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rpd-rookie · 5 years ago

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Pollen - Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Summary: A new type of mutamycete has been discovered in a remote region of South America. As a scientist working for Blue Umbrella, you are sent along with BSAA Captain Chris Redfield and his team to conduct research on it. Unfortunately, everything goes to hell when the infection goes out of control and start contaminating the unit ...

Author’s Notes: This is a request sent by the Queen of Headcanons (@missmamacitaoliveira). It is basically porn with a plot and I chose to characterise it as "mild dub!con" because the sexual interaction depicted in this one shot is definitely the result of an arousal both characters (Chris and Reader) experience because of the mutamycete that contaminated them. Consent is given but the sexual act in itself is still a mix of fear and lustfulness at least at the beginning of it. Read at your own risk.

Warning: Sex Pollen / Smut / Mildly Dubious Consent / Rough Sex / Masturbation / Language

Golden spore-like particles were beautifully floating and dancing in the air outside the sterile plastic tent, shining like millions of innocent little fireflies but killing like a deadly swarm of wasps. They were covering the surrounding forest in yellow, from the trunks of the trees up to their tops, rotting the bark and the leaves, turning them into a thick yellowish mold capable of liquefying even the most solid of steels. A one-of-a-kind fascinating spectacle you had never thought to witness one day. Incredible – yet scary - what this new type of fungus was capable of doing.

Your earpiece crackled loudly in your ear, making you grimace and you dropped your leather notebook on your desk. “We’ve …sot … bit of sit…tion.” was all you could make out, the words sounding like gibberish because of the permanent interferences caused by the large cloud of mutamycete that had spread and contaminated the ambient air and the flora in the forest area by the riverside. “What kind of situation?” You asked, already removing a white Hazmat suit from a hanger. A never-ending sizzling was buzzing in your ear now, making it impossible to ear whoever was trying to communicate with you. “Hello?” You said as you adjusted the device to restore the communication. But all of a sudden, some static electricity – probably generated by the interferences - fried your earpiece in your ear, making you squeal in pain and fear and troubling your vision for a second. “Shit.” You cursed as your threw the broken earpiece to the ground, a low buzzing echoing in your head. “Why does it always happen to me?” You quickly slipped on the rubber suit, put on some chemical overshoe boots and grabbed Umbrella’s latest air-filter helmet before heading towards the exit. Luckily for you, you didn’t have to wander outside for too long as an officer rushed towards you, pointing at the military green tent that happened to belong to the medical unit that accompanied you on this mission. “Hurry, please.” He said with an alarmed voice that sent shivers down your spine. Something was definitely wrong.

You ungraciously followed him to the tent, your uncomfortable get-up making it hard for you to run properly. After all, it was made to work in a lab, not play commando in a remote tropical region of South America. Once in there, you immediately noticed two soldiers convulsing hard on their medical beds, struggling to breathe in spite of the oxygen the mechanical ventilators were providing them. Their faces were bright red, covered with pustules and blisters; their skin peeling off as if some acid had splashed on them. “What happened?” You dared ask, your widened eyes staring in shock at the poor men whose painful screams where muffled by the masks covering their melting faces. “Unsuitable gear. Thank your corporate overlords for that.” You glanced at the man who had answered, recognizing the angry powerful husky voice in spite of the deformation caused by the gas helmet he was wearing. “Captain Redfield, I’m sure…” He waved you to shut up and you obeyed, knowing that now was not the time to start an argument with him. It would not end up well, Redfield being too impulsive and stubborn to have a calm conversation with you even in more peaceful circumstances. His reluctance to work with Umbrella Co., you supposed. “How can I help?” “You’ve been studying this new mold, haven’t you?” Chris asked as he rushed to immobilise one of his men to allow a medic to sedate him with a syringe of morphine. “Might care to explain what’s happening?” “I’ve only studied the infection on the nearby vegetation. I don’t know what’s happening to them.” You mumbled, trying to keep your composure and ignore your growing concern and panic caused by the gut-churning vision before you. “Just tell what you know!” Chris growled as he pinned his struggling teammate down on the white mattress with an incredible strength you found scarily impressive. “It’s basically the same mutamycete that we collected at the Baker’s except that it was somehow genetically modified to have a reproductive morphology similar to plants and flowers. That’s why it looks so much like pollen.” “Make it understandable for a 5 years old, Y/LN, please.” Chris demanded with an annoyed sigh and you nodded though you didn’t really know how explain days and days of complex scientific research in a few simple sentences. “Alright. The previous mutamycete permitted to turn dead people into Molded, sort of. This new version does the same but it can also reproduce … breed if you prefer. A simple contact with a compatible host can lead to fecundation that can ultimately lead to lots of Molded babies. But I don’t need to develop that part, do I? Everyone in this tent knows how to make babies, I believe.” You scoffed, finding a certain comfort and some safety in sarcasm. But now was not the time for humour and you understood it perfectly when Captain Redfield glared at you. “Sorry. I tend to make bad jokes when I freak out.” And you were definitely freaking out right now. “But to sum up, this new mutamycete basically mimics the primary instinct of a G- virus infectee.” “Meaning?” Chris asked, his voice sounding an octave lower certainly because of the knot in his throat the simple mention of the G-virus had created. “It basically has a vital need to procreate, relentlessly searching for the right host to fecundate.” “So you’re saying that my men are what … pregnant with Molded?” He frowned and you could hear all his worries in his voice. He genuinely cared about his men. Very admirable and honourable. “I don’t know, Captain. I’m just telling you how it works on plants. Might be different for humans… I hope. Do you have an ultrasound scanner?” “ No, but we have one at the lab.” The doctor said. “ Then we need to evacuate quickly. And I …” You took some surgical pliers from a medical trolley and a test tube from your pocket. “…am going to need a sample to study all this.”

You approached one of the soldiers who was now basically dozing because of the morphine and slowly removed one of his gloves to cut one of his nails in order to later study his DNA. But as soon as your fingers touched him, he woke up with a start and jumped you, growling like a beast and grabbing you by the waist with a superhuman strength, almost digging his nails in your flesh through your clothes. You first instinct was to scream. Not the most efficient thing to do, you agreed. But, fortunately for you, you were accompanied by men who had better first instincts and reflexes than you. Chris pushed his man away from you and pounced on him, grabbing him almost brutally by the wrists to slam him down against the bed. You put a hand over your pounding heart and stared, terrified and powerless, at the enraged man squirming to get up. His eyes were dark and hungry and fixed upon you as if he was unable to focus his attention on anything else. “What the fuck, Carter?” Chris roared as he used all his weight to keep his soldier in place. But Carter didn’t care. Carter didn’t even look human anymore. And watching those two men struggling on this bed was like watching two lions fighting on National Geographic. Except that it was terrifying. Fucking terrifying.

Twenty-four hours later, Carter and his teammate were dead and their bodies still burning up like hot ember had been placed in the morgue section of the lab for you and your colleagues to study. But, in spite of the disgusting bloody experiments you led on them, you couldn’t take your mind out of the near-death experience you had been through at the camp. It haunted you, making it almost impossible for you to focus exclusively on your work. Those eyes. That darkness in them. That hunger that looked more and more sexual and lustful the more you thought about it. It was making you shiver in fear and discomfort. You had never seen anything like it before. You shook your head to make the images go away and concentrated again on your researches. You had been studying fours little rats in a glass cage for hours, trying to see how their systems reacted to the new mutamycete. But for now, six hours after injection, only an unusual high body temperature could be noticed.

The automatic sliding door of your lab opened with a hiss, making you slightly jump. You briefly checked the clock on the wall. 10:38pm. You didn’t expect any visit that late especially not a visit from Chris Redfield. “Captain Redfield. What are you doing … here?” You furrowed, staring at him with concern. He didn’t look so well. “Something’s happening to me.” His voice was cavernous and raspy and he sounded almost out of breath as if he was chocking under his black turtle neck. You immediately got up, resisting the instinctive urge to come closer to check up on him and took a few steps back. “Alright. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong and I’ll see what …” You weren’t able to finish your sentence as Chris crumbled to the floor beneath him, growling as if he was trying to resist something, his nails dug in the grooves of the white tiles. “Oh my god, Chris.” “I feel like I’m burning up.” He struggled to say. And this time you rushed towards him. You couldn’t leave him like that. You had to do something.

