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skrltwtch · 4 years ago

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Muse

Prompt 1: Just like some people sleep-walk, you tend to paint or draw while in your transformed state because it calms you down. And apparently, people really like your art.

Prompt 2: A is a popular artist, and B messages them without thinking one day. They didn’t expect to become friends, and they definitely didn’t expect to become more. Person B just felt that connection between the two of them.

Prompt 3: A/Werewolf has a tendency to curl like a dog in front of the fireplace a lot (usually in their werewolf form, but it’s not uncommon for them to do it as a human). (Sources in master list)

Word count: 3,721 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I put up with the long commute to and fro between home and work for two reasons, and two reasons alone: the decent rent for a place with a picturesque view and that catered to my monthly needs, and the glut of time to catch up on my reading. And by ‘reading’, I meant ‘scrolling through the handful of social media feeds that survived my latest cull of shit that was taking up my time and storage space unnecessarily, and occasionally attempting (and failing) to pay attention to my Kindle’. Hey, at least I was aware I had a problem …?

Instagram was my first hit of the day. I flicked past images of makeup, friends in situations I wouldn’t be finding myself in anytime soon, and cute animals. The occasional meme and comic draw out an exhalation of air from my nostrils. I marvelled at artwork and photography, half wishing I were half as good as the people I followed and admired, half chiding myself for not practising either enough and losing interest quicker than I’d dropped money on new equipment in the name of my new endeavours. You could say one of my hobbies, the ones I’d been consistent about, was amassing gadgets obtained to indulge my whims and fancies.

My heart skipped a beat — or was it the pothole the bus went over? — when I came across a new post by George. I didn’t know him personally to refer to him by his first name like that, but hadn’t social media broken down boundaries between people, making them seem closer to each other than they really were? He was an illustrator whose work I chanced upon on Reddit a while back. His portfolio was a patchwork of subjects, often portraits, rendered mostly in traditional media like watercolour and oil paint. He sometimes shook things up with abstract, contemplative pieces. He had something for almost everyone. For me, it was his attractive, angular yet distinctive faces and statuesque figures, use of watercolour, and versatility: one piece could be superhero fanart, followed by a collection of moody, atmospheric paintings of the English landscape with some fantastical additions.

It also helped that he seemed to be a nice, chill person, and a handsome one at that, too, based on the smattering of pictures he had of himself on his feed. Please, let me imagine a world in which someone as ideal as him — or what I knew about him — wasn’t beholden to anyone for a moment.

His latest post was a drippy bust of a snarling wolf with full moons for eyes. The caption simply read: ‘Mood.’ I smirked as I hit the like button. Did I mention that he drew wolves a lot as well? Sometimes his wolves were feral; sometimes they were humanoid, but still wild. The latter featured heavily in his conceptual works, albeit as hazy, indistinct forms, like blurry photographs. In any case, I liked that he had a fondness for wolves and werewolves, as the constant presence of the full moon in art of the latter would suggest. Anyone who liked wolves was a-okay in my book. Anyone who liked werewolves was even more so. Because.

An interrupted connection between my brain and my reflexes led me to visit his profile. Instead of returning to my feed, my thumb gravitated toward the message button at the top of the screen. Not a single cell in my body resisted this turn of events despite the restored connection. Oh, what the hell. Why not? Like, what were the chances he’d read my message? He had tens of thousands of followers, a likely considerable chunk of them being bots aside. He must receive DMs every other minute. I’d be another sycophant in his sea of fans. Or he’d see my homely mug and locked profile, and he’d think I was driven to add to his never-ending count of unread messages simply out of misguided thirst.

The beauty of the Internet was that it made ‘out of sight, out of mind’ fairly easy to put into practice.

I got the following out of my system and into his inbox: ’Hi! Hope you’re doing well. I’ve been following your Instagram for a while, and your latest post just made me want to say your art is amazing. (I can totally identify with the sentiment behind it.) I especially love your more abstract pieces. There’s something so … raw about them. And I like that you seem to like wolves a lot, too. They’re beautiful animals, and your art really captures that about them. Anyway, keep up the great work! Take care.’

I exited Instagram, not caring about the rest of my feed anymore and not wanting to feel like I was stalking my notifications for something that’d never come. My phone buzzed with several notifications as I went down my Reddit homepage. I swiped away the banners with green icons that pelted the top of my screen. Those could wait. What couldn’t were the banners stating that I had a new message and a new follower request from —

‘Oh, my God!’ I said, loudly enough for me to hear my own voice above my music (the chorus of Walk the Moon’s ‘Shut Up and Dance’ at half of maximum volume, so … loud). Not one soul on this lightly populated bus acknowledged my exclamation — not even the woman sitting next to me. (Come on, lady, the front was mostly empty.) Thank God for technology making hermits of us all. Or my sudden outburst paled in comparison to the shit that could happen and had happened on public transport. When you took long journeys as I did every day, you’d see some real shit in due time, too.

I launched Instagram for the second time this morning (stop judging, Screen Time) and the first time ever with trembling hands. The notifications were real. I approved his request first. My mind raced to recollect anything on my profile that might make him regret his decision to let my piddling photos of food, myself, my cat, and random junk take up precious space on his feed. Nope, couldn’t think about that now, because I was now staring at an actual, honest-to-God message from George:

’Hey! Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me, especially what you said about my experimental stuff and wolves. They are stunning creatures, aren’t they? And yeah, I drew that last picture after a particularly rough night. You could call it a self-portrait of sorts, I suppose.’

I snorted. Change the fur colour and make the eyes normal, and it was a portrait of myself every full moon. Okay, not something I could tell someone I just met, let alone a popular artist on the Internet …

Before I could recover from the shock that my inbox held an actual, honest-to-God message from George Holden (that was his last name — the oxygen made it to my brain for me to remember that he had his last name on his profile), he sent another one: ’Anyway, how are you? I took a look at your profile, and it looks like we have quite a number of things in common.’

What, really? No way. Was it the lashings of sweet treats I subjected my stomach to every weekend? The horror and science fiction titles, celebrity memoirs, and comics, sometimes paired with an iced coffee at either a café I put down roots for the afternoon or the one-bedroom house in Waltham Forest I called home, I showcased to put forth some form of air of intellectualism? The cross-stitch projects featuring memes and popular culture icons? His profile was quite barren of anything that could provide insight into what else he enjoyed doing besides his art. Which, hey, was perfectly fine: no one was obligated to share their personal life online.

I replied, ’I’m fine, thank you. I’m on my way to work. Favourite part of my day, really. And really? Like what?’

Most of my notifications that day were from him.

✦✧✦✧

I was a bustling hub of activity in my seat: A sip of my drink. A shake of my knee. A lift of my phone. A turn of my neck. A shift of my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I was certain I was generating enough electricity to power a lightbulb in five-second intervals. I couldn’t help it. I was so, so excited — and so, so nervous. This was my and George’s first time meeting each other in person. There’d be no screen between us. Actually, what difference would that make? We’d been talking to each other for months, either through text or video calls, the latter more common in the weeks leading up to today. We’d seen each other even on our ‘I’ll put on a clean shirt, brush my hair, and hope for the best’ days. What could either one of us do in person that would irrevocably alter our friendship for the worse? Well …

The sound of someone entering the café stopped me from starting on a list of things that I could do to fuck things up. I looked up, probably the seventh time I did so in the last ten minutes. This was on me. I grossly overestimated the amount of time it’d take me to get somewhere as usual; a natural by-product of living far from the city. Seventh — probably — time was the charm: it was George — and right on the dot, too. His punctuality added to his attractiveness, which had already gone through the roof and was heading straight into the stratosphere. I bit my lip to suppress any unfortunate exclamations. He was a friend, Evelyn … just a friend, and I had no illusions otherwise.

I called out to him. He waved at me and joined me at the table I picked out for us. And the second our eyes met, devoid of any barrier between us, everything about him — and everything about us — clicked.

He was just like me.

And I was just like him.

And he was as astonished about it as I was, going by the long silence that passed between us, a first since we got to know each other.

‘Hi! Oh, my God, it’s so good to finally meet you!’ I said with a grin to break the tension. He broke out into a smile, his posture relaxing. Success. Should I go in for a handshake? No, that’d be too stuffy for a months-old friendship. A hug? No, that’d be too intimate for a months-old friendship, and an online one, too, no less. Was it obvious this was my first time meeting someone I met online?

‘It’s good to meet you, too,’ he said, his expression of cheer unabating. ‘I’m going to get myself a drink first, and then we can shoot the shit.’ His smile turned into a grin. ‘Do you want anything? My treat,’ he added as he spotted me reaching for my wallet.

‘I was thinking a red velvet muffin, please.’ I didn’t know why I didn’t get one earlier. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. I’ll be right back.’

As he left, my nerves turned into happiness that I met another werewolf. It was rare to meet other werewolves just about anywhere. What were the odds that two werewolves, one of whom was Internet-famous, would become friends because the other one had a brain fart one morning to send a message to the Internet-famous one? You couldn’t make this shit up. In all the years I’d been a werewolf, George was the first one I knew. I didn’t even know the one that turned me. I got bitten one night, and that was my life changed forever. I figured everything out on my own — I had to. And my puny social network of werewolves made sense: this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone would advertise about themselves.

Once George settled down and courtesies were out of the way, the first thing out of his mouth was ‘I never thought I’d meet another one like me’.

I moved my chair closer to him so that we could speak at length about what we were without the fear of being overheard. ‘Me neither.’ Then it hit me, and I quickly said, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though.’ Personally, I was okay with what I was. No existential dread here, contrary to what one might expect of a werewolf. It happened. I learnt to manage it in a way that made it not have any kind of significant impact on my life. I refused to let it define me. And honestly, I lived for particularly bad days that coincided with full moons.

‘Are you kidding me?’ His face lit up with boyish glee. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for so long! As in, us meeting up in person for the first time and me getting to know another werewolf. Two birds, one stone: the only kind of killing I endorse. And I’m so fucking chuffed it’s you. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything, and now that really, really means anything.’ It was his turn to be able to power a light bulb, but in twenty-second intervals this time.

‘Same. How were you turned?’

‘I was bitten during a camping trip with friends a couple of years back. You?’

‘Secondary school. I was walking home from the library.’

‘Shit, that was some time ago, huh?’

‘Almost half my life a werewolf.’

‘Do you know the werewolf that did it?’

‘Nope. How about you?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah. Kind of sucks, doesn’t it, that you’ll never get to know the person who’s changed your life so … deeply? They won’t remember either that they turned someone. If only having kids was like that, yeah? Absolutely no sense of responsibility whatsoever.’ He gave his teaspoon a lazy twirl, causing a faint plume of milk to rise and sink into the dark, bittersweet depths from whence it came. ‘I struggled with what I’d become the first couple of months. The transformations were one thing.’ Oh, yeah. ‘I felt … grotesque. God, the amount of self-pity, like, why was I the only one who had to go through this every month when there were four other guys ripe for the picking? So, I decided to start incorporating wolves in my art to get to know and reclaim that part of me. I didn’t want to see it as something ugly. I mean, you get to experience a kind of rebirth every month. That’s extraordinary if you think about it. And I told myself that like myself, the wolf didn’t ask to be born. Ha, ha. Millennial humour. Anyway. Then the most miraculous thing happened one full moon: I woke up next to a coherent painting that wasn’t there the night before.’

‘Oh, my God.’

‘Right? My more artsy stuff? The ones I hate coming up with captions for? Almost all done while I was transformed. I’d started some of my art — bet you can’t guess which one — on full moons, too, and I finished them after I changed back. It’s as if the wolf knew we were now cool with each other.’ He took a big chunk out of his apple crumble and jammed it into his mouth. ‘Sorry if that sounded like spiritual woo-woo. I’ve been wanting to tell someone about this forever.’ Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. ‘Shit, I’m such an’ — he shot me an impish look as he swallowed — ‘animal, aren’t I? Fuck, I can make stupid references like that now, and someone would get it!’

I laughed. He was such a dork. ‘It’s not “spiritual woo-woo”. It’s amazing. How is that even possible?’

‘I have no idea.’ He held out his hands in front of him. ‘So thankful we get to keep our hands and not have them turn into paws.’ He waggled his thumbs. ‘Fuck, yeah, opposable thumbs. And I want to say it’s like when artists get high and make stuff. I do know artists who do that, and hey, no judgment. To them, I do the same thing, too.’

‘And here I am, feeling accomplished whenever I make it through another full moon without waking up in a trashed place. Seriously, that’s amazing.’

‘I think that’s what’s keeping me from losing it while transformed. I was surprised people liked those pieces when I started posting them, considering they’re such far departures from what I usually post.’

‘That explains why they’re so … visceral.’

‘Yeah? I figure you’d appreciate them even more now.’ He smirked. ‘And you know, no one really talks about my wolf art, and especially my werewolf pieces. Maybe if I didn’t make them blurry and made them more explicit …’ Oh, he’d get a different breed of followers altogether. ‘But that’s fine. I don’t want my lycanthropy to define me and my work. It’s just a part of who I am.’

‘My turn to say something possibly corny: I like your wolf art because … they make me feel seen, because they’re drawn by you.’

He put a hand on his chest. ‘That’s not corny. I’m happy my art makes you feel that way. You know I don’t care about the likes or comments. It just so happens I like drawing things that make me get likes and comments.’ He pushed his plate toward me and motioned at me with his fork to try some of his apple crumble. I obliged him. ‘Did you ever suspect anything? Not that, you know, I purposely drew wolves and werewolves as a kind of signal for other werewolves to pick up on. That’d be giving me way too much credit.’

‘No, I just thought you like wolves a lot.’

‘Same here. What you said about wolves being beautiful creatures when you messaged me the first time … that made me feel something, too.’

‘Then I’m very glad we got to be friends,’ I said. Born from the same blip in brain activity that set us on this path, my hand found itself on top of his. His touch had a pleasant, almost familiar heat to it.

