the extreme hospitality.”

“Is there such thing as a King entertaining another too much?”

“You are right.” Ichigen giggled. Although he looked older than he was, there were occasions in which he would show a rather childish side. Kokujouji did not dislike that part of his.

Kokujouji and Ichigen sat facing each other. The tea was boiling.

Kokujouji and Ichigen were both well-versed in the various etiquettes of all kinds of places. Had they been somewhere else, they would have fixed a flawless appearance and acted as the perfect host and guest. Yet they would not do so when left by themselves. Regardless of which was the host and which was the guest, they made into their principles to merely help themselves with good tea and savor it to their heart’s contentment. It was not out of ill manners, but they would end up taking such conduct one way or another.

That was because Ichigen and Kokujouji were both kings and friends.

They were the existences called “Kings”. As a fact and not a metaphor, they reigned in their respective territories, and had their respective vassals obey them.

At the end of the last World War, an enormous stone was excavated in Germany, named the “Dresden Slate”. It was not clear why the Slate existed and with what kind of logic it operated, even after long years of research.

The only known fact was that the Slate made people into “Kings”.

The Slate would choose seven Kings. Silver, gold, red, blue, green, gray, colorless – they were referred to by the color of the aura each emitted. Kokujouji Daikaku was the second and “Gold” King, and Miwa Ichigen was the seventh and “Colorless” King.

“Kings” would pick vassals, creating their kingdom. The vassals were called “clansmen”, and the kingdoms were called “clans”. As the “Gold King”, Kokujouji Daikaku was the strongest and greatest “King” among them. His clan, “Timeless Palace”, ruled Japan with its tremendous influence, leading the latter into the prosperity of developing from the burned lands of a defeated nation into of to one of the world’s most advanced countries.

However—

“Five years, huh?” unwittingly, a sigh mingled with his whisper.

Ichigen, who had been sipping the tea, halted his hand. “I have heard that the restorations are nearly over.” His words were quiet, but bore deep creases onto the middle of Kokujouji’s forehead.

“Still, lives don’t return.”

There was a hint of pain in Ichigen’s gentle expression. Kokujouji assumed that a similar one had probably spread across his own face.

The memories that they would seal away when they were alone came back vividly when they were in each other’s company. That was because Kokujouji and Ichigen were sworn allies who had faced “it” together, as well as the losing side that had been unable to prevent “it”.

Five years before, a battle of “Kings” had happened. It was between the former “Red King”, Kagutsu Genji, and the former “Blue King”, Habari Jin. The two Kings with opposite attributes, “violence” and “order”, had put their lives on the line and clashed against one another.

Whenever the power of a “King” went beyond the threshold, a sword-shaped energy crystal would materialize over their head. It was called “Sword of Damocles” and recognized as a symbol of the mighty power of “Kings”.

But said power required compensation.

Should a “King” break their limits and exercise their power continuously, they would eventually run out of control and the “Sword of Damocles” would fall upon their head. Just as what became the source of a historical fact, the sword would pierce through the king and bring about ruin.

The sword that had fallen was Kagutsu’s.

None of it mattered anymore. At any rate, both Kagutsu and Habari had died at that time. There are no laws to punish the dead in this world, and those left behind had no choice but to accept that reality.

Kagutsu’s “Damocles Down” had annihilated the southern part of the Kantou region in a radius of tens of kilometers. The total number of deaths was of about 700,000 people. Such statistics were already more than a tragedy. Even with Kokujouji Daikaku having such a grandiose body, he could not take on the number. Who could have imagined that a single “King” egoistically running wild would create an amount of victims comparable to the number of civilians killed in the last war?

Kokujouji had been the one to bring the “Dresden Slate” to his homeland. The use of reconstruction, his power as “King”, was one of the abilities that had blossomed large-flowing glory into this country. As he had once swore, he became an ideal “King”, and prided himself in that much. It would also mean he had invited that scourge himself. Had he not brought the “Dresden Slate” to his nation, the topography of south Kantou would have never changed. The people who used to live there would have still been alive now.

He wondered what the difference was between himself and the ones who had caused that war while aiming for opulence. Kokujouji had been having such thoughts since who-knew-when.

“You have... done your very best.” Ichigen murmured, perhaps due to having perceived Kokujouji’s anguish.

He, too, was one of the people who had, along with Kokujouji, struggled in order to avoid the “Damocles Down”. With his own power of “prophecy”, he had exposed the circumstances to his friend. Just from that, Ichigen’s words were filled with verity.

Despite Kagutsu’s “Damocles Down” having produced so much damage, it had not been the “worst case”. Had any mistakes in dealing with the situation been made, what would have fallen was not only one sword, and not just south Kantou’s but Japan’s entire topography itself would have been modified – the two were mutually aware of that.

Nevertheless, Kokujouji shook his head. “Nobody knows what would have been best.”

Silence.

“What is clear is that I must bear the burden. I intend to accept the responsibility with these shoulders of mine for what I myself brought about.”

The death of 700,000 people was not something one person alone could stand. It was most likely an accountability so heavy that it could not be held by anyone if not a “King”.

That was precisely why Kokujouji uttered the following words, “Five years ago, the very instant that man’s sword fell, I took on the burden to remain a ‘King’ until I die.”

Regardless...

“Denied.” A voice coming from outside negated.

“──────”

Ichigen and Kokujouji stood up at the same time. The sliding doors were swiftly opened by the hands of the servant, who had been silently recoiled.

In the garden full of nightly winter atmosphere, shining lightly above the white sand beneath the gleaming moonlight was a green beast.

“Green──” overcome with surprise, Ichigen whispered.

Kokujouji observed the boy. Yes, a boy. He was probably still in his mid-teens. He had black hair and a sleepy gaze, clothed in a bizarre straitjacket-like outfit, sitting on an electronically controlled wheelchair.

He was surrounded by sparks of green lightning.

The boy spoke without a single drop of timidity, “Pleasure to meet you, second king, ‘Gold King’, and seventh king, ‘Colorless King’. I am Hisui Nagare, the fifth and ‘Green’ king.”

The “Green King” – his existence itself had been investigated.

Oddly enough, five years before, a new “Green King” had been born during the Kagutsu incident. However, the reaction disappeared immediately, and from then on, there was no longer a way to keep him under watch. Even theories of his death had circulated.

Why did the “Green King”, whose whereabouts were unknown, show himself in such a place?

Before anyone could ask, Ichigen stepped forward. “Well, nice to meet you. Is it okay to call you ‘Hisui-kun’? You’re younger than us, after all.”

Miwa Ichigen, the “Colorless King”, willingly carried the role of mediator between “Kings”. It was due to said role that he had replied calmly even to the obvious intruder.

Hisui answered without changing his facial expression, “Please call me as you like. At the end of the day, it is not something that matters.”

“The way people refer to you is important. Outsets are crucial in human relations. Since they’re largely involved with one another.”

“I do not plan to have human relations with the two of you.”

The air piercingly tensed.

“Ichigen-sama. Please step back.”

Before anyone noticed, a man was standing beside Ichigen. It was a youth with purple hair. He was Miwa Ichigen’s clansman. Most certainly, his name was Mishakuji or something of the sort. Without displaying the slightest hint of mercy, he had his hand on the sword that hung at the back of his waist.

The mediation time was over. He was probably aware of that much. His perception was the same as Kokujouji’s.

“When you put it like that, it doesn’t seem like you’ve come to ratify any agreement.”