Knelt onto the floor, you grabbed his broad shoulders to help him lean his back against a lab bench. His face was scarlet red and pearls of sweat were dripping along his forehead. You wiped them away with your sleeve. They felt weirdly sticky and had a strange sour smell. But what worried you the most was the heat radiating from Chris’s body. You could feel it brushing your face. It looked like the man had been microwaved. “Don’t move. I’ll call for help.” You tried to get up but Chris’ hand caught your arm in a firm strong grip that made you wince. “You don’t… understand.” He managed to say, panting, his extremely dilated brown eyes staring at your (colour) confused ones.

Without forewarning, he placed your hand over his crotch, a gesture you found disgusting, salacious and incredibly inappropriate and that instinctively made you squeal and try to get away from Chris’ grasp. He was incredibly hard. “What the fuck?” You gasped, horrified as you tried to quickly get up. But you lost your balance and clumsily fell on your rear. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.” He confessed, suffocating. “I’ve been like this for the past hour or so.” “The past hour?” You repeated, not knowing how to react or what to do. “Please tell me you can do something.” Chris begged, truly shamed and panicked and perfectly aware of the how indecent and degrading his behaviour must feel to you. You stood up to focus on your breathing and regain your calm. “Okay. Everything’s going to be fine. Breathe.” You needed to have your mind clear if you wanted to help Chris. You needed your scientist mind back. “Are you … aroused?” You said, genuinely uncomfortable to ask something so intimate. “Fuck, Y/LN!” Chris growled, glancing down at his pants. “ Isn’t it obvious? I’m freaking hard!” “Clearly.” You cleared your throat. “Don’t move.” You rushed towards your cupboard to rummage in it. “I’m going to give you GnRH antagonists. They can suppress hormones like testosterone. It should ease your pain for a while, or at least long enough to be able to find something that might help you. It’s possibly an effect linked to a long exposure to the mutamycete. Got you.” You took the vial with your trembling hands and turned around to go back to Chris. But what you didn’t realised was that Chris was just right behind you.

You bumped into his large chest and accidentally dropped the vial onto the floor. It broke into a thousand pieces as it landed on the tiles and you cursed, internally blaming yourself for your stupid clumsiness and your panic. “Please don’t tell me that’s what I needed.” You grimaced, scared to tell him the truth as you could tell he was getting angry again. Then again, who wouldn’t? “There might be another way.” You tried to reassure him but you knew it was vain. “Another way?” He harrumphed with a growl of pain as he leaned against your desk to breathe deeply. “What way?” “ Well, have you tried to … you know…” You mimicked a pumping motion with your hand, not daring to say the word. “Masturbate?” “You’re serious?” Chris’ darkened eyes widened, refusing to believe you were actually serious. “This is your medical advice? You want me to jerk off!” “Yes, that’s what I want … I mean advise.” You corrected, probably as uncomfortable than him right now, if not more. “Are you guys at Umbrella all dumb or is it just you? I don’t even know how I still can walk, Y/LN. I’ve never been that sensitive in my entire life. I feel like if I touch myself I will actually explode, like literally. I can’t jerk off right now!”

There was an awkward silence that didn’t last long as Chris turned around to shout his suffering again. Though this time it was mixed with an animalistic rage whose cause was still blurry to you. Was it mad at you? At himself? At his condition? At Umbrella? … All of it? You sighed and approached him. Hands on his back you helped him face you. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this.” You told yourself.

You put your hand over Chris’ male parts, making him wince and hiss, to blindly look for the zipper, staring away from him on purpose. “What the fuck are you doing?” He asked, slapping your hand away from him. “You got a better idea, soldier boy?!” You retorted, wishing there was another solution and that this all situation was merely a nightmare. You opened Chris’ trousers and disgustedly slid your hand in his briefs. “Ouch, easy!” He grumbled the second your fingertips touched him. His member was so sensitive and aching right now. “This is the worse day of my life.” You admitted as you delicately took his hot swelling length, which was thicker and heavier than what you expected, in a limp grip. “Pff. I’m sure part of you enjoys it” Chris said in between two guttural moans, a sensation of both suffering and pleasure tensing his abs and clenching his jaw. “You must think it is karma for all the times I’ve been an ass to you.” “What?” You harrumphed as you stopped moving your hand, genuinely offended. “How can you believe I’m enjoying it? You’re sick.” “Then why are you all flushed?” He asked.

All this panic and concern for Chris had made forget about your safety and yourself in general. You touched your cheeks. They were abnormally hot and you could feel their sudden redness tickling your skin. “Embarrassment and panic.” You retorted, trying to convince yourself more than Chris. After all, wasn’t it the most plausible reason? Unless… “Or the mutamycete and in that case it’s all your fault and if I die I’ll come and kill you.” You started panting and Chris stared at you silently. “What? You think that masturbating you arouses me? Pff, you should know better than anyone right now what it means to be aroused.” “Y/N” He called out by your first name. He had never done that before. “What?!” You screamed, pissed at him. “Shut the fuck up and keep going.” He ordered with a severity worthy of his military status. “Seriously?” He didn’t reply, seeing no need for an answer, and you reluctantly resumed your soft motion on his engorged cock, feeling the prominent thick veins throbbing against your palm as Chris suddenly began removing his military vest and his turtleneck “Are you kidding me?” You mumbled in between your teeth, definitely not liking this situation. “I’m burning up. I can’t stand my clothes anymore.” But soon your eyes occasionally started glancing towards Chris’ broad and hairy chest. He had a formidable body. God, what the hell were you thinking? “Please tell me you’re gonna cum soon.” You begged but he didn’t respond. A bad sign. “Gosh, I must be doomed.” “Perhaps if you actually put some effort in it.” Your eyes widened at him. Was it really criticizing the way you were jerking him off? “Seriously, Mister ‘Ouch I’m too sensitive’?” “Don’t mind me. I get it. You’d rather do something else than help me right now. And I know this must feel very degrading. Well guess what? I’d rather do something else than being jerked off by you.” You stepped back. You had had enough of it. “Then go ahead.” You waved at the door. “Leave and get out of your bloody mess on your own. I don’t give a fuck. Actually you should have done that from the very beginning instead of coming to me. Why did you come here anyway?” “I have no fucking idea, Y/N. I was in my quarters and seconds later I was here. I can’t explain it. I was like … guided here. ” You frowned, finding this honest confession extremely weird and yet not so absurd, your scientific brain making a parallel between Chris’s words and the way the mutamycete was permanently searching for a host to breed. The conclusion that Chris might want the same thing froze you to the spot, scared and apprehensive, a bit like a deer caught in headlights. Why hadn’t you thought about that earlier? “And the more I look at you, the more I stay with you… I wanna fuck you so bad. And I hate myself for it.”

You gulped, finding yourself unable to regain control over your paralysed body as an instantaneous wet hotness formed in between your legs. You tried to repress it but Chris came closer, his darkened chocolate brown eyes staring at you the same way Agent Carter’s eyes had stared at you under that tent. It made you shake, expecting with a certain amount of fear what was bound to happen. “Fuck! You have no fucking idea how hard it is to resist the urge to just slam you against that desk and shove my cock into you.” Your heart skipped a bit and the air got stuck in your lungs. You couldn’t breathe anymore. Terrified and yet so atrociously aroused it was making you want to hurl. A strange sensation – certainly a result of the contamination - you had never experienced in your entire life and you didn’t know how to process. “I’m calling security.” You announced as you somehow managed to rush towards your desk. “They’re going to place you under quarantine. That’s what I should have done from the very beginning.” You tried to seize your phone but it was immediately taken away from away from you and thrown across the room before you could even push a single button.

