#and to protect him a bit better of lighting frost and magic damage and watched him single hand everything that dared to cross his way

[fangirlforeversthings]

The goat, the King, the man,

Teldryn sero

[edupunkn00b]

Just Like Magic, Chapter 6: Warm

Prev - Warm - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

From Chapter 5: Hide

“You need to warm up, and we both need rest,” he said, squeezing his fingers gently before releasing his grip and crouching to set one last stone in the fire circle. “Y—yes, of course,” he nodded and moved toward a jumble of branches to find the driest he could manage. He picked up a few spindly branches, light and free of frost. “Janus?” he said, turning back to look over his shoulder. “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me yet,” Janus chuckled, dry as the branches in Logan’s arms. “We’re going to cast this together.”

Janus watched his new student from the corner of his eye as he nudged another stone into the center of his circle, nodding at the brief spark as the form was completed. Rising, he took four large steps back and walked the perimeter, chanting a protection spell under his breath. Logan had returned before he’d sealed the outer circle and, safe within its bounds, had begun to arrange the branches within the stones.

By the time Janus was done, the sharp sting of his wound had blossomed into a hot, throbbing ache. The stamina spell—the very same one he’d chastised Logan for using—had closed the wound, successfully stopping the bleeding, but had done nothing to heal the damage below the surface. Until his luminaria returned, he needed to be judicious with his magic, leaving him the choice between starting the fire and finishing the healing spell.

“This should last through the night… Do you think?” Logan looked up from his work, face hidden in shadow. But the shadows couldn’t conceal the worry in his voice. As much as Janus had tried, he had been unable to prevent him from catching a glimpse of the blood staining his tunic, nor had he properly concealed his pained movements.

Just as well. When the luminaria returned, he would have another spell to teach him. In the meantime, there was the matter of the fire.

Setting his staff firmly into the ground, Janus rose to his feet. Fire arced up under his ribs and the world spun. Grateful the darkness hid his shakiness, he stepped closer to the inner circle and took a moment to steady himself.

Finally, he turned to Logan. “You have the pyrocasting spell memorized?”

Tucking his hands in his tunic as he approached, Logan nodded. “Yes, I… I know it.”

Janus smiled and gripped his shoulder. “I ask that you not repeat the words tonight,” he said gently. “But take hold of my staff with me.” Switching hands, he held his staff between them, rooted into the ground.

Starlight graced Logan’s grin as he wrapped his fingers tightly around the staff just above Janus’ hand.

“Very good. Now, relax your arm and your shoulder. Feel the ground beneath your feet.” He waited for Logan to follow before tapping once, chanting, “Ignis, lapidum.”

Logan remained silent, but his arm moved stiffly when Janus tapped the ground. “Don’t try to hold on to the power, just let it move through you from the earth and the staff. Let’s try again. Ignis, lapidum,” he repeated. This time, Logan’s arm moved smoothly, his aura glowing brightly.

“Much better,” Janus nodded and tapped again, chanting with each movement. “Ignis, lapidum. Ignis, lapidum. Ignis—”

On the fourth repetition, flames roared up in the center of the circle, filling their refuge with light and warmth. “You did it!” Logan exclaimed, stepping closer to the fire, chilled hands open to its heat.

“We did it together,” Janus insisted, then tapped the strap of his bag still slung over Logan’s shoulder. “Help me with what’s inside here. We’ll have some tea and a bit of bread, then sleep.”

~

Huddled under his threadbare blanket, face tucked inside to warm himself with his own exhalations, Logan’s teeth chattered in the quiet of the woods.

“Logan,” Janus began, and he held his breath.

“Y—yes? I’m…” His voice trembled with cold. “I’m sorry, am I disturbing you?”

“No, of course not. I was merely going to suggest you take my cloak.”

“But then you would be cold,” he said, sitting up and shaking his head. “You’re injured—I—You hide it, but I saw. You need warmth.”

“Very well, then,“ Janus conceded when Logan returned to his thin blanket as though he’d somehow won their debate. “Come,” Janus said, lifting his blanket and patting the bedroll next to him. “Lay with me. We’ll both be warmer together.”

“Y—you… I…” Logan curled around himself and the swirling blue aura Janus was slowly becoming accustomed to contracted, the edges greying as the color receded into a tiny center near his heart. He shook his head and remained on the other side of the fire. “I am… I am fine here,” he said, shuddering.

Months—years?—of poor care had taken such a toll on him that even a simple cold night was draining him and his power. Janus could not let his student suffer alone. “I insist.” Again, he patted the bedroll beside him, smiling. “If you do not come here, I will come to you.”

Janus waited patiently as his aura shrunk to a pinprick of light and finally Logan nodded, rising and clutching his thin blanket to his chest. He moved to lie down, perched on the edge of the bed roll.

“You won’t hurt me, Logan.” Janus draped the heavier blanket over both of them. “Come closer,” he urged. “It’s alright.”

Despite the new warmth, Logan’s shivering didn’t stop.

“Do you need some tea? It won’t take long—”

“It’s fine.” He shook his head, sliding closer and holding himself stiffly. “Just… Go ahead. How… how should I… I—I mean, how do you like… ” His voice trailed off, hands hovering near his belt.

Logan wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Janus blinked back at him,  “Go ahea—?” Realization ripped through his heart. “Oh—oh, Logan. No…” He reached for him, cupping his cheek as he had earlier that night. This time, though, instead of tentatively leaning in to his touch, Logan stiffened, jaw trembling at the contact.

Janus lowered his hand, heart clenched in his chest. No… “By all the Stars, Logan, no… Never.”

He finally raised his eyes, confusion and fear competing.

“Logan? Am I understanding you? Did you think I was insisting that you…” The words soured on his tongue.

“I… I assumed you’d decided that was how I was meant to repay you for… everything.” He cast his gaze over Janus shoulder, cheeks blazing. “You… you would not be the first to decide that.”

“Who dared to—” The demand spilled from his lips before he could stop it. Logan curled in on himself and he shuddered the way he had talking to the brute who’d banged on his door. Janus swallowed back the fire in his throat. “That man in your home? Cass?”

“Cassian,” Logan confirmed with a whisper, face dipped into shadow.

Cassian. Hollow, in the old tongue. Empty. A shell with nothing worthwhile within it.

“My dear Logan, no.” Janus shook his head. Fury burned in his chest, but fear his student might mistake the source of his rage kept his face calm and his voice soft.  “No. I will never require that of you.”

Blue flames sparked and swirled around Logan’s heart but his eyes were cautious when he finally looked up. “You’re not…” he began, watching Janus’ expression as his mouth worked silently. “You’re not angry?”

Again Janus shook his head. “Not with you.”

“I never wanted—I… intended…It was…” Logan’s voice caught and he turned, face painted with shadow. “It is difficult to explain.”

“Try me,” Janus whispered. “If you wish.”

Logan looked away and let out a slow, shuddering breath. Janus had begun to believe Logan had decided to let the subject drop when finally he spoke. “He kept a… collection of people. People he would… People who needed…” The unspoken details hung in the air between them.

Janus recalled the plush rabbit’s fur lining the man’s boots, and the soft, unmarred leather gloves on his hands. “His family is wealthy,” Janus guessed. What passed for wealth in the South, at least. Without magic, without real medicine, what had once been great cities of learning and power had crumbled. But the evidence of the Great Grab that consumed the old Southern Empire after the Inquisitores lingered, even in this small village.

Logan nodded.

“He will not hurt you again,” Fire sparked in his chest and he pushed down his fury. Its time would come. “I will not let him hurt you again.”

Logan looked up, eyes wide. And hopeful.

“I am your consigliere, Logan. And your friend.” He offered his hands, palm up. “I am here to teach you and to guide you as you discover all you can do with magic.” He nodded slowly when Logan reached for his hands. “And to protect you from anyone who might do you harm until you can protect yourself.”

“You make it sound like I’m a helpless child,” he muttered. But he didn’t let go. “Useless.”

“No,” Janus’ voice was stern and Logan quickly looked up, the fear in his eyes melting when Janus smiled back at him. “Far from it. Logan, I found you because of the magic—your magic—you have been pouring out in to the world. Your luminaria have helped countless mages. Even without teaching, you have helped so many.”

“What… what do people do with the lucis they receive?”

“You will see when ours return. We’re far from any magical communities, so the fastest of them won’t likely reach us until tomorrow. But you will see for yourself the good you have already done.”

Logan’s aura brightened, not quite as strong as it had been when they’d first met, now with smoky edges tugging at his power with crooked fingers. He listened, though, and after a while, he nodded and gripped Janus’ hand with both of his own. “Will the lucis help with your wound?”

“Yes,” Janus admitted. “And I will teach you that spell in the morning, as well. After you find your staff.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Again, Logan had looked away, jaw set in that frown Janus was beginning to recognize as shame. Janus wasn’t yet sure whether it was shame at not knowing or shame at a real or imagined mistake—was there much of a difference for a novice?

“I didn’t know you found your staff. I thought it had been carved and…”

“You’re correct,” Janus chuckled, gently nodding. “Yes, it will be carved. I mean you must first find the bough out of which your staff will be formed.”

“What kind of wood should I look for?”

“You and the wood will find each other. Something strong and flexible. Yew is a good choice. Or maple. Aspen.”

“Hmm,” Logan’s voice grew soft and his head drooped against Janus’ shoulder. No longer fueled by cold and fear and worry, sleep had wrapped delicate fingers around him, tugging him toward dreams. “But how will I know it’s the right one?” He mumbled.

His own staff tucked under the bedroll, its curve reassuring against his back, Janus hummed and drew the blankets up to Logan’s chin. “Your instincts will guide you if you listen to them.”

Logan’s eyes snapped open and he clung to his hand. “But how will I know? I don’t know what I’m doing and I…” Words faltering, he looked down at their shared grip, shaking his head. “I’ve been so wrong about you. Twice. I thought you’d come to take my book and that you…” He swallowed audibly, aura flickering before burning brightly again.

Janus held his hand and waited.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally whispered.

“My dear Logan,” Janus murmured and gently tilted up his chin so their eyes would meet. “You do not ever need to apologize to me for being afraid. The world has given you much to fear, but when you find just a bit more trust in yourself,” he smiled and tapped Logan’s sternum. “Right here, you will know.”

Logan’s eyes searched his, flickering in the firelight. “You sound so sure.”

“That’s because I am,” Janus hummed, tucking the blankets closer around them. “I can see your strength, Logan. Listen to yourself and you will know.”

Logan stared back at him as the crinkle between his brows slowly softened. Nodding, Logan’s eyes slowly closed and his head grew heavier on Janus’ shoulder. “Thank you,” he mumbled and slowly sleep took him.

‘Thank you.’ For what? For not stealing from you? For not trying to suppress your magic? For not abusing you?

Janus’ control cracked and, jaw clenched, a low growl pushed its way up from the back of his throat at the memory of the hungry grins of the men at Logan’s doorway. Yes, Logan would find his staff in the morning.

And Janus would find them.

But now was a time for rest. Morning would come all too soon. Janus let his eyes close and matched his breathing to Logan’s. When his jaw relaxed, he opened his eyes and focused on the precious novice mage beside him. He’d found him far later than he wished he could have. And far, far later than Logan needed to have been found.

But he was here now. Features smooth in sleep, Logan looked nearly whole, gaunt cheeks and the thready pulse visible at the thin skin at his temple the only clues to the jagged pain laying beneath the softness of slumber.

As Janus watched him sleep, a quiet snow began to fall. The outer bounds of their circle cut a sharp border between them and the accumulating drifts, the delicate flakes kept at bay by his protection spell. Eventually, Janus’ own eyes grew heavy and he drifted off to the music of Logan’s steady breathing and the snowy whispers of the woods.

[jennifercrowart]

D&D Diary - The Yawning Rodent, 5

Refresher: Our adventurers Lugs (grung barbarian), Lurk (grung rogue), Aelia (tiefling cleric), Valas (drow sorcerer), and tagalong Meepo (kobold) defeated the giant spider mother, and confirmed that her latest human victim was not one of the Hucrele children they're looking for.  After resting through the day, they journeyed deeper into the Goblin Gang's territory, and fought groups of both on and off-duty guards.

When Meepo began to hear cries for help through a door, the group were able to unlock a room that was being used by the Goblin Gang as a dungeon cell for their Kobold Gang hostages. Amongst the kobold prisoners was a small ratfolk man - Deku, who his brother Big Oak had asked the party to look out for on their way to the Sunless Citadel. Deku had been trying to study the ruins using a library book about cults, but had been captured when he wandered too far inside. After retrieving his confiscated belongings from one of the guard barracks, Deku realised his library book was still missing, so he eagerly decided to join the party and hopefully find it.

But, first, the party had to find the Kobold Gang's missing dragon. Having found out her location from a guard they subsequently knocked unconscious, the party soon did just that...

Sunless Citadel spoilers!

