#because he doesn't have those inside him!!!!!!! he never had any actual murder weapons!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sophi-s · 4 years ago

Text

Cost of Kindness

Chapter II: Fear me not

By: sophi-s

Fandom: Darksiders video games

Words: 6373

Characters: Raphael, Original Character (OC)

Warnings: Blood and injury, suffocating, violence, Raphael is sad :(

Summary:

Nicola is quick to find trust in herself and quick to lose it. She doesn't realise however, that the man she fears sees something in her others cannot. And this something is what made him save her life again.

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

Through the few short weeks, the apocalypse has taught the dying Humanity many different things. Resourcefulness, cunning, true strength of unity… and among other things, the cruel life had taught them, was bravery in its purest form. Bravery that isn't simply an absence of fear but the power to overcome it. Stay cool-headed even in the most extreme scenarios, allowing them to face down even the most horrifying demons and either get away mostly unscathed or sometimes even beat them if they were lucky. Without those traits, survival was nigh impossible these days.

This last very important lesson however, Nicola seemed to have quite spectacularly failed to learn. Even as lucky as she was - considering that she lived thus far - she never was the bravest creature in this God-forsaken world. Smart? Sometimes. Ingenious? Sure. But brave? Not really, no. Especially now, as she was staring up at the angel who she decided to trust not even a minute before and who has just ruthlessly murdered a demon with little to no remorse in a very, very sickening way. Her muscles refused to move as though Raphael had already used the spell of paralysis against her as she watched the corners of his mouth, previously quirked upwards in a small smile, slowly descend. His expression in the matter of seconds morphed into confusion when a quiet sob escaped her. This horrifying, agonized screeching was still ringing in Nicola's ears, the demon kept writhing before her eyes and she couldn't help but wonder.. what did it feel like? To have one's life drained like that. Because judging by the sounds the Goreclaw produced, it must've been truly torturous.

"Human…?"

The soft voice of Raphael snapped her out of this strange haze and the sight of his hand extended towards her once again made her heart jump and begin to race. Her mind was telling her that if Raphael wanted to harm her, he would've done it already. Besides, moments before the demon came, he healed the cut on her forehead demanding nothing in return. Only because he could and - for some reason - wanted. But the chilling claws of panic gripping her throat and the fight-or-flight instincts kicking in, screaming inside her head made the voice of reason merely an inaudible whisper drowning in the sea of primal fear of the possible approaching danger. And right now, her body definitely settled on "flight".

"No! "

She yelped and tried to get away but her heels met the corpse behind her and it caused her to trip over the husk of the once frightening demon. With an expression of shock, Raphael retracted his hand as her rear painfully met the tough and damp floor. There was utter horror gleaming in her emerald green eyes, matched by lack of comprehension in his.

"Why are you frightened?"

And he has the audacity to ask why. Nicola thought bitterly as she started to scramble away. At the first glance, Raphael seemed so kind, he was such a gentle soul. Even his face, despite the collapsed cheeks, has the most trustworthy look to it Nicola had ever seen. This kind is the worst. Makes you trust them, lower your guard.. It seems she'd conveniently forgotten about one fact she noticed moments after she found Raphael. He's completely, absolutely and utterly insane. Unpredictable. At first he couldn't even remember his own name or how he got here. Who can guarantee her that he won't have an abrupt change of heart and lash out at her? She wasn't going to take chances. Leaping up to her feet, Nicola blindly runs off into the dark pathway she initially emerged from, her shotgun left forgotten on the floor just as she heard an almost frantic-sounding call echoing from the haphazard hide-out alongside the sound of rustling feathers and cloth.

" NICOLAAA! "

To her, this shout may have as well been a roar of a Fallen that not so long ago nearly succeeded in ending her life. A golden hue on the walls glistening with wetness trembled and started to move. No one had to say that out loud for her to realise that the angel was actually chasing after her. And to think that merely seconds ago Raphael was struggling with standing up properly… The pain of her overworked legs was gone, forgotten. They carried Nicola like a completely different entity, moving on their own, tireless and strong with only one purpose. Get away. Survive. Escape.

How Nicola managed to get to the point where she started her sightseeing tour of the sewers without any source of light and without tripping over all those bodies she found before was a mystery even to her. Even the slickness of the ladder didn't phase her as she pushed the lid off and quite literally pounced out of the hole in the sidewalk like a puma. She only hoped she'd managed to lose her pursuit in the winding corridors. Placing the lid back where it belonged, Nicola immediately booked it for the nearest alley just to be sure.

Once she was more or less hidden, she leaned against a crumbling wall, breathed out silently and covered her mouth to muffle the uncontrollable sobs. She thought that for once she found something that wasn't about to end her where she stood but it seems that the Universe has taken it as a matter of some twisted honor to slaughter every single member of the human race. This is just unfair. Sure, there was a lot of people who deserved to be smited into oblivion by the God himself for what they'd done but if the apocalypse was supposed to be some kind of punishment, then for fuck's sake why does the entire race has to suffer for it?! How is this even fair ?!

It's not. That's how.

Nicola looked up at the night sky glittering with numerous stars, winking at her like thousands of watching eyes as tears spilled down her cheeks, leaving clean trails in the dust and grime. Eventually, her heartbeat started slowing down, her breath evening out and the adrenaline gradually receding from her system. Now she had a moment to clear her head and think. She had no doubts she can be forgiven for running away. Every person in their right mind would do the same in her situation. Nicola refused to die like this.. But on the other hand… This panic in Raphael's voice, the almost childishly innocent smile as he closed the cut on her skin and the gentleness to his every move as he tried to heal a defenseless kitten… God, this is so… so… Nicola couldn't even find the right word. Despite what the angel did to that Goreclaw, no one said he meant to hurt her too. He may be crazy but that doesn't mean he's a psychotic murderer. This was a demon and angels rightfully hate demons! In his mind there was most likely nothing wrong with that. Besides, she gave Raphael no reason to think of her as a target. All of the sudden, Nicola felt unbelievably foolish for running off like that. Raphael saved her life after all. And she acted nothing if not horribly ungrateful. Should I go back? She'll have to anyway. In a hurry, she left her weapon back down there and Haven was short on those… Dang it…

She sighed. It honestly made her feel like a moron. Damned survival instincts… Sure, they were keeping her alive all the time but sometimes they were just so incredibly annoying. Why would they make her run away from someone who protected her even though he had no reason to do so and nothing to gain from it? From the first angel who seemed to care what fate befalls her? Goodness me, this is so stupid… Nicola shook her head and was about to walk back to the entrance to the sewer when she noticed something in an adjacent alley. Seeing a pair of hungry yellow lights slowly moving closer to her, just above the ground made her heart drop. Her sight has long got used to darkness and so it took her only a fraction of a second to notice curved, black horns above them, long and spindly arms on either side of a slender body ending in a long, scaly lube. A snake-like tail…

With a pounding heart, Raphael quickly moved through the sewer that has long ago turned into his hide-out. Tracking down the strange little human who unexpectedly visited him in his "lair" was harder than it seemed. She was way faster than he would have given her credit for. By all means, in her short legs she shouldn't be that quick. Fear does strange things to people.. But why was she afraid? This short meeting was inarguably the most wonderful thing that happened to him ever since he left the White City. He couldn't quite remember how long ago it was but definitely too long for his taste. All he recalled was the horrible, sharp bite every time he repeated the ritual to finish his greatest creation, followed by a short-lived feeling of elation soon to be replaced by deathly cold within the centre of his being. Each time getting worse and worse until he couldn't stand it anymore. Quickly descending into madness caused by never-ending pain and the chill of his damaged soul, the invisible wound in his chest as cold as a forgotten grave, he knew he can't keep doing this. And so, after having lost his purpose, there was no reason for him to stay anymore. He refused to disappoint his brethren.

You've fulfilled your task. They don't need you anymore.

Raphael halted for a moment, blinking to try and chase away the taunting whisper in the back of his head. It is not true.