You trembled again when you suddenly felt Chris’s towering body press against your back, his hardened member pushing against your butt as his muscular arms were forming a caging embrace to prevent you from escaping. “Then why haven’t you?” He whispered in you ear, his hot breath tickling your neck and making you shiver, this time more in arousal than in fear. “I don’t know.” You mumbled in a whisper, feeling your heart pounding like crazy in your chest because of the exquisite proximity between Chris’ strong body and yours. This was insane.

You moaned when you felt Chris softly grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin of your neck and then gasped with a certain apprehension when his large hand grabbed your throat to squeeze it, knowing he could choke you to death with ease right now without giving you a chance to fight back. “Tell me you want this.” He murmured, rubbing his pelvis against your rear hoping teasing you would convince you to give in to him. “I won’t touch you unless you want me to. But please, please, tell me you want me to.” You looked back at him to stare at his eyes. In their hungry darkness, you could notice that Chris was still in there, spotting his integrity slightly gleaming behind the veiled pupils. He was fighting the temptation caused by this stupid fungus. But how long could he resist? Or better question, how long could you resist judging by the wetness growing in your panties. The answer? Not long.

“Do it.” You whispered so low, hoping he would not hear you and let go of you. But he did hear you and he didn’t wait. He pulled your skirt up to your waist and ripped your panties with a swift powerful motion that made you squeal and hold on tight to your desk. “I don’t think it’ll take long.” Chris said with a raspy voice as he dropped his trousers and briefs to his feet, finally freeing his throbbing cock that sprang erected and hard as a stone pillar. He watched it for a second, admiring it twitching and begging to be relieved. Then he stared at you, at your naked butt and your glistening red lips. “Gosh, you look delicious.” He said to himself before spitting on his finger to lube his length. Last thing he wanted was to hurt you. “You’re sure you’re up for this?” He asked again, not knowing how he would react if you said no. “I’m sure. Just fuck me, please.” You whimpered and Chris smiled as he guided himself towards your entrance. He moved briefly in between your half-closed thighs, right against your tight lips, to spread your juices along his shaft before kicking your calves to make you spread your legs for him. Once the access granted, he finally pushed himself deep into you, sliding him member so deep it almost disappeared in you. You winced and moaned, nails dug in the wood of the desk, when you felt him stretching you, definitely not used to welcome such girth inside your pussy. “Holy shit.” You cursed, with a small tear in the corner of your eye. “You’re so big.” “I know. Sorry.” He chuckled, his hand wandering down your back. “You’ll get used to it.” You cried out when Chris suddenly pulled out to push himself back inside of you with one single hard move. The force of his thrust made you fall flat on the desk. “You got nothing against rough sex, right baby girl?” Baby girl? The pet name made you furrow. What was next? You calling him daddy? “Cause I’m in that kind of mood right now.” He growled as he repeated the same motion, making you muffle a new loud moan in the leather notebook on which your head was resting. “Let’s get this over with.” You growled, already breathless.

Chris’ pelvis smacked loudly against your ass, making it bounce, as his heavy balls hit your swollen clit. “Fuck!” You shouted, hating the sensation as much as you were liking it. And he did this over and over. With time, you grew accustomed to the brutality and even happened to find a blissful pleasure in his roughness. Hell, you could even hear how wet your pussy was. “You like that? You want it faster?” You nodded and he grabbed your hips to pull you even closer to him and started relentlessly pounding you from behind. You screamed his name, wondering how he could still be that rough and yet that fast. His cock was literally a jackhammer hitting you hard inside, not that you minded. “Yes, just like that.” You said as you brought your fingers to your swollen clit. “Do you want to cum already?” You heard the cheekiness in his voice. He was amused. “Aren’t you the one who said it wouldn’t last long?” You retorted with a mocking smile that he definitely noticed in the tone of your voice since he grasped a handful of your hair to pull you back against his chest. “You’re going to regret this tone, young lady.” He bit your lips, making you almost bleed and kissed you with a hunger and a ferocious passion that would certainly let your lips bruised for days.

And as he did, his fingers crawled towards the buttons of your white shirt to violently tear the clothe apart, reducing it to rags and making the small metallic buttons fly in the lab. “Let me see those boobs.” Chris ordered as his hands squeezed your breasts, feeling the hard nipples pointing through your laced bra that he ultimately removed with the same burning ardour he had shown while removing your shirt. “So perky and pretty.” He confessed in a whisper as he pinched the rosy teats between his fingers. “Do you like them?” You asked, biting your sored lips “More than I like you. That’s for sure.” The rebuke made you sourly laugh. “I don’t like you either.” “Good.” He turned you over to face him and pushed you against your desk to make you sit on it, throwing all your stuff to the ground before laying you down on it. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist but that’s apparently not what Chris wanted as he put both your feet above his left shoulder with a grunt. “And don’t move.” He commanded and his hand slapped your breasts. They reddened almost instantly but the overall sensation was exhilarating, making you clenched your walls around Chris’s cock. “Fuck, don’t squeeze me like that.” He complained and you chuckled. But your laugh was brief since Chris caught you by your legs again and resumed his previous pounding.

You head tilted to the side and a stream of OHs and AHs escaped your mouth. You were completely at Chris’ mercy, lost in an intense bliss that made you completely unaware of the world around you. There was only pleasure. Pleasure and Chris. You toes went to feel Chris’ muscular pectorals, curling up more and more by the second. “I think I’m gonna cum.” You confessed with half-lidded eyes that you could barely keep open now. “Yeah?” You nodded. “You want me to help you?” “Please.” You whined, desperately wanting to let the ticking bomb of pleasure between your legs explode. “Alright then.” His arms circled your waist and he hoisted you up against his chest with an incredible ease. You were certainly very light for a man as strong as Chris. His small dark hair tickled your breasts, making you shiver and you wrapped your legs against him as well as your arms around his neck. You could feel it still inside of you and you were waiting eagerly to se how he would manage fucking you in that position which was far from easy. “Hold on tight.” He announced as he squeezed your ass to make you slide up and down his penis. The first moves were sloppy and clumsy but what followed drove you back in intense delight. The perks of being fucked by a man who had definitely been spoiled by Mother Nature.

Your body perfectly angled against Chris’, hands now holding on tight to his large shoulders, you could feel your clit rub atrociously well against the bush surrounding his member that your pussy had excessively creamed. “Chris. I’m cumming.” You shut your eyes and cradled against his body to keep yourself in place when the exhilarating moment you had been longing for finally happened. You shouted so loud as you clenched your walls against Chris’s cock you wondered how no one rushed in your lab to see what was happening in there. “That’s it baby girl. Cum for me.” Chris hissed, his mind split between your pussy squeezing him tightly and your nails scratching his shoulders to the blood. “Fuck, Chris!” Your climax knocked you out, rendering you dizzy and limp, and you let yourself slump against Chris, head over his shoulder. “Alright time to truly finish this.” He chuckled and knelt to the floor where he laid you hot body on the tiles. The coldness made you tremble but you were too giddy and tired to mind. Nevertheless, you sensed Chris lie on top of you, his massive body sprawled over yours almost crushing it under his weight.

His shaft found his way back in your relaxed pussy and he weaved his hand in your soft hair to pound you for the last time. Only soft almost soundless moans escaped your mouth but you could tell that the effect of your powerful orgasm was slowly fading away as your energy was slowly growing back and regaining your limbs. “I’m gonna cum in you.” This was a terrible idea, risky even, and you knew it. But you didn’t know how – or didn’t want – to fight back, actually desiring to feel Chris’s hot sperm spurt inside of you. So instinctively, you managed to circle his waist with your legs and spur his hard rear to make him go deeper inside of you. “Eager girl. You want to take my cum so bad, don’t you?” He scoffed and kissed your lips hard as he pinned your wrists up your head to finally release his sticky white seed in your vagina with a guttural animalistic grunt that echoed in the lab. “Take it.” He growled as he kept pushing himself hard inside of you to be sure not to waist a single drop of his semen.

