#but in this one- he fully remembers her methinks. and he's trying to find the lover he had left in this dying kingdom

[lovinglin]

the (scholar) scientist

[pookapufferfish]

You mentioning slugterra also reminded me of 2 shows I LOVED.

One of them was Code Lyoko methinks, i forgot the names. It was really cool about some kids finding a digital space that can control the real world, made by some guy, but that guy is gone, and then theres this ai girl they gotta protect from an evil ai trying to steal all her memories and information and all digital scenes were 3d while the irl scenes were anime it was awesome i used to love it. When I checked it, damn it was ugly as hell.

the other was fully 3d, forgot the name of, but teens are invited to playtest a game, have to find qr codes so an AI cant escape the game, they enter trough pads and must be ejected before dying it was also really cool

OH I ALSO JUST REMEMBERED ANOTHER ONE OF MY FAVES, IT WAS ABOUT A GUY FINDING A ROBOT WHICH STOPS TIME TO GIVE HIM 3 RANDOM CHOICES AT RANDOM TIMES, I also loved that show and it was very random at times. hehe glue monster...

Which reminds me of a 4th show i used to watch which i think was live action but they had a game which would turn the show into 3d and they did stuff in that game and I actually only remember a character accidentally picking a single letter as their name, and them walking trough the desert and one guy just constantly complaining (while they were storytelling their side and kept claiming they actually didnt) but because it was so hot the owner of the building shut down the game.

man these shows were awesome i used to love megamax but it shut down. Iirc sonic boom was there.

Some shows that were there but moved to another channel include: some show about 4 people from 4 different island adventuring together, super 4 iirc, and zeke's pad where zeke gets a pad where anything he draws happens irl

oh i loved these shows

i never watched things on megamax but it sounds like there were a lot of fun shows

[stressedsnake]

Ok so I lied. It's actually 1-35

(And yes, you can pick more than one)

But anyway, number 29.

This is Hova. (I wanted to draw him but I'm too lazy at the moment)

He's our villain.

His father was head of one of the magician clans.

The magicians and the elementals were currently at war. (The magicians and elementals have a rivalry that goes back centuries, and they've fought off and on throughout the world's history)

After a particular battle, he discovered his father and both his brothers had been killed.

Hova dabbled in experimental magic, which is something he should have known not to do. He was a powerful magician, and he thought he could handle the consequences. The other magicians warned him, but he insisted he knew what he was doing.

The clan leaders eventually decided Hova's endeavors were too dangerous to continue, and they gave him a choice: stop doing experimental magic, or leave.

He left.

He eventually discovered a spell that made him almost godlike. He would have the power to become god of magic.

with it, he would rule over the elementals and the foolish clan leaders that had sent him away from his home. He would restore peace, and ensure no more fighting would occur.

with it, he would rule over the elementals and the foolish clan leaders that had sent him away from his home. He would restore peace, and ensure no more fighting would occur.

But the consequences were unforseen.

The cost of this spell meant Hova could no longer distinguish right or wrong. He became power hungry and vengeful.

Mira (god of Life and Death) confronted Hova.

Hova and Mira fought.

if Hova won, he would assume Mira's power.

Mira won, but was weakened. He couldn't kill Hova, not fully.

So he made it where Hova could only use his magic if there was exchange, and locked him in a prison, entrusting the magicians to guard the prisons.

Hova spent a few decades in this prison, slowly tying his body to his dark magic, effectively making himself immortal. he learned he could make deals with people to use his magic. He would make a deal with them, but the price was not always what they expected. And if they broke the deal, their lives belonged to him, and they had to do as he wished.

Using this, he escaped, and manipulated a cosmic elemental into a ritual to put her magic into a necklace.

With this necklace in his possession, he could finally defeat Mira.

But Mira stopped him, put him back into prison, and entrusted the necklace to the Markfellow bloodline.

Hova stayed in the prison for a few centuries, biding his time. growing in strength, he waited for the perfect moment to escape.

When he does, he discovers that no one remembers him, not even the Markfellows, aside from a "boogeyman" type legend.

He uses this anonymity to trick Cephas Markfellow into making a deal with him:

If Cephas delivers the girl who holds the necklace, Hova will have the power to erase all memory of Cephas's betrayal. Cephas can have his family and his throne, and no one would be the wiser.

Cephas doesn't know who this girl is or why Hova wants the necklace, but he has been trying to find a way to undo his mistakes for the last 16 years.

So he agrees to Hova's deal, not realizing till after the spell that his soul was bound to Hova's until the bargain was finished.

When he discovers the girl Hova wants is his daughter, Adrika, he realizes he can't hand her over. But he forgot about the terms of his deal.

This meant that when he betrayed Hova to save Adrika, his daughter, he was under Hova's control. Cephas can see what's happening, but isn't in control.

So yeah. Backstory!!!!

(Sorry for the long ask, Azar)

DUDE THE WORLDBUILDING IS SO GOOD!!!!

Hova is actually a pretty dynamic villain methinks. The whole bit about the elementals and the wizards seems interesting too! Quick question, is this part of a book or something?

Also if you don't mind, could you please tell me a little more about the Markfellows?

[hieromonkcharbel]

Lent and Physical Illness: The Important and Timely Grace of God:

Starting off the season of Lent with sickness, although not serious, has quite naturally made me think about the meaning of illness and the spiritual life. The solitude and removal of the busyness of daily labors puts a person in a state of seeing his own poverty more clearly and so his own dependence upon God. Recently I came across the poignant reflections of Octavius Winslow about what he calls the light and shadows of the spiritual life that I would like to share with you and especially with those who perhaps suffer from chronic illness:

" . . . there are few experiences of the Christian in which the lights and shadows of his spiritual life meet and blend with such remarkable and perfect harmony as in the hour of sickness. Here are bodily disease-physical languor-torturing pain-and extreme nervousness; and, for ka while, all objects, temporal and spiritual, and all beings, the closest and the fondest, are viewed through a jaundiced and distorted medium- the mind is shaded, the heart unstrung- and shadows, many and dark, dance upon the walls of that lone chamber, and fall thick and fast around that pillow of suffering. Hard thoughts of God are cherished- wrong interpretations of His providence are indulged- it is the "fourth watch of the night, and Jesus has not come!" and Satan, taking advantage of bodily suffering, mental despondency, and the temporary absence of Jesus, is hurling a whole quiver of fiery darts at his poor, enfeebled, and dejected victim!

These are the shadings of the scene. But, are there no lights in the picture? no bright touches of the Artist's Divine pencil? Oh yes! many and brilliant! and all the more brilliant from the dark shadows which have so thickly pencilled it, the effect of which has been to bring into bolder relief the great and essential features of the scene. Let us trace them.

The first bright light illumining the picture is the submission of the will. The conflict has been long and painful, the struggle terrible and severe- but, grace has conquered- God's will has triumphed! "Not my will, O my Father, but Yours be done," is now the music of the soul- the sacred anthem pealing from that sick pillow. Oh what a beauteous light is this- how pure, how brilliant! Angels, methinks, look down from heaven's glory to gaze upon the light of grace thus bathing that scene of suffering and languor. "The cup which my Father has given me, shall I not drink it?"

When Dr. Payson was asked by a friend, in a season of severe illness, if he could see any particular reason for the present dispensation, he replied- "No; but I am as well satisfied as if I could see ten thousand. God's will is the very perfection of all reason." Sublime reply! God's will- be it His permitting or His approving will- is the perfection of infinite wisdom, righteousness, and love; and therefore must do right, and cannot do wrong! Beloved, in your present mystery of suffering and season of languor, be your experience that of the pious Payson; yet higher and holier still- that of our Lord and Savior- "May Your Will Be Done!"

Oh, what words can describe, or imagery depict, the perfect peace, the sweet repose which, like the gentle dawn of light, or the soft zephyr of evening, will steal calmly over your soul the moment the conflict of the will ceases, and, in suffering and weakness, you are brought to "Lie passive in His hands, And know no will but His!"

The discipline of patience is another light blending with the shadows of sickness. No unimportant or untimely grace of the Spirit is this; the development and culture of which finds no school more appropriate, or discipline more effectual, than that of 'pining sickness.' The continuous endurance of unmitigated pain- the prolonged and deathly weakness- the failure of skill and remedies to promote a cure- the morbid irritability and fretting almost inseparable from the prolongation of suffering- and the remembrance of duties neglected, of affairs deranged, of expenses incurred- all conspire to render the discipline of patience the most needed and precious; and when attained, to shed one of the most luminous graces of the Spirit upon the shaded picture of bodily disease.

Patience is one of those flowers of the wilderness, springing up from the seed of heaven, which never grows so truly or blooms so lovely, as amid the sharp, cutting bursts of affliction. "The trying of your faith works patience. But let patience have her perfect work, that you may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing." "In your patience possess you your souls." "Lord, subdue my impatience and rebellion, and grant that, in this hour of pain and uneasiness, I may wait Your time and mode of recovery; and that, the true posture and acknowledgment of my soul may be that of Your servant David- 'Surely I have behaved and quieted myself, as a child that is weaned of his mother: my soul is even as a weaned child."'

The strengthening and increase of faith constitutes one of the brightest lights in the picture of spiritual life- and nowhere does that light glow with a richer luster than on a sick-bed. It requires no small faith, beloved, fully to believe that you are a sick one whom Jesus loves. "Lord, he whom You love is sick," is a precious declaration, as applicable to you as it was to Lazarus. Love blew upon the health that fades; love permitted the pain that afflicts; love appointed the disease that wastes; love, and nothing but love, has done it all. "Whom I love, I rebuke and chasten. Whom the Lord loves he chastens, and scourges every son whom he receives." Thus, when fever is consuming, and pain is torturing, and the nerves are quivering, and the mind is desponding, and the harpsichord of the soul hangs mournfully and silently upon the willow, it demands no little exercise of faith in the unchanging love, infinite wisdom, and righteous government of God to feel that it is all well!

But, this light shall not be lacking amid the deep shadows now gloomily draping the spiritual life of your soul. Faith shall triumph; for there is One in heaven "now to appear in the presence of God for us;" and, in virtue of Christ's present intercession, your faith, tried though as by fire, shall not fail, but shall rise superior to the slow process of decay, and grow brighter and stronger as the shadows fall, and strength fails- heaven thus opening and letting down such streams of glory around your sick and languid pillow as that faith, which is "the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen," shall exclaim- "My heart and my flesh fails: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion forever." Thus, "though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.

"But a brighter light playing amid these darkling shadows is- the sensible, manifested presence of Jesus in the sick chamber of the disciple whom He loves. Yes, He is there! He is there as the Refiner- watching and tempering with unwearied eye and infinite skill the furnace fire of the sufferer. He is there as the Shepherd- guarding this tempted one of His flock, that no power pluck it from His hands. He is there to succor with His grace, to soothe with His love, to illumine with His presence, to cheer with His voice, and to encircle with His everlasting arms, the feeble, suffering, fainting child of His heart. "Lo! I am with you aways."

The glory brought to God by a long and lingering illness, eternity alone can fully reveal- and this is the brightest light of all, gilding and softening the shadows that drape the sick and dying-bed of a believer in Jesus. The sick-bed, the languid couch, of a saint of God is the most powerful and impressive pulpit in the land! No sacred rostrum of the most eloquent preacher gives utterance to such a sermon as issues from thence! The assembly waiting upon its instructions is large! Children and families, friends and neighbors, the Church below and the Church above, intent upon the scene, are waiting and watching, as with bated breath, the practical testimony to the reality and power of Christianity as a divinely sustaining, soul elevating, death-conquering religion- to the comfort of the divine promises- to the faithfulness of God- and to the sustaining grace and human sympathy of Christ- borne from this touching and solemn stand-point of life. The meekness and patience, the submission to the divine will, and the animating hope of glory, witnessed in that scene of debility, restlessness, and pain, speak with an argument more convincing than an Apostle's reasoning, and with an eloquence and pathos more winning than an angel's voice.

God is glorified in the fires, and the Name of the Lord Jesus is magnified. Sick and suffering saint of God! your couch stands upon the borders of that blessed land, the "inhabitants of which shall no more say, I am sick." Shrink not from the near approach of the "last enemy!" his form is lovely- his voice is soothing- his dart is stingless- and his mission a mission of love- sent to open your cage and set your spirit free- free as the dove soaring to its dove-cote in heaven! "Oh that I had wings like a dove! then would I fly away, and be at rest."

"When languor and disease invade

This trembling house of clay,

It is sweet to look beyond our cage

And long to fly away.

"Sweet to look inward, and attend

The whispers of His love;

Sweet to look upward to the place

Where Jesus pleads above.

"Sweet to reflect how grace divine

My sins on Jesus laid!

Sweet to remember that His blood

My debt of suffering paid.

"Sweet, in the confidence of faith,

To trust His firm decrees;

Sweet to lie passive in His hands,

And know no will but His."

[the-busy-ghost]

TSP S02 E07 - Thoughts

Well I don’t have many honestly. The last two episodes were at least bizarre enough to be entertaining but this was really rather dull, notwithstanding the amount of blood. Mostly I was waiting for the Fake-Scottish plot as usual but that was brief and incomprehensible. But here goes.

- Wee James V is adorable but “sassenach”? As if we needed any more proof that the TSP writers got all their knowledge about Scotland from Outlander- and they slept through half of that. I suppose it’s no good pointing out that, in one sense of the word, James V is also a sassenach.

- Oh Angus is ‘that milksop’ now- see this is the problem. In this show Angus is a ‘milksop’, we are supposed to hate him because he’s ‘weak’, not like everyone’s kick-ass heroine Meg. But how are we supposed to understand Margaret’s fear of his influence? It has been shown that he commands no respect and we haven’t seen a single kinsman or retainer of his in ages. We have seen that Andrew Rothney is perfectly capable of acting ‘menace’ so why haven’t they given Angus his fully-fledged Chaotic personality? One example- it’s perhaps worth remembering that while Margaret Tudor’s ‘firing cannons at her husband’ moment sounds impressive, it didn’t actually scare Angus off in itself. The man is very much a Borderer, for all his Perthshire and Angus estates, and I cannot believe he was any less intimidating than your average sixteenth century Scottish nobleman. Henry VIII was also sufficiently convinced of his ability to influence events in Scotland (even if some of his influence was perhaps exaggerated by Angus himself). I can see TSP’s version of Angus kidnapping the young king, but I cannot see him holding him for more than two weeks. Once again TSP’s tendency to water down their male characters to make their female characters look Strong TM (even when Margaret’s historical actions show that she really didn’t need them to do that), has backfired, as this Angus is a shadow of the historical figure, and it is definitely not the actor’s fault.

- In all honesty the scene with Albany was not some of Georgie’s best acting tbh. But I think that’s because they’ve written her to be so one-note that there’s only so many times an actress can break out the Rage and Fury without it looking old-hat.

- No offence to Gordon Kennedy, who is looking good for his age, but the historical rumours about Margaret and Albany’s relationship would be a lot more believable  in this show if TSP Albany were closer to his historical age (and portrait) and not just in terms of looks. Gordon Kennedy’s Albany is a fatherly figure- IMO it would take a lot for even the most suspicious Scot to look at his relationship with ‘Meg’ and think ‘Ah yes, clearly they are Secret Lovers’. But I suppose only the pope needs to believe that- oh wait, the pope whose great-niece Catherine de Medici was also Albany’s niece and there were other connections too. Hmm, bit of a stretch methinks.

