#and later in the dream (after the undead dragon) i suddenly remembered i was a fantasy noblewoman on the run

[amygdalae]

In my dream last night we (a bunch of ppl i know irl) unearthed an evil undead dragon out of a sarcophagus but I realized its boss health bar kept regenerating as it hit 0

So I went into my inventory to find the special sword I knew i needed to kill it (videogame ui often features in my dreams but it never pauses shit so i had to find it fast) but I had so many fucking items in there i couldn't find it and kept scrolling past it by accident cuz I was also trying to keep an eye on the undead dragon.

[redwinterroses]

Could you do something with 3rd Life Joel?

Harley I saw your reply on my 2AM post last night and YES the weird Joel thing IS from your ask. XD I had no idea what to do with this originally because Joel has a lot of good moments but I really wasn't in the mood to do much angsty with him (Joel kind of... exudes anti-angst. He's just so factual about everything and the sarcasm is Off The Charts. I love it.)

But I was getting ready to sleep and randomly scrolled past a post about the myth of Black Shuck and the Wild Hunt and my brain was suddenly possessed by a wild spirit of fanfiction so.... Here. Have this Very Odd piece.

(It works best if you read it in a messy Irish accent, lol.)

(also this may be a lead-up to my Trickster God Scar and Archangel Grian thing someday. We'll see.)

~*~

The Wild Hunt

.

.

.

Listen here, child, and I’ll tell ya a tale: the tale of the Wolf King, and a Wild Hunt.

What? Ya know the story? Sit down and hush—you ain’t heard it the way I’ll tell it. And I should know: I seen him myself.

Would ya call yer old granny a liar? For shame. Sit down, you. Eat yer cookie. Listen.

(don’t pinch yer brother, ya nugget, or no more cookies for you.)

He were born out of flames and fire and smoke, y’see. Born when he died, t’be fair, but born in fire all the same. ‘Twas the Grave Maiden what set his roof aflame, she an’ her undead hoard, and of course the Trickster was there as well—fat lot o’ good that did the Wolf King. But he chose his bed, and he laid in it, and we all reap his dreams thereafter.

So there he were, all newly grey and smoulderin’ and his eyes a’burnt like coals and fire and his belly growlin’ for revenge. But he weren’t the Wolf King, not yet—he were then only a lowly red, with naught but one life—like you or me.

(how’d he start with more than one? Well he were a god, weren’t he? Or he were meant to be. No, I don’t know who choses them things—prob’ly the Archangel but don’t tell the cleric you heard that from me. He don’t like me puttin’ the Angel over the Trickster or the Red King. Clerics don’t have much imagination, y’see.)

So what did he do with his one life? With his one, bloody, beatin’ red heart? “Well,” he says, he says to himself, “I need me an army, if I’m gonna take down the Grave Maiden.”

(Shush, child, don’t spoil the story. Yer brother don’t know how it ends.)

“I need me an army,” says he. “But no one will ally with me, and if they did: I’d kill them anyway—” y’see, he had taste for blood, woke with it in his teeth, like any good wolf. “—I’d kill them anyway, the whole world is my enemy.”

So instead of allies, he went to the wolves. And he went to the great da wolf and the great mam wolf, and he says to them, he says: “Give me some of yer children, to fight in my wars.”

And of course the wolves said that was crazy, they weren’t gonna send their children off with some grey-faced red-lifer on a quest to fight the gods. But the Wolf King—

(No, he weren’t the Wolf King yet. No, I don’t know what he were called before. He didn’t matter before.)

The Wolf King—who wasn’t the Wolf King yet—bared his bloody teeth at them wolves and growled at them and said in the words of wolves that they could send their children with him, or he could take ‘em on his own.

Now, wolves is wise—remember that, nugget—wolves is wise, and wolves is knowing. And they looked at this red in front of them and they were knowing that he weren’t lying. And they looked at this red and they were wise and said “Fine, alright, you can take any of ourn that’ll go with ye.”

“Fair enough,” says he. And wolf pups ain’t so wise and so knowing as their parents—remember that, nugget, parents know more’n you give ‘em grief for—so he left with his army: a passel o’ young, foolish wolves.

(Well. Some might say they was foolish. Some might say they was grand and brave and the best wolves to be born on this earth. Some might say that they can be both. Don’t ya go askin’ the cleric though.)

So there he be, this Wolf King and his pack. His army: his teeth and his claws. And now, on moonless nights, ye can hear ‘em: forever huntin’ for the Grave Maiden and her Fallen One and her hordes—she’s his sworn enemy, ya know. But that don’t stop him fightin’ with the other gods too.

He loves to chase the Red King over the mountains—sometimes ya can hear them in the night, howlin’ back and forth at each other, the wolves runnin’ the King and his Hand over the peaks and into the desert dunes. And sometimes the Red King comes after him and the pack too, o’course, but that’s a story for another night and older ears. It’s a bit too sad for cookies by the fire.

(No, love—yer mum’d kill me if I sang the Fall of the Wolf King with yer brother here. He’s too young for that tale.)

He’ll never defeat the Grave Maiden, and he’ll never catch the Red King, and he’ll never burn down all the Flower Kingdom no matter how many times he tries: that’s the nature o’ the gods, y’see, and it’s what makes us happier creatures. ‘Cause they can never finish their stories—they’re trapped in a forever dance of give and take, alliance and war, love and hate. But it’s all real, an’ it’s all true.

And believe me or not but cross my one bleedin’ heart and hope to die (that’s another thing not to repeat in front o’ the cleric, ya hear me, child?): I seen him.

I seen the Wolf King. Just once, but that were enough.

I seen him under the moonlight, racin’ across the moors with his bayin’ army at his back an’ at his front an’ all around him: a sea of white fur, frothin’ about like foam on the surf. All their eyes were burnin’ in the moonlight—I swear it on the Dragon herself. Burnin’ red, they was, like the very flames the Grave Maiden lit. They looked right at me, and I knew—I knew I were his next kill.

(The Wolf King ain’t nice, child. Of course he ain’t nice. He’s mad is what he is. And madmen don’t make for good people to meet when you’re crossing the moors alone of a night, on yer way home from a dance in Crastleton.)

(What do ya mean ya don’t want a sad story? The sad part’s over, child—clearly I didn’t get gobbled up by the Wolf King’s pack, or else who’d be here tellin’ ya this story now, I ask ya? Sit back down with yer sister and listen.)

So I seen him over the crest of the hill, with the moon a silver ha’penny in the sky above and the stars all a-glimmer and a-shinin’ like the lights of the Widow’s crown. And they came down the hill and they swept over me—all them wolves, all glory and soft and fang and hot breath on me face and I closed me eyes—I did!—and just waited for them to gobble me up.

But ya know what happened instead? ‘Course you don’t, that’s why I’m tellin’ ya. Instead o’ teeth and claws and my one life bleedin’ out on the moor… I hears a voice.

No, he didn’t say nothin’, it weren’t words. The Wolf King don’t use human words no more.

But he were laughin’.

Imagine that! Imagine me, not so much older than you, love, alone out on the moor and ringed about by the Wolf King’s army all a’swirlin’ and boundin’ around me: and the Wolf King laughs.

I couldn't help meself, though I'll never know why: but I laughed too.

And then he grabbed me by me arm and we ran.

Oh, my children. If I live to be a thousand I’ll never forget that night.

(Don’t you repeat this to the cleric. Or yer mother. They both think I’m dotty as a bat as it is.)

The Wolf King and his pack run faster than birds can fly—faster than horses, faster than hounds. Faster than I could run, even then: but it didn’t matter. They carried me along, light as a feather and more nimble than a hare. Over the mountain, down the vale, through the ruins of the Flower Kingdom—yes, I’ve seen the Flower Kingdom, but only by moonlight and we didn’t stop, but I heard later that there was fires again so he must have gotten his bite at the Widow and the Soldier when I weren’t lookin’.

And all the while, the whole pack was howlin’. Howlin’ like the front gale of a nor’easter comin’ up the coast: the wolves was howlin’, and the King was howlin’, and Void take me if I weren’t howlin’ too, just like this—

(Oh hush, child, that weren’t even so loud. End’s all, if you ain’t a skittish little creature—get back here and eat another cookie.)

We ran all night, runnin’ and howlin’ and leavin’ fire and fang in our wake. But it couldn’t last forever, as the Wolf King only wanted me runnin’ with him as long as it was sportin’, and even with the wolves carryin’ me along I did get tired. More tired than I’ve ever been before or since, I don’t mind tellin’ ya.

So come mornin’, come dawnin’ of the next day’s sun, I find myself back on the road to Crastleton. My dress were in tatters and my feet were a bleedin’ mess of cuts and blisters that never did hurt, my hair tangled with wind knots and wolf hair, and my throat hoarse from howlin’.

And just before he left, him swirlin’ about with a millin’ mess of wolves around his feet, the Wolf King looked at me—looked at me, I tell ya—and gave me a grin that were full of as many teeth as there are leaves in a tree. He tossed me this, and then he were gone—sweeping up and away off the moor like nothing more than a ghost in a dream.

(Here, look at it. What do you think it is? I’ve always said it’s a claw, but what kinda creature has silver claws, I ask you? Give that back to me now, child—it hasn’t left me side in six times so long as you’ve been alive, and it’ll be buried with me if I can get someone other than the cleric to do the job.)

So of course the Wolf King is real! And so the Trickster and the Archangel and the Grave Maiden and the Widow and the Soldier and the Red King and the Hand and all the rest of them. If ye’re very, very good, and very, very lucky, mayhap you’ll even see them one day.

Because of course, they might be gods, child. But in one way, they’re just like you and me: they’ve got but one life—red and bloodied and barin’ their teeth.

And the Wolf King runs forever, chasing after the Grave Maiden and her Fallen One and even the Traitor when the mood strikes him. He’ll never catch her, but she’ll never outrun him either. The Wolf King hunts forever.

Now—you finish up that cookie and run outside. I hear your mama callin’ for you. And remember: we don’t tell Mama anything Granny says about the cleric, alrighty?

Alrighty.

Goodnight, children—sleep tight; don’t let the phantoms bite.

And just maybe—if you’re real, real quiet—you might hear the howling.

Howl back.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH3

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 3: Resurrection Overture (III)

Qi Leren stood in front of the door that had once made him beyond salvation.

After the huge stone door, Maria’s sword was held high and the black dragon was crucified. Seven days ago, there was a former friend sitting on the throne that belonged to the Pope, smiling at him.

Now that I think about it, I still feel like I had a nightmare.

Worried that there was some unknown danger inside, Qi Leren removed "Devil Etiquette", changed it to the perception skill "Rain-Day Clothing", put his hand on the stone door, and pushed it gently. The stone door opened almost automatically before his eyes.

Maria and the black dragon were still there, but the metal sword in Maria’s hands had ceased to exist. Qi Leren's eyes fell to the blood on the ground, and the dragged blood seemed to bring back the scene before his death.

He took a step and wanted to go there, but the first step made this dead and broken church glow with incredible changes—

The statue of Maria exuded bright light, and countless cracks spread from its head. Qi Leren stared at this horrible scene and the cracks became more and more dense, spreading from Maria to the immortal body of the black dragon. The two statues with a height of more than ten meters were destroyed in an instant by time, turning into countless fragments and dust that poured down, rushing to the earth like waterfalls!

The entire site of the Vatican collapsed in a frantic tremor.

During this collapse, Qi Leren, who had been knocked down by the shock wave, looked towards the Maria.

Maria's phantom stood there, holding an object that seemed to be a scepter in both hands and coming towards him.

The ground shook so much that Qi Leren couldn't stand up at all, but Maria's phantom came to him as if on flat ground and handed the thing in her hand to him: "Please, bring this to the Prophet, you must give it to him personally."

"Who is the Prophet? Where is he?" Qi Leren asked, confused.

"He is in the judge’s seat of the Twilight Township. If you meet Ning Zhou, don't let Ning Zhou touch this thing and don't let him see it," Maria said.

Qi Leren looked down at what Maria gave him and held out his hand. The name of this item was [Scepter of Hell], which was made of metal, heavy and dangerous. There was a huge groove at the top of the scepter and the gem originally embedded in it had disappeared, leaving only this metal scepter with evil power. This was an extremely powerful and fearful demon item, which can even pollute the power of faith.

"I understand, I will give it to the Prophet." Qi Leren understood that the matter was important, so he put away this scepter and solemnly agreed.

"Thank you." Maria smiled, leaned over Qi Leren, and left a gentle kiss on his forehead.

The gentle kiss was like the blessing of God. Countless golden and silvery spots spread from Maria and she began to become blurred. However, these spots rushed into Qi Leren's body and he suddenly felt himself immersed as if in a hot spring. The warm energy soothed his stiff and tired body, injecting vitality and vigor into him again.

Indulged in this comfortable power, Qi Leren forgot where he was until an angry roar came from above: "How dare you! Maria! Again and again you have... I will not let you go!"

The Witch of Desperation, who found the body of the Devastator destroyed, roared. Storm clouds condensed with thunder and lightning and the terrible demon energy brewed the power of death. Countless bats came at them!

Maria nodded to Qi Leren languidly: "Good boy, go, remember my words."

Saying this, a bright white light rose from Qi Leren's feet, pierced through the dark clouds in the sky, and wrapped around Qi Leren to fly him towards the distant land of dusk.

In this dazzling silvery white light, Qi Leren felt his body float uncontrollably just like in the dream before, rising higher and higher, and the white world was full of magnificent and majestic vitality, solemn and quiet. Wrapped in the holy light, he flew in the sky like a gliding bird, moving forward in a pure white.

Suddenly an ethereal music sounded ahead. Qi Leren woke up from his dreamy state and looked in the direction of the music.

Countless little angels with flowers and musical instruments in their hands flew out of a magnificent gate, joyfully spreading petals and playing graceful music. That gate seemed to be the door to Eden. From the open gate, he could see a garden full of flowers. Angels holding musical instruments were playing the piano and singing songs by the fountain, singing praises to Father God.

A petite young female angel came out of the garden and her feet lightly landed on the clouds, smiling at Qi Leren.

Qi Leren tried to see her face clearly, but she seemed to be a light-year away from him.

"I am the Prophet," she said. "Give it to me."

Qi Leren's eyes were empty and that person's voice seemed to be God's will, which made him want to obey her orders involuntarily.

Give the Scepter of Hell to the Prophet, and she is the Prophet... This was firmly rooted in his mind.

Qi Leren took the Scepter of Hell in his hand without thinking.

[Rain-Day Laundry: At present, the remaining sensing times are 2/3.]

Qi Leren suddenly woke up. How could he believe that this unknown person was the Prophet?! This brainwashing power was simply terrible! He almost handed over this thing!

"Hmm?" The angel on the other side let out a confused hum as the projection of an archangel emerged behind Qi Leren, holding a rapier to cut the heavenly gate.

In a blaze of holy light, the world was silently torn apart and all the dreamy things in front of him disappeared in an instant.

Under the curious gaze of hundreds of millions of human beings and demons, this white holy light that shone in an arc across the sky paused for a moment in a cloud of black mist, then pierced the darkness and continued to fly towards the Village of Dusk on the eastern coast.

In the garden of Dawn.

"An unexpected miss. It’s not enough to use the avatar projection in front of him, I was too hasty," the petite woman sighed.

"You can't stop using the field’s power. After all, it’s the last of the Holy Nun’s power," the man taking a slow sip of wine said lightly.

"But to use ‘Utopia’, it will be weakened after being pierced by that holy light, it’ll do more harm than good. Forget it. Anyway, I already know that thing’s whereabouts, I’ll just ask others to keep it for the time being," the woman said and smiled again. "But that child you like is quite vigilant."

The red wine in the goblet was swirled gently, its thick red color like blood.

"People with secrets will always be more vigilant. I really wonder how many secrets he still hides."

The Village of Dusk on the east coast was shrouded in the afterglow of sunset all year round.

On the long coastline, Chen Baiqi was smoking on the seawall and her sister Sissi was catching crabs. Suddenly, she found a shiny stone. She screamed with surprise and took the stone to Chen Baiqi: "This is beautiful, I want to show it to Xiaozhi!"

Chen Baiqi glanced at the stone, but it was only a rare sea stone. She rubbed her sister's hair: "Okay."

"But I haven't seen Xiaozhi for a long time." Sissi was worried about her little friend. "Is it the Prophet who won't let him out?"

"Maybe," Chen Baiqi replied absently, full of melancholy. "We’ll go home in ten minutes and go to the Undead Island in the afternoon."

Sissi cocked her head and suddenly realized: "Is it Qi Leren’s seventh day?"

Chen Baiqi responded gently and let out a sigh.

The little girl who didn't know her sister's worries kicked the sand under her feet and muttered, "Why did he die?"

"People will always die," Chen Baiqi said lightly.

Sissi felt her sister's heavy heart and took her arm obediently. She was well protected by Chen Baiqi, but that didn't mean she didn't know anything. She had met many of Chen Baiqi's customers. Those young men and women came to her store to buy what they needed. Some of them came very often while others came rarely, but gradually these people disappeared.

Those who had disappeared had never returned again. There would always be new faces coming and disappearing like those people.

Sissi remembered that when she was a little girl, a beautiful little sister always brought her delicious candy which was wrapped in colorful cellophane, and each one was sweet. She loved the candy brought by that little sister. Every time, she had collected these beautiful candy wrappers and put them in a small tin box until she had saved a whole box.

Then one day, when she saw the tin box, she suddenly remembered that she had not seen the little sister for a long time. She asked Chen Baiqi several times, and Chen Baiqi was silent for a long time, saying that she would help her find out.

She happily went back to her room, folded a string of paper cranes with those cellophanes, and prepared to give it to the little sister.

But in the end, she could only give the folded paper cranes to her tombstone.

On the Undead Island, which was just outside the Village of Dusk, the warm sunlight had illuminated her tombstone with her name on it and the days she had lived. There were only two simple lines that summarized a person's short life.

She had felt that she wasn’t very sad, but at the thought that she would never eat that delicious candy again, she had burst into tears.

Later, she learned where to buy this delicious candy that tasted sweet, but it wasn't from that little sister, so she didn't like it anymore.

She thought that, in fact, she didn't like that kind of candy very much, she just missed the little sister.

It was a carefree little girl who taught her the meaning of death for the first time.

"Jiejie*, you seem to have liked him very much?" Sissi asked.

*{E/N: “older sister”}

Chen Baiqi smoked a cigarette and the smoke blew away in the sea breeze: "Because a friend of mine likes him very much."

"How much did you like him?" Siss smiled and asked, "Does jiejie like me so much?"

Chen Baiqi looked at her sister's innocent face, smiled, and kissed her face: "Maybe I liked him more than jiejie likes you."

Sissi gave a "wow": "You must’ve liked him very much."

However, Sissi was a little sad again: "How sad will your friend be now that he’s dead?"

Chen Baiqi could not speak and her hand holding the cigarette was shaking. There was a little bit of sweet pain in the sour despair; even if it was just a bystander like her, she was almost suffocating.

She wouldn't be able to forget for the rest of her life. On that rainy day, Ning Zhou, who had gone to the Holy City with Qi Leren, suddenly returned to the Village of Dusk and knocked on her door. She was puzzled, but was shocked by Ning Zhou's calm dead eyes. Ning Zhou had braved the heavy rain and told her what had happened. Then, despite her dissuasion, he resolutely went to Neverland. He didn't even know whether he could survive the torture of the spiritual enchanment, or if it would leave him sleeping in the cold tundra forever.

Fortunately, Ning Zhou's tombstone had yet to appear on the Undead Island. It seemed that he had successfully arrived at his soul’s former hometown, bid farewell to it, and went to a world full of thorns and sufferings.

Thinking this, she suddenly heard Sissi let out a loud scream. Chen Baiqi raised her head and looked at the sky in astonishment—in the far west, there was a bright light streaking across the sky, magnificent, holy, and unparalleled, and all the places it passed were the projections of heaven. It stopped over the Village of Dusk and turned into a vertical beam of light.

A huge projection of an archangel appeared in the void, behind which countless wings danced slowly in the setting sun, almost covering the sunset. The wings were dying, like a white rain, and the projection of the archangel was getting weaker and weaker. He put his hands on his chest, bowed toward the distance, and disappeared into the golden red sunset.

Sissi was stunned. After being shocked, Chen Baiqi’s mind suddenly raised countless thoughts: Which of the Holy See's field-level masters had come to Dusk? The place of arrival also happened to be in the spot where the Prophet had landed at dusk... No, it should be just residual energy. If it was really a field-level master, they would not reveal such a big movement at all. And the Court’s enchantment has not been alarmed... Who was it?

"Sissi, go home, I'll check it out and I'll be right back," Chen Baiqi said, and inserted a card into her card slot. A projected book turned to a certain page in her hand. A white unicorn appeared beside her and she turned around to mount the horse. The winged unicorn flew in the air to the place where the projection of the archangel had landed.

She arrived at her destination in less than half a minute due to the short distance. On the rolling sea waves of the beach, a confused figure was looking in all directions at a loss. Seeing Chen Baiqi approach, he waved at her in surprise and ran quickly to her.

Chen Baiqi's cigarette butt fell to the ground, and shock and joy were intertwined. She couldn't wait to express her incredible mood with 10,000 swear words: "Shit Qi Leren, aren't you fucking dead?!”

-----

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[skylanders-after-the-end]

Culprits and Witnesses

It was a peaceful morning in Skylands. A scenery of pinkish and yellow clouds illuminated by the rising sun. Snap Shot and Wolfgang were enjoying that moment together. They were sitting underneath the cherry blossom tree where they used to train and bond. Lying on top of the soft green grass, their arms around each other and a light breeze brushing past them. Everything was perfect.

“I wish it could always be like this.” Wolfgang’s eyes were calmly set on the sun. “Just you, me and the endless skies.”

“Me too.” Snap Shot sighed and turned quiet. “As gorgeous as this view is, you know what it means.”

Wolfgang sighed as well, only more annoyed than calm now. “Yeah.”

Not a second passed before a giant version of Dreamcatcher appeared in the sky right in front of them. “The sun is rising you guys, you know what that means.”

The couple rolled their eyes before lovingly looking at each other one more time.

Snap Shot opened his eyes to find himself back inside his cell at Cloudcracker Prison. It was all a dream. However, he’s not upset about it. Him and Wolfgang made a deal with Dreamcatcher so that every night they could meet each other in the dream realm and enjoy their time together, even if it’s not real.

The reptile got out of his cell and on his way to the cafeteria for breakfast, he felt a large fluffy arm wrap around his shoulder.

“Hey sleepy head.” Wolfgang smirked as he joined Snap Shot and they could spend some time in the real world, only surrounded by other villains.

Before the cafeteria entrance, Dreamcatcher appeared in front of the two once again, this time in her regular size. She didn’t say a word and just stared at them with expecting eyes.

Wolfgang shoved his hand inside a pocket of his pants and pulled out a small plastic figure of a unicorn, their end of the deal. “This is all I could find around here.”

“Sir Blueberry Twinkles!” Dreamcatcher used her telepathic abilities, which have been reduced to only lifting small objects inside the prison, to hold the toy in front of her. “Finally I can reunite him with his sister! Thanks, tonight I will take you somewhere special.” The floating head winked before flying off whilst enjoying the small toy horse.

The couple giggled before finally entering the cafeteria to fill their hungry stomachs.

Later that morning, the paralyzed Tuff Luck was found. She was brought into the hospital immediately where Whirlwind would take a look at the strange trance the feline was in.

“I have never seen anything like this before.” Smolderdash was as appalled as everyone else to see the lifeless, cloudy blue eyes of the Life Skylanders. “What happened to her?”

“Maybe this has something to do with Hex’ curse?” Stealth Elf could only think of the witch when she saw those eyes, despite the fact that Hex’ curse turned them pitch black. “Perhaps some kind of side effect?”

“That can’t be it. Everyone was freed from Hex’ curse when she surrendered, and this isn’t undead magic anyway.” Whirlwind has been studying all kinds of injuries and even curses for years, but this was new to her. “This is something completely different.”

Unaware to them, Tuff Luck was currently trapped inside her own mind experiencing her greatest fear. There was no way for her to give any sign through her body, she had no control anymore.

As the Skylanders continued to speculate, a deep voice emerged from the shadows. “May I take a look?”

Everyone turned around to see the dark dragon Blackout standing behind them, trying to get a glimpse of what was going on. “Of course, maybe you know more than us.” Whirlwind moved aside for the dragon to join the group.

Blackout moved his head closer to Tuff Luck and squinted his eyes while staring into hers. Suddenly the horn at the tip of his snout began to glow in a dim green light before he backed off. “Whoever did this must have access to some kind of psychic powers.”

“We figured that much.” Stealth Elf thought about some possible suspects. “But that color and her completely frozen body… we’ve never seen that before.”

“No… not in this form.” Blackout closed his eyes and focused for his horn to glow brighter. “She’s fighting. She’s trapped inside her own mind and there is no way for her to break free.”

The others gasped upon hearing that shocking revelation. “Is there a way to help her?” Smolderdash didn’t hesitate for a moment and was already looking for answers.

“I’m afraid not.” Blackout opened his eyes again and his horn stopped glowing. “She’s under the influence of some force very similar to dream magic. A so-called nightmare prison.”

“Dream magic?” Stealth Elf wasn’t hearing that term for the first time. “Then I think I know who did this.”

“Oh, yes of course I did!” Dreamcatcher just finished placing her most recent toy horse on the ledge of her window, adding it to her collection. It’s a hobby she discovered ever since she’s been locked back inside Cloudcracker Prison and found an abandoned unicorn toy.

“How? You’re behind bars and your powers are limited, there’s no way.” Stealth Elf glared at the floating head through the bars of her cell before she turned around to face the elf and Blackout who have come to question her.

“Oh no, I didn’t do that. I mean I did see your friend in the dream realm. The poor thing was so lost and afraid, but unfortunately I was too busy helping those two lovebirds so I couldn’t do anything about it.” Dreamcatcher’s dirty grin made it clear that she was being sarcastic.

Blackout was standing behind Stealth Elf and didn’t say a word yet. He was trying to use his advanced knowledge to figure out what was going on. “If you were able to see her then others can enter the nightmare prison, so she can be saved.”

The Air villain turned to the dragon and gained a curious look. “Hey, I know you.” She was staring at Blackout who kept his dead serious expression. “Weren’t you one of those creepy dragons that spread nightmares all over the realm? I hope you know by now that that’s my thing.”

“I don’t associate with that clan anymore.” Blackout remembered the Dark Stygian. It was a clan consisting of gargoyle dragons just like him who would give nightmares to villains until they started to abuse that power. “I stopped them just like we stopped you, but there’s another force out there.”

“So, you’re saying it wasn’t her?” Stealth Elf’s eyes went from Dreamcatcher to Blackout.

“No, I keep watch over her at night. She can manipulate dreams to an extent, but not this drastically and not to the point where it gets dangerous.” Blackout kept eye contact with the accused.

“You’re stalking me? Ugh, creep!” Dreamcatcher scoffed at the two Skylanders once more before turning around. “But he’s right, I have nothing to do with this.”

Blackout didn’t ask any further questions and left while Stealth Elf spitefully stared at the back of Dreamcatcher before going as well.

Meanwhile Smolderdash went to get some advice elsewhere. She entered the Magic Realm where she stumbled upon Déjà Vu who was happy to help. The two made it to one of the highest magical towers in which many Skylanders of the respective element reside in. They were looking for someone.

“Are you sure she’s here?” Smolderdash floated across a long wine-red carpet along the blue stone floor leading inside.

“It’s where she spends most of her time as far as I know.” Déjà Vu turned her head left and right to observe countless shelves filled with books, potions and other ancient relics.

The inside of the building was much bigger than the slim exterior led to believe. The two Skylanders turned and pushed many objects aside in search of a specific one. “Hello?” Smolderdash finally exclaimed, hearing an echo throughout the giant circular room.

Déjà Vu was searching on the other side. After some brief scans of every corner, she finally spotted something. “Smolderdash, look!”

The fiery humanoid hurried to the timelord, who was staring at a pink bottle with cyan, oval-shaped jewels on the side and a diamond cork on top. “That’s it!”

Neither of them knew how to approach the relic. Finally, Smolderdash decided to just grab the bottle before shaking it. When nothing happened, she placed her other hand onto it and gently rubbed. The bottle reacted by trembling, which caused the Fire Skylander to drop it and back off. Finally, the cork flew off and the bottle emitted a dazzling cloud of purple smoke. A slim figure emerged out of it and grew larger with every passing moment, casting an enormous shadow on the Skylanders looking up in awe.

The being reached the point where it was so big that it hit the ceiling. After a painful hiss, it proceeded to shrink instead and adjusted itself to a size more suitable for the room. When the smoke ceased, the giant Ninjini finally appeared in front of the visitors. “Who has summoned the great Ninjini… oh it’s just you.”

Déjà Vu’s eyes curved underneath her mask, indicating a smile, while Smolderdash remained rather baffled. “Ninjini, we’ve been looking everywhere for you!” The fellow Magic Skylander was excited to get a chance to talk to one of the most skilled Skylanders of all time.

“Sorry about that, I just discovered a new spell which can warp reality, so I had to retreat into my bottle to concentrate.” Ninjini, and genies in general, were known for their great amount of power. They can grant almost any wish and thus hold the power of infinite creation. “How can I help you?”

“There was an incident last night.” Smolderdash wasn’t sure how to best describe the situation, but she just needed to know if Ninjini was more knowledgeable regarding the issue. “Tuff Luck was put in some kind of trance, they were talking about dream magic. Her eyes were completely light blue and foggy.”

“Dream magic?” Ninjini knew a good deal about that. “Genie magic does have a lot in common with that, only that there’s an entirely different realm for dreams.”

“Do you know any way to manipulate it?” Déjà Vu was curious. “I would use my time powers, but that would most likely lead to way more problems.”

“You shouldn’t do that, you’re right.” Ninjini pointed her finger at the sorceress while looking into another direction. “I wish I could help you, but unfortunately I can’t access any sort of dream magic. While wishes often stem from dreams, ultimately they are what someone wants in reality. Dreams are far more… unpredictable.”

“I understand.” Smolderdash wasn’t disappointed, but she did wonder what else she could do. “If it turns out that it wasn’t Dreamcatcher then there must be someone else with the power to manipulate dreams.”

“And create nightmares.” Déjà Vu reminded her companion of the dark side to that special kind of magic.

“Right…” The Fire Skylander looked up to Ninjini and nodded with a smile. “Thanks for your time.”

“Always. I will let you know if I find out anything else.” The giantess turned around to pick out some more books for her private studying session while the two Skylanders made their way back to the Academy.

The sun has set and there were no clear answers as to what happened with the unfortunate Tuff Luck. The Skylanders gathered once more to discuss another strategy.

“We have no idea what happened, and our main suspect seems to be innocent.” Stealth Elf spoke to the group in front of her, not realizing how glum she sounded. “I suppose we will have to take other measures.”

“Like what? I don’t think the perpetrator will just show up and tell us.” Spitfire joined the discussion after seeing what had happened and wanted to find a solution. “All we can do is hope for Tuff Luck to snap out of it and tell us herself.”

“She’s not snapping out of it, not that easily.” Blackout’s deep voice traveled through the crowd like a wave. “If even Ninjini can’t reverse it, then we have to catch the enemy and force them to do it.”

“Or perhaps…” Smolderdash announced an idea that just popped into her head, drawing all the attention towards her. “Kaos has something to do with this.”

“Kaos never did something like this, I doubt he even could.” Stealth Elf didn’t even consider the small tyrant despite him posing a serious threat numerous times. “I can’t stop thinking that this has something to do with Hex.”

“Hex’ powers were all absorbed and stored safely where no one can find them.” Spitfire had to remind the elf of what happened a week ago. “And besides, her magic is undead, so dark and scary. Not exactly dream magic if you ask me.”

“Guys!” The conversation was interrupted by Whirlwind soaring towards them with a worried manner. “It happened again!”

