#augenbrauefreiheit

[l-promised-him]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔉𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔬𝔪: Freedom Isn’t Free

    @augenbrauefreiheit in response to 🦅

☕—“And what are your wings for…?

              ¿˙˙˙ɹoɟ sƃuᴉʍ ɹnoʎ ǝɹɐ ʇɐɥʍ pu∀

           “Levi.                      I have another proposition for you.        I left my glasses back within Paradise,                     and I believe I’ll need them for the upcoming events, my vision is failing me, ever since my bloodhound passed away.   I’ve lost my map, so it is up to you to find another way,                       retrieve them for me, if you can.“

 For the ‘White Eagle’ to mention the both of them - he was practically being blackmailed right now.   

  Mike Zacharias. He had been one of the few who could boast having bested Levi in a confrontation. In his memories, existed the wretched hour when that behemoth with an uncanny sense of smell had gripped the back of his head, and soaked his gaze with the filth of the Underground. In his memories, existed the countless hours afterwards, when his blades had flashed beside Zacharias’, as their speed and power had flexed in vicious tandem against the enemy. And, in Levi’s memories, existed the names upon a certain report. In that hour, he’d realized that Mike was never coming back. The space beside Erwin’s shoulder would remain achingly empty - and Levi knew, for all his dedication, that Erwin had lost something more pivotal than his right arm that day.

        ‘Bloodhound.’ 

              It was Levi’s old, familiar taunt between them, at Mike’s tendency to navigate through scents as easily as another person might peruse a map. Life had made the word a grave. Erwin had made it into code. Levi interpreted it as impetus.

    ❝I get it, I get it. I’ll drag back your Shitty Glasses for you, Erwin.

   You’re being a real pain right now, I hope you know. ...sending me off to run your damn errands like I don’t have my own affairs to deal with.  These brats are nearly as troublesome as you. Are you listening?

    No more acting like a careless child here on out.

          You’d better keep up with your shit, this time.❞

  Hange Zoe. What a nostalgic mission. How many times had he grasped reins and set out, under the directive of collecting the excitable veteran? Ah, but this time was different. He wasn’t out to chase Hange down  - but rather, to bring her forward. The edges of his mouth played upwards faintly, in amusement.

 Levi just knew that she was going to flip her shit over the novel technology placed at her fingertips.

        There would be no living with her, then, but he would gratefully endure it, regardless.    

    ❝While you’ve entrapped me on this stupid snail, I’ll give my report.

 The effort to rescue the mutt was a success, as you might’ve assumed. He’s fine. But the pound failed to reach my standards in any respect, and so Braun gave them a stern once-over until they were kissing their own asses goodbye.

     The proceeds illegally obtained from mistreating the occupants have already been forwarded to you. It’s rotten blood-money, but I trust you to do something decent with it. I, of course, reimbursed myself from that amount, the cost it would have taken to re-claim the dumb dog.

    For the trouble of having to walk through such a filthy structure.❞

     Ought he mention ‘Bloody Moon Maveric?’ A vague pause, almost awkward, transpired over a moment’s course, as the divergence between a bond more solid and well-designed than his own skeleton, and the haphazard friendship he had forged with some rough-spoken, weary-eyed ruffian, came into focus.

   Erwin was sunlight; clean and scalding - abolishing that which was unclear, illuminating truths, facts, and structures. He was warmth from the cold, respite from the unknown. Bright. Youthful. Harsh. Sharp appearance, passion wrought into progress, single-minded and silver-tongued. Erwin was always gazing far ahead, his mind’s eye affixed in a high, distant goal.  

  Maveric was nightfall. Music, mystery, a cool indifference for the rigidity of the world, beyond. He was irreverent, self-indulgent, and candid. He soothed at tragedy, obscured the abrasive effects of the day with meaningless, mystical faith. Maveric was enthralled by the moment at hand. Did he even entertain a ‘bigger picture’? What the hell was his goal, anyway?  