‘Me too.’ He turned his hand over and clasped mine.

‘I have an idea,’ I said, mostly to distract myself from how right this felt. ‘Do you want to meet on the next full moon?’

‘Sure. I can’t wait to see what kind of inspiration will strike with another werewolf around.’

‘Your place, then?’

He nodded. ‘Unless you’re cool with me possibly trashing your place with paint and stuff. That hasn’t happened before, but who knows? What if wolf-me doesn’t like change?’

I stared at him in disbelief.

‘I can’t help it. You have no idea what kind of beast this has unleashed. Oops.’

We sat and talked in the café the entire afternoon; we took turns treating each other to food and drinks to justify our occupancy. Our conversation moved on to other topics besides the one special, biggest thing we had in common. Just like we didn’t want it to define who we were as people, we made a promise to each other, and we did so over a strawberry custard tart, that we wouldn’t let it become the foundation of our friendship from this point on. It’d be unfair to the moments we shared before this. We were friends because we cared about each other, we brought out the best in each other, we could truly be ourselves around each other, and, honestly, I didn’t think anyone else would have the patience for his goofy in-jokes.

✦✧✦✧

I lay in front of the fireplace, rejoicing in the warmth it offered on this cool night, while George was working on his newest painting. Since getting to know each other in these forms, we’d been able to exercise better control. For me, that meant greater peace of mind; for him, that meant a more refined grasp of his artistic sensibilities. As with much about our condition, we didn’t question this. What could possibly be a drawback of us spending more time in each other’s company? I now understood why animals curled up by a fire was a common sight in media and real life, too. Wait, what if this, and not George’s presence, was what I’d been missing all my life?

My tail wagging like a fiend when I felt his breath on my skin begged to differ. I licked his face. He gently parted my lips and slid his tongue onto mine. Our tongues engaged each other in a playful scuffle; the fire crackling in the background could only dream of coming close to causing the rise in temperature in the pit of my stomach. The tussle between our tongues didn’t get to turn into something more: he’d had a long night. I nuzzled him to convey reassurance. He lay down beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his hold firm yet tender. We fell asleep like this, keeping each other warm long even after the fire had died out.

We wished each other a good morning with a kiss — no, two kisses, and we got ourselves ready for the day. As we were having breakfast, George piped up, ‘Do you want to see what I painted last night, love? I’m really proud of it, and I think you’d love it, too.’

I nodded excitedly, my mouth too full of scrambled egg to speak.

He returned as quickly as he’d left the table. His hands held on to a painting … of me curled up by the fire last night. The figure was the clearest, most detailed he’d ever done; the lighting was phenomenal. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, tearing up a little, frankly. ‘I love it. It’s going to look so good in our new place’, along with the recent paintings he’d made of a similar nature. He’d come so far from the gauzy forms that once populated his attempts at capturing his — our — condition on canvas.

‘Of course, when I have the most stunning model.’ He gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘I love you, my muse, my mate.’

#exophilia #terato #werewolf #monster love #monster romance #mine #fun fact #I wrote this story in early october last year #and it's kind of truth in television for me now

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lovemissmini · 4 years ago

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I Found you

Synopsis: We all need a friend. Sometimes you have to find one to gain one. Especially in this post-apocalyptic world.

Pairing: Taehyung X Reader

Warnings: Post-apocalypse, reader might not be 100% sane, hints of death, not much action. PG13

Length: ~2k

A/N: I would go crazy if I was all alone for 6 months, no questions asked.

All works here are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. Lovemissmini © . Do not copy, rewrite, repost without my permission. That is illegal and you are stealing no matter if you give credit or not.

“If it weren’t for you, Tae, I would have gone crazy a loooong time ago. Hmm?” You spare a glance towards your companion before you continued your babbling. “It’s just, six year, who wouldn’t go insane in that amount of time. All alone. No one to talk to.”

You nod to yourself, sinking deeper into the worn-out armchair, letting the cheap cushioning quickly engulfing your thin form. Human interaction had become a strange topic for you, just like the concept of keeping track of time. Did it really matter what day of the week it was? It’s not like you had a job or anything. So, what did it matter if you woke up at 1 in the afternoon or ate during the deadly hours of dawn? Hell, why do you even care about the number of times the sun rose before it ultimately set to make the end of the day. One day or six years, tomato tomato.

You should stop. Your mind was wandering off on a tangent even whilst you continued to hold a conversation on a separate matter, yet again. Your thoughts always did that, wander off, that is, into an incoherent multitude of ideas. That’s just how your brain worked. Or maybe that’s your insanity talking.

“But I’m lucky to have found you, yeah?”

You look out of the window of your new living room, into the streets and the cars that haphazardly littered the cracked roads and pavement. Room, that’s quite an interesting word choice. It might be too generous a word for the space where you were seated as of now. A room would imply an enclosed area with a roof above your head and at least three connected walls and some form of a door or partition. Right?

But your choice of temporary lodging was, to be honest, not quite the conventional image you would associate with that word. The best you could truly say about said room was that it was once a room. All that was left was remnants of a living room; the lone standing section of the street facing wall decorated with a broken window frame, piles of brick from the other less fortunate walls scattering the surrounding chaos, broken scraps of furniture thrown around you in a disordered arrangement.

At least it had a mostly intact armchair and couch. Right? Yeah, so who care. Life is good.

“I mean, you’re lucky I found you. Hella lucky at that.”

The lack of a roof let the evening sun beamed down on you from the sky, heating up your skin and leaving a warm tingle as your fingers played with the loose threads of the chair, twirling them around your finger absentmindedly.

“Hey, are you just gonna keep ignoring me? I said I was sorry for nearly leaving you behind last time. I even got you a new shirt to make up for it.” You huff in frustration, glaring at said shirt that fitted around your partner; a black and white abstract collage of spikey leaves artistically decorating the thin material, beautifully trimmed into what was now button up shirt that sported a deliciously deep v neckline. It was slightly revealing but not quite, just enough to give a hint of what was underneath but leave you wanting more.

“That shirt is in so much better condition than anything I’m wearing right now.” A scowl pulled at your lips as you regard the tattered t-shirt that clung to your skin, dirt discolouring the once yellow fabric into a murky brown and the pair of barely held together ripped jeans, denim threatened to fall off your thin waist even after being tied tightly by a belt.

You abruptly get up, palms slamming down on the arms of your chair, sudden movement causing ancient dusk to explode from deep within the fibres and into a thick cloud that surrounded you. You push past the brown haze of floating particles- ignoring the need to cough from the putrid smell- and close the distance between you and your companion.

“Listen here you ungrateful piece of shit! You don’t get to ignore me. I found you so I make the rules. I can leave you when and if I want. Capish?” Your voice breaks through the otherwise silent atmosphere before dissipating into the distance. Your eyes were hard with anger, veins bulging in your neck from the strain, as you glared at the unseeing eyes of your companion.

You blink, veins running cold as you realise your sudden outburst. It was uncalled for. Regret slowly filtered into your system, weighing you down like lead. You take deep slow breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and the roar pulsing in your ears.

“I’m sorry.” You voice is barely a whisper when you come through, a slight quiver at the last syllable and thick with guilt. The crimson in your cheeks fading as you settle down next to your companion on the couch, eyes shifting to gauge their reaction- or lack of one in this case.

“I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.” You joke, a small chuckle trying to defuse the tension that hung heavy in the air. Your hands betray the cheerfulness mask you donned, thumb rubbing the barcode inked into the skin of your left wrist, in a nervous habit that first formed in the lab. “I- uh- well, I forgive you too. Just because I like how handsome you and your stupidly symmetrical face are.”

There was no response. At least none out loud. In fact, there never was a reply out loud from your companion since you found them five years ago, and never would be. The only replies you earned were ones spoken to back of your mind, a deep voice echoing your subliminal thoughts back to you, answering your conscious questions. You companion, the top half of a male mannequin, would never grow a set of vocal cords to voice the replies you longed to actually hear.

If someone were to ever talk to you, question who it was you were talking to, you would have simply stated it was to yourself. Because that would mean you were never alone to begin with, never needing to talk to a humanoid piece of plastic. Right?

But there was no one else.

There no one left, no one ever since that happened six years ago.

“Anyway, let’s go. I want to see what that blinking light was from last night.” You announce as you get up from the two-seater, tossing on your backpack as you stand waiting for your partner to get up with you. You roll your eyes at the lack of movement in your peripheral view, head turning to throw a glare at its plastic form still seated on the couch. “Get up you lazy ass. Get up or I’ll carry you.”

You stand there for a moment longer, waiting for its plastic muscles to twitch under the heavy weight of your gaze. But your effects are yet again fruitless, the only signs of motion par your breathing was the dust dancing weightlessly in the air, illuminated by the setting sun as the specks float carelessly around you.

You sigh, giving up your side of the stalemate and pick up the oversized plastic excuse of a friend. The weak muscles of your arms ache under the burden, straining to produce a strong grip as you walk out onto the streets.

As you venture further into the deserted mass of torn buildings, further into the what could barely be recognised as Seoul, you reach the glass doors of a seemingly intact corporate building. The name of the facility standing tall and proud on the metal door frame, as if in celebration of its survival, almost unscathed par from the broken glass and a missing letter, the skyscraper was rather untouched.

“B-um-Bigit. HA. Sounds a lot like bigot, doesn’t it, Tae?” You muse, as you shift the plastic deadweight in your arms to a more comfortable position.

After exploring the bottom floors of building, going through countless office draws and lab cabinets, you filled up the most of your backpack with expired food items and multiple water bottles. Still, you had yet to find the source of the blinking lights you had seen last night.

“Maybe its further up?” You question out loud.

“Yeah, you’re right Tae, it must be one of the top floors. How else would I have seen it amongst the other buildings?” A grin splits your dry lips, tongue darting out to wet the cracked skin- ignoring the lingering taste of dirt.

“You’re so smart, bud, what would I do without you?”

You continue your journey up, scavenging through every nook and cranny of each floor before arriving at the top landing. A gasp leaves you lips, eyes widening as you look out from the doorway of the staircase and into the concrete floorplan. A glint of excitement sparked in your eyes, much like it did when you found a can of peaches.

The 16th floor was so different to the lower levels, barren like a construction site but shielded under large planes of glass and metal frames in a greenhouse-like roof. Moonlight filtered through the clear glass, illuminating the area in a milky wash of pale white and harsh shadows.

The grey concrete floor was littered with giant solar panels, all scattered methodically around three capsules that laid in the middle of everything. Walking forward, you trotted down the empty path that connected the doorway directly to the capsules, careful not to touch the electronics barricading you on either side.

The capsules were large, large enough to fit a person, you note to yourself as you walk past the first two. Or maybe a giant alligator, you never know.

You don’t bother inspecting two pods, both dark and most likely damaged as a large piece of metal beam speared the centre of one, a thick layer of dried green mould covered the cracked glass panels of the other, obscuring the view of what you assumed was the face of whoever it coffined. Not that you cared.

They were not of interest to you. Especially not when the last capsule vibrating with a low electronic hum. Small lights that were attached to the surface of pod pulsing, bright reds and whites flickers in the darkness as if demanding attention. And attention if caught.

You place Tae on the floor, hands steadying its plastic frame whilst your eyes were still glued to the flashing lights. “Wait here, Tae.” You tiptoed closer to the pod like a moth to fire, neck shifting as you crane you head to see above the capsule before you carefully approached it.

A yellow screen blinked on and off at the centre of the capsule. Bold black lettering fizzing from sparking pixels. You narrow your eyes, brows furrowing in concentration as you focused on trying to decipher the message. After a handful of seconds, you make out the warning.

Emergency- press red button for capsule ejection. Subject -

A hand moves to lift a clear plastic cap, hovering over the large obnoxiously red button, hesitant to push it as instructed.

Instead, you hand reaches to swipe off the sheet of debris covering the glass face panel. Eyes sweeping the sleeping form of the person trapped in the metal pod. The moonlight casting soft lighting against their prominent features. Their eyes were closed, long eyelashes fanning high cheekbones, thick brows tucked under gently tousled hair. Corking your head to the side, you continued to admire the pillowy shape of their plush lips, imagining the way the heart shaped flesh would move as it talked.

“Kim Taehyung.” The name from the screen rolling off your tongue seamlessly. Your lips twitching into a soft smile, your friend of five years long forgotten in the mass of solar panels. “I found you. Will you be my friend?”

#kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #btsfanfic #bts #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenarios #taehyung fanfic #kpop fanfic

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stragglewort · 4 years ago

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Ghoul Parade -- “5.) Car Trouble”

Picture by StreetWill.co, “1970s car grill, headlights.” - 2016

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He wasn’t sure if he was more afraid of that hissing, inhumane something that had just invaded his thoughts or of his own friend. He’d seen magic tricks before, hell, he’d done magic tricks before. But what James did was nothing like his Mr. Magical pocket guides had ever described. He had half a mind to feel for fishing wire.

“I think you should sit down.”James chimed.

“I’m… apt to agree.” His voice shook and he staggered back to the chair, slumping into it. The sulfur smell had disappeared, but it was still horribly fresh in his mind. “You have my attention.”

A wash of relief spread over James’ face. He also sat down, slicking back his hair as he let out a heavy, drawn-out breath. “You don’t understand how glad I am to hear that. I’ve never actually trapped anything like this before, and I wasn’t excited to try it on you.” He stopped and stared for a moment. “An actual vampire – look at you! You have all the signs!” His lips pursed. “...Most of the signs. You were attacked, you died –”

“I didn’t die.”

“Exactly! You should’ve, but you didn’t. Oh gods, Jo – don’t give me that face – I don’t want to be forced to prove this to you.”

Something about James’ stoic urgency rattled him. Though rattled didn’t mean passive. “We’re not just glossing over whatever the hell that was.” He threw his hand to the slammed door.

“That was magic.”