"You're wrong. They do. More than ever…"

In the premature Endwar, Heaven's Legions probably wished he was with them. But that doesn't change a thing. He's not going back. Not after he failed to save Ithuriel as an unexplainable surge of panic paralyzed both his hands and his magic. It still sometimes haunts his damaged memories… The young warrior slowly languished from a poisoned wound, grew weaker and weaker with every moment and the archangel couldn't move, couldn't even speak to call for help. Just.. stood there and watched unable to act. Until… A painful twinge through his chest made him wince. No. He can never allow something like this to happen again. He cannot fail them.. He refused to let anyone down like that. Ever.

Frankly speaking, Raphael started to wonder when he'd taken to talking to himself. Solitude clearly wasn't serving him… It's been so long since he had anyone to speak to and even longer since his mind felt this clear. This woman, Nicola, told him she is a human. Considering what has happened to the Third Kingdom, Raphael found it hard to believe. But the spark of life in her soul… it really did feel human. She wasn't a fiend from the Black Depths, nor was she of his own kin. Earth was where she belonged. But there was something in her… something so oddly familiar.. soothing. A flame like those burning in hearts of Heaven's people, just somehow fainter. Only a small fraction of it. Maybe her soul belonged to an angel before it was purged by the Well? Who knows?

But that aside, she was still human. And so, it might as well make her the last survivor of her race and the first creature to show him a lick of sympathy ever since he chose the path of a hermit. The Balance was in danger and this human was imperative for its preservation. For the first time in decades, Raphael felt needed. He had a purpose again. No one was forcing him to do this but the words in a caring tone leaving Nicola's mouth and clear concern for his well being even though she barely knew him for a couple of minutes were something he has been so… so dreadfully missing. As confused as he was by her attitude, he couldn't deny that it was… nice. How long has it been since someone expressed clear worry for him? Too long… The archangel wished this odd mortal near even if for just a short moment because strangely enough, her kindness directed specifically to him somehow eased the never-ending suffering and helped him focus his thoughts that kept running rampant without control whenever he couldn't busy himself with something other than the hole in his chest. And now they were focused on one goal. Find the human.

Raphael waved his bandaged hand through the air before him to invoke a spell and frowned when he detected the familiar presence he was searching for somewhere over his head. She must've left for the city above him. Right where she's out in the open for demons to pick out. Why did she run?

She knows what you are. And she is just a human. Of course she would run like a coward.

No. Raphael brushed this poisonous voice off. Believing in a single word it says will mean his failure. If he does, he will be doomed. Forever lost in the depths of insanity. No matter.. Channeling his magic, Raphael warped and reappeared amidst the sorrowful ruins of the city once inhabited by hundreds of humans. A wave of fresh air hit him in the face and for a moment made his head feel like it was spinning. His eyes opened wide when he took a huge gulp of oxygen. He never realised how sweet it can taste. After such a long time in the damp darkness… The stars peered down at him from the moonless sky, shining like shattered diamonds woven into black velvet. Enchanting and stunningly beautiful. If it wasn't so dangerous out here, Raphael would've surely been more eager to leave the dark pit he was stuck in to marvel at the Earth's still present beauty but such as it was… The moment he let his eyes wander across the vast expanse of the Earthen sky, his feathers bristled at the sound of a shrill cry of fear that tore the silence asunder. A cry of a female voice. Familiar voice. It could only mean one thing. His heart skipped.

Rushing towards the source of the scream, Raphael soon discovered the reason right behind a corner. The same human that indulged him in a much needed interaction, that calmed his restless spirit, was now struggling against the tightening coils of a serpentine body of a demon sorcerer which apparently has picked her as its midnight snack. Already feeling a mist of rage fall over his mind, Raphael shook his head to shrug it off for a little longer. Keeping his head as cool as he could, he performed a gesture with his hands as a string of words in his mother tongue slipped past his lips and his vision zeroed on the Shadowcaster.

Nicola was absolutely sure these were her final moments on this horrible, horrible world when the Shadowcaster jumped at her from a nook and wrapped its tail around her to try and strangle the life out of her like a gigantic, twisted constrictor snake, and watch her perish in suffering. What an awful way to die. Seeing the wicked grin of this malformed face as the last thing before her consciousness leaves her for good. Nicola hoped that if she had to die, then at least she would be sent off by a friendly face… But it seems that God denied her even this last, small comfort.. She fought ferociously against the crushing pressure that was successfully preventing her from catching another breath but to no avail. Her lungs felt as though they had been set on fire and her desperate wriggling only made the demon laugh excitedly as it whispered something she couldn't understand. She didn't have to though. Something told her it was nothing nice.. Dark spots started to gather in the corners of her vision and slowly encase her mind in darkness and she has already come to terms with the fact that this time she isn't getting out of this one alive when… the hold the Shadowcaster had on her loosened.

Taking a wheezing breath, Nicola fell over, still trapped in the coils of the scaly body. What? Once her vision cleared out a little, she saw her attacker lying stiff like a statue with its nasty eyes, previously burning with malice, now opened wide in shock and a web of golden lights crawling across its skin spoke for itself. Before any coherent thought could form in her head she was suddenly yanked free from the demon's grasp by an invisible force. A small cry escaped her when she felt a sharp sting on her thigh where the monster held her with its claws and soon she was gently deposited on the ground. Looking up into a pair of big, white eyes blinking down at her upside down from underneath a green, ragged hood.

"Raph-... phael…?"

She gasped to let her crushed lungs expand properly, though she needed no answer. It was him. He did follow her. And he saved her bacon. Again. Nicola truly wanted to laugh. If there were any doubts still left in her mind that Raphael is a friend before, they disappeared at this very moment. You bloody idiot, you ran from a dude who was trying to protect you and almost got yourself killed in the process. Nicola scolded herself inwardly as she struggled to breathe properly. No running again. Although she was most glad to see Raphael, she immediately noticed something was wrong. He was looking at her but without this soft smile. His eyebrows were knitted together in an expression of worry and… guilt? Why the…? And that's when she noticed that his eyes were flicking between her face and the spot on her leg which was quickly starting to grow warm and wet. Craning her neck to see, Nicola nearly choked once she caught the sight of three deep gashes torn into her flesh. And they were spurting about a lot of blood… Like.. a lot.

"You're bleeding… Hurt…"

His hesitant words only confirmed that it wasn't a hallucination caused by oxygen deprivation. Nicola bit her lip and tried to find that healing shard in her pocket but between being nearly choked to death, her empty stomach, sharp pain and seeing that amount of blood leaving her injured appendage she felt too dizzy to keep her head up and laid back down on the ground with a miserable mewl.

"In the eyes of our blessed Father, your days are numbered, foul beast.."

She heard Raphael hiss through his teeth once he looked up towards the place where the Shadowcaster was surely still face planting under the influence of the spell and his troubled frown turned into a scowl. There was this weird sound once more. Oh my God, he's doing it again… Nicola gulped, already preparing for the round two. Even though she was certain now that she had nothing to fear from him, it still doesn't mean she liked what she saw back then when the Goreclaw jumped her. She was already hearing the screeches of the demon even before they could come to be but this time no such thing happened. Something was different. The light that coalesced around Raphael's hand was not green but golden as the magic vibrated through the air once again. Everything lasted but a second. And instead of a series of pained shrieks, Nicola heard a single, sickening crunch. And then silence. Nothing more. Whatever happened, it was quick and mostly quiet. Probably because they were outside and more demons undoubtedly prowled nearby, and Raphael was definitely smart enough to realise that. Thank goodness… Nicola breathed before she saw the shimmering stars swimming before her eyes quickly starting to disappear along with her hearing. Soon, she slipped her eyelids closed in spite of the pain in her leg and found herself sliding into the dark. Hold on. Just a little longer.. Just… a little…

… longer…

If anything could be said about Shadowcasters, was that their skeletons, as flexible as they are, characterize with astonishing brittleness. One flick of Raphael's wrist was more than enough to snap its neck and give it a far quicker and more merciful death than it deserved. He couldn't allow himself for another drain as it would bring half of the Horde bearing down on both him and the wounded human at his feet. Besides, he didn't feel in need of its energy. The human…

Looking down at her, Raphael felt his heart cease for a second. She was lying there on her back, pale and motionless, her intricate green eyes shut. Alive, the blaze in her soul flickering, but clearly unconscious. Blood was still oozing from the wound he himself had made because of the spontaneous decision to wrench her free from the fiend's hold. He wasn't careful enough and failed to notice that the demon dug its talons into her skin. The archangel had seen a fair share of pain. He used to be the head healer back in the White City after all. The number of warriors he'd pulled out of the cold clutches of death was impossible to count. But somehow this was different. The poor woman was defenseless, weak and delicate. She couldn't even fight the demon that tackled her.