- Also Margaret was not ‘co-regent’, it’s more complex than that. Also Albany was not basically her little sidekick.

- Why is she in London again? All of this could have been done in a letter, honestly. 

- Let’s take a quick break from Scotland at the moment and open the Pandora’s Box that is TSP’s English court. We got a very short Epic Villain Crossover event this week between Katherine and Wolsey, and yet it didn’t really achieve much other than to make poor Thomas Boleyn fidget very nervously. Henry is experimenting with gluing squirrels to his face. Katherine has still not learnt her lesson about assuming her baby’s gender before it is born. She also seems to believe that she can speed up pregnancies whenever she likes. Also it’s always nice to see the whole population of London turn out for public book-burnings and executions- all twenty of them. Lina finally gets to rip Katherine a new one but sadly it is robbed of its effect. Katherine and Stafford do something VERY dangerous and somehow Katherine is not on trial as well. Thomas More keeps bloody torture implements IN HIS HOUSE and doesn’t even close the door to that room (maybe he was just subtly trying to get rid of Maggie? Like he definitely left that lying where she would find it. Weirdest break-up if so). Thomas Boleyn is an echo chamber and yeah, otherwise the rest of the episode if pretty dull and even Olly Rix’s best acting as Stafford is undercut by that.

- If I have to hear the words “Hal Stewart” ONE MORE TIME I will explode. EF this is not England and you are not Shakespeare, you are not pulling this off.

- Margaret breaks into the Tower of London???? And nicks everything and Harry Stewart is turned on by Anti-English Crime (fair) but Margaret’s like I don’t have time for this sorry and then?? They just ride away??? And ok so I see why Henry doesn’t want to do the undignified thing of chasing after her but you could have just sent letters to York and Berwick asking for them to be intercepted? What is going on

- Also this ENTIRE ride to London was COMPLETELY pointless and you could have spent this time actually progressing the Scottish plot because now, if they do it at all, they’re going to have to cram eight years of Scottish political shenanigans into their allotted ten minutes in one episode WHILE they try to finish their English plot. Angus hasn’t even kidnapped James V yet- I told you he wouldn’t be able to hold him for more than two weeks. 

- Margaret Douglas is still nowhere to be found.

[onwesterlywinds]

You each recognize one of the skeletons, intimately. You see their final moments playing out as though they were your own: a priest, a spy, a marquis, and a king.