Hisui responded to Kokujouji’s heavy tone without fear, “Positive, ‘Gold King’.”

“Then, what is your business?”

“I have come to defy you. For a challenge.”

The lightning storm rushed violently with snaps.

Kokujouji walked forth.

Uncharacteristically strained, Ichigen’s voice sprang, “Lord. He still─”

“You are a survivor of the Kagutsu incident.” Kokujouji ignored Ichigen, who attempted to stop him, and went out into the open corridor.

Hisui’s expression did not move an inch. As apathetically as he had been from the moment he had arrived, he returned Kokujouji’s words, “Affirmative.”

“Have you come for revenge?”

The “Green King” had been revealed during the same time as Kagutsu’s sword had fallen. That meant he was a victim of the Kagutsu incident. He had been able to live on through being chosen as “King”, but anything other than that had been stolen from him. It was easy to imagine what someone who had been deprived of his family, friends, place to belong, everything would think.

Vengeance.

Kagutsu had passed away. There was no way to pay the dead back. In that case, the one to become his target should be Kokujouji, who had directed the Slate into his country and invited the huge tragedy. The souls of the 700,000 deceased sought compensation through the boy who had become a “King”.

Hisui’s figure was reflected in Kokujouji’s eyes.

Yet─

“Negative, ‘Gold King’. I do not ask for revenge.” Hisui shook his head gently.

“What?”

“What I am after is the ‘Dresden Slate’. The miraculous relic that can evolve all of humanity to the next stage. I aim to own it.”

Hisui’s orbs peeked from the gaps of his black bangs. They were as devoid of emotions as his facial features, but it felt as if something similar to heat hidden somewhere within them.

Such heat was familiar to Kokujouji.

That was something from the past, of already half a century before. Something from the time when he was not yet a “King”. Two friends of his welcoming him with smiles in the land of a different nation resurfaced in his mind.

But that was only for a second. Kokujouji soon reverted to his position as “King” and asked Hisui, “Why do you seek the Slate?”

“I do not intend to tell you.”

There was no space for either amicability or approach. From the very beginning, he had it internalized that such things were not necessary. It was not as if Hisui had come to take possession of the Slate peacefully. He had come to rob it.

By killing Kokujouji.

That was rather satisfying. It had been long since anyone had last brought out such evident hostility toward him. That was exactly why he had to reciprocate the feeling. Kokujouji descended from the open corridor, stepping onto the white sand.

Hisui’s straitjacket-like clothes melted away by themselves, setting his body free. Standing on the same ground level as Kokujouji, Hisui declared, “‘Gold King’. It is fine for you not to hold the responsibility of controlling the Slate anymore. I will kill you and release you from this pressure.”

A smile suddenly broke on Kokujouji’s rock-hard lips. “You just try it.”

A green “Sword of Damocles” appeared over Hisui’s head. From beyond the undrawn restraining outfit, a glimpse of shining white garments was allowed. Although he was as stunning as a celestial being, he was filled with a beast-like danger. The green sparks crackling around him seemed to symbolize that.

From behind Kokujouji, someone whispered, “Beautiful.”

The next moment, kicking up the white sand, Hisui dashed towards Kokujouji. Meanwhile, no changes happened with Kokujouji himself. As usual, he had his hands joined at his back, and, standing in place on the ground, he liberated his power. The force released to the entirety of the surroundings swept over like a hurricane.

“Kuh!?” Ichigen’s muffled voice could be heard from behind him.

As the repulsion unleashed at random seemed about to take Ichigen’s body away, Mishakuji was supporting his back. Even without turning to look at them, Kokujouji could tell. That was because he was currently seizing the “destiny” of all humans in that place.

The “Gold King” governed people’s “fates”.

“Fates” were countless “currents”. Just as wind swirled into whirlpools and water streamed through being pulled by gravity, each person flowed within their “fates”, colliding, mingling with and influencing one another.

However, Kokujouji, the “King of Destiny”, bore an overwhelming power, even in comparison with other people – or rather, other “Kings”. Like a celestial body with a tremendous mass, he simply pulled closer the people in his vicinities, and occasionally sent them flying. He did not get caught in the flow, but was the source that created the flows itself. When he released that purely as “strength”, it acted as an explosive repulsing force.

Still with his hands joined, Kokujouji did not even tremble. His silver hair was not affected by the force, and not a single thread raised. On the other hand, Hisui clung to the spot. He braced himself on is two feet and arms, desperately persisting as to not to be blown away. As his two hands pierced into the ground, his nails left ten marks on it.

There was a crushing power difference between the two “Kings”. There was no way Hisui would not understand that much. The “Damocles” had not appeared above Kokujouji. Despite him not getting serious just yet, there was almost no possibility of winning against the “Gold King” as he demonstrated this output.

While being aware of that, Hisui tried to press forward. Keeping his posture low on all fours, he advanced towards Kokujouji with crunching sounds. His right hand raised in front his face, flickering in loud sparks. With his power of “modification”, he alleviated the force that Kokujouji struck him with. His figure was similar to a traveler confronting northern winds.

Hisui was literally cutting open his own “fate” as he attempted to move forth.

Kokujouji had witnessed such scene in the past. During the days of turbulence and strife spent in his country, which had once turned into burning fields after its defeat, Kokujouji had faced several obstacles in his trials to quell the nation’s chaos. They were enemies who had challenged him, and enemies he had had to challenge. Hisui’s figure overlapped with the one of the enemies Kokujouji had confronted and with his own former self.

If so, then...

The distance between Hisui and Kokujouji was shortened to about a meter. Like a wild animal on the verge of leaping, the green beast bent his body down. Taking on his harshness and murderous intent, Kokujouji offered a steady gaze to his eyes, which twinkled with energy.

A golden “Damocles” materialized, so as to match the green one.

At that instant, the repulsion force, with double the amount of until that point, was rampaging about. Taking in the force that felt like a counter-power, Hisui’s body was blown away without being able to withstand it. Spinning midair in arcs, the sparks danced. It was a reaction control to his ability of “modification”. With a movement impossible under normal physical laws, Hisui landed at the spot he had primarily been at and raised his face.

Kokujouji’s power, which had raged on like a tornado, stopped completely.

“That was rude of me.” With the golden “Sword of Damocles” shining brightly above his head, Kokujouji opened his mouth, “It is courtesy of a king to use their maximum power on a challenger.” He then unclasped his hands and stripped down to his waist.

The reddish copper-colored skin of his torso became exposed. His flesh was trained to perfection. The dense steam enshrouding him in spite of the winter chill was not heat released from his body. It was the “gold” aura that Kokujouji possessed. Once the individual named Kokujouji Daikaku concentrated his power, which had been unleashed in the surroundings, he disclosed an ability that could manage even to alter space.

Kokujouji readied himself. Keeping his opened left hand in front of his face, he firmly gripped his right hand next to his flank. The toes of his left foot dug into the white sand, and, with his right heel as foundation, he slightly lowered his hips.

Conversely, Hisui’s appearance started to distort unstably. Green energy danced irregularly around the environment, blinking sometimes rough and sometimes dimly. His figure was reminiscent of a time-out – or, in other words, energy exhaustion. Perhaps there were some restrictions on the Hisui’s powers, which had dramatically increased combat capabilities.

Should time go on as things were, Kokujouji’s dominance would become progressively fixed. That was why Kokujouji arrogantly said, “Come at me.”

Fights between “Kings” should not be settled with time-outs. It was common rule that one had to crushingly defeat the other in such straightforward and critical manner.