The Skylanders followed the hybrid to the inside of the library where Gearshift was on the floor with the same cloudy eyes as Tuff Luck. She was all alone, and no one was even nearby, so there were no witnesses.

“How could this happen?” Stealth Elf was shocked and her eyes were glued to the motionless body of the robot. “And why her of all people? Can she even dream?”

“I cannot.” Everyone jumped up in surprise when Gearshift responded. The Trap Master blinked and suddenly her eyes went back to their normal navy, silver and red colors.

Whirlwind couldn’t explain to herself what just happened. “Gearshift? How did you-”

“Break free from the trance? Magic usually does not show great effect on my systems, so in the case of a trance, hypnosis or other forms of paralyzation, I can simply reboot myself.” The robot stood back up as if nothing happened.

“Well, do you know what happened? Did you see anything?” Smolderdash didn’t fully believe that everything was completely fine, but Gearshift wasn’t one to lie.

“I did, in fact.” Everyone listened eagerly as the Tech Skylander recalled the event. “Before I fell into that trance and blacked out for approximately twelve minutes and twenty-one seconds, a cloaked figure ambushed me.”

“A cloaked figure?” Spitfire tried to think of a villain who could be capable of something like that. “Did you see their face?”

“I saw a mask inside the hood, not the face.” Gearshift described the intruder as precisely as she could. “They are using it to curse their victims. Whatever you do, do not-”

“Up so soon? Didn’t you enjoy the nightmare I made for you?” A mischievous voice echoed through the library, and everyone frantically looked around themselves.

“There!” Smolderdash pointed to the cloaked figure they’ve been looking for. He was standing on top of some wooden platforms near the ceiling.

The mysterious figure jumped down while the heroes all pulled out their weapons and were ready to strike. “You’re the one who’s doing this, aren’t you?” Stealth Elf hissed through her mask while tightly holding her daggers.

“Guilty as charged.” The voice was deep, too deep almost. It didn’t sound natural, more like a distorted recording. Everyone could tell that it was a man talking, yet they didn’t recognize him. “I should’ve known that the robot wouldn’t fall prey to my curse, what a waste.”

“Do not look into his eyes, that is what puts you under the curse!” Gearshift remarked before the figure got closer and purposely attempted to look into each pair of eyes.

The Skylanders tried to turn their eyes away, but they still managed to catch glimpses of the mask. It was a frightening twisted grimace painted in dark and cool colors. No one thought much about it until Smolderdash took a closer look, avoiding the eyes. “Wait… that’s the Mask of Power!”

Everyone stared at the Fire Skylander and then again at the mask before gasping when they realized that it truly was the powerful relic. “So, you recognize it. No wonder since you tried to steal it from me years ago!” The foe was walking around the group like a predator circling his prey, turning his head trying to get a look into their eyes.

“Who are you?” Spitfire looked down to the ground as the intruder passed him.

“You know who I am. I’ve spent eons trapped in my own kingdom, unable to fulfill my plan to rule the Skylands with my rightful powers!” The figure was now in front of the group again. He began to levitate with blue energy underneath him and towered over the Skylanders with a mighty aura. “I am the Nightmare King!”

Just before he could launch an attack through the eyes of his mask, a fireball hit him from the side and he fell to the ground. Spyro arrived alongside a few other Skylander to aid their allies. “And you won’t get the chance to do anymore damage!” The leader glared at the enemy who turned away from the heroes.

Instead of surrendering, the Nightmare King began to cackle. He swung his arm and unleashed a powerful wave of magic, throwing everyone to the ground. “You won’t defeat me. Even if you try, I will turn your greatest fears into reality. The one you will have to fight is yourself!” The villain was certain of himself and already knew his plan. “I’m not in a hurry, eventually you will all surrender to the horrors that plague your minds. No one can escape.” With those words the Nightmare King turned around and vanished in the blink of an eye.

The Skylanders looked everywhere, but he was gone. “Perfect, yet another new villain.” Spitfire sighed and waited for Spyro to come up with the next plan to take the threat down.

“I’m afraid so.” Cautiously, almost paranoid, Spyro looked behind himself to see if there was something there. “Skylanders, there’s a new villain in town and he once again wants to take over the Skylands.”

“He also carries the Mask of Power.” Smolderdash remarked.

Spyro’s eyes opened wide, but at this point nothing could surprise him anymore. “Well, then we will need to find a way to take those powers from him. We all know what a single fragment of the mask was capable of, I don’t want to find out what the whole thing can do.”

As Spyro discussed the plan, Gearshift noticed that something wasn’t right. She blinked and her eyes suddenly shifted back to the nightmare state. Inside her mind, or rather system, she saw something familiar, then she heard a deep scream. She couldn’t make out what it was and before she got the opportunity to look closer, she was back in the real world. The robot didn’t think much of it and continued to listen like nothing happened.

In the meantime, at Cloudcracker Prison all the villains were in their cells and supposed to be asleep. Obviously almost none of them were, but they were all quiet so they wouldn’t receive a warning from the guards. Snap Shot and Wolfgang were no exception. After asking the Trap Masters time and time again they were finally allowed to get cells next to each other. Now they could chat as much as they wanted, despite a crystal wall being in between them.

“Did Dream tell you that she was interrogated today?” Wolfgang was using the bones of the chicken he had for dinner to drum against the bars of his cell as so often.

“For what?” Snap Shot was scratching the floor with his sharp gloved claws.

“Apparently a Skylander was found under some kind of dream spell.” Wolfgang did know what the mischievous head was capable of, but he also knew that her powers are very limited within prison walls. “They thought it was her. Shows how much they trust their own energy fields.”

Snap Shot smirked. “You guys did always find a way around that.” After a few seconds the reptile’s smile faded and his scratching along the floor stopped. “Wolfy?”

“Yeah?” The werewolf interrupted his drumming session since he could tell that Snap Shot was about to ask him something more serious.

“What will you do when you get out?” Snap Shot has been thinking about life outside of prison a lot lately, and he can’t help but wonder what it will look like. “We have two more years, but after that we’re free to go.”

Wolfgang was quiet. Unlike Snap Shot, he spent many years behind bars. At this point it felt more like home than any other place in Skylands. “Well, if the queen is really out of the picture, I’ll just try to get as far away from here as possible. Lay low, y’know?”

“Yeah.” That reminded Snap Shot of Wolfgang’s attempt to flee when the Skylanders found them and the other Doom Raiders on that abandoned island. Back then he would have never dared to run away, but things are different now. “I honestly have no idea. I thought I’d be with the Skylanders until I retire before settling down in some swamp and spend the rest of my days shouting at youngsters who are trespassing through my property.” Wolfgang laughed as Snap Shot paused and thought further. “But now I’m here. I have to get away once I’m out, they won’t want me around.” Snap Shot took a deep breath and exhaled with a sigh. “I can never go back.”

Wolfgang could almost feel Snap Shot’s disappointment through the wall. He knew how respected he used to be among the Skylanders. The leader of the Trap Masters with a track record of catching more criminals than anyone else, including the wolf himself several times. The crocagator told him to not feel guilty about that loss, even though it was his fault. The least he could do now is help him figure things out. “I know what that’s like, losing the life you once had and all the people in it. It’s scary at first and you’re all alone, but eventually you find something new, something that keeps you going. For me it was music and with the Doom Raiders I thought I had discovered my new purpose. Now I realize that wasn’t what I really wanted, not in that way.”

Snap Shot was listening carefully. He loved listening to his partner go on about music, he could tell how happy that made him, but he never expressed anything about his purpose before. “Then what do you want?”

“I want to be free.” Wolfgang’s lips formed a gentle smile as his mind wandered through all the possibilities once he’s out of prison. “No more tyranny and pressure from some greedy ol’ hag. I just want to get out there and share my music, even if no one enjoys it.”

Snap Shot nodded. “That sure sounds like a purpose to me.”

“And I won’t go alone.” Wolfgang added. “I’ll take a grumpy old crocagator with me and maybe, just maybe, he will get into music too.”

“In your dreams!” Both let out a heartfelt laugh before sinking back into their thoughts. “That does sound like something. Getting out there, seeing what no one’s seen before.”

Wolfgang was glad to hear some perspective from the reptile. “And you know the Skylanders; some of them won’t be able to let you go without at least saying goodbye.”

“You’re right about that.” Snap Shot’s sight moved up and out the window. Seeing the star-filled sky gave him a comforting feeling, almost like a spark of hope. “To the future.”

“To the future.” Wolfgang yawned before crawling into his small bed, which has been starting to feel comfortable after so many dreamy nights.

Snap Shot went to bed too and realized that maybe, despite the circumstances, the stay in the prison was exactly what he needed.

[gryfon-spanish-werewolf]

Soulsborne!Frozen AU: Great Knight Annatorias, the Abyss Walker

This is @jabs-wocks and @daughterofhel’s fault but I’m also @-ing myself because apparently I don’t need much encouragement to write stories sometimes so…

Before getting started, this entire 3.5k (yes, that's the correct number) brain-on-fire, sleep depriving idea, was inspired by two pieces by @azaffranist and one by twitter user @agongbushou. I highly recommend checking the linked art out before reading, since I reference them at times directly.

Okay Soulsborne!Frozen au, Anna is Knight Artorias, legendary fighter, sent to the Abyss to seek and destroy the Darkness of the world itself.

No pressure or anything.

Anna is a brave hearted woman, shoulder to shoulder with those who fought and killed nigh immortal dragons. Her kind pluck such foul creatures from the sky with arrows larger than trees, with lightning more forked than a hurricane, and slay enemies with the kindness of silver and gold-tipped daggers.

Her own mighty broadsword swings over her left shoulder with ease, a smile on her lips as she walks. The Age of Fire is upon them, but there is fear in the hearts of the gods, and to save those who would, without help, succumb to the evil inside of them Great Knight Anna will stop at nothing.

There are monsters to kill, perverted and misguided souls, each one more disturbing and profane than the last, as each is born from the Abyss itself, a dark, treacherous place where no mortal would dare tread. The city of Oolacile is threatened, sinking slowly into Darkness as an ancient, promethean man eats it from the inside out.

But Anna holds courage in her heart, and should she need a reminder of strength or solace, she need only look to her right and Elsa, her direwolf companion, is next to her, ice-blue eyes speaking more than a voice ever could. Her pure white fur makes the Darkness shrink, her frost-like Light magic a boon in the most murky corridor. Elsa has a nose for danger, and can conjure crystals to warn of dangerous earth, poisoned water, a new rash of weather over the mountains, or the lurking threat of fire. Her pelt is soft and warm, and in the mountains where they camp she’s as cozy as a bonfire, her fluffy tail wrapped around Anna’s middle as the Knight snoozes against her side.

With such skill and determination, and pureness of heart, Anna is more than well equipped to fight the Darkness, especially when Elsa is with her every step of the way.

The Abyss calls itself Manus and it is a nightmare.

For the first time, Anna is overwhelmed. She is battered against the walls of this cave, she is clawed and crushed and flogged with fists of pure Darkness. Her ears ring with primal screams. Elsa’s magic is no more effective than her teeth, and Anna watches as her companion lunges at the Manus’ middle, watches how the Darkness warps impossibly, sees a hand of incredible size form above Elsa’s unprotected back. Anna moves.

She does not feel her arm shatter (that pain will come later) but she hears it, cracking and shredding and splintering, heedless of muscle and skin.

The shield’s magic forces Manus back, screeching into the Dark. A brief respite.

Elsa pants hard, the concussive force of the hit rattling already exhausted bones, empty of energy and magic. Anna knows Elsa will not survive another blow. She is still young, a pup, and deserves to grow, large and strong. A pelt, a life, as bright as Elsa’s should not be swallowed by the Dark.

Anna speaks the runes and the shield ignites with Light, protecting Elsa from the Abyss forever, but also protecting Elsa from following Anna as she hefts her greatsword in her off hand and limps back towards the sound of Manus’ roars. She closes her ears to Elsa’s pitiful cries.

The Dark would not claim another victim.

But it does.

-----

Whatever thou art, stay away.

Soon I will be consumed by ‘Them’, by the Dark.

All of you… forgive me. For I have availed you nothing.

-----

Hundreds of years later Elsa’s ears pick up the sound of an interloper in the graveyard. She rouses herself, shaking rainwater from her coat. The snowflake mark on her brow has dulled, no longer lively purple but a morose kind of brown, the color of bloodied earth long dry.

Elsa is tired. Thieves keep coming to steal what is most precious to her. Could they not see the weapons of their fellows littered on the ground? Monuments to greed, pillars of failure each one of them, a blade planted vertically in the dirt next to small, unmarked headstones. Don’t they see? They seek an object that will only kill them, the wicked artifact that allowed Anna to walk into the Abyss unharmed, only for claws of black to tear her asunder. The cursed item that allowed Anna’s fate.

No one should have the power to throw themselves so willingly onto Death’s sword.

As the thief approaches Anna’s enormous headstone, reaches their hand out to touch Anna’s greatsword, Elsa makes her presence known. She is a formidable sight: a fully grown Great Wolf, she towers, mountainous, over this puny looter. Anger shoots through Elsa, igniting her limbs as she leaps down and tears Anna’s weapon from the dirt. Again. To stop one so desperate to kill themselves. Again.

Elsa howls at the moon, anguish and guilt and fury clashing within her.

Let Anna rest, her work is done. Do not walk in her footsteps, as there lies only suffering.

She repositions the sword in her mouth and swings, long and sweeping as she has seen Anna do many times before.

Blood stains the rocky headstones in crimson arcs.

----

Elsa awakes yet again and everything has changed.

It is dark, unnaturally so. There is no graveyard, there are no trees, no whisper of wind through her coat. She is flat on her back and there is a strange man in a wheelchair to her right, telling her things. Yharnam? An Outsider? He mentions blood and suddenly Elsa’s nose is filled with it, cloying and pressing against her. How had she not noticed it before?

How also had she not noticed she was strapped to a bed?

He begins his so-called transfusion and Elsa sees that her feet do not end in paws and her tail is missing. Her teeth are no longer sharp as she tests them with her tongue and her muzzle does not like to growl but to grumble, too short to carry the sound forward.

But she does not have time to contemplate this as her vision blurs and she falls backwards into the dark once more.

A Beast of blood emerges from the floor but Elsa feels no kinship with it. The Beast is twisted and wrong, and as it reaches out to touch her it bursts into flame, screaming. Perhaps her Light magic still works here… or perhaps Anna’s shield is still bound to her, after all this time. For surely that creature is borne of the Abyss.

So too must these small pygmy-like wretches crawling up her stomach and chest. Fear jolts through Elsa’s heart as these pale things are not deflected by magic and instead reach her head and cover her eyes. A voice whispers in her mind.

“Ah… you’ve found a hunter…”

Anna?

The Hunter’s Dream is serene and soft compared to the Night eating Yharnam alive. Here there are flowers, a pleasant breeze that does not carry wails, and though there are graves it seems a peaceful place of rest for all, not just the dead.

And this is where Elsa finds her.

Anna. Her Knight, her long lost friend, lying against the garden wall. Her eyes are closed, peaceful in sleep. Elsa approaches with great joy but… something is wrong.

Anna… doesn’t smell like Anna. Elsa presses her nose against the woman’s cheek, just to be sure, but is chastised by the man inside a house at the top of the steps, the one who must have brought her here. Elsa remembers a piercing pain in her chest followed by a long dark like a heavy blanket, deep and inevitable. Perhaps she died the night of the thief, and this world is simply the next one. Anna, or perhaps not-Anna, has not stirred in the slightest to Elsa’s presence, and with another beckoning of the old man, Elsa realizes this is a mystery to be put aside for the moment. Besides, Anna is peaceful in this state, and… she was not peaceful the last time Elsa saw her. Maybe this is where she has been sleeping all along, as Elsa watched over her grave in the other world.

Elsa slowly gets used to walking on two legs, though she always misses her tail, expecting it on the back of her calves every other step. She is both taller and shorter than she feels she should be but the little pygmies do not laugh when she misses her target because of this. In fact they are friendly, bringing her trinkets at times. She understands them a little, as they too are non-verbal. Human language still eludes her, though Elsa realizes she has now, the ability to speak it, as clearly and easily as she used to speak to Anna with just her movements. No one seems to mind her silence, and in turn she feels no need to break it.

Except for the Doll.

That’s what the man calls her, the not-Anna. Now awake, she is kind and gentle, and while her warmth kindles familiarity in Elsa’s soul, it is not enough like the bonfire of a spirit Knight Anna always possessed. Though she shares Anna’s face, her voice is thinner, like a creek through reeds, shallow like music from another room. If this is what her Anna has been reduced to, then Elsa will care for her as she always has, her silent companion. But it is the only time Elsa wishes she could speak, align her muzzle and teeth and tongue in the right order for speech. But she, the Doll… Anna… this woman, seems to read Elsa’s eyes well enough, and always wishes her wellness and luck in her hunts.

The Yharnam Elsa now stalks may be new, but it is not unfamiliar. There are monsters here too, but they are not undead but Beasts, sick like the Darkness made humans sick. The town conjures a feeling of familiar unease, it is like Oolacile being consumed all over again. Elsa has been given a strange blade: a cane-sword, they called it a trick weapon. It has a different kind of grace than Anna’s greatsword, but Elsa can admire its stinging, erratic bite as it curls around shields and tears flesh with the same ease as her old jaw.

Elsa resigns herself to the Doll, this copy of Anna, a pale comparison but not an unkind one. Until the day she learns of Lady Anna, an Old Hunter, experienced slayer, and roaming ghost of Yharnam. The man tells Elsa that Lady Anna wishes to exterminate Beasts so that people can live in peace, forever, and she is as ruthless as she is discerning, relentless in her quest. Even the Doll has nothing but admiration in her too-soft voice for this person.

Elsa needs to meet this her, and sets out immediately. She sounds… very much like Great Knight Anna: firmly set in her beliefs and desire for goodness and peace in her grisly work, but Elsa swallows the glass-like shards of hope rising in her throat. Disappointment would be its own kind if dying.

She finds her in the Clock Tower. The likeness is uncanny, but if the Doll was an enthusiastic replacement, this body was a carbon copy. The swallowed glass gets lodged, stabbing into Elsa’s heart, but still, she dared not hope. This person, Lady Anna, was so… still. Knight Anna was never still, so much boundless energy, so much eagerness, the will to do good, to make safe haven, sometimes even robbed her of sleep. The woman sitting in a lonesome chair is not like that at all, she is calm, collected.

Perhaps she is dead.

Indeed, Lady Anna is covered in blood and Elsa does not see her chest breathe, not even an inch. Tentatively she reaches out a hand. Oh, now this would be cruel indeed - to find her Knight only for her to be dead and bloodless and empty of everything once again.

The vice-like grip around her wrist shocks Elsa from her thoughts.

“A corpse… should be left well alone.” A corpse, a corpse!? But Lady Anna is so very alive and her voice--

Unmistakable.

But quickly Elsa realizes she’s fighting for her life. There’s so much noise and movement and blood, so much blood it reeks. Lady Anna’s swings seem to come from nowhere, fire igniting in the wake of every slash and it’s dazzling and swift and uncanny… and yet.

Her stance may be foreign but her prowess is not, she directs her weapons with grace and skill, and the blades dance towards Elsa’s throat with a precision borne from battle hardened assurance.

Just like a knight. Just like Anna with her greatsword.

Suddenly Lady Anna is upon her, grabbing Elsa’s collar and pulling, clutching Elsa to her chest. It’s rough and unfriendly but Elsa knows deep down this is new and startling for both of them. Anna’s breathing is ragged despite her absolute dominance over the battlefield, her voice shaking with some burdening magnitude.

“I know you,” Lady Anna whispers in her ear.

And Elsa, having not made a sound this entire time except in exhaustion or pain, gets her too short tongue working and too small teeth out of the way to say, “And I know you. You are Lady Anna, protector of Yharnam, slayer of the Darkness that lurks in the hearts of men to make them Beasts, and you have done well to make a name for yourself here. But all of that I know only because I found myself here, in a Dream. When I was young, and Awake, I knew you as Great Knight Anna, warrior against the Darkness itself, and you held in your powerful grip a sword as tall as you so that you could always slay something larger than yourself. It flashed as brightly as your smile until it could no more. And the last I saw you was when I had no shared language to warn you, no voice to scream in grief as your arm shattered and yielded to profane horror. Despite your broken body you used your only able limb to shield me against death itself, magical and eternal. But it kept me from you, and you walked back into the Dark where I could not follow and then there was the most terrible quiet. I saw someone go in afterwards, and only then did I hear your voice again, but as it was never meant to be: broken and hollow and defeated. Dark.”

Lady Anna’s hand shakes, her other poised over Elsa’s heart. It could drive right through her chest, seek the Beast in Elsa’s blood and rip it out. But perhaps it was there before the infusion, one of kindred spirit instead of illness and madness. Anna releases her hold without warning and Elsa’s knees hit the ground hard.

“I… have felt a loneliness for so long,” Lady Anna says, almost to herself. “I have searched for years, every nook and cranny, guided by nothing but some deep knowledge of a phantom ‘other’ by my side, etched so deeply it could be in my very own blood. But this presence, this… twin soul, has never showed itself.” She looks at her swords. “They did not used to split, it was one weapon, until I could not stomach the void anymore. I threw it away, and fashioned these. They… somehow I knew I needed two. There were supposed to be two. Two… of… us.”

Elsa goes to answer but the words tangle in her mouth, gargled and guttural and rough. Speech flees from her again, focus gone, and Elsa clutches her throat, gasping. Lady Anna twitches, hands tightening on her weapons.

Anna’s voice holds the tension of a tripwire. “You--... She... I gave someone a name once. My closest friend. She had unique Light magic: small diamonds, blue, beautiful.” Her eyes flashed with her steel. “Show me. Tell me her name, or be not Hunter but Beast.”

And Elsa does.

The Clock Tower fills with floating diamonds, glittering and bright, etched with symbols of safety and protection and Light. They move and spin, arranging themselves into a shape, not a Yharnam rune but an older one, one only Anna would know. Elsa’s name in the language of the Age of Fire.

Anna drops her swords, clattering to the floor and embraces Elsa with arms so fierce and desperate that Elsa cannot breathe, until Anna’s shoulders slump and hitch with sobs and now Elsa holds Anna with tired, grateful hands.

“I thought…,” Anna manages, trembling in Elsa’s grasp, “I thought it was a Dream. All that before… really happened.” Anna clutches at Elsa’s clothes, like burying fingers in thick fur, “I have missed you every moment of my death, including all the seconds from when I Awoke without you, until now.”

Elsa wipes Anna’s tears away, clumsy in her joy but her eyes say everything her stubborn tongue won’t, and it is just like before, when she knows Anna understands her completely.

“In my defense,” Anna sniffs, regaining a bit of control, “I thought you’d be taller. And well, you were a wolf the last time we met.”

Elsa can’t help but smile at that, lending Anna an arm as they stand. The smile turns into quite the wolfish grin indeed when they realize at the same time that Elsa is in fact, an inch or so taller than Anna.

“You really did grow up without me, didn’t you?” Anna says wistfully, as though to chastise for leaving her behind.

Elsa makes a huffing sound that they both know is laughter and presses her forehead against Anna’s.

Finally. Her Knight. Her Lady.

Her home.

This time, neither will face the Darkness alone.

------

Alternate Endings, courtesy of questions asked by @daughterofhel (who patiently let me tell the ENTIRE story of Artorias and Sif AND the Good Hunter and the Doll and Lady Maria to contextualize this… entire… thing)

-Lady Maria!Anna is not immune to Beast blood like in canon and after joining up with Sif!Elsa actually succumbs to the plague and goes feral. Their roles are now reversed, Elsa is the badass Hunter with a Beast companion. They still know each other well enough to communicate but are ostracized from the other Hunters because Elsa refuses to kill Anna

-Because Elsa was a creature in her past life, the Beast blood takes hold very naturally, and it does not change her personality or sense of self. Lady Anna reclaims her greatsword trick weapon and travels Yharnam with Elsa by her side, now a were-beast. The magical snowflake on her forehead comes back and her fur is the same white/white-blonde as when she was a Great Wolf

-Lady Anna actually DOES rip Elsa’s heart out of her chest like that killer parry (for female Hunters only!), realizing seconds too late she has killed her life long friend who crossed time and space to find her. Distraught, Lady Anna consumes Elsa’s heart, drawing upon her vampiric, Vileblood ancestry to bond Elsa’s soul to hers. Other Hunters begin to hear rumors of a unique Beast stalking Yharnam, slaying it’s own kin and leaving behind oceans of blood. It has patchy red and white fur, a greatsword strapped to it’s back, and two different colored eyes: one green, one blue. Some even claim that it speaks to itself, though broken and twisted, and it will leave a trail of blue-glowing diamonds in areas safe to return to, lighting up the dark.

Players who fight this Beast are startled to learn that the heat-up phase is actually the Beast transforming into a much smaller, very human figure who begins to wield the trick weapon on its back with swift, deadly, and ferocious attacks. The figure will sometimes scale walls and launch attacks from above, the air along the cut of the weapon’s blade igniting into flame and leaving explosive blue crystals behind. Upon the boss’s defeat the player gets double the amount of Blood Echos they expect and as the person collapses a white soul emerges to entwine around a red one, dissipating into the ether together

[iwillsithereandtrytocontribute]

Solus

Pairings: None

Warnings: Nightmares, parent death (past, not described in detail),

Masterlist Ao3

Spoilers for the Rome Arc

I’ve been having a lot of Feelings about Sasha, Rome, and the letters so have this. I’m planning on having a sort of series follow-up, but we’ll see how I much I get done of that. 

Some quick notes: 

1. The title "Solus" is Latin for alone. 2. There's some Latin interspersed in the text, it should be translated right after. If not, please let me know. 3. My personal headcanon is that Sasha did name a kid Brock and just didn't mention it because none of the people receiving this letter actually knew Brock.

Enjoy :)

Sasha Rackett has had her life torn apart a thousand times, a thousand ways. She’s lost her parents, her friends, her rivals, her mentors, and everyone in between. Growing up in Other London though, you learn to be tough. To have a thick skin so that if you can’t dodge the knives they still can’t leave a mark.

Nothing could have prepared her for this. So much has happened in the span of three days. She went to Rome, saved Beaming Gusset and the other hostages, time traveled, lost her friend, and watched the fall of Rome in real time. And here she is trudging along in the countryside that surrounds what was once Rome. The gutted empty shell she’d seen 2,000 years in the future now that the dragons had had their fill of revenge.

Sasha is not alone for once, though sometimes she can’t quite decide if it’s a blessing or a curse. She thinks maybe somewhere in the middle. She’s grown used to being around company, even just those few friends, the past couple months. Gods, it’s only been a month or two since she left London behind, likely forever. Does London even exist now?

Cicero follows doggedly behind her. It’s his turn to hold the kid. Sasha couldn’t save everyone. Hell, she could barely save anyone, but they couldn’t ignore the child they found, half buried under the rubble. Somehow he had survived. And somehow they had found him. Sasha couldn’t save everyone, she couldn’t save Grizzop, but she could save him. 

Cicero looked up to catch Sasha’s eye and she realized with a start that she’d been staring at him. She nodded at him awkwardly and he nodded back. 

“Water?” Sasha asked, forgetting where she was for a minute. “Um, right sorry,” she continued seeing Cicero’s confused expression. “Right. Á-áqua? Right? Or is that Spanish,” Sasha mused to herself. Judging from the change in Cicero’s expression she’d gotten it right. He carefully laid the kid down and took the water skin as Sasha offered it.

As he drank, Sasha took stock of their combined injuries. Cicero is looking a lot better than he did yesterday, even going on with no sleep as they are. His main injuries were healed by the potion and he had gotten over the shock well enough. Sasha had had worse. And the kid probably had some head trauma, fading in and out of consciousness like he was. So all in all, they might look like hell, but they were surviving. 

“Témpus?” Sasha tried in her broken Latin. The potions they’d taken back in Rome had long since worn off, leaving a language gap with a thin bridge across, held up by the few Latin lessons she had taken back when Barret had sent her to Upper London for “an education.”

Cicero held up 4 fingers. “Quáttuor hóra.” 4 hours. Sasha nodded and took a deep breath. She took the water skin back and hooked it onto her belt. She counted her daggers obsessively, checking and double-checking that her spring-loaded wrist sheaths were loaded. Finally satisfied, she lifted the kid as gently as she could, muscles screaming in protest as she lifted him, and continued in the direction Cicero had pointed in as they left the destruction of Rome. 

“I know a place,” he had said. “This way.” Sasha had followed because what else could she do? She was alone, alone, as out of her element as it was possible to be. So she followed.

It took them just over 5 hours to reach the house. The villa really. It was large, with wide sprawling grounds and tall pillars that surrounded the courtyards. Sasha slumped slightly with relief. Here was a place to rest, if only for a little while. 

Cicero gestured her inside, staggering in behind her, his legs weak beneath the kid’s weight. He wasn’t particularly large, but they had been trading him off for hours with little to no rest. They had been too anxious to get away from Rome. Sasha didn’t know much about the fall of Rome, and certainly if the dragons had decided to pick off the few people who had escaped the city no one would have known about it regardless. Cicero seemed to share her anticipation if not her thought process, and had agreed without question not to sleep for the night. 

Sasha sighed, rubbing her forehead. She was going to have to learn Latin wasn’t she? 

She made sure the kid was taken care of. The villa seemed pretty empty, but she trusted Cicero a moderate amount at this point. Something about living through an apocalyptic event with someone makes you want to trust him. Sasha would not be surprised to learn later that the villa was owned by a rich family. All of whom were in Rome at the time of its fall. At its center. The chances of their survival were slim to none. They did not turn up to reclaim their home.

Finding a room for the kid, she’s started calling him Brock in her head, was easy. Sasha sits in a chair across from the bed, intending to keep an eye on him for just a little while. It wouldn’t do for him to wake up alone. Sasha has woken up alone before.

The dark she loves so much, suddenly pressing in close. The bedsheets, blankets, her own clothing, suddenly tight and strangulatory. Her panicked heavy breathing as she pads down the stairs to her parent’s bedroom, silent as ever, only to find a pristine, empty bed. Huddling, knees close to her chest as she instructs herself over and over not to cry. Failing. 

Sasha wakes up with a start, knife immediately in hand and held to her attacker’s throat. Cicero blinks uncomfortably, shaking slightly as he carefully removes his hand from Sasha’s shoulder. Sasha wrenches her dagger from his neck in a motion so quick it looks as though she was never holding a dagger at all. 

Looking outside she can see the sun setting. She must have fallen asleep. She’s no stranger to nightmares, though that one’s worse than most. Sasha rubs at her eyes as Cicero tries to lead her out of the room. 

“No. No, wait. We shouldn’t leave him alone!” Sasha pulls away, only to be caught by Cicero again. “Um, um.” Sasha racks her brain. “Solus,” she says, pointing at the kid. Alone. Cicero nods, pushing her towards the door again. Sasha tries protesting again, when he lets go of her to sit in the chair he had found her in.

Sasha nodded with understanding. “Grátiās.” Thanks. Cicero returns the nod with a tired smile. 

“Sómnus.” Sleep.

Sasha understands. And she sleeps.

Not without nightmares.

There’s the usual contenders; losing Brock, losing her parents, Barret’s manipulation, a particularly gory end to a co-conspirator from an Other London heist. But over the last months, she’s gained oh so many more. In her dreams she listens to Mr. Ceiling tear her mind and body apart, feels her humanity slip away, sees Zolf leave, and Grizzop die. Over and over she sees and feels spears plunge, needles prick, knives slice, and magic burn. Sasha does not remember the last time she slept through the night without waking up in a cold sweat, but the dreams have only increased in number and intensity.

Sasha does not remember the last time her eyes were clear of their deep circles, that against her pale skin give her a sickly glow even when she’s not mostly undead. 

Sasha wakes up, and stays awake when the sun rises over the gently sloping hills surrounding the secluded villa. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she gives a small smile at the beautiful scarlet red sunrise. Her smile fades when she sees the thick wall of smoke at the edge of the horizon, assisting the sun in painting a blood red sky.