His voice was monotone. “It’s something that’s been here long enough that most of us have forgotten about it. So long that those who do figure it out tend to get unreasonably shunned.”

“…Okay?”

“It’s in and around everything – wait, wait –“ He scrambled around the table, grabbing a torn bit of scratch paper and an old permanent marker. He took a split-second to think, biting the marker cap before a realization dawned on him. “Most magic is inside us living things; it’s the energy that makes us work or escapes when these hunks of meat die off –“

“…’Hunks of meat?” Joshua Interrupted.

He ignored it. “There are some more lucky than me who can wear that magic on their sleeves – like you!“ He said it so quickly Joshua didn’t quite catch it. “Now, I’ve learned most humanoid creatures with all these tend to come from a pact… or a sire. Those who weren’t created, though, were taught - like me.” He spoke quickly, excitedly, while he scratched the last segments of a strange line-littered circle on the paper. “Even though everything has magic, not everything has the means to access it. We went on to better, easier things. Electricity, lightbulbs and… staplers. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. You just need the right push, the right set of markings and the perfect focus to –“ He held the sheet up, a finished circle of odd, archaic markings drawn on its surface. Though there wasn’t much time to process the shapes before James gripped it in his hands, a glowing purple flame sparked from the bottom and curled up the fibers, eating the paper away in its wake. The flame morphed into itself, rising into a warbling purple orb that lit up the table like some strange candle. “… To draw it out.”

“That’s fantastic. How did you figure this out? How do you do it?” Joshua whispered, drawing his hands to the orb. It was cold.

“Practice? Books? Listening to the wise, raving rants of lunatics on the street? I’m confined to the runes on paper, or the runes in my room.” He motioned to the ritual circle out in the corner. “I can do mostly anything I want with that thing here – otherwise the ink’s my best friend.” He gave a coy, disingenuous grin. “Other than you, of course.”

He was still stunned by the glittering orb. “…What’s this have to do with Lottie and I, then?” He asked, distracted.

“Everything!” James’ voice got loud, and he slammed a hand down on the table (which startled Joshua to no end). The small light flickered and died, fuzzing out of existence the second James raised his voice. “You’re magic, she’s magic, we’re all magic and you’re just now figuring it out.”

Joshua’s eyes darted around the room. Looking to the ritual circle, the blank spot of air where the orb had been, then to James, who looked strangely calm. “This is insane.”

“Yeah, I coped with that years ago.”

He sighed. He didn’t like being so quickly swayed but undoubtedly, he had been. “I’m all ears.”

“Good. Now, about the vampirism. We need to find another one. Someone who might explain all of this better than I can.“ Honestly, James knew only the bare truth about it all. He knew enough to realize their existence and spot one from a crowd, but other than that he’d never gotten the chance for a proper conversation. There was this pang of something in the back of his mind that regretted using Joshua as his doorway into the world of the unliving – but the opportunity had been served to him on a Styrofoam platter. He wasn’t going to pass it up.

“Another one…?” The words came out nervous, though he agreed having some insight on the matter would be convenient (even if he only bearing the slim chance James was wrong). “What about Lottie?”

“What about her? You said she ran off.”

“I mean, sure she did – but if I’m a vampire –“ It would never feel right to say that word genuinely. “That means she’d be one too, yeah? She might even know where we can find an… I don’t know, an older one?” He felt like he was speaking gibberish. He knew what he was trying to say but barely had the words to describe it. “Can’t you find her with your… uh –“ He motioned to the burnt remnants of the paper James had drawn on. “Your runes?”

“I can’t just tell the universe to track one of every species in a certain –“ He stopped, realization striking him. “You’re both dead.”

“Excuse me?”

“Jo, you genius. You’re both dead! That not a species, that a state of mind!” He exclaimed excitedly, his hand grabbing for a coat he never took off as he rushed out the door. “Come on – I know what we need to do.”

Joshua watched as James bolted out the room. “Uh – you left your –“ James had disappeared through the labyrinth of storage totes. He sighed, grabbing the papers and marker off the table and wandered out after him. He wasn’t in any state to go running. By the time he made it out the cellar doors, James had already gotten to the other side of the short parking lot and started the car.

He slipped awkwardly into the passenger’s seat – “Alright, wh –” He was taken off guard as James snatched the marker from his hands and uncapped it, drawing suddenly in a scramble of black, inky markings. “What are you doing to my steering wheel?”

James lifted his head to meet his friend’s, his hand freezing about halfway through a short semi-circle on the center pad. “Something… useful?”

“Please don’t draw on my car!”

“Too late!” He finished the circle with a final flick then swiped at Jo’s hand, grabbing his wrist before pausing, “I need to borrow this, do you mind?”

“I uh –“ Whatever he was going to say got interrupted as James threw his hand onto the wheel, blaring the horn for a few seconds. If it hadn’t been for everything else that had happened, he would’ve thought he was going blind or mad as James started to murmur under his breath, the marker stains on the pleather wheel shimmering in response. It lit up in a blueish-grey hue that reminded him of something like a newly-broken glowstick. After a few more seconds the blinkers started flickering, the headlights winked, and even the reading lights went wacky as the whole car threw itself into an electrical nightmare. “What are you doing to my car?” He instinctively tried to pull his hand away from the jittering mess, but James held it in place.

“I’m going to need you to stay put, yeah?” He sounded somewhat finicky, like he was desperately trying to focus. It seemed he only needed to ask out of politeness as barely a second later Jo found he was stuck to the wheel. It was like he’d been glued. “If I use your signature… your ah – “ His voice hitched as his grip got a bit tighter on Jo’s hand. In-tandem the car started shaking and a low electrical buzz hummed through the air, filling their ears. It felt like chaos contained to the inside of an old station wagon. “Your – it’s like a magic fingerprint.”

“An… aura?” Joshua was really trying to come to terms with all the new information.

“Yeah, if you want to be cliché about it.” He laughed, a bit shakily. “We might be able to find more of you. Usually I’d do this to a map or something.”

“Wh– why didn’t you?” He asked, frazzled, his free hand now gripping the grab-handle in a desperate attempt not to get shaken into the floor.

“You’ve got better car insurance than I have money for a new phone.” If anyone were looking from the outside-in, they’d find the vehicle practically hopping. Jittering and buzzing in its parking space, it lifted off the ground like a helium balloon getting pulled by some kid tugging at its string. It didn’t help when the alarm started to go.

“What are you doing, stop it!”

“It’s going to work. Just give it a little more – Ha!”

Jo was about to continue snapping at his friend, but the car – in a split, unhesitating second went still. They fell back into their seats, his hand still stuck to the wheel and James’ still planted firmly on-top, keeping him there where the magic couldn’t. The only sound left from the commotion being the blinker, queuing them for a left turn. James laughed, shakily, but triumphantly. “I can’t believe I wasn’t lying.” He said in a near whisper.

“What?”

“I’m not saying that could’ve completely destroyed your car, I’m just saying that it was either going to work, or you’d need a new dash.” He slicked back his long hair, fingers getting caught between some stray curls, and let out a sigh.

When James’ grip loosened, Jo tried to pull his palm off the horn. It still wouldn’t budge. “I… I still can’t move.” He stuttered, tugging at his arm. He couldn’t help but notice how the blinker would crackle every time he tried to pull away. It didn’t feel as much like glue then as it did tendrils; something invisible and threadlike holding his hand to the center pad in a death grip.

“Obviously. I haven’t dismissed you yet.” James said as if it were something completely nonchalant. “Now if you can keep still, we might be able to find your secretary. See? She’s somewhere… left.”

“…Right.” Joshua leaned back as far as his reach would let him.

“No, left.” James laughed, and then promptly quieted when he realized he was the only one laughing.

They pulled out of the parking lot (which was a much more hectic task than that would imply). With Jo’s hand firmly planted to the wheel, James had to practically drive over him to get the car turning. He got pulled in every direction as they swerved from turn to sidestreet – a U-turn here and an ‘Oh, that wasn’t the right way’ there. With every road they took the blinker would shift, change, and point them in whatever direction it decided they needed to go.

Everyone else on the road must’ve loved them.

There was a distinct effort made to follow every other traffic law in a desperate attempt not to get pulled over. Magic tends to be something of a guessing game when melded haphazardly with human mechanics – cars weren’t made for tracking rituals. But they figured out quickly enough the rules it had set up for itself. Left and right were obvious; when it sped up on its own, revving and whirring like some racer, they figured that meant go forward; when it stalled to halt in the middle of the road, they figured that meant turn around. Stop lights were the most fun, though. James found himself pedal-to-the-metal on the brakes trying to keep the car in place while Jo was leaned halfway over the arm rest, practically in the driver’s seat. He’d made eye contact with more than a few other drivers who couldn’t help but peek at the blinking, swerving commotion. They were on the road for at least an hour just trying to decipher the directions taking them only god knew where. Jo was just thankful it wasn’t some blood-ritual-sacrificing-something-or-another. At least, he was sure he wasn’t bleeding.

After some time they clattered, blinked, and veered their way into the lot of a tall apartment complex nestled tightly between a stretch of buildings. Grey and dreary, only highlighted in spurts by bright window decorations. There were some colorful flags and curtains here, some potted plants there, all of it giving life to the brutal concrete. Though, there wasn’t any time to appreciate the resident’s decorative taste as Jo found himself convinced the car was about to explode. It bounced and clicked, the blinkers going off at random while the headlights flashed.

“I think we might’ve found the place!” James laughed, gripping the steering wheel like an anchor.

Jo wasn’t in much of a talking mood. He was almost sure his shoulder was going to dislocate with how the car tossed. His free hand scrambling, he shot for the key and turned it in a frantic attempt to shut the whole thing down. With the ignition off, the buzzing hummed to a low murmur, the bouncing settled, and it all came to a somewhat reasonable state. Though the charmed shimmering of magic was still faintly speckled over the metal and across the pleather, leaving faint, fluttering traces. The tendril-like grip on Jo’s hand finally loosened, though he didn’t seem to notice. He instead just sat there catching up with his heart rate – or, no – he could hear a heart pounding in his ears, but it didn’t feel like his. Instead, his eyes tracked the noise to James, to his chest, he could almost hear a rush of something under his skin behind his cut laughter. He sat there for a moment, entranced, his mouth opened slightly and realized the air suddenly tasted savory – heavy.

“You… you can move your hand now.” James wove his arm out of their tangle and sat back into the seat. Jo shook his head, as if he were clearing some abstract etch-a-sketch of thought and pulled away, slowly.

“Yeah, sure – I –“ He sat himself primly into the chair and stared forward, it felt like his mind was swimming. “Where are we?”

“Hollow Oaks Apartment Complex, apparently.” James read off some sign set up a few feet away from them. “Does your secretary live here?”

“I… I don’t know, I’ve never asked.”

“Wow! You’re terrible at the secret office romance thing, you know that? Where on earth have you been sending her flowers to?”

“Nowhere!” He started, shifting in his seat. It was a little annoying, but the banter did something to clear his head. “I don’t send her flowers.”

“Right… you’re more of a chocolate guy, I should’ve guessed.” He cracked his knuckles and moved for the door. “Well come on, we can’t find the supernatural sitting down.”

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din-skywalker · 5 years ago

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Take My Hand in This Falling Void

eeeyyy haven't posted a fic on this here tumblr in a while cause i'm never validated enough on here but i wrote this as a trade thing with @anthonycarrigan and he told me to post it here so i am lol

also i'm on mobile and the read more thing doesn't work for me on here so i am SO sorry for the long post lol

he wanted yancy angst so i gave him yancy angst

Yancy was feeling excited today. Very excited. It had been exactly three weeks since he'd helped Y/N escape from the prison and it just so happened to be Sunday. He was practically buzzing with the anticipation to see his friend again- he'd told them to visit him, so he was sure that they would. Why wouldn't they? He'd helped them and they’d become good friends in his mind. So of course they'd come back to visit him.

He strides through the kitchen, waving to his fellow prisoners but not slowing his pace. He knows what he wants to do and he'd be damned if he didn't. He hadn't been this excited since he'd realized prison life was perfect for him.

He steps up to the door that leads to the visiting room, and reaches for the doorknob, only for the guard to raise a hand in front of him. He looks down at the hand, eyebrows pinching in confusion and he looks at the guard. “What's the big idea here, buddy?” he asked. The guard grimaces at him.

“You have no visitors, Yancy,” the guard answered, and points back the way he’d come. “Return to the cafeteria.”

Yancy’s eyes widen, and his mouth drops open. “W-what?” he stammered out. “But… but that can’t be right! My friend, they gosta be in there.”

The guard shakes his head again. “There are no visitors for you,” he repeated. “In fact, there aren’t any for anyone here.” He frowns. “Now get back to the cafeteria.”

Yancy sits in a far corner of the cafeteria, head in his hands and his thoughts racing. Y/N should have come… Sure, they hadn’t said if they were actually going to visit, and Yancy had just assumed they would. But Y/N didn’t talk at all, so of course he was going to assume what he wanted to.

But, in the end, they hadn’t actually come to visit… maybe they were just disappointed in him for not leaving with them, or for not taking parole yet. But his parole hasn’t come up again yet! He actually… kind of wants to leave again, for once. Maybe it was because of Y/N. They had really left an impression on him. Yet they hadn’t showed up to visit. Maybe… maybe Yancy liked them more than they liked him.

He massages his temples with the tips of his fingers, mentally shaking himself. Maybe they just hadn’t been able to make it this time. Yeah, that had to be it. Something came up and they weren’t able to get here to see him. They hadn’t forgotten about him, they were just busy, is all.

He removes his hands from his head and nods, forcing a smile on his face. That was it, definitely. He’d just wait for the next visit. They’d be there next time.

They weren’t there the next time.