   And Myrundiel Mourningale - should he bother naming the individuals who called the Freiheit their home? ...it was such a sullen feeling, to exist in a hesitation when Erwin was still poised to hear his words.

                “My world is getting fuller by the day, Erwin.

                               Are you, too, filling empty spaces with faces I don’t know, either?” 

    ❝We're doing well, here. Don’t worry about the map.

            I’ll get a course charted some-fucking-how.

                                 ...oi, Erwin.

      You know what a real good use of that money that doesn’t yet exist in the books would be?

    ...you should let me take you to this island we found a little while ago. It’s made of hundreds of tiny islands, like the arils in a pomegranate. They float on top of permanent geysers.

  ‘A natural wonder’ that eggheads like you really enjoy.

      There’s a shitty festival, and scenic restaurants. Classy shit.

     Don’t give me tired excuses, either. I know you’re busy waving the geriatric stink of the the Gorosei’s collective farts from over your shoulder, but doesn’t that just mean you need a leave, all the more?

   I can...make the arrangements. So just make some fucking time.❞

   He then immediately hung up.

    Rather, his cold sweat had.

    His report had become some sort of a flippant proposition for a weekend reverie.

    Was this why he didn’t often venture often into verbal, long-distance communication?

    Was it some sort of mind-altering effect that the Den Den Mushi produced at proximity? 

     No, the mystery that held the highest priority in solving here, was the challenge of how to reach Paradis, again. ...an island that did not exist according to maps, Log Poses, or sight... It would perhaps take an eager, incomprehensible mind to map out the island where an eager, incomprehensible mind - waited. 

          —Isn’t the sky within your cage,                                     ‘ǝƃɐɔ ɹnoʎ uᴉɥʇᴉʍ ʎʞs ǝɥʇ ʇ,usI

                                            too narrow for you?.”                                                      “¿noʎ ɹoɟ ʍoɹɹɐu ooʇ

[thesealovesme]

blogs specifically involved with One piece? ocs and verses included

    SEA STILL LOVES ME[[OOC]];;

   – My current list for OP-ESQUE funtimes is as FOLLOWS;;

@shukkou - Monkey D. Luffy

@surgeonofheart   - Trafalflalfga gr durr Door

@sanbosocho - Sabo (Hella inactive)

@thesealovesme - Maveric Unelanvhi (OC)

@southxbird - Gabriel Solomon (OC)

@sirkurokodairu - Sir Crocodile (fucking inactive like he ditched me at the altar)

@sutekimayuge - Sanji Vinsmoke (used.. rarely.)

@naginingen​ - Corazon (never USED)

           (I have like two other OCs but they’re not really focuses atm? I’ll give them if specifically asked but they make me sORT OF SHY.)

- -I also have SnK muses involved directly with THE MOST FREEDOM, a huge cross-over verse with @l-promised-him

             My muses that are involved are - -

@mihhilfirratan - Bertholdt Fubar

@augenbrauefreiheit - Erwin Smith@schreienfreiheit- Eren Jaeger

    - -    I’ve got this Warcraft muse that tends to be my go-to for OP crossovers.

@donttell-myfather- Anduin Llane Wrynn

[polishedforsurvival]

bold any fears which apply to your muse.     italicize what makes them uncomfortable.

TAGGED BY: @the-bark-is-worse TAGGING: @weirdcuriosity @leadheir @sagaces @augenbrauefreiheit @sans-regrets and any other veterans I may have missed (sorry if you’ve done this already!)

the dark   //   fire   //   open water   //   deep water   //   being alone   //   crowded spaces   //  confined spaces   //   change   //   failure   //   war   //   loss of control  //  powerlessness   //   prison   //   blood   //   drowning   //   suffocation   //   public speaking   //   natural animals   //   the supernatural   //   heights   //   death   //   dying   //   intimacy   //  rejection  //  abandonment  //   loss   //   the unknown   //   the future   //   not being good enough  //  scary stories   //   speaking to new people   //   poverty  //   loud noises   //  being touched   //   forgetting   //  being forgotten

