#also yes i did scry/dressing room him for this

[daily-grian]

flight risings your minecraft youtuber

[possum-quesadilla]

Chapter 11 of Time’s Arrow, “Wait for me, I’m comin’, Wait, I’m comin’ with you”, is here!! Yeehaw!!!

Extras below!!

- The lyrics for this chapter’s title are either from “Wait for Me” (live version) or “Wait for Me (Reprise)” (album version) from Hadestown, for obvious reasons. Pick your poison!

- “The air around her felt so cold. She was sure death had never been so cold before.” - Once again, my silly theme of warmth. Beetlejuice didn’t realize he was giving off warmth and love just as much as he was receiving it.

- “Percy lay a short distance away, one paw outstretched to gently touch Lydia’s knee.” - Based on a weird, silly thing my own cat does.

- “None of them really seemed to mind as the cat strolled over to the rug, his nose loudly whistling as he sniffed at the air.” - Percy has a deviated septum that makes him snort when he’s excited, and whistle when he breathes through his nose! It doesn’t bother him too much. Partially based on my own cats.

- “ Lydia’s gentle whimpering sobs quieted when he raised his head and let out a loud, strange meow. (That kitten really did have one of the strangest voices she’d ever heard from a cat. Perhaps Beetlejuice had some sort of influence on him?) “… what is it?” She whispered, voice hoarse from crying.” - He’s got one of those weird, long, creaky meows. He did take after Beetlejuice. Also, familiar communication! He’s alerting her to Cyrus’ fur.

- “What’s up, Soos-” - She calls him ‘Soos’ as a nickname. It is one of those fun, weird pet nicknames that evolves over time. Also a reference to “Gravity Falls”.

- “She froze, letting out a loud gasp when her hand made contact with the carpet in front of Percy.” - She can use things like strands of fur to scry.

- “It felt like mere moments, it felt like it stretched out for weeks.” - Another instance of a character feeling how Beej often feels and being unsettled.

- “Deb could not guide them. “… I’m sorry, little ghosts. I care for you all and for Goose, but..” something dark clouded her eyes as she averted her usually bright eyes away from them. “… I can’t help you any more than preparing you. I can’t risk losing the precious, peaceful, fragile existence I carved out for Bela and I.” ” - The last sentence is a reference to “Good Omens”! Also, yeah, Cyrus is very powerful in the Netherworld and could ruin Deb and Bela’s unlives.

- “She nearly wretched as a pungent odor hit her open mouth, revolting and… familiar.” - Beej used to reek of the Netherworld.

- The various dead people - I made them up! Not based on any real people. They were fun to think up.

- “ “You two again?” She groaned, shaking her head. “What part of ‘pick a number and wait your turn’ do you people not understand? You cannot skip the line!” ” - This is a joke at the fact that they met in the movie, but not the musical. This version of Adam and Barbara have not, in fact, met Miss Argentina.

- Huge shoutout to @raineisinkless for her help with Miss Argentina’s dialogue <3

- Miss Argentina and Beetlejuice - Time works weird in the Netherworld. Beej was cursed and cast out long before she died, but since time there is nonlinear, he was in the Netherworld for when she first died and started working there. He was very nice to her.

- “She turned to the pale woman sat next to her, dressed in a beautiful blue figure skating gown stained red with the blood that constantly flowed from the gaping wound in her neck. “Patrice, take over for me. I’m taking my lunch for the year.” ” - Yes, she only gets one break per year. And Patrice is a reference to Miss Argentina’s original actor, Patrice Martinez!

- “Is she living it up on top?” - This is a reference to the Hadestown song, “Livin’ it Up on Top”.

- “The room they stepped into was pitch black. Not even the dim lighting from the hallway could permeate it’s darkness.” - It’s kept dark because demons have sensitive eyes. And they can see in total darkness! Well, most of them.

- “They growled again, the little supply closet suddenly feeling much hotter. “Shut up.” ” - They got very embarrassed at the implication that they care about Beetlejuice.

- “The other demons would swallow your souls whole if they knew you were here.” - Partial joke reference to “Evil Dead”.

- “I know it’s not like how we talked about, but-” - Surprise! Well, maybe not to some of you. They’ve been discussing becoming demons for a while now!

- “She heard their bones creaking as they did.” - They got bad joints.

- “Something brushed up against Barbara’s arm. “All you two have to do is shake my hand.” ” - Larry was being nice and showing Barbara where their hand is here.

- “Your souls need time to create and bond with your new bodies.” - Demons have their bodies and souls combined, which is why they don’t pass on to an afterlife! Their soul dies with their body.

- “Barbara gasped as a warmth flooded through her, hot and exhilarating in her veins.” - Hellfire!

- Altair and Vega - Their demonic names! Yes they have meanings behind them. No I will not elaborate currently. I will in a different post if I remember (or if someone asks me/reminds me)

- “Barbara yelped as it seemed fabric was passed over her head.” - Larry straight up tucked them under their coat here.

- “There were no stars or moon above to light their surroundings, just the dim glow of humming pink fluorescent lights somewhere just outside the alley.” - There are no stars in the sky because they’re all wandering the streets.

- “It was out of the kindness of my Hearth that I brought you two here.” - hehe, yeah, they say ‘Hearth’ instead of ‘heart’. As a joke on the fire in their chests.

- “He looked down at himself, glasses briefly slipping down his nose.” - A little bit of foreshadowing to his ears changing.

“‘Pollux’, in bright yellow. It seemed like half the sign had burnt out, and Barbara could just barely make out that it used to read ‘and Castor’.” - They were besties that made Deals and ran their Covens together. Then Castor died. Whomp whomp.

- “Barbara had to shield her eyes. Had neon lights always bothered her eyes that much? Maybe being stuck inside for so long had made them sensitive.” - Her eyes are getting more sensitive to light as she changes!

- “Adam was covering his ear with his free hand, gritting his teeth and softly complaining about how loud the lights were.” - Similarly, Adam is getting more sensitive to sound.

- “Thick, blue smoke, pungent and noxious. It smelled… herby, but Barbara could not quite place her finger on which herb it was.” - The blue smoke Cyrus and other demons smoke is actually something of his own creation! It’s how he gained so much power among demons. Perhaps I will elaborate in a Cyrus lore post since this is the last we’ll see of him in this fic! She knows her herbs, but not this herb.

- “It was dim, lit only by the sign outside, but somehow still Barbara could make out nearly everything.” - Again, demon changes! She can see in the dark now.

- “A particularly short demon manned the bar, ignoring one demon quite literally barking at them as they wiped a glass clean.” - Author demon sona cameo! I didn’t halt to describe them so I didn’t break the flow of the scene.

- “(Although, he wasn’t wearing blue like they’d said he was. He was instead wearing black wool cloak.)” - Uh oh. Where have we seen black wool before?

- “ “Where is he?” Adam repeated, gripping his wife’s hand tighter.” - A reference to the live version of “Wait for Me” from Hadestown.

- “You won’t find him. You could look for the rest of your un-lifetimes and you’d never find even a hint of him.” - A reference to the song “Home”, how Lydia mentions she could search the afterlife for an eternity and never see her mom.

- “Barbara wanted to punch that smug look off his face.” - Foreshadowing.

- “It was then that Barbara realized he was missing three fingers on the hand not holding the cigarette.” - HE FUCKIN’ GOT HIM GOOD!!

- “Barbara just about growled, the words coming out with a throaty noise.” - She can actually growl now!

- “The demon only paused when Adam involuntarily let out a strange little growl of his own. Cyrus slowly looked between the two of them, something glinting in his eyes. His smile wavered for a few moments. (Barbara thought perhaps she recognized… fear?)” - He is afraid of the power they both now wield. Perhaps this will be elaborated on later? Also Adam can growl now too hehe

- “His smile widened as his eyes flicked over to the Maitlands. “It was only made tolerable by the feeling of his intestines snaking between my claws.” ” - He said this to rile them up. Also, this has been previously mentioned by Beetlejuice as something Cyrus did! Just not directly.

- “Ah. Shit. Lydia didn’t mention how tall he was. That’ll make it much harder to reach him.” - Foreshadowing!!

- Adam recognizes the tale they’re recreating, hence his apprehension at first; Orpheus and Eurydice. Just with added stakes, since all three of them have to not check, not just Adam and Barbara.

- “She swore she heard the bartender whisper, “good luck”.” - :)

- “Yeah, well, die mad about it,” - A joking reference to a scene in “The Owl House” I accidentally mirrored here.

- “ “S-seven,” Barbara stammered, picking the first one that came to her mind.” - thank you @ten-chocolate-sundaes :) I wonder what he’ll do with this number

- “It seemed like days passed.” - because they did! Thirteen days to be exact.

- They’re deers!! Surprise!! All of the deer and star foreshadowing for Adam and Barbara is finally paying off!!!

[ceescedasticity]

SIgns chapter is coming along

Slowly working my way towards the colossal screaming fight...

By the time Barney stumbled down eight flights of stairs into the original part of the Stanton farmhouse, Mary, James, and Jane had dragged Will inside as far as the kitchen and gotten him propped in a chair. Will was soaking wet, and a trail of dark water led out of the kitchen to, he assumed, the porch in question.

Well… the puddles were too thin to be tar, anyway. Possibly not water, though.

James was trying to dry Will off with towels. Jane was trying to take Will's pulse at his wrist, which might have been easier if she hadn't been wearing rubber dishwashing gloves for some reason. Mary was standing off to the side, wearing a raincoat over probably pajamas, and clutching one of the pitchforks she used to hunt underlings.

He must have made some sort of sound, because a jolt of adrenaline later he was ducking under a swing from the pitchfork. "Hey, stop, it's me!" he said, as Jane and James looked up in surprise.

"What — Barney. Sorry," Mary said. "I thought you were an imp. What are you doing here?"

"I had a Prospit dream of Jane getting your call," Barney said. Still nothing of this <em>actual scene</em>, though. "You might want to call Simon and Bran now or they're likely to feel very left out."

"Like <em>that</em> will help," James muttered. He threw a black-stained towel off to the side and wrapped another one around Will's head, covering his hair. He was also wearing rubber dishwashing gloves. "I <em>think</em> it's off his face and neck, just mind the collar—"

Jane peeled off one of the dishwashing gloves and reached — very tentatively — to touch the side of Will's neck. She relaxed minutely after contact and started feeling for the pulse. "He's like <em>ice</em>…"

Hmm. "The gloves — are you trying not to touch the… water?"

"I don't think it's water," Mary said. "And yes, if you get it on your skin it makes you… see things." She shivered.

"Things?"

"Later," Jane said, straightening up. "I think we should try to warm him up. I'll call Bran and Simon. You three see if you can get Will in a hot bath — or at least out of those wet clothes." She handed Barney the dishwashing gloves and left the room. He wondered if she knew where the phone was.

James groaned. "I guess we'd <em>better</em>, if we can't touch his clothes without… whatever— Bloody <em>wake up</em>, Will!" Will didn't respond to the shaking.

"I'll start the bath and get some pajamas out of his room — or a robe," Mary said. "And patrol to make sure there aren't any imps around…"

Barney would have expected this to lead to an accusation of skiving off the hard work from James, but he just said, "And a bucket for the old clothes and the towels," and let her go.

"So just the two of us are supposed to be carrying him, then?" Barney asked. (Barney might — <em>might</em> — be more qualified to drag people around than Jane. He wouldn't make any such statement about Mary.)

James looked down. "She was really shaken up, by— She didn't know about the… water stuff when she found him, right? So she just tried to wake him up and check him over, and I'm not sure what she saw but she's barely holding together right now."

"Oh." Barney eyed the dark puddles on the floor.

"<em>I</em> mostly just remembered the winter of Will's <em>bloody</em> eleventh birthday, and then there was some — octopus thing with teeth. Then your sister thought of the rubber gloves." James scowled. "We might as well get his coat and shoes off here, they'll be even wetter than the rest."

It turned out to be difficult to untie waterlogged shoelaces while wearing rubber gloves; James announced he was getting the scissors. Barney got Will's coat unfastened and off, and looked around for some idea of where to put it—

The coat had… holes in it. Four in the front, three more in the back, like someone had just cut holes in the coat with scissors — or with a knife. A knife might be more likely.

Returning to the kitchen, James saw the coat and dropped the scissors. "<em>Bloody</em> hell, Will—"

Closer inspection revealed matching holes in Will's shirt, but unmarked skin beneath. Any stains on the fabric were covered over by the dark 'water'.

Will had healed from getting hit by a meteor, Jane had said.

"Bloody— <em>Damn</em> you, you just <em>had</em> to go off by yourself to bloody <em>Derse</em>—" James cursed his way through cutting Will's shoelaces and getting the shoes off. He threw them violently into a corner. "Just leave the coat here. Let's get him in the bath."

Barney was better than no help dragging Will to the bathroom, but he didn't think by much. Happily there was a bath on the ground floor. "Aren't there — did something happen to your dogs?"

"They're hiding," James said. "Crawled under Mary's bed right after Will fell through the porch roof and still won't come out."

"Oh."

"<em>Through the porch roof</em>, bloody <em>hell</em>, Will. You are the <em>worst</em> baby brother, no one gets to complain about me <em>ever again</em>—"

Will didn't react at all to James (possibly somewhat vindictively) cutting the rest of his clothes off, but he wasn't in the hot water a minute before he made a faint noise, and started shivering.

"Oh thank God," James said. "Will? Will, can you hear me?"

Will's head lolled forward, and he vomited black sludge into the bath. James and Barney both recoiled; James lost his balance and tipped over backwards off the stool he was sitting on, and almost cracked his head on the sink. Barney had to lunge forward to grab Will before he fell forward into the dirty water.

A splash hit his arm, above the glove, and.

And.

He'd already gotten most of it, he thought, from memory-gap-detection-plus-Skaia. He already had most of it. Just, here was the rest. Odd incidents they hadn't stumbled across yet. The part of the kidnapped-for-scrying incident he only knew from Simon's account, and what Simon hadn't had eyes to see.

A few realizations of his own, that he'd never much spoken of. (<em>Merlin</em>.)

…And also some images of… octopus things with teeth, in around the edges. That, too. Those were new.

Since he <em>had</em> remembered almost all of it before, it wasn't too hard to shake it off enough to keep from drowning Will in the bath. But it was still… It wasn't a <em>nice</em> way to get memories back.

<hr>

Making the phone calls had been partially an excuse to get herself out of the way while they got Will a bath, but Jane hadn't expected the calls to take very long — there wasn't much of an explanation to give, so it was really just notifying them so they could show up in person. (Which, yes, would almost certainly result in another fight, but everyone deserved to know.) Her plans went awry when Bran, her first call, never picked up the phone. She managed to avoid panicking, just — what if Bran had done something to bring Will back and make himself missing instead?! — and called Simon, who at least answered in a reasonable amount of time. Simon had to pass through the Land of Thrones and Meter as his first stop in the Gate-circuit anyway, and he promised to take his walkie-talkie and find Bran.

Which was a very reckless promise and he shouldn't have made it but, as it turned out, Bran was just hunting ogres — out of earshot from his phone, but within sight of his house, at least from second gate-elevation. Simon chased him down and yelled at him about going out underling-hunting without his walkie-talkie, and then told him about Will, and got left in the dust as Bran bolted back for the house.

Notifications taken care of, then.

She followed the sound of voices to a small ground-floor bedroom. Will looked — better, cleaned up, but he remained frighteningly pale and still. Mary was piling what looked like a third quilt on top of him. (Mary had found time to get dressed properly. Just as well.)

"Did you get lost?" Barney said, a little waspishly.

"No, Bran was out hunting ogres in the middle of the night for some reason so it took a while to get him."

"It's not <em>exactly</em> night—" Barney started.

The planets did sort of have day sides and night sides as they rotated, towards or away from Skaia, but nothing like <em>real</em> nights or days (two-thirds seemed to be in some sort of permanent twilight), and they were all out of sync with each other anyway. "Yes, I <em>know</em>, but we agreed to honor the clocks."

James muttered something which was probably "<em>You</em> agreed to honor the clocks".

"How is he?" Jane asked, rather than pursue that.

"You were right, the bath helped," Barney said. "He's warmer now, and he moved a little, but—"

"But he also started puking up this…" James screwed up his face. "This <em>stuff</em>—"

"Like the water on his clothes, but worse," Mary said.

"You— Mary, I <em>warned</em> you not to touch anything in the bathroom!"

"I <em>didn't</em>, I can just <em>tell</em>," Mary snapped back. "I think… I think it's a Derse thing. That I can tell, I mean."

Jane eyed Mary thoughtfully. "I guess we can ask Simon and Bran about it?"

"I don't know what Derse has to do with it, but I think Mary's right about it being a more… concentrated version of the other stuff," Barney said. "…What did you see, earlier?"

"Not a lot." Jane had been <em>very</em> careful, because by the time she arrived Mary <em>and</em> James had cautionary tales to share. "There was… a storm, mostly, I think? And something with a lot of eyes."

"Hmm," Barney said.

"What?"

"I don't want to explain it more than once."

"Is this a Space thing?" Mary asked.

"…Sort of." And then he wouldn't say anything else until Bran came crashing down the stairs like an avalanche in work boots, Simon chasing along in his wake.

"What's wrong with him?" Bran demanded, after barely a greeting.

"We don't know," Jane said, and then let Mary and James explain the porch roof and the dark water, only speaking up again at the end to say that her Hero-of-Life powers weren't providing any information on injuries.

"So far," Simon said optimistically.

"So far," Jane conceded, but her Hero-of-Life powers were only maybe sixty percent sure Will was <em>alive</em>, so she wasn't expecting much help from that direction.

"His coat and his shirt were cut up," James said. "Like— I don't know what like."

Like he'd been stabbed, and had healed, but hadn't been awake to fix his clothes, maybe?

"Look," Simon said. "Logically, being soaked in this weird water that makes people see things might knock him out, right? So now that he's dry and warm… give him a chance to wake up?"

[trixcuomo]

Love Games

Up next on Desperate Alts’ Lives... Horde B celebrity Trixany Cuomo has finally pulled the lever to A-status, and now it’s like she’s fallen down into a black rabbit hole of gossip and dangerous glam, chasing her dreams. Is this it? Has Trix finally gone too far? One of her friends must be able to save her, but which are the right friends? Haris Pilton? Sig Nicious? Her Night Elf buddy Sharpen? Hopeless causes tend to want dark angels...

Jet black. Haris Pilton thought her once rival in all things, business, modeling, performing, climbing the Silvermoon City social ladder—Trixany Cuomo, soon to be Mrs. Sig Nicious—that Trixany would go with red for her own gossip closet. A cheery, and also dangerous color. But when they were done looking through Haris’s swatches months ago, under their new starlette truce of course, Trixany wanted her gossip closet in complete, knockout black.

Today, Trixany’s hand was on the lever, she just hadn’t pulled it yet this morning. First, she needed to gather all her targets. Haris’ pink knob was honestly so… odd. But Trixany chose a literal disco stick that reminded her of one of her favorite performers of all time. The part at the top was a classic disco ball with large tiles of glossy silver. The effect was going to take over the whole room whenever she was ready to ‘pull the lever!’ The first time she’d done it at Haris’ place was so fun, it was addicting. Yes, so wonderfully addicting.

Trixany crossed legs in her matching leather catsuit. The worker Gnomes with jumpsuits also piped in silver along the smart curves of their bodies? Still asleep. Trixany liked to get up before even they did.

She sat alone inside of the shell at the center of the room. Well, it was raised up for now, or else she wouldn’t be able to see or hear anything. The noise-cancelling, black ASMR shell-that-was-totally-not-like-any-other-famous-villain’s-personal-sanctuary-globe-thing-for-legal-reasons had its uses, just not right now. STNLAOFVPSGTLR or Stan’s Laff Vapors Get’er was a fascinating piece of technology engineered for relaxing starlettes exclusively. So it was perfect for a certain Horde B celebrity. Gotta love quirky Gnomish technology. The laugh vapors weren’t working so at the moment. They were also supposed to help her forget her stressors. Running low… White steam raised from the top of the shell and escaped through the gear-like teeth around the edges, wafting to the ceiling.

Gnomish technology to make you think, ten times, twenty times faster. Consider your options and get maybe twelve moves ahead of your opponent before they’re even out of bed, or grabbed their champagne brunch around 2 pm server… It was like farming for rares, from home, fast, and on felweed! But it was your frenemies you were felling.