The air around the tower becomes more turbulent, but it's nothing Akhutai Urit can't pilot them through. As the Prima Vista's shuttle approaches the isle by air, you see plenty of Garlean airships already docked there - as well as a sea vessel. Alaq'it Moks climbs up the back of a chair to see. Nivelth Ajuyn has elected to silently keep the cape that Zalera picked out, but she has an old battered flat cap on as well, her ears once more well hidden. Akhutai Urit slows the ship down considerably and steers around to attempt to keep them out of line of site of any Garleans. Akhutai Urit: Welcoming party. At least there's only a few of us. Sneaking in should be... easier. A'zaela Linh leans against the wall of the ship, eyes closed, a headache pounding against her skull. Sweat dots her brow, but she doesn't make any noise of discomfort. Alaq'it Moks: I kind of... forgot part of our problem was Garleans. Alaq'it Moks laughs awkwardly. Nivelth Ajuyn: Garleans are always a problem, Alaq'it. A'zaela Linh: ...We take them down if they're in the way. Akhutai Urit: Methinks you don't see the amount of forces that seem to be there. I don't care how powerful you or the stone thinks you are. Akhutai Urit starts looking for a place to land. Alaq'it Moks: You WERE saying much about how we are stronger than we believe. Akhutai Urit: I did. And I stand by that statement. Doesn't mean she can take on an army. A'zaela Linh grits her teeth, but says nothing more. Nivelth Ajuyn rubs her temples slightly, and settles back into what seems to be her default pose, of her right hand on her left shoulder. Nivelth Ajuyn: None of us can. That's why we work together. Alaq'it Moks pats A'zaela Linh's shoulder, careful to only touch the armor. There's a spot along a deserted cape that doesn't seem to be especially crowded - and you can see from the air that it is not patrolled. Akhutai Urit: Be ready to land. Akhutai Urit makes for the handy dandy deserted cape and begins landing operations. He keeps his attention out, however, in the case of needing to pull back out quickly. In all, the path ahead seems completely clear of Garleans, strangely enough. Nivelth Ajuyn: We're headed for the inside, correct? A'zaela Linh: Yes. I hear... A'zaela Linh trails off. A'zaela Linh: Inside. We need something inside. Akhutai Urit steps back from the controls and turns towards the others. Akhutai Urit: Unless we wish to go sightseeing, I'd suspect whatever we're looking for is inside, yes. If one looks to the entrance to the tower, the courtyard in front is completely devoid of soldiers at the moment. Nivelth Ajuyn frowns at A'zaela Linh and merely sighs slightly: she wants answers, but seeing as they're about to go find them, she can't say much more. A'zaela Linh: Are we ready? Are we landed? Alaq'it Moks looks around. Even if her head is still slightly scrambled, her eyes and limbs remember Edge Marbrand's training. Alaq'it Moks: Where... are they... Akhutai Urit: We're landed. We should be ready for anything. The lack of... anyone is disconcerting. Nivelth Ajuyn nods as well, and summons an Egi. The winged yellow creature lets out a soft cry, and lands on her right shoulder. A'zaela Linh: Perhaps it's a trap. We will find out soon enough. Akhutai Urit: I'm more or less assuming everything is a trap at this point. Alaq'it Moks shrug at Akhutai Urit. Alaq'it Moks: And, up to this point. But no soldiers arrive for the time being. The path ahead remains clear, and the massive golden door lies open, with an inscription beside it: Lo, seeker in days unborn, god-blade bearer. Know you: this tower challenges the sky. Ware the watcher; the ward of the Three waits, soul-hungry, unsated. He without power, want it not. He with power, trust it not. He with sight, heed it not. Rend illusion, cut the true path. A'zaela Linh can barely read that, let alone fully understand what it means. Alaq'it Moks mutters the choice words she CAN make out. Nivelth Ajuyn crouches down to get a better look at it, and scribbles the whole thing into her grimoire, while reading it aloud for A'zaela Linh's benefit. Alaq'it Moks: God... tower... sky? Alaq'it Moks sighs. Alaq'it Moks: There will be stairs. A'zaela Linh: Trust it not... Akhutai, you truly didn't need go through all the trouble to tell me twice. Nivelth Ajuyn: Ward of the Three, soul hungry. Great. Akhutai Urit: You don't appreciate it? A'zaela Linh: Perhaps less than I should. Alaq'it Moks nonchalantly places herself between them. Alaq'it Moks: Well then. We are to cut the path? Alaq'it Moks draws out a knife and moves to stab the door. A'zaela Linh: What are you- Nivelth Ajuyn: It probably doesn't mean literal cutting. Alaq'it Moks staggers back, as the stone door doesn't absorb the shock. A good ear MIGHT hear her swear. A'zaela Linh cringes with pain. Nivelth Ajuyn: ... Did we try... opening it? Nivelth Ajuyn's voice is just shy of sounding sarcastic. Akhutai Urit 's gaze falls back upon the entrance and the wide open door, not paying much heed to the door stabbing. Akhutai Urit: ...I'll take point. If there's no objection. A'zaela Linh: ...Please do. The Garleans have taken up the space inside the hall - including upon a wide elevator directly within the center of the tower. But so too do you see stairs nearby, in a secluded corner, leading not up but down. Alaq'it Moks is now very concerned that she helped A'zaela make the wrong choice - several wrong choices. She muses, however, that it is now far too late to do anything but continue. Nivelth Ajuyn frowns slightly, and edges to the darker corners of the room, keeping an eye on any Garleans. Akhutai Urit sees the many Garleans and his eyes narrow. Doing his best to not be seen, he inches his way to the stairs. He's not quite sure if down is the right way to go but it's away from the Imperials. Maybe they'll get lucky for once. A'zaela Linh's instincts are telling her up, up. Shemhazai wants to raise Ultima to the heavens, does she not? But her allies are going down... It isn't an easy choice, but the others are going down, and doesn't think she can be alone right now. Alaq'it Moks takes rear, carefully watching to make sure that the Garleans do not spy their descent. A'zaela Linh doesn't put up a fight, either - she simply follows where the majority of the auracite is headed. Nivelth Ajuyn makes sure that her Garuda isn't glowing nearly as much, and it trills softly on her shoulder. The darkness is so heavy as to be oppressive. And yet a power lurks here regardless - one that puts each of the Lucavi on alert. Alaq'it Moks blinks against the darkness, just dimly aware of Nivelth Ajuyn's bird. Nivelth Ajuyn unclasps her right arm from her shoulder, lifting Garuda up. The Egi's glow increases with a soft little shriek. Akhutai Urit's movements become stiffer and each step further becomes more and more difficult as his heartbeat quickens. Still, he leads, trying not to make his growing fear too obvious. Nivelth Ajuyn has the strong impression of having walked these steps before... long ago. Alaq'it Moks moves her hands and summons a star that should be blinding... but anyone who saw it in the Barheim Passage will notice the light is slightly greener. She frowns and tries to steel herself. The light isn't constant, and she needs time to gather herself each time she calls it down. A'zaela Linh's eyes adjust to the darkness fairly well - she isn't nocturnal like Nivelth Ajuyn, but her eyes still adjust quicker than the average Hyur. That doesn't mean she can see anything except her hand in front of her, yet... Alaq'it Moks: I cannot keep a constant light. We should move slowly... except, where are we going? Nivelth Ajuyn touches Akhutai Urit's gloved arm gently, patting him, before starting to head forward. Nivelth Ajuyn: I think I have an idea where to go. Alaq'it Moks puts her arm out to find A'zaela Linh's, to try to pull them both to the sound of Nive patting Akhutai Urit's arm. Akhutai Urit finds comfort in the small amounts of light. He doesn't say anything as Nive passes him. A small bit of orange flickers in his eyes and he swallows hard. A'zaela Linh is easily dragged away in any which direction needed to go. Nivelth Ajuyn pauses, then takes her stone out of her pocket. It glimmers slightly, and she frowns at it. Nivelth Ajuyn: You've been here before. Show me the way. It does so. The Gemini stone leads Nive - and, by extension, the party - thirteen floors down, past howling creatures and flickering ghosts. Alaq'it Moks intermittently lights the way with the star; as the party goes unchallenged, the light is cleaner. She keeps Scorpio resolutely in her pocket. Cuchulainn is, perhaps, lying inactive out of fear. Nivelth Ajuyn keeps walking forward, avoiding monsters and casting spells that instantly kill smaller ones. Garuda is glowing still, brightening up the room somewhat, but it's not that much. The party hears a keening wail. Nivelth Ajuyn: What was that? Alaq'it Moks: A keening wail... A'zaela Linh recognizes the sound: someone Shemhazai loved made it - several thousand years ago. Akhutai Urit: Does it matter. Akhutai Urit's voice is nearly absent, though. Something else was taking his attention. Alaq'it Moks pretends not to feel Nive's stare, alternating between patting Akhutai's arm and A'zaela's. A'zaela Linh: ...Yes. A'zaela Linh steps forward and instantly staggers, falling to her knees. Nivelth Ajuyn: A'zaela...! Alaq'it Moks: A'z- Alaq'it Moks kneels by her. A'zaela Linh: I don't know. A'zaela Linh presses a hand firmly against the side of her face. A'zaela Linh: I don't know, but she does. Shemhazai's stone burns an angry purple against A'zaela Linh's chest. Akhutai Urit: I don't particularly feel that is a good thing. Nivelth Ajuyn goes to check on her, but hesitates before actually touching A'zaela's shoulder. Alaq'it Moks: Do you sense... that she is angry? Alaq'it Moks is experiencing no small amount of regret over getting A'zaela into this; as Cuchulainn's voice is quieted in fear, she understands the depth of his manipulation. A'zaela Linh: ...Terrified. Akhutai Urit takes in the meager amounts of light around them and his eyes, for a moment, shine a brilliant gold. Akhutai Urit: ...I can carry someone if needed. We must continue as best we can. Nivelth Ajuyn: ... I suppose I'm the only one that feels right at home here. Althyk this is bad.... Alaq'it Moks looks to the others, clenching her fists at her knees and collecting herself. Alaq'it Moks: If they are afraid, then it may be that we are going the right way. Alaq'it Moks nods to Akhutai and tries to help A'zaela stand. A'zaela Linh picks herself up, ignoring the searing pain in her chest, and the fear swelling in her heart. She takes Alaq'it's hand in hers and continues on. Nivelth Ajuyn: Tai? Are you good to continue on? Akhutai Urit speaks quietly. Akhutai Urit: He is not afraid. Or, perhaps, he is. Fear and anger are frequently similar. ...Just need to hold on to what separates us. Don't worry about me. Alaq'it Moks: Too late. Nivelth Ajuyn inhales deeply and gives a big sigh, but nods. She's rather uncomfortable with how okay she is with all of this. Akhutai Urit: Let us continue. Far below, on the thirteenth subterranean level, there is a long, dark hall. Along each wall lies what might once have been some form of machinery, but it lies broken and still and rusted. At the end of the hall, however, lie four broken skeletons - and sticking out from the empty ribs of one is an intricate greatsword, wrought in a metal the likes of which none of you have ever seen. You each recognize one of the skeletons, intimately. You see their final moments playing out as though they were your own: a priest, a spy, a marquis, and a king. The king's grandfather told him of this sword, and so did he go into the earth with his trusted friends to take up the ancient relic - to rid the world of the cursed zodiac stones, and halt the legend of the Zodiac Braves from ever taking root again. His lineage had granted him the birthright of Belias, and he raged to be free of it. The priest sought only remedy to the world and its ills, but had grown bitter and disillusioned until he could feel that bitterness begin to threaten the very fabric of his soul. He sought Cuchulainn for counsel, much as he himself sought to counsel the king, to guide him until the end. The marquis, ever loyal, had seen the stone's true power: a fatal blow upon a battle for the king's lands had meant nothing to him, except now he was doomed to live in flesh as cold as the grave until Zalera took him and his twin daughters for true. The spy detested every one of them; she sought only to serve her queen. She told the king of the marquis' apparent treachery, planted a suggestion from Shemhazai that the marquis would kill them all... and thus did the king divert from his plan of doing away with the stones and instead plunged the Sword of Kings into his oldest friend's heart. Nivelth Ajuyn stares down at the skeleton of the Marquis, and crouches down next to it. Nivelth Ajuyn: ... We're just all the same in a long, long chain of hosts and tools to be used by these things, aren't we? Akhutai Urit walks over to the king and nudges the skeleton with his foot. His eyes fall upon the sword. Akhutai Urit: Don't speak as if it's not something we can break. A'zaela Linh forces down the bile in her throat. Her hands -- her entire body is shaking, as though a chill had run her through. Nivelth Ajuyn: Chains can always be broken and rusted, Tai. I think you know that. Alaq'it Moks feels A'zaela's shaking through the hand she holds. Akhutai Urit: Considering the many bindings I've had to break free of, I am intimately aware of their fragility. A'zaela Linh reaches up to grab her auracite, to rip it from her throat and leave it here, never to be seen again - but pain rushes through her body, and she cannot commit. She squeezes Alaq'it's hands tighter, so, incredibly grateful that she still has someone by her side. Alaq'it Moks winces in pain as A'zaela's grip tightens, but holds the hand tightly. She knows now it is not only her own regret she is feeling; she feels the heart of the priest, and knows he had sought to do only as Alaq'it did. To find the wisdom to save what was dear. Nivelth Ajuyn goes to touch the sword that's stabbed through one of the skeletons, and flinches as she can feel a phantom pain in her own chest. A'zaela Linh: What... what do we do now? We cannot... let this happen to us. And if I was the one who did this, I... Nivelth Ajuyn: You were not a spy for some Dynast-Descendant several centuries ago, A'zaela. This was not you. A'zaela Linh thinks of how her hand had almost grabbed for her knife - how Shemhazai had tempted her to plunge it through Alaq'it's heart. In the darkness, it all feels too much, like it might swallow her up. Alaq'it Moks: Nive is right. THIS is you. Alaq'it Moks wiggles the hand she's grasping in the air. Akhutai Urit walks up to Nive's side, eyes never leaving the sword. Akhutai Urit: They were so easily manipulated. They were weak. We are not. A'zaela Linh: You're right. A'zaela Linh stares at her hand in Alaq'it's. A'zaela Linh: Disarm me. Shemhazai protests, loudly, painfully, but A'zaela Linh has never felt more clarity. Alaq'it Moks deftly moves to comply. Her body almost seems to miss close combat. She motions to Akhutai to get the lance; it looks heavy. Akhutai Urit nods and moves to relieve A'zaela Linh of her lance. Nivelth Ajuyn hasn't pulled up from the greatsword, and watches the changing of weapons with overshadowed eyes. A'zaela Linh: ...Perhaps the rest of you should leave. A'zaela Linh's gaze focuses on Nivelth Ajuyn. Alaq'it Moks is thinking furiously, but she is so, so out of her depth with such magic. She moves to see what sense she gets from the sword in the priest. Akhutai Urit sets A'zaela's lance on his back next to his own. Akhutai Urit: Leave? I don't know how well any of you know me to make such a suggestion. The priest had been the second to be cut down, after he had tried to reason with the spy. But the moment his lifeblood had spilled across the stone floor, he had been unable to stop the king from sending the sword through her gut. Alaq'it Moks gingerly lays her hand on the hilt of the sword, muttering the closest thing she can think of to a prayer. Alaq'it Moks: I made your mistakes, too. Please give me the strength to help correct them. The sword gives no response that you can perceive; however, again the demons within the stones seem to shrink back, preparing to possibly rise up. Alaq'it Moks feels the retreat of the stone, but instead of feeling relief, she remembers the sight of the ocean pulling away from the shore before a tidal wave. She shuts her eyes tight and pulls, fast. Nivelth Ajuyn looks at the sword, then to Alaq'it, and A'zaela. Nivelth Ajuyn: ... We all wish to end this, don't we? To break this cycle, to destroy these stones? Akhutai Urit watches Alaq'it grab the sword. Akhutai Urit: And so we shall. A'zaela Linh: ...It's the only thing I've thought about for the past month. A'zaela Linh slowly removes the necklace with the auracite from her body. Her entire being burns from the effort - she already has blisters on her chest from even the thought of removing it. Her hands are gloved, but they, too, take damage - she's almost surprised they don't set aflame from Sagittarius' anger. Nivelth Ajuyn watches A'zaela carefully, wishing she had access to her own healing spells for her friend's sake. A'zaela Linh moves away from the stone, from Nivelth. She isn't steady, and she stumbles slightly, grabbing on to Akhutai's arm briefly, then apologizing. Akhutai Urit holds out his arm for A'zaela to grab onto anyway and holds it out to help keep her steady. A'zaela Linh takes it, realizing for the first time that it wasn't Nivelth asking her to put the stone down was what made her do it. It was the image of Alaq'it's hand in hers, and the way she trusted Akhutai enough to grip onto his arm. It was that she trusted Nivelth enough to even place the dangerous stone down in front of her. Alaq'it Moks looks over to Akhutai. She's struggling to lift the sword. Alaq'it Moks: Akhutai... while I would love to strike this down and save something for once, I cannot lift this thing. If I take A'zaela, would you try this? Alaq'it Moks holds the hilt toward him. Nivelth Ajuyn gives a smile to A'zaela, and then looks at Akhutai. Nivelth Ajuyn: Can you do the honors? I doubt this will actually work, but... Akhutai Urit gives a hum of acknowledgement before reaching for the sword with his free hand. And as soon as his left hand closes around the hilt, he feels Belias within the stone seemingly recoil horribly. This causes him to grin despite himself. Akhutai Urit: Their reaction is promising regardless. I will try. Alaq'it Moks moves to take over A'zaela's support and claps him on the back. Alaq'it Moks: You, as they say, got this. A'zaela Linh shifts to hold on to Alaq'it once more, trying her hardest to not burden anyone, but unable to completely commit to that due to the pain she was in. Nivelth Ajuyn has Garuda hold the stone steady, and scoots back so Akhutai Urit can attempt to hack it to bits. Alaq'it Moks lays the strongest healing spell she can confidently manage on A’zaela as Akhutai readies himself. Akhutai Urit steps forward and holds out the blade over the stone, measuring. With a sharp intake of breath, he pulls the blade overhead before swinging it down upon it. The stone shatters into needle-fine shards, and Shemhazai screams. With her final wail, you can hear her speak the name of Ultima - a warning to her lady alone. For a moment, the world is deafened, and then the sound of the darkness all around you rushes back. Alaq'it Moks staggers. A'zaela Linh breathes, long and deep, as the stone shatters. Her skin is yet burned, and her body still tires, but she is free, and she feels that weight lifted from her chest as Shemhazai's hold over her mind dissipates. The scream is familiar, the same one she's heard both times she's let Shemhazai go, but this time... it is a requiem, a blessing. Alaq'it Moks: Ultima... Alaq'it Moks squeezes A'zaela's hand once more, before stepping in front of Akhutai, Scorpio in hand. She holds it up to him. Alaq'it Moks: I asked you to cut something down today, if needed. It will not be me. It will never be me. I will be stronger from here, so please, cut this one. Alaq'it Moks whispers one more prayer to the priest as she sets the stone on the ground where A'zaela's had been. A'zaela Linh whispers Alaq'it's name, too relieved to cry. Akhutai Urit exhales slowly. Akhutai Urit: ...I wonder if the holder of Ultima will give us trouble. Akhutai Urit knows they all know who the holder is but... Akhutai Urit nods at Alaq'it Moks. Akhutai Urit: I know. I made my promise. But I knew. Akhutai Urit again prepares the sword. Again, he swings the blade, face blank of emotion, eyes flickering. The stone oozes, then melts; Cuchulainn gives one last odious laugh before all traces of him are gone. When next you breathe in, the air feels pure and clean in ways you did not know it could before. Alaq'it Moks grabs A'zaela's arm in a manner that is almost giddy; she collects herself and looks toward Nive and Akhutai. She's almost too exhilerated to speak. Akhutai Urit drags the tip of the blade along the ground before picking it up. He looks at Nive. Nivelth Ajuyn stares up at Tai, reaching for the stone in her pocket. And she pauses. Alaq'it Moks: ...Ah. Alaq'it Moks wonders if she has jinxed something. Nivelth Ajuyn she goes to stand, the stone held losely in her left hand, staring at him, before shaking her head. Nivelth Ajuyn: ... I think not. Akhutai Urit: I was afraid of that. Alaq'it Moks moves in front of A'zaela, putting her hands on her hips to face Nive. Or... Nive? Nivelth Ajuyn frowns, and moves to rip off the hat. It flutters to the ground. Nivelth Ajuyn: Annoying thing. Alaq'it Moks picks up the hat. Akhutai Urit tilts his head. Akhutai Urit: Do you think you have power here? Alaq'it Moks: This is hers. She is hers. Alaq'it Moks' voice isn't angry; it's even. She takes a step closer to Nive, holding the hat. A'zaela Linh, moaning and sweating bullets besides, falls to her knees. A'zaela Linh: I'm sorry. A'zaela Linh passes out for the first time since she lost her memory, hitting the ground loudly. Nivelth Ajuyn: Do you think you could step into my domain and challenge me? This is mine, all of it. This death and darkness. Nivelth Ajuyn points at Akhutai Urit. Nivelth Ajuyn: And you fear it. Alaq'it Moks: A'ZAELA! Alaq'it Moks runs back and checks her friend; besides some bruises, A'zaela seems to be stricken by exhaustion, and Alaq'it pats her carefully before turning back to Nive and Akhutai. Nivelth Ajuyn's eyes flicker to A'zaela with something approaching fear in them, for a split second, then her gaze turns back to Akhutai. Akhutai Urit ponders that for a moment. Akhutai Urit: Ah. Yes. I do suppose I fear the dark. Death, not so much. Akhutai Urit's eyes land on A'zaela and he takes a step closer to her and Alaq'it. Akhutai Urit: And even if I still feared death, I would get nowhere if I let it stop me. Who would I protect? How would I live? You're going to need something stronger than fear. Nivelth Ajuyn frowns, her lips pulling down into a snarl that bares slight fang. Nivelth Ajuyn: Such a mortal ideal. Nivelth Ajuyn looks to Alaq'it, to the hat. Nivelth Ajuyn: Everything here is mine. Including this host. Why do you petty creatures persist in living, when there is nothing of value in struggling against the tide! Alaq'it Moks: Nive. Alaq'it Moks lets Akhutai continue to speak to the demon, and calls out to the host, almost cheerfully. Alaq'it Moks: Nive. How many tides have we crested to get this far? Nivelth Ajuyn seems to... stumble, just slightly, at Alaq'it's words. Akhutai Urit: If everything here was yours, we would be dead and I wouldn't be holding the sword that can destroy you. ...Value is what we make of it. Perhaps it is because we are mortal that we can find value in life. Love, friendship, beauty. It is death that makes us appreciate these things because how else could we know how precious life is? Alaq'it Moks is next to Nivelth Ajuyn now. Alaq'it Moks: But truly, we would like to appreciate these things a bit longer in life. We ought to see how much more we can make of all those things, no? Alaq'it Moks says this almost as a conversational aside to Akhutai, while gently putting the hat back on Nive's head. Nivelth Ajuyn's gaze flickers between the two of them, and the sneer lessens somewhat. She's faltering - Zalera is faltering. She shakes her head, some of the light coming back into her eyes, some of the warmth. Her fingers loosen around the stone, and it clatters to the ground, and she buries her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with near-silent sobs. The darkness around them almost swallows them up, but not quite. Nivelth Ajuyn: I’m- I’m sorry, I-I picked up the damn stone and every waking moment has been knowing that you all will die and I’ll be alone again-- Alaq'it Moks: Not today. Because you let him go. Because you were strong. Alaq'it Moks takes Nivelth Ajuyn's arms and makes way for Akhutai and the sword. Nivelth Ajuyn: I'm not- Alaq'it Moks: Do you think none of us here know how hard it is to set a stone down? Alaq'it Moks' tone isn't angry. Akhutai Urit: It is as she says. We will all die. But it certainly is not this day. Besides, the one thing I believe in is rebirth. We can all find each other again, if we so desire it. We won't leave you alone. Akhutai Urit uses the tip of the sword to drag the stone closer and into position. Nivelth Ajuyn swallows thickly, and points at him. Nivelth Ajuyn: I'm holding you to that. I don't know how, but I will. Nivelth Ajuyn kicks the stone towards him, before almost falling into Alaq'it's arms. Akhutai Urit gives a warm smile. Akhutai Urit: Trust me, you aren't the only one. Akhutai Urit swings the sword down on this next stone. Nivelth Ajuyn falls to her knees, crying out in pain as she holds onto her head. The hat is knocked slightly askew, but doesn't come off. Zalera isn't leaving her mind without a fight, and she has to force him out, flinging him with all her metaphysical might into the stone that is just under Akhutai's blade. The stone crumbles into dust. There's a shout of defiance, a wailing sob - and then the world around you feels much brighter, despite the ever-encroaching darkness. Living no longer seems so great a trial. When the stone shatters into fine crystal, something on Nivelth Ajuyn's forehead glimmers faintly, before going dark. Alaq'it Moks looks to Akhutai Urit now. Alaq'it Moks: Unless YOU are hiding any more fights, it is now your turn, yes? You must still destroy your own stone, however. Alaq'it Moks is grinning; she meant the first part as a joke. Akhutai Urit pauses just check over Nivelth Ajuyn, satisfied that she's still with them. Akhutai Urit: And now- Akhutai Urit is immediately cut off. The sword falls from his grasp. While he makes no noise, his eyes show nothing but pain. Alaq'it Moks: ...His... his is Belias, yes? We may... have a problem... Nivelth Ajuyn nods, frowning as well. Nivelth Ajuyn: Tai...? Tai, what's wrong? Alaq'it Moks: Akhutai, do not make me cross-- There is the smell of burning flesh, leather, and cloth coming from Akhutai Urit. Alaq'it Moks pinches her nose. Akhutai Urit manages one word: "Pouch." Alaq'it Moks lunges for the pouch, pulling it off of his belt and casting it down to the floor. Alaq'it Moks: Are you- is that alright? Alaq'it Moks looks at the arm in alarm. Nivelth Ajuyn flicks her fingers and a bit of ice comes to her fingers. Nivelth Ajuyn: Tai- No, we should destroy the stone... Akhutai Urit falls to his knees as soon as the pouch is free of his person, left hand hitting the ground beside him as his left arm hangs rather uselessly. Nivelth Ajuyn rushes for the sword, and starts to lift it up, looking at Alaq'it. Nivelth Ajuyn: H-help me, it's just heavy enough -- Alaq'it Moks rushes to the other side of the sword and uses her foot to kick up the blade, giving them momentum for an upswing. Nivelth Ajuyn helps the blade along, and the two women bring the sword crashing down onto the stone. The sword slices through the leather, and then the stone. Belias gives a roar of agony, of hatred, and then - after a breathless moment in which it seems time has stopped - he is gone. The last of this flock to be sacrificed. Nivelth Ajuyn sags, and lets the sword fall out of her grasp, before falling down onto her rump. Nivelth Ajuyn: ...Did... Did we do it? Alaq'it Moks holds the hilt, looking around to the others. Akhutai Urit hisses as he attempts to move his arm. Akhutai Urit: ...We still have eight to go. But for us, this has been a victory. Now we know how to deal with them. Nivelth Ajuyn nods, rubbing her forehead a little bit. Nivelth Ajuyn: Y-yeah. We do. Words cannot express how relieved I am.

[fae-fucker]

Zenith: Chapter 33-36

Chapter 33

So we’re back in Andi’s POV, finally. She’s woken up by Dex who is all worried and Andi vomits in his lap and then thinks about how sexy he is. Mind you, they are in a ship filled with corpses and there’s an unconscious and busted Valen near them who’s probably dying slowly, plus the vomit.

But I guess that just turns Andi on more? Discuss.