Again, his power swept over. This time, it was the other way around. Rather than flicking things off, it was pulling them in. Everyone in the place was drawn towards Kokujouji alone. It would seem that no one could resist that gravity. Hisui did not resist, either.

“Here I go.” After briefly saying so, he jumped.

His body, which had lost support, was caught by Kokujouji’s force and pulled in. While using the power of his enemy, actually accelerating through his “modification”, Hisui swung his green claws.

At that instant, Hisui saw stars.

What lay in front of him were not human beings. Not even the other “King”. They were objects that did not have senses or organs like living beings, but were simply massive, colossal and magnificent. They merely produced their own light in the darkness of the universe.

Stars.

Red, gigantic stars that were at the end of their prime but continued swelling. The moment he laid his eyes on them, Hisui realized his own defeat. After all, there was no one in the world who could win against a star. Upon such realization, after several seconds of blankness, Kokujouji’s fist hit Hisui’s chest.

The sound of an explosion rumbled.

In response to an impact comparable to the fall of a meteorite, Hisui’s body was blown away like a bullet. Cutting through the nightly darkness with green tracks, he flew in a straight line, smashing the stone lanterns as his trajectory curved, landing into the woods in the outskirts of the residence and disappearing from sight.

A little bit after, noises of trees falling could be heard. At that time, the two “Damocles” had already disappeared.

Kokujouji stood unmoving like a statue. He remained quiescent in the posture with which he had delivered his thrusting technique. The golden aura swaying from his body gradually melted away and dissipated into the air, as if being carried by the wind.

“Lord.”

At the call, Kokujouji finally undid his stance. He turned back.

Ichigen had on an unchanged smile. However, only his eyes were faintly gloomy. Respectfully, he produced a piece of kaishi paper. “For the treatment of your wound.”

“Mh.”

Before Kokujouji realized, his cheek was wet with his own blood. It was not a deep scratch. However, it was certain that Hisui’s nail had reached Kokujouji.

Once he brushed it against his cheek, the paper became stained with red. A slight pain ran through him. That was also a first in a long time. For several decades, not a single person who I who could scratch Kokujouji had appeared before him.

Kokujouji muttered in amusement, “My lifespan has shortened by three days. That brat is something.”

“What... happened to him?”

“He’s not dead. No...” he denied his own words inside his mouth.

Hisui Nagare was dead. Most likely, his heart had been motionless even before fighting Kokujouji. When striking his fist into the latter’s chest, Kokujouji could tell that something else was beating in the area where Hisui’s heart should be. That most likely was what currently allowed Hisui to move. Nevertheless, he did not yet understand what it was. There may be some connection between it and the ability of “modification”.

Kokujouji looked back at his friend and asked, “How did that man look to you?”

Ichigen closed his eyes serenely and shook his head. “He’s young, hence hasty, but not that much of a fool. Today will turn out as a valuable experience for him, but his ambitions will probably not change.”

“Guess so.”

The injured beast would grow more cunning and vigilant.

Things were still all right for the moment. Kokujouji’s reigning was sturdy, and no one could oppose him. Even if Hisui showed himself once more, it would be easy to crush him. But what about five years after? Or ten years? Would he be able to maintain his power balance as “King” until then? Would people who could become the absent “Red” and “Blue” kings appear? Even if they did, where was there any guaranteeing that they would not have the same aspirations as Hisui? And at that time, how much would the young “Green King” have grown? Would it be possible for the aging Kokujouji and the sickly Ichigen to suppress Hisui then as they had today?

Kokujouji looked up at the heavens. The silver Moon stood in the night sky. Not knowing about anything that happened on Earth, it merely looked down at the latter with affection. It reminded him of an old friend, who he had parted ways with in the past, and who still kept wandering around that very sky.

As if being burned down by a shameful feeling, Kokujouji opened his mouth, “This country will end, Weismann.”

His predictive whisper was carried by the nightly wind and blown away without being delivered anywhere.

◆

“Gah... hah... gh—uuuuuuh...!”

Heels struck the floor tiles, slipping slickly and leaving a trail of blood. There was no tray anywhere to catch the blood he vomited, and so it was simply scattered about. With his whole body bending like a spring – or, in other words, crumpling together –, Hisui was fighting against bitter agony.

Kokujouji’s blow was crushing Hisui’s whole body.

There were ten or more broken bones just in his ribcage. Perhaps he had several other comminuted fractures. His muscles screamed and his internal organs were stiff. Although he had the ability of “modification”, he felt pain like everyone else. Usually, he was supposed to be able to heal his wounds with said ability, but Hisui was currently exhausted.

He had fought one-on-one with the “Gold King”, after all. Just being able to stay alive was already a plus.

“Hey, Nagare! You okay!?” Along with gradual harsh knocks echoed the voice of his guardian, Iwafune Tenkei. “Open up! These are painkillers; I bought every kind! Once you take them, let’s go to an acquaintance of mine who is a medic from the black market—”

“Thank you very much, Iwa-san. However, that is unnecessary.” Despite his face twisting due to the severe aching, Hisui spoke calmly, “My body lives through ‘modification’. The current types of medicine treatment have little effect.”

His internal organs churned as he talked. He spit out blood, coughing intensely. Shaking violently, his field of vision became darker, and he thrust into his own vomit headfirst. The slimy blood and the tiles of the bathroom were both warm and cold.

Behind the door, Iwafune grid his teeth. “You moron! Being reckless behind my back! There’s no way you’d able to beat that old man!”

Face covered with blood, Hisui let out a gruesome laugh. “Positive, Iwa-san. I saw stars. The ‘Gold King’ is an outlier. Right now – no, even ten years in the future, it is probably impossible for me to thrive over him.”

“Then...!”

“Still, the one to win in the end will be me.”

He could sense through his skin that Iwafune was speechless.

“The ‘Gold King’ is invincible, but not immortal. He is aging. Regardless of being a ‘King’, he is human. When the time for him to die comes, he will die for sure.”

The pain eased a little. Hisui raised his upper body and leaned his back against the door. It seemed that, should he close his eyes, the image of Iwafune’s face distorting with worry on the other side would surface in his mind.

“I apologize for not saying anything, Iwa-san. I am sorry.”

Silence.

“You would have impeded me had I told you. I thought that another option was that Iwa-san would end up going there with me. I wanted to prevent that. It is not yet time to fulfill the promise of back then.”

In the past, Hisui and Iwafune had exchanged a promise. That someday, once the necessity arose, Iwafune would use his “power” for Hisui’s sake. It was not that time yet. In all seriousness, until the time of using their trump card came, Iwafune’s whereabouts had to be kept hidden. Five years before, the existence of the sixth king, the “Gray King”, who disappeared in the day of the Kagutsu Incident, should not be revealed to anyone.

Hisui reached out his hand. He tried to unlock the keyhole, and while it did not work well with all the blood, he finally managed to open it after numerous tries. The door opened as if being repelled, and Hisui collapsed backwards outside the bathroom. Iwafune’s sorrowful expression reflected in his line of sight as he looked up at the ceiling.

Hisui said with a frown, “From now on, I will consult you properly, so please do not make that face.”

“Idiot...” Iwafune mumbled with a weak voice and fastened his straitjacket.

There was a huge open hole on Hisui’s unconcealed chest, in which a green energy mass pulsated. The gleam that moved instead of his heart had become so feeble that seemed like it would vanish.