Anyway…

The black control screens all around flickered with silent pictures of Trixany wannabes with their rip-off looks or performances, rival divas secretly being watched while they slept—and before you judge, Trixany felt justified; some of them were up in their own gossip closet war rooms, scheming against her even at this hour—and if you’re a true Team Trixany fan, then you also know about the runway fashion show footage Trixany had been streaming all week. All were designs from the newly launched, joint Haris-Trix fashion line. Haris had backed it financially, Trixany had endorsed it, done the leg work promoting and wearing some of the showstoppers. They had been raking in the gold over it until recently. Both their fandoms, for once, were united on the fashion line. Well, not all of the screens were filled with saucy models on catwalks. Trixany was also observing how each new outfit was being received in the market as it was launched, while simultaneously keeping an eye—with her special lace-lensed fashion goggles—for any rip-offs. New clothing that ripped off her rip-offs, if Trixany was every forced to be very honest about how she and Haris got all the designs—but that intel would only get forced out, by Goblin lawyers tougher than her own, in some inter-factional Azeroth court of law. Technically, they weren’t stealing other people’s ideas unless they got caught…

“I can’t stand this…”

Trixanys thoughts were moving more rapidly than she could speak them or even keep track of on her own. Inside the white-hot shell, little electronic flickerings along a web of wires and lights carried them away instantly, recorded them. The rest of the room was dark, so dark… But inside, Trixany was alone with her thoughts. Just merely thinking that she might sue someone for stealing her brand was stored in a databank the moment it occurred to her. A list of commands that would be sent to the ends of Azeroth to the Goblin lawyers, Horde or Alliance pop icons. (Don’t let them tell you Thrall doesn’t consider himself a Horde A celebrity… his gossip closet was rumored to be done over in the hides of his slain enemies, where no one could see of course.) And of course there were a clutch of thugs ready to ‘handle’ anyone normal out there without real connections. Quick, dirty, cheap.

That was the last bit of advice Trixany grudgingly took from Haris Pilton before she mastered the art of ‘gossip watching’ for herself. Before the student became the master. Now, on Screen Five, Trixany observed Haris in her bubblegum pink dressing robes having tea with her breakfast. Actually Haris had been doing that, and elegantly, for a while. A stray thought wondered if Haris had somehow found out about Trixany’s global network of hidden scrying orbs and had set up video loop clips at certain parts of the day when she didn’t want to be observed. And they were supposed to be the best of business partners…

A new, bright white bead of light raced around inside the shell and disappeared behind Trixany’s black chair. Screen Ninety-Eight suddenly flickered on and pulled up a list. White text against a lovely, rich dark screen. The words ‘Check up on Haris, the brat…’ already printing on a new line.

On mornings like this one, Trixany felt more Gnomish tech than woman. Sunlight… what a nice memory. Though they said something odd with the Scourge was going on outside these days. Maybe that was the real reason profits from their fashion line were slowing down? Who knew?

Trixany was a Blood Knight, had the skills of any paladin, she should have a lot of work to do with the Knights of the Blood Nexus, shouldn’t she? Shouldn’t Lady Liadrin call on her then? And beyond that, when was the last time she’d gone for a stroll—well, without Silvermoon paparazzi around her and Sig. And Sig? Sig Nicious, her fiancée… he kept postponing their wedding.

“You’re my butterfly, but it’s taking you ages to come out of your cocoon, do you understand? You’re not ontop of this celebrity stuff, Trix. I love you, but you’re just not there yet. You and Haris Pilton are friends now, why don’t you ask her for more advice? We need this to be a marriage of equals.”

Then Trixany’s own voice, it felt more like it haunted her above the constant jealous, scheming thoughts, it resurfaced. “No. I can’t do this…”

Trixany inhaled deeply of the white vapors, shut her eyes, shut off her deeper consciousness. Just a few more hours of this and she would finally be caught up with everyone else. Maybe ahead.

Caught up… Didn’t she used to like running, catching up with friends on long sunny walks? That time Sharpen took her to Highmountain, hiking so far her calves felt they would burn from sun and walking, she swore to him that they would, but he was too far ahead to hear her. Hear her catching up, catching her breath… that adorable fool.

A Night Elf man was suddenly there in her mind. Sharpen had carefully braided hair, long braids that fell over his broad shoulders. First in green, then in bright blue—he was wearing a “CYANS HAVE MORE FUN” t-shirt in one of her memories—and at last, his hair washed to a rich pink in her mind. Trixany knew all the shades Sharpen was trying these days, she’d kept track of them all, knew the brand, the shade, how many were left in stock…

Screen Fifty-Two flickered on, white lines over a dark surface, suddenly filling with numbers and a silent white web of locations united by lines on a map as a simple display of Alliance lands started to slide by. Trixany had wanted to know what her Night Elf friend’s new hair color would be, just a whim—but the gossip closet was already running the numbers, making a mathematical projection. Based on the number of colors left in the shops Sharpen frequented, the price point he usually aimed for, the favorite colors he was usually wearing.

“Forecast… 90 percent…Black.”

“Black? Really? Sharpen’s such an upbeat guy.”

Trixany hated knowing that. It depressed her. So her friend, who never had much money, who was just curious enough to try new things, not that he’d do it for a living and consult someone like she would… Sharpen was going to run into a wall soon with all the other options he’d tried, because cyan was his preferred shade of all the blues, and he’d already gone with the closest shade of pink-red her liked on his spectrum, and going back to green was too close to his natural color… The machine was printing all this detail as part of its proof… So he would feel bold—think himself just as bold as when he chose pink--and settle on black to surprise his friends. Black like her gossip closet. Black like… some big, empty hole. Trixany could no longer think it through. So she already knew what he was going to do? No surprises, no spontaneity? No reason to talk to him. She no longer had to see him to know what he was doing. It wasn’t required. He was a blip on a screen. And when was the last time she’d spoken to Sharpen, the real Sharpen?

What had he told her? Something silly about animals. Her eye twitched, she curled a fist as she remembered it. “Spiders aren’t supposed to be caught in their own webs, Trix. All these morsels you’ve ever wanted… they’re right there around you. Fixed in your web, you can have them all. But you’re still not happy. Shouldn’t you know why not? Can’t you tell? The old you would have just handled it, she doesn’t—or didn’t take anyone’s crap, whether from some monster down in a dungeon or… the well-dressed blonde bombshell kind.”

“Wait, do you mean Haris Pilton or Siggy?”

Sharpen shook his head at her, “Who are you, anymore?”

And what had she said in response to that? Sig was away from the dinner table at the moment, taking a call on his comm. “I don’t eat bugs, Sharpen.”

“No, but you do like to slay things. You like to find targets and take them out. Fix things for yourself and people, for the world, hell—for the Horde, however you think that still helps thew world. You have a sense of justice, or you did. You like to sit down after a battle, smile at how you’ve helped. But now you just look miserable. You even look unwell—”

“MAYBE BECAUSE I DON’T EAT BUGS LIKE SOME STUPID NIGHT ELF!”

Sharpen and Trixany hadn’t spoken to each other since. It was a bad, tragic gaffe to make at a busy, high-tone Dalaran restaurant. It was like… it built up and built up from… she didn’t know where. And then, like a volcano, the stupid, stupid senseless things she said just exploded out of her. Violent in its own way. It blew a hole clear through a friendship.

Trixany rubbed at the bridge of her nose. That time she and Sig took Sharpen out to dinner in Dalaran… Because Trixany had missed him. Because Trixany had hopped on a motorcycle and blown out of her own engagement party in Silvermoon City, at Sig’s place. Sig’s fancy place with all his perfect friends, all that flawless life. The pressure should have been off, she’d made it. She wasn’t a B-woman. She was A-grade. Like meat. No, an alpha, on top. She was a singer, and he was a singer too. Both of them were good people, actually decent. And he liked her, genuinely. It really felt like the lead singer of the Elite Tauren Chieftans loved her, truly, so why was she so distressed? Why did it feel like she couldn’t get a breath at times…

Trixany inhaled again, breathed deeply a few more times though it felt like she was panicking. “Why! Why is this happening to me?”

This was all she ever wanted, just like Sharpen had said. But it felt like things were hooked into her instead. Bleeding her dry. Trixany always assumed she would feel… filled up.

Filled up with things.

Things.

About forty models of all races, Orc, Goblin, Forsaken, Draenei, Gnomes, women and men of all races strutted in time across her control screens. Surely, they all had different music at their particular fashion shows. But fashion models all seemed to have the same unnerved strut. Now she saw it. They were all terrified of falling, of looking stupid. But they were charging through it while ignoring themselves. Completely disregarding their own fears, that they were hungry or tired, tired of all of it. Or, even if they loved what they did, it didn’t show in their faces nor their movements.

Maybe later. When it was all off, they could be themselves and just smile. Nobody smiled that they liked it while on stage in front of everyone, selling what was on their bodies. First rule of modeling. Since she got her start… in Goblin Gentleman’s Magazine of all places, that was always the rule. She would know. It’s not about you. It’s about what’s on you. Not what’s in you.

Never in.

“What if I’m just a pig inside?” Trixany frowned. “Scrying orb, play Gaga—”

The intercom interrupted what she was saying. A metallic sort of gnome’s voice said, “Visitor for Miss Cuomo.” Trixany hadn’t the heart to change her name over to Mrs. Nicious yet, when things honestly weren’t going well in that area of her life. He kept calling her his ‘butterfly’ yet she was still being treated like some slimy bug stuck in its pod… cocoon  thing.

“What level?”

“Popularity level three—”

“Oh, well then I don’t have the time.”

“Security level 50. Guest is Coco Cuomo.”

Her step-sister. Well what did Coco want? She rarely visited. “Let her in. And I still want you to play Gaga. Play Swine.”

As soon as the door slid open and the short green Goblin calling herself Coco Cuomo looked up and heard her new theme music, she frowned.

“Yeah, I know who’s a swine alright.” The little lime-colored Goblin girl smirked at her Blood Elf sister. Trixany stuck out her tongue.

“Um, can you at least turn down Gaga squealing out that ‘I’m so disgusting’ down a smidge? I came with some important business, you know.”

“Well, I should have assumed it would be about that. More Kaja-Cola crap? I thought I made it clear I was done with them--”

“Yeah right, when they were the ones who fired you? And who are yous, hangin’ out in hea like Darth Vader himself? Mrs. Hot-shot Sig Nicious herself, I see.”

“It’s not technically named for him so I can’t get sued—”

“Enough of this nonsense!” Coco threw her hands up. “This is exactly why I’m hea, you’re totally obsessed! When is your wedding even? Unless you’re really that low ya gonna invite the whole family and not me.”

Trixany snapped her sass-mouth shut, for now. “Sig and I are doing our best to make this… adjustment. I’m not used to being so famous.”

Coco just stared at her Blood Elf step-sister for a while.

“Swiiiiiiiine! Swiiiiiiiiiiiine!” The music started to rev up as if something was about to explode in that black gossip chamber Trixany had sealed herself in, like an enchanted tomb.

“Paint her face and, paint his face and, be a swine for… just the weekend!”

Coco erupted with new emotion, “People are dyin’ out thea, Trixany! And you’re in here plotting some… starlette’s destruction? I been trying and callin and sendin’ messenger pigeons up here for a week almost, so finally I had to come myself. I thought somethin’ real bad happened to you, all I wanted was to get you to hand over the damn Kaja-Cola Fiesta Lime contract for a damn good cause, I don’t care if you fell out with the Kaja-Cola Girls. I need your surplus stash a’ cans!”

Trixany just blinked at her. Three screens over Coco’s head started running a program, but kept coming up with repeating blank lines.

“Trixany, you really haven’t heard? You’ve truly been ignorin’ all the sufferin! We’re trying to FEED thirsty people on the front lines against the Scourge!”

“Oh. Well… I had heard whispers of that trending.”

“Trending? You’re supposed to be a PALADIN! Scourge slayer by birth or something. But you’re out here ruinin’ lives of the uppercrust like there ain’t a bottom to the pie—what’s happened to my sista! What is WRONG with you?”

“…You can’t feed thirsty people?”

“But I can bust up a thirsty trick!” Coco brandished an arclight spanner at Trixany.

“What did you just call me?? And how did you come in here armed?”

Now Coco was screaming it, “I don’t have a sista anymore. I can’t take it, I can’t stand it! You’re goin ta the Shadowlands to help with the fight, if I gotta killa ya and send you there myself! Then, Coco charged Trixany’s villainess globe, making her wild Kezani warcry.

“Yer just a pig inside a Blood Elf body! Time for you to squeal out!!”

[vesperlionheart]

The Golden Bridle (1/2)

@ofhealinglove Hey, remember that selkie ask you wanted to see? I tried. It’s not selkies, but it is a MadaSaku and hopefully that’s good enough. 

Sakura knew what it felt like to snap a neck. Some would say she was intimately familiar with the technique after a dozen decades of living cursed. She knew the pressure and swiftness required to cut a life short. The fact that the creature between her hands was only two and half feet with ears longer than her face didn’t change a thing. She could snap a brownie’s neck just as fast as a man’s.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” she sighed easily.

“Down, down, down,” the dirty humanoid creature chanted, fear making his eyes color brightly.

“The bounty, friend. You’ve been running for the wrong gang too many years and now it’s time to pay up.” Sakura eased her thumbs up over the sides of the brownie’s face. Her smile turned cruel. “So, pay.”  

The chittering pitched higher as the creature panicked, but Sakura didn’t flinch. It scratched and flailed but she didn’t move. Her hold was iron for as long as it needed to be.

The brownie stopped fighting in her hands. A moment later the illusion he had been holding up melted away. Sakura grinned at the revealed secret passage, happy enough to drop the magical creature and let him scamper away.

Sakura let her hips swagger a bit as she skipped throat the ruined illusion, singing to herself. The room was familiar the way chain restaurants were familiar. Sakura had never been in that exact room before, but plenty of hoarding wizards had the same style when it came to decorating their treasure rooms.

Sakura picked her way through, recognizing some items for their magical importance, and others for their monetary value. Boots that traveled seven leagues, a short table that never ran out of food, a sack that held the calvary of a long dead kingdom…yes, she recognized a good number of the items.

“He’s terrible,” Sakura sighed aloud. “No wonder the bounty is so high. This stuff belongs to….” Sakura started to count off names in her head and frowned when she only came up with six. “Well, I know where most of it goes. Too bad only one person was willing to pay me for it.”

Not caring for the older collectors who had suffered theft and were unwilling to contract her to retrieve their stolen items, Sakura made her way through the mounds of loot until she found the diamond encrusted egg that hid the spirit of a wizard caught scrying on someone he shouldn’t have. The poor wizards’s wife was only too willing to fund anyone competent enough to retrieve her scatterbrained husband.

“And now to take something for myself,” Sakura mused aloud, pocketing the egg and staring out across the room for something interesting. It was a habit, to always pinch a little extra in case the employer renegade on payment. That hadn’t happened in years, but the ritual stuck.

Sakura came across a corner that reeked of abjuration magic.

“This is either terrible or wonderful,” Sakura breathed, cracking open a chest and reaching inside.

Her hand hit something soft and warm. She grabbed it tight and yanked it free, unfolding a gray seal skin that still smelled like the sea. A Selki’s pelt.

“Not worth much,” she huffed aloud, shouldering it to look again inside the chest.

She felt the cold touch of magic and yanked on what felt like a rope. A golden lead followed her hand out, but instead of attaching to a bridle, the lead unwound endlessly, indicating that the creature on the other end was miles away, doing the master’s bidding.

She took both the golden lead and the pelt, but also helped herself to a magic mirror that showed the past ‘through the eyes of the lowest among us.’ Sakura guessed by the etching of the rats on the back, what sort of vantage the mirror would offer.

With her bounty in toe, Sakura set off to collect her payment from a grieving wife and then deal with her own business. She was sure in time she’d be able to find the owner of the seal skin, but the easiest thing to do next would be to follow the golden lead and see where it ended.

So that’s what she did.

With the money from her recovery and the seal pelt both locked safely away, Sakura found the free time to follow the never ending lead as it took her from city to town, to village, to the dark moor of a fallen fae king. The muck came up to her ankles, but she walked on top of most of it, kicking her way through in her wet boots until the lead ended.

Sakura whistled low and snapped her wrist, sending a ripple down the length of gold until it smacked the side of the malnourished beast of burden. She had seen ponies and she had seen workhorses, but a Kelpie was neither of those things.

The black water horse looked up at her through a shaggy tangle of even darker hair, with red eyes too dim to scare even children. Sakura could count his ribs for how far they stood out and it made her grimace. There were scars around his fetlocks, criss crossing all the way up to his knees. The scars made her gut roll.

Sakura hopped off the lip of a grass mound and began to wade through the shallow waters, too low to drown in. When she was close enough the Kelpie drew his head back and whined low. In spite of the torture, his eyes were back to burning red when he saw who she was.

“You’re not him,” he rumbled. His voice was ancient and echoed of a time before the fae fell pray to men’s magic. He was one of the old monsters, she guessed.

“I’m not, but I have his magic bridle because I’m more powerful and better looking. My name’s Sakura. Who are you?”

The dark horse glanced down at the gold lead coiled up in her hand and bowed his head, glaring up resentfully through his bangs. “I am Madara. What do you wish of me…master?”

Sakura made a sour face, scrunching up the skin around her mouth and nose. “Ew. No, none of that. Quit it, I’m not like that bastard. Just stay still for now and don’t try to eat me because it won’t go well for you if you try. Hang on…”

Sakura closed the distance between them and reached up for where the bridle latched together. There were two places she had to open, but once they were loose she pulled the rest down off his long face. The golden lead dissolved from the extinguished magic and Sakura cradled the rest of the bridle in both hands, holding it while the gold light of its enchantment dimmed.

“There,” Sakura breathed. “All better?”

The Kelpie had been painfully still since she first reached for his face, but even after dragging the bridle off he stayed like stone. The one eye she could see was blown wide, and the whites around the dancing red pupil made her think he was in shock.

Sakura brushed the hair of his face back, combing with her nails and dragging them through the muck that still clung to him. She tisked at the filth and snapped her wrist to fling it off her fingers.

“He really didn’t even try to take care of you, did he? I’m sure you’ll do better,” she said.

Sakura stepped back and threw the bridle over her shoulder. There were enough grassy patches to pick her way up the slope that lead back to the footpath she had followed. It had taken her the better part of a day to follow the lead, but she didn’t tire like other humans, so she didn’t mind it when she realized it would be past midnight before she saw the lights of man’s world.

“Wait!”

Sakura looked back and saw the Kelpie had finally moved.

“You, what do you want of me?” he asked, sounding almost frantic.

“Try not to eat any children I guess. Someone will come to kill you if you go back to drowning humans, but there is plenty to feed on in the fae wilds.” Sakura snapped her fingers and then made her hand into a gun shape that she wagged in his direction. She paired the gesture with a sloppy, lazy smile. “That’s just some free advice though.”

“You can’t command me anymore. Why are you telling me this?” He stomped a single hoof, still sounding agitated. There was frantic magic all around him too.

“I just told you, silly, its free advice not a command. I knew what I was doing when I took this off of you. I’m not stupid,” she scoffed.

His eyes were still wide. “Then why?”

Sakura didn’t like the way he watched her, so she turned around and started to head back. When she answered it was a shout over her shoulder. “I don’t like seeing things chained up. Don’t think too much about it.” She waved a hand up in the air, hoping he saw it. “Have a happy life!”

He didn’t follow her, though she heard him climb out of the mud pit and stamp around on the road behind her for a ways. Eventually he stopped before the moors could, and let her go through the mists that uncurled around dusk. It was nearly dawn by the time she made it back to the apartment and by then she was barely awake enough to shower and dress for bed.

She fell asleep just before dawn and slept until noon.

Hunger was what eventually drove her out of bed. With her refrigerator empty, she forced herself to dress and sniff out enough human money for a good meaty midday meal from her favorite pub down the street.

It was a dark day outside, but she didn’t mind the shade the way some others did. Before she could make it to the pub the rains rolled in and she ended up nearly drenched by the time she arrived.

“No umbrella?” the owner laughed at her, face red with cheer and ale.

“Who owns an umbrella?” Sakura snapped back, shedding her jacket and snapping most of the rain water from it before hanging it up by the door. “I was told you just needed to dodge the raindrops.”

“Then what happened to you little miss?” he laughed back, already pouring her a frothing stout to go along with her meal. There was bread ready for her to butter next to her usual seat at the bar.

“I didn’t see the point in it, since I figured I was coming here to get sloshed anyway.”

Someone at the far end of the bar raised his stein and laughed, saluting her before staining his beard with froth. The pub owner chuckled and dipped away to prepare her chicken the way she liked it.

Sakura leaned back and tore through the bread, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to fill her, but loving the taste of it all the same. There was a television mounted up in the back with football reruns playing. It was still exciting enough to entertain a few of the regulars.

Sakura did a sweep of the room, noting only a few new faces. Most everyone else was a regular. Some seemed to live at The Angel’s Trumpet Pub and Meals.

One of the faces belonged to someone she had never seen before, and that was rare because Sakura was just paranoid enough to spend whole days watching the world through pub windows until she was sure she had memorized enough of the township to tell locals apart from interlopers. Sakura drank deep and then called for a second once her first mug ran dry.

Her plates of food came out, one after the other, and she ate through the first one before she noticed the staring of the stranger. Yamato was working behind the counter so she waved him down and then asked him for a pale ale to be served at the stranger’s table. If he knew who it came from she’d risk an encounter. If he didn’t…well, it wasn’t like she was worried or anything.

She was halfway through her second plate and fourth drink when he settled into the seat beside her. Sakura drank deep and then reached for another roll before sliding the empty basket down to Yamato’s end to fill up again. She tore open the biscuit with her teeth and watched the dark stranger.

He was taller than her, like most men were, with wild black hair barely braided back. His eyes were just as dark as the rest of him and his clothes were timeless trousers and a loose white shirt rolled up his forearms enough to expose the criss crossing scars.