They find Valen barely alive among the corpses and Dex is surprised he’s not dead.

Hey bud. Didn’t you throw the guy down a flight of stairs a few chapters ago? I don’t think you’re in any position to make glib remarks, my guy.

Andi takes out the pilot with a shoelace, which, alright, and Dex says something about how she’s still afraid to fly a ship because she asks him to do it. Wow, an actual symptom of PTSD? In my Zenith? What a time to be alive. 

The chapter ends with Andi angsting about how she’s had to murder another person. Except she didn’t have to do that. She could’ve just knocked the pilot out and locked them in the storage with the other corpses to get rescued later. The pilot didn’t know there were live people on board so they wouldn’t know who attacked them anyway. I mean yeah they’d probably sustain brain damage but they wouldn’t be dead.

Methinks Andi really likes murder and justifies it to herself by saying it’s a necessity. 

Chapter 34

We’re in Dex’s POV and he’s complaining about how everything smells like trash on the Marauder now that Alfie took the door off the trash shoot. 

Hey. Hey why don’t you just ... blast it out? Like. Just shoot the trash out. Why do you store it on the ship that gets lighter and faster when you spend ammo? You’re in space. Just blast that shit. Or convert it into biofuel. Apparently it smells of “unmentionable” things so that makes me wonder if they store their actual shit in there as well? What the fuck is in their trash department that it smells so bad? If they can’t blast out the trash (which makes no sense), why didn’t they get rid of it when they were getting repairs before the mission? Why didn’t they get rid of it during the numerous times they’ve landed? Why the fuck does this ship have a dedicated trash department anyway? 

The little fire-haired gunner had wanted to know if the blood on Andi belonged to her or some “now-ball-less bastard,” to which the giantess had responded, Of course it’s not hers, Gil. And don’t say bastard. Say prick.

Comedy. 

Dex is being patched up by Alfie (who is described as “fawning” over his wounds, which doesn’t sound right), and thinks about how he’s gonna drink himself into oblivion later. Alcoholism? Love it. I bet Shinsay will know exactly how to handle this, with how many references their super cool and mature characters make to getting absolutely shitfaced.

Dex sulks himself out of the “med bay” (Why don’t these idiots have medical staff? For the same reason they don’t have mechanics I suppose.) to go and update General Cortas on their progress. 

The general is all grumpy and shit and reminds Dex that he’s in charge and can fuck him up good if anything happens to Valen, and tells him to keep Andi away from him. Because he thinks Andi will ... kill Valen too? I guess he thinks Andi is addicted to murdering his kids or smth. 

Anyway, Dex gets all mopey because the big scary man said some mean things but then he hears classical music and enters Andi’s room. It’s time for some bullshit, lads. 

Chapter 35

So finally we get the scene where Andi “dances” with the dead, which turns out to actually just happen in her head while she spaces out and cries. She imagines herself on a stage with an audience of ghosts of all the people she’s killed, and they come up and dance with her one by one and she “memorizes” their features. I’m not sure how she does that because the narration during action scenes keeps emphasizing how quick and cool she is so I have no idea how she can “memorize” the features of someone she’s probably only looked at for a couple of seconds at most. Also, I dunno why she’s memorizing something she clearly already remembers. I know it’s a nitpick but it’s just bad, y’all.

If this is supposed to be atonement ... God I hope it’s not. It’s honestly written like it makes Andi some sort of pure angel who just Does What She Has To, instead of just being a coping mechanism. Behold:

Tears streaked down Andi’s cheeks, pulling her from the vision she’d created so clearly in her mind. The music grew louder, silencing her tears. She closed her eyes and forced herself back into her mind. She owed this to the dead. This pain, this dance, this time where she gave herself fully to their memory.

Anyway, the last ghost is Kalee of course, and I’m not entirely sure how many people Andi’s killed if every single dance is as detailed and long as the ones with latest ghosts (the descriptions are quite lengthy so I assume it’s a couple of minutes or so), but it looks like Kalee’s ghost has to sit there and wait a while lmao. Even in death this brat can’t catch a break.

Sorry, I know I’m laughing at trauma here, but it’s not real trauma, it’s badly written melodramatic trauma. Like, I just don’t see someone who genuinely doesn’t like to murder people keep “crossing that line” (yes, apparently whenever Andi does a murder, she “crosses a line” she’s set for herself, wowza) and all they do for atonement is keeping a mental list and queue of all the fake made-up ghosts she needs to dance with. Like. I get that people cope differently but this is less of a coping mechanism and more Shinsay crossing shit off a list to make Andi more palatable.

I just don’t believe it. Not after I’ve seen how proud she is of being the Bloody Baroness and how Glorious it feels to Do A Murder.

Also, this chapter is rife with weird fucking grammar and writing in general. Some examples: 

[Kalee] was dressed in a shimmering blue gown that swirled around her ankles like fragments of cloud.

“Fragments of cloud”????

The transport creaked. Groaned, as the fire licked closer and closer.

Why did you. Break, the sentence up like that. 

The chapter ends with Dex giving Andi some time to pause her PTXD so they can have the talk she promised him. Which is nice of him, I guess. Despite being obnoxious and a dweeb, Dex manages to be better than every SJM love interest ever? Wow.

Oh but don’t you worry, it lasts uuuh until just now.

Chapter 36

Andi thinks about how sexie Dex is now that he’s washed the blood and vomit off and changed some clothes. Which ... there’s no mention of him doing since he returned from the corpse hauling ship ... The last chapter from his POV had him arriving at the Marauder and having his wounds checked, after which he instantly went to call General Cortas, and then he went directly to Andi. 

I guess he’s got time travel powers? Or are we supposed to believe he showered before being brought into the med bay?

Whatever. 

Dex says that Andi doesn’t know the “full story” behind the reason he turned her over to the Patrolmen, and Andi responds with:

“I loved you, and you threw me away like some common whore!”

But god forbid we actually say the word “sex” or stop being immature little shits every moment we make a dirty reference, amirite guys? Calling women whores and sluts is a-ok but if you even TRY to discuss sexuality in a mature and relaxed way you WILL get eaten by the mommy police.

Dex is like “pwease wissen to me :C” and she’s like “fucking dammit he’s just so hot not to listen to”:

She wanted him to hurt. To feel the soul-deep pain, just as she did. Physical wounds would heal, but the internal scars never would.

SOUL-DEEP PAIN. 

Not sure Andi has a soul but go off.

“You were my whole world. You showed me that I could still be loved. When everyone else—an entire planet full of people—hated me so much they wished me dead, even my own parents...I found you. I started to live again. I started to trust. Then I lost you, too, just like all the others. You turned away, just like they did.”

Thanks for mapping out the exact reasons for your angst, Andi. It’s not like we’re clever enough to know you have trust- and/or abandonment issues.

More like Angstdi amirite?

Dex gets all defensive and instead of giving her the real reason for his betrayal, he starts mouthing off and justifying himself.

“I turned you in because you were running from the law! You lied to me about your past, Andi. I did nothing that wasn’t expected of me! My duty as a Guardian was to the welfare of the galaxy, not to some runaway Spectre who’d failed her entire planet! You made the choice to fly that transport ship. It was your hands that crashed it. Your failure that killed Kalee! You ran, Androma.” 

H-hey bud? This is, as far as you know, your only chance to justify yourself. Maybe calm your tits and tell her what you’ve been keeping secret instead of confirming her beliefs about you? Since you were so desperate to talk to her?

No? Ok. For someone who displays some amount of emotional maturity (good god I can’t believe I just said that about fiking Dex Dogtective), you sure do get fired up easily, huh. Must be all that will-they-won’t-they tension.

They circled each other like predators, blood boiling, bodies shaking with rage as the stars looked on.

I can promise you the stars have better things to do than to give a shit about this petty squabble, Shinsay.

“Did you ever think about my side in all of this, Androma?” Dex’s voice cracked suddenly as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. “You may think you know the whole story, but you are so consumed by hate that you only see yourself.”

SO MAYBE STOP JUSTIFYING YOUR ACTIONS AND ACTUALLY TELL HER WHY YOU DID IT IF IT’S SO FUCKING IMPORTANT FOR HER TO KNOW?!

But no, we can’t have that yet. He follows it up with this:

“Your side of the story doesn’t matter. You sunk a knife into my chest. You stole my ship and left me to die.”

BECAUSE YOU TURNED HER OVER TO THE PEOPLE WHO WOULD MURDER HER. 

CAN YOU MAYBE NOT?! 

HOLY SHIT DEX DOGTECTIVE YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE FUCKING MORON, AREN’T YOU? 

No wonder she fuckin stabbed you. I would’ve stabbed you multiple times and made sure you were actually dead before leaving your sorry ass.

Anyway, they stare at each other and Dex is all “uwu ur the only woman I ever loved” and we all know that doesn’t mean bi!Dex because Shinsay can’t think of a their manly man getting dicked down by another man, nu-uh.

Then we finally get the reason Dex did it. You see ...

They had his dad. And threatened to kill him if he didn’t turn Andi in.

Yeah. That old chestnut. It does unfortunately open up all of the plot holes. Like for example, if they knew where Dex was, why didn’t they just ... find him and thus find Andi? They knew she was with him. He was a Guardian at that point, surely they know where their men are stationed? Apparently he’d known Andi for a year when he turned her in, and he hadn’t realized who she was until the general’s men approached him. So ... how did the Patrolmen realize he was with Andi if even he didn’t know it? Or did they just threaten a family member of every Guardian on the off-chance that one of them knew Andi and would give her up to save them?

Maybe there’s something I’m missing, but this smacks of contrivance for the sake of conflict. 

Anyway, apparently Dex had tried to give Andi a head start the morning before he turned her in. By giving her a vaguely worded warning that she didn’t get. 

What a peach. 

They bribed Dex on top of threatening his father, which is like, beating him with the carrot stick, and I don’t understand it at all. But Dex feels very terrible about what he did to teh womaine he wuvs :c and apparently tried to plead with them that she was young and made a mistake. 

“Andi,” Dex whispered. “Please. Look at me. Tell me we can move past this. We both made mistakes. We both made our choices, and we’ve had to live with them.”

Seems a little manipulative there, Dexyboy. I’m getting a lot of mixed messages, but the loudest one seems to be “you did a bad and I did a smaller bad that’s justified and I feel kinda bad but also you’re also at fault and can we bone again please” and I’m not into it, Dexyboy. 

You wanted her to get away, to give her a head start. You agree that she’s innocent and she made a mistake when she was a child. Yet you blame her for stabbing you and fleeing from certain death? Ok. 

I mean, I get it, getting stabbed probably ain’t so fun, especially when it’s the womaine you lurv :c, and sure maybe it hurts both physically and emotionally to have her turn on you so fast and without hesitation ... BUT YOU DID PROVOKE IT BY TURNING HER OVER TO PEOPLE WHO WOULD DEFO 100% MURDER HER ASS. If you love her so much, can’t you extend just a bit of sympathy for her actions? Since you are the reason she did those things in the first place? Fucking dumbass.

Also, why the fuck have you been acting like a huge cocky asshole this whole time since you reunited? For kicks?

I get Shinsay wanted a sexie snarky love interest just like SJMommy but they’ve done it at the cost of consistent characterization.

Andi says that there’s no getting back to how it was and tells Dex to leave so she can cry and carve more tallies into her swords.

It’s very deep, y’all.

[rex101111]

Under the Light of the Fireworks

Summary:  Baiken is tricked into humoring Anji by going along with his plan to join a festival that happens to fall on her birthday. As the day goes on, and Anji pulls her through more and more of the festival, she actually starts to enjoy herself. The day is long, but full of joy. More than she could have imagined. More then she thought she deserved.

A/N: aw HELL WOULD YOU BELIEVE THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DONE IN MARCH??? Like this is a super late birthday fic for Baiken that was supposed to be another chapter of "swipes", meaning short and sweet, but somehow ended up...over 11k words long oh God. I blame @sevi007 and @broken-clover on here and on AO3, Sevi for infecting me with whatever demon possessed her to write two super long one shots one after the other, and clover for posting a bunch of really cool B-day headcannons for Baiken that I simply had to include here. 

Okay, super long, super corny, super fluffy.

ENJOY!

Anji had a way of moving when he was happy that more like floating than any kind of walking. His feet barely touch the ground as he flies from place to place as his attention changes focus.

Finding himself in the middle of a festival always seemed to magnify that trait, Anji practically soared in the midst of the throng of people standing around near food stalls and playing simple games.

Baiken would have thought it endearing, if she wasn't the one being dragged by the arm as he did so. The only reason she wasn't yanking her forearm out of his grip and finding the nearest bar before he dislocated her shoulder in his exuberance was because he somehow managed to get her to promise to play along with him until nightfall.

Baiken would have rather let her birthday pass with a minimum of fuss, march 5th was just another day, just another sunrise, but leave it to Anji to want to celebrate.

She should have known what he was planning when they first reached the town two days ago, the signs of people setting up some sort of party evident on every street corner and store front. People milling about smiling as children ran between their legs in uncontained excitement.

Somehow he managed to keep the façade that they were just stopping for a much needed rest after a grueling few weeks of travel and job (and head) hunting going until they reached their inn room.

Just as she was about to lay her head down for a short nap he sprang his trap, "Baiken, you know your birthday is coming up, right?" His faced stretched into a fond grin, "or did you forget again?"

"What if I did?" She groused irritably, her head a few measly inches away from sweet, downy relief. "It's just another day in the year Anji, let it go." She glanced at him to see his arms crossed over his chest while he leveled an unimpressed look at her. "Oh knock it off." She waved her hand in his direction, not in the mood for his pouting. "If you want to make a thing of it just let me sleep and we'll go to a bar tomorrow evening."

"We did that last year Baiken."

"I know, and what a wonderful time we had."

"Be serious." He admonishes, sitting himself on his side of the futon. "It's not just any day Baiken, its one day in the year that's all about you." Anji smiled and spread his arms as he spoke a bit more passionately, "a day to be happy and indulge! We can go bar hopping, see the sights in the town, maybe even…join the festival?"

Baiken was nodding absentmindedly as he went on, long used to his tendency to go on tangents but stopped and whirled her gaze to him when he mentioned a festival. "…Anji."

"Yes?"

"Where did you hear about there being a festival in town?"

Anji was silent for a long minute, clearing his throat before he gave out an utterly unconvincing smile. "I…heard some of the inn staff talking about it!"

"No you didn't."

"A few children were raving about it on our way here!"

"Try again."

"…there was a sign?"

"Anji."

"A few weeks back," he relents with sagging shoulders, smile sheepish. "I heard a few locals talk about it after we finished up that job," he gestured vaguely with his hand, attempting to remember the exact one. "You know…the one with the smuggled rhinos?"

Baiken was still having trouble trying to parse how in the hell that lunatic managed to stuff those animals into a storage locker without anyone catching wise, but she nodded absentmindedly.

"Right, well, I asked about it while on the way back from getting our payment squared away, and imagine my surprise when the date happened to line up with your special day!" He grinned with all his teeth at her with this announcement. "What are the odds?"

"Not low enough for my taste that's what."

Anji scoffed affectionately at her. "Come on Baiken, it's serendipity!"

Baiken turned away from him, pulling out her pipe and lighting it as she glared at the wall. "It's a pain my ass."

