#and he has a giant bird tattoo on his throat

[outranks]

Far Cry New Dawn character: Thomas Rush

[katsukikitten]

Synopsis: Grueling training led you to this moment, standing in the middle of the forest sent to deal with a demon terrorising the area but it seems you've gotten more than you bargained for when the stripped Kizuki steps into the clearing.

Warning: blood, biting, some light body horror, smut, choking.

A/N : blame @kinjuutsu for this one. wc 3260

Standing in the thick of the forest makes your hairs stand on end. Your ears perking at the sudden blanket of silence that smothers all the sound.

No birds, no hooves or clash of antlers against wood. No claws or screams of trapped prey.

Not even the rustle of the leaves over head.

It's animalistic, the instinct that you're fighting hard to ignore as it burns in your limbs. Scorching the soles of your feet and tugging at your chest. It's hardwired so deep in your DNA that you think you can hear your ancestors yelling through the veil just one word, in various tongues all meaning the same thing.

RUN

But you can't, sent here to purge this Earth of the evil, of the sinful things defying Death as they linger in the shroud of night, too unholy to see the light of day.

Clouds lazily float over the full moon, momentarily blocking out what little light filters through the canopy and by the time the dense vapor eclipsing the moon dissipates there is a shadow looming in the clearing across from you.

You should startle, your ancestors must be even louder now, more worried as you think you feel a tug at your silver starlight hirori. Yet still training for endlessly, tireless years proved the steady stance you had. The blankness to your face as you relax your muscles.

Telling yourself this was just another sparring match.

Amber eyes glow in the dark, kanji in his eyes as you fight the flinch in your spine as you read the unluckiest of numbers.

Three.

Upper three.

A slow steady intake of breath through your nose. Inflating your lungs with the force of your diaphragm, held at the apex of breath.

"A woman slayer?" His voice is velvet sin.

Sucking on your tongue harshly as you feel every inch of skin that his eyes rove over. Like having the evil eye pointed directly at you. Fingers gently ghosting over your very soul and you feel nauseated from his presence.

"Shame I don't fight women. Your spirit is….interesting." In an instant that weighted gaze is gone as the broad man with harsh lined tattoos begins to give you his back. The pink haired man choosing to ignore the sweet lull of your smell that makes his cock stir. He chalks up a discrepancy encouraged from Douma speaking of fertile women non stop.

His fucking mistake to give a tiger his back.

You're pouncing him faster than he can react, first form, Swift Nightshade, severing a part of his head but his vertebrae are too thick. Your amethyst blade is lodged, struggling you place your between his shoulder blades trying to force it free to no avail.

"Oh little moon flower." He sighs, his voice soft before it turns darker, clipped, "You're gonna regret that."

He grabs onto the blade and shoves it from his throat as if he were merely dusting off his shoulders, sending you flying. Bursting through the trunks of thick trees, hundreds of years of growing just to be snapped like a twig in the matter of seconds.

Before you can take in another breath he's on top of you, smile dripping with cruelty. Reminding you all too much like a cat with a mouse in their claws.

Toying as he does, tossing you again in the opposite direction and by the grace of muscle memory you land on your feet.

If you see an Upper Kizuki. Run.

But that command falls on deaf ears. Now that fear has melted, hot as it turns into molten rage. Rage you've worked so hard to control, the flames of it licking at your insides, tongue sharp and jagged as it rips away the sinew from bone.

Turning you into something anew.

A quick change in your stance and you're launching yourself at him again. Fifth form Might of Wolf's bane.

A visage of a giant wolf forms from the swift movements of your blade, slicing his arm clean off only for his fingers to flex a moment later, a new limb grown from his body.

"Pathetic. Your fighting spirit wavers between nothing and supreme territory, you have no control at all."

"Fuck off." You hiss, jumping backward as he advances. Combining two forms, Lily of the Valley and Swaying Foxglove.

Flowers break through the soil in the ground, creating a meadow so vast and thick that there isn't a place that Akaza cannot step without crushing the head of a flower.

"Cheap parlor tricks moonflower." He takes another step and a scent washes over him. Wrapping around him like a silken blanket as his eyes flutter with a sudden exhaustion.

It's weird how the feeling is how you smell. Like the courtyard in his home and just in the distance he thinks he can hear a rhythmic thump as water is dumped into a pool meant to reflect the sky. A mirror for the moon to dance in.

Who used to say that to him again?

Suddenly there is a searing pain in his chest, he looks down and sees you, looking up at him before you slice again, crossing over your original cut.

The wound takes a moment to heal as you retreat to a safe distance, barely felt on his compass as he looks down.

"Aaahh." He grunts and the sound reverberates in your chest, "You crossed my heart."

He touches two fingers to the wound as it heals, wetting them in blood before he licks it away.

"Guess I'll fight for real now." He changes his stance and with it the air about him. The flowers wilt at his feet before it spreads like a blight. Killing everything in its path including withering some of the pre existing trees.

You have to attack now, before the sound at his heart clears all the way up, you need to send the tip of your blade back through his heart in order to paralyze him long enough to cut his handsome head clean from his shoulders.

If it was even enough time with how thick his skin and vertebrae are.

Swinging your blade down, a breath almost fully activated he reaches out with ungodly speed.

Grabbing onto your blade and he has the audacity to yawn. As if he's bored, snapping your katana in his vice grip before he shoves you into the closest tree and shoves the deep amethyst blade right through your shoulder. Pinning you like a delicate insect for display.

Your smell is even more enticing now, the heady metallic tang coating his tongue making him dizzy. His cock stirs again and he rushes for the wound. Pressing his nose just above it and inhaling deeply as you lean your head away from him. He laps at the blood, like a mistreated dog in the summer months finally finding solace in a half dried puddle. His fangs elongate and for the first time he's tasting the blood of a woman. Growling as he huffs over your throat before taking a deep bite.

"Heh." You smirk beside him, "Ya like that?"

It's a growl before you're shoving his face deeper into your wound, letting out a gasped breath as you activate your final form. Wisteria Bloom.

The poison makes quick work as you feel the grip of him failing before the bitterant of the poison coats the back of his throat. It gives him an inkling of a feeling. Of a piece so long forgotten as it burns up the nape of his neck, spreading through synapses with each pounding thought of his head.

"Poison?" He spits onto your clothes, "You did that to them?"

You aren't sure who he's talking about but you'll take credit for killing some vile demon if the taunt meant giving you the upper hand. But before you can his pupils flicker in and out as if his body were combating your deadly, delicious blood on pure rage alone. His black fingers sink into the flesh of your ribs, slowly pushing through the tender meat between the bones.

"You killed them? Poisoned the well?" He growls and your yelp is high pitched. It causes him to slow, to quickly retract his fingers from your frame and dig into his own forearm. The four fingers separated in the middle as he digs two thick and deep wounds on his forearm. The only area that isn't banded in the twilight ink.

His head pounds, louder and louder is the call of a woman's voice just at the fringes in his mind. A soft thing drifting through the veil she toed so easily in life.

Enough. ᴉɾnʞɐH

His ears ring and the pressure on his body is more than any he's felt from his master before. The very master who now slithers into his head, speaking over what can barely be comprehended in his drunken state.

Enough Akaza. There is a finality to it that makes his stomach clench, You hate the weak.

Revitalized, the poison slows but his lust for you doesn't. He claims it is the affect of your blood but he's on you again without so much as a second thought. Running his tongue over your wounds, gently pressing his fingers on the weeping wounds he made in your ribs.

"Are you alright, Moon flower?" His voice is soft and you swallow thickly, it makes your stomach flutter. A gentle press of his lips to each wound on your left side awakens something in you that you wish not to speak aloud. It causes heat to collect and pool between your thighs, as it does his senses heighten.

Repeating the action on the other side. Dark fingers ripping away the buttons at your front, tearing away and yet keeping your haroi intact aside from your own sword holding you in place.

"D-dont." You try to squirm out of his touch, the cool night air causing your nipples to peak.

"Oh shy now are we?" He smiles up at you, mouth smeared with your blood, the moonlight plays tricks on your eyes and it almost looks as if he were flushed.

As if his eyes were flickering between blue and amber. Dark twilight making room for the stars and moon before they return to a golden shine of the rising sun.

You feel dizzy yourself, mostly from the blood loss of so you say as he brings his mouth to your breast. Pulling your pebbled nipple with his teeth gently before giving a harsh suck. A breathy shine escapes you and when he looks up you freeze. Like a bunny seen on the forest floor by the grinning fox in the brush.

It's well known how that will end.

Just like this as he rises back to his full height, looming over you with that look. His hands finding your sides, gently squeezing your ribs in his massive grip making you feel so small.

"Do it moonflower, use a breath to heal these." As if under a spell you speak so softly.

"Y-yarrow's touch." White lace flowers blossom over your ribs and throat, slowly healing wounds not being kept open. The demon slaps his hand onto your throat over his bite wound.

"Not this one, Princess." Sinful velvet again and you concentrate elsewhere. Soon they are healed, skin barely discolored and the only sign you were ever wounded at all is the lingering lines of blood that the demon leans over to lick. Thick tongue pressed flat against your smooth skin to take in your sweet nectar.

A shiver runs down your spine, cunt clenching embarrassingly and again he looks up. That predatorial look shining in his eyes. He wipes away the blood, your blood and comes closer to you. Pressing his lips to yours with such a softness, such a need it makes you whimper.

He groans, licking your lips that you part for him. Tongue swiping, swirling over yours and when he pulls away for just a moment the two of you share a silvery string of spit. He groans, coming back for more when he smells that insanely sweet smell again that clouds his mind before he finally realizes what it is. Hand sinking down your front, paste the dark fabric of your pants and panties cupping your heat for just a moment. Feeling the weight of you here and his harder than he's ever been before. Slowly his middle finger parts your folds and when he feels a wetness to you he shudders.

"So wet." He presses himself into you further, nose over your bloody throat, "I've hardly done anything to you Princess."

"Or maybe…maybe you like fighting as foreplay huh?" He bites you again and the moan you let out is loud, long. Makes your face and throat heat as he sucks. Letting your blood flood his mouth and he groans with each swallow. Pressing harsh sloppy circles to your clit, mouth at your ear.

"'S that why you're a demon slayer moonflower?" He teases, gently nipping at your ear, "Wanna be corrupted and fucked by a big bad demon?"

You can't speak, can hardly breathe as he hovers in your personal space. Drowns you out with his scent. Smelling faintly of salt. He grabs onto your throat, squeezing so tightly your eyes flutter.

"Answer me. Tell me how you want to beg for my fat cock." He palms himself before he lets you go, fingers still pressing on your clit as you quake beneath him. Your vision blacks out and you let out the most beautiful, constricted moan he's ever heard.

"Is that a yes, pretty flower?" He pulls it from you again and again and again until his fingers are so soaked in your juices it drips from his wrist.

"Pl-please." You're so dizzy. So overstimulated as he has you reeling again. He leans close, pulling away his fingers from your clit and shoving them roughly into your spasming pussy. Angling them back towards him, lucky he found your sponge spot right away.

"Akaza." He breathes into your ear, "Now moan my name and I'll fill this angel cunt."

"Akah...I- can't." You pant, trying to desperately grind against him but his free hand slams your hips into the tree, cracking it even.

"You can and you will." He bites your throat again, worsening the wound and lapping at the blood, he feels dizzy. So drunk off of the smell of you, "Say it."

It's obvious in his tone that he wants to fuck you as badly as you want him. Lust and nothing short of delirium riddle your mind and swell your tongue.

"Akazaaahhh." You pant, your head resting on his heavily, "Please fuck me."

Without thought his voice changes, soft, endearing, protecting and filled to the brim with want.

Need.

As if it were you who were denying him.

"As you wish, princess." He slides himself into you with ease. Right to the hilt and he stays still. Savoring the feeling of you fluttering around him as you adjust to his size.

"M-move, p-please." Your head is spinning and the wound in your shoulder and bite marks pound in time with your cunt. Sick with want and need, for this demon to fill you up with sticky white, "Akaza."

"Anything for you." He moves slowly, setting a deep rut that has your head hitting the trunk of the tree. The pleasure is unimaginable, cresting in you with each steady roll of his hips. You've been fucked before but no where near like this, it felt different.

Like devotion.

Like he needed you to know what you did to him, how you make his heart pound and the way he's moving you, the way his hands touch at your body as if you were something to be marveled had your brain twisted.

Love sits on your tongue when it shouldn't, especially as he gently grabs onto your chin with on big palm. Fingers and thumb causing divots in your cheeks with no real malice as he forces you to hold his gaze.

"So pretty. So fucking pretty." He rasps, eyes deepening into twilight blue, hair turning jet black and where his self inflicted wounds were now twin bands of black ink on both forearms.

"Akaza?" Your voice is soft and suddenly the image is gone and he's back to how he looked before. Tattoos elsewhere on his skin, on his throat and face. Eyes a golden color as upper three stare back at you. He comes closer, swallows your moans with a kiss. Its hungry, deep, as if he's finally come home.

"What is it, Princess?" He asks after he breaks the kiss, "What do you need, let ᴉɾnʞɐH, take care of you."

But whatever name he uses doesn't come out right, it sounds blurred and fuzzy and it makes his free hand grip at the back of his neck so hard he draws blood. Pushing his fingers in knuckle deep as if trying to rip a parasite from his spinal cord.

"N-need you." You pant, hands coming up to class at this back, "Need you to fill me."

His cock twitches at that and whatever was bothering him fizzles out at the back of his head. He chases his own high as you continue to squeeze him so tightly he sees stars. His pace lacks structure as he sloppily thrusts into you. Painting your walls with white hot ropes. He says something so low. Three words but you can only make out.

"Princess." Like it's a sacred word, a song to be sung to the gods in worship, a sound that he makes seem as if it's only for you.

Slowly he pulls out and when he is without you he suddenly feels enraged. Anguish, head throbbing with such an intensity he falls to his knees.

"Where are you? Moon flower?" He begins to claw at his face, lost in some sunbleached illusion, "Princess? Where the fuck are you?"

You think you see fat tears fall down his cheeks before they are followed by thick ribbons of crimson.

Panic devours you whole and in your own hazed mind you pull the sword from your shoulder, feeling his pain well in your stomach as you rush to him.

"I'm here. I'm right here." You coo, wrapping your arms around him as you bend over to cradle his head. Quickly he wraps his arms around your waist while he stays on his knees burying his head into your legs. He gasps, fangs elongated but like a spell the smell of you placates him before globs of blood land on his shoulder.

He looks up at you shocked, your knees turning to jelly causing you to fall but he rises to catch you before you hit the ground holding you tightly to him that your bones groan from the force. Passing out with a final breath.

"Akaza."

You were a liability, a fucking problem as he slowly comes back to his senses. Unsure how this scene unfurled before him. How he ended up whispering so softly that he loved you as he fell into his own sweet abyss as you encouraged him with the sweet sounds of your mewls.

He should let you die.

He should kill you.

He knows he should.

It would be easy to just crush you together in his grip as you lie limp in his strong arms.

But instead he grabs the blade of your sword and the hilt, pushing you closer to him as he jumps from the clearing in the forest.

Bringing you back to God knows where.

[cellsshapedlikestars]

So Jon and Sansa both see a crime being commited and become prime witnesses to arrest this big crime mastermind (Petyr? Or maybe Tywin?) and they have to go to witness protection... Only witness protection makes them pretend to be a married couple when they actually don't know each other. Does that sparkle something in that brilliant brain of yours as a prompt?

Look I'm in a Mood™ today and wrote this in a weird fugue state so don't @ meeeeee. I also like barely edited this so who knows if it makes sense, and grammar? I barely know her.

Also, I don’t really know how to do trigger warning tags, so this is my warning that there are vague mentions of blood/gore/violence.

.

.

Sometimes when she wakes up, she forgets.

But then she looks around the room that isn't her room and she has to tell herself that it is. This is her room. This is her home. That is her husband downstairs making breakfast.

(And sometimes she wakes up unable to breathe, the dreams are so real; the blood and brains and pieces of skull spraying the wall in front of her, the sounds of men pleading for their lives. The strong arm wrapped around her, one hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, the only thing that kept her still and quiet and hidden under the desk, the only reason she's alive. He's downstairs making breakfast.)

….

If there was ever a place to get lost, she thinks, it's here.

She stares out the window of her house, the same as every other house on the street. Row after row of identical houses. Neighborhoods of them, the suburbs stretching on forever. They've been here for two months and she doesn't even know her neighbor's names. The one across the street is Edmond, she thinks. Maybe. Edmure? No, if it were Edmure, she would remember, because of-

(But Alayne Stone doesn't have an Uncle Edmure.)

“I'm headed out.”

She turns to look at her husband.

“Have a good day,” she calls, just like she does every day. She watches him walk out to their nondescript grey sedan, just like he does every day. He backs it out of the driveway, then drives west, towards the main road.

…

They don't talk about before.

He is Aemon Stone. They met in college, in a geography course that they both almost failed, and they fell in love. They just got married and moved here - not that any of their neighbors have asked, so she's only had to tell that story to her new coworkers at the craft store.

They're trying to start a family.

(Jon, she thinks his name is, she remembers the agents calling him that, before they were handed folders with their new lives inside. But Jon is not her husband. Aemon is.)

…

Sometimes she likes to think she's a hero, giving up her whole world just to take down the bad guy. She's a hero, a martyr, the protagonist of her own daydreams. Her actions will save the lives of countless others.

(The reality is that she had no choice. They gave her one, technically, she doesn't have to testify against Petyr Baelish, but they all knew there was no choice. If she stayed, he would've found her. He would have killed her and anyone she could have possibly told about what she saw. She knows Aemon had no choice, either, and sometimes she wonders what he gave up. But they don't talk about before.)

…

She tries not to let her mind wander too much, but it's hard not to. Her life is routine. Mundane. She makes friends with her coworkers but she can't – she won't– let them get too close.

The problem with all her free, mundane time is that it gives her space to think – gives her time to regret.

She remembers that weekend, remembers thinking what harm could it do? Remembers thinking the bachelorette party sounded so fun. Remembers taking cash out to play the slot machines, ordering drink after drink until she felt numb.

It all goes a bit fuzzy after that. No matter how hard she tries, she can never remember how she got into the back halls of the casino, to the places where guests aren't allowed. She remembers a strange man kissing her, large, with scarring across his face, who told her that a pretty bird like her shouldn't be back here and demanded a kiss as payment. She remembers running, running, running.

If only she hadn't run.

If she hadn't run, she wouldn't have found herself in that room. She wouldn't have heard the door opening, turned around to see him, watched his face twist in horror when he saw her. He wouldn't have had to tell her get down, hide.

She remembers not being able to move, frozen to the spot at the sight of the gun at his hip. She remembers the way he'd pulled her down under the desk, one arm around her waist to keep her still, one hand over her mouth to keep her quiet, just in time, just before the door opened again.

(And she remembers the men who came in right after, the gruff where the fuck did Rivers get to?)

…

She's seen the tattoo.

(She doesn't think she was supposed to. Aemon Stone shouldn't have a tattoo.)

They try not to get in each other's way – he works days, she works closings. She sleeps in the master bed, he sleeps in a guest room down the hall. He wakes up early and makes breakfast and leaves her a plate. She eats while he goes for a run. But every once in a while...

That day he'd been coming back from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. She's never upstairs when he takes a shower, but she had gotten the urge to read, for the first time in months, and had gone up to grab one of the books that came with the house when she ran into him in the hall.

And there, on his chest, right above his heart, the mockingbird tattoo.

(Aemon Stone is her husband. He is not one of them.)

(But Jon Snow was.)

…

She probably should be scared, but she can never find it in her to be. Their handlers wouldn't have put them in the same house if they thought he'd hurt her.

(He's the reason she's alive. His arm around her waist, his hand over her mouth. Get down. Hide.)

…

Sometimes she wants to ask – why?

Why did he hide her?

Why is he here?

He was one of them, there's a tattoo on his chest that proves it.

Why did he save her? Give up everything for her to live?

…

She slips, once.

She's at work, in the break room, heating up a mug of soup in their tiny, low watt microwave. The break room TV is on, the news is playing, and then he's there.

Petyr Baelish, donating a giant check to an orphanage. Everyone's clapping and cheering him on and all she can hear are the screams of two men, pleading for their lives. Begging Petyr Baelish to stop. (They had wives and children and their screams echo in her head and-)

“Alayne?” her coworker, Myranda, shakes her arm. “I think your food's done?”

She's shaking so hard that the soup sloshes over the side of her mug and she apologizes as she cleans it up and Myranda asks if she's sick or something. She has to go home early because she vomits into the break room trash can.

At home, Aemon is watching football on TV and he's surprised when she comes home early. All he says is, “everything ok?” and she knows what he's asking.

“Everything's ok,” she tells him and he nods and she goes upstairs.

They don't talk about the past, but they don't talk about the present, either.

(And they definitely don't talk about the future.)

…

There's one time she doesn't wake up confused or breathless.

She wakes up screaming.

In her dream, he finds her. In her dream, Petyr Baelish walks around the desk and bends down and reaches under and pulls her out. In her dream, he tortures her like he did those men. In her dream, he puts a gun to her head, just like he did-

She wakes up screaming.

The door to her room slams open and she takes a gasping breath and looks up at her husband, standing in the doorway with a baseball bat in his hand. His hair is wild and his eyes are wide as they search her room and she tries to tell him it's all in her head but she can't make her voice work. When she tries, the words just come out as a small sob and she watches his tensed shoulders relax and he sets down the baseball bat.

She curls into herself and cries into her bent knees – for her dreams and her fears and the knowledge that this might never end. It's a choking, clawing abyss in her chest that's been growing as the days and weeks and months slide by – that she will never see her family again. She'll never eat mom's cooking or hear her dad yell at the TV when his team loses or see Robb's infectious smile or argue with Arya or talk about philosophy with Bran or watch one of Rickon's basketball games. She'll never get to play with Lady again.

She has kept them locked away inside her, tried to forget about them because Alayne Stone doesn't have a family.

The bed dips and she lets out another gasping sob as she feels an arm settle around her shoulders. “Alayne,” he says, and then again. Again and again, until - “Sansa.”

“I'm not Sansa,” she whispers when she finally looks up.

“Sometimes you need to be,” he says, his voice is steady and he brings one hand up to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. “It's hard, not everyone can just change who they are. Especially not like this.”

“You say that like you're some expert,” she sniffs, wiping at her cheeks now that her tears have slowed. She feels like a mess – her eyes feel hot and puffy, her nose feels raw, her throat is sore, but she also feels more human than she has in months.

He hesitates, seems to think hard about something before - “Aemon Stone isn't the first person I've had to become.” She jerks back a bit, but she doesn't pull away.

(He saved her life.)

“Who else?”

“Before this, I was Aegon Rivers.”

“I thought your name was Jon Snow? That's what they called you.”