A painful reminder that Rome has fallen and Sasha was here to see it. Alone.

Years later

They went back. Back to the city once they were sure the dragons had had their fill of it. They found so very few to save. Mostly children. So many children. Sasha’s heart broke to hear their cries, to see them clutching at the torn clothes of their parents as they came to save them. They aren’t alone anymore.

Some were too young to know their names, too young to remember their families in a couple of years. Sasha gave them names. Amidus, Wilde, Brock, Azu, Grizzop, Sagax for Zolf, even Bertus. It took a couple years for the sad smile she had whenever she said their names to turn genuine, but it did happen eventually. It was as much a way to remember her friends as her yearly trips to the temple of Artemis in the nearest city were. 

She taught them everything she knew. Acrobatics, stealth, throwing daggers, how to detect traps, the whole lot of it. Cicero covered the more academic side of things, the villa had a decent library, and all things considered he was a good teacher. 

Sasha had never expected to live long. It just didn’t happen in Other London. Before she left, Barret was the oldest person she had ever seen and he wasn’t far past fifty. Besides, her line of work was dangerous. Yet, here she was, living. Passing down a legacy to these kids. She hadn’t realized how much she had wanted someone to learn what she knew, how much she wanted to pass down her knowledge. 

She found that fulfillment in the children and teenagers they rescued from the still-smoldering ruins of Rome. And they found new lives with her and Cicero.

Still, on the days she felt like she was forgetting her old life, Sasha would slip away. To a secluded spot in the orchard that only she knew about and slide on her old leather jacket, and she would just take a moment to remember. 

Remember gruff Zolf, with more rough exterior than a ship covered in barnacles. The first to make her a partner rather than someone to order around. Flighty little Hamid, gods Sasha missed his hugs. Out of all of them, he was the one who’d stuck around the longest. The soft, kind Azu and her complete understanding. It was rare that Sasha could find someone to be silent with, and yet there Azu was. Grizzop, who practically vibrated whenever he got angry. Sasha always started crying by this point. Grizzop, who had given everything to protect her. And Wilde. After all their time spent together, Wilde had grown on her. Sasha still thinks of puns he would like sometimes. She writes them down on a sheaf of paper. Maybe he’ll get them one day. Even Bertie’s sharp edges have been softened with time, and memory always puts a hazy glow on the past. Sasha knows he was horrible, but he’s still a part of the best and worst months of her life, so she can’t just forget him.

One day, many many years after Sasha has been trapped in the past she sits down to write a letter. One that she hopes might someday reach her friends. Her only way to say goodbye. 

She’s been writing them letters for years. Hamid, Azu, Wilde, even Zolf in the vain hope that they will find them. 

They are a mix of English and Latin, it’s been so long since she’s spoken or written in her native language, she can hardly remember it anymore. As time passes, they become almost entirely Latin. Sasha knows they’ll find a way to read them. 

She’s getting on in years now, so much older than she ever dreamed of being. So she writes each letter knowing it might be her last, not that she ever believed any different. 

She signs each one with the name her family gave her. Both of them.

Whosaskinus “Sasha” Lolomg

So... Here. Like I said, I have plans to make a short series with some letter Sasha writes to the party (because there’s no way it was just the one) and I really like writing in her voice. If you’d like to be tagged in that when I post it please let me know. If you just want to chat my inbox is open. Stay safe :)

[mythandlaur]

alright. test of redemption. and also dissonant counterpoint and "are ya winning the tournament son" for good measure. go.

The WIP Tag Game

Couple repeats, but I have more snippets for both of them so it’s fine.

Long post once again!

The Twins: Test of Redemption (old title) - Terraria - 2016

Ah, yes. My baby, and the bane of my existence. A piece that makes me both smile and cringe whenever somebody happens to find it on AO3. A piece that embarrasses me now because I didn’t know “sp*z” was a slur at the time and now I can’t figure out what to nickname Sp*zmatism thanks Re-Logic. And also embarrasses me because I couldn’t think of a better title. I didn’t even think it was a good title back then I just couldn’t think of another one. This story is a specter that sometimes leaves for a while, but occasionally returns to remind me of its existence, and when it does I look on it with as much fondness as I do shame. I had so much planned. To an extent, I still do. It sits in the back of my mind, waiting for me to get the courage to try again. Maybe I will someday, but for now it sits in a massive series of documents on my computer and Google. And here, now.

Randall and Sherwin Spencer, chosen heroes of Terraria, failed, and died. However, a pact Randall made with an otherworldly power both damned and saved them, and twenty years later, with the world shifting more violently than ever, the stars align to see them revived--without any memory of either of their past lives, man or monster. Guided by the displaced and irritable Keeper of the Underworld, who's trying and failing to remain low-key, the two eventually make their way to a refugee town founded by those the Spencers had abandoned long ago. And so their fight for Terraria begins anew, though now more difficult than ever with the Moon Lord trying to hinder them, the land's strengthening corruption pulling at their very souls, and a few key members of the Lunar Cult keeping a too-close eye on them, one of whom has more than a little bit of a bone to pick after a hasty decision invokes the Moon Lord's favoritism. Meant to be a story of companionship and family, hope and guilt, making up for mistakes and facing the people you hurt without running away, and saving the world--even when it's hard.

Okay, big spiel over, you can tell I still love this stupid thing. Have a bit I wrote slightly more recently (during NaNo 2018) of our green lad being outrageously stupid and summoning a boss, but it’s fine because the moon told him to do it, and then the boss screwed off because the cult told it to go and try to destroy the town so the twins didn’t have any support network. Instances of the character’s name have been replaced by [S]

The next orb was in another dip in the ground just before the main cavern closed itself off into a dead end. A grin spreading across his face, he swung practically before he even reached it.

This time, when the orb broke, dropping an odd-looking spear at his feet, the ground immediately began to rumble.

All at once, the gold light he’d been emitting winked out, leaving him in the purple-tinted darkness. He jolted as if suddenly waking from a dream, his thoughts quickly slipping back into focus as he leapt forwards to avoid being knocked down. A great quake shook the world around him, sending his teeth rattling in his head as he tried to figure out exactly where he was and how he’d gotten here.

He—he’d been on the roof, hadn’t he? The moon…but…how had he gotten here?

Another tremor. [S] grit his teeth and braced himself against the stone with both hands, hammer discarded at his side. He could swear he heard something in the distance; the earth turning, stone crunching, the low rumble of a creature’s roar…

The ground exploded behind him.

[S] scrambled forward, but found himself hitting the cavern’s dead end. He quickly pushed himself around to face the threat, and all the blood drained out of his face.

It was a titanic worm, thicker around than a man with mandibles the size of [S]’s head. Its skin was a sickly purple that almost blended in to the corrupted landscape, and it was covered in innumerable yellowed eyes, all focused directly on him with a look of absolute hatred as it rose up out of the earth, roaring loud enough to shake some loose stone from the walls.

[S] staggered backwards, back hitting the wall as he gaped up at the creature. Was this the worm he’d been told about? There was on time to worry about it—he was unarmed, he needed to get out—

The worm lunged forward with surprising speed, and [S] cried out as he launched himself to the side, back roughly smacking into the wall of the cavern. Hammer was quickly replaced with shield, and he scooped up the thin spear from the orb, testing its weight before plunging it down towards the worm’s body as it raced past.

The spear itself didn’t connect, but with a pulse of mana, it shot out a spike that made the worm roar in pain. [S] quickly dashed further down the cavern in an attempt to get more room to move as the worm burrowed itself into the ground, then burst out of the dead end towards him.

[S] quickly grappled the ceiling, feet barely an inch above the worm as it raced by underneath him, then burrowed back into the ground. Another roar shook the cavern, and the world around him rumbled and lurched, before the head of the worm popped out again above him, and its undulating body twisted up to try and encircle him.

Teeth clenched, he used the power of the shield to dash forward and past the worm, though it nicked him on his way by, causing him to hiss in pain and fumble his landing. He rolled along the ground until his head smacked into a Demon Altar, and stars shone in front of his eyes even as he struggled to get his legs back under him. He could hear the worm burrowing, hear it getting closer, closer, he forced himself up and started running without being entirely sure in which direction he was heading—

And then, the faint moonlight shimmering down from the surface seemed to brighten. The worm burst straight down vertically out of the ceiling where [S] had been standing, but it burrowed straight down into the floor without paying any mind to him. Its next appearance was traveling straight up, up, and out of one of the chasms, leaving [S] frozen as he watched it disappear and heard its roar fading into the distance.

A minute passed, then two, [S] listening intently to ensure the worm wasn’t about to come back. Three minutes later, [S] crumpled to his knees, gasping for the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and letting the shield and Vilethorn drop to the stone beside him. His hands reached up to his head, and his face twisted as a massive headache blossomed behind his eyes.

His mind was racing. What was he doing here? Hadn’t he been on the roof moments ago? What had made the worm so upset at him?

Why had it left? And…where was it going?

[S] pushed himself into a proper sitting position, throwing his head back, eyes shut. The allure of the Corruption had absolutely left him, replaced by fear and guilt. Just what had he done, and why? Had Ret been right? What was he supposed to do now?

Ungodly screeching and scrabbling from creatures deeper in the cavern snapped him out of his endless questions, and he scrambled to his feet. He—he couldn’t go back to Rifdale, not yet, so without thinking he ran, he ran until he reached an alcove where one of the orbs had been (he remembered that, somewhat, vaguely, it was difficult to tell) and curled up inside, staring up at the opening as some of the Corruption’s strange mandibled creatures tried and failed to figure out a way through the opening.

Once he was certain they wouldn’t get in, he buried his face in his arms. He wasn’t sure how long he was going to stay there, but if he hadn’t been able to face Ret before…he certainly wasn’t ready to now.

---

Dissonant Counterpoint - Crypt of the Necrodancer - 2017

Talked about here, but here’s another bit dated January 2018, from near the fic’s tragic end, immediately after the undead Fret’s been incinerated by a red dragon.

"It seems a shame to just leave you here like this. You did have so much...potential."

He wasn't sure how he could see or how he could hear--it was something beyond him, now, some sort of magical tomfoolery he'd never wanted to deal with. But he could see Octavian's boots in front of his face and could hear his constant song pulsing inside his head.

"Ah, don't worry. I think I'll be able to get you set up with something you'd like."

Anger flared again.

You don't know a single fucking thing about what I'd like, he thought, You don't know anything about me. You never did. You just know what you made up.

He wasn't sure how he could stand, either, but he did, compelled by a command. He stared at his former friend, who now looked somewhat uncertain and spooked. He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream, but words were something else beyond him.

He could see and hear when he shouldn't be able to. He could stand when he shouldn't be able to. He could live when he shouldn't be able to.

And yet whatever cruel joke the universe wanted to play on him still refused to let him speak.

"Still have nothing to say to me, old friend?"

The anger burned away, just like everything else had. And all it left was a grim, defeated sort of certainty.

His final act of defiance would be to give in.

He refused to give Octavian the fight he so clearly wanted. He would not let this man tease and torment him, control him however he liked and know he was still there watching it all in despair. He refused to despair.

He couldn't move on his own anymore. He was no doubt unidentifiable. No one would know it was him except Octavian.

How's it gonna feel to get everything you wanted? He wished he could somehow convey his own bitterness, but he was frozen. To know there's nothing more for you to do?...I bet you're gonna hate it. You always wanted to be something more. How's it gonna feel when there’s nothing left to be?

Octavian ducked out of his sightline, and then something was shoved into his hand; the familiar shaft of his halberd. His fingers closed around it, though he wasn't sure how that was possible. Octavian looked...perhaps the least bit upset.

"Er, here. I'll get you something better later. Come along."

The song pulled him forward behind Octavian as they walked deeper into the crypt and away from his own coffin. The only thing that made him question his decision was the thought of Maria--his weird little half-sister that he did care about so much--sick, dying, clutched by fever like he was and all because of him. If she came here...If he wasn't here...

But maybe it would still be better, because she and whatever ghosts she could conjure to her aid would destroy him. And then it would be a double loss for Octavian. Something he could never fix.

Give him hell for me.

But he was going to free himself. He would not let himself stay trapped here anymore.

...You win. How's it feel?

The song seemed to grow louder in his head, rattling him to the core, overwhelming him, and the anger came back, burning hot and bright, and he stopped. He saw Octavian turning back to face him in confusion.

In one final act, he gathered up all of his strength.

He threw his head back, and broke whatever curse had left him speechless.

And he screamed.

---

are ya winnin the puyo tournament son (doc name) - Puyo Puyo - October 2020

Talked about here, but have another bit.

“Yes? Did you need something?” She looks them over. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Are you new?”

Ajisai gives a small bow. “Yes, very much so. I only just arrived here a little while ago, but I heard that you were arranging a Puyo tournament--and that more than just the magic school students were able to participate. Is that true?”

Accord turns her head, glancing at them out of the corner of her eye. “Yes, though the prize will only be for students this year. We had some...unexpected guests vying for it last time, and I’d like for my students to have incentive to show what they’ve learned.”

“Of course.” They nod respectfully. “I’m not interested in the prize, but I would like to participate if I’m able. I’ve been told I have some skill.”

There’s a moment’s pause as Accord looks them up and down searchingly, then shares a glance with the cat. A sly smile spreads across her face as she meets their eyes. “So, you’re participating by yourself this time?”

Ajisai’s eyes widen slightly, but they manage to recover. “Ah...yes, yes I am. Good eye.”

Accord giggles. “You could say we have a nose for this sort of thing.”

“And we don’t trust mew,” the cat adds, baring its teeth. 

Ajisai turns their focus to it, a hand to their chest in mock offense. They know what the cat’s about, of course. “You don’t trust me? Why, we’re practically family.”

The cat hisses, and Accord laughs again, though tries to hide it behind the feather of her cane. “He’s a bit high strung,” she offers, stroking the cat’s head with a finger--it appears to try and pout, but leans into the touch anyway. They’re almost positive they hear purring. Her gaze becomes serious. “Though I do hope you don’t intend to cause any trouble.”

“Of course not.” A hand over their heart, this time genuine. “My wits are about me again, and that is all in the past.” ...They can’t help a slight smirk. “...well, mostly. But I don’t want to cause any harm.”

Accord nods slowly, taking a second to judge their sincerity. “I’m going to choose to trust you.”

“I appreciate it.” Another, lower bow.

[lothirielswan]

“Pastry Crimes” [20]

Join the journey on AO3!

Quest Objective: Save the mages (I’m talking to you, Thedas).

My feet squeaked on the tile as I came to a stop. The world felt hazy around me, like I was trapped in a dream--or a most terrible nightmare.

He knows.

My boots let out another shriek as I spun on my heel. Grand Magister Rommath’s face was mostly unreadable, but his stare was as watchful as stars in the night sky.

“How…” My voice was far more scratchy than normal. “how did you know?”

The Grand Magister seemed a lot taller than he did before. Intimidating. Threatening. My wild imagination twisted reality and I suddenly felt like I was standing before my own Vampyr, draped in blood-soaked robes, barring his sharp fangs. I wanted to run, and when I realized why I couldn't, my legs trembled.

I was terrified.

My family was filled with social pariahs, but I had kept one part of that lineage secret. It was one less thing I had to worry about on a new planet. Now the flat of the blade called vulnerability slid across my skin with a cool caress. I’m the daughter of the so-called monster and the faraway coward. I am the spawn of the outcasts of Outland. And it has come back to bite me in the ass.

“I had my suspicions...the Black Prince confirmed them.” Rommath said.

The daughter of a traitor was betrayed...how ironic. I didn't have to believe Rommath’s words, but I knew the truth had a habit of stinging. It was searing in my chest now.

I couldn't decide between fidgeting with my fingers or fixing every strand of hair on my head. I settled for crossing my arms across my torso, steeling myself for how bleak my life was about to become. “Are you going to kill me, then?”

“No.”

“Are you going to arrest me?”

“I should.” Rommath mimicked my actions as his bare arms folded across his chest.

I loathed the new position that Wrath had put me in. Rommath knew my secret, which meant he had leverage. He had power over me. Wrathion had placed me on his chessboard, and now I was stuck taking his punishment for the game.

A banging started in my head. Only when Jaina spoke did I realize it was her footsteps on the stairs as she fled down them. Her blue skirts fanned around her like choppy waves.

Blue.

Kalec.

My inhale was deep and painful as I looked up at Jaina. She had no idea of my lineage. I preferred to keep it that way, but Kalec came first.

“What are you doing? We need to move!” Jaina’s voice was back to it’s grim determination, young yet aged, and she grabbed my arm as she passed.

I glanced back at Rommath one last time. What would he do next? Inform Sylvanas, and lead her to the peak of anger towards me? Set me up to an impossible task, bound to his will?

I had no clue. And the unknown clawed at my insides like a caged beast as Jaina blinked away from the Violet Citadel.

We suddenly appeared before the thick double doors of Violet Hold. Two guards stood at attention, adorned with troubled expressions as Jaina approached.

“Questions will be answered later. Double the patrols of the city.” Jaina shouted orders like a veteran general and strode with the grace of the tides. The two guards raced down the coral ramparts. Jaina and I stopped before the crippled metal doors.

“Prisoners will spread across Dalaran. I informed council members Ansirem, Karlain, and Vargoth. We will rescue Kalec, and join them in the fight on the streets. We keep this as covert as we can.”

At least one of us has it together. Jaina really does deserve a vacation. After this, maybe Kalec can send Jaina to some island getaway where she can smell a bunch of books--and I’ll send her a danish. Oh, food. I miss the comfort of food right now--dammit, stomach, not now! Kalec and my future are on the line!

Jaina pointed her staff at the entrance and the doors shuddered. The battered doorway was forced open by an incredibly unhappy host, coming to throw out her rude guests.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness quicker than Jaina’s. Embers emitted a weak lavender glow in braizers. My sight felt strained. There was a thickness in the air when I breathed in. I had become accustomed to the air saturated with magic as I stayed in Dalaran, but this was different. It was like trying to breathe underwater as something foreign filled my lungs.

My hands immediately went to my goggles, securing them on my face to mask the glow of my eyes. The shadows welcomed me with open arms, and I greeted it with both knives in my grasp.

I glanced back at Jaina. The glow of her staff was the brightest object in the room; she was a lighthouse, searching the ebony seas for Kalec.

“I smell fel.”

Lord Malgath--I remember him. It's sick and sad that I do.

I sensed something else in the dark with me. I stayed away from the walls and empty cells; being cornered in my profession was a death sentence. I stumbled on something as I backed up into the middle of the room.

“This behavior will not be tolerated.” Jaina’s tone was stern, like an adult addressing a child. “You will return to your cell or face the wrath of the Kirin Tor.”

I did a costly move and glanced down at my feet. Once again, my vision was deceived, like a veil suppressing my view. Inside my leather gloves, my fingers ached from how tightly I held my daggers.

“Ha! The Kirin Tor is nothing to us--beware the might of the Legion!” An orcish voice howled.

Jaina’s eyes blazed with an icy blue light. “Beware of me!”

In one swift motion too perfect for mortals, Jaina pointed her staff at the empty space beside her. The air caught fire and red flames roared.

Lord Malgath’s form was released from the shadows, crying out in pain. I wanted to extract my own hatred on the Legion, but I was onto something. I jammed one of my fists in my pockets and threw a flare at the ground.

Light popped into place like fireworks and the ground was illuminated. Kalec’s dragon form towered over me, drenched in some dark mist.

Stars! I can't get rid of that junk…

“Jaina!” I juggled sharp objects in my hand and blasted my pistol at the fel orc. The archmage looked over at me, the source.

I gestured with my gun at Kalec. “Switch places with me!”

“We’re in battle, Eona! You could use a more formal term--”

“Can you teach me proper grammar and word choice later?” I said and raced back towards the entrance. My words were wispy against the wind and my knives whistled as I gained speed. Jaina ducked as I leapt over the stairs and planted my foot in Malgath’s abdomen.

Jaina went off to undo the warlock’s bonds. I was alone, my mind distracted with thoughts of Rommath and Kael’thas and impending doom.

I wanted to gag as Malgath panted from my blow. His breath carried the heavy stench of the Legion; brimstone and sourness and decay. It made me feel younger and smaller, summoning memories of days long ago when I visited the toxic lands of Shadowmoon Valley.

I was supposed to be fast and fatal. I was supposed to be a tornado, unleashing the ferocious fury of nature in quick, twisting blows. But I was none of those things; I was just a scared kid running around in circles.

My footing slipped and I crashed down the stairs. The sharp edges of the stone cut into my side, promising bruises and slightly cracked ribs. The pain was nothing as my skull knocked against the tile floor. Foreshadowing resonated to intensify the agonizing throb.

“And another so-called hero falls to the Legion,” The orc was cloaked in shadow, but I could imagine the satisfied smirk on his face from his tone.

My fingers hastened back to the depths of my pockets and shook as I tossed a handful of little paper balls packed with ammunition at Malgath’s looming silhouette.

As my to-be murderer was stunned by the popping lights and stinging pain, I yanked my boomstick out of it's holder. I winced as the weapon went off. The sound of Malgath’s corpse hitting the ground followed.

“Jaina,” I called out from my upside-down position, staring up at the inky-black ceiling that threatened to reign over my whole world. “I’ve fallen...and I can't get up.”

Kalec’s half-human, half-elven face hovered over mine. The long tendrils of his hair eerily reminded me of Malgath’s magic. The longer I stared, the more he started to sway...he multiplied into three Kalecs, each of them bearing a look of weariness and worry.

“Before you get on to me about my carelessness and pastry crimes, I have to tell you...what do I have to tell you?” I asked, my eyebrows scrunched together as my thoughts scattered like a pile of dead leaves.

Six Jainas appeared with her braid swaying like part of an old clock. It was a dizzying, hypnotizing motion that made my head spin.

“Are you alright, Eona?” The Jainas asked. Despite the many voices talking, they sounded faint.

“You know…” I held up a finger as I pondered what I wanted to say. “if Khadgar was turned undead by Sylvanas...I think he would be a lot like Beetlejuice. I see it now.”

“...Damn, I broke her. Sylvanas is going to kill me now,” Each Jaina said and pursed their lips. But now all of the copies were fading, and the endless night was taking over.

“Wait...isn't that...isn’t that my line?”

Before I could catch her response, darkness took over.

~Anduin Wrynn, Violet Citadel~

Aunt Jaina desperately needs a vacation. It takes me a while to recall the last time she smiled, or laughed, or a time when her goblet was filled with water instead of a...stronger substitute.

“You look troubled, Your Majesty. You’ve looked troubled for quite some time.”

A larger figure caught up to me in the carpeted halls of the guest suite. The scent of crushed leaves and fresh dirt crossed my nostrils.

Father?

I buried the thought as soon as it came. I didn't have the time nor the strength to dwell on it. The true figure striding beside me was the night elf leader; Malfurion Stormrage. His form was truly unique; from the antlers that rose high above his head to the feathers that billowed down his arms. Malfurion was the embodiment of nature.

I straightened my back and offered him a polite nod. “Thank you for your concern, Archdruid. I learned the look from Lady Proudmoore.”

Malfurion’s lips smiled beneath his owl-shaped nose. I was allowed to utter such remarks in his company; we spared together many times. Playing Hearthstone, of course.

“I’d rather you acquire that than Greymane’s stubbornness,” Malfurion’s voice lowered as we passed closed doors along the way. The halls were lit with faint candles and furnished with violet silk. The pearlish texture of the walls was far more refined than the halls of Stormwind Keep. Dalaran held a faint resemblance to my home, but there was a strange feeling to it; the exotic energies and the endless knowledge. Aunt Jaina was lucky to spend time in such a bizarre place.

Aunt Jaina spoke of some accident that occured, and I was to tend to the victims. Malfurion was given the same orders, and we reported to the Purple Parlor together. When I activated the portal to the tower, a tingling sensation raced across my skin. The magic of mages was thrilling, but I preferred the warmth and peace that radiated in my core when I used the Light.

My gaze flit across the seating area to the three limp bodies. Archmage Khadgar, Archmage Modera, Archmage Aethas...they’re the most powerful mages in Dalaran! What in Azeroth’s name happened here?

Malfurion and I exchanged a look before I walked over to Khadgar. He appeared older from the aging spell, but in this moment, he truly seemed weak and feeble. His skin was pale and his chest rose with uneven breaths.

“Our archmages seemed to have a run in with a Vampyr,” Malfurion gestured with his claws beneath Khadgar’s neck. Two small entry wounds swelled at the base of his throat.

“How did this happen?” I asked. My brows furrowed together as I looked up at the green-haired elf.

“It’s Dalaran, King Anduin. Mages are known for their dangerous practices--you’re questioning the lot that juggles fire with their bare hands.” There was a hint of distaste in Malfurion’s voice when he spoke of them. I chose not to address it.

“So how do we tend to them?” I said.

“Hmm...perhaps you could burn the venom out with the light, and I will remedy the rest?” Malfurion offered. When I nodded, he took a step back, “I’ll restrain the other two. Be careful with that one.”

I kneeled down next to the archmage and pressed my fingers over the two small gashes. I jumped when Khadgar’s eyes flew open.

“You smell…” He sucked in a heavy breath like the air was wine. I didn't budge. I murmured a prayer and a refreshing wave of light flew to my fingers.

I liked to think that I knew Khadgar very well. We exchanged many letters and met secretly during the recent Legion invasion. He was one of the few that did not detest my belief in peace, and did not require me to have the same intimidating presence of Father.

“Anduin…?” Khadgar rasped. His heavily dilated eyes focused on me. “What...where is...where is Eona?”

My face felt hot at the sound of her name. My skin tingled like I was calling upon the Light. I looked down and shook my head. “I don't know, Khadgar.”

Another thought came to me. I glanced back at Malfurion. He was too busy directing the potted plants of the room to restrain the archmages. Khadgar may not remember me asking, with the loss of blood and all. I’ll be lucky if he understands a word I'm saying.

“Eona and Ranger-General Halduron seem close,” I said carefully. “Are they…?”

“No, thank the Light. The whole ‘sexy cheetah’ nickname concerns me,” Khadgar groaned and turned over. I rose to my feet to keep my hands on top of his wound, whispering another prayer. Some color returned to Khadgar’s skin when the light faded in my palms. “But she’s chosen worse.”

I froze. “Chosen worse…?”

Khadgar nodded into one of the pale blue pillows. His voice was muffled as he said, “There was this goblin on Draenor that reeked of sarcasm--but I’ll never get over her first boyfriend. Who names their child Om? Must’ve been a troll thing, or a food craze. He died, found an Alliance banner on his dead body one day.”

My eyes widened. Well then...irony at its finest.

I thought back to my history. Have I been with anyone else, in the romantic sense…? I was always trying to convince diplomats of peace, and studying the Light. It was hard to incorporate any other personal affair with everyone always leaning over my shoulder--and Genn shoving suitors at me. Every person I met through nobles and diplomatic gatherings was so proper and precise. I think I have enough of that in my life, Eona is different. I feel like I’m allowed to be human around her--I’m allowed to be myself.

“But there was one…” Khadgar tapped the edge of the pillow. “Yes, this one fellow in Pandaria that she dated. Eona really liked him--she wouldn't shut up about him.”

My face grew hot again as he continued. “--Then Alexstrasza threw a bunch of suitors her way. Those did not end well.”

“Anduin? The cleansing only works if you summon the Light,” Malfurion’s voice shook me from my daze.

“Right--! Sorry,” The rest of the time I cared for Khadgar was spent in physical silence, but my mind was filled with ramblings. When I first met Eona, she never showed me any hostility. Yes, Garrosh was chasing both of us around with a giant stick, but she never mentioned the troll that died because of my people.

I finished my work with Khadgar and removed the venom from the rest. It was a tense job, but I completed it unscathed. The portal to the Purple Parlor shimmered as newcomers arrived.

Jaina had become a pillar, supporting the sagging Kalecgos that leaned on her and carrying a limp form in her arms.

I stood as soon as I recognized her. Rosy-pink skin and copper locks like the birth of the day. Freckles like the lingering stars of the dawn. Eona’s smile was like the early-rising sun, but it did not shine in this moment.

“You really need to lay off the pastries,” Jaina cast a glare down at Eona’s unmoving form, then her eyes sought mine. “Don't tell Sylvanas.”

[scapegoated]

Monumental [Kaid/Oz]

They sailed across the Stillwater Sea on their way to the Crystal City once again, its glittering reflection almost unbroken on the surface, like a mirror. Kaid munched on some of the mushroom jerky the new ferryman Cheech had given to him as he gazed through rose-coloured spectacles. The Dwarf ferry driver puffed up and blew into the sails with quite a waft of some kind of smoke—piloting the craft same way his predecessor Merren did—propelling the boat across the glass-like surface.

Merren's snack mix had been a little bit more to Kaid's taste than the dried mushrooms, but, well, what can you do? The Daddies had elected him as a government official and so the Warlock doubted that the former ferry driver had much time for making copious amounts of munchies.

Hans and Charlie were kicking back in the small boat, watching the clear water.

It wasn't too long before they arrived in the port and jumped onto the docks. If they had thought the city was thriving the last time they were there, they were mistaken—it was easily twice as bustling this time, and their fans were out in full force. The Daddies were notorious, and that hadn't changed.

Saving a city does wonders for your reputation.

Kaid didn't like to let it go to his head too much, preferring to be a little less infamous, especially with his continued... interest in the Crystal City. Speaking of which...

"Hey guys, do you mind if we, uh... head to the Temple District?" Kaid asked Hans and Charlie, darting his eyes to avoid eye contact. "Maybe we could try and be a little more subtle, too?"

Hans was sauntering in a satisfied manner, his posture tall. Maybe basking in the praises of the fans a little bit? For such a sneaky Rogue he could sure draw attention, Kaid thought.

"No problem, Kaid. Wouldn't want to keep you from your BF." Charlie grinned and nudged him with an elbow. "Can't tone this down though." He gestured to Hans, whose red cape was billowing, a severed and preserved Drow priestess head on each hip.

In fact, subtlety was quite out of the question, as they would soon find when they arrived in the Temple District. They found that their modest group statue was gone. The one that had been constructed soon after they eliminated the Crystal Cult from the city, effectively saving it from destruction.

In its place was something new. This was way bigger. The smaller monument had been replaced with a huge metal sculpture of the three of them, easily twice their height. Posed in the midst of battle, the three of them looked heroic and magnificent.

That being said, the posing was a little... unusual, for someone aware of the group dynamic. To start, their tallest and most imposing, Hans. Giant metal Hans was crouched at the bottom front, daggers ready to strike. Looking intense, of course, but still. 

Charlie was next up, the surprisingly beefy former Ranger, now Blood Hunter. Dealer of massive damage. Giant metal Charlie had an arrow knocked, bow pulled taut, about to loose. That typical aloof and relaxed expression on his metal face.

Last, typically found in a corner to cover his back, or about 120 feet away from a threat, was the Tiefling Warlock Kaid. Metal Kaid was posed at the top of the monument, his hair still long, hands casting a familiar spell. Looking… actually kind of badass? Little, real Kaid squinted upwards. Hold up a second, did this monument look kinda handsomer than would be accurate?

"Huh, that's interesting." The Warlock heard Charlie, who was taking a look at the affixed plaque’s inscription.

"What is it?" Kaid jogged over.

"Look here, 'Sponsored and built by Oz, the Shepherd of Ermath.'" The Dhampir pointed out, his chill expression curling into a little smile.

Hans crossed his arms, looking at the inscription and then back at how the statue was posed. He threw a little side eye at the shorter Tiefling, "I see how it is."

Kaid threw up his hands, flushing a little. "Look there's some clear favouritism here... and I'm not mad about it," he declared suddenly. As much as he liked flying under the radar, he was honestly extremely touched by this masterpiece.

Charlie clapped him on the back and Kaid jumped. "Go find Oz. Let's hit the bar, we'll meet you there!"

