#and the two of them are individually. [laughing sun] and [snarling moon]

[sunnydayaoe]

Mmmm iterator oc doodle. they're cute :)

[colorfullfalls]

Adore you

Summary: Sam and Emily finally get to their wedding day. The outside venue is beautiful and everything is in order except for the fact that Embry and you are fighting.

La Push, ah. What a wonderful- dare say mystical place to be. Waves roared violently against the beach, crashing roughly into the minuscule pieces of sand. Rain pelted among the ground, mixing with ocean, grass, sand, skin, and materials. Clothes stuck to russet toned flesh, sticking like a temporary tattoo for a child.

Panting hard, Embry Call's hands reached up his hands to pushed back Y/N's hair away from her neck, peeling the thick mop away to rest on the other side. Her eyes refused to meet his, wavering to look at the waves. She wished she was anywhere on Earth but in front of him. The way he looked at her hurt. His face held the upmost gaze of betrayal, beautiful brown orbs burning you from the inside out.

Behind her ear held the mark that would cause wretching heartache. A dainty black tattoo rested, rooting anger between the two. Tattoos were meant to be meant to have a deep meaning, and her's did. It was a sail boat. A symbol for the sea. Vast area of the unknown that humans did not get the privledge of ruining. Getting their hands and tainting the beauty it beheld. Embry did not mind her logic behind it, nor did he dislike her love for the sea. But the tattoo. He hated it. Disgust curled in his stomach, gripping his ribs like quicksand and pulling. He wanted to scream.

"You lied."

His words came off venomously. A snake's bite. Harsh syllables announciated with distrust. And pain. Mostly pain. You bit your lip to stop it from trembling. Crying would not solve the issue that was present because you betrayed him. Broke his heart a bit when you swore to guard it and protect the beautiful organ.

"I'm sorry, Embry. It was impulsive-"

He cut you off by shriveling back by your words. A cold laugh escaped his lips, "Damn right it was impulsive. Must've been if you couldn't have talked to me about it."

Fighting over a tattoo seemed dumb. But not in this situation. Embry was not mad that you got a tattoo. It was that the sailboat was your first tattoo. Years ago you promised Embry at the ripe age of 13 that you two would get your first one together. You a small sun and him a small moon. Both on your hips so that it would be a private thing. The ultimate proclamation of love. It was obvious as kids that you two were meant to be, even before you were his imprint. You were raised as best friends. Learned together. Aged together. Grew as individuals together. When the promise was made and 13 you had not yet been lovers, but it was a promise as two beings connected molecularly as best friends.

Even dating you two were still best friends. No one understood you like Embry, and no one ever would. His corny jokes made you laugh so hard that snorts would skip out of your nose. His hugs melted you to the bones. He made you feel complete. Best friends turned lovers, but best friends still for eternity.

"I didn't tell you to avoid this! I knew a fight would ensue." You cried out helplessly, feeling incredibly guilty but defensive at the same time.

"Why do it then? Or maybe consider taking to me about it, telling me at the least. You hid this for, well, it has to have been a while. Clearly healed." He deadpanned, pointing to it like it cut his foot off.

"It's been three weeks, Em."

His eyes lit up in realization, "You wouldn't have sex with me in the daylight. I figured it was just odd timing but no. Just blatantly lying to me to cover this up."

Tears welled in your eyes at how removed your gentle boyfriend was. You didn't recognize the person in front of you. Not that you didn't fully deserve it, but it still stung to see the love of your life so repulsed by your actions. Your female best friend convinced you to get one with her when her long time girlfriend broke her heart. She said she needed it to heal. And you. Against your better judgement, your ass was in a leather chair while a needle plunged relentlessly into your skin. You loved her and wanted to be there for her. Your mind was foggy when it happened due to a few drinks in you too.

Your best friend knew that you and Em talked about getting tattoos together, but she didn't know it was such a sacred vowel or else she never would have helped you break it. She got an eye that had a ring around it like a planet on her forearm. She was an artist and drew it up herself. It meant a lot to her. You loved her, but now you were paying for the actions.

"Y/bff/n made you get this?"

"What?! No! Of course not. I willingly did it, but a few drinks were in me. Which doesn't excuse it, but she got one too. Not like marching or anything..."

Embry stared.

You scrambled to get in as much as you could without interruption, "Wholeheartedly my heart is pounding with guilt that I broke our pact to get our first tattoo together. But to be fair you already have yours."

Embry shook his head in disbelief, "Are you fucking me right now? It wasn't my choice to get this. It's membership into the pack, Y/N. My culture."

You sighed, "I know that Embry, and I'm not trying to disrespect that. I love you and the pack. I love your culture. Undoubtedly it's your first tattoo though. We can get our second together."

You tried to grab his hand but he pulled it away, searing a burn mark right into your heart. Rain pelted down even harder. What had been a nice beach date went to hell when Embry went to move your hair back to kiss your neck when he saw it. Usually you could dodge his attempts to get close to there, but you were so blissed out by his intoxicating kisses that your mind wasn't all there. Ironically the weather went to shit as soon as fighting began.

"Don't touch me. I don't want to hurt you." What you failed to notice earlier was that his hands were shaking. Typically you could caress his bicep or face and he would melt into you. Today the same touches would have the opposite effect. No matter how angry he was, he was terrified to harm you. Any wound inflicted by him would drive him crazy. He loved you. Forever. Even when he was furious he was cautious to keep you safe. This only made you feel worse.

"I think I rather have you physically hurt me than you be angry with me." You mumbled, sniffling at how bad you just wanted to touch him.

He snarled. His veins bulged as he pointed at you, "Shut up! How dare you wish for something like that?"

"I don't wish for that. I'm just saying us fighting is unbearable!"

"You just said you rather me hurt you physically! You want scars like Emily? You want me to be in withering pain and agony as you bleed on the floor?!" He bellowed, shaking even worse.

You let out a sob at his words. This all escalated too quickly. His eyes softened momentarily at your cry but his anger got the best of him as he reminded himself why you were crying. He scrambled to throw his clothes off. His body contorted until his grey wolf stood tall in front of you.

It whimpered, but turned and booked it for the woods. Leaving you alone with his clothes, the rain, guilt, heartache, and the beach. You slid down to your knees, clutching his shirt to your chest.

Emily's wedding was tomorrow. She would look gorgeous in her wedding dress, smile beaming with every step down the aisle towards her wolf. Laughs, happy tears, and hugs would be shared between the wedding and reception. Of course dancing would be a necessity. You were unsure if you were going to be involved in their experience anymore. The pack loved you. You were one of them. But with Embry so upset and not knowing when you two would makeup, maybe it was for the best if you stayed home.

Half an hour later you were still on the beach crying. Jacob ran next to you, scooping you up in his strong arms. You snuggled into his warmth, wishing that it was Embry instead. After everything you still wanted him to be with you. Jacob took you home and helped you dry off before leading you into the shower to encourage you to take a hot shower. If you got sick Embry wouldn't be happy with his packmate.

He sat in the livingroom as you got dressed in the bathroom. You sheepishly walked out, embarrassed of the state he had found you in. His large frame took up the lounge chair. Two cups of hot tea sat on the coffee table.

"For me?" You asked, gesturing to the cup. He picked one up and handed it to you before taking his own. It felt good going down your throat. Warm and reassuring.

"Embry should not have phased like that. He feels like an ass for losing control like that." Jake began.

"He had enough control to strip first. I wasn't in danger." You assured.

Jake nodded, "I saw the whole fight go down. I was on patrol."

You laughed sadly. Poor Jacob had to relive Embry's anger and pain through the shared pack bond. He seemed to not be effected by it. You wondered how Embry was doing now. Texting him seemed like a bad idea. Especially with how things were left.

"It was an ugly fight. Worst one to date. His eyes held repulsion, Jake. Like he could barely look at me. This tattoo is giving me hell."

Jake sighed, motioning for you to come sit next to him. You squeezed into the chair with him, resting on his lap. Jake was like your brother that would help you through anything. His warm hand rubbed your back lightly to assure you that he was there. He would always be there.

"Life is weird and there's a lot that I don't know. What I do know is that if anyone is meant to be together, it's you two. Bonded and meant to be before he even shifted. Imprints are strong but you two are even more. This fight is a pebble that will chip away, I promise."

"Thanks but I don't know. He looked crushed. Phasing like that.. showing up to the wedding tomorrow might not be good. I'm not going."

Jake recoiled, "What? Of course you have to attend! Emily wants you there. Screw Embry. Tomorrow is about Sam and Emily and they certainly need you there. You're family."

"Don't say screw him." You mumbled. Feeling defensive was part of the bond, "I will think about it."

Jake ignored you scolding him because he understood the loyalty you felt for Embry. He felt the same exact way towards Reneesme. Rough times caused fighting like any other couple, but the bond required unconditional love and affection. Some portrayed it as toxic, but you didn't. Relationships typically didn't happen like this but you couldn't stay mad at Embry while growing up. It was an impossible defeat.

"You're a bridesmaid, not going would be terrible. Embry wants you there whether he admits it right now or not. I'll come pick you up, make sure you go."

You sighed, nodding. Lack of your presence would only cause a bigger rift between you two. On top of that, Emily would be crushed and that would make Sam frustrated towards you too. And that would lead to arguing between Sam and Embry because another wolf cannot be rude to an imprint. You helped plan this wedding and you deserved to be there. Jake was giving you big puppy dog eyes. Begging like Embry did. Begging that you could not deny.

"Fine."

Jake stood up, "I will see your pretty face tomorrow."

***

Hours later you laid in bed. Ceiling fan high blast cooling the room. Goosebumps danced across your skin, chilling you more than it should. Embry's warm embrace should've sheltered you from the breeze, making the ceiling fan actually necessary compared to his radiating heat. He wasn't with you tonight. You were alone. Restless. Where did he go if he didn't come home to you? Was he on Jared's couch? Sharing Quil's bed like he did when they were kids? Back home with his mom?

Phone screen said 2:41. Four hours after you laid down. Sleep was battling you, heart beating too fast with each memory of the argument. His hurt tone rang through your ears. Past text messages assured you that things would get better between you two. His corny jokes and memes made joy fill you.

This fight was dumb.

Your thumbs typed out all the words you wanted to say and you were about to send it you saw three dots meaning that he was typing too. He was reaching out too! The three dots dissapeared with a lack of text. Mood officially dampened. Who knew texting could be an emotional roller coaster.

Hours later your ass was seated in an uncomfortable chair while your hair was being done. Makeup had been applied an hour ago and you already wanted it off. Your upset hands liked to rest on your face and makeup didn't allow that. Emily and the other girls were chirpy. Gorgeous teeth on show from beaming. You did your best to match their mood. Key word, tried.

"Okay, you're hair is done. Go get in your dress!" Emily cooed, hands on either side of your shoulder. You offered a smile.

Putting on the dress took help from Leah. She was in a sour mood. Her first love getting married to her cousin and all. It was reasonable and truly expected. She may be a shape shifter, but human she still was. Her warm hands zipped up the back of the dress. Leah sensed your bad vibe like second nature.

"Go find Embry, makeout for a minute and get over with whatever the hell this is. It's ridiculous. You two are disgustingly in love. Fix it because it's dragging us all down." Her words were honest. Leah was always honest. Basically in her DNA.

You snorted, "We are not making out here. Im sorry that this is impacting you guys too, but this is not getting dealt with today. Emily and Sam are getting married."

"Won't be perfect if our favorite couple is on the outs."

"Favorite couple?" You questioned.

She nodded as if her sentence was as obvious as stating that the vast sky was blue. You rolled your eyes and moved the bottom of the dress so that it was in place. The light pink silk dress suited you. It suited all of the bridesmaids. Nice dress. Emily had great taste. Speaking of the devil, Emily walked around the corner. Her brown eyes widened at the sight of you and Leah. As if it wasnt her wedding day. As if she wasn't the most stunning looking woman for the day.

"Gorgeous! Oh my goodness, you both look amazing. Thank you for sharing this day with me," her eyes shifted to her Leah, "Especially you, Leah. I know I don't deserve your support considering what happened on your wedding day, but it means the world to me that you are here."

"Yep." Leah gave a tight smile. Emily's face fell at the lack of words from her cousin. You sighed and nudged Leah. She rolled her eyes but tried, "This isn't easy but I'm doing it. For you."

Emily closed the distance between them and pulled her cousin in for a hug. Tension resides and still would for a while, but the bond was slowly mending. Cousin like sisters trying to reconnect. It was hard when Leah was the one who lost everything and Emily gained what she had. Leah still did have one thing. Seth. And you. Seth was her brother and best friend. He always had her back. But you did too. Days after Embry introduced you to the pack you befriended her.

You felt intrusive of the moment so you walked out into the hall. A few doors down led to the outside. Some fresh air would be lovely. Sunshine fluttered through the glass door when you arrived. Glancing outside you halted.

Embry.

Black material covered his toned body, rose sitting perfectly on his left peck. His brown floppy hair was styled perfectly. Your fingers longed to run through the thick locks. You should've been the one to help him do his hair rather than peaking at him behind a door like a child that is supposed to be in time out. He was standing with Jake and Quil. His two friends were laughing as Embry leaned against the wall. Not laughing. Although his face didn't look miserable like yours did.

Jake's eye caught yours and you froze, terrified of what would happen next. Talking to Embry in front of them would most likely cause more issues. You knew Jake would side with you and Quil would side with Embry. Quil was forever Embry's best friend. Jake could see past that.

"There's Y/N." Jake spoke. Embry leaned off the wall and looked around for you. And there you were. Looking gorgeous as ever on the other side of the door. His face faltered into vulnerability as he realized how sad you looked. He did that. He made you sad. Before he could do anything you walked away. He grunted in annoyance, hitting the brick wall behind him.