Azrael was right. Humans are very, very fragile.. Compared to other races, they were frighteningly easy to crush. Anything could kill them. From eating something wrong, through illnesses, to even falling into the water. Truth be told, Nicola was the first human Raphael had met in person and he didn't want her to be his last. Just stay calm. Don't panic… Not now… Kneeling down next to her, so small in comparison to him, Raphael gingerly peeled the torn trouser leg off the wound and placed his quivering hand over it, concealing the whole thing with his palm. His magic began to flow into the human once again to seal the torn flesh but there was very little time he had.

He barely managed to lessen the bleeding when a sound of a distant roar and a crash of a car being tossed aside, reached his ears. His head snapped up as his eyes darted around, searching for the owner of this cry. He would recognise it even in his sleep, even if the last scraps of his sanity left him. A Trauma was somewhere nearby. No doubt heading in this direction, attracted by the commotion and possibly the smell of blood as well. And a Trauma he couldn't afford to fight right now. Those things are hearty enough to break through his magic and get to him before he is able to put them down. Scooping up Nicola into his arms, Raphael wrapped his dusted wings around both her and himself and with a single arcane word they both vanished, leaving only a trace of quickly dissipating golden glow in their wake.

How long had she been out, Nicola couldn't tell. All she knew that she felt as though someone ran into her with a car. Her breaths were shallow and her heart was beating way too fast for comfort. Groaning quietly, she laid her arm over her face before opening her eyes. To see a dark, damp ceiling gently illuminated by a warm light. Where the Hell-...? The last second before the blackout came back to her like a punch to the gut. The Shadowcaster. Raphael.. With a startled gasp, she shot up, looking about, promptly regretting her decision when the world started to spin again. And to her utter astonishment, she was once again in the small section of the sewers where she met Raphael, settled on some ratty blankets and covered with another one that fell from her chest the moment she stirred.

"Keep still.."

She heard and nearly jumped when she felt a hand fall onto her shoulder and gently coax her into lying down again. And honestly, with how nauseous and weak she felt, Nicola wasn't about to resist and let herself be lowered to the ground. Unsurprisingly now, she saw the familiar scrawny angel sitting cross-legged next to her and staring intensely at her with those big, disturbingly hollow eyes. He brought her back into his hidey-hole? It looks like it.. Why exactly however, Nicola couldn't tell. And there wasn't much she could read from those eyes. A couple of seconds passed. A minute. Two. Five. And he still kept staring. The awkward silence continued until Nicola decided to break it by clearing her throat.

"Uh… what's up, buddy?"

If she wasn't feeling like shit, Nicola would've burst out laughing when she saw Raphael look up at the ceiling confused but she really didn't have strength to explain that this was just an expression. Chucking to herself quietly, she rubbed her eyes with pads of her fingers to clear her blurry sight a little when again her stomach loudly demanded nutrition. And the poor angel who was still looking at the ceiling quite literally jumped away and glared at her abdomen distrustfully when it "growled at him". Seems like angels know as little about humans as humans about them…

"What… was that.?"

Carefully pulling herself up to a sitting position, miserably failing to stop a fit of giggles - even though it pulled her sore muscles over her ribs - Nicola waved her hand dismissively. Any fear she once felt in the presence of Raphael was gone now. Not only did he rescue her twice but the way he was getting confused or spooked by literally anything Nicola did - purposefully or not - was just somewhat endearing.

"I'm just hungry.. I haven't eaten for a whole day.."

"Oh… hungry… hmmmm… Yes.."

Raphael murmured, seemingly a little embarrassed by the whole situation and twisted his body around to reach for something. Furrowing her eyebrows, Nicola tried to shift to see what exactly he was doing back there but she didn't see a lot. At least not until he turned to face her again and very slowly - like he was afraid he would frighten her again - extended his hand to her. And in his palm sat a paper bag where undoubtedly Nicola's sandwich was. Hesitantly, she reached for the packet that rustled encouragingly and a faint, pleasant smell of cheese, ham and pickled cucumbers emerged from within. A nice change from the stench around. It wasn't much but made her mouth water nonetheless.

"Thanks.. though I'd be glad if you didn't go through my things. Okay?"

"Okay…"

He replied with a nod and sat down again, watching Nicola devour - not eat - devour half of her sandwich in a few bites. Goodness, she was so hungry she could eat a horse.. However, halfway through something beside Raphael's thigh caught her attention. There, next to his knee sat a small cat. The same back and white kitten the angel was taking care of before. Looking at her with those blasted big, green eyes with pupils expanded almost to the point where its irises weren't visible and hungrily licking the sides of its mouth. At first she tried to ignore it. But the cursed look cats, especially the little ones, can give! The longer it stared at her, the more sure she was that she doesn't have the appetite anymore.. Goddamnit. Pulling a slice of ham out of her sandwich - the only part that would be of interest to it - Nicola clicked her tongue and offered the food to the kitten.

"Here, little buddy.. Come here."

I'm too soft for my own good. One day, some cat will be the death of her… Carefully and slowly, the kitten approached her, sniffing the piece of meat before snatching it out of her hand and retreating into the safe place behind Raphael to consume the gift. Cats can smell good people from a mile. Looks like she was wrong to ever doubt Raphael had anything but good intentions. Smiling slightly, the angel reached out to the cat and brushed his knuckles against the black fur around a new scar on its back. The loud and comforting purr interrupted only by an occasional swallow rung out and made even Nicola smile as she finished her own food. Even with how meager her snack was, hopefully it was going to last her at least until she finds her way back to Haven. One day of poor eating wasn't going to kill her after all.

When she was done, she peeled back the blanket to examine her injured leg. Nicola pulled a face at the three - even if mostly closed - claw marks on her thigh and the bloodied trouser leg. It didn't look that bad anymore but she could imagine that it would definitely slow her down. The slightest move was causing her mild discomfort. Running and walking anywhere is definitely off the table for now. Still, Nicola much preferred the dull ache that was now in place of excruciating throbbing.

There was no doubt in her mind that this is all once again thanks to the kind, even if a bit unhinged, angel who was now sitting beside her with a quietly purring kitten nested on his lap as he kept stroking its head and back and murmuring something to himself in a strange, melodic language Nicola couldn't understand but found beautiful and enchanting nonetheless. She watched Raphael for a few moments, listening to his deep, soothing voice that made her feel a bit sleepy. After the apocalypse Nicola rarely slept well because of nightmares. And it showed. But before she inevitably dozed off, she felt she had to say something.

"So uh…"

She started, successfully getting his attention, judging by how his eyes shifted to look at her.

"Um… Thanks. For… for everything I guess.."

For a whole minute Raphael didn't answer, simply watched her with his head tilted to the right, a silent question in his eyes. Nicola scratched the back of her neck awkwardly and decided to clarify.

"You know.. for saving my butt two times now, treating me.. And sorry I ran away. I was scared, you got pretty spooky with that Goreclaw back then…"

"Oh…"

He replied with raised eyebrows.

"Forgive me then… I did not mean to frighten you…"

"Oh, no no no, you don't have to be sorry, it's okay! I'm not scared anymore.."

Nicola assured him quickly. Making him feel bad for it wasn't her intention at all.

"Seriously though. Thank you.."

She repeated with a grimace when she tried to shift to a more comfortable position but the ache in her leg made it significantly more difficult. With an empathetic look to his face, Raphael steadied her by returning his hand to her shoulder and moving the other - already radiant with his Heavenly magic - to her wound. The prickly sensation came back, bringing relief in pain as he sighed tiredly.