“Jon Snow,” he says, voice low and soothing and she feels herself relax, settles into the warmth of his arms a bit more, “is a federal agent who went undercover with the Mockingbirds two years ago.”

She looks at him, then – really looks at him. At his grey eyes and his long face and his black hair wild from sleep, at the scar that runs through his eyebrow and the dark stubble that he meticulously shaves off every morning.

“Jon Snow fits you better,” she tells him.

“And Sansa Stark fits you.”

“I'm not Sansa Stark anymore,” she reminds him again, feeling her voice waver, though she thought she was past it. “This was just a bad dream, I promise I'll do better.”

“Like I said, sometimes it's hard,” he tells her. “And sometimes it's easy to forget who you are.”

“Is it for you?” she asks. He doesn't answer, but she thinks he doesn't need to, she can see it in him and she wonders how much of Jon Snow he remembers. Two years is a long time to be someone else. “I don't...” her voice breaks and she has to drop into a whisper. “I don't want to forget them. I know I have to-”

“What if,” he cuts in when her words fail her completely, “what if we're Jon Snow and Sansa Stark here?”

“They told us we-”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I don't mean... not in the house. Not during the day. But how about, once a week, at night, when it's just us, when the rest of the world is sleeping – I'll come in here and just for an hour, we can remember.”

The words make her ache and she nods and looks over at her clock. One hour – one hour to remember who she is and where she comes from. One hour to talk about anything and everything – about the past and the present and the future. It's not a lot and it's a risk and against the rules, but-

“Yes. Please.”

He nods and looks a bit grim and she wonders, once again – why? She doesn't think he wants to talk about Jon Snow. He's doing it for her – he's saving her life again and she still doesn't know why. Maybe she'll find out, some day.

“Ok,” he breathes, like he's jumping off the deep end, “Sansa Stark – what's your favorite color?”

[babyloposts]

RoseBud

My Hero Academia Gang AU

Pairing(s): Sero Hanta x fem!reader

Warnings: language, drug use, explicit content, sexual themes, gang imagery, violence

Summary: a simple crush on a guy quickly turns south as you become wrapped up in an unsafe life of lies, drugs, and violence. What happens when you become a key player in a war between to rival gangs and have to deal with a complicated love life all at the same time.

—————————————————

0.5

You stayed occupied on your phone until Hatsume returned to finish up the details of your already sore rose. In the time it took for her to do whatever business she had with those boys, your numbing cream had began to wear off.

The tension in the room was thick. The previously care-free energy Hatsume possessed was replaced with a melancholic and faraway stare in her eyes.

“Alright babe I’m all done. Remember to clean the skin with a gentle anti-bacterial soap and use alcohol-free moisturizer alright.” There was a feigned happiness in Hatsume’s voice, but her eyes said it all. Whatever Bakugou had done to her, whatever he and the red head had taken from her must have dampened her mood more than the threat from earlier.

You nodded to Hatsume and she took her leave as you were re-dressing. Luckily the top you wore was a light fabric and didn’t rub against your tattoo too much, but you could tell, this was going to hurt in the morning.

Walking back into the main lobby you only found Sero. No Bakugou, Hatsume, or mysterious Red Head to be found. You wanted to be happy to see Sero, but the look on his face and the mark on his face were more than enough to dampen your mood.

“Sero, oh my God!” He cringed as your finger lightly danced over his bruised cheekbone. Your hand flew to him without even thinking. Quickly you whipped it back and silently scolded yourself for your overbearing nature. “I’m sorry I-”

“Don’t apologize. It’ll only make me feel worse about getting punched in the face.” He chuckled, but your expression never faltered. The worry was there and it wasn’t going anywhere. Your brain was rattling with questions of ‘why?’ and ‘what happened?’, but as soon as you even fixed your mouth to speak Sero was cutting you off with the sharp movement of rising to his feet.

“Let me drive you home. It’s late.” Without checking for a change in your face or any confirmation he turned to leave the shop, trusting that you had fallen instep behind him.

The car ride to your apartment didn’t answer any lingering questions either. The only sounds that graced your ears was the buzzing of the engine and the light sounds of J. Cole songs emanating from the stereo. Sero periodically asked for vague directions to your side of town, but surprisingly he found your small complex with ease.

“Thank you.” You sighed as he shifted the car into park. The car ride may have been soothing, but the fear for your new friend’s well-being never once left your gut.

“Don’t thank me. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do. And I pride myself on being a pretty nice guy.” The smile graced easily over his face as if he didn’t have a giant bruise forming under his eye. Your expression remained unmoving, your friend full of wonder as to what he was hiding from you. Yea, you had just officially met Sero tonight and he really isn’t obligated to tell you anything personal, but he was acting like none of that crazy shit just happened.

Sero chuckled, breaking through your bewildered inner monologue to move around and open your car door for you. “Alright, this is the part where you go home. Not that I’m trying to get rid of you.” He winked.

“R-right.” You get out of the car and start to your apartment. This didn’t feel right, the energy was too weird. You knew in the back of your mind that Denki was right. He had said Sero was a good guy and you’d be in good hands with him and he was right. Sero was probably trying to protect you from whatever shady business he was apart of, but you couldn’t leave this “date” where it was. You made it about half way to the door to enter the lobby of the building before you spun on your heels and placed your hands firmly on your hips. Sero was watching you as he leisurely leant on the hood of his black muscle car. Totally unbothered as you had come to expect.

“You’re not leaving here without me checking you out.” You said with all the gusto you could muster.

“Go ahead. I’m standing right here.” He smirked and drank you in with his eyes.

“Stop being an idiot and come upstairs with me. I can’t go to sleep tonight knowing that I just let you leave here with a black eye and I didn’t even offer you an ice-pack.”

“If you wanted me to come up to your apartment with you, you didn’t have to make up an excuse.” He punctuated his sentence with the chirp of his car doors locking and jogged up next to you.

“What happened to you being a gentleman?” You snorted.

“I can’t ever turn down an offer like that from you. I’ll take my chances.” He grinned slyly. You rolled your eyes trying to act like his charm wasn’t getting to you.

Sero followed you into the elevator and into your apartment. It was quaint and homey and smelled of bergamot incense. Luckily you had cleaned up a few days ago and your apartment was presentable to guests.

“You can sit on the couch I’ll get you some ice and a damp rag.” Without checking to see if he even listened to your instructions you busied yourself hopping from room to room of your apartment to gather the supplies to help his worsening bruise. Once you were back in the living room you instinctively pressed the makeshift ice-pack to Sero’s eye causing him to wince.

“That’s what you get for getting yourself beat up because of me.” You huffed.

“What do you mean? I didn’t-”

“I heard what he said Sero. That blond guy was yelling at Hatsume saying that you left the club before you were supposed to and he had to finish the job for you. You told me that you were done for the night. I wouldn’t have cared if we stayed longer.”

“I didn’t get beat up for you.” Softly, your hand was removed from in front of his eye. With Sero’s vision no longer obscured he could see the look of guilt clear as fat on your face. “I chose to leave. I was gonna do what needed to get done regardless, but my boss has little faith in me I guess. He sent his guard dog after me instead of trusting that I know how to get shit done.” Sero grumbled at the end. That seemed to have put him off. It was the one time his chill façade had faded that night.

“So... taking me to Hatsume was an excuse?”

Quickly the charm was back and he was reassuring you that you were priority number one. “No. Well kind of. I still wanted you to have a good time, but I would have had to see Hatsume tonight anyway. So, two birds and all that.” He shrugged.

With the ice pack now back on his face you started again, you found it was easier to speak your mind this way. No seductive eyes to sway the conversation. “Okay. But still. You should have checked in with whoever to avoid all this.” You gestured to his face.

“This happens more often than you think.”

“Sero. Be serious please.” You sighed. “You didn’t need to get hurt indirectly because of me. I’m not gonna ask what you or Bakugou needed from Hatsume, because obviously it wasn’t tattoo related, but can you at least promise me that you won’t leave working just to hang with me?”

“So there’s gonna be a next time.” His eyebrows wiggled, taunting you.

You stammered. You didn’t mean to sound presumptuous, but you were hoping he would want to go out with you again. “I mean yeah, I thought tonight was fun, all things considering.”

“Yeah? Me too.” His hand began to snake to your thigh that was now exposed to him as your skirt hiked up from your sitting position. The hand was comforting reminding you of the comfort you got from him earlier that night in the car.

“I-“ Your throat all of a sudden felt so dry. Clearing uncomfortably, you began again. “I don’t know if this is really gentlemanly.” You chuckled. Sero’s gaze at you did not falter for a second. His eyes were hazy and his eyelids dropped. The look in his eyes drew you in and you dropped the ice-pack from his face.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t keep my eyes off you. You’re beautiful.” You smiled as the compliment. Again the compliment on your beauty was unfamiliar, but greatly appreciated.

“Thank you... but I-” Your protests were quickly silenced by the force of his lips pressing against yours.

Like ice against a flame you melted into the kiss automatically. Your lips mended together perfectly. His felt rough, slightly chapped, but the way he moved in rhythm with you caused you to swoon. You were both drunk on each other’s touch. His hands roamed you lower body and rested on your waist, while you explored his hair and massaged his scalp with your finger tips.

A firm squeeze to your upper thigh elicited a gasp from your lips breaking the kiss and allowing Sero just enough time to slip your blouse over your head. What a pleasant surprise it was to find you without a bra on to obstruct his view. “Nice tat.” He smirked.

To avoid the embarrassment bubbling in your chest you shut him up this time by climbing into his lap and resuming the kiss where you had left off. In this position he had free reign of your body. His hands explored every inch of your legs, ass, and back.

You were a frustrated moaning and groaning into his mouth which only made him want to touch you more. Those intimate sounds making him harden beneath you.

Sero was undeniably sexy. You had fantasized about being with him before you really knew him, but everything went beyond your expectations. The way his rough hands felt against your body, the way his tongue and lips felt tangling with yours and his scent. It was a strong mix of cologne, weed, and something almost sickeningly sweet. You could have sworn it was...

Cherry Blossoms.

As if I’ve cold water had been poured on you, you ended your make out session with your crush prematurely.

“What happened?” Sero finally showed some other emotion. A mix of curiosity and worry.

You panicked how could you explain this. “Sero... you- you don’t want me.”

“The fuck are you on? Of course I want you.” His eyes flicked down taking in the sight of you bare chested and sitting on his straining erection.

“No you don’t. I’m sorry but, it’s my quirk that’s making you like me.”

“Huh?”

previous|next

Masterlist

Taglist: @black-bhabie-2000

[jade-marie]

Heyyy. With all this supposed romantic jealousy and like you said ‘dick measuring’ game that Nick and Rio are playing, I think about the scene in the car after Beth got Rio arrested and Nick got him out. Rio said: “so what do you want to do about [Beth?] and Nick said “not what you want to do.” This scene makes it seem like they have a plan that they’re BOTH in on to deal with Beth. I’m at first I thought they were playing good cop/bad cop (I still think they are) but now Rio is clearly uncomfortable with Nick’s plan. What the fuck is going on because I am confused?

Also do you think the dynamic between Nick and Rio will become clearer by the finale? They seem to have a very complex relationship and wow, who would have thought utilising one of your best and most underused character that LITERALLY DRIVES THE WHOLE MAIN PLOT would make the show interesting again 🤔

Hi, doll! Ok, you’re gonna have to bear with me because my brain is messy at the best of times and I’ve had a non stop headache since yesterday morning, so making sense of my thoughts is hella difficult right now lol. I’m just gonna break this up into sections to help me keep track of everything!

P.s. I’m sorry this got long 🥴

Rio and Nick’s dynamic

So, from what we’ve seen so far, Nick is extremely narcissistic, manipulative, and selfish. In my opinion, he doesn’t really seem to have a very strong sense of self or morality, he just becomes whoever he needs to, in order to achieve the goal at hand. Whether it’s kissing ass at the golf club, playing politics, or having Rio thrown in jail/beaten with a stool. He’s always thinking about the long game, always about the bigger picture, he likes to use every situation/person to his advantage. He seems to have some sort of resentment and/or jealousy towards Rio and that comes out a lot in his desire to take from Rio. He took his dreams of being a boxing a boxer, his freedom, trivial stuff like the burger and the basketball. I also think he wants to take Beth but they’ve not made it clear in what capacity he wants to take her. Whether it’s because he’s clocked that Rio has/had genuine feelings for her, or because he thinks Beth is a business asset. Either way, he sees that Beth is a sore spot and he’s going to keep pushing as a way to exert power and feel like a man.

Rio, on the other hand, likes to see immediate results, and he can be pretty impulsive. He’s also very self-assured, he is who he is and he doesn’t change that for anyone. He literally has a giant tattoo across his throat which he displays proudly because he doesn’t care how anyone else sees him. But he has a natural charm and charisma that he can use when he needs it, without having to become a completely different person. I think he’s a very emotional person, regardless of how much he tries to hide it, which can make him pretty reactive to situations – see: basically every interaction with Beth.

They’re wildly different people and this would cause conflict in itself because they immediately want to handle situations differently, like with Annie being kidnapped. The girls owed him money, Rio was mad about it, and he wanted an immediate resolution to that problem, whereas Nick didn’t care so much about the short-term financial issues, in comparison to the long-term benefit to him of keeping Beth onside. Within their organisation, the structure is still kinda murky because he doesn’t seem to be the boss, but then he does and ehhh. Supposedly Rio handles all the illicit stuff and then Nick pushes through city contracts to shell corporations he owns and also makes money from that, as well as keeping Rio out of jail. The actual power imbalance between them still irks me because Nick is literally a councilman. He has no real clout. There’s no reason for him to have such a hold over Rio, especially when Rio knows exactly what Nick is and he also knows that Nick wouldn’t have dick without him. But I digress.

The conversation in the car

I definitely think that conversation is very relevant to what’s happening with Beth right now. In that moment, I think Rio wanted revenge, plain and simple but he was also thinking long term. I don’t think he was planning on going out to kill her, but that’s where Nick’s mind went because he severely underestimates how much of a “big picture guy” Rio can be hence telling Rio, “not what you want to do”. Presumably, there would’ve been a discussion between them off screen where Nick decided exactly what was going to happen and how they were going to use her. My guess is that going forward they were basically going to play a game of ‘good cop bad cop’. Nick offers himself up as the friendly local councilman, shows concern for Beth, helps her etc, while Rio is more menacing than ever. Rio is reluctantly going along with this plan because of the stupid power imbalance, but I think he’s got something up his sleeve. I think the discomfort we’re seeing from Rio stems from their difference in opinion on how to handle Beth, Rio chafing under Nick’s control and also the resentment Rio holds because of Nick’s constant routine of taking what’s his. I kinda spoke about it in this post.

Last time Beth got Rio arrested, he shot Dean - he’s not shy when it comes to payback. Typically, he’s always quite reactive to situations and that can (has) come to bite him in the ass but he knows this. He was there. He knows that every time he pushes Beth, she pushes back with equal force, so he needs to immobilise her. While Nick just wants to use Beth to benefit himself financially, by using her to push through contracts for shell corporations etc, I think Rio wanted to kill two birds with one stone. He can use Beth as a shield for his business and make money off her, then later on, I think he probably wants to use her to get rid of Nick and potentially let Beth go down with him as payback for her betrayal (at least, I think that was his original plan but he may soften to her and end up forming an alliance once Nick is out of the picture).

Romantic Jealousy?

As for the jealousy, it’s still not the word I’d choose to describe Rio. It probably fits, to a degree, but I always associate it with pettiness and wanting stuff you don’t have - i.e. Nick. With Rio, it feels more possessive over what he already has because he knows Nick wants to take it. This now extends to Beth because she was and is his, at least in a business sense. I don’t think he’s ever been particularly jealous of her in their personal relationship because neither of them ever truly gave into whatever it was. In business, she worked for him, she answered to him, if she needed help – she came to him, and he’s created that dynamic with Beth by keeping her isolated from his wider organisation. He was effectively trying to mentor her and make her in his image. Now, Nick comes along and suddenly Beth’s going to Nick for help, Beth’s doing what Nick says, and she’s looking to Nick as a mentor. So, once again, Nick is taking what belongs to Rio. That’s why I think he reacted the way he did in the strip club. He realised that he was about to lose to Nick again, and he wasn’t willing to let that happen, so he pulled out the ol’ carrot and stick. He took her money away as a punishment, made her think on her feet, and then rewarded her for a job well done. He showed her that she doesn’t need Nick because then Nick has no hold over her. He’s showing Beth that she can get shit done on her own, but also reminding her that he essentially made her what she is. He taught her. He believed in her. He asked her what she gained from being on the city council and doing what Nick tells her, knowing full well she gets fuck all out of it because he knows Nick. Then he gave her a reward to make ‘team Rio’ all the more appealing. Yes, there could well be some romantic feelings under that but I don’t think that’s what’s driving Rio right now. I think this is firmly about him and Nick, while Beth has become another toy for them to fight over.

[welcometoels]

Session Twelve - Monthend

Among the entrails of a giant lizard creature and an undead Dragonborn, the victorious party stands.  The skies have cleared, and off to the south, a huge tower stands - Monthend.

This is a matter for tomorrow, though, since cleaner-turned-publican-turned-mayor Tiatha Rowe is standing in the doorway of the Jaunty Skinner, furious about the gore that slicks her entryway.  She fetches buckets, mops and brooms, and gets Normal Leg Barty on the case.

Oddsock is discomforted by the idea of cleaning and hides himself behind some barrels, but Julius mucks in with gusto, using his druidic magic to help sluice the worst of the detritus away from the pub.

Once everything and everyone is looking cleaner, Tiatha locks the pub doors, fetches all the bedding from upstairs, and invites everyone to enjoy ale and food on the house.  Barty fetches out a roasted two-faced pig from the back, along with some grilled fish for Julius.

A squeak is heard from Oddsock’s pack, and beside him appears two barrels, both marked in Infernal with their names - Elvish Juice and Jackies’ Hammer.  Accompanying them is a letter - also in Infernal - and a little bag of treats.  Oddsock wolfs down the treats before reading the letter, which is just as well, since that is what the letter instructs him to do.

The treats taste of Oddsock’s favourite meats - a mixture of imp and beholder flesh - barbecued and mixed with a variety of warm spices.  He feels a pleasant burn in his throat, which gives way to a gentle tingle of power.

Barty, spotting the barrels, fetches them over to the bar and taps them.  The sheer number of revellers proves to be a problem, however - the pub is short three clean mugs.

X produces her bejewelled Cup of Sune, and Oddsock his iron dog bowl.  Talion, after a moment, remembers the simple wooden cup in his pack, and produces it.

Barty - a man of the world who has seen many a magical thing - feels sure he recognises the cup, and asks for one of the party’s potions.  Filling the cup, he passes it to the clearly wounded Freginald.  Supping it down, the burly fighter reports that the potion seems to be at full potency.  Furthermore, he can sip what he needs from the potion, and leave the rest for another person.

At this time, what he needs is the whole lot, so he chugs it down before getting an ale.

Oddsock, meanwhile, has a chew on his dragon toy Tim, and requests an audience with his patron in his domain, rather than just at the edge of unreality.  It’s his first time in his patron’s lair, and he finds it rather comfortable - a small bar with a single beer pump dominates one wall, while the rest of the cosy space is bedecked with cushions and low tables, with howling dog head lanterns on the walls, spitting balls of fire from their mouths.

The two enjoy a nice chat over a fresh IPA, while Oddsock quizzes the black-robed figure about various things - mostly about the meanings of terms like “core competencies” and “vertical integration”.  The patron is unsure, and advises him to seek out a more evil being for these answers.

Back in regular reality, Julius carves a couple of his pebbles - one in the likeness of Barty, and the other as he imagines X’s goddess Sune.  Both turn out quite well, and he decides to offer them up as parting gifts in the morning.

Talion, meanwhile, begins a new composition - a stirring number that details the events from his arrival in Dogwood to the final defeat of Slathiel.  Even at these early stages, it is a fine song, and one that will doubtless get even better with successive renditions.

Kadis sits apart from the fun, contemplating the gear that was planted in his hand by mysterious forces.  It is made from a smooth material, with a suggestion of unknown magics.  In this respect, it is just like the egg that hangs next to his idol, but he feels no connection to it.

The drinking and eating continues with much joyous revelry, until the air is filled with the sound of steam-powered hooting.  Aberron - who had secreted himself in a corner with the remains of his brass owl Dominique - holds aloft his repaired companion, who spreads her wings in celebration.

The night draws on and the food and ale dwindles until nothing remains but sleep.  Oddsock gets the best place for himself - right by the hearth, in a pile of racoons.

The party has strange dreams of a creepy house filled with unknowable horrors, though Kadis finds that his usual writhing tentacles are confined behind a locked door.

After a moment, he finds himself on the other side of that door.  Before him is a single, glowing egg.  A dark tentacle slinks up and around it, clutching it tighter and tighter until the shell breaks.

Then, he sees a face.  Though it is older by some margin than the last time he saw it, it is definitely his own, with the strip of material bound around his eyes.

After a couple of minutes, he comes to a realisation:

He is no longer asleep.

As he reaches up to touch his face, his vision blurs and skips, until he can see himself from an elevation, lying on the inn floor with his friends.

Taking a moment to gain his bearings, he begins to move to where he believes the vision is coming from.  Understandably disoriented, he stumbles over Julius, who awakes with a hiss and a grumble.

Assisting each other, the two find the source of the visions - a tiny little floating green ball with a single eye in the middle, and four miniscule flickering tentacles.

Based on their encounter at Mansion de Mortesque, Julius identifies it as a beholder - probably a newborn, and much more alive than the one they fought before.

Julius gives Kadis a once-over, and finds nothing new or different about him that would explain his connection to the creature.  He does, however, notice that the mysterious idol is gone, and shards of it are across the monk’s chest.  The only thing that remains on Kadis’ necklace is the egg that was once a black-green lantern.

Feeling the bond with this creature, Kadis holds out his hand and beckons it to him.  It floats warily over, before nestling into his palm and purring gently.  Julius takes copious notes, and observes that the beholder’s connection to Kadis is similar to his own link with the fey weasel Rupert - who, upon hearing his name, pops up from under Julius’ potato sack robe, squeaking curiously.

By now, the rest of the party has awoken.  After a series of disgruntled borks, Oddsock accepts the new arrival, though Talion remains unimpressed.  The baby beholder, a little overwhelmed, tucks itself into Kadis’ clothes, peeking out with its little bulbous eye.

Now that the sun has risen, Tiatha unlocks the doors and Barty brings out the breakfast - porridge, and eggs in various styles from a farm in the north.  Oddsock tucks in to the eggs, and Julius enjoys the porridge, though Kadis and Talion are rather more wary.

After breakfast, Julius hands over his carved pebbles to their intended recipients.  Barty is moved almost to tears by the gift, but he keeps his cheeks dry through the sheer power of swarthiness.  X is also delighted, though she does mistake the woman in the carving for Em.  In either case, she is enchanted.