“Oh, you,” Sakura breathed, feeling some of the lingering tension ease out. “Human you. Hey, nice look.”

Madara inclined his head and the picked up the ale, gesturing to it before taking a long pull. When he set it back down half of it was gone.

Sakura whistled low.

“What’s brought you out into the people places?” Sakura teased. She bit off another chunk of her roll. “I thought you’d be eager to see the wilds. There’s nothing keeping you back is there?”

She asked it like a question but it really wasn’t a question. The enchantment was null and void, but Madara had been a prisoner for so long, he probably forgot what it felt like to be free.

“I am considering it. I had some other matters of business to attend to and a few questions I was hoping you could answer,” Madara said, watching her.

Sakura finished her last roll and reached for her drink. “Sure. What can I do for you?”

“The magician you took the bridle from. He….?”

Sakura made a gesture with her finger under her throat and then winked. “You won’t have to worry about him. It’s just his hold out minions who are a pain in the ass. You not worried about them, are ya?”

Madara shook his head slowly.

“What else can I help you with?”

“The bridle, how did you come to possess it?” Madara asked.

“It wasn’t doing him any good where it was. I was looking for something else but after I found it I picked up a few other trinkets for myself and I have….issues? Yeah, I guess you could call them issues. No yeah, I have issues with binding magic like yours so I picked up the bridle when I found it and then just followed it to you.”

“Why?”

Sakura made a face like she didn’t understand the question, so Madara leaned forward and asked again.

“Why did you bother to free me?”

“Why not?”

He blinked, pulling back to see her better. Sakura skipped over the fork and picked at the chicken with her fingers and tore through it the same way she tore through her bread, not caring if he saw her make a mess.

“You are an odd human,” he finally concluded.

“I’ve been called worse.”

“You know I am dangerous. You would say I am a monster, no?”

Sakura rolled her eyes, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist as she leaned back on her stool. “Sure, yeah, I guess I can agree with that. Your kind has been known to eat kids, on occasion, but that’s rare, from what I know. You prefer animal to human, yes? Can’t blame you for that. I’d be a hypocrite,” Sakura laughed and held up what was left of her chicken.

“You still risked it. What if I had been a terrible creature locked away with good reason? Would you still have freed me as you did?”

Madara was still watching her and his voice made her want to bed down and sleep, it was so soft and smooth. She knew it wasn’t intentional. She had listened to enough thralls and fought off enough mind altering enchantments to know when she was being manipulated. Madara’s voice was just pleasant and there wasn’t anything more to it than that.

“Madara.”

She called his name to get his attention. When she spoke his name aloud the Kelpie sat up straighter in his seat and went rigid. She thought it reminded her of how work dogs stood at attention when their masters called. Something in her stomach rolled unpleasantly when she thought how long the abjuration magic must of lasted. There was nobility in his beautiful features. She didn’t doubt Orochimaru spent decades breaking him.

“Look, the guy I stole your bridle from was a horrible guy. He was…one of the worst humans I have ever had the misfortune of running across. I’ve known plenty of bad guys, and he was one of the worst. There’s nothing good that comes from shackles and slavery. Even if you had been the world’s worst monster, I would have wanted to free you, even if just to kill you. It’s just who I am. It’s my epic flaw, if you will,” she laughed. “If I’m free to do as I please, I’d free you again, no questions asked.”

“But…why?”

His eyes were full of questions, but they all hinged on that single word.

Sakura drained what was left of her drink and reached into her pockets for the thick wad of bills. She counted out enough to be generous for both her portion and Madara’s.

“Look, it’s just who I am, friend. Don’t think too much about it.”

Sakura threw the bills down and grabbed what was left of her chicken to swallow whole, bones and all. Her eyes gleamed bright for a moment more before she exhaled comfortably. Madara turned in his seat to watch her as she headed towards the door. She waved her hand up in the air behind her. “Have a happy life.”

She didn’t know if he would be at the Angel’s Trumpet if she went back, but Sakura didn’t risk it for the next week as she ran back and forth, paying favor for favor as she tried to hunt down new treasures and clues.

Orochimaru had plenty of spawns that were still slithering out from the cracks left in his grave, and as strong as Sakura was, she wasn’t eager to wrestle with any of them. She heard that she had pissed off some of them, and they were even more of a headache to deal with when pissed off.

But eventually the days passed, one after the other. And then the weeks passed. Sakura forgot about the kelpie and remember her hunger.

It was raining again when she stepped in and slapped her jacket in mid air, freeing it from excess rainwater. She left it on the hook by the door and waved to Yamato at the bar, taking her usual seat.

Sakura scanned the room for new and old faces, but only recognized all she saw.  

“Looking for someone you missed?”

Sakura cradled her head in her hand, leaning over the counter. Yamato offered her a basket of bread to pick out of, but Sakura took the entire basket from his hands.

“You’re too observant for your own good,” she grumbled.

“The trees have eyes,” Yamato laughed, wiggling his fingers in her direction while backing up to return to the kitchens.

“Go live in a forest, green man!” Sakura hollered. She bit into her bread and then swallowed. “And bring me a beer while you’re at it.”

Yamato reemerged a moment later with a plate for someone else, but got her drink from the tap before she could complain a second time. Before she could have the first sip, Yamato tugged it back out of her reach and leaned in.

“What?” Sakura growled, feeling more irritated than usual. She had stayed away too long, she missed her comfort food and was cranky for it. Freedom had spoiled her.

“Tell me I’m your favorite wood kin,” Yamato teased, holding her drink just out of reach.

“And why would I do something like that?”

“Because it’s true.” Yamato’s grin was suspicious.

“Doesn’t mean I’d admit it. I’d break Hashirama’s heart.”

Sakura grabbed for her drink but Yamato was persistent. One of the drunk regulars lifted his head out of his arms long enough to whistle at them before his head fell back. A couple more men laughed but for the most part Yamato’s antics went ignored.

“You’ve been terrible. If someone asked me what ungrateful looked like I’d show them a picture of you. On top of being a hold out you’re also unfaithful. Weren’t we supposed to be bosom buddies?”

Sakura curled her lip in annoyance. “I swear, I think I might have to decapitate you again if you don’t give me my drink.”

“I’d just grow it back,” Yamato teased, knowing that he could survive losing his head the way all Green Men and wood kin could.

“It’s still hurt like a bitch though, so hand the drink over. I’m hangry.”

Yamato relented and let her have her drink before pushing off the counter. “Fine, be that way. I gave you a chance, just remember that. The cook will bring you your food, not me.”

Sakura flipped him the bird and Yamato saw it, but he just smiled wide at her in a way that made her stomach lurch. He was a tricky bastard. What was he planning?

“If your food sucks I’ll never come back here,” Sakura hollered down the bar.

Yamato laughed. “As if you could.”

Sakura tore into a new roll and then drank deep from her beer. She and Yamato had known each other too long and been through too much to get along so well, but at the same time there were few who understood Sakura as well as Yamato, who had been a child broken by Orochimaru’s mad schemes. She hadn’t been the victim of another human, but she understood Yamato better than most.

Which is why her stomach refused to settle.

“Maybe I should just chop off a leg this time,” Sakura muttered to herself. She tilted her glass back and the empty bottom greeter her. She set it down when she heard her dinner on the counter, excitement building as the aroma hit her.

But it wasn’t the food she noticed first.

“Oh, it’s you!” she exclaimed, leaning back. His memory came to her mind a second later. “Madara, right?”

The newly freed Kelpie was wearing a chief’s uniform and had his hair braided back more neatly than the last time she remembered seeing him.

He spoke with an easy smile. “You remembered my name, Sakura.”

“Hang on, something is more important right now,” Sakura exclaimed.

He went still to watch her as Sakura tugged her steak closer to stab at it with her fork and knife. She cut a piece away, watching him wearily as she chewed. A second later her serious expression melted into a smile and she nodded.  

“Okay, now we can talk. You made a good steak, I don’t have to hate you.”

His eyes seemed to twinkle as the corners creased along with his smile. “That would have been unfortunate. I might have lost my job here if I couldn’t prepare a decent steak.”

“It’s more than just decent. You’re not in any danger,” Sakura said before taking another forkful. “So what are you doing here, other than making decent steak?”

“Apparently one needs money in order to afford goods and services in this world.”

“Sucks, man,” Sakura sighed. “But aside from that, what are you still doing on this side? You could cross over to the fae wilds, can’t you? That place is pretty desolate, you wouldn’t have to worry too much about if you went all natural over there.”

“But you live here,” he said. “In this world.”

Sakura nodded. “Yeah,I do, but this is where most humans live. I’m a badass, but I’m not anything extra special when it comes to species.”

Madara nodded along, watching her while she ate. “I realized that pretty early on. I was curious why you would encourage me to travel to the fae realms. You didn’t seem the type to enjoy trapping into realms not suited to your kind.”  

He couldn’t have known about her past, so she chose not to bristle at the suggestion.  

“I avoid the fae places almost enterally if I can help it,” she laughed. “I’ve spent enough lifetimes over there to grow sick of it, trust me. Plus, the food and drink are incomparable. Have you had much human food yet? It has real taste!”

Madara offered to take her glass for a refill and she happily passed it off for him. He spoke while operating the tap. “I’ve enjoyed much of what I’ve tried so far. I don’t think it will be hard to adapt to life here. You enjoy this pub, don’t you?”

“I love it. I’ve been coming here for years. You’re lucky to have a job in such a fun place. If Yamato ever gives you too much trouble tell me and I’ll throttle him for ya.”

Her words made him laugh as he handed her drink back over. Sakura accepted it with a nod of thanks and a salute before tipping it back to wash her throat. She wondered if he would be heading back into the kitchens soon, or if he was on break, since he didn’t look like he had any intention of leaving.

“He’s been nothing but amicable,” Madara assured her, referring to Yamato.

“Well, at least he’s nice to one of us!” Sakura hollered. From across the room Yamato hear her and looked up. His smile was wide and far too devious for her liking. She flipped him off again and then took another drink. “The cheep bastard is just a right asshole to me most of the time.”

“I was under the impression that Yamato thought highly of you. He shared with me some stories about how you know each other. You were very helpful in liberating him and his kind at one point.”

Sakura blinked before it occurred to her that Madara and Yamato shared a common enemy. Madara had been trapped by the golden bridle found in Orochimaru’s belonging, while Yamato had been the result of a direct experiment involving humans and wood kin magic. Both men must have been able to bond over their hatred of Orochimaru.

“I hope he didn’t tell you too many stories about me,” Sakura groaned. “He must have bored you.”

“No, I asked specifically for more information on the human that saved me and he didn’t ask for anything in return. You just left and I thought I could work here and wait until you came back, but that was many days ago now.”

Sakura took a bread roll and used it to wipe up what was left of her meat’s juices. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you still had questions for me. I guess I could have been more helpful if you really do plan on living in the human’s realm.”

“Well, this is where you live,” Madara said, sounding like it was the most obvious thing in the world to comment on. He pat at something at his waist and then reached into the pocket of his pants. “But it was good that you stayed away so long, I think, since this took a while to earn.”

“Oh?” Sakura was puzzled by what Madara seemed to be implying. In the far corner Yamato was wiping down at table while watching them. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle and it irked her.

“Here, this is for you,” Madara said, setting a small velvet box on the counter.

Sakura wiped her hands on her jeans under the bar, frowning at the box. It looked familiar but she couldn’t tell from where. It wouldn’t be the first time a freed or rescued creature thanked her with a token, but the box was weirding her out.

When she glanced up at Madara he seemed too transfixed on her every movement, watching her with midnight black eyes that sparkled like something from a distant midnight.

Sakura reached for the box and cracked it open. It unfolded to show off a pretty gold band with a diamond in the center. It made her stomach flip when she recognized it.

“Madara, this is an engagement ring,” she chuckled nervously. Yamato was in the back, watching with the widest smile imaginable. “This is too much.”

“I thought it would be appropriate to do things according to human customs as well, since you are also human.” Madara’s smile spread and the twinkling of his eyes was almost boyish. “I didn’t know that there was such a thing until Yamato told me.”  

Sakura didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or scream, but she knew her neck was itchy and her face was hot as the handsome kelpie creature watched her with an intensity that was all too recognizable. “But Madara, this is-this isn’t appropriate for a thank you. This is something you get for someone you want to marry.”

“I know that now. I had been wondering why you didn’t come back and I worried it was something I had missed, but Yamato explained all the customs to me. They’re a little different from Kelpi custom, but you don’t have to worry about those anymore. You already gave me my freedom so there’s nothing else to do.”

Sakura could drink any old man under the table, but after only two beers she was starting to feel the room spin.

“Madara…do you think we’re married?”

“Almost,” he breathed, blushing only slightly. “But I hope the human customs won’t take much longer.”

Sakura leaned back in her seat, away from the bar and the box with the ring. Madara didn’t look away and the intensity of his stare was making her feel like the room was the deck of a ship in a storm. Everything rocked and he was still too handsome to look at.

“I thought that was-I didn’t think you guys did that anymore. Only the really old fashioned selkies would-would still do ‘event’ marriages. Is this normal for kelpie?”

“It’s quite common. Potential spouses would try to bind their love or catch their potential mate, only to ‘free’ them from their singleness. I’ll admit my freeing was a little unorthodox, but I couldn’t have been happier with my match. I don’t want anyone else but you. I’me dedicated to only you!”

Madara reached across the bar and grabbed for her hands, securing her wrists first and sliding down until her hands were trapped in his. He pulled her closer and kissed her knuckles.

“Madara…” Sakura couldn’t find her voice.

“Don’t worry, love, I promise you we can take it slow until the wedding, but I’m so happy you chose me.” He angled his face so that he stared up at her through his heavy lashes. A few stray bangs fell out from the braid, framing his face. He seemed impossibly beautiful and she couldn’t help but panic as he loomed closer, shadowing her with the blush still high on his cheeks. He kissed her fingers again before breathing over them. “Don’t expect me to hold back from now on.”

Madara looked so lovestruck and in that moment all of Yamato’s evil grinning in the background made sense.

[longsightmyth]

Myth Reads the Naming, Chapter 21

PELLINOR

The chapter is called Council of Friends and I for one could use some more friendship is magic stuff in my life, bring it on.

Maerad has a nightmare and a voice speaks in something that is almost the Speech but fucked up. It says, “I am again, but none shall find my dwelling, for I live in every human heart.”

I just wanted friendship, book. You promised me friendship.

She wakes up and reassures herself, and then Hem knocks on her door having also had nightmares. They huddle together and fall back to sleep.

Maerad wakes up to a beautiful morning and Hem, eating bread in a corner. He’s been waiting for her to wake up. She asks how Cadvan is and Hem doesn’t seem to care much (which, fair) but says he’s probably still sleeping and Maerad should hurry up because there is food (I appreciate a lot about this interaction. If I forget to mention it in the comparison please bug me so I can talk about it in a reblog or something). Maerad kicks him out to get dressed and then they walk down to get lunch together.

When they get to the sitting room, Cadvan is awake and chatting with Saliman. Cadvan is the worse for wear still but he’s talking and awake and teasing Maerad a little bit, and Maerad almost cries with how happy she is that he’s alive, black eye and stitched up face cuts and all. He assures her when she asks that he feels great and sends her off to the food.

Appetite sated (Hem comes with her for seconds) the siblings return to Cadvan and Saliman, who are discussing Saliman’s journey. Turns out Saliman was attacked by three hulls and killed them, but not before they killed his horse. He’s pretty sad about it and so am I:  horse death is sad. The horses are just doing their best okay.

Anyway, Nelac comes in while Maerad is looking out at the gardens and says that most of his flowers survived the storm. Maerad immediately likes him, not least because he fixed up Cadvan and reminds her of Cadvan.

Hem continues to eat as the adult bards convene and catch each other up on everything, and when they get to the part about the Kulag Cadvan admits he was in a hurry and not as careful as he should have been with magic or travel. He credits Maerad with getting them all out alive.

“I wondered…,” said Maerad, and then stopped.

“What, O my Deliverer?” said Cadvan.

Maerad blushed again at his teasing. “I wondered if the Landrost had hurt you, and that was why…” she faltered and stopped again.

“The Landrost did indeed hurt me,” said Cadvan. “And I was less in my power than I could be. But that is no excuse for rushed decisions and the mistakes that come with them. I judge myself at fault, and so I am; and it is a severe judgment, Maerad, because things very nearly were otherwise, and the result would have been terrible for many more than us.”

Maerad saw for an instant an implacable harshness in Cadvan’s face, and she shivered; she thought she would not like to be judged by Cadvan, had she done any real wrong.

They continue to catch up, and Nelac remembers hearing about the Treesong somewhere but he’ll have to look for it again, but Saliman Knows What’s Up and sings a verse from the poem at the beginning of chapter 17, which I will transcribe here so nobody has to search the hellscape that is my tumblr tags:

Grows a Lily on the Briar

Grows a Briar on the Wave

Triple-tongued its voice of Fire

Edil-Amarandh with save

True and false the cunning Flame

Burning in the darkest Night

False and true the secret Name

Quickened in the womb of Light

Where the Briar on the Foam?

Doth the Lily stemless stand?

Who will bring the Singing home?

Where the Harp? And whose the Hand?

Nelac is like ‘lol it almost sounds like you’re saying Maerad, who can speak common, Elidhu, and the Speech, is the Foretold’

Cadvan’s ACTUAL (specified as distracted and absent) RESPONSE: “Yes, yes, of course I am.”

Maybe warn a guy before you drop prophetic bombs in his lap, Cadvan.

Nelac thinks about it a minute and sorta soul searches Maerad with eye contact is like ‘okay fine you may have a point’. Also the Treesong is a super ancient song, he remembers.

Nelac ALSO wants to scry Hem. Hem is not having it rn and runs into the garde. Maerad chastises Nelac with all the vehemence of a sibling vs outsiders and heads after her brother. After assuring Hem that SHE believes him, obviously, and that Cadvan does, he agrees to come back inside, where Nelac straight up bribes him with food to be scried later. Hem is like ‘well if there’s FOOD’ and agrees, which, fair.

Further, Nelac says they have to figure out where Hem can go to bard school because Norloch is being Particularly Racist at the moment and Hem, unlike Maerad, looks very Pilanel. Cadvan says irritably that Hem would like other schools better anyway, fuck Norloch (okay not in quite those words but it’s close).

Saliman: hey no worries I’ll take the kid home with me where racist dickheads aren’t in charge. Sound good, Hem?

Hem: Boy does it!

Section paraphrased for clarity.

Also, Nelac adds, y’all haven’t been here in a while so let me tell you what else Enkir has fucked up: no more lady bards can train at Norloch.

The fuck, everyone in the room basically mouths in unison.

Nelac: so the flaw in our system is, if all of our elected officials are old white rich white dudes with The Right Families then it turns out they elect an old rich white dude with The Right Family as leader, which means even the relatively benevolent old rich white dudes get outvoted when it comes to civil rights and not destroying the world because these guys have no concept of doing anything for other people even in the name of self interest.

Not that we know anything about that in the States or anything.

Everybody agrees that a council must be called regarding world saving because they still labor under the delusion that old rich white dudes with The Right Families in power give a shit what happens to the world if it doesn’t affect them in the next five minutes. The poor saps.

Cadvan shows Maerad around Norloch and assures her once again that even if she isn’t the foretold it’s no biggie, he’ll take her to a good bard school.

“Would you stay there?” she asked, knowing the answer already.

He glanced at her quickly, his face unreadable. “For a time, until you were settled in,” he said.

When they get back, Hem wants Maerad there while he’s scried. Nelac says it’s unusual, but so is scrying a child so why not. There isn’t much to see since we aren’t in Hem’s PoV, but Nelac confirms that Hem is Maerad’s brother and everybody rejoices. Maerad offers to get them something to drink, does so, and leaves, feeling like she intruded.

At dinner, which Hem actually skips, they make a game plan for presenting Maerad-as-The-Foretold to the council. Nelac is going to do it alone for political reasons. That’s the end of the chapter.

THRONE OF GLASS

Three chapters of ToG is a fitting punishment for taking so long I guess. 46,47,48.

Dorian is hunting through the woods to ‘let the freezing air rush through him’  and burn off steam regarding Celaena, who apparently watches him like a cat watching a mouse, which is different from every single other woman ever, who otherwise look at him adoringly.

Dorian, I would think Kaltain fits that description. I’m just saying.

Apparently Celaena makes him want to be a better king or whatever by watching him and he’ll never be happy with any other woman now that he’s kissed her and he’s worried about her in the duel. Sure.

CELAENA’S POV.

She’s thinking about the duel, worries that Cain might be better because he has stamina (I mean this is a valid concern: Celaena can’t seem to do any sort of strenuous physical activity without throwing up, her stamina IS crap) and then that she might have to obey the King of Adarlan if she’s his Champion.

I’m not sure what you thought you were signing up for, Celaena?

Then she decides she wants to stay in the castle because Hot Dudes, I guess.

NEXT CHAPTER.

Kaltain drugs Celaena’s goblet(?) in the outside duel.

Swap to Celaena’s PoV, where she complains about the cold and thinks that she doesn’t know why they have to have the duels outside. Me neither, Celaena. Me neither.