[mihhilfirratan-blog]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔉𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔬𝔪: Tipping the Scales

In regards to [ [ ⚔ ] ]  - @l-promised-him

sichäußern| |

He hadn’t asked where they were headed, or why.... it was unnecessary... . he knew that daunting form, those unrelenting eyes.. the poise of a commanding officer who could look straight through you without even glancing your way...       Admidst the fireworks and gunfire, was this... how it ended? Their ashen-maned ally had already jumped off the starboard bow, utilizing that enormous sea monster to board one of the ships, and it was already ablaze, the form of a feral beast jumping ship to take care of another...            What were they... supposed to do? No orders were given, in the face of this man, the one who had found them... the one who had taken the three Warriors from their mission, could he.. not move? A stray shell burst through the railing, skidding and detonating next to one of the crew that had endured so much to survive -          The gargantuan youth’s back smoldered, burned beyond all recourse, releasing the seamstress, as the young woman shrieked her gratitude and fled below deck. The Shifter’s body had already begun knitting together scalded tissue and melted flesh, tracing sharp trails under each distant eye.

                “HEICHOU!

          WE HAVE... TO RUN!

                        WE... WE CAN’T WIN........ this.”

      What started out as a deep-set roar trailed off, the last word overwhelmed by the yelling of soldiers, and the youth’s evergreen irises vanished, a hallow, sunken gaze far too reminiscent of his Titan form taking over the boy’s features.           (He’ll abandon you.) And why wouldn’t he?           Who would choose them.... Humanity’s demise, the cause of countless deaths, traitors in every way... to Levi, to even their Homeland, for abandoning their mission....                     (Who would protect them, in favor of regaining the sky?)     

           A flash of steel, and a platoon of Navy lay incapacitated at his feet, steam billowing off broad shoulders, giving him the look of a solemn terror.

Were they going to die, here?               Would their ‘captain’ turn his blades against, them, now? Was this just... their fate, then?                                                                                                                                                                            | |IndieHeimat

[exspirarchived]

@augenbrauefreiheit

A MADMAN leads - -

“Your innate stigma regarding knights of a holy order aside,

           Weren’t you supposed to receive a bat,                                     or did you end up killing it?“

That was another life, Zoen - the Highlord has other things to do than fight the Legion, like arrest pirates, and discover government secrets.          But yes, that does technically make him a Seadin, if we’re going to be pedantic.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         - - the DESPERATE and ENRAGED

     “It’s not a stigma. Stigma implies they don’t deserve the hatred and distrust. Which they do.

     Of course I killed the damn bat, what would you do if a rabid flying mammal suddenly showed up at your necropolis for no reason, bearing missives from peoples unknown? Feed it kibble and stroke its fluffy head? If your people had something to say, they ought to have just said it.”

     Of course he was a Seadin, he carried the same air of Justice and Righteous Corruption as all the rest of them, it was just accented by a briny scent absent in most knights of the Light.

     “If this is about Light’s Hope, they started it.”

[bloominghands]

           [From here]

  ⊰❁⊱ —

      Fingers divide the pages of the paper that had been dropped oh so neatly in her lap by a passing delivery bird and Robin finds herself stopping on the biggest article there, eyes roaming the words as her thoughts turned and turned with new information. 

   A new Admiral? How odd. Dangerous if true, and curious if not, and If it was the latter, was the lie to try and scare any new rookies from continuing their journeys, or to have veteran pirates on edge? Brows furrowed in thought, and the Devil Child bit gently to her lower lip subconsciously. But that couldn’t have been right- They had already appointed Fujitora and Ryokugyu as recent Admirals to fill gaps, and were down one Shichibukai after the Strawhats’ latest victory in Dressrosa. . .