"Crystal Mug. See you there," Hans nodded Kaid's way. He turned and his cape swirled around him. God that guy was cool. Charlie gave the Warlock a wink and a lazy salute as he strode to catch up with the taller Half Elf.

Kaid took another admiring look at the massive piece of art and then hustled off to find his favourite Cleric.

The Warlock guesstimated that it was about evening time so he headed directly for Oz's cottage. Knock or unlock. Knock or unlock... he fiddled with the key around his neck on the way over. The one Oz had given him last time.

Unlock. Came a command inside his mind.

Kaid sighed slightly. The voice of his Patron was harder and harder to ignore.

Look Zathog, I'm not soliciting relationship advice from you.

...

The staticky and warped “silence” spoke volumes.

You know what? Unlock sounds alright. Kaid thought better of pressing this issue, palming the key, and flipping it towards the lock in a little flourish.

He opened the door noisily, trying to make it obvious that someone was coming in. Kaid coughed. "Honey, I'm home...?" he tried the phrase on for size. Fuck, that sounded dumb—

Too late to overthink it, the familiar and beaming face of Oz popped around the wall from the living room, toothy grin widening as he visually confirmed the situation. "Kaid! You're back!"

"It's me, haha, in the flesh, it's so good to see yo—" he had been awkwardly turning to shut the door and found himself interrupted by a tight hug.

Oh my god, why do I ever leave? The fleeting thought came to him as he relaxed, momentarily loosening the taller Tiefling's grip to turn to face him and return the embrace.

"From your letters I wasn't sure if you were heading back here at any point, or just going to send me another message telling me you almost died..." Oz's expression looked amused, but Kaid could tell there was some legitimate concern there.

"I didn't want to worry you, but it's been rough. For me. I'm not as strong as Charlie and Hans." Kaid recalled a couple of near brushes with death, in the ziggurat, against the Dracolich. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for them."

"Well, we should celebrate, then!" Oz smiled. "Where are our other heroes?"

"Actually, I came to whisk you away to the bar. They're waiting for us! But, uh, first I wanted to say something." Kaid paused briefly, taking a breath, "Thank you, for the monument. I didn't know you were into such grand gestures."

"For the heroes of the city? It's nothing." Oz winked. Kaid could always tell, even with the one eye scarred and unopening.

"You know what I mean, Oz." Kaid grabbed his shirt lightly then pulled him in for a kiss.

  They weren't as late to the bar as you might have expected, but maybe not as punctual as Hans or Charlie would have liked. And it was hard for them not to get started… the patrons of the bar, I mean, when all the Dwarves at the bar were supplying the Daddies with drinks.

"Ozzie! Egg boy!" Charlie waved them over to the corner table. There were already a few empty glasses in front of him.

Oz shot Kaid an amused look. Egg boy?

Uhh, I'll explain later, came Kaid's telepathic response.

They slid into the booth, and Oz put an arm over Kaid's shoulders. "Welcome back to town, Daddies! I see you're being treated right already."

Raoul plopped two more glasses down on the table, sliding one in front of each of the Tieflings. Kaid eyeballed the size of the mug. What an absolute unit.

"Cheers, to your return!" Oz raised his glass, and the three Daddies toasted with the Cleric.

"Cheers, to your fine work on that monument," said Hans, starting the second toast and finishing his drink.

"Fuck, yeah, dude," Charlie nodded at Oz. "It's massive! How do you even make something that size?"

"Time and effort," Oz chuckled. "Plus, you've been gone a while, I had some free time on my hands." He squeezed Kaid's shoulder.

The smaller Tiefling took a big gulp of his drink, pointedly avoiding making a quippy comment for once in his goddamned life.

"What can we say, we've been pretty busy saving the world," the Rogue answered confidently. Raoul was already bringing over the next round of drinks. Kaid was not going to be able to keep up and keep his wits.

"No doubt! Tell me all about it! Kaid leaves out most of the juicy details in his letters. I suspect that he doesn't want me to know how much trouble he gets up to."

That was all it took to get Charlie and Hans into the tales of their battles, infiltrations, and espionage in the stretch since they'd left. It had been an eventful period, and the two strongest Daddies wasted no time getting into it, complete with gestures and re-enactments.

Charlie had undergone a complete transfusion, and transformation to a Blood Hunter. They'd faced off against hordes of the undead, against a Lich—not once, but twice! (Though, to be fair, the second time was because they botched the job the first time. Phylacteries are tricky business.)

They had gone on a side quest to the Faewild... maybe? That may have been a dream or a mass hallucination. But… then again they did have some souvenirs to prove it.

Dodging lightning through the desert, making deals with Djinn and dragons. Infiltrating the Vampire city stronghold. Collecting vials of exotic blood via Vampire B&Bs.

Oh wait, the vials… That struck a chord of fear into Kaid's heart, but at the moment he was too far gone to remember why.

They'd gone deep into the snowy mountains and made allies with a Storm Giant to take on a Dracolich, and then they'd gone deep into Kaid's mind, to the darkly Eldritch yet still glimmering halls of Glamathyst.

As their power grew exponentially, so did the dangers. At this point, everyone was quite drunk, and the whole bar was tuned in to the tale. Kaid figured that they were just about to become even more infamous here, as this epic was sure to make it out to husbands and wives and children in the Crystal City.

"Oz," Kaid whispered dizzily into Oz's ear, "we're legends."

Kaid remembered Oz kissed him then, but the next thing he knew distinctly was curling up in a cozy bed at home and drifting off to sleep. In between: darkness, stars.

  "...d? Kaid?" Oz was lightly touching his shoulder. The Warlock grimaced slightly, head pounding.

"Are you alright? I had to carry you home yesterday." The Cleric sounded amused yet somewhat concerned.

"Ughh... remind me to stick to cocoa next time." Kaid rubbed his eyes, trying to ignore his churning stomach.

"We probably should have cut you off. I'm used to drinking with my work buddies and they go hard. Also, they're Dwarves."

"Nnnhmmm," was about all Kaid could manage.

"I'm going to make some coffee, come down when you feel up to it, okay? Or do I have to brew up some Remove Curse for this hangover?" 

This time Kaid felt an otherworldly chuckle in his head, which made him even more queasy than before.

"Mm—be back—" is all he accomplished, before staggering off to the bathroom.

  Kaid stared down at the coffee he was slowly sipping.

"You're looking a little less green," Oz remarked. "Feeling any better?"

"Mmm, a bit. Better than getting sliced six ways to Sunday or being blasted to unconsciousness by freezing Dracolich breath."

"Most people couldn't draw that comparison from personal experience."

"Ugh, sometimes I wish I couldn't either."

"And yet... when are you leaving?"

Kaid sighed, "There's still things I want to do... need to do, in spite of myself. It's scary, but the power... has appeal." He looked up seriously, and found Oz staring at him with his good eye. It wasn’t a judgmental gaze, but it was evaluating.

"You have good friends. You take good care of each other... even though it often seems like you're protecting each other from bears, or rather, dragons that you didn't have to poke."

"Oz, you're not wrong," Kaid caught himself smirking a little bit, then tried to look serious. "Look, uh, I have something I want to talk about... but I don't know if the time is right. Or if it's right for me to ask."

Kaid pushed down the wavering feeling in his gut, trying to blame it on the hangover rather than nerves.

"Oz. There's a big battle coming. That I know for sure. It's going to be dangerous, and I'm afraid. There's so many variables I can't account for, and I hate those risks. Right now the only things I'm certain of in my life are my team... and you. I don't want to be apart any longer than we have to."

The Warlock took a big gulp of coffee.

"I want you by my side."

[abion1992]

The ashen one

                                PROLOGUE

When the age of the ancients ended and the fire was born, three creatures rised and within the flames discovered the lords souls of power, Nito the first of the dead claimed the soul of the death, the witch of Izalith and her daughters of chaos claimed the soul of life and lastly Gwyn the lord of sunlight who claimed the soul of light.

But it is said a fourth soul was later found by the furtive Pygmy, the ancestor of humankind and god of darkness, It is said that he hid the soul away and has passed it down to his ancestors for centuries, tough this we are unsertain of since his story is mostly forgotten by time.

the soul of the three lords challenged the ancients in a war that vanquished the dragons and brought in the golden age of fire. When Seath the scaleless betrayed his own and brought fort the knowledge of dragonscales,the source for immortality.

But the power of the lord souls began to soon fade away as Gwyn's unwillingness to end the age of fire gave birth to the hollows, those that became undead soon became insane and now roam the lands in search for blood and flesh to sate their hunger.

But from the darkest of dungeons an undead rose to ring the bells of awakening and rekindle the flame to prevent the dark age. Many challenges and creatures of horrors would the undead face, the journey was not an easy one as the lords one by one tried to end the undead, but were met with their own ends as a result.

At the end only one lord was left standing, Gwyn. Tough his former glory had been long lost after ages of protecting the flame,he made a worthy battle for the undead, but ultimately had to fall as all the others.

But then the unthinkable happened, the undead consumed by power and bloodlust would not link the flame as the prophecy had told, but instead left it to burn out into ashes and became a dark lord.

And so only darkness remain and with it the wait for the end of the world. This is our fate unless a new undead will rise and rekindle the flame again, thus the prophecy will be completed and the age of darkness will be prevented.

And so a new undead will rise to light the flame, but will it end this long night or prolong it? Only the undead will know.

                                      CHAPTER 1

I woke up, dazed and confused and covered with ash, could my deepest fear be true? Had I rised again as an undead? I pray the gods will be merciful, only in legends from long ago had I hoped they would stay, but nay this fate had now bestowed me. In my deepest despair their came a sound from above my prison cell wich I had woken from, a voice clear as it could be. « are you not yet hollow? Then we are in luck, here grab this key and meet me outside, but be careful there are other undead nearby, altough I fear they may not have their wits about them as you seem to have. There was a sound of metal hitting the floor and I could see clear infront of me a key, I knew not if this voice was friendly or not, but I kew I had no other choice, If I die then maybe this curse will end and I might stay dead.

I picked up the key and tried it on the lock on the door to my cell, It swung open as the key gave away a faint clicking sound. The hallway was dark and empty, but in the far distance I could hear the moans of the undead nearby. In fear of giving my position away I walked with slow and steady steps down the hallway, searching for the voice I had heard in the prison cell when suddenly a ball of fire came rushing down, hitting me with full force and bringing me down to the ground. My journey had only begun and I was already dying. As I lost conciusnes I could hear that voice again from earlier « such a pity, I guess I should have warned you about the traps»

                                       CHAPTER 2

As an undead you will rise and as an undead you will die, but death will never grant you your freedom, only the madness and bloodlust that follows truly will.

I awoke from my slumber with the feeling of death on my mind, I could literally taste it in my mouth at the tip of my tongue, but death had not grasped me, I was again alive, how could this be? I faintly remembered being struck by a barell in flames just a few moments ago. What I saw around me reminded me of a camp, what I saw were ruins made of stone and in the midle on the ground was a sword engulfed in flames, as I moved towards it, a familiar voice I had heard before came from my left side. « hello there my friend» As I turned around I could see where that voice came from, it was a knight or what was left of one, cause the knight was not as heroic or muscular as one would imagine, but instead a broken man, a knight that had fallen from grace long ago, I did not believe he could lift a sword into battle even if he wanted to, those days was long past him.

« dont you worry, first time you awake from death is always the strangest, but it wont be the first time I promise you that, just look at it as waking up from a bad dream, a bad dream indeed»

« I believe we have not yet been introduced to each other, oh how silly of me, my name is Eon, former knight and protector of Gwynewere the princess of sunlight, you may not have heard of me, I can't really blame you, I was overtroned by Ornstein and Smough, but I can't be mad, why should I? To be overtroned by such honored knights should be an honor to me, but yet I feel nothing. It may be the curse slowly creeping in,it does take us all in the end, it always does, but you may wonder why did I rescue you from that prison cell, why are you an undead? So many questions and so little time, time you really dont have, unless the tought of being a bloodthirsty hollow interests you, then by all means just wait it out or you could maybe do something for me, after all why not use the time you have on something useful while your mind is still strong.?

Confused by this knight that went by the name of Eon I struggled to decide if he spoke of reason or was simply mad, insane or both. Yet I only asked « why me?»

Eon laughed heartidly before he replied. « If not you then who else? Do you think I am in any shape to take on any adventure? Those days are sadly behind me, short it may have been, maybe not even worth bragging about.....werry well you do as you wish, but should the wait for the curse to settle in be to tiresome, then consider ringing two bells. The first one lies high up on a tower beyond the undead parish, the other one deep below the labyrinth of Blighttown, but be ware I hear it is particularly poisonous this time of the year wich if im completely honest cant even remember, strange isnt it...to forget both time and place, a strange feeling indeed...now be on your way and maybe our paths may meet again.»

And in a flash of light and smoke he was gone. Two bells, why did it sound so familiar? Like a tale I had been told  long ago. I could not be sure if the knight had spoken the truth, but I had a feeling that ringing the bells would only be the beginning of my adventure.

Two bells of awekening needs to chime for only then  the undeads fate in this world will be known.

                                          CHAPTER 3

I needed a weapon, a sword, an axe or anything in between, going out in the fields without anything would just leed to another death and the feeling of waking up again with the smell and taste of death was something I would not want to experience again, but what Eon had said about waking up from the dead would be common in time, I still wondered if it could be true, by the gods I hoped not.

In my search for a weapon fit enough to atleast bash some skulls I came upon what looked like to once have been a forge, there was steel hammers, iron and coul scattered around a big muscular body that once must have been the blacksmith that owned this forge. He could not make me a weapon anymore I am sad to say, but among the rubble of stones and bones I did find a usable steel sword, a brown cloak and an iron shield, luck was with me it would seem.

I had not travelled far until I met my first victim. An undead was standing around the corner, spitting and making gargly sounds. I moved slowly behind it, making sure it did not hear me. When I stood directly behind the undeads back  I trhust my sword trough it, It happened naturally and I never gave it much tought, as an untrained man of combat I found the common feeling of the killing to be strange, but did I have any sympethy for the undead? I can not say I did, the beast was once human, true, but as an undead was it still to be considered human or not?

The dead body fell on the ground, smuldering into ashes and with it came a glow of light surrounding my hand before it vanished. What kind of black magic was this? I wondered in my solitude that was suddenly broken from a voice from above,  with the sunlight in my eyes I could faintly see what in my mind resembled a woman, She wore a heavy armor, a greatsword on her back, but no helmet, her black raven hair was flowing free in the light wind.

« Well met friend, I see you are experiencing the souls power for the first time, dont worry, it will make you stronger and you are gonna need it, there is a giant beast in that castle not far from here, I guess you are seeking to ring the bells, you will have to slay the beast in order to move on, I wish you luck.»

I called for her as she dissapeared wanting to know what kind of beast she was talking about, but to also ask who she was and why she could not come with me.  The castle was not far away and with steady and firm steps I moved forward to face the beast I had to kill.

The entrance door was big, really big, shattered and broken, so the way in would not be something I had to figure out since there was a big crack I could shimmy my way trough. Well inside I was met with a big empty room, the air was tick and only the faint sound of some crows resting on the beam high above could be heard. Then there was a loud crash as the beast I had been told about crashed its bottom on the ground infront of me. It was a hideous beast, fat and covered with loose skin and scars. On its back were wings so small that they could have been on a fairy, like those I was told about when I was a young kid.

In its solid and muscular arms it was carrying a big hammer and as my eyes adjusted and took in the huge beast's presence it swung the hammer sideways, hitting me with great force, the air went out of me as I hit the ground. Weak and beaten I got up, holding my sword in my shivering and sweaty hands, waiting for the next attack.

The swing came hard and low as I managed to jump away, This gave me a free path to the beast's legs, I took my advantage without thinking, stabbing my sword in the heel of one of the  legs, bringing it down to its knees. I climbed up its back and with great power and strenght managed to stick my blade into the beast's head. With a growl it fell down  with a loud bang and stayed still.

I had been lucky, there were no other explenation for why I had survived, the beast crumbled away in ash and just as the undead from before, gave away a light that dissapeared in my hand. Oddly enough I felt stronger, I was no longer tired from the battle,it felt like it had never happened.

« Good work my friend» a voice said. I searched the room to find the source of that voice and was met with the presence of Eon. « You are the first one to kill the beast in one try, normally other ashen ones I have seen dies atleast three times before they slay it, but we have no time to celebrate, the first bell awaits»

he was gone in a flash of smoke and left me wondering why he named me an ashen one and that he mentioned other ones before me. I was eager for answers and moved up the tower were the first bell was waiting, I moved the mecanism and it rang loud and clear, but when the sound began to fade I was still just as confused as I had been before.

                                         CHAPTER 4

Ding dong the bell will ring, but will it bring a new beginning or an even bitter end?

The air was still, everything was quiet and my body was as tense as it could be. I waited for the answers I had been seeking, but none came. I could not be dissapointed, altough the gods know how much I wanted to be. This was after all just the first bell, but there was another one waiting deep below the swamps and I had a feeling the path to that bell would not be as easy as this one.

With heavy steps I moved down the stairs and out of the castle, I was wondering about where to go next, when my eyes lay opon the woman I had met earlier. She was standing against a pillar, arms crossed, her eyes were shining with a clear blue color,something I found unusual considering that everything else I had seen so far was either dead or undead. This woman was none of that, she was the most beatiful thing I had seen.

« We meet again friend, You fought well and now the first bell has been rung. I wanted to congratulate you and I wish we could celebrate, but that would be impossible, Nor do I have any drinks and nor do we have any time to drink it if I by some coincidence  did have some.»

She gave away a faint smile, I admired her, to be so positive in a dead world as this. How did she do it? How could anyone do it?

« Who are you? The first words I had uttered to anyone, came out like a whisper, I was even shocked to hear my own voice, since it was normally heard in my own mind.

« I am Evelyn. A fellow undead as you,we share the same path, but as you seek to either link or burn out the flame, my path is far more personal. My brother once was an undead like us, he too was destined to find the flame, he came so close only to find it and then just dissapear, I am here to find out what happened, to get a closure and maybe even find peace.»

« Then....would you join me?» I asked

« Im afraid not, but please do not despair, I will still help as best I can, but the journey must be yours alone, its hard to explain, but that is the way it has always been, Many chosen undead's have linked the flame for centuries,but everytime the dark age returns and a new undead is chosen.»

« but, why Link the flame If it is only to prolong the inevitable?» I asked.

Evelyn got quiet, deep in tough it seemed before she answered

« I have never tought about it that way. You may be right, but why then have you ringed the bell and why do you still continue? You could just stop and let the curse take you. Im afraid that is a choice for you to take, my path is set and I know why I am here.»

I was unsure, conflicted with my mind, but she was right why did I continue, was there something else I did not see? Or was it as hopeless as I had tought?

« what ever you decide to do, decide quickly. I do hope our path meets again, it is not everyday you meet an undead, still willing to talk and even ask questions about their meaning in this world, so long.»

And with that we parted ways.  I considered turning back and forget everything, leave this quest behind, but why stop now when I had already started and the power I felt was good. I had never felt so strong before, was this the curse or was I going mad? If I stopped now there was a chance I would never find out.

And then my journey led me to the swamps and the horrors within, many a death I was faced with, but each time,I woke up near a campfire made by a sword, but strange as that was with each death I got weaker, but when I got back to what had killed me I found to my suprise a glowing light, not like the ones from before, this one was bigger and when it dissapeared in my hand I again felt stronger, much stronger than before, I was now convinced that this had to be the curse and that maybe my quest was somehow linked to lift it. Altough I had few answers one thing became painfully clear. what Eon had said about death becomming common was indeed true.

                                                                            CHAPTER 5

No man can claim to have been truly afraid until he have seen death in the eye and survived. If that was true then I was the bravest man in this land, but the feeling of fear never came to me, for with each death I suffered and the stronger I got with each creature I killed, my feelings and memories slowly faded. It was like my essence of humanity slowly got erased from my mind. It is a terrefying feeling and even more terrefying, I started to forget the simple things, wich day was it? Had I eaten or not and what was my name? Why had this  happened to me? Why did I have to be the chosen one?

The more I ventured into the depths, the more unhuman I became, my killings became quicker and easier, and my lust for blood was now instead becomming a lust for power, a power I did not know,but a power I wanted and needed desperately. When I reached the depths beyond the swamp full of poison, gigantic crabs and rats, only darkness surrounded me. It was clear that no one either dead, undead or alive had been here for a long time.

Suddenly in the distance there came a faint light, much like those I wanted. I moved closer, sword in hand and ready to kill when I met the eyes of a small and naked little creature. It was hairless and skinny. It looked at me with a look not of fear, but of sadness, it was like it knew it was beaten and just waited for me to give it the killing blow. My hearth sinks when I write this, but blind with lust for the light the creature held I slayed it without thinking and claimed the power it had protected.

But it was something different with this one, It made me not stronger, but weaker or dare I say normal. I felt cold and hurt from all my wounds and to my horror I could now for the first time see I was bleeding, something I never had felt or seen in my battles so far. But the time for wondering was soon disrupted by cryes from the undead as the whole place got swarmed with them. I raised my sword, but it felt heavier than usual, I started killing them as they rushed towards me, but their numbers soon overcame me and I was knocked out.

« are you alright my friend? Came a voice that made me wake up. I  was alive, but it did not feel like I had died, stranngely it felt like I had woken from a dream and not a bad one. Had I been sleeping?

« Take it easy, you have been out for the last hour, when I found you, you were bleeding and uncouncius, I dragged you to the nearest bonfire and just waited for you to wake up.»

My wounds made me feel sour, but as I lay my eyes upon my savoir I saw the woman I admired, It was Evelyn.

« thank you» I managed to say trough my bloodied jaw.

She moved beside me, took a good and curious look at me before she asked     « why are you not undead anymore? You look alive.»

I told her about the creature I had killed, about how greedy for power I was and how I could feel everything now, even my feelings for her wich I did not dare tell for fear of what she might say. She listened patiently to every word I said and when I finished, the silence lasted a long while, It was strange, I felt safe and at peace.

« Can you feel it too?» I asked.

She looked at me with a disturbed look, « feel what? I can't feel anything»

« Do you not feel the peace, the warmt from the fire?»

« as I said I can't feel anything, it is strange that you have all these feelings all of a sudden, whatever that creature you killed protected it was not a normal soul, it must have been far more powerful.»

I dont know why, but the more we talked the more I wanted to be with her, I did not want to be alone again, I was tired from it, but if she truly could not feel anything, did that mean she could not feel love?

« Can you tell me more about your brother?» I asked

« I cant remember much sadly, but he was kind and wise.»

« do you love him?» I asked

I could see she got uncomfortable as she fikled with her hands and starting poking the fire with a stick.

« I dont know, should I? Love, that's something I can't remember if I have ever felt.

Saddened by this answer I decided not to ask her anymore questions, It was clear the undead curse was taking its toll on her. I wanted to do something, but what could I do?

« I should get going, the bell is not far from here.»

She stood up and was about to leave when I shouted « wait!»

She turned around and looked at me

« I will find a cure you know, I can maybe save us both.» I wanted to believe it, but her answer made things painfully clear.

« dont give promises you may not be able to keep.»

She was right, how could I know if there was a cure or not?

« before you leave, do you remember the name of your brother?» I asked

« that is strangely the only one clear thing I can remember of him. His name is Eon.»

She left and I could not get that name out of my mind. Where had I heard it before?

                                         CHAPTER 6

The second bell chimed clear and loud. I felt accomplished and proud to have come so far, but my answers was still not  in sight. I began questioning my meaning here yet again, but not as much as before. For I understood better now than ever with this new power I had obtained that my quest was not simply to save the world, but maybe save myself and those that was still alive. I wanted to lift the curse, I wanted to help and I wanted to be with Evelyn. Every tought I had about her made me feel both warm and sad, why did the curse have to take her aswell? Was there no one that was spared?

I came upon a cliffside and my path seemed to end at first untill with a scream like a thousand dead souls there infront me was the biggest crow I had ever seen. It swiftly came down and grabbed me with its claws, I tought my end was near for good this time, but when it dropped me on a long stairwell leading up to a castle I was both relieved to be alive and amazed by the arcithecture and scope of the building.

This must have been the old castle of a once great king, but all I saw now was the remains of a fallen glory, nearly destroyed and covered with death and sorrow. As I entered the halls, no guards was there to stop me, no festivities or royalties of any kind, all I saw was skeletons  of once great soldiers, One was big and one was skinny. The big one lay beside a great hammer and the other a greatsword was stabbed in its back. What could have killed them I wondered as there was no marks or cuts to be seen, It simply looked like they were both in a deep sleep.

I entered another big door and what I saw was both majestic and different from everything else I had seen. On a big couch there lay a woman. She had a beautiful white dress and a Tiara on her head. She looked at me with a calm and reassuring smile as I knelt before her, knowing that this must be the queen of this castle, but why rule a castle were there were no one to command?

« Rise, ashen one, it has been centuries since I last saw one of your kind, but you look different then any other that has come before you. Are you alive? How can this be? If not the gods of darkness has granted you the soul of humankind?

« I....dont know what you are talking about your majesty.»

« It is strange indeed, but you would not have come this far if the gods did not have a bigger plan for you, one I myself cant answer im afraid, but I will tell you what I know, but first an introduction is at place, my name is Gwynewere, princess of sunlight and ruler of Anor Londo, this castle you now are in, what is your name oh chosen one?»

« my name is Adolin your majesty» I did not know how I remembered my name, but I did.

« greetings Adolin, you may speak your mind freely»

I kept kneeling, not knowing if that was the righ thing to do or not, but asked her my questions:

« I want to know if I can lift this undead curse and what my true purpose in this world is»

« You are not the first one to ask me this Adolin, but I can only tell you what I have told those before you. You are an chosen undead, your destiny is to link the flame and prevent the dark ages return. You must ultimately succeed our lord Gwyn and avert further undead sacrifices, It is your duty in fact and all the other chosen undeads that have come before you has fulfilled that duty with great success, but the dark age always returns no matter what, It is an evil dark cycle, but what else  can we do but the same thing we have done for centuries? I do not know if this will lift the curse you are talking about, since no one has been conserned or even asked about such a curse, I hope this answers some of your questions.»

It did answer some, but I was still confused and dissapointed that the princess did not have any answer for the curse and I began to fear that I was doomed.

« Your majesty, If what you say is true, then how can you be alive? Are you an undead aswell, does the curse affect you?»

« I am just an illusion of what I used to be. I am indead dead, but no curse have ever affected me. You see me only because you are the chosen one, I can only guide those that are chosen undeads. You may not get all your questions answered,but the duty is yours to fulfill none the less. I will send you to the kiln of the first flame and there you will have to face your greatest choice,

but that is a choice only you can make. Normally you would have to seek out  the souls of the chaos lords, but as I see you are no ordinary undead and equipped with the soul of humankind, things have changed.»

I bowed deep, showing my gratitude for the answers as she spoke again: «I beg you Adolin, succeed lord Gwyn, and inheriteth the worlds fire. We have only thee.»

As she spoke those words a circle of light surrounded my feets and in the next moment I stood infront of the entrance of a great tower or atleast what was left of it, the structures were beyond repair and the roof had collapsed, but from that roof it came a faint beam of light, it had to be the flame. I was about to enter the entrance and was ready to face the ultimate choice, when I saw to my right, under a rock an armor I recognised. I moved closer,  lifted the rock away and was met with the face of the woman I loved.

                                        CHAPTER 7

« Evelyn! Please wake up,  dont leave me!» I screamed , holding her lifeless body in my arms. Tears were falling down my face, I could not let her die, she could not die. Not now when I was so close to end it all.

A sudden gasp came from her and in joy I was relieved to see her alive, but that joy soon got crushed as I in horror could see that the woman I loved  had become hollow. She waved uncontrollably with her arms as I tried to calm her to no avail. Her eyes met mine and they were no longer a sight of beauty, but a sight of true hate and bloodlust.

I would not belive it, This could not be reality, but the more I sat there, fighting for control, the more I realised that she was now just an another creature like all the others I had killed. I managed to grab her dagger from her belt and as my hearth broke in true sadness I slit her troath. I could not see her like this, but I took solitude in knowing that her soul would be a part of me as she crumbled away in my hands until only her ashes remained.

My quest was nearly complete, but why should I even complete it now? Evelyn, I realised, had been the true reason for why I had pushed forward despite my doubtness. I wanted to save her and myself, but mostly her. I wished I had told her my feelings for her, now it was too late and my quest seemed pointless to finish, but I could not fail the princess, I could not fail the human kind, I was destined to save them. In the end I really had no other choice.

As I entered the entrance to the tower I could see the flame burning faintly. I had decided to sacrifice myself so that others could live, my life was pointless anyway, This had been my purpose all along, to die for the human kind. As I was about to complete the task a figure emarged from the shadows and it was then I remembered the name  of the one Evelyn had searched for, her long lost brother Eon.

« So here you are my friend, You finally are  at your journeys end. Now tell me, what will you do? Will you sacrifice yourself and prevent the dark age, despite that it will no matter what return? Or will you just walk away and become a dark lord and rule this werry land? A land that is only inhabited by death and tragedy? It is a hopeless choice no matter what isnt it? I made my choice long ago, I became a dark lord, because why would I leave such power behind? Why save a world that cannot be saved either way?

« Eon, the power has consumed you, you are a ruler of nothing as you say, so why then are you still here? Why do you prevent the chosen ones to succeed, why did you even free me from my cell?

« I am a ruler of death, that is clear, but the power I have I cannot erase, I am nothing without it and the reason for me freeing you was simply to have another worthy opponent, You really think I helped you all this way to succeed, no, I helped you to get so far only so that I could kill you for sport, but now as I can see you have regained your humanity I will give you an offer. Join me and we can rule together, we will create a new world, the way we want it to be. Why save the humankind the old way as it is clearly not helping? The world needs to change, the rules need to change, the old ways must be changed»

« I  dont believe you Eon, with a dark lord as a leader you would surely bring the humankind to its knees just for your amusement and lust for power»

« You fool! Have you not heard anything of what I have told you? Dont you see I am trying to save the humankind? Just as you are seeking to do aswell? We have the same goal, I am just offering another way. You cannot be as blind as I think you are.»

« I am sorry Eon, but I cannot join you. I will not rule a world just for power, my way may not prevent the dark age forever, but atleast then the humankind will not be forced into a leadership they may not want. And when the time comes for a new chosen undead to take this journey It will have to make the same choise as me, as everyone that has walked this path. The human race should be able to choose and handle on their own terms.»

« Then why may I ask you does the human race let it be up to only one chosen undead, why could not all choose?

« Because Eon, they have no choice and how can you know for sure that what you are offering will prevent the dark age for ever? Maybe there are no better ways here.

« then why should it matter what you choose to do oh chosen one? Why not take a chance?

I  lowered my head, knowing it was pointless, my quest was pointless, this world was doomed no matter what, but would I give it away  to a corrupt leader like Eon?

I raised my sword in a fighting stance as I said: « then we should fight for it, it is clear we can not come to an agreement and a world with two leaders both corrupted with power can only lead to even a longer tragic period and with even more innocent lives going to waste.»

« By the gods you are indeed blind, the power is destroying you aswell,  you may be right that the world is doomed no matter what, but I cannot be sure untill I have tried my way. I will make your death swift, no one has beaten me in combat and you will not be the one to finish the job»

Eon raised his sword from his scabbard and raised it high in a glorius stance as it became engulfed in flames. His eyes returned to me, his look gave me a cold sweat and as our swords clashed with each other, flames and sparks flew all around us, burning our clothes and skins, but as I tried to avoid the heat, it never seemed to bother Eon, nor did any of my attacks as he swiftly dodged away every swing I thrust at him. As the battle went on I got more and more tired, I was no longer an invincible undead that could wake up from death after all, I was a human being with flesh and blood and the disadvanteges it came with in a deadly battle. I felt like Eon was a wall that could not be broken, for every planned attack I had he always saw it comming, in fact he was most likely three steps ahead of me as every attempt  of getting a hit in resulted in a cut across my arms, legs or chest.

