#but please just get the stuff illegally if you’re curious otherwise they keep the power and making money

[whalehouse1]

“I hate read/watch this.”

Me: I hope to whatever you believe in that you’re pirating to do so. Otherwise, you’re still supporting the thing you hate.

[kittyprincessofcats]

I love both shows (Spop and Su) but I wanted to ask about some things you’ve said:

“Can’t believe “It’s okay for fans to be disappointed when oppressive dictators who’ve murdered millions and have tried to kill the protagonists before get forgiven without having to face consequences” is a so hard to understand for some people, but here we are”

“So did Steven Univerae end with the Diamonds in prison where they should be, or did I do well to stop watching when I did?”

With that logic can’t the very same thing be said and applied to She ra regarding Catra?

“So did She ra end with Catra in prison where she should be, or did I do well to stop watching when I did?”

Hi there. First of all, I want to say sorry for taking so long answer this. January’s been a very busy month for me and I literally just didn’t have the time to write the kind of reply I think this ask deserves.

Next, I want to make a few things clear just so we’re on the same page:

I love both shows as well and nothing I’m about to say is intended to be seen as hate against Steven Universe. SU meant a lot to me and I was a big fan of it for many years. Change Your Mind disappointed me a lot as an episode and as a finale, precisely because I didn’t want the Diamonds to get any sort of redemption, but just because it was a dealbreaker for *me*, that doesn’t mean I harbor any ill feelings towards the fans or writers of the show. None of this is meant to be a personal attack against anyone who worked on this show or likes it.

I stopped watching SU after CYM, so this post will ignore anything beyond that. I have not seen the SU movie or Steven Universe Future and I don’t intend to. Please don’t try to convince me otherwise. I’m not comfortable watching more.

I wrote the posts you quoted because I got quite a few rude messages after I said I didn’t like Change Your Mind and that I don’t want to keep watching SU. The first one was a response to people who were giving me a hard time for not liking the Diamond redemption – it wasn’t me saying that /no one/ should like it, just that my feelings on it were valid as well and people shouldn’t badger me about it.

In that sense, YES you could say the same thing about Catra! If someone wanted to stop watching SPOP because Catra’s redemption made them uncomfortable (maybe because they knew someone like her in real life or something similar), that’d be absolutely fine! I’d never send them the kind of messages I got or try to pressure them into continuing a show they’re not comfortable continuing. Because respecting real people is more important than a show or a fictional character.

I’ll be honest: I’m a little tired of justifying my feelings about the SU finale to people. But I believe you’re asking out of genuine curiosity and I haven’t made too many posts defending Catra yet, so I’ll try to analyze this step by step for you – and anyone else who might be curious.

So, without further ado: Here’s my essay on why Catra’s redemption works for me but the Diamonds’ doesn’t.

Short explanation: Because if you compare the scale of their actions, their motivations, what’s supposed to make them sympathetic to the audience, their build-up, and how their respective redemptions are handled, then the Diamonds aren’t an equivalent to Catra – they’re an equivalent to Horde Prime. And if SPOP had suddenly redeemed Horde Prime at the last minute after building him up as the big bad, I wouldn’t have liked that either.

Long (very long) explanation under the cut

Okay, let’s get into this in detail.

1.     The scale of their actions

Let’s look at the evil stuff these characters have done first.

The Diamonds: Created an intergalactic empire, conquered millions of planets (destroying all life of them in the process) for millions of years, created a strict caste system in which all gems only have one function to follow and where Pearls are essentially slaves who have to obey every order, persecute and send shattering robonoids after gems that don’t fit into the system or fuse outside of their caste (off-colors), created a human zoo and kidnapped people for it, shattered anyone who wasn’t loyal to them, bubbled all the Rose Quartzes, created the Cluster and the other fusion experiments out of the shards of their fallen enemies (essentially torturing them for all eternity), corrupted all the gems on Earth, including those that were loyal to them. And that’s just what we get told upfront in the show. We’re talking about intergalactic dictators with no respect for life who will ruthlessly kill anyone who gets in their way.

Catra: Helped Hordak conquer one (1) planet. Bad, yes – but not nearly on the same scale as devoting eons to conquering entire galaxies. Also, Catra isn’t the one who founded the Horde in the first place; she just happened to grow up there (likely because she was taken from her real home as a baby) and was raised with their ideals. The Diamonds, on the other hand *are* the people who started their empire.

So yeah, the Diamonds aren’t Catra – they’re Horde Prime. He’s the one who founded the intergalactic Horde and destroyed millions of planets. (There’s even a whole parallel about how both Horde Prime and White Diamond think they’re perfect and everyone should be like them…)

Now, you could argue that Catra opening the portal was a crime on a larger scale. But even that would have likely only destroyed Etheria – one planet, not millions. The scale we’re talking about is still way smaller than Horde Prime’s or the Diamonds’ actions.

Catra’s other “crimes” in the show are things like being a toxic friend, manipulating and lying to people. Those are things I’m going to ignore for this post, since you specifically asked if Catra shouldn’t be in prison for her crimes. Being a toxic friend is bad and all, but it’s not actually something illegal that you can get thrown in jail for, so it’s irrelevant for this discussion. And it still wouldn’t be on the scale of the Diamonds, who, let me repeat, have destroyed countless galaxies.

2.     Motivations for their actions

“But what about *why* they did all of those things? Isn’t that relevant?” It is, and I’m glad you asked. Let’s have a look.

Catra: Catra grew up in the Horde through no fault of her own and was mistreated and abused her whole life to the point where survival and safety became her primary motivations. She was treated as second best to Adora, filling her with a desire to prove herself. She got told as a child that she’s only worth “keeping around” if Adora values her, so she tied her self-worth to Adora’s approval. She feels betrayed when Adora leaves the Horde, because she interprets it as Adora caring more about strangers than about her. She stays with the Horde because they’re the devil she knows, because she wants to prove herself and because she’s hurt about the only person who ever showed her kindness leaving her. She grew up without a proper parental figure and without ever learning what healthy relationships are supposed to work like, so it’s understandable why she has no concept of it. She opens the portal because she sees her abuser working with (and seemingly being accepted by) her enemies and that knowledge makes her feel powerless to the point where she’d do anything to get back at them. She’s been abused and victimized her entire life and all of her actions are a direct result of that. Catra thinks that if she gains enough power, it’ll finally give her the safety and approval she craves.

In general, Catra’s story always makes it clear that she’s a victim of physical and emotional abuse who never learned what healthy relationships are supposed to look like and who’s lashing out in the only way she knows how. Some people might disagree on this, but I personally never had a point in the show where I couldn’t relate to her or couldn’t understand why she’s doing a certain thing. SPOP did a brilliant job of making sure that even at her lowest point, Catra’s actions are still understandable when you think from her point of view.

The Diamonds: … Uhm yeah, I’m drawing a blank here. Unless there’s some explanation in the movie or SU Future, we never actually learn why they did any of what they did. We get an explanation for some of their deeds – that they created the zoo because they thought Pink wanted it, that they corrupted the gems as revenge for Pink’s supposed death – but what the show never goes into is the real problem: Why they’re dictators in the first place. Why they consider themselves superior to other gems. Why they shatter anyone who doesn’t fit it, etc. They’re just dictators… because they’re dictators. We never get to understand their motivations.

And just to be clear – I think that in itself is perfectly fine. I don’t think SU should have had to give us any more explanation than that. SPOP also never explains why Horde Prime conquers other planets in the first place. He just does it because he’s evil and power-hungry and the show needs an antagonist. I think not giving a villain a deeper motivation is fine – if you’re not planning to redeem them.

3.     What makes them sympathetic

Catra: I pretty much explained this already. We’re told from season 1 that Catra was abused by Shadow Weaver, that Adora was the only person who cared about her, that she was always treated like she was second-best. Heck, there’s an entire backstory episode just about everything Catra’s been through. We’re meant to feel bad for her, even when she’s evil. We’re meant to cheer for her when she stands up to Shadow Weaver and defeats her. We’re meant to feel for her when Shadow Weaver stabs her in the back and Hordak sends her to the Crimson Waste. Her entire breakdown is meant to be tragic and engaging. When you’ve watched a character suffer so much through no/little fault of their own, when you’ve watched them stand up to bigger villains in a way that makes you root for them, it makes sense that you want them to eventually get their happy ending.

The Diamonds: I realize in retrospect that the writers probably meant for us to feel bad for the Diamonds, too. Like when they’re grieving Pink, during What’s the Use of Feeling, Blue?, or when they complain how stressed they are in Change Your Mind. But the thing is… it just didn’t work for me. After the show spent all that time showing us all the death, despair, and destructions the Diamonds had caused, after it was made clear that the Crystal Gems had lost multiple friends and allies to them, it just didn’t make me feel sympathetic that the diamonds had lost one (1) person. So what if someone shattered Pink for being a dictator? The Diamonds themselves have shattered millions of gems and now that it’s someone they care about I was suddenly meant to feel bad for them? I didn’t.

When That Will Be All first aired, I loved What’s the Use of Feeling, Blue? – because I thought the show was doing this brilliant thing where they show that evil people can still have loved ones and have feelings but that doesn’t make them less evil. Every horrible person in history had feelings and loved ones. That doesn’t excuse their actions. In retrospect I find it disappointing to know that we were meant start feeling bad for the Diamonds due to their grief for Pink, that we were meant to see Pink/Rose as the evil one for starting a rebellion against them, that we were supposed to believe Bismuth was in the wrong. Rebelling against a dictatorship is a good thing. Standing up for equality is a good thing. I don’t like that the show suddenly tried to spread this message that conflict is always bad even when you’re actively fighting against tyranny and oppression. What happened to the Crystal Gems and their cause? What happened to the Steven from season 1 who reassured Lapis that “They’re mean, and that’s why we *have to* fight them”? And no, the “but being a dictator is so stressful, please feel bad for us” part didn’t work for me either.

4.     A well-written redemption arc

For a well-written redemption arc, a character needs to actually regret what they’ve done and realize they were wrong. Then they need to put in the effort to be better from now. They need to… actually change. And then they need to do things that make up for their actions.

Catra: We get to see Catra go through an amazing character arc that culminates in her redemption and her eventual love-confession to Adora. The entire arc that was built for her over 5 seasons leads up to that moment and it’s so satisfying when it finally happens because it makes sense. We get to see her make big mistakes, get to see how she finally even scares Scorpia away, how Scorpia leaving breaks her, how Double Trouble gives her a harsh but needed lecture, how she understands that she and Glimmer aren’t so different, how she finally remembers Adora and decides to save her. We see her regret her actions as early as season 1, when she feels visibly bad after leaving Adora on the cliff in the temple. In season 4, she has nightmares about Entrapta and feels guilty for what she did to her and for opening the portal.

And from the moment she decides to change, she’s willing to make huge personal sacrifices to make up for her actions: She sacrifices herself to save Glimmer, gets tortured, mind-controlled and nearly dies in the process. The heroes saving her doesn’t come from nowhere and their forgiveness is well-earned because she was willing to put herself on the line to save someone else. She then keeps helping the heroes, apologizes to everyone she’s hurt, is again willing to sacrifice herself for Adora in the finale, and finally saves the entire universe from Horde Prime by staying with Adora and confessing her love to her. If we’re trying to be realistic about this – I’d say saving the whole universe from an intergalactic dictator would at least dramatically shorten her prison sentence? So no, I don’t think Catra should have ended up in prison.

The Diamonds: So the thing about their redemption arc is… they don’t really have one. We’re just kind of meant to forgive them out of the blue. Steven and the Crystal Gems ask the Diamonds for help to cure the corrupted gems and they manage to convince them, but there’s never any point where the Diamonds regret their actions. They only start to regret their actions towards Steven and Pink, but there’s never even an ounce of regret for what they did to anyone else. The Cluster? The deaths? The millions of destroyed planets and civilization? The humans and Rose Quartzes in the zoo? The presumably thousands of off-colors fighting for their lives underground on homeworld every second? That’s all swept under the rug in the finale. And therefore, the Diamonds can’t even get to the point where they make sacrifices for someone else or do anything that would lead me to forgive them, because they’re not even at a point where they realize they’ve done anything wrong. The show treats them like they’re redeemed in the end, but they’re not. Everything they’ve done just gets ignored.