There was silence, for a moment, Anji apparently taking a moment to choose his words for the first time that night. After a minute or so of this, the samurai heard soft foot falls coming towards her, before she felt the weight of Anji's back on her own as he sat down and leaned on her.

"Would it be so bad?" He muttered quietly. "Having fun on your birthday?"

Baiken sighed. "Anji, I am not going to drag myself around that many noisy, drunk, rowdy assholes stuffing themselves with cheap food just to have fun." She pushed that last word between her teeth with another puff of smoke. "If you want to go, be my guest, but there's no way you can get me to join in on all that bull-"

"You owe me."

Baiken stopped short, something in his tone…awfully familiar. She turned her head to look at the back of his, eye narrow with suspicion, "what did you just say?"  

"That job from a while back, with the rhinos." He turned his head so she could see the sneaky little smirk that snaked its way onto his face when she wasn't looking. "You owe me."

She knew that damnable smirk, that smirk he gave to people he conned and needled for information. The smirk he had when he was opposite someone he was about to metaphorically lift by the ankles and shake until what he wanted from them shook loose.

A smirk he had when the smug bastard knew he was getting exactly what he was looking for.

She had been on the receiving end of that smirk on more than a handful of occasions, none of them pleasant, none of them she managed to escape. Still, she gritted her teeth, determined not to go down without a fight. "Anji-"

"If I hadn't pushed you out of the way of that rampaging beast," He effected dramatically, the smirk unmoving as he went on. "You would be one lung short, on top of everything else."

"I swear Anji don't you-"

"What an ignominious fate that would have been for the lone samurai, done in by an animal so blinded by tranquilizers and dehydration it couldn't tell the difference between a tree and a wall."

"You can't be serious-"

"Good thing I was there and acted as quickly as I did." He turned to her fully, smirk growing into a toothy, shark-like grin. "In fact, such bravery and quick thinking deserves a reward, methinks."

Baiken frowned and scowled for all she was worth in the face of the overwhelming presence of that grin, but she knew she was beaten when he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers and his gaze sunk into hers.

She sighed with sagging shoulders, "fine." She glared full force at him, the display having a minimal effect on the suddenly giddy dancer. "But only until sundown, then I'm finding the closest bar and drinking myself fully blind."

"Deal!"

So here she was, getting dragged from stall to stall, a heavy bag of greasy food in her hand, a piece of overly sugary candy held between her teeth, and a headache growing behind her nose.

"It's too bad no one is selling any paper fans." Anji lamented as he munched on one of his own snacks. "Used to love running around with those as a kid."

"Three hours to sundown Anji." Baiken muttered, eyebrow twitching as a few screaming kids ran past her throwing freshly fallen leaves as they went. A few yellow leaves stuck themselves in her hair, Baiken taking a deep breath through her nose. "Three hours, don't waste them by being an ass."

Anji tutted and laughed as he pulled the leaves from her hair, "that's no look for a birthday girl." The scowl she sent him bounced right off his cheery grin. "Come on now, we still have a lot to see!"

Baiken groaned as he moved on and she followed. "It better not be another damn food stall, I have enough oily shit in this bag to grease a truck engine."  She bit through the hard candy she held in her teeth with a loud crunch that scattered a few rowdy kids that got a bit too close. "No candy either, I can feel my teeth rotting out of my skull."

"Got you covered." He took the bag from her and used his free hand to hold it and guide her through the crowd, waving hello to people that passed them. A few older couples, hand in hand as they were, gave them encouraging smiles and waves that Baiken ignored on principle along with the heat in her cheeks. "I got just the thing to get you to enjoy yourself."

Baiken scoffed but said nothing, merely following Anji as he leads her by the hand. Her eyes wondered as she did so, taking in the sight of people with colorful masks and families sharing food with each other. Game stall owners laughing as the various guests failed the simple tasks but gave them small prizes for trying.

It almost made a tiny smile pull on her lips. Almost.

As soon as she turned her gaze back to Anji he stopped with a smile and looked to the side, "there!" She followed his line of sight to see another game stall, the one where you were tasked with knocking over a stack of bottles with purchased balls. "Just what I was looking for!"

There was currently a pair of very young children, a boy and a girl no older than 10, possibly siblings, giving it their all to hit the bottles. Baiken and Anji stood by quietly and waited their turn, the samurai unamused by the dancer's idea. "Seriously Anji?" She whispered so the children and the stall owner wouldn't hear. "You know these games are always rigged."

"Probably." Anji agreed with a whisper of his own. "Doesn't mean we can't give it a try…besides." His tricky smirk came back. "If it is rigged, the owner probably didn't have people like us in mind when he fixed it."

Baiken blinked at him, a bit taken aback, before chuckling. "Yeah, could be good stress relief."

"Among other things." Anji laughed lowly, watching the girl line up her last shot more carefully than before, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she squinted at her target, and tossing her ball as hard as she could. "Good one." Anji muttered approvingly as the ball hit the stack of bottles dead center…and failed to make them fall.

"Sand in the bottles." Baiken whispered lowly, so as not to be heard over the loud despairing of the children and the smug condolence of the man behind the table. "Just enough to weigh them down from being knocked over, but still enough to make them move slightly so nobody says he glued the bottoms."

"That is no way to run a game." Anji scolded reproachfully, walking closer to the stall with a paper thin smile on his face, "a lesson is in order, methinks."

Baiken followed closely at his heels, already smirking in anticipation

"C'mon mister!" The boy pleaded with the owner, "just one more ball?"

"Forget it!" The man waved off the children as they looked up at him with shining eyes. "If you want another go, you pay up like good little brats." He scowled at them like they were trash stuck on the heel of his boot. "Otherwise, scram!"

"But we won't have enough money for food!" The girl argued, a hopeless scowl on her face. "We already spent so much money here!"

"Not my problem." The owner sneered at her, fish eyes squinting, before lifting his gaze to see Anji and Baiken, his face morphing in a blink to a welcoming tone. "Welcome folks! Give me just a moment and I'll be at your service!" He leaned down to bare his teeth at the children, as if the two other adults couldn't see him. "Now scram I said! You're bothering costumers!"

"But-!"

"Kids." Anji said calmly, putting a gentle hand on the girl's head, smiling serenely. "Let us have a turn while you think about what to do with your money." He looked back at the stall owner, his smile sharpening with every word. "I promise we won't be long."

The children looked at each other confusedly before nodding and taking a few steps back for the dancer and samurai to stand in front of the stall.

"Hello and welcome to my game!" The owner said jovially, as if nothing happened. "Simply knock the bottles over and win a prize!" He pointed to the various shelves and stands and hooks carrying all sorts of rewards, from dolls to keychains and even a wooden practice sword. "The less balls it takes the bigger the prize!"

"Sounds delightful!" Anji grinned easily, eyes sparkling with excitement. "How much for a shot then?"

"Its three world dollars for 5 tries!" The owner provided a small bowl with the tiny plastic balls, setting it on the counter in front of him. "Get it in one shot for the grand prize!"

"Marvelous." Anji produced the needed money from his pocket, and grabbed one of the balls, aiming for the stack, a sharp gleam in his eye. "Here goes…"

First try missed by a wide margin.

Second got a bit closer.

Third and fourth just barely missed, the owner smiled encouragingly.

Anji moved his last shot between his fingers for a moment, as if considering, before shrugging and flicking the ball forward, hitting the bottle stack straight on with some measure of force.

The bottles wobbled for a short moment before settling, remaining upright.

"Darn." Anji snapped his fingers in exaggerated frustration, "thought I had that one."

"No worries sir!" The owner assured with a crocked smile, "you can always try again!" He turned his gaze towards the samurai, his smile stretching across his face in what he must have thought was a show of kindness but reminded Baiken of a rat looking to steal a block of cheese. "Or maybe our beautiful lady here would like to have a go?"

Baiken rubbed her chin, making a show of deliberating by scratching her chin and humming low in her throat, before shrugging, "why not? Might be fun."

Anji slid close to the owner, cupping a hand over his mouth as he whispered loud enough for Baiken to hear, "you know," he started conspicuously with a wide smile. "It just so happens that it's her birthday today!"

The owner's eyebrow's climbed over his hairline, "that right?"

"I know! What are the odds!" Anji very pointedly ignored Baiken's scoff. "So, there any chance for a small kindness?"

The owner narrowed his eyes at the dancer, "you don't expect me to just give a prize away do you?" He gestured towards his selection again, nose pointing at the ceiling. "I still need to make money tonight you know."

"Oh I'm sure you've made plenty."

"Sorry miss, what did you-"

"What she said!" Anji interjected quickly and a bit too loudly. "Is that she's sure we can reach a compromise." Anji snapped his fingers. "Oh! Okay here's an idea for you!" He pointed at the bottle stack. "You said if I managed to knock that stack over on the first shot, I'd win the grand prize, right?"

"Yeah?"

"So here's my suggestion," he pointed at Baiken. "If she can manage it in one shot, you give her…" He held up a hand and moved it in the air for a moment as he thought. "Two? Yes, two." He held up two fingers with a guileful grin. "Two prizes if she can knock that stack over in one shot, sound fair dear sir?"

Than the owner looked at her. Really looked. His eyes going from her clothes, to her sword (Anji couldn't convince her to part with it), to her eye (and eyepatch), to the stump of her arm, and back to her clothes (lingering on her chest as if the missing eye made her blind, she made a note to punch him on her way to the bar), before looking back up.

He had the look of someone who thought he was going to get away with something, Baiken had to make a very concerned effort not to smirk. "That it does." The grin that climbed up his face made the smirk harder to hide. "In fact, how about we make it three?" Anji raised an eyebrow at him. "It is her birthday, as you said, so why not?"

Anji laughed, "oh sir, you are far too kind!"

"Though you'll pay double." The owner continued with the same grin and pleasant voice. "Still running a business here, you see."

"How about I pay triple," Baiken offered as she stepped forward with a sharp little smile of her own. "And you give me four?"

You could practically see the dollar signs light up in his eyes. "It's a deal!" He produced another bowl with gusto and moved aside to present Baiken with her target. "Feel free to buy as many as you want miss! Though the price will remain the same, of course." He chuckled lightly. "Now go on! Give it your best-!"

A rush of air passed him, making his clothes billow violently around him, followed by a crash glass and wood.

"-shot?" He looked behind him to see a horrifying sight, the bottles utterly destroyed along with the wooden table they were set on. The only remains being a few scant shards of glass…and several tiny piles of sand.  

There was a small, circular hole in the back wall of the stall. Someone further back in the city complained of a broken window.

"H-how in the-"

"Got a good throwing arm." Baiken said blithely, face the very picture of content, smug innocence. "So, that was, what? Fifteen?" She reached into her kimono and retrieved two ten dollar bills. "Keep the change."

"You- Y-you-!"

"We had a deal I believe." Anji interjected, ignoring how the look of shock on the owner's face gave way to anger. "Four prizes right?" He lowered his head so he was nose to nose with the man, grinning as his face went so red it glowed. "Don't you try to weasel out~"

"Like hell!" The man flinched away from the grinning dancer, clenching his teeth. "Y-you two cheated!" He pointed a finger at Baiken, who was horribly unimpressed with his attempt to be intimidating, voice cracking in outrage. "That throw wasn't normal! You must have used some trick to do that! I'm not giving you shit!"

"Ever heard of throwing stones?" Anji said lowly, his grinning face stone like as he straightened and looked down the bridge of his nose at the suddenly sheepish stall owner. "Before you start accusing people of cheating…I suggest you check your house isn't made of glass." His grin turned razor sharp. "Or, rather, full of sand."

The man's face turned purple, eyes finally darting to the piles of sand littering his stall. "That's-! I don't know-!"

"Don't lie to me." Anji muttered, his grin lowering into an indulgent reproach. "Or I might be tempted to call a security guard over to check this place out." He turned away and made a show of looking through the passing crowd of people for the telltale shine of a badge. "I wonder what they would have to say about all this?"

"Fine!" The owner hissed, eyes darting left and right to look for any guards nearby before sighing in defeat, "fine. You win, just take your damn prizes."

"What was that grand prize you were going on about?" Baiken asked, clearing her throat to stop from chuckling at how thoroughly Anji and her tore this scam apart. "That'll be the first."

The owner seethed with contempt as he went to the back wall, glaring at the hole Baiken left as he passed it, before retrieving the wooden sword. He practically shoved it in her face as he returned. "Here."

Baiken took the sword with a scoff, opening her mouth to complain about this so called grand prize when she took a closer look. Not just any wooden sword, but a bokken. Tachi sized and smoothed to a near mirror shine, the wood flawless and well crafted.

She hadn't seen one in decades.

"Where did you get this?"

"Some colony escapee traded it to me for a place to stay a few years back." The owner grumbled as he crossed his arms. "Said it was worth more than gold, forgot to mention selling Japanese goods outside the colony was illegal at the time." He shook his head. "Still, works as an eye catcher doesn't it?"

Baiken glared at him as she placed the sword in her obi with care, it's weight felt right next to her katana. "it was wasted on you."

"Whatever." The owner waved her off and glared at Anji. "Three more prizes, hurry up."

"Alright," Anji made a pacifying gesture with a chuckle, and a wink in Baiken's direction, before he leaned in and looked through the selection before he grinning and pointed at a small, rabbit eared keychain. "That one, if you would please."

Baiken had to choke down a laugh at the scandalized face the owner made. "A keychain?" His face turned a shade of puce. "You put me through all that for a damn keychain?"

Anji waved him off pleasantly. "It was the principle of the matter." He raised an eyebrow at him, "besides, where do you get off, getting insulted?" Anji motioned towards the two bills Baiken deposited on the counter which the owner had yet to touch. "You are getting payed, after all."

The man starred at the money as if it burned his house down and pissed on what remained. "For God's sake…" He grabbed the money and glared back at the two. "Just pick the rest of your prizes," he said the word like it was trying to melt his tongue, "and get the hell away from me!"

He took the keychain and flung it at Anji's face. The dancer caught it without flinching.

Anji shrugged with a gentle smile, pocketing his keychain before looking at the samurai, "take the rest, birthday girl, I'll settle with what I have."

The owner choked on thin air but chose to say nothing.

Baiken looked over the selection again, eye nearly glazing over at how utterly cheap this entire thing was; plush animals of various sizes, kitschy keychains, it was tacky enough to make her want to puke.

No wonder those kids were so keen on this place, only children would-

"…Huh." Baiken scratched her chin, ignoring the odd looks the owner and Anji were shooting her, before looking around until her gaze fell on the two kids from before, their eyes shining with admiration. They must have been standing there this entire time, watching and waiting patiently for another go.

Baiken figured that was worth a small reward.

"Hey kids." She called out, the two children snapping to attention, the awe from her throw finally leaving them. Baiken pointed at the prize shelves with a casual stab of her thumb. "Take your pick."

The kid's eyes shone like a firework.

The owner looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole.

Anji's smile threatened to split his face in half.

(-----)

An hour later, they were both still laughing. Anji's keychain dangling off his finger as he gesticulated with unbidden glee. Baiken's hand rested on her newly acquired bokken, fingers brushing the fine, polished wood of the pommel as she snickered at her partner.