"This is.. my duty…"

As surprising as it was, Nicola couldn't deny that Raphael seemed to have changed in some way since she found him absolutely deranged. Now he seemed a little more… collected. Focused. Calmer. But simultaneously even sadder and very jumpy. Still, he remained as mysterious as he did before. But maybe if he retains this composure, Nicola could pry something from him about his background. Why is he here alone? What happened to him? How did he get here? There were way too many questions to ask at once but she had to start with something.

"Your duty? You're some sort of a… uh, what shoudma' call it? Doctor, medic, something like that?"

Despite the question being seemingly innocent and harmless, Raphael reacted by turning his eyes down to look at his hands as he flexed his fingers a couple times with a barely noticeable wince twisting his lips. His answer was so quiet that Nicola barely caught it.

"... was… I left.."

"Huh? Wh- why?"

At that, Raphael looked up at her, again with this tortured gleam in his eyes that made her heart squeeze painfully and shyly pointed at Nicola's side.

"It hurts.."

He chimed as she stared at her own hip in confusion. Again, the angel was making no sense. Her side didn't hurt for one, and two, it can't have been the reason why he left… whatever he left to abandon his previous life. A little startled that maybe he knew something she didn't, Nicola probed the place he pointed out but all she could feel was the healing shard in her… in her pocket… All of the sudden she recalled what Raphael told her before.

Hesitantly, she dug the glowing crystal out of her vest and lifted it for Raphael to see better and asked a wordless question which he answered almost immediately.

"The shards… they hurt me.."

This was probably the lowest Nicola's eyebrows have ever descended, making the look of confusion on her face even more blatant. I thought they were supposed to be healing shards? Why would something made to heal one person hurt another?

"How?"

With an expression of anguish, Raphael placed his hand over his chest and took a small gasp of air as if to make his point.

"I created them.. and some of them hurt…"

The revelation made Nicola's jaw fall slack. She'd been suspecting this before when Raphael referred to the crystal as "his" shard but hearing the confirmation almost had her gag. How many times a healing shard has saved either her or someone else from the Tree, she couldn't count on both of her hands. After Ulthane snatched her from the Fallen's talons it took the large one to heal her and make sure she survives afterwards and still it shattered after it served its purpose. At this very moment, no one could ever convince her that the sad, mad angel before her is evil in any way. With a huff of disbelief she shook her head, shifting her gaze between Raphael and the shard.

"Wait, hold up, you made those?! Oh.. my God, I could kiss you, my dude."

A very undignified snort almost escaped Nicola when she saw the face Raphael made. Something between astonishment, horror and curiosity. She remained oblivious to how improper it sounded in his ears. He cocked his head again. Goddamnit. Every time he does that, Nicola just… can't. It constantly reminds her of a puppy looking at some bizarre wonder of nature.

"But.. why would you want to do this..?"

"It's an expression. In other words, I wanted to say I can't thank you enough. How did someone like you ever end up in… like- like this?"

Nicola said "like this" in the last moment before she could say "in such a shitty situation" because she realised just in time how inappropriately awful this sounds, considering they're in the damned sewers. I'll have to learn to stop accidentally making jokes.. For some reason Jones absolutely adored her for it, unlike most of her friends who kept either groaning or facepalming every time and begging her to stop before they kicked a bucket from the sheer badness of her jests. The kitten in Raphael's lap meowed in annoyance when it lost the touch of the angel, coaxing him to keep smoothing out its fur still stained with dried blood. He did, and Nicola didn't miss that he was deliberately avoiding her gaze.

"Long story.. very long.."

"That's alright, we have time!"

The words left her mouth before she could stop them. Her curiosity was just too strong. Besides, Nicola wasn't going anywhere anytime soon with how her leg was fairing (just thinking about how worried Ulthane and the rest have to be made her a little sick) and she honestly doubted Raphael is going anywhere either. But the way it came out made her sound like she was prying to get to something the angel clearly wished to keep to himself. Whether because it was something to be ashamed of or something very unpleasant to speak of. In honesty, Nicola was sure he would scowl at her for this but he simply looked away with a grim look on his face. And it was even worse because it made her feel awful.

"Oh… sorry, if you don't wanna talk about it then it's alright! You don't have to tell me."

"Another time.. rest now."

He hummed and extended one finger towards Nicola's forehead. Before she had time to ask him what he was doing, he lightly poked her right between her eyebrows and all of the sudden she felt unbelievably drowsy. She blinked a couple of times but everything was starting to double before her eyes which were closing all by themselves. With a wide yawn Nicola soon fell into the embrace of magical slumber Raphael called upon her.

He caught her before she could fall down and lowered her onto the blankets to let her sleep in peace. The poor human needed her rest to make up for the amount of blood she lost merely an hour before. Sitting back, Raphael settled for keeping a silent vigil over her until magic wore off. What am I going to do with you? He wondered. For some reason he felt so inexplicably drawn to her and couldn't help it. Something about her was just easing in the pain and warming up the empty void in his tormented soul, even if only a little. The small animal he rescued before rubbed its fuzzy head against his hand and started to knead the fabric of his trousers with its laughably tiny claws that compared to demons' talons were nothing. Still, it stung a tiny little bit. Despite this, Raphael let it curl up in his lap again and fall asleep as well while he watched the human woman and the strange spark dancing within her like a candlelight.

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

Chapter II is done! Getting angsty. And say hi to Raphael's kitty. Isn't it cute? :3

Also, here's part 1 if you haven't seen it yet.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #darksiders 3 #fan art #my art #my fic #fan fiction #raphael #darksiders raphael #darksiders oc #nicola #kitten <3 #Cost of Kindness #CoK #I'm still thinking of a name #for the cat I mean

21 notes · View notes

itsbenedict · 4 years ago

Text

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 5

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Caught up in a blood feud between the villages of Wheat and Barley, Saelhen and Looseleaf are tasked with investigating a recent death. Their investigation takes them to a spooky tower owned by the local crazy torture wizard, which- hey, why was this guy not considered a suspect, huh? He's a crazy torture wizard!

Last time, the group was introduced to Malath Kanthalga, matron cleric of the village of Barley. She has no trust for outsiders- but she was willing to let Looseleaf lend a hand in proving once and for all that the scoundrels of Wheat were responsible for the recent murders.

To that end, the party is led a ways down the road to the farmstead of Roos and Gera Nicksickle, an elderly halfling couple which was recently slain.

En route, Looseleaf sizes up the farmers Malath has been arming, to see if any of them seem to have combat experience. There's one lizardfolk farmer who seems more comfortable with the armor, and holds his pitchfork like a spear. She makes a note of that.

They arrive, and are met by Lester Jawhold, a doughy-looking human man who's standing guard over the body out in the field, accompanied by a number of vicious-looking hounds. With permission to search the crime scene, some investigationing occurs.

Saelhen gets some basic details- the body was pierced through the chest with a four-pronged weapon, as described. Plus, there are the remains of hastily-erased footprints in the dusty soil- bootprints, it seems.

Looseleaf uses her animism magic to get a more direct picture of the incident. The corpse, recently dead, has a dead-corpse spirit that retains some information thanks to the emotionally volatile nature of recent events. The cause of death... being suddenly pierced through the heart, from the front, by a strange four-pointed weapon that induced extreme pain. It appeared to strike from out of thin air. Nothing about the corpse indicates a memory of seeing an assailant.

Indoors, the other victim, Gera, is found dead on the floor of the kitchen. It seems like the cause of death is the same, but... Looseleaf's animism reveals that her vital organs are intact, and she appears to have died of shock from the extreme pain.

All Saelhen finds from searching the house is... an empty cupboard with a recently-unlocked lock, and a mattress removed from its bed. Plus some of the same bootprints from outside.