 However, If it wasn’t a lie, and was indeed the former option, had the World Government come into a new secret weapon of a sort? She’d never heard of the man up until now, and that concerned her. There were so many possibilities of how and why he had come into that position so suddenly without a sound, and all of them were not good for her or her dear nakama. 

 Idly, Robin also worried about Levi and his people, all of whom were brand new to this world and most likely going to be targeted by the Navy. 

 Making a mental note to contact him soon on the Den Den Mushi she had given him, Robin closed the newspaper over and rose from where she had been sitting in order to go find her Captain and crew- 

                                                               They needed to know about this immediately. 

[kusodekaikiyo-blog]

SpreadYourW I N G S| |Memes;; Places a book on top of the Corporal's head, to test - if this doesn't awaken him, then that perfect balance will be utilized to stack various objects from around the room on top of the tome - the Commander may be bored.

“No matter what kind of wisdom dictates you the option you pick,

                                  no one will be able to tell if it’s right or wrong…”  

  ☕—One heavy book, two empty cups, and a small, ornate stamp later and the captain finally stirred from his impromptu nap. The nape of his neck hosted an ache more unfamiliar than the typical stiffness his anterior neck muscles suffered when he fell asleep at his customary chair or table. The uninvited weight on his head confessed the crimes of the perpetrator, who was met with a languid, accusatory expression.

   ❝...you’re a damn schoolboy, Erwin.

               This is why I’m never fooled by your shitty speeches.

                        You. Rotten. Child.❞

  He’d blame it on the sleep - the reason why his voice was so soft, why his tone lacked the acrimony those arsenic gray eyes promised. And there certainly wasn’t a weightlessness playing at the edges of his mouth. There was absolutely nothing endearing about the situation. How many times had he sworn that so far?  

   ❝Get all this shit off my head before I hurl them at you.❞

                                —until you arrive to some sort of outcome from your choice.”

[l-promised-him]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔉𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔬𝔪: The Lost Crown

@augenbrauefreiheit for 👑

☕—“And what are your wings for…?

              ¿˙˙˙ɹoɟ sƃuᴉʍ ɹnoʎ ǝɹɐ ʇɐɥʍ pu∀

       ❝...

            I see. That’s steep as shit for a half-breed missing his shots, but it can’t be helped. Don’t worry, I can cover the pick-up. And I’ll leash his ass myself, this time. They get to be a certain age, you know...❞

   There was only one person who Levi could imagine being coded as a runaway mutt. Erwin was very loosely encrypting his message, so he made a likewise effort. As he spoke, he was transposing the jumble of characters with the location of Eren Jaeger embedded Had Erwin orchestrated this? How had he come by the information? There was no opportunity to inquire, so for the time being, Levi simply received and processed information. From the desk’s surface, the page with the coordinates was slid from his hand, tidy script illuminating their next destination, towards Gabriel.

   He was caught between anxiousness and curiosity; Eren’s fate seemed to be pulled in every direction at once. ...but he would be glad to verify the brat’s condition.

      ❝I’ll head to the pound later today. Thanks for letting me know.

                       It’s still a troublesome household, isn’t it?❞

  On the other end, the den den mushi featuring the speaker’s ever-mournful brows, smiled subtly, just before the line went silent. The tip had been received. They would leave immediately. Levi was still wearing a faint curve to a vague mouth, but it faded as he stood from the desk, addressing the crew, below. 

   ❝Gabriel, after we’re done here, set a course for Courtyard Briar.

 I’m going ashore alone, to retrieve one of my things. The rest of you will wait on standby, at the adjacent island, Parkapums Bust.