And so, the time comes for departures.  Aberron and Freginald decide to stay in Dogwood to pursue their new trades of artificery and tattoo artistry respectively.  38/12 also opts to stick around for a while to assist Aberron with his research into... whatever 38/12 is.

X and Gyder, unsurprisingly, decide to move on, having unfinished business elsewhere.  Barty also chooses to leave, to return home to his Polly - the most beautiful bird there ever was.  To fill his post at the Skinner, Tiatha recruits Dandy Bianco, former castle guard and horse testicle enthusiast.

Also leaving town today, though with very little fondness, is Eno Greysect.  Tired of his home being pissed upon and his nose being punched upon, he hangs up a sign reading “God Does Not Live Here” and strides miserably south.

Oddsock, naturally, changes the first word to “Dog” as he trots over to bid farewell to the Jackies.  His firm raccoon friends have committed themselves to keepings Oddsock’s beers brewing, and will share the profits next time he visits.  They also ask that he spreads the word of Dogwood to the Monthenders, so they they can grow the town and eventually start a proper Chamber of Commerce.

Oddsock agrees, and wonders how long it will be before the Jackies become mayors of the town.  Jackie Face mulls this over with a peculiar look upon his face while Oddsock exits cheerfully, a four pack of new raccoon-made health potions in his pack to share with the party.

Having bid farewell to their new friends, the party leaves town.  Then, after a moment, they return, having forgotten that they have two horses.  Then they leave town.

On the way to Monthend, a couple of things break up the journey.  Firstly, as evening draws in, the team arrives at the southern farm - the journey being much quicker with horses and without displacer beasts.

As they arrive, they see a familiar, unconscious Dwarf being loaded into a wagon, and being shuttled off to Monthend.  Apparently, last night, an undead Dragonborn burst out of the ground, shouting about a monk that had stolen his lantern, startling former trading post manager Grum Swabspud half to death.

The party feigns ignorance as they join the farmers for some simple food (no porridge) and some beds for the night.

Shortly after departing in the morning, they encounter a group of mounted High Elves, on their way to investigate the town that had suddenly appeared in the woods around (and owned by) Monthend.  Embracing the opportunity to quiz some of the new town’s residents, they join the group on the road to Monthend.

Many questions follow, most of which are answered by another stirring rendition of Talion’s new song.  The Elven guards vow to pass on the information - especially the addition details regarding new trading opportunities with several individuals named Jackie.

At the gates of Monthend, a miserable little horse administrator takes down the details of their steeds so they they can be kept in the stables until they leave.  When asked for the names of their horses, the team freezes - they never named them.  Fortunately, Oddsock uses his broken knowledge of Domestic Animal to speak to them and ask them.

Turns out they’re both called Horse.  Who would’ve thought?

After receiving a receipt made out to group leader Mr O Sock, the adventurers find themselves in the luxurious, high-end sprawl of Els’ unofficial capital, with nothing on their schedule.  This can mean only one thing...

Shopping!

Over the next couple of hours they put some serious damage into their communal funds.  Kadis purchases a new cloth to cover his eyes - one that can be carefully adapted to secrete an infant beholder, with a little slit for it to peek out.  Julius also opts for clothes, but something in a thicker hide than his current clobber.

Talion and Oddsock have their sights set on something more magical.  The dog goes sniffing around for magic ink, to transfer some Necromantic cantrips from the Mortesque books to his magical codex, while Talion attempts to chat with girl at the counter - a surly High Elf of no more than 90 years, with a tag that reads “Hello!  My Name Is NUNYA”

His conversational gambits are rebuffed, so he tries a little magical charm.  Suddenly, a crystal on the counter flashes with a lightning bolt that he barely avoids, and the girl taps a little sign on the counter which says “Do Not Charm The Staff”

Chastened, he browses the shelves an finds a copper bracelet within his price range, which slightly improves his weak constitution.  The High Elf rings up the sale with the same sullen disposition, tapping the sign reading “Do Not Bother The Staff” when Oddsock demands to speak to their raccoon.

Threats to speak to a supervisor follow, and the girl taps her Supervisor badge, and then a sign simply reading “No”.  The two leave the shop under a cloud, but take their revenge in their signature ways:  Talion playing a vicious polemic about poor customer service upon his lyre, while Oddsock pisses in the doorway.

On their way to rejoin the others, Kadis and Julius encounter a harried Tabby Tabaxi trying to wrangle two kitten-aged Persians out of the gutter where they’d found a rat, whilst also pushing a third kitten in a pram.  Julius goes over to introduce himself and offer assistance, but the Tabby panics and ushers her young charges away.

The group as a whole is a little put out by their experiences in Monthend, but a little cheer follows as a crow-like Kenku rounds the corner, shouting about happy hour at The Wayward Alchemist.  He hands the group some flyers filled with food and drink offers, and they notice a sign around his neck reading “I Repeat Your Message For One Gold A Day.”

Julius and Talion try to engage him in conversation, but all he does is repeat what they say back at them.  Realising what is going on, Talion pens a short missive, hands the Kenku a gold coin, and reads aloud:

New trade routes have opened up to Dogwood!  Come and visit the best new town in Els!

The Kenku pauses, then repeats it word for word, before offering them a chance to change the message if needed.  Most of the party members are satisfied, but one adds “Presented By Oddsock” to the message before accepting the final draft.

The Kenku waddles on, alternating between his new Dogwood message and the one for The Wayward Alchemist.

Since they are now at a loose end, and since the position of the sun as it descends behind a clock tower suggests that it is now happy hour, the party decides to check out this tavern.

The handy map on the back of the flyer leads them out of the well-heeled streets of central Monthend, and into the less salubrious (though still adequately-heeled) outskirts.

Oddsock takes a minor detour after spotting a church of Commerce on the mini-map, and after sullying their windows with magically hurled dog eggs, soiling the curtains and placing anti-capitalist propaganda runes on the steps, he skips cheerfully along to join the rest of the crew.

The Wayward Alchemist is a large, stone building, with a large, stone doorman.  Julius introduces himself, and the Golem returns the greeting, indicating the name carved into his chest:  Stopdick.  He opens the door for the party, and they enter.

The interior is bustling with customers enjoying two-for-one Jinn & Tonics, and waiting staff in very little clothing.  Kadis and Oddsock are slightly overwhelmed, but Julius takes in every detail with great clarity, from the fancy High Elf at the bar, to the stern Tiefling standing before a door at the back, next to a wide flight of stairs leading up.

As Julius heads off to introduce himself to the Tiefling - having never met one before - Talion regards the place with a lesser eye for the details, but a greater understanding.  With liquor in the front, and probably poker in the back, plus several scantily clad servers, he does the mental arithmetic and comes up with the most likely answer: brothel.  With a sly smile, he heads for the bar.

As he does, Julius engages in conversation with the Tiefling, whose name is Tabitha.  He boldly asks what she is, and she informs him that she is a bar manager, which Julius takes questionably accurate note of.  She asks if he plays cards, and, accurately judging the confusion on his little otter face, guides him gently towards the safety of the bar.

Down at the other end, Talion tries to gain the attention of a barman, but instead attracts the High Elf, who introduces himself as Herrington.  Pointing to the dragon scale on Talion’s necklace, he sidles in close and tells him that he and his friends are hunters too, and may have taken down a dragon or two themselves.

Unable to stop himself, Talion prepares to take a swing at Herrington, and is stopped at the last moment by a pressure on his elbow.  Beside and somewhat below him stands a very glamourous Halfling carrying a bottle of aged Goodberry wine on a tray.  She tugs at his arm insistently, and guides him back over to his friends, and then over to a nice quiet table at the back.

She introduces herself as Zanthia, and drops off the bottle on the table, along with four glasses.  She says that they are on the house - better than the watered down Happy Hour swill - and that she has a lot to talk to them about after her performance..

Before they can ask any questions, they are interrupted by a drunken hand across Zanthia’s buttocks.  A leering customer demands that she go and fetch him another drink - which, with a barely perceptible flash of something across her eyes, she does.

She then takes to the small stage at the far end of the bar.  Throughout the room, the candles dim, save for those that illuminate her.  Fetching up a saxophone from beside the stage, she performs a slow, haunting number - one which Talion finds strangely familiar.

The tempo has been slightly adjusted, and the key is different, but there is no mistaking it - The Ballad of Araniel: his signature composition.

Once the applause has died down, Zanthia returns to the table and invites the group to join her upstairs for a private conversation.  She knows who they all are, and needs their assistance.

The party remains silent - a silence only broken by the lecherous customer behind, as he snores face down into his drink.

[kindahoping4forever]

Camping // Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings

We received the same prompt request for both Luke and Ashton and @cal-puddies​ thought it would be a fun idea if both stories took place in the same world! Cass asked me to fill the Ash request (because she’s a true friend) while she took on the Luke prompt and then we fit them together. So to clarify - this is not a Lashton fic but essentially an Ashton story (Crystal got a bit carried away, what a surprise) with a Luke epilogue. 

Prompt: "Do you think they can hear us through the tent?” “Yes we can.”

Warnings: Fun, fluffy smut. Slight auditory voyeurism/exhibitionism. Self-indulgent amounts of witty banter with Boyfriend!Ash. Cameo by Sassy!Calum. Afterword starring Horny!Luke.

Word Count: 2,358 

Cass & Crystal’s Collab Masterlist

Let  us  know  what  you  think!

————-

You stretch yourself across the air mattress and loudly groan. 

You and Ashton had recently discovered your shared love for camping and you were excited he was finally able to convince the rest of the guys to join you on a weekend getaway. Not to mention the fact that they'd be heading out on tour soon and you were looking forward to soaking up all the time you had left with your boyfriend before you had to share him with the world again.

The drive up was nice and the hike wasn't too strenuous but after what seemed like an endless ordeal of surveying the perfect terrain to set up camp and the actual building of your tent (because someone doesn't like to follow instruction manuals and has to figure it out himself), you were excited to relax your muscles and maybe indulge in a short nap.

"You realize we're sharing that, correct?" Ashton teases, zipping your tent shut behind him and crawling over to join you. 

"I'm pretty sure the box said 'queen,' thought that meant it was mine," you shrug, starfishing across the bed even further.

"Fair enough," he grins before climbing on the mattress and then climbing on you, draping his large frame across you to mirror your position.

You giggle and try to push his heavy body off of you, to no avail. "Noooo, you're all sweaty from putting the tent together," your complaint barely audible, muffled by his giant shoulder in your face. "You could've just asked me to move over, no suffocation necessary." You try to nip at his skin to get him to budge but he's got you pinned good and the best you can manage is briefly catching the edge of his tank top between your teeth. 

"Ask her royal highness to share? I would never," he faux gasps, laughing loudly at your struggle. "And I know you like me sweaty, baby, I saw you watching me build our palace." He lifts his face to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at you and finally allows you to push him over to your side.

"I was watching you so intently because I wanted you to hurry up so I could come in and rest," you jab at his side.

"In-TENT-ly," he honks, his giggles increasing in volume. 

Ash's glee is contagious and you find yourself laughing along with him, "You're the worst, oh my god," you wipe tears from your eyes. "I heard Mike say he and Crystal were going to go rest too, you need to keep it together."

"You think they can hear us through the tent?" He asks, still trying to regain his composure. 

"Yes we can," you hear Calum's voice coming through clear as day. "And y'all are annoying as fuck."

"You're just mad because you're still building your tent, ya slowpoke," Ash fires back, cracking himself up and the giggles start up again.

Luke's high-pitched giggle can be heard in the distance, followed by an incredulous "Fuck off, mate, you're not done either!" from Cal. 

You shake your head and playfully shove at Ash. “Fuckin troublemaker,” you tease, quieter now that you know the others can hear you.

“Yeah? I’ll show you trouble, baby,” he smirks, pecking his lips across your neck and face.

“Oh my god, you are in a mood,” you giggle quietly, pushing him away again. “You can show me as much trouble as you want after I take a nap.” You settle in against your pillow and close your eyes. 

“Deal!” He chuckles and presses a kiss to your temple.

You’re stirred from sleep a short time later by the sound of your tent unzipping and open your eyes to see a wet-haired Ashton, clad only in black athletic shorts entering.

“Oh shit, baby, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to wake ya,” he says apologetically.

You take in the sight of him, sitting on the edge of the mattress, toweling off his hair. He looks good and you can’t deny the sudden desire you have to feel him close to you. You clear your throat casually, “Go for a dip?”

“Oh yeah, lake was real nice,” he enthuses, tossing his towel aside. “Mattress comfy?”

You shrug coyly, “You could come see for yourself.” 

He smiles smugly and crawls up to you, “Oh, you like me again? Thought I was a troublemaker?” He lays down next to you and moves in close.

You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and pull him so that he’s inches from your face. “Well, who doesn’t like a little trouble?” You nip at his bottom lip. “Love, even?” 

You pull him in, kissing him hard and he instantly deepens it. You’re happy to lay there, enjoying the sounds of nature and the feel of each other; your lazy makeout is unhurried but your shirt and shorts get lost at some point and Ash ends up laying on top of you, in between your legs. 

Ash gently rocks his hips against your clothed center, earning a low moan when you feel how hard he is for you. “Feels like you’re about as ready for me as I am for you,” you muse, rolling your hips against his to illustrate your point.

He groans quietly and reaches down to pull your panties and his shorts off as you fling your bra to the side of the mattress. You gasp as he runs his cock along your folds, even stopping to tease your clit with his tip. Just as you’re about to start whining, he pushes in and you sigh in relief.

“Were you about to tell me to just fuck you already?” He grins and kisses you as he thrusts slowly.

“If you don’t pick up the pace, I still might,” you smirk, biting his lip.

Smiling, he shakes his head at you, lifts your leg up to hook around his waist and swats your ass while he’s at it. He begins pounding into you and taunts, “This better?”

You, of course, are unable to answer with anything but heavy breathing, which only encourages him to fuck you even harder. 

For the next few minutes, the air is still except for the sounds of skin slapping against skin and birds chirping in the distance. You’re digging your nails into Ash’s back and are about to slide a hand down to your clit to speed up your orgasm when a loud clanging and a grumbled “Fuckin hell” shatters the silence.

Ash stills his movements and you both stare at each other. “The fuck was that?” You mouth at your boyfriend, who is buried deep inside you.

“It’s gotta be Cal,” he whispers. “His tent still wasn't up when I got back from the lake.” He stifles a giggle.

“You knew he was out there and you still let me come on to you?” You reach to pinch his arm and accidentally moan at the way your movement drags his cock inside you. 

He snorts as you glare at him. "No one was around when I came in here," he protests softly. "Besides, baby, you were pretty determined to get a piece of me…"

A loud metal THWACK followed by more muttered profanities interrupts Ashton's teasing. Your eyes widen as you hear both Michael and Luke come out of their tents to offer Cal their assistance.

Ash knows better than to laugh at this point but you can see the delight on his face and you have to admit the situation is pretty ridiculous. You clench around his cock just enough to get him to close his eyes from the sensation. 

“You’re balls deep inside of me with all your friends less than 50 feet away and you want to make jokes?” You try to purse your lips in a pout but it ends up more of a smile.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks you sincerely.

You listen to the rustling and light conversation of the guys working outside; they sound fairly preoccupied with what they’re doing. You look up into Ash’s eyes, a beautiful hazel pool currently filled with equal concern and amusement. You think about his hard cock nestled inside you and how close you were to cumming around it. You honestly still feel pretty close. You couldn’t… could you? 

You rotate your hips slowly, causing you both to exhale deeply. Ash raises his eyebrows to you, silently asking for permission and you offer him a passionate kiss in response. He gently begins rocking into you, careful not to move too vigorously, trying to minimize sound. You reach down and start working your clit; you bite your lip to keep from moaning at how instantly good it feels.

It's not long before his pace starts increasing and you can tell he’s nearing his end. “You gonna cum for me, troublemaker?” You can’t help but ask in a hushed tone.

A strangled moan leaves Ash’s throat as he buries his face in your neck and spills into you; hearing him lose control like that sets you off as well and you pant heavily as your orgasm washes over you.

He stays laid on top of you for a few moments as you both catch your breath as quietly as you can. Eventually he kisses you softly, pulls out and grabs his discarded towel from earlier to clean you both up. 

“I can’t believe you still wanted to finish with everyone right there,” he quietly teases. “Do you have a secret exhibitionist kink we’ve yet to explore or are you just that crazy about me?”

“Or maybe you’re just being exhausting and I didn’t know how I was going to get through the rest of the day without releasing some tension?” You taunt with a smirk, sitting up to pull your clothes back on.

He pulls his shorts on and moves to the corner of the tent to dig a clean shirt out of his backpack, pouting at your joke. You crawl up behind him and press light kisses to the tattoo on his neck until he giggles and swats you away.

You unzip the tent and peek your head out. “Coast looks clear,” you shrug, stepping out. “Cal’s tent is done though,” you comment.

“Fuckin finally!” Ash exclaims and pinches your ass as he exits the tent. “Took all goddamn day to finish.”

“Alright, troublemaker, that’s enough.” Cal’s voice appears behind you and you both whip your heads to see him walking behind your tent with an armful of firewood. “Never realized you got so excited about finishing.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Luke spent his day getting handsy after getting the tent set up. Which was fine, because you aren’t sure how Ash talked everyone into a camping trip anyways. But he did and you’re here. (You think Luke must have used some alternative actions to get you to agree to it.) 

He’s been especially handsy since he and Mike helped Calum build his tent and they overheard Ash and his girl having sex. Apparently that was exciting for Luke. 

You’re sitting in front of the fire, wrapped in one of Luke’s hoodies. It was a little after 11 and Michael and Crystal had already gone to bed.

Luke leans over, “Hey, wanna go down the lake?” He asks.

“Sure, baby,” you agree, grabbing his hand. He takes a couple drinks from the cooler and when you stop by the tent to get a blanket, he digs in his bag for a minute, retrieving a condom and a flashlight. 

You give him a questioning look but he waits until you get a little ways down the path to respond. “I think it’s already been proven you can hear what’s going on in the tents,” he laughs. 

“I see. So you think I’m gonna fuck you out in the open?” You laugh. 

“A man can hope,” he smirks. 

He hands you the flashlight and lays out the blanket, laying down and holding his arm out for you to lay down with him. “I like when we get to do this,” you murmur, resting your head on his chest. 

“Me too,” he kisses the top of your head and you look up at him for a kiss. It quickly turns into a make out session, and you realize pretty quickly that he wants it to go further. 

He reaches down and grabs your ass, pulling you on top of him. “You want me to ride you in the middle of the forest,” you chuckle. 

“You don’t have to ride me but I didn’t bring you to the middle of nowhere to not get laid,” he smirks. 

You laugh and shake your head, “I hate you.” 

“And that’s why your hand is on my dick right now?” He chuckles. 

“You know I like it when you’re hard for me,” you shrug. 

“I know you like it when I’m hard in you,” he laughs. 

“Yeah, I do like that,” you nod, smiling. 

“Sooo… middle of nowhere, under the stars?” He asks. 

“Yeah… but I gotta leave the hoodie on, it’s cold.” 

You lean up and start kissing him. Luke quickly takes your shorts off and pulls his down. He pulls you on top of him and you roll the condom on and guide him in. “Quick and dirty, the way I like it,” you laugh, starting a rhythm. 

“A little too literal,” he cracks. 

And then it goes quiet. He focuses on touching you and then it’s just moans.

“Fuck, Luke,” you moan and he can tell you’re getting close. 

“That’s it, baby… wanna feel you squeeze around me,” he encourages, bucking his hips up to give you more friction. 

You fall forward, pushing your hands against his chest. “Wanna cum for you,” you pant. 

Your ears perk up as you hear what you think are footsteps. You stop immediately. “Did you hear that?” You ask, eyes going wide. 

“No, baby, I didn’t. C’mon.” He swats your ass. 

“Luke, what if it’s a bear?!” You whisper yell. 

“It’s not a fucking bear! Just cum so I can go the fuck to bed!” Cal yells. “Y’all act like you’re the quietest fuckers on earth,” he groans.

—-

@cal-puddies Tag list: @cocktail-calum @1dthewantedlove @youngblood199456 @lustingforwunder @calumsphile @neso-k @rosecoloredash @radmcqueen @justayoungandwisefangirl @itsnotmyblood  @lietoash @pushthetide21 @5sosfanficrec @therealmrshale @fallfrxmgrace @lukashemmos @justarandomgirlthatyoudontknow @5sos-microwave @madbomb @sweetheartmendes1000 @literally-anythin @lfwallscouldtalk @clemmingstylins0n @ccnicole02 @lustingfor5sos @buteverythingiscopacetic @rosesfromcth @bodaciousbonzi1996 @ashtontotheirwin @captainam-erika-trash @xxgendurvikixx @jazzyangel242 @bluebabycal @rhiannonmichellee @iovehemmings @glitterycalum1205 @katcontreras @cashtonasfuck @ificanthaveu @kindahoping4forever @here-for-the-uproars @canterburyfiction @opheliaaurora  @queer-5sos @banditocth @gigglyirwin  @glitterycalum1205 @rebelwith0utacause​ @thesubtweeter​

@cal-puddies gc tags: @sublimehood @sugarcoated-pain @5sosnsfw @angelbabylu @aspiringwildfire @irwinkitten @lashtoncurls @myloverboyash @singt0mecalum

[forever-more-never-again]

Light and Dark (Part Three)

Summary: What changes would occur if there were Two Avatars during Aang’s adventures? One that has a connection to the banished Fire lord Prince?

Word Count: 1627

Pairings: Zuko X Avatar!Reader, Aang X Avatar!Reader, Platonic!Katara X Reader, Platonic!Sokka X Reader, Platonic!Toph X Reader

Warnings: Mentions of angst

A/n: We meet a minor character that everyone should remember

Part One / Part Two

Matsterlist

It took a few minutes, but eventually you were in the saddle atop Appa flying through the air with the rest of the Gang.

Aang sat on his head, glancing back at you every so often in concern. You sat on one side while Katara, Sokka and Toph sat on the other side. 

You were emotionally drained after your confrontation with General Iroh. Dragon of the West. 

“So. Where are we going exactly?”

Aang spoke up from his seat, “We’re gonna find a small village to lay low for a while. Don’t worry about it [Y/n]. We’ll figure all of this out. I have faith in us.”

Aang turned and you saw the spark of truth in his grey eyes. Feeling heat creep up your neck, you quickly looked away, out over the clouds sailing past.

You heard movement from beside you, and turned to see Sokka stretching out, his head now near your crossed legs.

“Um.” Was your eloquent wording.

Sokka Smiled up at you, and you were immensely grateful that he was quick to warm up to you, unlike his sister and Toph.

“Oh hey [Y/n]. Come here often?” And then he did a ridiculous wave with his eyebrows.

You snorted, bringing a hand up to try and stifle it but more giggles burst past your lips and soon you and Sokka were both laughing.