Looseleaf has the idea to search the house for the victims' boots, to compare with the prints found outside. And what the search reveals is... there are no boots. They didn't own any. They were halflings. So their house being covered in dusty bootprints... well, it implies someone else was here and murdered them, which rules out the "a weird knife sort of inexplicably teleported into their chests" theory, at least.

The only real clue they have to go on is the extreme pain experienced by the victims. This suggests...

Malath gives a little exposition on the torture wizard- apparently he considers himself a savior, who through his experiments intends to vanquish pain itself- and surely torturing a few unwilling test subjects will be worth it, if he succeeds. Malath doesn't seem to consider it likely that Lumiere is the culprit, for the same reasons as Thalath- but jokingly suggests that perhaps Lumiere might have some information on who stole his torture tools to commit murder with.

Looseleaf: "So," Looseleaf asks, "if we're going to the tower wherein dwells a torture wizard, what can you tell us about what we might expect to face there? Ravenous horrific alchemical experiments ready to eat our faces? Traps? Magical servitors? A portal to another realm full of horrors?" Benedict I. (GM): She looks briefly surprised. "No, I... though I haven't been victim to him myself, I would warn strongly against confronting Lumiere, unless you're all much more seasoned than you look. None from our village have been able to resist him when he decided our consent was no longer worth trying to wrest from us." "Those who have been inside the tower might have more information for you, if you're fool enough to try." Looseleaf: "Well, team, you've heard the mission dossier, I guess. Do we think we're fool enough to try?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen Fishercrown is not fool enough to try. Unfortunately, Saelhen isn't getting to be Saelhen right now. "...I imagine that we have no other recourse." Benedict I. (GM): Vayen looks... almost gleeful, insofar as his face betrays any expression. Looseleaf: Thanks for the vote of creepiness, edgelord.

Saelhen opts to kill annoying helicopters with one stone, and suggests that the team split up to gather information on the tower from the townspeople. She also suggests that Malath personally keep an eye on Vayen, as the least-trustworthy-seeming member of the group. Good persuasion means it works, and Vayen goes off to interrogate Lester Jawhold while the rest of the team heads into town to ask around about Lumiere's past victims.

First, on the way back to town, they speak with Chitch Ssarzar, the lizardfolk with the apparent military background. He's got one hell of a sob story for them!

Saelhen du Fishercrown: 24 PERSUASION (8) all i do is win Benedict I. (GM): That'll do it- Chitch is pretty horrified at the implication that you're actually trying this, but with sufficient reassurance, he'll spill his guts. He came to Grain back when it was just Grain, twenty-odd years ago, hoping to raise his infant daughter somewhere less dangerous than the Cutthroat Islands. Then, during the fire, his daughter was kidnapped by the wizard, and he tried storming the tower to get her back. He got captured, strapped to a rack, and had his flesh flensed and healed and flensed and healed repeatedly. At one point he thought he'd get a reprieve, when the wizard's teakettle went off and he went downstairs to get some tea- but the flensing knives just kept going, by themselves, without stopping. He never saw his daughter again. He was eventually released, and thanked for his service, and by that point he was too traumatized to ask Lumiere what happened to his daughter, in case it provoked him to torture him more. He's pretty wracked with guilt over the situation.

They get a rough description of the first few floors of the tower, up to the torture room. Plus, some exposition on the town's history:

Looseleaf: Okay. More questions: this time, asking about the town. It was called Grain, once? It split into two towns and now Barley hates Wheat? There was a fire? How did this all come to happen such that a single town turned in on itself? Benedict I. (GM): Yes- either 28 or 29 years ago, he forgets exactly, there was some feuding between farmers growing different crops. The ones with less fertile soil, sandier towards the southeast and closer to the mountains, had some kind of grudge against the landowners with more fertile soil, and it was this whole political infighting nightmare he didn't understand, as he was new in town. Then the dragon attacked, and... he's not entirely sure what happened, because accusations were flying left and right, but apparently some people tried to use the dragon attack as cover to commit arson against their enemies? Saelhen du Fishercrown: DRAGON Looseleaf: A FUCKING DRAGON Benedict I. (GM): And most of the town burned down, and when it came time to rebuild, nobody wanted to build near each other- and there was some sort of weird religious split between Family and Harmony so that most of the Harmony people decided to go grow wheat on the worse land, and the Family people went to go grow barley on the better land. He'd never been super involved with the split, as a newcomer, and spent the early rebuilding period being tortured- Barley was just the closest civilization after he was set free. Looseleaf: Mmmmm. A tragedy, all around, gods-damn. Saelhen du Fishercrown: caused by a dragon. a dragedy, if you will.

Then it's off to visit the innkeeper, Cassie Zeishus.

Benedict I. (GM): When you reach the inn, you meet Cassie Zeishus, the innkeeper. She tells you about the time she visited the torture wizard to see if her husband was there. Looseleaf: Oh, yeah, you know. Just, a conjugal visit. To the torture tower. Benedict I. (GM): Apparently her husband, kind of a good-for-nothing out-of-towner she married largely as a charity case, kept on gambling and trying to sleep around and doing general sleazy vice stuff, and was miserable in a town that didn't want to indulge him- and she's pretty sure he faked getting kidnapped by the torture wizard to escape it. Saelhen du Fishercrown: as one does definitely not victim-blaming Benedict I. (GM): This was corroborated by Lumiere quite pleasantly answering the door and telling her no, he hadn't seen hide nor hair of this Arnie fellow, and would she like to come in for tea? And her saying no, no thank you, and walking away. Looseleaf: Huh. Benedict I. (GM): She doesn't know why the guy let her leave, despite a propensity for forcing people inside and torturing them in the past. She chalks it up to having been very intimidating towards him.

Saelhen also tries to inquire about Kensa, Thalath's sister, who's apparently in some sort of dire straits here. She doesn't want to give away that she's asking about Kensa deliberately, so she takes something of a garden path of conversation, about Malath and why the townsfolk call her "Mother". Eventually she gets to Kensa, who apparently weaves cloth and sells it to the general store, where she can be found around this time of day. (She's apparently got something going on with the shopkeep's son.)

Looseleaf: these affairs might not be something we can intervene constructively in. Saelhen du Fishercrown: I mean, Saelhen's definitely abducting this child Looseleaf: gosh, well, when you put it that way, how could we not. Saelhen du Fishercrown: let's visit the general store! saelhen enjoys cloth.

At the general store, they find... not really any evidence that anything bad is going on with Kensa. She seems... fine? Also six feet tall and jacked as hell, because she's a goliath and their twelve-year-olds are just like that?

Kensa notices Lady Noeru de la Surplus' fancy silk dress, and fangirls over it immediately.

Benedict I. (GM): "Whoa, is that silk?" "I don't know if we have any silk in the back, but-" "Silk?" the girl by the window asks. "Ohmigosh, you have a silk dress? Ohmigosh, how much did it cost?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Ah." Saelhen expected a little more resistance than this! "15 gold, when I bought it." Benedict I. (GM): "Whooooaaaa..." She's looking the dress up and down with obvious envy. "Nnnnngh, but I don't have... fifteen gold..." Looseleaf: oh my gosh she wants to buy it

Benedict I. (GM): "It's- hang on, if I get ten, will you sell it?" "I can probably get ten! And I'll throw in a replacement!" "Not silk, but-" "Uh, Mr. Teller, do you still have last week's stuff in the back?" Looseleaf: this kid's great Benedict I. (GM):"It's good, I promise!"

Saelhen, being a con artist and kind of a jerk, turns down the offer, but skillfully reframes the issue by exploiting Kensa's love of textiles to get it repaired on the cheap in exchange for a swatch or two of the fabric. Great... job...?

After interrogating the townsfolk, Looseleaf has a bright idea- she wants to buy a climbing pack to scale the tower from the outside. It costs her extra, since new stuff has to be custom-forged overnight (a remote farming village like this doesn't have much call for climbing packs), but she gets it.

Vayen comes back, with testimony from Lester. It's not much they didn't get from Chitch- just a note that apparently vegetables were chopping themselves in Lumiere's kitchen.