   I want eight grams of  the Ballista Orchid tea powder prepared for transaction. Measure it twice.❞

  Eight grams of the miracle-tea would surpass the eighty million beri price on Eren’s head. Valued at twelve million beri an ounce, they would exceed the minimum requirements by a fair sixteen million. It was impossible to argue with sixteen million in profit, wasn’t it? But Jaeger was priceless. Who held his life, Levi wondered. If Erwin couldn’t directly involve himself, could it be the World Government? A ransom from some misinformed monarchy? Bounty-hunters from Marley, who had caught on? As he theorized over each sordid possibility, his eye caught the Celestial Dragon’s brand angry-red and permanently lingering on the back of the gardener’s neck, as she pulled a protective layer of canvas around the fragile tea leaves growing on the forecastle deck. His skin paled. 

   “Shit. Human traffickers. That’s what you meant, wasn’t it, Erwin?”

       Would he be competing with Celestial Dragons, then, for Eren’s life? His brow narrowed, as Reiner conversed with the navigator, and the ship turned, heaving forward with purpose. He was glad, in hindsight, that he’d told his crew to sit this one out. His mind rested on Yuki’s condition, withdrawn, defensive, scarred - but diligently working his hardest for the company’s success. Even now, something was darkening the thoughts of  the fresh-faced youth. He hadn’t yet broached the subject to Levi, but the tension mapped in his delicate features was impossible to miss. 

       Slave auctions. Yes, that was a hell they did not so soon need revisiting.  

           —Isn’t the sky within your cage,                                     ‘ǝƃɐɔ ɹnoʎ uᴉɥʇᴉʍ ʎʞs ǝɥʇ ʇ,usI

                                            too narrow for you?.”                                                      “¿noʎ ɹoɟ ʍoɹɹɐu ooʇ

[l-promised-him]

Erwin and Levi hooking up?

✨—Ah, are you asking on account of The Kiss™? 

 Even if that’s not the case, I’ll still clarify the nature of my muse’s relationship with this Erwin.

   Do I ship Levi with Erwin?

Buddy, I’ll ship Levi with a sponge on account of the chemistry. I’m all for shipping.

  Did that kiss seal the deal on the ship?

Not even actually.

   Levi didn’t regret delivering Erwin beyond the reach of a hellish world, beyond a civilization that would have eagerly fostered a real demon from the shape that a good man took. Erwin Smith, for all of his faults, for all of his sins, was still worth following, in Levi’s eyes. What he didn’t want, was the sight of Erwin to be lost in the machinations of unworthy men. So his grief that Erwin was gone, was still preferable to his friend's suffering. 

  He saw Erwin die as a child, trapped in a phantom query that held him by the throat, kept him like a servant to its cause. And Levi’s first grief also came to him as a child; he was a child who lost his mother. Lost his guardian, soon thereafter. Levi experiences severance from his closest bonds from a primal, almost childlike depth. So for Levi to encounter Erwin again, to see him wearing the symbol of the Marines, to see him denied the peace he’d wanted for that diligent schoolboy - it was a grief that he faced from very very young eyes, himself. 

  So rather than a kiss establishing an adult romance between two individuals, their interaction in that thread was really just two very scarred little orphans trying to dry at the tears of the other wounded child. Levi doesn’t want Erwin to suffer, as a slave to his nature. And Erwin doesn’t want Levi to grieve for him, when there’s so much to do and see before them.

     It was sincere, possibly intense in a way, but rather platonic. Erwin will always be incredibly important to Levi. That person is like an anchor for him. So while they remain intrinsically bound to each other’s fates even now, nah, they haven’t “hooked up” in the sense of romance && all that.

   It may change later on, but I don’t portray my Levi as romantically/sexually involved with anyone, as of yet. Thanks for the ask, hope that clarifies!

[polishedforsurvival]

augenbrauefreiheit replied to your post: @augenbrauefreiheit liked your post: @burnthope...

….him? Surely, this couldn’t be his folly, it wasn’t as though he had opted to feed his clothing to the Titans, nor were the hormones of his own soldiers his responsibility. … but.. the gesture was appreciated, even if… not quite adequate to assist the situation at all. Quietly, he censored one side of his chest. “… thank you, Levi, I can always count on your dedication.” … was he.. supposed to carry this around during his search, perhaps?