5.     Being held accountable for their actions

Another thing that’s important for redemption arcs is that the heroes don’t just ignore what a character has done and act like it never happened.

Catra: SPOP never shies away from admitting that Catra has done bad things. Even after her heroic sacrifice, the other characters don’t just all forgive Catra at once. Adora still calls her out when she’s being selfish, some of other princesses are resentful towards her, Frosta punches her in the face, etc. One heroic sacrifice isn’t enough: You see Catra constantly working on herself afterwards and doing what she can to become a better person and make up for her actions. And most importantly, those actions are addressed in the show. (Arguably they could have addressed what happened to Angella again, but overall Catra’s actions get acknowledged in the show.)

The Diamonds: My other big problem with SU suddenly acting like the Diamonds are redeemed is that their actions never get addressed. People act like when I say I wanted the Diamonds to be held accountable that means I wanted Steven to shatter them in cold blood – no, I just wanted Steven to at least *say* that what they’re doing is wrong. Like I said, all of their actions other than corrupting gems and treating Steven & Pink badly completely get swept under the rug in Change Your Mind. It’s like we’re meant to assume that everything else will be fine now just because Steven managed to convince the Diamonds to do one (1) thing for him. What will happen to their colonies now? What about the humans and Rose Quartzes in the zoo? What about all the off-colors fighting for their lives underground on homeworld? What about the enslaved Pearls and the class system? None of that ever gets addressed in the finale – we’re just supposed to take that happy ending at face value and believe that all the other stuff will get fixed now, even though the show never says that!

(Before you tell me how any of that gets addressed in the movie or in Steven Universe Future – I don’t care. SU Future is a new show that takes place after a timeskip. The movie is also a separate thing. SU should make sense as a show on its own and it doesn’t. Change Your Mind was presented as a finale and therefore should wrap up the most important plots and it didn’t.)

For all we know after watching CYM, Steven doesn’t actually care about anything the Diamonds have done. He’s sitting on their shoulders and laughing with them in the end and we’re meant to take that as a happy ending. For all we know, there’s still an oppressive class system and gems getting shattered for not fitting into it on homeworld. The Cluster’s still suffering. The Pearls are still slaves. The Diamonds are still dictators and that aspect never changed – because it’s never addressed. When White Pearl regains consciousness, Steven says “Welcome Back”, but nothing in this episode ever implies that she’s not still WD’s slave. When Lars and the Off-colors arrive on Earth, the fact that they’re terrified of the Diamonds is played for laughs. The finale revolves only around Steven’s feelings while Garnet and Pearl never get a moment of standing up to the people who hurt them.

“But Steven needed the Diamonds’ help the heal the corrupted gems!”

Yes, that’s the in-universe explanation. But a writer still invented that rule. And even so, they could have added a scene where Steven takes the Crystal Gems aside and tells them “Hey, I know these people killed many of your friends, enslaved and persecuted you, but I just want you to know that I don’t actually like them or consider them family and I’m only doing this to help the corrupted gems. You’re my real family.”

6.     Identifying with their victims

I don’t remember who made that post, but there was a post on Tumblr somewhere that said that how likely someone is to forgive a villain often depends on how much they identify with the people that villain has hurt. And if I’m being very honest, that’s what a lot of my hate for the Diamonds boils down to:

The Diamonds don’t appear in Steven Universe until way later in the show. The way we first learn about them is indirect. We know the Crystal Gems fought a war against someone and are hiding on Earth from someone, but that someone doesn’t get a face until way later. By that point, we’ve already been told that fusions like Garnet are illegal on homeworld, that Pearls are considered lesser gems, and that Amethyst would be defective by homeworld’s standards. And all of those things made me personally sympathize with the Crystal Gems and their found family of misfits – and it made me angry at whoever did all of this to them. You can easily read the discrimination Ruby and Sapphire faced for their relationship as a metaphor for homophobia or prejudice against interracial relationships, the discrimination Pearl faces as racism or classism and how Amethyst is treated as ableism.

(Getting personal here for a moment: I’m gay and my parents are from a homophobic country that’s run by a dictator, so I strongly identified with Garnet and how she can’t go back to homeworld because she wouldn’t be allowed to exist as her true self there. Am I maybe reading too much into the show there? Yeah. But honestly, if the Diamonds’ redemption relies on people not identifying with the Crystal Gems – aka the literal protagonists of the show – too much, then maybe it’s just not a good idea. Yeah, maybe if I hadn’t identified with the CGs so strongly, I wouldn’t have minded the Diamond redemption – but it also means I’d have never loved SU as much in the first place.)

What I’m saying is that we first learn about the Diamonds from the point of view of the people they oppressed, persecuted, and tried to kill. We also meet the off-colors and learn about their plight, how they had to spend eons hiding from robots that want to kill them, how they believe the way they are is wrong, etc. We see the Cluster, the people in the zoo etc. and get told the Diamonds did all of this. And then Change Your Mind expects us to suddenly randomly forgive them with no build-up and be okay with Steven calling them “family” over the actual people who raised him.

Catra, on the other hand, is first introduced to us as Adora’s best friend. We get to meet her from the point of view of the protagonist who obviously loves her. Throughout their separation and their struggle, the relationship between these two characters drives the show. Their episodes together are emotional and well-written and make the audience root for them to eventually find their way back together again. We meet her as an abuse-victim who thinks her best friend left her, and we get so many reasons to sympathize with her before she ever hurts anyone.

(And yeah, it helps that the show never lets us personally meet any of the people from the lands she conquered. Yes, we feel bad for Scorpia and all that – but again, being a toxic friend isn’t actually a crime. And yes, we feel bad for Entrapta - but so does Catra, and Entrapta ends up being fine and forgiving her.)

7.     A satisfying ending for a show

This is more general, but SU didn’t have a satisfying conclusion imo, because almost none of the things that needed fixing were ever addressed. We’re meant to take “but the Diamonds say please and thank you now” as a good conclusion without getting to the part where they murder people every day. For all we know, Steven doesn’t even care about that part because the writers never made him act like he does.

And yes, I realize that the Diamonds are meant to be a metaphor for a conservative family that finally learns to accept their queer child (Steven), but that metaphor just didn’t work for me (a queer child of an unaccepting family) at all. Because they’re not presented as an unaccepting family: The show spent 4 seasons building them up as dictators and the ultimate big bad, only to drop the “they’re related to Steven” thing in there last minute and sweep the other stuff under the rug. We’ve also spent 5 seasons seeing the Crystal Gems, the people who literally raised him, as Steven’s family, so suddenly giving that title to their oppressors feels super wrong to me.

To give you a comparison, imagine the following ending for She-Ra: Near the end of season 5, Adora suddenly finds out she’s Horde Prime’s long-lost granddaughter. After calling him out for treating her/her parents badly, he finally regrets that part of his actions and promises to leave Etheria alone so Adora and her friends can live there in peace. However, he’s still going to conquer and destroy the rest of the universe and keep Hordak and the other clones mind-controlled. Adora is fine with this and you see her and Horde Prime laughing together in the end. Catra and all the other people Horde Prime chipped and tortured are seen being okay with him now because as long as Adora, the main character, is happy all the hurt Horde Prime caused anyone else doesn’t matter. When the Star Siblings show up on Etheria while fleeing from the Horde army, the fact that they’re scared of Horde Prime is played for laughs. The End.

… Sounds pretty stupid, doesn’t it? I’m glad SPOP had the guts to just let Adora kill Horde Prime instead. Because some people are not redeemable, and that’s an important lesson, too.

Anyways, I’ve been rambling for too long. The bottom line is: The Diamonds are way more comparable to Horde Prime than to Catra. The scale of their actions is the same as that of Horde Prime, their motivations are never explained, we never get any reasons to sympathize with them, the main characters have all been victims of their regime, their redemption arc is nonexistent, they never get called out for their actions and the way their story is concluded is just badly written and leaves way too many factors unaddressed. They get forgiven without ever even being sorry and the Crystal Gems never get a moment to shine and stand up to them. So yes, I consider them irredeemable and was disappointed the show didn’t end with them getting imprisoned at least. (I was kind of hoping for a Homeworld revolution where everyone finally stands up to them, but… *sigh*.) If the show was going to redeem them, they should have at least done it properly by actually showing them have a change of heart and making them try to make up for their actions, instead of letting us assume that all happened off-screen.

Catra on the other hand gets presented as someone to root for from the beginning. She’s only in the Horde due to unfortunate circumstances, got abused and mistreated her whole life, is motivated by a desperate attempt to prove herself and make sure she doesn’t get hurt again, and never committed crimes on the same scale as the Diamonds. Her change of heart is believable and what her arc has been building up to for 4 seasons, she makes great personal sacrifices for Glimmer and Adora, gets held accountable for her actions, helps save the entire universe and is a character who has already suffered her entire life – so yes, I strongly believe that she deserves to live a happy, free, and peaceful life after the show.

[dxlansfxck]

Blurred Lines | E.D.

Summary: Smoking weed with Ethan for the first time turns into snacking, cuddling and making out.