Once again, Yancy had been turned away at the door. Once again, he’d been sent back. And now, all he could do was lay on the top bed of the bunk he didn’t have to share. Since his roommate had escaped, they hadn’t replaced Y/N. There was just an empty bed beneath him, and he could just stare at the ceiling or the wall with no one to talk to.

Sure, Y/N hadn’t been here long. Maybe at most a week while Yancy took the time to form a plan to help them escape, but he’d grown somewhat attached to them as the days had gone by. They never spoke, only used their hands in strange, overexaggerated gestures, and their facial expressions for communication, but Yancy had quickly learned their “language” of sorts. They had also followed him almost everywhere after their initial fight, something like a second shadow that silently observed he and the other prisoner’s activities. Until they were dragged into said activities, of course. They didn’t normally take to tasks unless prompted. But once they were prompted, they took to the tasks with vigor.

They’d smile at Yancy’s jokes and even let him teach them some of his moves. They were a fast learner, and they were dancing to imaginary music together in the hallways.

Yancy had, quite honestly, grown used to their constant presence at his side. The entire week they’d been here, they hadn’t separated once. It had been… strangely comforting, to say the least. After having no one to depend on, or to call a friend, Y/N had been a breath of fresh air.

And now, they weren’t coming back. He’d help them leave him, and they took that to their advantage. And of course they had. Everyone did.

His eyes snap open, and he shoots to a sitting position at the sound of splitting, creaking, and breaking. His eyes dart across the room, and he can instantly see the cracks. The cracks in the walls, the floors, the ceilings.

And the air. He definitely notices the cracks in the air pretty quickly.

He leaps to his feet, his heart already pounding against his ribcage. The ground shakes beneath his feet, the air trembles around him, and the world is falling apart, a high pitched ringing tearing at his ears. His hands fly instinctively to cover his ears, but the ringing only continued, seeming to grow louder as the entire world falls into nothing, and now he's falling, too.

He continued to fall, his throat tearing with a scream, until suddenly, it all stopped. The ringing was louder, but everything else was still, quiet.

“It is a shame for you to have become one of their... pawns.”

The voice was strange and all encompassing, echoing forever until it came ramming back into his mind. It had the ringing dancing along its edges, filling it and ripping it apart at once. Yancy slowly peeked one of his eyes open, the world still an empty void, nothing but him and this new, strange man standing a few feet in front of him.

And what a strange man indeed. He wore an all white suit with a black undershirt and what appeared to possibly be a red tie, and his skin was a light grey. His hair was black as well, and his eyes appeared to be a color between the grey of his skin and the black of his hair. The strangest thing about him, though, was the aura surrounding him, blurring the void behind him and causing glitches and tears in the reality just touching it. It was blue and red. Though, the red was the more noticeable of the colors, framing his entire body and growing in size every second or so. He had a charming smile on his face, but Yancy knew from experience that it was a front, not real. His hands were tucked behind his back, and he seemed overall pleasurable, but Yancy’s knowledge once more reminds him that this man probably wanted something more from this situation. Why else would he be here?

“I know the feeling,” the man said, and his voice grows in a few octaves, the red aura exploding in a cacophony of a scream. His hands come to his front, clasping in front of his stomach as he takes a step forward, the sound of his footfall echoing around them in the nothingness. He gestures outwards, to one side. His expression changes to one of sympathy, his smile turning to a frown, his eyes glazing over. Yancy could tell this man was damn good at what he did. “And now that they're done with you, they've tossed you aside. Forgotten you. Replaced you.” He sighs, the simple exhale becoming a booming noise. “I know the feeling all too well.”

Yancy scrunches his eyebrows together, and purses his lips. “I have no idea what you're talking about,” he said, even though he did. He knew all too well what this man was talking about. He just didn't want to admit it. The fact that this man was right. That… Y/N really had forgotten about him. He didn't want to accept that. He didn't know if he could, really.

“Oh, but I thought you would,” the man said, and suddenly, he was standing beside him. Yancy lets out a startled noise, and stumbles backwards, only for the man to appear behind him and catch him, helping him regain his balance. Yancy takes a more sure step away from the man now, watching as the red expanded once more, screaming in what sounded to be pain. The sound resonated in his ribcage, beating with his heart before it was gone again. “I mean… weren't you such good…” he pauses, lips drawing up in a corner as though disgusted, “friends?”

Yancy’s eyes widen, before he averts them from the dark grey eyes of the other man’s. The man is shifting again, the red creaking and groaning. “I know you remember them,” the man continued, and Yancy could hear the taunting in his tone. He grits his teeth at it, and the sound of creaking splits through his skull. “And I know that you feel left behind, abandoned, tossed aside.” he grimaced. “And now, because they've moved on, everything is falling apart.” He looks at Yancy through the corner of his eye. “You were a distraction for them. Mere entertainment created by the two who have ruined so many lives.”

He appeared beside Yancy again, but this time he doesn't fumble, doesn't get as surprised. He meets the dark eyes, his heart hammering against his ribcage as the ringing fills his eardrums, making them quake and rumble. The red multiplies, forming humanoid figures on either side of the man before they disappear again, disappearing into him.

“But you don't have to end up like the others,” the man said, and lifted a hand, revealing faces. One of an adventurer and a pirate, both of their faces being being torn apart by the same nothingness that now surrounded him, screaming in agony. His toes twist inwards at the sound, and his hands clenched into fists, showing his discomfort at the sight. He could already feel the nothingness gnawing at his edges, biting at his nerves. “I can help you. You just have to help me.”

A glitching hand is held out towards him, filling a microscopic portion of the nothingness around them. He stared at the hand offered to him, bile in his throat and nothing eating at his stomach.

There was no other option. The world was ending, he was going to die, and they weren't coming back.

He takes the man’s hand, and the man grins.

----

PLEASE let me know if you liked it or not. i NEED feedback on my writing or i will DIE

REBLOGS>LIKES

#mine #my writing #yancy markiplier #markiplier #a heist with markiplier #darkiplier #y/n #i forgot how to tag

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docfuture · 5 years ago

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Princess, part 5

[This story is a prequel, set several years before The Fall of Doc Future, when Flicker is 16. Links to some of my other work are here. Updates now planned to be biweekly–next update is scheduled for November 30th.]

Previous: Part 4

Journeyman cooked and talked, with frequent pauses to mutter at the food, while Flicker sat at the kitchen table tapping at her handcomp. She'd changed out of her costume into shorts and a T-shirt with a yellow hazard sign triangle containing an exclamation point, and he had swapped his cuffed shirt for what looked like a faded band shirt showing a group of four blurry humanoid blobs. It appeared to be a reference to an old joke; if You've Probably Never Heard of Them by Really Obscure was an actual album, it wasn't in the Database. "The Box released their vid," she said. "They wanted it on the news so people would believe Hermes isn't on Earth anymore. And since they can't talk to me, lots of reporters want to talk to the magician instead, but he isn't answering calls. They're saying he's rumored to be a heavy drinker, which sounds like a smear attempt?" "Might be," said Journeyman, while stirring at the frying pan. "But it's very likely true. That's just how the Box operates." "What do you mean?" "The Box needs at least a few magicians with basic skill at wards for security. And they want ones who are competent, experienced, and can pass a background check, because skimping on any of that is just asking for trouble. But the Box is an incredibly depressing place to work if you're at all psychically sensitive, before you even consider their workplace culture and management history. So almost anyone qualified can make a far more palatable living somewhere else." He waved the spatula. "Unless they've got other problems. And the Box will tolerate high-functioning alcoholism. Usually they have other health issues, too, because the one thing the Box does have is really good health coverage--if they didn't, nobody would work there." "That's... discouraging." "Very little about the Box isn't. But you're supposed to be off-duty." "Yeah, yeah," said Flicker. "Doc says the probability manipulation anomaly seems to have died down, at least. And whatever you're fixing is starting to smell good. I guess I am hungry." "Thought so," said Journeyman. "Cooking wasn't something that fit with my mental model of you. You can port to get food anywhere." "Yes, and I often do." He grinned. "But porting is also very handy when I discover I'm missing a spice or ingredient. Want to know how I started?" "Of course I do." Journeyman had a talent for telling stories that helped Flicker unwind, and he liked to talk while he worked. "Well, a number of years ago--you'll note I'm being deliberately vague about how many--I was doing a lot of alchemy delivery work..."

Whatever Journeyman had done with the garlic and onions might not be magic, but it smelled good enough to be. "... despaired of ever being more than mediocre at potion-making," said Journeyman. "But the witch, and I want you to picture her like someone's nice grandmother--except with a little glint in her eye that told you she just might have been a resistance fighter during the war or something--asked if I wanted to know the secret to practicing alchemy. I said I did, and she leaned closer and whispered 'Learn to cook'. So I did." Flicker smiled. "Does it actually help?" Journeyman started scooping food onto plates. "They're different arts. But once you've learned alchemy, it does help, because they have a lot of skills and habits in common. And cooking ingredients are a lot easier to get. Safer, too. I'm still only average at alchemy, at best--it takes decades to get really skilled--but I've been getting better. And I like cooking better than alchemy." He brought the plates to the table. "Dinner is served." Silence for a time while they ate. Living at normal speed, in the present. Something Flicker hadn't done much of lately. "This is really good," she said. "Thank you." "No problem." She finished eating first and put her plate in the sink. Then she sped up and checked her handcomp while she waited for Journeyman. She ran through her Database self-check and reminders list. A lot there that she'd been putting off, waiting for a better time, or for Journeyman to finally be done with his interdimensional mess. She slowed back down and watched as he finished. "All right," he said after clearing the table, "You wanted to hear the rest of my reason. Back to the living room?" "Yeah." Flicker sat on the couch with her handcomp in her lap, facing him. His smile from dinner faded, and he looked tired and worried. He clasped his hands and stared at them. "There are a couple of things I noticed that add up in an unpleasant way. At least for me. That's why I said it was personal. This is based on my own judgement. We clear on that?" Flicker frowned. "I didn't expect anything different." "First, I saw something in your visor replay that bothered me. Still bothers me." "What?" "Right at the start." Journeyman looked up at her again. "I know you've had some serious arguments with Doc. But he knows you pretty well, and he's the smartest man in the world. He knew about summoning boomerangs. He knew there might be trouble at the Box--he was on the phone to them in what, 20 seconds?" Journeyman waved a hand. "But what did he do, in the first two seconds after the alert hit? What was the most vital priority for the smartest man in the world?" Flicker swallowed. "He reminded me that Hermes was a person." "Yeah." Journeyman took a breath. "And you said the Database AI intervened too? You didn't slow down for that part." "DASI. Yes." "And did either Doc or this DASI give you even a hint about potential boomerang trouble or problems at the Box until you were already well on the way? They had time; you stopped to let Hermes talk twice." "No, they didn't." "Doc knew you'd be able to stop Hermes. And was worried enough he'd get away to take steps to try to prevent it. But it looks to me like the top priority was keeping you from killing him. Because Doc wasn't sure you wouldn't." "It was the right thing to do," said Flicker. "I was really burned out when the alert hit. And disconnected--I was depersonalizing everything, including myself, to reduce the emotional load from my shift. To try to recover. And the word 'demon' is way too broad. This is not an abstract problem for me. Some aren't as smart as dogs. Some are as smart as most humans. And I've killed demons. I'm pretty sure they were just the stupid, evil kind--but I don't know. I have to make decisions with my high speed mind, which has another categorization problem related to them that I don't fully understand yet. And the extra strain of trying to work around it makes everything harder. So I do have a problem with prejudice, and I'm not sure how to fix it." "I understand," said Journeyman. "And you have a lot of company in that prejudice. Probably a majority of humans who have an opinion about demons at all. There are evil demons, good demons, smart ones, and stupid ones. Demons with free will, and ones with very little volition--often not by their choice. Ones that start out stupid and get smarter, and a few that go the other way. Demons that look human, demons that don't, ones that can shapeshift and mimic, ones that can't. I could keep going. But there's no line that anyone can draw and with any reasonable justification say 'every demon on this side of the line is a person; every one on the other side isn't', and believe me, people have been trying for centuries. This doesn't stop the line drawing. It just gets used as an excuse for more hostility." "I don't try to draw a line," said Flicker. "But the lack of one does makes my categorization problem worse." Journeyman nodded. "Yeah. And your problems weren't all clear to me when I agreed to become your partner, and asked for backup in case I was attacked by 'demons', while working on something I had no idea would turn into a mess lasting more than a year. I'm sorry about that, and I owe you. One of the things I owe you is not making things worse if I can help it. Speculating about the non-human part of your origin in a way that would make you angry even if I were right? And just might cause you to be inclined to go kill someone because you consider them a demon and think they're your mother? Yeah, not helpful. So I won't do it." Flicker stayed at normal speed; this was an emotional problem, not an intellectual one. Speeding up wouldn't help. The anger was trying to come back. She handled it. And her background fear that she'd do something destructive by accident or overreaction was still present. It never went away completely , and she never tried to dismiss it. She didn't dare. So if Journeyman had some of the same worries? It certainly wasn't a reason to be angry at him. "Okay," she said. "I can accept that. And you did answer my other questions. Which helps." "I'm willing to help in other ways. You want to learn more about non-human people and all the challenges they face that don't get into the high-quality data parts of the Database? And why they don't? I can tell you lots about that. You want to learn about some of the mind-bending and frustrating issues that come with dueling diviners and background probability manipulation, from the perspective of a magician? Sure thing. But there are some limits." "I understand. You're being... diplomatic? There are a lot of things that are mixed together that we haven't talked about. That we need to. Tonight probably isn't the best time, though." "No argument there." "You said you need to check on some things. Can you do that from here, or do you need to port around?" "I was planning on doing it from here. I'm wiped enough that I'd rather not do a bunch of porting. Why?" "Because I need to do some memory assimilation before I sleep if I don't want to lose details--it's been a long day--and I'm already at a warning level for social isolation, but I don't want to be around most people. You don't bother me. So I don't want to leave yet. Is that okay?" "Sure, but there might be some muttering and swearing under my breath. Will that be a problem?" "No. It will just be you." Journeyman stood and looked over at his computer and the group of phones connected to chargers beside it. "Well, I guess I've run out of excuses not to look at the dumpster fires in my message drops." Flicker put on her night visor and moved a pillow so she could stretch out comfortably on the couch. "Good luck." "Thanks. Hopefully a lot of them will just be 'Hey, do you know what your partner did?'" "Doc has a Database bot for handling messages complaining about me. I can help you set one up if you want." "Tomorrow, maybe," said Journeyman as he sat down at his computer. Flicker focused on her visor display, and started work on the exercises she used to help integrate her high speed memories with her normal speed ones in a way that retained as much as possible of what she considered important. Journeyman's typing and quiet, mildly incredulous muttering were a pleasant, familiar background. She finished her first pass, and started adding odds and ends. Little millisecond-long glimpses of Rome, tiny slices of a place that she could perhaps revisit someday... ***** Dreams, pleasant ones for once. Exploring, with Journeyman, free for a little while of the driving urgency to stop bad things from happening. ***** Flicker woke in darkness. She moved her arm; the bed was... not a bed. She was on a couch. Journeyman's couch. She rubbed her eyes, then turned on her night visor, which had shut down automatically. No alerts or emergencies, one message notice. Squishy brain was fuzzy, speed mind was not fully loaded--just emergency response and recovery defaults. She sorted out a few relevant memories of the previous day and sat up. A sticky note had been placed in a spot that drew her eye. It turned out to say the same thing as the message:

Flicker: Didn't want to wake you. Food and drinks are in the fridge. If you need to leave and aren't in a hurry, please wake me so I can reset the ward on the front door. I'm down the hall, just knock on the door. You can also wake me if you need anything else. --J

She didn't need to wake him; the light amplification from her night visor was sufficient to let her find the bathroom. After washing her hands, she washed her face and considered the tired-looking stranger in the mirror. Dissociation--but putting herself together after waking always took a little time and effort. Not worth it right now. She went back out into the hallway and stopped, frowning. The door to the bedroom was ajar. Why would he tell her to knock if it was open? She glided into the bedroom. Her mind was still fuzzy. Journeyman was sleeping on his side at one edge of the bed. Did he usually sleep with the door open? He'd emphasized the importance of closed doors to wards... He knew how she felt about doors. Was it open because of her? She remembered what he'd said when she'd asked if he was expecting an attack: 'Certainly not with you here.' Did he feel safer... without that barrier between them? She looked at the other side of the bed. There was plenty of room. He would never suggest it. She understood that much. She glided over to the far side of the bed and carefully got under the covers. But the slight movement of the mattress was still enough to wake him. "Mmph?" he said. "It's just me," she said. "It's safe." "Flicker?" "Yes." A pause. A sudden whuff of air, a shift of the mattress as weight lifted, and covers fluttering down. He'd ported out. Not safe.

Next: Part 6

#FallofDocFuture #FallMisc

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feral-renaissance-cat · 7 years ago

Text

Molly, Meet Your Maker

(A direct sequel to “A Message from Mollymauk” because I’m coping through speculative fiction, okay?)

The flood of grief was slowing to a trickle. New bits of text and a few lovely drawings appeared now and then, but clearly the shock had worn off. Molly was bored. He hated it. He had tried speaking to his surroundings a few times with no results, so now he simply did it because it was something to do.

“Is it possible to die of boredom when you’re already dead?” he asked. He searched his pockets again for the hundredth time and found nothing, not even the ash from the cigarette Keg had given him. It seemed he had emerged into this world cleansed. He thought he would have been naked, yet here he was in the clothes he had worn during the attack, albeit without the fresh bloodstains and massive gash in his shirt. No drugs, no drinks, nothing to fiddle with. His tail twitched in agitation. “Would something just happen already?” he demanded. After a moment of thought he added, “Please?”

Everything around him stopped. Molly had already figured out he didn’t have a heartbeat, but if he did it would have been rapid now. “Um, hello there?”

All the words and images faded into a hazy fog. To Molly’s great astonishment, from the fog came a reply. “Who’s that?” asked a voice. The voice made the hair on the back of Molly’s neck stand on end. It was familiar and yet...different from how he thought it should be? Was that why he was afraid to strike up a conversation with it? Or was there a different source for the apprehensive dread in his chest?

The voice spoke again, but it was louder, closer. “Pretty sure I’m dreaming, but no matter how hard I try I can’t actually affect anything, which means I’m either the worst lucid dreamer or that last drink was more than I expected.” A shadow appeared in the mist and eventually its outline grew sharper. It was about Molly’s height, humanoid, arms outstretched. Molly instinctively backed away. Despite his yearning for salvation from his boredom, this was unexpected and the part of him that always told him to run from anything that resembled his past was currently screaming in the back of his mind.

As afraid and alone as he was, Molly could only think of his friends. This slinking away trying to avoid confrontation was exactly what Caleb would do. Fjord would have already stepped forward to exchange pleasantries with Beau right behind him preparing to accidentally make the conversation awkward. If the stranger proved to be harmless, Jester would prance up to ask them questions and Nott might follow her while keeping an eye on Caleb. Yasha...would be Yasha, standing there waiting to figure out what her part in this was and only acting when she was sure she actually had something to do. And he? What would Mollymauk do when the Mighty Nein faced a new acquaintance?

He stood his ground. Reflexively he turned his head to check over his shoulder for Caleb, that odd mad man who was so clearly broken yet continuously put himself into situations that could shatter him rather than abandon the group. Molly had to show Caleb it was okay. He took a step forward. “And who might you be?” Molly asked.

The shadow perked up and came towards Molly. Its form cleared into that of a man, human, neither very young nor very old, with a soft figure that still radiated an active energy, and his hair was much shorter on the sides while the longer part on top was neatly brushed back and had a faint sheen of some bluish purple color. When the man saw Molly, he stopped. His jaw dropped. “Oh my god,” the man said. “It’s you.”

Molly cringed. “I know who you think I am,” he said. “I’m not him. If you’re looking for Lucien, Lucien’s dead.”

“Of course he is,” the man said matter-of-factly. “He’s been dead for over two years. You...you’re Molly. Mollymauk Tealeaf.”

Molly was getting nervous again. “Have we met?”

The man blinked as though suddenly realizing where he was. “Oh, no, not formally anyway.” He held out his hand. “I’m Taliesin. Taliesin Jaffe.”

Molly was hesitant to shake this man’s hand, but his curiosity had gotten him into worse places. The handshake was firm and highly enthusiastic on Taliesin’s part. “Good to finally meet you, I guess?” Molly said.

Taliesin continued to stare at him. “This is going to sound really weird, but the situation is weird as it is, so here goes...” He took a deep breath. “I’m your creator.”

Molly chuckled. “Are you a god or something?”

“Oh no, no no. But I made you. I’ve been wanting to pl- to introduce you for years.”

The wary part of Molly’s mind kept on screaming. “Were you... Are you the reason behind these?” Molly asked, indicating the red tattoos he had hidden among all the rest.

Taliesin waggled his head from side to side. “Ehh...technically? Let’s put it this way: I’m not a god, but I know who made the world you live in. I came up with your basic concept and told him to fill in the blanks for your past. I didn’t even know about Lucien until we got to the Gentleman. I’ve thought a lot about you for a while, but most of the little details you know about yourself are things I made up as we were going along.”

Molly narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you don’t remember the names of any places you’ve been, but do you remember what you were doing about a year ago? Say, ten months? Remember any particular encounters?”

So many things had happened in two years, it was hard to keep track of when ‘particular encounters’ had happened. Molly shrugged.

“I’ll tell you. You were telling fortunes and this lovely couple came up and asked for a reading. They said their relationship had hit a rough patch and they were looking for advice or insight as to what would happen next. You rigged your deck to draw The Lovers and the Three of Cups so you could tell them their relationship would be saved by bringing in a third person. So you convinced them to have a threesome that went so well that they said any time you were in town you were free to drop by for dinner and stay for breakfast. Remember now?”

Molly tilted his head. He could remember it all of a sudden. He remembered exactly how he had stacked and shuffled his cards to give him the result he needed. He remembered how he had flirted with the woman first then turned his charm to the man once he won her over. He remembered the parting kisses he had given them both and the giddy yet guilty feeling he had walking back to the wagons because he knew he would probably never see them again. He nodded.

“Well I just made that up. That memory didn’t exist until just now.” Taliesin shook his head sadly. “I know your past as you, Molly, and your present. That’s it. Your distant past -- and your future -- are out of my hands.”

“But...if you created me, then...you must know something.”

Taliesin laughed. “I don’t even know where I am right now. Last thing I remember was checking Twitter before bed and seeing...well, it’s gonna sound crazy but there are a lot of people who blame me for your death. Or they’re blaming one of two other people, but what happened to you wasn’t...” He put a hand over his mouth. “My god, Molly, I’m so sorry.”

A faint crack of hope shone in Molly’s heart. “Can you send me back? You said you know the man who made the world. He can send me back, right?”

“He could, but there are rules. He can’t just say, ‘Okay, that shouldn’t have happened. Let’s start over and this time no one dies.’ I have faith in him, and I will respect whatever decision he makes, but ultimately it’s not up to me.” Taliesin sighed. It was a deep airy sigh Molly could practically feel in his own lungs. “I was really excited about you,” Taliesin said. “There was so much left you had to do and learn and, now, I honestly don’t know if you’ll ever get the chance.” Molly noticed his hands trembling. This man who was his creator but who was not a god was trembling. Molly stepped forward and embraced him.

Molly wasn’t sure which emotion had triggered his tears. There was so much for him to process and he could feel Taliesin’s anxiety and grief compounding with his own. It was overwhelming. Then Taliesin put his arms around him and pulled him tight. Molly’s tail curled as he held back his sobs. The last thing he wanted to do was openly weep into his creator’s shoulder. Then again, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so, and so he did. He cried over the loss of his friends, over the fear of being alone again, over the hopelessness of his situation and the helplessness of the man who made him. He cried because he hadn’t cried in a while and damn it if you couldn’t cry about your own death when it was this unfair then when could you?

The hug lasted as long as it needed to. It was Taliesin who let go first. “I’ll do what I can,” he promised.

“Thank you,” Molly said. He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his coat as Taliesin did the same with the heel of his thumb. Molly wasn’t sure what else to say. Then a thought occurred to him. “You mentioned ‘we’. Are there people who made the others like you made me?”

“There are.”

“Were they like you and they just know a little about all of them or did they invent their pasts too?”

Taliesin shrugged. “Little of column A, little of column B.”

“Did someone come up with Caleb’s past? The reason why he’s...broken?”

“Yes.”

“If you see that person, punch them in the gut for me, will ya?”

Taliesin laughed, and this time there was actual amusement in his voice. “I’ll tell him you said that. God, no one’s going to believe this. I don’t know if I believe it, but it was good to meet you, Molly.”

“Good to meet you, too, I guess.” The tip of Molly’s tail twitched. “Um, I’m guessing you have to go.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Taliesin put his hand on Molly’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself.”

Molly smiled. “Not like I have much choice, right?”

The two shook hands in farewell. As Taliesin turned to walk back into the fog, Molly called, “Wait!” Taliesin stopped to look over his shoulder. Molly grinned sheepishly. “I don’t suppose you have anything you could leave with me to, I don’t know, help me pass the time?”

Taliesin put his hand to his chin and furrowed his brow pensively. “Maybe I could...hmmm...” A smile crept across his face. His eyes twinkled. “Check your pockets. I think you have something in there that could help.” With that, Taliesin walked into the fog, waving goodbye as he went.

Molly huffed. He had checked his pockets so many times, what could possibly--

There was something in his pockets. He frantically turned them out. One pocket in his pants had a flask that had the same sheen as Nott’s. The other pocket had a drawing of everyone in the Mighty Nein charging together into battle. One pocket in his coat had a box of cigarettes with a small flint and steel. The last pocket had a small bag of pills with a note. “When things seem hopeless, Papa Molly.”

#critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #critical role #mollymauk tealeaf #mollymauk #Taliesin Jaffe #I'm still not okay #but I'm getting better #please do not actually punch Liam #get well soon Molly #spoilers #spoiler #longer than expected #but it needed to be done #*ugly crying*

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bunchamunchafaunus · 6 years ago

Text

The Rise of a Ventian Queen [2]: The Next Step

“So, Peri.”

Hearing her name got the worried woman’s attention drawn from her bedridden friend to the man behind her. A raised brow curious what he wanted, such only getting stronger seeing him pat at the floor beside him.

“Come tell me some stories of Team Empress while we wait for her to recover.”

Such a simple request actually got the Komodo laughing. She wasn’t sure why she had expected anything else, but for some reason it caught her off guard. It only took another glance back to the slumbering Qilin to realize they were going to have to wait for a fair while before she’d wake. They definitely had time to relax, especially given she was sure the NeverCondor would take to the skies to get away from the canyon once it could.

So she did just that. Stepping back till she felt her back eased to the wall by her tail keeping her from just outright falling against it, she found herself on the metal ground beside her friend’s father figure. Taking in a breath to relax herself as she let her shoulders drop at last. Tail curling round to fit it’s thinner end under her legs.

“Well to start, I think I gotta mention she was the most awkward person out of everyone in the room the night before our entrance exam. No lie, she just kept looking over everyone in some awestruck state for about an hour at least while people came in and out of the room.”

The two laughed some, Peri recalling the silly look that had been on Emma’s face back then, Umbir imagining it.

Knowing they were in for some fun chatter, they made themselves comfortable and began. Not too long after would they feel the engines of the NeverCondor roaring to life and the large metal vessel leaving the ground and beginning to soar.

- One Day Later -

P - P a p a...

S h i t! E m m a!

Ringing.

L a y h e r h e r e!