Chris pulled out of you and gazed at you glistening red pussy, glad to see that his cum was not oozing out of you. “That felt so good.” He admitted before allowing himself to fall next to you with a sigh of content and enjoy the coldness of the tiles against his sweaty body. “And you know what? I actually feel a lot better.” You didn’t answer, exhausted but more especially lost in your thoughts. Gosh, what have you done? “You’re alright?” Chris asked, his voice finally back to normal. You glanced at him and noticed even his eyes had found their sweet chocolate colour back. “ Y/N” Your name echoed in your head and you suddenly got the impression that your body was abnormally convulsing. “Y/LN! Y/N” Chris repeated as he urged to hold you. “Y/LN. Hello?” You felt your mind slowly dozing off, finding yourself unable to answer. What the hell was happening? That was the last thing that came to your mind before it completely shut off. Then everything went dark and only Chris’ voice calling your name remained. “Y/LN! Open your eyes. Wake up!”

You woke up with a start, lost and wondering where you were, your startled eyes scanning your surroundings in search of something familiar. It took you a couple of seconds to realise you were laying on the ground and that you actually were in your tent, a the camp. “Y/LN” Your eyes met Chris’. He was staring at you with concern, his hands firmly holding your shoulders. “You’re alright?” You stared at him, still very astonished and then, you spontaneously jumped in his arms. “Chris! You’re okay!” The relief in your voice made Chis frowned and he slowly pushed you away. “Yes. You?” You nodded with a smile. “So it was a dream?” You asked, expecting an answer from Chris which was completely absurd. “A dream?” He repeated. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did you bump your head or something? Hurt yourself?” “No.” You shook your head, not getting why he looked so worried. “But your ear.” He pointed at it, not daring to touch it and you brought your fingertips to it. A thick liquid was pouring out of it. It was pus and blood. You were bleeding. Why were you bleeding? “What the fuck?” You looked around you only to spot the fried earpiece on the ground next to you. The interferences. The static electricity. It had certainly burst your eardrum and made you faint and … “It was all a dream.”

#chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #resident evil #one shot

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anghraine · 5 years ago

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pro patria, chapters 15-21

“Ascalonian, eh?”

“Our father was from Ebonhawke and our mother’s a Langmar,” I said, and he looked surprised all over again.

With a quick laugh, he said, “Then get out there, little sister, and make our ancestors proud.”

title: pro patria (15-21/?) stuff that happens: Althea and Logan take on Zamon in court, and Logan recruits Althea into a new investigation—one that touches her own family.

verse: Ascalonian grudgefic characters/relationships: Althea Fairchild, Lord Faren, Logan Thackeray, Countess Anise, Julius Zamon; Minister Caudecus, Ailoda Langmar, others; Althea & Logan, Althea & Faren, Althea & Deborah chapters: 1-7, 8-14

FIFTEEN 1 I could always depend on Faren’s loyalty. But even beyond him, everyone I needed looked to be present. Cin Fursarai had arrived to complain about his business losses. Lady Madeline kept me at arm’s length, but indicated she still meant to testify. My friend Corone was ready to identify his stolen chalice, recovered from Zamon's mansion by the Seraph. Reth told me that he’d been fired from the Ministry Guard, but hoped I’d pull this off. “Just tell the truth,” I said, clasping his shoulder, “and Zamon won’t be able to do any more damage.” 2 Beneath my easy assurance—what I hoped looked like easy assurance—my blood pounded. This could go horribly wrong, and I had no clever tricks left, no clones to conceal myself among, nowhere to run or hide. I could only present the truth, and hope it convinced the ministers. I couldn’t look at my mother. Anise and Captain Thackeray quietly joined me on either side. “Proving Zamon’s guilt won’t be easy,” he said, “but I have every confidence in you. Now get out there and convict that maggot.” 3 I nodded, appreciating both the support and pressure, willing my pulse to slow. It didn’t seem particularly accommodating. “You look calm, but I can tell you’re worried,” Anise said softly. “Don’t be—you’ve done all of the necessary preparation and the facts are on our side. The case is yours to win.” “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said, and forced myself to breathe evenly. “Now I just have to win it.” 4 Zamon, of course, sneered and denied everything. “You’re a fool, you know. You’ll never convict me—I’m as innocent as a babe in arms.” I, too, had noticed the tendency of infants to try bribing extremely wealthy aristocrats. Gods, what an idiot. I shrugged. “Let’s see who the courts believe.” 5 “Hear ye!” called the judicial scribe, and the hubbub dutifully dwindled. “The trial of Minister Julius Zamon is hereby called to order, Legate Minister Caudecus presiding. Who stands for the prosecution?” “I do,” I said, and forced myself to add, “Lady Althea Fairchild.” Just before, the scribe had explained that I would be on trial for slander, if Zamon were acquitted. I thought of my family’s unstained name, and just repressed a shudder. “Your Honour,” I declared, “we have evidence proving Minister Zamon conspired against the citizens of Divinity’s Reach!” 6 I couldn’t turn back now. “He abused his authority to commit thievery, murder, and treason. We will present incriminating documents and sworn testimony from respected members of the community, including the sister of the accused!” Madeline blanched, but met her brother’s glare steadily. Minister Caudecus studied me for several long moments. Then he turned to Zamon and said, “The prosecution seems to have prepared quite a compelling case.” My head swam with relief. 7 “Minister Zamon, can you refute these accusations?” Zamon simply laughed, and all relief faded. He was an idiot, but one who knew his own interests. Well, sort of—all my witnesses now eyed him with intense dislike, even Fursarai. “Refute?” he said scornfully. “Why bother? My lord Caudecus”—and now he stood upright, back to his old arrogant height—“in accordance with the most ancient tenets of Krytan law, I invoke my right to trial by combat!”

SIXTEEN

1 I didn’t even have time to hope that Minister Caudecus would restore some sense of order to the proceedings; he immediately accepted the invocation and announced that Zamon would have to nominate a second, and I both a principal and a second. “I will be the principal, Legate Minister,” I said promptly. Caudecus granted a short recess to choose my second—my second, in a trial by combat, as if we’d jumped back to the days of the guild wars. I hadn’t really meant this when I hoped for it a few days ago, I’d meant—I’d been angry, frustrated, but I thought of it as a long-dead custom, not a possibility. What did prowess in battle have to do with truth or justice? Well, I thought, at the least it could be an outlet for justice; I felt not the slightest doubt of his guilt, and very little doubt of defeating him in combat, backed by a decent second. The only difficulty was finding one. 2 In fact, I had no difficulty narrowing the field to possible candidates. As soon as I turned about and considered the gathered audience, I dismissed virtually everyone. There was Reth, who had been a Ministry Guard; he must have some fighting skill. There was Anise, a better mesmer than I’d ever be. Captain Thackeray, of course, if he really meant what he’d said. There was even Faren, who had (however ridiculously) held his own in the bandit caves. But which? 3 I drifted among my friends, not wanting to give Zamon and his massive Norn retainer any chance at preparing themselves. Fending off their inquiries after the case, I saw Faren waving his arm and swivelled about to reach him. Instead, I nearly slammed into Zamon himself. With one of his most unpleasant smiles, he said, “It’s not too late to abandon this farce. Recuse yourself and I’ll see to it your honesty is rewarded. You don’t want to face the alternative.” Very quietly, I said, “Don’t threaten me, Minister.” 4 I ducked into the crowd before he could try anything else—I wouldn’t put much past him—and strode up to Faren. “Ready for action, old friend!” he said brightly. Tension faded from my shoulders and temples, for all that I’d resolved nothing. Faren could be theatrical, posturing, careless, but somehow he always seemed to soothe my nerves. And no woman could ask for a truer friend. “I’m sure you are,” I told him, with a quick embrace. To my surprise, he returned it tightly, his sharp chin digging into my scalp. 5 Faren released me, looking nervous and awkward in a way I hadn’t seen in years. “And let me add,” he said, his voice far removed from his usual vain cheerfulness, “I’m truly flattered you’re even considering me as your second.” Oh. Well, I was, though I hadn’t thought of it as flattery, just pragmatics—but perhaps that was all the more flattering in its way, especially for someone like Faren. In all probability, I wouldn’t choose him, but I was touched anyway. “Glad to know you’re willing and able,” I replied. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to decide.” 6 I tracked down Anise—or rather, Anise’s vibrant hair, but happily, the rest of her remained attached to it. “Trial by combat?” she said, with all the incredulity that I felt. “Who’d have thought it? I’m surprised Zamon even knows it’s an option. There hasn’t been one in over fifty years … or, at least, that’s what I’ve been told.” I shot her an amused glance; she’d been a family friend in my mother’s youth as well as mine, if not before. “Then we ought to make this as memorable as possible,” I said. 7 Captain Thackeray was the easiest to find; he stood a head above everyone else and was encased in heavy armour, with a bright sword strapped to his side. He grinned at my questioning glance. “As a Seraph captain,” he told me, “I can’t really jump around saying, ‘pick me, pick me!’ But I can certainly think it.” I laughed. That resolved the first question. More soberly, he said: “I’m ready to go if you need me.” ---------------------------------------------------------------