Through the open door comes a rush of the stagnant stench of ammonia. Aelia, Valas, and Lugs enter the room first, finding it to be trashed as though it's been hit by a hurricane. Dressers, cupboards, and a table that all look like remnants from when the citadel once functioned as more than makeshift gang territories have been tipped over, with trophies knocked from the walls, and contents of drawers spilling onto the rug and stone floor. This room is chillier than the others, and patches of frost and snow coat the floor and pieces of furniture, glittering and sparkling in Valas' eerie green torchlight. In the center of the room is a stake that's been hammered unceremoniously into the ground, holding what's left of an iced-over and broken length of thick chain.

From above comes the light creak of wooden beams, and when they look up, they see a small, thin dragon crouching on the icy, dropping-stained rafters. Her scales are a bright white, and her feral eyes are a cold blue, though she's only as large as a wolf.

The white dragon wyrmling suddenly pounces on the party from above, her jaws just missing Aelia who ducks out of the way just in time. She  and Valas begin to panic, not having expected the dragon to be hostile straight away, while Lurk and Lugs already start going after Calcryx. With their springy frog legs, they find no trouble in jumping up to the rafters to go after her as she attempts to keep a height advantage over the group.

The adventurers hurriedly decide that they'll all try to do non-lethal attacks so they can still capture her alive. Deku casts bless on Lugs, Lurk, and Valas, as they're making the most attacks against the creature. Lugs goes after Calcryx with his club and Lurk with his bow and shortswords, but Lurk gets hit with an icy blast from the dragon's maw and falls off the rafters, unconscious and bleeding out when he hits the floor below. Aelia uses her healing magic to keep him stable and send him back into the fight.

When Meepo catches up to join the battle, Calcryx's attention suddenly shifts focus, her expression furious as she hisses and yells expletives at him in Draconic. Deku, with his understanding of the language, pales, awkwardly translating a censored version for the others. Valas frowns, and starts to question Meepo about his real relationship to Calcryx - it seems that she wasn't treated very well by the Kobold Gang at all, and it's now no wonder that she's so hostile to people. Meepo, incredulous, doesn't seem to understand that treating a dragon who he can talk to like a vicious circus animal is not going to win him any affection...

Calcryx goes after him immediately, letting out a roar and shaking the rafters so a hail of icicles rains down on the party below, before swooping down after the kobold. "YOU BETTER RUN, LITTLE LEECH."

Aelia and Lurk tell Meepo to get out of the room for his own safety. Calcryx zooms down and reaches him just beyond the doorway, snapping at his neck. The others try to keep fighting, while her thought begins to glow with recharged energy for her ice breath, and the steam from her mouth becomes a chilling fog that makes Valas feel like he's freezing down to his bones, preventing him from moving as quickly. In another furiously desperate and scrabbly attempt, she grabs Meepo's shoulder between her jaws before he's able to get far enough away, and crunches down with her icy fangs, landing a critical blow on the already-feeble kobold. Meepo yelps in pain, before losing consciousness as Calcryx tosses his limp body like a discarded toy. "Bad... girl.... Calcryx..."

Aelia, Deku, and Valas yell out to him, but have no choice but to keep fighting for now. Deku tries to help with his radiant magic, Lurk sends an arrow through her wing, Lugs lands a heavy hit on her back with his club, and Valas shoots out a Chaos Bolt of psychic energy. Like a shaken soda can, his wild magic begins to bubble up and overflow uncontrollably, and triggers for the first time; while Valas is dismayed at this, this time it results in summoning a spectral shield to protect him.

Calcryx, having completed her objective of killing the kobold Keeper of Dragons even though she's now badly wounded and limping, flies back towards the ceiling. She hisses at them to leave. With a well-aimed shot, Aelia hits her in the leg with a crossbow bolt, and it's enough to send Calcryx toppling to the ground and crashing into a smashed cupboard, unconscious.

With the fight over, Deku rushes over to Meepo, panicking. At a glance, the heavily bleeding and completely still kobold is dead. Deku leans over him and presses his Rat King holy symbol over the deep wounds in his shoulder and neck, and in a desperate plea, he casts Preserve Life.

While it seems like Meepo is too far gone at first, soon, the ragged tooth marks start to glow warm blue in tandem with Deku's holy symbol as the skin starts to slowly knit itself back together. His breathing is very faint, and blood had already been irregularly pulsing from his neck from a weak heartbeat, but he's still alive. The gashes heal over, but, with his clothes still wet and stained with blood, he doesn't wake up, even as his breathing slowly steadies. Deku watches over him, letting out a sigh of relief.

As the situation calms down, the rest of the party discusses what they should do about Calcryx. Knowing now that the Kobold Gang treated her poorly, they discuss potentially taking her back to the Rat's Nest to either be set free or nurtured properly by the ratfolk. Deku mentions that, if the group were to return to the Rat's Nest, the Yawning Rodent tavern does serve food that could give them a strengthening boost for when they return to the Sunless Citadel to continue adventuring. However, he also awkwardly tries to suggest that if they do go to the Rat's Nest, he'll just stay here and wait or hide outside of it, anxious that his brother would stop him from returning to the ruins with the party if he sees that he's been rescued already.

For now, the party seems to settle on trying to take Calcryx and Meepo back to the Kobold Gang's leader, Yusdrayl, as long as they make sure the gang knows to care for Calcryx more kindly. For now, they begin to look around for anything they can salvage from this trophy room, and find some crystal goblets, fine silverware, more jade dragon figurines, and a scroll that Valas finds out is in Dwarven, though it's heavily water-damaged.

As there's another reinforced door out of Calcryx's room, Lurk picks it open, curious as to where it leads next. Before him lies what looks like a long corridor, hazy with smoke from the wall sconces and decorated with more etchings of dragons. Meanwhile, Lugs cracks some ice out of the rug on the floor and fashions it into a sling, so they can drag the unconscious dragon wyrmling with them back to the Kobold Gang's territory.

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

I actually felt good about this session! For the first time, my players had a real challenge with the Calcryx fight. I looked into white dragon lair and legendary actions, and came up with some that were similar but more suitable for a wyrmling, like the freezing fog just slowing affected creatures down instead of dealing cold damage, Calcryx being able to use a 'villain action' to fly a little bit and not take opportunity attacks instead of fly and deal damage with the wingbeat, etc. Still challenging, and helped to keep up the pressure even though it was one creature against six - of course, I doubt it's perfect, but considering this is the fifth session I've run and the first time I've felt so good about a boss fight, I'm pretty happy!

Of course, Meepo dying was a big deal - I didn't really expect it to happen, but I forgot how little HP he had, and how much Calcryx could do with a bite attack - the book adventure does say that she'll attack him first if he's with the party! I am a bit of a softie though, and the players really liked Meepo, so while he won't be joining any more fights in this adventure, he's alive... ;v;

Also, for clarification, Meepo has been played by me as an NPC (taking instructions from the players when they want), but Deku is played by my friend Zak as a guest! Deku was written into the adventure anyway, replacing a more generic acolyte NPC the players could rescue from the goblins, and when Zak's schedule opened up so he could join the game for a while, that opportunity seemed pretty good!

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Queen Of The Damned”

In the whole eternity, The Queen of the Underworld only loved once: he was mortal and died shortly after she gave him a child. So when The Joker says he’s a Prince, he’s not actually lying or being a presumptuous lunatic: the green haired man is in fact royalty and sole heir to The Realm Below.

“Stop fidgeting!!!” the nurse admonishes. “This is a new experimental drug and it will help you, OK?” she tries to reason with the patient confined inside a straitjacket, heavy chains bounding him to the metal table.

“Let me go!” he hisses and tries to bite her as she checks his neck for pulse.

“I can’t let you go, Mister Joker. We’re trying to make you better, alright?” the caregiver dodges his teeth before J can sink them in her flesh.

“If you don’t untie me, my Mother will come!!! She doesn’t like it if I’m in danger!”

“Shut the hell up, you insane bastard!” the attending physician can’t hold in his bitterness while mixing the serum.

“Doctor Reeves!” the woman raises her voice. “That’s not the way we talk! I know you are new at Arkham Asylum, but I would really appreciate it if you treat our cases with respect!”

“I’m sorry,” the physician apologizes for his unprofessional remark. “He gets on my nerves!”

“Yes well… Please keep your personal opinions to yourself because they’re not doing any good! The patient is very agitated; would you like me to take over?” she offers and gets cut off.

“I don’t need your expertise, I’m a doctor for God’s sake!”

“I wasn’t implying otherwise,” the nurse sighs at his obvious crankiness; why does she have to be stuck during the night shift with Reeves?! Arkham’s South Wing is already harboring the worst criminals and a psychiatrist that took the job for the thrills can’t possibly render assistance to the troubled convicts incarcerated here.

“I’m done,” he taps the syringe and approaches The Joker when the lights suddenly flicker. “Another power outage?! The storm is not that bad!” the guy rants and doesn’t realize the prisoner is not struggling to escape anymore.  

“My Mother’s coming!” the most demented smile flourishes on The Joker’s lips. “I warned you!” he maniacally starts laughing with delight. “You should have listened!”

A low rumble shakes the immense building and the convoluted hallways fill up with mist: the Queen of The Realm Below steps in the world of the living again, surrounded by her loyal army of twisted warriors.

“Protect The Prince!” the invisible wraiths shriek, crawling on the walls in order to destroy the cameras. Some fly through brick and metal with the sole purpose of fulfilling their ruler’s command: no greater honor than aid her son trapped in the human kingdom.

He often gets in trouble and somehow miraculously vanishes or avoids hazardous situations; this is his first time at Arkham and the authorities will believe tonight’s events are an inside job or simply an elaborate breakout plotted by The Joker’s team.

Ironically enough The King of Gotham is not even crazy: his mind works on a totally different level due to the unearthly heritage. There is no cure for a person that’s not sick, no medicine or therapy allegedly mending something that’s not fractured.

“Why isn’t the generator kicking in?” Reeves stares at the ceiling and the nurse carefully listens, pointing out a disturbing detail:

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” the doctor crinkles his nose. “It’s silent.”

“Exactly,” she mutters. “Why is it so quiet?”

“I have no idea,” he prepares to poke The Joker’s arm when the halogen bulbs instantly go out. “Ana, can you…” the psychiatrist mumbles as the lights turn back on. “Finally!” he turns towards the woman and gasps at the frightening apparition standing next to him. Your sword whooshes in the stillness and the corpse falls to the ground, abruptly followed by the caregiver’s: both didn’t have the opportunity to process what they saw by pure coincidence. It was gone in a second along with their existence.

The Queen towers over the medical ward, slowly taking off her helmet; her hair intensely burns, eternally fueled by the fires of The Underworld.

“You came!” The Joker face brightens up with pure happiness noticing the creatures’ claws release him from his constraints: they grumble, coo and chirp seeing The Prince is safe and sound; he pets a few kneeling at his feet while rushing in your arms. “Mother!” J sniffles and you hold him tight until his body relaxes a little bit.

“Are you hurt?” you whisper and your son pouts, burying his cheeks in the cold silver of your plated armor.

“No,” the muffled word prompts a kiss on his forehead; The Joker lets go, unwilling to watch his mother depart: he’s aware she can’t linger for too long, yet the desire to stay close to her never fades. “When are you going to take me with you?” the piercing blue eyes inherited from his father glare into yours.

“Soon,” the elusive reply makes him frown.

“You promised and I’m always left behind!”

How can you explain why he’s still here?... J wouldn’t comprehend what coming with you to The Realm Below means: he would have to get rid of his mortal shell and you just don’t have the strength to witness him die.  

Despite the horrifying moniker, The Queen of The Damned is neither good nor evil; her actions are invariably guided by circumstances.

She takes care of lost, damaged spirits and although powerful and feared, Y/N is also the recipient of her legions’ constant devotion, for no other Monarch of The Underworld ever enjoyed being cherished by its subject as much as you are.

The abomination born from her love with a human didn’t diminish the horde’s allegiance: it actually made them adore The Queen more because affection is desperately craved in The Realm Below and they can’t wait to have a Prince willing to share his Mother’s duties!

But The Joker’s arrival keeps on getting postponed…  

“You know what I’ll do?” J mischievously snickers. “I’m gonna call my crew and tell them to pick me up. The mystery of how I’m able to walk out of this place without their intervention will drive them nuts! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” his sinister chuckle resonates in the room; he feels such gratification thinking about it one could presume he’s in a cheerful disposition. “Did you clear the path for me?” The Prince inquires and the entities snarl, excited he’s paying attention to their mighty deeds. “Perfect!” your son praises. “I’ll signal when to open the gates, ok?”

They growl at his approval and you have to interrupt the joyful mood:

“I have to go…”

“Is dad waiting for you?” J asks, already guessing the answer.

“Yes,” you nod and reassure: “Don’t worry, I’ll return when you need me!”

Before the sentence ends The Queen disappears, abandoning her descendant inside the Arkham Asylum. The Joker sulks, upset he can’t follow you and gets distracted by the commotion created on the other side of Block H: apparently some guards weren’t annihilated as expected.

“You said you cleared the path!” he scolds and picks up the phone, dialing Frost’s number. “No matter, I’ll get reinforcements and we’ll make this a party on our own, hm?” the silver grin widens at the concept of fighting his way out himself.