"Fuck!"

Line up for walking down the isle was what you dreaded because obviously Embry was your match. Room silent as you grudgingly came to stand beside him. His eyes scanned over your beautiful face in sorrow. You busied yourself by picking at your nails. A tick that you did when you avoided confrontation.

Walking down the isle, an arm intertwined in his was mandatory. You did it. Sparks flew up your arm at touching him after so long. His warm skin blazed against yours pleasantly. During the wedding Embry kept stealing glances at you. You noticed and held his gaze when you could.

Sam and Emily's vowels were beautiful. Raw and true words about their unconditional love. Hell Emily has scars on her face from his anger and they got past that. Certainly you could get over Embry shifting yesterday. He did look incredibly handsome across from you.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The crowd cheered as Sam and Emily kissed. He dipped her back like a princess and the cheers only got louder. Kim nudged your shoulder and you two shared a smile when they road off to the reception hall in their decorated car.

You contemplated how you would get to the reception yourself. You arrived with Jake but your body was buzzing with anticipation to touch your boyfriend. Fighting seemed pointless. Today was about love. And you loved eachother. This tattoo was permanent but so were you guys.

Embry was leaning against his truck when your knuckles tapped on the door. He jumped at the surprise but he calmed down when he saw it was you. Looking beautiful as ever. Your hair blew in the wind, giving him a nervous smile.

"You look gorgeous, baby." He lowly said, gesturing to you.

You blushed, "Thanks. Not so shabby yourself, mister."

"I love you." He blurted, "I love you so much. I'm sorry for yesterday. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm especially fucking sorry for phasing."

Your eyes watered as you walked straight into his blazing embrace. He scrambled to pull you as close as possible. Your hands clutched the fabric of his tux as his hands gently rubbed up and down your back. Your mind was flooding with euphoria at how close he was to you. Intoxicating. You hadn't been this far away from Embry for so long since you were fifteen.

"I'm sorry for my tattoo. It was shitty of me not to talk to you about it."

"I was just hurt that you got one without me. I wanted your first tattoo to be shared with me. It was selfish. You may be my imprint, but it's still your body." He confessed.

You pulled away so that you could look up at him, "Yes. My body is mine. But my soul is undoubtedly mixed with yours, belongs to you. Getting a tattoo doesn't make that any less."

An infectious smile broke out on his face. His hands cupped your face as he brought you closer, noses rubbing affectionately. His hand moved to your chain to raise it up, lips slotting quickly against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, eliciting a moan. You pulled back when you heard someone behind you two.

Jake stood there with a shit eating grin, "Was gonna ask if you needed a ride but you two clearly made up."

"Shut up dude." Embry groaned, pressing a few kisses to your cheek, "I missed her."

"Yeah, as if the whole pack didn't know that. See you guys at the reception." Jake retorted.

"See ya Jake!" You called out.

"Think we can manage a quickie before the reception?" Embry asked, hands dangerously roaming your body as he lifted you into the truck. You laughed as you were put on your back in the backseat. Your head lifted to see that no other cars were in the parking lot. You hummed as he shut the door and climbed on top of you. His hands pushed the dress off from your shoulders, head dipping down to appreciate what was his.

"This is a church parking lot." You teased as his tongue ran along your collar bone, hot saliva trailing behind. You grabbed his head and pulled it back up so that he could look at you.

"Yeah and? Everything about you is holy."

You snorted, pulling him down for another kiss. His warm hands slipped under your dress and grabbed your thighs, soft flesh melting against his. He pulled your hips up closer to him, grinding into you. You moaned at how his body moved against yours, two bodys and basically one soul. His lips moved to press hot kisses to your neck until they sucked on your tattoo.

"I think I actually like this spotch of ink." He murmured, running his tongue over it as he bunched up your dress to rest around your torso.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. It's hot."

Twenty minutes later you two walked into the reception hall hand in hand. Embry was especially lovey after the ten minutes spent in his truck. You both made sure that no evidence of your quickie was present. Emily and Sam were sharing their first dance in the middle of the dance floor. You led him to your table where Jake, Quil, Jared, Kim, Paul, and Rachel sat. Seth and Leah sat with Sue and Charlie a table over.

"Hot make up sex?" Paul teased as Embry pulled your chair out for you.

You shook your head at his blunt question. It wasn't like your sex life was a secret. Embry could not keep those thoughts to himself when he was shifted. Actually none of the boys could. It was how it went. Over time you got used to it. It wasn't Embry's fault.

"The best." Embry said intertwining your hands, "But not that that's any of your concern."

Paul raised his hands in surrender. The hothead knew better than to overstep and disrespect a fellow wolf and imprint. That would lead to a fight and Sam would murder them.

"Don't listen to Paul. We're glad that you two fixed things." Kim sweetly said. Her eyes were always so wide and kind.

"Yeah, bunch'a miserable kids in love. Embry was mopey all morning." Jared added.

Embry rolled his eyes, thumb rubbing affectionately across the top of your soft hand, "Beg to differ.."

"Oh wanna bet, Call?! You leaned against walls and didn't talk. Like uh," Paul snapped his fingers as he tried to think of the word, "like a mute."

"Love you man, but he's right." Quil spoke. Embry snapped his head to glare at his best friend. In return Quil sheepishly shrugged and sipped his water.

Embry then shifted towards you again, "Do you think any other wolf packs are around that I can join?"

You laughed at his deadpanned tone and lightly slapped his bicep, "You love them and you know it, bub."

"Yeah, bub." Rachel teased, a beautiful smile gracing her lips. Paul smirked with a profound proud feeling bubbling in his chest as he listened to his imprint.

Sam and Emily's dance ended and the dance floor was opened up. Embry took this chance to escape the ragging from his friends to share a slow dance with you instead. His hands rested on the curve of your back while yours intertwined around his neck. His face bend down to be close to yours.

"So I was thinking about our tattoos..." Embry started.

You cocked a curious eyebrow, "Oh? And what conclusion did you arrive at?"

"Let's get them tomorrow. Quil knows a guy who does some wicked cool ones and I just know he will make them exactly how we want. And why wait? Why did we not do it a year a or two ago?" He rambled, twirling you around and bringing you back into his arms.

"No clue why we waited. But.. I am so down for tomorrow. Sooner the better."

He hummed happily, "Great. Tomorrow it is."

Harry Style's Adore You came on and you grinned, "You may be an ass at times Embry Call, but I adore you."

"Thank you baby, but hey." You looked into his loving brown eyes and waited for him to go on, "I'd walk through fire for you."

Song lyrics or not, Embry Call would legit do anything for you, "Just let me adore you." You responded.

He leant down to peck your lips, "That's the only thing I'd ever do."

[a-dorin]

under the same stars | darth maul

word count: 2,406

warnings: cursing

a/n: hi! this was something i have been wanting to do for a looonnnggg time. sorry if my writing is poor in the first chapter, the set-up is always the hardest part. a lot of the plot in this chapter is driven by the dialogue. this is chapter one (more will come in the future if it does well!) 

let me know if you want to be tagged! 

summary: august moor, a padawan in training under the jedi master qui-gon, ponders the meaning of the title jedi. she finds herself in a mysterious encounter with none other than the sith lord, darth maul. 

the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over coruscant. a young woman strolled through a meadow, grateful for the summer breeze as it rolled through the grass. the surrounding forest was a variety of green hues, the trees lush with life. the moon was high in the sky, waxing towards a full moon. soon, the stars would be out, dancing across the night. soon, the shades of lilac, burgundy, cyan, and tangerine would be replaced by a rich navy blue.

the stars glittered above, beginning to dot the sky. the girl's lips curved into a smile as her fingertips brushed the blades, contentment flooding her senses. the girl felt as ease, her mind relaxed. there was nothing more she loved than stargazing after an exhausting day of training. 

"where do you think you're running off to?" a voice called out in the dusk. 

the girl turned, her brows furrowed, "and who do you think you are, obi-wan kenobi? you are not my master."

"i am aware," the padawan chuckled, "you're never one to do things like this. is there something on your mind?" 

"i can't have fun?" the girl teased, nudging obi-wan. 

"well," a light blush tinged obi-wan's cheeks, "i didn't mean to come off as rude. my deepest apologies to you, august.

august stifled a giggle, "there's no need for such formalities here, obi-wan. we're not in font of the jedi council, nor master qui-gon."

a shy smile formed on the padawan's lips as he admired august momentarily. her eyes were focused on the stars, as they were beginning to twinkle as the sky transitioned to a deep shade of blue. the moon was full, casting a glow on their surroundings. the light softened her features, yet it did not take away from her beauty. 

her brunette hair was woven into an intricate half-down, half-up style.  free strands of hair swayed along with the breeze, her blue eyes glimmering. obi-wan swallowed thickly, careful not to stare a second longer. her eyes shifted, falling on the padawan. 

"you're quiet tonight. is there something on your mind?"

"no," obi-wan shook his head, "i believe i am just a little spent from today's training."

"qui-gon did a number on you, huh?" august smirked, shooting obi-wan a wink.

obi-wan scoffed, folding his arms across his chest, "we trained in the same temple today, if you don't remember."

august laughed once more, falling to the cool grass. she gazed the stars, a wisftul smile painting her features, "are you going to stargaze with me or are you going to run back to the temple and inform master qui-gon that i snuck off?" 

the padawan laid in the grass, close to august. his eyes drifted up towards the sky, widening in awe at the beauty of the constellations dancing above him. 

august piped up, her voice warm and soft, "you know, my parents used to tell me stories about fallen jedi. how they join with the stars after they pass away. i truly believe that the jedi are always keeping a close eye over us, while also letting us know that they are not too far out of reach."

"were your parents jedi?" obi-wan inquired, a slight wave of shame wash over him. he did not want to pry too much without being too nosy. 

"fuck no," august yawned, "both of my parents are alive and well, settled on the planet of takodana. my home planet is naboo, but they have moved since my training began. i have not seen them since i was about seven years old. we haven't spoken since."

"it seems as if i got you beat," a sigh escaped from obi-wan's lips, "i was taken as a youngling when i was only three years old."

"three years old?" august rolled over, propping herself up with her elbow, "holy shit kenobi. that's ridiculous."

"do you realize how often the jedi council take younglings?" obi-wan arched a brow, "once they can sense that they are force sensitive, the youglings are often newborns or infants."

"oh," august widened her eyes, "that's.."

"it is quite intriguing," he sucked in a breath, "yet, it is for the greater good of the jedi. once the council is aware of their abilities, it is best they start training as early as possible. the more skilled we are, the better."

"you're such a pushover," august snorted, rolling her eyes, "do you ever wonder if the jedi are always the divine beings they claim they are?"

"you're beginning to worry me," obi-wan retorted, "you're talking like a sith, august."

"i am just speaking what's on my mind," she exhaled, rolling onto her back once more, "you don't ever think about what would happen if you didn't seek the route of a jedi? if you were just a normal, ordinary being on your home planet? don't those thoughts keep you up late at night? do you ever just ponder?"

"there really is more to you than meets the eye," the padawan observed, "however, you must recall that jedi who are one with the force do not chose whether or not we possess these capabilities. we are born with them, as we are chosen by the force to bring balance to the universe."

august groaned, "spare me the bullshit, obi-wan. you sound more and more like qui-gon every day."

"is that such a bad thing?" obi-wan arched a brow. 

"i'm just so tired of all of this mumbo-jumbo bullshit about the jedi and all of the regulations we have to follow," she snorted, "it's all so pointless and for what? to hold some title because we're gifted with capabilities that others do not have?"

"you are quite opinionated tonight," he chuckled, "august, i am sure with time we will understand the ways of the jedi. for now, it is beyond our control. for now, if it does not offend you, i am going to retire to my quarters for rest. we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"yeah, yeah," august waved a hand, "just ignore all of my rambles. thank you for listening though. goodnight, obi-wan kenobi. may you find comfort in knowing that you will keep following the rules. meanwhile, i'll be here."

obi-wan rose to his feet, "goodnight august, may you find peace in your thoughts."

august only hummed in response, her eyes following a comet as it blazed across the skyline. the tail was a flashing white. memories drifted into her mind, taking over the thoughts of the present. two individuals towered over her, their faces blurred. she stiffened, her veins ice cold as she witnessed one of the beings pick her up, handing her over to an unknown shadow.

august let out a scream, tears streaming down her cheeks. her mind buzzed, thoughts of agony and despair filtering through her skull. an empty feeling consumed her, her heart racing. the world felt so cold. so cruel. why was this happening? why was this happening now? 

august blinked, her breathing coming in short, ragged breaths. the meadow was now crumbling away. squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head desperately trying to shake away the horrible, gut-wrenching emotions. opening her eyes, a new environment surrounded her. 

her eyes met with a marble floor, her nose brushing against the surface. the marble was a rich black, the air in the room sterile. august blinked once more, realizing that she was in a training room. sacks full of an unknown material hung around the room, as if they were punching bags. 

widening her eyes, august's heart stopped at the sight before her. a zabrak wielded two sabers, a faint hum reverberating off the walls as he practiced his technique. his muscles rippled under his crimson and black skin, horns adorning the top of his skull. strings of curses tumbled from his lips, a planet in which august had no translation. 

"h-hello?" august squeaked, her voice quiet. 

the zabrak ceased all movement, turning abruptly, the sabers in his grasps pointed in the august's face. his amber eyes blazed with fury, his words a snarl, "who are you? how did you get in here?"