By “modifying” his body on the verge of death, he compensated for his lost heart with his special power. That was Hisui’s present situation. In order to preserve his life, Hisui had to use a great amount of power. However, for the current Hisui, who had become wasted in the battle against Kokujouji, even that was beginning to become a difficult task. Without the help of the straitjacket, which had the function of confining his power inside it, Hisui’s life would most likely eventually dissipate and be gone.

Fortunately, that did not happen. When Iwafune tightly attached the metal fittings of the straitjacket, Hisui’s power stabilized albeit still faint, the beating also becoming constant.

Taking a deep breath, Hisui smiled. “You have saved me. I can remain in a state of abeyance with this. You have my gratitude.”

On the other hand, Iwafune asked with a sour face, “Why did you lock yourself in the bathroom?”

“The bathroom is easier to clean. If we are to erase the proofs that we have lived here, it is better to use the place that is easiest to straighten out when vomiting blood.”

“Did I go wrong... in the way I raised you?”

“Iwa-san has raised me well. You bestowed me with flawless education, and my dietary nutrition balance is top-notch too. Quite healthy.”

“Heck. You’re one to talk, looking like that.” At last, a smile broke on Iwafune’s lips.

He then began “cleaning up”. Pushing the bloody Hisui back into the bathroom, he started washing the impermeable straitjacket with a warm shower. The warm water and blood mixed and formed a whirlpool as they flowed down the drain.

While being scrubbed with a bathroom sponge, Hisui discussed about future plans, “‘Timeless Palace’ should be keeping track of me. We must shake them off. Let’s move on to a new residence.”

“A new residence? Where do we find such a thing?”

“I registered the location in our car’s navigator. Iwa-san only needs to drive it.”

“Really, you...”

The room could be seen from the half-opened door. In a corner of the four-and-a-half tatami apartment where they had lived up to that point, he spotted a parrot sleeping inside a cage. It was Hisui’s friend and first clansman.

The thought that had flashed through him during the time he had taken on the attack from the “Gold King” and confirmed his own defeat blurted out of his mouth, “Iwa-san, I will make my own clan.”

“What?”

“A clan. In order to hide from the ‘Gold King’ and carry out the preparations to steal the Slate, I need clansmen that could become my arms and legs.”

Iwafune furrowed his brows. It was not hard to imagine what memories the word “clan” reminded him of. However, Iwafune shook his head as if it were nothing and said, “If so, you have to give it a name first.”

“A... name?”

“Yeah. There’s no one who’d like to join a nameless clan. Think veeery well about what kind of clan you intend to create, and then name it.”

Hisui stood in contemplation.

Should he be asked what sort of clan it would be, it would probably be a secretive one. Hisui and Iwafune, who had already become fugitives, could not easily show themselves to the clansmen. They would always lurk in the shadows, keep in close contact and be constantly cautious. He had to conceive a kingdom which roots would grow quietly in the ground, spreading its territory without being noticed.

With a snap, electricity burst in front of his eyes. The moment he saw the green color, Hisui mustered out, “‘Jungle’.”

Iwafune stopped the hands that were washing him and asked, “‘Jungle’? As in... a dense forest?”

“Positive. My clan’s name will be ‘Jungle’.” Hisui narrowed his eyes. Reflected in them was a four-and-half tatami floor, as well as the parrot sleeping on it. However, what he was really gazing at was beyond it, in the future extending from that point on.

He would rob the “Dresden Slate”, inflate its power and create a huge dense forest spreading all over the world. Each one of the trees that formed it would take the shape of a new king, a new human race. Eventually, it would turn into a network that would cover the entire Earth. Feeling it sprout within his opened chest, Hisui made a declaration.

“Now, this place is... the beginning... of my clan, ‘Jungle’.”

#k project #k side green #hisui nagare #kokujouji daikaku #iwafune tenkei #miwa ichigen #mishakuji yukari #k #novel #my translation #suzuki suzu

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writingfromkitchenator · 7 years ago

Text

Queen of the Crossroads

Chapter 14: A Break for the Broken

Crowley had expected to hear from Sarah soon after the incident, had expected things to quickly go back to normal. However, after several days and several messages in which there was no response, he realised that something else must be going on.

He sent several demons out looking for her at first, but he could tell they were reluctant and gave nothing short of poor reports that were inconclusive, so he knew his only choice would be to find her himself and it wasn't until he got frustrated that he realised, chances were, there would only be one spot where she would be.

Appearing before Sarah's house, Crowley knew he was in the right place when he heard the loud music coming from within. He tried not to let his distaste show at the AC/DC playing, but he knew it was only going to be worse once he went inside.

He appeared in the kitchen, only to be stopped dead in his tracks, Sarah there, playing air guitar to the song, her hair out, dressed only in shorts, a t-shirt and socks as she slid around the kitchen, alternating between cooking on the stove, the coffee pot and back to air guitar.

Crowley tried to take a step forward, only to find himself blocked, and he looked up to find himself in a devils trap that had been carefully painted to the ceiling, and he glares at her, annoyed. "Sarah."

Sarah ignores him, continuing on until the song ends, no matter what he said, and he eventually folds his arms, his eyes narrowing.

She finishes the song with a long guitar solo, leaving her kneeling on the floor and breathing hard, as if it had taken a lot of effort, and she snaps her fingers as the next song starts, leaving them in silence.

She grins at him as she gets back to her feet. "Crowley."

"Are you quite finished?" He asked angrily.

Sarah chuckles, turning her back to him as she pours out two cups of coffee. "Well, it's been a pain in the arse avoiding it, but I was trying to ensure that I'd be left alone."

Crowley watched as she slid the cup across the table to him and moved to start plating the food. "Are you going to let me out?"

"Well, in all fairness you have interrupted my time out, so maybe if you agree to leave me alone again, I'll consider it." She sits at the table without looking up, her plate piled with eggs, bacon and toast.

"Seriously?"

She looks up as she eats a mouthful of food, eyebrows raised. "What?"

It took a lot of effort for Crowley not to snap. "You're not going to let me out of here unless I agree to leave you alone?"

Sarah shrugs. "I get it defeats the purpose, but if I was in the mood for company, I would've messaged back."

Crowley growls a little. "Sarah, you will let me out of this right now or so help me, no matter what deal we have-"

"Keep your pants on Crowley," Sarah throws her knife at the roof, effectively cutting the outer line of the circle. "In all fairness, it wasn't meant for you, it was for any idiots that you sent after me in case they managed to find me. Would much prefer to still be left alone though."

Crowley breathes hard for a moment before sitting at table, still frowning at her. "All you had to do was reply to one of my messages."

She doesn't look at him, still eating away at her meal. "Yeah, and if I said that I was taking a break for a little while, that would've brought you here sooner."

"We don't get the luxury of breaks love."

Sarah pauses for a moment, glancing up at him. "Honestly, I don't actually care. Doesn't change the fact that here I am and you are going to get out of my hair."

Crowley stares at her, as she looks back at her meal before pushing it away, looking annoyed, her body tense. "One little incident shouldn't set you off like this."

"Little incident?" She bit, her eyes flashing. "I would hardly see the men that killed me as a little incident, but I guess I can't expect you to get that."

"You're right, I wouldn't." Crowley lent forward on the table. "After all, I got here through a deal and then worked my way up, where as you were virtually given gifts right from the get go, virtually given whatever position you wanted, so we are on very different pages." When she just glares at him, he continues. "What you are failing to understand Sarah, is that I've gotten incredibly good at reading people, it's how I worked my way to where I am, and you, my dear, have allowed yourself to be very easily read."