In the meantime, J’s mother materializes by the Endless Wall that separates The Realm Below from The Realm Above: its transparent, glass like composition is meant to keep you apart from the man you love. Why?

The response is easy: The King reigning over The Realm Above always craved your fondness and felt betrayed when you gave your attention to a mere human; deciding to give Kai a child was the epitome of mockery for the jealous emperor. He never accepted your choices had nothing to do with him. Thus he took the matters in his own hands and ensured Kai’s demise, making certain you won’t be able to save him: the mortal you loved was killed in a car crash and went to The Realm Above, which was the plan all along. Since The Joker’s father was at peace when he passed and not a lost, broken soul, he didn’t wind up in your kingdom; The Emperor sealed the borders as soon as Kai appeared on his domain, making sure you won’t touch or hear each other again.  

You tried to break the spell without success: only the one that casted such magic could reverse it and The King has no intention to do so. He likes torturing The Queen of The Damned and her beloved, that’s why he lingers in the shadows to glutton at their agony every time they meet.

Today is no exception and it sure brings The Emperor great comfort to view the aftermath of his revolting actions: it probably hurts because you’re unable to do more than gaze at the man you love. Such a fit punishment for a stuck-up Queen rejecting his proposal. You sure got what you deserved! All the powers you possess are useless against his impenetrable curse unleashed out of pure resentment.

Hmm… what’s going on?... You suddenly seem flustered and The King is trying to estimate on the motive; Kai keeps on calling your name, yet you can’t discern the sounds anyway. You swiftly fade in a hurry, neglecting to wave goodbye for a valid pretext: the sharp ache in your chest alerted that something awful happened to your son.

**************  

The Joker is lying on the floor, almost unconscious from the blood loss. The red stain under him is growing bigger and bigger, reaching the collapsed security officers that stood between J and his freedom. He was overly hyped and decided to create mayhem: being reckless provoked the dark side of his personality and he didn’t wait for his gang nor allowed the wraiths to intervene.

The Clown Prince of Crime definitely counts on his Mother’s aid, therefore he doesn’t have to worry about consequences to his endeavors. He trusts you won’t fail to show up and get him out of messy situations like this one.

“M-mother…”, The Joker wheezes as you hover over him. “Mother… h-help me…”, he begs and your hesitation puzzles your heir; his father distracted you and in exchange J got severely injured.

“… …. …. I won’t… I can’t have your father, but I’ll take you…” The Queen confesses, adamant to overcome her delay in fulfilling his wish for years. Maybe she won’t be determined like she is now if another chance will arise in the future.

“Really?...” the hope in his tone makes you sadder. “Mother…” he winces in pain, trying to touch you. “Please h-help me…It…it hurts…”

You grab his fingers and squeeze them in yours, pecking his tattooed knuckles.

“I know…I’m sorry…”

“W-why won’t you…” and he pauses, taking a last labored breath, “…help m-me?!...”

His eyelids are closing, the individual labeled as one of the worse criminals lastly fleeing the prison of his mortal half. The Joker is dead and The Prince of The Realm Below emerges from his remains, stunned to wake up next to you.

“Mother?...” he blinks and you cup his face, relieved you had the courage to do what  you deferred in the past.

“It’s ok,” you smile. “You’ll get used to the sensation, give it a few moments,” you pass your hand to his burning hair, amazed at the terrifying beauty he was blessed with thanks to his ancestry.

“Boss!!!”

“Mister Joker!!”

“Mister J, where are you?” the questions echo in the deserted Block H: his henchmen finally infiltrated the area, spooked at the unnerving feeling that something is shady. When they arrived, the Asylum’s gates were open; nobody around on the street, no guards, no medical personnel, nobody they could spot anywhere on their way to pick up The Joker as instructed.

“Over here!” Frost shouts and rushes to The Joker’s corpse, swiftly taking his pulse. “Shit!” he mumbles when he detects no heartbeat.

“What the fuck?!” Panda is the second to stumble on the scene, baffled to notice his employer covered in blood wearing just a pair of sweatpants.

“We need to get out this instant!” Frost commands as the others join the small group. “Help me carry him!”

“J?..” a woman’s voice emerges. “J?” the visibly pregnant Ava runs on the empty corridor. “Oh my God!” she panics when she sees them trying to lift him up. “J?” she gently caresses his face, panicked when there’s no movement. “Is he dead?” she presses on his wounds and starts crying since the guys are quiet. “Aren’t you going to do anything??!!” she screams, desperate to acknowledge not too much can be done.

“… Mother…” The Prince articulates and you already predict his request: “… Can I stay?”

Who else understands him better to begin with? He loves the mortal and you can relate to his anguish. Of course he wants to go with you also, yet there are things that are holding him back in the human world.

“I suppose I’m condemned to ages of loneliness…” you utter and give him a violent nudge before you change your mind.

The Prince falls back into his body; The Joker gasping for air makes Frost and Panda almost drop him on the marble floor.

“J!” Ava exclaims in disbelief. “Baby??!!” she brings her ear to his lips because he’s saying something.

“Mother… Mother…” J faintly repeats and the woman misinterprets. “Yes, I’m going to be a mom and you’re going to be a dad. You already know this, hm?” she caresses his face. “Be careful!” Ava reprimands as they wrap Richard’s jacket around The Joker and Panda drags a stretcher next to them.

“Jesus boss, we thought we lost you!” Jonny adds and barely deciphers his reply:

“You’re not that lucky…”

The Joker keeps staring at The Queen and the army hidden to the rest of them: she’s leaving and although weakened, he wants to apologize for generating more sorrow when she doesn’t deserve it.

“Forgive me…” J whispers and your last words only he can discern give him unexpected bliss:

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

**************

You come near the transparent wall, seeking to find consolation even if it’s impossible: Kay is on the other side, the palm of his right hand against the invisible barrier. You cover it with yours, wishing you could tell him so much but what’s the point?...  He can’t hear you.

“I couldn’t bring him with me,” The Queen whispers nevertheless. “He wanted to stay… and I couldn’t force him…”

Something is trickling down your face and you touch it, confused.

What is this?! Tears don’t exist in The Underworld; a few drip on the barrier and it starts sizzling to your legion’s dismay. They sniff the bubbly fumes, curiously scratching at the expanding chain reaction: the wall is melting.

You and Kay watch the gap becoming larger and larger until there’s enough space to fit. Is this real or an illusion?!

I guess you’ll have to find out so you take a few shaky steps towards him, not being able to suppress your astonishment when he yanks you in his arms.  

The Emperor is lurking in the shadows, furious his unbreakable magic is dissipating with each passing moment. Your warriors are granted free passage again and they spill inside The Kingdom Above, howling while awaiting orders.  

As she hugs the man she loves, The Mother of lost spirits sneers through her clenched teeth:

“Attack!”

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[azaleablueme]

V for the minific ❤️

V:  An abandoned or empty place. (more prompts here)

 Thank you, friend! I got some DH-era pinning for you!

…

The dilapidated house stood alone at the edge of Old St Mellons, on the eastern edge of Cardiff, Wales. It was a quaint little village comprising mainly of 19th-century buildings. When the trio arrived there at the end of February, the weather was still quite pleasant during the day if a little cold during the night, a welcome change from the chill, snow and frost they faced up north.

 After having lived inside a canvas tent for months, the prospect of having a solid roof over their heads had seemed quite enticing for Harry, Ron and Hermione. But all three of them knew that it could be their ‘home’ for a precious few days before they had to move again. 

The charms and protective spells had been put in place as a priority; it wouldn’t do for the villagers to find three ‘lost’ teenagers living in an abandoned house. Any and all trips to find food were planned for the night, and under the Cloak for added measure. Hermione thankfully had the better judgement to cast a Scorgify in one of the rooms for them to occupy. By the look of the building, Ron was sure there was quite possibly a tiny version of Aragog’s family living there. But once they had set up a temporary bedroom by placing their mattresses on the stone floor of what had presumably been a living room, and settled down, he couldn’t deny that it felt more homely than a tent that swayed and flapped its door and windows during the weakest of storms. 

“We still have to take guard duty,” Ron declared as he bolted shut the windows, partly with the loose hanging latches and partly with magic. A storm was beginning to brew in the horizon. “Do we have enough food to last the night?” he asked, dusting his sleeves as he returned to their makeshift beds.

“A tin of biscuits and some weak tea at the most,” provided Harry as he Accioed out their meagre food supplies from Hermione’s beaded bag.

“And two apples,” added Hermione. 

Ron looked up and for one brief moment, was suddenly struck by how beautiful she looked fresh out of a bath. And then her much-too-large jumper slid off her shoulder and he looked away guiltily. “You both should have one each in that case. I’ll go out foraging later in the night if the storm dies down.”

“We share whatever we have,” she declared firmly as she tucked the damp curls behind her ears, and picking up the small bag Harry had left on Ron’s mattress, dug in to pull out her hairbrush. “Most of the pipes have rusted off and there’s no water. I sorted what I could. I think we are good to go for the next two days as long as we remember to put everything back as it was when we leave.”

“You mean, damage everything again,” prompted Ron.

“Yes,” she chuckled. “But I won’t deny that a soak did wonder for my aching muscles,” she replied, as she walked closer and sat down next to him, brushing the tangles off her hair. The faint aroma of soap and shampoo hung in the air around them. It was blissful. Feeling strangely comfortable, Ron dropped himself on the mattress, face down, Hermione sitting mere inches away from him.    

“Hey mate, d’ya think we can sort this thing and light a fire perhaps? What do you say, Hermione?” 

Ron turned his head to his left. Harry was currently on his knees, peeping inside an enormous fireplace. 

Hermione placed her hairbrush down and turned as well. “I don’t know, Harry! We won’t be able to hide the smoke, will we?” She turned at him, eyes barely holding back the anxiety that Ron knew lingered just beneath the surface anyway. 

He propped himself up on his arms. “Yeah, we could do with Hermione’s Bluebell flames, couldn’t we?” he replied looking between his two best friends, “Better not have the old folks turning on us with their sticks and stones, eh?”

Harry shrugged and picked himself up, dusting his knees and arms. “Fine, I’ll draw myself a bath in that case, and take a nap after that. My turn to take watch, innit?”

“The pipes don’t have any water, so you’ll just have to use a spell,” Hermione told him as Harry began rummaging her bag for his clothes. 

“Okay,” he mumbled, and having retrieved a tee and pyjama bottoms, went away.

With Harry gone, Ron flopped back, and somehow by a strange coincidence, landed with his head on her lap. For minutes, maybe hours even, they remained still, the silence of the surrounding broken just by the faint howling of the storm outside. Hermione had not taken her eyes off him. He could see her upside-down face, and feel her deep breathing in tune with his. He had apologised days before and he knew, they had come back to some sort of an understanding. But the details were still fuzzy, he still didn’t know where they stood, didn’t really have the guts to ask if she’d ever take him back- hoped she knew that he’d wait for an eternity for it if need be. 

“I-” he began, struggling to phrase an apology, craving to blurt out a confession he knew he wasn’t allowed.   

“It’s okay,” she said quietly, and then, as if straight out of his dreams, threaded her fingers in his hair. He closed his eyes in bliss. “This feels a bit like home, doesn’t it?” he mumbled lazily after a while. 

Her fingers paused and he heard the softest of sobs; he was up in a flash, even before the heartbeat passed. 

“Hermione?” he asked, and then, very cautiously placed his palm on her cheek, tilting her face up a smidge to meet her eyes. “What’s the matter?”

 She seemed to struggle with the words for a while before she spoke. “What if, y'know, they attacked my parents’ place too?” she whimpered, “This is how my home would look, wouldn’t it?" 

He exhaled heavily, his inner turmoil struggling to break free. "They are safe,” he promised,   his thumb stroking her cheek, “You took care of them like no one else could, Hermione.”

“They’ll be okay, won’t they, Ron?” she asked again, as if begging him to assuage her fears, biting her quivering lower lip. He had visualised many situations where Hermione bit her lips; this didn’t come anywhere close. He ached to pull her into his arms, not that he was allowed. 

“They’ll be fine, and we will be too, all of us,” he replied, with enough conviction to convince her as well as himself.

She sucked in a deep breath and nodded once. Slowly and reluctantly he pulled his hand away, fisting his fingers tightly, and placing it on his lap to avoid touching her. “Should I get you some tea?” he asked.

“Maybe later,” she replied with the faintest of smiles, her left hand playing with the hem of her jumper, the right resting next to her on the makeshift bed. 

He quietly contemplated on his next course of action. What he truly desired was to stay close, wrap her in his arms. What he was allowed was pulling away before she initiated the distance. 

“Get some rest,” he suggested at last and pushed himself back. 

“Ron?" 

"Hmm?”

“Mind if I, y'know…" 

As he looked curiously she inched closer, and then, as if gathering all her strength, lowered her body on the mattress, her head resting on his thighs, the slightly damp curls sprawled over them. He sucked in a breath and met her eyes. There was a smile lingering on her lips. At that moment, she could have said those words, he knew instinctively, but she didn’t- she didn’t need to. Instead, she closed her eyes and snuggled deeper as she turned to her left. His fingers found their way into her hair, threading through the soft curls, and she sighed contently. So did he.