Warnings: Smut, Drug use, fluff I guess

~~~~

Ethan and you have been planning this evening out for weeks now, not sure where to buy the things you’ll need, being paranoid about the cops and getting into jail. You’ve had some friends that smoke weed on a regular basis, but you’ve never tried it. Damn, Ethan didn’t even like to drink alcohol, how could someone conclude that he was ready to try some weed now? Both of you were stressed out lately, started arguing over stupid shit, not being handle themselves. They might think that all you need is a good fuck, but well, that’s what you were doing every single night. You’ve had the best sex of your lives, basically trying out everything without kink-shaming the others interests. Grayson himself loves a nice blunt here and there – it was the only thing that could calm him down while having anxiety attacks-, so he offered his brother to get some more when he meets his dealer the next time, maybe even hitting the bong with you.

“Y/N, are you sure you want to do this? It isn’t illegal for no reason. Oh god, has someone ever died from an overdose? Of course people need to smoke that shit if they’re so nervous about doing it, they need something to calm down after the panic. How do we even do this, have you ever rolled a blunt? And shall we smoke a blunt or a joint? Grayson said we could use his bong as well, but isn’t it stronger this way? Y/N, I think we should- ““I think you should shut up, babe. Don’t worry too much, you can’t die from just smoking one or two blunts. Look at Gray, he’s still alive and some days all he does is sitting in his room smoking weed. We’ll be fine, but if you don’t want to do this, we don’t need to, you know that right?” You try to calm your boyfriend down, not wanting to pressure him into something. E just nods, smiling shyly. “I just don’t want to risk anything, but you’re right, nothing could happen. Should we prepare some food in case we’ll get hungry?” You jump up, running into the kitchen and pull premade cookie dough out of the fridge while grinning at Ethan. “Duh. I’m making those, you’ll call the pizza delivery! I want pineapple and sweet corn, maybe some Sprite with it as well. And don’t forget- “”The Ranch dressing, I know, princess. Gimme a sec.”

“Hey guys, I’m back”, Grayson enters the door, already smelling freshly baked cookies and Pizza while stepping out of his shoes. “Damn, I’m smoking with you all the time if you’re coming this prepared.” You just shrug your shoulders. “Didn’t know what I would be in the mood for and this guy”, you point down to your stomach, “Is hungry for everything.” Ethan laughs while letting him fall right next to his girl, putting on ‘Mulan’ on the screen. He knows it’s your favorite and he learned to love it too.

“How are we going to do this, Gray?” “I already bought premade blunts, it’s easier”, he holds them up, so you could see them. “Ready, folks?” Grayson sits right next to you, placing one of the blunts between his lips and lighten it before taking a deep breath. He exhales with closed eyes before handing it over to you, who repeats the process. Ethan is the last one, still a bit nervous but curious. He didn’t like the taste, the irritation in his throat and the coughing afterwards which made him drink a whole cup of Sprite. But it gets easier each time he hits the blunt, soon the second one is all smoked up as well and Grayson went back to his room to play some Fortnite. Ethan and you were just looking at each other, grinning, and enjoying some of your pizza while finishing the movie, not feeling high at all.

“Shall we go to our room? We can watch some YouTube in bed, the couch isn’t as comfy.” You nod, grabbing the cookies and Sprite before going upstairs, sliding directly into your bed. “What do you want to watch? Shane?” Of course, you watched Shane, your favorite YouTuber. Conspiracy after conspiracy, Ethan just shakes his head. “Don’t get it. How’s he so smart?” Then he starts laughing. “Oh well, he just googles the stuff, I guess. But where does the idea to google it come from? He must be smart. I’m not that smart, but that’s okay, right?” He looks over at you which is totally lost in the video. “Mhm, yes, smart”, while munching some cookies. “Dude, these are so fucking good, they taste like a chocolate explosion in my mouth. Try one!” “Oh fuck, you’re right”, he speaks with a mouth full of cookies. “They’ve never been this good, I swear, if everything tastes like this if you’re stoned, I want to smoke every day.” He looks over to his girlfriend, chocolate spread around your mouth, the hair falling out of your messy bun, wearing nothing but E’s old football tee. “God, you’re so beautiful, princess”, wrapping his arms around you, Ethan can’t stop admiring you. “Your skin is so soft, even though your legs aren’t shaved, how do you do this? HOW?” You just laugh it off, placing one hand on Ethan’s cheek. “Thank you, baby. But you’re beautiful too. People may call you hot or handsome, but you’re truly beautiful, inside and outside. I love you, Ethan.” “I love you too, Val.” Your lips met in a soft, lovely kiss, different to your normal making outs. Usually, the couple would fight over dominance, this time there wasn’t any dominance at all, just sweet love.

You kissed for what seems like hours, exploring your bodies and showing love to each other. You were on top of Ethan, kissing his jawline, pressing sweet little kisses onto his Adam’s apple down to his rising chest. “You smell so good, E. Like cookies, sugar and yourself.”, You mutter as you softly lick over his lightly sweaty chest. Ethan couldn’t hide that quiet moan that leaves his skin as soon as your tongue reached out for his nipple.

Your lips wander down his toned chest and the slightly hairy trail down to his boxers, leaving a few love bites here and there – the lovely making out session quickly turning into what you usually do. “Baby, no teasing, please.” Ethan grabs a fistful of your hair, while looking down into your sparkling, yet red and hooded eyes. Just as you bite the skin beneath his belly button, he throws his head back with a deep growl. “I feel like I’m in the sky, babe.”

You just laugh while making your way downwards, licking and kissing his thick thighs, lightly scratching the skin with her nails. “I love your thighs, E.” “And I love your wet little pussy on them, Y/N. But first of all, I want this pretty mouth of yours”, you know how much Ethan loves blowjobs, he seems to enjoy them as much as sex and you enjoy them too – having all this power over Ethan, making him squirm and shiver under your touch while hearing him moan your name is what makes you so needy for his cock. But as much as you likes him in your mouth, you’re such a sucker for teasing, slowly bringing his blood to a boil while Ethan gets almost angry at you. Just as you begins to kitten lick his shaft while slowly massaging his balls, he grabs your cheeks and makes you look at him. “What did I tell you, Y/N? No. Fucking. Teasing”, with that, he shoves you back down right onto his dick, listening to your gagging sounds while grinning. “That’s my girl, c’mon”, he lays back down but keeps looking at you swallowing his penis like a goddess. His groans turn into moans, sweat drips down his forehead and he feels like all his muscles were getting sore from tensing them. You look up to him here and there, but keep focused on what’s in your mouth, trying to reach every inch of skin, tasting whatever he was giving you. “’m close, princess. Now gimme a taste of your pretty little flower down there”, Ethan rolls both of you, giving the love of his live a quick peck before laying between your legs, not hesitating in diving right in. He kisses your folds, nibbling on the sensitive skin and uses his long fingers to collect your juices before sucking the sweetness off them. Your fingers run through his soft hair, grabbing a few locks to tug on. Yet another growl leaves his throat before he softly bites into the most sensitive spot. His name leaves your lips more than once, while he keeps teasing you here and there, not really trying to build up an orgasm, more like giving you as much please as possible without you being worn out afterwards. “E, please. Let me cum”, you keep pressing your pussy onto his face, wanting more than what he was currently giving you. “Let me come or start fucking me, but you can’t keep doing this with me, please”, you whine, trying to get anything from him. “You wanna cum, babe? C’mon, use me. Make yourself come. Grind down onto my face, beautiful. I know how much you love that”, he holds out his tongue, nuzzles his nose into you and lets you do whatever you desire. “My god, E, you’re killing me”, you grab another fistful of his silky hair, just to press him right into your folds, almost slamming onto his pretty face, spreading your juices all over him – what a joy to kiss him later – as you feel the orgasm build up. “Yes, E. Keep your tongue there, babe.” You close your eyes, practically seeing stars dancing around, while bringing yourself to an end just as Ethan inserts two of his fingers into you.

You glare down at him, wanting to punch the smirk off his face. “That was rude, E. I hope you’ll fuck me good. Otherwise I’ll have Gray to do so”, you flip over, kneeling on all fours in front of him, slowly wiggling your ass. “C’mon, E. Show me what you’ve got.” Ethan didn’t know what to say at this point, he was getting kinda angry, but you being so commanding was a huge turn on. The weed in his system makes him think way slower, he didn’t want it to be over yet, he wanted to fuck you long and good, trying out every position and place he could. Otherwise, his dick was throbbing, and he knew he couldn’t handle it much longer, not with the view of this perfectly round ass in front of his face. He gives them a quick slap, watching the cheeks jiggle in front of him before directly pushing into you. “Never even think about Grayson while you’re in bed with me, Y/N. You know that. There’s no comparison between us when it comes to sex”, his thrusts get deeper and faster, his entire body was on fire, he was light headed and as soon as he closed his eyes, he felt everything to much more intense.

You on the other hand were about to come again the second he entered you. He was pounding into you without mercy, sending you straight to cloud 9. You couldn’t think about anything else besides his large hands on your hips, his thick cock entering you again and again and his growls next to your ear, making you wish the moment could last forever. You felt the infamous knot in your stomach before grabbing one of his hands for support. “Let go, angel. I’ll be there soon”, he coos in your ear while speeding up. “Fuck, E!”, you let out a high-pitched moan before almost collapsing in his touch. Ethan releases right after you, pressing feather-like kisses onto you back, while massaging the tender skin. “I think we should get high more often, Y/N.” His angel laughs, before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “But first, we need more cookies.”

[chroniclackofselfpreservation]

Creatures of the Night

Chapter 38 - something keeps trying but i'm not killed yet

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AO3

Masterlist

(TW: graphic depictions of violence, blood/gore, panic, minor character death, malnutrition, self-sacrifice mentality)

(The title of the chapter comes from “Psalm 150” by Jericho Brown)

A/N: IMPORTANT INFO! PLEASE READ!

Hey, guys. Sorry for such a long wait for this chapter. Crazy how it took getting COVID for me to finally get my crap together and write this. I’m still not completely satisfied with how it turned out, but I didn’t want to keep you guys waiting.

I’ll be posting a new work to my COTN extras series right after this chapter drops with a bunch of new worldbuilidng stuff (for all you nerds out there, like me). Included is a map of the Witchlands. Due to changes in the city’s layout, I’ve gone back and changed the descriptions of the city in past chapters (specifically, section 3 of “heirlooms from sea funerals”, and section 3 of “make it make sense to make it better”) but nothing plot-altering. So you aren’t confused with this new chapter, basically: there are trains on bridges throughout the city now.

(also also: I won't be making these changes on the past tumblr posts, so if you want to read the updated versions, follow the AO3 link)

Two weeks later...

Roman slipped inside the blessedly cool interior of a tailor’s shop and leaned against the wall, wiping his face. Each day in the Witchlands was as hot as the last, like the dead of summer back in Wakeby, but far more humid. Thankfully, he was in the East Market, an organized, well-to-do grid of sixteen square blocks just south of the Djel Triba where the arcane district’s newest trinkets often made their first stop before the mass market. The source of the cool air was a thin wooden ring set up on a stand in the corner. Roman stepped up to it, sighing as a stream of cold air washed over him. Carved on the inside were four lines of alchemy, equally spaced apart around the ring. Roman couldn’t decipher it, aside from a few letters and numbers he recognized.

“You know, if I wanted my shop to smell like sweat, I’d invite the Wall Guard in here,” a voice said, and Roman turned. A man in all black stood behind him wearing a very stylish black scarf and circular glasses tinted a few shades darker, arms folded across his chest. It was the closest thing Roman had seen to normal sunglasses since arriving in the Witchlands. The tailor looked Roman and his gray uniform up and down, pausing on the gold insignia on his left shoulder.

“Working for Val, huh?”

He shrugged. “Community service, actually.” Roman riffled around in his satchel for a moment. “I’ve got a letter from the Chief Judge to… Rait?” he said, reading the name next to the address.

The tailor cocked an eyebrow. “You got a problem with my name, messenger boy? I’ll have you know it’s a family name going back ten generations.”

Unsure how to respond, Roman held out the letter. Rait plucked it from his hand and, unsheathing a pair of ornate metal scissors, sliced the envelope open. Roman waited politely, as was his duty, in case the recipient wished to send an immediate reply.