Looseleaf: i should get some food too maybe! anyways all this is really pointing hard to 'the four-pronged stabby painblades move on their OWN'. it's not clear who's BEHIND it, but it's pretty obvious now that all the clues point towards the stabbies being the culprit.

The next morning, they head out to the tower. They notice a couple things: one is a sign that reads: " KEEP SHOUTING",

and the other is a bunch of broken glass and rubble strewn across the ground. Looking up, they notice the sixth floor seems to have had a large window smashed open. Weirdly, less glass on the ground than you'd expect if it'd been smashed open from the inside.

Looseleaf's Animist class can Detect Magic, sorta, and it's pretty clear to her that the front door is magic- so rather than fall for an obvious trap, she puts her plan into action. She can jump 30 feet up with the aid of her wings, so she's able to jump straight to the third floor and try to drive a piton into the stone to drop a rope for the rest of the party.

Here is a list of problems with that plan:

Looseleaf has tiny little sticklike moth arms, which exert insufficient force to drive pitons into stone with no leverage.

Breaking a window to attach the rope to instead results in a broken window.

Inside the broken window is a spindly suit of armor covered in nasty spikes, which immediately springs to life and turns to face whoever just broke a window next to it.

Also an alarm goes off.

Looseleaf is able to get the rope secured before the living armor attacks her, and jumps back out the window- as a moth, she essentially has Feather Fall on at all times. Still, going in through that window presents a problem.

They've noticed something, though- the automaton doesn't seem to be chasing them out the window. It's just standing there, staring down at them. This... gives Looseleaf a bright idea.

Orluthe has to make his grapple check with disadvantage, given that he's trying to snag this thing with his halberd with one hand while clinging to the side of a building by a rope, but luckily this thing botches its own roll thanks to its patented "stand perfectly still because there are no intruders in the building" maneuver.

It takes a bunch of fall damage from hitting the ground, is knocked prone, and the remainder of the party immediately unloads on it on a surprise round with crits for a bazillion damage, killing it before it can move.

This was a really good idea!

Too bad there was another one just inside, which Orluthe is now alone with!

...Wait, no, he's a giant wolfman in football armor and he suplexes the other one out the window, where the exact same thing proceeds to happen to it. Okay. Cool.

With that, the party makes their way inside. Whatever the alarm was, it seems to have died down, physically- whatever was powering it petered out. Plus, Looseleaf's magic detection means there's no way they could get caught in any traps!

Any magic traps!

Saelhen fails her perception check while walking across the room to a treasure chest and hits a tripwire and a net falls from the ceiling, trapping her and Oyobi! I bet this would be a really dangerous trap if there were, say, two menacing spiky robots bearing down on them trying to kill them while they were defenseless. As is, though... it's a minor inconvenience.

After this snafu, Saelhen tries to pick open the chest, only to find that the lock is a) quite well-made, and b) itself trapped, with a poison needle in the locking mechanism designed to go off if a lockpicking attempt fails. She just barely gets her fingers away in time, and opts to leave this treasure chest to loot later, after they're done here.

The stairs up from floor 3 seem to be blocked off by a translucent red magic barrier, so Looseleaf resumes the original plan. She stands on the windowsill of the third floor, and just flaps up to the fourth floor, looking inside and this time unlocking the window telekinetically from the inside, rather than breaking it and setting off an alarm.

When she opens the window (to the torture laboratory), some more very scary torture robots immediately go after her, as do a variety of flying knives that have quite a bit of movement speed and stab her repeatedly.

Maybe this idea had some flaws.

Next time: Looseleaf hopefully doesn't get turned into moth sashimi by animated torture implements! More dungeon is crawled! Some jerk falls down the stairs and it's hilarious!

#tfj log #twofaced jewel #d&d 5e

4 notes · View notes

kiaraspeaks · 6 years ago

Text

Bryden Campbell:

It haunts Bryden that the man who is responsible for not only razing Mound Bayou to the ground is the same man's words who lead her to odd corners of the world. She doesn't know how to envision her own life without the agency. Would her parents still have met? What would the world have looked like? She looked at his scrawly handwriting and snapped the book shut and placed it back inside her bag with the rest of his dusty artifacts. As much as she hated this monster, he had never put terrible things like this into play. It was odd to be reading these words, exposing old secrets and trying to make amends, not for him, but to free herself and her family and give as many people a better life. She still knew this would never be enough.

Bryden stared out at the road ahead of her, she was surrounded by the night sky, the sound of bikes racing up and down the street, the lights of the gas station above flickered on and off, casting sickly green glow over them, and high grass on the other side of the station. She was exhausted looking for the clues this fucked up old man left behind, but it was the lot in life that she had chosen. Bryden pulled her hoodie over her head and parked the car, she placed the keys on the dashboard and leaned back in her seat, she hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep but she could sleep when Richard Pennyson was dead.

For now her face was plastered on every website, hung on posters across the United States and abroad, even here in Pakistan. Some rallied behind her and others called for her head on a pike. When word got out that the Soldier-Killing-gun-toting-supposedly-well-trained-child soldier was wanted all those megalomaniacs obsessed with some invisible war hung on every corner peering into the face of every young black girls face. It’s not what Bryden wanted, she was alright with a target on her back but nobody else’s, not innocent women and kids with too much of the world's problems on their shoulders already.

Bryden left Diaz back at the hotel while she struggled to find the man that Meriwether only described as 'the Good Doctor', she knew it had to be a pun of some sort. Good people didn't work for the agency, you couldn't retain your goodness and common decency and still be an agent of the state. Her father's words still weighed on her, for her to be able to trust him or her mother she needed to know the truth, starting with all those kids that disappeared on the island. She didn't fully expect her connect to pick up everything they were doing and fly to see them, but they did.

Someone tapped on the passenger side window before opening the door. They pulled their hood back and Bryden was surprised to see him, she didn’t expect him to answer her so soon. He had a file tucked under his arm, a bag slung across his chest and tilted his head to the side, the last time she saw him she left him back at a hotel in the Philippines. He had his own problems and knew meeting up with her was a favor, one she would have to pay back sooner than later.

“Look at you sweet thing, thought you didn’t get down with treason.” Gato said and laughed softly, hadn't he joked about treason with her before? She had had Ashanti on her mind back then, not this, nothing as complicated as taking on one of the most Dangeorus men in the United States.

“I don’t.”

“So they just fucking with your good name?” Gato asked.

“No, not exactly, I did something, something I probably shouldn't have.” Bryden said,

"Tell me more, tell me more." He said and propped his chin up on his elbow like they were at a sleepover, not like she was at the top of the United States shit list. He didn't look the slightest bit worried and it put her at ease a bit, but just a bit.

“But I’m not going to take that shit laying down.”

“You don’t seem like the type.”

“So do you have what I asked for?" Bryden asked, she hadn't called him for a roll in the hay, she needed the information, somewhere deep inside she wanted to trust her father. Years ago he had saved her, she felt like a damned fool for wanting his help after all this time. He was an agent and one of the damned best ones, he was trained to disarm others with first his words and eventually his weapons. This would put any worries to rest or so she told herself, Gato didn't give a shit about her parents, he could remain objective, wouldn't skew result in anybody's favor.

“Yeah, I had to call my ex-fiance but I got it.”Gato said.

“Ex-fiance?” Bryden questioned.

“It was a long time ago sweet thing, don't worry, you didn’t break up a happy home or anything.” He

“Happy home my ass, you propositioned me.”

“Didn’t expect you to be down for it.” He said and held the file out to her and she reached for it and he snatched it back, he cupped her chin with one free hand, holding her close to him as he whispered. She could kill him right now for doing such a thing, but she figured she'd entertain him, see just what his full plan was for her. “Tell me one thing.”

“Sure, it’s not like my life is in danger or anything.” Bryden said.

“You did that for you, right? None of this was about Ashanti. You didn’t kill for him, right?” He said with a touch of irritation and disappointment in his voice.