Silence.

Darkness.

Was she?

No, no, she was still hearing noises here and there. So very faint and muffled, but they were there. Familiar voices, laughter, beeping... snoring? She was still so warm too. She had to be alive, right? Yeah, yeah, she had to be. From everything she knew, she’d be cold if she wasn’t.

For some time it was just this empty void. The odd sound so faint and muffled here and there, but nothing all too loud or obvious. Just the constant wonder of what might have happened to her and what would come to pass. It got to the point she was actually starting to worry, trying her best to have something, anything change. Yet nothing did, no matter what she tried.

Though something eventually changed, a small, tiny little dark orange light breaking the darkness. One that would change to fit a form, a humanoid figure. Instantly she knew what it was, and felt herself calm with it’s presence quickly. But that calm would suddenly be shaken up, hearing a voice. One that was clear, one she never heard before. A woman’s voice, low, echoing, comforting. One single sentence being spoken by it.

“I am proud of you”

The source of this voice disappearing soon after, leaving her alone in the quiet darkness once more. But this would not last long before the Qilin felt herself falling. Such a sudden sensation causing fear and panic to fill her, making her body jerk and flail for a single second as she sat up and found herself awake, staring at a wall judging by what she could now see her aura flowing up. Her breathing being long, deep breaths as she took in the situation.

Aching and sluggish body, left leg felt better but right knee still stings, a slight pinch in left arm, the sudden moving form of a person with a blue aura running past her view. The left side of which showed nothing defined when they saw the other living being, just a messy uncontrolled pattern of blue spread across a whole half her vision. Blinking a few times, she could tell her aura was switching from it’s default navigational assistance to the protective layer and back each time. Eventually stopping, closing her eyes, and focusing it to it’s defensive capabilities before letting it ease back to it’s usual sight-providing action. Finally staying as such whenever she blinked afterward.

“Emma!”

The Princess’ head turned immediately upon having the ever so familiar voice register to her, seeing the umber form of her father figure standing in what seemed to be a doorway. Plus some slight peek of a friendly red aura just around the door-frame beside him though it would duck back to be hidden as she saw the man draw closer. Soon after feeling his arms wrap ‘round her upper body and his cheek against the top of her head.

She wanted to return the embrace, but her body felt slow, heavy even, much more than she was used to. It even hurt some to try and move anything beyond how her body was now after having awoken so suddenly. Though she was sure she could manage speaking at the very least, so she cleared her throat before attempting to.

“Papa?” Her voice a little rough, but she still spoke. Not getting an answer right away, she could feel his arms move and saw his form begin lowering some. Soon seeing the shape of the man’s head as he had dropped to one knee in front of her so she wouldn’t have to turn her own head up so high.

“Yes, Lil’ Filly?”

That nickname again, she wasn’t sure whether to feel comfort hearing it again or to be annoyed by it and say she wished she hadn’t woken up as a joke. Quickly deciding against the later.

“What-... What happened? After what I did?”

“Well, assuming you remember up to the point I signaled the NeverCondor to fire, they got the two shots off. The destroyed rocks and trees from the blast on the cliff and the mountain began falling down into the canyon, but I’m pretty sure you somehow managed to stretch out your Semblance’s range because it all stopped mid-air and began spreading out across the width of the canyon itself. Once the Goliaths were getting right under the debris, it began dropping. Some hit the first two, the rest began falling on the next two, but all the stuff that you had circling the three of us quickly sped up and began being loosed in the direction of the front two Goliaths. The barrage forced them to start moving backward, thus suffering the rest of the falling debris like the two behind them. Four Goliaths were pinned beneath all sorts of rocks and trees, likely dead, and the Grimm on the far side were blocked off.”

Hearing it back from Umbir, Emma was sure she had been awake for the events he recalled. Her own mind replaying the sounds she had heard at the time. The thunderous gunfire from the Airship, the trumpeting sounds of the Goliaths, stone hitting stone, she was sure of it. “What about after that?”

“After the wall of debris settled, you collapsed. You had exhausted the vast majority of your aura to the point that you couldn’t stay awake. The Dust crystal you had used fell from your hands, depleted, and the winds around us started to die down. With the remains of the Grimm horde that were on our side starting to move again, I had Peri take you and get you into the NeverCondor. I ran back on my own, the turrets were manned, cannons recharged or reloaded, and the majority of what we still had to worry about of the horde was destroyed. Once enough was gone, we took to the skies. We’re settled above the ocean right now.

“How long was I out, Papa?”

“I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the time, but judging by the position of the sun compared to how it was when you lost consciousness, it’s almost been a full twenty-four hours.”

Twenty-four hours, it felt like she had been in that dark space for so much longer than a single day. One shaky inhale later, the name he had mentioned snapped back to her mind, making Emma move in sudden worry, despite the pain she felt by doing so and the wince it earned from her. A noise which got her father figure immediately rising to stop her from moving too much and carefully lay her back down.

“What about Peri, where is she?”

“She’s fine, Emma. Your teammate’s a wonderful young woman who cares a lot about her friends. Peri was actually by your side for the first few hours, it took telling her about how strong you were during your recovery after Samuel grabbed your neck that one time to get her to calm down, eat, and get some rest. She’s still asleep since she used up quite a bit of her own aura against that horde as well.”

To hear the Komodo was safe and resting eased the Qilin’s worry for the other. Sighing with relief as she let her head press back against the pillow.

“I’m gonna have to face them now that I’m here aren’t I? Make sure all those people aren’t scared about him finding them and ruling them like Manus did so they don’t attract Grimm like that again.”

Umbir chuckled a little. “It’s actually kind of funny that you mention it. There’s some soldiers who were loyal to Cres, now loyal to me, out side this room right now. They insisted on standing guard outside the Medical bay to make sure you’d be safe while you were out.”

This revelation was... odd... to say the least. Emma was so sure she would never be able to successfully fill any Royal role for so long in her life. Then she announced herself to dozens of Nobles as the Princess she was by blood, making word spread of her living state after having been thought dead for a good while. Now, she had people looking to her to be their Queen. People from her own place of birth. Ventian civilians and soldiers both. She didn’t feel ready to accept the role they needed her to play, but if she didn’t, she knew the events of the previous day would eventually happen again.

Maybe even to a much, much worse degree.

“Either way we look at it, I can’t really move right now can I?” She remarked with a little chuckle behind her words. A sound which Umbir repeated on his end at the inquiry.

“No, not really. Not without it hurting a lot since you’re body’s still recovering from such a heavy dip in aura. Maybe tomorrow you’ll be able to move around better again. Plus your legs could use just a bit more rest. The cut on your left was shallow, but it was long, and the scrape to your knee was a lot worse, so even with another day of your Qilin genetics healing that up it’s going to be sore when you try to walk on it again.”

“Okay ‘DAD’. I’ll stay in bed...!” A joke reply, but one that both parties laughed at.

“It’s nice to know you’ve still got that childish side to you after all this time and all the hardships you’ve faced, Emma. I’ll go get you some water.”

The Qilin simply nodded in thanks for the man’s concern and care, letting herself relax and her eyes close for a moment while she listened to his footsteps leaving the room. A shuffle of a couple other metal clad feet outside the room moving to clang together before stepping to what she assumed was a basic defensive stance for the Soldiers she had been informed of.

Over the next few hours, Umbir would come and go from the room. The two speaking over various different topics and points of her experiences ever since she had left Ventus so long ago. At one point even getting Peri up and visiting Emma to see how everything was going. The three of them conversing and interacting for a fair while longer before one-by-one people left the Medical bay for the night leaving Emma to rest on her own.

It was about noon the next day when the Qilin’s friend and teammate would enter the Medical bay with a set of new, clean clothes in a bag for her.

“Big day today for ya, Em’.” The woman remarked making her way toward the Qilin’s bedside. As she did, she watched the young woman atop the bed adjusting to an up-right seated position with a smile across her face. “Roy and I made sure to get something that looks real fancy.”

“Roy’s with you?”

“Well not right now, no, he went to talk with Umbir about something, but I did drag him along for the clothes.”

“You didn’t get something that’s all show without any comfort did you...?”

“Oh hell no, I know well enough that we tailed Faunus need clothes that are comfortable over everything else. Stuff’s real soft on the skin and still looks nice. I’m not gonna say you’re going to be comfortable mentally or emotionally while you’re up in front of your people, but at the very least you will be physically.”

Lifting the bag in her hand, Peri placed it down into Emma’s lap. “A nice white button-up top with a black knee-length skirt that has purple floral patterns, some white thigh-high socks, and a purple ribbon that can be tied into a bow under your collar or you can tie back your hair with it. I’ve got you~ Now go ahead and get dressed, I’ll be waiting outside.”

“Thank you, Peri.” Emma spoke with a soft thankful tone while the Komodo was close enough to still hear. Watching on afterward while the woman’s red form would leave the room, leaving her alone in it again. Taking a second, she made sure to pull the curtain by the foot of her bed ‘round to hide her from view of the door to the room.Once with more privacy provided, she shifted to get off the bed on the far side to begin changing her clothes. Taking a second of pause noticing her necklace was absent from around her neck.

About five minutes would come to pass before Peri and the four soldiers standing ‘round the door as protective guard for the Royal within the Medical Bay would hear the door open. A second later seeing the Qilin step out from the room within the newly provided clothing. The bag in hand containing the clothes she had changed out of, and the purple ribbon in her hand. Tail behind her finding itself dropping low and pressing against her leg with uncertain worry about the situation.

The four Soldiers, upon seeing her come to a stop, would turn to face her directly. A single stomp being done as they would, unknown to Emma, salute to her. Peri on the other hand could see that the three men and one woman had their right hands raised and placed diagonally across their chest while their left was tucked behind the small of their backs.

Taking a second, the Royal looked around to the four unfamiliar aura forms that surrounded her. A rather nervous smile present upon her face that all present could see clearly. After a couple seconds of silence, one of them would clear their throat before speaking. The sound drawing Emma’s foggy eyes to the unknown person immediately to her left before their pale yellow form in her eyes would lower to a knee.

“Your Highness, Melo Grove, I used to serve the late Queen Cres rather closely.” A soft woman’s voice quickly introduced herself. “I’m unsure of whether Sir Dew has mentioned it directly to you yet, but Cres truly did regret forcing you out of Ventus. For the past few years especially she searched for any sort of sign that you were alive in hopes of eventually meeting you in person and apologizing for her actions. When word spread among nobles across Remnant that you were present at the Duke of Coste’s charity event, she was ecstatic to know you were alive and well.”

What the Soldier said, while not entirely new to the Qilin as she had, indeed, heard some of it from Umbir, was appreciated. If not for the fact it contained some new information, then because it came from a voice which sounded so genuine and confirmed what her father figure had told her. Still, even with how she felt, there was the whole fact that being treated the way she was by these four was entirely new territory. A short glance to Peri for some sort of assistance just earning a shrug to the red shoulders of her friend’s figure.

“I-...” Focusing her attention back to Melo, she swallowed a nervous lump that had formed in her throat. Stepping closer to the kneeling woman, she shifted the lone ribbon to the same hand holding the bag as to clear one up for freedom of use. Then bringing that same hand up to gently rest on the woman’s shoulder, which caused their head to rise and she could feel their eyes on her once more. She noticed now a soft vibration of anxiety in the pale yellow form. One she attempted to ease by giving a soft, more confident smile.

“Th-Thank you, Melo. It-uh... it comforts me knowing Queen Cres wished no ill will towards me during the last years of her life. I-... I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to fill her shoes since I honestly never really expected to be doing... well.. any of this honestly, but I hope that we may work together as well.”

It was obvious to the four that the Royal they were currently looking to wasn’t exactly used to any of this. That despite how unsure of herself she sounded, the Qilin was trying her best. They could all respect that, immediately feeling much more comfortable with her as the one they would soon follow. Melo herself now giving a wide smile as she looked up at Emma.

“I would be honored to work alongside you, Your Highne-”

“Emma, please...”

“Emma... I look forward to serving you.”

Seeing the woman’s head bow again, the Royal watched her soon rise to her feet again.

“Is there anything we may do for you... Emma...?” The tone of Melo’s voice made it obvious she was going to have to get used to using a proper name instead of a title while addressing her superior.

For a short bit, things were quiet on the Qilin’s end, looking between the four soldiers again, this time in thought. “C-Could I maybe get some more privacy with Peri? We’re in a safe place, I really don’t think I need four guards here...”

She didn’t see it, having been looking away from the one Guard who’s name she knew so far at the time. Melo’s attention moved between the other three, the group coming to an unspoken agreement before the trio of still unknown Soldiers would take their leave. Relaxing their forms and beginning down the hall of the Airship they were currently in.

Sighing once there was less attention on herself, Emma turned to the woman once more. This time bowing her own head as she voiced her appreciation. She received a bow in return. After which her attention moved to Peri as she fetched the ribbon from the hand the bag was in.

“Could you tie my hair back? Just want it all to be nice and neat behind me for when I do this.”

The Komodo, befitting her personality, chuckled some at the request, but nodded none the less. Stepping to her friend, she took the ribbon in hand before physically encouraging a turn with a gentle push to the shoulder. Once such movement finished, she brought the ribbon between her lips to hold it while working on collecting the mass of near white hair that belonged to Emma. Every now and then working a hand down the length of it to try and funnel it all together better the farther down it went.

“Peri?”

“Yeah?”

“You possibly know where my necklace went?”

“Yeah, Umbir has it. Said he’d be giving it back later while you’re addressing everyone.”

Her answer made some sense to the Qilin, nodding a little in understanding as she fell silent for her friend to finish her work.

Once she felt she had a good enough control of her friend’s hair, Peri shifted hold to one hand as the other retrieved the purple fabric and worked it around the hair to replace her other hand. Finally being able to begin working on tying the ribbon tight to give a clean and proper finish to Emma’s appearance with a small bow holding her knee-length hair together at the bottom of the back of her neck. Looking to Melo, she earned an approving nod from the woman before looking back to it herself and nodding her own head.