She recognizes a couple of council members who hired her in the past, and then Nehemia shows up. For reasons?

Anyway, the king makes a speech, the duels start, Cain wins his. Celaena thinks that the other guys hadn’t even lasted three minutes, which, I mean. People generally greatly overestimate how long fights take, especially fights that aren’t specifically hemmed in for competition. Three minutes is a long time to fight one on one for your life?

Oh wait they aren’t fighting to the death. That would be too men for the demon infested king? I don’t know.

Chaol offers Celaena his sword to fight with, and Nehemia offers her Nehemia’s staff instead.

“If I may,” Nehemia said in Eyllwe, “I’d like to offer this to you instead.” The princess held out her beautifully carved iron-tipped staff. Celaena glanced between Chaol’s sword and her friend’s weapon. The sword, obviously, was the wiser choice—and for Chaol to offer his own weapon made her feel strangely lightheaded—but the staff…

Nehemia leaned in to whisper in Celaena’s ear. “Let it be with an Eyllwe weapon that you take them down.” Her voice hitched. “Let wood from the forests of Eyllwe defeat steel from Adarlan. Let the King’s Champion be someone who understands how the innocents suffer.”

So Celaena chooses the staff, which is actually a GREAT weapon vs a sword assuming you know how to use it for a myriad of reasons? Why would a sword be a wiser choice? Why is that obvious? Especially if it’s ‘iron-tipped’ by which I think she means capped, but whatever. We already knew very little research went into this, I’m lucky Celaena isn’t using that soap and hairpin thing.

She’s going to fight Grave. Don’t worry about it, we’ll get an explanation about him in the second book when he suddenly becomes relevant again.

Chaol squeezed her hand, his skin warm in the frigid air. “Give him hell,” he said. Grave entered the ring and drew his sword.

Pulling her hand from Chaol’s, Celaena straightened her spine as she stepped into the ring. She quickly bowed to the king, then to her opponent.

She met Grave’s stare and smiled as she bent her knees, holding the staff in two hands.

You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, little man.

NEXT CHAPTER.

Grave’s first move is to try to break her staff. I. I’m just. Whatever at this point.

His sword gets stuck in her staff when he hits, and she punches him in the nose. He gets angry and charges, “aiming a direct blow to her heart.” She knocks his legs out from underneath him and puts the staff to his throat, which ends the fight I guess, though he doesn’t yield and isn’t injured aside from a broken nose.

She brought her mouth close to his ear. “My name is Celaena Sardothien,” she whispered. “But it makes no difference if my name’s Celaena or Lillian or Bitch, because I’d still beat you, no matter what you call me.” She smiled at him as she stood. He just stared up at her, his bloody nose leaking down the side of his cheek. She took the handkerchief from her pocket and dropped it on his chest. “You can keep that,” she said before she walked off the veranda.

She intercepted Chaol as soon as she crossed the line of chalk. “How long did that take?” she asked. She found Nehemia beaming at her, and Celaena lifted her staff a little in salute.

“Two minutes.”

She grinned at the captain. She was hardly winded. “Better than Cain’s time.”

How slowly are these people moving? Why are we counting time? What is HAPPENING.

Anyway they have a toast.

“Out of good faith, and honor to the Great Goddess,” Kaltain said in a dramatic voice. Celaena wanted to punch her. “May it be your offering to the Mother who bore us all. Drink, and let Her bless you, and replenish your strength.”

I want that all noted for the record on the religion front.

Celaena is thrown directly into fighting Cain without any more of a rest and does not realize she’s been drugged.

The conqueror of Erilea raised his hands.

“Begin!” he roared, and Celaena shook her head, trying to clear her blurry vision. She steadied herself, wielding the staff like a sword as Cain began circling. Nausea flashed through her as his muscles flexed. For some reason, the world was still hazy. She clenched her teeth, blinking. She’d use his strength against him.

Cain charged faster than she anticipated. She caught his sword on the broad side with the staff, avoiding the sharp edges, and leapt back as she heard the wood groan.

He struck so quickly that she had to concede to the edge of his blade. It sank deep into the staff. Her arms ached from the impact. Before she could recover, Cain yanked his sword from her weapon and surged toward her. She could only bound back, deflecting the blow with the iron tip of the staff.

Given that Celaena is a, an assassin, b, just had a refresher course on poisons, and c, has been poisoned like this at least once before in the prequel novellas, I don’t know what to tell anybody here. Finally she gets it when she hears Kaltain laugh.

She had difficulty holding the staff. Cain came at her, and she had no choice but to meet his blows, barely having the strength to raise the weapon each time. How much bloodbane had they given her? The staff cracked, splintered, and groaned.

Did Nehemia give her a wimpy-ass staff or does Celaena just not know how to use it to deflect rather than just take the full force of a blade? His sword sinks into it, it splinters and cracks? Y’all. No.

She had to end this now, before the hallucinations started. She knew they’d be powerful: seers had once used bloodbane as a drug to view spirits from other worlds. Celaena shot forward with a sweep of the staff. Wood slammed into steel.

The staff snapped in two.

The iron-tipped head soared to the other side of the veranda, leaving Celaena with a piece of useless wood.

Y’all. Y’ALL. You don’t even know how much I’m despairing right now.

Anyway, we go through Dorian and Chaol’s PoVs in quick succession to show that they’re worried about her and are probably in love, because sure, that’s what’s important right now, why not.

Celaena starts seeing creatures from another world as Cain keeps beating her up and Chaol keeps telling her to get up. Apparently the eye of Elena actually was protecting her, because…

Cain reached for her throat, and she flung herself backward. All that he managed to grab was her amulet. With a resounding snap, the Eye of Elena ripped from her neck.

The sunlight disappeared, the bloodbane seizing control of her mind again, and Celaena found herself before an army of the dead. The shadowy figure that was Cain raised his arm, dropping the amulet upon the ground.

They came for her.

That’s the end of the chapter. Thank goodness.

COMPARISON

Say it with me: I despair.

These chapters are pretty different from each other, but I said I wanted to talk about Hem and food and I do.

Both Hem and Maerad have been deprived all their lives, and while Maerad is slightly less preoccupied with filling her stomach than Hem, she also does not in my memory refuse food when it is offered, and only ever delights in the fact that she has it. Hem, obviously, is a little more fixated, but Maerad usually got ENOUGH to eat by virtue of her musical talent and value and the whole superstition thing. Hem rarely did.

Celaena turns her nose up at salmon and complains when chicken is a little bit dry. It’s just not behavior I would expect from someone starved in a salt mine for a year.

Pellinor’s mythology and religion and society remains consistent. ToG’s still rolling with the one goddess lots of little gods thing for now.

I’m just glad that Celaena used an actual weapon (poorly) and didn’t try to get creative. God knows what she would have done with a blade of grass or something. Why are we timing our fights. How was Chaol watching the clock closely enough to know that AND watching the fight. This could all have been solved with some research.

STATS

Pages: 23

Fragments: 36

Em-Dashes: 50

Ellipses: 14

Pages: 22

Fragments: 6

Em-Dashes: 2

Ellipses: 13

[lordbeyron]

Cebina knew her way around the Everblaze Manor well. She’d lived there long enough, working as an informant for The Magister. Security had been tightened since her last stay; understandable, given recent events. Still, Cebina was skilled and proficient enough with her gifts from the Void to infiltrate without detection.

She hadn’t disturbed much. The point of her visit had been a simple in and out; gathering the final items she’d left behind when Bey’ron had so quickly shown her the door. She leaned back in the comfortable chaise, swirling the wine in her glass as the memory played out in her head. She couldn’t exactly blame him for his decision, given the events that unfolded with her kind. The priestess expected he wouldn’t be all too thrilled to see her again, but she couldn’t just come and go without saying hello. How rude would that be.

Once all her items had been securely moved through the rift, she sat down in the Magister’s favorite chairs in his foyer, legs crossed, robe lifted to rest over her thighs, and helping herself to some of his finest wines as she waited for him to come home.

She didn’t have to wait long. The Magister was exceptionally busy today, planning what was essentially a political rally. Meetings, scryings, getting proper documentation in order, all on top of his other duties and responsibilities. Bey’ron was being spread thin. He snapped his fingers, conjuring a portal back home for a moment’s respite from the demanding day. It deposited him not in his foyer, but rather up in his chambers - tucked away from anyone’s access... even former colleagues’.

His chambers were untouched… but he felt a presence in his manor. A dark presence, reminiscent of too many bad experiences he’d had already. Lordaeron. Murder Row. He’d become well acquainted with the magical signature of the ren’dorei. The stench of the Void was pungent to his arcane senses. One had entered his home, to pay him a visit. An assassin, no doubt; Lady Starfrost spoke of a recent attempt in her manor very recently. It didn’t concern Bey’ron too much. This wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

He waved his hand once more in an incantation. The manor’s enchanted flames all suddenly began to glow an emerald green, growing in intensity threefold! It was bright, all around now, heralding his arrival. From nether-portals, two hulking felguards emerged ahead of their master, before Bey’ron himself stepped through - hands ablaze with felfire.

“You’ve come a long way to d--”

His emerald eyes settled on a familiar figure - even transformed by the Void, Bey’ron recognized Cebina instantly. It was more than just physical appearance. Her demeanor was unique - prideful and seductive. His hands extinguished, as they lowered to his sides. The felguards held position on either side of him, defensively… turning stoic as they awaited their master’s next command. The fires settled, returning to their normal intensity and color. Bey’ron grinned.

“--Well, well. This is unexpected.” he chuckled lightly. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Little Bird?”

“Hello, Sweetie,” Cebina’s melodious voice gave out her usual greeting, “I would have knocked first, but you know how well my kind is received as of late. You understand, I’m sure.”

She took her time, taking a sip of wine, before uncrossing her legs and getting up from the comfortable chaise, allowing her robes to fall back in place over her long legs. Her attire was just as expensive as before, minus the Sin’dorei ornamentation. Clearly, she was doing well for herself among the Alliance. She walked around the chair, running her fingers along the back of it in her usual seductive manner. It wasn’t specifically for him. She knew well enough that Bey’ron wasn’t interested in her body, especially now, but the mannerisms came to her so naturally.

“I was in town and figured I’d come by and collect the rest of my things. I was disappointed to see that you weren’t home, so I thought I’d wait for you to return. It would have been rude of me not to say ‘Hello’, hm?”

She gave him her signature smile, speaking to him as though the Fel Guards weren’t even present.

“How have you been, Bey-Bey?”

“Mm, of course. It’d be a shame for you to go unseen, wouldn’t it?” Bey’ron smirked, as he approached - still wary, but not showing it near as much. “Even as you are now… no less so.”

He regarded her a moment, ears flickering about. It seemed as if she’d come alone, which in itself allowed him to relax further. She looked lovely as ever; dressed in that classy, preened look she always had, flowing hair splayed just so, seductive grin, vibrant eyes - despite their eerie void-lit glow. She’d changed, for certain… and yet at the same time, she hadn’t changed a bit. Void aside, she brought a distinct energy with her wherever she went. Bey’ron was convinced it was her smile… or her voice. Either way, they were both classically hers. And he’d missed that energy, terribly.

He stepped past Cebina and the comfortable chair, instead approaching his wet bar - Cebina had already helped herself, it seemed. So he didn’t bother offering her a drink, only prepared one for himself.

“Frankly, my dear, I’ve been better.” he smirked, swirling his glass of Eversong Red. “You see, I was recently robbed; a disgruntled former colleague came and took my best furnishings.”

He winked at Cebina, before shaking his head. A generous swig of his wine, and he stepped towards her again.

“What is it you took, precisely? If I’m to get it all replaced, I suppose I ought to know what it is I’m replacing, hmm?”

“Oh Sweetie, there’s nothing for you to replace,” she smiled sweetly, leaning against the back of her chair, “I only took what was rightfully mine from the room I was in. The only other thing I helped myself to was the wine. But, being such a good host, you would have surely offered me some anyway.”

She took another sip of wine as she strode over to stand next to him at the bar. She placed a rolled up news parchment down on the counter next to him. Some headline about a new ‘Power Couple’ in Silvermoon.

“You’ve been busy though, haven’t you. You surprise me, Sweetie! I didn’t know you had it in you to get into bed with a Knight-Lord! Does she let you top? There’s no way you’re not a top!”

Bey’ron eyed the paper, then let out a sigh. He took another swig of wine, turning back to the wet bar. He topped his glass off - he’d need it, for this conversation. Cebina was, by her vary nature, a sexual creature. He’d used it to his advantage countless times, sending her to dig up dirt while people were at their most vulnerable, and distracted; she had a knack for getting people to lower their guard and talk. ‘Bareing’ themselves to her. It netted him all manner of useful information, but also made him wary. He’d always kept his Little Bird at arm’s length, not only due to a disinterest in the carnal pleasures she offered, but also to preserve his own secrets.

His relationship with Ina’thia wasn’t a secret, however. What gave him concern in her knowledge of it came from the implication that he did, in fact, have a lustful side. A side of him he’d denied her for years.

“Oh, that?” he shrugged, casually, turning to Cebina. “Yes, I suppose that’s something new, happening since you left. You know how meaningful powerful pairings can be, hmm?”

He approached, and topped of Cebina’s glass as well - sharing in his wine, as she expected he would. His emerald eyes flickered over her, discerningly. Was that the real reason she’d come here? To question him about his new romance? Or was it simply to retrieve the items in her old bedroom - which frankly, he’d forgotten about?

Or something else entirely?

“Mhm…” she smiled wide, eyes never leaving his as he topped up her glass, “Funny, you never went with the ‘powerful pairing’ option before. A new tactic. You’re either desperate or you have actual feelings for this woman, as rough around the edges as she looks.”

She took another sip of wine, swallowing it down as she made her way back towards the chaise, hips swaying.

“A shame, what happened to the Guard. So soon after you joined them…”

The Magister’s brow twitched as another sensitive subject came up. But he kept his calm, smirking behind his wine glass at his former colleague. He shrugged, taking another sip.

“Nothing lasts forever. Horde politics merely sped things along, I suppose.” he shook his head. “But I see no need to bore you with such things. Tell me, how’re you settling in with the Alliance?”

“Well, they aren’t attempting to kick me out of their borders or execute me, so I’d say things are better than they were here. They’re rather welcoming, actually.”

Cebina turned to face him, going back to leaning against the furniture. She wondered how much he knew of her captivity with the Guard. If his relationship with Dawnblade stretched out far back enough, had he encouraged her execution?

“I’d say business is good. I’m settling in just fine.” Of course, she never specified which business.

Bey’ron nodded, smirking as he usually did. But internally, he felt the sting of her words. He had expected Cebina to express some disgruntlement about the circumstances leading to her exile. It personally never sat right with him, either. Politics was a dual-edged blade, at times; it seemed to cut him just as often, even when he, himself, swung it. Of course… he couldn’t say such things aloud. That was part of the game, after all. Instead, he took another swig of wine, and nodded.

“I’m glad to hear it, my dear.” he replied, a sincere smile peeking through his smirk for the briefest of moments. “Of course, you’re a resilient thing, aren’t you? I never doubted you’d land on your feet.”

He exhaled a light sigh, as he looked Cebina over. He still wasn’t entirely sure why she’d returned. Retrieving personal effects felt like such a hollow excuse. A shell, a token, to mask some other true intention. Did she simply miss being here? He expected it was possible…

“It’s wonderful to see you. Naturally. But you know the danger it poses for you to be here. Both for you, and for me…” he frowned a bit, shaking his head. “Why is it you’ve returned? Truly? I can’t imagine you’d truly risk your precious life for a divan and a few throw pillows.”

Cebina grinned, pushing herself off the furniture, “You caught me there, Sweetie. I was in town for other business, but I mostly stopped here to return something to you.”

She began to walk towards him again as the shadows around them seemed to grow despite the flames he’d summoned earlier.

“You see, Bey-Bey. I may be exiled, but that doesn’t mean I don’t pay attention to the little details happening in this city. I don’t hold a grudge for you kicking me out. That’s all fine and good. Nothing personal. Just business.”

She waved a hand as if to dismiss it ever happened. The priestess eyed her glass of wine as she twirled the liquid once more, “However, I had a bit of an issue with your girlfriend’s Phoenix Guard. You understand, they were a real pain in the ass for my friends and I out in Silithus and the Ghostlands. That felt just a tad more personal, I’m afraid.”

She placed her glass of wine down before holding her hand out, palm up for Bey’ron to see. Void energy coalesced in her palm, taking on a shape. When the dark energy dissipated, what was left was a stack of parchments, still rolled up... with Magister Everblaze’s own personal seal binding them together.

“I had to leave rather quickly last time I was in town, so I never got a chance to return it to you. I believe it was something of personal importance?”

She placed the parchment down on the bar, before turning away a final time.

Bey’ron’s smirk vanished in an instant. He recognized the rolled parchments, knowing well what they were without even opening them. Though… he did anyway. He set his glass aside on the wet bar, and took up the documents.

“... Little Bird, I…” he muttered, though the sentence went nowhere - he was too distracted.

Too shocked.

The seal broke, as he unrolled the carefully constructed, mindfully worded, and passionately perfected plea he and Knight-Lord Dawnblade had written to the Council on the topic of keeping the Phoenix Guard intact and operational. His heart sank, throat drying out and lumping. His gloved hand shook, felfire eyes brimming as they were affixed to the undelivered pages. How she acquired them, he wasn’t sure. What the Council received in their place - if anything - he had no way of knowing. He had kicked himself for months now, taking the failure to keep the Phoenix Guard sustained rather personally. He couldn’t figure out why the decision fell so unfavorably.

But now, he knew the reason.

“I’ll see you again, Sweetie,” Cebina called as she made her exit through a conjured void rift, her voice growing cold, “That’s a promise.”

The rift closed, taking Cebina with it. Bey’ron was at a loss for words. He felt anger well up within him. Frustration! The rug had been pulled from beneath him, and he had no idea until now! His hands gnarled, crumpling the papers together in his closed fists. His eyes flared, the sconces and fireplace joining him in the swell of fire that the Magister exuded.

Then he laughed.

He laughed, utterly tickled by Cebina’s outmaneuvering! He wanted to be mad. He wanted to scream! To throw fireballs and burn the whole manor down in rage! But he simply couldn’t bring himself to be all that upset! It was a thing of beauty; Cebina had been patient, and picked the absolute perfect moment to deliver this - her final blow. Her coup de grâce, to put an end to the Phoenix Guard once and for all. He had severely underestimated his former colleague, only now seeing the extent of her conniving, the cunning of her dastardly mind.

He was impressed.

His laughter died down, as he glanced to the glass of wine she’d left behind - bearing her farewell seal in the form of her lipstick stain along the rim. He took up his own glass, and raised it to the space where she stood, before the void rift swallowed her away.

“Well played, Little Bird.” he smirked, before finishing off his glass. “Well played, indeed.”

~*~

((Co-written with @kidcatgemini, @cebinaruavin / @inathia for mention ))

[a-corndog-named-schibbs]

Fangs, Fur, and Phantoms - Chapter 4

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Next Chapter

Finally our protagonists begin to cross paths.  Lance is an old, old man, Keith makes some new friends(?), and Shiro and Allura are now working under a deadline.

Enjoy!

Keith looked over his boyfriend’s shoulder as he tapped away at his laptop, “Anything?”

“Nothing so far.  Granted, the search terms ‘big dangerous animal’ aren’t very specific.”

He and Lance had decided to do a bit of research to see if they could figure out what kind of creature Pidge had seen while scrying.  The search brought up plenty of animals, bears, moose, timber wolves and the like, but none seemed to be native to this area.

As Keith watched Lance scroll through pages and pages of “What To Do If a Bear Attacks You”, Romelle poked her head into Keith’s room.

“Laundry day, today,” she said, “Got any whites?”

Keith gestured to the hamper behind him, eyes still glued to the computer screen.

As Romelle picked the hamper up, she glanced over at the pair, “What are you two doing anyway?”

Lance snapped the laptop shut.   “Nothing,” he said too quickly.

Way to not look suspicious, Lance, Keith thought, rolling his eyes.  “I’m helping Lance set up a Facebook profile.  It’s time to make this old geezer a proper twenty-first century man.”

Romelle snorted, “Just say you’re watching porn together, Keith, it’s okay.”  She balanced the hamper on her hip and left the room.

Once she was gone, Lance turned around to glare at Keith, “‘Setting up my Facebook profile’?  Really?  Now your sister’s gonna think I’m useless with technology.”

“It’s because you are useless with technology.”

“Am not!”

“Lance, you yelled at the Blu-ray player last weekend because it ate your copy of Ghostbusters.”

“It wouldn’t give it back!”

Keith was about to list off more examples of Lance’s hopelessness with technology, when the sound of the doorbell interrupted him.

“Keith, were you expecting someone?” Romelle’s voice carried up from downstairs.

“Mom probably just forgot her house keys again,” Keith called back.

Keith heard the sound of the door being opened and two voices talking.  One was clearly Romelle’s and the other was one he hadn’t heard before, a man’s voice.  After a moment, the conversation stopped and was replaced by the sound of Romelle’s footsteps on the stairs.

“It’s two people in suits,” said Romelle, poking her head back in the doorway, “They want to talk to you.”