« You are weak oh chosen one, soon you will die and this time you will not wake up, the human soul will be mine and with it my power will become even greater. Atleast maybe in your death you can join my sister. Oh I knew about her quest and how pointless it was, I saw how you looked at her from far away and I knew you had feelings for her, oh how fun it was to see, a love that could never be and all it led to was for you to now be killed by me»

 I hated the way he dared to say it like a mocking rhyme, I had tought him evil before, but now he was only cold blooded, Evelyn had sacrificed so much to find him only to never reach him and run out of time as the curse ultimately took her, she died thinking she had failed Eon when the truth was that he never wanted to be found by her in the first place.

« you....you god damn bastard!” I screamed as Hatred consumed me. I hit his sword hard with mine. With every blow he got pushed a little way back and he struggled to get any returning strike on me as my blows got faster and harder each time. With a heavy swing I knocked his sword out of his hand and not wasting my chance I stabbed my sword right trough his chest and left it there,stuck in his body.

He fell on his kness and started coughing up dark blood. « Curse you.....how is this possible? How can a mortal human kill me?» he muttured his words trough blood and a feeling of hate as I picked up his own sword from the ground and moved beside him.

« I tought I could never feel this again, but your sister showed me it was still possible, even in a world as dead as this one»

Eon looked up on me coughing,holding his chest with one hand and steadying himself with the other  « What are you talking about? Is the curse finally taking you too? He started laughing as I raised the sword and spoke the last words he would ever hear: « Love conquers all»

And with that I swong the sword in a clear downward strike, leaving his body headless.

                                                                           CHAPTER 8

The flame is getting fainter now as I am writing these last words. Ever since I killed Eon my purpose here has been in constant conflict. I want to to do the right thing, but after all I have been trough I am starting to wonder if there is no right thing to do, it is hopeless no matter what. At first I wanted to fulfill my duty as I had been told by the princess, but then I started to think about what Eon had told me before our fight, making  my choice even harder, damn it all . If only I did not have to do this alone, if only Evelyn could be here.

I will leave my story behind, hiding it under a rock in hope that someone else walking this path may find the answers that I never got. With this I take my farewell and hope my sacrifice will do some good for the world. I am tired of  being alone. I hope with my death that I can join my forefathers and the woman that showed me that love still could exist when everything seemed hopeless.

I Collected the notes I had written, hid them under a rock and reached my hand out to the flame. As my body got engulfed and the fire started to burn my flesh I uttered my last words: may death finally free me.

                                          EPILOGUE

And so the prophecy was completed. The dark age had been prevented and again the humankjnd could live in a world without darkness. They could not know how long this would last, but the age of  fire was indeed long, so long infact that the fear of the dark age soon faded away from their minds. That was until the story of the chosen undead who claimed the soul of humankind was found.

Trough the notes written long ago the humans understood how this long age of fire had came. It was not an undead who had kindled the flame, but a living human with a beating hearth, thus the prophecy had changed and with it the world.

Baffled by this new wisdom the humans started to send a willing living being to rekindle the flame when the signs of the dark age slowly returned. This worked for a while until their couriusness got the better of them, they started wondering if the age of  fire would be even longer if a newborn was sacrificed instead of a living person that  had already lived out most of its life.

This angered the mothers and fathers of the world as was expected, since no parent wanted to bring their newborns to the flame.

soon after, a war broke out, not against any gods or beast's, but against those that believed in this new prophecy and those that didn't. This war went on for so long that the humans, blind with fear and hatred could not see the dark ages return before it was too late.

And thus the circle has started again, the world had been saved, but ultimately the human kind could not save it from themselves, the darkness has consumed us all. This is our fate.

But as we now are yet again waiting for the end of the world we are asking ourselves if this could have truly been prevented or if it was always meant to be.

                                             THE END

[weboflife]

Critical Role Fanfic Idea

Was thinking about writing this, but I’ve not got the time so I figured I would summarise it. Hope you enjoy and please offer feedback and likes if you can :D

Critical Role: Clarota’s Revenge

It’s a year, after the sealing of Vecna. The gang have returned to Whitestone to celebrate the victory but to also commemorate Vax and to be with Keyleth in this trying time. They spend a long day of talking, recapping the years events, showing the progression of relationships, etc.

For instance, Vex and Percy are expecting there first kid, Kaylie is at school, Grog is learning and can read pretty good now and Keyleth has been working hard as the Voice. Pike has been working hard and her relationship with Scanlan is going well. Even Tary pops by via a teleporation circle just to hang with his friends and Vex gives him the necklace of holding to carry Doty in, which he uses, as Trinket is preoccupied at the moment.

That night, the gang go to sleep either together or separately depending on the pairing, and individually they are plagued by a series of nightmares. Some are subtle, some are more... intense.

Grog, going to the bathroom in his dream, is suddenly overwhelmed by a Craven Edge wielding Kevdak and despite his strength can’t seem to fight back.

Scanlan is chased through a maze by Raishan, who wishes to kill him for a third and final time and each time he thinks he’s escapes he finds his friends who still don’t forgive him for his leaving.

Pike is surrounded by her dead friends and loved ones and finds no connection to Sarenrae, despite her best efforts. She prays harder, but instead is met by Jurazel- the entity that killed her.

Keyleth and Vex share a common dream- that of Vax, suffering with the Raven Queen rather than at peace.

And finally; Percy is confronted by Orthax, who has joined forces and reanimated a now undead Clarota, with a hole in his head as he promises with the full force of the Elder Brain and Illithid to destroy Vox Machina for the wounds the Elder Brain had suffered and to enslave Whitestone- and then the entire group wake up, horrified.

Tary, as the only one who didn’t suffer, is confused the next day when the group decide to go to Kraghammer to engage the Ilithid head on and are confident in there abilities. Tary agrees to tag along and, as a team, they transport via plants to Kraghammer.

Negotiating with Nostoc Greyspine with the knowledge that they will clear his mines of the Ilithid they begin there journey down a familiar path, telling Tary tales as they travel of there first adventure. They run across a path of Goblins that are swiftly dealt with and even come upon a steadily rebuilding Duragar Camp and- remembering how badly they fared last time- cause a significant amount of damage before driving them away.

That night they go to sleep, which turns out to be a mistake as they all- save for Tary once more- suffer terrible nightmares. 

Grog faces Kevdak again with the full backing of the herd, but now faces him as a small child, weaker and without his friends.

Scanlan is once again in the Tower of Entropis and Kaylie is once more dead- but so is Pike, so is Grog, so is everyone he has ever cared about. His mother at the very end- and then Vecna stands over him and as he tries to sing to counter spell a spell- he finds his voice doesn’t work.

Pike finds herself in a world where her Goddess never existed. Where her friends never existed. Where the world is ruined and she can do nothing to help anybody.

Vex and Keyleth once again suffer the fear of Vax’s loss- but then begin to experience the fear of losing everyone else that they care about. Vex especially, at the fear of her first child.

And Percy once again stands alone and converses with Orthax and Clarota and promises them firmly that he will finish the Shadow Demon once and for all, and that for Clarota it won’t be a second swift death.

They wake up, terrified once more, and exhausted after suffering a second night without any decent sleep and decide to continue pushing forward and- utilising a transport spell from Keyleth in the form of Wind Walk they dash as fast as they can to the City of Yug’Voril.

Opting to rest, they discuss that the plan is simply to go in and annihilate the Elder Brain and that- hopefully- this would do the trick and stop the Ilithid from engaging them in there dreams. They prepare a Heroes Feast and consume it along with all other spells needed for protection and, armed with the Vestiges, enter the city. Vex shares that with Vax scouting ahead it may have been easier to defeat these creatures, and the gang mourn for a moment.

Finally they enter the main city and, of course, are expected. The Ilithid try to use the power of the Elder Brain to take over Vox Machina- but they fight back and with the advantage in Tary being a relative unknown in this instance, they break through the main force and arrive in the Elder Brain Temple where Clarota stands, undead and monstrous with the black smoke of Orthax rising from him like a dark smoke.

Vox Machine engage in a fierce battle with Clarota and are constantly interrupted with new Ilithid swarming in trying to wear them down. But they push on thanks to there almighty strength until, mid-way, the entire group suddenly... wake up.

They are back in Greyskull Keep. A long time ago in fact. They are with friends and loved ones, nobody is lost. Vax is here in fact, walking around and arguing with Grog but eventually apologising for a prank. Tiberius is also here. The original 8 are hanging around, having the best time, and then the door knocks and they are offered a quest by Seeker Assum to save lives and be heroes for coin.

Throughout all this, however, Tary is with them and keeps thinking that something is wrong. The obvious thing is that... he never knew a red Dragonborn and he’s pretty sure that he never lived at this Keep. Also, this is the first time he and Scanlan have been hanging around for this length of time and Doty is nowhere to be seen. None of this seems right- despite Vax insisting that it is.

Eventually, after too many things add up, like the lack of Dragons and Vecna and even the Briarwoods not ringing a bell for Percy, Tary understands and with his allies screaming at him to stop he attacks Tiberius and Vax, thinking this will help. 

As Tary awakens back in the real world he notices his allies are ensnared by a dark presence as Orthax and Clarota slowly draw them towards the Elder Brain and that Doty is the one who used his strength to free him from the mind attack.

Tary and Doty attacks and, in doing so, manages to break the connection one by one for his friends and eventually, together, Vox Machina return to full strength and begin to attack Clarota and Orthax and successfully manage to destroy the pair with a group kill. With the body destroyed and the soul of Orthax fading away, Percy proposes that the group destroy the Elder Brain and in doing so they notice that the entire temple begins to collapse... And one quick Wish later, the group are transported back home to Whitestone.

That night Vox Machina fall asleep, and have peaceful dreams. And Trinket rests with a series of newborn baby cubs with his Bear girlfriend, having missed the whole adventure.

The next day, Percy proposes a quest to go and deal with Orthax’ soul for the final time as it likely resides in the Hell Realm, and with the prospect of going to Hell and having more adventures as a party, Vox Machine prepare and the adventure continues...

The End

What did you think? Sorry for the length, I just had to get this idea out on paper and then I could rest. If you liked it, if you want me to write it, or if you want to see more by me just follow me or send me a message. I promise I’ll read and reply to everything :D

[nicolabarth]

Blood and Bones – Chapter 4

Pairing: Samifer

Summary: When people on the Winchester lands vanish, including Dean, Sam thinks the necromancer who’s living near by in a tower is to blame.

Warnings: Fantasy AU, Violence, Blood Magic (as in people cut themselves and others to get blood for spells), Knight!Sam, Necromancer!Lucifer, Blood Mage!Lucifer, Undead, Questionable morals, Truth Spells

Notes: Thanks to my beta readers @coplins, and @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell. The whole story was inspired by @brieflymaximumprincess.

Read it on AO3

Dean was not thrilled about an evil necromancer saving his life, but when he learned what had happened (they left out the fact that Sam gave parts of his life force), he thanked Lucifer in an only slightly stiff way and promised him that as soon as he ruled these lands there would be some kind of mutual agreement. Both brothers knew better than to make any promises in the name of their father. In the eyes of John Winchester matters of good and evil were always black and white.

As they were about to part ways, Lucifer leaned close enough to Sam that his breath caught in the shell of Sam’s ear and made him shiver. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again soon. You’re always welcome in my tower.” There was a promise in his voice and when he straightened up again, he winked.

A few moments later he was gone.

Dean gave an exaggerated shudder. “I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, but he is creepy.”

“Sure,” Sam agreed half-heartedly. He still felt Lucifer’s kisses on his lips, even though the time they spent by the waterfall was a bit of a haze by now. He remembered blue eyes glowing with power and a voice that seemed to be full of dark secrets and things he hadn’t dreamed of so far. He remembered the euphoria he’d felt, when he had realized that the ritual was over and he was still alive, knowing his trust had been well placed despite the odds.

He also remembered the pain of course, but it came with memories of a gentle voice telling him that his brother was alright.

He had not expected a necromancer and a blood mage to be like that. He wanted to know about this man.

It took almost a week for the commotion about a dragon (well, Basilisk) on their lands to die down. John Winchester did not look happy when he heard about the necromancer (well, blood mage) helping his sons.

“What did he ask of you in return?” he had asked.

“Just the basilisk venom and to be left in peace,” Sam had lied.

His father had looked at him as if he hadn’t believe him, but he’d said nothing more.

It was Adam, though, who finally convinced their father that it was only just and proper to send the necromancer a gift. Something to show their gratefulness, because that’s what you do, when someone saves your son’s life.

Sam was the one who got sent carrying the gift. After all he had managed to deal with the necromancer once, he was the most likely to manage it again without causing an incident.

Sam didn’t protest.

The tower looked almost peaceful in the sunlight. Old, of course, definitely older than the current owner. A bit crooked, too. But there was a rosebush to one side, and a small hunched figure carefull cutting it into shape.

It was only when Sam drew near that he realized that the fingers of the old lady working on the roses were mostly bone with just a bit of dried skin holding them together. And when she turned her head in Sam’s direction, the sockets of her eyes were empty and dark, her grin the permanent one of a skull. Sam’s horse flicked its head up and for a moment he was glad he could concentrate on calming it down again. He should’ve known, of course, but seeing still came as a bit of a shock.

The undead old lady turned back to the roses, and Sam tried not to wonder too much, if he had maybe known her in life.

He took saddle and bridle off his horse and tied it to a nearby tree with a line that would allow it to graze. Then he took the bundle the gift was wrapped in from the saddle bag and knocked on the door.

He wore his sword at his side, but not his chainmail, and he felt his hand wrap around the hilt of the weapon as he looked back at the undead gardener, just a little bit uneasy.

“You still don’t like the reminder of who you’re dealing with, do you?”

When Sam turned, Lucifer was standing on a path that lead around the tower, away from the roses. The blood mage motioned for him to come closer. “Come on. Opening the front door is always such a hassle. Everything in this tower is too old.”

Sam let go of his weapon and followed.

Behind the tower was a small herb garden and a well and a door that led into a small kitchen. There was a fire going in the hearth and a pot hanging above it. Lucifer peeked into it, stirring a few times. “You’re just in time for dinner. I think it’s done.”

Sam blinked and tried to reconcile the man who apparently had been cooking dinner himself with the powerful mage with glowing eyes who’d ripped part of his life force out of his body. “You cook?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Letting the dead cook makes everything taste rotten.”

Well … that made sense.

“Don’t tell anyone, though,” Lucifer continued with a wink. “It’d take the mystery out of me being a dark mage and all that, don’t you think?”

Sam snorted. “Oh yes, people could stop fearing you. It would be terrible.”

Lucifer pulled a face. “I may complain about people stupidly fearing what they don’t know now and then, but it keeps nosy children away, you know.”

That made Sam laugh. “You don’t like people much, do you?”

“Oh, what gave it away?”

“In that case, should I make myself scarce soon?” It wasn’t like Lucifer had ever acted like he didn’t want Sam’s company, but if the blood mage didn’t like people, what made Sam different?

“As I said, Sammy ...” Lucifer stepped closer, eyes intently on Sam’s now. “You’re always welcome in my tower.”

Sam smiled, shifting his weight a little so that his stance was more open, taking the sting out of what he was going to say next. “I’m people, too.”

Lucifer waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not completely sure about that. Normally people don’t allow me to tie them up and use them to power a spell. And they especially don’t kiss me afterwards.” There was a twinkle in Lucifer’s eyes now, as if that was something he liked to remember. Well, Sam agreed with the last part being a good memory.

“Talking about the spell,” Lucifer continued. He pointed next to the hearth. “Put your sword there and let me check on you.”

Sam lifted an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn’t expected Lucifer to be that concerned about his wellbeing. “It was just swallow cuts. They’re healing well.” Still, he took off his weapon’s belt. So iron really did interfere with Lucifer’s magic, at least a little bit?

“I’m not talking about your body.” Lucifer grinned. “Though it sure deserves every bit of attention.”

That was a really bad habit of Lucifer’s, giving off-hand compliments while delivering troubling pieces of information. Sam wondered, did the spell leave any marks on his soul? A bit worried, he leaned his sword against the wall next to the hearth, put the present next to it. Then he stepped closer to Lucifer again. The blood mage watched him with a very pleased expression for some reason. He reached out, and cold fingers brushed over Sam’s forehead, the same spot where he’d drawn the bloody rune. The was a slight prickling feeling that Sam associated with magic by now, drawing more attention to the point of contact.

The thumb of Lucifer’s other hand came to rest underneath Sam’s chin, slid down to where the rune had been on his throat, leaving a tingling trail behind. Sam couldn’t help but draw a long breath, lips parting slightly, and he liked how Lucifer’s eyes turned dark at that.

“Looks good,” the blood mage said after a moment. “There isn’t a high risk of lasting side effects, but you handled it even better than I thought. If I didn’t know what I did, I wouldn’t be able to tell.”

Well, that was a relief.

With his worries gone, Sam suddenly felt the places Lucifer was touching him even more acutely. Lucifer’s right hand slid to the side, over his temple, and down the side of his face, and Sam half closed his eyes. He hooked his fingers under Lucifer’s belt and pulled the mage closer, until their lips met for a kiss.

It was a heady thing. This time he wasn’t dazed from the after effects of a spell. This time he knew exactly who he was kissing and that he really rather shouldn’t. This time he made the conscious decision not to care.

Lucifer was the one to pull back first. There was a slight smirk on his lips. “So you’ll be staying for dinner.”

Dinner was stew from vegetables Lucifer had grown himself. Along with it came a bit of bread (that he had baked himself). Lucifer was a pretty good cook, and he put up with quite some teasing from Sam over the domesticity of it all, before he pointed his spoon at Sam with furrowed brows. “You know, you made a very pretty picture in chains in my dungeon. I’m tempted to see if putting you back in there would make you shut up.”

Sam leaned back in his chair at the small table on the wall opposite the hearth. He felt surprisingly at ease. Safe, like he normally only did with Dean and his friends of many years. It felt like the ritual to save Dean’s life had been the worst Lucifer had to offer for him, and since that was behind him there was nothing to fear any more. Maybe he was too naive. He would probably find out sooner or later. “I get the feeling you like tying me up.”

That earned him an incredulous laugh from Lucifer. As if he had expected a different reaction. For a moment he just looked at Sam with those intense blue eyes, a small smirk tugging at his lips that said more than words. Sam felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine.

“Care to join me for drinks in the library?” Lucifer asked.

Sam felt himself nod before he could really think about it.

He left his sword by the hearth and only took the present. Lucifer led him to the room with the window through which Sam had climbed in over a week ago. Now, in daylight, he saw a fireplace at one end of the room, and a comfortable looking armchair next to it. Lucifer offered Sam the armchair and went to get himself a normal chair. He also brought a carafe of wine and two cups.

It was good wine that left Sam wondering where the blood mage got it from. “Do you make your own wine, too?”

Lucifer smiled. “I sometimes send the dead to fetch things for me.”

Sam stared into his cup, trying to think of accounts of merchants going missing recently. If someone came from afar, though, but never reached their lands, they’d never know. And Lucifer wasn’t stupid, he’d be careful not to anger the people too much, on whose land he lived. “I can see to it that you get the supplies you need, you know.”

Lucifer lifted an eyebrow. “I won’t become your pet mage.”

“I’m just trying to keep you from unnecessarily hurting people.”

The blood mage leaned forward on his chair. “If I see fit to hurt someone, I will, no matter what you do.”

Of course he would. As nice as the thought was that he could somehow turn a dark mage good, Sam wasn’t delusional. If he played the cards right, he could maybe reign Lucifer in, that was all. “That’s why I’m bargaining and not demanding you to stop. You want to live here in peace. I’m offering peaceful solutions.”

Now a thoughtful look crossed Lucifer’s face. “What would your father say?”

“My father won’t know.”

That made Lucifer grin. “What about your brothers?”

“They would help. By the way.” Sam picked up the present. “My younger brother picked this out for you.” He held the bundle out to Lucifer. “It comes with my father’s very reluctant thanks for saving his oldest son.”

With a questioning look, Lucifer took the bundle. He unwrapped the fabric and uncovered the book that was kept safe inside. It was bound in sturdy leather, one of the better pieces from the castle library. Lucifer opened it to take a look at the title. “Philosophy?”

“Well, we don’t have any magic texts, but this is a pretty rare manuscript. I’ve told Adam about your library, and we both thought you would probably appreciate it more than the majority of our family.”

Lucifer thumbed through the pages, appreciation showing on his face when he saw the carefully drawn illustrations and initials. “This is probably worth a lot.”

“So is Dean’s life to us.”

For a moment Lucifer looked at Sam with an unreadable expression on his face. Than he set the book aside and stood up. He stepped close enough that their knees touched, leaning forward and supporting his weight on the armrests of Sam’s chair. “Thank you.”

Sam smiled up at him, spreading his legs a little so that Lucifer could stand between them. “I really want the peaceful coexistence to work out.”

Lucifer was close enough that his breath ghosted over Sam’s face. “Me too. I won’t bend over backwards for it, though.”

“You aren’t planning something my father could object to, are you?”

“Not for now.” There was silence for a moment in which Lucifer’s eyes stayed locked with Sam’s, thoughtful expression on his face. “I’m not doing much these days,” he said finally. “Patrolling my borders, defending them. Sometimes I need blood for that that’s purer than my own. Some spells are fueled by pain too. Most opponents aren’t strong enough that I’d need a life.”

“You’ve really been keeping our borders safe?” Sam asked. At least this time he didn’t have to fight his fascination. This was something he should know about.

“I guess you could see it like that. My territory encompasses half the Campbell lands, too, though.”

That really was nitpicking. If there was a magical threat heading their way, it didn’t matter if it was stopped at their borders or a few miles before them.

“I’m chasing away people you would deem nice, too. Young mages looking for a place to settle. With some of them you’d probably be better off.”

Maybe Lucifer was right, but there was something in Sam, something very possessive that wanted to keep the blood mage right where he was. He reached out, fingers twining into the hair at the back of Lucifer’s neck. “Chasing away doesn’t sound like it takes much effort.”

“It doesn’t. As long as they don’t think they have to fight me purely on the grounds that I’m evil, it’s mostly just a bit of posturing to make them run.” Lucifer shifted his weight a little, his knees brushing along the inside of Sam’s tights.

Sam had seen the posturing with the basilisk. He licked his lips, tilting his head up just a bit. He could smell Lucifer. Herbs and the stew and something icy sharp that reminded him of Lucifer’s magic. “I don’t see any problems with what you’re doing.”

Lucifer leaned forward just a bit more, lips brushing the corner of Sam’s mouth, before the came level with his ear. “You see no problem with me snatching people for my spells?”

“You can ask me, if you need someone for your spells.”

That made Lucifer pause and he pulled back a little to look Sam in the eyes again. “I thought you’d have enough first hand experience with my magic by now that it’d last for the rest of your life.”

“You can ask me, if you need someone for your spells,” Sam repeated. He managed to make his voice sound almost level. He could handle it. Better he than some random person who’d be scared to death even when Lucifer wouldn’t kill them. And after all it wouldn’t require part of his life force next time. “Especially, if you need to defend your territory against a magical threat.”

For a moment, Lucifer’s eyes bored into Sam’s, searching. Then a slow smirk spread on his face. “If you ever realize you actually like a bit of pain, let me know.”

“Shut up.” With that Sam pulled Lucifer down, and again their lips met. This time none of them pulled back. Instead, Lucifer’s hands wandered underneath Sam’s shirt, pushing it up. He found the healing cut over Sam’s heart, let his fingers trail down from there, while Sam kissed along his jawline, nipped at a sensitive spot he found at the side of Lucifer’s neck.

“I still think you’d make a good student.”

“Not a chance.”

“Suit yourself.” Lucifer nudged at Sam’s legs to get him to spread them wider. As soon as the knight did, Lucifer slowly slid to his knees, his mouth joining his hands in exploring every inch of Sam’s skin. Sam threw his head back, panting. He had dreamed about this the last week, since the kiss by the waterfall.

“I want the last bit of your virginity.”

Very much inclined to say yes, Sam gave a little breathless laugh. “Think of the spells you won’t be able to do with my blood any more.”

Lucifer scoffed. “I think your stupid self-sacrificing tendencies make up for that bit of meaningless purity any day. It’s more about the mindset than anything else.” He fumbled with the buttons of Sam’s pants.

“Are you calling me naive?” Sam pulled on Lucifer’s shirt, because it really was unacceptable that the mage was still fully clothed.

Lucifer got the message and helped pull it off, revealing scars of old cuts on his arms, some on his torso, too, that looked like they were placed there to form a pattern. “I’m calling you stupidly heroic. You’ll probably die protecting some ungrateful peasants one day.” He sounded more angry about that than he had any right to be. Huh, did he actually care?

“Now that I’m consorting with the likes of you …” Sam traced a scar over Lucifer’s heart with his fingers. “... the chances are just as high that they’ll come for me with torches and pitchforks.”

Lucifer stroked up the inside of Sam’s thigh to the bulge in Sam’s pants, making his sentence end in a moan. “As I said, ungrateful lot. But you can still get out of here, if you want to.”

“No way. I’m right where I want to be, and you can have every bit of me you want.”

That made Lucifer’s eyes light up. “You’re really not the typical knight.”

“You’re pretty nice for a dark mage.”

“We can still move this to my dungeon.”

Sam threw Lucifer a cocky grin. “Next time, maybe.”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

They ended up in front of the fireplace, Sam with his legs wrapped around Lucifer’s hips, eyes locked with icy blue ones, when he hit the peak of his pleasure, Lucifer following close behind.

They stayed on the floor kissing afterwards, none of them inclined to move. Finally, Sam propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at Lucifer, biting his lower lip. There was another thing he shouldn’t. He should definitely not feel this warm and tingly inside looking at a blood mage, however helpful (and good in bed) he might be. The coexistence thing really had to work out. If John Winchester decided at one point that the necromancer had to go after all, Sam wasn’t sure which side he’d chose.

“What?” Lucifer asked.

Sam smiled. “I shouldn’t start to really like you.”

“You’re doing a lot of things you shouldn’t recently.” Lucifer’s grin didn’t fit the casual tone. He looked happy. “So we can do this again?”

Sam laughed. “Yes. I’d like that.”

There was probably no way this would end well, was there? But Sam was determined to enjoy every minute they got.

Tagging: @spn-you-idjits @samwise-the-true-hero @i-bleed-salt@hooker-legs@consultingmooseintimeandspace@ravestablook@shebahda@savagearchangelforthewin2-0 @me-fangirl@hardcorefangirlgroupie@thisisnotsteva@wearemykingdom@coffee-queen448 @askatosch

[marumigamer]

Acnologia escapes from the time lapse - Natsu and Zeref (2)

- Who else is here besides of me?

Acnologia was trapped inside the limbo, after passing through the time lapse. He was surprised to notice two more magics that weren't residual.

Acnologia only had to impulse himself. He didn't need to fly. The limbo was an empty space without time. Suddenly, he found a house. It was strange, so he looked through the windows. Inside it, one of the magics he noticed. A boy with pink hair, playing with three children. Natsu Dragneel. Acnologia decided to knock at the door.

- Who's there? - asked Natsu while opening the door.

- Your worst nightmare - answered Acnologia when he was sure the boy saw him.

And the house, with all it's content, vanished. All was gone. Only Natsu and Acnologia.

- What are you doing here? What is this place? - asked Natsu.

- Welcome to the limbo, fire slayer. A place with no space and no time. If you are not careful, it plays with your mind and dreams.

- Then, what happened in...

- It was a dream. It vanished when I appeared because I'm real.

- How I can be completely sure you aren't another illusion?

- There is another magic here, and it's not a residual one. Can you feel it?

- Now you say it, yes. Who is?

- I don't know. The residual magic makes interferences, as always.

- As always? What do yo mean with that?

- It's not the first time I've been here. Let's go. We have to find the other one.

Natsu followed Acnologia. After a long time floating around, they saw another house. A black haired man was inside.

- Zeref - said Natsu.

- What is the dark mage doing here? - asked Acnologia.

- Maybe we got here together, after our fight.

- It's totally possible if he was near to you when you were dragged here.

- How we arrived at the limbo?

- No one knows how, unless someone takes you there. We have to wake up him from this dream.

- How?

- Breaking the dream as I did with you. What could damage it?

- I'm his brother. He resurrected me.

- Can you act like you are a ghost?

- Why?

- The dreams are all the wishes of the real ones. That will be a nightmare for him.

Natsu knocked at one of the windows. Zeref looked at it immediately.

- Why you killed me? - asked Natsu, with an undead voice.

Only that broke Zeref's dream completely. His face was priceless. Acnologia laughed to it, making Zeref return to the reality.

- What happened? - asked Zeref.

- We are at the limbo - answered Natsu.

- The limbo!? This place really exists!?

- It seems like that. Acnologia, how will we get out of this place?

- No one escapes from the limbo - answered Acnologia -, unless you know the way out.

- Tell us.

- It's not that easy. You have to know what are you searching exactly.

- And what is that?

- A dimesional hole to our timeline. Sometimes it's really big, but normally it's the size of a candy. A little one.

- And how we find that?

- Searching. This place has no time, you can be here for the eternity if you want.

- I want to go back, with my friends.

- Okay then. Follow me.

- Where? - asked Zeref -. I don't see anything around us.

- No time, no space. That's the limbo. If you want to find a way out, you must search it. And I'm the only one here who knows how those holes look like.

- I can't trust you.

- You will need to do it. I escaped from the limbo two times. This is like a child's game for me.

- We don't have any other option, Zeref - said Natsu -. If it wasn't for him, we would be trapped on those dreams forever. We have to trust him this time.

- Natsu, you know who he is - answered Zeref -. Acnologia, the apocalypse dragon. He can use that to kill us.

- That's not what you wanted? Disappear from this world?

- That was another time...

- Zeref, it was your wish some hours ago.

- It feels like it was a long ago...

- Feels like hours, right? It's only a feeling here. Every hour here is only a few time in real world. I don't remember if it were seconds or minutes. To your friends, you only disappeared a few minutes ago - explained Acnologia -. Now, let's find that hole.

The three floated around searching that hole for days, but none of them felt hunger or was tired. Even when Natsu and Zeref doubted of the existence of the hole, Acnologia was still searching.

- Acnologia - said Zeref many days later -, that hole doesn't exist. We're trapped here.

- It exists. I was here twice before. One was easy because I was tied with a rope to save someone. But the first time I was here, I was searching for months until I found it. I lost all my hope when it appeared in front of my eyes - explained Acnologia.

- Months? We can forget to get out.

- Is that my house? - asked Natsu, looking at an specific point.

Acnologia and Zeref turned to see what Natsu was talking about. There was a strange mirror, more like a portal, and was the size of a cookie, but they could see clearly what was a the other side. Acnologia took them near to the portal.

- That's the hole I was talking about - explained Acnologia.

- But this isn't Fairy Tail - said Zeref -. What does that mean?

- They appear randomly in the world, near to the place where people disappears. But go through them is not easy. You need an specific speed for it, or a really strong wish to return.

Acnologia took Natsu and Zeref, at the same he created a fake arm with his magic for himself. Then, he showed his wings and flew a few meters away.

- What are you doing? - asked Zeref, a little scared.

- Hold tight! - answered Acnologia before flying at maximum speed to the hole.

Zeref screamed and closed his eyes, hiding himself on Acnologia's chest. He was truly scared. Natsu closed his eyes because of the speed, but opened them again when they crossed the tiny portal. Zeref was still screaming when Acnologia landed.

- Are you scared to fly? - asked Natsu to Zeref.

- Only with winged creatures! - yelled Zeref.

- And you are the dark mage Zeref, creator of all the Etherias demons?

- Shut up!

- Do you like my new pet? - asked Acnologia to Natsu, pointing to Zeref -. It's a gorilla.

Natsu laughed. Zeref was still holding to Acnologia like he was some kind of monkey.

- I'm not a monkey! - yelled Zeref.

- Are you sure? - asked Acnologia.

- Yes.

- Then, why are you acting like one?