Sarah makes a noise of disapproval. "Sure, let yourself think that." She stands and takes her plate to the sink. "I'm not in the mood Crowley."

Crowley absently taps the side of his mug, still watching her. "All that research into souls love, it wasn't hard to work out."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

In a blur of movement, there is a small struggle before Crowley has Sarah pinned to a wall, eyes flashing red, hand around her throat, body pressed against hers.

"There's no point in playing coy," He said in a low voice. "You've made it fairly obvious what you are up to. Now, what exactly did Lucifer do to you?"

Sarah's hands were tight on him, but she doesn't struggle. "I thought that would be obvious. He tortured me till I damned well did what he wanted."

"And yet you are not a little demon practically begging at his feet." He said lightly. "So what else happened?"

"That's none of your concern!"

"Which is where you are wrong." Crowley said. "I'm the King of Hell love, and as much as you fascinate me, I know a threat when I see one, interested in the throne or not."

Sarah growled, her eyes shifting black. "Get off me Crowley."

He smirks. "Going to try and bring out the guns are we?"

There was a shift of energy and Crowley let his eyes bleed red, the lights shattering overhead, but he doesn't move.

"You still have a lot to learn love, powerful or not." He said quietly. "So there's no point in even trying that against me. In this situation, it is easier to talk."

"I'm not interested in talking," She snapped. "So you will get off me now!"

There was another flair of power, one that actually managed to push Crowley away a bit, his expression momentarily shocked as she goes to push him away, except he manages to grab her again, another struggle ensuing before he slams her hard onto the table, sending the coffee cups flying.

Crowley has her hands pinned to the table this time. "Not wise love, you're only going to succeed in getting yourself hurt."

Sarah struggles this time, trying to arch up to free herself, but to no avail, growling, her eyes still black. "This is not funny Crowley."

"Of course it's not," He said lightly and shifts so her hands are pinned under one of his, his other resting on her stomach, making her freeze. "However if you won't tell me, then I'm just going to have to find out for myself."

"Don't-" A gasp leaves her as a twist of power curls through her stomach from his hand and she grits her teeth in pain, letting out a low growl, her foot finding purchase on the table to try and get him off. "Stop!"

Crowley had found what he was looking for though, pushing further against it. "Now, isn't that interesting."

What broke from Sarah was almost a sob and Crowley back off his power instantly, her body slumping as she breathed hard, eyes closed. He watched her, curiousity in his gaze, even as he let his eyes return to normal.

"Are you satisfied yet?" She growled, opening her eyes to glare at him. "Did you find the answer you were looking for?"

"While it certainly answers my theory, satisfied is not a term I would use love." He smirks a little, his hand having not left her stomach. "How on earth did you manage to protect such a thing?"

"With great difficulty," She said. "Now get off."

Crowley chuckled and backed off, allowing her to sit and straighten herself up, glaring at him. "I'm glad you find this so amusing."

"Amusing?" Crowley raises an eyebrow. "Sarah, do you have any idea what sort of power you have managed to maintain?"

She grunts and looks away from him, eyeing the spilt coffee on the floor and snapping it away as she moves back to the coffee machine.

Crowley watches her closely. "It's fading isn't it?"

He knew by the small shudder that went through her, that he was right. "What? Couldn't tell that by the little fun you had?"

"I could, but again, I'd much rather hear you tell me."

Sarah sighed, leaning on the bench for a moment before turning and facing him, folding her arms, her gaze hard. "Fine. I managed to keep a part of myself hidden from Lucifer, I knew it was the only way to help protect myself against whatever he had been playing, and it damned well worked and as far as I know, the bastard never figured it out. When I was...possessed by Saphriel, I had to both bury it and use it to get out of that situation, unfortunately it seemed that it had consequences that I couldn't have predicted."

She turns her head and watches the coffee. "At first it was hardly noticeable, like a tiny itch in the back of my mind, but eventually things started to change, I noticed that I could still feel particular things and that this could influence decisions being made. Then, not long before I first came to see you, I noticed that it could cause pain and that pain would come with the feeling of it fading, of it dying. I used every resource I had gathered to try and figure out what to do, but when I came up short, I knew that there had to be something more."

"Which is why you came to me." Crowley stated.

Sarah nods, not looking up. "I knew Hell would have resources I didn't, what I didn't expect was a faster decline that what I could've thought. Killing...killing those three..." She shuddered. "Does that answer your questions?"

"More or less," Crowley said. "And I hope you realise love, that had you simply asked, I could've provided a solution."

Her head snapped up to look at him. "What?"

He raises an eyebrow. "I've been in this game a long time dear and my business was in dealing with souls, and as unique as your circumstances are, there is a solution that I could provide."

"And you expect me to just trust you like that?"

"We both know you do, Sarah, despite what you tell yourself."

Sarah scowls and she rolls her eyes even as he smirks. "I don't trust anyone Crowley, I assure you, and I certainly wouldn't trust you with this. Just tell me what I need to do and I'll handle it myself."

Crowley shakes his head. "If it were that simple, I would, but you're going to need my help whether you like it or not, especially if you want to keep this quiet, which I recommend."

Sighing in irritation, Sarah turns to make another cup of coffee. "Whatever, I don't currently have the patience to deal with this." She pauses as she feels Crowley approach. "I mean it Crowley, I'm not in the mood."

When his hands rest either side of her on the bench, she turns, finding him barely inches away from her, grinning.

"You are unbelievable, I hope you know that." She said quietly. "I should've left you in that damned trap."

"And where would the fun in that be?" He asked. "I've been wanting to see what you were properly capable of for a long time and once we've dealt with that little issue, I have a feeling you're going to understand just how powerful you can be."

"If you're not careful Crowley, I may just end up kicking your arse." She growled. "And after today I'm of half a mind too."

Crowley looks at her before a slow smile comes to him and he chuckles, stepping back. "Enjoy your break Sarah, I wouldn't recommend taking too long though, people might start to talk."

With that, he vanished, leaving Sarah glaring at where he'd been before she let out a long breath and poured her coffee, snapping her fingers to let the music come back on, sitting heavily at the table, looking tired.

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#supernautral #crowley #crowleyxoc #queen of the crossroads #fanfic #mynewobsession

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robinhoodrevisited · 8 years ago

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Choosing King Over Country (pt.2)