“There ya go, ‘Your Highness’.”

The joking use of the title earned an elbow moving to impact with her arm. Laughter following from both the Faunus as Emma turned to face her teammate again. All this right before the shorter of the two would move to hug the taller, which was quickly reciprocated.

“Thank you, Peri, for everything you’ve done the past few days.”

“You’re welcome, Emma.”

The two letting their embrace last a couple seconds longer. Breathing in the comfort they shared knowing they were both alive and well after what they had gone through the other day. Once comfortable, both let go, Peri patting at Emma’s shoulder as one last gesture of fondness before she’d speak again.

“Now, you’ve got a crowd to address.”

A deep breath in and a sigh out would be taken by the Qilin. “That I do...” She glanced the two ways down the hall available to the three of them, brow furrowing some. “Um... Melo?”

“Yes?”

“D-Do you know what way we need to go?”

“That I do, just follow me.” Without missing a beat, the pale yellow figure Emma had turned her eyes to stepped side-ways. An outstretched hand gesturing the opposite direction than the other three had gone earlier. Quickly following up the gesture by turning herself in full and beginning down the hall.

The two Huntresses followed behind the woman for a minute or so, passing through the hallways and by some crew members here and there. Multiple different rooms they may have been able to turn into as well, yet Melo kept going. Eventually turning into a much wider hallway than the ones that they had walked through so far. One with a multitude of people seated along the walls, some standing, others walking between each other. The moment they did, Emma froze.

Looking down the hallway, the Qilin’s sight was filled with such a vast array of colors filling it. The initial viewing of so many people was too much for her with half being as messy as it was. It hurt her head to see all of them. She turned her head to clear her view and hopefully ease the strain it put on her. Peri’s red soon stepping into view as she felt her hand at her shoulder.

“Your eye bugging you?” Her question only received a nod from the shorter woman as her left eye closed and a hand rose over it.

“Her eye?” Melo stepping around to the Royal’s side with her question. “What happened?”

“A while ago Emma had an incident where she saw some odd aura that she said looked like a person. She called out to them, they didn’t respond, she tried to get closer but it just kept moving at the same distance away from her. She said it seemed to just slide around, never taking a step or turning or anything. Eventually it stopped, she got right next to it, then the next thing she knew she woke up back in her room at the Inn our team owns. Umbir said that he had been watching over her for a while, and when he saw what was happening he followed her, but when he caught up an Ursa had hit Emma into a tree, and she was unconscious on the ground. He killed the Ursa, brought her back and ever since she woke up, her left eye hasn’t been working the way it should.”

While Peri retold the events to Melo, Emma found herself shivering some remembering it all. Her mind calling back to the months where she felt unlike herself afterwards. It got her right eye closing as well as the discomfort of the memories from that time began setting in.

“Wh-What do you mean it’s not working the way it should? Can she not see with it?”

“She was born blind, Melo. Sometime during her childhood her aura adapted to allow her eyes to register visual sources of aura and give some semblance of sight. She sees everyone as generic humanoid forms of solid color based on what their aura’s color is, which ever since the old Great War tends to match with their name. Mine’s Peri, my aura is a dark red, I’m a red figure to her. You’re Melo, I’m assuming mellow yellow, so she sees you as a pale yellow form. Ever since what happened, she’s explained sight in her left eye as a repeating pattern mess of color whenever looking at someone. After being told what a Kaleidoscope is, she said that’s pretty much what it’s like.”

Hearing this, the somewhat absent gaze she had seen the young white haired woman had given to her and the other Guards earlier began to make more sense. “Ah...” This was new information that she knew she’d need at a later point. It was going to be a bit of a learning curve for how to handle things with Emma. “Maybe it’d be a good idea to get her some type of cover for her left eye then. Eye patch or something...”

Turning to look over the people filling the hallway, she could see some of them looking to the trio with curious eyes. A few even worried, one or two doubtful gazes from some older individuals. Gently grabbing onto Emma’s shoulders, she guided her back around the corner, gesturing for Peri to follow. “Just keep her here, I’ll be right back.”

The Komodo nodded before watching as Melo went into a light jog down the hallway to return where they had just come from. Carefully she helped Emma to lean against the wall after the form of the Guard disappeared ‘round the corner down the thinner hall. Afterward stepping close to the corner again and peeking around it to look over the civilians filling the area.

“E-Excuse me, miss?”

A young voice would register in the Komodo’s ears, guiding her attention down to see a boy standing next to her. A pair of small antlers growing atop his upturned head among dark brown hair and his bright blue eyes looking up at her. His arms were tucked ‘round behind his back. She stepped from the wall before lowering herself to her knees to be at a more equal level to him.

“Hey little man, what’s up?”

He seemed to be a little nervous with how he lowered his head a tad further than it already had to simply keep looking at her.

“Is that... Is she our new Queen?”

His question got Peri’s head turning to look to Emma. She could see the her gaze turned to focus to the boy beyond Peri’s form, hand now away from her left eye but the eye itself still closed. She turned her red eyes forward to the child again just after.

“Well. technically she’s not just yet, but she’s going to be soon. She’s just feeling a little under the weather right now, bit of a headache. You know what that’s like, right?” A soft smile came to her face seeing the boy nod in understanding.

“I- uh... M-My mommy helped me make a necklace... I wanted to make it for our new Queen after she told me about how she was ex-exhi-”

“Exiled?”

“Yeah, that word!” His hands finally came out from behind his back. In the one was a collection of a dozen small, smooth black stones that had been drilled through to fit them onto a braided silver and gold cord. None were exactly the same size as another, nor shape, but it seemed they were all sanded down to be smooth and rounded. Smaller stones being farther out and larger being closer to the center. “I collected these, whenever I found a black rock I picked it up. There isn’t a lot of them, but they always look so nice...”

Peri felt a familiar hand at her shoulder, looking up and back it was Emma. Shifting aside atop her knees, she gave enough space for her friend to get down beside her. Even offering a hand to support her as she took to her knees, a slight wince escaping putting as much weight as she did on her right. Still a little sore she guessed.

Now at eye level with the bright blue form of the boy, Emma could see an ever so subtle vibration to his form. She put on a gentle smile in hopes of calming his nerves

“What’s your name?”

“C-Cele.”

“Cele, very nice name. I would love to wear the necklace you’ve made for me, is there a clasp on it or is it a full loop?”

“My mommy tied the ends of the cords we used when we were done braiding it.”

“A loop, then, would you mind putting it on for me?” As she asked this of the young boy, she shifted closer to him and bowed her head forward. Closing her eyes she simply waited. It took a few seconds, but she soon felt his little hands brush against her hair some. A second more passing before the weight of the stones on the cord was fully present on the back of her neck. After a second more, she lifted her head, a hand moving to pull her tied hair out from beneath the braided cord then to fix it beneath her collar. With it fit proper into her outfit, she turned her attention to Cele again. The anxious vibrations from earlier now gone.

“Thank you, Cele. I’m glad to know there are such kind children like yourself from Ventus even after everything it’s people have been through.”

He was quiet a moment after before she could feel his arms suddenly around her neck. It was unexpected, but Emma returned the hug with a hand gently pressing to his upper back. The hug ending almost as quickly as it started, the boy ran back down the hallway to return to his mother who stood a ways down the hall. Taking her hand, he looked up to her and they began talking about something. Peri noticing a smile across the woman’s face as she crouched down to her son.

“Damn you handled that nicely.” Peri spoke up as she rose to her feet again.

“You did most of that though being the one to talk to him first.”

“The kid probably thought I was a body guard or something, so it was actually a pretty smart idea for him to come to me first. Gotta give the lil’ dude props for that.”

“Plus for working on this with his mother.” Em’s hand moving to let her fingers move over the stones now settled across her chest.

“So? How’re you feeling after doing your first Queenly act?”

“Queenly act?”

“Yeah! You just interacted with one of your Kingdom’s next generation, accepted a gift from them, praised them, and helped them feel better before sending them back to their guardian! You can’t see it, but that kid’s really happy and he’s even bouncing a little while telling his mother all about you and how it was to meet you.”

What her friend was saying... actually made a lot of sense to her. No matter what way she thought about it, what she just did was something a leader or hero would tend to do in stories. Stories both fake and very real. The fact she actually did something like that without realizing it, there was some confidence that filled her.

“I’m feeling like I can actually do this...”

“Hell yeah you can!”

Another pat of Peri’s hand to her arm like before occurred and the two of them laughed a little.

“Emma!”

The oh so familiar voice got the Qilin turning her head to look down the hallway behind her. Both the earthy aura of her father figure, the source of the call to her, and that of the pale yellow belonging to Melo were making their way to her and Peri. Poking at the Komodo’s leg got her attention, a hand lowering to help Emma return to her feet with her uncomfortable knee. Managing to get back up just as the two reached them.

“Hey, Umbir, where’d Roy go off to?” Peri called out to the man as he kept drawing closer to the two of them.

“Your brother’s talking with Captain Maho. I told him to show Roy where to go once they’re done so he can be present for whatever Emma’s got in mind.” He took a moment of pause to his speaking as he glanced over Emma’s new clothing. “Speaking of, It’s nice to see you on your feet again, Em’.” Her father figure spoke up, a gentle smile across his features.

“It’s nice to be on my feet.”

“Sir Dew bumped into me while I was on my way out of the Medical Bay.” Melo spoke up explaining his added presence. “I grabbed a cotton pad and some medical tape that we can use to cover your eye, Emma.”

“Emma?” Umbir’s tone a little confused turning to look to his underling. Such earning a shrug from the woman.

“She requested that I call her by her name and not using a title.”

Em’ could feel the man’s eyes fix on her, clearly looking for some confirmation. Nodding her head, the man did the same understanding the situation.

“Okay” Melo spoke up getting the Royal’s attention as she extended a hand with a small square between her fingers “hold this over your eye.”

The process took about a half minute. Emma taking the cotton pad and carefully holding it over her left eye, Melo unwrapped strips from the tape, tore them off, and secured it in place. One down the side of the square on the outer side of the Qilin’s face, one smaller piece across the corner by the top of her nose, and one last strip along the bottom above her cheek.

“There we go.” The woman turned her attention to Umbir again. “Could you return this to the Med-bay? I’ve been around the civilians more often than you have, I think it’ll be good for me to be with Emma while she’s around them.” Her hand holding the medical tape aside for him.

“Sure. If you three get to the catwalk before I catch up, I’ll meet you there.” Taking the roll from his underling, he turned and began back to the medical room of the Airship.

“What’s he talking about with a catwalk?” A confused Emma speaking up in question.

“There’s a catwalk in the room we’re heading to. High up, gets people in a noticeable spot, can let a voice carry through the room well. Best place to speak to your people and say whatever you need to.”

Emma nodded in understanding after it was explained to her what was meant.

Just before the Knight went to begin guiding the two again, she noticed something that got her to step closer and gently lift the necklace with a finger. “Did a little boy with antlers and blue eyes give this to you?”

Her question got a nodding confirmation from Emma.

“That’s actually really nice, Cele did good.”

“I know, right? Lil’ guy’s got a good eye and creative mind!”

“That he does. Gotta give him a high five while we pass by.” A smooth transition from the trained woman as she gestured for the two to follow her again. Stepping ‘round both to round the corner once more and begin down the crowded hallway. Looking ahead she could see little Cele being picked from the floor by his mother. Their eyes meeting and the trio sharing a smile as the distance between them was beginning to close.

Emma on the other hand, as she followed behind Melo, kept her had turning to look over the people around them. Seeing so many people, thankfully now only through her right eye, she was able to look over them more properly. Seeing so many whom appeared to be adults, others small and childish, a couple clearly elderly. So many auras of varying colors, but so many of them in different moods.

Some dimmed, others shivering, a few vibrating, a couple having shrunk even. Sadness, despair, anxiety, fear, so much negative emotions. Even if some of them seemed to be easing as they saw her. But a few brightened and glowing aura’s stood out to Emma’s sight. Most which she didn’t know, a lot being children whom she heard quietly asking various things about her to their guardians. Though one was a bright blue that she had met just a minute earlier.

As the three came up to Cele and his mother, Melo stretched out a hand and the boy quickly reacted. Reaching his own hand out, the two connected for a ‘high’ five. Afterward his attention quickly shifted to Emma, the Qilin could feel his gaze on her, and even if she couldn’t see it they shared a smile. Once it came Peri’s turn to pass by, he gave the kid a thumbs up and a wink. Waving with her tail as they passed and continued on.

It only took another minute of walking, passing by multiple more groups of people till they would fine themselves stepping into a much, much larger room. Within was the bulk of the Ventian civilians, dozens of them if not a hundred or so at bare minimum filling this room alone. There was still some space to move around and for some breathing room, but so many more people than what was within the halls leading here.

“Up this way.” Melo spoke up, stepping off to the side where, after a second, Emma’s aura would reveal a stair case as it began flowing through the room.

Turning her attention up the stairs, she quickly noticed a familiar aura, ever changing between seven colors and never staying as one of them for more than a few seconds at a time. Roy. His form bent forward, she supposed he was resting against the railing of what she guessed was the catwalk. Off to his side, however, stood two auras more. One she remembered from when she and Peri arrived in the canyon the other day, and one of a beige color. The red aura of the man from the canyon with his arm ‘round the smaller beige being.

“Hey there, Princess.” Roy spoke up as the trio got up onto the catwalk proper.

“Roy.” Emma greeted in return, making her way to hug him, feeling his arms return the embrace quickly.

“Hey, leave some room for me!” The sister of the Gaia duo stepping over to the two opening a space to welcome her into their hugging. As the three shared this moment, a breath of relaxation was taken by each. After which they broke apart, though Peri kept her arm round Roy’s shoulders as they set into a comfortable stance together.