“These are all the same,” Rait muttered as he slipped a folded piece of parchment from the envelope. “Thanks, Rait, for designing me world-class outfits, even though I refuse to wear anything but that scaly suit of…” he trailed off. His face drained of both humor and blood as he scanned the letter’s contents. Roman’s interest piqued. Indeed, most of the mail he delivered for the Chief Judge consisted of complimentary thank-you notes to government officials or business owners. Only the truly sycophantic took time to send anything back.

Rait took a steadying breath, his expression carefully neutral. His quick glance at Roman’s hand, however, betrayed at least part of what he’d read.

It was about Roman.

Valerie had agreed that adding gloves to his uniform would keep him from getting mobbed in the streets by curious—or in some cases, pious—witches, though the ones he wore now were fingerless. Roman still wasn’t completely sure what his position as the Last Heir entailed, and Valerie only answered him with vaguery. Some thought he was destined to overthrow the Djel Triba and become a monarch. Some revered the old Witch Queen herself as a lower deity or handmaiden of Kaia, and considered him a sort of demigod. Roman tried to avoid these witches as much as possible. They tended to get weepy and try to grab his hands or arms. One man even started singing in the middle of the street. Thankfully, Roman had dashed off before too many people took notice.

Regardless, it seemed gloves would only hide his identity a short while longer. Rumors were spreading.

“Right. Well, um,” Rait said, pocketing the letter and composing himself. “I won’t be needing to send a physical reply, if you wouldn’t mind telling her my answer is yes.”

“Of course. Kaia cas de,” he said, giving a slight bow alongside the traditional farewell Valerie had taught him before he’d started his job. Kaia with you, it translated.

“O de,” Rait replied automatically, lost in thought.

Roman turned to leave.

“Hey,” Rait called, and Roman stopped with the door half open. The tailor fished around in his pocket, then tossed him two silver shils. Roman caught them and tried not to gape.

“I… I’m not supposed to get paid,” he said. “It’s kind of the point of community service.”

“Just get yourself something to eat, kid, witchgods,” Rait snapped, looking supremely uncomfortable at being openly kind. “You look like you’ll blow over in a stiff breeze. And don’t mention this to Val. She’ll never let me hear the end of it… because it goes against your sentence. Obviously.”

“Right,” Roman said slowly. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rait muttered and disappeared into the back of the store.

Roman stepped out onto the street, a little stunned, pocketing his new wealth. He had seen little aside from gold shils, the lowest currency, since Valerie had sent Virgil and him clothes shopping when they’d first arrived. Roman looked down at himself. Sure, he’d lost some weight since being here, but he wasn’t sickly… right? It was probably from running all over the Capital six hours a day. Nevermind that the only meal he got was at the end of the night at Goldfire. Valerie hadn’t said anything about it, and Roman wasn’t about to. She was a busy person. He doubted she was deliberately leaving him destitute. Besides, he was getting by just fine.

Unfortunately, being “just fine” rarely kept his stomach from growling. On any other day, Roman would have snagged himself some nonperishable food to keep a stash of. Today, however, the small fortune would have to go to clearing a debt that had been looming over him ever since he’d taken it out to buy that muhlte—another gamble he’d had to take to make ends meet with no income coming from his messenger work, and the reason Virgil had insisted on taking up a job of his own as a clerk for that same clothing shop they’d visited on their first day in the Witchlands. He was just thankful he was a quick learner. Amaryllis taught him to play well enough to serve as nightly entertainment for Bodbyn’s patrons and earn himself dinner each night, as well as continued boarding once their two-week window from Valerie’s favor ran out.

Roman kept a hand in his pocket, fingers tight around the two silver shils, and glanced at his satchel. He had a handful of letters left to deliver. Thumbing through them, Roman found their destinations were around the south end of the West Market—a sprawling market district nestled inside the ruins of walls from when the Witch Queen had still been around, and the Capital had been a much smaller kingdom. If Roman hurried, he could finish his deliveries and run an errand of his own before reporting back to Valerie.

Content with his plan, Roman buckled his satchel closed and jogged to the nearest boarding station.

* * * * * * * * * *

The trains were, oddly, made of pale stone, rather than the hulking metal locomotives Roman was used to. Here, people called them railcars. There weren’t any seats either. Bars lined the ceiling—and the walls for those too short to reach—as handholds while the machine moved. There was a gap in the handles, forming a kind of aisle between people so passengers could exit more freely at stops, but otherwise, they all crowded together.

Roman stood near the exit alongside three other similarly gray-uniformed messengers in their designated seating area, one arm above his head as he gripped the support. Thankfully, messengers were exempt from rail fees, which meant there was one less thing he had to worry about paying for. The patches on their shoulders indicated which judge or noble family they ran for, though Roman was still having trouble memorizing them all. He glanced at the messenger to his right, who was about his age. The gold insignia on her left shoulder depicted an open book with a pen and a chisel crossed above it. She noticed him looking and gave an awkward smile.

“Sorry,” Roman said. “I’m still trying to learn all the crests. That’s Oberon, right?”

“Oh! Yeah, it is,” she replied, brightening. “Who’re you running for?”

For a moment, Roman considered lying. Too much of any kind of attention was precarious, for him especially. Unfortunately, the patch on his shoulder would reveal the truth no matter what. “The Chief Judge,” he admitted.

The messenger’s eyes widened. “Really? I thought—well, no offense, but I’ve heard she only lets the most powerful witches run for her because of all that classified information… and you’re so young!”

Roman fought a blush. “It’s really not that big of a deal. Just thank-you notes and—”

“You never know, Maize” one messenger from behind said, leaning forward between them, “he could be a warlock. I hear they’re allowed de-aging spells.”

“Whatever, Fentril,” Maize said, rolling her eyes. “I’m pretty sure those spells are illegal, even for warlocks.”

“You guys all know each other?” Roman asked, glancing behind him. There were six other messengers on the train. All eyed him with curiosity.

Fentril snorted. “Do you know how many runners there are in the Capital? Hundreds.”

“More like thousands, Fen,” one of the runners from behind them corrected.

“We know most runners from our own patronage,” Maize explained. “Maybe a few here and there that we see on the same routes,” she said, glaring pointedly at Fentril. “How long have you been running? I haven’t seen you around before.”

“I’ve seen him,” a different runner from the back piped up before Roman could respond. He turned. It was a tall woman, taller than him, with thick braided hair done up in a top knot. She leaned on the side of the car, almost sitting against it. Roman was sure if she stood, she’d have to hunch over. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed her before. The crest on her shoulder depicted two hands grasping overlaying a star of Kaia. The crest of Alecto, that daunting, all-white witch from the trial.

“Runs the noble neighborhoods and both markets. Pretty easy to recognize, wearing those strange gloves all the time,” she said, eyeing him. Roman’s chest seized, and it took everything in him not to hide his hands and make his secret even more obvious.

“Hey, a witch’s entitled their secrets, Hava,” Fen said, then stage whispered to Roman, “Don’t let her freak you out, kid.”

Roman cocked an eyebrow at the nickname, given Fen didn’t look that much older than him, but didn’t argue the point. Blessedly, before they could ask more questions about his gloves, the train arrived at his stop. He waved a tentative goodbye to his new acquaintances, muttering a quick, “Kaia cas des.”

“O de,” Maize and Fen said. A handful of runners exited the railcar alongside him, including Hava, who had to duck through the doorway. Standing to her full height, the woman looked at least seven feet tall, towering above the crowd. The boarding station was a fully roofed building encasing a section of the railway, arching up over the passing trains and letting down to the ground through an enormous spiral staircase inside the leg of the railbridge’s arch. There were alchemy-based elevators within the core pillar of the massive stairway, but those were reserved for emergencies.

Hava gave him a sort of salute—touching the side of her fist to her lips—and bounded down the stairs, out of sight. Roman had run up and down so many boarding stations in only the first two weeks of him being here, he couldn’t imagine how many the other runners had. He broke out into a jog, spacing his stride so three paces landed on each of the wide steps, careful not to trip. Runners like him kept to the inside of the stairway, making tighter turns, but traveling less distance overall. The crowd of ascending and descending witches recognized their uniforms and knew to keep out of the way.

In all his time here, he only seen other messengers stop running when they were on a train or at someone’s doorstep. Roman wasn’t about to look lazy in comparison. Besides, he quite enjoyed the running—now that he’d started acclimating, of course. The first few days, he’d nearly vomited.

By the time he reached the exit at the bottom, Hava and the other runners were long gone. Compared to the East Market, the West Market was a bubbling stewpot of taverns, merchants, shops, and the occasional street performer. The crowded streets made random, illogical turns, and most witches he asked for directions simply said he’d get used to it eventually, and gave him landmarks to look for instead of street names. Checking the last few addresses once more, Roman had a general idea of where to find their recipients.

Eyeing the setting sun, Roman ran down the street.

* * * * * * * * * *

The sun had long since dipped below the city walls, the sunset giving way to twilight. Roman strode through the still-crowded West Market, enjoying the cooler air. Nightlife in the West Market lasted well into the night, and the streets would likely be full for the next three or four hours. He’d finished his deliveries at last, wending his way along the ancient stone wall bordering the south end of the market. Normally, Roman’s assignments never took him this close to the noke slums—where the badge on his shoulder was more a target than mere identification—but it was a risk Roman would have to take.

My shift’s over. I’ll be heading back to Goldfire soon, Virgil said suddenly within his mind. Roman nearly jumped out of his skin, garnering a few odd looks from passersby.

Jeez, Virge, he thought back, slowing his breathing. Scare me half to death, why don’t you.

Sorry. I keep forgetting you aren’t used to it.

It’s fine. If you see Bodbyn, tell her I’m running late.

A hint of trepidation shot through their connection. Did something happen?

No, Roman assured him. I ran into some extra shils and thought I’d clear my ledger sooner than later.

Alright. Just be careful.

Always.

Their connection faded, though not completely. If he focused, Roman could sense Virgil’s emotions. Speaking through the bond had taken Roman a good few days to get the hang of, and it still wasn’t as natural for him as it was for Virgil.

Amaryllis spent most of her time at Goldfire. After one day cooped up in their room, she’d ventured out while the two of them were gone and somehow made friends with Bodbyn, the owner. Though unexpected, the friendship certainly helped smooth things over with them not technically paying for the room and all.

Roman passed a shop selling pigment pipes as contracted brownies scampered down the street, activating the alchemical streetlights as they went. Through the store’s front window, Roman could see clouds of multicolored vapor swirling near the ceiling. A patron exited and Roman could smell sharp spices and cinnamon as the man exhaled a deep purple mist through his nose. Roman held his breath as he passed. He wasn’t sure if someone could absorb the effects secondhand, but he wasn’t keen on finding out.

Turning a corner, Roman moved away from the well-lit streets and into the shadows. Climbing a set of questionable wooden stairs on the side of a rundown tavern, he approached a lone door on the second floor and knocked.

Nothing.

Roman knocked again, cursing his luck. Had he gone all this way for nothing? Trying the handle, he found it unlocked and slowly opened the door. It stopped after a few inches, as if blocked by something. Roman pushed harder, hearing something heavy scraping against the floor as the door gradually opened wider. He peeked his head in to see an enormous iron hammer hurtling at his face. Roman lurched backward, saving his skull by a hair’s breadth.

“Oh, it’s just you,” a cheerful voice said from inside. Roman put a hand to his chest, trying to calm himself, as two slender hands appeared from behind the door and pried the long-handled hammer out of the hole it had smashed in the wall.

Linda poked her head out and grinned at him. “Come on in, Roman.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Logan puffed as he ran down the sandy beach, watching the morning sky lighten out of the corner of his eye. His shoulders and back ached from hauling water down to camp—an early morning exercise Mikhail had integrated into his training—though the pain wasn’t as debilitating as it had been during the first few days. It wasn’t getting easier, per se, but rather Logan was simply growing used to the physical discomfort.