1) the guild wars: a bloody war between actual guilds that took place shortly before the first game, Guild Wars: Prophecies.

2) Anise’s vibrant hair: Anise has very long, beautiful red hair.

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SEVENTEEN

1 “There’s nothing I’d like better than to personally dish out some of the punishment Zamon deserves,” added Captain Thackeray. I could easily believe it of him—both the sentiment and the approach. As I left him and moved among very-definitely-not-nominees, I did my best to calculate my chances without betraying any sign of doing so. Reth seemed to be some sort of brawler, eager to rough up a traitorous noble with his own hands. Captain Thackeray, between his bulk and his armour, could effectively shield me and absorb Zamon’s and Eitel’s attacks while I lashed out spells. Faren was—Faren. And Anise would duplicate the confusion I depended upon, multiply it into mass chaos. 2 I returned to the scribe, expression carefully blank, the observers and guests staring in near-silence—all but my candidates, whom I’d quietly informed. Zamon and Eitel-the-Unlovable looked guarded, but unprepared for any specific approach. “Have you decided who will serve as the prosecution’s second?” asked the scribe. In a loud, clear voice, I said, “I’ve chosen Captain Thackeray.” Logan already knew, but he still seemed like he might nearly punch his gauntleted fist into the air. He, Anise, and I turned cheerful smiles on Zamon, who eyed us all with intense dislike. He didn’t look afraid, but he didn’t look relieved, either—whatever he thought of me, he must know it wouldn’t be an easy fight against a captain of the Seraph and a mage. 3 “An interesting choice,” remarked Minister Caudecus, almost dourly. What had Logan ever done to him? “If Lord Zamon proves victorious, he is innocent. The case is thrown out and these charges against him may not be brought again. If you win, then Zamon is found guilty of the crime.” “I understand,” I replied. I understood that Zamon was going to rot in prison or the grave. 4 In the grave, as it happened. Captain Thackeray and I planned our approach with a few words and expressions; he would rush forward, keep them off me, and I’d make sure he had a dizzying array of clones and illusions alongside him to keep things interesting, between shooting Zamon and Eitel full of chaos magic. It worked beyond my most fanciful dreams. Eitel went down quickly; he seemed to have no resistance to my magic, and no interest in dodging it. Zamon screamed that we were nothing—really, who did he think he was?—and then that our skill didn’t matter. I only drew near at the end, when Zamon lay groaning and wounded under Logan’s sword. “I only … did … as I was told …” he mumbled, and died. 5 What? Now we had some other scheming traitor out there? “Victory is declared!” announced Minister Caudecus, with absolutely no enthusiasm. “According to the dictates of Krytan law, Minister Zamon is found guilty.” Captain Thackeray—Logan—guessed that Caudecus disliked the proceedings purely for the disruption of normal order, not that it was our doing, but Anise shook her head. “How do you think Zamon knew about the ancient law in the first place?” she murmured. Logan and I glanced sharply at her. 6 “If Zamon won the battle,” she continued, “he’d be declared innocent—no more investigation. Now he’s guilty, but he’s also dead. No loose ends.” Of course—but Caudecus himself? I could hardly believe it, and Logan looked shaken as well. Anise didn’t move closer, but the sudden intensity in her face made it feel as if she had. “Never underestimate Minister Caudecus,” she told us. 7 Anise slipped away, always quick to avoid unintended notice, and Logan gave a brisk nod. “Go and celebrate a well-earned victory,” he said. “I was genuinely hoping for a conviction based on a preponderance of the evidence … but this works, too.” That was Logan, all right. The ambivalent expression on his face then vanished, replaced by an unusually cheerful resolve. I’d expected him to return to his own business, like Anise; instead, he gave me a comradely clap on the shoulder that nearly knocked me to my knees. Then, Logan—Captain Thackeray of Divinity’s Reach, heir of Gwen Thackeray, hero of too many battles to count—looked straight at me, a woman who’d been indistinguishable from any young noble until a few months ago, and said, “I’m starting to think there’s no problem we can’t solve if we tackle it together.”

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1) Eitel-the-Unlovable: Zamon’s retainer is a Norn, a member of a species of giant, vaguely Scandinavian shapeshifters.