Well, it was better than nothing.

“Yeah. Sure thing.” Yes Erwin, just hold it there while you continue your search. At least one bara tiddie can stay warm.

“Gonna beat the shit outta whoever did this.” Not really, but maybe hold him back when the time comes just in case. “This is unacceptable.”

[polishedforsurvival]

@augenbrauefreiheit liked your post: @burnthope Just knocks his forehead right into her...

“You.”

He takes off his jacket and thrusts it in Erwin’s direction, holding it up against the man’s bare chest.

“Just... hold it there until we find your damn shirt. We can’t have the commander getting a cold because some brat stole his clothes.” 

[polishedforsurvival]

augenbrauefreiheit replied to your post: Whoever took Erwin’s shirt, please give it back....

Unfortunately Kirstein’s shirt won’t fit regardless..

“Didn’t realize you’d contemplated that as an option.”

“Surely you have a spare shirt lying around somewhere.”

[polishedforsurvival]

@augenbrauefreiheit replied to your post “wait wait wait... should we b callin u mom cause erwin is dad....”

... Was there really anything I could have done about all this?

“Doubt it. Point is when this shit happens, I’m usually the one dealing with it.”

[l-promised-him]

SpreadYourW I N G S| |Memes;; ║ //normal day |:

Put a "║" in my inbox for my muse being thrown into a jail-cell with yours.

☕—❝Erwin. When I said that I trusted your judgement.... I meant it, of course. ❞

  Levi knew he was setting himself up for an intense grievance, but he was compelled to draw a digit along the very edge of the jail’s doorway. He was as resentful as he had expected; the impromptu inspection resulted in a smear of grime trailed from the tip of his nail to the pad of his index finger. He ground it away between his thumb and mentally shuddered. They were breathing. that. in. A blatant grimace reigned over his face as he eyed Erwin askance.

  ❝I just honestly expected you to take my general standards and utter hatred for small, dark, damp spaces into consideration, as well. Tell me right now that this is also a part of your plans, or so help me, I’m going to take a page from Fubar’s sweaty-ass diary and punt a hole through the wall of this shitty cell. ❞

   While he would never doubt his Commander’s insight, he could still work up a complaint or two for his own sake. They had been classified as ‘trespassers,’ (the irony) and taken swiftly into custody. But, he suspected that it had been an intentional misstep. Levi had been present when the plan had been initially conceived, and if all went accordingly, “Highlord Smith” would acquire a valuable asset to the campaign against the Legion.

    There was a certain veteran of the Third War who had once ranked highly among the paladin’s order - even earning the prestigious title ‘highlord’ for himself. According to the records inherited by Erwin’s hands, the Merfielde clan had always served the Light, in one fashion or another, and their capacity to wield it earned much acclaim. He and a sibling were the last living testaments to such a pious, powerful lineage. However, the records dismally mentioned that the younger Merfielde, a sister, had thrown her support into some cultist apparatus, and had gone missing. Since that day, Latharin Merfielde had renounced the Light, and spent his time getting into obscene amounts of trouble in various elven prisons. 

  Their current mission seemed reasonably straightforward - ruffle the heckles of some elves, find themselves incarcerated for it, and collect information or the physical being of this previously blessed relic. Latharin would prove to be an invaluable ally, and Levi believed in Erwin’s ability to rekindle hope in even the most disillusioned of souls. They were to recruit this individual into the Survey Corps, as it stood within Azeroth, and prevent the Merfielde line from falling into ruin. 

    As such, he didn’t genuinely intend to boot the wall in. But he hoped that the prospect might encourage Erwin to divulge a little more as to what the hell he expected of him, exactly.     

[l-promised-him]

The letter was supposed to be delivered by a young squire, evidently no one had warned the boy of the dangers of the Underbelly, and as such, it would be a random, sticky-fingered thug that tossed the scroll toward the Corporal, grunting something about how it was probably for their boss, which was /supposed/ to be Levi. Written in familiar handwriting, and signed by a familiar name;; (The Highlord requests your presence within the Legerdemain Lounge.)