The house was broken down and abandoned for sure, but for Ron and Hermione that night, it felt like home. 

…

[whispersafterdusk]

The Master’s Apprentice - ch 14

Something like storm clouds hung thick and low over Winterhold, almost hiding the College's top-most towers from view entirely.  The air was electrified, oppressive, and to Onmund it "stank" of something terrible...he couldn't describe it as more than a stench that set him on edge - a sign that things weren't at all right here.

If it bothered Kestrel she didn't show it and instead she strode fearlessly through the ankle-deep snow toward a ring of guards and what looked like a few scattered "adventurer" types that were blocking the road into the town.

"Halt right there, traveler-"

Kestrel merely gestured at the guard that had stepped forward to meet them and he, and several of the others behind him, slid apart and cleared a space for her to move through.

"You can't go in there!"

"-I promise we're here to stop it," Onmund said quickly as he hurried through the gap behind Kestrel and tried to ignore the shouting guards and their grasping hands.

The College had never seemed so...ominous.  Sure, it had seemed huge and imposing the first time he'd crossed the bridge but now with the storm clouds and the gloom and knowing what was inside it he just...  It had once been home and now it wasn't, and he found himself missing the cozy little hole in the ground he'd only an hour earlier had asked to leave.  He hoped there was something still worth saving inside - he especially hoped that the people who remained could be saved...he had no desire to slaughter his prior teachers but if it came down to his or their survival there was really only one choice to make.

...sort of like Kestrel's own choices regarding him, and now he understood exactly how awful it felt to consider them.

When they reached the bridge Kestrel sent some sort of arcing, blueish white light racing across it ahead of them; it traced over the stone of the bridge rapidly and halfway across it splattered like paint across a barrier that had previously been invisible.

"Predictable and not at all surprising," she muttered.  Whatever it was wasn't enough to deter her from stepping onto the bridge and beginning to walk; Onmund followed close on her heels until they were both standing in front of the marked barrier.  "Shield your eyes, this will be bright."

He pulled part of his hood over his face and closed his eyes; because he couldn't watch he had no idea what Kestrel did but a few breaths later a flash went off followed by a dull sound like far off thunder, and when he cautiously peeked he saw that the paint-like splatter of Kestrel's spell was gone and, as Kestrel moved forward freely, so was the barrier.  

That they hadn't been challenged by anything other than the guards had him worried (and those guards he suspected were there to protect those they could, not because they were under Varea's control). He wished he felt as fearless and determined as Kestrel appeared as the entrance to the College loomed before them; he could just spy the statue on the far side of the courtyard through the doorway and could make out the shadows of bustling figures moving back and forth in front of it.

A chill far worse than the snow swirling around them settled in his gut; this was it.  This was...IT - the actual, final fight.  They'd either win or die here.

Kestrel walked in ahead of him; in the courtyard beneath the statue's gaze was a milling group of College members as well as a few faces Onmund recognized from Winterhold, and it seemed like a fair amount of the guards were here now too...little wonder that the guards they'd passed had wanted to stop them from entering the town.  In eerie unison they turned to face Onmund and Kestrel, hands going to weapons and spells being readied -- there was no sign of Varea herself but Onmund knew all these people were under her control and that she no doubt knew they were here.

"Well...color me surprised."

--yes, Varea definitely knew they were here; her voice echoed through the courtyard and those gathered there moved in to cluster closer together and form a human wall between Kestrel and Onmund and the Hall of Elements beyond.

"Apprentice..."

Onmund looked to Kestrel; the skin around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth tightened slightly and it was the only warning he had before the air around them grew thick with energies.  She said a word - one he didn't recognize - and for a brief moment the air seemed to crystallize around them and time seemed to slow, then with a sharp crack the air 'shattered' and sent everyone but himself and Kestrel to the ground flat on their backs as the door into the Hall ripped free and shot inward.

"No one but me gets through there," was all she said then, breaking into a jog toward the far door and leaping over the groaning people.

He shook himself free of the mild awe he'd felt at the spell's display and hurried to follow before planting his feet in the ruined doorway and turning to glance back at the others.

He counted...fifteen - no, sixteen people standing in front of him: seven were College members (and he felt his stomach twist at that) and the rest were enthralled guards from town.  While he imagined he could just block the doorway with something (maybe meld the stone inward to make it impossible to squeeze through) that meant that HE wouldn't be able to get through it if Kestrel, for whatever reason, decided she needed his help, AND he had his doubts that he could do something like that before all these people rushed him...

Until he'd subdued everyone he wouldn't get a chance to block off this doorway. What could he do that would be safe enough...wind?  Water?  If only he knew how to put magical barriers around things...he sincerely did not want to hurt these people but knew they wouldn't be thinking the same of him, and he'd been instructed to hold this entry point -- Onmund could not let anyone get by him but knew that if things turned too violent he'd inevitably be forced to make that "them or me" choice...

"If you're in there...fight it," he said then, disappointed in the slight tremble to his voice.  "I don't want to hurt you, I'm here to help free you."

One of the guards pulled a bow from her back and nocked an arrow, taking aim and drawing.

He huffed out a sigh - it's not that he'd actually expected that to work but he at least felt better that he'd tried it - and raised his wards around him, hearing the soft 'tink' noise of the arrow striking stone off to his left after it deflected off the swirling shield around him.

That single arrow shot was like a dam breaking, a signal to the others to all rush forward and send a dizzying barrage of arrows and spells at him. Onmund's ward flickered briefly as his focus slipped; he could trust in his ward theoretically all he wanted but actually seeing all that damage coming his way was far more intimidating than he could've imagined on his own...but, it held.  He held.  And he rapidly backpedaled to avoid the incoming swing of a blade and used his free hand to slam a gust of wind into that guard's gut that propelled the man backward to crash into Drevis behind him (and the spell Drevis had readied fizzled into nothingness as the two hit the ground in a tangled heap of limbs).

'Focus...I need to focus.  That's what will win this,' he began to chant over and over in his mind as he deflected two more arrows, a fireball, and a bolt of lightning.  Again he threw a few people aside with a blast of wind and maneuvered himself back in front of the shattered doorway.

Focus focus focus... Just think of this as another sparring session -- a session that didn't have Kestrel in it; those afternoons they'd spent together training him how to fight and defend himself had switched between what he'd call "vigorous review" and terrifying moments when Kestrel threw something new at him without warning.  This was just...this was no different, right?  This was a training session and nothing more, and the only difference was Kestrel wasn't his opponent this time.

As that thought sank in it bolstered his confidence some:

 These people I'm fighting aren't Kestrel - they weren't trained by her and they don't know what she's taught me.

 I'm armed with HER lessons...I can do this.

He sent a lightning bolt crashing into the floor between his toes and knocked a guard from their feet with a strong gush of water fired from his palm; in the same smooth motion he shifted and turned, guiding the water spell in a wide arc in front of him and following it up with the frigid frost spell -- the ground around him began to shine and shimmer as icy patches formed, and as Drevis stepped forward to cast at him again Onmund pushed him back onto one of the patches and smiled faintly as the man's feet shot out from under him.

An arrow whistled by his head then - it skimmed across the top edge of his ward and he hadn't even noticed was being aimed at him; there were three guards standing behind the others with bows in hand, firing at him as quickly as they could nock and draw.  

The arrows weren't a problem, technically - none of them could hope to get through his warding shield alone, but continued assault would eventually wear him down (as it did take magicka and concentration to constantly deflect things aside) -- he set his feet, ducked a sword swing and elbowed another guard in the head, then thrust his hands out and sent a wave of fire from both hands that scattered everyone ahead of him.  In the opening he'd created he sent a shower of small icicles at the guards at the back and was satisfied when he saw one of the bowstrings snap (he hadn't actually intended to do that - it was an exceptionally lucky happenstance) and the three quit firing at him as they struggled to shield themselves with their arms and hands held up around their heads.

Suddenly J'zargo was on top of him; in one hand he held a readied fire spell of some kind and the other shoved a hand around the ward to claw at his shoulder.  Onmund hissed as the claws shredded the sleeve over his bicep and bit deeply into the muscle, and partly out of pain and partly out of simple surprise the wind gust he struck the khajiit with lifted the male off his feet and propelled him ten feet away before he hit the ground; he winced at the loud and meaty thud as his friend struck the ground and rolled along the stone, and then he felt a surge of guilt as the khajiit lay there unmoving.

There wasn't more than a split instant to worry about how badly he'd hurt him before two of the guards and Drevis were after him again, with Nirya circling to flank him on his left.  He was forced to duck quickly under the swing of a warhammer but then tumbled backward as the other guard kicked out and hit his shoulder; Onmund threw himself into the roll to try and make as much use of the sudden momentum as he could and narrowly avoided the blast of lightning that hit where he'd been standing a moment prior.  He rolled up onto a knee and then was immediately tackled by one of the guards and he felt a sudden, sharp pain in the meat of his side a breath later.

Seeing no other alternative (Onmund was fairly certain he had a blade in his hip that had been meant for his ribs) he electrified the air around him and released it in an abrupt burst; the guard was thrown off him, shrieking, and the boom of lightning sent Nirya flying backward to roll along the ground with her robes smoking.  The other guard that had been standing there seemed to hesitate at the display which gave Onmund time to rip the dagger out of his side and press a hand to the wound, sending in a surge of restoring magics that took the edge off the pain and slowed the bleeding -- he knew it wasn't enough to fully close the stab but he didn't have the time needed as now he was staring down three guards, Phinis, and Urag, all coming at him in a semi-circle.

His roll earlier had taken him away from the doorway he was supposed to be blocking but no one here seemed intent on following Kestrel through it; everyone seemed very determined to kill him right now, which...on one hand he supposed was a good thing as he'd technically be following Kestrel's order no matter where he chose to stand in the courtyard.  On the other hand...sixteen people all trying to kill him -- sixteen people he was determined NOT to kill, who would ultimately win out through wearing him down and eventually overwhelming him unless he could figure out how to safely stop them.  He could somewhat control how many of them could cluster around him at once by keeping close to the wall but that was about all he control in this situation with any real certainty, and he had no idea on what would be "safe" enough to stop their attacks, even if just briefly.  

Quickly he scanned the room over the shoulders of those closing in on him.  J'Zargo still was face down in the floor - Onmund doubted he'd killed him but he'd definitely knocked him out cold; if he could just...do that again fifteen more times he'd be fine.  Probably.  He'd definitely be more "fine" than he was now if he could knock even just a few more out...ugh, but that was so risky -- it would be so easy to accidentally kill someone.

Maybe...maybe it wouldn't take Kestrel all that long to stomp Varea flat into the floor.  Sure she'd been taken by surprise before and defeated but she'd walked into this fight with a high confidence, and Onmund assumed that so long as he kept the others out of Varea's reach that she couldn't do whatever it was she'd done before that had bested his master.  Keeping everyone busy here meant they weren't able to be used elsewhere...he just needed to stay alive longer than Varea did, that was all.

He grit his teeth and fell into a sort of...flow.  Anyone who came close was shoved back by wind or blasted in the face with a gush of water; for the mages and those persistent bow-wielding guards in the back he threw weakened lightning and fire at them to keep them scattered and off-balance.  When more than two or three rushed him at once it was entirely instinct that shifted his feet and moved his body to stay out of the range of their swords and maces; for a moment Onmund had the bizarre wish that this fight was taking place in the Hall of Mirrors back home -- he moved and ducked and weaved his way among everyone with a grace he wouldn't have imagined he was capable of before...he'd always felt like a heavy-footed clod struggling to stay ahead of Kestrel in their sparring sessions but again he had to remind himself that these people were NOT her, and he wished he could watch just to confirm to himself that yes: he WAS battling fifteen people at one time and they hadn't immediately killed him.

...'immediately,' he had to admit, was the key word of that thought.  He was rapidly tiring, and even though he was weaving in bursts of restorative magic between his offensive spells it was approaching the point where he'd need more strength than he could muster just to keep going.  He needed to stop this...but he still hadn't figured out how.

Well.  Maybe he had.

His defensive little war-dance had taken him clear across the courtyard and the doorway that led back to the bridge was at his back; it occurred to him that if he could lead everyone across the bridge (assuming they'd follow) that he could lead them back to those guards guarding the road that lead into Winterhold and could get their assistance in subduing everyone, or at the very least the narrow bridge would limit the amount of...well, everything, that could come in his direction at one time.   That would considerably cut down on the amount of power needed to keep up this fight AND it would also further remove everyone from Varea's reach.

It was probably the best and only choice he had.

He began to slowly shuffle backward -- he couldn't turn around and run and leave himself open to an attack, and backing up too quickly ran the risk of tripping over his own feet; with a grunt Onmund used the palm of a hand to strengthen his ward against a warhammer's glancing blow, then guided the same sustained burst of magicka up to send a fireball slamming into the stone above him.  In the shower of sparks he finally felt the wind shift and tug against his shoulders - he was to the doorway itself and the wind outside howled through the opening.