--------------------------------------------------------------- EIGHTEEN 1 “Now get some rest,” Captain Thackeray ordered. “There’s sure to be more work for us soon.” “Thanks, Captain,” I said, at once overwhelmed and determined. “I’ll be ready.” The compliments didn’t end there. Anise half-jokingly offered me a place among the queen’s lawyers; Corone laughed and said that he’d be sure not to run afoul of the captain and me; Lord Benjamin lit up when I suggested he should join the government himself; even the scribe said she was impressed with the trial. Truthfully, I told her, “I just hope that such proceedings remain rare.” 2 Faren, of course, swept a low, graceful bow, and then pretended to nearly swoon. “Another fine day’s work—on your part, that is,” he said. “Frankly, I’m exhausted just watching you.” I managed not to snicker, but only because I stood among the pillars and arches of the Ministry itself, not to mention under the eyes of some of the most powerful figures in Kryta. With a grin, he went on, “I hope you know I’ll be toasting your success later this evening, with damsels yet to be determined.” “I know,” I said dryly, and raised a brow. “Just spare me the details, and I’ll toast you for your discretion.” 3 Gladly leaving Faren to his own devices, I made my last farewells to everyone still loitering around the Ministry. To my relief, I had no immediately pressing duties, although Captain Thackeray—after congratulating me again and urging me to celebrate my victory—assured me that he’d be in touch. I didn’t doubt it, but for now, the best celebration seemed sleeping for three days. It wasn’t quite three days, but I did ignore everything else to crawl into my bed for hours, only waking for meals and a few dimly-remembered conversations. When I finally emerged, I had to assure my mother, “I’m not hurt, Mama, just tired.” Mother looked at me with anxious eyes—only more anxious after, well, watching me duel another minister to the death while unable to do anything, and while her other daughter lay dead and probably mutilated in some lost grave. I hated that she’d seen it, hated the fear that lived in her eyes these days, but more than that, I hated the idea of turning my back on our people. 4 After I spent a few days with my mother, alternately sleeping and consoling her, I headed back into Queensdale. I didn’t have a clear destination in mind, but I’d often heard Deborah talk about how people out there needed more help than the Seraph could supply, and how much more she wished she could do. I meant to help wherever I could, in whatever ways I could. Wherever I could took some peculiar shapes over the next few weeks. I made my way to Claypool and helped the Seraph captain there train the militia; in return, she wrote frankly, I wasn't sure someone of your reputation would stick around to help my militia. I'm impressed and honoured that you did. I re-read the letter four times, not smiling, just—I hadn’t expected either the surprise or the gratitude; if anything, I counted it an honour to serve the Seraph. 5 Then there was a lumber mill under perpetual threat from a) skritt and b) extremely oversized wasps. I helped the labourers fight them off as often as I could, and received another letter, though it took awhile to find its way to me—probably because it was addressed simply to “Ly Althea of Rurikton.” The leader of the workers was Ascalonian, and had been more deeply impressed that I had a home in Rurikton than that the home was a manor. Your reputation, she wrote, doesn’t exaggerate your heroism and skill. All of us at the lumber mill thank you for your time. That time, I did smile. I wasn’t patrolling Queensdale for praise, but neither was I so pure that I didn’t like getting it. 6 When I heard that Claypool had fallen under attack from centaurs, I returned as quickly as I could manage, and helped fight them off. These seemed even fiercer than the centaurs at Shaemoor, but somehow it was easier to drive them off. The centaurs were shaken, one of the Seraph told me. “Demoralizing the enemy is key,” he went on, “and you made that happen.” I’d helped, no more; but if my help had turned the tide for Claypool, I was glad to serve. Perhaps Seraph Elmder saw that, because he clapped my shoulder just as Captain Thackeray would have. “Thank you, soldier,” he said. 7 I ended up wandering all the way to Beetletun, doing everything from convincing children to work at their chores, to fighting off even hardier, more aggressive centaurs, to slipping inside their encampments to sabotage their equipment and free their slaves. There were pests in the village to eradicate, and farms throughout the shire to protect or salvage. And I fought alongside Seraph at their outposts, which I preferred to just about anything else. It wasn’t just Deborah or Logan; as I saw just how much the Seraph needed to do, and how thin their resources ran, I’d come to admire them for their own sake. I’d never met a Seraph I didn’t respect. Of course, there was Deborah’s memory; wherever her spirit might be, I hoped she knew what my life had become. I might not be much for taking orders from anyone I hadn’t chosen, but I was following her steps as closely as I could. NINETEEN 1 I was in Godslost Swamp, helping historians fight off nightmares from the Underworld—long story—when a letter from my mother arrived. It had been written weeks earlier, passed from courier to courier along the increasingly dangerous route, then left at the last outpost until someone brave enough to dare the swamp delivered it to the Priory camp. Thankfully, it contained nothing urgent, only accounts of Ministry machinations, the doings of my friends—she dedicated an entire paragraph to Faren, who appeared to be doing a great deal of nothing—and some visits from her own friends. Anise seemed in poor spirits, she wrote, or rather, irritated ones. Apparently, that nice Captain Thackeray has a bee in his bonnet (can you imagine him with a bonnet?) over something entirely disconnected from his duties in Divinity’s Reach. My brows rose; that didn’t sound like him at all. Mother concluded with an unsubtle wish that she would see me again soon, or at least hear from me, and I winced; although I dutifully wrote whenever I had paper and couriers available, this had not been one of those times—and if she’d known where I was, she would have good reason to fear for me. 2 Frankly, after fighting a massive, hellish nightmare creature that took a good hundred adventurers to bring down, home sounded decidedly appealing. I could soothe my mother, see my friends, get some decent meals and rest, and put on unstained clothes—and check in with ‘that nice Captain Thackeray.’ (Mother’s feelings towards him had always been vaguely positive, but seeing him protect me in trial by combat had raised them to eternal devotion.) I didn’t bother with a letter; thanks to some of my favourite spells, I could travel faster by myself than any series of couriers. And she plainly did not expect an actual arrival; I could surprise her this way. Sure enough, Mother gave a strangled shriek when she saw me in the street, and disregarded the curious people around us, the state of my clothes, everything, to rush forward and clutch me to her. I would never turn back from the path I had set myself upon—but though I cared for many people and places, I didn’t think I could ever love anything so much as my family. 3 Doubtfully, a woman I’d never met said, “Isn’t that the hero of Shaemoor?” Another replied, “No, it’s Minister Ailoda.” We ignored them to make our way back to the manor. To her credit, it took Mother a good five minutes to wrinkle her nose. “What have you been doing? Let me draw you a bath, darling.” I was only too happy to remove the accumulation of dirt and swamp water I’d never quite managed to scrub off at the Seraph outposts—but I had no intention of telling her just what I’d been doing. 4 I emerged from the bath with a pleasant sense of pristine cleanliness, and a silk robe that had never felt finer against my skin. After I dressed (the clothes freshly laundered, because Mother thought of everything), I supplied a severely edited version of my adventures since she’d last seen me. Even that much was enough to make her shudder. “I know you’re following your conscience, but—” “I am,” I said firmly. I did spend the next few days with her, amusing her with stories of (safe) quirks and mishaps, letting her show me off at the Ministry, staying beside her during the regular courtesy calls she received. Then I headed to Seraph Headquarters. 5 When I walked through the doors, Logan’s face lit up. He abruptly concluded the discussion he’d been involved in and strode right over to me. “Good to see you again, my friend,” he said, looking so pleased that I couldn't bring myself to doubt it. “You have excellent timing!” I had no idea what tangential preoccupation could have irritated Anise. But nothing, nothing, could have prepared me for what he said next. “Have you ever heard of Falcon Company?” 6 For a moment, my mind went entirely blank. The voices around us faded, my ears ringing. My face and hands felt cold, but my lungs burned. “Of course I have,” I said, proud that my voice remained even. “One of the most decorated units of Seraph, wiped out by a centaur ambush.” Taking a deep breath, I added, “My sister was a soldier in that command.” Captain Thackeray looked stricken. 7 “Your sister?” he exclaimed, clearly oblivious. Falcon Company had fallen under a different command, I told myself, unrelated to his own—that was why Anise disapproved of his interest—and that interest was frankly more than I would have expected. Still. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, turning somber. “I—I didn’t know.” I nodded, goodwill restored, and remembered myself enough to wonder: if he hadn’t heard about my connection to the Falcons, and didn’t have one of his own, why was he asking me about them? And why now? TWENTY 1 Gravely, Logan said, “You'll be even more interested in this information than I thought.” The chill lying over my skin flashed hot. Information? What—maybe—was— He lowered his voice, more conscious of our surroundings than I could manage. “Scouts in the Queen’s Forest discovered pages from an old journal. They were apparently written by Willem Harrinton, a member of Falcon Company.” A member of Deborah’s company. 2 Had Harrinton known something? Oh, he must have, for Captain Thackeray to consider it ‘information.’ He must have written it down. But— I waited, some approximation of composure returning; I could hear the low murmurs and pen-scratchings of Seraph business around us, though Logan had drawn us away into a corner where we wouldn’t be easily overheard. “The writing on the pages is rough,” he went on, “hasty. But it describes survivors of the battle taken prisoner by the centaurs.” 3 Damn composure, anyway. “Survivors?” I breathed, feeling the rush of blood all through my veins. Survivors. No body, no presence at the grave, nothing—was it possible? I’d never imagined it. Never dared imagine it. “My sister could be alive?” 4 Desperate hope sparked through me, and I seized his arm without regard to the layers of plate over it. “Logan, you’ve got to let me investigate!” I burst out. No, no, I had to stay calm, force myself into some semblance of self-control; friend or not, I’d be left out if I seemed too overwrought for the investigation. And I couldn’t sit back while others took on the danger, while Debs perhaps laboured under centaurs’ whips (great Kormir, I couldn’t even imagine it), while—I had to find out for myself. In a quieter voice, I insisted, “I need to know what happened to Deborah.” Instead of eyeing me doubtfully, as I half-expected, Logan gave me a sympathetic smile. “I thought you’d feel that way.” 5 “Let’s update my records,” he said briskly, reverting to his usual determined competence, “and then you can head to Eldvin Monastery and speak to Captain Tervelan.” I nodded, aiming for the same level of professionalism. “Though he’s been promoted to Captain of Queensdale, Tervelan once commanded Falcon Company,” said Logan. “He might be able to tell us more.” I remembered the abrupt letter we’d received, simply signed J. Tervelan. Now I was going to see its author at last. “Good,” I said. 6 Logan led me over to his desk, which was covered in papers and parchment in various conditions, along with the Seraph roster that I’d seen before. “Falcon Company’s records were largely destroyed by centaur raids,” he explained. “I’m trying to get a complete roster.” He dipped a quill in ink, then gave me a quick glance. “Your sister was of Krytan descent?” I lifted my chin. “Ascalonian, sir,” I said, “and proud of it.” 7 His eyes widened, a smile creeping back. But he confined himself to an indistinct noise of approval, dragging his finger down the faded roster until he reached Fairchild, Deborah. My chest hurt, but something in me thrilled at the quiet addition of Asc alongside her rank, which I affirmed, and age and place of birth, which I supplied. After he cleaned and capped the quill, Logan shook his head. “Ascalonian, eh?” “Our father was from Ebonhawke and our mother’s a Langmar,” I said, and he looked surprised all over again. With a quick laugh, he said, “Then get out there, little sister, and make our ancestors proud.”