Mikhail jogged next to him, not even slightly out of breath. Both the water hauling and the running were methods, according to Mikhail, of increasing Logan’s stamina and endurance. Logan didn’t know the exact distance they ran around the island’s perimeter, but it was easily upwards of ten miles. They ran barefoot, as the homemade sandals weren’t robust enough to handle such treatment. It wasn’t much of an issue, though. They simply had to skirt around the rocky portions near Eudora’s cave.

Logan’s breath had steadily grown harder, and he began wheezing as they approached the driftwood log that marked the halfway point. Mikhail put a hand on his shoulder and slowed to a stop, holding out the canteen before he could complain.

“It’s not about speed, Logan.”

He fixed Mikhail with a look, taking the canteen from him. “Says the man who could run this three times over in under an hour.”

“We both know I’m no mere man,” he chuckled.

Logan took a swallow of water and handed the jug back, fighting to calm his breathing so they could start again. Running got ten times more miserable once the sun rose and began heating the sand. Despite his fatigue, he noticed Mikhail’s eyes glaze over a bit, a reaction that had been imperceptible to Logan at first. He was speaking with the abomination.

Mikhail blinked, eyes refocusing. “Once you can run the entire way without stopping, we’ll move on, I think,” he said. “Hopefully, by then, we could spar a few rounds before you’re tired out. Have you thought over what I asked yesterday?”

“Yes. Though, I’d like your honest opinion as someone far more experienced in this field.”

“Alright.”

“Assuming the battery theory works,” he began, “I’m fairly confident in predicting our escape from the island occurring within the next month or two. Of course, this is a best-case scenario, but I’d rather be ready sooner than caught under-prepared.”

Mikhail gave a nod, though his expression hardened. None of them enjoyed bringing up the escape, as if they still didn’t quite believe him. Patton was the one exception.

“I figure any martial discipline will take a significant amount of time to become proficient in, let alone master, and due to my lack of magical abilities, I believe it would be more practical for me to learn the use of some kind of long distance weapon, magical or otherwise.”

“I agree,” Mikhail said. “A bow, then?”

“Exactly.”

“I do have experience with archery,” he admitted, rubbing his beard. “You’re planning to use this weapon against the dragon witch, though. Arrows won’t do much to someone like that. What’s stopping her from forcing the bow away from you?”

Logan grinned. “I thought of that. When Jorryn located iron deposits for the batteries, we didn’t have Eudora extract all of it, right? There could be enough to forge a bow.”

“An iron bow? Doesn’t sound very practical. It would be extremely heavy, not to mention you’d need a bowstring that could handle that much tension.”

“That’s where alchemy comes in. I need iron for its antimagic properties, not its hardness or weight. I’ll have to ask Killian about the specifics, but assuming we could counteract the weight and rigidity of the iron, it could work.”

“And the arrows? They could easily be diverted with magic.”

“Same principle as the bow, hypothetically,” Logan shrugged. “We’ll know more once we make them and can run tests.”

Mikhail eyed him. “You really thought this out, huh?”

“We’re already building the forge to cast the battery casings,” he said. “And Killian was a blacksmith before becoming a carpenter, so he should be able to help us. It…” Logan noticed the sun peeking over the watery horizon. “I spoke too much,” he said, shifting on his feet. “We should probably get going.”

“No, let’s head back to camp. We can cut through the middle. I want to hear more of this idea of yours, te’kundi,” Mikhail said, smiling.

“What?”

“It’s witchtongue. A title we give to those smarter than ourselves.”

Logan flushed, following him into the trees. “I really don’t think—”

“Take the compliment, te’kundi,” Mikhail chuckled, slapping him on the back. “We’ve got work to do.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Linda held the two silver shils between her fingers, lifting them up and admiring them like a jeweler, letting out a low whistle. She leaned precariously in a chair, feet propped up on her desk. Her infamous iron hammer lay across her desk. Its thick square head tapered down to a wickedly sharp point at the other end, the handle about the length of Roman’s arm. Iron weapons were expensive and Roman rarely saw one outside of the iron-spear-wielding Court Guard, but they were some of the most effective weapons against witches. For a non-magical witch like Linda, it was the main reason she kept her more powerful clients under her thumb.

“Well, you were right. That’ll just about do it for your loan,” she said with a sigh, tossing the coins up and catching them in a fist. Linda eyed him with a grin. “Sure you don’t want to borrow some more?”

“Not at the moment. I’ll be sure to call on you again should the need arise,” he said with a bow and flourish.

Linda’s grin split, showing her teeth, and she sat up. “That uniform’s taught you manners, I see. Shame to see you go. You’re one of my best behaved clients,” she pouted, glancing around her office. It was a wreck—like someone had tried to rob her. Or kill her. The heavy object blocking the door had been a chest made of dark wood with brass fittings. Framed maps lay shattered on the floor, drawers hung at odd angles from dressers as if someone had yanked them open, and Roman was pretty sure that was blood spatter in the corner, though Linda didn’t look injured.

“Thank you, Linda. Kaia cas de,” he said sincerely, ready to put as much distance between him and this woman as possible. She was nice, yes. But something in that smile told him if he didn’t part ways with her now, he never would.

Linda’s face softened, but before she could so much as utter a reply, the door slammed open and three people rushed into the room. Roman whirled, only to get tackled to the floor by a short, burly man. Linda leaped atop her desk, swinging her iron hammer at one of the two, cracking the woman in the head with the flat end. The other hesitated.

A fist met Roman’s face. He saw stars as the man pinned him to the floor with surprising efficiency, clamping a grimy hand over his mouth.

“You just be nice and compliant,” he sneered. “Don’t try anything, and we might let you live.”

“You killed her!” the man left standing screamed, kneeling by the one Linda had struck. He was leaner than his companion, with a purplish birthmark across his face. He reached out to the bleeding, unconscious woman with trembling, hesitant hands.

“You’re both trying to kill me, Dossen,” Linda said, rolling her eyes. “It’s basic self defence. Now, I’d thank you to leave and tell whoever sent you to come themselves next time.”

Roman’s mind raced, trying to orient himself. The right side of his face throbbed, and the man’s fingernails dug into his cheek, keeping him from opening his mouth. They don’t know if I’m non-magical or not, he figured in the back of his mind. He’s keeping me from using witchtongue. Not that he would have used it, anyway. He’d only started learning more witchtongue from Amaryllis a week ago. Roman didn’t trust himself not to overdo it again if things got ugly.

“You know that isn’t how Kildev works,” Dossen sneered, retreating from his friend’s limp form and unsheathing two curved knives.

Linda’s flippancy wavered. “Kildev? Since when do you work for him?”

Dossen shrugged. “Since he pays more.”

Roman? Virgil’s voice filled his mind. What’s wrong? Where are you?

Linda’s. The man squeezed Roman’s arms to his sides with his legs. Roman’s breath picked up through his nose even as he fought for calm. He couldn’t afford to make a scene here. He just had to wait it out and hope, for their sakes, they didn’t attack him.

Roman felt scales. He shivered, cringing.

“Vero Kaia,” swore the one holding him down. “He’s one of the Chief’s runners.”

Dossen backed toward where Roman lay pinned, not taking his eyes off Linda or her hammer. “Looks like I’ve got a hostage, and a pricey one at that.” He pointed one of the knives at Roman.

“Leave him out of this.”

“Drop the hammer.”

Roman, I’m coming. I’m coming. Hold on.

Linda charged, and Dossen yelped, clearly expecting her to have hesitated with his new leverage. Against a hammer, his close-range knives were practically useless unless he threw them. And he did. Linda barely dodged the one soaring at her face, though it scored a nasty gash from her cheek to her ear.

The other sank hilt deep into Roman’s thigh. One last-ditch effort to pull the hostage card.

Roman!

The sudden pain tore through any semblance of control he had. Roman’s ears began to ring. The man atop him gasped and yanked his hand back, like he’d touched a hot stovetop. Roman surged upward, toppling the man backward. He pressed a hand against the man’s chest. Through the haze of pain, every defensive spell Amaryllis had taught him since they’d arrived fled his mind, and he growled the first thing he could think of.

“Baesta.”

A deafening crack split the air as the wooden floor beneath them buckled inward. Roman lurched forward, his hand slipping through the gaping hole in the man’s chest. He was dead instantly. Blood ran from his nose and eyes, like he’d imploded from the inside. Dossen was nowhere to be seen. Linda stood with her hammer held limply at her side.

“Mother of magic,” she breathed, staring at the horrendous sight. Roman pulled back, hand covered in gore. His glove was gone. Torn apart. What was the word for healing again? He couldn’t think straight. He was too tired and hungry.

Something shot through his connection to Virgil. A sudden, far away surge of power. Roman, what’s going on? Please, talk to me. I’m almost there.

Roman was somehow numb and barely holding it together at the same time. He couldn’t meet Linda’s eye as he extracted himself from the bloody corpse. “Isumani,” he whispered. Heal everything. Just make it all normal again.

Magic burst out of him, filling the room. The floor creaked and shuddered beneath them as it knit itself back together. Blood flowed back into the man’s body, the hole Roman had punched through him slowly healing. His own leg sewed itself shut, the knife clattering to the floor.

And it didn’t stop there.

The room began righting itself, shattered glass coming back together, frames rehanging themselves. Linda gave a surprised gasp as the gash on her face closed without leaving a trace.

The woman Linda had bashed in the head shuddered and stumbled to her feet, wound still healing. She took one look around the room and fled. Linda did nothing to stop her, staring in astonishment at the scene unfolding before her.

The man beneath Roman gasped back to life. He scrambled away, shoving Roman away. The stranger was too shocked to scream, but his eyes were full of fear. Roman let him leave, squeezing his eyes shut against the fresh memories of what he’d done. All the healing magic in the world couldn’t fix the lingering feeling of blood on his hands. The fear in their eyes.

I’m supposed to be their savior, he thought numbly.

“Roman. You can stop now,” Linda said, sounding like she was trying very hard to remain calm. Confused, he cracked his blurry eyes open to see leafy branches sprouting from the floorboards and poking through the paint on the walls. Healing magic still flowed through him like an open faucet. Strange golden light dappled the room, flickering across Linda’s face as she stared at him.

He looked down at his hands and yelped in surprise. Amber splotches of light moved across his skin like air bubbles underwater. Roman’s pulse thundered in his ears as he tried to brush the light off of him, but it just felt like his skin. The moving patches were warm and sent tingles up his fingers when he touched them. Was this some kind of magic sickness? The idea sent a stab of panic through him. He couldn’t handle one more thing to worry about. Running for Valerie, and performing for Bodbyn, and learning from Amaryllis, and keeping his identity secret, and saving all his friends, and defeating Ursula.

He was so tired.

A monstrous thud shook the roof, and Linda swore. The building creaked under a mysterious weight that moved down toward the door. Of course, Roman thought half-hysterically, grabbing his head. One more magical beast I’ve got to defeat.

An enormous feline head poked through the doorway—now nothing more than an archway of curved branches. Roman, Virgil asked, blinking amber eyes the size of dinner plates at him. Are you hurt?

Roman couldn’t form a coherent reply—vocal or mental. The branches grew thicker and longer, a multi-armed helix of trees reformed from planks of wood, a crown of greenery blossoming high above them. It all sprouted from where Roman knelt. The trees responded to his thoughts, and at that moment, there wasn’t anything Roman wanted more than for Virgil to be close to him. The opening widened, and Virgil padded past a dumbfounded Linda. Leaves sprouted from the handle of her hammer.

It’s okay, Roman. I’m here. You’re safe now. Virgil curled up around him. Roman clung to his fur, trembling.

“What’s happening to me?” he breathed, looking at the strange light taking over his body.

Your core’s showing. It’s totally normal, Roman. All witches have them. I’m in my core form right now, and I’m not too scary, right? he replied, a thunderous purr rumbling through him. Take some deep breaths for me, yeah? Everything’s going to be all right.

Roman took a shaky breath, burying his face in Virgil’s fur. He could feel Virgil’s underlying fear and worry, kept carefully in control so it didn’t freak Roman out more. It was nice, however, not having to be the mentally strong one this time.

“I can’t do it,” he whimpered.

Can’t do what?

“Everything.”

You’re right—and you shouldn’t have to. I keep forgetting that none of this is normal for you. I’m sorry. We’ll talk to Valerie and figure something else out, okay? Trust me.

Roman, finally, relaxed. The lights across his skin faded away, and the trees around them stopped growing. His stomach growled petulantly, and Virgil’s ears perked up.

Have you eaten, yet?