Locksley. (A contingent of Lexa’s warriors remain in Nottingham and are turning the villagers out of their homes, riding around on horses and terrorising them. Gisborne rides in on horseback from the castle.) Gisborne: (Dismounting:) “Allan! (Allan stops by the church. Gisborne walks around the pond to him. Grabs a fistful of Allan’s collar:) I’m sick and tired of being made to look like fool by you and your friends, when [pulls on the collar] you are in on their secrets.“ (Marian rides into the village.) Allan: “What secrets?” Gisborne: “You know what I’m talking about. You’re going to tell me everything, now.“ (Marian dismounts and walks towards Gisborne.) Allan: (Sighs.) “Look, you know about Robin. The rest are just peasants like me—“ Gisborne: (Roars, interrupting and raising a fist at Allan:) “Tell me!” Marian: (From several paces away:) “What’s going on?!” Gisborne: (Steps back and lowers his fist, and lets go. Speaking to Allan:) “You. Wait here.” (Gisborne herds Marian away from Allan towards the church.) Marian: (Furiously:) “Why has the entire village been cleared?” Gisborne: “The village has been requisitioned for military purposes, Marian. You shouldn’t have come here, not with these men here.” Marian: (Turns around at the door.) “Because I am a woman? How about the women and the children who are being forced out of their homes?” Gisborne: “There is nothing I can do! The Sheriff has ordered it. No arguments.” (Gisborne passes Marian into the church. She follows.) Marian: “Not long ago you were willing to defy Prince John’s men!” Gisborne: “Yes, well, the situation has now changed.” Marian: “Because the Prince is here? Because the Sheriff is back? (Gisborne sighs and looks aside. Gently:) While he was gone, I thought I saw a different side to you, Guy. (Gisborne looks at Marian.) Kind... brave... I was mistaken.” (Marian stares at Gisborne a moment, then leaves. Gisborne turns around into the church, which has been set up as a dining hall. Allan enters, raising his hands in exasperation.) Allan: “Look, these warriors are gonna be hungry, right? There’s a food store Robin used to use near Nettlestone. He used to keep the food there in the winter.“ Gisborne: “And you’ve just remembered this?” Allan: “Yeah.” Gisborne: “Convenient. You’re lying.” Allan: “Look, I’m not telling you where the camp is all right? Now it’s this or nothing.” Gisborne: (Snarls, then takes a breath:) “Take me there.”

Sherwood Forest. (Robin, Legrand, the gang and Legrand’s men are walking briskly through the forest towards Nottingham.) Robin: “You and your men should rest, Legrand. Three days without sleep?” Legrand: “I could go ten and still run rings around the lot of you.” Robin: (Chuckles.) “So, you think the King is collecting treasure?” Legrand: “He needs men and equipment to take on the Sheriff and Prince John. That means money. (Stops.) I think he’s trying to get his fortune out of the country.” (Robin stops. The gang catch them up, Will standing behind Robin.) Robin: “The King’s gone to real pains. I mean, two messages, a code, rendezvous on specific days... I think this is bigger than gold and money. (Legrand shrugs.) I think this plan has been in place for a while.” (Legrand looks around.) Will: “Well, Midsummer’s Day is the day after tomorrow. It doesn’t leave us much time.“ Robin: “It’s time enough for us to pay this Paxton a visit. Come on.” (They continue walking through the forest.) Nottingham Town. Paxton’s house. Interior. (Paxton rolls out a cloth which has pockets with several knives of various shapes and sizes on the table. He selects one and slides it into his boot as the camera pans to show the empty room behind him, beyond the front door. He puts another knife into his belt and looks up as he hears a horse whinny on the street. He steps towards the window, looks out, sees nothing unusual and goes back to the table to collect more knives. This time Robin is standing in the distance behind him, leaning against a table.) Robin: “Expecting an army?” (Paxton drops the knives, takes the one from his belt, turns around and walks towards Robin.) Paxton: “You get out of my house, now!” (Robin laughs as Legrand steps away from the wall by the front door behind Paxton and grabs him round the shoulders with his left arm and Paxton’s wrist with his right. Legrand turns Paxton around and pushes him face down into the table.) Legrand: “What’s the password?” Paxton: “Thesaurus Patriae. (Legrand jerks him as Robin walks towards them. Insistently:) Thesaurus Patriae.” (Legrand lets go and pulls Paxton upright.) Legrand: “Nice to meet you, Paxton.” (Legrand slaps Paxton’s shoulder and laughs his ringing laugh. Robin leans on the jamb.) Robin: “This is Legrand from the King’s private guard. (Legrand and Paxton nod at each other. Robin glances out the window.) My name is Robin Hood.” (Walks to the foot of the table.) Paxton: “I was afraid you were the Sheriff’s men. I wanted to be prepared, (Robin leans on the table, looking at him sternly.) just in case. Sorry. If I’d known it was you—“ Robin: (Interrupting:) “Do you have the message?” Paxton: “It’s been a heavy burden... (reaches inside his coat.) ... but an honour to carry it.“ (Paxton pulls out a piece of brown paper. He unfurls it and hands it to Robin. Robin and Legrand both look at it.) Legrand: “What’s it mean?” (The paper has a similar ornate border and a picture of fire spreads across the bottom in a concave arc. In the lower left of the fire are three people. There are sketches in the upper corners: wings protruding from a purple cloud and two tall, skinny mushroom-like figures. They stare at it a moment, then Robin notices a scent. He sniffs the paper. Paxton frowns. Robin looks around, then sets the paper down on the table.) Robin: “Hang on.” (Robin walks behind Paxton and gets a tall candlestick from the sideboard. He guards the flame with his hand as he carries it back to the table. Robin picks up the new message and sighs. Then he resolutely holds the paper over the flame. Legrand immediately grabs his wrist.) Legrand: “What are you doing? You’ll burn them!” Robin: “Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh.” Paxton: “He knows exactly what he’s doing.” (Robin holds the paper over the candle again, watching, holding his tongue to the roof of his mouth.) Robin: “There... you see? (Several dots appear to the right of centre on the paper.) Zaffir. (Puts the paper down and picks up the other one.) It’s an element used in alchemy. (Holds the first message over the candle.) It only reveals itself when you apply heat.“ (Three more dots appear to the left of the king.) Paxton: “Very clever.” (Robin holds the messages side by side. Legrand looks over his shoulder.) Legrand: “Might be clever. Still doesn’t look like anything.” Sherwood Forest. Outlaws’ food store. (Allan opens the doors and steps inside.) Allan: “What did I tell you? It’s all in here! (Gisborne sits on his horse outside, still a bit angry. Marian sneaks up on them and peers out from behind a tree. Allan brings out a sack.) We used to bring stuff we’d stolen here, grain or what have you, for the poor.” (Sets the sack down.) Gisborne: “Good. Bring everything.” (Gisborne turns his horse around and leaves.) Allan: “Right, you lot. Let’s get it all back in the wagon.” (Marian peers out behind her tree as the warriors get to work.)

Sherwood Forest. Outlaws' Camp. (Marian has arrived at camp to warn the gang but finds only Clarke.) Marian: (Concerned:) "Are you sure you're all right?" Clarke: (From her reclined position:) "Both Djaq and my uncle's personal physician have seen to me. I'm told I'll live." Marian: "You may need to run. Prince John has ordered Gisborne to capture Robin at all costs." Clarke: "So? That doesn't mean he'll manage it." Marian: "No but that's only because he doesn't know where this camp is. Allan's managed to distract him with raiding the food stores for now but it's only a matter of time before Guy will put the pressure on." Clarke: "I thought you said Allan wouldn't betray you." Marian: "That was before the Prince arrived. Now that he's here... I think all bets are off." Clarke: (Trying to sit up:) "Well, if the time comes, I'll be ready." (Just as Clarke manages to get to a seated position, her head starts spinning and she slumps back down.) Marian: (Dryly:) "That's a relief." Sherwood Forest. (The gang and the visitors are trying to decipher the messages. Will looks over Robin’s left shoulder. Much comes up in front of Will. Paxton steps up behind Much and looks over their shoulders.) Much: “No-no-no. It’s a star map, I’m telling you, look. Djaq! (Djaq hurries over to Robin’s right side.) That’s the moon, this is the night sky, and those are the stars.” Djaq: “Mm, no, Much. They don’t work that way. (Traces the dots on the paper.) Wrong shape.“ Will: “Yeah, that’s not a moon anyway. It’s the sun if anything.” Robin: (Nods. Quietly:) “Right.” (Little John looks over Djaq and Robin’s shoulders.) Paxton: “What if the dots make a circle.” Robin: “Eh?” (Looks back at Paxton, frowning.) Paxton: “A circle.” Robin: (Almost inaudibly:) “A cir... (Robin looks at each paper as Will scratches his cheek, then slides the king behind the fire.) Hang on. (Robin puts the papers tightly together and holds it up to the light.) Right. Good. Now we’re getting somewhere.“ Will: (Pointing to each detail as he speaks:) “Hey, look, it could be a building. Each dot represents a foundation stone and the sword points to the entrance.” Robin: “Right, but there’s no clue as to what kind of building it is or... or where. (Little John gets an idea and steps away as a loud two-toned whistle is heard. Legrand’s men draw their swords.) Hold! Hold, hold, hold.” (The whistle sounds again.) Much: “I think that might be for you.” (Robin hands the papers to Much.) Robin: “Carry on working. I’ll be back.” (Robin leaves. Paxton and Much watch him go.) Paxton: (Leans to Much:) “That signal. Is that a member of the gang?” Much: (Vaguely:) “Er, something like that.” (Turns away.)