Zeref get off Acnologia and punched him. He didn't mind because he didn't notice any damage.

- Are you made of iron? - asked Zeref.

- Something like that - answered Acnologia -. You two should go back before someone notices you are gone.

- What about you? - asked Natsu -. We know you are not that bad.

- I've been living like this for centuries. I'm going back to my cave for some time. I have things to do that I had to do a long time ago.

- If you need a place to redeem yourself, you can come to Fairy Tail.

- Actually, I have a place to return. A place I can call home, besides of that cave I'm living now. But I will keep your offer in mind, just in case.

- Good luck, Acnologia. And thank you.

- Good luck to you two too. And it was nothing.

Acnologia left Natsu's house flying, in his dragon form. Everyone saw it, and ran to Natsu's house only to find Natsu giving Zeref some coffee to calm the black mage.

[lbat1901]

Eddsworld: UTFTF Chapter 14

The Midnight Showdown at Castle Rock - (Chapter 14) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Once things were settled, Future Tord ordered his army along with the Black Army to move to the other base that was far from where Lord Death was at. After six full hours, everything was all set and ready for the battle as both Future Paul and Patryck counted every single weapon of war. "Geez...is it just me or does the Black Army have way more stuff than we do?" asked Future Paul. "Apparently so. They even have way more pilots than us" said Future Patryck. "Aww...is that the sound of jealously I hear in your voice?" asked Future Blueberry. "Oh god it's them. What do you three want?" asked Future Patryck. "Oh nothing really. We were just scrolling along in this place till we overheard your conversation. Isn't that right boys?" asked Future Blueberry. "Yep!" said Future Banana. "You sure got that right, Stephen" said Future Raspberry. "You may have fancier stuff than us, but at least we don't have ridiculous names like you" said Future Paul. "Give me five Paul" said Future Patryck. Future Paul gives Future Patryck a high five as Future Blueberry gritted his teeth in anger. "I have you know that these names we have are special" said Future Blueberry. "Yeah and we got them from a little girl" said Future Banana. "Bryan! Why would you say that?" asked Future Raspberry. "Oh sorry...." said Future Banana. "Anyways, don't you three have better things to do than wasting your time by talking to us?" asked Future Patryck. "Technically we do. Yamiyo or our fearless leader gives us an order. Half of the time, we do what we please" said Future Blueberry. "Oh I see. Speaking of Yamiyo, I think we've passed by her and she seemed a little pissed off" said Future Paul. "Oh crap! I forgot to give her morning green tea and biscuits..." said Future Raspberry. "Ugh....and I can't believe that I'm working with you two. Bryan, I always expect to not know anything, but I expected more from you Ralph. Looks like duty calls for us, we'll be seeing you on the battlefield. Goodbye for now, eyebrows and chicken wings" said Future Blueberry. The trio heads off as Future Patryck's blood boiled in rage. "Did he just insulted us?" asked Future Paul. "My hair strands aren't chicken wings, you idiot!" yelled Future Patryck. [Meanwhile] Not far from the base sat a tall hill that had a nice lovely waterfall right next to it and on that hill stood Future Tony who was petting Salzaar while both Draco and Thoraz were fighting over a group of dead cattle. "Hey! Cut it out you two. You're supposed to be sharing that" said Future Tony. Salzaar looks at his two siblings and let's out a quick snarl which made them stop fighting. Future Tony continued petting Salzaar as past Tony came walking up the hill. Draco notices this and goes over to him which alarms past Tony; however, Draco just stares at him before leaning his head forward to get a better look of him. At this level, both past Tony and Draco made eye contact just shortly before past Tony hesitantly raised a hand up. Draco gives in allowing past Tony to pet him which lasted for few minutes till Future Tony's voice rang. "It would seem that Draco likes you. Well I can't say much since we are the same person" said Future Tony. "Or that he saw that I was wearing the same outfit as you. Oh wait....nevermind.." said Tony. Future Tony chuckles a bit before walking towards his past self as Draco went back to eating. "Aren't they beautiful to look at?" asked Future Tony. "The dragons? Well yeah they are" said Tony. "Hm....in most folklore, they are portrayed to be deadly creatures; however, I will prove them wrong. I will prove all of them wrong. I will show the world that dragons aren't feared because of their strength and agility, but only that they should be well respected because of their honor and pride. Their fire breathing and endurance shouldn't be underestimated" said Future Tony. "Wow, that's one big dream to have" said Tony. "Indeed it is. Have you ever ridden a dragon before?" asked Future Tony. "No I haven't. Why are you asking?" asked Tony. "I'm just asking because I want to gets these dragons ready for their big night" said Future Tony. "Oh" said Tony. Tony then watches as his future self walks over to Salzaar before climbing on his back. "So...are you coming or not?" asked Future Tony. "I don't know how to ride a dragon" said Tony. "Nobody knows how until you ride one" said Future Tony. "Yeah I know, but what if Draco doesn't trust me on his back?" asked Tony. "Then I've enjoyed your company past me" said Future Tony. Soon Salzaar takes off to the skies leaving Tony to cautiously climb onto Draco's back. "Umm....you can go now, but please don't kill me" said Tony. Draco seemed to have understood what Tony just said before slowly and carefully taking off. Once in the sky, Tony gripped onto Draco praying that nothing bad would happen; however, he wasn't expecting for Draco to take a dive down in what appeared to be a ridged canyon which made him hold onto dear life. Draco dives down in such a high speed that wind blew right into Tony's. After awhile, Tony suddenly grew the confidence to fully sit up high and straight as he went into sync with Draco. The sync was so strong that Tony controlled where he wanted Draco to fly to and in no time's flat, they finally passed by Salzaar as a seemly impressed Future Tony watched. "Well my, my, it would seem that my past self connected to my dragons faster than I expected. Oh I'm sorry, I mean our dragons, heh heh" said Future Tony. Both Tonys continued flying the dragons as they went over a large valley where the gang were flight testing and practicing their superpowers. "Hey look, it's Tony and he's.....riding a dragon?" asked Matt. "They look so cool riding them" said Hellucard. "....Show off" said Tom. "Can't wait to see these dragons burn down Lord Death's army. It's going to be awesome" said Edd. [At Sundown] What Future Tord planned to do for the fight was to have the past selves go to Lord Death's castle via through flying in secretly in a helicopter that's piloted by Future Yanov. "Remember to stick to the plan and you'll be fine" said Future Yanov. "You got it! .......What's the plan again?" asked Matt. After a minutes later, the gang were seen walking inside the castle with Tony as they all wore business suits and sunglasses while carrying suitcases. They kept walking till they eventually made it to the front desk where a secretary sat. "Why hello there, can I help you?" asked the secretary. "Why yes. We're one of the parties belonging to the EU and we would like to see your boss" said Tony. "Ah I see. Why exactly do you want to see Lord Death?" asked the secretary. "We want to him just so we can surrender that's why" said Tony. "Very well, I'll buzz you in. Please go right away through those doors" said the secretary. "Thanks" said Tony. The gang walked passed the secretary and heads through the doors as they went into another part of the castle. Once far from earshot, Mark opens up his suitcase which had Future Yamiyo in it. "Thank god, I can finally breathe. It seems that the secretary didn't ask for your names which is a good thing" said Future Yamiyo. "Why is that?" asked Mark. "According to what I've heard, whenever a foreign party is sent here to form a peace treaty with Lord Death, they don't say their names because Lord Death kills them without a second thought" said Future Yamiyo. "Oh, well that makes sense" said Mark. "Now back onto the plan, the Red Leader wanted us to gather enough information on Lord Death's true identity and to take down the defense shields to the castle" said Future Yamiyo. "Very well. Looks like we're going to be spilting into two different teams" said Edd. "Say no more. I've already got the teams done" said Future Yamiyo. "Really? Great! ...Uh....what are you going to do?" asked Edd. "Oh that? I'm planning on taking your friend here with me so we can get the info on Lord Death" said Future Yamiyo. "What? You mean me?" asked Tony. "Yes" said Future Yamiyo. "Hold on, how many defense shields does this base even have?" asked Tord. "There's only two powerful ones. The rest of them aren't much of a problem" said Future Yamiyo. "So are we all going together to destroy these things?" asked Tord. "No, Edd and Eduardo have something way more important to do together and that's to defeat Lord Death's top generals" said Future Yamiyo. "What?" asked Edd. "You can't be serious right? There is no way that I'm working with this loser" said Eduardo. "I understand where you're coming from, but I don't care. You're working together or else I'll break open your skull with my bare hands. Got it?" asked Future Yamiyo. "Ugh! .....Fine....we'll work together" said Eduardo. [Outside] Just a couple of miles away from Lord Death's castle sat the Red Army where Future Hellucard is seen looking through a pair of binoculars. "What's taking the Black Leader so long to get here?" asked Future Tord. "Patience Tord, he'll come" said Future Matt. "Yeah, he will. He's currently aiding both of our naval forces in the Indian Ocean whers Lord Death's undead pirates and other forces are at just so we can protect those countries who are in that direction" said Future Tom. "I believe he's helping his own army more than mine" said Future Tord. "How can you be so sure about that? The only reason why he's helping us is that he doesn't want to be apart of Lord Death's control which is very similar to your plans" said Future Edd. "Edd, you don't know what you're getting yourself into by arguing with me" said Future Tord. "What are you talking about? Of course I know. For a decade, I was trying to find a solution for myself. I had to make sacrifices and I had to kill even though it was against my expectations. Tony's future self and his dragons are a solution for us so that's why he's doing this" said Future Edd. Before Future Tord could counter to what Future Edd just said, the sounds of whining were heard as everyone turned their attention to Azura and Cybris. "What's up with them?" asked Future Edd. "They can't be hungry. Zhong Wei and Hellucard, did you feed them?" asked Future Tord. "Yeah we did, but that was before we left" said Zhong Wei. "Well apparently not. A feed hellhound is an obedient hellhound; however, I suppose they can eat the flesh of the many soldiers belonging to Lord Death" said Future Tord. Suddenly Salzaar, Draco, and Thoraz came down from the sky and landed on a steep as Future Tony got off Salzaar's back. "Sorry I'm late. There were so many undead forces that I had to use my dragons to destroy a good majority of their ships. Did I miss anything important?" asked Future Tony. "Not really. You've made it just in time for us to plan on how we're going to charge" said Future Tord. "Great. So what do you have in mind?" asked Future Tony. "Obviously we need air support so that's where your dragons come in" said Future Tord. "That is true, but I have a feeling that they will be pelleted by javelins and bullets. My dragons aren't invincible you know. They may have high endurance, but they can be taken out of the sky within a few shots" said Future Tony. "Oh I see. So we need both of our air forces to give out support to the dragons, I'm guessing?" asked Future Tord. "In a way yes. If your hellhounds are busy on the ground killing people than they need some backup as well. Anyway, I need two of you to do something for me" said Future Tony. "Whatever it is, we'll do it" said Zhong Wei. "Oh, we're being brave are we now? Very well, I want you to ride one of my dragons in the sky to give out air support for all of our ground forces" said Future Tony. "Really? You're trusting us to ride your dragons? This is awesome!" said Zhong Wei. "Yeah......just don't ruin it" said Future Tony. "Gotcha. I'll take the biggest one please" said Zhong Wei. "Uh...actually don't. Salzaar is mine, but you can choose between either Draco or Thoraz" said Future Tony. "I see. Hmm......I guess I'll take Draco then" said Zhong Wei. "And that leaves me with taking Thoraz" said Future Hellucard. "Alright, it's settled" said Future Tony. [With Tord, Matt, and Tom] Back inside the sealed castle of Lord Death, Tord, Tom, and Matt, were tasked to take down the first defense shield; however, once doing so, Matt decided to run off from the group before getting stopped by three people all wearing colored armored chest plates. "Halt there intruder, what do you think you're doing?" asked one of them who was wearing a green colored chest plate. "Oh nothing, I got invited by your leader as a guest of honor" said Matt. "Oh please, like Lord Death would ever invite a fool like you. Anyway, I think it's time for some introductions. I'm Ginger as in ginger ale" said Ginger. "I'm Spice" said the second one who was wearing an orange chest plate. "And I'm Vinegar" said the third one who was wearing a light blue chest plate. "Okay then, I'm Matt. Now, get out of my way" said Matt. "I'm sorry, but we can't do that" said Spice. "Ginger, it seems that this has superpowers possibly from radioactive material" said Vinegar. "So we have one of those guys. Looks like we need to counter it. Ready guys?" asked Ginger. "Yeah, we're ready" said Spice. "Bacon!" said Vinegar. "Chicken nuggets!" said Spice. "Cheese!" said Ginger. Matt just stood their in confusion wondering why they said food words before deciding to join in. "...Uh.....indubitably!" said Matt. What happened next was that Ginger, Vinegar, and Spice gotten a tad bit more taller as power suits appeared under their chest armor. Once Matt saw this he immediately started running around in circles while screaming due to the shock. "Heh heh, looks like we scared him good" said Ginger. "Enough of this! Stop running!" yelled Vinegar. Matt stops running before getting into a fighting stance. "Before we start anything, you may have superpowers but you're no match for us since we are known as Lord Death's top soldiers. We are the Bio Warriors!" said Vinegar. "Bio Warriors?" asked Matt. "I don't think that no one has ever told you, but don't worry, we'll tell you. Now die" said Vinegar. There was some slight pause before Spice made the first move as he took charge at Matt only to get blasted by a ball of red energy. Matt turns to the source of the beam to see Tord who was standing at the top of a staircase that was the entrance to the room. "Need a hand, Matt?" asked Tord. "Tord! Thank god you're here" said Matt. Tord goes to Matt before the two exchanged a quick hug. "We told you not go ahead by yourself, now we got company" said Tord. "I know and I'm sorry, but hey, at least I'm not alone to face these guys" said Matt. "Yeah, just who are they exactly?" asked Tord. "They're known as the Bio Warriors, but they are actually Ginger, Vinegar, and Spice" said Matt. "Heh, I never knew that top ranking soldiers can be recruited by being named after ingredients" said Tord. "Yeah.....but I don't know, it's not even enough" said Matt. "Perhaps I can lend you a hand" said Tom. Just like that everyone watched as Tom stepped out of the shadows and into the light all boss style. "Yay, even more backup" said Matt. "Oh please, you don't know nothing. I feel like breaking bones with these freaks" said Tom. "Oh, so what's the plan Tom?" asked Tord. "Tord, go take care of the defense shield. Matt and I will deal with these three" said Tom. "Rodger that" said Tord. Tord proceeds to go up the stairs before seeing a sign that shows where the defense shield is at and he goes to that direction. It wasn't till he was stopped by Vinegar who quickly appeared right in front of him. "You're not going anywhere, pal. Die!!!" yelled Vinegar. Vinegar runs towards Tord as an attempt to punch him right in face before suddenly getting pulled through the floor as it somehow collapsed underneath him leaving Tord to go for it. In a room that was where Vinegar came crashing through, he was seen stuck in the rubble till Tom slowly walked up to him. "Oh you got some nerve thinking that you can challenge us" said Tom. A few minutes later, Vinegar gets thrown through into a wall as he ends up in another room that's dark and is filled with tall pillars. "What's the matter? I thought you had the confidence to fight, but I guess that separating you from your teammates, you ain't nothing" said Tom. "Grr....never judge an opponent by their first fall" said Vinegar as he got up. Vinegar shouts as he attempted to hit Tom who managed to successfully dodge all of his punches. "You can't hit anything!" said Tom. "Oh yeah? Take this!" said Vinegar. Vinegar goes in for a punch at Tom's face; however, Tom effortlessly catches his fist which surprised Vinegar. This gave Tom the cue to aggressively punch Vinegar in many different areas while giving out a battle cry. The punches from Tom were so much that Vinegar had stop himself from falling onto the ground as he braced himself for another punch. Unfortunately, Tom's punch was so strong that it knocked Vinegar off of his feet and into the air. "What the!? He's a monster!!!" cried Vinegar. Eventually Vinegar went through several pillars before catching himself as he landed upon a wide metal catwalk as he watched Tom walking towards where he's at from a distance. "You and your pals aren't nothing but a waste of time" said Tom. Unexpectedly, Tom fires a large beam of blue energy which directly hits Vinegar and instantly kills him leaving behind a destroyed portion of the catwalk along with the now dead hanging corpse of Vinegar that was all burnt and steaming. Meanwhile with Matt, he was seen on the rooftop while both Ginger and Spice were chasing after him. Luckily for Matt he was way faster than them, but he would soon get overpowered once Ginger pulled out two large curved swords from his back followed by Spice who pulled a jagged longsword from his right leg. The two then proceeded to fight Matt with their swords as Matt ran away from him while trying to spilt them up. He did this rather well, but ended up getting parts of his hair sliced off from Spice. The fight dragged on a little longer, before Ringo, well Future Ringo suddenly appeared and went to scratch up Spice's face. This lead to Matt using his superhuman strength to forcefully throw Spice into air as he crashed into a watch tower before helping Future Ringo by tripping Ginger off of the roof. Matt then focus all of his energy into a single purple beam that had glitter and sparkles in it. Ginger notices this before firing off a green energy beam of his own just as Matt counters it with his own. Matt's beam overwhelmed Ginger's beam as Ginger himself attempted to stop it with his bare hands. Unfortunately, he was getting overwhelmed as he gets taken with it to where Spice is at. Spice manages to get out of rubble in time to see a large purple beam with Ginger screaming coming right at him. Instead of trying to stop it, Spice screams as Ginger crashed into him before the beam ends up destroying the entire watchtower. Matt and Future Ringo watches as the dust settles only to see the dead bodies of both Ginger and Spice underneath the rubble. [On The Battlefield] Back on the battlefield, both of the Black and Red Armies charged towards Lord Death's army as they killed off soldiers just before seeing the army of the undead rushing towards them. There were almost there but got a jet stream of dragon fire breathed on them which killed them instantly. The two armies continued their pursuit until they got ambushed by the undead Zolorth. "Ahh!!! It's Zolorth" said Future Matt. "Yeah and he's in the spot where we want him. Now!!!" yelled Future Tord. Suddenly Azura and Cybris appeared and tackled Zolorth to the ground as they went into a battle of their own allowing the armies to proceed. The air forces managed to take down several watchtowers and enemy jets from the help of the top leading pilots. This was enough for Future Tony's three dragons to destroy even more opposing ground forces before almost getting taken out the sky by the undead Anglia who was being controlled by Lord Death himself. "He's here. What do we do?" asked Future Hellucard. "Just keep calm alright. If he appears we will have the dragons fight against their dead sibling" said Future Tord. "What if they don't fight their sibling?" asked Zhong Wei. "Well we will be screwed. They need to get over that their sibling is dead and show that they give no mercy" said Future Tony. The trio waits for awhile till Lord Death and Anglia appeared leaving Zhong Wei to command Draco to attack first. Draco shows no mercy when it came to clawing and biting at the rotting flesh of Anglia; however, this abruptly ends when Anglia attempts to breath purple flames at Draco who counters them with his own. Future Hellucard took this as a moment to have Thoraz to ferociously take a bite at Anglia's neck, completely removing a huge chunk of flesh which exposed purple flames that were in Anglia's throat. Anglia responds to this by clawing at Thoraz' stomach before getting tackled down by Salzaar who ended up testing up Anglia's back. This was enough for Lord Death to lose his grip on Anglia and fall through the thick clouds in the sky. "We did it!" said Zhong Wei. "Not quite. Anglia is heading to find Lord Death.....or...maybe head back to the castle's front doors" said Future Tony. "I sure wonder what kind of fire that both Zolorth and Anglia are breathing. They can't be breathing normal fire since they're both dead" said Future Hellucard. "Well you do have a point. They must be breathing atomic fire" said Future Tony. "Atomic fire? What's that?" asked Zhong Wei. "Atomic fire, as like in the actual deadly chemical, is a type of highly toxic fumes. Have you ever seen the movie Godzilla before? In all of those films, Godzilla is radioactive and can breathe out atomic breath. In both Zolorth and Anglia's case, they seem to be able to remember their past life where they both breathed fire. Atomic fire is colored purple and can melt anything just like normal fire, but it can spread to everywhere in a rapid speed" said Future Tony. "Woah......that's something" said Zhong Wei. "Indeed it is. Hopefully Tord finds a way to defeat Zolorth just like we need to defeat Anglia" said Future Tony. [With Hellucard, Jon, and Mark] Hellucard, Jon, and Mark managed to find the room where the second defense shield is at before encountering two other Bio Warriors with different colored power suits along with matching armor. The first one had red colored armor while the second one had yellow colored armor. "I'm amusing that you two might be Lord Death's soldiers, am I right?" asked Jon. "Why yes we are. It's nice to meet you, I'm Ketchup" said the one in red. "And I am Mustard. We are members of the all powerful Bio Warriors" said the one in yellow. "How interesting. It's a shame that we're going to beat you both" said Mark. "Oh you're so dead wrong on that. We have something for you" said Mustard. Mark, Jon, and Hellucard braced themselves as they saw a huge blue lion that had long fangs, golden rings covering its legs, and red glowing eyes came up from behind Ketchup and Mustard. "Our lovely guests, we would to introduce you to our pet machine mutant, Faon" said Ketchup. Faon roars loudly before Hellucard formed a skeletal boomerang and throws it which misses Faon. "Haha! What was that?" asked Ketchup. "Oh you'll see, just give it a moment" said Hellucard. A moment passed as the boomerang made its way up to the ceiling before decanting thus blowing off a large portion of debris. The falling debris fell onto Faon who wasn't expecting it before getting crushed to death. "Faon! No!" cried Mustard. Once Faon was dead, this gave Mark the opportunity to punch Mustard in the face as the impact sent him flying into a wall. Ketchup who was left by himself attempted to ambush Mark with electric wires that were on his arms by coming down from the air. Unfortunately, Jon steps in and punches Ketchup right in the jaw before quickly kicking his back. Eventually, Jon catches an unconscious Ketchup before he could land on the ground. Jon soon puts Ketchup down. "And that's what you get for messing with us" said Jon. "Excellent work team! Now let's go deactivate that defense shield" said Mark.

[mrslittletall]

Title: A Changing Storm Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Chosen Undead/Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Dark Sun Gwyndolin Word Count: 15.927 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28752597

Summary: After a warp, Ornstein and Tempest suddenly found themselves in the body of the other. While Gwyndolin can help them, it takes a while, so they are stuck like this for a little while.

(Author's note: I had a dream in which Ornstein and Tempest swapped bodies and once I woke up, the thought wouldn't leave me alone, so I talked to kittycatcaptain on twitter about it and they provided some beautiful scenarios.

Well, and because the whole thing didn't leave me alone, I had to write it down. It is a oneshot because that very much ISN'T canon to the main fic. Please enjoy.)

“Are you ready, Ornstein?”, Tempest asked, one hand lying on the golden gauntlet of the dragon slayer, while his other hand reached towards the bonfire.

Ornstein nodded and Tempest touched the bonfire, ready for the warp. With Ornstein's warp sickness, he had to make sure that he was ready to warp, to not accidentally vomit all in his golden armour. Certainly a sight that Tempest didn't want to see himself.

The duo had a long day braving through Lordran behind them and Tempest already looked forward to getting Ornstein to rest, to cook him a nice meal and let him sleep in a soft bed.

“Alright then, we'll be in the cathedral at a jiffy.”, Tempest said and pictured the bonfire in front of the Princess' chamber until he felt the familiar feeling of getting thrown through time and space and the... not so familiar feeling of an intense nausea washing over him.

Weird... that was normally Ornstein's problem... maybe his warp sickness had rubbed off on Tempest? Tempest got down on his knees and put both his hands on the floor, leaving his eyes closed, taking a few deep breaths to stave the nausea away.

After the nausea had gone away, Tempest opened his eyes. Weird, the bonfire felt strangely far away from his point of view. Normally Tempest could just stare right into it, but now he was staring at it from above. He also could see one of Ornstein's gauntleted hands on the ground, near to him. When Tempest remembered correctly, Ornstein should have been to his right. He turned his head to see that Ornstein wasn't there.

“Ornstein?”, Tempest asked, surprised by how deep the voice coming out of his throat was. That wasn't his voice... that sounded more like...

“Little Storm?” A higher pitched voice sounded left to Tempest. Tempest's gaze wandered to his left and there he saw... himself. Only now Tempest looked down at himself and saw that he was engulfed in the familiar golden armour of the dragon slayer.

It took him a second, but once he connected the dots, he shot to his feet. “Eh?!”, he gasped out.

“Little Storm... stay calm...”, Ornstein said, having both of his hands... or Tempest's hands?... in the air in a placating gesture. “We appear to have.. swapped... bodies. Surely there is an explanation for it... just don't panic, DON'T PANIC... keep it together, damnit...”

Ornstein's breathing got quicker and quicker and while Tempest normally would have tried to get Ornstein out of his rising anxiety attack, the weight of several almost forgotten feelings suddenly crashed down on him.

Ornstein's body was hungry and by hungry it meant that he was practically starving. His stomach felt like it was down in his legs. He also was thirsty and while it wasn't that bad, it made Tempest feel a bit light headed. It didn't help that his newfound height made him dizzy anyway.

However, that wasn't the most pressing feeling at the moment. There was a certain feeling in Tempest's abdomen that he couldn't place at first, especially not the tingling and almost painful sensation in his crotch area, but once it clicked, both of Tempest's (Ornstein's?) hands flew to his mouth or wherever Ornstein's mouth was behind the helmet and he gasped.

“Ornstein! How long have you held it in?!”, Tempest asked and then made a mad dash to where he remembered a privy was.

“Little Storm, wait, you don't even know how to get out of my armour!”, he heard Ornstein call after him, but right at this moment, Tempest didn't care, along with his rising anger how badly Ornstein treated his body.

A few moments later both Tempest and Ornstein sat on the floor in front of the privy.

“Well, that was awkward.”, Ornstein finally said with a sigh after a long while had passed.

“Oh, but everything went out just fine, Ornstein.”, Tempest said. “Though I can't endorse how poorly you treat your body. You need to tell me when you need a break.”

“No, not... that.”, Ornstein said and Tempest could see on his own face how uncomfortable Ornstein was talking about what had just transpired. “This whole thing.”, he gestured down at him. “That we swapped bodies. We need... we need to talk to Gwyndolin about it!”

“Not before you... or I, I guess, … have eaten something!”, Tempest protested and Ornstein gave him a glare. Tempest didn't even know that his face could make such an expression, his big blue eyes stared at him downright maliciously, but he couldn't help but think that it looked adorable. He found himself adorable. How weird. Maybe it was because he was stuck in Ornstein's body?

“I would rather talk to Gwyndolin right away, but I know you will insist.  Can I at least ask you to eat a quick snack and cook a meal for me... or yourself... later?”, Ornstein crossed his arms and averted his gaze. How much his mannerism stayed the same even though he was in Tempest's body was astounding.

“Yes, sure.”, Tempest said and went to the kitchen. Ornstein followed him but apparently had trouble keeping up, because after only a few seconds he said: “Little Storm, wait!”

“Huh?!”, Tempest stopped, then laughed and rubbed the back of his head, or more, Ornstein's helmet. “Oh sorry, I am used to always taking long strides to keep up with you, I guess I have to walk slower now.”

“And I am used to taking little strides so that you can keep up with me.”, Ornstein grumbled.

After they synced their steps with each other, they arrived in the kitchen and Tempest found an apple, wondering why Ornstein made a face at the fruit and then flipped the visor of the helmet open, biting into it.

The first thing he should have noticed was that the fruit got stuck in his little fangs that he now possessed, but Tempest was to smitten by the fact that he...

“Taste! I can taste things! I... I haven't tasted anything in YEARS.”

Tempest was sure that he had tears of joy in his eyes once he devoured the apple, not only because of hunger, but also because of the sensation of taste. It had been too long. After he was done eating, he had to spend a while to get apple bits that stuck in his teeth, out with his tongue.

“I wanted to warn you from eating an apple, but you were too fast.”, Ornstein said.

“I don't care. I could taste an apple again.”, Tempest said, having a dreamy look in his eyes.

“Just to be sure, I want you to remove every bit of apple between my teeth before we switch back, alright?!”, Ornstein said and gave him another one of this clearly not threatening glares.

“Alright.”, Tempest just said, having to restrain himself to give Ornstein a pat on the head. Even though that was technically Tempest's body, that was clearly Ornstein in there and the urge to give him some affection was strong in Tempest.

“Let's visit Gwyndolin then.”, Ornstein said. Tempest nodded and the duo soon turned up in front of the Dark Moon Tomb.

“Ugh, Ornstein, it's really uncomfortable feeling so sick after every warp.”, Tempest complained after he needed a few moments to steady his breathing again.

“I, for a change, find it rather pleasant to not get nauseous.”, Ornstein said, but still looked at Tempest struggling with the warp sickness of his body with sympathetic eyes. “When I wasn't quite used to it, massaging my temples helped stave the sickness away.”

“Really? Thanks for the tip, Ornstein.”, Tempest said, getting up, still struggling a bit with his newfound height. “Um, so who's calling for Gwyndolin? Because... I have your voice right now... but I am not you... and by the flames, this is so confusing!”

“Calm down, little Storm.”, Ornstein said. “I'll call for them.”

Ornstein then stepped in front of the Dark Moon Tomb and called: “Gwyndolin! Please let us through. We need to talk.”

There was the sound of someone teleporting and soon the fog gate in front of the tomb disappeared, with Gwyndolin standing in front of them.

“Chosen Undead? Why are you speaking exactly like Ornstein?”, they asked, their head slowly turning to look at Tempest... or for them it was Ornstein. Tempest couldn't help himself but to give them a little wave with his hand.

“We'll explain it in a bit. Let's sit down first.”, Ornstein said and stepped into the tomb, followed by Tempest. All the while they walked, not a single word was spoken, but Tempest saw how Gwyndolin glanced back at them now and then.

Once they had reached the room at the end of the Dark Moon Tomb, Gwyndolin beckoned for them to sit down and soon came back with three cups of tea. Tempest grabbed for his right away, eager to actually taste it again as opposed to only feeling the warmth, while Ornstein was rather reserved with his.

“So what is it you want to talk with me about, Chosen Undead?”, Gwyndolin asked. “Also, you are surprisingly quiet, Ornstein.”

“Well, how do I put this...?”, Ornstein began, swirling the liquid in his cup around before setting it back on the table without having taken a sip. “I am Ornstein. The one next to me, that is the little Storm.”

Tempest gave Gwyndolin an awkward smile and said a little: “Hello.” as Gwyndolin’s gaze (probably, it couldn't be seen under their head piece) wandered from Ornstein to Tempest.

There was a ridiculous long silence between the three of them. It was so long that Tempest involuntarily held his breath and almost fell into a coughing fit once he remembered to breathe again.

“So.”, Gwyndolin finally broke the silence. “You are telling me that you, Ornstein, swapped bodies with the Chosen Undead.”

“It's hard to believe, I know, I couldn't even believe it myself. First, I reached out for the bonfire, second, I am looking down on it, even though it normally is on eye level for me and then I look at myself, or Ornstein, in this case and then it dawned and-”

“You definitely have swapped bodies.”, Gwyndolin said and a smile adorned their face. “Ornstein would never say that many words at once without even ending the sentence properly.”

“Hey!”, Ornstein and Tempest pretty much shouted at the same time and then they glanced at each other and both of them fell into a chuckle until Ornstein cleared his throat and got all serious again.

“I was hoping you had some explanation and an idea how to reverse it.”, he said.

“Chosen... Undead.”, Gwyndolin looked at Tempest, clearly having to wrap their brain around the fact that he currently was inhabiting Ornstein's body. “You said that you were warping via the bonfire?”

“Please call me Tempest.”, Tempest said, annoyed about that stupid prophecy name. “Or maybe I need a new name for now? Tempstein? Ornpest? Oh no, the last one doesn't sound very flattering. Let's just keep it asTempest.”

“Little Storm, please.”, Ornstein said, his face flushed a tiny bit red. Oh, what a treat to actually see his emotions, his face no longer hidden behind his mask all the time.