"i do not mean any harm," august yelped, raising her hands in surrender. she could feel the heat radiated off the blades of the sabers. 

the zabrak inhaled, the girl's sweet scent flooding his nostrils. he sensed a trace of wildflowers and grass, "you're not from around here, are you?"

"you're v-very right," august stuttered, "i am not from around here."

his eyes scanned the space, searching for any sign of entrance. the only possible way the girl could have gotten in was through the use of a saber, as the door was to his right. she appeared in the room from the left, "where did you come from?"

"i am from coruscant," the mysterious girl mumbled. 

the zabrak's lips curled into a sinister grin, flashing his incisors, "i cannot believe it. a jedi has fallen directly into my hands. what should i do with you?"

"i am no jedi," the girl sneered, folding her arms over her chest. 

the sincerity in her statement sparked interest within the zabrak. turning his sabers off, he slid them into their holsters. cocking his head, his eyes narrowed, "you're not with the jedi, yet you come from coruscant?"

"i am only training to become one," the girl averted the zabrak's gaze. 

"i am maul," the zabrak sat on the floor, curiosity getting the best of him, "what's your name?"

"my name is august moor," the girl replied, tucking a strand behind her ear, "i'm not sure how i ended up here."

maul closed his eyes, reaching out to august. his breath hitched in his throat, as her emotions consumed him entirely. he could sense her fear, her anxiety, "you're anxious. why are you anxious?"

"because i don't know who you are and how i ended up here!" august scoffed, her tone indignant. 

maul opened his eyes, noticing august's features for the first time. her skin was pale, with undertones of pink, a blush tinging her cheeks. her eyes were a shade of gray, hints of blue swimming within their depths. her brunette hair was down, with a braid woven around her head. strands of hair poked up, more than likely from a fall. 

although she was sitting, maul couldn't help but notice her curves, her thighs full. it was without a doubt that she was beautiful, even if maul didn't know a single thing about her. she was donned in a grey tunic, royal blue fabric wrapped around her chest. 

"don't be scared," maul murmured, "i am just as confused as you are."

august's eyes widened as she noticed the amber eyes of the zabrak, a ring of crimson around his irises. she swallowed thickly, recalling one truth she learned during her early days of training, "you're a sith, aren't you?"

"i am," maul dipped his head, "you happened to interrupt my training."

"you train in solitude?" august arched a brow. 

"sometimes," maul shrugged, his eyes glancing around the room, "my master is away, on a mission."

"maul," his name was enticing as it tumbled from her lips, "why haven't we killed one another yet?"

her question shocked him. yet, it was a question burning through his mind, consuming his thoughts as he spoke to her. the sith and jedi had been quarreling for years, yet, when he laid his eyes on her, he couldn't help but feel compelled to reach out to her. to touch her. to hold her. hold her in his arms and never let her go. 

what had brought august here? was it the force? even as a sith, the force was a powerful entity to the zabrak. it was something he had yet to understand, to fully comprehend. maybe the force had brought them together, but the question that rang through maul's mind was why? why had the force brought them together?

"i just as unsure as you are," maul's voice was low, eerily quiet. 

"should we touch and see what happens?" august inquired, her eyes curious. 

"i guess we could explore that option," he rumbled, his crimson and black hand reaching out, "although, i'm not quite sure what will happen if we do. the world around us might implode."

august reciprocated, her hand tiny compared to the zabrak's. however, once skin came in contact with skin, their worlds went back. august shot up, her heart thudding in her chest as she glanced around the meadow, feeling as if the entire incident was just a dream. a wild, vivid, intense dream. rising to her feet, she took a hesitant step through the grass, her knees wobbling. the moon was high in the sky, signaling that a few hours had past. 

meanwhile, a zabrak rose to his feet, a dull throbbing in his skull. his muscles ached, sore from hours of combat training. he let out a few, ragged breaths, attempting to clear his cloudy mind. the encounter with the padawan must have been a nightmare, or rather, an interesting daydream. whatever it was, his master, darth sidious could never hear about this. he could never find the truth. yet, when darth maul strolled down the corridor of his ship, a feeling of loneliness unraveled. he couldn't help but feel an engrained feeling of sadness, laced with regret. 

glancing out the viewport, maul gazed at the horizon stretched before him. an endless array of stars glittered, shining bright. 

huffing, august shivered as another breeze rolled through the meadow, the chill seeping through her clothing. yet, she couldn't help but give the sky above her once last look, taking in the way the stars twinkled. 

two lost souls stared at the stars, wondering if the other knew. 

august slipped underneath her sheets, her eyelids heavy. she dozed off, dreaming of her encounter from earlier. the meeting was a pure coincidence. surely there was no driving force behind it. it was all a simple daydream or fever dream. 

darth maul felt exhaustion rack his body, almost collapsing to the floor. he was tired, as he practiced combat technique for hours. yet, this was a new wave of sleep overcomig him. the zabrak crawled to his bed, dreaming about his interaction with the padawan. more than anything, he wanted to permanently ingrain the image of her in his memories, her beauty captivating. 

a sith and padawan's paths intertwined, under the same stars.

tagged: @smokahuntis​ @petalsrdead​ @sscreeching​ @thekarliwinchester​ @witchy-goth-unicorn​ @damienmoonart​ @marblegoblin​ @obiorbenkenobi​ @queen-disera-the-fifth​ @monets-corner​ @shytastemakerthing​

[calligraphist-artemisia]

14 | Ritual

Written for Kidgetober 2020. Week 2 Theme: Myths & Magic. Day 14: Ritual.

Summary: Alternate Universe - Magic.  All Pidge wanted to know was who her soulmate was. And if all of her attempts at using divination to find out were not going to work for her, then she'd just have to develop her own ritual for it. Nothing could go wrong with that, right?

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune. Titled as “Magic of the Season”.

- - - - -

14 | Ritual

The Castle of Lions was the premiere magical institute of Altea and notoriously difficult to be accepted into even for the best and brightest. They only accepted a maximum of five students per year and Pidge was blessed to count herself among the four chosen in the first year she applied. It meant there was plenty of individual training and enough room for everyone to have their own space to practice and study their chosen Craft.

Pidge loved her room. It was a circular space located at the top of the western tower and came equipped with a bathroom that she was rapidly coming to appreciate. Three windows allowed light to filter in whenever she pulled back her heavy curtains and there was a door that opened onto a tiny balcony that was perfect for stargazing.

Most important, it was her space and she could do whatever she wished without worrying about being interrupted.

She was especially grateful for that as she prepared for her newest ritual, one designed to allow her to divine the identity of her soulmate. It was a concept that fascinated her from the first time it was mentioned by High Priestess Melenor, but also one that felt completely out of reach for Pidge because of one very big reason.

She was awful at all forms of divination.

And from all of her studies, the tried and true method of ascertaining the identity of one's soulmate was through some form of that magical art. There was simply no other way.

Pidge threw herself into the process, taking the time to break down all of the steps and test out a few different ways. She'd gone through a full month of mediation and attempting Astral travel, but found it nearly impossible to quiet her mind long enough to achieve that goal.

When it became clear that meditating wasn't the right path for her, she moved onto the various forms of scrying, starting with the classic crystal ball. And although she tried it with several different types of crystal, she didn't find one that she “vibed” with enough for it to actually work and gave up on that path after two frustrating weeks. She spent another week with a shallow bowl of water and a quartz crystal cluster. And then a round mirror. And then a piece of hematite lit only by candlelight.

All of that brought her to the decision that the only way she would succeed in her goal would be if she crafted her own ritual. She'd had moderate success with Dream Magic in the past and hoped that it could be useful for what she intended.

Pidge took every step that she could think of the ensure the highest chance of success. Her room was already cleansed after her last ritual, so she began with a relaxing bath with purifying salts and herbs and remained there until her head felt clear and light, her magical energy brimming beneath the surface of her skin in anticipation.

She slipped on a simple cotton dress and clasped a band of hematite around her right ankle to help keep her grounded through the process. Next came a circlet crafted from silver, which had a sun-and-moon centerpiece made of sunstone and moonstone, locked by a small diamond on either side. It centered neatly over her brow.

She was ready.

Pidge gathered up the rest of her tools and began to arrange them in the center of the room, taking care with each item and focusing on her purpose. Using a piece of kunzite, she carved her chosen runes into the proper candles before setting them down around her. A stick of sandalwood incense was lit last and she stood with the kunzite in her hands and watched as the smoke curled up into the air.

She breathed in and then released that breath, feeling her magic rise in answer to her call, before turning to the north to begin the opening of her circle, calling in each elemental force to request their aid in her ritual as she lit each candle.

With energy swirling around her, Pidge slowly sat cross-legged in the center of the circle and closed her eyes. She held on tight to her intent, refusing to stray to any other thought.

She wanted to find her soulmate.

She wanted to know who they were and where she could find them.

The candlelight flared along with her magic as her spell took hold. Pidge could feel the heat of the flames. The thickness in the air. The scent of sandalwood, heavy around her.

It continued to build, higher and higher, until the next thing Pidge knew the soft early morning sun was shining in through the windows and all of her limbs were stiff and sore from apparently passing out on the floor.

Pidge groaned as she sat up, blearily looking around and taking note of the fully-melted candles and the stick of incense that was completely burned out. The kunzite was still in her hands, held onto so tightly that it left behind marks when she finally let it go.

As she examined the indents it left, she noticed something else unusual.

Encircling her right wrist was some kind of band of silver ink that was no more than a centimeter wide, comprised of intricate spirals that formed some sort of pattern, but not one that held any meaning as far as Pidge knew. She studied it for a moment, her tired brain working to try and make sense of it all, but a knock at the door interrupted her and she quickly jumped up.

“Just a minute!” she called out.

Pidge hesitated at the edge of the circle and then stepped back into the center. She took a moment to steady her breathing and then went through the steps to close the circle, taking the time to thank each of the elemental forces for their aid. Only then did she hurry around and prepare for the day.

Cleaning up would have to wait.

Another knock and the sound of her friend, Lance, calling for her had Pidge rolling her eyes at his impatience. She checked her reflection and took an extra minute to remove the circlet and place it back into its box before answering the door.

“You have got to learn some patience,” she said before Lance could open his mouth.

“Hey, I'm not the one running abnormally late,” he responded. “You didn't stay up all night reading again, did you? I don't know how you lose track of time doing that.”

“Some of us came here to actually learn and study.”

“Ouch. I'm wounded. My heart!” Lance placed one hand over his chest and dramatically swooned. “Your cruelty breaks my spirit! And after I brought you breakfast!”

Pidge's stomach growled when she caught side of the cloth-wrapped bundle in Lance's hands. “So should I profess my undying devotion to you now or do you want to wait until there are other people around?”

Lance laughed and handed over the food as they left the tower and headed towards their first lesson of the day with Alchemist Alfor. He chatted about whatever came to his mind while Pidge devoured the sandwich and made reaffirming noises so he knew she was still paying attention. She finished it as they passed under the arch marking the potions and alchemy wing of the castle and, coincidentally, came across the other two students of their year – all-around sweetheart Hunk Garrett and his more hot-tempered friend, Keith Hawkins, who also happened to be embroiled in an intense rivalry with Pidge.

The two pairs came to a dead stop beneath the archway.

Pidge was in no mood to deal with him so early in the morning and especially not after yet another failed attempt at divination spellcrafting, so she pretended as though he didn't exist as Hunk and Lance jumped into a lively conversation to try and lift the atmosphere around them.

“Anyway, there's a note on Alfor's door asking us to meet in the Four Seasons Courtyard for our lesson today. That's why we're on our way back through,” Hunk explained.

“Lucky for us that we ran into you!” Lance laughed as he slung an arm across Hunk's shoulders. “Do you think we're gathering ingredients for something? Or does he have another lecture on how our environment affects alchemic equations?”

Hunk shrugged. “Guess we'll find out once we get there.”

The two walked ahead, leaving Pidge and Keith to silently follow behind them. Pidge used every ounce of her willpower to keep her mouth shut and not look over at her rival, telling herself that it wouldn't be worth getting into an argument right before class.

It was when they arrived in the courtyard that everything went wrong.

Pidge tried to walk towards Lance to sit with him like she always did but was stopped by Keith grabbing her wrist and tugging her back towards him. She whirled on him, a snarl on her lips, only to be interrupted by his own furious remark -

“What the fuck? Let go of me, Holt!”

“I am not holding onto you! Why would I, Hawkins?” she snapped back.

In unison, they glared at their wrists, each seeking to prove that they were right, only to discover that they were both wrong. There was nothing there, though Pidge continued to feel pressure around her wrist as though there was something holding onto her.

“Is there a problem over here?” asked Alchemist Alfor as he approached.

Keith tried to yank his hand away from the invisible force but it only served to make Pidge stumble forward and throw a another glare in his direction.

“Alright, alright. Calm down,” Alfor said before either of them could start speaking again. He, like everyone else in the castle, was well aware of the animosity between the two of them. “I'm sure this is someone's idea of a prank and we can get it sorted out quickly. Lets take a look at what's going on, shall we?” He held his hand out over theirs and murmured a few words. Within seconds, a twisted braid of gold and silver appeared around their wrists, with a short chain connecting them.

Keith frowned. “What is that?”

“Fascinating... I've never seen anything like it,” Alfor admitted. “I would wager that the silver is related to some form of soul magic, but I'm unsure of what the gold represents. Melenor would be the best to ask about this sort of thing, unless either of you has an idea?”

Pidge's blood turned to ice in her veins.

Soul magic.

It couldn't be.

Not him!

“He is not my soulmate,” Pidge refused, unaware that she was speaking aloud.