“Huh,” Keith got up from his chair and followed Romelle out of the room.

“Do you think they’re social workers?” Romelle whispered to him, “Are they here to take me away?”

“You’re eighteen now, Romelle, they’re not legally allowed to take you away.” said Keith, but his insides had begun to churn.  Eighteen might be the year humans became legal adults, but he had no idea what kind of rules applied to changelings.

Through the doorway, Keith could see the two individuals Romelle was talking about.  One was a tall Asian man with a scar across the bridge of his nose, wearing a crisp black suit and tie.  The other was a black woman with shockingly white hair, also neatly dressed in a black blazer and matching pencil skirt.

“Keith Kogane?” the man asked.

“Yeah?” said Keith.

“I’m Agent Shirogane and this is Agent Prince,” the man reached out for a handshake.

“Nice to meet you,” said Keith, taking the handshake and jumping a bit when his hand met with cool metal.

“We have a few questions we’d like to ask you about the recent death of James Griffin.  May we come in?” said the woman.

“Uh…sure,” Keith waved them into the living room, filled with relief that they weren’t here for Romelle, followed by apprehension that, apparently, they were here for him.

The two agents sat down on the couch while Keith sat across from them.  The female agent picked up a bit of fur that had rubbed off the couch cushion onto her skirt.  She let it float to the ground, frowning.

“Sorry about the hair,” said Keith, “We haven’t vacuumed in a while in here.”

“Do you have a dog?” said the male agent.

Whoops.  “We, uh, dog-sit for the neighbors a lot.”

The man, Agent Shirogane, apparently, decided to drop it, “So, Keith, if I understand correctly, you’re the one who originally found the body.  Is that correct?”

Keith shifted in his seat, “Yes.  Well…I mean, me and my family.”

“So your family was with you?” said Agent Prince, “What were you doing at the time?”

“Going for a hike,” said Keith.

“At night?”

“It’s…quieter then.”

“As I understand it,” said Agent Shirogane, “You and Mr. Griffin were in the same class in high school.”

“Yeah, I guess we were.”

“Did you know him?”

“Well, it was a small class.  Everyone kind of knew everyone.”

“I see.  Would you say the two of you were particularly close?”

“Not…really.  He had his own group of friends and I kept to myself mostly.”

“Was there ever any tension between you?”

“Tension?”

Agent Shirogane nodded, “Did you two ever get into any fights, arguments, things like that?”

The living room carpet was suddenly fascinating to Keith, “I mean…maybe once or twice?  He was…We just didn’t get along.”

“Keith,” said Agent Prince, “We need you to be honest with us.”

“Yeah…yeah, we fought a few times.  He said some things about my family I didn’t like.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“I would rather not.”

Keith waited for the two agents to press the issue, but they simply nodded and Agent Shirogane said, “I’d like to hear more about you, Keith.  Can you tell us a little bit about yourself?”

“Well…” said Keith, “I’m twenty-two.  I work at the bike repair on Main Street.  I, uh, live here with my mom and my sister.  You’ve met her already.”

“The girl with the pigtails,” said Agent Shirogane, nodding, “Am I right in thinking one of you is adopted?”

“What gave it away?  The different ethnicities?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s fine, we get it a lot.  Romelle’s the adopted one.”

“I assume your mother and sister were the ones hiking with you the night you found the body?” said Agent Prince.

“Well, it was my whole family, really.  I, um, have a large extended family.”

“It’s nice that you’re so close to them,” said Agent Shirogane, “Was anyone else with you at the time?”

“Well, there was…” Keith began to say before he heard footsteps on the stairs.

Lance poked his head out of the stairwell, “Everything okay down here?”

“Yeah,” said Keith, “We were just…”  He turned and, to his surprise, the two agents were on their feet, looking up at Lance in shock.

“Am I interrupting something?” said Lance.

“No, no, you’re good.  These two are just here to investigate the Griffin case,” Keith turned toward the agents, ���This is my boyfriend, Lance.”

Agent Shirogane cleared his throat, “Yes, well, it’s nice to meet you.  We should really be going, though.  Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Kogane.”

They were halfway out the door before Keith could even get out a “no problem”.

“What did those two want?” said Lance.

“They just wanted to ask me some questions about Griffin.”

“Is that all?  And here I was hoping they were here to proposition you.”

“Lance!”

“What?  They were good-looking!  I mean, did you see that lady?  She was gorgeous!  And the guy was a total dreamboat!  You should have asked them to stay for drinks.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “I’m not going to risk getting arrested just so you can have some eye candy to look at over dinner.  I feel like I’m in enough trouble as it is.”

“Why would you be in trouble?”

Keith rubbed his arm, “I dunno, I just…I got the vibe they were trying to get me to confess to something but they didn’t want to come out and say what.”

“Hey, listen, you’ve done nothing wrong.  You were just there when the body was found and they want to interview all the eyewitnesses”

“Then why didn’t they interview you?  You were there too.”

“Maybe they plan on it.  Maybe they’ll knock on my door tomorrow and then I can invite them to stay for drinks.”

Keith laughed, but it did little to chase away the uneasiness settling in his stomach.

***

“Lance McClain?  The Lance McClain?”

“The Blue Nomad himself,” said Shiro, scrolling through the PBI files open on his laptop.  The two of them had come to this coffee shop to regroup and process what they had just discovered.

Allura took a sip from the mocha she had ordered, “Well, I guess that clears up the mystery of where he went after dropping off our radar.”

Shiro nodded, “Jeez, this guy’s had a lot of aliases.  Alejandro Espinosa, Leandro Alvarez, Isamu Kurogane — that’s from a stint in Japan.”

“What was he doing in Japan?”

“Apparently he went over with a group of Jesuits and decided to take a decade-long vacation.”

“He’s certainly lived a full life,” said Allura, “Who was he originally?”

“Carlos Montoya,” said Shiro, scrolling to the bottom of the file, “Born in Cuba in the early 1500s.  His father must have been a conquistador.  It says here he turned during a smallpox outbreak but that’s about all we know about him.”

“Well, what’s he doing in a small American town?  With a werewolf boyfriend no less?”

Shiro shrugged, “Maybe he got tired of wandering.”

“Think he has anything to do with the Griffin case?”

“It…doesn’t really seem like a vampire’s work, but I suppose we can’t leave out any possibility.”

A middle-aged woman in a waitress uniform approached their table.  Her name tag read “Colleen”.

“Can I get you a refill, ma’am?” Colleen said to Allura.

“I’m all right for now, thank you,” said Allura, “It’s very good, though.”

Colleen nodded, “My customers always say our drinks seem to make their whole day go better.  You folks in town for the All Hallows Eve Festival?”

“The what?”

“Big annual event coming up this weekend.  People come from all over the state to sell handmade crafts, baked goods, that sort of thing.  You should stop by, we’ll have a booth set up by the town square this year.”

“We’ll be sure to check it out,” said Allura, giving the woman a polite nod.

“I hope to see you there.  Oh, and if it’s vampire legends you’re interested in, you should talk to my daughter.  She’s quite the researcher when it comes to local folklore.”

Shiro realized with a start that his laptop was still open, “Yes…well��thank you for the coffee.”

“Of course.  Let me know if you need anything else.”

Once she was out of earshot, Shiro turned back to Allura, “The All Hallows Eve Festival?  That’s not good news.  People from all over the country coming here when there’s a man-eating monster on the loose?”

Allura nodded, “Well, now we’ve got a deadline.  We have until this weekend to find out what killed James Griffin and stop it.”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

🏰⚔️DMODT- chapter 7 full

Eren's mood worsened as he tried to distance himself from everyone. He realised how dependant on those around him he'd become over the last few months. Nicollo had a sharp tongue, but cared for those whole appreciated his cooking. Hanji was crazy interested in science, and how science and magic could better the world. Moblit was ever loyal to Hanji, often acting as the counterweight to keep her from going off the deep end. Both Armin and Mikasa always seemed genuinely happy to see him at dinner time, or the times they'd bump into each other within the castle... and Erwin. He'd known they couldn't be friends, yet the man had been kind to him since his arrival. By their nature, omegas were more social than betas and alphas. "Relationships" and "families" were formed within the confines of a sanctuaries. Or they had at the one he'd been at, but then again, omegas didn't usually spend 5 years there. And now that he thought of it, there was no reason he shouldn't have taken his vows sooner... Why had Levi even sent him to the sanctuary? Was it his fault he was forced to stay there so long? Did the man hate him for sneaking into his stables that day? Outside his window, the sky show for the Marley party rained down. It was too beautiful for words, especially with Eren having no part of it. All the omega could do was sit in the frame of his window, watching the small pitiful sparks dance in his palm. Reiner had mentioned using a scrying spell, yet once he knew, he couldn't un-know. With all the festivities, no one would notice his absence. No one would be coming to check him, or notice if he stole in the magical stores to steal some chalk and a scrying crystal. Yet he'd never done a scrying spell before. If his magic flared or got out of hand, he could potentially injure his master, or even worse, summon them right into his bedroom... and how was he supposed to explain that? How was he supposed to admit that he knew Hanji wasn't his master? Everyone around him wanted to believe that so, so he had to pretend too. No matter how much it sucked and hurt. He'd rather have stayed at the sanctuary, or begged to have a normal non-magical life, than to be denied by the one who was supposed to share his soul and magic with. * Levi was on his forth goblet of wine already, and the feast had only just begun. The Marley party had only arrived a few hours before hand, but Zeke was on his nerves. This time the alpha was accompanied by a tall woman with a perpetual silencing glare on her face. It was as if she was being contaminated for merely setting foot on their island. The fact Zeke had brought with him more soldiers than last time was hard to ignore, as was the way Zeke seemed to be scanning the feast, as if looking for someone in particular. He didn't know, and he couldn't be bothered caring. Erwin had already left his side as he'd been roped into dancing within the U-spaded tables of the feast, and even watching the man making a fool of himself had failed to lift his mood. He didn't know why he felt so depressed, only that he was tired of it keeping him up at night "Erwin, your mood is most unbecoming of a prince. Is something wrong within the kingdom?" It took Levi a moment to realise he was being talked to. Zeke had been busy talking to a Marley soldier last time he'd looked to him "No. No, all is well. I was simply lost in thought over Levi's dancing" "He is quite terrible" "Usually he is much better. There must be something distracting him" "And hence, it is distracting you. It rather ruins the food to see the prince so sour" "I'm sorry. That wasn't my intent" "Perhaps I could lend an ear? Is it a trouble of the heart? You are really at the age where you must present an heir" "What's the good of having an heir, if no one can ascend the throne?" "This is why you're such a difficult nation to negotiate with. Tell me, do you plan to wed soon? There are many a lovely lady in Marley, or perhaps it's a male omega that takes your fancy" What? No. He didn't like Eren. He didn't know the boy... Why was he thinking of Eren? "It is. I can see the look upon your face. Is it someone I happen to know" Levi drained his goblet, holding up to be refilled by his attendant "It's nothing like that. Running this kingdom doesn't exactly leave time for romance" "One does not need romance to create an heir. As an alpha, you should know that well. I hear you recently went through your rut. Did you spend it alone?" Levi bit down a growl. No well mannered person would ask that "Why does that concern Marley?" "Like I said. We have many a nice woman, and omega in Marley... yet, I suppose there are one or two attractive enough omegas in your court. You could have them all, that is your right as ruler" Zeke clicked his fingers, one of his female attendants rising from the floor behind them, gathering her robes up, she climbed into his lap "See. This one knows. Her belly will soon be swollen with child, and she is not the only one. We are the ones who shall rule the world. While fine breeding is important, spares are also necessary..." Zeke was unpleasant enough. He didn't want to think about the alphas offspring. Kissing the girl, she giggled as she climbed from his lap. Zeke slapping her arse with a laugh, before she returned to her place on the floor "You're the prince of a kingdom Erwin. It is time you started acting like one" Levi sighed heavily. He didn't want to breed an "army" of spares. Having lost his virginity to Eren, had brought up enough strange emotions as it was, and certain frustrations that could only be calmed in the dead of night. He was just lucky he hadn't been forced to spend any extended time with the teen. As far as he could tell, the teen hadn't been amongst the mages sky show, leaving him to hope Zeke hadn't noticed. But if Zeke was so open with his attendants, then it would be doubtful he'd still be perusing Eren. After the unpleasant feast, Levi woke with a hangover the size of the island. Thankfully, he saw no signs of having dragged anyone into it, even in his drunken state. With a chill in the air, bathing wasn't as pleasant as it normally was. The fire in his hearth refusing to stay a lit, the water for shaving was cold to the point of frigid. Dressing and donning his thickest fur coat, his irritation increasing when he found his room was the only one affected. He felt like a fool for wearing such thick clothes as he entered the dining hall, for all eyes to fall upon him. Stupid Erwin wasn't there, but Prince Bitch was. Striding over to take his place at the table, Zeke was all smiles "Prince Erwin! How are we this morning?" "Fine. Yourself?" "Never better. Eager to start this hunt you have planned" Right. The stupid hunt. Why they had to head out so soon, he didn't know. At least he knew where the real prince was "I was talking to the staff. None of them seem to know where that pet mage of yours is" "I do not have a pet mage" "That's not what I've heard. Apparently his magic was strong enough to grow a quite magnificent apple tree. The warm cider from it has proven to be quite flavoursome. Perhaps we should have him teach our magic users? It'd be a shame for him to waste here" So not only had Zeke not forgotten Eren, someone had opened their mouths over the strength of Eren's magic... "Our mages have always been strong. The achievement of one mage, hardly matters" "Really?" "Yes. Now, I wish to eat my breakfast" Zeke gave him a long look, that Levi didn't like one bit. His smile far too wide to be genuine "Eat, eat. A good hunt is always better with a full stomach" It'd be even better if he had an actual appetite. His alpha was angered over such casual talk of Eren. Zeke couldn't take Eren from Eldia as it was. The teen had vowed himself to the empire, and had his nape marked so. If Zeke openly took Eren, he was sure the consequences weren't going to be pleasant for anyone. Not understanding magic had been a majorly idiotic idea. When Levi and Zeke finally headed out to join the ranks, Erwin decided to finally join them. The scent of rain faintly in the background of his scent. Levi's heart gave a small flip when he saw Eren climbing into a supply cart. He'd been hoping the teen would be remaining at the castle, under Hanji's care and that a few weeks of extended distance would cause his thoughts to abandon those of Eren. They were unhealthy, and unwanted, and not unnoticed by Zeke. Too consumed in glaring, he didn't smell the way his scent shifted to possessive, nor did he see the smile on Zeke's lips over it. If he'd realised, he would have realised that everyone but him, knew he had more than just a passing "thing" for the omega. * Eren wanted to be left alone. The previous night had been one of the worst he'd had in a while, and just wanted to forget how lonely he'd felt. He was still curled up in bed when a loud knock landed against his door. Sorely tempted to hide away and to tell them to fuck off, he covered his head with his pillow "Eren?! It's, Levi. Are you awake?" "No!" He couldn't very well ignore the prince, especially as he listened to his door creak open "Eren?" Pulling the pillow away, he rolled to look at Erwin. Unexpected concern on the man's face "Is everything alright?" Why did he care? Did he know that Eren knew his "little" secret "Huh? What?" "We did not see you last night, so I was wondering if you're ok?" "I'm sorry. I had a headache, and we all know my magic is..." He trailed off with a weak shake of his hand "Ah. Right. No doubt you know Prince Zeke has returned" "Really? I hadn't noticed" Erwin crossed his arms, giving Eren his best "unimpressed dad" look "Sorry. I didn't have the best nights sleep" "Today we will be leading an expedition south to go hunting, and we'll be taking Moblit with us. Hanji has her hands full back here. As Hanji's student, you'll be required to join us" But he wasn't "hers", she wasn't his true master "Are you sure? I do not wish to be in the way" "You won't be. You previously expressed an interest in herbs, and it was mentioned that you came from the south" "Shinganshima, sir" "I am sorry to hear that, is that where you lost your parents?" "It was. Will we be near Shinganshima?" "As you know, under our treaty, we were unable to resettle in Shinganshima. But yes, we shall be passing close to them, and into the forests of the southwest tip of the island" "And you want me to come with?" "Indeed. I believe there are herbs that only grow in that area. Ackerman will also be there..." Ugh. Mikasa was going to "mum" him... "Um... can I ask a question?" "Just one?" Now who was being immature?! "I was wondering about sleeping arrangements?" "You will be sharing a tent. The mages sleep with their masters to prevent anything happening, which means you shall be sharing with Moblit. Don't worry though, the tents are quite spacious, and reinforced with magic as we'll be there for some time" More magic he couldn't do "Do I have to ride a horse?" "You'll be with Moblit. While we hunt, you'll be helping him with herbs" "And no Zeke?" He sounded pathetically hopeful "I cannot say. We rarely hunt the South East forest, so despite the hunt supposedly taking up the next two weeks, don't be alarmed if it doesn't" "I guess I'll get ready then" "Of course. Make sure you eat before you join us" "I will, thank you" Erwin raised one of his huge bushy brows "What are you thanking me for?" "I don't know. It seemed the thing to do" Erwin gave a soft laugh, before sweeping out his room and leaving the damn door open. Groaning, Eren flopped back on his bed. What the hell was this shit?! Why couldn't he stay at the castle? If Hanji was his master, he should be here. Not teaching Moblit about herbs, when the man probably knew better than he did. It was a little over two hours later that Eren found himself sitting beside Moblit. Travelling sandwiched between the two parties of soldiers, Moblit hadn't bothered trying to talk him out of his bad mood. They'd exchanged pleasantries when he'd climbed up into the cart, but that was it. Moblit looked as happy as Eren felt. Neither of them had asked to be riding across the countryside at the whims of two stupid Princes and an imposter, and Eren had been keeping his distance from the man since "figuring out" that Hanji was indeed not his master. He knew it wasn't Erwin. He felt something when around the man, but now that he knew what his lack of feelings around Hanji actually was, he knew the same thing applied to the prince. Moblit also wasn't his master. So far, he'd crossed only a handful of people off his list. Moblit. Hanji. Erwin. Levi. Armin. Nicollo, and Mikasa. And Reiner, though something felt off about him... Perhaps because he was from Marley? All this fresh air and sunshine left him with far too much time to think this all through. It had to be someone "up" in the castle, in order to get Hanji to comply. Or it could have been a simple soldier, to limit his powers so Hanji could run her experiments. He'd seen half the army, and they were big men... but no men he wanted inside of him. Whoever had held him, had made him feel warm and safe... something he longed to feel again.

[adleryoung]

Two days wasn't a lot of time, especially for an elf, and especially with a slightly unstable time slip between the two worlds.  If I was going to brush up on my magick, I probably should come up with a definite plan so I would know what kind of magick to practice in the limited time available.

Thankfully, I hadn't promised Jerry anything other than that we would "talk" if he brought me five copies of the Chanson.  I could perhaps hint that his reward was right around the corner if he helped me with one more thing, and one more thing, and one more thing, etc.  To string him along indefinitely would require Wiles and Glamour .. hmm .. maybe I could get him to bring me sugar with which to bribe my Ixies...

But on the other hand, keeping Jerry around as my perpetual errand boy was not exactly "getting rid" of him the way Ethel wanted.  I wondered what she was hiding in the bureau, but I wouldn't ever get a chance to find out unless I satisfied her.

With Jerry still around, Ethel would not be happy.  This wasn't going to work.

Perhaps I could ask him to teach me how to make shoes, and then go ahead and actually make them, on the condition that he set up shop somewhere far away ... NO, what was I thinking?  This would take too long, and it involved me making shoes, which was unacceptable.

I could perhaps turn him into a newt or a toad.  This was a classic way of getting rid of someone without killing them .. but could I master the "Transmogrify Other" spell in just two days?  It was unlikely, since I didn't even have anybody to practice on.

It would probably be simplest to find out where the most dangerous parts of the forest were, and send Jerry on a quest to get lost in a quagmire or a bear's den or something.  It was a little bit Unseelie perhaps, but under the circumstances I thought it might be justified.

Actually, as I began to think about it, there was no reason to wait til Jerry got back to lead him astray!  Far better to get rid of him on the road so he never returns, and then I'd have more than two days; I'd have all the time in the world, and Ethel would finally smile at me ..

I shook my head to clear my thoughts.  By Fuma, that lowfolk femme's Wiles were strong!  I needed to concentrate on the task at hand!

I pulled the Chanson du Percy out of my Elfintory.  Since Jerry had held this book, using it as a psychometric handle should enable me to find him more easily.  I placed my hands on the book and tried to picture Jerry in my mind, then leaned into the scrying hole, with the mental imperative to locate him.

I zoomed past Tulgeyside along a narrow road of hard-packed earth.  Was this the lowfolks' transportation network?  HA!  Their roads were far inferior to our Imperial roads in Faerie!  I made a mental note to mention it the next time I spoke to Ethel.

Soon I caught up with Jerry, strolling casually along with a stout staff in one hand and his traveling bag slung over his shoulder.  He whistled a merry but unidentifiable tune as he walked along.

"And a foine hudalaleigh to ye," I said.

No response.

"Jerry Shoemaker, ye spalpeen," I said, louder.  "Sure an pay attention when it's yer elders an' betters addressin ye."