Nearby in the forest. (Robin makes his way down a hill. Nearby, Marian sits on a fallen tree on a rise. She smiles brightly and softly giggles as Robin, unaware of her location, passes her below.) Marian: “I’m up here.” (Robin looks up, smiles and climbs up to her. Marian smiles and slides down to sit on a lower branch of the dead tree. Robin wraps his arms round her and they kiss a long moment, pull back a brief moment, then kiss again.) Robin: “Oh, I’ve missed you.” (Robin gives her another kiss.) Marian: “I’ve missed you. (Marian laces her fingers round the back of Robin’s neck. Sighs.) I spoke with Clarke, poor thing.” Robin: (Chuckles:) “Yeah, Much is pretty cut up about it.” Marian: “Do you know what’s happening in Locksley?” Robin: (Shakes his head.) “What do you mean?” Marian: “Gisborne’s turned all the villagers out. (Robin looks at her in shock, then turns his head aside.) He’s made it a garrison for the remainder of Lexa’s troops." Robin: “What about the people? Where are the villagers?” Marian: (Uncertainly:) “In the forest, perhaps at the Commander’s abandoned camp. ... or with families from other villages...” (Robin turns his head and sighs. Marian releases her hands, but leaves her left behind his neck.) Robin: “Right. Well, we’ll get food to them.” Marian: “You can’t. Allan told Gisborne about the secret food store and he’s taken everything.“ Robin: “What?! And you made me spare his life?” Marian: “If we move now we could take the garrison by surprise.” Robin: (Looks aside. Quietly:) “I know, but... we can’t. Not just yet.” Marian: “Why not?” Robin: “We’ve had word from the King, Marian. (Marian looks aside in awe and frustration.) Now I promise I’ll restore Locksley, but I can’t until we complete this mission.“ Marian: “And what are the villagers supposed to do in the meantime?” Robin: “You know I would go to them if I could. (Marian stares out at nothing over his shoulder, disappointed that they won’t be working together.) King Richard needs me now more than ever. (Marian still doesn’t look him in the eye.) Hey. (Robin puts his hand on Marian’s shoulder. Marian finally looks at him.) Why don’t you keep Clarke company till I’m back. Then we can save Locksley together? (Marian nods a bit, then he gives her a kiss. They stare at each other a moment, then Robin slides down the hill. Marian sighs and looks down, disappointed. Robin turns around.) And Marian...” Marian: (Looks up.) “Hm?” Robin: “Promise me you won’t do anything in Locksley alone. (Marian scoffs, rolling her eyes.) Marian!” Marian: “I promise. I promise I won’t do anything. (Robin gives her a pointed look, then leaves to rejoin the gang. Quietly:) But... the Nightwatchman might.”

Sherwood Forest. Back with the gang. (Will and Paxton are curiously watching Little John, who is kneeling by a cleared circle on the ground. Several stones are spaced around its perimeter. Inside are the two messages and two stones at the centre. He tosses an extra rock away and picks up the papers as Robin returns.) Much: “You all right?” Robin: (Irritably:) “Yeah. (Robin goes over to Little John, passing Legrand, who holds his arm out at Little John and giggles.) What are you doing, John?” (Kneels next to Little John in front of Paxton.) Little John: (Simply:) “A circle of stones.” Robin: “Standing stones, yeah?” Little John: “Mm-hm.” Robin: (Understanding:) “The standing stones at Hathersage Heath.” Little John: (Looks back at Legrand.) “Told you he’d get it.” (Little John hands the papers to Robin, stands and walks past Much.) Much: “Yeah, I’d have got that.” Little John: (Looking over his shoulder at Much:) “No, you wouldn’t.” Paxton: (Thinks a moment.) “Robin, I need to leave you now, but I’ll prepare a ship to leave tomorrow night from Hull, with the treasure.” Robin: (Stands.) “Thank you, my friend. (Robin and Paxton shake hands.) The King is in your debt.“ Paxton: “Proud to have been of service.” (Leaves.) Robin: “Right, you lot! To Hathersage Heath!” (All follow Robin.) Hathersage Heath. (The gang approach the stone circle in a meadow. All stop at the edge except for Djaq, who enters without hesitation with the papers.) Legrand: “What sort of place is this?” (Djaq compares the stones’ arrangement to those on the papers. The others enter and look around at the marvel. Robin follows Djaq.) Will: “It’s been here as long as anyone can remember. Some kind of settlement?” Much: “Or a shrine.” Djaq: (Turns the papers, then points at the northernmost stone.) “The sword points to that one!” (Robin stands behind her, follows her gaze and nods, then looks up at the stone behind them, which has a large notch carved out of its side near its top. The others are still looking around in wonder as Robin crosses to the northernmost stone, passing the two centre stones, one with a notch halfway up its side.) Robin: (Points forward with his bow, looking at four stones in a row.) “These stones are all perfectly aligned. But what if the sword isn’t pointing north? (Robin steps behind the northernmost stone and bends over a bit to peer through the notch in its side. He nods.) What if it’s an instruction to follow this line? (Robin points south, as notches in the two centre stones line up to form a hole, reiterated by the third notch beyond. Legrand hurries to stand behind Robin and looks through the notches. Little John and Much, standing in the middle, notice the notches above their heads in the stones and try to follow their line. Robin takes a step forward, pulls an arrow from his quiver, nocks it into his bow, draws, aims through the hole, and lets the arrow fly. It sails perfectly through the notches and into a grove of trees in the distance. The others stand, watching it go. Robin starts running.) Well, come on. Follow the arrow!“ (They all run into the trees.) The grove of trees. (The wind is blowing briskly. Much discovers the arrow stuck in the trunk of a tree.) Much: (Pointing with his sword:) “Look! (Much goes over and points to the arrow as the others gather round and the wind picks up even more.) Here. (Sheathes his sword.) What does this mean?” (They all look up and around. Robin spies a hole under a slab of rock on the ground.) Robin: “Hey! John! (Points to the hole with his bow.) That must be the way in.” Much: “Way in? To where?” (Robin steps down into the opening.) Robin: “Come on!” (Robin ducks inside. Djaq follows, then Much.)