Faintly, you picked up some quiet chuckles from Aang.

“Stop messing around guys. We’re in Fire Nation territory. Do you want to be caught because someone looked up at a laughing cloud?” Katara’s icy cold voice cut through the light atmosphere.

Sokka looked over at his sister, a hint of disappointment on his face.

Katara looked away, her arms crossed, a frown on her face.

In an attempt to dissuade a sibling fight, you hummed in acknowledgement, “You’re right Katara. I’m sorry I was careless.”

Her blue eyes flew back over to you and you saw the shock in them. You hadn’t expected that to hurt as much as it did though.

True you had only been apart of this group for a handful of days, but you had already grown close to Sokka and Aang and hoped to be friends with Katara and Toph.

After all those years on the run, it was nice to be with a set of people and let them in.

“Alright. We’re going down.”

At Aang’s words, everyone grabbed the sides of the saddle as the giant sky bison slowly descended into a wooded area.

Once on solid grown, you slid down and wobbled when your feet made contact with the ground.

Before your face could get reactuanted with dirt, hands wrapped around your waist and stabilized you.

That’s how you found yourself face to face with a red faced Air Bender.

His hands flew to his sides like they had been burned as he opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“Thank you for catching me.” You smiled softly at the teen.

One hand went to rub the back of his neck and he mumbled something before rushing back to finish unloading the saddle.

Confused slightly by his behaviour, you brushed it off as you watched Sokka laugh and kiss a black sword he called his ‘Moonbeam’. Which made your mind go somewhere dirty and you covered your giggles by coughing.

“The Village is a few miles that way.” You jumped with a shriek at the voice that came from right next to you.

Hand on your chest you glared at Toph even though she couldn’t see it.

She seemed unfazed by your freakout, and remained stone faced as she pointed South.

Aang walked up on the other side of you, “Yeah that’s what I spotted from up above. It looks pretty small, but not small enough that we’ll draw attention to ourselves.”

Breathing deeply, you shouldered your courage, and your bag, and began walking, “I guess we’ll see what happens when we get there.”

Silence descended as your group walked under shaded trees. Listening to bird songs and lizard chirps.

You found yourself walking behind everyone. Noticing the quick glances Katara would occasionally give you, showing her unease at having you at her back.

Aang drifted towards you after a short conversation with Toph and Sokka that you couldn’t hear.

“So.”

You looked at him from the corner of your eyes. His tattoos were once again covered by a headband, his dark hair covering the rest of his head.

“You want to talk about the whole Avatar thing. But honestly, I have no clue...and I’m scared Aang.” Your last words came out in a whisper, barely a breath.

You knew Aang heard you though by the way he stiffened ever so slightly and his hand twitched like he wanted to comfort but didn’t want to overstep.

Instead, he ended up clasping his hands together behind his head, staring ahead at the others, “I know we don’t have a lot of answers [Y/n], but we should go over what we do know so we can figure it out.”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you thought back over the events that led you to your current position.

“So we know that you’re the true Avatar.”

Your statement startled Aang and he opened his mouth, but before he could argue, you shook your head and met his grey eyes head on, “You know it’s true Aang. I’m not supposed to be here. Simple as that. I’m only a- a multi bender because some dark spirit got released.”

You struggled with calling yourself an Avatar and settled with Multi Bender. Because that’s what you truly were, weren’t you. The Avatar was someone merged with the spirit of Raava not Vaatu, like you were.

“Let’s not forget, Avatar Roku said it was a sign of change. And that you can control how Vaatu merges with your soul.” 

You were thankful Aang didn’t argue with you, but his words brought a round of nausea through you.

“Yeah. And I feel like I might have already screwed up.”

At Aang’s curious glance, you sighed and elaborated, “How I reacted to General Iroh and my past...that wasn’t all just me. I could feel Vaatu coursing through me, feeding my anger, stoking it higher.” Your tone was dejected, and you couldn’t look at Aang anymore as you felt the shame of your actions.

A gentle touch on your arm had you startling and looking back at the Air Bender.

A soft smile graced his lips and you felt the sudden urge to hide behind your hands but at the same time protect that smile with everything you had.

“[Y/n], you can’t beat yourself over that. You acted rashly, but you can choose how you react from now on. And with us beside you,” he gestured ahead to where Sokka was teasing Toph and Katara was shaking her head good naturedly at them, “I know you can achieve great things!”

Aang’s words of encouragement had your breath catching in your throat. You felt hot tears sting your eyes but you refused to allow them to fall.

This was a first for you. People believing in you, having your back.

Sure Prince Zuko had been there for you when you were a simple servant and child in the royal palace, but this was different.

These people had no reason to be this nice and understanding, and yet here was Aang, smiling softly at you, his hand gently holding your arm as if to cement you into the moment.

Which was broken when a cry rose out from in front of you.

“We’re here!” 

Looking ahead, you saw sunlight illuminating some rooftops as the village came closer into focus.

As you entered the village, you villagers glaring distrustfully, and ushering their kids into their houses.

Lowering your voice, you whispered to Aang, “It doesn’t look like they get strangers that often.”

Aang frowned, head going back and forth watching the villagers, “Something’s wrong here.”

As you reached the center of the village, you saw an elderly woman pulling up a bucket of water from a well.

As she bent over to shoulder a wooden pole with a bucket filled on each side, you rushed forward and gently took it from her grasp.

She gasped but then smiled at you from her hunched position, “Why thank you dearie.”

You smiled back at the grandmotherly woman. Even slightly hunched from age, the woman had an eerie beauty to her with her long gray hair and cloudy gray eyes.

Looking behind you, her eyes widened at the sight of the other four, “My my. Travelers? We barely get any this time of year. Come come, Hama here runs a small inn where you can rest.”

Waving a gnarled, age spot riddled hand, she turned and began hobbling towards the edge of the village.

Shrugging at everyone, you hoisted the water buckets up and began following the lady.

Soon you were all walking close together following the woman. Katara was on your left next to Aang as well.

Whispering, her voice laced with concern, “Should we be trusting this woman so early on? We know nothing about her or the village.”

A hoarse laugh caught you off guard.

Realizing that a small cottage style house stood before you and you were on the doorstep, Hama turned around, her eyes glinting in the sun.

“Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I have bad hearing.” She tapped the side of her head playfully.

Katara flushed, and you tensed, ready to run at the first sign of danger.

Looking intently at Katara, Hama said something that sent all of you reeling.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen another waterbender besides myself.”

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t​ @mialeelavellan​ @rainydaysrnevergrey​ @platonic-plots​ @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi​ @queenbbarnes​ @mythixmagic​ @chas-z​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @strangersstranger​ @princess-evans-addict​ @rororo06​ @timelordhunterandmysterysolver​ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx 

Light and Dark (Avatar) Taglist:

@blue-and-yellow-jjk-pjm​ @kingniazx​ @aggynus​ @taina-eny​ @casedoina​ @grippleback-galaxy​ @utterlyconfused-tm​ @trash1ty​ @treestarrrrrrrr​ @cassandrassecretplace @chewymoustachio​ @letmefallalonev @rosellacrystalheart @xtrashmouthxtozierx​ @fantasymirror​

[arwenkenobi48]

The Fiend and the Fugitive Character Profiles: Stardust, Drakon and Smokey

I found the traditional format for these character profiles a little too taxing, so I’ll simply describe each of these characters with a little bit of prose and dialogue, then include trivia relating to each of them.

Stardust

He removed the crash helmet and goggles from his head, revealing two small conical horns upturned on his forehead, with two smaller ones aligned vertically on the bridge of his nose and between his eyebrows. The young man swished back a rich crop of hair, the colours of which were most striking, starting out with a deep purple and ending in an electric turquoise. The area around his eyes and halfway down his cheeks were marked by what appeared to be some sort of ritual tattoos, a rich crimson in colour, forming abstract shapes closely resembling crescent moons, only more angular. His bright purple eyes sparkled happily as he adjusted his parka, bowing modestly from side to side as the crowd cheered. “Thank you, thank you all, thank you very much,” he beamed, his voice rich and cultured. There was no doubt about it; this eccentric figure was indeed Robin’s childhood friend, albeit going by a different name. How on Earth did he manage to earn so much money? Surely not by becoming a human snowball every time he went skiing.

——————————

“Mephistopheles, hold this for a moment, will you?” Stardust placed a large object in the demon’s hands, so heavy he nearly dropped it, then calmly took it back and placed on the now immaculate shelf. “Thank you, old chap,” “What was that thing?” Mephisto demanded. “Oh, just a giant cosmic pearl gifted to me by a relative,” Stardust replied casually. “Why, whatever is the matter, Mephisto? You’re looking awfully peaky all of a sudden!” “I think it drained my dark energy,” Mephistopheles gagged. “Well, that’s certainly something else, as they say. I’m sure it’s not as bad as that. You know those things absorb energy like spherical sponges,” “I didn’t know that,” grumbled Mephistopheles, who now felt like he had just been cured of a cold, but in the worst way possible. As much as he felt bad for his rival, Stardust couldn’t help feeling rather amused that what dragons considered medicine had made a demon sick.

Stardust is one of my oldest OCs

His name is actually an English translation of the Draconic name Esrah, which quite literally means “essence of the stars”

Stardust is demisexual and panromantic

He’s a philanthropist who protects dragons that have been made homeless and have suffered discrimination from humans

Many assume that Stardust’s odd appearance is due to body modifications, but he is actually half dragon and can shift between human and dragon forms. This is technically called a Dragon Angel

Stardust’s only relative that he’s in contact with is his grandfather, Mitsuo, who is a 1000 year old Japanese water dragon

The only thing Stardust and Mephistopheles can healthily bond over is table tennis. Regular tennis is out of bounds after Mitsuo got knocked out during a rather heated match (quite literally, the ball was going so fast it was gathering heat)

Despite having sold his soul to Mephistopheles, Stardust repents and is able to retrieve it. He has already proven himself to be a good person after donating his riches to support his fellow dragons

Stardust enjoys listening to heavy metal and opera

Drakon

The dragon was around the same size as a Shetland pony, but at first glance nowhere near as cuddly. The dark blue scaly skin contrasted with an armour-plated golden underbelly, the curved horns, spines and barbed tail also indicated that this was a creature you wouldn’t want to mess with. Although he had sharp, owl-like claws, his hands and feet were bizarrely humanoid in shape and the powerful muscles seemed to indicate that this creature could be both bipedal and a quadruped, although being an all fours appeared to be the more comfortable of the two. His golden eyes peered up and his nostrils flared. He was clearly trying to appear intimidating as he stretched his wings out, but he somehow failed in spite of himself. “Now, listen ‘ere, human,” he warned in a voice with a strong regional accent. “I don’t know exactly what you’re up to, but let’s get one thing straight, yeah? You don’t wanna be starting any fights, especially not with me!” He bared his teeth, but they didn’t look as though they were capable of doing damage to anything other than a shawarma.

—————————

“Eh, who am I kiddin’?” Grumbled Drakon, sinking to the floor like a depressed panther. “I let you down. All cause I got the collywobbles seein’ them humans all at once. I wish I didn’t scare so easily, Smokey,” The baby’s reaction seemed to indicate that he not only understood his guardian, but empathised with him and wanted him to feel better. Even in his sadness, as a lump formed in his throat and a tear in his eye, Drakon couldn’t help but smile.

Drakon’s name is the root word of “dragon” in Greek

Drakon and Smokey are implied to be brothers from different clutches but with the same mother, although nobody knows for sure

After his cave was destroyed by humans mining for gemstones, Drakon resides in the House of Stardust. He thinks highly of Stardust and considers him his best friend. The feeling is mutual and they frequently protect one another from the cruelty of humans

Drakon loves shawarmas to the point that he put on quite a few pounds and now has a build similar to a bear

The inspirations for Drakon came from the Cowardly Lion in the book version of The Wizard of Oz and Captain Haddock from The Adventures of Tintin

Drakon hates trumpet music. Whenever he sees a trumpet he will do everything in his power to destroy it (and by that he’ll usually yell at it, stamp on it or at worst, set it on fire)

Smokey

With a loud whine that sounded like a cross between a baby bird chirping and a kitten mewing, Smokey came galloping down the hallway. His round body was shaped like a squashed pear and his limbs were short and stubby, although he could function perfectly well. He clearly still had a lot of his baby fat, but despite that, he was surprisingly fast. His mottled skin was so dark grey it was nearly black, although a bright red belly and round eyes resembling those of an owl stood out from this. His wide yet snub beak gave him a strong resemblance to a potoo bird and his wings hadn’t matured yet. The most striking feature of this infant dragon, however, were his floppy, comically lopsided ears, which flapped around like ribbons as he galloped along. He didn’t speak, as he was much too young to learn how, but simply uttered his trademark “nee-nee-neesh!” noise as he hugged Stardust’s leg.

Smokey is five years old in human years, but that’s closer to two years old for his subspecies

He can’t breathe fire yet, but manages to sneeze out a fireball to protect his friends from the forces of Hell

Being so young, Smokey cries very easily. Possibly as a result of losing his parents, he also gets upset whenever someone leaves the room, as he thinks they won’t return. This results in him running after them and clinging to their legs while ‘neeshing’ loudly.

I was originally doing to give Smokey some dialogue, but decided against it, as I felt he’d be much cuter without it and his actions would speak louder than words

He gets his name from the fact that smoke always blows out of his ears whenever he tries to test his fire breath

Smokey hates Mephistopheles and can sense his evil aura from a mile away. Whenever he sees him he makes a noise like an angry teapot coming to the boil

Despite being little more than a newborn in dragon years, Smokey is capable of great empathy and comforts his friends when they’re feeling down

His favourite album is Shepherd Moons by Enya

Smokey was based on a plushie I use for emotional support

His favourite food is Greek honey cake

Apologies for the absence again; mental health really hasn’t been great at all, but I was still determined to deliver some of the content I promised. I realised that there was nothing stopping me from writing the first draft of The Fiend and the Fugitive, so I made a start on that and I’m looking forward to officially beginning the project in September!

[crimeronan]

one of those AUs where adam and ronan meet on college campus except

ronan isnt a student. hes a weird reclusive farmer with wicked tattoos who always shows up shirtless in muddy boots to deliver supplies to the agricultural department. the man has no phone number, email, or social media accounts. his only contact info is the mailing address for the barns. hes the local campus cryptid because theres always a massive fucking BIRD chilling on his shoulder and some students swear up and down theyve seen him doing wheelies at 3 AM in the abandoned lot by the now-defunct former office building

adam IS a student. adam is the most tired student alive and hasnt spared much more than a passing thought for the tattooed campus farmer cryptid because none of his classes are anywhere near the agricultural center and his head is so crammed with jobs and schedules and studying and extra credit and so much other nonsense. adam is approaching cryptid status himself because the only financial indulgence he allows himself is stupidly strong coffee and energy drinks with warnings from the FDA on the label. theres a rumor that hes a vampire and also a rumor that he sold his soul to the devil and thats why he never sleeps and also a rumor that the devils the one in debt to him

if you just saw adams dorm room youd think he bought out a gardening center or was at least studying botany but the truth is he takes flower pots as payment for tutoring sessions so he can carefully rescue plants he finds crying out to him. its not weird that he knows when a shrub edging a hiking trail is dying and its also not weird that he knows exactly how to transplant it somewhere safe and give it the right amount of water and sunlight to survive without so much as a google search. probably everyone can do that and also, shut up

adam throws his windows wide one night before he goes to the library for a cram session so that itll be cool when he snags a nap between 6AM and his 8AM class. after all hes on the second floor and its not like he has anything except plants, incredibly ratty secondhand textbooks, and a floor littered with empty monster cans that look like nuclear waste capsules. hes not that worried about being robbed

as he gets back and is walking blearily down the hallway with the weaving gait of the drunk or chronically exhausted, theres this SCREAM. adams whole body freezes. his heart climbs into his throat. he hasnt had reason for a fight-or-flight reaction in ages and his instincts say flight but his head says what the fuck

the scream definitely came from his room. as he slowly sets his backpack down on the hallway floor theres a thump and some muffled swearing. adam draws his fuckoff gigantic eight hundred page hardbound sociology textbook from hell out of the backpack and holds it above his head in one hand as he silently turns the doorknob and throws the door wide

lo and behold. shirtless farmer man is inside. in an ideal world thered be a charged pause where adam appraises the musculature and sharp outlines of ronans tattoos while ronan appreciates the fact that this random nerd can apparently deadlift the largest book of all time onehanded like its nothing

however. in this world shirtless farmer man has one muddy boot on adams rolling desk chair (rude, and also dangerous) and the other on adams cluttered desk (UNCONSCIONABLE). also theres a giant indignant bird chilling wings half spread on the lip of adams highest hanging flowerpot but thats the last thing on adams mind because DESK

“GET OFF MY PSYCH NOTES” adam yells

ronan throws a disbelieving glance over his shoulder before returning to operation: retrieve giant indignant bird. “i am KIND OF in the middle of something”

“youre stepping on my PLANNER”

“boo hoo”

“its COLOR CODED”

ronan clearly doesnt appreciate the gravity of the situation. all this aesthetic plotting and careful tabulating of post-it reminders ruined. adam clearly doesnt appreciate the campus cryptids bird choosing tonight and his open window of all windows to go feral in

probably things could continue in this fashion for a while because the bird appears to have no intention of leaving. there is a challenge in its posture. its like looking at a cat with a twitching tail tip

but adams so goddamn tired and his scheduled ninety minute nap window is shortening with every passing second and the fact that there havent been any plant casualties yet is a miracle and he doesnt want flowerpots to start smashing

so he sets his textbook on the floor and steps inside. “can you just be chill”

“i” — ronan starts, but then chainsaw moves and ronan has the sudden realization that nerd boy was not addressing Him. the reason ronan knows this is because chainsaw is now hanging out in nerd boys hair like its a nest. ronan knows from experience that chainsaws claws are exquisite little razors but nerd boy does not appear phased at all

“cool” says adam. “thanks for dropping in but nows not a great time.” he is still not addressing ronan

chainsaw huffs and ruffles up her feathers and spends a minute combing her beak through adams hair looking for snacks and then she flaps her way onto ronans shoulder

ronan looks at adam

adam looks at ronan

ronan looks at adam

adam looks at ronan

“what the fuck” ronan says

[lookatallthosefreckles]

Where’s The Romantic Music?

When you were born, you had a 'tattoo' (technically it's a birthmark, but tattoo sounds cooler) with your soulmate's last name on it. Cas had always liked tracing the loopy lines of the 'W' in 'Winchester' as a kid, loving the ups and downs of the cursive that was imprinted on his lower back.

Sam had loved the straight, sharp lines of 'Novak', the word written on the back of his neck.

Neither of them really liked the word all that much when they got introduced to their college room mate.

"Hey," Sam said with a smile, holding out his hand to the blue-eyed man he was to be rooming with. "I'm Sam Winchester."

Cas almost dropped his bag.

"Is everything alright?" Sam asked, his eyebrows scrunching together in concern.

"Casti.... Castiel Novak," Cas choked out.

The two men looked at each other in alarm.

According to literally anything that has romance, when you met your soulmate, you were supposed to feel  something. There were supposed to be fireworks, sparks of some kind, possibly red hearts floating in the air. You were supposed to fall in love with every little thing.

But all Cas felt was surprise.

And maybe a little bit of disappointment. How on earth was he supposed to fall in love with this giant? Cas was 6"1 (A/N: im going off a Pinterest thing thing thing I saw a looong time ago for his height so possibly  not the best source), and he had to crane his neck  to be able to see Sam's eyes.

"Oh," Sam said, feeling incredibly awkward. According to his brother's chick-flick movies (that he swore  he did not own), there was supposed to be romantic music playing in the background. Sam was supposed to just have rushed here from the air port, or maybe the hospital, thinking that he'd never love someone again- and then he meets his soulmate.

In reality, Sam had just spilled his coffee on his top layer of flannels, took the shirt off, and (much to the surprise of the rest of the people at Starbucks) walked away with the other 4+ layers still on his body. He'd bumped into a door (maybe he was the clumsy side of the pairing?), gotten his car pooped on by a bird, and run here to meet his room mate.

Not exactly the starting of an incredible love story.

"Uh," Cas repiled.

"I guess, we should, uh..." Sam gestured to the door of the dorm room, his keys jingling.

"Yeah. Yup."

Sam swallowed, and tried to fit his key into the lock.

It was, evidently, the wrong key.

He tried a few more, swearing each time another one didn't work, while Cas stood behind him awkwardly.

"Uh," Cas started, stepping forward when the fifth key didn't work. "Maybe I should try?"

"Oh, yeah." Sam backed away from the door, feeling stupid.

Cas unlocked the dorm easily and stepped inside, tossing his bags on one of the beds.

Sam sat down on the second bed, and they stayed like that. About six feet apart (A/N: mm good the boys are practicing social distancing), both of them silent.

Just all-around awkward.

After a few minutes, Cas cleared his throat. "Do... Do you wanna... I mean, we should probably go out on a date, right?" He winced. Wow, he really knew how to ask someone out, huh?

"Oh, yeah," Sam answered. "Probably. Do you... I mean, I know a bar that's open tonight."

"Yup. Okay. See you... tonight. Yeah."

And they saw each other that night. And, you know, every other second of that first day. Because they were fucking room mates.

Cas honestly just wanted to die right there.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cas had drunk a lot of alcohol.

The 'date' (aka two people sitting at a table and repeatedly ordering drinks) had been the most awkward two hours of both guy's lives. So, to make up for it, the had both gotten drunk.

Cas was definitely more drunk (he was pretty lightweight), but whatever.

While they were walking up their hallway, Cas tripped on a fold of the rug that was sticking up. Sam caught him. It wasn't romantic, like you would expect from your soulmate; there was no pausing as they both realized how close their lips were- it wasn't even the kind of catch just before you kissed the bride at a wedding -, no blush heating their cheeks. Sam just sorta... grabbed Cas's arm.

Sam pulled him up. "Thanks," Cas muttered.

"No worries."

When they got to their door, Cas searched his pockets for the key. "Shit," he grumbled. "Must've left it in the room. Sorry."

"Uh, it's fine," Sam coughed. "My, uh... my brother knows how to pick locks? I'll just ask him if he can come over."

"No, we shouldn't bother him," Cas rushed. "It's like twelve,"

"Honestly, it's fine," Sam laughed. "I'm not sure he actually does  sleep. He texts me from like twelve to three am every night without fail. He'll be fine with it."

"Okay," Cas conceded, still unsure.

Sam took out his phone and searched through the contacts. The phone hadn't even finished the first ring when he said, "Yeah, hey, Dean."

Silence for a moment.

"Me and my room mate are sort of locked out of our dorm." A moment of silence on Sam's part. "Why are we out at- Dean, we're in college!  Of course  we're out late! I-" he paused. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. I know,  Dean! God," He muttered. "Could you just get over here? We need you to pick the lock." He waited for his brother's response. "Thanks. See you soon."