Quite suddenly that persistent feeling of "wrongness" he'd had ever since he'd laid eyes on the College intensified, and a weird feeling settled into his gut; the air stilled - even the howling wind - as well as those he was luring with him toward the bridge.  Into the silence came a crackling noise of ice on stone followed immediately by the sound of liquid draining out of something, and along with that noise came a pulling sensation that seemed to be pulling him back into the courtyard.

He set his feet and looked around in confusion -- what in the world was going on?  A surge of fear shot through him as his boots began to slide against the stone; leaning back from the suction Onmund struggled to pinpoint where it was coming from or what it even was -- it was a small comfort that everyone else seemed as confused as he was and for a moment their constant attacks stalled.

Then, the air exploded.

Or so it seemed.

A lot of jumbled images hit Onmund's mind all at once: he seemed to recall a flash of ice-white and blue that traced through the bricks around the doorway that Kestrel had ripped the door from; the statue in the courtyard was blasted from its pedestal and crashed into the wall beside him, showering him in hundreds of sharp stone slivers and many larger pieces that pummeled his ward and by some miracle did not take him off his feet; all those who had been attacking him were crawling their way towards the walls, cowering...but cowering from wh-

A terror-inducing, ear-splitting roar sounded; Onmund's eyes widened as he watched helplessly as two enormous clawed hands reached through the far doorway and ripped it wider, seemingly with no effort, and moment later a nightmare pushed its head into the room.

He had no idea what it was or words to describe it; it was some...towering...thing.  Its hands were easily the size of his torso, four fingers to each that were tipped with shiny black talons that, as the creature thrust itself further into the room, left deep grooves in the stone.  It's skin was an ashen gray with darker mottled, wart-looking spots across its shoulders, arms, and down its legs; the beast's chest was the width of six men easily, its legs the size of tree trunks, and it had spikes on its shoulders and a pair of ebony horns that sat above a triangular head that was entirely too much mouth and teeth.

Its beady, white-blue eyes met Onmund's gaze and its wide nostrils flared.  It flexed and launched itself forward on its massive legs, landing fully into the courtyard and now Onmund could see a tail lined with spines and tipped with a heavy black claw; as it landed on the ground the entire College shook and he flailed and grabbed at the doorway next to him to stay on his feet.  It raised itself to its full height and let out another bellow of challenge - it stood taller than the statue had!

 What...in the world...is THAT?

[jinkisbelly]

Eventide 6/?

Chapter 6 of skyrim au~  Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part 5 can be read on aff as well

Pairing: Jongyu

Rating: pg as of now

w/c:2.35k

Summary: Jonghyun experiences more of Jinki’s life at the College

             Jinki was sitting on his knees. He was wearing blue, simple pants and a light colored shirt with short sleeves. His hands were pushed into the soft dirt of his garden as he cultivated his plants. Jonghyun watched from the chair that had been pulled to rest against the stone wall that divided the bedroom from the rest of the circular room, right beside the curve of the garden in the center. “Did you plant this all yourself?”

             “Most.” Jinki’s hair was tied back, but a few strands that were too short for the band were falling into his eyes. He had an easy smile on his face. His body language was relaxed. He wasn’t on guard, looking out for possible attackers. He was at peace. “When I was appointed Archmage the dirt and tree were here, but the rest were crumbled and dead. My predecessor seemed to lack a green thumb.”

             “How do they stay alive while you’re gone?”

             “A bit of magic, a bit of asking Kibum to look after them.” He grinned, leaning back on his feet to admire his work. “I have a book on my shelf that says, Gardening for the inept if he ever has questions.”

             “Are you… close with Kibum?”

             Jinki’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the man. “You sound slightly jealous.”

             “I do not!”

             “Your squeaky voice says otherwise, Jingles.” He chuckled quietly when Jonghyun looked away, crossing his arms and mumbling to himself. “And yes. We used to travel together back when I was a warrior myself. We joined the college at the same time.”

             “Do you,” Jonghyun ran his thumb over the rim of his wine bottle. “Miss it?”

             “Not even a little bit.” Jinki leaned forward onto his hands to reach a plant further in. He smiled up at Jonghyun then, “You’re a much better companion, Jonghyun.”

             Jinki returned to his garden, which was a blessing for Jonghyun because it meant the mage didn’t see the rouge of his cheeks.

-----

             “Are we even allowed in here?” Jonghyun whispered, sticking close to Jinki as they stepped into the darkened room.

             “I’m allowed wherever I wish.” There wasn’t much of Jinki he could see until the magelight appeared in his right hand. It was when Jinki tugged him further into the room he realized he was still holding the mage’s hand. Jinki shot the magelight toward the closest lamp and soon the light traveled around the room until the ancient library was clearly visible. “As long as we don’t damage anything, they’ll never know. Come on and look around. There are probably books on subjects and creatures you’ve never even heard of.”

             “Jinki?”

             “Yes?”

             “Your bookworm is showing.”

             Jinki dipped behind one of the two large walls in the otherwise circular room then, “I apologize.”

             Jonghyun wished he didn’t. “Where do you think I should start?” Just as quick as he left he was standing in front of him again, a book volume in his hands. The cover read, How to Start a Campfire. Jinki was grinning from ear to ear, pleased with himself. “Oh fuck off Magey.”

             “I figured with us parting ways soon you won’t have my fire to save you.” Jinki had turned away, his facial expression unknown then.

             He ran his fingers over the smooth red cover, opening it slowly to feel the way the pages felt against his skin. “What do you plan on doing after I leave?”

             “Stay around here for a few days to get a hold on things, but then I’m needed in a Dwemer ruins to the North of Riften. I sent two mages there a few months ago and have lost contact.” Jinki gently sat in one of the chairs facing the archway and Jonghyun, smiling as he flipped open a book. “On the way, I may kill a dragon or two, collect a few rogue bounties for the school to use. Break a few peoples hearts, maybe.”

             “Do you break a lot of hearts, Jinki?”

             “A few.”

             “I know coming into this I wasn’t keen on accompanying you, but,” Jonghyun swallowed thickly, faced with the knowledge that come a day or so, he’d most likely never see Jinki again. “You were a good companion these last few months. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would.”

             “Oh, you enjoyed being my meat shield, huh?”

             Jonghyun whined, “I’m trying to be heartfelt here, Jinki. Give me a break.”

             Jinki placed the book he was reading into his lap, his hand fell to rest upon it’s open pages, as he looked up with a soft gaze. “If anything, I am glad you don’t hate me anymore.”

             “No, I don’t hate you.” His voice came out so quiet it was almost a whisper. “To be honest, I think I’ll miss traveling with you.”

             “And why’s that?”

             Jonghyun found a seat across the way from Jinki, up against the other wall that split the room into thirds, facing the other man. “It gets quite lonely on the road. I love what I do, but it was really nice to have a partner I guess.”

             “It is.” Jinki’s gaze fell then and Jonghyun frowned, trying to figure out what had the usual confident, bordering cocky mage, so soft and almost shy. “Before you set off, I wish to make you a few potions and salves.”

             “Are you worried I’ll get hurt, Jinki?” He teased, but his ribbing stopped when Jinki rose his gaze.

             “Yes. I won’t be there to heal you, Jonghyun.” Jinki chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before he sighed, gaze falling. “And you like to run head first into trouble without thinking it through. I won’t be there to save you.”

             “I managed all by my lonesome for many years before you came along, Jinki.”

             “Please don’t belittle my feelings. If you don’t wish to accept them, I’ll hide them in your bags for later use.”

             “That’s cute.”

             “What?”

             “It’s cute.” Jonghyun repeated, “That you’re worried for me.”

             “Shut up,” Jinki mumbled as he dipped his head and his hair fell, cutting his features from Jonghyun’s vision. But the tips of his pointed ears were pink.

-----

             As they were getting ready for bed later that night Jonghyun was sitting on the bed when he asked, “I’m not overstepping my welcome, am I?”

             Jinki looked over his shoulder briefly before he turned, continuing to brush his hair as he walked toward the bed. The brush was laid on the bedside table as he slipped under the covers. “What makes you ask that?”

             “You’re sharing your quarters with me for free, your food and bed.” Jonghyun waved his hands in a gesture toward the room. “I don’t want to offend you.”

             He shook his head, scooting further down until his ear was against the pillow and his back toward Jonghyun. “You can stay here as long as you wish, Jingles. Before you leave you can have whatever you need for supplies. You aren’t stepping over some unspoken line.”

             “Are you sure because-”

              “Jonghyun.”

             “Yes?” He almost squeaked.

             “Go to bed.”

             He pouted deeply but laid down on his pillow, staring at the broadness of Jinki’s back. Then the lights around them went out, cutting him from his vision. “Goodnight, Magey.”

             He might have heard Jinki laugh. “Goodnight, Jingles.”

----

             Early the next morning Jonghyun woke up to Jinki walking past the bed multiple times, in various states of undress until finally he was fully dressed in his main robe. “What are you doing?”

             Jumping slightly he fumbled for a moment for the scone in his hand. He turned with a soft glare. “Good morning to you too, Jonghyun.”

             He yawned widely, stretching as he sat up in bed. Smacking his mouth a few times he quipped, “That didn’t answer my question.”

             "I have a class to teach. The Storm Mage who was supposed to teach it is too drunk to do so.” Jinki pinned his hair back before putting a hand on his hip. “You could come to watch if you wish.”

             “A room full of mages learning how to use electricity?” Jonghyun’s face twisted. “Doesn’t sound safe at all.”

             “Don’t you trust me to protect you?”

             “Well, I-”

             “You don’t have to come, Jonghyun. I just thought it would be a once in a lifetime experience.” Jinki downed his juice before rolling his shoulders. He smiled sweetly at the man in the bed, “If you wish to come, I’ll be waiting on the other side of the wall for about fifteen minutes. And, don’t wear your armor. It’s like a magnet for the stuff.”

             Jonghyun frowned deeply as Jinki grabbed his staff that was leaning against the wall between the long storage bins along the wall. He decided that he did trust Jinki to protect him and that he was intrigued by the whole thing. Especially the concept of Jinki teaching anything with how snippy and sarcastic he was as a person.

             By the time he came stumbling around the corner fighting to put on his last boot, Jinki had paused in the archway about to leave, a bright grin on his face upon seeing Jonghyun.

----

             “What’s he doing here, Archmage?”

             Jonghyun felt incredibly small leaning against the pillar behind Jinki as the 8 students looked directly at him. Jinki didn’t even glance over his shoulder as he replied, “He’s just an observer. Pay him no mind.”

             “But-”

             “Ah ah ah,” Jinki let his hands fall from where they were held just above his navel. “You were expecting Master Kyuhyun, who’s is much softer than I am in lessons. Electricity is my specialty.”

             “But you aren’t a storm mage!” A young Khajit spoke from the back.

             “As Archmage, I am supposed to Master all forms of magic as I can.” Jinki caused fire to swirl around his fingers, quickly changing to frost before it moved to electricity. “All of these are in the school of Destruction. Some of you will go on to research different schools of magic, but one must know the basics of destruction to defend themselves. As much as Master Wizard Kibum likes to say, you cannot defend yourselves solely with an Atronach.”

             "What if we can’t control it?”

             “Than I guess it’s good I am also a master of healing,” Jinki smirked when the young students gasped. “Please don’t worry. No harm will come to you other than maybe your hair standing on end if you have it. Now, I am going to show you the simple form to create electricity. Then you’ll practice, turning away from each other and shooting it through the pillar openings around the room. Understood?”

             When the students murmured their understanding, Jinki slid his feet into position, raising his hand flat with his fingers pointing out. He breathed through his nose, eyes sliding closed as the crackle filled the hair, before it shot over the students' heads, causing them all to duck with a shriek. Jonghyun giggled behind his hand as Jinki stood with both hands on his hips. “It was nearly ten feet from the tallest of ya, please stop being dramatic. That’s my thing.”

              A short Nord girl stepped forward and Jonghyun was surprised to see a fellow Nord surrounded by magic. “Can you show us any other abilities you know?”

             “As in what, Soria?”

             “Wall of Storms, maybe.”

             “Ah, that’s quite a fun one.” Jinki nodded, “Alright, just don’t move. This will hurt you if you touch it.”

             Jonghyun was just as amazed as the novice mages watching Jinki create sparks at his feet. With each deep breath, they rose and fell, gaining strength before it shot out from either side of him, crackling as it traveled across the stone of the floor. When he lowered his arms and opened his eyes there was a bright line of sizzling electricity around the circumference of the inner circle of the room. He clapped his hands together and just like that it was gone, the only remnants of it occurring were the scorch marks on the stone.

---

             The soft clack as Jinki used the mortar and pestle was the only sound in the room other than their gentle breathing. Dinner had been eaten not too long ago, but Jinki had moved to work on his potions right as he was done. Jonghyun leaned against the wall, arms across his chest as he held the blanket around his shoulders tightly. “What are you making?”

             “Potions that replenish my energy for magic.” Was his soft reply, barely louder than the stone scraping as he used his stool to grind up red mountain flower and dwarven oil. “If I use more powerful spells for an extended period of time, my energy is too low to cast even the smallest flame.”