Nottingham Castle. The Great Hall. (The Prince, Isabella and Palmer are having dinner in the Great Hall as a piper and drummer entertain. Prince John sits in a throne opposite them, fingering his moustache. Isabella sits to his left, and Palmer beyond her.) Prince John: “And where were you attacked?” Palmer: “Near a village. We fought courageously, but we were dreadfully outnumbered and eventually I was captured... by Robin Hood himself.” Isabella: “Or so he said. I mean, we’ve all been proved wrong in the past.” Prince John: “But this time Robin Hood was fooled.” Palmer: “Yes, Your Highness.” Prince John: (Chuckles.) “Excellent. And was he angry... that I’d made such a fool of him?“ Palmer: (Smiles.) “Very angry.” Prince John: “Did he curse us?” Palmer: “Fulsomely.” Prince John: (Stands.) “Wonderful! (Prince John stands behind Palmer’s chair, and leans on the back of it.) What did he say?” Palmer: (Face falls.) “Oh, I—I—I couldn’t, Your Highness.” Prince John: “Oh, please, tell me exactly what he said.” Palmer: “But Your Highness...” Prince John: “Do you not love me?” Palmer: (Smiles.) “Of course.” Prince John: “Well, then say!” (Smiles sweetly.) Palmer: “He called you a coward. (The music stops. Prince John freezes, the smile still on his face.) He said only a coward would have a double.” (Everyone is still. Prince John’s smiles falls a bit and he raises his head.) Prince John: “Arrest him.” (Two guards step forward and Prince John takes his seat.) Guard: “What shall I charge him with?” Prince John: (Impatiently:) “Impersonating the Prince Regent.” Palmer: (As being dragged away:) “If it makes any difference, sire, I—I didn’t agree with him.“ (Prince John sits slouched, hand to his head. Isabella eats a grape.) The tunnel. (Robin comes down the steps, an arrow nocked in his bow, and turns into a narrow tunnel reinforced with blocks of stone. Much comes down behind him with two candles in his hands, one lit.) Much: “I knew these would come in handy.” (Lights the second candle from the first and turns the corner.) Robin: “Wait, wait. (Looks around.) Come on.” (Much waits as Robin enters. Djaq follows Robin in. Much takes a step forward and gasps loudly.) Much: “Something I trod on just moved!” (Robin stops and looks back.) Djaq: “It was me.“ Much: “Sorry. This just isn’t my day.” (Djaq takes a candle from Much and passes him inside.) Robin: “Come on. Keep moving.” (Robin and Djaq step slowly forward to a vertical flat slab of rock at the end.) Djaq: “It’s a dead end.” (Djaq holds the candle up and she and Robin inspect the edges. She traces the edge of the slab with the candle and the flame flickers.) Robin: “Wait. (Points at the candle.) That candle’s flickering. (Glances quickly across the top edge, then runs his hand along the edges.) Fresh air’s getting through here. (Djaq holds her hand up to feel, too, as Much lights another candle.) Yeah, I can feel it.” (Legrand, standing behind Little John, leans his staff on the wall and pulls on Little John’s shoulder to pass him. Little John gives him a sullen look.) Legrand: “Stand aside.” (Legrand walks up to the slab, takes a deep breath, spits on each hand and rubs them together. He kneels in front of the slab. Much hands the third candle to Will. Little John leans his staff on the wall and folds his arms, knowing his rival will accomplish nothing. Legrand groans as he tries to lift up the slab.) Robin: “Legrand, you have nothing to prove, my friend. You’ll never move it alone.” Legrand: (Still lifting, groans:) “My boys.” Robin: (to Legrand’s men:) “Well, come on. (Legrand’s men move forward and Little John eyes them skeptically as they pass. They kneel one to each side of Legrand, and lift with him. It still doesn’t move.) John, we need your help.” Little John: (Irritably:) “Right. (Steps forward.) Move.” (Little John cups his hands together to stretch his arms, but his hands slip apart and his elbow hits the wall. A stone block moves backward and Little John reacts to catch it, but the slab slides up with the sound of scraping rocks and a gear ticking to reveal a narrow doorway. They all peer wide-eyed inside at a small cave.)

The cave. (Legrand stands. His men, Robin and Djaq follow him in. They all look around in the semi-darkness at a natural cave. A cylindrical stone is set in the centre. The top has been hollowed out to form a basin and is filled with water. They can hear water dripping.) Legrand: (As Little John comes in:) “I loosened it.” Little John: “Yeah, right.” (Much and Will enter last.) Robin: (Twists his head to look up.) “There’s light getting in from somewhere. And it’s getting stronger.“ (Will looks up with him.) Will: “Hey, it’s coming from over there. And it’s almost midday. (Little John braces the open slab with his and Legrand’s staffs. Will looks at the pool.) I get it, when it’s directly overhead... (Robin and Will kneel by the basin.) ... it should just...” (The sunlight suddenly reflects off the surface of the water, flooding the room with light. Will holds out his hands and smiles brightly. They all chuckle in awe. Little John turns back into the room and frowns at something he sees. Robin, Will and Djaq see stone tile with the relief of an eye and two engraved bars above and below it set into the wall opposite them.) Djaq: (Pointing:) “That... looks like the eye on the King’s message.” (Robin and Will stand. Legrand goes to the tile and tries to pry it from the wall.) Robin: “Wait, wait! (Legrand stops. Glances behind him.) Follow the line of the eye. (Legrand looks at the eye, then behind him. Djaq, Will and Legrand’s men search the crevices in the wall. Djaq feels inside a crevice, starting at its bottom. (to Djaq:) What is it? What is it?” (Djaq works her way up the crack to shoulder height.) Djaq: “Yes!” (Djaq pulls out a leather scroll. Robin takes it and moves to the light in the middle, then looks around at them all.) Robin: “Right. Thesaurus Patriae.” (Unfurls the scroll onto his arm.) Legrand: “What is it?” Robin: (Glances at the leather and is flustered.) “It’s another map! (Looks at it more carefully.) It’s a cross. (Turns the map slightly.) It’s at Kirklees.” Much: “The sign of the cross at Kirklees—Kirklees Abbey!” Sheriff: (From behind them in the doorway:) “Kirklees Abbey! How interesting! (Paxton and a couple of warriors stand behind the Sheriff in the tunnel.) Legrand: “Paxton! You traitor!” Sheriff: “Last one there’s a rotten egg.” (The Sheriff knocks the staffs out from under the slab.) Robin: “Stop him!” (The slab falls and the Sheriff waves.) Sheriff: “Bye, Hood. Nice knowing you.” (The slab crashes down, trapping the gang inside. Legrand runs over and tries to lift it with a loud groan.) Legrand: “Aarghhh!” (Robin puts his hands on his hips and looks up at the ceiling in dismay. Legrand stands. The room gets dimmer.) Much: “The light’s fading!” Will: (Irritably:) “The sun’s passing over.” Much: “Well, what now?” Legrand: “We’re trapped.” The grove of trees. (The Sheriff climbs out of the hole. Paxton follows him out.) Sheriff: “Assemble the men. We ride immediately.” (Walks towards their horses.) Paxton: “About the treasure... I deserve a cut... for services rendered.” Sheriff: “A cut? Well... (Stops and reaches inside his coat for a dagger.) Yes, if you want a cut, a cut you shall have. (The Sheriff quietly pulls out his dagger and stabs Paxton, who falls to his knees, sputtering.) Payment in full, hm? (The Sheriff pulls out his dagger and Paxton falls to his back. The Sheriff walks to his horse.) To Kirklees Abbey!”

#bbc robin hood #robin hood #lucy griffiths #jonas armstrong #keith allen #lara pulver #toby stephens #joe armstrong #richard armitage #anjali jay #harry lloyd #sam troughton #gordon kennedy #eliza taylor

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