He hung up and sighed. "Dean can be such a jerk  sometimes," he rolled his eyes, and Cas laughed. "What?" Sam asked, confused.

"It just sounds like me and my brother," Cas explained.

"You and your... wait, you have a brother?" Sam's mind whirled.

"Yeah. Why?" Sam didn't respond, and just then a man with blond hair came strolling down the hallway.

"This the dude, Sammy?" the guy asked, nodding at Cas.

"No, Dean, this is actually the guy who just murdered my room mate," Sam responded, sounding exasperated. "Yes, this is my room mate."

"'Sammy'?" Cas repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Dean laughed. "Alright, alright," he addressed 'Sammy', then looked at Cas. "What's your name?"

"Castiel Novak," Cas felt flustered for absolutely no reason.

To be honest, it sucked.

"Novak?" Dean asked, surprised.

Sam watched carefully. "Cas, you said you had an older brother?"

Dean's face fell, but only for a second. Then he stitched a smile right back on and said, "Is his soulmate's last name Winchester?"

"Yeah," Cas was slowly realizing what Sam had already figured out. "But mine is, too."

Dean blinked. "Oh," he said. "So, you and Sammy are...?" he pointed at each of them with one finger, then pointed the fingers at each other.

"First of all, ew," Sam answered. "Second of all... no, I don't think so."

It took Dean a second to realize what this meant. He squinted at Cas, and shrugged. "Always thought I had a thing for blue eyes."

Cas gave Sam a once over. "My brother is really small," he said.

Sam paled. "Like... he's really young?"

"Oh, God, no," Cas laughed. "He's just..." Cas took his hand and held it up to the middle of his stomach, then made a patting motion.

"Oh," Sam swallowed.

"Heh," Dean smirked at his younger brother. "Looks like you'll have lots of excuses to pick him up and... ya' know," he pushed his two pointer fingers together again.

"Ew," Sam shivered. "Please, please  stop."

Cas smiled apologetically. "My brother is like that too. He'll want to..." he gestured to Dean, not wanting to do what the green-eyed man had done. "a lot."

Sam held his stomach. "Can you just please  get us into the room," he asked Dean.

Dean grinned. "'Course," he took out an old card from an arcade that was probably long since shut down, and edged it into the slant of the lock. He pushed it forwards a couple of times, and the door unlocked (A/N: that wasnt the best description of this but whatever). "There ya go," Dean announced, stepping back from the door.

"Thanks," Sam muttered.

Cas smiled at Dean, noticing for the first time that when the light caught his eyes just right, you could see flecks of gold in them. Then Cas looked at Dean's lips.

Cas rushed inside his dorm, blushing like crazy, trying to forget what he'd just thought of doing to that man. "Oh, God," he groaned, collapsing on his bed.

Completely forgetting that Dean was still right there.

"Oh, I can't wait  to find out what you just thought of," Dean said with a  mischievous smile. "Hopefully hands-on learning."

Cas covered his face with his hands.

Dean laughed and shut the door.

Good lord, that man was going to kill Castiel dead.

[sneezysmonsterlovin]

Alien Boyfriend: Yunko  Part 1

Not edited because yawn

Warnings?: Uh brief mention of death? Blood, but like really minor. I think that’s it.

Summary: You and your crew were shot down after returning from a rescue mission, and crash on an unknown planet. You find yourself waking from homeostasis, and are taken in by a pair of strange scavengers. 

Word Count: 2,519

The faint smell of something burning wakes you. Slowly opening your eyes, you feel something tight strapped your face. Something shatters not far from where you lay, muffled by the leathery belts wrapped around your head. You startle, sitting up quickly. Or, you would if your bones hadn’t felt like complete jelly. Your arms barely twitch, and you don’t think you can feel your legs.

Squinting in the dark room, you searched for the source of the noise. It was difficult, laid across an unknown slimy substance in a dimly lit room. The room was small, and you could see four giant glass containers, a dark black smoke slowly curling out the side of the one to your right. The air felt thick, and the more you breathed in the dizzier you felt. Struggling to turn your head, you felt a sharp pain in the back of your neck and you winced, freezing. A sharp piece of, what you assumed to be, glass dug into the back of your skull, the wet ooze below you seeping into the cut. “Oh no!” The high pitched shrill was somewhere behind you, accompanied by the click clacking of nails against the floor. A pair of hands clutched your shoulders, nails- no they were much to large, they were more like talons- dug into the cotton fabric clinging to your body. A second pair cradled your head, lifting it off the sludge and glass, and you gasped at the sight in front of you.

One of the glass containers, the one in front of you, had burst open. The one beside it had similar cracks in the surface, save for a single blackened hand hanging out of the largest breach, dripping in blood. The similar ooze that had stuck your legs and arms like glue as you were lifted was filling the other two containers that had not yet busted.

“Are you alive? Wait, that’s a dumb question, I meant are you okay?” The voice was closer now, beside your ear. You watched in silent horror, not able to move anymore than you were before, as a hand left your shoulder and reached towards your face. It was white, with two long curved talons and a smaller talon centered perfectly in the center of the hand. A black wristband strapped around it’s arm, covered slightly by a blue fluff that bellowed out into giant black feathers, shaping a gorgeous wing. The talons wrapped delicately around your mask and tugged, the leather straps loosening easily and dropping from your face. An oxygen mask, you noted briefly, before the hand tossed it away like trash and turned you gently.

You held your breath, stomach lurching as you were turned to face the alien creature whom cradled you in it’s arms like a fragile doll. It was smaller than you, not by much but it was noticeable. It’s head was round, lips hardened and black in what resembled a beak. Skin just as white as it’s hands, the blue fluff had trailed its way up the creatures arms and covered its body, it’s face clear reminding you vaguely of a monkey, with a few flecks of what you realized to be scales outlining it’s cheeks. The side of it’s head was shaved, a single black line-Tattoo?- sliding around the side of it’s head, curving around it’s cheek and stopping at the chin. In place of ears were small, bean shaped holes, and as your head drooped to the side you noticed it’s loose white collared tank, a second pair of arms sprouting closer to it’s stomach. The pair that had once cradled your head, you realized as the aforementioned hands trailed down your shoulders to wrap around your torso and thighs, the larger pair of arms supporting your neck and knees. “Right, I’ll get you to the med room. I can’t believe you survived so long, this ship must’ve been abandoned for a while if the rust is any indication.” You picked up a faint masculine tone to it’s voice, with a more apparent tone of muscles that pressed against your side as it lifted you easily. You were left with no other choice but to watch your surroundings as the creature carried you out of the room.

The ship was familiar, and as the alien practically skipped through the halls, you faintly recalled boarding it. You and your crew had just returned from transferring a group of refugees to a safe-zone when something had shot you down. In a rush to try and preserve yourselves, your crew had went into homeostasis. Tears pricked at your eyes following another rush of nausea as you realized who that hand from before had belonged to, and you tried your best to blink them away with a shaky breath. The woman had been like a second mother to you, having taken several bullets for you and you had trusted her completely. Your heart clenched, the blood rushing your cheeks as you choked a single, quiet sob. It had sounded horrid, voice croaky and broken, and the vibrations against your throat felt foreign. The creature- it seemed rude to just refer to it like that but you really had no clue what species it was, humans had only encountered two other intelligent alien species and neither had resembled this one. His feathers bristled at the noise you had made, and its tight grasp faltered. You noticed it staring at you out of the corner of your eye, but as the airlock opened and revealed the planet you had crashed on, you really could care less. Well, that’s not true, it was slightly unnerving to have those bright golden eyes, three of them, fixated entirely on your being. But as you stared out at the cold desert that seemed to stretch on forever, the horizon only breaking upon reaching a smaller ship then the one you had just been on,one that was sleek and black, with green lights and a curious logo stamped on the side of three eyes and tiny square just below it.

The wind seemed to be colder than the air itself though, and the warm fluff that was so tightly tugging you against it distracted you. The creatures pace picked up, and you reached the space ship in no time, door opening automatically at your-well, the aliens-presence. You noticed it smelt strongly of something familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it. And as the alien stepped farther up the stares, you noticed the creature smelled just the same, albeit a bit stronger.

The creature continued into the ship, the door slowly shutting itself behind it, and a voice echoed throughout the metal structure. It was clearly robotic, and spoke in a tongue that was just as strange as this whole incident. The alien cooed at you, seeming to find your expression shift into one of confusion amusing, and kept up his fast-paced skip walk. The ships insides were very open, a table centered in room with several stools nailed to the ground around it, twice as many doors lining the wall. A brief glance to the left of the table revealed the ships control room, but you only got a small glimpse of the many flashing buttons and lights before the alien had brought you through on of the doors on the far side of the room, one that was filled with several black beds, iron bars lifted just so slightly to keep patients from rolling off. There were plenty of cabinets and jars of different liquids with a language that you assumed was the one that the ships voice had used stamped onto the white tags taped to their sides.

“My name is Yunko, I’m a scavenger. You’re pretty lucky, you know.” The alien gently rested you on the bed nearest to the far wall, propping you up on a pillow that held the same texture and consistency as a bean bag, molding to your back like jello but stiff enough to hold you up. Yunko turned, resting one of his lower hands on the wall that faded from its plain silver metal into a sort of window, the gray sand and soft brown sky catching your eyes once again. “Your life pods were about to blow. Actually, they did, the liquid that was in yours just seemed to manage to protect you from most of the blow. Pretty cool. You’re pretty cool too, I’ve never seen something like you.” Yunko turned, and you watched in surprise as the scales that lined his eyes, cheeks, and nose turned a beautiful shade of orange. “I mean, someone. I think. My translator is active, so I’m assuming you’re capable of speech.” The orange lightened. and shifted back to the previous snowy color, and you almost wished he’d stayed the breathtaking color forever. You assumed it was a he, at least. It seemed rather masculine, although it is an alien so who was to tell.

“You should get some rest, I’ll be in the other ship, doing my job.” Yunko shrieked, and you concluded that it was in amusement. “As soon as you can move, you just come find me and we’ll run some tests to see if I have anything for you to eat.” With that, Yunk swiftly turned, skipping out of the room happily. Your gaze flickered down and realized that he wore a tight pair of silky pants that tightly hugged his bird-like legs, and peaking out of the bottom of his shirt was a pair of long black tail feathers. Gaze trailing even lower, you caught a glimpse of his strange feet, and realized that his skip-walk was due to a slight limp he had in his right leg, caused most likely due to a lack of talon on the inside of his clawed feet, throwing off his balance. You mused briefly that he looked kind of cute in the baby animal kind of way, before closing your eyes to ponder all that has happened.

You didn’t see Yunko again until what felt like hours later, spending your time mourning your lost friends and past life, very much aware of the fact that you might never see any of it again now that you’ve been stranded for who knows how long, and picked up by some random alien scavenger, that admittedly wasn’t as bad as you first feared. You were still a little worried he might turn out to just want to eat you- it wouldn’t be the first time you met an alien that saw humans as another food source rather than a fellow intelligence, but he was really your only hope. Your ship, if the gaping holes and smell of death were anything to go by, was in no condition to fly, and Yunko seemed nice enough. The thought that he might eat you was quieted when you realized if he wanted to do such a thing, he needn’t get you back to full health to do so, unless it was a weird alien ritual.

You weren’t tired, and felt restless to get out of bed, so as soon as you got feeling back in your legs you pulled yourself over the cold iron, only to regret it afterwards as you tumbled to the ground, your muscles not used to being used in such a long time. The sound of something clattering to the ground in the other room surprised you, and you looked up just in time to watch as the doors flew open and a new creature stormed in. This one was much larger than Yunko, and by extension, you. It had only one arm though, the spot the other would be covered in plenty of scars. He was completely scaly. except for a metal jaw and long red hair pulled back into a bun. He wore a tight sleeveless black suit, a gold belt hung loosely from his thin hips. He didn’t wear shoes either, his feet ending in a pair of hooves. His ears were pointed and droopy, a lighter shade of lavender than the rest of his body.

For a brief while, you simply stared wide eyed at the alien as he seemed to speak to you in the language from before, and he only paused when he seemed to realize you couldn’t understand him. His shoulders slumped and he raised a hand to his jaw, and you watched as he spoke once again. “She’s awake? Oh! Just stay right there! I’m just about finished, and then we can take off!” You realized the alien had called Yunko, as the bird man prattled on through the speaker, loud clashes of metal softly made its way through the speaker-er, the aliens jaw.

Said creature seemed to look exhausted as it made it’s way towards you, towering over you with such an intimidating presence you didn’t bother fighting as he plucked you up by your waist and made his way out of the room. The alien surprised you as he gently turned you over in his grasp, gently placing you onto one of the stools instead of dropping you like you had expected. He then turned without a second glance at you and made his way towards the control room.

You sat in silence, kicking your legs and every so often pressing your weight onto them, waiting for Yunko to arrive and break the uncomfortable silence that hovered like a storm cloud throughout the room. You could still see the other aliens muscly arm as it moved about the controls, and wondered quietly if every scavenger was as strong as these two.

Yunko didn’t take much longer to return, speeding through the archway that led to the common room with several bags tossed over his shoulders. Upon seeing you, he placed them down by the door, and rushed over like an excited child.

“You’re up! How are you feeling?” He trilled, talons clicking together when he leaned over the table to peer at your face.

“Okay...” You croaked, scrunching your nose once more at the uncomfortable feeling talking had caused. Yunko didn’t seem to notice, and simply tilted his head in interest at your expression. You briefly realized neither he nor the other alien made any real facial reactions, Yunko’s face stoic other than the occasional squinting, and the scarred alien having a literal jaw of steel, leaving not much room for any expressions in the first place.  

“You sound horrid.” Yunko stated simply. “But I guess I can’t imagine every alien to sound as darling as I.” He straightened, before looking over at the alien in the control room. “That’s Ciks. He looks plenty scarier than he actually is, don’t worry.” Yunko turned to look at you once again, eyes squinting as another birdlike shriek tore through his throat. The noise surprised you, as it did the first, and you couldn’t help but giggle quietly at the sudden noise. Yunko stared at you wide eyed, mouth slack before he straightened and nodded, motioning for you to follow him.

“This way, dear! Let’s go see what we can do.”

[kyberphilosopher]

Chapter Eight

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The sniper meets Rex and I in the sand. Similar to the blonde man, he shares the same face.

Handsome, angular creases. His hair is dark and in a crew cut in contrast to Rex’s, but his most striking feature is the ghostly eye. White and milky, a long dark scar reaches from his cheek to his temple. The other eye- my right, his left- is as honey colored as his brother. He’s a Clone, through and through. Both of them are clad in black turtlenecks and brown scarfs and belts.

“This is Wolffe,” Rex introduces. The second soldier nods at me coldly as I bite the inside of my cheek.

Both sets of fingers tighten around the lightsaber bodies. I don’t like Clones. When I look at them, I see flashes of a helmet streaked with yellow markings. I can see the machine guns in their hands, aimed at me with malice and hate. Every word form Rex is like a word from the one back on Ilum. I don’t like it. I don’t want to stay around them.

I can feel my heart beating against my ribs, hammering, the longer I look at their identical faces. I can’t be here. I can’t look at them. They’re the ones that almost killed me.    

“Numbers,” I’m able to order out, though my sweaty palms are beginning to betray me.

“What?” Rex fires back quickly. One of his eyebrows arch, and his bottom lip snarls with another layer of distrust.

“Your numbers,” I say. “What are they?”

Rex’s amber eyes flit from the Imperial sigil on my jacket, back to my face. They narrow, then widen back to normal. “CT-7567, and CC-3636. What is your rank?”

Through the anxiety, I’m just able to stutter out, “w-what-”

Rex raises his blasters again, now squinting both of his eyes in aggression. “What. Is. Your. Rank?”

I don’t have an answer for him. I am frozen in time, staring at the golden orbs of anger. This system, that once felt soft and calm, is now covered in layer after layer of anguish. It’s not just from me and my own memories. Rex feels it too.

“Answer,” he says lowly and slowly, “or I’ll shoot.”

Wolffe steps back, aiming the rifle at me again.

I can take both of them. I know this for certain. Blasters are no match for lightsabers, with or without training. Even so, I have the Force. But I can’t help the waves of fear that wash over at me from nothing more than knowing what they are. And I’m afraid of them, even through my pulsing anger.

“Last chance kid,” Rex grits.

In honesty, the fear had clouded my judgement far too much. I should’ve formulated a plan, been patient. But something in me was dying again and again, feeling rays of heat whiz past me as I flung myself into an abyss. I couldn’t take it.

Rex fired his blaster. I jumped backwards- into the air far higher than I had intended to. I flew higher than the AT-TE, perhaps as high as the Tie-fighter while I was flying it. It felt somewhat freeing for the second it lasted, before my feet hit the sand behind my ship. Using it as cover, I seal my sabers off and press my back flat against it.

What the kriff was that? My heart is hammering, breathing rapid as my chest rises and falls and I struggle to find a full breath.

The lack of planning didn’t end there.

First, I reach my palm straight into the air. I hear a click and a clang as the seal at the top of the ship opens up with a hiss. Within a second, my bag zips into my waiting grasp. I clumsily slip it over my shoulders before phase two of my nonexistent ploy ensues.

“Gregor!” one of them yells. It’s enough for me to suddenly thrust myself forward and turn towards the Tie-fighter. I throw my hands out as I bury my heels in the sand. The Force, coming to my aid quickly and gracefully, does not disappoint.

The fighter surges forward, skidding through the sand. It starts slowly and subtle until I curl my fingers, at which point it increases its speed tenfold until it’s flying through the air without actually flying. I have to squint my eyes from the light of the planet, from the sand that’s whizzing back into my eyes, and then the loud clang rings out.

The fighter crashes into one of the legs of the walker. My eyes widen as I watch the machine begin to tilt over with a long, low hum. I see Rex’s blonde hair as he watches up in bewilderment, taking steps back while his brother begins to yell some things I can’t make out.

I turn on my heel and begin pumping my arms back and forth as I run along. Maker, I’d forgotten how much I despise the sand. Running in it, especially. It doesn’t take long for my thighs begin to burn. After another two seconds, I hear the final boom as the AT-TE is completely absorbed in the ground. But I don’t stop sprinting across the plains.

The mountains. I have to get to the mountains. The lightsabers are growing heavy against my tight, sweaty palms. I’ll surely have callouses forming against the skin.

The dry air is merciless against my face. My pack is continuously slamming against the bottom of my spine. After a minute, sand has leaked through my boots and fallen under my soles. Like little knives, they burn against the tender flesh. My braid zips behind me, allowing the wind to pierce my ears with a subtle roar.

I don’t know how long I keep going for. I know for certain that I’ve never run like this in my life. Every time I want to stop and give my burning lungs a rest, I think I hear a gun cocking behind me, and I receive another dull burst of energy.

Everything inside of me feels intense and raw. My blood is pumping through me in frozen chords, filling my ears with a low rhythm. It’s all adrenaline, of course. But it feels far more amplified than any other time I can remember. I know my body is aching, practically begging me to stop, but I can’t. What if there’s a full battalion of Clones behind me right now? Following me, just waiting for me to slow down so that they can shoot me?

As if in response to my thoughts, my right ankle twists from under me. I spiral downwards like a corkscrew, rolling every muscle in my leg in the process. And then I’m laying in the sand like a weak little child, trying to steady my choked breathing.

I must have been running for a long time. The sky is much darker than it was before. It’s become a deep shade of lavender, dotted with little white stars and a layer of pink and gray clouds. The sand bites against my exposed fingers and bottoms of my feet. As I gaze up at the place above, my sticky fingers loosen from the sabers. In the process, my right thumb rubs against the nail of my ring finger, skidding along the black polish.

I’d almost forgotten about it. At the time that Talik had done it to me, I’d felt happy about it. Now it feels like a sad memory from a distant time, in a different life. There’s nothing to stop me from picking it off completely now, and in the end it might’ve been better for me to do so. But removing the paint would’ve been equivalent to removing the Twi’Lek from my life.

I think about her hands on me- a gentle reminder of something I didn’t want- and my eyes squint with wetness. I haven’t cried in a long time, but this time it’s hard to keep my eyes from welling up.

This makes me feel stupid. Emotions are useless, and having them is a fate worse than death. My heart breaks for anyone in the galaxy who has to live their life, day in and day out, worried or overjoyed, loved or paranoid. In contrast however, a life without as many downs as ups must be an incredibly boring one, because you already know you’re going to be lucky no matter what happens. Experience is what makes it all go around, though I damn the Maker for having to tie feelings to it.

          The color of the sky reminds me of a rather outlandish memory from some years ago. It stood out to me for two reasons- the emotional weight to it, and the stained glass windows.

          There are a lot of people in the galaxy. With people, comes races and breeds, genders and jobs. Everyone, no matter what, has some type of belief, which is quick to turn into a theory that stands radical in their mind. And, as much as I (don’t) hate to admit it, where belief is held, trouble is soon to follow.

This brings us to religion, and where I stand on it. I know there’s something out there. A long way away, past all the nonsense and deafening screaming in the void of our galaxy, I’d like to think that someone or something is watching. I don’t know if they’re watching because they exclusively get off on watching lesser beings run around trying to both solve and destroy, or because we’re their last segment of hope in this dark place, but I dream about them intervening someday. Even when I scoff at those big supporters of one, all powerful God, I know it can’t all be dung.

So I don’t know where I stand really. I believe in something, but I’m not sure what. I’m not exactly an optimistic person, so I don’t think I’m holding out faith in a savior of any kind. But something doesn’t seem completely truthful about a luminous lover looming over all of us, blinking softly before sending flaming meteors into our livers. I don’t even know where I stand on something happening after death. I mean… I sure hope something happens. I know, at least, that I still want to be allowed to see whatever happens. I want to have a spirit- even if it’s one that goes on to experience eternal damnation.

Alright, I’ve gotten sidetracked. Back to the stained glass windows.

On Bracca, the scrapper guild acquired so many members that it got difficult not to be overwhelmed with demands from the population. In response to so many outcries, the guild installed a little building that was used as a religious house. It was pretty ambiguous too, so anything could’ve been practiced depending on what the user saw. Eventually, the Empire would come through and begin putting up propaganda and posters, but this is quite some time before that.

I want to say I was thirteen still. Fourteen, maybe? Doesn’t matter. I went in, and the first thing I noticed was the three, giant windows. The glass seemed to be cracking, so each piece was a different shade- bordering differing colors. Still, the tone was all a purple. Sometimes it looked more gray, other times magenta. Pink, lavender, borderline white- but all a very distinguished purple. I know there was a picture within the image, but I was too mesmerized by the violet light to recognize it. I can’t explain it, really. I just wanted to memorize every one of the details in it.