             “So if you had no energy you’d be powerless?”

             Jinki paused only for a moment as he pressed his lips together before continuing his twisting motion. “I suppose so.”

             “Interesting.”

             “Why do you ask?”

             “I was wondering if you were working on the ones for me.”

             The mortar was placed on the Alchemy table softly as Jinki lifted his gaze to find Jonghyun’s. “Are you planning to leave soon?”

             "Relatively.” He shuffled on his feet, a little awkward with the shift in the room. “I was on the way to see my mother when you made the agreement with me. I miss her.”

             “Ah,” Jinki ran his tongue over his lips quickly before cracking his knuckles gently. “I’ll have them ready by morning for whenever you leave, Jonghyun.”

             He opened his mouth to say something but decided to simply say, “Thank you,” Before turning to his right and finding his way to the bed and out of Jinki’s line of sight.

-----

[icy-warden]

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

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He couldn't keep himself from glancing at the eluvian. The surface of mirror, rippling gently.

Constantly changing.

Like water, with a soft light beneath it's depth. Blurred shapes of the other side, impossible to recognize, until taking step into them.

He didn't dare cross the threshold.

It was so tempting.

To take action and cease this useless pacing. Feeling trapped and powerless. Aether was out there, his last letter more of a note. Admitting that the Anchor was getting worse and the pain was getting bad with every flare.

Vergil stopped before the mirror, gaze boring into it.

The eluvian.

Aether kept his word and wrote to him on every, even small thing. Being in touch like that was comforting, especially with the distance.

The circumstances keeping them separated seemed to multiply on spot. The Warden shortly found out, that knowing there is someone waiting and missing him was a bittersweet relief. Especially when there were places he couldn't venture with Aether. Couldn't follow.

The shapes kept changing repeatedly, and he stared at them, almost without blinking.

He didn't know, what waited for him there and as Aether once explained, one needed to know how exactly navigate in a place called the crossroads. To find a right path, and a right eluvian to use next.

He didn't dare go in blind, with a possibility of getting lost and missing Aether and his companions on their way back.

Because Aether had to be back, and swiftly. There was a Council waiting to be closed with a final decision. And he had a feeling about Aether's decision on the matter of Inquisition. Now he had to wait and see, if his predictions were correct.

He stepped away from the mirror, with a deep sigh, picking up on his pacing. Reading was out of question, as he couldn't focus enough on the text and the meditation was also completly-

Someone suddenly tumbling out of the portal had Vergil reflexively call on ice shards. He cancelled them out immedietaly, recognizing Aether's qunari companion and seeing the next person, Varric, and next, Suledin, and...

Why does she look like she's been crying? She never...

Where's Aether?

... and there was the Inquisitor, carried by the Tevinter mage.

Ashen pale, likely passed out.

Vergil felt himself freeze on the sight of his lover bloodied and hurt.

Why so much blood? He didn't look good. He looked like on a verge of death.

Or maybe even over it already.

You couldn't even protect him.

And now he's-

SHUT UP!

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

There was a lot of motion, shouts of alarm and orders, running and searching for a healer.

Aether's unconscious body was laid on a table, left arm wrapped in cloth carefully put by his side, to avoid any further damage, while unstrapping pieces of the armor. Suledin was hovering nearby, her face grim, arms wrapped tightly around herself. The healer and Dorian worked quickly in removing the armor, the mage retelling the most important parts of the incident leading to this end.

To Aether in this condition.

Vergil stood nearby, mindful of not getting in the way. Still, like a statue and nearly not breathing. With blank face and eyes sharp, taking on all of others movements.

Calmly observing. Inside he was seething.

At Aether, for getting hurt so badly.

At Inquisitor's companions, letting this to happen.

At the one most likely responsible for his lover's state, the elven mage.

At himself, for not being there when Aether needed him the most.

The cloth on Aether's arm was soaked and slowly removed.

The stench of blood and burnt meat reached him first. Smell, like on corpses, mangled without recognition by darkspawn or cruelly licked by fire.

The Warden staggered a little. Gritting his teeth, Vergil forced himself to pull it together. Breathing through his mouth, he dared to look at the uncovered limb.

And he wished he hadn't.

He heard gasps and someone running out of the room, faint retching sounds near door. Despite the bile rising in his throat, he stared at the amount of damage the Anchor had done to Aether's body. The hand, arm to his elbow blackened, scorched, the skin dead. Some kind of mucus sluggishly oozing from it, bones charred. It was beyond repair, even with magic.

The healer looked sickened by the view, sweat gathering on her temples. Still, her hands were steady, when she announced that the permanent removal of the maimed arm is the only way to keep Inquisitor from death.

“I'll need help with slowing the bleeding after the arm is severed.” She said. “And to make sure he's unconscious. Cutting throught the elbow would be a shock enough for his body to wake up.” She added, getting the tools ready. “Any spells to keep him under will do.”

“The ice.” Vergil spoke. Everyone looked up at him. “Wouldn't it slower the flow?” He suggested. “The blade cut would be easier.”

The healer thought for a moment, then nodded. “It should ease the process, if it'll penetrate the skin and bone structure.”

“I'll do it.” He volunteered quietly. Meanwhile, Dorian casted a sleeping spell and Aether's body relaxed visibly. The mage stayed close to Inquisitor’s head, in case of repeating it, when needed.

Vergil swallowed before touching the blackened skin of Aether's left hand. The cold seeped out of his fingertips slowly, freezing deeply into the seared skin. Frost binding the spaces, adding layer after layer. Until it looked like an arm bracer made of ice. Frozen and ready do be shattered. He added one more, less thicker layer above the scorched limb. Easy to remove with a flick of a thought, necessary to stop the bleeding. He glanced at Aether's face, peacefully looking, thanks to the artificial slumber.

“It's done.” The Warden announced, stepping back.

Now, he needed to trust the people taking care of the Inquisitor, to know what they were doing.

He bit the inside of his cheek.

At that moment, Vergil loathed the feeling of helplessness in his chest with a passion he reserved for his enemies.

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

First night and day after the rushed operation were full of people keeping watch over the Inquisitor. The healer fussing over proper care of the remaining arm. Inquisitor's companions dropping by and keeping even brief vigil by his side. Palace's servants instructed on checking on the Inquisitor in strict time intervals, in case he woke up.

On second day, the nervous running around ceased a bit, with healer's instruction on calling for her immediately, if something happened. She was pleased by the results, wrapping the wound in fresh healing paste and bandages. The Inquisitor hadn't experienced any more serious damages. Aether's sleep was undisturbed and his own now, his body likely to heal better in peace.

Vergil hadn't left the room, the bath and meals only exceptions. He was used to abandoning sleep in time of need and refused to close his eyes.

In fear of Aether waking up with a request and him missing it.

One more day, he told himself. He'll hold out for one more, and if nothing happens, he'll nap. For now, his thoughts were enough to keep him up. He read to pass the time, sitting nearby Aether's bed. More often than not, Vergil caught himself looking at his lover's face.

He didn't touch him.

Until he wakes up.

He won't touch him.

Only when he’ll wake up.

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

Then came the second night.

Aether still slept.

People came and went, the healer changed the bandages, the servants now forbidden to enter the room. With a constant presence of someone in there, be it Inquisitor's companions or the Warden.

Deep in the night, in hushed silence, only a rustling of turned pages might be heard. And if one strained his ears more, soft breathing of a sleeping man.

Vergil closed the book, cancelling the wisp. He brought both of his hands to rub his face tiredly. The mage glanced at Aether.

Unmoving still.

"I'll be damned if my own hand kills me, I am NOT leaving you."

The last note Vergil got from him.

Abandoning the chair, he walked closer to Aether's bed and carefully sat on his left side, mindful of the bandaged arm.

He won't touch him until he wakes up.

You'll break him.

He won't touch until.

You'll make him shatter like an ice statue.

He won't.

Vergil blinked, his fingertips now delicately tracing the lines of Aether's vallaslin. He recoiled his slightly trembling hand, fingers curling and nails digging into his palm painfully. He let out a shuddered gasp.

He remained there, breathing slowly and measuringly. Willing his wildly beating heart to slow down.

Aether's slumber undisturbed.

“I am NOT leaving you.”

“Some promises can't be broken.” He whispered to the sleeping man. “Don't break this one. “

Please.

[cawnvictofmurder]

Gold Forever- Chapter 6 (AO3)

Chapter 1: (tumblr) (ao3)

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei

Summary: Being a Demon isn't what Kei had expected but he thinks he's settled into a decent routine- sleep, work, maybe read a book if he feels like it, and repeat. Then he gets called back into the field and a messy haired Angel makes him feel things he hasn't in years.

Rating: T

Tags: Alternate Universe- Angels and Demons, Violence, Magic, Fantasy, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Friendship, Reincarnation, Blood, Mentions of Death, Partnership, Slow Burn, sort of, slow build at least, Pining

Word Count: 4,451

Kei steps around a moss covered tombstone, a ball of magic in hand to light his way around in the dark.

It’s a moonless night and, despite the lack of light, it would have been pleasantly cool if it hadn’t been for the unnatural frost layered over the ground. It chills the area and he’s surprised his breath doesn’t show in the frigid air.  

The cemetery is mostly quiet though he can hear Tetsurou shuffling around by the graves on the lower level. Kei glances down the hill from where he’s standing to see Tetsurou’s ball of light and softly shining wings revealing where his location.

Many tombstones are tainted green with moss and discoloured with rainwater, showing their age. Trees border the cemetery, almost enclosing them off from any potential witnesses. The light in his hand washes the nearby tombstones with a pale glow, reflecting off some polished stones and items that had been left in front of the graves.

Something rustles.

Kei whips around, wings barely visible in the dark and spread out for a possible quick escape. The light in his hand darts forth like a firefly, revealing broken branches and leaves scattered over some tombstones.

He reaches out with his senses, searching for anything- any magic, any movement, any sounds- and something flickers, like a candle that had been blown out. It’s absurdly silent, the air is still, and it’s only when Tetsurou’s wings flare brighter than a full moon that he notices it.

There’s a stretched out, smudged, human silhouette made of shadows towering over Tetsurou.

One of its hands is recoiling from Tetsurou’s wings- as if they burned white hot. Despite the physical reaction to pain, it makes no sound.

Tetsurou warily uncurls his wings from where he had instinctively went to protect himself, arching them behind him in a way that would allow him to defend himself again if needed.

The ghost-like creature is a spirit, an Onryo- a spirit that holds grudges and seeks vengeance.

Kei extinguishes the light in his hand. Tetsurou’s wings were providing more than enough lighting and carefully makes his way down. The spirit, double their size, sluggishly turns to stare at him. Its eyes are two blazing holes in the haze of black.

For a moment, he thinks they might be able to eliminate the spirit peacefully but, as he steps closer, its eyes digs deep into him and burns brighter.

As if it had foregone all its previous subtlety, the wind picks up and howls. Kei and Tetsurou both plant their feet and fold in their wings before they could get blown away, arms raised to protect their faces from the stinging gale.

It lashes out with a hand, sharpened fingers aimed at Kei.

Tetsurou shouts a warning and it’s only because of the glow of his wings that Kei is able to pick out the difference between the spirit and the harmless shadows around them. Kei darts to the side, lashing one hand at the spirit as he moves.

A blade of magic slices into the black layer around the spirit, revealing tattered clothing and spiderweb scarred skin under it. They disappear under another flood of black and the spirit screeches.

It’s not loud, sounding very much like a shrill whistle, but it’s loud in pressure- a hand on their heads and forcing them down. Neither of them buckle under it, moving as easily as ever.

Tetsurou defends against its next lash at Kei, motioning as if he were snatching something from the spirit, despite their distance, and the black covering its hand bubbles. As the spirit flinches back, the bubbles burst, sending shards of its black cloak flying. It reveals the skin and clothing underneath that area, stark against the black.

A shard of it embeds itself next to Kei’s foot before dissipating into the air.

He spares it a single glance, just long enough to make sure it had entirely disappeared, before he moves. He’s tensing to jump, wings spreading when Tetsurou repeats his hand gesture, forcing him to stop before he collides into the burst of magic Tetsurou had just released.

The spirit’s chest bubbles and bursts, sending more shards of its black armor flying and Kei immediately lunges for the exposed area.

He weaves a thread of magic through his fingers and solidifies it, grasping the charcoal coloured rod as he approaches and jams it in as deep as he can. As soon as his momentum fades, he lets go and jumps away- now out of the range of a flailing hand.

The rod bursts, shattering the black armor into numerous shards that rain down into the cemetery. Without it the spirit takes on its original appearance- a young man with singed hair and angry red electrocution scars that show through the ragged clothing he had once worn.

There is rage sharpening his face as he wordlessly shouts, mouth moving and the wind howling louder than before. His eyes no blaze like miniature suns, but there’s still an all too real burn within them as he spreads his arms.

The black shards that had once been his cloak rise into the air, spinning until all their sharpest points are directed at Kei.

“Holy- Kei get over here-” Tetsurou nearly curses, his wings shining brighter as he rushes over.

Kei hesitates.