Keith's eyes flashed with something Pidge couldn't define and he tensed his jaw before responding. “Who would ever want you to be their soulmate, Holt?”

Alfor must have called for backup while Pidge wasn't paying attention, because suddenly Battle Mage Shiro was there and was hurrying them to Melenor's office while Alfor stayed behind to teach Hunk and Lance the lesson he had planned for the day. It was there that Melenor confirmed her husbands thoughts that soul magic was involved, with the silver strand representing femininity while the gold represented masculinity – a perfect balance symbolizing the bond between them.

Pidge had no choice but the tell them about the ritual she performed and how it was designed to reveal her soulmate, and from there Melenor came up with a plan to help them.

“You will live together for one week. If you cannot learn to get along in that time, I will undue the spell tying you together. I want to make it clear that you will give this your best effort. Magic has bonded the two of you together for a reason and I should think that both of you would endeavor to learn why.”

So there they were, in the brand new set of rooms they were being allowed to borrow for one week while they lived together, unable to move more than a few feet apart. Neither of them spoke for the first hour, until Keith finally sat down and refused to budge, his violet eyes hard as he stared up at her.

“I don't understand what your problem with me is,” he said.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Right.”

“I'm serious. From the very first day we met you've treated me like I'm the scum of the earth. What did I ever do to you?” Keith demanded.

Pidge opened her mouth to respond, but Keith wasn't finished.

“Imagine it's your first day in the most prestigious magical institute in the world and as you're leaving your first class you finally see your soulmate. And at first you think it's just another dream, like all of the others you've had since you were old enough to understand what a soulmate is, but when you try to talk to her it all turns into a nightmare.

“At first I thought you were just stressed, but that wasn't right, was it? Because you get along with everyone else in this school. Just not me. So what is it, Holt? What did I do to you that was so horrible that you need to turn every chance meeting into a confrontation?”

The hot flash of fury that Pidge felt when he first started talking dissipated the moment he spoke of his dreams. A heavy, cold weight settled in the pit of her stomach as her mind worked to comprehend what she was hearing. “You... you knew this whole time? Why didn't you ever say something?”

“What was the point? I knew it would only end in rejection. You proved me right about that earlier,” Keith responded. The heat was gone from his voice, replaced by a deep sorrow.

Pidge sat on the floor next to him and pulled her knees up against her chest, thinking back to her first week at the Castle of Lions. It had been a massive change from the rigorous structure and rules of the Galaxy Garrison where she previously studied and she remembered struggling to adapt to a new environment. It took her a moment to place when her first interaction with Keith, an event she blocked from her mind because it didn't seem worth remembering aside from it being the starting place of their rivalry. A rivalry she was starting to think was almost entirely one-sided.

She had volunteered to try and solve an alchemic equation Alfor presented to them and when she was finished, Keith was the first to speak up and offer a critique on her work. She remembered the flush of anger at being called out for making what, in hindsight, was a stupid mistake that spoiled the rest of her work, and then the embarrassment as two students of another year started sniggering to themselves over it. The fact that Keith completely snubbed her as they all left the classroom served to cement in her mind that he was challenging her intellect and from that day on she refused to show weakness.

She breathed out softly and pressed her forehead to the tops of her knees.

Had she really based their rivalry on a simple misunderstanding?

Had her time at the Galaxy Garrison really impaired her social skills that much? Lance was always joking about it, but maybe there was some truth to that.

The competitive atmosphere. The constant drive to do better and be the best. Maybe she carried that with her to the Castle of Lions and let it influence the way she interacted with her peers. She thought she was getting better at it with help from Lance and speaking with their instructors, but those first few weeks...

That first interaction with Keith, when he corrected her and then didn't say a word to her after that – so different from the Garrison, where rivalries were encouraged as a way to push one another to do better. That lack of acknowledgment for it made her feel as though he was looking down on her. Like she was unworthy of being considered an equal.

“Keith, I... I'm so sorry,” she murmured, unsure how to put all of her thoughts into the right words. “I don't know what else to say. All of this is my fault. Our fighting. This chain tying us together. I've never been great at divination and I've been trying for months to use it to find my soulmate – to find you – and after all of that I ended up making a spell and well... I guess Magic got tired of being ignored, so it found a way to make things more obvious for me. And here you've known all along! I can't imagine how that must have felt.”

She snapped her mouth shut and uttered another quick apology as she realized she had started rambling.

“I didn't mean what I said before,” Keith said after a moment of silence. “About how no one would want to be your soulmate? I didn't mean that.”

Pidge lifted her head from her knees. “I kind of deserved it. I've been awful to you.”

“And I was awful right back,” Keith responded, a sudden spark of passion to his voice as he twisted to look at her. “We've both said and done things that we regret. I'm not going to sit here and go over all of it when it'll only make us feel worse. Look, we're stuck together for at least a week, right?”

Pidge nodded.

“Then let's make the best of that time. By, uh, talking things through, I guess. I don't know how people normally do this sort of thing,” he admitted.

“Neither do I,” Pidge said with a grimace. “But we're smart. We can figure it out.”

Keith made a curious sound, but didn't voice whatever he was thinking. Instead, he stuck out his left hand to her – the one with the gold-and-silver chain clasped around his wrist. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Pidge agreed, grasping his left hand with her right.

The chain loosened ever-so-slightly between them.

[rivertheshimmerscale]

I needed to practice my writing! It's not very good! Everyone's gonna ignore this but I'm posting it anyways and I don't know how to use under the cut, whoops...

Luminomorpha: The Voice Trial

Takes place about 560 years ago, before the Bonded Genocide began.

Needle grunted and automatically unsheathed his claws. They glittered like obsidian, curved as thorns and sharper than razors. A dark russet Gahailiawk stalked back and forth in front of him. Her hackles were raised and lips pulled back in disgust to reveal tightly interlocking pointed teeth.

She stopped and jabbed her tail at him accusingly.

"You're not allowed here!" she barked.

"What, so our House is being downright excluded now? What happened to the Order?" Needle lashed his own tail.

"This is a Disconnected-only meeting! Word of both Sovereign Day-Leap and Sun-Ripple."

He was slightly taken aback. He paused for a moment while he struggled for a response. "How should I know you're not lying? Why are they here?"

She gave Needle a dark look. "We're discussing what to do with the accused," she said in a lower voice, "and it's none of your busi-."

"Only accused? We all know what he did!" the Oakarii spat. The Gahailiawk seemed surprised at his reaction.

"My sibling was one of the murdered, I think it's definitely my business to see to that thing's punishment!"

She scoffed. "The only reason your sib's dead is 'cause they stuck their snout into the wrong situation. Hah! Just like you right now!"

"RRRRGH! I don't have TIME for this!" Needle leaped at her and she swung her tail at his head. Luckily for him, her barbed tailtip was harmlessly folded down. The blunt appendage thwacked against his skull as his claws dug into her fur. She headbutted his chest and easily wriggled away. Fuzz was snarled on her three head spikes.

"Are you crazy?!" she spat. Her tail barb clicked open. "First that bloody lunatic and now you, our House is gonna be out for Bonded blood if this keeps up!" She bared her teeth and her orange eyes glittered dangerously.

Needle laughed in disbelief. "We're on the same side right now! Why do you want to stop me? Is there something else I should know?!"

The Gahailiawk opened her mouth to retort, but another sound split the air in the same moment. It was a howl of pain. Forgetting the dispute, Needle spun around and sprinted past her. She didn't even try to stop him.

Contrasting the shriek, a low chorus of chanting started to rise as he broke through the mess of plants. Motionless furred bodies were scattered all over the clearing. Gahailiawk and Fyrimr: Disconnecteds. All of them were facing a single center point and had their heads lifted to the sky. The perfect harmony of the song, while wordless, seemed to drown out all the other sounds as if it was coming from inside Needle as well.

A voice ceremony, he thought. His heart twisted. The ordeal was rarely used and horrifically grotesque... but well deserved in most cases.

No one looked at him as he slunk through the rows of Disconnecteds; they were too distracted singing. It seemed the trance had overtaken them.

A tall boulder loomed at the center of the circle, covered in moss, lichen, and tiny neon orange growths. On the top and on either side of the rock, two creatures sat outlined by the moons behind them. They weren't singing and appeared much grander than the creatures on the ground.

One was a Gahailiawk. Her ears were tilted forward intently and her tail curled over her paws. Her belly was light pink and yellow. Her back was a shade of blue barely a smidgeon from black, along with lighter reddish stripes going from her forehead to tail tip. Even with her front in shadow, her unblinking eyes gleamed with a light of their own. This was Day-Leap.

Next to her was a Fyrimr, form sleek and fur shining. He was mostly pale yellow, but his paws, tail, and snout faded to a dark red. Like all Fyrimr, his snout was longer and narrower than that of a Gahailiawk's, tilted up with disdain. Four ebony horns curved from the back of his skull, the longest two looping back towards his flattened ears. Spikes ran from his neck to tailtip, which hung behind the boulder and out of Needle's sight. Sun-Ripple.

He towered over Day-Leap by nearly a third of her height. Granted, Gahailiawks were the smallest of the luminomorphs, but Day was probably as tall as most Oakarii. That made Sun extremely tall.

Directly below the Alphas, another Gahailiawk and an unrecognizable luminomorph were cast in shadow. The Gahailiawk was sitting upright as the other creature crouched in front of it, quivering. Needle took a step forward. That's who killed them. Some unrecognizable feeling squirmed in him. He dug his claws into the ground and hissed.

The form had already sunk lower yet, twitching convulsively. Another hollow, gurgling whine rose and then abruptly cut off as the thing jerked away from the other luminomorph. It whipped around as the Gahailiawk lifted his head expressionlessly.

The chanting suddenly stopped - now the ceremony was almost finished.

The white creature was obviously an Oakarii. It seemed to be stunned amidst the silence - its tail and bushy mane were bristling but its actual body was completely still.

Then the chorus started again with a higher and more desperate note. All of the Disconnecteds stood up and began to slowly march in a circle around the clearing. Their heads bobbed from side to side with the song, teeth bared in the tiniest of sinister grins. That snapped the spell.

The white Oakarii became animated again and scrambled towards the marching creatures in Needle's direction.

Although Needle stood behind several creatures, he took a cautious step backward.

The nameless Oakarii stopped clumsily, staring with wide, rolling, pained eyes, one yellow and the other brown. Four red streaks stretched from his upper and lower eyelids and across his face. The patterns were the same shade of red as blood, but they definitely weren't. Actual blood stained his chin and throat, but he had no visible wounds.

He shook his head frantically, flinging saliva and more red all over. The nearby onlookers all skirted back to avoid the spray, but their steady movement and chanting remained unfaltered. The white Oakarii jumped back too. He seemed to be mouthing words, but he couldn't form anything beyond a string of growls and coughing as blood bubbled and dripped from his slack jaws. Choking on his own blood. I didn't do it, I didn't do it, I didn't do it!

.

.

.

Completely out of context stuff here explained without spoilers :D

Luminomorph: extraterrestrial animalistic creatures capable of complex thought slightly beyond that of humans, sexless, were modified by a protist (falsely dubbed luminite for its colony's tendency to form crystals) millions of years ago.

The Order: short for Omnauralux Order. The name of the government almost all luminomorphs (save for rogues or outcasts) live under. The Order is split into two Houses, Bonded and Disconnected.

House Bonded: creatures whose luminite contains a bond with a molecule, atom or state of matter. They can control the element in some ways. Not all creatures from the Bonded House are bonded, however, and it is quite rare to be so.

House Disconnected: those without bonds. Regardless, both types of luminomorphs are capable of developing into alphas.

"Sovereign" or Alpha: individual leaders of their respective clans. The only luminomorphs capable of (asexual) reproduction. Much like queen bees of their 'colony.'

Oakarii: (ō-kär-ē) "tree jumper" a lithe wolflike luminomorph with a mane and long tail covered in quills, big ears that often end on either a long tuft of fur if Disconnected or a bulbous stalk if Bonded. Retractable claws. House Bonded.

Kytiryx: (kī-tər-iks) "screeching wing" not mentioned. Reminiscent of an archaeopteryx or eagle, long feathered tail, two short fangs embedded in upper beak. House Bonded.

Gahailiawk: (ɡə-hālē-��k) "???" a small catlike luminomorph with a long tail ending on a barb for climbing. Nonvenomous. Retractable claws, typically have 2 or more horns centered on their forehead. House Disconnected.

Fyrimr: (fī-rim-ər) "dangerous edge of the land" a doglike luminomorph with horns and spikes from their head to tailtip, long whiplike tail, rubbery paw pads for gripping stone, can see very far. House Disconnected.

[axispheydra]

Day 15 - Land and Sea

Two men leaning against a wall leered at her as she walked past. They were almost behind her when one called out. “Ain’t you a bit overdressed, lassie? Limsa ain’t the kind of place to wear a coat like that. P’rhaps we could help you find somethin’ more comfortable.”

Arlanne didn’t even bother to answer them. Even just a few moons in Limsa Lominsa had taught her not to even tell men like that what day it was. Most of the time it was enough for them to lose interest, but once in a while you got unlucky.

“You Elezen are all the same!” said one of the men. “All damn high and mighty. Wouldn’t want to lay a finger on a bitch like you, anyhow.”

Well, she couldn’t let a comment like that just slide by. Arlanne stopped and turned back to face the two Hyur men, folding her arms as she did so. This was something she’d learned to do early in life, to tilt your head back and look down on people shorter than you to let them know how you really felt.

“Is that how you talk to a woman?” she sneered. “Someone needs to teach you some manners.”

Naturally, this infuriated the two men, who rose from their spots on the wall and advanced on her. “What, so are you gonna be the one to do it, lass?”