Still, something pulled me away from it- a cough or something. I went to kneel before the windows, looking up at them as if I were going to pray. At my sides, my palms clenched nervously around my poncho, which was already slick and dripping from the previous rain. I remember feeling very much like a reprimanded child, fiddling as their mother looked down on them with disappointment.

I don’t remember what I said exactly, or if I even spoke. I just remember looking up, asking any higher power that may or may not have existed if they had any answers for me. I didn’t care if they were good or bad. I just wanted an explanation, and I would’ve been satisfied. But I waited for a few seconds, a moment even, until I realized that there was no voice booming in my mind. I had no feelings of insight or importance. I felt just as empty and unsatisfied as I was before.

I’d wanted to cry then, too. It would’ve been more acceptable, given my age, but I hadn’t. I had bitten my lip and taken it like a winner, even though I didn’t feel like one much at all. The next time I would ever go into the holy place would end in me brawling with another scrapper, which I imagine was very visually pleasing in front of the large, purple windows.

The tears evaporate into the air, and my skin feels as dry as the sand I lay on. I swallow, which burns my throat, staring at the stars for a few more seconds. I really wish I had glitteryll right about now, so I can watch them melt into each other.

I force myself to sit up then. I did some incredibly stupid things today. I’m in no position to continue making as crazy and stupid decisions much longer.

First things first: find shelter. At least a semi safe place for the night, because something in my gut is telling me it would be most unwise to sleep in the middle of the desert. I should continue to make for the mountains in front of me, but I don’t know how far I’ll be able to get with my ankle in this state. Good thing I brought those stims.

I reach around and take one from my bag. I flick it a few times to make sure it still works, as its neon green glow looks a little faded. It perks up after a second, and I stick the stim to my right ankle and hold it down until a cool feeling spreads through me.

I lock my sabers back onto my waist, and begin pushing myself to my feet. My ankle isn’t perfect, but it’s walkable. Both my legs feel sore, and my abdomen somewhat bruised, but it’s my own kriffing fault for messing with the abilities of my muscles in the way that I did.

The story would’ve been fairly boring from this point forward had he not come along. I suppose I should thank him for that, but I’d rather not boost his ego anymore than it exists.

The wind picks up as a signal of his presence. My braid whips in the air, and I squint my eyes and hold up a hand in an attempt to block the oncoming light. The Katooni appears in front of me in all its glory, causing me to bite my lip. I don’t have the energy or mental power to distinguish friend from foe at this point in time, and if it was the Empire I might’ve just told them to kill me.

But it wasn’t the Empire.

The ships ramp sizzles down, hovering above the dunes of sand I trek through. A figure appears as the door opens up. Blinded further, I lift a second hand.

“Well, well, well!” the gritty voice calls out, loud enough to hear over the roar of the thrusters. The first thing I observed about it was that the voice sounded like it was coming from the back of one’s throat. Rough and throaty, a bit like all the men I’ve encountered in my life that had some position over me.

“Didn’t think I’d find such a useful partner in a place like this!” Hondo Ohnaka cried. “My friend, you look like you’ve been straight to hell.”

[zer0pm]

Diverging Jealousy: The Infamous Dante

A/N: Almost done with this mini series. Currently working on V’s part which is the same scene but from his perspective. It’s been tricky work since I have not really done pieces where there are two potential romances. Sorry in advance for the potential angst and the wait/slow build ;-;

A/N 2: Just a friendly heads up. I’m using female pronouns here to make the dialogue easier, but you may change it to however you see fit as you read along ^^

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After nearly biting his head off, Dante knew he has to set things right with you and V. He figured the best way to do that was to first find V and put an end to their rivalry quicker than it began. Luckily finding the him was easier than anticipated, evident by a giant meteor fall from the sky. He snorts.

Dante: “Call it a hunch.”

As quick as his long legs could carry him, Dante rushes over to swoop in and come to his aid. The tattooed man was both surprised and relieved to see him and together they laid waste to the red reptilians monsters that gave him a hard time.

They are moving now, Dante keeping a careful eye on V as they walk, ready to catch him. The man was applying pressure on his shoulder, despite the makeshift bandage, courtesy of the bottom of Dante’s shirt, he’s still bleeding. The legendary devil hunter winces.

Dante: “We’re gonna have to call for a medic, V.”

The other man groans weakly in response, Dante assumes that means he agrees.

V: “You were searching for me...”

Dante: “Yeah, well, Spitfire was worried about you.”

V: “Spitfire?”

Dante: “My partner. Damn near ripped my ear off when I mentioned us declaring war over her.”

V: “I see. Gather she did not like the idea of being treated like a prize.”

Dante: “Ha. She said the same thing. Guess you do know her better than I.”

V: “Yet there is an affection between you two that leaves me envious. A warmth nurtured by the passage of time.”

It was a really nice way to put it and Dante had to smile at the thought. It’s true. You two have been through a lot together. He could count on you for anything. And that’s why...

Dante: “I won’t lie, when I saw you two earlier. When she touched you like that, it messed me up in the head bad.”

V: “Oh?”

Dante: “Yeah, there aren’t any other guys in our line of work. Just us and, ha, Nero. Once I found out how much I liked her, not once was I scared of someone else catching her eye. Until you came along.”

It felt embarrassing admitting something like this to V, to open up to someone else that isn’t you or Trish about his innermost thoughts and feelings. But he felt the need to explain himself, to help V understand where he’s coming from as if doing so will help him get closer to you. And you weren’t even there to hear it.

V: “To see the world in a grain of sand

And a heaven in a wildflower

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand

And eternity in an hour.”

Dante has heard this verse before. Not from V, but somewhere else he could not place.

V: “When I first met her...I saw the world and heaven; when I am near her, I felt infinity and eternity.”

Dante: “Those are some heavy words, Mr. Poetry.”

Hell, he wasn’t surprised that you were drawn to V given that. It unsettled him as he secretly wished he can admit something like that out loud. Perhaps then his words would be better received by you. He recalls the way your eyes lit up when you snuck a peek into V’s book. He is pulled out of his thoughts when he hears V clear his throat, apparently the other man was lost in his own daze as well.

V: “Indeed. So I understand wholeheartedly what it is like to lose something precious. A part of yourself that you would regret being without.”

He just keeps on hitting the nail on the head. At first Dante just thought that he couldn’t do a job without you. Secretly calling you his “good luck charm”. It was a lie, of course, any work thrown at him, he could do blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back. He almost laughs out loud when he remembers you actually making him take up on that claim and all Dante heard was you laughing while he dealt with the demons in some abandoned warehouse.

Then it hit him, you stopped him from kissing you, but you didn’t push him away. Despite all the shenanigans and bold moves he pulled off, you kept him in check but didn’t isolate yourself from him. That gave him hope. He looks over at V. There’s still the competition. He didn’t want a repeat of last time. But he felt...that he can’t outright block him out from you. In the end, all Dante really wants is for you to have that special someone that sees you as he sees you. If it is with him, pizza is on him for the rest of their lives. If it is with V...

Dante: “I’m gonna have her patch you up.”

He could see that V was genuinely taken aback by his suggestion.

V: “I thought you did not like to share.”

Dante: “Still don’t. But it’s not gonna look good to my future customers if I let you bleed out on my time. Bad for business.”

Both men smiled at his bullshit.

Dante: “Plus, she’s got the best working hands in Red Grave City. Me, I’ll butcher the job.”

They can hear a familiar talking bird cackle.

Griffon: “Oh, the best, you say?”

The flying demon was nearly shot out of the air by Dante’s bullet...and the sharp end of V’s cane, the latter’s returning to the owner’s hand instantly. Luckily, Griffon ducked away in time and hastily retreated back to ink, completing V’s markings. They two devil hunters have stopped walking to face each other now, the air between them palpably tense.

V: “The help is much appreciated, but I feel that there is more you wish to say.”

Dante: “Yeah...”

Dante places his hand on V’s good shoulder.

Dante: “When we catch up to her or if she finds us first, she’s gonna look pissed as all hell. Brace yourself. Though with you, I think she’ll go a little easy on the punch.”

V winces at the image while Dante himself can picture it so vividly he can feel the impact as if it were actually happening. She’s going to go right for my jaw, I know it. He shakes his head and continues.

Dante: “If you mean everything that you said...”

His throat tightens, getting them out was hard for him but he knew this needed to be done.

Dante: “Don’t force your affections. If she feels for you, she’ll show it. That’s the great thing about her. She doesn’t fuck around. Not when it comes to demons or hearts.”

It was such a sappy thing to say, but hell, he adored that sentimental side you had.

V: “Why are you telling me this?”

He knew where V was coming from. Giving advice to the man that had a great chance in stealing your heart from him before he can win it. Still...

Dante: “Because...”

He sighs.

Dante: “I made a bad move. It wasn’t my place to throw all of that stuff down on her before, declaring my feelings for her in front of you to make you back off to boot. That shit was too soon and uncalled for. In truth, I really was going to give her everything as soon as this job was done, regardless of whether or not I would come out of it alive.”

The experienced hunter scratches the back of his head, shame evident in the way he furrows his brows to a harsh line.

Dante: “Damn it, didn’t even ask her what she wanted. She doesn’t deserve that, she has a right to make her own calls.”

Inside Dante hoped he had the guts to repeat this to you... He hears a slight chuckle from the other man.

V: “You surprise me. It seems that despite your blind stubbornness, there lies some degree of wisdom and astounding selflessness. Is this the same man I hired to defeat Urizen?”

Dante was stunned for a second, for a moment he had expected V to tell him to fuck off or downright ignore him, but the mysterious man hung onto every word he said and took it to heart. He laughs. The red-coat wearing hunter lowers his hand and offers it to the tattooed gentleman who takes it in his own, they both give a firm shake. The battle is ongoing still, but this time not against each other, but the overcome the obstacles they have erected towards the path to you. If one of them reaches the end, would you greet them?

Dante: “C’mon. I think I saw a payphone earlier on my way to-”

???: “FINALLY FOUND YOU BASTARDS!”

Alarmed, both men look up towards the source of the voice to see you landing on your feet in front of them from a high platform. A look of pure aggravation seethes your face.

Dante: “Ah, partner. Funny, we were just about to ca-”

He never got to finish that sentence, receiving a powerful hook on the side of his jaw.

[walls-dmc5]

Walls - 6th chapter “Contact”

Words: 8,9k

Warnings/tags: canon-typical violence, slight angst

I hope you enjoy! 🌹

“I think we should split into two groups.”

“And cover more ground. Good idea.”

Cara only heard little of what the men in the front of the van were talking about. She was much more fascinated by watching Nico work on Nero’s prosthetic arms - the Devil Breakers as she called them.

“So, are those made out of demon parts?” Cara asked and pointed to the horn of Goliath which was splitted up into tiny pieces, some were even crushed into powder.

Nico turned around to her, a grin spread out on her face. 

“Only to an extent,” she stated and lifted the Devil Breaker she was working on right now, “you see, if I build parts of it into the arm it will be capable of utilizing its demonic energy. A masterpiece, don’t you think?”

“It is impressive for sure,” Cara said smiling. Also it was nice to see how excited Nico got when she was talking about her work. What the young woman created in the back of the van was remarkable. Building prosthetic arms that could be used by Nero in battle, which were also capable of powerful attacks fueled by demonic energy. Cara had no idea how and what exactly Nico did, but it was fascinating to watch.

“It’s truly a work of art!” Nico exclaimed raising the new arm and examining it from all the angles.

“Woohoo, so you’re an artist now, hu?!” Griffon chimed in chuckling. 

“Yes, I am! Got any questions, little chicken?”

The demonic bird flinched back, a few blue feathers flying through the air in the process. Cara only caught a short glimpse of V looking over his shoulder at them, a small smirk on his face before he turned his attention back to Nero.

“My grandmother was called the ‘.45 Caliber Virtuoso’... legendary gunsmith. I hope to be like her someday. An artist, and a lethal artisan. Everything I create is art, whether it’s a gun… Or a steel pot... to cook birds in. Anymore questions, hu? Little chickee.”

Astoundingly enough Griffon actually did not say a single word as a reply, but Cara was more fascinated by the gun that hung framed on the wall, which apparently was made by Nico’s grandmother. But she assumed this interest and passion in something this specific had got to come from somewhere.

“Hey tough guy, you better treat this one better than the other.” Nico told Nero who turned around in the passenger seat.

“Yeah, well, your quality control sucks ass. Otherwise this wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Well how about you don’t let the demons smack you around so much?!”

“Whatever. What does this do?”

“The propellant injection device is based on the combustion mechanism in that numbskull's demon tummy. It's basically a rocket-powered punch, but I bet a show-off like you could go along for the ride if ya like.”

“Nice.”

Griffon chuckled, and a smile also tugged at the corners of Cara’s lips. She still didn’t know the relationship between these two. Were they related? Were they working colleagues? Friends? It was hard to tell by how they were interacting. Nonetheless, Cara appreciated that they were so open and honest with her around. From what she could tell V kept mostly to himself, but she was the biggest stranger in this group yet. But Nico and Nero didn’t seem to behave any different just because she was there now.

The woman looked up in question as she only picked up her name.

“Sorry?”

“I said we’re gonna split up. Nico and I will be a group and you’ll go with V.” Nero told her again.

Cara had to admit that the prospect of accompanying V some more was an intriguing and rather compelling thought. Maybe she could also figure out a bit more about the mysterious man and his demonic companions. Though, it was also futile to deny that she couldn’t exactly call his presence unpleasant. She recalled the moment of their little teasing in the ruins yesterday in way too much detail; especially how his deep green eyes stared at her, observing her, analyzing her…

“I’ll take my leave now.” V finally said and rose from the seat. Cara watched as Griffon dissolved into a whirl of feathers and black particles which seeked refuge on V’s skin, his tattoos reappearing; mostly on his arm as Cara noticed.

“I guess that’s my cue then as well,” Cara said, shouldering her backpack, adjusting her open jacket again and followed the tattooed man outside of the van.

“Hey, Cara, honey! You have a phone, right?!” Nico called after her. The woman turned around, not minding the pet name and pulled out her cell phone from her backpack.

“Good!” Nico said, leaning out of the van’s window, “call me if you need my help!”

“Great, thanks!” Cara made a waving gesture and smiled before she turned around, following after V who was a few steps ahead of her but has stopped walking when Nico called her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“So, V, you think this kid can kill Urizen?”

“One can only hope.”

He was not nearly as confident as the sound of his voice made it seem. The thought of Nero confronting Urizen again filled his soul with dread, it crawled underneath his skin and held his mind in an icy hold. There was not a flicker of light granting him a warming glimpse of hope. Urizen was too strong, and his powers grew with every soul, with every amount of human blood that was sacrificed.

The entrance to the tunnel behind them collapsed, startling the woman behind him a bit.

“But for now we have more… pressing engagement,” he said, one corner of his lips twitching upwards. He walked on ahead, only turning his head around to see if Griffon was still there, still following him.

At the end of the tunnel they were greeted by Empusas and one Hell Antenora demon.

He smirked while Griffon landed on his outstretched arm; his wings bursting with crackling electricity, an eagerness to dive into battle shining in every one of his blue feathers, an ambition burning in his yellow eyes unrivaled by any other living being still residing in this city.

Shadow rose from the depths of the ink covering his skin, emerging in front of him from a pool of pitch black ink and a cloud of black smoke; she growled, the sound carrying fierceness and raw strength across the battlefield, her crimson glowing markings equaling his own and a constant proof and symbol of their lives being bound.

He smirked as he tilted his head, watching his companions out of green gleaming eyes. His smirk did not even falter when the woman stepped into his peripheral vision, her own weapon in hands. There was a sense of determination all over her, the same conviction he felt from her in the tree and he knew that he would not need to think about her while in battle; she was capable on her own.

“Go.” Was all he said and Griffon and Shadow charged at the demons. 

Bolts of lightning filled the battlefield, crackling through the air and burning the demons with pure electric energy, while a whirl of constantly transforming black fur pierced through the demon’s skin like paper. In this moment they were weapons, the means for him to end those demon’s pathetic lives and to send them straight back into hell. 

Satisfaction settled in his green eyes as he heard the pleasing sound of his cane digging into the Empusa’s skull, destroying its brain and causing it to disintegrate in front of his very eyes.

He caught a glimpse of the woman fighting the Hell Antenora. While he had no time to watch and focus on her, he did see how she twisted her body around to evade its attack, before she used the dumpster close to a wall to gain the upper ground. It was one fluent movement; she climbed on the dumpster with one step, jumped down from it, her weapon over her shoulder and slashed the demon’s throat with one solid swing. She rolled on the ground to quickly gather herself before continuing attacking the other demons.

He was impressed. For a human that was admirable. More than he could pull off on his own.

And it also made him realize that the moment in the Qliphoth, when he had to save her from a demon she didn’t see coming, has been a foolish mistake and not a common experience for her.

It only took mere minutes until the battlefield turned silent again. 

No more demons left. Just Griffon’s chuckle at their victory reverberated through the narrow street they were in.

Shadow and Griffon both returned to him, once more retreating into their respective tattoos on his skin. V knew they felt his approval, felt them show their signs of recognition and gratitude like a soft breeze carried through his body and soul.

He knew the woman watched him, watched how his familiars vanished in strands of fur and bunch of feathers, mixed with black particles that reappeared on his skin. But she didn’t say anything, although V could almost hear the question that was burning on the tip of her tongue, which she held back for what reason he could only assume; she didn’t expect an answer from him.

There was a mutual feel of mistrust in the air between them. He did not trust other people, and he even more so did not allow people to see beneath the layers of confidence and pride he pulled up around him. His heart and soul had too much to bear, too much he would not share with another human being; he was alone in this, would always be.

She did not trust him because she saw right through him. She knew that what he showed her, the glimpses she caught of him were just an outer layer albeit not pretentious. She was aware he knew more about the situation at hand, which he did not tell her. He truly did not give her any reason to trust him.

“Are those the roots we need to destroy?” she asked him once they reached a staging area of the Qliphoth roots. A giant knot of pulsing blood vessels, surrounded by dark grey demonic roots, tendrils and spikes protecting the source of the Qliphoth strength.

“A small one, but yes, indeed,” he replied and with a sound of effort breaking from his lips did he stab his cane right into the knot of blood cells. There were much bigger roots all over the city, looking almost like miniature versions of the Qliphoth, but every single one counted.

If they wanted to have a chance at success they needed to get rid of every single one of them.

The blood turned brown right after he pulled his cane out of it again, the root drying up and dissolving into dust within a matter of seconds. Nothing really happened to their environment as a result but it still brought them one minor success: the Qliphoth wouldn’t get any more blood sacrifices through this one.

“Do we have a destination or is the plan just to roam the city trying to find as many of these roots as possible?” the woman asked after fighting off another small wave of Empusa demons. There was the hint of a judgemental tone in her voice but it was overshadowed by a genuine interest.

He didn’t stop walking as they were now reaching a damaged bridge which was leading across the flooded part of the city. He raised his cane, pointing to a building ahead of them. He wasn’t sure if she could see it. There were a few moving tendrils sticking out of the destroyed roof of that building, but it was this kind of root closest to them, so they would take care of this one while Nero took down another.

“This is still quite a way to go,” it was just an observation, no judgement in her voice in that statement. He agreed.

“We’ll probably get the chance to exterminating more roots along the way. Like this one,” he once more used his cane to point towards a smaller root like the previous one. 

Shadow was at his side immediately. She purred quietly, brushing along his hands as she circled him, waiting for a command or a word from V. He let his fingers slide through her fur as she brushed along his skin, before sending her forward to get rid of the roots.

“Wait, V.” 

He told Shadow to halt her attack, listened to the woman’s voice calling out to him, though his brows furrowed as he looked over at her. She was at the side of the bridge, leaning over the railing of the bridge.

“This bridge will collapse if we destroy that root,” she said pointing downwards where the tendrils of the root went across the bridge and disappeared from his sight. They probably were wrapped around the pillars of it. He didn’t voice it, but it was quick thinking from her. While he could avoid getting injured with his familiar’s help, if the bridge did collapse, she probably couldn’t.

“Then you go up ahead,” he nodded towards the other side of the bridge. She looked at him for a bit, staring at him out of deep blue eyes, trying to analyze what was going through his mind right now.

But she listened to him.

It actually surprised him a bit. She didn’t say anything else, didn’t question him, instead trusted his decision and just nodded once and made her way towards the other side of the bridge, even running as to not waste any more time.

Once she was away from the bridge he sent Shadow at the root again, making her slice through the blood vessels with her claws, all the while Griffon appeared close behind him, ready to interfere should something happen to the bridge.

He felt the shaking of the brickwork before he heard it. It happened in the blink of an eye. The roots turned into dust, no longer supporting the unstable bridge - just as she said before - the stone and bricks crumbled, falling with rumbling noises into the water down below.

V was grateful for his familiar’s quick reflexes. Shadow jumped, easily reaching the other side of the bridge, while Griffon hooked his claws into V’s bracelet on his raised arm and carried the summoner away from the collapsing bridge.

“Did you see that, sweetie?! Pretty amazing, don’t you agree?!” Griffon exclaimed, as he let go of V near the woman again.

“Since you’re a bird it must’ve been really hard to actually use your wings.”

V smirked at her remark, but he did see that she was affected by the previous scene. Maybe she wasn’t impressed, her posture and gaze didn’t seem so, maybe she appreciated him sending her away beforehand or his teamwork with his familiars; ultimately he couldn’t know, but he knew she wasn’t as nonchalant about it as she made it seem.

“Well, maybe you should hope I won’t forget how to use them, if you need them eventually,” Griffon countered.

“We’ll see about that.”

“Oh, we will.”  Griffon chuckled. V didn’t say anything. The discussion was over with Griffon’s statement but V knew that a threat by Griffon was at least empty if it was directed at people on the same team as V. He wouldn’t let someone get hurt or die if it would lead to putting more pressure and strain on V’s exhausted bones.

Shadow let her slide her hand along the fur of her head as before on the church square - which still caught him by surprise - before she padded over to him and retreated back into her tattoos.

“Let’s go.” V said.

“Yeah.”

V has already walked most of the streets in Red Grave City countless times within the last four weeks; eradicating demons and exterminating Qliphoth roots, although a lot of these huge roots have only grown very recently. But he knew his way along the destroyed buildings, through the ruined streets, to find the way to his destination.

He almost flinched back when a warmth settled upon his arm.

The touch was fleeting, just a brief caress of her hand on his skin to gain his attention without having to speak up for it.

He followed her hand with his eyes as she withdrew it, silently pointing to a side street at which end another root was visible, but also a Behemoth was lurking there. She looked at him in question, nothing in her blue eyes hinted at her thoughts still lingering on that gesture and he prayed there was nothing in his own eyes as he nodded, wordlessly agreeing on taking the Behemoth down.

The touch of another human being… how much time has passed since that was a sensation he had felt? Since he sought out that gesture, that caress of attention? Since it was not meant to make him flinch and hinder him in his path? He could not deny how his ribcage squeezed his heart in a painful embrace as his mind could only recall the touch from his mother of when he was nothing but a child.