"And his face!" Anji put his forehead in his hands as he nearly giggled at the memory. "Goodness his face! I thought he was going to leap over the counter and try and strangle the both of us!" He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and sighed, "oh I'm never forgetting today, that was priceless."

"You're making a scene Anji." She nudged him with her elbow reproachfully, though she was holding in her own laughter. "Calm down, you're acting like we took down a mega death Gear."

"Hardly." Anji waved her off with another chuckle, "that one didn't have half the brain to be Gear." His smile grew as a snort escaped her before she could stop it, which earned him a harder elbow nudge. "Don't act like you weren't enjoying yourself either," he raised an eyebrow at her with a smirk. "You think I missed that little ki boost you did for that throw?"

She sniffed imperiously, pointing her nose up as she answered blithely, "why kill when you can overkill?"

"Hah!" He shook his head. "Honestly that's your answer for everything."

Baiken had a very clever comeback on how that answer tended to be the right one on the tip of her tongue, but a touch to her shoulder clogged her throat. Reflex kicked in a half second, grabbing the hand while she spun on her heel, sending the person who snuck up on her crashing to the ground back first, before drawing her blade and putting the sharp edge to the neck of the…mailman?

"Miss Baiken, I presume?" The mailman groaned up at her, his face straining to display a servile smile through what could only be a haze of pain. "I have a delivery for you…ow." The young man slowly picked himself out of the small crater Baiken threw him into, squeezing his eyes shut in strain before opening it to see an apologetic Anji offering a hand. "Oh, uh, thank you, sir."

"That'll teach you to sneak up on people." He said with an indulgent shake of his head as he helped the man up. "Especially people that could kill you in their sleep, eh?" The delivery boy nodded in a sudden panic, looking behind Anji to see Baiken looking decidedly unapologetic. "Now, you said something about a delivery?"

"Oh! Right!" He reached into a bag hanging off his shoulder, bulging with various parcels and packages, before pulling out a package, covered in colorful wrapping, along with a bright blue ribbon tied in a bow, and just about big enough to require both hands to hold.

It had a small tag attached to the ribbon, reading "happy birthday" written in English cursive.

"The hell-"

The Mailman cleared his throat before he started to recite what was obviously a well-rehearsed speech. "The Illyria delivery service, Asian branch, is proud to present Miss Baiken with a birthday parcel!" He started with what Baiken would guess to be his 'costumer service' voice, cloying and cheerful with an undercurrent of being completely done with his lot in life. "This precious gift was sent by one Sir. Bridget, who wishes to tell you he looks forward to your next meeting!"

"Bridget?" Baiken mumbled, a bit taken aback at the mailman's display, she looked at Anji with a questioning eyebrow, "isn't he in Europe or something? How the hell did he find us in some no name town in west China?"

Anji was making a point of fiddling with his rabbit keychain, moving his fingers over the plush pink and white fur.

"…Anji?" Baiken asked, an edge of suspicion resting on her tongue. "How did Bridget know where to send this package?"

Anji was quiet for a moment more, making a few vague hand gestures as he deliberated his answer. "Well…he's rich isn't he?" He asked with an uneasy smile, still not looking at her. "I'm sure he could have pulled a few strings to find out where we were headed."

"…we only decided on this course a few weeks back." She pointed out calmly, the edge growing sharper. "A course we haven't told anyone about…right, Anji?"

"Well," Anji started again, slowly turning his head to look back at the samurai with a nervous grin. "I…might…have sent him a letter a short while after we decided to come here…a letter which," he swallowed a lump in his throat when Baiken started to glare at him. "Which…may have had included a few fleeting details of destination." An awkward second past as he cleared his throat again and looked away. "Might have. Possibly. Maybe."

"Anji-"

"Excuse me?" The delivery man spoke up nervously, looking between the two of them before clearing his throat. "Are you going to accept this parcel? I kinda have, uh, other deliveries to make so…"

"Give it here." Baiken grumbled, taking the package from the young man, rolling her eye as he produced a form and pen for her to sign it. She put the gift under her arm before she made a quick squiggle and no sooner had she returned the pen to him he was off like a shot. No doubt wanting to keep as great a distance as he could from the crazy lady with a sword. "Wimp."

"Can't blame him dear, you tend to leave a certain…" He trailed off as she glared at him again from the corner of her eye. "…Impression." He sighed, "I was careful about that message Baiken, you know how I do things." He put his hands in his sleeves. "Besides, why shouldn't he be able to tell you happy birthday? I happen to remember you took a bit of a shine to him!"

"It wasn't a shine." Baiken groused irritably, though with significantly less heat as she recalled they boy's gentle and carefree smile. "I was just impressed he could handle himself in that situation while wearing a damn nun habit and using a yo-yo as a weapon." She made a quiet hum in the back of her throat as she looked over the ribbon and cheerful tag tied to it. "…he's a tough kid."

"Whatever it was, he sure took a liking to you." He nudged her gently with an elbow. "I know for a fact he would have felt terrible if he found out he missed your birthday."

Baiken was quiet for a second, moving the parcel around in her grip for a moment, considering every crease of wrapping paper and flutter of the ribbon as the late day wind blew it about.

She sighed, and started walking towards a bunch, the sounds of Anji following behind her with light, most certainly dance like, steps accompanying her.

She sat on the far end of the bench, Anji placing himself opposite, and put the package between them on the bench.

She spent a few minutes more looking at it, before Anji cleared his throat.

"…you know it's not going to jump up and bite you, right?"

"I know that." She bit back, eyes still locked on her present. "I just hope the kid didn't send me anything…weird."

"Why would he do that?"

"Nun habit and Yo-yo Anji." She emphasized emphatically, raising her gaze for a moment to meet his before going back to the present. "Plus, he's a rich white kid." She poked the package a few times. "Buddha only knows what goes on in his head."

"If you're not opening it," he grabbed the box himself and took hold of one end of the ribbon, "then I am." He swiftly undid the ribbon, and began working on the wrapping paper, Baiken looking over his shoulder as he slowly revealed the, rather ornate, box under it all. "…Well, his choice of gift box is unique enough."

Unique was one word for it, the lid had an elaborately designed inlay that was colored gold, the rest of the box was a vibrant cerulean shade so bright it hurt the eyes to look at. Baiken had a sneaking suspicion that this little box was probably worth more than she could make in half a year…provided she turned in a bounty every single day for that duration.

"Fucking hell Bridget…" Baiken muttered with a shake of her head, the corner of her mouth twitching up again. "The kid's sweet, but he doesn't have a lick of sense in that head of his."    

"Aww you do care!"

She punched him on the shoulder, "shut up, and give it here." She snatched the box from his grip and put it on her lap, carefully working the lid open, putting it aside before she looked inside. Baiken had honestly no idea what to expect from it, her normally sharp mind drawing a blank.

Murderous intent was easy to pick up, attacks she could see coming from any direction.

Kindness though? How could anyone predict what kindness would look like? From where it would come from and when? And why? Not her, that's for sure.

(All those years with Anji barely made a dent, she realizes, then dismisses the thought before it could weigh on her mind.)

So when she reached in and found her fingers touching paper, she could only pull it out in confusion, "letters?" She asked, taken aback, moving the three pages in her grip back and forth as if to discern a hidden meaning, "he sent me letters?"

"That's it?" Anji gaped at the paper, before snatching the box and looking inside, "that boy has more money than sand on a beach! He must have-" He stopped himself as he looked inside, laughing quietly, "ah! There we are!"

He pulled out a small item; a tiny, bright red silk bag tied shut with black string, holding something within that was barely visible from the outside, with something on the front embroidered in golden silk.

(Baiken recognized it as the Chinese character for hope.)

"A bokjumeoni!" Anji cried out in delight, facing Baiken with a bright grin as he held the bag up to her. "A Korean good luck charm! Haven't seen one of these in ages!" He looked it over, running his fingers over the fin material that made it up with an appreciative hum, "looks hand sewn too…"

"Korean?" Baiken mumbled, still taken aback at the gift and all the work that must have been involved in making it, "that means-the tuner? When did she-" She held her tongue and looked around, seeing a few people fliting this way and that in front of their bench without really taking notice of them, but deciding not to take a risk. "He find the time to make this?"

"Things have been calmer lately, maybe Kum had found time?"

"Can't be…" Baiken mumbled, looking over the latters in her hand, leafing through them until something caught her eye, the family crest of the Kum family. "Well I'll be damned, since when did Bridget have contacts in Korea?"

"Why don't you read the letter and find out?"

Baiken looked between the letter (written in what was clearly rather stiff and unpracticed, but still understandable, Japanese), and her partner holding the small lucky bag between his fingers as he smiled at her encouragingly. "…sure, why the hell not?"

She put the other two pages down and focused on the one with the Kum crest and started reading:

Dear Miss Baiken, I hope this letter finds you in good spirits and good health-

"Fucking hell, keigo sounds even stiffer coming from a foreigner-"

"Baiken."

"Fucking fine hold on!"

-and without undue stress. I myself am fine, and would like to first offer my apologies for being unable to offer my congratulations in person to you, things in my family are…complicated at the moment, and require I remain in Korea for the time being.

However, when Sir Bridget sent this missive, I knew I must do something for the grand occasion.

"Grand occasion? I got older by a year and he's making it sound like missing a coronation…"

-Though the gift is small, it is hand made with the finest silk I could acquire. It is partly a gift for your birthday, and as a mark of thanks for keeping my life during the information flare incident. Without you I would surely be dead and my family ravaged beyond repair, I could never thank you enough.

Baiken stopped reading for a moment, rereading the thank you over and over, as if it would start to make sense, before scoffing, "saves my whole civilization from being turned into living weapons and thinks I should be thanked…" She looked aside at Anji, who was wearing a gentle smile. "Oh shut it."

Inside is medicine and a few pieces of candy, very precious candy I assure you, picked from my personal collection, I hope it is to your taste. The mark on the front is my wish that you never lose hope, in your goals or your future. The Japanese people have a long and storied history of raising from the ashes of death ever stronger.

I know in my heart that you must be the same.

Happy Birthday,

Kum Haehyun.

Baiken was quiet for a long moment, eyes fixed to the name at the bottom, Kum's actual name, and all the risks she took in putting it there rattling in her head. All for the sake of an honest happy birthday.

Anji offered her the red silk bag to her on an open palm, smile genuine and calm, and she took it, looking closely at the 'hope' on the front, how carefully it was stitched, every part precise as an ink stroke, a tiny smile on her features as she tucked it into an inner pocket of her kimono.

She cleared her throat before she faced Anji again, "anything else in the box?"

"Just this." He held up a small book, about the size for fitting in a pocket, leather bound with the words "enjoy the meal!" scrawled in English on the cover with shaky strokes. Anji opened it and leafed through the pages, another grin (she was starting to lose count of how many he's had today) spreading on his face as he did. "It’s a recipe book!"

"What?" Baiken muttered incredulously, grabbing the book from him and going through it, seeing the connection between the meals as she did. Namely, two connections in particular; one, they were all things easily made on the road with provisions one could find on the move.

And two, they were all Chinese dishes.

"No way…" Baiken huffed in mixed annoyance and amusement as she looked at one of the two remaining letters and saw, to very little surprise, that it was written in simplified Chinese, along with a small "chibi" cartoon sketch of Jam Kuradoberi herself on the bottom edge of the page. "Huh, been a while…"

"We should have stopped at Hong Kong to see her." Anji said in lighthearted melancholy, taking the recipe book back from Baiken to leaf through the pages again, "just looking at all of these is making my mouth water."

Baiken shrugged her shoulders, she and the restaurateur hadn't had the best interactions in the past, but Anji seemed to really take a shine to her, always insisting on stopping by her place to eat whenever they could. She and her had managed a pretty good rapport on those occasions, even having a few friendly spars…but not nearly friendly enough for Baiken to expect something like this.

"So," Anji started mildly, absently flipping pages in the pocket book, "are you going to read her letter, or is your Chinese still needing work?"

"I'm fine." She grumbled with a shake of her head, not enjoying the remainder of the headache it was to learn to read Chinese, speaking it was hard enough without confusing Cantonese and Mandarin, and grabbed Jam's letter to start reading, "let's see…"

Greetings Baiken! Happy birthday! I can't believe you didn't tell me about it! I had to find out from Bridget just a week ago! You wouldn't believe how big of a fright it was to see an English butler in my restaurant while I was about to close! HE DIDN'T EVEN ORDER ANYTHING!

"Fucking hell even reading this is giving me a headache…"

"Be nice."      

"Say that to me about someone who hasn’t broken one of my ribs by 'accident.'"

Anyway, I'm sure you and Anji are busy having a good time by the time you get this letter, so I'll be short about it: I figured going from town to town doing mercenary work means not having much of a chance to sit down and eat good food (not as good as mine anyway), so I looked through my old family dishes to whip up a good list for you two! And no excuses about 'not having time' to cook them!

I've timed myself and each dish should take, at most, half an hour to get ready if you have everything you need, so eat properly, or else I'll beat some sense into you! And don't think I won't! I know exactly how to deal with a pecky costumer!

"It’s a wonder her place hasn't burned down." She stopped when Anji gave her a look, "…again, I mean."

One more thing, I would like to wish you a peaceful year, the both of you, and for things to not weigh down your soul. I know how you are Baiken, I know how brightly and fiercely and recklessly you can burn. Please, just don't burn yourself out, alright? You know how I worry don't you? You don't want that on your conscience do you?

"This chick is less than half my age and acts like she's my damn grandma."

"You are smiling though!"

"Shut it!"

Right, enough out of me! You just take care of yourself! And have fun!

Wishing you the best (and a pleasant meal!),

Kuradoberi Jam.

P.S.: YOU STILL HAVEN'T TOLD ME HOW TO BAG A HOTTIE LIKE ANJI! I KNOW YOU HAVE A TRICK BECAUSE ANJI CAN'T STOP LOOKING AT YOU-

Baiken quickly crumpled the letter in her hand, face glowing red, "what is she, a teenager!? Where does she get off being this boy crazy!?" She slammed the balled up letter on the bench with no small amount of force, scaring off a few early bird drunks that were walking near. She looked aside at Anji, face still burning, only to see him with an unbelievably smug smirk on his face.

"A hottie am I?"

"Don't let it get to your head." She groused, looking away and scratching the back of her head, peaking at the crumpled up letter out of the corner of her eye as Anji picked it up and straightened it, "that girl's got noodles for brains, least when it comes to finding a date."

He chuckled as he looked over the letter, "maybe so!" He smiled softly as he reached a certain paragraph, "she's got a good eye for metaphor though," he looked at Baiken with an appreciative glance that made her chest feel tight and warm. "Brightly burning…suits you."

Baiken held his gaze for a long while, the heat in her cheeks refusing to subside, a need to dismiss the notion trying to rise in her throat but failing to go anywhere. Instead she looked back down at the box that started all this, grabbing it to take another peak inside, finding nothing. "So…that's it from this thing?"

"Looks like it," he held up the book and motioned to where she stowed the lucky bag on her person. "All that's left is one last letter, which I'm guessing is from the young, rich sir himself." He looked at her lap, where the last letter sat unassumingly, as if it was there since this morning, catching a few cursive letters in English before she took it in her hand. "Well then? What does our young friend have to say?"