Still no response.  Could he not hear me?  I tried Elfmind on him, but all I got was visions of piles of shoes .. and a scantly clad SALV Fauxfox reclining in the midst of them.

Oh, I DEFINITELY had to make sure this guy did not come back from this quest.

I decided to fly on up the road ahead of him, in the hopes that I could find Percysthorpe and perhaps figure out some sort of mischief to delay or incapacitate the questing hero.  It would also give me another chance to observe this supposedly advanced technology which Ethel had bragged about.

Percysthorpe was marked (though not too clearly) with an old wooden sign by the road, and the first thing I noticed was several mills along the river.

"Pfft, we have plenty of mills in Faerie," I scoffed.  Magick was, after all, a very inefficient means of grinding grain.

I wafted into one of these mills to see just how they accomplished their task ...

And I was absolutely gobsmacked to behold rows of looms turning out cloth at a rapid rate.  The machinery itself wasn't all that impressive - Elfhamian automata were much more complex - but the sheer scale at which it was being applied to do the most humdrum & banal tasks .. it was absolutely astounding!  To squander one's ingenuity on something so dismally practical was .. it was just .. I couldn't even think of a suitable word for it.  No elf machinist would ever lower himself to this!

As I looked around at the ceaseless activity in the mill, I noticed that the bolts of emerging fabric bore a pattern that looked oddly like Persoc-Itoome labels repeated over and over ..

And over in one corner of the room, a machine was turning out - every ten minutes - a complete one-piece red garment that bore an eerie resemblance to the Duchess of Daisies' Regalia.

As odd and disturbing as this was, I had other, more urgent matters to attend to.  I left the mill and floated around the town until I found a shop with the sign "LITTLE BROWN & GOBELET" attached to its gable.  Gobelet was that annoying Percy's last name, so, based on what Ethel had told me about this publisher's fortunes, this must be his shop.

Inside, behind a low counter, was a well-dressed vole whom I assumed was the other partner, Little Brown, since the name suited him perfectly.  The wall behind him was covered from floor to ceiling with books.  I had clearly come to the right place.

"BROWN," I bellowed at him.

"Who's there?" he squeaked.

"Ah good, you can hear me.  Listen, a chap from Tulgeyside by the name of Jerry Shoemaker is going to come into this shop to buy five copies of the Chanson du Percy.  You must NOT sell them to him."

"Why?"

"It is vitally important that he not acquire these books, Brown," I declared, with as Ominous and Foreboding a tone as I could muster.

[beyond-far-horizons]

How I Met Your Father...Part 2

With the Perfect Amulet taken and his legacy in jeopardy, Sparda marshals his forces to find the mysterious blonde thief, but she may have stolen more than just the Amulet...

My headcanon on how Eva and Sparda met. Please forgive any liberties, I have a fertile imagination and am not familiar with every aspect of the games. I also recommend listening to Hans Zimmer’s soundtrack to Angels and Demons whilst reading to give atmosphere.

Part One here

Heaven itself seemed to strike him as Sparda was forced to use Rebellion’s power to cut the Heavenly Seal in half. His true flesh writhed in agony beneath his human skin and his eyes were squeezed shut to avoid being permanently blinded. But over the force of divine retribution he heard the breaking of glass and both cursed and saluted the woman for her daring. Summoning his inner strength the Dark Knight briefly transformed into his real body to push the residual waves of the Seal back. Every one of them carried the force of her contempt.

That was quite a woman…

Shaking them off, he healed himself and let his human self return as he raced to the broken window and peered down. Shouts and the squeals of horses and cars told him of the commotion below but his demon senses confirmed she was gone, having miraculously survived the fall.

He let out a chuckle and shook his head, before turning around and taking in the devastation of the room. Yamato stood imperious on its stand but the rest of the artefacts were everywhere, the tapestries falling from the walls and the Chaldean Codex mere pages scattered across the floor.

That’s one more she owes me. He thought, running a hand through his silver hair. That’s the only surviving copy…

“My Lord!”

Ah, here comes the cavalry…

A contingent of his elite Guard stormed in headed by Crassus.

“My Lord.” He repeated, giving Sparda a deep bow. “Are you well? What happened here?”

“Quite well Crassus, thank you.” He fingered the bullet holes and burns on his favourite coat. It was divine work so he couldn’t salvage it. “My attire less so. Ask Manning to retrieve a change for me.”

“At once.” The commander nodded and another soldier raced off to find his butler, although given Manning’s demonic origins he was probably aware of the situation already. Sparda valued his humans but an infernal servant could be infinitely more useful at times.

“The guards at the back entrance reported a disturbance.” Crassus glanced at the shattered window and general disarray. “Was anything stolen? I take full responsibility.”

“Unnecessary, my friend.” Sparda replied. “The thief was prodigiously talented.” He traced his chest where Rebellion’s wound had healed.

“Thief?” Crassus said, aghast, and the Guards’ eyes widened.

Sparda summoned a scabbard for his claymore and placed it over his back. “Yes. The Perfect Amulet is gone.”

There were gasps. Sparda turned to them.

“It was a woman. Long, blonde hair in a braid, brown eyes, pale skin, dressed in black although I suspect she would have changed by now.”

She was too crafty by half to remain in recognisable clothes, if, of course, she was still able to move. And he would bet this whole treasury she was.

“Early twenties, I think.” He continued, pacing. “Trained in stealth and magical techniques, and given the state of the men outside the vault, I would say proficient with marshal arts as well as firearms.”

He shouldn’t have made that quip about Yamato to her, that had been tacky…

“We will put out a search immediately, my Lord. She will be found and the Amulet retrieved.”

The Guard snapped to attention behind their commanding officer.

“She wasn’t acting alone.” This was too fast, too well planned…I would have sensed scrying or a previous intrusion to scout. That meant footwork…human spies…“I want them found and I want them alive. Be aware they may possess the same capability as this assailant.”

Crassus saluted him. “They will not escape.”

“I put my faith in you, Commander.”

Crassus bowed and turned to go.

“Crassus? I trust you to do this with your usual discretion. The populace is on edge as it is.”

Half the reason for this damned recital had been to placate them…not that he didn’t enjoy the spectacle…

“Of course, my Lord.”

Boots pounded across the floor as the Guard sped off replaced by House soldiers and trusted servants tidying up the mess. Darion and Alecto had thankfully been attended to, but were no doubt going to be harangued by Niobe who looked ready to skewer them on her way past.

She dropped to one knee. “My Lord, I take full responsibility for this debacle.” She drew her sword. “If you wish for my life in recompense-”

“Captain,” he interrupted her, “you, Crassus and the rest may offer me deep and grovelling apologies to your heart’s content when this is all over, but for now I require the expertise and focus of my House soldiers.”

She came to attention with her usual alacrity.

“Have the building searched discreetly in case of accomplices, while the rest of you aid Crassus. I want Eleonora sent to me in my study in forty minutes as well.”

He needed his spymaster to confirm his suspicions and that saddened him. Which of his loyal and capable staff had been compromised?

“It will be done.”

Kalina Ann rushed in as Niobe left, still clad in her opera gown with its spectacular train flowing behind her.

“My Lord, what happened? I heard you were attacked!”

“I’m fine, Kalina.” He replied. Anyone would think Mundus and his legions had appeared. After all she, Niobe and Crassus all knew what he really was, it would take more than one human mage to achieve what the hoards of Hell could not. “Now why have you left the audience chamber? Our guests will be concerned.”

“I finished my aria.” The slight petulance in her voice told him he had been missed. “I was worried when you disappeared.” She looked about, dark eyes wide. “Who did this? They say the Amulet was taken?”

“Yes, ” he said, “now forgive me, but I must make efforts to retrieve it.”

“I can help.” She said, catching his arm. He glanced at her hand and she blushed, letting it fall. “You trained me well, my Lord. I can find this thief.”

“That would be an excellent idea - give them the second ingredient to break my spell, if that is their plan.”

The woman’s face flashed before his eyes again. With her sentiments, it was unlikely…so what was her game? She acted as if he was the villain, even when she knew his real name…

“I wouldn’t fall so easily into their hands.” Kalina was protesting.

Sparda sighed and focused his attention on her. She was about the age of the thief but despite equal passion, Kalina lacked the blonde woman’s maturity. That was his fault, he had pampered her too much.

“I do not doubt your abilities, my dear.” He said as he glanced up at the only tapestry which remained intact. Siriana’s transcendent face was forever a rebuke to him. Ten thousand years could pass and he would never forget what it felt like to plunge the Force Edge into her heart. “But I promised your ancestress two thousand years ago that I would protect her line in perpetuity.” He turned back to Kalina. “I cannot truly honour that pledge if I send you directly into danger now can I?”

“You intend to coddle me my entire life, then? She retorted, then bowed her head, the diamonds of her hair-net catching the light. “I’m sorry, my Lord. I only wish to serve you.”

“I know.” He said, tucking a stray lock of black hair behind her ear. “Then serve me in this. Return to the audience chamber for now and keep them quiet. Afterwards you can scry. Our absence will have been noted and sometimes diplomacy is a more potent weapon than the blade. And keep your ears open. I want to know all the gossip. Someone is behind this and they don’t just wield guns and spells.”

Her eyes widened again and she nodded, expression firming. “My Lord.” She said and swept out of the room, shoulders squared.

Sparda couldn’t help a slight smile. He would never have offspring but she was the closest thing he had to a daughter.

“Your Majesty.” A voice intoned in his mind.

“Leave me, all of you.” Sparda said to the remaining servants. When they closed the doors he turned as a skeletally thin old man emerged from the wall with a purple overcoat and new shirt. “Your Majesty? You always call me that.”

“I know my duty. You are the King of Hell whether you choose to acknowledge it or not.” The old man replied, holding out the clothing. “Do you require my assistance?”

“I think the King of Hell can manage to put on his own clothing.” Sparda chuckled as he took them. “And hiding my true identity should be your duty, but then we’ve had this conversation for centuries so there is no point in me arguing the matter yet again.”

A simple transformation had him back to his usual crisp self. He breathed a sigh of contentment. He was vain, there was no doubt, but vanity was a small sin for a devil of his rank.

Manning reached for the discarded items he’d let fall to the floor.

“I’ll keep those.” Sparda said quickly. “That will be all, apart from I need you to search the mansion. Let me know of any irregularities. ”

Manning raised a jutting eyebrow of white hair at his first statement but his creased yellow face smoothed at the second. “It has been done, Sire, there is nothing now the intruder has left.”

“Did you sense anything more at the time?”

“Nothing but a vague itch.” He wrinkled his large, hooked nose. “I swam through the levels but could not pinpoint it until a quarter of an hour ago.”

“When she dropped the spell.” Sparda nodded. “It was powerful work.” I’ll need to reroute Niobe’s troops then. The Amulet must be found!

Manning curled over himself, elongating his arms, hands and torso in supplication. It would have been freakish if Sparda hadn’t lived in the Underworld and gotten used to far worse. “Forgive me, your Majesty.” The butler said ponderously. “I should have seen through the enchantment.”

“Not you as well.” Sparda chided, waving a hand. “You confirmed my own feelings and I couldn’t penetrate the spell either. I just knew they would end up here. No matter.”

“I will keep you informed, your Majesty.” Manning said as he melded back into the plasterwork.

Finally alone again Sparda looked down at the ruined clothing then back at the shattered window.

So much trouble caused so quickly…He nudged a glass shard aside with a polished boot. I should be out there leading the search. That is my duty.

Capable as they were, he could find the golden-haired culprit a lot faster than his Guard or even Kalina with her ancestress’s seer abilities. In fact he could have leapt out of the window as soon as he recovered from the Seal and likely caught up with her.

So why didn’t you? A voice that sounded too much like Mundus said. Didn’t you enjoy the encounter?

The woman’s smile, her hair, the look in her eyes when she threw Rebellion all came back to him.

I always enjoy flirting with beautiful women. He thought and cursed himself and his wretched analytical mind that wasn’t going to leave it at that. He needed to act, Siriana’s legacy was at stake! Instead here he was navel-gazing, but he couldn’t stop the memories.

“Now I’ve given you my name, I believe it’s time for you to give me yours, Lady…?”

Her face in that moment…The dawning realisation, the abject horror…

Then the transmutation into iron conviction.

“I don’t care who you are or what you do to me. Humanity deserves to be free of your taint!”

Sparda closed his eyes. He had been alive for a long, long time. He had seen humankind rise and fall like waves of wheat to the harvest, but he had rarely beheld that quality of soul. It shone from her, far more radiant than her mortal body. Eternal and untouchable, it was a spark of the Divine he was forever denied.

How he hungered for it…

Glass crunched under his hands and he looked down surprised at the blood spurting between his fingers where he had grasped the window. A golden hair had caught itself on the jagged edge and curled into the breeze as if pointing in her direction. His pulse quickened.

That calibre of spirit could feed him for a century, more… He wouldn’t need all the power he had locked away in the Abyss if he had that, if he had her.

His human form flickered and fangs drew blood from his lips.

“I will not give into this.” He said and marched away from the broken panes. It had been millennia since he’d felt such temptation. He had left it all behind along with the Prince of Darkness and his ilk. Hadn’t he woken to justice and seen the suffering he had caused? Sworn to make a difference? Protected Humanity!

“You are a demon, Sparda,” Mundus had hissed, “just like your brethren. This sin of righteousness, so vile even I cannot feed on it, will wash off you eventually. All you need is the right trigger.”

He sucked in a breath and laughed at himself this time, the so called King of Hell afraid of one mortal woman.

You wouldn’t have to devour her…The voice wheedled. If she surrendered to you, body and soul, it could be pleasurable for you both.

“Enough!” He shouted to the empty chamber, the echoes of his wrath coming back to him.

Crassus would find her and put an end to this nonsense and if not…Sparda squeezed his fist together and looked up again at image of Siriana’s sacrifice. If not, I will show this woman that not all demons are a taint on humanity…

I’d be interested in your opinions on how I’ve woven in Lady’s mother and the different levels of Sparda’s character. I wanted him to be the suave, noble character we all admire but also wanted to see if he still struggled a bit with his demonic side especially when faced with the awesomeness that is Eva. #notalldemons lol I see Crassus btw as basically Credo. If I do set this in Fortuna (which I haven’t decided) then he could be Credo’s granddad or something! @fireeaglespirit and @awesomelychubby hope this lives up to Part 1!

[oh-heartlessman]

Meet the Jenkinses || Dark Squad

It turned out, after using a quick scrying spell to find the exact address of Howl’s parents (honestly, he couldn’t remember his childhood address; he’d tossed it out of his mind as soon as he had officially left the house), that they were no longer living in the suburbs of Cardiff. No, apparently they’d moved much further north to the town of Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwyllllantysiliogogogoch, which was on some gordforsaken island off the norther coast of Wales.

The reason for this move, Howl did not know, but he sent a usual raven with a magical note attached to his parents alerting them that he intended to visit the first week of September.

The journey was not terrible – Melaenis had transformed herself and Howl into birds, and that was fine, but also a bit of a shock because Howl was used to his bird form when flying. This was smaller, his wings did not quite stretch so far.  

But still, the wind was wicked and wild and it still felt good to fly.

They landed softly on the streets of Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwyllllantysiliogogogoch, right as Mel’s spell wore off. There they stood, the two of them, clad in black with Maggie plodding right next to them and Calcifer floating. It was early in the morning, the sun was just dawning and Calcifer’s flames cast an eerie glow upon their faces.

“Well,” said Howl, glancing around at the village and then offering his arm to Mel. “Welcome to Wales.”

The village was small, but the houses were the same sort of cookie-cutter that Howl knew his parents were used to. He found the most average of the houses on the street, the one that looked like it took bits and pieces of every surrounding one as to not stand out anymore than necessary, and lo and behold, the little scrying spell he’d put in his vial grew warmer.

They walked up to the front door and Howl gave a very pointed knock.

(His heart hammered a bit, but he ignored it).

The door swung open revealing – why it was his father, still in a dressing gown, a newspaper tucked under his arm.

“Howell?” squeaked out Harold, eyes widening.

“Hello father,” said Howl cheerily. “Hope we’re not too early – this is Mel, I mentioned in my letter. And Maggie, of course, our daughter. And this is Calcifer. We’re roommates. May we come in? There’s a bit of a chill.”

Harold Jenkins blinked then stepped aside, letting the whole entourage through the door.

“Er – I’ll set the kettle. Your, uh, mum’s still asleep but – Just take a seat in the sitting room, I suppose. Let me fetch her – Hannah, darling!”

Howl glanced around the house, full of very painfully Mundus knickknacks like embroidery manufactured in a big factory and potpourri, before he plopped down on the flower couch. Might as well get comfortable, yes?

Calcifer bobbed around, examining the television with great care, and Maggie sniffed one of the potpourri jars on the coffee table, her great tail nearly knocking over one of the picture frames (if Howl cared to look closely, he would see that it was a picture of him and his sister).

“Sit down, my darling,” he said. “Unless you’d rather brood in the corner -- that’s fine. Very on brand.” 

@melaenis-ficente

[whitstanwilhelm]

Home, Sweet Home

“This child… His future is marred by a terrible darkness.” A wheeze came. “A black cloud looms over his spirit, tainted by it, waiting to consume him. To consume life… all life.” A sinister viridian glow spread across the room.  The seer’s corrupted eyes bore into the infant. “Death will never relent, remaining beside him as a haunting companion that will never leave his side. Anguish and torment will blanket his soul… swaddling and rocking him into the cradle of the deep. If you have any mercy in your heart Soren Sungrave, it would be better for him to die now.” “Death will follow him all his life.”