Roman shook his head, exhausted. He just wanted to sleep.

Roman, you need to eat something. Can you climb onto my back?

He swallowed back a sigh and clambered up onto Virgil’s back, grabbing loose fists of his thick fur to keep himself from falling off. Virgil stood and padded to the exit.

“Sorry about all of this,” he said as they passed Linda.

Having recovered from her initial shock, she just laughed. “Are you kidding? This’ll be great for my new business!” she said, gesturing to the massive tree around her. “Now I just have to figure out what that business will be…”

“Right,” Roman chuckled weakly, feeling scraped hollow. “Good luck, Linda.”

She gave him a nod, already surveying the interior, muttering to herself. Roman turned his attention to the street below and his heart sank.

A crowd had formed around the tree. People pointed up at them, most shouting in excitement and wonder, though a thick-armed tavern keep standing atop a root as thick as his own torso looked particularly upset about the impromptu redesign of his shop. What made him the most nervous were the undeniable mutterings of “heir of prophecy” he could hear even from this distance.

You going to be okay?

Roman took a deep breath. “I certainly hope so.”

The climb down wasn’t easy, and Roman had to cling to Virgil’s back to keep from falling as they scrambled down the trunk. People backed away, clearing a spot for Virgil to drop the rest of the way to the ground, landing nimbly without jostling Roman too much.

He craned his head back and marveled at his towering creation. “At least it’s pretty,” he muttered. The experience sure hadn’t been.

A deep growl from Virgil snapped his attention back to the crowd, who had inched closer, curious.

“Stay back,” he warned, voice gravely and inhuman—similar to Dorian’s. Roman hadn’t heard him speak like this since their fiasco in the basement with Remus. It was comforting and unsettling at the same time. Thankfully, the crowd didn’t push their luck, remaining where they were.

“Is it true?” a voice from the sea of faces called. “You’re the Last Heir of prophecy?”

“He’s too young,” another retorted.

Roman swallowed, his throat dry. “Um…”

“No, no, look at his hand!”

“The Star of Kaia!”

“I want to know who’s paying for damages,” the tavern keeper said, arms folded.

“Quiet!” Virgil said, fur bristling. Everyone’s eyes went wide, mouths shutting. “The Heir has arrived, and he is very tired. So help me, if any of you disturb him, you’ll be taking your questions up with Kaia herself in the afterworld. Am I understood?”

Most either nodded or looked away, terrified. Resigned as he was, Roman couldn’t help but feel for them. They were just curious. He doubted they meant any harm.

“I’m sorry,” he said, raising his voice so hopefully they could all hear him, “for any damage I’ve caused.”

“Sorry won’t fix my ruined business!” the tavern keeper shouted. Several witches shot him dirty looks. One even elbowed him and muttered something. “What?” he said, rounding on them. “I’m just supposed to grovel at his feet cause he ruined my livelihood in a flashy way?”

Roman was so tired he wasn’t sure if he would start laughing or burst into tears. He didn’t know what to do. He was this supernatural hero who could grow mystical trees without a second thought, but couldn’t for the life of him fix what he’d screwed up.

Virgil let out a low, warning noise, and the man paled.

“Oh, stop your whining, Galphin!” Linda shouted down from the tree hollow, brandishing her leafy hammer. “Cut out a new door, or something. This witch just made your tavern the hotspot of the Capital and you’re crying like a Brownie over tarnished silver. Get over yourself.”

Galphin spluttered, face flushing red. A few in the crowd let out soft laughter. “You’ve got no right—”

“In fact!” Linda said, that same grin spreading across her face. “I’m the reason Golden Boy was even here to begin with, so looks like you owe me for the renovation.”

“Owe you? This is ridiculous. I let you run your shady little business above my tavern, noke!”

Linda laughed. “Oh, please, don’t you know the best way to get what you want is to let the other person think they’re making the deal? Now, there’s going to be a steady interest on the property tax I’m issuing, so I suggest you get to work before I call the Guard for substantial debts taken without intent to pay.” She shot Roman a look and winked.

Roman nodded his thanks, patting Virgil on the shoulder. The familiar started away from the tree, the crowd silently parting around them. He noticed a few cheeks wet with tears, and Roman desperately hoped no one broke out into some kind of religious preaching. Thankfully, they all kept a respectful distance. Roman did his best to sit up straight, despite wanting to pass out, and even managed a weak smile.

An adolescent, perhaps fourteen, reached a tentative hand out, brushing Virgil’s leg with their fingertips as they passed. Virgil looked down at them, and they instantly retracted their hand.

Be nice, Roman admonished, scratching his fingers through the fur between Virgil’s shoulders.

I am being nice, he said, tail flicking. We can be a parade attraction some other time, though.

Agreed.

It was a long walk from Linda’s place to Valerie’s estate. Nearly across the entire city. Roman couldn’t guess the distance, but figured at the pace they were going, it’d be at least an hour before they arrived. Thankfully, it was late enough now that the streets were somewhat empty. Roman couldn’t imagine having to make this trek in the middle of a bustling market. While the crowd that had formed around the tree incident had indeed remained respectful and quiet, Virgil’s threats hadn’t kept them from trailing behind as they made their way through the city.

The ride wasn’t very comfortable either, despite the softness of Virgil’s fur. Felines weren’t exactly meant to ferry around passengers, no matter their size. The bumps of Virgil’s spine pressed uncomfortably against him, and despite the fact that he’d removed his messenger’s jacket and bundled it up into a makeshift cushion, Roman was sure he’d be regretting it in the morning with bruises in unsavory places.

Still, he silently enjoyed the distance it put between him and the people, and despite the aches, the gentle swaying motion as Virgil walked lulled him into a kind of half-awake daze.

You should try sleeping, Ro. It’ll be a while before we arrive, Virgil said, glancing over his shoulder at him.

Yeah, he said absently, but made no move to lay down. This form isn’t… hard for you to keep up, is it?

Witchgods, Roman, just let me take care of you, he laughed, exasperated. After a moment, however, he conceded, explaining, I could stay like this as long as I wanted. It’s the transformation itself that takes magical energy.

Right, Roman said. How’s it going with Amaryllis and your talisman? They worked on Virgil using his powers without the talisman while Roman was busy playing muhlte for patrons at Goldfire, so Roman rarely saw the training himself.

She says I’m making progress, he admitted after a pause.

Roman’s head bobbed as he struggled to stay awake. That’s good… I’m proud of you…

Virgil said nothing, plodding along at a steady, hypnotic pace. Roman slumped forward, which distributed his weight and relieved some of the pain from sitting up on Virgil’s back.

He let out a tired sigh, and, at last, let his mind slip into unconsciousness.

* * * * * * * * * *

Most of the crowd had dispersed when Virgil reached the edge of the West Market, the last few stragglers only trailing behind for a few minutes more as he followed the rail lines through the arcane district—the most direct path back to Valerie’s estate. The Djel Triba came into view, and Virgil felt a measure of relief. He’d kept his worries in check as well as he could manage, not wanting to wake Roman up. But walking alone through a potentially hostile city at night, despite his current size, was paranoia-inducing. The scuttle of various city-dwelling fae in the shadows kept him on edge.

We’ll be fine, Virgil, Amaryllis assured him for what felt like the hundredth time since they’d picked her up from Goldfire.

We don’t know how Valerie will react, he said. Some of the judges wanted to throw him in prison. What if what just happened convinces her they were right?

Something’s got to change, Virgil. Roman has to master these powers in three months, and we’ve only covered the basics of witchtongue in the past two weeks. I’m sure Valerie will understand.

What if she doesn’t?

What if she does? she countered. Virgil sighed, dropping the issue. Roman snored softly against his fur, completely asleep. He had to be careful not to shift his weight too much, or he’d risk Roman sliding off his back.

Passing the Djel Triba itself, they made their way down a long cobble drive that split off every half mile or so, sectioning off the different judge’s estates. Valerie’s was in the back, a stately building of skilled stone masonry with tall, well-lit windows. Not nearly as big as Virgil had anticipated.

The two guards stationed at the front door looked at each other, confused.

“You’re… the Heir’s familiar. Right?” one of them asked.

Virgil turned a bit, revealing the sleeping Roman. He didn’t like speaking aloud in this form unless he had to. Reminded him too much of Dorian.

The two guards stiffened.

“Is he injured?” the other asked, stepping forward.

No. Let us in, Virgil snapped in both of their minds. The two of them jumped, startled.

Amaryllis floated ahead of Virgil, shooting him a chastising look that he met with defiance. “He’s perfectly fine,” she amended. “Just asleep. However, we have some pressing matters to discuss with the Chief Judge, if you would be so kind as to escort us.”

These guards, thankfully, didn’t look at Amaryllis like she was the undead scum of the earth. One nodded to the other and led them inside. The doorway wasn’t quite big enough for Virgil, but he was agile enough to slink through without displacing his sleeping witch. They were handed off to one of the house staff, who bowed silently to them and guided them down the hall. The servant was a short woman—or, at least, she looked short from Virgil’s perspective. She kept shooting glances at Roman’s limp form. He followed her line of sight and found she was interested in the gold mark on Roman’s hand hanging over Virgil’s side.

So was everyone, it seemed.

Virgil kicked himself for not realizing how overtaxed Roman was getting earlier. They shared a mental link, for Witch Queen’s sake. He still wasn’t sure what exactly had happened at Linda’s. The echo of Roman’s pain he’d felt still haunted him. Whatever had occurred, Roman had erased with healing magic. Maybe once he was awake, Virgil could pry the story out of him.

They stopped outside another large pair of doors. The servant pressed a hand against a small panel in the wall inscribed with lines of alchemy, and it sunk inward about an inch. The massive doors swung open of their own accord, revealing a spacious, but noticeably empty, sitting room. The servant strode inside and squatted near a fireplace on the left side of the room. Muttering a soft, “Merint,” a fire burst to life from her fingertips.

She stood, facing them. “The Chief Judge is in her personal quarters at the moment. Please wait here while I inform her of your presence,” the woman said with another deep bow to both Virgil and Amaryllis before exiting.

Virgil ducked through the doorway, once again careful to keep Roman balanced across his back. Amaryllis trailed throughout the room, looking at the artwork on the walls. A row of tall windows lined the back wall, revealing a lush garden lit by amber lanterns. Virgil positioned himself between the sitting area and window, giving him a good view of the entire room—doors included. He slowly lowered onto his stomach, resting, but ready to get up and run if he had to.

Amaryllis looked over. “You know, he’d probably be more comfortable on one of the couches.”

He’s fine where he is.

She conceded with a shrug. Truth was, Virgil wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his anxiety in check if he didn’t have the comforting weight of his witch on his back, his soft puffs of breath across his fur, or the occasional shifting that reminded Virgil he was still alive and well.

His ears swiveled, picking up steady, clinking footsteps growing closer to the sitting room’s open doors. Valerie appeared in the doorway soon after, in her typical suit of scaled armor. Her smile disappeared when she saw Roman unconscious, and she stepped into the room.

“What happened?”

He’s just asleep.

She relaxed a bit, folding her arms. “While I’m glad to hear that, Virgil, it doesn’t answer my question.”

Virgil vacillated on how much to tell her. He still didn’t trust the woman, though he liked her more than the other judges. There was another incident. Similar to what happened with the Captain of the Guard when we arrived.

Valerie paled. “Is anyone injured?”

I don’t think so. I wasn’t with him when it happened, but if anything, he healed things a bit too much.

“What do you mean?”

I mean you’ve got a giant tree growing in the south end of the West Market, now.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” Amaryllis said. “I could see it from Goldfire.”

Valerie began pacing around the room. “As long as no one was injured… Wait, why weren’t you with him? Aren’t you two inseparable?”

Virgil’s tail whipped back and forth. That’s why we’re here. You realize you left us destitute, right?

She stopped, staring at him. “What? Did you not contact Bodbyn? She should have—”

She fulfilled her favor to you and let us use a room, but food was never a part of the deal. Virgil tensed, fighting to keep his anger in check in case he woke Roman. It wasn’t working very well. Roman wasn’t making any money from running for you, so he took out a loan to buy an instrument so he could work for one meal a day. I had to get a separate job just to help pay off his loan. That’s why I wasn’t with him.

“One meal a—why didn’t he tell me?” Valerie said, running a stressed hand through her hair. “I saw him every morning! I thought… I had no idea…”