The touch on his skin still lingered, felt like a burning imprint on his inked body, long after it ended as they quietly approached the Behemoth as to not alert it to their presence.

Griffon flew silently above them until it was above the Behemoth, ready to attack, while Shadow slid beneath the ground. A Behemoth was dangerous, one hit and V met his end, but with very precisely aimed attacks while it still didn’t know opponents were there, and it was beatable within mere moments despite its heavy armor.

The attacks were launched at once. Bolts of lightning charged with demonic energy and a precision unrivaled into the demon below Griffon, while Shadow leaped from the ground, morphing into a spinning blade and stroke the Behemoth head-on.

V watched as the demon’s armor broke apart instantly, its giant two tongues unfurling and falling onto the ground. His familiars did not cease their attacks, they couldn’t allow themselves too. They needed to bring this eyesore down as fast as their skills allowed.

“Exterminate the roots,” he told the woman. He assumed she could come up with something to get rid of the Behemoth. However, just letting Shadow and Griffon handle this was more effective right now if they did not have to be cautious not to hurt her in the process.

She nodded and he looked after her for a moment as she went ahead before he turned his attention back on the demon.

He slid along the ground with Shadow’s help to evade the Behemoth lashing out at him with his tongue, but it was distracted by Griffon unleashing electric strikes across the area. The lightning fueled by demonic power stroke the giant demon, digging right through its thick, unprotected skin and leaving behind the stench of rotten flesh. 

And when the Behemoth finally emitted that faint purple glow V threw his cane.

He used the very little demonic energy he could utilize with the cane to teleport to the creature’s back. His cane dug easily into the demon’s skull, although it started to wriggle and fight against his upcoming doom.

“Resist all you want.” V said, focused on his cane digging deeper into the Behemoth’s head, focused on not losing his balance on top of it until he heard that all too familiar sound of demon bones cracking and giving in. He allowed the sense of satisfaction as yet another obnoxious creature was sent back to hell, dissolving into goo and blood and leaving only the smell of death behind.

Shadow and Griffon both returned to him, Shadow’s markings on his body reappearing, Griffon staying with him, when the woman joined him again; the roots long gone and vanished.

“Such vile things,” she commented, looking at the pool of blood on the ground.

“Those are even feared by their own kind.” V told her. She nodded.

“Apparently they’re also cannibalistic.”

V did not know how she knew that or that what he just said was seemingly nothing new to her, but he assumed there was a reason for a simple human like her being a demon hunter and strategic expert and surviving this long. Knowing about the enemies one was fighting was doubtlessly a necessity.

“You bet they are!” Griffon chimed in, “that’s why over time the restraints on their bodies got heavier. They kept breaking through the armor all the damn time. That’s one species no one would miss,” the demon bird complained. V smirked. He knew Griffon has had more than one confrontation with these demons in the past long before they met.

“We should go.” V said, throwing up his cane and catching it again to walk away from the side street they were still on.

“V,” she said from behind him, and for a moment there was tension settling over his body, anticipation as much as dread, that she would touch him again to gain his attention. He did not understand why he tensed so much.

She did no such thing however.

“Shouldn’t we consider taking a break? I assume more demons are waiting for us, especially when we reach that bigger root. I… don’t know if we can go on for this long without some rest.”

“A break may not be the worst idea our soldier girl had.”

V had to admit that they had a point. His soul and body weren’t resilient like Shadow’s and Griffon’s were. Effort and movement took a much faster toll on him than he would like. Despite being granted these powers of having these demons fight at his side it did nothing to enhance his capabilities as a human. 

In fact, he felt the weight of the battles and the constant walking in his feet, he felt his shoulders slumping after each time he had to raise his cane…

He had a mission to see through. They did not have that much time. But he could not deny that he needed a break at some point too. Just as they could not proceed in the darkness of night they could not walk on an entire day without rest.

He closed his eyes and nodded wordlessly at the both of them.

“Let me call Nico. Maybe she can supply us,” the woman already took out her mobile phone and dialed the number. V did not say anything, instead he walked on until they reached a tiny square and lowered himself onto a wooden box. He felt the gratitude of his bones and muscles immediately, as if every nerve in his body gained the ability to breathe and sighed in relief.

The woman did in fact arrive with the van in a matter of mere minutes, driving over anything in her path without caring for the vehicle’s condition. V considered it to be foolish but her driving skills were still admirable. He did not have a license himself but he still knew not everyone would handle driving in a demon-infested city like this.

“Hey guys!” the woman exclaimed through the open window waving at them. Griffon chuckled.

“Be right back.”

“Our soldier girl has important business to tend to I assume?” Griffon laughed, and V allowed the slight upward curve of his mouth. The woman also didn’t seem to take any offense to his statement.

“Just you wait,” she even winked at Griffon, and while it did silence the demon, V wondered why she seemed to be in such an uplifted mood now of all times.

A hand appeared in his peripheral vision after a while.

He followed the hand up the arm until his eyes met her blue ones. She was smiling at him, a softness on her features that didn’t speak of the gravity of their situation. He wished that attitude was able to break through the walls around his soul to grant him a slightly more optimistic outlook on this endeavor.

She held a sandwich in her hand, offering it to him.

He took it, a wondering glance in his eyes as he stared at the bread in his hands.

“Oohoo, did you make that?” Griffon leaned forwards and looked first over V’s shoulder and then at the woman. She nodded.

“Yeah. Sorry, buddy, I wasn’t really sure about your diet. If you want there’s still some left in the van.”

“I surely wouldn’t mind some human flesh right now.” V looked at Griffon with one eyebrow pulled up. The demon laughed, shaking his feathers.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, whatever V eats also sustains us just fine.” Griffon explained then before his yellow eyes bore into V’s, wordlessly telling him he should better eat that bread.

The truth was that he really wasn’t very hungry. His appetite usually was very low, shoved into the back of his mind so he could focus on the tasks at hand without any distraction. But he figured that he really should eat something, and she took the time to prepare this despite them being in a hurry, despite them facing the eventual apocalypse. Also V can hardly recall the last time someone prepared food for him.

He thanked her, noticed her appreciative smile, and took a bite. His palate was anything but defined, but even he could distinguish between a variety of different flavors and it made him wonder just how she managed to accomplish that in the van with minimum ingredients. 

“Hey, can I leave ya alone again? Nero called. Gotta save that guy’s ass.” Nico leaned out of the window of the van again, rolling her eyes when she mentioned the boy.

“Sure. We’ll call you or see you tonight at the safe house again.”

“Great. Don’t get killed on the way there.” And with that the van drove away, leaving V with the woman alone again.

“V, can I ask you something?”

V looked at her, eyebrows slightly risen to show her she had his attention. He still took another bite of the sandwich.

“Who are you? I mean,” she pursed her lips in thoughts for a moment before continuing, “how is it possible for you to summon demons? I’ve never heard of a human having such an ability.”

V swallowed the last bite of the sandwich and rubbed his fingers together to get rid of the crumbs as he let her words slowly sink in.

“V, what the hell are you?”

The boy’s words from yesterday rang in his ears again, they never truly left his mind. They made him realize how different these two people were, how differently they approached him. This woman was interested in him, she saw him as a human, a soul with curious capabilities. The boy, however, dismissed him, putting him down and taking his humanity away with the simple choosing of a phrase. And even though the young hunter did not mean any harm, it confronted V exactly with the consequences he has chosen for himself all these years ago. 

That realization settled deep within his mind but it made the words she’s chosen much more meaningful, and he felt strings of his heart reaching out, clawing at his ribcage to allow his walls to come down, to let her in, indulge her in the truth.

Sentiment…, he forced the feeling back, refusing to believe how hard that process actually was simply because of her phrasing a question in a different way than someone else. He still did not know her, still wasn’t sure if she may not have some personal objectives - just as he had - despite her seeming as if she wore her heart on her sleeves; trying to refrain from sharing too much but failing to eyes like his who have been forced to see behind other people’s actions and gestures.

Still, to not give her an answer seemed to be as wrong as it was rude. There was a genuine interest in her, it was all over her, and her blue eyes have not averted from him since she asked the question. Since his childhood no one ever has paid so much attention to him. He did not know what to make of it. He did not know how to handle it. The need to indulge her at least in a bit of his mind became almost unbearable. 

He decided to give her a taste of the truth to satisfy her curiosity and to clear his conscience.

“These demons, Griffon, Shadow and Nightmare, are bound to me. They reside in these markings on my skin and I can summon and use them in battle.”

“Why do you stab the demons with the cane then? Can’t they do that? Sounds a lot safer if you simply stood back.” The corner of V’s lips twitched at her question.

“They can not kill other demons. They do as I say but they can not turn on their own kind. They weaken them and I end their lives.”

“How or… why is this possible though? Were you born like this?” her question sounded as if she did not believe it herself. She probably had enough experience with the supernatural to know it was impossible to be born this way as long as one’s parents were human. And there was no demonic blood in his family bloodline.

“No. We are bound by a contract.”

“Also, just to clear that up, sweetie, we are our own individuals. We have our own brain and mind. Well… aside from the big guy maybe.” Griffon leaned forward on the pile of debris he was standing on.

Their own individuals… yes. As long as he would fulfill his obligation.

V did not say anything in return.

“I assumed as such,” there was a smile on her face as she replied to Griffon before she looked at him again.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said. He nodded, though the thought that he barely explained anything pushed at the back of his mind. She was so interested in knowledge and information about demons. And him. It was hard to imagine for him that she was content with the limited information he gave her. She did not even try to ask for what his side of the contract contained. 

Was he glad she didn’t ask? He was not even sure, but he knew he would not have given her the truth anyway.

A moment of silence passed before V grabbed his cane and rose to his feet again. He thanked her for her effort for making the food - and he truly was grateful - and V was astonished how her face lit up with a smile and a shimmer in her eyes.

Sometimes he wondered if he had forgotten how much words could affect people outside of poetry.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They continued their way until they finally reached their destination. The giant root of the Qliphoth looked almost like a miniature version of the actual tree. Branches, tendrils and blood vessels twirled in a grotesque way, filling up the entire width of the half-destroyed building they were now in.

Some sort of market as it looked like. There were market stalls everywhere, mostly destroyed, and Cara even spotted some long abandoned boxes with groceries. There certainly was a lot of clutter around, it kinda looked like a hurricane has blown through here and destroyed half of the building.

However, she didn’t spot any demons in the area. Neither did she see pools of blood on the ground from where demons could spawn

Cara walked forwards, her gaze locked on the giant root of the demonic tree, when a sudden pressure on her left shoulder stopped her in her tracks.

She looked at her shoulder, confused but not concerned, and followed the length of V’s cane to his face. His brows were furrowed a bit, his eyes not looking at her but their surroundings and then his smirk appeared on his face again; really subtle, just a slight upwards curve of his lips.

She could’ve sworn her breath got caught in her throat for a moment when he turned this gaze to her; she was now even more aware of the pressure of his cane on her shoulder as his green eyes looked at her with an intensity she hasn’t seen from him before. 

“We are not alone.” The words were spoken so low, just a deep grumble of his voice. There was something hidden beneath those words, beneath that smirk and intense glance. As if he was looking forward to what was to come, a confidence and determination to face the impending threat of the situation, which was rather surprising because so far he hasn’t seemed eager to fight demons.

It raised so many more new questions in her and she wished she had more time and another opportunity to ask him more.

V stood next to her and released the cane from her shoulder. He looked at the root ahead of them and then looked at her once more.

“Stay back,” he simply said; not a request, not a demand just a simple statement.

“I can-”

The look he directed at her made the words stop on the tip of her tongue before they could escape. No smirk, not even a glance in his eyes that told her anything. Just a hard expression that made it impossible for her yet again to look past his demeanor. All she was able to gather from this instance was that he apparently knew about what was going on, and for whatever reason he did not want her around.

She decided to trust him.

Cara nodded, not content with the situation because she was convinced she could help but she gave in and stepped back.

V didn’t turn to her again or waited for her to retreat; he just walked straight up ahead, posture upright, gaze locked on the giant root.

She only caught a blur of colors and a breeze rushing past her as something charged at V so abruptly that Cara instinctively jumped back and reached for her weapon.

She only saw a giant serpent-like creature retreating back to the root while V rose back to a standing position; the bird demon landing on his bent arm.

Cara did not make a step forward, heeding V’s earlier words and just observed from a few feet away from behind one of the abandoned market stalls as a fleshy, pulsating humanoid life form emerged from within the root. She didn’t know what it was, a demon most likely, but even though it literally came from within the tree it didn’t appear to be a part of it. The scales  surrounding the heads of these serpents had a different color,then the orange humanoid thing. So far it never seemed as if these roots they have destroyed had any creature living in them and while this was a much bigger root, it just seemed odd.

“You dodged me! Did you dodge me?!” the demon said with a distorted voice although there was no mouth, just a shape of a face full of spikes.

Griffon groaned. “Ugh; Nidhogg. I never liked this guy.”

“You pest. Do I know you?” the creature, Nidhogg, whom Griffon apparently knew (Cara had so many questions), growled.

“Dumb as a box of rocks. Let’s not even mess with this guy, V. He can’t even leave the Qliphoth anyway. Just a Qliphoth parasite.”

So a parasite. Cara was right that this thing did not belong to the tree. She assumed Griffon being a demon would know about creatures like this and since she hasn’t known about the Qliphoth before she also couldn’t have known about this demon. Her fingers twitched as she desperately wanted to take out her notebook. But she didn’t wanna draw any attention to her by moving too much. She much rather observed the scene to get to know more about this life form.

“Did you insult me?”

“Uh-oh.”

“You insulted me!”

“I think he heard me… and he’s angry!” Griffon yelled the last words and Cara’s hand reached for her weapon again as another serpent demon charged at V. The man rather easily jumped out of the way though.

“I’m going to kill you.” The demon growled at him.

V turned around to face the demon with a calm and composure which Cara found admirable. There was a confidence in his posture and the short glimpse she caught of his face just now that left no doubt in her mind that he was absolutely unfaced by this demon.

“Not in this lifetime. ‘As the air to a bird, or the sea to a fish, so is contempt to the contemptible’.”

Cara wondered a bit how these quotes - she assumed it was one - came to his mind like this in such a situation. 

However, it was clear that V was about to fight that demon - Nidhogg - and Cara did not know how to act. She didn’t want to let him fight all on his own. 

She could fight too! This was her job after all!

But she also didn’t want to interfere and get in his way. He told her to stay back, and probably for a reason. Her hand was still gripping her weapon from when the serpent attacked before.

Her hand tightened almost painfully around the handle of the Kama.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Even the big bad kitty knows you got shit for brains!” Griffon mocked Nidhogg after Shadow growled as a response to the demon’s lack of an intellect. His familiars evaded yet another attack of the tentacle-like arms of Nidhogg while V kept his distance, his eyes switching between the humanoid core and its appendages.

“Qu-qu-qu-quiet! You… you… bird and cat!”

It was almost astounding how this demon did not even possess a basic level of intelligence. It just attached itself to the Qliphoth and fed off the blood that was sacrificed to it. Just a parasite as Griffon has said, and it barely posed a threat to him and his familiars.

V was in control of that battle. Griffon and Shadow utilizing their strength and energy to attack Nidhogg again and again, using their speed to get V out of range if the parasite got too close, V’s cane dealing the finishing blow to the serpents that regenerated after a while when they did not manage to just deal enough damage to the core for V to kill it for good.

It all changed within a heartbeat.

A screech and a shiver; a cold he never thought he would ever have to endure settled around his bones, freezing him in place.

He had to watch him fall.

He has never seen him fall before.

He was not supposed to fall.

V felt the agony of the energy leaving his body as he had to witness how Griffon got hit by that parasite and fell to the ground. He transformed into the blue glowing sphere he only knew from his explanation should it ever happen to him.

A heartbeat was all it took.

He felt the crushing grip of the pain as the energy of his long-trusted companion was being pulled from within V’s body. He had to witness how the so prideful and ferocious demon lost to that obnoxious creature.

It was a sensation so foreign to him, such a disgusting and dreadful feeling in his mind and body that he lost his focus; his chain of thoughts gone, his defense dwindling.

He heard the sound of crushing wood and clattering metal long before he felt the impact.

His bones rattled in agony, every nerve in his body being set on fire from the pain of being thrown into the clutter all around them.

V moaned in pain, squeezing his eyes shut as he fought through the agony, through the hammering in his head, through the shaking of his limbs and he raised his head to face that distasteful creature again.

A fiery hatred and the overwhelming need to destroy that monstrosity took over his mind and body, pushed the pain his body was in from the impact that could have ended his life aside and allowed him to grip his cane once again and straighten his posture.

Shadow was at his side immediately again, growling and her eyes glowing with the guilt of not preventing him from getting hurt, but she fought Nidhogg all on her own, making up for Griffon getting hit and doing the best she could to prevent anything worse happening.

V stretched his cane out to the side, signaling the woman behind him to not get involved. He knew she called out his name when he got hit, he knew she was already grabbing her weapon.

But this was his fight.

Now more so than before.

“Uah, I can’t believe this dimwit got to me! Kitty, make way, I have some roasting to do.”

V could not deny the relief settling inside of him when the sphere transformed again and Griffon reappeared. His wings glowed with newly sparked electricity, his feathers sizzling with the lightning and thunder he was ready to hurl at the parasite. V could feel the energy returning to him, a faint breeze within his body that told him Griffon was alright.

Still, V would not ever see this happening again.

“V, you’re hurt. Better take a step back.”

“I’m fine,” he simply replied, even after Shadow’s growl, approving of Griffon’s words. He was alright. He would fight through the pain. This was not the first time he got hit during a battle after all. He could endure it. He had to destroy that pathetic excuse of a demon.

And he would see it through.

“Make haste,” he told them and pointed his cane at the creature.

He sent attack after attack, wave after wave of lightning at Nidhogg. He did not allow the monstrosity to even utter a single word again. All it could do was to endure the onslaught of attacks, driven by a rage V was all too familiar with but which barely ever consumed him this way.

And when the parasite began to glow purple he felt the hatred and eagerness in every fiber of his being.

He threw the cane and used the demonic energy for himself to teleport into the air right in front of the dying demon.

He took a twisted satisfaction from the painful screams of that monstrosity, a grin settling on his lips, a cruel glance in his eyes as he stabbed the demon right through the head.

He held onto both ends of the cane as the creature wiggled and screamed in pain. The agony erupting in V’s body wrapped around his nerves like barbwire as the harsh movements of the demon threw his body around in a desperate attempt to shake him off, to prevent him from ending its pathetic existence.

But he refused to let the pain hinder him in his task. He would see this through. This pitiful parasite would not live another moment.

“The cut worm forgives the plow. What do you say?” he quoted as he twisted his cane inside the demon’s head, the sound of blood splattering and its life ending with a groan made a smirk appear on V’s face again.

He jumped away from the demon back to the ground, wincing a bit from the pain that still got a hold of his body.

He watched as the parasite sank to the ground alongside the serpents, dissolving into particles and blood. Within mere moments there was nothing left of that obnoxious parasite.

And it took nothing more than mere moments until the giant root of the Qliphoth began to crack and crumble as it was only being sustained by the parasite’s now passed life. Vines and vessels faded and lost their colors before they crumbled leaving nothing but dust behind.

One step closer.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Cara held her notebook still in hands as she stared in awe at the display of V’s abilities in battle. She could barely blink as she saw how V stabbed that demon and just held onto it until it finally gave up and was defeated.

She was worried before, admittedly. Seeing how V was being thrown into the clutter of the destroyed market stalls around them did make a shiver run down her spine. It looked frightening and it looked painful and she had called out his name before she could think about her next step. In all honesty, to her it looked as if V hasn’t been capable of continuing that battle. That he stood up and pulled off that finishing move was impressive to her. He certainly did not look like he could pull this off with his lean figure and the cane he occasionally leaned onto…

Once the dust settled again and there was this relieving silence settling over the place after the battle, Cara raised her notebook again. She turned around and started walking slowly with the full intent of leaving this area and finding a calm area to sit and write down everything she could think of now that the stress of the battle was over. She also assumed V needed a place to rest for a while. They would find a secluded area, sit down, let him rest and then call Nico to pick them up for today.

She completely froze in place when she heard a groan accompanied by a clang behind her.

Cara turned around slowly, too slowly, as if her mind was warning her that she wouldn’t like what she was about to see. And the growl of Shadow alongside Griffon calling out V’s name made a lump appear in her throat.

“V,” his name was nothing but a whisper as she saw the man fallen onto his hands and knees, Shadow steadying him so he wouldn’t fall over, his cane out of his hands, strangled pants leaving his lips.

She was at his side in a moment, kneeling next to him, her hands on his shoulders as well to support his trembling body. It was then, that she noticed the blood dripping onto the floor, gathering in a small pool on the ground. Her eyes widened, a sense of dread settling over her as the man barely responded, just breathing heavily and shaking as if he was desperately clinging to his consciousness as to not to faint.

“V, come on, lay down,” she said to him, trying to keep her voice calm. She pulled his shoulders a bit, urging him to just roll over onto his back and to stop him from using his strength to keep him upright. V barely put up any resistance, he didn’t have the energy to do so and with a strangled, painful sounding moan, he tumbled over onto his back. Cara managed to catch his upper body and she was grateful for Griffon and Shadow helping her.

Shadow purred worriedly, but she laid down on the ground and allowed V to rest his head and upper body against her, so Cara could take a look at where the blood was coming from.

“That shithead really did got him. Wish I could roast him again,” Griffon said.

Cara paid little attention to the demon. The wound was easily found and she winced as she saw the stabbing wound on his upper body just below his left kidney. As she looked to the side, to where he was just kneeling, she even spotted a small piece of metal, coated in blood. 

Has this thing been stuck in his body the entire time?

He has been fighting while being stabbed?

She focused on the wound again. It was still bleeding. She needed to stop the bleeding before thinking about treating it properly. Cara pressed a hand on the injury, flinching when her hands got covered in his blood. She hated the feeling, she hated the smell. She grimaced again when V groaned in pain.

“I’m sorry,” she was sure he didn’t even hear her. He was rather out of it, his eyes were half squeezed shut, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. Fighting this battle, getting thrown around and getting such a wound in the process and still pulling off all these moves… she could hardly fathom how he managed to do that. It wasn’t surprising that it all caught up to him now that the battle was done and everything calmed down again.

She dug into her backpack with her free hand and pulled a piece of cloth out of it. She pressed it to the wound instead of her hand. It still wasn’t ideal but it was better than just her hand.

It took a few minutes of V wincing in pain, Cara’s hands trembling, her face twisting as she saw her hands and the cloth being covered in blood, Griffon silently watching the scene and Shadow purring quietly, occasionally licking V’s face to calm him down, until Cara finally was able to say the bleeding ceased.