“It benefitted us both.” Bryden lied, killing the soldiers meant Ashanti had the men who hurt his family put to death, but Bryden hadn't exactly had that benefit. She could have gotten what she needed by grabbing one of them and cutting off their finger tips until they gave her the information she needed. So why had she done it? Why had she been so damn foolish? She knew whoever was out there, taunting her, pulling her into their twisted sordid game,

“Sweet thing,” He said in that charming and irritating chiding way of his, “What did I tell you about Ashanti?”

“Not to trust him.” Bryden said.

“And what did you do?” He asked, he had been leaning in closer and closer, if she just tilted her head forward they'd be kissing. She thought about the Royal Mandaya, it felt like a million years ago, and she felt wound even tighter now than she had back then with her parents and the Russian Mafia breathing down her neck. Now that felt like a cake walk compared to taking on a literal global army willing to do whatever to kill her.

“I fucked him.” She said but she hadn't looked away from him yet, he released his firm grip on her chin.

“They always do.” He said but his face remained passive, then he held the file out to her, “He call back yet?”

“We didn’t come here for a heart to heart, Gato.” She said.

“So that’s a no.” He said and snickered.

"Now I've got a question for you." She said as she began to go over the file. Richard Pennyson had approved the attcks, he had a list of children and they were all on there, even her name, a few had been checked off but the Santos family had passed on the job. If Gato was as honest as he was flirty, then Jodiah struck the fear of God into the family which should have been very hard to do, she knew what the Santos family was capable of. She took his silence as time to ask her question, out of the corner of her eye she saw he was sitting rigidly, "Would you take a hit out against me?"

"I think my feelings might actually be hurt, Bryden." He said, his playful tone and demeanor had changed, he looked actually hurt by her question.

"That's not a yes or a no."

"Of course I wouldn't." Gato said and reached over again, this time reaching out and stroking the side of her face gently, lovingly, as if they were still trapped in a world where she was trying to run away from her problems. Sometimes she wished she never would have left that hotel. "We may not have known each other long, but I like you."

"You kill for a living, you could just be saying that."

"Bryden, I don't know what world you live in that you think your murders somehow carry less weight than mine do. I've never killed agents, I've never killed any of Amir Malik's men, you're making a name for yourself worldwide, in your world and mine. I'm not sure what's going on with you but some men have codes."

"I'm covering every alley and avenue." Bryden said as she snapped the file shut and looked back over to him.

“It’s going to be ok.” Gato said and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“What makes you say that?”

“You just saw red, I know you just saw red because I read that file and I saw red.” Gato said, “I’d kill him and his kids, I’d wipe him from the face of the planet for free if I wasn’t tied up in some shit.”

“He… those kids…” Bryden said, if she was going to take down Richard Pennyson she needed to close up her own loose ends, including the people who tried to kill her, the people who put a smoking gun to her head when she was only ten years old. Why did he want her dead? Why did he let all those kids die, not just in her classroom, but on the island. Why was her father right about such an awful thing? Those kids who died or were snatched from the island during training were all ordered to die directly from Pennyson. What a sick bastard. But as her father had said, men that evil don't die so easily and she knew there had to be more than two men involved in this, she'd press her old man more about this later.

“They were your friends.”

“Yeah and he had us killed… he targeted us like we were nothing, we didn’t do anything to him. What the hell is his problem?”

“Maybe he wasn’t hugged enough as a child.”

“Well he can hug his casket.” Bryden said and reached under her seat and handed him an envelope full of cash. He had his gun drawn on her and she smirked, “Relax, it’s your money” He peered into the envelope and then shoved it in his hoodie pocket.

“We are still killers and I always have to be careful,” Gato said and put his gun down, “If you need anything else, sweet thing, just ask.”

“See you say that but I feel like there’s a catch.”

“That kid I’m raising--"

“Yeah, what about them?” Bryden asked.

“Some dangerous people want her dead, really dead, dead as in dead last year.”

“And you want them to go away, I’m guessing.”

“The ones I can’t touch myself, yes.” Gato said, “My world has rules, doesn’t fucking seem like it but there are rules and lines we can’t cross.”

“You mean there are lines you can't cross, well good thing you got me. Consider them buried in Utah.” Bryden said and slid the file under her seat and grabbed her keys and turned on the car, “If shit does go left…”

“Don’t talk like that, sweet thing. I’m just getting to know you and I like what I see.” He said.

“And I think I really need to stop fucking around with hardened criminals.”

“You gonna let Ashanti ruin the rest of us good bad guys for you?” Gato asked.

“Be that as it may, if things do go left there will be some money left for you to handle the rest.”

“By that you mean?”

“His kid, his house, the dog, I want that shit gone, I want him on his knees begging for somebody to end it.”

“Shit won’t go left, but I would like to be there to see that. My sweet thing bringing one of the world’s most powerful asshole to his knees.”

“Your sweet thing?” Bryden questioned while cocking one eyebrow.

“We work good together, you can't deny that."

“No truer words have been spoken, now get out of my car and go take care of your kid.” Bryden said and he sat there for a moment staring at her with that stupid look on his face before he leaned forward and kissed her, it was a deep kiss, it reminded her of their night in the Philippines. When his warm hands began to slip up her shirt she stopped him, there was no time for that, for now she needed to focus on finding the Good Doctor. “Get out before you make me regret this.”

“Of course, sweet thing, I’ll see you soon.”

“You really think so?” She asked.

“You’ll need me again and you still owe me.” He said and she watched him cut across the gas station lot, yelling to some kids and they quickly scattered from his dirt bike, he peeled off disappearing into the darkness, Bryden thought about the file, about her father and about what the future held. As she turned towards the old dirt road she dialed his phone number.

"Your sources check out?" Her father asked, she could hear him walking around, something glass clinking against another surface before he settled in an old chair or a new bed.

"Yeah, they did." Bryden said.

"Why can't you just date normal young men?" Her father asked, she got the feeling he had eyes everywhere and better eyes than Pennyson. She peered out the window looking around.

"We're not dating, and where would be the fun in that?"

#writing #writeblr #bump in the night #Bryden

5 notes · View notes

thebluelemontree · 6 years ago

Note

What does GRRM mean with this: "Q:[Will Sandor and Sansa meet?] A: Why, the Hound is dead, and Sansa may be dead as well. There's only Alayne Stone". Because what he says doesn't add up in the actual text from AFFC. In the Alayne chapters 'Alayne' still has a lot of 'Sansa thoughts'. I don't see any indication that Sansa is 'dead' no more than that Arya is 'dead'. I know The Hound isn't dead either, but he is supposed to be but his comments about Sansa/ Alayne confuse me a bit.

Don’t we all want to know what that means exactly! It’s a very cheeky answer that GRRM is want to give when he wants to skirt around spoiling something yet to unfold. Very observant reading by the way. More under the cut because this will be long.

Sandor’s part of the quote is a lot easier to understand. The Hound is dead, but Sandor lives. Obviously this isn’t about literal death. His duality and struggle with the Hound persona was already well-established. In hindsight, we can see this end to this persona is coming what with “a hound will die for you…” Later when he’s mortally wounded, all his options to return Arya and find a way back to Sansa have dried up, and not until he’s completely broken and stripped down does he finally confess his regrets and take full responsibility for his moral failings. This is the Hound’s death rattle. This is Sandor getting back in touch with his humanity and noblest self.

His time as the gravedigger is a direct confrontation of and penance for the Hound’s callous attitude toward human life. Remember all that blustering about being a butcher and everyone else is meat? Remember “if you can’t protect yourself, die and get out of the way of those who can?” Oh boy, is he going to eat those words. As the gravedigger he must labor for the innocent victims. He must look them in the face all day long. They were murdered by Rorge and Biter, two men who represent the Hound totally without conscience and gone fully broken man. One is wearing the Hound’s helm while raiding the Saltpans for Pete’s sake. Not only that he must serve food and clear the table for the penitent brothers. These are people the Hound would have mocked as stupid and weak lesser men. They believe in the gods, they openly acknowledge their trauma, and have chosen a life of nonviolence. The villagers and the brothers are the kind of people knights are supposed to protect. Now Sandor has to STFU, be respectful, and serve them on the humblest level. Sandor is being rebuilt from the ground up.