“Sorry, I am sorry.”, Tempest grinned. “Yes, we usually move around Lordran via the power of the Lordvessel. I can take Ornstein with me when I touch him, so I normally hold his hand, but like, any kind of touching would be alright. Ornstein doesn't like the warping however and I have experienced this on my own now and I totally get it and-”

“Stop, Chosen... Tempest, you will destroy Ornstein's vocal cords by saying that many words at once.”, Gwyndolin chuckled and Ornstein shot them a glare. “I think the solution for your... predicament is rather simple. Warping between the bonfires is a rather... difficult process. There shouldn't be any problems if only one person does it, however, because you are two persons, when your bodies were rearranged, your consciousnesses made a mistake and latched onto the wrong body. In short, it has been a warping failure.”

“Ooooh, that makes so much sense.”, Tempest said, a hand slapping against his forehead, but clanking against the open snout of Ornstein's helmet instead.

“Gwyndolin, there is a cure, right? Please tell us that it is reversible.”, Ornstein's voice trembled, the same way it did when he was faced with a fiery threat.

“There is. I can mix a potion that will force your consciousnesses to enter an out of body experience. Then, you just need to return to your correct bodies.”, Gwyndolin said.

“Excellent.”, Ornstein said, finally taking the first sip of his tea and frowning, “Please mix it right away. We will wait so long.”

“I am afraid there is a catch.”, Gwyndolin said, staring in their own tea cup, clutching it with both hands. “This potion will take a whole week to complete.”

Tempest saw how all colour drained out of Ornstein's face. “You mean we are stuck like this for a whole WEEK?!”

“It's the only way, Ornstein.”, Gwyndolin said. “You’d better put your mission on halt until it is sorted out. See it as a chance to relax.”

Ornstein's eyes went from Gwyndolin to Tempest and finally defeated on his cup of tea. “Right... thank you, Gwyndolin, we will spend some time in the cathedral.”

“I will start right away.”, Gwyndolin said. “I send a message once the potion is done.”

“Thank you.”, Tempest said and got up. “Shall we go back, Ornstein?”

Ornstein simply nodded and stood up himself, taking his place next to Tempest, silent while they walked during the long corridor. Once they arrived at the bonfire, Ornstein already reached out for it, but Tempest held him back, surprised at how easy it was for him.

“Actually, Ornstein, could we take the scenic route? I don't want to cause your body to puke...”

“Hm, oh, sure...”, Ornstein said and went in front of Tempest, both of them stepping on the elevator.

As Ornstein struggled to get the elevator going, Tempest bowed down to him and whispered: “Be honest, Ornstein... is it really that bad being in my body for a week?”

“What?!”, Ornstein said, clearly taken aback. “Oh no, little Storm, that's not it... It's...” Ornstein averted his gaze and from his throat escaped a big sigh. “You... your body doesn't taste anything and I... I looked forward to eating your food...”

“You did?!”, Tempest had both hands in front of his mouth, or whatever part of Ornstein's helmet covered his mouth.

“Don't... don't read too much in it, it's just good, that's all.”, Ornstein said and the way he flipped his head back and stared a bit in the sky, with his arms crossed, was so Ornstein that Tempest nearly forgot that he was staring at his own body right now.

“But... but that's not the only thing concerning me... Little Storm, there are certain things you have to do in my body, that make me.. kind of uncomfortable and... I don't really know how to explain it...” Ornstein fidgeted with his hands and Tempest had a hunch what he was talking about.

“Um, if it makes you feel better, I could close my eyes every time I have to do it.”, he said. “And... I promise you, Ornstein, I won't touch your body in any inappropriate way.”

“Little Storm, thanks...”, Ornstein said. “And.. uh, sorry...”

“You hardly have to apologize for setting boundaries, Ornstein.”, Tempest said. “After all, this is still your body.”

“Still... thanks... for understanding...”, Ornstein said again.

When the both of them walked up the stairs that led to the cathedral, Tempest suddenly heard Ornstein speak: “What about you?”

“Huh?”, Tempest asked, stopping and turning to look at Ornstein, almost falling down the stairs when he lost his balance.

“I told you my boundaries, so it is only fair if you tell me yours.”, Ornstein said, fidgeting with his hands and looking everywhere but at Tempest.

“Oh, that you mean. My boundaries, hmmm...”, Tempest crossed his arm and tapped his foot. What exactly were his boundaries? “I mean... you already have seen me naked, washed me even, so I don't feel really uncomfortable when you stare at my naked body...”, he murmured, not seeing how vigorously Ornstein blushed at his words. “And I probably don't have to tell you to not cook one of your strange dishes in my body, you don't have to eat or can taste anyway, so there is no need for it... Oh!”, Tempest clapped his hands together. “Don't die. Humanity isn't that easy to come by, so I would appreciate it if you could keep my body alive.”

“O-of course.”, Ornstein said. Tempest gave him a smile, which Ornstein couldn't see of course and then the both of them continued to walk up the stairs.

Ornstein's mind had been putting a bit in ease with the little Storm promising he would not do anything weird to his body, but it just didn't get out of his mind that, every time he looked at the little Storm inhabiting his own body, he felt a tingling sensation... a sensation that he could only describe as lust. He was standing there, thinking his own freaking body was hot. What was wrong with him? Or was that a reaction of the little Storm's body? Suddenly, Ornstein started to doubt that Tempest wouldn't do anything inappropriate to his body, but had to shake this thought off. He knew Tempest long enough now that he wouldn't cross boundaries. At least not while he was fully awake and... those thoughts didn't help!

“Ornstein, be careful!”, Tempest suddenly shouted and broke Ornstein out of his thoughts, who looked up only to see that one of the Giant Sentinels had their halberd raised and was about to strike. Ornstein didn't waste a second to raise his spear, wait, that was a sword, oh right, he was in Tempest's body and while he had put the sword into a blocking position, the halberd connected with it and hurled him several feet into the wall. Pain exploded in his back and head.

“Oh no, Ornstein!”, Tempest shouted and stepped in to take up the fight with the sentinel and... oh dear, the way he held Ornstein's spear was all wrong and he only would get himself hurt and BY THE FLAME, if he died in this body it would be permanent! It was this thought that made Ornstein remember that his current body was those of an Undead.

Undead could heal themselves with Estus.

Tempest always carried his Estus flask close. He reached out with a trembling hand and found the warm flask on his belt, taking two sips of the liquid. It tasted like molten flames.

Ornstein felt how the wound on his head closed and the broken bones realigned and the pain just went away. It was similar to a healing miracle, a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long while. How easy it was for Tempest to heal himself almost made Ornstein jealous, but for now he needed to help the little Storm out and rushed in, attacking the legs of the sentinel with his sword while Tempest blocked its attack with his spear.

Together they managed to slay the foe and once it had vanished into the magic it was made up from, Tempest said: “We are still a good team.”

“Hmph.”, Ornstein only said, tapping his foot. “You could have got my body killed. You certainly need to learn how to wield my spear.”

“Aaah, back to training, I guess.”, Tempest said and went into the cathedral, Ornstein following him, making sure to avoid the Royal Sentinels into the hall. He didn't feel ready to fight them yet in this weak and small body.

“Where are you going?”, he asked once he started to run after Tempest, who suddenly began making long strides again, making it so Ornstein could barely follow him anymore.

“To the kitchen.”, Tempest answered. “That apple I had earlier was not nearly enough to sate my hunger. Also, I need to put something nourishing into your body.”

Ornstein felt a bit strange following Tempest. Normally it would be him Tempest cooked for. He would watch him cook and then eat the food while Tempest would watch him and await his judgement, but now, he didn't need the food anymore. Tempest would practically cook for himself. It wouldn't hurt to still watch him, would it? Ornstein had always enjoyed watching people cook, especially Smough. It was similar with the little Storm... even though Ornstein didn't want for it to be similar. It wasn't the same with them.

Having arrived at the kitchen, Tempest looked around and then down at him. With this armour on, he wouldn't get any cooking done, so he needed to remove it first, but how did it work? The elite knight armour he had worn at the start of his quest had been easier to figure out, Ornstein's intricate armour was too much for him. He didn't even have a clue HOW he could see out of that helmet.

“Ornstein...”, Tempest said sheepishly after a few attempts to get it off. “Help?”

Ornstein sighed but came closer. “I removed the greaves earlier, you remember? You need to take the outer layers down first before you can remove the inner layers.” Ornstein quickly got to work, and in mere seconds all the armour covering Tempest's legs was on the ground. However, when Ornstein wanted to work on the rest of the armour, he looked up and sighed. “Guess I need to get on a chair.”

“Oh, because you can't reach.”, Tempest said and bowed down to pick Ornstein up, without even thinking about it. “Does it work now?”

Ornstein, whose face had become redder than red, just gasped and then growled, which sounded really adorable in the high pitched voice of Tempest body: “Let me down this instant.”

“Aw, but you are so cute.”, Tempest grinned, but let Ornstein down, waiting until the dragon slayer got a chair over, clearly struggling with the weight of the furniture and then stepped on it, helping Tempest with the rest of the armour. “I need to teach you how to put it on and off, we will do that later.”, he said, once the last piece of armour laid on the ground and Tempest added the helmet, looking down at him. He was now clothed into a form-fitting black leather suit and while it wasn't much, Tempest would feel comfortable enough to cook in it, he wasn't naked at least. He just should put on some shoes, being barefoot felt strange.

However, it seemed to be the opposite for Ornstein. “Go grab some decent clothes RIGHT NOW.”, he said, yelling the last two words, making Tempest flinch as he looked at Ornstein who had a hand in front of his nose, a hand through which thin streams of blood flowed. A nosebleed! Ornstein had a nosebleed! That was so adorable!

“Oh, uh, alright.”, Tempest said once he realized how strange this whole situation was. “Take some Estus, it should help ceasing the nosebleed.”

Tempest then turned around and walked briskly into the direction of Ornstein's room. Arriving there, he extended his hand to open the door only to rip it right out of its hinges.

“Whoops, I fix this later, I guess...”, Tempest murmured, as he wondered if changing clothes would be fine, but he wouldn't change his underwear, so he wouldn't cross Ornstein's boundaries. After a brief look into Ornstein's cabinet, Tempest found some green pants and a yellow tunic which he fastened with a belt. He also found some socks and boots which he put on. That should be decent enough. He looked into the mirror to determine if everything was fine, but frowned once he saw the state Ornstein's ponytail was in.

“When has been the last time Ornstein combed this thing?”, Tempest murmured and went on the search for a comb or a brush. It took him a criminally long time to find one, it was stuffed at the bottom of the drawer of Ornstein's night stand. Once Tempest had acquired the brush, he went in front of the mirror and then reached to the ponytail to untie it, amazed at how much it looked like red liquid gold was pouring over his shoulders.

“I knew Ornstein's hair was long, but I didn't know it was that long.”, Tempest said, as he traced along one of the curls. It was so soft, far softer than he thought it would be. If only it wouldn't be full of knots, then it would feel even better. Tempest picked up the brush and got to work. This probably would take a while, but he refused to go and cook a meal as long as Ornstein's hair was in this disastrous state.

The little Storm had been gone for a good while now. Ornstein had heeded his advice and took some Estus, which had made the nosebleed cease. Still, that didn't answer the question why he suddenly got a nosebleed, by looking at his own body nonetheless. It was awful, Ornstein felt awful about it and he couldn't wait to get back in his own body. If only there was a way to make the potion quicker, but Gwyndolin had been clear on it. At least there was a way to change them back.

After Ornstein had waited for another five minutes, pacing up and down the kitchen, he decided to search for Tempest. He had sent him to put on some proper clothes, so he probably was in Ornstein's room. Ornstein very much hoped that Tempest hadn't taken this as an opportunity to investigate his room, feeling his heart sink a bit at his mistrust. He hadn't forbidden the little Storm to look at the things in his room, he simply found it common decency to not rummage around in stuff that didn't belong to you.

Ornstein could hear Tempest's voice, or at the moment, it was his own voice, just not spoken by him, once he approached his room.

“Stupid... knot! Why do you... have... to be... so stubborn?!”, he growled and hissed and sometimes made a pained sound. What in the world was he doing in there? And why was the door leaned against the wall, completely ripped out of its hinges?

“Little Storm?”, Ornstein announced his presence. “What are you doing? And why is the door...”, Ornstein interrupted himself as he saw what the little Storm was doing to his hair right now. “...broken...”, he finished his sentence.

“Oh, hi, Ornstein.”, Tempest smiled down at him, Ornstein wondered if he had ever made such a face that looked so much like sunshine and rainbows, “Don't worry about the door, I accidentally broke it when I opened the room, I’ll fix it later.”

“I don't worry about the door...”, Ornstein murmured and then raised his voice. “What are you doing to my hair?!”

“I am brushing it?”, Tempest stared down at Ornstein as if he had just asked if water was wet. “I have no clue when you have last brushed your hair, but it feels like it has been weeks. With long hair like yours, you need to brush it regularly, Ornstein.”

“...I hate brushing my hair...”, Ornstein said, cringing every time the brush Tempest was holding combed through some streaks of his hair, barely able to look whenever it got caught on a knot and the little Storm did his best to untangle it.

“That explains why you said no when I offered to wash your hair.”, Tempest said. “And here I thought you simply didn't like when someone touches your hair.” A glimmer of sudden understanding flashed over Tempest's face. “Oh no, did I cross a boundary?!”

“I, uh, haven't said anything about my hair...”, Ornstein admitted. “And I guess... it needed to be brushed... and because you aren't hating it... it's just... I can barely look...”

“I am almost done, ouch.”, Tempest said. “Then I go back to the kitchen and cook. I can feel how hungry your body is, Ornstein. You can't live that unhealthy.”

Oh, of course, now the little Storm gave Ornstein a lesson. How he didn't take proper care of his body. How he shouldn't wait until the last moment before he excused himself. How he should tell him once he was hungry or thirsty, so that they could take a break. How he should be sure to get some sleep in a proper bed once in a while.

Now that he thought about it, why did Ornstein take such bad care of himself? It was obvious that Tempest wanted for him to feel fine. Even though it was Tempest stuck in Ornstein's body right now, he always talked about the body as if it still belonged to Ornstein. He simply just had taken control over it, making sure that he took a break.

“I, uh...”, Ornstein said, not really knowing where to go with the started sentence. “I trust you that you take proper care of my body.”

“Of course I will, Ornstein.”, Tempest grinned down at him and Ornstein found that his own grin looked pretty threatening, with his fangs and all. “Go back to the kitchen and wait for me. I only have three more knots to untangle.”

Ornstein simply nodded and left again, on the way back, he went through Tempest's hair with his hands. It was so much shorter than his, but soft and Ornstein had the feeling he wanted to rub it. Technically, he could do that right now, as much as he wanted, but that was too weird, so he removed his hands from his hair and went back to the kitchen, where he silently waited for Tempest, who came in around ten minutes later.

“Aaaalright!”, Tempest announced, which made Ornstein flinch, he never would make such sounds, but he heard them with his own voice. “Look, Ornstein, how soft your hair is! You should brush it more often!” Tempest leaned down in front of Ornstein and let the ponytail fall right in front of him, so that the tip would rest on the table. Ornstein had to admit that he hadn't seen his hair in such a good state in a long time.

“Impressive, little Storm.”, he just said, not reaching out for it. He knew how his hair felt, he didn't need to touch it, much less with hands that weren't his.

“Now it is finally time to get some food in your body... oh, what should I cook? I am looking so forward to tasting things again, I can hardly decide.” Tempest seemed to vibrate, but his words only made Ornstein remember that he couldn't taste right now. It made him.. jealous? The little Storm hadn't tasted anything in ages, he probably, no, very much deserved to have a little fun with food again.

“If you want my input...”, Ornstein said. “I was looking forward to eating some beef coated in honey with beans on the side. Maybe my body still wants to eat it?”

“It certainly doesn't sound bad.”, Tempest said and searched through the kitchen until he found all the ingredients he needed for the dish. Then, he went to work, or more, tried to get to work.

Because Ornstein's body was so much bigger than what Tempest was used to, all the time he grabbed up instead of down when he needed some spices, bumping his hands on the ceiling a few times, silently hissing when once again there was a bit of pain shooting through his hands.

Though, that wasn't the main problem. The main problem was... Ornstein’s hands were large! Tempest was used to have so much smaller hands and soon he looked down on a piece of beef that was cut into a form beyond recognition, honey that was smeared everywhere and a portion of beans that was crushed.

“Ornstein... maybe your inability to cook comes from your hands being too LARGE?!”, Tempest said, putting both of his hands in the air and looking accusingly at Ornstein.

“Little Storm, you know that I mistake salt and sugar...”, Ornstein just said, sinking a bit into the bench he was waiting on. His cooking abilities were Tempest's best trait and now that he was stuck in Ornstein's body, they seemed to have vanished, even though the sorry dish he created STILL looked more edible than anything that Ornstein could ever create on his own.

“Whatever...”, Tempest said. “I get used to your large hands later... for now we need to get some food in your body, because you are starving.” Tempest looked down at the ingredients and sighed when he started to fire up the stove. At least Ornstein had pointed him to an apron that he could wear, exactly his size with a stitched on lion. It was adorable and Tempest would have loved to see Ornstein wearing it when he wasn't currently inhabiting his body. He had made frequent use of it to wipe off the honey.

Once the admittedly worst dish that Tempest had cooked in years was put on a plate, he sat in front of it, picked up a knife and a fork and began to eat.

The next thing Tempest knew was that a thousand different tastes suddenly exploded on his tongue. He just sat there and stared vacantly at the wall, the fork slipping out of his hand and falling on the table with a clang.

How he had missed tasting food. It was amazing, wonderful and... almost too much. He had the feeling that he barely could breath anymore.

“Little Storm?! Little Storm?! Is everything alright?! Talk to me!”, Ornstein's panicked voice got him out of his stupor, big blue eyes of worry staring at him, it was so adorable. Why found Tempest his own face to be so cute?

“Oh, sorry, Ornstein.”, he said, “I just got overwhelmed by taste. I haven't tasted stuff in so many years and the apple and the tea earlier were nothing compared to a full cooked meal. By me, nonetheless, even though that is one of my inferior works. I just need to take it slow.”

“Just remember breathing.”, Ornstein said, “I thought for a moment you would faint.”

“Yes, of course.”, Tempest said and continued eating the meal, each fork making more tears in his eyes well up until he straight up was crying from joy, making Ornstein staring at him with an even more worried expression.

“It's fine, Ornstein.”, Tempest said. “I am just... happy... That we have switched bodies might have been an accident, but it made it able for me to taste my cooking again. So, thank you.”

Tempest gave Ornstein a smile and saw how the dragon slayer flinched and then touched his chest, where his heart was. Tempest stared at him a little while, but when Ornstein didn't seem to be in pain, he said: “I clean up and then I should go into bed. Are you fine with me using your bed?”

“Um, of course... it is the most comfortable for my body...”, Ornstein said, “But... please don't clean up, little Storm, let me take care of it.”

“Are you sure?”, Tempest said and took the apron off, hanging it over the chair he had sat on. “Then have a good night. We'll see each other tomorrow.”

“Good night, little Storm.”, Ornstein said and Tempest left. Once he arrived at Ornstein's room, he noticed that the door still was ripped out of its hinges.

“Oh, I should fix this first...”, Tempest said. Luckily, the door was put back in its hinges easily enough, nothing seemed to have been broken. Then, Tempest searched for a night shirt and once he was clothed in it and had untied Ornstein's ponytail, he remembered that he was still thirsty. He had completely forgotten to drink anything with the meal. Well, at least the tea earlier had helped with his initial thirst, but he knew that Ornstein's body would need more fluids.

He saw a jar on Ornstein's night stand and went over to drink from it, only to see that it was empty. “Aw, darn, I guess I have to get some water then...”, Tempest murmured to himself and went to the cathedral's water fountain and because he was already out there, he could use the opportunity to visit the privy and prevent himself from waking up in the middle of the night.

“Damn, has being alive always been so much work?”, Tempest said as he brought back the filled jar of water to Ornstein's room. “As an Undead, I definitely didn't have to spend so much time on basic needs.”

Once Tempest arrived back at Ornstein's room, he took a sip from the water and then laid himself down, closing his eyes. He could sleep as an Undead, but it had never come easy to him, because he didn't need sleep. Ornstein's body, on the other hand, was very much craving it and so Tempest drifted away into the land of dreams soon.

Once Tempest had been gone, Ornstein had started to clean the kitchen and with that, he didn't only wash the dishes and wiped away the honey that fell on the floor, but he pretty much cleaned every nook and cranny until the kitchen was shiny. Smough would have been so proud of him.

It had only fully occurred to Ornstein after he had seen the little Storm eating and starting to cry because his taste had returned, but... the body he currently inhabited was undead. That meant something more than just being able to heal himself with Estus and not being able to die... It also meant that he wasn't getting hungry or thirsty. That he didn't need to visit the privy. And most importantly, it meant that he didn't get tired.

Ornstein now had to spend a whole night in a body that wouldn't distract him with any needs and he hardly knew how to do it. He knew that Tempest could sleep, but he had explained to him that it took quite a bit of effort to manage it, so Ornstein doubted he could learn it in a week.

That was why he had offered to clean the kitchen. He needed something to do in the night. So that he didn't have to stare at the wall and wait for morning to come and.. and... start to THINK. No, he didn't want that. It was worse enough that his body felt like a construct, he didn't want to actually think about it and more importantly, think about his feelings towards the little Storm and especially the feelings he had towards his own body.

Once the kitchen was cleaned, Ornstein took the apron and gave it a thorough cleaning too, rubbing out all the honey, which was quite a task, because Tempest's body was, well, it was weak. He needed to put so much effort into anything he did and Ornstein started to feel sorry for having groaned or sighed at Tempest, because he couldn't keep up. The Undead wasn't a fighter, it wasn't because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't. An apology might be in order.

After the apron was washed and hung up for drying, Ornstein looked out of the window. There wasn't really a way to see how much time had passed in Anor Londo, because the sun was an illusion from Gwyndolin. At night, they dropped the illusion and the moon shone on the town, but because of their status as moon deity, the moon would never move away from the sky.

All Ornstein could see was that it was still dark. He sighed and went to search for another task.

A good while later he had cleaned all the rooms they often occupied, repainted all the wooden boards with the knights on Gwyn on it and sorted through Smough's old clothes, marvelling at how big these shirts were. They had been big for his usual body, but for the little Storm they looked like he would just vanish in them.

Once Ornstein was done with these tasks however, the sun still wasn't there. Why was the night so long? Ornstein wandered the cathedral and found himself in the herbal garden, where he just started to work. He watered the plants, harvested them, prepared the herbs for drying and made a few potpourris.

After he was done with that, Ornstein noticed a peculiar smell about him and noticed that it was sweat. He had worked the whole night and that had brought the little Storm's body to heat up. Ornstein should probably take a bath.

As he went to the bathroom he thought about how he had told Tempest that he rather didn't want for him to take a bath so that he wouldn't look at certain parts and felt a tiny bit guilty because he would have to undress the little Storm's body completely for a bath. Well, the little Storm had been fine with it, so it should be no problem. Ornstein's thoughts also wandered to him having to take a bath immediately once they had swapped back, because after a week, he would probably reek. Just because he didn't want for the little Storm to... no, he didn't want to think about it. Of course he had to allow him to use the privy, because that couldn't wait a week, but... if it would have been possible, Ornstein would have liked to set a boundary for it too. He just hoped that the little Storm would hold his promise to not look.

As Ornstein entered the bathroom, he shed his clothes and then reached behind his head to clip his ponytail up, only to find nothing. Oh right, Tempest had short hair. It felt strange, now that he thought about it, not having the ponytail brushing against his back and rear. He always did had long hair, there only had been one instance where he had short hair and it had been because Artorias had accidentally cut his ponytail.

He remembered that he had hated the year he had needed to grow his hair back out. Ornstein wondered if Tempest had similar trouble with suddenly having too long hair?

Ornstein hadn't even noticed that he had lowered himself into the warm water and had stared at the wall. Oh no, he had started to THINK. Ornstein started to focus on cleaning Tempest's body instead, maybe scrubbing a bit too hard, because his skin felt rather rough and he could see a few splotches of red on Tempest's normally pale complexion. He took a sip of Estus once he got dressed again, feeling a bit guilty about the whole thing... also, because it was amazing how easily every bit of pain just vanished with it.

To Ornstein's disdain, he saw that it still wasn't bright outside. Could he find another thing to do? As he wandered the hallways, he caught a rather good smell and even though he knew he couldn't taste anything right now, he followed it to the kitchen, where he found... Tempest, a large amount of eggs and a dozen different prepared dishes.

“Oh hey, Ornstein.”, Tempest said and waved to him, still in the night shirt he must have put on before getting to sleep. “I woke early and me not being able to handle cooking in your body bothered me so much, that I practiced by cracking eggs.”

“I can see that.”, Ornstein said and came into the kitchen. What a relief to not be alone anymore, to have someone to talk to and observe. “How did it go?”

“At first it didn't go so well.”, Tempest pointed at a bowl and when Ornstein went to check it out, it was full of egg yolk and egg shells. “But then I got the hang of it and because I suddenly had so many eggs, I started to cook. I made omelets, I made scrambled eggs, I made sunny eggs, I made rice with eggs and then I couldn't think about egg dishes anymore, so I started to make pudding and cake.”

Tempest gestured to all the dishes around him. “I am down to the last batch of cracked eggs though and decided to make cookies from it, they are almost ready, just need to bake them.”

“I am glad to see you got your cooking skills back, little Storm.”, Ornstein said, his arms crossed. “Only one question remains: Who is going to eat all of this?!”

“Me.”, Tempest said. “I am so eager to taste all this stuff! I need to take advantage of it while I can!”

“Little Storm, I know my body is big, but even I can't eat that much. You only will make yourself throw up.”, Ornstein tapped his food.

“But Ornstein, that will be my problem then, not yours.”, Tempest said as he cut out the cookies from the prepared dough.

“It's still MY body.”, Ornstein hissed, making Tempest flinch, which looked kind of comical, with how huge his current body was and with how small Ornstein currently was.

“Oh, alright... I share it with Gwyndolin then...”, he said and looked at all the food wistfully. He really must have looked forward to eating all of it.

“Fine, you can have a bite of every dish.”, Ornstein said, averting his gaze. “But don't make my body throw up.”

“Understood, Ornstein, thank you.”, Tempest said and gave Ornstein another one of these smiles that made his heart beat faster. Ugh, he needed to get back into the armour. Ornstein didn't even know his own body could make these expressions, he wanted to stop reacting to it.

Tempest didn't need to be told twice to taste all his creations. Once the cookies were in the oven (he looked so forward to eating them later), he created a plate for himself and carefully put all the dishes on it he wanted to eat, even sprinkling them with a few extra herbs. Ornstein just stared at him with a blank look.

“Why do you make such an effort just for eating?”, he asked.

Tempest twirled around which almost made him lose his balance. Once he had regained it, he stemmed his hands at his hips and said: “Ornstein, eating is more than just putting food in your belly. There is an aesthetic to it too. You have much more fun eating a carefully arranged plate then a plate where everything is just mixed around with no sense of order or direction.”

Ornstein never had thought too much about it, but Tempest normally had arranged his plate in a rather nice and pleasant way. He hadn't even thought a single time to thank him for all the care he put into presenting his food. The little Storm surely was a food wizard.

“You are right... I guess...”, Ornstein said and continued to observe Tempest as he put the plate in front of him and started eating, not as quickly as yesterday, but calmly, taking his time, seeming to taste test the dishes and, even though Ornstein felt like he wanted to sink into the ground for it, judging at his face, the food was up to par.

“I am not going to lie, Ornstein, I will miss being able to taste stuff once we have to swap back.”, Tempest said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“I myself look rather forward to get my sense of taste back...”, Ornstein murmured and regretted it because Tempest's eyes sparkled.

“Oh, Ornstein, you just did admit that you like my food!”, he said and jumped up, completely forgetting about his height and knocking over not only the chair he had sat one but also the table, which made the empty plate tumble to the ground and shatter in a dozen pieces.

“Oh, shoot.”, Tempest said, “I better clean that up... I need to clean up anyway.” He gestured at the mess all over the kitchen and went to the corner to get a broom.

“No, wait!”, Ornstein heard himself say. “Don't bother with it, I clean it up later.”

“Huh, but it's my mess, Ornstein.”, Tempest said.

“Yes, I know, but... I want to clean it up, you do all the cooking already.”, Ornstein quickly said, knowing that the real reason for him wanting to clean was, to get the day over with, because Tempest's body without needs made him feel more and more estranged.

“If you say so.”, Tempest said and put the broom into Ornstein's hands. Then, he went to the oven and removed the cookies. “They are too hot to eat them yet, but I look forward to eating them later. I will go get myself dressed. Shall we meet up later, Ornstein?”

“Yes, wait in my room, I need to show you something...”, Ornstein said, his gaze wandering through the kitchen and falling on the pieces of his armour that he had stacked neatly away in the night. “Oh, take my armour with you.”

“All pieces?!”, Tempest seemed to be taken aback. “They are far too heavy for me!”

“You inhabit my body right now, little Storm.”, Ornstein said with a wry smile. He knew that his body was strong enough to carry his armour, after all, he was normally wearing it for the better part of the day.

“Oh, right.”, Tempest said, “How could I forget that?” He then picked the armour up, still struggling a bit with how to transport all pieces, but once he managed, he wobbled out of the room. Ornstein just took a look at the kitchen and got to work, cleaning and putting any leftovers away, which he planned to give to Gwyndolin later.

Arriving at Ornstein's room, Tempest put down the armour, which made a lot of noise. He sometimes wondered how Ornstein managed to walk in it without making much noise, or maybe he just got used to the constant clanking because he was with Ornstein all the time. Because Tempest still was wearing the night shirt, he searched out a few clothes to wear, also deciding to change the underwear, wriggling out of the dirty one while having his eyes closed, having to put on the clean one the same way, struggling a bit with it. He asked himself why Ornstein preferred such underwear, it felt tight and weird, he very much preferred the much more loose loincloth he was wearing.

Once Tempest had dressed himself accordingly, he looked at Ornstein's armour. It always looked so effortless when Ornstein donned it, maybe his body remembered how it worked? Tempest put up the pieces and got to work.

After fifteen minutes Tempest had to admit to himself that he had no clue how to don Ornstein's armour. Every time he thought a piece was fitting right, he found out that he couldn't put on another piece and most of the time they just fell back on the ground with a clatter. Frustrated, Tempest put all the armour pieces on the ground and decided to wait for Ornstein again. As he sat himself on the bed, his gaze fell to the mirror. He hadn't brushed his hair yet. He should take care of it while Ornstein was still away, so that he wouldn't get mad again.

Tempest took the brush that still laid in front of the mirror and started to work on the ponytail, this time not untying it, carefully working around the knots. As he looked into the mirror and saw Ornstein's face frown at the little pain he experienced whenever a knot was stubborn, Tempest asked himself which other faces of Ornstein he never had seen because the dragon slayer always wore a helmet.

Tempest glanced to the door and when he didn't see or hear Ornstein coming, a devious grin appeared on his face, which he had to look at in the mirror immediately. He was sure that Ornstein never would make such a face, even when masked, that made it all the more interesting.

Tempest absolutely had to see a smile, so he smiled at the mirror and his heart skipped a beat at how cute it looked. Sure, he had seen Ornstein smile before, but it was always a tiny smile, never a full on smile. What would he give for Ornstein to make this face at him... then he frowned, but that was a face Ornstein often made, so it wasn't that interesting. He should try a few different expressions. So Tempest glared at the mirror, laughing at himself, because he was sure that Ornstein did this under his mask all the time and then he cocked his head and raised a brow in confusion. He also bared his teeth at the mirror, which looked downright dangerous with how sharp Ornstein’s canines were and tried to make himself laugh, which worked when he thought about Ornstein's reaction to all this, but he had his eyes closed and couldn't actually see it. Wiping tears out of his eyes from laughing too much at the irony, Tempest looked down at himself while thinking of the next expression, at Ornstein's toned arms and pronounced chest.