“Whitty! I finished it! Come and see!” she scampered off to her room with her brother in tow. “Look!... Look!” “Okay, okay. Calm down. You know you shouldn’t be running around and getting all exci-” words were cut short as his sapphire eyes settled down to the floor. He knelt, inspecting the emblems drawn on the wooden flooring as Clarissa bounced up and down on the ball of her feet clapping excitedly. “I did it! I copied the book perfectly this time! Watch!” He knew what it was but a sense of disbelief filled his mind. “This circle won’t do anything. Help me clean this powder up befo-” “Don’t touch it!” she squeaked. “It works! I drew it exactly like the book and it works!” Whitstan shook his head, “You’re telling me you can use magic now? Without a tutor? Without a mage to teach you or a scroll to cast?” “Just watch! It helps focus la…. late… laten mana!” “Latent. LatENT. Okay fine.” He corrected her and relented. A part of him couldn’t help thinking how cute his little sister was when she was energetic. A solemn expression came over him while he wondered how long it would last this time. The teen entertained his little sister for a moment and watched her kneel next to the circle. At the center was a storybook. “Watch carefully!” she exclaimed holding her hands aloft in front of her. A few deep breaths and nothing. “Clara…” Whitstan started. The arcane dust was about to seep into the floor and they couldn’t afford to lose a single ounce of it. Their father was still out on his trade routes along the seven kingdoms. They had to make due with whatever money and marketable materials were left until his return. A soft white glow began to emanate from her hands while his eyes widened with shock. The storybook shook. Was he seeing things right? Another shake. Then another. An uneven lift-off then a quick rebalancing took place while the book levitated. He glanced back to his sister. She shot her eyes open, the softest golden hue escaped her irises. The image was so brief and faint Whitstan was unsure if what he saw was even accurate. A quick thud sounded as the glowing light faded, knocking some of the dense dust into the air. “See? The symbols help me focus my mana from my hands to the book!” “So… they’re magic runes?” uncertainty continued to creep into his mind. A shake of the head came as if he was trying to dispel the fog that loomed over it. He wondered what made him ask such an obvious question he already knew the answer to. “That was… amazing Clara. I didn’t think anyone as young as you could control your mana like that… and you didn’t even need to chant anything… I thought most casters had to prepare spells in advance or invoke incantations...” A meek series of coughs escaped her as she hunched over slightly. A worried expression wore on his features while he looked to Clarissa. It was her turn to shake her head and give a forced smile, “I’m fine… it’s nothing! I promise. I’ve been doing better ever since papa brought that yucky medicine home.” A sigh escaped his lips “Okay...” An awkward silence fell over them for a long moment. “Okay! Now that I can use this, I can test out the orb!” “What… orb?” he looked to her inquisitively. “This one!” Clarissa dove under her bed, her raven black hair flying every which way before wiggling out. “You’re going to get your dress dirty, don’t go rolling around on the ground while you’re wearing white…” Whitstan chastised while grimacing at the thought of having to handwash the dress with bleach. “Look!” she shouted again, though this time her brother’s worried expression wouldn’t go away. She held out a clear orb with what looked to be a tarnished bronze base casted into the shape of dragons holding the sphere in place. It looked like an old heirloom left over in an attic that some crazy grandma would use to pretend she can scry. The kind that would deprive the paranoid or desperate desolates of the few copper coins they had left to their name. “Where’d you get that… we can’t afford to waste money on junk Clara… where did you even get that?” “It’s not junk! I got it from the old lady by the market that trades coins from different places! It’s supposed to tell what kind of magic you’re good at.” “You mean magical affinity?- Anyway when did you even get a chance to get that and what how much did you spend?” “She gave it to me the last time you took me to the market… you know…” she explained, “When you were talking with that one girl at that one fish stand. The elf. Do you like her more than me because she’s like you?” she said with an overtly jealous tone, narrowed eyes and a slight pout of her lower lip. “Uhhhh, so what does the orb do again?” he quickly veered the subject back to the item. “So. someone can touch the orb and it will draw their mana es… essence. She said if turns blue, it’s frost or water magic, if it’s violet it’s arcane magic, if it’s red, it’s fire, if it’s like a bluish-green color… t...tea?” “Teal.” “Yeah, that. It’s nature magic. Dark purple means shadow. And if it’s bright green it’s bad stuff. But if it turns gold or yellow, that means Holy! You can heal people!” she exclaimed hopefully, “...maybe even...” she looked down sheepishly. “So how does it work?” “Just watch.” Clarissa stated as she replaced the book at the center of her markings with the orb. She took the kneeling posture that was taken just prior to her previous spell, holding her hands out like before. After a few moments the orb began to glow a murky white color. “Okay, it’s ready…” she explained before putting her hands on the bauble, concentrating all-the-while. “I just have to push press some of my mana into…” she started to ramble. Whitstan watched as she focused on the orb sharply while the murky substance that resembled a cloudy liquid began to change colors. It seemed to lighten until the hues shifted into lighter shades of gray. Slowly a gold-color substance began to shift and take over the orb. Then another color, and another, until the colors melded into a blackness. Nothing could be seen in the orb except an empty dark, not even a reflection from the glass. Clara seemed to stare into it deeper and deeper, seemingly mesmerized by the orb. “Clara?...” he softly called to her. There was no response. “Clara.” this time it was more of a command to get her attention to no avail. “Clara!” he shouted. She jumped a bit, her hands jolting off the orb as she jerked her eyes to her brother, “Whitty… what’s wrong?” “You… were zoning out there.” he explained as he glanced back to the orb which was now a clear glass sphere again. “It changed to black… and it looked like you were… stuck staring at it.” “Oh… it must not have worked…” she replied with a discouraged tone. “Oh, I know! Why don’t you try it. Then we can tell if it’s broken or not!” “Uh… I don’t know how to do it like you did.” Whitstan commented frankly. “I can cast the spell like before and all you have to do is touch it. Try it Whitty!” Clarissa encouraged him. And like before, her hands shifted out to reveal a murky haze in the orb in shades of white. Slowly but surely, albeit reluctantly, he moved his hand toward the sphere. Something felt off as his hand touched the cold glass. He could feel the cloud inside phase around and take on a different form. The orb began to shift colors again except it remained murky and clouded, nothing but the color of ash and shale. Hues of grey shifted about and a low humming could be heard. Quickly the humming transitioned into a light ringing but it grew louder by the second. The ringing stung at the ears for a moment as it heightened to the point where it felt sharp and persisted a few seconds as they winced. Before they could regain their bearings the ringing abruptly stopped and the glass cracked in all directions from Whitstan’s hand. The orb returned to a clear state but was shattered. The glow of the arcane dust and magic were no more. “Huh…” they both sounded out at the exact same time as they fiddled with their ears. “I guess it’s broke-” she started. Clarissa couldn’t get the words out before she erupted into a violent coughing fit. Whitstan immediately moved to her side and helped her on the bed as she coughed and choked until blood began dripping from her mouth. He quickly reached into the nightstand next to her bed to grab one of several handkerchiefs, simultaneously wiping and covering her mouth while she coughed into it. He watched her helplessly. He should have been used to it by now. He should have known the medicine wouldn’t have made any difference. Slowly, her fair skin turned pale and he was once again reminded of the frailty of human life. She was sick. She could leave the world at any moment. Even if she could be healed… how long would she have? A few decades at best and a few years at worst? He would live for centuries, perhaps even a millenia. Yet here she was, someone he cherished and loved sat there dying since she had been born. Slowly. Dying painfully in his arms. But… She was a fighter. Everyone had said she wouldn’t last the first year yet here she was. Then every year, the physicians and healers of Lordaeron would say the same thing. ‘She won’t last the winter.’ In her, he saw the true frailty of humans, yes, but he also saw their resiliency. Though he wasn’t her brother by blood it didn’t matter to him. He cared for her as a sister in spite of that, because he chose to. This was their home. He would always be there for her and take care of her as long as she drew breath.Her eyes turned red and teared up from the force of her constant coughing. As her fit calmed slowly she breathed in sharply through her partially clogged nose. “I’m sorry Whitty…” she spoke weakly, “I… I thought I was getting better.” Finally she had come to terms with it and admitted she wasn’t any healthier than before the medicine. “It’s okay… Clara... I’m here…” Whitstan softly spoke to her, rubbing her back gently as he held her. “I’ll always be here for you.” “...Promise?” “I promise.”

Whitstan looked down from the front gates of the Ruins of Lordaeron out to Brill. Blight permeated what was once his home like a choking mist. He had spent the better part of the day fighting off Alliance attackers with the other undead and Horde allies. He had to buy enough time for the Forsaken civilians to escape. He returned to his home to see it marred by a green mist killing everything it touched. His knuckles turned white from the tight grip on his blades as his eyes settled across the field. Sure, his hometown was destroyed again and again; this time it was poisoned to stop the Alliance. But that’s not why his chest felt like a sword had been plunged into it. His sapphire orbs shifted to where Brill once was. Or what was left of it. Where his sister was buried. The tattered Alliance banners and broken war machines of the humans made his blood boil. It wasn’t enough that he had lost what was once his home to the Scourge, and now this blight. They desecrated the town his sister was laid to rest. The voices of the Draenei, Humans and Ren’dorei echoed in his mind, ‘For the Alliance!’ They shouted the mantra again and again like drones as they attacked the city while citizens ran for safety. The irony of their attack was not lost on Whitstan. While condemning an act of war as unlawful, dishonorable and atrocious due to civilian casualties they acted the same in retaliation while spouting hypocrisy of honor and that same old tired phrase that filled him with rage. Thanks to the SI:7 agents attacking unarmed civilians within Undercity he knew now for certain that if they had not bought time for the non-combatants to escape, they would have met the same fate as the ones who died in Darnassus. At least the Kal’dorei had plenty of time to evacuate beforehand whether it was on the drawn-out attack that was stalled again and again or while the army marched a considerably vast distance. At least when the Queen ordered Teldrassil burned, they had the opportunity to evacuate leading up to those events. They had the gall to speak of honor. Of justice. Of mercy. He stared at the blue flags waving in the distance. The voices started to seep in again. ‘Kill them all. Make them all suffer like she did. Like you suffered.’ His supernatural echo carried his undead voice across the ramparts as he spoke softly but dryly. “Alliance… all of you… so proud and honorable. Spit words out like ‘justice’, ‘righteousness’, ‘honor’ and the ‘light’ as if any of that makes you any better than the Scarlet Crusade. You call us dishonorable, call us cowards.” “To quote an old ‘friend’... You speak of justice… of cowardice... I will show you the justice of the grave. The true meaning of fear.”

[freefallingforfanfiction]

Super Strange Things

Chapter Seven: Dream Weaver 

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x Reader

Overall Summary: Y/N Winchester, middle child of John and Mary Winchester, arrives in Hawking’s with her family to investigate a series of disappearances and hearsay of a strange, faceless monster, along with a girl who can supposedly move things with her mind.

This Chapter: Y/n’s dreams are invaded by a face from her past.

Warning: Graveyard themed. Witches.

Tagging: @loquaciousmelanin @laurel-celestial @shortykatezey @bands-and-shietz @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @myshakespeareandarling @precious-cinnamon-roll666 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @castelo-amado @tothetardissterek @anton-shudders @madhatterweasley @desertsivan1995 @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @stuck-in-the-upside-down @ladyfairenvale @imagine-lilith @xxskyhd-blog 

If I missed anyone in the tags please direct message me!

Series Masterlist

Your humming only ceased when gentle snores left Jonathan’s body. He had fell limp about ten minutes ago, but you wanted to make sure the boy you cared for was in a deep slumber before you allowed yourself to succumb to sleeps embrace.

It had been a long, eventful day. To say you were simply tired was an understatement, so it was no surprise to you that when you closed your eyes sleep was quick to take you.

You were, however, surprised to be reopening them moments later. You were especially shocked when you discovered that you were no longer in Jonathan’s room, but rather, a graveyard.

“What the-” you muttered under your breath, your eyes wandering the area as you looked from side to side.

The cemetery had seen better days, you hoped. As you looked at it now, the spiked iron fences that boarded the perimeter were being eaten away by rust, slowly rotting and snapping in two. The grass was over grown, poking through the fence and hiding smaller graves where it grew in abundance. All around you tombs and mausoleums stood, some twice your size, all of them crumbling in some way, shape, or form due to ageing and neglect.

Your feet stared moving without you really thinking about moving them. They appeared to know your destination, so you allowed them to guide you down the broken cobblestone paths between the resting places of the dead until you saw an emptier section of the cemetery.

A figure soon came into view; a young woman, sitting atop an aged mausoleum. Though there was no current of air in the dream world (because what else could this be?), the girl’s long tasseled shawl still drifted through the air as if a strong breeze were present. The tousled mess of strawberry locks atop her head were also moving to the side, swept away by the intangible wind.

“Hello?” you asked, stepping forward.

Slowly, the girl turned her head to face you, meeting your E/C irises with a level gaze. The corner of the girl’s lips turned upwards into a smirk as a gasp left your lips.

“Liliana?” your voice was a mix of awe and disbelief as you watched Lily toss herself of the mausoleum. It had to be thrice her height, but she fell gracefully, her hair whipping around like a supermodels before she landed firmly on the round, her shiny combat boots didn’t make a sound on impact, nor did her knees buckle.

“It’s been a long time, Y/N,” Lily greeted as she began to approach you, her strides long and elegant.

“How?” you asked, your jaw going slightly slack as you watched the witch approach you. You hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Liliana since the day your dad pack you and your brothers up and got out of New Orleans. What was she doing in your dream?

“I am a Dream Walker,” Liliana explained, her hand sweeping up to vaguely gesture at your surroundings, “I created this cemetery so we could have a place to speak.”

“You couldn’t have just put us at Café du Monde?” you asked, your eyes wandering from Lily to observe the crumbling graves around you. You had to admit though, this was rather impressive. If you had known better, you would not have thought yourself in a dream. Her attention to detail was impeccable.

“I could have,” Lily shrugged, “But I am most comfortable here.” Her voice was just as you remembered, light and airy, like a dream. And her eyes, they were still that distrait green, just like they had been the day you met her.

“Come, walk with me,” Liliana beckoned you to her side by curling her index finger.

Silently, you followed the witch across the graveyard, watching as the brown boots that were not yours peeked out from underneath the tattered army green skirt that was also not yours. You and Liliana were dressed similarly, looking as if you had just left a Stevie Nicks concert.

“What did you bring me here to talk about?” you asked. You hadn’t spoken in years, what could she want from you now? You bit your lip as you trailed after her. I hope they’re not trying to get me to join the coven.

“This,” Lily said firmly. She briskly walked over to a grave and sat on the greyed surface, slapping a tarot card that she had fished from her salmon colored high waisted short’s pocket.

Slowly, you made your way around the grave she was seated upon to sit on the opposite side of her. You tucked some of your H/C locks behind your ear to keep them from your face as you peered down at the card.

“The Tower,” you read slowly. The card itself had seen better days, it was bent in two places, one of the four corners tattered and fraying. You momentarily wondered why, if she created all this place, everything was so old and decaying. The graves were molding and crumbling, the white blasted surfaces cakes with dirt and peeling paint. Even the small card before you was so beaten down.

“I like old things,” Lily said absent mindedly, “I think that there is beauty in the old and forgotten. In the mistreated and neglected.” She ran the pads of her fingers along the grave you were seated upon. It was unmarked- no name or date present on the headstone. A minor detail you supposed, one that would take too much to compose.

“This is my family cemetery, the old one, at least.” Her voice was quiet, her green eyes staring off into the distance before she shook her head lightly, sending her long wavy looks into a frenzy.

“But that’s not what we’re here to talk about,” Lily said, a black painted nail tapping the battered tarot card.

“Are you familiar with divination?” Lily asked, her green eyes looking directly at you in a way that almost made you uncomfortable. Your chest clinched as you looked down at the occult card before you, knowing that it wasn’t bad, but knowing you didn’t want to be part of Lily’s world.

“Umm,” you paused, running a hand through your loose hair, “That’s like looking into the future right?”

“Yes,” Lily said as she gave you a firm nod, “Seeing into the future to discover hidden knowledge. It’s a common practice among witches.”

“What’s that have to do with us?” you asked curiously.

“I learned how to deal the cards ever since I could understand the complexity of them. I read them for various people, whether they are aware that I do or not, mostly to check in on friends and family that have strayed.”

“I consider you to be a friend, Y/N. You are also family, as you belong to this coven.”

“I am not a witch,” you said firmly. You hardened your eyes and squared your jaw as you looked at the slightly older witch before you. She was the one who had informed you and your father about your “gift”, had even suggested you leave your family to start your training. Your father had contemplated it, and still threatened to send you away till this day if you step out of line. You had never fully forgiven Lily of giving him that leverage. You didn’t want to be a witch; you just wanted to be a Winchester.  

Liliana waved you off, and you huffed in an irritated manor, crossing your arms defiantly.

“So I deal the cards for you and your family, every few months or so to make sure you’re all ok. The life of a Hunter is a challenging one,” Lily continued as if you had never interrupted her.

You listened quietly as you chewed on the inside of your cheek.

“It was ever anything concerning, until last week, when I drew the Tower for you in a reading.”

“What does the Tower mean?” you asked, though you could already assume it meant nothing good for you. Stupid witches and their foresight.

“When the Tower appears in a reading it’s a forewarning of an upcoming disaster, an unseen danger. A catastrophic force,” Lily’s voice rose as she spoke quicker and quicker, her accent more prominent as she picked up the pace.

“I did they layout over and over and over, getting the same result. So I tried scrying for you,” Lily met your eyes and quirked her head to the side, “But I couldn’t find you. I’ve been meditating for hours waiting for you go to sleep. Where are you?”

“I’m-I’m in Hawkings, Indiana,” you sputtered out, “At my friend Jonathan’s house.”

“You’re not on a hunt?” She asked, if you had known her better you would have say she looked slightly relieved.

“We are, there been a bunch of disappearances. No bodies are turning up though, we’re not sure what it is.”

Liliana frowned, puckering her lips and looking up that the cloudy sky as she though.

“Did you notice anything strange?” Lily asked, her green irises shifting from the drab sky to your confused face.

“Strange? There are some electrical anomalies in the house of the missing kid and the ringing-” your voice drifted off to the events that occurred an hour before you shut your eyes.

“And a ringing in my ear. Normal at first, I just brushed it off. Then, tonight, so loud that my ears bled, I saw- I saw a replay of what happened earlier in that day. Almost like a vison of the past.” You explained, your tone of voice shifting from high to low, confusion evident in your facial features as you looked up at the older girl.

Liliana’s eyebrows furrowed at your words, her lips parting slightly as confusion flooded her face as well. “You saw into the past,” she drawled slowly, getting her facts straight, “You know this for sure?”

You nodded, “Yea I asked about the little girl I saw, Ms. Byers said she’d been at the house earlier that day. Do you know what that was?”

Lily sighed and stuck her hands in her bangs, slowly dragging her hands through her hair, her eyes fluttered closed as she thought.

“Yes,” Liliana muttered, her eyes still gently shut closed, “You have the gift of Sight.”

“Sight?” you asked slowly, the words rolling uneasily off your tongue.

“Yes, it’s a rare gift bestowed upon witches, kind of how necromancy is so rare.” Lily explained her hands waved elegantly though the air as she spoke.

“And Dream Walking?” you asked. You were curious, and you hated it.

Lily waved a hand dismissively, “Dream Walking isn’t a common gift, but things like the Sight and Necromancy are only gifted to one witch per century. They’re very hard gifts to control,” she explained.

You rubbed palms against your face, your eyes crammed so tightly shut that small galaxies danced across your vision.

“Wat am I even supposed to do with this information?”

The older witch shrugged her shoulders, her floral patterned shawl falling lower down her arms as she did so. “Gifts like these don’t often devolve in, no offence, weaker bloodlines like yours. However, I have read that in some cases that these rare gifts can form in light of extreme circumstances. So maybe you should figure out what caused you, a lower level divination witch, do gain a power like the Sight.”

You tried not be offended, that that shit was kind of rude. You huffed slightly as you uncrossed and re-crossed your arms, reminding yourself that you didn’t even want to be a witch. Once more Lily’s panted nail was tapping the card laid out on the grave, “I have a feeling it has something to do with this.”

“The impending doom?”

Lily blinked up at you slowly, unamused, “This is serious, Y/N. I couldn’t find you, which means the town is shrouded by something. And not another witch, by something unknown. And while I typically find the unknown fascinating, this time it’s scary. You need to be careful, there’s something nasty going on in that town.”

Liliana pushed herself up off the grave and bent over, plucking the tarot card up off of it and pocketing it once more. She then rounded the grave to where you were seated bending over so that she was eye level with you. You leaned away from the strange girl, not liking the close proximity. She was your friend of sorts, but you liked your personal space, well, personal.

“You’re going to need to practice your gift in order to utilize it. Witch’s throughout history who’ve had the Sight say that it’s impossible to fully control, but with the right amount of meditation and practices you can get a good enough hold of it,”

Liliana took her middle and index finger and placed them gently on your temple, a warm feeling surged through you, causing a sigh to pass you lips and your E/C irises to flutter shut. Gradually, you found yourself knowing a bit more about your gift and how to work on “mastering it”, Lily was feeding you knowledge. You shuttered at the thought, witches were so weird, and you still didn’t know how you felt about being one.

“Better get to accepting it,” Lily whispered in your ear, her soft breath tickling your skin, “Because the sooner you do, the stronger you’ll be.”

Liliana pushed herself up from her leaned over position, her hands locked behind her back. She gave you a pleasant close lipped smile and you watched her strawberry blonde locks sway in the false breeze. Though you had mixed feeling about seeing her again- and her invading your mind- you had to admit that she had comforted you. You hadn’t wanted to admit it to Jonathan or yourself, but the vison had really freaked you out. It was nice to know that you could be able to get in under control one day.

“Now,” Liliana said as she turned on her heel, “You can return to bed, Fais de beaux rêves.”

Liliana parted her hands, waving one side to side without looking back, and soon, the cemetery started to bleed away, leaving you to enjoy a dreamless sleep.

[trixcuomo]

The DominaTRIX World Tour

((Wow, I can’t believe how many good, real, in-game Trixany memories work well for these. LOL))

Throwback Thursday

Trixany remembers...

Ah, yes. My breakout album, ‘DominaTRIX’ which was the basis for my DominaTRIX World Tour, took me to very exciting places. Um, for one… we went to Suramar. Man, the debut of my true break out song “Heavy Nightborne Lover” really turned heads. I mean, I wrote that one based on real, true experiences. I participated in the shal’dorei resistance movement, which believe me, felt like it took ages…

(Trixany meanders for a while, describing in detail about how she had to go back, day after day, doing the same tasks monotonously for Thalyssra, got lost finding leylines and training Wretched, attacked by elite members of shal’dorei society in the streets, stealing arcwine constantly… Why is she talking about this?)

...And would you believe that Elisande turned out to be evil in the end?!

Elisande could effing control time! And she didn’t even use it for good, like to smooth wrinkles or stop the rise of Haris Pilton. Or, to go back and stop herself from being evil in the first place, which is a huge oversight on a few levels. Anyway, one thing remained true to me, in my core, throughout my meaningful experience in the Broken Isles. The noble Nightborne people are seriously sexy. I mean like… By the sun! As a people, they are very hot. More than help them, people wanted to dress like Nightborne, ride their manasabers, date them, almost BE them. So I realized—hey, there’s a song here.

The first lines came so naturally to me, like instinct. Here, I’ll play it for you in the background...

I want your arcwine mouth all over my blonde south. Arcwine, ancient mana and a filthy pout...

A lot of people don’t know that, for this first album, I also had a collaboration single planned with Haris Pilton, as well as a few famous Goblin rappers. Bomby Bombs-Away for one, whose career is literally blowing up right now... I visited him in the Dalaran Clinic the last time I was overnight there. Oh, but about Haris--back then, she got mad and pulled out of the entire project, trashed my name and so sort of took everyone else with her. Then she went off and made her own rip-off album, “Haris-natrix” which wasn’t as successful. But, hey, I coulda predicted that for ya. The whole dirty business was pretty awful, there were lawsuits ontop of lawsuits. The only ones who really benefited were the Goblin lawyers. I’m not really supposed to talk about it…

(But Trixany then proceeds to talk about it anyway, grinning at the attention.)

…Right?! And you’d think there’d be plenty of room for more than one song about scrying orbs! We’d heard about these two other starlettes from totally different genres who did two separate songs and music videos together about another popular mode of communication.

Dirty Nightborne, I can’t wait to hose you down! I’m gonna grind your rep, that’s how it works in WOW...