Arlanne waved a hand. “Oh, of course not. It was just a suggestion. I don’t see why you’re so angry about it.”

“Are you makin’ fun of us?” snarled one of the men, leaning in towards her. He was shorter than his partner, with long, dark hair, and a sword slung on his belt.

“This is what I was sayin’ about these Elezen, mate. Lookin’ down on us, literally!” said the other. He was taller and skinnier, with a small pistol holstered at his side.

“You were the ones making passes at me,” said Arlanne, shaking her head. “You started this.”

“And we’re about to end it too, miss,” said the skinnier one, drawing even closer. This was something else Arlanne had learned about living in Limsa Lominsa: never go anywhere unarmed. Although she carried her Conjurer’s staff with her wherever she went, she also learned to carry a knife in her boot, something just big enough to make people have a second thought about harassing her.

The two men continued to advance as Arlanne’s hand slowly went for the sheath hidden in her boot, but the tense moment was interrupted by a loud and familiar voice.

“Arlanne! My dear, we have got to stop meeting like this. And you’ve got to stop picking fights with men who’ve spent time in the gaol.”

All three individuals turned to face the voice, weapons drawn. The Miqo’te man who had sauntered into view put his hands up, eyes wide. “Well, I'm definitely not fond of a welcome like this! Come, come, put those away, gentlemen. And gentlewoman.”

But the skinnier man kept his gun level. “Who the hells’re you? Gimme a good reason why I shouldn’t lay you out right here.”

“Da’cali!” said Arlanne, pushing the gun aside. “You said you’d only be gone two fortnights, but it’s been two and a half! Here I thought you’d ended up dead somewhere in the ocean, or in some other ship’s brig to be sold away.”

“Please, have a little faith in me, darling. I haven’t died yet, and I don’t plan to. But I am glad to know you missed me so.”

Arlanne instinctively raised her hand, and Da’cali shied away. “No no no, please, I promise there’s actually a story behind it, so please don’t-”

“The hell are you two babblin’ about!” shouted the dark-haired man, leveling his sword at Arlanne. “Yer both such a pain in the arse, I think we’ll be doin’ the world a damn favor for doin’ somethin’ about it!”

Da���cali and Arlanne both turned to face the two men.“Oh, right. How rude of us,” said Da’cali. “Don’t worry, this will only take a moment.”

Arlanne stepped back; she knew Da’cali liked to show off in moments like this. His hands moved quickly, and the dark-haired man dropped his sword as blood began to stream from his outstretched hand. “My fingers! What the-”

“You’ve still got the other four, don’t be so dramatic,” said Da’cali, landing a solid knee in the man’s gut. The skinny man aimed his gun once again, but Da’cali was quicker on the draw, and a dagger sprouted from the man’s shoulder as he cried in pain. The Miqo’te closed the gap, unsheathing a pair of ornate daggers and drawing them upwards across the man’s torso. The man fell on his back and struggled to right himself, scrambling for his gun, but the sole of Da’cali’s boot found the back of the man’s head, grinding it into the stone walkway and ending any escape attempts.

With that, Da’cali retrieved his dagger and held his arms wide. “No applause necessary,” he said, sheathing his weapons. “Simply trying to uphold Limsa’s reputation. Though I’m more than happy to accept rewards as thanks.” He sidled up to Arlanne and winked with his good eye.

She had her arms folded low across her stomach, shaking her head. “Are you sure? It looks like you barely broke a sweat, I’m not sure you deserve anything for that.”

“Well, words of gratitude would be nice as well.” Da’cali turned and began to walk away, and Arlanne fell into step beside him. “Though I’m certain you had it under control-”

“I had it under control, thank you,” she sniffed. “I’m not the same person who got lost here five moons ago.”

“That’s a shame, I think I was starting to like her.” Da’cali laughed as he shied away from Arlanne’s open hand again, keeping his distance. “You didn’t let me finish! I was going to say I know I like this Arlanne.”

“Well I’m still on the fence about you.” She could only keep her face stiff for another moment before a small smile spread across it. Quietly, she sighed. “I’m glad you’re back, Da’cali. I... I missed you.”

“Oh, uh. Well.” That kind of genuine expression of care always seemed to fluster him for a few moments. “Well, it’s- it’s good to be back, Arlanne.”

“Did you still want a reward? I think I know what you might like.” She stopped, and as Da’cali stopped and turned towards her, she took his face in her hands and leaned downwards, pressing her lips to his.

He smelled of the sea and of the ships he sailed on, of oil and tar and wet wood. She could still taste the salted wind on his mouth and feel the heat of the sun on his skin. His own hands found her hips, his fingers calloused with work and scarred from misuse of a blade.

On a ship, he belonged to the sea, but on land, he was hers. And she was his.

The kiss lasted only a few moments, just enough to make each party wish it had lasted a few more. Arlanne would’ve leaned in again, but remembering the two men that had assaulted her were lying only a few dozen paces away made her hesitant.

“If that’s how you welcome me back, maybe I should leave more often,” said Da’cali, stepping away from her. His theatrical tone was gone now, as it was during quiet moments like these.

“I, I just want to make sure you know what you’re missing,” she said, now even more embarrassed. “But, if you like... perhaps you could tell me your story somewhere more... quiet?” She looked away, coughing into her hand as if it would stave away the embarrassment.

He was the one who took her hand this time, smiling his wicked grin that made her heart skip a beat. “Let me buy you a round first, Arlanne. I’ve got a gift or two I want to give you before we indulge in... conversation.”

He gently led her along Limsa’s walkways, towards the Drowning Wench and its inn rooms. They had a lot to catch up on, after all.

(Da’cali belongs to @kaijugroupie!)

[worldofwritingthings]

Wings of Valor

Prologue

"Bring forth the prisoner!"

A set of huge doors opened wide as two soldiers dragged a man in chains towards the center of the room. The murmuring of the crowd was an appalling roar throughout the auditorium, filled with remarks of disapproval, laughter, and snarling. The guards threw him in the middle of the room - an open, circular area where he could see, among the crowd, five people sitting on a wooden tribune at the end of the room: these renowned individuals were known as the Magisters.

The men and women in charge of passing judgement remained unfazed at the sight of said prisoner; the hatred they felt grew exponentially as one of the soldiers removed the hood from the prisoner's head, revealing a middle aged man wearing a leather restraint mask that covered his mouth. His violet eyes looked at the tribune and turned his head elsewhere sharply just as his heart began to throb in anger. He took a deep breath and hung his head low in an attempt to keep himself from lashing out at them. It didn't work in his favor though.

"Well, well, well," the first of the Magisters spoke bitterly and rose from his seat. He was an old man, not near the age of two hundred years, whom bared the colors of the Roşu Army on his robes and the charm of the Lux Federation. The room fell silent as he continued, "Look what the Avians have brought us - a filthy rat. And a big one, no less."

The prisoner turned his head to the first Magister and snarled. He then tried to pry his mask off, to which the guards grabbed his arms and lifted him on his feet with arduous effort on their part. This made said Magister smile at the display in front of him, his chin rising while his mouth remained mildly agape for a few seconds before closing it.

"I think the rat wants to say a word," he said, turning his head from the prisoner towards his colleagues. "Wouldn't you all agree?"

"Yes," one of them said. It was a middle-aged woman, her skin marked with bright runes and completely hairless. The expression on her face was a combination of disappointment and bias as she glanced at the prisoner in the eyes without a single blink. She waved her hand in front of her and commanded, "Let him speak."

The mask disappeared from the prisoner's mouth and he was dropped again on the floor. He licked his lips a few times, hissing slightly at the taste of iron embedded on his tongue through the cuts that the mask made; he then looked back at the Magisters and spoke, "You are wasting your time with this nonsensical method of interrogation. There's no way you'll make me talk."

"Oh, I disagree with that," the first Magister said, sitting back down to his chair and glaring at him. "We have all the time in the world we need to hear the lies that shall come out of your mouth, filthy rat."

The second Magister stood up from her chair and rang a bell, a gesture symbolizing the start of a trial. She addressed the present crowd as she spoke loudly, "People of the Luna District, we gather here today to pass judgement on Frederic Casi, former Baron and Sage of the Solis Enclave, now a traitor of the Federation. The following crimes committed by his treason are murder, espionage, pillaging, conspiracy, trafficking, evasion of arrest, racketeering, among others. The Council will now hear the prisoner's defense on the charges that have been imposed on him."

"What, you mean like beg for my life?" Frederic said, disgust laced in his voice. "Ha! I never begged to anyone in my life and I won't start now. You wretched hags and codgers can stick it all the way up your bottoms and like it."

The crowd roared in protest at the insult they heard, forcing the guards to summon a stave around the empty space as few Mages attempted to reach the man in shackles, some with their wands, staffs or knives at hand. The Magisters frowned in utter disapproval at said man's remark and the reaction of the denizens as the Alban Royal Guard dragged them back through the railings by force, a method that did little to no effect pacify the masses.

"ORDER! ORDER!!" A third Magister spoke, his frail body rising slowly from his chair as he banged his staff on the floor with tremendous force that sent a message of obedience. The crowd, while returning to their provided spaces, regained their composure as he continued shouting, "ANY FURTHER VIOLENT OUTBURST WILL NOT BE TOLERATED IN THE PRESENCE OF THIS COUNCIL! DESIST THIS INSTANT!”

As the auditorium fell silent by the Magister’s words, Frederic barked a fit of laughter, earning the attention of everyone attending there. He looked up again and spoke between snickers, “You-You really have lost your sense of resilience, eh? Ah, typical of the Magisters: give them power over the denizens, and they’ll soften right up! AH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!”

“SILENCE!” A fourth Magister commanded, teleporting and giving Frederic a hard slap on the face as a warning to obey their command. Her eyeless face glimmered under the sunlight as she spoke, “Our resilience has never wavered us in times of peace and in times of war, and it will certainly not start now. Especially after your attempted insurgency against the Federation.”

“Oh, my sweet pea, that is where you’re wrong,” Frederic said. He stood up from the ground and turned towards the crowd, hands and feet still shackled together, as he spoke loudly, “You can all think that your precious Council can offer safety for you and your families; you can all think that they are capable to maintain peace with their neighbors for another century or two; you can all think that they can ward off any threat of invasion by the blessing of the Ancient Ones. But I can tell you all that you are wrong.” Another laugh escaped from his mouth as he continued, ”You are all insignificant worms who worship meaningless beings in the hopes of gaining blissful pleasure! YOU SHOULD ALL BE WIPED OUT LIKE THE DOGS YOUR KIND IS!! YOU AND YOUR PITIFUL DEMOCRATIC WAYS!!!”

Everyone remained in terrified silence as Frederic began to succumb slowly into madness, his knees trembling with every cackle leaving his throat until they could hold him no more and forced him to sit down on the floor. The Magisters interchanged glances with one another, their facial expressions presenting signs of worry as Frederic kept going, “WHY SHOULD THE MASSES BE GIVEN THE RIGHT TO CHOOSE THEIR OWN LEADERS WHEREAS AN INDIVIDUAL CAN OBTAIN IMMENSE POWER FOR THEMSELF?! THE BEST WAY TO RULE OVER A POPULACE IS THROUGH FEAR AND WAR! NOT SOLIDARITY AND PEACE!”

The first Magister had enough of this affront and spoke, “And for that, you chose to betray not only our people but us too, as well as our allies? ALL OF THIS FOR POWER?!”

“We should’ve known better than to trust you after all these years, Frederic,” the fourth Magister spoke, teleporting back to the tribune in a blink of an eye. Her face grimaced as she remarked, “Only a fool would pursue such madness the world doesn’t ever need.”

Frederic glared at the Magister, his laughter replaced with a growl as he continued, “A FOOL SUCH AS YOURSELF WOULD NEVER UNDERSTAND THE TRUE MECHANIZATIONS OF THIS WORLD! WHAT IT TRULY WANTS AND NEEDS! THAT POWER COULD HAVE BEEN USED FOR GREATER PURPOSES AND YOU ALL SQUANDER IT AWAY WITH EMPATHY!! I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT ANY LONGER!!!”

The final Magister sighed deeply, taking into account the motive that drove him to rebel against his people and the aftermath that incurred once the coup was thwarted off. Her eyes glimmered in bright blue as she glanced at her colleagues, discussing the sentence of the accused through telepathy. Moments later, she stood up from her seat and directed her eyes to meet the prisoner’s as she spoke in profound voice, “Frederic Casi, for your crimes against the people of the Lux Federation and of the Central Abyss as a whole, this Council hereby sentences you to death.” She rang the same bell, signaling the masses that the verdict has been given. She addressed the guards and spoke, “Take him away to the Inanis District this instant.”

The guards obeyed her command and began to drag the prisoner outside the auditorium once more. Before they left, however, Frederic spoke, “You may kill me now but let me tell you one thing that I’m certain of: this doesn’t end with my insurgency. This is the beginning of your downfall.” He then began to laugh more loudly as he kept saying, “SAVOR THIS SMALL VICTORY WHILE YOU STILL CAN! MANY THINGS HAVE BEEN SET INTO MOTION IN CASE I FAILED MY PART!! YOU SHALL ALL SEE THE ERROR OF YOUR WAYS!!! HAHAHAHA!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAAA~!!!!”

As soon as he finished talking, the guards opened the doors and dragged him out of the building, never to be seen ever again as the giant doors slipped closed once more. The auditorium had an unnerving silence as the Magisters, upon hearing those words, tried to make sense of what the prisoner spoke of.

And pondered what it all meant for them.