☕—“And what are your wings for…?

             ¿˙˙˙ɹoɟ sƃuᴉʍ ɹnoʎ ǝɹɐ ʇɐɥʍ pu∀

  The scroll was captured within a resentful grip and a hostile look. It was too much to claim that he’d become accustomed to dealing with the denizens of the Underbelly. They called him by names like “Shadow,” or “Boss.” “Young Master” was another uninvited term of address - all begrudgingly respectful, and all with a hint of unease. His origins drew from the same filth and amorality that his newfound allies knew well - but Levi insisted on describing his occupation as

         ‘a soldier, that’s all’ - thereby leaving his fellows confounded and disconcerted, albeit curious enough not to hamper his time underground with unwelcome inquiries or protests.

   He, by the same gracious nature, was also learning the names of his freshly inherited subordinates. They responded with reasonable favor when he addressed them as “Shitty Eyes,” “Gap-tooth,” and, “You long-winded old bastard.” It was “Squatty-ass Messenger” he identified as the link between the original author of the message, and its earlier courier.  

   ❝Oh? So you realized this was addressed to me. You’re literate, eh? 

                                I’ll adjust the complexity of your missions accordingly.❞

   The soldier thanked the thug’s efforts with an idle threat, and unrolled the parchment.

   And then his breathing was suddenly lodged inside the cage around his lungs, entangled like his bones had grown roots into that yawning space. The blood drained from his face and his fingertips, leaving his skin ashen and tepid. He knew these words, and he knew the hand that penned them. The soldier’s departure was immediate; a flurry of forest green and raw, foolish want, headed up streetside. The scroll was gripped in an unyielding hold, one of  possession and grief, in equal measure. Pure, heedless haste returned him to the bright and unconcerned atmosphere of the bustling city’s surface.

    Standing outside the destination specified in the message, Levi’s lungs finally won for an influx of fresh air. An arsenic gaze viewed the establishment as though he had never seen it before. Suddenly, it was a fantastical place - as impossible to reach and comprehend as the wide open sky had once seemed to a young man, chained by circumstance, to the Underground.

       And once again... an unprecedented chase had led him above his old sorrows.

    He glanced sideways, until the glint of the scroll’s gold-tipped spine burned his eyes.

    No one halted his progress, as the soldier took the stairway from the luxurious lobby below, to the lodgings above. The furnishings were lavish; rich hues and decadent textures begged for notice, for appreciation. But he could have been just as satisfied with a gaping, blistering desert if it had been the only location available to this meeting.

   With a heartbeat that couldn’t effectively decide between crashing thunderously against its cradle and halting altogether, Levi gave a sharp rap against the designated lodging’s door. The habit had rushed to his knuckles before he’d realized - only this time, he waited for the inevitable silence that must answer him, now.

    And, he waited for the colorless facts that he knew to be dismantled, over and over again, making way instead for discovery, glory, and wondrous revelation.

 ❝Oi, open up, already.

             I really hate to be kept waiting, you know.❞

  Speaking as though he really expected an answer was a self-inflicted cruelty that he had to marvel at himself, for. The message could have so easily been a trap - a useful wager by the enemy. Half of his mind strove to maintain caution, to keep his muscles hot and flooded by oxygen-rich blood - ready to respond to the first sign of combat. And the other half, a soft and insistent madness, was lifting an awareness to the very edges of his senses, begging for a blasphemy that his tongue would never suffer speaking aloud.

  He really wanted to hear that voice...

                                          —Isn’t the sky within your cage,                                                         ‘ǝƃɐɔ ɹnoʎ uᴉɥʇᴉʍ ʎʞs ǝɥʇ ʇ,usI

                                                               too narrow for you?.”                                                                      “¿noʎ ɹoɟ ʍoɹɹɐu ooʇ