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1) Ascalonian, sir, and proud of it: the line that inspired the whole fic! It solely (as far as I know) determines Deborah’s appearance in the cinematics, but Deborah and the PC being proud Ascalonians seemed something that would profoundly influence them, given the dynamics at play in GW1/Eye of the North/GW2.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- TWENTY-ONE 1 I nearly tripped on my way from the Seraph headquarters to Dwayna’s gate. A Charr was strolling through the plaza right before headquarters, easy as you please—a Charr, in Divinity’s Reach! It looked like he’d come from the gate to Lion’s Arch, which was … legal, but I hadn’t seen any here in years, and—and he couldn’t mean anything good. I paused long enough to glance back suspiciously; was he scouting out weaknesses? “That Charr is back,” someone said behind me, not bothering to lower her voice. “He makes me nervous.” She wasn’t the only one. 2 But I had more important concerns than Charr, at least right now. Logan and Anise could protect Divinity’s Reach; I had Deborah’s fate to uncover. I jumped from waypoint to waypoint, stumbling out of the last with a few copper for the gatekeeper and the breath nearly knocked right out of me. But I recovered after only a moment, and with a burst of concentration, took off running towards Eldvin Monastery. I slowed down as I approached, letting the air cool the sweat and flush on my skin, then wiping it with a cleansing handkerchief that I returned to my belt pouch. I might not be Faren, but I didn’t care to confront unpredictable circumstances at anything less than my best. I brushed a few blades of grass off my sleeves and, after a single deep breath, marched up to the main entrance. 3 The Seraph at the gates to the monastery clearly recognized me, by either description or reasoning. They immediately straightened up, and one of them—who seemed to be the leader—saluted me. “The hero of Shaemoor is finally here, everybody!” she cried. To me, she said, “The captain’s expecting you—he’s up on the wall.” Well, that should make things easier. “Captain Thackeray sent a message that you were going to visit,” she said, and looked me over with evident, un-Seraph-like fascination, her eyes wide. “We’re all very excited to meet the hero of Shaemoor.” 4 She was, at least. I thanked her and got directions to the captain, then paused. I had no way of knowing what any of them had seen or guessed, if anything. “Have you heard of the Screaming Falcons?” I asked. “Of course!” she said. “They’re legendary, especially around here—the best company in the Seraph, but then … well, you know.” Yes, I knew. 5 “Did you ever meet any of them?” I pressed. “They were before my time,” she said, sobering, “but I’ve heard stories about that week, laying out the bodies for burial.” Her jaw tightened. “They say some of the bodies were missing. It sickens me to think what the centaurs did with them.” My chest clenched, a sick, sour taste rising in my throat. I swallowed it down and replied, “Me, too.” 6 Inside the walls, the abbey brothers and sisters seemed cheerful enough, concerned first with their ale and secondly with their faith. But I quickly realized that the first Seraph’s enthusiasm was not shared by all. “Another ‘hero,’ huh?” said a lieutenant. “I’ve met your kind before—you’re brave enough, inside city walls.” I thought of saying I don’t have a kind, but I couldn’t quite believe it. At any rate, he clearly hadn’t met a map if he thought Shaemoor lay within city walls. “Out here,” he added, tone even grimmer, “you’re just a walking corpse waiting for your time to come.” 7 “Stiffen your spine,” I said coolly. “You’re representing queen and country. Petulance doesn’t befit your station.” Lieutenant Gordon laughed. “Queen and country? Yes, they do deserve better—better than this.” At once irritated, offended, and peculiarly impressed, I told him, “Keep that in mind.”

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1) the gate to Lion’s Arch: there’s a sparkly Asura gate/portal to Lion’s Arch (the central city of the whole game) from the human home district of Divinity’s Reach.

2) jumped from waypoint to waypoint: waypoints are location markers that let you teleport between them for a price (varying by distance between them).

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armageddon-generation · 6 years ago

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Fixing The Legend of Korra - Book 3

Book 1, Book 2, Book 4

THIS IS MY PERSONAL FAVE BOOK, SO IMPROVEMENTS ARE RELATIVELY MINIMAL. AGAIN, IMAGINING A 28 EPISODE SEASON

REPUBLIC CITY

Further exploration of what opening the portals did to the world

Show what happened to the people forced out of their homes – forced into housing camps.

Bolin works with General Iroh trying to help these people, dressing up as Nuktuk to give the kids the same kind of comforting distraction he needed at that age on the streets – this lays the foundation for his joining Kuvira much later

Have the triads try to exploit the spirits – capturing them and attempting to sell them as exotic pets/batteries (a prelude to what Varrick does in Book 4 that goes horribly wrong). The Spirits go nuts and attack, and Korra has to act as peacekeeper (defending the triads is something she really hates)

During this conflict a triad member is briefly possessed by a spirit. Korra gets it out, but now he has to live deformed. I’m thinking Shady Shin, because he has a direct relationship with the bending brothers (them helping him shows character growth and is an interesting inversion of the dynamic established in flashbacks, where Shin mentored and corrupted them).

As a criminal, Shin also didn’t get his bending back. In this way – first losing his bending, then being possessed by a spirit – his character is a microcosm of everything that’s happened to the world so far, and it would be interesting to see Korra confront this

The new Air Nation takes him in and cares for/attempts to rehabilitate him

KORRASAMI

At this point Asami is aware she’s starting to feel attracted to Korra – she’s much more self-aware and has much more self-control. Korra isn’t yet aware she’s attracted to Asami – growing up in the South Pole with now LGBTQ role models (Kya’s dating life wasn’t very active) it’s not that she wasn’t aware of fluid sexuality, it’s just she never considered that it would apply to her.

They bond not only over Mako, but also their joint responsibilities (Asami is marshalling the democratic Equalists’ political campaign from Book 2)

By the end of the season Korra knows what they have is more than just friendship, but she isn’t emotionally ready to go there

Asami spends much of this Book running after Korra, and that’s important - she’s been swept up in this grand adventure. When Korra gets hurt and has to leave in the finale, Asami is brought down with a bump - in Book 4 they will have to confront that they can’t run away from responsibility or have a fairytale romance. They have to live in the real world

RED LOTUS

When Tonraq and Zuko meet with the twins to guard P’Li, establish they’re building a more positive (if slightly awkward) relationship with their uncle

Obvious thing, but let’s see an origin story for our group – Zaheer rescuing P’Li, Ming Hua losing her arms and learning to live without them (Korra learns about this and it hangs over her when she’s in the wheelchair) and Ghazan developing his lavabending

Firmly establish lavabending is the result of Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom blood mixing, so Bolin’s powers don’t come out nowhere

Have the Red Lotus be the ones who killed Sokka. That raid when Korra was a kid was his last stand. This lends a lot more emotional weight to the characters coming in, and especially if we make them much more likeable with an origin story and greater emphasis on the group dynamic, creating greater emotional conflict within the audience. Plus, this way we actually get to see old Sokka in Korra

Create a genuine will-they-won’t-they between Ming Hua and Ghazan – their attempts at flirting would be Azula-level funny. They never act on their feelings because they’re both destructive and damaged from their long imprisonment (have the group comforting each other over nightmares about being back there). Then end the romance on a tragic note when they die together in the finale – the suicide is double-pronged, a metaphor for their destructive emotional states

I imagine Gazhan and P’Li having a sibling-esque rivalry over who can be the most destructive in battle

Contrast the Red Lotus with the old, out of touch members of the White Lotus trying to manage spiritual activity across the globe – have Jinora, Kai and the new airbenders express frustration towards them.