(Translations: Roşu = Red; Luna = Moon; Solis = Sun; Lux = Light; Alb/Alban = White; Inanis = Void)

Tag List: @romanthewriter @sixstepsaway @ninjamidnight @faireladypenumbra @somewhat-honest-abe (Sorry for the long wait; please tell me if you wish to be tagged on the chapters.)

[merinathropp]

Tanz der Vampire - Hamburg 2017: Detailed Breakdown

It’s official, folks: I have finally, finally seen Tanz der Vampire live. After 17 months of hoping, dreaming and saving - my little dream came true, and I flew to Germany to see the show. So! In loving memorial, I’ve written up a stupidly long review of my experience below. I saw the show twice, but have combined the entire experience into this one post. If anyone has a particular question about a scene or song, please just shout at me :) I’m up for any excuse to talk more about this show, being the obsessed fan that I am...

First night - from stalls left Second night - from stalls front row, right in the middle Graf von Krolock - Mathias Edenborn Alfred - Tom van der Ven Sarah - Maureen Mac Gillavry Sarah - Anja Wendzel (alternate)  Professor Abronsius - Victor Petersen Herbert - Kiryll Zolygin (alternate)  Magda - Sara Jane Checchi Chagal - Jerzy Jeszke

GENERAL

- This trip was worth every dang penny. Hands down one of the greatest musical theatre experiences of my life I encourage everyone to save up, spend the money and fly to Germany to see this musical live, at least once your lifetime. You will not regret it. 

- What blew me away the most about my entire experience was coming to the realisation that Tanz der Vampire is a legitimately spectacular musical at its core, more so than I had ever given it credit for. Everything comes together to create an entirely immersive experience that sweeps you off your feet for 3 hours, and a shaky camcorder bootleg can never, never match its true glory.

- Orchestra was full and luscious, to my ears. No idea what all the complaints are about, Hamburg has definitely pulled out all the stops in this regard. There was a killer pianist banging out some stuff I’ve never even noticed on the CD! - The lighting was pure magic. My word, this show does not get enough credit having some of the most awe-inspiring lighting I think I’ve ever seen onstage. Highlights for me were the gleaming moonlight that floods the back of the stage during Tanzaal and the eerie golden glow of sunrise in Carpe Noctem.

- The sets are unearthly and gothic and stunning; the rotating cottage blanketed in snow, the graveyard swimming in mist with its wrought-iron gates in silhouette, the cavernous ballroom with its winding staircase, the maze of bookcases draped in cobwebs and dust...gosh, there are too many to name. I’ve always leaned more towards the Kentaur Revival sets, but having seen these ones live, I’m starting to seriously reconsider my opinion.

ENSEMBLE

- Is it just me, or are the German casts always uncannily brilliant when it comes to their mirror doubles? I swear this is one thing the Russian casts never managed to pull off. Even from the front row, it still looked like Alfred’s reflection was dancing with an invisible Herbert. And the trio at the end were perfectly synced, right down to drawing breath in unison. Absolutely ingenious.

- Roten Stiefel was sublime, especially the first time I saw it. The ensemble seemed to be dancing on air, every movement just flowed and Sarah literally flew around the stage like she was on cloud nine. I don’t think I breathed for the entire sequence.

- The coordination of the choreography in Ewigkeit blew me away. You just don’t know where to look during that number, it’s such a visual spectacle! Like a literal load of rotting corpses, each trying to keep themselves in one piece long enough to feed. One guy clearly had a case of Nearly-Headless Nick, one guy kept ‘popping’ his arms back into their sockets, one lady was totally spastic - they’re all so individual and creative!

- Nightmare!Alfred and nightmare!Sarah were haunting and lovely. Every movement between them was so gentle and full of longing. The way nightmare!Alfred looked at her, guh - tender and sweet, yet oddly aloof and mysterious, he was so interesting to watch! And his snarling at the end was vicious, like a mad dog or something, really chilling stuff. 

- Nightmare Solo 1 was replaced by HERBERT HIMSELF! Yes, it was HERBERT who appeared on top of the bed and introduced Carpe Noctem, cementing his ‘puppet master’ role 100%. He was so graceful and controlling throughout the entire number, moving his hands like he was ‘guiding’ each dancer into place. And I loved that the replacement meant that Herbert was the first and last character to leave the nightmare, he remained on the bedpost gazing down at sleeping Alfred until the very end of the singing, before drifting off upstage. Ugh, so many new Carpe Noctem headcanons...

- I was disappointed with our Black Vampire. He never threw himself into his movements, there was no power or danger in anything he did, just...perfectly okay dancing, and one really odd lacklustre jump. Bit of a let down :(

KROLOCK (Mathias Edenborn)

- You know how everyone in the fandom says you never forget your first Graf? Well...shoot, turns out they’re absolutely right. Mathias was magnificent and blew all my expectations away; I’ve never thought much of him, in the videos I’ve seen, but watching him live was an incredible experience. He was electrifying from the moment he glided onstage, and commanded the attention of the whole theatre. His Krolock was refined yet animalistic, powerful yet broken, charming yet icy cold, passionate yet subtle. He could also be raw and human when he needed to be, and for the first time, actually made me FEEL for the character. And he has this massive booming powerhouse voice to boot.

- During Vor Dem Schloss, he was very intent on Alfred, standing right up close to him and wrapping his cloak around his shoulders. He also did a lovely elegant gesture where he traced the outline of Alfred’s face with his fingertips. Tom was reacting so well to him, the two just played off each other beautifully throughout the whole scene, just this constant push and pull, like there was a magnetic force between them - brilliant stuff. That chemistry, I Am Here For It. 

- When he was talking about Die Fledermaus, he went: “Genial! (deadpan sarcasm, staring straight out into the audience) ...Ich war gefangen.” Ouch :)

- During Einladung, he examined the planks of Sarah’s door and ran his fingers over them in a mocking sort of way when he sang the word ‘sicherheit’ - like he was sneering at Chagal’s efforts and how feeble/useless they were.

- During Totale Finsternis, he did something very interesting; every time he turned away from Sarah, he seemed to be secretly struggling with himself, not from thirst, but almost as though he was overwhelmed by the sin he was committing, and feeling some measure of conflict over it? He’d reach towards her, and then shake his head and pull back at the last minute, and turn away from her with this broken expression and put a hand to his heart. Finally, at the very end of the song, when he turned to face her and saw she’d bared her throat - his face went entirely blank, cold and decisive, like he’d made up his mind in that moment. Such an interesting take on the number, turning it into a moral dilemma for Krolock even as he’s drawing Sarah into his web!

- During Tanzaal, at the very beginning when he first appeared at the top of the stairs, he greeted the retinue of vampires with a German word I couldn’t catch, and then held out a hand in Herbert’s direction, and announced “Sohn!” with great solemnity and I absolutely loved it :’) all the family Krolock feels.

- He had so much adorable interaction with Herbert throughout the rest of the number, it warmed my heart. They would laugh together and Herbert tapped his shoulder when Sarah entered the room, then leant over to say something to him and they grinned together like two gothic super-villains, it was AMAZING. When Sarah came down the stairs and revealed her full dress, Krolock glanced back at Herbert and raised his eyebrows, like he was saying “See? Told you she was something.” and it was the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen a Krolock do.

- When Alfred almost collided with him at the end of the minuet, he reached out a hand and sort of flicked/stroked Alfred’s open fingertips with one of his nails. It was so creepy and menacing, like Alfred was a mouse on a cat’s claw.

ALFRED (Tom van der Ven)

- Mixed feelings on Tom’s Alfred. I found his first performance dull as dishwater, he had this odd vacant expression for about 50% of the show and it was maddening how bland he made Alfred, even though his chemistry with Sarah and Krolock was fantastic. But! Low and behold! His second performance was much better: more reactive, more expressive, more everything. He brought the character to life, at least in most scenes, and won me over against all the odds. 

- I know I’m preaching to the choir here, but oh my word, he is the absolute cutest of cute Alfreds. If him and Sergey ever starred in Tanz together, the theatre would implode from sheer cuteness overload. He’s so small and slender with these big wide innocent eyes, you just want to hug him every time he walks onstage. He also puts on an oddly plaintive high-pitched voice for Alfred, which I found ??? initially, but I do think it works with his performance. Also: my relatives said his accent was distracting, but I didn’t notice. 

- I love, love, love how truly sincere and ardent he plays Alfred, during any interaction with Sarah. Wirklich Sehr Nett was a real love-at-first-sight moment for him: he spoke so softly to Sarah, he was tentative and gentle, but so genuine. He clearly meant every single word he said, and he gazed at her like she was the sun and moon and stars. My heart, it hath feelings.

- Another Sarah-related thing that he kept up through the entire show: whenever he was singing about Sarah, thinking about Sarah, even remembering Sarah in Ein Guter Tag (“Heut oder nie finde ich zu ihr!”) or Der Gruft (“Denk an Chagal’s Tocher!”) - he got this dorky, dreamy, crooked half-smile and gazed off into the distance like he’d been momentarily transported to Heaven itself and oh my gosh that smile could melt the coldest heart I swear...

- During Tanzaal, he didn’t recognise the Professor at first and just stood awkwardly beside him for a bit...before doing a double take, like “Oh Professor, it’s only you!” which was ever so cute. Then during his little step-toe dance across the stage, he picked his feet up SUPER HIGH like he was trying extra hard to be a Fancy Vampire and it made me giggle so much.

- Any Krolock/Alfred shippers in the house must have been having a field day, because he was so FOCUSSED on Krolock during Vor Dem Schloss, I don’t think he took his eyes off him for a moment. He’d take little stumbling steps towards him like he couldn’t help being drawn in, but then he’d shrink away and sort of ‘hunch’ in on himself in defence when Krolock came close. But when Krolock came right up behind him and shadowed him with his cloak (“Ich lehr dich was es heißt zu leben”), Tom actually turned his head over his shoulder and tilted his face up to gaze at Krolock, VERY reminiscent of Totale Finsternis (paralells!!!!! my favourite thing!!!!!) which was just awesome. 

- Der Gruft was a highlight of both shows, Tom was legitimately hilarious with perfect comic timing, but still so sincere that it broke my heart. When he dropped the hammer, he gazed out at the audience in total horror for a few seconds, before squeaking “Ich kann das nicht” in this tiny high-pitched voice that made the audience laugh so much. Then he delivered “...Aber ich kan dass troztdem nicht!” even higher and squeakier and the audience laughed again and a lady near me went awwww, because it was just so pitiful and sweet.

- I also liked that he went to stake Herbert’s coffin first, out of complete instinct, before the Professor called him back. Interesting that he would consider Herbert most dangerous on a purely subconscious level, even before the events of Wenn Liebe. 

- During Draussen Ist Freiheit, when Sarah booped his nose with her finger, he blinked and raised his own hand to touch his nose in wonder, like “Oh, she nose-booped me :3” and it was just. so. freaking. adorable. 

- HE TRIED TO KISS SARAH AT THE END OF DRAUSSEN, A PROPER KISS ON THE LIPS, MY BRAVE SON...and he mirrored the gesture in the Draussen Reprise as well, right at the climax of the song, he went for a big sweeping kiss right before Sarah bit him. My heart, it hurts. #GiveAlfredHisFirstKiss2k17.

- He also had a fantastic reaction to the bite. He was choking and lolling his head, jerking from side to side and crying out but not quite screaming; he made it believable that the Professor would never hear :(

- His voice has improved, he belted out the latter half of Fuer Sarah with all the warmth and passion in the world. He had a huge grin on his face, and after the end of the song, he let out his breath and collapsed back against the bed, like The Emotion had just overwhelmed him completely <3 

- During Wenn Liebe, his delivery of “Ich zittere niiiiieeeeeee!” was hilarious, his voice was so squeaky and he drew out the last vowel like pleeease noooo.

- He spent the whole dance with Herbert going ‘oof!’ and ‘ah!’ and brought out the protective mother bear in me, because he’s such a delicate guy and needs to be Handled With Care but alas, this is not a concept Herbert understands...

- One acting choice I will never understand from Tom: his very mild, bland facial expressions during certain scenes where the focus isn’t placed chiefly on Alfred, e.g. the whole Chagal-vampire-staking sequence and Wenn Liebe. It’s almost like he doesn’t think anyone will be watching him, during these scenes? But I find it very distracting. For example, when he and the Professor discovered Chagal was missing, he looked...vaguely surprised, rather than shocked/terrified. And during Wenn Liebe, most of the time he’d just stare blankly out into the audience, even when when Kiryll mock-kissed him or declared his love. I think Alfred’s reactions are a HUGE part of what makes these scenes work, and it feels like something is missing without them.

HERBERT (Kiryll Zolygin)

- Kiryll was fine, but he wasn’t my kind of Herbert. He was cold, vain and predatory. He strutted around the stage like a peacock, smoothing his hair back and sticking his chin up and posing just like his father. Very refined, very confident, very intimidating; definitely the Graf’s son through and through. There was nothing amusing about his Herbert, he was cool and prowling and Wenn Liebe played like a sinister game of cat-and-mouse. 

- He was also hard to read at times; his expressions were oddly closed-off and there were times when I honestly didn’t know what Herbert was supposed to be thinking/feeling. When he saw Alfred for the first time, he simply looked steadily at him, his face smooth and expressionless. Even throughout Wenn Liebe, he didn’t seem very besotted with Alfred, just amused - which made his groping extra-creepy and his declaration of love seem more ironic than sincere.

- Speaking of ironic, can someone tell this guy it’s okay to cosy the heck up to Tom when they’re dancing because I swear he was keeping about 3 feet of space between their chests and idk why Herbert von Krolock would ever keep Alfred at such a chaste, safe, heterosexual distance from himself...