Oh thank god, it seemed as if nothing had been seriously injured. The issue was that probably any movement now would reopen the wound again. It needed proper treatment, but she neither had the materials nor was this really a place to do so.

She kept her hand pressed onto the wound and dug into her backpack again. She had Nico’s number dialed quickly and put the phone between her shoulder and ear. 

Come on, Nico, she thought as she waited for the woman to pick up. Her now free hand absentmindedly settled on V’s bare shoulder, not moving, just settling on his cold skin as a gesture of comfort and a reminder to herself and him that he was not fatally wounded. It was a nasty wound, it hurt him like hell, but he would make it.

“Yo?”

“Nico, thank god, you need to pick us up. Now. V’s hurt.” Cara replied quickly as she heard the woman’s voice, but she kept her own voice steady so she could understand her words properly.

“Woah, woah, what?! Be there right away. Hang in there.”

“Thanks,” Cara responded and put the phone away.

She sighed, trying not to get the dread and worry get to her. She’s been in these kind of situations before, but it was horrific each time. She never ceased to remove the pressure from the wound, but she rubbed her eyes with her other one.

“Hey, sweetie, you’re doing great. It’s appreciated what you’re doing here right now.”

She looked at Griffon, surprised at the unusually kind words. She nodded and thanked him quietly, forcing a small smile onto her face as the panther demon purred in approval. V was still trembling. He still looked as if he could pass out any moment. She never assumed he could pull off moves and skills like this, especially not while having a piece of metal stuck in his body, but she also didn’t expect the fight to drain him this much.

She wouldn’t let him fight completely on his own again.

Even if he had been right about this one. She could’ve landed a few hits but altogether this was not an enemy she could take on on her own. It would’ve required her to climb the root and attack it directly from there, and it was questionable if she could’ve gotten enough hits to kill it.

Cara sighed in relief, her blue eyes lighting up as she heard the familiar sound of Nico’s van approaching.

Let’s get you out of here, V...

[cuthie]

Omru: Dezar’alor RP 2

(( The second half of the short discord rp. Archive purposes. ))

As he pointed out her charms and trinkets, she nodded and beamed a big grin at him.

“Yea I do! And each one has a cool story, of course. Like this one..”

She pointed to a tiny golden rabbit hanging on a leather strap around her neck.

“This one I got in the most epic game of dice ever. I say epic mostly because it was played through the bars of a cage with a couple of slimy Faithless turds. Crazy right? When I won they ‘gave’ me the prize to hold onto just for funsies, thinking I couldn’t go anywhere with it anyway. You know, just to taunt me? Little did they know I was just the bait and biding my time until dark when I knew our crew was showing up. That was one of my first jobs working with these horde folks, nice people. Some goblin girl with the whitest hair I’ve ever seen was asking for a volunteer to help them locate the camp of the jerks that had been causing trouble for us. Told her that’s what I do so she strapped some little doodad under my shirt, told me to go get myself caught and off I went. Wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I volunteered but hey, they had my cousin Oji and a handful of others so of course I’m gonna help. Oh! And best part is it’s chanted up for a quick speed boost in a pinch. Pretty cool right?”

She lifted her hand and tugged at one of her bracelets. What appeared to be a wide, flat strip of scaly grey leather.

“This one doesn’t do anything special but I thought it was cool. My dads helping out over at Camp Lastwind, you know over near Port Zem’lan? A few of them have Sethrak tent flaps as a sort of warning. They have a good chunk of help there luckily but get hit a lot, heh. Anyway, he gave me a little piece off his. Told me to remember that even our enemies can be put to use. Just kinda sentimental, you know.”

She smiled, running one clawed finger over several others on that wrist then tossed him a shrug.

“Eh, we could be here all day if I try and explain all these. Some other time maybe, let’s get you to someone that can help with that soggy guitar.”

She stepped around the fish funk mess as they padded off, tossing one more glare up at the bird.. which continued to eye her. Nodding as he spoke about the city’s recent attack, her bright amber yellow eyes flicked around, taking everything in. Though she didn’t necessarily -need- company, being in a place so huge with so many unfamiliar faces, races, noises and so on had made her feel a bit isolated. It was nice to have a little familiar company, even if she didn’t know the guy.

They walked for a while longer, pausing to get out of the way of an enormous, slow moving dino that carried several rowdy looking orcs. Finally, Noh ducked behind a worn looking hide curtain and motioned for Om to follow. The narrow entryway descended into a dimly lit hallway that lead to several doors ahead. The heavy scent of potent herbs and smoke immediately assaulted their sensitive nostrils as they entered. Each inhale somehow left an odd metallic aftertaste in their mouths. Irony, and not unlike the taste of blood. Passing the first set of doors, Noh made for the 2nd door on the left and knocked. Though her posture appeared confident and at ease, her eyes darted about as if nervous.

After a long moment, the door finally swung open. A Zandalari woman filled the doorway, towering over the two Vulpera. Though the wrinkles in her face and skin advertised advanced age, her expression and gaze suggested a confidence and power. Grey hair hung rolled and tied and braided about her head and shoulders. Bits of bone, claws and long tusks decorated not only her hair and attire but the myriad of piercings on her face and ears. She stared down at the two of them, the demand for them to state their business clear with no words spoken. From behind her, fire light flickered and the scent of herbs and spice wafted out. Noh shoved a smile onto her face.

“Uh, is Heke here? How’s he doing?”

The woman leered down at them for a long moment. As if judging them, their motives.. their souls.. Noh couldn’t help the slight chill that ran up her spine, especially after her last visit when she had first met the woman. The fur along the top of her tail and the back of her neck lifted slightly. She tried to cover the reaction by clearing her throat and adjusting her pack. Her intense, glowing, turquois eyes shifted to Om then. Taking in the strangers attire, equipment and then landing firmly on his face for what felt like forever. The silence was too awkward, Noh hated it. Silence itself wasn’t bad but in such a setting it was agonizing. She cleared her throat again and spoke up, trying to move things along.

“Omru, this is Ja-row-kah. She’s Heke’s mother and uh, one of the city’s healers.”

She looked up to the woman, hoping she had said the name correctly.

“I don belong to da city, little Noh. I jus be ‘ere, healin ma son. Now get in ‘ere before someone else be seein da door open an come buggin me fa sometin.”

The woman moved aside just enough for them to enter the room. Her eyes only leaving them to make a quick scan of the hall before closing the door behind them. The place was small and lit only by a small open fire place and a few candles. A single room that seemed to serve as temporary living quarters. Ja’rokah moved to a side table covered in miscellaneous herbs and pouches where she began busying herself with something. Something burned in a low, wide bowl that seemed to fill the small space with an unnecessary amount of spicy smoke.

Noh waved a hand in front of her face, as if to clear it somehow and made a beeline for the cot near the fireplace. A large, mostly naked troll lay on the cot. His already thick, corded muscles were accentuated even more by the dance of the flames and the accumulation of sweat on his deep green skin. In contrast, bright golden tattooing covered a fair amount of his chest and upper arms. The patterns typical to much of the artwork around the city. Did it have meaning? Was there a language to it or were they just picked on what looked cool? For all she knew, it could say ‘mom’ for these guys, who knows. His head turned towards the two and a wide grin spread around enormous curved tusks.

“Ah, de little hero returns. Good ta see yu, Noh.”

His eyes shot to Om then and it was easy to see the resemblance to his mother in that intense look as Om was sized up. A single nod was offered Om’s way after a moment.

“Dis ain’cha boy from before. Where be Vondo? Yu too bossy ta keep’im round?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich but then winced, a hand coming up to hold the left side of his ribs. Ja’rokah appeared behind them then, offering the two each a mug of some steaming liquid. Noh took it with a smile, then as the woman padded off, gave a not so subtle shake of her head to Om and set the cup on the end table near Heke.

“Uh, yea.. Let’s just say he and I are really only good for short jobs, you know? Different motivations. Anyway, this is Omru, I’m helping him find a place to get that soggy guitar fixed up. Some girl punted him out into the ocean because she didn’t like his playing or something. Rude, right?” 

She poked a finger towards Om and the guitar he carried.

--

  Omru was always eager to hear about a person’s stuff. Their trinkets, nicknacks, weapons, jewelry, books, armors, whatever. Back and forth the pair of Vulpera seemed to sprinkle conversation with, ‘Ooh, and I have one of these’ or ‘Did you hear about the blah-blah’. It was a much welcomed experience for Om, in stark contrast to his initial arrival at the docks.

  Exploring the Zandalari capital hadn’t been something on his to-do list. He had met more than his fair share of Trolls, and had heard all about the nefarious politics of the city. Dozens of different troll clans, stabbing one another in the back, constantly using dark magicks called voodoo, and worst of all, cannibalism. Trolls could and would eat anything. On more than one occasion he had heard stories of desert trolls stripping the fur from the vulpera and roasting them over fires. He had actually spoken to one such person. She said she only ate her enemies, however. Funny, the city-folk sent their criminals to the dunes as punishment, but for the hundreds of vulpera living within the sands, the city was the worser of the two.

  As they walked along the streets, turning this way and that, Om took in the sights. The dinosaurs, mostly. The large reptilians weren’t exactly unseen in Vol’dun, but never in such numbers. Some were impossibly tall, taxiing people around the city in long albeit slow strides. More impressive than the giant lizards, however, was the giant dung left behind. Holy dinosaur shit were these turds big. Om had expected them to be as long as his arm, for some reason, but they were five feet tall. Five feet! Of course, the city’s sanitation department would get to cleaning that up, eventually. They had been busy for a while, taking away dead bodies, scrubbing the blood out of the floors and walls.

  Thinking back to the bodies, the Horde and the war, Omru put two and two together. Every third stall was stocked full with armors in red and black. At first the little fox boy had thought merchants were capitalizing on the Horde’s presence. Then he realized why the armors and weapons were so plentiful. The tough leathers he was presently wearing weren’t simply ‘hand crafted’ by the Zandalari. They were used goods.

  Unfortunately, Omu hadn’t come to said conclusion until after he had followed Noh inside. Some half naked troll on a cot had been talking to them. The red furred Vulpera had just pointed a finger Om’s way when he said, “I’m wearing some dead guy’s clothes.”

  Bright orange eyes blinked up to the Joker, or whatever her name had been, then back to Heck. “Not that I’m opposed. We make due with what we have in the dunes, I just didn’t think someone had.. You know, bled, died and shit themselves in this outfit, likely in that order. I traded good stuff for this. I should have got a discount.”

  He wasn’t necessarily disgusted by the notion. The Troll merchants had taken the armor from the bodies, patched them up, gave them a cleaning and sold them full price. Ugh. Bartering was always in the details. He should have been given -two- sets! Two!

Two long tusks turned towards the red furred vulpera, “Is ya friend ‘ere okay?”

  Omru’s thought-cache caught up to him, refreshing his mind. Everything that had happened in the last minute or two came flashing forward in a brief four seconds. Input lag. “Oh, yeah, I’m gonna need my guitar fixed. I have a ship leaving tomorrow morning that I need to be on, sooo. How long would this process take, and how much is it gonna cost me?” This was followed by a sincere smile. 

  --

Heke seemed to ponder the question for a moment, then nodded.

  “I do know someone dat may be able ta help yu. Da names Am’ika, she should be playin’ down by da docks t’night, if she ain’t der already. Likes ta hit up whateva fresh blood be comin’ in on da ships and da full pockets dey be bringin.. Her an her group be playin da drums mostly, but she can play a bit of everyt’ing so likely yu best bet fa dat ting. Best musician I know. Hmmh.. Best musician any be knowin I bet. Well, unless yu count Ol’ Bwonsamdi..”

  He glanced to Noh as she shot him a confused, disbelieving look. He laughed, again the sound loud and deep. The kind of rich laughter that could be heard across a room and contagious in social settings or.. might illicit goose bumps if heard echoing in a dark alley. Again he winced, holding his side as he played out the last few chuckles of it.

“What? Yu never heard he can play, little Noh? I hear he play da bones like yu wouldn’t believe..”

  His eyes narrowed as he grinned her way, the turquoise glow of them thinning into erie slits. Her brows furrowed as she blinked back at him. Was this guy just screwing with her or was he serious? Bones… Seriously? She scanned him up and down, then deciding it was a joke, rolled her eyes.

  “Yea yea, sure sure. Plays the bones with little skull capped sticks and makes the jaws flap about like they’re singing along right? And let me guess, next you’re gonna tell me he plays the bone flute too? Like I’m gonna fall for that pervy joke?”

  Heke’s eyes widened and he let out an uneasy half chuckle. He shot a look to his mother, who had turned to glare at Noh over her shoulder. Following his glance, Noh looked back and saw the woman’s nostril flaring expression. Sssshit. Had she read the situation wrong? Weren’t they just joking? What if they weren’t.. and she had just insulted one of the baddest bad ass Loa these people knew?

  “Don’t get me wrong here, that insult was for you, not Bwonsamdi. I thought you were joking. Not that it was really an insult, just, you know.. friendly teasing. I actually think Bwonsamdis pretty awesome. If I had to pick a Loa to follow like you guys, it would definitely be him. I mean, taking the shape of beasts and being in charge of the hunt or the sky or garbage or whatever is pretty cool and all but death? I mean, pfft, how do you beat that? Absolutely everything dies, even other Loa right so he’s gotta be the biggest badass ever. Imagine having him on your side in a bad spot? Vision going dark, you know it’s over and then bam! He shows up, tells you it ain’t your time yet then ‘bloop!’ pokes the reset button and you pop back up to finish off the turd that tried to take you out?”

  Scratching at the back of her head she offered a shrug, hoping she wasn’t simply digging the hole deeper. She honestly meant what she said buuuut wasn’t exactly fluent in all the Loa or what they do exactly. As was the case with most of her knowledge, the bulk of it came from stories that were shared and eavesdropping. Still, it made sense in her head and should be seen as a complement right?

“Not that it probably works that way though I’m sure. I mean, we’re all just like sand fleas in the never ending desert called life. Why would our time be worth his, right?”

  She looked back to Ja’rokah, hoping this had cleared things up. The woman had her back turned again and was furiously grinding away at something in a stone bowl. She watched as the old Zandalari woman carefully dumped some of the ground up powder into a mug then dropped in a pinch of something she couldn’t identify and filled it with hot water. She turned and stepped toward Noh then, the look on her face hard to read. She was smiling, technically, but if the look in someone’s eyes could choke you out.. Well, she was always a bit intense so Noh did her best to offer a smile of her own when the mug was offered. She took it, despite not having touched her other one yet and nodded, waiting for the woman to go away so she could set it somewhere like before. Unfortunately, Ja’rohak simply stood there, staring. When the young Vulpera didn’t immediately take a drink, the woman reached down to nudged the girl’s mug filled hands towards her face.

“Drink. I be makin dat one special just fa you.. Ta help wit yu travels..”

  Noh blinked down at the cup, sniffing at it since it was nearing her nose anyway. It actually didn’t smell horrible but the vibes rolling off this lady made her skin crawl. A flash caught her attention and she leaned out to look behind Ja’rokah, eyes widening. Whatever was left in the stone bowl had caught fire and was threatening to catch fire to several of the dried herbs the woman had hanging above the table. Ja’rokah turned, cursed and flew into action trying to smother it. Though initially covering the bowl seemed to work, the moment she removed the bit of hide, flames bellowed out, quickly catching the herbs above.

“Shit! Here!!”

  Noh bolted forward and threw her arms out, flinging the cups contents over the flames. It's just what you do when there’s a fire that gets a little out of hand. You throw water on it. Sometimes it's tea or juice or soup or whatever else. Heck, she had even seen a couple people pee it out once. Liquid, that’s all it takes. So when this ‘tea’ exploded into a flaming wave of liquid on contact her jaw dropped, her eyes bugged and she was dumbstruck. Most of the top of the table was now on fire and the cursing woman flailed to gain control. She slapped at the few flaming droplets that hit her arm, tore the rack of dried herbs from the wall, throwing it into the fireplace then grabbed and dumped the boiling pot of water over the entire thing.

  The room filled with a mix of smoke and steam. Mixes, tincture bottles, containers and other components were scattered about and washed off the edges of the table. As the flames disappeared and the steam cleared, one item sat unaffected near the edge of the table. A small, golden pocket watch. Ja’rokah stared down at it for a moment, then reached for it. As her wrinkled and pocked fingers closed in though she jumped as the thing’s lid popped open, knocking it over the edge and to the floor. There it sat facing up, its ‘tick tick tick’ somehow seeming louder than it should be. Ja’rokah watched it for a moment then lifted her gaze to Noh, her expression a mix of annoyance and suspicion. At the look, Noh jerked from the dumbfounded, frozen state of having just watched that shit show and threw her hands up defensively. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know your tea would catch fire! Tea isn’t supposed to.. Wait, why were you trying to make me drink something like that anyway? Wouldn’t that hurt?”

  With a slight sneer, the old woman dismissed Noh’s question with a flick of her wrist then bent to pick up the watch. Apparently clumsy though, as she stepped forward the biggest of her two fat toes kicked the little thing, sending it sliding across the rug. It bumped up against Noh’s foot, its lid closing with a tight snap on impact. Ja’rokah practically snarled at the thing, then stood up straight again and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Fine.. Ain’cha time, just take it an get outta ‘ere.”

  She flung one long finger towards the door then turned her back on them to begin cleaning up the mess. Confused, Noh looked from the watch to Heke, to Om and back to Heke.

“…What…”

“GO!!”

  The woman’s raised voice made Noh jump and if she wasn’t mistaken, it had even made Heke jump too. She searched his face for clues, having no idea what exactly had just happened. He winced a little and shrugged, nodding towards the door.

  “Yu got what info I could give. Seems yu best ta get goin’ now. I’ll be up an about in a few days. If yu still around, I’ll come find yu fa dem stories I promised, eh? If not, den take care of yu’self little Noh and I be owin’ yu.”

He offered a warm smile then pointed to the watch.

“Take it wit yu. It be good luck to yu now. Or bad.. Dependin’.”

  His lips curled up around his left tusk into a mischievous smirk and he motioned for the door, though less pointedly than his mother.

“What the hecks that supposed to-“

“Go..”

  He said it softly but it was clear the visit was over. Flashing Om a quick awkward look, she snatched up the little watch, stuffed it in her pocket and headed for the door.

--

  Omru furrowed a furry brow, “Uhh, Bwon’samdi worship isn’t as prevalent in the dunes. From my understanding of the capital, there are a half a dozen Loa being praised in the city of gold, and the Loa of Graves isn’t even in the top three. Not that there’s anything wrong with picking him to be your patron saint or whatever. Fear of death might be a great motivation. I’m not particularly religious. Not sure what comes after death for those unpledged to the Gods, but if I -had- to pick, maybe Akunda? I wouldn’t wanna change my identity though. Oh wait, Sethraliss! She’s a good one. Loa of Lightning. Yeah, if I had to enter a pact with someone, it would be her. I mean, yeah she’s a Setherak and all, but the bad ones are very very anti-Sethraliss. Faithless is what they call themselves, and anyone they’re opposed to is probably a friend worth having.”

  Om sat down his tea and began rummaging in his pack for a few moments, his little fingers working buttons and pockets and zippers within his bag of bags. Eventually he pulled out a yellowed rolled parchment, unfurled it and read, “In the densest jungle of darkest green.. Ahem, that was Vol’dun once upon a time. Anyways, continuing! - Rules the mother of many, but rarely seen. Warm and lush and full of life, iron will and without strife. Her mind unfurls, envelops all. Her faithful ever heed her call. See? Faithful, not Faithless. Anyways, across the ages her eyes do see, seeking the best for you and me. Through darkest night and brightest day, she will ever find her way. In her, your haven will be found. Her all for us, her care profound. Love unsurpassed will surely be, when Sethraliss you truly see. Isn’t that sweet? Like a Loa of love.. And electric sparks. But mostly love. And snakes.”

  The little black fox had just picked up his drink, bringing the mug of tea up to his snout when the room exploded in a rush of heat and flames. Jaw dropping, Om looked from Noh to Joker and back again. Clearly while reciting his Loa scroll he had missed the flames in the bowl. Hearing the accusations of Joker spicing the tea with something flammable, Om very quickly dumped the contents of his own drink off to the side, away from the flames. What was more interesting than the contents of Noh’s cup, however, was the little pocket watch. Flame retardant. Interesting.

  No longer welcome in the smokehouse, the pair of Vulpera retreated, Om shutting the door only to reopen it and poke his head back inside, “Thanks again for the help. Sorry abou the-”

“GO!”

  He closed the door behind him, then hurriedly chased after Nohko. “Seems like you’re about as welcome in this city as I am, judging by your friends back there. I wonder what was in that tea. Something sinister or just booze?”

  It took little more than an hour to figure out that the drummer Heke had been referring to happened to be the same one that had kicked Omru into the ocean. The band had a music shop they owned, complete with a stage for performances. It turned out those were for special occasions, where the shop would work with local restaurants and bars for a night of celebration. Primarily the band just played the drums and performed on the streets, raking in enough coin in tips to keep their business afloat. Through very little investigation, the vulpera learned of the process required to fix Om’s guitar. It would take a few days, having to dry then sand down the wood, restring the instrument and retune it. A few days that Om didn’t have.

  “Hey, I gotta get going, people to see before I take off. I have a huge favor to ask of you, though. Would you mind getting my guitar fixed for me? I can give you the coin with a smidge extra for your trouble. Just get it back to me if you ever come to Durotar? Or I might could track you down here.”

  Being the reasonable type, Nohko agree to help Omru out. After submitting it to the music shop, he even bought her lunch. Zandalari kingsteak with zeb’ahari kiwi and southsea breadfruit. After parting ways, Omru made another trip to the music shop. Sun was coming down but it wasn’t quite dark yet. That didn’t stop the little fox boy from slipping into the shadows.

  It was always a chilling sensation, beginning at the base of his neck, wrapping itself around his enter body from his head to his tail. Some folks called it shadow magic, some called it voodoo, he called it sneakiness. It wasn’t a hundred percent foolproof, especially for people looking for invisible creatures. There were traps that could be set, potions that could grant enhanced vision, gadgets that could expose him. None of those were present in the little shop, and in under three minutes, Om got in and got out. With him was a fancy little lute, made of some kind of white wood with purple strings. It wasn’t his flamenco guitar, but it would suit his purposes. Besides, those jerks shouldn’t have assaulted him at the docks. Eye for an eye, that kind of thing. He could always return it when he got his father’s instrument back.

  That night he stayed at the cheapest inn he could find. The place was rundown and a bit dirty, but he honestly slept great. He was used to roughing it, so any commodities were welcome. When morning came he was back at the docks, paying his fee for a special little boat to take him to the fabled jungles of Durotar. He gave up his enchanted troll dagger, and judging by the captain’s face, the whispers had taken hold of the blade’s new wielder immediately. Whatever, it was his problem now.

The End For Now? -