It was a clever compromise. What was it…? Uh, a Mag’har Orc named Geyonce and this Lightforged Draenei Paladin, Lady Baba. They both did that whole um, that whole um messenger pigeon song before those went extinct on Draenor. A lot of things went extinct on Draenor in those days.

But for some reason, probably because it’s hard for Haris to rhyme ‘scrying orb’ with a lot of things, she just kept slapping on lawsuits until my crew was like, ‘Look, Trixany. This isn’t worth it. It’s just a scrying orb theme. Pick anything else, and we’ll do it…’

Pictured: DominaTRIX World Tour live album, now only 20g 15g 2g!!

And then I had a lot of trouble finding something to rhyme with ‘Katy Stampwhistle’ about thirty times, so we just dropped the whole project.

‘LFG freaky and blue’ is my battle plan. That’s how heavy Nightborne lovers play. Baby, let’s re-roll this way!

So the DominaTRIX world tour ended up being mainly one song and, ah, just one stop? In the Broken Isles. Oh—and I’m from Silvermoon anyway, so maybe you can also count that?

(Her smile dulls, as she loses confidence in the last statement.)

Two stops on that world tour. Because… you see, I had to travel from um, home. All the way to Suramar. But then of course I had to go back. Back home after the concert, you see. So.

…Yeah.

I could be your girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl. But would you love me if I saved your world, world, world? Heavy Nightborne Lover!!

[nunoxaviermoreira]

The First Principle - Human Preservation First and Foremost Before All Creatures And Creation. by British Artist Octavious Sage What does it mean to be human? An excerpt from Diana by Mark Miller 2018- illustrates the issues from a child’s perspective: In April 2042 Ronan Clarke provided Lord David with a top-secret dossier detailing an encounter he had had with one of the Enhanced: MI-6 CLASSIFIED TRANSCRIPT OF AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN ARTIFICIALLY INTELLIGENT BEING – APRIL 20th, 2042 “I, she, Onyx, we believe was born in Mexico or, so I was told. Born in your Earth year, 2025. I never knew my mother or father. I have no blood relatives that I know of. I am not exactly aware of where in Mexico I was born. My earliest memories are those of my room in the research center, a laboratory in the Mexican jungle where I once lived. I recall that there was a mirror in my room. I would stare into it during the night hours; hold my face up close to the cold surface peering into it, scrying my reflection in its surface. The light in my room was dim during the night hours. Not as dark as the deeper darkness I saw outside my room as I looked through the skylight in the middle of the high ceiling. Each night I would wish that those twinkling things, stars, outside, high up in the sky would shine just a little brighter but they continued to twinkle without getting brighter, ignoring my wishing. It was better when the moon was full, and I could see a clearer reflection of me in the mirror without straining the muscles of my eyes. The darkness was good. I enjoyed it. Darkness and silence, to me, go together as good friends, companions to my peace. My memories of that time remain hazy. Before the time of my 5th cycle was a lonely time. I do remember that my friend, my best friend in that time was a face staring at me during the long lonely nights. With my fingertips, I would trace each line of my face whilst standing before the mirror. Then I would use my fingertips to squeeze lumps of flesh, tensing the lumps, feeling, and experiencing the sensation of warmth; the texture, and, watching the change of color as I rudely squeezed. Then my fingertips would lightly caress the fine hair on my face quickly moving up to my full head of hair as it itched, begging to be scratched. I scratched vigorously all the time looking at my reflection, my best friend, in the cold surface of the mirror. At the first light, the break of dawn, my door would be opened, a thick door with a single lock and handle that needed a big hand to turn it. I would be taken, not roughly, but without compassion, by big bellied men and even bigger women with big breasts wearing stiff black plastic overalls and thick black rubber gloves and fierce blackened boots. They did not smile at me. I did not know what a smile was then. I learned nothing from them. I knew that I was not them and they were not me. They took us to a large laboratory. At first, we thought it was a place to play but we soon discovered that it was just an unfriendly pit. I looked up and saw the somber figures in white coats staring down at us– unsmiling, emotionless– looking at us like we were animals. We were their experiment, but at the time I did not know so…,” [Who is we, I thought– who is we?] “During the daylight, I was not alone. There were others there, back then, like me: Brazilian, Colombian, Mexican, Bolivian and others. Like me they did not know who their parents were, or where they were born only the country. We did not wonder too much back then. The somber figures in the white coats kept us busy always, preparing exercises– strange things, games for us to play. I recall that two of the others were fortunate because they were twins: a brother and a sister, each had a scar on their head where they were once connected. It seems so long ago now; it was. I was attracted to the brother. During the daylight, we exchanged thoughts through his sister. Back then the brother could not make word sounds but he understood all that was said to him and around him. We did this each new parcel of day light until after my 5th cycle of existence. From time to time some of the other children would disappear. We never discovered where they went. We did not ask questions. The somber figures in white coats never answered questions, they just stared at us. We did not know how to ask questions. Word sounds were difficult back then.” [Continue what happened next?] “My memories of those early times of my existence, Ronan Clarke, are misty. Yet there was one night, a deep dark night that the moon was a full bright gray and shone with a strange translucent glow around it. I stood before my mirror, the light from the glow around the moon traveled through the skylight…my room, ah, now I knew, was really a cell. That day they had showered and shaved our bodies of hair and used a hose pipe of warm water to wash us, all of us, together at once in a large white tiled wash room with no windows and dim light but brighter than the light in my cell. These were the better times of our existence. When we were all together we could exchange word sounds as the water hit us like tiny punches. We would hold hands, allowing the heat of our bodies to spread amongst us. I learnt to smile at that time. I believe this is how a family feels, yes, a family is what we became under the force of the warm water hose pipe. That night as I ran my fingertips over the short spiky surface of my shaven head, the prickly sensation running through the nerves of my finger down my arms caused me to smile at the reflection in the mirror. The fingertips of my left hand stopped at a lump on the left side of my head between my temple and ear. I lightly rubbed it, using first my left then my right then with both the fingers of my left and right hand together. Each time I ran my fingertips over it the area of flesh around it swelled. It did not irritate me, but I was curious why I did not feel it. Yet I saw its dim reflection in the gray light of the new moon glowing in my mirror.” [What was it? I felt close to yet another hidden side to Mi brain implant technology. I wished Onyx talked faster! With restraint– a lot of it– I asked: Onyx, why didn’t you feel anything? A strange question I thought to myself, but Onyx did not appear to think so as she answered.] “I did not know who or what I was. Back then I did not know how to mark my existence. Not until that night and the following day did I learn that it was the 5th Earth year of my existence. The lump on my head throbbed like it still throbs now as I talk to you. It is a part of me...of us. Well that night with my face up close to the mirror I turned my head to the left to see what the lump was. I thought I had been bitten but the somber figures in the white coats did not allow insects into the laboratory let alone in the pit. As I turned my head I saw a green light synchronized with each throb coming from the lump. Eventually, it stopped, and I felt unlike I did before it began throbbing. I could sleep the remainder of the night. At the first trace of light the somber figures in the white coats came to me in my cell and took me to the pit. There I was joined with the others. There were no toys, games, or amusements in this parcel of day light in the unfriendly pit. The pit had been cleared and all that remained were plain wooden benches, I think, for us to sit on. I remember that day there were more whitecoats, three more, they appeared to be very important as they instructed the other somber figures in white coats standing around the rim of the pit. Time passed, and boredom became me. Looking at the twin brother standing on the other side of the pit, he agreed with me, boredom became him too. The word sounds of the twin sister questioned how I could communicate with her twin. I told her to ask him because he communicated with me first. The twin brother walked over to me and we exchanged thoughts naturally. The others also exchanged thoughts as we did until there was a sea of thought voices about me; asking questions, sharing each, their dreams, revealing fears and asking the same question that we asked ourselves: who am I? Until we heard in the question the ultimate question: What am I? All of us had this question. The somber faces with white coats continued to gaze down at us in the pit, their faces cold as freshly laid concrete. They mouthed a few words; short sentences squeezed out through their taut lips, always staring. They fixed their stares onto a specific one of us before moving on to the next from their vantage point. I heard crying but there were no contorted faces around me, no tears on the faces of the others. More crying, I felt, yes felt, a feeling of sadness because of a simple question: what am I? Still more crying, without contorted faces or tears visible on any of us in the pit that day. The twin brother cried loudest in my head; his sadness profoundly touching me. Around me remained silent faces, dry eyes, a stillness like untroubled lakes, reflective, blank, expressionless. But I could hear the crying and feel the sadness and I discovered anger, hate and bitterness in that long parcel of light you call day. Like nothing I have felt since The twins stood together with me. We huddled, exchanging thought. With my face contorted in shock I looked up at the somber figures in white coats manning the circumference of the pit. Immediately like starved vampires all of them looked at me like a wind had blown their faces instantly into my direction. Looking at me as if they had finally found what they had come to the pit that day looking for. A concealed door suddenly opened into the pit and five cumbersome figures bundled through dressed in black, burly, and durable in appearance, like awkward oversized trees. They came in and took me from the pit. I never saw the others again, but even so, the twin brother continued to exchange thoughts with me. I liked him, and I have seen him in many places, many times as he was not when I knew him, so he does not recognize me and does not share thought pulses with me anymore.” [Who is this twin brother?] “His name is Methode and he was impressed with his ability to exchange thoughts directly into my mind. We exchanged thoughts often.” [What happened to you?] “Me, mere me, ah, I was put in a dark cell with no light. I felt inert like a useless gas that can only exist in a compound. The somber figures in white coats kept me there. It seemed like an eternity. I have since learned that an eternity is something quite different from what humankind believes. I went for unnumbered days and nights without seeing light or its glimmer. During this period, I learnt to sense then to see tiny parcels of photons, light, and other sub-atomic phenomena even on the quantum level, as you will have heard it being called– in the darkness of my cell. I remained in my cell for 86 days.” [How do you know this?] “Methode told me. We exchanged thoughts about all sorts of things. We were enjoying the sharing and creation of alternative information when we decided to learn how to clip time.” [Clip time; what’s that?] “A natural law of peculiar analogy, listen carefully, I could see things in the darkness of my new cell, thin strings of life that Methode and I called strings of existence. Our sight had become extremely acute. I could see them, thin strings of existence, moving here and there in the darkness of my cell. I exchanged thought pulses with Methode, teaching him to sense, then to see them. I possessed time in my solitude of darkness, time to think and to follow each string of existence and realize that at times each would disappear for moments, seconds then reappear but in another part of my darkened cell. Then I descried how some would reappear, some after minutes, some hours, days and others, weeks even a month later. Because of my improved eyesight, I could see the places where they re-entered into my plane of existence…this dimension…thin dark lines they were…seams that were, I believe, a deeper definition of darkness. You can only see them when the thin string returns into this dimension. I exchanged the thought pulse of my knowledge with Methode and we continued to develop our understanding of this phenomenon. There was a time during the unceasing night of my captivity that I watched as a thin string of existence re-entered the unceasing darkness of my cell. Using my eyes as perfect guides I touched, with the tip of the index finger of my right hand the space that the string had just re-entered through. My finger fell into nothing and was no more. Half of my finger had disappeared into the darkness of the seam. I could feel my finger. I could move my finger. I could also feel a bitter pinching cold upon my non-existent finger. I pulled my finger back into this dimension. Ronan Clarke, I was not shocked. Why should I be? We were never referred to as human…or as children. We only spoke to one another and saw nobody else except the large unfriendly helpers or the somber figures in white coats. I was eager to exchange thought pulses with Methode about my experience. As I did so, for the first time, I felt nothing in return. I tried to exchange thought pulses with Sylph but could not. They were gone! In this dimension, I have not heard from them since, but I have seen them, both, as they are not here upon this Earth.” [What are they like, their names, anything…description– what do you mean 'not here upon this Earth'?] “Ronan Clarke, it is unwise to mix what is learnt in the multiplicity of there here and expect harmony. What I seek here- love– is self-serving as one day you will learn.” [Gosh, I am still at a loss. As you will. Please continue.] “I now knew what loneliness meant. The others most of them cried unceasingly behind their serene faces. I heard their crying and felt their sadness as one by one they fell silent. In a period of deeper darkness not long after the twins stopped exchanging thought pulses with me the Earth shook, as if the carcass of an unjustly slain whale had been rudely thrown into the middle of the research center, the place of my captivity. My dark cell rocked visibly and fiercely, and I was thrown to the ground like an unwanted toy with an ungainly thud. My face banged against the cold pitiless ground. It was not as dark as before as I slowly raised my head from the concrete. I saw darkness, but a different darkness the natural dark of night that looked now to me brighter than the dark of my cell. My eyes were drawn to the twinkling light of the stars; a wall of my cell had been rendered asunder into two pieces, a long crack that went from the ground to the very top of the cracked and crumbling gray wall. As debris began to tumble from the top of the wall inward I placed my hands over my head to shield myself from the falling debris. Thick dry-stone dust was rising as pieces of concrete clattered down around me. As they settled I heard night sounds and saw the night sky behind large strange trees I had never seen before. Slowly, I thought, then quickly I crawled toward the wall each hand feeling, grabbing, searching for stable ground to move along without hurting myself but it was impossible as the sharp jagged masonry lacerated the skin around my feet, knees, back, arms, hands, and face. I felt myself going upward, yes, I recall, I was climbing upward, holding handfuls of sharp unkind stone that greeted me by demanding my blood and flesh to satisfy their service toward my survival. Climbing upward along the edge of the crack I felt I could open my eyes now, that there was something worth seeing. The Earth shook again, violently as I opened my eyes. The concrete debris I clasped and stood upon gave way as the Earth swayed, throwing me outward upon the ground outside my cell. Roughly I landed on the harsh plant life and savage rocks and stone of the jungle floor. After a moment of stillness, I shook my head and instinctively knew that I was okay. Looking slowly behind, and up at the place I had climbed to, I realized I had climbed to a very high place, and that I had fallen very far, to the place I stood in now. I felt fine. I was fine. Bloodied clothes but no scars…no cuts, no wounds…I– I was fine.” [Sounds like a massive Earthquake hit the area. And this all happened when you were excuse me 5 years, sorry cycles old, correct?] “From the night of my 5th cycle my memories, my feelings, and my sensations…not just mine now I recall, but of all of us, were as clear as sand out of a blast furnace ah-he-ha.” [Got it…clear as glass, right? Carry on. What happened next?] “The walls of my cell were ruined. There was another rocking of the ground beneath me. 30 seconds it lasted, and the walls of my cell collapsed along with a part of the pit. I heard long siren sounds, loud voices belonging to big men getting louder and louder as they came closer and closer to the scene of destruction, close to where I stood. I was serenely confounded and quite without knowing it, dependent on the somber figures in white coats. With my hands in front of me grabbing at the dark like a blind person, gingerly I walked over to a spot that seemed clear of jungle growth and stones. The side of my head began to throb, I had to sit. I became complacent, reflective. I should have been worried but I did not, still do not, know that emotion. So, I sat and played– played the games I knew how to play. I was almost upon my 6th cycle of existence– steadily NO swiftly understanding all things immediately around me as the lump on the side of my head throbbed. But I could not understand the somber figures in white coats. They had always avoided contact except when giving grim instructions to their helpers whenever they appeared. Well, after a few more moments I heard large shouts and a siren along with sharp lights, parallel and probing both yellow and white beams coming from the rubble that used to be my cell. The wall I had climbed and fallen from was very high. I could not consider danger, I had no knowledge of that state of mind: does a gold fish consider danger in a gold fish bowl after swimming around it a thousand times? I was preoccupied, playing, watching in the darkness of the jungle, when I began seeing thin strings of existence as they re-entered our dimension. I recognized them; I had spent unnumbered moons, lonely, cold, in the dark, watching them, the different shades of light they emitted, size and length of the darkened seams they exited through. Some I had seen re-enter our dimension but others as I have said took a long time to re-enter. My dark cell had been destroyed, displacement Ronan Clarke, displacement of space and time…space-time. The place they re-entered had moved as I had had to move from where I was before. Some would re-enter fully, others would re-enter partially, they had grown too. I could see this because they had exited shorter than they had re-entered…existing in, perhaps, two or more dimensions. Howls now; a barking that came from the direction of my cell. They were getting closer. The bellowing voices of big men shouting in my direction. I could smell hydrochloric acid in the air, garnished with the smell of human flesh. I told myself, as my head throbbed that I did not want to go back, go back to my cell, the pit, NO…but I did not want to go forward into the darkness of the thick jungle growth either. I had no home. I did not yet know what I was. I gave up asking that question after the twins were no longer there. Especially Methode. I remember that I froze, I did nothing as the throbbing stopped. I sensed the howling dogs and big men in black, burly, and broad shouldered, bundling through the jungle growth toward me like bursts of dark shadow unhindered by plant or stone. I saw a thin string of existence re-entering our dimension. This string was very thin. I watched as it created a delicate ripple in space-time. Stop me if this gets too difficult for you to grasp Ronan Clarke…Earth-man. The very thin string of existence had my attention and I thought about it as the throbbing in my head started again. My will desired to be a part of it forever drifting in and out of existence. Loud voices, closer and closer, shouts, very close now. The barking ceased. The dogs were sniffing. I could feel the muscles of their nostrils contracting in and out. The glow of the new moon was bright as I lifted my hand, stretching the tip of my middle finger toward the still limitlessness of the darkened seam. As my finger disappeared into the void I heard… 'There you are girl’ Shouted one of the big black clad guards bringing with him the thick stench of leather leash and howling hound. Now I knew, I knew the emotion shock. He called me a girl! If he had a label for me could he know what I was? what a girl was, were we also human? I had a label after almost 6 cycles of existence. 'WHAT AM I?' I screamed at him emptying the air in my lungs as my scream turned into my cry of desperation. 'Silly, you’re a child. What kind of question is that?' He answered, smiling. I knew what I was. What we were. I had to tell the others. A semblance of happiness entered me. Something human because if I was a girl, a child and all humans start life as children and a girl is a child then I am a human…the others were human too. Onyx is a child I thought, I concluded, I realized. I shouted out to no one yet everyone. My finger now covering the spot the string of existence had just exited through. A group of guards stood around me now, their hounds kept their distance, their heads lowered with feral eyes, under furrowed furry foreheads. Their savage eyes now fixed on me, panting, the saliva dripping from their long pink tongues that hung in the moonlight as cold air mist snorted from their nostrils. 'I AM HUMAN! WE ARE HU...' I never finished my sentence, never got a chance to tell them, the others, or see them on this plane of existence again. As I lowered my hand, my finger still protruded, the thin string of existence re-entered our dimension, threading itself, painlessly, through my protruding finger and around it, a thousand times, securely, permanently. The guards stretched their hands to grab me but I was pulled, instantly, as the thin string of existence, as strong as worlds, exited into the darkness of the seam and out of this dimension. The seam widened and swallowed me whole. That which I knew as a thin string of existence in this dimension, in the other dimension and other dimension and other…, was merely the tip…, a loose thread of a wormhole that straddled many dimensions entering and exiting each at will. Many Earth years have passed since my 6th cycle of existence. I have entered and exited more dimensions than you can imagine. I am the wormhole and it is me. The gravity of my will and the gravity of its will have joined…fused and together we are one. I have seen the place you call the future. I tell you what is to come because we are fortunate to come to this place in space-time to meet you Ronan Clarke. A person who’s like we have seen many times before but never until this moment on the same plane of existence. All humanity’s understanding of the idea they call the universe is wrong because I have seen many things that you cannot comprehend within the context of your acceptable wisdom. Yes, my name is Onyx and I came from the same carbon stuff that you are made of but Ronan Clarke I am not human. I am no longer of this Earth. I exist within the infinite folds of space-time. My home is the bosom of the wormhole and its cosmic consciousness is the mind matter of my brain. My body exists and draws sustenance off the walls of its elemental cosmic flesh. I breath air of a concoction you cannot comprehend. Look! How the space-time about us begins to alter? Do you see how space-time begins to separate to reveal the folded layers of our existence where time as you accept it cannot exist? I am leaving now. I may never see you again and maybe I will. Maybe it was my will to see you. Now I see you, I am satisfied that you will understand the wrong that should be righted. I must go Ronan Clarke. Try if you can to imagine the true definition of beauty; the fusion of the cosmic elements of organic and inorganic matter with plasma and other elements you have yet to discover, like molten diamond or gaseous gold. I have seen this and I am this and it is beauty beyond human belief. Whenever I enter the dimension of this existence I am called 'witch'. Yet, if that is the human perception of us then let human perception persist as it has a right to in a human world. We are not witch…Onyx is our name, and we are considered a thing of beauty…we must go…” [No! Onyx let me see what you look like. You say you are not human but how can that be? I must see what you look like?] At that Onyx threw off the many layers of her black gown and revealed herself. Before my very eyes she shimmered as a thin string of existence threaded itself around and through her body a billion times. The place about which we stood began to destabilize and Onyx, now with perfect teeth grinned, her cheekbones rising to meet the sparkle of her perfect eyes. Her female formed flesh flared like the surface of the sun crowned with silken black hair. I stared, stunned to amazement at the sight of a beautiful thing that I could not comprehend. Onyx exited this dimension and existed here no more. End of Dossier. Prepared by Ronan Clarke, Ambassador. https://flic.kr/p/JHKsQT