- He had the sweetest, most delicate, most Herberty-y giggle I have ever heard in my life, it was perfect and made me smile every time I heard it.

- During Vor Dem Schloss, he did this amazing piece of catwalk nonsense in front of Alfred, striding back and forth like “yes admire me human, behold my glory” whilst Tom stared in bewilderment. My poor son, so confused :)

- He cracked appallingly in Carpe Noctem, both nights. I physically winced. The second time I saw him, he also broke off one of his notes way too early, which was obvious to everyone because Magda held hers perfectly. Poor guy.

- During Wenn Liebe, he mocked-kissed Alfred in the middle of the dance, but Tom didn’t react at all, and I felt bad for him because that’s actually quite a daring thing to attempt, but Tom’s lack of reaction made the moment fall flat. 

- This is a bit yikes but I have to mention it: he very slowly and obviously licked his lips whilst watching Alfred run away into the audience, which definitely takes the jackpot for Creepiest Herbert Gesture Ever.

- During Tanzaal, he came down to the front of the stage and looked RIGHT DOWN AT ME THE AUDIENCE and sneered down at us like we were all Mere Peasants who were unworthy of his presence. I actually shrank back in my seat a bit, it was incredibly intimidating! 

- One VERY interesting addition: he deliberately turned around and watched Alfred dragging his Ewigkeit vampire off-stage to steal his costume. He didn’t react much, just gazed after Alfred like "Hmmm..." - but it was interesting nonetheless, I’ve never seen a Herbert do that before. 

SARAH (Anja Wendzel)

- Both my Sarahs were fantastic, but Anja truly did steal my heart. Bursting with energy and emotion, radiating chemistry with anyone she shared the stage with, and her belt was to die for (plus the sweetest, prettiest head voice too).

- She was such a SULTRY Sarah! I couldn’t believe how flirtatious and sensual she was with Alfred during Wirklich, it was almost too much to watch, and Tom’s Alfred was a complete wreck by the end of it :’) she was also very teasing during the bathtub scene in Act 2, waggling her finger and leaning in towards him when she talked about having one dance free. Poor Alfred.

- During Draussen, she also did this hilarious thing at the beginning of the song: she’s tiptoeing around outside, and suddenly Alfred starts belting “UNTER DIESEM DAAAACH” and she panics and gestures frantically like “nonono shhhhh SSSHHHH!!!!!” and it was so fresh and absolutely hilarious :)

- During Red Boots Ballet, she’d gaze off into space and move in perfect unison with her dance double, lifting her arms a bit or swaying backwards and forwards, basically play-acting the entire dance sequence going on behind her.

- During Gebet, she did something so beautiful, it moved me almost to tears. When Rebecca started singing, she froze in place and her face lit up with recognition, and she whispered “Mama!” so softly. Then she unfolded her shawl, knelt down to pray, but as she prayed, she was shaking her head and trembling and fighting back tears, and finally she couldn’t stop them any longer, and she stopped praying and started sobbing - actually, properly sobbing. It was almost like she was grieving the life/family she was leaving behind. And then as the song built and built, she stopped crying and got this new expression of strength and determination, like she’d finished her mourning, and now she was ready to make her move and start her new life, and finally by the end of the number, she was belting out the final notes with so much passion, her voice was exploding off the stage in front of us, and it was breathtaking. 

SARAH (Maureen Mac Gillavry)

- This woman had a belt that could rival any Elphaba, and her Sarah was so vivacious and likeable, I think she made the entire audience fall in love with her alongside Alfred, which is my very favourite kind of Sarah tbh. 

- She ADORED Alfred, she seemed so giggly and awww over him during their interactions together. Even during Draussen, she clearly still thought he was sweet, she bopped him on the nose and it was simultaneously super cute and a bit patronising all at once - such an effective little gesture! 

- She also made me tear up when Chagal was beating her, she full-on sobbed and cried out at the top of her voice, and then begged him with clasped hands. It was very upsetting, the most harrowing rendition of the scene that I’ve ever watched, she was so raw and desperate in that moment, you just knew you’d do anything to escape if you were in her shoes. 

PROFESSOR (Victor Peterson)

- This guy was was...argh. Not my cup of tea. A very unsympathetic Professor, he came off as plain selfish and annoying. His self-obsession was unbearable in Wahrheit, there was nothing endearing about it at all, he was so shrill and simply came across as obnoxious and over-the-top, like he wanted the whole world to worship him. And half of his jokes didn't land, I swear the audience laughed more at Tom during Der Gruft than they ever did at him.

- His relationship with Alfred was downright cruel in places. He pushed him around and hissed at him really aggressively and pinched his cheek and gosh it was just Not A Good Time. No wonder Tom struggled to show any kind of real devotion to this guy; I usually live for the Professor/Alfred dynamic because it’s so heartwarming, but this was...gosh. This made me almost (almost!) want Alfred to leave him and serve Krolock & Son instead.

- His voice was brilliant. I cannot deny this, it was brilliant. He handled the falsetto sections with absolute confidence and every note was perfect.

MAGDA (Sara Jane Checchi)

- Magda belted stunningly twice...and belted badly twice. I think perhaps she had a bit of a cold, as she seemed to be straining on some of the high notes. 

- That being said, her portrayal was wonderful in every other regard; she was so sweet, so cautious and observant, and seemed to really like Alfred. She spent the whole of Knoblauch trying to get his attention, and seemed to find his ogling very endearing and sweet. Strange, because the patrons of the inn also ogle her like crazy, and grab her skirts etc. which she clearly hated. Maybe she saw Alfred’s ogling as more involuntary and therefore more innocent? (though tbh Tom could make robbing a bank look innocent, so maybe that’s moot point)

- She also gave Chagal a few little smiles during Nie Gesehen which was very unexpected, almost like she was disapproving of his behaviour on principle, but deep down thought he was quite amusing. Interesting take on that relationship.

- During Wahrheit, she and Rebecca were signalling back and forth, across the yard; Rebecca wanted her to eaves-drop on Alfred and the Professor whispering together, but Magda couldn’t make out the words as she was too far away. I love the idea of these two characters being in ‘cahoots’ so to speak.

CHAGAL (Jerzy Jeszke)

- I want to mention that Chagal was not only hilarious, but also slightly less lecherous than other performances I’ve seen. His voice was also fantastic, a very strong full sound, which made his more honourable moments (e.g. “Ich bringt sie wieder!”) surprisingly impactful. Good job, my dude, good job. 

[dragons-bones]

Entry #2: From Stem to Stern

FFXIV Write 2017 prompt #2: synthetic

A/N: Yeah, reaching using a synonym for today’s prompt, but you do what you have to get the words out, ya?

“Assessor, surely this is unnecessary.” The Thavnairian merchant-captain’s voice was oily, his smile a touch too-wide under flat, angry eyes, more like a baring of teeth than a pleasantry. “My ship has already undergone the mandatory inspection - twice!”

Synnove’s answering smile was easy, practiced, small and polite. “Captain, when two ships in your fleet, on two separate occasions, have not been found smuggling contraband, then you may speak to me of unnecessary searches. Per the Admiral’s decree of the Second Sun, Fourth Umbral Moon, Second Year of the Seventh Umbral Era, part two, paragraph sixteen, clause three, merchant vessels of the same affiliation who have been individually found to be in possession of illegal goods on one prior occasion must submit to two independent searches by two different assessors of Mealvaan’s Gate. Per clause four, vessels of same affiliation who have been individiually found to be in possession of illegal goods on two prior occasions must submit to a total of three independent searches by three different assessors of Mealvaan’s Gate.

“Now, Captain, please step aside, or I will have to ask my escort to remove you from the vessel and charge you with obstruction.”

The Yellowjacket standing at her right shoulder cracked her knuckles. The second one on her left giggled, twitching ears causing her gold jewelry to jangle loudly.

The grinding of the captain’s teeth was audible from the dock, and his face was red with fury, but he stepped away from the railing.

Synnove, pleasant perfect smile still firmly in place, ascended the gangplank to the deck of the Sun Princess. Galette and Tyr trotted at her heels, and the troop of Yellowjackets tromped behind them.

She ignored the glowers of the crew as she surveyed the deck. They weren’t her problem, but Tyr’s and the Yellowjackets’, and deigning to acknowledge their anger would only undermine her authority here. Part of an assessor’s job was confidence and image: shoulders back, head high, hands clasped loosely behind her back, exuding self-assurance and calm. Her expertly tailored longcoat in summoner green, black pants and gloves, tall black boots, a grimoire on her hip, and two carbuncles at her feet - one the size of an Ishgardian sheepdog, the kind that protected flocks of karakul from Abalathian bears - helped complete the image.

The fact that she was six fulms, two ilms tall and the discreet padding in her jacket shoulders broadened her shoulders even more certainly helped matters.

“Galette,” Synnove said, voice mild. “Search.”

The emerald carbuncle chirruped, set her nose to the wood, and began.

Synnove stayed a few steps behind her carbuncle as they worked, as poised and relaxed as if she were enjoying a stroll across the Aftcastle. They swept the whole of the top of the ship first: poop deck, the little cabin at its back where the crew kept chickens, the quarter deck, upper cabins, forecastle deck, and the upper deck and its assorted rooms and cabins. Tyr stayed on her left the whole time, not bothering to hide his suspicion eyeing of the Sun Princess’s crew; the Yellowjacket squad loosely arrayed around her did the same.

Once they went properly below deck, Synnove gestured for two of the Yellowjackets - Lynathota, the same Sea Wolf who’d cracked her knuckles and K’dhamya, the Seeker who’d laughed - to take point as they moved through the orlap deck. Galette took them all through every room, from the boatswain’s room and carpenter’s cabin at the bow to the constable’s room at the stern, carefully sniffing every bag and box she came across, paying particular attention as they went through the crew quarters and galley.

And then they descended to the hold.

Galette picked her head up, ears twitching, when she came close to the entrance to the main hold from the powder room. She took a deep breath, then another. And sneezed.

Synnove felt her placid mask chip a little, as the corner of her mouth briefly twitched up.

The Seeker pushed the hold door open and Galette chirruped her thanks to her as she darted in. The Yellowjackets followed, then Synnove, then the rest of the squad. Behind them, someone cursed.

Galette was sniffing loudly as she moved through the crates and sacks stacked throughout the main hold, but she knew where she was going. They reached the center of the hold, and she jumped from the floor to the top of a crate, then up again so she was on the middle level. She dug at the space between two crates, cheeping loudly. Mom, Mom, move these, please!

“Lynathota, Bhaldwyrn, could you please move the crate Galette has pointed out, as well as the one on top of it?”

“Not a problem, ma’am,” Lynathota said with a shark’s grin. She and the second Sea Wolf moved forward, with Tyr, K’dhamya, and the fourth Yellowjacket - a male Midlander by the name of Kinnison, nearly as tall and broad as a Highlander - took up a cordon around Synnove. The merchant-captain, who’d followed them the entire search, was turning purple with rage, noticeable even in the dim lighting of the hold.

Synnove’s smile stayed perfectly pleasant. But she didn’t bother to hide the gleam in her eyes.

Lynathota and Bhaldwyrn climbed up the crates - Galette scampered out of the way, jumping down to pace an anxious circle around Synnove - and began moving the crate just above where Galette had been. That done, they moved the one she’d stopped in front of so it rested on top of the rest, and hopped back down.

Galette darted back up into the nook the Sea Wolves had made, and yowled as she frantically pawed at the crate now revealed. Bad, bad, bad things! Mom, bad things!

Synnove finally let go of her fake smile, and allowed a feral wolf’s grin to take its place as she easily hauled herself up next to her carbuncle. She held out her hand, without looking, and Kinnison slapped a crowbar into it. Then Synnove shoved the crowbar into the edge of the crate, carefully prying the nails apart in three different spots before unceremoniously yanking down to pull off the whole side.

Bags of somnus tumbled out around Synnove’s feet. Galette hissed at them, and jumped up onto her mama’s shoulders.

Synnove gave her a scritch behind the ears. “Good giiiiiiirl,” she cooed. “Best nose in the Gate, yes you are!”

Galette made a myaa~h sound of utter delight, leaning into the scratches.

Behind them, someone gave a cry. Synnove whirled and ducked, dodging a thrown knife (to Galette’s piercing shriek of rage), and Tyr lunged for the sailor who’d thrown it, snarling. The Yellowjackets bellowed a war cry as Synnove threw Tri-Disaster into the midst of the charging crew, and K’dhamya raised a whistle to her lips and blew three long, loud bursts that echoed through the hold, and to the Yellowjackets on the dock beyond.

A cast of Bane, as Galette leaped from her shoulders and unleashed an aerial slash, and the fight got really interesting.

---

When Synnove descended the gangplank, Yellowjackets marching the crew of the Sun Princess in chains behind her (and carrying the body of the man who’d thrown the knife on a stretcher covered with a spare piece of sailcloth), her shoulder were back and head held high, hands clasped neatly behind her, though her gloves were gone and her knuckles were obviously bloodied. Galette was draped around her shoulders, tearing off pieces of rosewater-flavored Hannish delight held carefully between her paws and chewing happily, with Tyr following the prisoners, growling with teeth bared and blood staining his muzzle.

Synnove’s smile was wide and pleased and utterly genuine.