Why would he retreat? He could take out the spirit the moment it let those shards go. They were its only defense and he’s confident in his ability to dodge majority of them. Any he couldn’t- Tetsurou.

Any he couldn’t dodge would cut him at best and impale him at worst. He no longer had the type of defense he was so used to working with at his back.

“Kei!”

He ducks down and into Tetsurou’s protective hold, feeling as if something had been left behind- torn out of him.

Tetsurou grabs him by the shoulders, hunching them down as his pale wings curl over the both of them. They light up the small space with their soft light. Kei can feel both their breaths, steady- if not a bit rushed- and he presses his own wings as flat as possible against his back. He can feel feathers brushing his own, shielding his back.

He avoids eye contact, staring at the wall of feathers surrounding them- they’re almost ghost-like, wispy and pale. As he watches, the edges of all the feathers bleed silver- as if they had been dipped in moonlight.

Through Tetsurou’s wings, he can see the approaching shards as spots of faint shadows. They clink off of his wings without any damage at first but eventually he grunts and his grip on Kei’s shoulders tighten.

Kei futilely tracks the shards, sensing for the spirit. Through the heat and sunlight veil around him, he can just barely sense the smear of ink and turbulence. The moment there’s a short pause in the barrage, Kei pushes at the shoulder in front of him insistently.

Without a word, Tetsurou flares his wings open.

Threads of magic raise from the ground and twines around Kei, shimmering gold and alive like snakes. In a mimicry of the spirit’s own attack, Kei sweeps his arm towards it as he turns and they shoot off.

Like arrows, they strike dead on and pierce through the spirit- and within the spirit, they burn.

The wind dies down to a soft breeze as the spirit is swallowed up in a golden fire, slowly scattering like ashes in the wind.

Tetsurou’s oddly quiet and Kei glances over to see him rubbing his shoulder with a grimace. “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” Tetsurou tears his eyes away from where the spirit had once been standing, flicking his eyes over to him and away. “Oh, yeah, don’t worry that was nothing. Anyways….”

A warmth radiates from him, a welcome contrast to the chill in the air. Tetsurou’s practically beside Kei as he calls up a blessing, washing them both in the pale light of his magic.

This close, he can hear Tetsurou’s soft inhale and exhale, focused as he cups his hands in front of him. The spark of magic ignites and Kei is helplessly raptured as it swells within Tetsurou’s fingers, watching as they gently pull away. It swells, releasing the blessing- releasing magic that’s filled with Tetsurou’s own feelings and spirit.

And Kei remembers every single time he has been within this very same blessing, the warmth and lightness and peace, but this time- it doesn’t have the same effect.

It feels flatter, lukewarm, and not at all settling.

The magic fades from the air and the chill returns, only, after the weak blessing, it feels freezing. Tetsurou closes his eyes, wings fading and dropping them into the dark.

“Ah...sorry.”

“....I do recall you saying your blessings were shit,” Kei murmurs as he summons a ball of light in his hand. Tetsurou laughs weakly. “If a blessing failed then the spirit’s tied to something here. Let’s find it.”

“Yeah, okay.”

They search the cemetery again, scanning for the thing that had tied the spirit to this area. With all the magic that had been used and thrown around though, it’s harder to sense anything let alone a spirit’s focus- it’s like trying to see through thick fog.

To make things better, there usually wasn’t any physical evidence of a spirit or ghost’s focus- or any origin of unfriendly magic really, not until someone touches it.

With their ability to sense the focus hindered, they were playing a hard game of find the needle in the haystack and hoping they don’t get poked by it.

“I think I got it,” Tetsurou calls from the row of tombstones on the top. When Kei joins him, he’s staring at a white tombstone, clean and newly carved, between the other worn down stones around it.

Neither of them touch it but when Kei crouches down for a closer look, his hair stands on edge and his skin crawls.

He traces a circle around the grave, stepping lightly around it, and the line of red magic sparks the moment it’s closed. Kei pours in his magic, with a force not unlike a waterfall, and steps back.

It erupts like a geyser, engulfing the tombstone in a pillar that reaches the top of the surrounding treeline. Slowly, it dies down before flickering away. The tombstone hasn’t changed in terms of appearances, but Kei feels like it does look renewed compared to before.

The chill is still in the air, but it’s less insistent, only evident when the wind blows.

“I guess we can request a follow up for this,” Tetsurou says, running his fingers through his hair for the fifth time tonight.  Kei pretends not to notice.

“Yeah.”

Later that day, Kei finds himself in the rec room just as the sun rises, filling out the paperwork for their investigation assignment.

Usually, he would be doing this in his own room, alone and without the distractions in the rec room- with people coming in and out and trying to talk to him. However, Tetsurou had somehow convinced him to fill out the follow-up request together. In the rec room.

“Too bad we didn’t catch the sunrise on our way back,” Tetsurou muses, gazing out the window by their table. Kei taps a pen on the paper with a noncommittal hum. “Have you seen the sunset or sunrise from the air before?”

Kei quirks a brow at him, barely glancing up from where he was summarizing their actions. Tetsurou continues, turning from the window to watch him. “The view is really nice, not something you can do when you’re human, y’know. Though it can be sort of awkward…”

Kei hums, double checking the form.

“Hey, Kei...uh.” Tetsurou scratches his cheek before looking away. “So...what do you feel about pets?”

Kei looks up at that, brow furrowed. “...we can’t have pets.”

“I know that! I mean, just. In general. Did you have a pet before?” Tetsurou scrutinizes him. “You seem like you’d be a cat person.”

“I wouldn’t remember.” Kei looks back down at the form, signing it off. He then hands it over to Tetsurou before starting on his own report. If he was going to be here, he might as well get that finished and hand it in.

“Okay, but would you get a cat? Or a dog?” Tetsurou pauses for a moment to read over the form, add a few words and signs his own signature at the bottom. “Maybe a reptile? Turtles, snakes, lizards?”

“None.”

“Mice or rats? Rabbits? How about hamsters- they’re cute.”

“No.”

“Do you like parrots? I’m not sure if I can see you with a bird.”

Kei rolls his eyes and doesn’t even bother replying. Tetsurou pouts. “I’ll take that as a no then.”

Tetsurou stops for a moment, resting his chin on his hand as he regards him. Kei glances up, catching his stare, his report quickly forgotten.

What are you thinking? Kei wonders, staring straight into those amber eyes. He’s not sure he wants to know.

“Oh, good! You two are here!”

Oikawa ambles up to them, suit perfectly arranged and his hair looking as good as usual.

Kei swallows a snicker, his shoulders hitching as he recalls the image of Oikawa sprawled on the floor and the literal opposite of the image he’s presenting now.

“I’ve got good news.” Oikawa shoots Kei a confused look but continues without a hitch, “You both have been cleared as an official Strike Team as of a few minutes ago. You’ll have to pass your assessments later this year to keep that, but that should be no issue for you two.”

Any humor Kei had felt evaporates instantly, replaced with a cold finality

“That’s pretty fast, I expected it to take years.” Tetsurou marvels. “Did you sell your soul to someone?”

“Ha, ha, like I’d sell my soul for you.” Oikawa harrumphs, “Do you know how much paperwork I went through for this?!”

Tetsurou sticks his tongue out at him. “Don’t be a baby, you’re the one who went through with this.”

“Hmph!” Oikawa gives Tetsurou one last venomous glare before moving on. “Well, I’m slating you two as the first responders later this week- are you two ready?”

Tetsurou considers the question before quietly answering, “Yeah, can’t wait…”

Kei looks away. “Mm.”

There’s a heavy moment where Oikawa surveys them, where neither of the two really meet his eyes.

“Alright then...I’ll see you two soon.” He slowly leaves them, joining up with another team and speaking with them.

Kei goes back to his report, pen digging into the paper. He’s not entirely sure he’s writing everything he needs to on it- the letters are blurred out, unfocused.

Tetsurou looks up from where he had been staring at the table, mouth opening- and he stops. Looks at Kei. And swallows his words.

Instead, he leans back into his seat, gazes out the window and rambles.

He talks about the sun and the clouds, about the process of evaporation, the atoms that make up water and the chemical reactions of potassium, about the various types of reactions, the periodic table, the ocean and the fish- anything he could think of.

Kei doesn’t remember finishing his report nor does he hand it in that day.

It’s beyond obvious to Kei when Oikawa has scheduled them for a strike.

The amount of assignments they had been getting regularly for the past month or so died down, and eventually they got only one assignment, compared to their previous back-to-back assignments.

Once two days had passed without any new alerts, Kei just knew that the next alert they would be getting would be the one for their strike.

It was agony, being on call and anticipating it like a knife to his back.

He rearranges his bookshelf for the first time ever, cleans the entire apartment and had started pacing before he sits down and lays on his bed. He doesn’t get up, watching as the room grows darker and is eventually lit up by the moonlight instead of sunlight.

His pager never once beeps.

Without the regular assignments, Kei no longer has anything to occupy his mind anymore.

Being on call had once made him restless with a sweet, eager anticipation.

Now, he dreads it, feeling as if someone’s holding a blade to his neck- loose and entirely unthreatening, but when the moment strikes, it would dig into his neck and bleed him out.

And Kei doesn’t have much to bleed out without losing it all.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

‘US10-STRIKE’

Oikawa isn’t waiting for them this time and Kei heads straight to the Portal Room, heart pounding in his ears.

“I’ve got it- I’ve told you I’m sending U10 on it- Will you just-”

Tetsurou steps into the room, softly closing the door behind him, and joins Kei in watching Oikawa argue with someone through his headset. Oikawa, once he sees the two of them, rolls his eyes and removes the headset with a, “I’m sure, Suga-chan, don’t worry, don’t worry.”

“Right.” Oikawa moves towards the door frame, hand reaching out and opening a portal. “We’ve got an alert for a large creature in a populated neighborhood. Last known status was not hostile, but keep your head up.”

The portal swirls like Kei’s stomach, growing. The green is sickly as it fills the frame, shimmering and reflecting light that hurts his eyes. Oikawa steps away from the portal, an expectant smile plastered onto his face.

Despite his feet being as heavy as lead, Kei steps forward without any hesitation, magic veiling him like a second skin and wings folded tensely, ready to spring open. Tetsurou’s right behind him, a searing spot of heat at his back.

The portal swallows them and Oikawa’s smile falls.

“Good luck you two.”

The large baboon-like creature is lounging on the roof of a house, hands and mouth tainted red as it blearily watches its surroundings. Its large flapping lips smack together and it shifts to pick at the bush of black hair on its head.

It pays absolutely no attention to the portal that opens up on the street.

The street is thankfully empty this late at night, clear of any witnesses and possible casualties. It, however, doesn’t eliminate the fact that the neighbourhood is filled with houses. The tiniest mistake would bring the entire neighbourhood, and then some, crashing down on their heads.

“A Hihi,” Tetsurou quietly identifies. “How did that get all the way out here?”

Without waiting for a reply, he lays a hand on the wall of the street beside him and raises a ward. It shoots off into the distance, bordering the street and the house the Hihi is on. Once it closes them in, he quickly weaves additional wards onto it- ones for misdirecting attention, fortifying the ward, containing magic and soundproofing.

That gets the Hihi’s attention and it blinks the sleepy fog out of its eyes, pinning them with an intense stare.

Tetsurou cautiously takes his hand off the ward, letting it fade into near invisibility. The Hihi does nothing, blinking at them. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Guide it to-”

The Hihi lets out a shriek- shrill and laugh-like. Part of the roof under it starts to crumble as it shifts its weight and pounces.

“I think we need a new plan!” Tetsurou shouts as they scatter to opposite sides. He takes the opportunity to shift his wards, cutting the house out, and trapping the Hihi with only the length of the street to move.

Now truly cornered, the Hihi whirls on them, a large and heavy mass of anger and aggression. It’s in between Kei and Tetsurou, separating them.

It gives them an advantage.

As it swings its palm at Kei, Tetsurou meets his eyes from down the street.

Kei stands his ground as the hand barrels towards him, undoubtedly able to break bones. Just before it impacts him, a ward springs up between him and the hand, meeting with a thick, echoing pound.

Kei’s hand zips up, silk and electric thrumming at his fingers- and he pulls up short.

His magic dies at his fingers as he pulls it back. Tetsurou’s ward wraps around his body, like a curved shield. It prevents him from taking a shot at the Hihi.

At least, not without shattering the ward first.

Frustrated, Kei runs out from behind the shield. The Hihi is readjusting his balance from the recoil, tracking him with sharp eyes. It lets out a raspy bark, reaching to snatch him up but Kei doesn’t stop, running down the street and it chases after him.

He can see, and feel, Tetsurou raising another ward, right in front of him, and it’s curved again- perfect for redirecting the Hihi’s blunt but hammer-like fingers. Kei’s certain they would hurt much more than hammers though.

He pivots on his heel and spins, right beside the ward, tracing a circle around him with his other foot- resulting in a harsh grinding sound. He then slaps the ward and merges his own sharp-silk with the heat of Tetsurou’s magic before forcibly unraveling it.