When Iroh shows up to talk to Korra in the Spirit World, have them discuss his relationship with the White Lotus and how it changed after his death – just as in ATLA, he disapproves of holding on to tradition, honour and the past at the cost of moving forward

Zaheer was an Air Acolyte in his youth; this is a more concrete explanation of how he is immediately such an expert airbender. It also sets up a more intimate and interesting relationship between Zaheer and the new Air Nation – he sees them almost as his children, potential followers

He begged Aang to give him bending, but Aang refused (for the sake of balance – it wouldn’t be natural). Zaheer’s anger, combined with the White Lotus’ stifling attempts at spiritual control (which Jinora can relate to even today) caused him to join the Red Lotus

Zaheer sees in Korra a kindred spirit – not only did she open the portals, but she returned people their bending after Amon took it away; she is willing to upend the ‘natural order’ Aang clung too, the same order Zaheer wants to upend

Korra protests giving people bending wasn’t the point – Zaheer being an airbender doesn’t make him more special than anyone else (the lesson she learnt in Book 1). She restored their bending because those people needed to be whole again

Zaheer’s attitude towards Airbenders like Kai, a former criminal with little respect for tradition, is a dark, exaggerated reflection of Tenzin’s initial reaction – violent disgust

The Red Lotus’ ultimate goal is to end the Avatar cycle, then extract Raava from Korra. The chaos they’re causing by destabilising the Earth Kingdom and removing Korra will cause Vaatu to grow much faster. Then the Red Lotus will combine the two spirits, producing Gaana, the spirit of Harmony from whence Light and Dark came, returning the world to primordial peace

Although they stop the Lotus, the formation of Gaana becomes a far-off dream for Korra, her endgame for when the world no longer needs the Avatar

(Also have Zuko meet with and talk to Iroh at the end of Book 3, now he can enter the Spirit World. Pretty please.)

ZAOFU AND THE BEIFONGS

Because the plot of Book 3 isn’t as dense, we have more time to stretch our legs with character stuff – the calm before the storm. Establish the Beifongs’ personalities in greater detail (because there are a lot of them) – have them argue and love each other the way families do

Asami ADORES the design & technology work in Zaofu and really bonds with Bataar Sr - he represents an ideal version her father she saw when she was a kid, what she wishes Hiroshi could’ve been

Also use this opportunity to establish Bataar Jr’s mounting resentment before Book 4 - especially if Asami is a better mechanic than him

Bataar Jr and Opal have a close bond when we meet them as the only non-bending kids (they and Kuvira are a tight-knit trio) but over our time in Zoafu we see them drift apart as Opal embraces her airbending identity. Bataar is left alone.

Involve Kuvira more directly – establish that she’s the emotional lynchpin of the family, the negotiator whom everyone relies on. At the same time, she’s an outsider, only allowed at mealtimes on special occasions etc, and she’s painfully aware of that

When Mako starts investigating the mole in Zaofu, have Kuvira team up with them – she takes the hardline bad cop role, but they work well together and get results (Korra jokes Mako certainly has a type because of how similar they are)

Kuvira joins Team Avatar in the finale, and also when they go after Iwae, helping Mako and Bolin fight Ming Hua and Gahzaan (much more viciously than the bending brothers), but gets knocked out.

In Book 4 when she argues with Su she pulls this specific example: Su is willing to act (or order Kuvira to act) when it serves her own self-interest (i.e. revenge on Iwae) but not when it means taking responsibility for others. Kuvira is tired of being Su’s powerless pawn (if Su had been there to fight, Kuvira wouldn’t have almost been killed by the Red Lotus)

Bopal – Opal is the first person Bolin lets himself be truly vulnerable with, letting down his walls – Mako is very supportive

Create more moral ambiguity around Su. There was a popular headcanon she was part of the Red Lotus/knew Zaheer in her youth, so I’m making this canon. Su brushed/briefly flirted with being part of the Lotus in her youth (she makes a cameo in the Red Lotus origin episodes). This creates a more legitimate conflict between her and Lin (and the future conflict with Kuvira for hypocrisy)

THE NEW AIRBENDERS

Again, this was really well done in the show, I just want more cute Kainora crushing moments tbh.

Have the new airbenders’ relationship with Shady Shin be a direct measurement of how they learn and live by the Air Nomad culture – moving from hostility, to frustration and wanting to give up, to empathy, sympathy, and finally acceptance. At first Shin is angry and violent towards them, but he soon breaks down – he thinks his life is over. Kai’s relationship with him is particularly important – Kai reminds Shin of a young Mako, and Shin is a reminder of what Kai would’ve been without airbending and Jinora.

By the end of the Book (a few months) Kai invites Shin to Jinora’s Master anointing ceremony, and he stands awkwardly in the background

Kya stays with the new airbenders, which has more weight seeing as she’s not ‘officially’ part of the family – she has been accepted/adopted

KORRA, SPIRITS AND RAAVA

To try and lessen the ridiculousness of the Deus Ex Machina in the Book 2 finale, the Avatar state is heavily neutered during Book 3. Now Korra has no past Avatars to channel, the State is much less powerful, and she must learn to operate without it (as compared to Book 2, where she spammed it with reckless abandon), forcing her to find more diplomatic solutions (setting a good example for the airbenders)

Raava’s light is still growing in Korra after being destroyed by Vaatu – their dynamic is now flipped, where Raava is counting on Korra to be a figure of hope and strength she can rely on. This puts more pressure on Korra, but she copes much better now she doesn’t have a thousand Avatars’ voices whispering in her ear – establish she’s actually finding this freedom from tradition beneficial to her job as the Avatar (change is good!)

Have the spirits act as markers for the emotional states of both characters and places – they infest Lower Ring of Ba Sing Se because they’re attracted to the high concentration of chi there. Their emotional state varies, but generally people are adapting well (they’re used to random shit in the slums by now). Mako and Bolin help their family with spirits (they also find Nuktuk hilarious)

By comparison, in the Upper Ring spirits are far fewer because the upper classes treat them like vermin and are trying to push them out. The few spirits that are there turn Dark easily (Korra has to intervene) showing how, despite its pretty surface, the political structure and people on top in Ba Sing Se are corrupt.

When fighting the Dai Li, have Korra directly confront the fact they were founded by a past Avatar (Kyoshi) – emphasising the pattern where she has to deal with a past Avatar’s mistakes. This season is all about Change, so by the end of it have Korra disband the Dai Li

When Korra goes into the Avatar State for the first time in the finale, this is just Raava desperately trying to defend her from Zaheer

I don't know when we'd fit it in (when Korra confronts Zaheer in the Spirit World? When she's hallucinating because of the poison during the finale?) but I NEED a nightmare sequence of what Red Lotus!Korra would've been like - there are so many cool headcanons and fanarts and fics about this. Show the Red Lotus as a true family unit with Korra as the daughter figure, show Korra letting herself loose with Combustion and Lava bending. Show her inner conflict (and dominance) with Raava, who disagrees with her actions

Also it would be awesome if we saw this Red Lotus Korra meet and team up with a dark Equalist! Asami (they both believe in extreme balance) - this sheds new light on their relationship for Korra, and is the catalyst for her realising her romantic interest in Asami - she's witnessing all this destruction and chaos she caused, but she's still happy because she's with Asami

Emphasise how much Korra has become the centrepiece of Team Avatar – she is everyone’s best friend. To Asami in particular she’s become the catalyst and manifestation of everything she likes about herself – her courage, her enthusiasm about helping people, her friends, her own empowerment – the exact opposite of her father

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