Should he? A glance to the door told him that Ornstein still wasn't there, so it wouldn’t hurt to try. Tempest started a slow flex in front of the mirror, marvelling at Ornstein's muscles that showed beneath the fabric of his shirt. No wonder it was so easy for Ornstein to pick Tempest up and carry him around, his body surely was strong enough and had the muscles to prove it.

Tempest flexed a bit more in front of the mirror, murmuring: “Oooh, look how strong you are.” until he heard a voice talking.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Tempest flinched and dropped the act immediately when he saw Ornstein standing in the door. “Ornstein, since when have you stood there?”, he asked. Had he seen the whole thing?

“I just arrived.”, Ornstein said. “And apparently at the right time, because you are doing weird stuff in front of the mirror.”

“I... I just...”, Tempest said, feeling like it would be inappropriate to give away that he had wanted to see Ornstein emote. “I just never had muscles like this...”, he finally said, hoping that he had saved himself.

“Yes, that is apparent.”, Ornstein said and lifted a very thin arm. “I need both hands to carry my own spear and even then it is too heavy. Anyway...”, Ornstein stopped looking at his arm and pointed at his armour. “It's time to show you how to don this.”

After around an hour and several failed tries, Ornstein seemed to have grown impatient.

“How many times do I have to tell you? You first put on the greaves, then the cuirass, then the rerebrace and then the pauldrons. Wearing armour is like wearing several layers. Maybe think about it like an onion. Haven't you worn elite knight armour when I met you?”

“Yes, but that was easier to put on than your armour. There are so many spikes and I sometimes don't really know how to put it...”, Tempest said, still struggling with getting the pauldrons on. “And why don't I have the boots on yet?”

“They are called sabatons and they can be put on last, because they just need to connect to the greaves, that is the least of trouble.”, Ornstein explained, walking around Tempest and eventually getting up on a chair to help him fasten the armour parts. “There, now the pauldrons are fixed. Now let's put on the vambrace...”

“How did you do that? And what is a vambrace?”, Tempest asked, head swimming with all those armour lingo.

“The armour you wear over your forearm, you need to put it on before you put on the couter and then at last, you can start to wear the gauntlets.”, Ornstein didn't even react to Tempest's first question.

“How do you even do that on your own?! Didn't you knights used to have squires who helped you out?”, Tempest asked, still amazed at how easily Ornstein fixed the armour Tempest was struggling so much with.

“Yes, that's true, but I never was comfortable giving this task to another, so I learned to don my armour myself.”, Ornstein said. “I have centuries of practice, it is practically second nature for me, but you struggle even more than me the first time.”

“Give me a break, you used to be a silver knight, right? You were used to wearing fancy armour.”, Tempest said, pretty much giving up on donning the armour himself and just letting Ornstein handle everything.

“That's true.”, Ornstein said and then dropped the matter, only telling Tempest what he was doing, until the armour was completely put on.

“There, now we can go outside.”, Tempest said and grabbed for Ornstein's spear, but Ornstein stopped him.

“Now you doff it and put it on again, following my instructions.”

“Ornsteiiiiin...”, Tempest started to whine, but one glare from him (a strangely adorable glare), Tempest knew he had no choice and so the armour lesson continued another hour until he had managed to don at least seventy percent of it without help.

“What now?”, Tempest said, picking up Ornstein's spear. Every weapon he usually would wield felt far too small for him, but he kind of wished, he could have a sword instead. He knew that Ornstein could wield swords, but asking him to not wield a spear in Ornstein's body felt like blasphemy.

“Let's go train.”, Ornstein said. “That will help us get used to our current bodies and should we face danger, we need to be able to protect ourselves.”

“Alright.”, Tempest said and soon the both of them were at the training area next to the bonfire with the fire keeper.

Tempest was holding Ornstein's spear in both hands while he waited for Ornstein to get through his belongings. “I need to find something like a spear that your body is able to lift... Oh, you have a silver knight spear? That will do nicely.” Ornstein pulled the spear out of Tempest's belongings and adjusted himself to it. Tempest could see in an instance, just how practiced Ornstein was with this weapon, even in a foreign body, his stance with the spear appeared to be flawless.

“I am pretty sure I got this while fighting some of the silver knights.”, Tempest said.

“Yes, sometimes they leave their stuff behind.”, Ornstein murmured. “Now, little Storm, show me your stance.”

Tempest adjusted his stance until he felt comfortable holding the spear and striking with it, but Ornstein just frowned. Tempest was sure that his face never had frowned that much in twenty-four hours.

“No, no, that won't do, that is all wrong, you have to get slightly in your knees, straighten your back, relax your shoulders.”

“What? All at once? How does this even work?!”, Tempest asked, feeling his back crack only thinking about spraining his body like that.

“And your hands, look. You are holding the spear beneath the cross, not above. With a spear you can do a variety of attacks, but it's most defining feature is the reach, so you want to keep your hands rather low. If you two hand it, you need to make sure to have enough room to lunge.”

“Like this?”, Tempest said, adjusting his grip on the spear, all while trying to get his body into the stance that Ornstein had described.

“Almost... let me show you.”, Ornstein picked up the silver knight spear and slowly went into the described stance. “From this stance, you can perform all kinds of attacks.”, he said. “Like a thrust, that is the most common attack for a spear or a strike, which is less common. A spear has a blade on its end, so opposed to a sword, you want to utilize the blade, keeping your distance and stab your opponent from afar.” Ornstein demonstrated each word by performing the said actions, making Tempest take a step back, because the blade came a bit too close for his taste.

“I trained you with a sword, because it is a more versatile weapon and more easy to learn.”, Ornstein said, leaning himself on the spear. “With a spear, parrying is done vastly different for example, but I never was the kind who parried, so I am teaching you how to use my spear to the fullest.”

“Alright.”, Tempest nodded. “Let's begin then.”

The better part of the day was then spent with them training. Ornstein went full onto Tempest, teaching him how to utilize his spear and even tried some of the more advanced techniques, but that got too much for Tempest. At the end, he felt utterly exhausted, hungry, thirsty and sweaty. How he wished he could take a bath, but Ornstein's boundaries... he asked Ornstein if he could at least wash his body without taking his underwear off and Ornstein reluctantly agreed to it. Tempest went back to the cathedral, but Ornstein wanted to stay a little while longer.

Once Tempest was gone, Ornstein trained a little bit longer. While he certainly had the skill, he felt how weak the body of Tempest was. It was difficult to hold the spear for a long while and he couldn't jump very high, which made his usual lunging attacks difficult. He also had an easier time when he held the spear with two hands, as opposed to one hand, which he often preferred.

After a good while, he stopped, admitting to himself that it wouldn't be of any use. Tempest's body was undead. It would only get stronger with soul power. He could practice his skill, but Ornstein already had the skill. He just had to get used to this body. He now understood better why Tempest normally stayed in his range.

He stayed a little while longer to clean up, even though it felt like he didn't need to swipe, there wasn't that much dirt on the floor, but he never felt at ease when he left dirt after training and then went back to the cathedral, deep in thought. If they had to fight, could he be any help? The little Storm was used to fighting with all kinds of tricks, but Ornstein was a much more direct fighter, having been a knight for centuries.

He went up the stairs, thinking about maybe trying out his miracles. He hadn't tried them out yet. Was his faith in his conscience or in his body? It may be worth a try. Just as he thought about if the little Storm had a talisman in his belongings, Ornstein suddenly felt a sharp pain and as he looked down, he saw a halberd sticking out of his chest.

Oh no.... he had forgotten that the sentinels would attack him! He grabbed for the Estus on his belt, but before he could even think about closing the wound, the second sentinel approached and Ornstein could only watch as its halberd went down on his head and it exploded with pain.

The next thing Ornstein knew was that he was sitting next to a bonfire. Did he just... Had he just... died? That felt a lot different than he had thought... he remembered a bunch of pain and then darkness and then he was... alive again? He looked down at his hands and arms and saw how they had shrivelled up. He groaned. He had promised the little Storm one thing and that was not dying and now exactly that had happened.

Maybe, if he was sneaky about it, he could use up a humanity and collect another one somewhere so that Tempest wouldn't notice it...

“Ah, Ornstein! What have I told you?!”, the sudden voice made Ornstein freeze and he slowly turned around as he saw Tempest standing there, carrying a wash basin and tapping his foot.

“Little Storm, I...”, Ornstein said, not really knowing what he should say to him.

“Whatever, just give me the humanity back once we swapped back.”, Tempest said, leaving Ornstein standing there completely perplexed, especially when he just walked away, but then, he turned around and asked: “Ornstein, are you alright?”

“Huh? Yes, I am, I think....”, Ornstein said.

“Good. The first death can be pretty harsh, but you get used to it. I died so many times, it doesn't really affect me anymore. What almost got me down was the feeling of utter helplessness as everyone around me started to hollow.”

Ornstein stared at Tempest for a little while longer before finding a humanity and crushing it in his palm. The little Storm was a lot stronger than he thought. Not physically, but mentally. Even when he had been at the verge of hollowing, he had searched for help.

Something that Ornstein never had tried...

Once his body was restored, Ornstein sat down next to the bonfire and hugged his legs. Just what had he done with his life? Maybe it was finally time to think.

Tempest chuckled to himself as he walked back to Ornstein's room with the filled wash basin. He had expected for him to die, he was just glad that it didn't traumatize him too much. He seemed to have been more concerned about overstepping Tempest's boundaries than he had been at having died.

Maybe it was because Ornstein had been ready for death for a long time now? Tempest wondered if it was disappointing for him that he came back? He remembered a time in the asylum, when everyone had gotten hollow, where he had tried to kill himself numerous time, but he always had just woken up back in his cell, probably having brought back to life by the bonfire out there and having hurled back to his cell by the guards that hadn't hollowed back then.

Once Tempest arrived at Ornstein's room, he opened the door and pretty much ripped it out of its hinges again. With a sigh, he put the wash basin down and went to repair the door, then he undressed, leaving the underwear on and started to slowly clean Ornstein's body.

As he moved the wash cloth over his skin, he noticed all these scars. Of course he had seen them before, but never in such great detail. Burns mostly, especially on the left arm. Some scars were from weapons. A rather large scar on Ornstein's chest and a few criss-crossed on his legs, that must have been where Tempest had... no, he didn't want to think about it.

Curiously, there weren't any scars on Ornstein's face. Maybe it was because his helmet's shape protected him. He really never must have taken it off while fighting... of course, Tempest knew this.

He looked down at the scars. Every one of them had a story behind them. His own body didn't have any interesting scars. The ones of his battles vanished when he healed them with Estus or got reborn from a bonfire.

The scar that was the most prevalent, was his darksign. It had been where Tempest had been killed. The wound had turned into the darksign, the cursed symbol that made him undead.

Tempest had stopped to resent it. Without the darksign, he never had met Ornstein and he was very glad for that opportunity. He heard that Astora had gotten destroyed anyway, so... he wouldn't be able to get back there. That is why he told Ornstein that he wanted to open up a tavern on the road. To give the people without a home, like himself, a temporary one.

Lost in his thoughts, Tempest finished washing himself and dried his body with a towel, then put on some clothes and then went to find Ornstein to spend some time with him. He wanted to hear the stories about the scars.

The days passed and Tempest got more and more used to inhabiting Ornstein's body. His day normally consisted of getting up, getting dressed and brushing his hair (he had no clue how Ornstein could bear running around with such matted hair), visiting the privy and then making breakfast to eat, being sure that he cooked a new meal because he had to exploit having a sense of taste.

Ornstein normally already was there and watched him cook, always, without a fail, cleaning the kitchen while Tempest donned the armour, needing far too long for it and normally having to wait for Ornstein to help him out with it. Then they would train until it was time for Tempest to each lunch and after lunch, they either continued training or went separate for a while.

While it felt like it could be boring, Tempest wouldn't had mind if their life could continue like this forever. He knew it wasn't possible, he had to fulfil the mission of the Chosen Undead before his body and mind would give in to the hollowing, but for the moment, he could dream. In a land as grim as Lordran, where would they be without hope?

Tempest had just finished eating lunch and was thinking about maybe lying down for a nap, because his body was heavy after all the training, when Ornstein suddenly stomped towards him, having a certain look in his eyes that made Tempest wanting to shrink, even though he was the bigger of the two at the moment.

“Little Storm, can you explain to me why all the doors in the west wing are out of their hinges?”, Ornstein asked, crossing his arms, gaze turning into one of accusation.

“Well...”, Tempest started, knowing that there was no good explanation for it, “I am sorry, Ornstein, I always forget how strong you are. I normally need more strength to open the doors and because I am used to it, I rip them out their hinges all the time. I wanted to practice on the door in the west wing, but I failed... and because I ripped all the doors out anyway, I thought I would leave them like that until after we swapped back, you know, to not having to repair them over and over again...”

Ornstein let out a deep, heavy sigh. “I can't even be mad at you, little Storm.”, he said dryly. “Not with how honest you are and there isn't anyone besides us in the cathedral anyway.”

“And the titanite demon.”, Tempest added.

“Yes... and the titanite demon... which you haven't taken care of when you were here...”

“It was hard enough to get to you, Ornstein, I didn't want to lower my chances by fighting a demon that wasn't even interested in leaving the room. Shall we maybe take care of it right now?”

“No, you are not used enough to my techniques and I could accidentally die again. One time truly was enough.”, Ornstein said, shaking his head. “What have you planned now? Because originally I wanted to show you something.”

“Napping.”, Tempest said truthfully. “Having to make up for your lack of sleep.” He gave Ornstein a grin.

“It's not like I never sleep.”, Ornstein hissed and turned around. “Fine, I take care of the doors in the west wing, find me once you wake up.”

Tempest shrugged as the mention of why Ornstein wanted to repair the doors, even though nobody used them and when Tempest went down there, maybe to practice another time, they would just get ripped out of the hinges again. He went to Ornstein's room, where the door already was only loosely put against the door frame and then laid down for his nap.

Once Tempest woke, mainly because of a dry throat, sleeping always parched him, he went to find Ornstein after taking a refreshing drink out of the jar on the night stand which he filled with fresh water every night. Ornstein was still in the west wing, having apparently finished repairing all the doors and stared at a wall.

“Is something wrong with the wall, Ornstein?”, Tempest asked and Ornstein jumped in surprise.

“Oh, it's... it's looking a bit dull... I thought maybe I could paint it...”, he said.

“Why?”, Tempest asked, honestly confused why Ornstein would want to maintain the cathedral. Wouldn't they leave that place behind forever soon anyway? What was the point in painting a dull looking wall when nobody would be here anymore? Tempest doubted that the titanite demon would cherish it.

“Be.. Because.”, Ornstein snapped and Tempest knew that the conversation was over. Ornstein probably had his reasons for his sudden household and repair whims, Tempest didn't find it to be a bad thing. Maybe his body had rubbed off on Ornstein, he always had searched for ways to better the tavern so that the guests would feel even more comfortable there.

“You wanted to show me something?”, Tempest said instead and Ornstein nodded.

“Come with me.”, he said. Tempest followed him until they were in Ornstein's trophy room, where two of the silver knights stood guard.

“Have you practiced parrying?”, Tempest said jokingly. Ornstein shook his head and instead prepared his left hand.

“Watch.”, he said and Tempest's eyes widened when he saw a lightning spear form in the hands of Ornstein, which got hurled at one of the silver knights, grilling them in one strike.

“What? How did you do that?”, Tempest asked. “This miracle isn't even in my possession! I think you need to enter the Sunlight Warrior Covenant for it and you know that I entered the Grave Lord Covenant instead.”

“By complete accident nonetheless.”, Ornstein half hissed.

“Hey, I have never done that grave lord thing, you forbid me from doing it anyway.”, Tempest tried to placate Ornstein.

“Good.”, Ornstein said. “To answer your question, I was thinking about if my faith is tied to my body or my conscience. I had to train for a few days, but this night I managed to call unto my miracles. This should greatly enhance my combat prowess should we get into trouble.”

“That's amazing... though, Ornstein, did you use the nights to train?”, Tempest asked.

“Yes, your body doesn't need sleep anyway.”, Ornstein answered.

“It may not need sleep, but it still CAN sleep. It isn't healthy staying awake all the time, Ornstein, that will just make your head spin, because you never calm down. I can't approve of you staying awake.”, Tempest shook his head, showing his disappointment.

“I would have slept when I knew how! I don't know how to fall asleep when I am not tired!”, Ornstein's voice started to increase in volume until he practically yelled the last word.

“Yes, because you sleep far too less.”, Tempest said. “Which brings us back to our earlier argument. Anyway, when you want to fall asleep as an undead, you need to empty out your head. Don't think anything, just stare at the ceiling or close your eyes and soon you start to drift. The moment you think it's over, then you remember that you aren't tired. To summarize, don't think, empty your head and you manage.”

“You make this sound far too easy...”, Ornstein said.

“You have too many thoughts, that is your problem.”, Tempest said. “Why worry about what you can't change? You feel better if you feel rested the next day though and that is why sleeping is important, even as an Undead. When you don't sleep, all the thoughts just clog your head and you can't concentrate anymore. Believe me, I needed a while to get it too, but when you sit all alone in a cell, you don't want to be awake anymore, you know? So you basically stop thinking.”

Tempest suddenly grew quiet.

“Huh, now that I think about it, that might have been the cause for my first almost hollowing... Anyway... while sleep is important even for the Undead, we usually don't have to do it each day like the living do, so you should be fine, even when you don't sleep the whole week. I just think you should try it out, Ornstein, when you manage to fall asleep in an undead body, it will be so much easier in your living body.”

“I... I will try.”, Ornstein said and Tempest gave him a smile.

This evening, while Ornstein was pondering about how he should spend the night when he didn't manage to fall asleep, even though he had promised Tempest to try, he doubted he would manage, Tempest came to him and sat himself down next to him.

“I know it is only temporary and I didn't think too much about it, because I used to be alive, but, Ornstein, do you have trouble staying in my body because, you know...?”, Tempest didn't finish the sentence and Ornstein knew why. He didn't want to say it out aloud.

“Because it is undead?”, Ornstein said and Tempest gave him a shy nod.

Instead of answering Ornstein said: “So, little Storm, you aren't bothered to be stuck in my body?”

“At first I was a bit grossed out I have to admit.”, Tempest said. “I forgot how it is to feel hungry or thirsty, to feel tired or having to...”, he interrupted himself as Ornstein stared at him and then continued: “It was so much at once. I forgot how much stuff you have to do to your body everyday so that it would feel fine and content. I can't just get up and start my day, I have to drink and eat and I can't skip on sleeping when I feel like it. I have been undead for so long, that is why it felt so weird, but I got used to it soon and being able to taste again is awesome. I have to thank you for that, Ornstein.”

“You always just take what happens to you and shrug it off.”, Ornstein said. “Little Storm, I admire you for it. I don't know how you do it. All that happened to you, it would be enough to crush anyone, but you smile and carry on. You say that it couldn't have been changed and just accept it.”

“When you have died a hundred times or more, you get used to it.”, Tempest said. “I couldn't change that I died, but I could very much learn from it. So why despair when I could try again? Every time I did succeed somewhere where I failed prior until eventually I succeeded fully. When you are unable to die, you start to see life with different eyes.”

Ornstein didn't say anything at first, simply looking at Tempest, then he put his head in his hands and said: “Little Storm, when I died in your body, I was shocked. I... I wanted to die for a long time and you know how mad I was that it didn't happen, that you failed to kill me... but then I died and... it wasn't permanent. I felt all the pain of dying and just woke up at the bonfire. There was... nothing great about it. It didn't feel like the salvation I sought. It just... happened. If I wouldn't have been undead, had it felt the same? Would I have felt salvation or would I just have... ceased to exist?”

“I don't know if we go anywhere when we die.”, Tempest said. “Maybe we go to sleep? Maybe sometimes we don't want to go to sleep? Some souls stay behind after all, just look into my pockets.”

Ornstein did as told and produced a little white glowing soul.

“The soul of an undead who gave up...”, he said.

“An undead who hollowed beyond recognition, so that they stopped moving and even their soul left their body.”, Tempest said. “Or maybe it is the soul power they had gained. One day, every hollow will burn themselves into the bonfire, so I heard. Every being craves for salvation, but I don't think it is as easy to get as you think...”

Tempest looked down at Ornstein and then gave him a little pat on the head, which earned him a glare. He chuckled, he always had wanted to do that.

“Anyway, isn't it far more rewarding when we keep living?”, Tempest said. “When we live, there are so many things we can look forward to. Each day is filled with so many possibilities. How often did I go to bed anticipating the next meal I would cook? I always wanted to live my life to the fullest, but... it got cut short...”

“You still haven't given up.”, Ornstein said. “Why? What kept you going? How could you go on without regretting what happened to you? Did you never regret what happened? Your whole life was over once you became undead!”

“If I had never become undead, I wouldn't have met you.”, Tempest said, slowly and calmly as opposed to Ornstein's shrieking. “That was one of the best things that has ever happened to me.”

Ornstein just stared at Tempest, opening his mouth and then closing it again, then staring down at the soul he still held in his hands. Then, he felt how tears started to fall out of his eyes.

“I... I don't get it...”, he sobbed. “I just don't get it...”

“It's alright. You don't have to.”, Tempest said and stroked Ornstein's head again, only that this time Ornstein did let it happen without trouble.

A day or so after their talk, Tempest found Ornstein carrying a bucket of paint, carefully walking down the steps. At the other end of the stairs he saw three more buckets. Was Ornstein planning to carry them one by one?

“Hey, Ornstein, do you need help with that?”, Tempest asked and pointed at the paint buckets. Ornstein startled a tiny bit, probably not having expected for Tempest to be there, to focused on his task of carrying the paint bucket, but then he nodded.

“That would be a great help, thank you, little Storm.”, he said, his face having only the slightest bit of a sour expression on it, his way of saying that he disliked how weak Tempest's body was.

“Alright then.”, Tempest went up the stairs and stood in front of the paint buckets. He picked up two of them, one in each hand, with ease. For stuff like this, it was great to have a strong body like Ornstein's. Though, he probably could carry three buckets with ease? Ornstein was right handed, so Tempest picked the third bucket up too, the two of them in his right hand dangling at each other.

“Little Storm, I don't know if that is such a good idea...”, Ornstein said, worry showing on his face.

“It's fine, they feel like they don't weigh anything.”, Tempest said and began descending the stairs, after around five of them knowing why Ornstein had expressed concern.

Balancing the buckets without spilling the paint in them wasn't an easy task, especially for the both that were in his right hand. He slowed down and looked at them, sometimes looking at the bucket in his left, making sure that nothing would spill. The more steps he went down, the more he got used to the balancing act and once he was at around the last step, he looked up and said: “See, Ornstein, everything's fiiiiiiine!”

Tempest had managed to overlook the last step and Ornstein could only watch as he fell, or more, he ran to him and tried to catch him, completely forgetting about his current bodily situation and pretty much got trapped under his own big body. That wasn't the worst thing however, the paint buckets that Tempest had carried, had all fallen with him and now not only the floor was covered in paint, but also Tempest himself as well as Ornstein, though he wasn't that stained, because Tempest had shielded him.

“Ouch, are you alright, Ornstein?”, Tempest said, rubbing his forehead as he stood up.

“I am fine.”, Ornstein said, getting up himself and then glaring at Tempest. “Look what you've done! You are covered in paint! That needs to be washed right away! In the bathroom.”

“Huh? Ornstein, I don't think I manage that with your rules. I would need to scrub this off and I can't do that with my eyes closed.”, Tempest said, already feeling how some of the paint dried on his skin and, by the flame, was it in his crotch too? He definitely couldn't clean there.

“Just... get into the bathroom. With a blindfold on. I'll take care of this.”, Ornstein growled. Tempest just nodded and headed to the bathroom, putting a blindfold on before he got undressed, waiting for Ornstein to come.

He came soon enough. “Why aren't you in the water?”, he asked.

“Because I can't see like this, Ornstein.”, Tempest said.

“Oh, right.”, Ornstein took Tempest's hand (he felt himself blush at the gesture) and guided him to the water, where he instructed him to get in.

“What now?”, Tempest asked.

“I will clean you from the paint. Or more, I will clean my body from the paint. Just how, little Storm, you were on the last step, how did you manage to fall at the last minute?”

Tempest didn't answer at first, because Ornstein cleaning him gave him some implications... even though Ornstein was cleaning his own body, but using Tempest's body to do so and oh, did he even notice the implications of this? Ornstein probably was so absorbed into getting his body clean without Tempest seeing, that he didn't notice it.

“Have you swallowed your tongue, little Storm?”, Ornstein asked as Tempest heard the sounds of a wash cloth being wrung out.

“Sorry, Ornstein.”, Tempest replied. “I got too confident. I should have only carried two buckets and even then, I should have taken it slower.”

“Good.”, Ornstein said and started scrubbing at Tempest, naturally the parts of his body that weren't covered by clothes had gotten the worst of the brunt, so his hands and neck were the first to get scrubbed. That wasn't so bad, but the paint had seeped through the clothes and also covered a lot of other parts...

That Tempest couldn't see anything, only feel and that Ornstein was working quietly, without uttering a single word, made it all the worse. Tempest even had to hold his breath to not start to moan while Ornstein cleaned his rear, being sure that Ornstein would never forgive him if he would let his body produce such a sound.

It was a good thing when Ornstein suddenly was pouring water over him and started working on his hair. “Tsk, now I am glad that you are stuck in my body, that must feel horrifying to get out.”, he said and Tempest agreed. The paint was so adamantly stuck in his hair, each twinge was utterly painful and it seemed to take so long. Finally, finally Ornstein was done and gave Tempest another look over apparently.

“What?! The paint got even there?”, Ornstein murmured and Tempest gasped when Ornstein grabbed that part. Now he clearly wasn't thinking! Tempest gave his best, holding his breath, trying to think about the grossest thing he had ever seen (the Gaping Dragon felt like a good bet), but the fact that it was Ornstein rubbing that part and all so while being in Tempest's body at the moment, made him ultimately fail.

“Little Storm, what the fuck?!”

“I couldn't do anything against it! It happens when you rub there, Ornstein, I tried to prevent it, I really tried.”, Tempest almost cried.

“Well, stop it. Somehow!”, Ornstein said. Tempest heard water splashing and then suddenly a shower of ice cold water hit him, which was enough to get any naughty thoughts out of his head.

“Did it help?”, Ornstein asked.

“Y-yes.”, Tempest shuddered from the cold. “Please tell me your body is clean enough now.”

“It.. it is.”, Ornstein said and then. “Little Storm, I am sorry, I was so caught up in cleaning my body that I forgot about the implications of such an act. It may have been because I washed you shortly after we went on our first mission.”

“See, that is why I don't mind when you see my naked body.”, Tempest said, sniffling, not from tears, but from the cold. “Can I warm up a bit before you dry me up?”

“Yeah, sure.”, Ornstein said and while Tempest sank back into the warm water, he heard how Ornstein cleaned himself or Tempest's body to be precise.

Once they were done, dried up and clothed (and Tempest finally could take off the blindfold), he found the whole situation absurdly funny. In a sense, Ornstein had cleaned his own body, but while using Tempest's body, which Ornstein would have hated if the roles had been reversed. He could hardly contain his laughter.

“This isn't funny.”, Ornstein said next to him.

“Sorry, Ornstein.”, Tempest said, taking a few deep breaths. “I promise I won't get your body dirty anymore.”

“I sure hope so.”, Ornstein said and the two of them went back to the stairs where the paint got spilled to clean it up.

The day of the potion being finished was only one night away and Tempest stood in the kitchen, thinking instead of cooking.

“What are you waiting for? You have been standing around for thirty minutes now.”, Ornstein mentioned from his usual corner.

“It's the last day I can taste, because Gwyndolin wants for us to take the potion right in the morning, so I am thinking about what to cook or if I should cook several meals at once, but I don't want to give you back your body with a stomach ache...”, Tempest replied, cocking his head and staring at the stove.

“...I can handle a little stomach ache.”, Ornstein said and Tempest beamed at him.

“Thank you, Ornstein!”, he said and ran over, pretty much picking him up and twirling him around.

“Little Storm, stop!”, Ornstein yelled and Tempest put him down, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry, I forgot how strong I am. I am going to miss that once we swapped back.”

“At least you won't rip any doors out of their hinges anymore then.”, Ornstein said. “Can I request some of the dishes you eat?”

“Of course.”, Tempest said and so the rest of the evening was spent cooking and eating, even though Tempest was horrified because Ornstein ordered peas in applesauce, but he had to admit that he liked it! That only was because he was in Ornstein's body, no way someone else would like this taste.

And so the next morning came and while Tempest wasn't exactly hungry, he didn't have a stomach ache either. It was a good thing he had made sure to drink a special herbal tea blend helping with digestion and he had to admit that Ornstein had a good metabolism, it had digested fast enough for him to not feel stuffed anymore.

After he woke up and took care of everything Ornstein's body needed (minus eating), he put on the armour with Ornstein's help and the both of them went to the Dark Moon Tomb.

“Well, that surely was an experience.”, Tempest said.

“It was.”, Ornstein agreed. “But I am glad that it's over.”

“To be honest, while I will miss being able to taste, I am ready to get back in my own body too.”, Tempest said.

“Even though it is undead?”

“I am used to it. And besides, I would be far too nervous about dying for good and I can use Estus to heal any injuries. Being undead has its advantages.”

“...I didn't want to offend, sorry.”

“You haven't, Ornstein.”, Tempest smiled down at him, unseen behind the helmet. “Let's just take care of this little mishap and then continue with our mission.”

Ornstein nodded and soon they stood in front of the Dark Moon Tomb, waiting for Gwyndolin to let them in.

“Ah, there you are.”, Gwyndolin said once they lifted the fog gate. “Come, the potion needs to be inhaled.” They slithered in front of them and Ornstein and Tempest followed.

Gwyndolin had prepared two bowls on the table with a cloth over both of them.

“Sit down and cover your head with the cloth, then wait for my signal.”, they said. “Once you inhale the potion, your conscience should separate from your body and you simply need to return to your original body.”

“Are you ready, Ornstein?”, Tempest asked.

“Ready, little Storm.”, Ornstein said and both of them sat down. Tempest removed the helmet, so that he could inhale the potion just fine and then covered his head with the cloth.

“It will work better if you are touching each other.”, Gwyndolin said. “You were touching each other when it first happened, right?”

“Right...”, Tempest murmured and put his hand on the table, which he felt got taken by Ornstein's hand.

“Alright, then, I will warm up the potion now and on my mark you take a deep breath.”, Gwyndolin announced.

It took only a minute or two for the potion to be warm enough to steam, so once Tempest took a deep breath, he felt himself slip into a deep sleep... and the next time he opened his eyes, it was from above, looking at both of their bodies, laying on the table, still having their hands interlocked.

“That has been it then.”, Tempest told himself, not really being able to hear anything, he existed as some kind of bodiless entity, the way he perceived himself was probably just how he remembered. When he looked up, he saw another entity floating there, clearly into the shape of Ornstein, but also looking like a wavering cloud.

“We will see each other on the other side.”, Ornstein smiled at him and then both of them floated down.

The next time Tempest opened his eyes, he looked at Ornstein's face. The dragon slayer smiled at him and then let go of his hand.

“Good morning, little Storm.”, he said.

Tempest grinned at him and then replied: “Good morning, Ornstein. What do you want for breakfast?” (Author's note: So, yeah, that was the whole reason why I haven't worked on my other fics lately. It took an awful long time to be written, but I am glad I did it. I had so much fun with it. I never thought about using the body swap trope, but suddenly my mind was occupied by it. Another big thanks to kittycatcaptain on twitter who listened to my ideas and provided their own. That Ornstein and Tempest kept their chemistry for example was their idea and also the bath scene, though I made it a bit more sfw, even though it borderlines on nsfw xD

Anyway, I hope you enjoy and regular Storm will get picked up soon.)