So “Sansa may be dead.” That’s a lot less definitive than his statement about the Hound. Like the Hound, we’re talking about the life and death of an identity, but which one will die in the end? Alayne or Sansa? You are right to notice that she has plenty of Sansa thoughts while being Alayne. Sansa Stark isn’t dead, but she’s not in the driver’s seat either. Hence why George might say “there is only Alayne Stone.” It’s more like she’s dormant or sleeping for the time being. The question is more like “will Sansa sleep for so long that she never wakes up again?”

Think of the snow castle scene in the Eyrie’s godswood where the statue of Alyssa lays broken in two and half-buried in snow. That’s a metaphor for where Sansa is in the story. Split in two with one half gone to ground. As a “Stone,” she is in danger of eventually petrifying into a cold, stone statue if she abandons all of Sansa’s empathy and idealism and adopts Littlefinger’s cynicism and cold-hearted selfishness instead. This also has applications to Catelyn turning into LSH. The Alyssa Arryn of legend was cursed by the gods to never know rest until she could openly weep for her dead family. Specifically, her tears must fall upon the Vale of Arryn below where her loved ones are buried. The waterfall known as Alyssa’s Tears turns to mist and is blown away by the wind before it can touch the valley floor, which is where the Gates of the Moon is located. Sansa does weep for her loved ones, but only when she can’t help it and it’s always in private. She actively tries to suppress thinking of them because it cracks her wide open. Alayne Stone has no family except Petyr and she must be Alayne all the time. Its clear though that Sansa’s tears have a direct relationship to her Stark identity. More on Alyssa’s Tears toward the end.

Before I get into the pitfalls, there is some good to be mined out of Alayne for Sansa’s character growth. Petyr may have given her the name and the backstory, but Sansa has fleshed out Alayne into the person she wants her to be. There’s a lot of fake it ‘til you make it going on here. Alayne is older and more mature. She’s pretty, but more practical and isn’t given to wearing too fine of gowns and jewels. She’s had the bastard’s hard knock life, so she’s got grit and determination to not be crushed by the worlds scorn. Alayne doesn’t take shit from Harry the Heir. She doesn’t cry in embarrassment or blame herself for his rude behavior. She doesn’t blush like a pomegranate over everything. Alayne is clever, more world-wise, and self-confident. Where Sansa was all cool and proper courtesy, Alayne is warm and engaging. Can you picture early Sansa impulsively hugging a shabby sellsword like Lothor Brune? No way. The very idea would have been appalling. Most importantly, Alayne looks straight ahead and unflinching at the path that lay before her.

“Coming up, Mya had warned her to keep her eyes on the path ahead, she remembered. “Look up, not down,” she said … but that was not possible on the descent. I could close my eyes. The mule knows the way, he has no need of me. But that seemed more something Sansa would have done, that frightened girl. Alayne was an older woman, and bastard brave.” – Alayne II, AFFC.

And as long as Sansa can convince Petyr that she has fully embraced Alayne, it lulls him into trusting her enough to let some of his guard down and trust her with more freedom than she had in KL. By constantly emphasizing their father-daughter relationship, it helps mitigate some of his unwanted sexual advances.

The danger lies in becoming his daughter in her heart, suffocating Sansa out in all but name. Petyr’s philosophy and skill in dealing with adversity is seductively attractive, leading to conflicting feelings within her. She isn’t comfortable with how he operates and she’s constantly pushed past her boundaries by him. Yet “he is so bold. Sansa wished she had his courage.” She mistakes his fearlessness for courage.

And yet the thought of leaving frightened her almost as much as it frightened Robert. She only hid it better. Her father said there was no shame in being afraid, only in showing your fear. “All men live with fear,” he said. Alayne was not certain she believed that. Nothing frightened Petyr Baelish. He only said that to make me brave. She would need to be brave down below, where the chance of being unmasked was so much greater. Petyr’s friends at court had sent him word that the queen had men out looking for the Imp and Sansa Stark. It will mean my head if I am found, she reminded herself as she descended a flight of icy stone steps. I must be Alayne all the time, inside and out. – Alayne II, AFFC.

Of course this would seem appealing to girl who has been powerless, afraid, abused, manipulated, and wanted for regicide. Petyr is never afraid. He’s never the victim or helpless. No one hurts him. He deftly handles his enemies before they can strike, leaving them impotent. He always knows what to do. Petyr is the magic man that makes everything go his way and he’s going to show Sansa how to do the same. All she has to do is become as cynical as he and be willing to use other people. He teaches her the world is divided into players and pawns and you do not want to be a pawn. Think of how this is reminiscent of Sandor dividing the world into butchers and meat. Yeah, Sansa is being tempted by the warm, safe blanket of absolute freedom from conscience and all it’s “benefits.” She might as well be handed the Hound’s helm and put it on herself. As Lem Lemoncloak says when he explains why he took up the helm: “the sight of it will make my foes afraid.” If that happens, all of Sansa’s goodness might truly die along with her Stark identity. Now I’m confident Sansa will find her back from the brink, but for the story’s sake, the danger and drama has to feel real and present. As a writer, GRRM has definitely pulled off that feeling as there are many readers who are convinced Sansa has already checked out completely no matter how many of those Sansa thoughts she has. :/

Back to Alyssa’s Tears and bear with me as I go on a tangent. I’m a subscriber to the theory there will be an avalanche on the Giant’s Lance. My gut feeling says Alyssa’s Tears will come into play and here’s how those “tears” might finally reach the valley floor in a very appropriate way for Sansa’s arc. We’ve already established the metaphoric connection between Sansa’s tears, identity, and the statue and legend of Alyssa Arryn. In winter, the waterfall freezes and becomes 20 foot long icicles pointed straight down toward the Gates of the Moon. That seems kinda ominous; however, the passage where they are mentioned is interesting.

The snow-clad summit of the Giant’s Lance loomed above her, an immensity of stone and ice that dwarfed the castle perched upon its shoulder. Icicles twenty feet long draped the lip of the precipice where Alyssa’s Tears fell in summer. A falcon soared above the frozen waterfall, blue wings spread wide against the morning sky. Would that I had wings as well.

Like that falcon soaring above the waterfall itself in the glorious light of dawn, I think Sansa will fly away and escape again, just as she did King’s Landing. Icicles are likened to weapons in the Eyrie and we’ve heard the phrase “tears are a woman’s weapon” often enough. Lysa used Tears of Lys as a weapon, but Sansa’s tears may be very different. I think we’re meant to make a connection between those 20 foot icicles and Ned Stark’s longsword Ice, an instrument of justice and her father’s philosophy. Recall that Ned was beheaded with Ice, likely because Littlefinger influenced Joffrey to change the plan from Ned taking the black. If one of those bad boys were to crack and crash to the ground, not only could it cause said avalanche that would effectively “behead” the mountain’s peak, but “Alyssa” would finally be set free from her “curse.” Not that I’m saying Petyr would literally die by getting impaled by an icicle, though that would be nice. I think it means his time as her father is quickly coming to an end. Sansa’s tears, her best weapon against Littlefinger’s psychological hold on her, is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. She needs to be brave, dispel the web of lies that binds her to him, and openly reclaim her identity despite the risk of capture.

Now I don’t think the Alayne persona really needs to die completely so Sansa can live. It’s possible she synthesizes the two into a newly remade Sansa, one who possesses the best traits of both identities. Sandor isn’t going to take vows and devote himself to quiet and celibate contemplation. Stranger is kicking down the stable walls and refuses to become a gelded plow horse. Some of Sandor’s old ferocity and his moody temperament will still be there, but he’ll definitely be changed by his experience as the gravedigger. It think it will be the same with Sansa. She’ll keep Alayne’s courage, strength, brains, and feminine wiles, but Sansa’s core values will guide her choices and actions.

#sansa stark meta #sandor clegane meta #alayne stone #the gravedigger #the hound #petyr baelish #littlefinger #Alyssa's tears #Alyssa Arryn #twow spec #avalanche theory #grrm quotes

144 notes · View notes