[r3nb1rd-blog]

Prologue

           In a small alley off the streets of Caraz, a middle-aged woman prepared to throw away yet another perfectly good bucket of kitchen slop. A blanket of flour covered her head to toe; it clung to her skin with the aid of a glistening coat of perspiration. Regrettably, when she adjusted her grip, the pail slipped from those sweaty palms. It clattered heavily onto her foot and rolled slightly before finally coming to a rest at the edge of the light, contents barely spilled, but damage already done. She muttered a curse to the Gods and limped back to her kitchen, leaving the annoyance behind. The person observing the woman suppressed a smile; that suppression became a lot harder when the young orphans edged out from the shadows like rats towards the abandoned food. The whispers that became cheerful jeers finally drove the young woman away from the poorly lit alleyway with a flip of her long braids.

           She sucked in a deep breath of fall air; one saturated with humidity and salt and warmth. Even at night the northern city sweltered. She couldn’t idle about though. She had work to do. She made her way to the east factory sector where she should find her two companions; unfortunately, their actual presence could be influenced by almost anything under the sun. Or moon, as it would stand. However, the men did not disappoint her this time; she could see her fellow gang members’ large silhouettes casually chatting amidst a cloud of smoke. Somehow her jovial mood from before faded into the constant irritation that always lurked somewhere in her mind.

           “Cockroach, Razor,” she greeted.

           “Girl,” Razor growled back generically; she could not grow angry, for she hadn’t had a name for many years. She refused to let the gangs give her a new calling. “Good times are coming.”

           “So Surl actually won this war?” She shook her head. “I can’t believe that’s not a rumor.”

           “You’ll change your disbelief as soon as the troops disembark the trains from Battleground.” Cockroach laughed gutturally. “More food for the rich means more scraps for the poor.”

            “Why must we always live only on scraps?” She lamented. The other two grunted; she recognized the response. They thought her too young, too idealistic. Even after so many years of living in the streets forgotten by everything else. Of watching the smaller ones dig out of trash bins. She clenched her fist. “Why must we fight so hard to survive while those with magic have everything handed to them?”

           “Good question,” a clipped voice answered from the shadows.

           The other three swiveled towards it; knives appearing in every hand as cigarettes tumbled to the ground. The cloaked newcomer leaned casually against a wall, inspecting a gloved hand. She could not tell anything of his appearance; but as far as she could see, he held no weapon. She clutched her own knives tighter.

           “Good manners would be to introduce yourself, boy.” Razor warned sharply.

           “Ah, yes.” He reached up and removed the hood. A pale face with startling green eyes framed with straight, jet black hair grinned maniacally. He tilted his head to the side and she could see it, even in the dim light; pointed ears. She hissed. “My name is of no consequence.”

           “How did you get here?” Cockroach snarled, echoing the thoughts of the other two. “Why shouldn’t we kill you? I assume you don’t have a death wish. Though we would happily accommodate if you do.”

           The man smiled, unperturbed. “I come to offer you power.”

           “Why would you want to give power to Surl?”

           “Oh. Not to Surl: To individuals who happen to be Surlian. You see, I don’t quite fancy the Surlian or the Norrian governments. Apparently, my lady, you don’t either?”

           She gasped when those vivid eyes met hers. She let her hand fall a fraction of a centimeter before increasing her grip and strengthening her stance. She narrowed her eyes. “What sort of power?”

           “One stolen from the Gods of Surl.”

           Now she did drop her guard; as did the other two. “What game are you playing?!” Yelled Razor. “Did the Tigers send you?”

           “That petty gang?” The stranger laughed and the woman balked. The Tigers held the most influence in all of Caraz; maybe all of Venezia. “No; they are too short sighted, too close minded. I wouldn’t work with them. However, after only hearing some of your conversation… I can tell that you are different.”

           “How, exactly, did you steal power from the Gods?” She asked hesitantly.

           That grin grew more sinister. “Would you believe me if I said I flew to Ruso… or as you call it, Athua and back?”

           She frowned, knowing that the man’s answer told her that he wouldn’t tell them how he had come across… whatever he had come across. “Why offer it to Surl and not Norr?”

           “As I said, Surlians, not Surl. It doesn’t work on Norrians.”

           “Why?” She looked the man up and down, searching for any sign of deceit.

           It was now the man’s turn to narrow his eyes. “You ask a lot of questions for a Surlian. Regardless, it destroys Norrians.”

           “And not Surlians?” She crossed her arms.

           “Theoretically.” The man surveyed her slyly. “Though I would love to have actual subjects. If it makes you feel better, you can take that as your reason for me approaching you; merely scientific curiosity.”

           She exchanged a hard glance with her companions; but to no avail. The two of them eyed the drug greedily and without any trepidation. If he truly wanted to destroy Surl, this Norrian wouldn’t have approached individuals as inconsequential as she and her companions. She gritted her teeth. “You truly want nothing in return?”

           “For now, just more data points. Promise.” He batted his eyes innocently at her.

           She locked her glare on him. The echo of the orphans’ laughter rung in her head, as well as the screams of young women she sold off. Even if she knew it would happen eventually, if the transaction meant she alone could survive. She simply did not have the strength to change things, to make sure no one ate only scraps. But was it worth possible destruction of her own self? No price could be too high for what this man offered. She took a deep breath and stretched out her hand. “Fine. Give us power.”

[brooklynislandgirl]

REY IVERS

The Name Game || Accepting

R: When’s the last time they had a birthday party?

It has been nearly a year since the little sand gremlin has come to live with her and she’s fairly certain she’s curbed the girl’s teeth so far. She still isn’t entirely sure that she’s ever wanted an apprentice or that she does even now. But she has never directly disobeyed the Living Force before and in outright taking the child from Luke, she hasn’t yet.

She also promised herself that she would do things differently than all the failed masters before her.  She doesn’t know when the girl was born. Rey hardly knows more than a guess at her age, which biological scans confirmed. So rather than celebrating the day of her birth, which neither of them are an authority on, Keni instead chooses to mark the girl’s anniversary of arriving on Zelos.

Breakfast for the girl is sweetened tea and pastries from the village market. Her gifts are not precisely wrapped in any specific way and might not be remarkable to anyone who has never been a Jedi. First, they are Rey’s and Rey’s alone. From the ribbons in a modest riot of colours, to the new robes. But there is...one. It is a small mechanical bird on a branch, all made in native metals. When the key in the base is turned, the bird sings a lullaby. One Keni remembers only as what her father would sing to her when dreams came heavy to her mind. The same one she would hum to Anakin ~because she isn’t a talented singer~ when his heart was so heavy she thought it might give out there in circle of her arms. It is one of the few things that hold any real meaning for Keni that isn’t touched by remembrance of the Order.

It’s funny to think that she should be so nervous over the opinion of a child.

E: Are they the happiest they’ve ever been?  

Keni hasn’t been happy for years, that feeling went to it’s grave when she lost her heart. The best she strives for most days is to not feel grief. To be content in knowing some day the Force will reunite her with her lost loves.  This she doesn’t speak of, and rather prefers to ignore the question when it is brought up to her. Conversely, her father has much to say about the subject because he has the unique perspective of being quite the same as his daughter, and can better explain her than she can herself. How she’s merely a ghost of her former self, and how he misses the young woman she used to be.

Y: What movie could they watch over and over again?

Not that Rey ever does but sometimes if she is up and about late at night there are sounds that come from her Master’s sleeping area. The flicker of old holovids. That jump and jerk from age, dancing beneath Melakeni’s delicate fingertips as she traces the line of a tired smile here, a stray curl there. She watches them as fervently as the Faithful pray.  Clips of the Hero without Fear, as they called him, the Jedi hero of the Clone Wars. She relives those moments, lets the faded images remind her of different times and all the emotions of them.

But she never finds the epiphany she’s chasing within them, no matter how many times she goes back or pauses a particular frame. Nor does she invite discussion of them come the morning.

I: In general, are they organized or messy?

The phrase “one could eat off the floors” while disgusting is not untrue. There is not a single mote of dust courageous enough to brave landing on any of the immaculate surfaces within the lodge. Rey could pick any single object in any individual room and move it a single fraction of a centimetre and Keni would notice immediately the second she comes inside.

It is neither a hold out from having been a Jedi, they didn’t have anything to really worry about keeping orderly ~except for the pillows she collected from a source she’d never named. Neither is it something that she had experienced before having gone to the Temple, her fathers staff always took care of such things. The truth might lie closer to her need for control over her immediate environment, enforcing her will in the least destructive way possible, combined with a lifetime of being a healer and needing to work in sterile spaces, a luxury she did not often have during the wars.

V: They’ve been arrested, who is their one phone call to?

Her lips curl back slowly, reminiscent of a snarling Loth-wolf. Perhaps intentionally, perhaps a legacy of the saga of Melakeni’s life long before the little sand gremlin came into the narrative. Perhaps it is a little jaggedly feral combination of both.

“I promise you that if someone were to come and try to arrest me...there would be screaming.”

When she was a child still able to carry wonder about the Order she would have immediately said she would call upon her Master. She cannot now recollect when last she had seen him but the man certainly had an undeniable Presence. Not unlike her father when he is moved to genuine anger. There was always something dark, palpably menacing about her Master and she feared him and loved him in equal measures. But time has a way of moving on. During those best years of her life, she wouldn’t even have to think before automatically reaching out to Anakin. Not that she could imagine him being so far away, especially after the rise of the Empire. But they needn’t be within thousands of star systems to feel one another as closely as if they were side by side, hands locked together with forever entwined fingers. No, they were rarely two individuals within the Force and she learned to live that way. Which made the breaking of it so excruciating. She hasn’t felt truly alive since.

And now? Now she has herself. Let whomever the girl can imagine come and take her. Keni has nothing left to lose.

E: Are they the happiest they’ve ever been?  

Knees pressed against the bottoms of his shoulders, skin slick with sweat and tears. Arms wrapped around his neck as her head lolls back between her own shoulders, a groaned sigh of bliss escaping between her teeth. He shifts to press kisses against her exposed throat, damp curls framing his face and his neck, dark gold in the dimmest of light.

They are drunk. Not in the traditional sense although they’d maybe indulged a little beforehand. Tiny sugar crystals still cling a little to the corners of his mouth. She doesn’t ask him if they feel like sand, she imagines they do and she doesn’t want to spoil this moment.

They move one entity, without conscious thought. He sprawls his impossibly long limbs in such a way to stretch and yet curl up around her and instinctively she rests her head against his chest. Listens to the sound of his heart as it starts to slow.

The Force between, around, within them is replete with every shade of love they have ever shared, deepened by this stolen moment of quiet peace and togetherness. In this moment between them there exists no Empire and no galaxy beyond the door and windows. There exists no demands or sorrow. In this moment, Anakin is as whole as he can be, and she has no words to express how that makes her feel.

It will too soon be over. 

So she memorises the taste of him in her mouth, and the heat rising off his skin and soaking into hers. She memorises the exact blue ~darkened now as he struggles to keep them open~ of his eyes as she puts a hand down for leverage and rises up above him to get a better view. Her hair falls into his face, the curtain of night with no stars or moons to give a sense of time.

“Keni? Are you okay?” The question rumbles up from his depths, deep and full of concern and she can see the lines start to gather at the corners of his mouth, his eyes. The seeds of fear that he has done something wrong. That guilt that is only a step or two behind him when it hasn’t choked his entire being like weeds.

“Of course. I am in love with you and I am happy. Maybe for the first time. Maybe for always. How could I be any better?”

In true Anakin fashion, he starts to list things he think she might enjoy more until she laughs and silences him with a kiss. The Living Force in that moment is blindingly bright. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Keni shakes her head and glances down at the girl. The question had been innocuous. Knowing that is what keeps her from snapping jaws at her apprentice. “No. But I am content. Finish transplanting those seedlings into the new pots and you may have the rest of the day to yourself. Be sure you come in before the sun sets.

Keni sets her own trowel down and goes to the small sink in the corner of the green house, where she washes her hands before disappearing out the door without further conversation.

R: When’s the last time they had a birthday party?

“The Order did not promote such frivolous things.” 

This is not a lie, nor is it spoken of with any particular vehemence. The truth of the matter is that celebrating a being for simply being born took focus away from them as a servant of the Force, and served as a breeding ground for jealousy, arrogance, guilt, unhappiness. Any number of paths to the Dark Side. And perhaps there is truth in it but Keni suspects that the Council might have simply wanted to avoid uncomfortable questions about any particular padawan or Jedi’s ancestry and history outside of their indoctrination.

To admit to having a birthday was to acknowledge that there had been a parent or parents who had brought the child into the world. That there had been a time when the Order was not the most important thing in their lives, that they had not always lived and trained on Coruscant. And then questions would arise. Because of course they would. Questions that had no particular answer, that could not put the Masters in a particularly noble or concerned light.

And there is a tiny shade of dishonesty to her answer. Anakin and she were different than many of the others. They had childhoods that didn’t begin with the Temple. They could remember the small treats and special moments that Shmi sacrificed for. That her father had organised like a battle plan. And while those celebrations were diametrically opposed, they were similar in the fact that they’d been expressions of love.

And thus, secretly they celebrated together. It might only be a whispered wish in passing. A certain look on a certain day. Or it might be as extravagant as an actual gift smuggled in careful fashion to one another, no matter how far apart they happened to be.

“If you are curious, I was born at the cusp between Autumn and Winter. A time when the veil of the Force thins to allow easier communion with the dead, and when the sun wanes to give power to the moons.”

S: How do they tell someone they’re sorry?

It sounds like dead leaves bustled along the ground by a particularly cool wind. Once it might have been described as husky, warm, comforting. Her laugh might have once gone so scandalously far as to reach her eyes and give the brilliant, pellucid colour a preternatural vibrancy. Regardless, though, it’s still a laugh. One that doesn’t mock Rey but is sharp and brittle and not a little unpleasant. “For the sake of the four moons, child, what makes you think I have ever been sorry enough to apologise...for anything?”