Baiken rolled her eye at him, feeling her blush subside as she looked down at the letter and began reading:

Hello miss Baiken! It's been a really long time since we spoke hasn't it? Even before the Valentine incidents right? That was rough on everyone, but especially on the Japanese. I've sent a bit of help after the fact, but I'm still feeling a bit guilty that I wasn't there to help myself.

And help you of course! I heard from Kum you were a real hero there! Good job!

Baiken's mouth twisted, unsure whether to drop or lift in reaction, before she sighed and kept going.

When I got the message from Anji about where you were headed (please don't be mad at him for that by the way? We just want you to be happy today!), I REALLY wanted to come over myself, maybe bring along May and Jam and a few others, so we could all party together!

Then Jam said she was too busy with her restaurant, and May was too far away, and getting to China from England is more trouble than you would figure…moreover, I remembered how you were, back then, and I guessed a big party wouldn't be you…cup of tea so to speak. So! I came up with this!

Kum's charm and Jam's book are pretty nifty huh? Those two are REALLY good at gifts!

Baiken's lip curled upward without her even noticing, she cleared her throat to get rid of the half smile, some odd feeling raising in her chest.

Mine is pretty cool too though! It's a magic box! Well, more like a ki box, actually. See, its' lid is made of a certain kind of clay from Tibet that reacts to ki. If you infuse it with a bit of ki, it'll shut the box tighter than any lock! And only you can open it! You could put stuff you want to keep safe in there, like money or stuff, since you can't exactly carry around a safe with you.

Everyone deserves to feel safer about their stuff, right?

Baiken watched Anji pick up the box and putting the lid back on, before infusing it with his ki. He tugged at the lid for a moment, and it didn't budge an inch. He sent an impressed thumb up at Baiken, who chuckled before continuing to read.

Next time you feel like traveling, come visit! You'll always be welcome at the estate, both of you. I really did miss you Baiken, you helped me out more than you think. It doesn't have to be any special occasion either, come by anytime you feel like. I just (a few words got crossed out, Bridget having trouble finding the words he wanted to use) want to make sure you're okay, you know?

Anyway, I've been rambling on long enough, right? I'll let you off to enjoy your birthday! Make sure Anji spoils you! But don't eat too much cake! (you'll have stomach ache for WEEKS)

Baiken let out a full bodied snort at that little remark, Anji grinning wide enough to hear.

Wishing you the best birthday, with lots of gifts and fun,

Bridget.

Baiken looked down at the letter for a long while, head rattling with thoughts and feelings but unable to put them in an order that made sense. She looked at the other two letters, one wishing for her to have hope, the other to be kind to herself, and finally at the last still in her hand, who wished for her to be happy.

A lump formed in Baiken's throat, making her feel ridiculous, only more so when she felt a slight wetness in her eyes which she rubbed away fiercely. She heaved a long sigh and leaned back on the bench, starring ahead at the setting sun, focusing on the blurring reds and yellows that began to slowly give way to purple and blue as late afternoon walked towards nightfall.

"Baiken?"

She looked back at Anji, seeing him gaze at her with some degree of concern, his body visibly letting go of stress, as if he was forcing it to relax so as not to scare her off. This only made the lump in her throat jam itself more firmly, refusing to be ignored. Fuck it, she'll bite the bullet.

"When…" She started, mouth twitching in uncertainty, not looking at Anji as she felt heat crawl up her neck. "When did so many people…start giving a shit about me?"

(She doesn't care if someone judges her, never did, but at this moment, for this question, she only wanted someone who would take her at face value. Someone who would be honest with her, straight to the point when she demands it.

Who better than Anji?)

Quiet stretched between them, the noises of the festival and the people around them fading into the background as she found herself holding her breath for his answer. Was she wrong? Was she seeing things where there was nothing?

Did these letters mean…nothing? They had too, or at least have the wrong idea, none of this makes sense, why would they care if she ate or if she was happy? Why would any of them care?

Anji hummed of a sudden, effectively pulling her out of the mire before she sunk too deep, making a point of scratching his chin in thought, "if I had to guess…" He started lowly, considering. "I would have to say…around the same time you started giving a shit about them."

Baiken blinked at him for a short while, taking him in. She searched every inch of his expression for jest, for humor, any hint that he wasn't serious, that he has been just telling her what he thought she wanted to hear.

She looked for that smug air he had as he conned the game stall owner, that feeling he was pulling at strings and pushing her buttons.

Every bit of him was clear as crystal, his eyes unclouded and face straight and serious.

He had no lie for her…at least not now.

She said nothing yet, gathering the letters in her hands and moving her fingers over the edges.

(Bridget clinging to her for a good hour, talking her ear off, begging her to show him how to be tough like her. He looked at her as if she had an answer for everything that plagued him.)

She put the letters on her lap for a moment, grabbing hold of the box and prying open the box lid.

(Jam giving the both of them a discount, seeing the ragged state of their clothes and her mentioning off hand they haven't slept in a week. She looked besides herself with worry born outrage.)

She folded the letters neatly, putting them inside.

(Kum exiting from her "disguise" after putting everything back as it should have been. Standing before her and then kneeling in the dirty, blood drenched grass. She put her head to the ground, not caring for the state of her fine clothes, and croaked out a tired "thank you" before passing out.)

She put the lid back, letting out a pulse of ki to lock it securely, before putting the box in another pocket on the inside of her kimono, right next to the lucky bag.

(The kids from before, eyes shining with gratitude as they held their two prizes, bowing to her with wide smiles and genuine joy as they rushed off, yelling for their parents to see what the "pretty samurai" won for them.)

Leaning back on the bench again, she once more gazed at the sunset, the colors less blurry then before, coming closer and closer to a unified splash of dark blue. The lump in her throat went down, some sense of peace, of acceptance (however minor), passing through her lungs as she took a deep, cleansing breath.

She closed her eye, feeling the early evening breeze pass through her hair. "Maybe." She allows, after a moment. "It makes sense…I suppose."

"Glad to be of help." He joined her in leaning on the bench and taking in the breeze.

Neither of them said anything, enjoying the moment of peace as families started to filter out of the area and towards a hill a bit further ahead, if Baiken had to guess either to see the sunset, or some last event for the day she didn't care to hear about before.

Now that she thought of it, she was surprised Anji hadn't dragged her there yet. It occurred to her that he might actually keep his end of the bargain and end this nonsense at sunset, leaving her free to depart from this place and find herself a bar.

So long as she didn't say anything stupid…right.

"Almost sundown." She muttered, eye still closed. "If you have anything you would like to do here, better be quick about it."

Anji hummed quietly, "well, yes…but, see that event comes a fair while after sundown." He chuckled lightly, unbothered by missing whatever he had planned last, "a deal is a deal though, and I am a man of my word." He picked himself off from the bench with a groan, rolling his neck. "So, I think I'll leave the rest of the evening to the birthday girl."

She opened her eye, looked at his back as he stretched and looked onwards, towards the grassy hill were it seemed the whole damn city decided to go to. She waited for him to turn to her, smile carefree and inviting.

"…for the sake of argument," she began, wearily, "what was the last thing you had planned for today?"

His smile nearly split his face, his eyes seeming to glow in the dying daylight as he answered with one word, "fireworks!"

Baiken let out a scoff, shaking her head in dismay as she chuckled at him, "seriously? Fireworks to end off my birthday?"

"Why not?" He asked, grin still plastered on his face. "What kind of festival would it be if it didn't end on fireworks?"

She eyed him with doubt, the want to wash her hands of this and get drunk growing by the moment. The day had been long, even barring the letters, her feet were sore, her stomach ached from some of the food, and her head was beginning to pound slightly in protest.

"…or we could call it a day?" Anji started, eyeing her worriedly, somehow sensing her reservations. "No need to drag yourself on my account Baiken," she glared at him, he laughed. "Any more than you already did that is!"  

She watched him, watched as his grin shrunk and turned kind and patient, waiting for her.

She sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead.

"Sure, I could go for fireworks."

So much for not saying anything stupid.

His eyes widened and his grin returned tenfold, he grabbed her hand and started power walking towards the hill, Baiken regretting her ill-chosen kindness more and more with every step.

(----)  

Where Anji was keeping a blanket to sit on, she didn't know. But she was glad for it, the grass seemed wetter than it should have, so she sat gratefully on the blanket where Anji spread it out, claiming a 'spot' for them on the hill as families and young friends gathered around them, all holding their breath in anticipation for the coming display.

Baiken hadn't seen fireworks for a good long while, the closest she came to that was when she was out looking for gunpowder for her weapons. Sitting on hill with Anji, she actually found herself looking forward to it, for if there was one thing the Chinese had to be proud of, it was their fireworks.

"If I didn't know any better," Anji teased as he sat himself next to her, "I would think that you were excited."

She contemplated jabbing him with her elbow again to get him to be quiet, but the day had exhausted her more than she thought, so she settled for touching her shoulder with his, before leaning on him fully with her head against his. One could hear his teeth clacking against each other as he snapped his mouth shut.

So they sat, quietly watching the moon rise and the lights of the festival dim. Anji had wrapped an arm around her, Baiken adjusting herself to have him hold her more securely. Soon the crowd around them silenced as well, friends calming down their drunk fellows and parents shushing excited children.

An elderly man stood on a stage a distance away from them, shouting into a megaphone to be heard by the gathered crowds. From what Baiken remembered of Cantonese he was saying something about welcoming spring and departing from the last dregs of winter, but she was just tired enough to find it too much trouble parsing words from noise, so she let most of his speech flow right past her to the people behind and around, content to wait.

Soon he was done, and signaled to a few men behind him who stood next to various rockets and as one they began to light fuses.

The night shattered and exploded, shards of color and light falling and scattering among the stars. A flower garden of fireworks bloomed above her, in a thousand shapes and shades, for a moment it seemed to fill the entire world.

Back then, years ago, there was only red and blue violent light tearing through all she knew and all she held dear. The light from back then was a dead thing, a display of death utterly passionless and void of meaning beyond destruction.

Not this, not this work of dedication, surrounded by the whoops of joy and excitement from children and adults alike.

She lost herself in the display, for a moment all she lost was simply waiting for her elsewhere, for a moment, shorter than a heartbeat, she was…no, not whole, not even happy.

She was, for the first time in a while, for less than a heartbeat, at peace.

Soon, the moment ended, the light continued to burst above her, but she was back on the ground. She was sitting on a ratty old blanket her partner found who knows where on some grassy hill, watching a fireworks display being put on by some no name town she will probably forget in a week or two.

Still, it was damn good fireworks.

"Worth missing happy hour?"

"Only barely." She answered automatically, making herself more comfortable on his shoulder before letting out a content breath. "We are still finding something to drink though." She lifted her head from his to turn to him with a smirk. "And you're paying for…for…"

Her train of thought sped off ahead of her, leaving her lacking in words as she stared at him, or, rather, what he was holding in his hand. The darkness of the early evening, only briefly illuminated by multicolored splashes from the sky, made it hard to see, but from she did see, it looked like he was offering her a small Sakura branch.

"Happy birthday Baiken." He whispered, only barely audible over the fireworks, as he handed her the branch, cold metal kissing her palm as she took it. She moved it around her fingers, stopping when a shred of blue light caught a pointed tip. "Not bad eh? Couldn't have those three upstage me, now could I?"

"I…" She found her tongue sluggish and unwilling to respond for a moment before she let out a scoff that sounded like a laugh. "I thought all this," she motioned towards the crowd and the fireworks, "was my present."

"Nonsense." He waved her off easily, almost insulted. "Today was your party, which was a result of divine coincidence." He purposefully ignored her clicking her tongue at him. "What you have there, I had been planning to give you for a long while now."

She fought a losing battle with a smile as she looked his gift over, slowly realizing what it was, "but…a hairpin?"

"Not just any hairpin!" He announced with glee, pointing to the thing metal end, "but a stiletto knife disguised as a Sakura hairpin!" He spread his arms out in pride, "if you ever find yourself needing to surrender your sword, you'll always have a backup!" He grinned in satisfaction. "And in the meantime, you have something lovely that compliments your hair perfectly."

"Anji…"

"Practical and fashionable!" He went on, pulling out a familiar looking metal hand fan, "just like this little number you got me this year!"

Baiken stilled as she saw the fan, her face heating up at the remainder that he was still carrying around her silly little gift. She doesn't think she saw him use that thing in a fight even once so far, depending on Zessen, but still he refused to part with it, walking everywhere with it to show it off.

She looked back down on her gift, moving the sharp tip between her fingers, and even pricking her thumb to check how sharp it was. (Very, it would seem, freshly sharpened even.) She laughed, not sure about what to do with all this noise that decided to flock around in her chest, before looking at him again, "when…when was the last time I ever used a damn hairpin?"

"Never, if I remember correctly." Anji answered cheerily, scaring another laugh out of her, "but…never too late to try something new, right?"

He was looking at her with a hopeful little smile, eyes shining and cautious.    

She brought the pin up to eye level, taking in every minute detail. What she thought were Sakura petals were actually made of metal themselves, and shone with the fireworks. They were heavily detailed, tiny patterns etched into them everywhere she looked. The knife seemed to emerge from the petals like a root, naturally growing out until it thinned at its razor sharp point.

Must have cost him a pretty penny, and it made her head throb for a moment, before she laughed despite herself, holding the pin close to her heart as she looked at him again with an amused smirk. "Well…help me put it in then?"

Anji grinned even wider. "I'd love to."

He gently plucked the pin from her, removing the tie holding her pony tail, letting her hair fall all around her face, before he gathered it into a loose bun at the crown of her head, and slowly putting in the pin to hold it together.

He leaned back to look at her, eyes widening before growing soft, the light of the fireworks washing his face in shades of bright blue and green.

"How…how does it look?"

He smiled wide at her, eyes shining both with affection and the exploding lights above them, "beautiful." He muttered, reaching out with one hand to cup her cheek, slowly leaning towards her. "You're beautiful."

This is the part where she would say something sharp, something rusty and bloody to disengage. Where she would dismiss him utterly and thank him coldly and get up and find herself something to drink and try with all her might to forget this gentle flame licking at her heart. This is the part where she would go to sleep so drunk the first she would do in the morning is throw up, and never speak of tonight ever again.

He would let her, she knew, would let her lean away and end it before it began. He would smile in the morning if she did that, he would play along, he would join in her in pretending tonight never happened. Pretending that she always had that Sakura hairpin.

She didn't do that.

Instead, she closed her eye, and met him half way.

It was hardly their first kiss, but she couldn't remember the last time their kisses were this…quiet, this gentle. She was used to the kisses that came with sex, hungry and angry and demanding, leaving her breathless and gasping and fired up.

This was a simple press of lips, gentle and unhurried. The world could wait, the world didn't matter, the coward and his monsters didn't matter. There was only them, at this moment, on the hill, kissing under the bloom of the fireworks.

By the time they finished, the fireworks had died down, and people had begun to grab their things to leave, but she couldn't find it in her to join them. She leaned her forehead against Anji, to content, to calm to move away.

"Can we stay here?" She asked quietly, her gaze peering into his, the moon shining in his eyes. "For a while longer?"

"For as long as you want." He whispered, adoring, in devotion, utterly at her mercy. "We'll stay here till morning if you wish."