He jerks his hand back as if it had been burnt, but the ward unravels, and he takes off down the street again.

The circle he had traced into the ground shines faintly and it flares when the Hihi crosses over it. The Hihi is fast though; fast enough to only be caught by just a few of the spikes that erupt from the circle.

It howl-barks with pain and a raspy rumble leaves its chest.

The few spikes had impaled its hind legs and it stumbles forward and it uses the momentum to lunge for Kei again.

Kei stumbles back, arms and wings flailing to recover his balance as its hand smacks down into the ground just in front of him. It creates a crater and he’s quick to back off the moment he gets his footing.

“Kei, be careful!” Tetsurou ducks under the Hihi’s arm as it scrambles upright, hopping over the large crater. His wings help him over it and he grabs Kei’s shoulder, careful to keep an eye on the Hihi. “Don’t take risks like that!”

“It got a hit on him, didn’t it? I don’t see you doing anything.” Kei shrugs his hand off with a scowl. Tetsurou recoils, turning to face him directly.

“You completely disregarded my help.”

“You didn’t help,” Kei counters, squaring his shoulders and glaring. “You prevented me from doing anything.”

“If that was a problem, I’m sure you could have found a way around it- it was a ward, to protect you.”

“I could have gotten a shot in-”

Tetsurou cuts him off firmly, “You can wait until a better- safer- opportunity comes up.”

“We would never get anything done before it makes a mess of everything.”

“All that is fi-”

Kei practically tackles Tetsurou. “Move!”

A fist slams into the ground like a wrecking ball, sending bits of concrete flying. Kei rolls off of Tetsurou, staggering upright and shaking out the rocks and dust in his wings.

“And you think I’d ever get a chance to counterattack something like that by waiting?” he asks. “That’s never going to work.”

“It’s not just waiting!” Tetsurou shoots back, jumping to his feet. “It will work. It’s waiting and when the opportunity comes you take it- you’re taking way too much risks right now!”

“And your way won’t do-” The two of them leap to the side again as the Hihi swipes a hand at them. “-anything! Slow and steady isn’t that helpful!”

“And heading straight into a fight will end up with both of us killed!” Tetsurou yells, looking past the creature and staring at Kei. “Would you stop and think?”

“Think?!” Kei barks, sharp as a blade. “I am thinking- are you scared?” Kei can sense the Hihi behind him, feels the wind shifting with its movement, but he still pushes with a sneer, “What, are you afraid of sinning?”

Tetsurou balks at him. “What?!”

“Too afraid of getting dirty? Nothing should taint your pure, innocent hands- is that it?”

“Damn it, Kei! I don’t care about that!”

“You’re not even able to kill are you,” Kei snarls, a piece of white hot coal burning in his chest. Tetsurou’s wings are raised threateningly, his face blank and angled stiffly. Kei hears the whistle of something forcing its way through the air.

He jumps back just as the Hihi plants its fist where he had been standing. It hovers over him, red stained teeth exposed and body blocking out the sky.

The burn of his anger and frustration curls in his chest and he grabs onto it, letting it sear through his veins, and slices up at the Hihi with a curt gesture. His magic loses its silky edge, becoming an electrified blade- it’s sharp enough for him to tense up at the feeling as it burns its way out.

The Hihi roars, the gash on its chest spraying vivid red blood.

Kei spins on his heel, retreating as the Hihi jerks back. It gives another screech as a tumor bubbles from its thigh, bursting and scattering the ground with more blood.

Tetsurou jerks his fingers again, a sharp and curt movement. It reflects the anger Kei can sense from him.

Another tumor forms on the Hihi’s arm, only, it doesn’t burst- it multiplies.

It bubbles until its entire arm is swollen and the Hihi is stumbling around, screaming like a raspy child. They all burst simultaneously, showering the area with blood.

Kei turns his face away, feeling the fluid spatter onto his cheek. He turns back to see the Hihi clutching its deflated arm, roaring at Tetsurou. It jerkily stumbles in his direction, teeth bared and very bit intent at fighting back.

With a gesture that reminds Kei heavily of his own attack, Tetsurou slashes through the air with his hand.

The wards flicker into view for a split second, bright enough to sting his eyes.

The Hihi’s screaming growl dies as it falls to the ground. The ground shakes under its weight and there’s a steady pool of red gathering under it. The ground is staining red and Kei feels a fleeting dose of pity for the clean up crew assigned to this.

Kei himself is spattered with blood and Tetsurou…

Tetsurou is staring straight at him.

He’s miraculously free of blood on his body, only a few drops on his clothes, but his pale wings are practically drenched in the red fluid- dripping down the feathers smoothly.

Tetsurou’s tone is hard and low.

“Who says Angels can’t kill?”

[libraryofrewrita]

Chapter 2: Donuts and Medals

The afternoon came faster than Nate and Katie expected as they were now walking around with their parents and their Yo-kai compainions doing some shopping. There wasn’t a lot of Yo-kai hi-jinx happening on their shopping trip and for the whole trip, it felt strangely normal, even with their Yo-kai companions traveling with them. Nate and Katie got what they wanted, making mental notes to buy their Yo-kai companions some gifts later, their mothers got what they wanted, they went to a few other stores, and ate lunch at a nice cafe, even if they had to get creative with sharing their meal with their Yo-kai companions so that they could have a taste without their parents noticing.

We’ve had a nice shopping trip and nothing went wrong so far…but knowing our recent luck, something’s going to happen.

It wasn’t until they were heading home and their fathers wanted to head to the grand opening of the donut shops that had just come to Flower Road that things started to become weird, and considering what Nate and Katie went through recently, that’s saying something.

“And if we turn this corner, we’ll be right there.”

There was a crowd in front of two donut shops, which were right next to each other, which was a little weird, but still not surprising. Of course, there was some fighting over whether Spirit Donuts or Soul Donuts tasted better.

Okay, a rivialry between businesses. Not a very surprising thing and why are our parents joining the fighting?

To their shock and embarrassment, both of their parents were now fighting over which donut was better after eating the free donut samples from both Spirit and Soul. Nate and Katie did also eat the samples, but they couldn’t see what the big deal was. Sure, the Spirit donuts had cream filling and the Soul donuts had custard filling, but they both tasted very similiar. Of course, they weren’t going to tell these people that, especially their parents. They slowly stepped away from the crowd, trying to distance themselves as best as possible from the craziness.

“So, Whisper?”

“Yes?”

“Was this the work of a Yo-kai or are we humans just that crazy?”

Before Whisper could say anything, Nate and Katie turned to see Lucas standing nearby, holding a box and eating from it.

“Hey, Lucas. Did you get wrapped up in the craziness of the Spirit and Soul donuts too?”

Lucas looked up and said,

“Actually, these are from a shop in the Yo-kai Realm called Specter Donuts. From what I know, they’re aware of the Spirit and Soul Donuts rivalry and they’re trying to put an end to it since that rivarly has been happening for decades apparently. Care for one?”

Lucas offered the box to Nate and Katie and they looked in the box to see that the Specter donuts looked similar to the Spirit and Soul donuts, but it was more golden, the frosting looked like it was vanilla instead of chocolate, and it had a golden Yo-kai Watch symbol with a smaller symbol that looked like the Yo-kai spirit symbol colored gray inside the Yo-kai Watch symbol, on top of it. They took a donut and bit down on it, their eyes lighting up at the taste.

“What’s in these? These are really good!”

Admittedly, they taste like a lighter version of both the Spirit and Soul donuts, but the Specter donuts are just so delicious!

Lucas had to think back to when he bought the donuts and he finally said,

“From what the shopkeeper told me, the filling is supposed to be mousse.”

An idea appeared in Nate’s head as he asked,

“Hey, Lucas? Are you free for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Yes, why?”

“We’re bored and we need to discuss stuff, but where should we meet up?”

“How about at Timer’s and More? I needed to go there anyway.”

“Alright! Just let me and Katie finish up things with our parents and we’ll meet you there.”

Lucas waved goodbye to Nate and Katie as they remembered that they had to get their parents away from the craziness of the donut shop rivalry. They walked back to the crowd, only to find their parents glaring at each other.

“You men are crazy! Soul is the best donut!”

“Ladies, please…Spirit’s obiviously the best donut here.”

Nate and Katie just stood there awkwardly as they really didn’t want to get involved in this arguement. Thankfully, their parents noticed that they were feeling very uncomfortable watching them agrue, so they said to the kids,

“Nate, Katie, you two can head back and do whatever for the rest of the day. We’ll be home as soon as someone changes their mind!”

Nate and Katie grabbed their things and they walked away from the crazy crowd that included their parents and on a whim, they decided to see if a Yo-kai was causing trouble, only to find that their Yo-kai Watches weren’t lighting up.

“Okay, what gives?! Why aren’t they lighting up the area?!”

Whisper took Nate’s wrist that was wearing the Yo-kai Watch and looked it over before going to Katie’s Yo-kai Watch and looking it over.

“Whisper, do you have an idea about what happened to them?”

Whisper gave them a sheepish grin as he shrugged.

“Maybe something happened when they were taken away from you? That’s my theory, at least.”

Nate and Katie groaned, but they were so thankful that they were going to meet Lucas at Timer’s and More anyway.

“Katie? Can you sense any Yo-kai that isn’t the four of us in this area?”

Katie closed her eyes and concentrated before saying,

“Well, there’s a few auras in the area and there’s a large one near our parents. Maybe it’s Dismeralda?”

“Well, if it’s the same Dismeralda from last time, she and Happierre will see each other again soon and make your parents normal again.”

They started to walk back home to pick up a few things because one things they had missed while the Yo-kai were gone was their bottomless bag and of course, the letter said that the other items that were taken would be returned when they got home.

“I’ll get my things and meet you at your house, Nate.”

“Sounds good.”

*****

A few minutes later…

When they had gotten to their houses, their journal and sketchbook were found on their desks without any damage done to them, although there were also only a few medals placed with them. Katie got Komasan and Komajiro’s medals while Nate only got Jibanyan’s medal, must to their surprise and annoyance. After putting their medals into their pockets and grabbing their bug nets and fishing poles along with the journal and sketchbook, they met up in front of Nate’s house and placed all of their items into the bag.

“Man, I really missed being able to carry our bug nets, fishing poles, and other stuff in one place.”

“I thought you missed having our bike charms, Nate?”

“Well, I missed those too, but I’m just happy to have Yo-kai magic on our side again. Although, I really wish we had more of our Yo-kai medals.”

Katie opened the letter she had found in her sketchbook, which read as follows,

To my friends,

As I promised, your other items have been returned, although there is something I neglected to tell you both. When I took your Yo-kai Watches, I kinda accidently broke a few important parts when I was trying to upgrade your Yo-kai Watches to S Rank so that you could be protected from any major threats, but these models are slightly different from the model I’m more familiar with. Of course, the fact that I didn’t create the Yo-kai Watch might also be a factor in this since I was just friends with the original creator. Either way, I apologize for the trouble, but I am aware that you two are good friends with someone that can fix the Yo-kai Watch, so all is not lost.

- Your concerned friend

P.S: That is one of the reasons why I only gave you the medals of the three Yo-kai that are always with you, but if I had found the medal for the fourth Yo-kai accompanying you, I would’ve also given back his medal as well. When you get the Yo-kai Watches fixed, I’ll give back the Medallium with all of your other Yo-kai medals still inside.

“Well, we’ll be getting back our Yo-kai medals at least, but it does raise a few questions…”

“Like what?”

“Who did create the Yo-kai Watch if it wasn’t our letter writer? I know Mr. Goodsight said that he helped with it’s creatation, but he never said that he actually made the Yo-kai Watch itself.”

“Well, we don’t know how he helped with the creation of the Yo-kai Watch, but we can ask him when we go to Timer’s and More.”

“That’s true…now for the other thing on my mind…Whisper?”

Whisper jumped, having been caught off guard by Nate saying his name since he had been thinking of something else.

“Oh! Sorry, Nate. What did you need?”

“Why did you never give us your medal?”

“W-why would I need to give you my medal? I’m always around you anyway!”

Whisper’s nervousness didn’t go unnoticed as Nate said,

“I’m not trying to make you nervous on purpose, I’m just wondering why we don’t have your medal, Whisper. What if something came up and we needed you and you weren’t there with us?”

Whisper just looked at the ground and whispered,

“S-sorry, I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Whisper did want to tell them why he never gave them his medal, other than the ‘always around you’ excuse he gave them, but he just didn’t feel comfortable telling them at that moment.

I just hope that the moment I tell them can happen on my own terms and not because I was forced to.

Nate poked Whisper to get his attention and said,

“You’ll tell us someday, right?”

Whisper nodded.

“I-i will, it’s just a little difficult right now.”

Nate just patted Whisper’s back to reassure him that the matter wouldn’t be brought up again for a while as the group walked to Timer’s and More to talk to Lucas and to get their Yo-kai Watches fixed.

Previous Chapter: https://libraryofrewrita.tumblr.com/post/169396063699/chapter-1-start-of-a-new-adventure

Next Chapter: https://libraryofrewrita.tumblr.com/post/169693565949/chapter-3-befriending-brushido