He didn’t want to impose, Virgil sneered. And now, because he’s been so busy running all over the city for you, he’s wasted two weeks where he could have been learning to control his powers instead. You have no idea what’s at stake here.

Amaryllis came between them, holding out her hands. “That’s enough, Virgil. Valerie is aware of the situation now.” She turned to the Chief Judge. “We’ve come to rework the agreement. Roman needs time to study and practice using his powers, otherwise incidents are going to keep happening.”

“I agree. I’ll speak with the other judges. Hopefully, this won’t turn into another trial.” Valerie bowed her head in Virgil’s direction. “Regardless, I apologize for my ignorance, joka iskaia. It will not happen again.”

He nodded back to her, blinking slowly.

“I will have my staff prepare quarters for you immediately. You are welcome to the meals as they are served during the day—” she glanced at Roman—“but you may help yourself to our kitchen tonight, though the cook has retired for the evening. Myla, the woman who showed you here, will take you to your rooms once they are ready. Ask her for anything you may need.”

“Thank you,” Amaryllis said. “I’m sure Roman will thank you once he’s awake.”

Valerie shook her head. “He doesn’t need to. I’m simply doing what I should have from the beginning. Goodnight.” And with that, she departed.

Amaryllis turned to Virgil with a smile. “That went well!”

Yes, Virgil admitted. He may not trust Valerie yet, but this might have been the first step in the right direction they’d taken since arriving.

[mahalidael]

OLYMPAHOMA CHAPTER 7

CHIRON TRAUMATIZES ME FURTHER, SOMEHOW

I stared at the menu for a solid minute before Juliet offered to read it to me.

“I’m good,” I said. “Just tired.”

When he heard about Slamlet’s showdown with me, Chiron forced me, Cyrus and Juliet to reconvene. After hearing about the whole fiasco, he told Juliet to take me to the saloon and buy me dinner. (“What? What’d I do?” “I suppose the incident with the fury was not your fault, but you did put her in a chokehold until she fainted.”)

Aside from a few weak protests, Juliet didn’t seem fussed. But because I focused hard on Chiron’s face, not his horsey bits, I noticed he seemed surprised by how easygoing she was. Cyrus seemed pretty shocked too, though he looked shocked so often his face could’ve been stuck like that. Either way I was curious.

When the group dissipated, I hung back.

“Are you coming?” Juliet had shouted at me from halfway down the road.

“Go ahead, I’ll catch up,” I called to her.

Cyrus looked at me like I was a rabid dog teetering in his direction. Can’t say I blame him. I hadn’t been the most mild-mannered girl lately. “Yo, Cyrus,” I said calmly. “What’s up with Juliet?”

Cyrus fidgeted with this weird little necktie thing he had. Was it an ascot? Whatever. “I think she likes you,” he admitted.

“What makes you think that?”

“She’s not normally this c-cordial with newcomers. Even when she’s the person who brought them here.”

“Then why’d she take a shine to me?”

He sighed and looked into the distance where Juliet was walking. “Um… I could just be spitballing, but I think she’s jealous.”

“...Jealous?” I looked over myself. What could she be jealous of?

“Eh, not you. Everyone else. All the time, she’s surrounded by people who — even if they’re constantly getting jumped by monsters, at least they have some power that can repel them. She doesn’t, uh, have any.”

“What do you mean?”

Cyrus sucked in air through his teeth. “We know she’s a demigod because she passed all the tests, but… otherwise, there’s nothing. She doesn’t have any powers. The gods say they don’t know whose kid she is. And, um, it’s been three years without any word.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“So she likes me because we both suck.”

“Yeah.”

“That was the longest I ever heard you talk without stuttering.”

Cyrus sighed and waved me away. “Give it a minute.”

But back to the saloon.

The saloon Vivian was meant to manage, Dio’s, was still open for business. Technically, the town has two saloons: the Olympahoma Inn, a sanitized theme-park setup. The floors are clean, there’s a set schedule for tourist attractions, and what little alcohol is served is historically-inaccurate swill. Then we have Dio’s.

Dio’s is basically a western saloon on LSD. If you’re Misted, you might think that you’re just in a particularly lawless Oklahoma bar, but I wasn’t. There were satyrs screaming “CHUG CHUG CHUG” at a couple of friends shotgunning beers. Underaged kids were barfing in the corners. And, of course, we can’t forget the giant stuffed and mounted lizard head on the wall, scaly mouth open, exposing hundreds of needlelike teeth.

The list of drinks was really high on the wall. “I can read it to you,” Juliet said.

“I’m good, just tired.”

“Did you lose your glasses or something?”

“I don’t need glasses.”

“So you just squint at stuff for fun?”

I ignored that remark. “This is the bar Vivian’s supposed to be running.”

“Yeah.”

“So if she’s not running it, why’s it still open?”

“It needs to be open,” she said, sitting on a bar stool. “It’s Dionysus’s sacred saloon. If we close it down, we’ll be in trouble.” She patted the stool next to her.

I sat down. “Why?”

“Well, Dionysus is this town’s protector. There’s a lot of towns like this, and each town has an Olympian god protecting it. Ours used to be Athena, but that was before 1879.” A bartender with straight yellow hair approached us. “Two kykeon, please,” Juliet asked.

“I should pay for that,” I said. “I’ve caused enough trouble.”

“It’s on me. Besides, what would you pay with?” Juliet produced a few bronze disks the size of sugar cookies from her skirt and slid them across the bar. The bartender sniffed them, then put them in the cash register.

“I hope Cyrus is getting home safe. It’s almost dark, something could jump him,” I said.

Juliet made a face like she’d licked a lemon. “Cyrus is mighty powerful, he can look after himself. It’s his fellow goodbloods I’d worry about.”

I hoped kykeon didn’t have alcohol in it. We were almost a decade underage.

“What’s a goodblood?”

“You’re a goodblood. Or rather, a god’s blood,” Juliet said, spinning her stool. “Hey, this one spins! Whee!”

“Focus, man, you’re supposed to exposit me.”

“Demigods in America, we used to call ourselves ‘godsblood,’ because we’re from a god’s bloodline. It eventually turned into ‘goodblood.’ Good thing too. We can’t say stuff like godsblood without people looking at us weird.”

The bartender had turned away and was preparing whatever it was Juliet had paid for. I didn’t pay much attention until I saw her rip out a handful of her hair and put it on the counter. “Is she supposed to do that?” I whispered.

“Oh, it’s fine, she’s a nymph,” Juliet said. I squinted at her hair. Now that I really looked, it was sticking out in all directions, like a grain plant. It was also growing back so fast I could see it pop out of her head. “She’s probably out of scotch barley.”

The bartender shook something into both drinks and gave them to us. “Thanks, Eudokia,” Juliet said.

I sniffed the drink curiously. “This is box wine with some parmesan floating in it.”

“Yeah it is,” Juliet said, slurping it up.

I grimaced. “That’s disgusting. I’m going home.”

“You do you, buddy.”

I walked around town for a while, trying to figure out what to do. It was getting dark. I knew my family was moving into town, but I wasn’t sure where our house was.

I walked back to the Fauntleroy. My banjo was still lying in the dust at the building’s side, so I picked it up. I needed to get a strap or something for this thing. Then something caught my eye.

There were weird sparks of white light coming from the back. Going back there without backup would be dumb — if it were a monster — but if I ran all the way back to Dio’s it would be too late, and I didn’t know where Cyrus was. Besides, I couldn’t figure what monster flashed like that.

I peeked around the corner. It was Helena.

She had a bow in her left hand, and an arrow (?) in her right. Except the arrow wasn’t an arrow, it was a beam of light that I thought was a fluorescent light bulb before I noticed it was moving.

I had my mouth open to say “hello,” but I shut it. Best to not startle somebody with a lightning bolt in their hand.

Helena had one eye closed to see the target better, which was already scorched in several places.

The bolt hit just one ring away from the middle.

“Nice shot,” I said.

Helena wasn’t surprised. “Hello, Annie,” she said, walking to the target and pulling out the lightning bolt. She twirled it in her hand. “Are you a good shot?”

“No.” I didn’t have to guess. At school, we’d briefly had archery, and I learned that my upper body strength was rotten. The bow I’d been using was strung for a middle schooler. Helena was jacked, so hers had to be tighter.

“Let me see.” The bolt evaporated in her hand. She handed me her bow and took a wooden arrow from her quiver. The bow was as tall as I was.

I notched the arrow, but could barely pull the string back. It landed in the dirt an arm’s length away.

“Eh. Everybody starts somewhere,” Helena said.

“I’ll say.”

She plucked the arrow out of the ground. “But I doubt you came out here to watch me shoot.”

“Chiron walked my stepmother home earlier. Do you know where that is?”

“Not personally, but I believe Sister Ernestine knows.”

“Sister Ernestine?”

“The prophetess. She knows everything in these parts.” She straightened her coat lapels and her quiver, putting the arrow back. “Though god knows where the snake’s slithered off to. She’s supposed to be in the temple, but she’s always away when you need her.”

“Where would you hide a temple in a desert?” I muttered to myself.

“That’s a good question,” Helena said.

She walked away silently. I stood there for an embarrassingly long time before realizing I was meant to follow.

Helena lead me off into the desert. Not terribly far, but a fair bit away from town. The light of Dio’s burned quietly on the horizon. “Are we supposed to be out here?” I said uneasily. Dad’s talk of coyotes and wolves in the Oklahoma wild hadn’t spooked me at the time, but now it was starting to gain relevance.

“I’m not going anywhere nobody’s been before,” Helena said. “If it were light out, you might see where the dirt’s been tamped down here.”

I couldn’t see much of anything. The dim light showed me a sterile desert, no cacti or nothing, and a jagged arrangement of rocks in the distance — which was what we were walking towards. I tilted my head. “That hill looks like—”

“Keanu Reeves?”

“I was going to say Jeff Goldblum.”

“Everyone has a different opinion.”

There was a small gap in the hill, which looked like an abandoned mine, with the wood framing and such. A metal sign nearby was illegible, but it looked like some form of “KEEP OUT.” Helena walked in without a second thought. I glanced at the sign, trying to read, but gave up in order to keep pace.

You would think that all long, dark corridors would echo, but not always. Ernestine’s mineshaft was strangely quiet for reasons I never puzzled out. I had to track Helena by the scent of residual vape juice, which is as unappealing as it sounds — especially since there were other smells in there. Cold, wet smells. And oddly, tea.

All of a sudden, Helena shouted “ERN-ES-TINE!”

I jumped. A powdery, muffled voice up ahead answered her. “Ye-es, what do you want?”

“Turn on the damn lights!”

Sister Ernestine huffed quietly. “Alright, you don’t have to shout...”

Something clicked distantly, and the mineshaft lit up with string lights. The tunnel was much lower than I had assumed, to the point where Helena was leaning over as to not hit her head on the ceiling.

A door to the side of the shaft opened, and a tiny woman shuffled  out, wearing a bathrobe and slippers. The smell of tea wafted out strongly. “Oh, hey,” I said. “We’ve met before. In the hospital.”

“Ye-es,” Sister Ernestine drawled. She sounded the way you expect an elderly witch to sound — high-pitched, cackling, cluck-like. “I believe we have, child. Now, it’s near sundown. May be wise to hurry up and ask your question. You know what lives in these sands at night.”

I didn’t, but I felt that I had an idea.

Helena rolled her eyes. I couldn’t figure why she disliked the sister so much. “Annie would like to know where her parents are staying tonight.”

I nodded. Sister Ernestine tapped her chin thoughtfully. “In an apartment above Dio’s. 8A. Helena will walk you home and you’ll let yourself in.”

“I don’t have a key,” I said.

Sister Ernestine paused. “Well, of course, I… I know that. And if Mrs. Zhu is still drunk asleep — which she is — she’s not going to answer the door...” She shuffled through her door.

I stood there, unsure what to do.

Sister Ernestine stuck her pointy hand out of the doorway. “C’mere!”

Helena, though still unhappy, made a “go on” gesture. I went into the door.

Somehow, in this mineshaft, there was a functioning house. The door I walked into led to a kitchen not out of place in a grandma’s house. There was a cup of tea sitting on her table, and a few medicine bottles. Sister Ernestine was banging around in her drawers, looking everywhere short of under the fridge for something. I couldn’t help but feel like I’d interrupted her.

“Should I help—?”

“No, no,” Sister Ernestine said. “It’s my problem. Terrible at organizing, I am. I lose things so often one day it’s going to kill me!”

I looked over the medicine bottles. Aspirin, riboflavin, acepromazine, strychnine, epitol. If losing things didn’t kill her, liver failure would. Finally, after looking everywhere short of under the fridge, Sister Ernestine produced results. “Got it!”

She dropped a heavy iron key in my hand. I raised my eyebrows. “Do you keep people’s house keys just lying around?”

She shook her head. “Nonsense, dearie. That’s a skeleton key. Got it off some pesky Romans a few years back. It’ll get you in any door you need.” She patted me on the shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” she said. “I wish those sisters of yours a speedy recovery.”

I walked in the apartment door and immediately fell asleep on the couch without noticing my surroundings.

What? I was tired. Sue me.

I was back in the Mobile Museum of Art. It was near the exhibit that I got stabbed in, except I wasn’t. Stabbed, I mean. Not at the moment.