That broke the spell a bit, and she laughed at him. She leaned back to share another quick kiss, feeling him lean into her. "Don't push yourself." She said, a bit breathless, pecking him again with a smile. "Not going to sleep on a grassy hill tonight, got a perfectly good inn room remember?"

He laughed at himself for a moment, leaning away to wrap his hand around her and bury his face in her hair. "Of course." He took a deep breath of her, letting out in a content sigh as he held her a bit tighter. "Of course…"

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, letting herself indulge a bit in the embrace. "Thank you…for today." She leaned more heavily against him with a sigh of her own, "I know I didn't act like it…but it was actually pretty fun, so…thank you, really."

He was quiet for a long time, tightening his grip on her, as if to make sure she was actually there, in his arms with him under the stars. Finally, he placed a kiss in her hair, "anytime."

She tried to find more words to say, to thank him, tell him how much today meant. How much she needed those letters, how light her heart felt all day with him, but she could find nothing that was enough.

Instead she sighed, placed her forehead on his collarbone, "planning a birthday for you next year is gonna be a headache."

Again, he was quiet, before he chuckled softly, "let me ask you something, a little less than a year from now, when I wake up on the morning of my birthday, will you be the first thing I see?"

Her throat clogged up, but she refused to sound chocked so she cleared her throat before she answered. "Probably."

"Then don't worry about it."

This time, with her face burning to her ears, she allowed the silence to cover them both, letting her birthday end on a quiet note.

The moon shone fully and brightly above them, and for just a moment, for less than a heartbeat, she needed nothing more.

[satireknight]

TMNT S02E012 - The Catwoman from Channel 6

No, no jokes about Batman’s love interest. That is low-hanging fruit I choose not to pick. Probably. Maybe.

Splinter is trying to meditate, but is constantly distracted by the sound of the monster movies the Turtles are watching.

Splinter drops in to say that too much TV rots the mind and promotes violence.... so he says to the ninjas on a cartoon TV show. I can’t tell if the show is being ironically meta or not.

Meanwhile, Shredder has Rocksteady and Bebop standing on a transporter.

Yes, they call it a matter transporter, but I’m expecting someone to say “energize.” To demonstrate what it can do, he transports Rocksteady and Bebop straight to the city dump, where they are flushed down a giant pipe into the sewers... which is not how that system works, I think.

But guess where they pop up.

Unsurprisingly a fight breaks out immediately, with Rocksteady and Bebop trashing the place, including the TV set.

Shredder decides it’s time to teleport them back just then, as an orange cat comes in looking for head scritches and crawls all over the control panel. 

Rocksteady and Bebop are zapped back to where Shredder is, and the Turtles are left confused but relieved. Fortunately Bebop and Rocksteady have no idea how to backtrack to the Turtles’ lair, because they have six brain cells apiece.

The Turtles seem a little more concerned with the fact that their TV has been smashed, so they call April and tell her that they have an emergency, and that they need her to bring a spare TV set.

Splinter also fills her in on the fight with Bebop and Rocksteady, and she finds a carton of Chinese food from Woo’s Oriental Palace that one of the goons left behind. Apparnelty the idea of letting her go there alone is enough to stir the Turtles from their TV-induced fixation, because “That place is really bad!” “And the food is even worse.”

Woo’s turns out to be a restaurant almost entirely populated by Asian stereotypes of one flavor or another.

They also don’t take to April announcing she’s a TV reporter, so she lies and says she’s a food critic instead. They might hate her even more for that. She asks Woo if he has served two customers who look like a rhino and a warthog, and he unsurprisingly does remember such individuals. Methinks they would stick in your mind. He tells her where the food went to, and she heads off to an empty building at the end of the pier.

April finds the matter transporter immediately, and starts snapping photos.

Just then the orange cat comes in, steps on some buttons, and then scampers onto the transporter pad.

April feels really weird afterwards, and is horrified that her nails are just as pointy and claw-like as they were before.

She heads home and encounters Irma, while surrounded by a small herd of cats. She’s already acting weird, vocalizing a bit like a cat and referring to Irma as a human. And after Irma leaves, she decides to lap up some milk.

The Turtles, meanwhile, have also gone to Woo’s, and the mere sight of them is enough to inspire a fight with the patrons. 

April is still acting weird, and Irma is starting to clue in that there is something odd going on with her.

April blurts out a heavily truncated version of what happened to her, just as she fully transforms into a cat mutant.

Now she wants to go back to the transporter and somehow reverse what happened. Irma tries to stop her from leaving, but she just jumps out the nearest window.

Fortunately Irma finds her Turtle Com nearly, and is able to contact the Turtles, who unsurprisingly have zero idea who she is, but agree to meet her anyway. Also, that whole visit of theirs to Woo’s was just an excuse for a fight scene.

April gets back into the room with the transporter, but Shredder and his mutants have since returned.

Fortunately for him, Shredder happens to have a cage directly over where she’s standing. 

Meanwhile, Irma meets up with the Turtles, who are employing their usual trenchcoat disguises.

April seems to have gotten kinda muddle-brained from the whole mutation thing, but then Rocksteady plops a mind-control collar on her, which makes it all even worse.

Which raises the question: if that works on a cat-person, would it work on a regular person? The possibilities of this device are not being fully explored,  my friend. 

Anyway, he sends her after Splinter, and she decides to bring a tiger along for good measure. Or rather, she lets it wander off and corner the Turtles in an alley, prompting Donatello to ask, “April, is that you?” He must think she’s incredibly mad at them for the TV thing. The tiger tries to pounce on them, and nearly gets Donatello before he gets hoisted onto the fire escape.

And as if the theme of this episode wasn’t evident, look at the pillows and wall art.

Meanwhile, Splinter is wondering where the Turtles have gotten to when he sees the shadow of a cat on the wall, and freaks out.

He lets slip that he’s apparently afraid of cats, presumably because of the whole rat thing, but not necessarily. He’s trying to meditate away his nerves when the tiger and a mutated April appear... so I’m guessing, not successful. Actually, this is probably the kind of thing he has nightmares about.

The Turtles and Irma, meanwhile, are searching for the cat that was on the pad with April.... so it should take them a few decades to locate one stray cat. Raphael even points out how ridiculously against them the odds are.

Fortunately the cat finds them, and while it snuggles him, Donatello asks again, “Is that you, April?” Donatello, there was already a cat involved in all this. Try to keep up. And on the desperate-for-female-attention kick, Raphael seems oddly pissed when Donatello says that this proves he’s April’s favorite.

Splinter calls them just long enough to say he needs help, and Irma comments that the name “Splinter” sounds “cute.” Sigh. We almost made it through an episode without Irma being sad.

Splinter tries to talk April down, but the collar is affecting her mind.

Leonardo seems to have slightly better luck getting through to her, but the collar reasserts itself and causes her to start attacking Splinter once again. Leonardo dashes forward and cuts the collar right off.

Which, unfortunately, doesn’t deal with the tiger who seems to be in a perpetual state of pissiness. Fortunately, Michelangelo just happens to have a robot mouse on his person (why?) and manages to redirect the tiger into a nearby cage. Great, but how will the zoo authorities get it back without finding their lair?

The whole matter transporter plot thread needs to be tied up, so Rocksteady and Bebop chase a mouse onto it, lightly strike the pad and cause the entire machine to explode. Damn, Dimension X tech is fragile.

Meanwhile, April has just... sort of gone back to normal. Yeah, the Turtles don’t have to do anything to restore her to her human form; she just gets over it. This is the biggest disappointment in the episode, IMHO, because it feels like a cop out. Much is made of how she has to reverse the transformation, but it turns out she just needed to sit in her apartment and eat tuna for a weekend.

Irma then shows up... don’t ask me how she knew where their lair was... because hse’s convinced herself that Splinter is her dream man. Amazingly, Splinter is NOT having a complete nervous breakdown over the events of the last day, and comes in just in time to horrify her.

VERDICT:

This one gets a stamp of “okay.” It might have ranked a little higher if the resolution of April’s whole catness hadn’t been resolved with “She got over it, end of story.” But the fact that the main problem of the plot was handled so limply just left a bad taste in my mouth.

Is this the second episode to make reference to The Fly?

Actually, there are a few elements of the story that feel like they were never really dealt with. For instance, the Turtles’ fixation on their monster movies felt a little artificial, since they didn’t seem to care that their secret home had been invaded so much as that their TV was smashed. And it just sort of petered out, since they stop watching TV and never start again.

Admittedly it was interesting to see Irma interacting with the Turtles, since she’s been talking about them for several episodes (first with disbelief and then with increasing interest). She’s a very different character from April, so it was interesting to see a different dynamic there.

Grade: C

[la-belle-novaturient]

A Rose for Beauty || Self

Belle’s birthday came and went without incident or recognition.

She hadn’t been sure what she was expecting. After all, she hadn’t heard from her father since he’d vanished months ago, leaving behind only a letter and a promise. Of course, she knew that Mr. Dubois had some idea where her father was. It was his idea after all that had sent her father away to…somewhere to work off his debt. It made sense. It had broken her heart.

As the months had passed, no other letters had arrived, and Belle had felt her own sense of loneliness increase. And increase. And increase.

It had always been them. The two of them against the world. When her mother had been alive, they’d been the Three Musketeers, bucking convention and determined to make their own way together in the world. All for one and one for all. Her mother had believed whole heartedly in every invention her father had discussed, and had taught Belle to believe in him in the same way. They were a balanced partnership, and nothing had been able to touch them. At least, it had seemed that way.

After her death, Belle had done her best to step into the role her mother had left behind. Her own unquestioning belief had grown exponentially as her father had become more and more plagued with doubts. She had taken care of the house, and he had supported her even when it felt like no one else in the town would. They had been an incredible team. Even though she had always planned to leave, it had been with the understanding that he would be there for her to come back to. He was her rock. He was home. Without him, she felt lost.

But he’d promised always to love her, and always to think about her. So as her birthday had approached, she had started to look around more and more, praying desperately that this day would be the one that brought the owl from him. She didn’t expect a gift. Even just a letter from him telling her he was all right would be enough. Something. Anything. Any word at all.

But her birthday had come and gone, and there had been nothing at all. The slim hope that had been holding her together unraveled until it was all Belle could do to get herself to go to work. She knew intellectually that she needed to keep functioning. But it was so hard to feel any sort of passion for it anymore.

After all, there was only one reason her father wouldn’t have written to her at all on her birthday. And if he was dead, what was the point to any of this at all?

Belle sat curled up in the chair she usually read in, staring at the wall. Her current book was open on her lap but she honestly hadn’t read from the book in over an hour. It had been three days since she’d started it, and she couldn’t seem to convince herself to finish it. There just didn’t seem to be any point.

Just then, Belle heard a soft knock at the window. She looked over in surprise. And then immediately jumped out of her chair, ignoring the book that fell heedlessly from her lap to the floor. Racing over, she scrabbled at the latch, breath beginning to come faster and faster as she flung open the window.

As soon as she got it open, the owl swooped in and dropped what it was carrying on her chair before turning around and flying out again. There was a letter in a standard cream envelope, of the kind you could acquire anywhere. And one bright red rose, approximately ¾ of the way open. She hardly remembered the frantic journey across the room as she reached for the letter. All she knew was she needed to get it open. Now.

Just turning it over had her breath catching on a sob. There it was. His handwriting. As familiar as her own, she had to pause to trace each individual letter on the address. Although all it said was Belle. Just her name. Belle.

Suddenly, she couldn’t find it in herself to rush. It was from him. It was really from him. Whatever was going on, he was all right, and he was thinking about her. Hopefully, this letter would contain more answers than he’d been able to give her before. And it would all be fine.

Achingly slowly, she slid her finger under the flap of the envelope, making sure that she didn’t tear any part of the envelope. Finally, she was able to open the envelope fully and pull out the single piece of paper inside.

My Belle,

I meant to write before this. I have pages and pages of letters to you back in my room, but there is no time for me to get any of them right now. Not if I want to get this letter to you.

The work here is hard, but I’m fine. Really. Nothing to worry about. They just don’t like us contacting the outside world often, so I couldn’t get anything out to you before this. Even now, I’m writing this at the overseer’s desk, hoping that his owl will listen to me. But I am sure this will work. Because it must.

You didn’t think I would forget your birthday did you? I know they might be less important now that you’re an adult. But they will always be important to me. I couldn’t miss the chance to acknowledge it. At least once more. I couldn’t find much out here, but there is a rose garden at least, so I have sent you a rose. The most beautiful one I could reach.

Belle, you are the brightest light of my life. After losing your mother, I felt so lost, but just having you there made me realize that I needed to be a better man for you. A better father. I know I wasn’t always good at that, and the trouble I got us into proves that. But I did try. Because you, you are worth every effort. Every good thing.

I hope you do get to travel the world soon. I hope you are able to see your name on the front of one of those novels you’re always reading, just like you wanted. Most of all, I hope that you find someone who can love and cherish you the way you deserve. Someone who can encourage you as much as your mother was able to believe in me, and who is able to help you become the best version of yourself. I know that person is out there.

Don’t worry about me. And don’t keep yourself bound to that wretched Dubois. You’ve done enough to try and take care of me, and now I want you to think about yourself for once. That is the best thing you could do for me.

I love with all my heart,

Papa

Belle read the letter. And read it again. And read it again. Somewhere in there, she had picked up the rose, running one finger up and down, and only noticing when she abruptly pricked it. “Ow!” Forcing herself to lay down the rose, she read through the letter one last time.

No. This had to be wrong. This letter, it sounded like he was saying goodbye. But that wasn’t possible. He wouldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t.

Reading over the letter again, she caught sight of all the little things that he clearly hadn’t meant to say in there. All of those details which told her that he was in more trouble than he would admit.

After all, hadn’t she found it suspicious that she hadn’t heard from him? And there it was. He’d written to her dozens of times, but was in such a rush to send this letter without getting caught, he couldn’t get to any of the letters he had written to her. And if he was writing at the overseer’s desk, borrowing his owl, that meant he wasn’t supposed to be there. After all, they didn’t like them to contact each other.

He’d also told her not to worry far too many times to stop her from worrying in any sort of genuine way. All she could think was the line, “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” No one who was fine felt the need to reiterate that they were fine. Which meant he wasn’t fine.

He wasn’t fine and he was saying goodbye.

No. No. She wouldn’t lose him. She had worked too hard and sacrificed too much for the man she loved more than any other person in the world. She couldn’t lose him now. Not when he was the only thing that tethered her.

She had to find him. She would find him and save him, and then somehow they would deal with the Dubois problem and everything would be fine. All she had to do was find him and bring him home.

But how could she find him? She didn’t know anything. Neither of the letters had any sort of information, and she’d lost her chance to track the owl when it flew out. She didn’t even know which direction he had gone. Or if her father was in the country at all. How could she do the impossible?

“The mirror,” she breathed. In her panic, she forgot that the mirror could only show places Maui had already been. It wouldn’t’ show her the whereabouts of someone missing entirely. All she could think was that it was magical, it showed other places, and right now she needed whatever miracle she could get.

As she raced out the door, Belle grabbed her wand and shoved it in her pocket. She didn’t even think about locking the door or grabbing a sweater against the evening chill. She didn’t even consider whether or not Maui would be at the shop that day. She needed to get to the mirror now. That was all that mattered.

Behind her, the rose lay on the chair where she had dropped it. Waiting. Forgotten.