The museum was closed, so it was dark. A janitor wheeled his cart past me, shining a flashlight.

I followed the janitor.

I hadn’t been back in the museum since I was attacked. It was just as weird as I remember, except now it was darker and considerably spookier.

The janitor mopped lethargically, and I trailed behind him. I wasn’t conscious of the decision. I was just doing dream things, as you do. If I were a little more lucid, I probably wouldn’t have done something that stupid.

Once I got over the fact that I was in the museum after dark, there wasn’t much to see. Just a dark room and a janitor janitoring.

I got bored and decided to wander ahead.

The exhibit has no doors, just one continuous chamber. That’s got to be terrible for the heating bill.

I stayed only a few paces ahead of the janitor. With my newfound circumstances, I had an altogether different feeling about being alone in a room full of monsters, even if they were just statues.

I was having all the wrong thoughts. Instead of thinking of good questions like “why am I here” or “why can’t the janitor see me” I was actually trying to read the placards under the art and failing, because not only is my reading bad in real life, but apparently my dream self has some shit vision too.

Eventually I passed the time waving at security cameras.

I wanted to say “hi,” but my mouth was full of cotton. I spotted one in the corner ahead of the janitor and ran ahead. “Hewwo,” I slurred, flapping my arm. “Hewwo.”

Yeah, go on and laugh.

My joy was short-lived, as I slipped and landed on my ass.

It didn’t hurt, but it was a terrible inconvenience.

I realized I was covered in a fine white ash.

Under me, there was a circle of deeply scorched floor that extended several yards in every direction. And on the wall in front of me, there was an outline of a seven foot tall man.

There was Polyphemus, staring at me with his one stone eye. The janitor ignored it all and mopped.

Distantly, there was a knocking noise.

I turned around. Where the ash outline on the wall had been, there was a door.

The janitor was gone. It was just me and the door, which was ten feet high but otherwise a normal paneled door.

knock knock knock

It was a quiet, but unmistakable knock at the door.

“You should get that,” a girl whispered in my ear. “Your father’s waiting for you.”

The girl—

I woke up.

knock knock knock

I turned on a lamp.

I made eye contact with the centaur who was in the midst of a very passionate kiss.

I looked at the horse on the receiving end.

They both froze.

“This is... not my house,” I said.

I turned off the lamp.

[talisnormandy]

5 down, quite a few more to go

Chapter 5?

“Alright girls, I’m going to be showing some more basic notation from the Verse, so make sure you write this down...” Lysa sat up attentively, chalkpen and slate tablet held at the ready, as Tyrno neatly illustrated musical notes across the blackboard. Notation from the Verse was so beautiful, so intricate, it was difficult to keep up with her tutor’s handwriting. But Papa told her that Tyrno was the best Choir healer in Dimmerdwell, and she still had a lot to learn before she could use her own voice for healing.

It seemed that someone agreed, for as Lysa paused a moment in her note taking, the scratching of chalk on stone continued at a rapid pace beside her. Looking over, she saw that her twin, Ledi, was writing much faster than Lysa could manage. Lysa has never seen her write so fast: it almost impressed her... until she noticed that Ledi wasn’t looking at anything being drawn by their tutor. Curious, Lysa leaned closer, trying to catch a glimpse of what her sister was doing, but suddenly Tyrno began to speak once again, causing Lysa to refocus her attention.

“I know you are already aware of this,” Tyrno continued, still writing away, “But the Verse is not just a song, and it is not just simple medicine. It is the power of the soul itself, the power of Life, taking shape from the notes you sing. It can reach out and guide even the most ill and decrepit of souls from the brink of Death. It is a gift from the gods to the dwarven people, a literal miracle. As the future of the Choir, it is your duty to know the entirety of the Verse by heart, so that even the most grievous of wounds and diseases present no obstacle to you. Now, I know that is no small feat, which is why we start with the basics...”

Lysa listened to his lecture, enthralled. The thought of using her actual soul to heal others, becoming a powerful member of the Choir, being of use to the dwarves of Dimmerdwell, it all just took her breath away. She kept listening intently, so intently that, when she felt a slight tap on her shoulder, Lysa nearly fell out of her desk chair.

Ledi had leaned over towards Lysa, her little writing project presumably completed. She wore a wide grin on her face, one Lysa knew meant she had done something she shouldn’t have. But she couldn’t help but look, as Ledi quietly revealed what she’d been doodling: A very rotund Tyrno, seemingly screeching little musical notes. It was surprisingly detailed, and Lysa couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped her.

Tyrno stopped mid-sentence, and turned around. He pursed his lips as he inspected the twins, but Ledi had already concealed her slate under her desk. Both sisters eyed him innocently.

“Please, pay attention,” Tyrno said. “We have quite a lot to go over.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Papa’s gonna be mad if you start fooling around during singing lessons again,” Ledi heard Lysa saying . Though they walked side by side, her sister’s quiet voice barely rose above the hustle and bustle of Dimmerdwell as they made their way home. From miners carrying chunks of ore and slag over their shoulders and in handcarts, to the crowds of dwarves chatting and laughing, the sounds of the city echoed around in the massive cavern it resided in.

Ledi walked on, trying her best to ignore the commotion. One of the miners was pulling a particularly overladen cart, struggling though she had seen miners pulling nearly a thousand pounds before. Deftly, she pulled a fist sized chunk of ore from the cart, hefting it in her hand. Ledi grinned as she inspected her catch, admiring the silvery veins running through it. This would make a pretty good throwing rock.

A hand tugged on Ledi’s frock sleeve “Hey, are you even listening?” She looked over at Lysa, who had donned the same disapproving look their father often gave her, although on Lysa’s younger face, it made her look more like she’d bitten into a sour candy. “You need take this a little more seriously. You know how important it is to Papa that we join the Choir, and do the best we can.”

Ledi flipped the ore in her hand, and with a grunt tore the chunk into two separate pieces. “Yeah, you’re right sis. It IS important to Papa, and to Tyrno, and to the Choirmasters. But, I don’t remember them ever asking what I thought was important.”

“Well, this stuff SHOULD be important to you. Our history is important, the tradition is impo-“ Lysa stopped mid-sentence as Ledi waved a hand in her direction. “Enough with that, I already hear that stuff plenty from literally everyone else.” As they kept walking, a serene chorus rose above the din. It sprang forth from the Cassius Cathedral; no doubt there were many miners receiving care after a long day of work. Ledi picked up the pace, trying to walk off her annoyance. “Why do you care so much about what Papa wants anyway?”, she asked.

“Well, because he says it’s what Mama would’ve wanted.”

Ledi scoffed. Mama had died when the twins were very young; Ledi certainly had no recollection of her. “He would say that wouldn’t he? Like you or me would know what Mama would’ve wanted.”

“I still think it’s important to honor her wishes,” Lysa huffed.

“Yeah yeah.” The two of them stopped in front of the cathedral. It stood all the way to the roof of the cavern, a solid, monolithic pillar of stone, whilst the voices of the Choir chorus reverberated beautifully through the air. Two dragon-esque statues of Vivitheron flanked the entranceway, and above it, sat the target of Ledi’s throwing stones: a dark gray gargoyle overlooking the city of Dimmerdwell. She had tossed many a stone and bullet at this gargoyle, hitting it square on. but not once had she managed to knock any pieces off of it. She wondered if she could change that today, as she bounced the silver ore in her hand.

Ledi offered one of her stones to Lysa, who, after brief consideration, reluctantly accepted. “I just, don’t want to be told where to go or what to do. You know this sis,” Ledi said, taking aim. “At least, I want to do whatever I want to, before I’m old and gray and weighed down by responsibilities...” She whipped the silver as hard as she could, hitting the gargoyle in the center of its left wing, causing the silver chunk to shatter and rain down in front of the doorway. From what Ledi could see, the statue remained unmarked. She frowned. “Your turn.”

Lysa began winding up. “You mean, leave the city? You know that’s really dangerous Ledi. Not to mention illegal. Plus I know you have a beautiful voice. You’d probably end up being High Conductor of the Choir if you really set your mind to it.”

Ledi shivered. “Ugh, don’t say that. You’ll make me puke.” She watched her twin as she took a few steps forward and threw the silver with all her might. It ended up overshooting the gargoyle by a few feet, and struck the wall of the cathedral instead.

“Welp,” said Ledi. “There’s always tomorrow.”

Now it was Lysa’s turn to frown. “I don’t get why you do this everyday.”

Ledi shrugged. “When you’re surrounded by rocks all day, you might as well get some entertainment out of them.” Lysa just shook her head, bemused. “C’mon, let’s go get something to eat.”

As Ledi turned to leave, Lysa tugged on her sleeve once again. “Uh, L-Ledi?!”, she stammered.

Ledi’s eyes followed where Lysa was pointing, back towards the gargoyle. Behind it, cracks had to formed where Lysa’s throw had it the wall, marring the otherwise perfectly smooth surface. Then, an entire section of the wall crumbled inward, revealing a dark space within.

Ledi’s jaw dropped. “Wow! Just how hard did you throw that one sis?” She nudged Lysa’s side teasingly. “I can’t imagine anyone being too thrilled about the big hole in the wall eh?” Lysa stared in horror. “I-you- but we... Oh no! Did anyone see that?!”

Ledi glanced around. The foot traffic on the road had slowed some, and those walking down the street weren’t looking their way. “I don’t know,” she shrugged. She peered up at the hole. “I didn’t know Cassius Cathedral was hollow.” The dwarf girl looked back over to her twin, who’s eyes still darted around worriedly. Shaking her head, Ledi eyed up one of the Vivitheron statues, and made her way over. Hand over hand, she began to haul herself up the side of it,

“What are you doing?”, Lysa whispered, though it was maybe too loud for Ledi’s taste.

“Keep it down, will ya?”, she replied. “I’m just going to check it out for a second, you coming or not?” She flashed her a winning smile.

Lysa sighed loudly, as she made her way towards the statue. “Oh gods, now this, this is a terrible idea.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With one last heave, Lysa pulled herself up onto the gargoyle. Ledi stood inside the broken wall, looking up. “Lysa, this is really bizarre. There’s stairs in here.”

Lysa grumbled angrily under her breath. This certainly wasn’t the first time Ledi’s antics got her into trouble, but vandalizing a cathedral? But then again, how was she supposed to know the walls were hollow? Gods, Why was she such a bad throw?

Lysa climbed up next to Ledi, and peered up the stairs. They curved slightly, continuing up and up, until they rounded a corner. Looking up, there didn’t appear to be a ceiling; the dark seemed to stretch up forever. Even though her large dwarven eyes were accustomed to very little light, Lysa couldn’t see more than a few feet through the inky darkness of this hidden crawl space. “Where does this lead?”, she wondered aloud.

“Welp, only one way to find out,” Ledi piped up. And with that, she started to ascend the strange stairs, her footsteps echoing loudly. Lysa stared up at her, then stared back out the hole. “Why am I like this? Just why?”, she muttered, and began to follow after her twin.

The two of them walked on, taking care not to slip on the steps. Neither of them spoke; the air seemed oppressively dank, like this staircase had been blocked off for a very long time. Lysa began coughing from all the dust they were kicking up. “I don’t like this Ledi, I think we should go back before we get in trouble.”

Ledi turned back towards her Lysa, crossing her arms. “You can go back if you want, but I’m going to see how far this goes. It already feels like we’ve made it above the cathedral, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah...” Lysa said, unsure. “I also don’t want Papa worrying about where we are.” In truth, Lysa didn’t want to admit to her that she was a little scared. Ledi eyed her a moment, then took her hand and continued her ascent, twin in tow.

They continued, for what seemed like forever, until suddenly Ledi stopped. “I think I see... a light?” she said, peering closely.

Lysa cocked her head. She didn’t see anything. “Um, what? What light?” But Ledi didn’t respond, instead picking up the pace, causing Lysa to stumble up the stairs after her. Soon though, she spotted the light her sister had seen. It seemed to softly glow with a steady orange light.

“Wait, Ledi, I don’t think this is the best id-“ Suddenly, she let go of Lysa’s hand, and disappear into the light. Lysa followed after her, but had to instantly cover her eyes, blinded by this intense light. She had never seen such light before, to the point that she didn’t think her eyes would adjust.

“Ledi! Where’d you go!”

“I’m standing right here dummy. Cover your eyes, then slowly uncover them.”

Lysa did as she instructed, and the sight that greeted her took her breath away, for the second time today. Towering stone crags, cold white powder, and the biggest, brightest light she’d ever seen peeking out between it all.

Ledi stood next to her, equally awed. “Sis,” she said, “I think we’re outside.”