The Qilin, however, would feel a tap at her shoulder. Looking to the source, it was Melo gesturing to step past her friends. Following her, the two stepped over closer to the two auras whom were unknown to the younger of the two. Seeing both of them move to turn to face her. Only now noticing that the beige shorter being had a pair of animalistic ears atop their head. Really, really tall ears.

“Emma, these are the NeverCondor’s Captains. Captain Maho Agna and his wife Captain Begi Vix.” The Guard introduced the two to the people to Emma. Gesturing first to the taller red form, then the shorter beige.

Before she could do much, she would see the man’s hand reach forward urging for a handshake, one which she took with a bow to her head. After which she saw that of the shorter of the pair bow her own head before hearing her speak up.

“It’s a pleasure to meat you, your Highness. Umbir’s been working pretty closely with us and he’s told us a lot about you. Actually kind of been looking forward to meeting the ‘Aura-Sighted Huntress’ for a bit now.”

“Please, just call me Emma. No need for titles between us. I’ve never really felt like I’d be able to fulfill the role, so this is all going to be new for me.”

“Well, if it’s going to be any bit similar to being a Captain, you can come to us if you need some advice at any time.” A masculine voice, she assumed Maho’s as she turned her attention to his aura form.

“Thank you, Captain. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”

“Here.” Maho again, his arm moving, seemingly to retrieve something. “Whenever you’re ready, there’s a switch on the side of this headset that you can use to turn it on. Once you do, a microphone will fold out and you can speak into that. It will broadcast your voice through the entirety of the ship. Since the Ventian refugees we have on board are spread about the central area of the ship, this will let all of them hear you from where they are.”

The object held out to her, according to what Emma would see with her aura flowing over it, appeared to be a wireless thin headset. One side ending with a thinner stop she assumed would fit over or behind her left ear. The other with a wider and thicker section with a somewhat similar shaping as the other, just with an extra bit that she assumed would go inside her ear. Reaching to take it, she brought it to hold in both her hands across her front.

“Thank you, again Captain. For taking care of... my people... in their time of need. For bringing them to a safer place. I’m not absolutely sure about it, but I think I have an idea of a location where they can be housed for some time until we’re able to get some more proper housing set up. Just might take some time to get it ready for them.” A fairly obvious bit of nerves present as she said that second sentence.

“If you need any help with that, just let us know, alright? We’ve got some people who’re great with repairs and building, and there are actually quite a few of your people who’ve offered to help us with keeping the NeverCondor in good shape while they’ve been on board.”

“I’m glad they’ve been able to help with your travels since you’ve taken them in.

“Y’know” Begi again “for someone who’s unsure how well they’re going to do as a Queen, you’re already handling yourself pretty well just talking with us.”

“R-Really?” A somewhat disbelieving tone to Emma’s voice.

“Hey, that’s the kind of talk I’ve used to make some deals as Captain while Maho’s not been available before. There’s definitely going to be some hardships and some things to get used to, sure, but I think you’re going to do fine in the long run, Emma.”

A gentle smile came present to the Royal’s face hearing Begi’s words. “Thank you, Begi. It helps knowing so many people have been showing faith in me.”

Feeling a hand come to clasp onto her shoulder, Emma’s head turned to look for the source behind her. Seeing Umbir’s aura, she moved her own hand to hold over his. Now with her smile even brighter.

“We’ll have your back, Emma. You’re not going to be alone at any point in this stage of your life, I can promise you that.”

His words were a huge source of comfort to her in this moment on top of just him being present overall. Though after hearing him, her head turned and she looked down over the crowd beneath them. Slowly feeling her smile weaken some, her nerves getting to her as she saw many of them moving closer, to look up at them.

“Despite all the support, I don’t even know what to say to them. I’ve not been in Ventus for years, some of these people are children who were born after my exile so they don’t even know who I am beyond a false Princess. They’ve lost who was likely their best leader since Manus, and now they either turn to Samuel and hope for mercy, or they look to an uncertain young girl who was raised to be a maid for her own half-brother. The only other time I’ve spoken to even a fraction of this amount of people was at the Duke’s charity event when I announced I was still alive, but I had Octavius Tyrian with me at that time. My closest supporter and friend on the Noble front, and he’s not here right now...”

“Hey” her father figure called to her to earn her attention “you’re going to do wonderfully. Breathe in,” he himself inhaling, Emma mimicking him “breathe out,” both of them exhaling “You’ve got this.”

The short moment the two shared was something they tended to do when they were younger. Any time young little Emma had been panicking or upset for reasons related to her disabilities, Umbir would come to her aid. Getting to his knees in front of her, a gentle hand cupping her cheek, another holding her arm or hand. Speaking to her, calling out the nickname she had given her, and getting her attention before working through the process with her.

Both remembered this in the moment, taking one more to hug each other with a single arm.

“Thank you, Papa.”

“You’re welcome, Lil’ Filly. Take some time to think over your words, and when you’re ready, you’ve got the microphone.” His hand patted at her shoulder, leaving it a second after to step over by the Captains to chat with them a bit.

Now on her own among the group, Emma stepped over to the railing of the walkway. Both hands coming to rest atop it, headset in hand. She could feel so many people looking up to her in the moment. It actually surprised her a fair bit just how many people filled the lower section of the room. Combining the number she could guess was present to those in the one hallway she had her eye act up in, she was sure it was a minimum hundred people. The fact there was even more though, that actually got her nerves acting up some.

Still, even with the nerves present within her, she set her mind to attempt to piece together some collection of words. Something she thought would be fitting for a new leader to say to those she’d watch other. She couldn’t really come up with anything all that fast, it was definitely going to take a minute or so at least. Stepping back from the railing, she backed herself to the wall behind her to rest against that instead. Hoping that clearing her sight of the multitude of people below would help her think.

The Gaia siblings glanced over to the thinking Qilin for a second after seeing her form move as it did to the wall behind. Peri, out of the corner of her eye, noticing Melo looking to the Royal as well with some worry present in her gaze. A flick of her tail off to the side getting her attention, after which the Komodo mouthed “Just give her some time”, receiving a nod in understanding. Watching the Guard then turn to join Umbir and the two Captains for the time being. The two of them, however, moved to the corner at the top of the staircase that lead up to the catwalk which they stood on. Further from the rest of the group and a tad more private for them to talk without interrupting their friend.

Remembering back to her time at the Duke’s charity event and the speech she gave there, some ideas did come to mind. Though really thinking them over, the ideas she had back then were meant for high-society people that could’ve provided support for her. This time it was a bunch of people who were scared and unsure of what their future held for them. People who looked to her for some sense of comfort or safety. Two very different things, very different wordings needed.

Working her mind to think of some sort of answer, her eyes lowered to look to the headset her aura covered with each pulse of it. Taking in a lip to nibble at it as she thought, and her tail beginning to swat gently against the wall behind her.

A few minutes actually ended up passing as Emma had her mind hard at work. Not noticing the people having moved around her, her mind having tuned out their voices to focus her own inner vocals. Having switched which side of her lip was being nibbled on every couple seconds, at one point bringing both in and just pressing them together. By now, she felt like she had a couple points she wanted to get across, but there was a lack of proper wording to use to get them out. It was actually a little stressful being unable to piece together words like she was needing to.

Suddenly feeling a hand to her shoulder, the Qilin nearly jumped as her attention was forced back to the world beyond her mind. Blinking a couple times over, uncovered eye glanced about. Noting Roy absent from Peri’s side to her left, Melo standing in front of her and just a little toward the right, then Umbir leaning against the wall beside her with the aura forms of the two Captains and the Gaia Brother standing some distance away.

“Emma?” The woman before her calling her name, getting her eyes turning to her pale yellow aura again. “You alright?”

“Yeah... Yeah, I’m fine, I just... I know what I want to tell them, but I’ve not been able to think of words I should use to get those messages across...”

“Why not wing it then?” The extremely familiar of Umbir’s voice spoke up, earning her attention immediately. “Some of the better speeches that Manus or Cres ever gave were mostly just them going out and talking.”

“I don’t know if I should be inspired hearing that my biological father, who was apparently a Tyrant most of his reign, had good speeches because he just ‘winged them’...” A doubtful response from Emma’s end at his idea.

“I’m not saying you should be, Emma. I’m never going to tell you to be inspired by anything Manus ever did with how horrible a man he was. What I am saying is that you don’t necessarily need to plan out every last word that you say. Just take what you’ve got, figure out how to word it all as you do.” His shoulders rising a little during the end of his sentence. Relaxing just a second later.

Emma had her head nodding for a short bit as she thought over the idea. It would work, she had the somewhat vague idea of what she wanted to say in mind and she knew what exact points she wanted to make known. Winging it would likely be her best option over all wouldn’t it?

Some bit of her was feeling a little more sure of herself when thinking of taking the plunge that would begin her role as Queen. Of making her voice present for the Ventian people to hear.

She was still a little nervous, yes, but that was her worry that she’d be treated the way she was while leaving Ventus all those years ago. Plenty of the refugees were undoubtedly old enough to remember that day, some possibly having even been among the people whom had spit disgust her direction. as well.

Yet. really taking a second to think of it, there wasn’t exactly a reason for her to think of that... To think such a thing would be unavoidable. Especially not with how everything had been just days ago. At least she hoped that after what had happened it wouldn’t be that way...

“Y-Yeah... I think I can do this. Just give me another minute.” She could see the pale yellow head nodding in understanding. The woman then stepping away to lean over the railing of the catwalk and look to the people below. Something becoming clear to the Royal in this moment, Melo had a tail. A long tail with a rounded end that unfurled from ‘round the Guard’s waist to curl beside her leg.

Emma was a little surprised she hadn’t been able to notice the extra appendage on Melo before, but thinking over it for a second, she figured that she had kept it wrapped ‘round her waist till now. She’d have to ask what sub-species of Faunus the Knight is later. Too many things were much more important right now.

Thankfully it didn’t take much longer till she felt she was more ready to be able to do what she needed. Taking a deep breath, she moved herself away from the wall and stepped closer to the railing. Once more, she could feel the eyes of the people below fixing to her. Swallowing down the nerves that rose from the sense that most all of them were turning their eyes to her, she lifted the headset in her hands, fixing it atop her head and fitting the two sides so they felt right on her. One more breath, and with her hand rising to feel for the switch, she pushed it across it’s spot, and with a gentle click beside her ear, the microphone was now available.

A chime suddenly rang out in the room, three notes in a rising tone. The echo from beyond the room making it clear to her that this was, in fact, going across the ship. Bringing her hands to hold at the railing, she took one more breath.

“P-People of Ventus.” She could hear her own voice repeating, a somewhat electrical tone to it. “I am Emma Smoke Khromatos, Daughter of Manus Aescae Khromatos and Aligar Kaj. Due to my birth mother, Aligar, dying shortly after I was born, I was raised as a maid to the royal family under the name Smoke Kaj by the maid named Harley Nara. A woman who I assume a good sum of you know as she was a kind, wonderful woman that would frequently venture to the market along the main road for supplies. I would often be present with her, a young, scared little girl who rarely spoke when around people I didn’t know.”

She had to pause a second to breathe and calm herself, recalling her past having brought up various emotions which she hadn’t exactly expected. The breath she took to calm herself being just barely heard across the speaker system of the ship.

“Eventually... as I grew older, my Faunus trait began showing more and more. Thankfully with the maid outfit being as long as it was, it hid my tail for a long while. Though after a particular fall that I took, Queen Cress saw it. This ended up giving away my true identity. That I was a child of her King born out of wedlock. Angered by this, she ordered that I be exiled. That night I stole a weapon that was to be given to my half-brother Samuel the next week. Having been his training partner for a while under the watchful eye of Sir Umbir Dew, I had experience with the kind of weapon it was. I disguised it as a walking stick, and the next day I had it with me when I was escorted out of the Kingdom to the Solitas mainland to wander on my own.

One thing lead to another, I found myself on a boat to Sanus, and I traveled to Vale. Meeting with a teacher from the Hunter Academy of Vale, I expressed a wish I had developed during my travels to be able to keep other people safe during their own travels, as I had been helped by Hunters and Huntreses myself at various points on my own journey. Thankfully after displaying my capabilities with the Scythe and what little I could control of my Semblance, he was able to help me enroll in Beacon. I had to tell the headmaster my true name and my story, but he felt I had potential, so he let me in.

By the time I was one of the students and placed into a team fittingly called Team Empress, word had spread that a Princess had been exiled, and eventually killed by a Grimm. With the assistance of the son of a Noble family that supported me even back when word first got out of my situation, I was able to get in touch with some other members of Noble blood, eventually even being invited to a charity event held by the Duke of Coste. At this event, I spoke to settle the rumors of my death, and set word to be spread around that I still lived.

As Lady Melo Grove has revealed to me, Queen Cress had been trying to discover if I was still alive for a while before the Charity event. Wanting to contact me and try to welcome me back to Ventus with open arms to try and repair our relationship. I’m unsure, but she may have even been wanting to accept me as a proper member of the Royal family and an heir to the throne should Samuel have not been fit for it.

However, at it was soon after I attended the Charity event that the attack on Vale happened. Beacon Academy was swarmed by Grimm, some of Atlas’ technology went haywire and starting attacking students and civilians, and the Cross Continental Transmit System tower of Vale was destroyed. Communications were hindered across all Remnant because of this, and Cres was unable to contact me in any easy way like she might have been with the CCT system up. Instead, she decided to get in touch with some of the Noble families based in Sanus who supported me. One such pair of Noble families was the Baron and Baroness of Montai, and the Duke of Coste.

A couple months back, after you arrived in Sanus aboard the NeverCondor, Umbir dew came to find me, and alongside a close friend of mine, Octavius of the Tyrian family, he showed us video footage of the meeting that Cress had with the three Nobles. I could only hear it, but what I heard made it clear that the Queen wanted the best for me. Asking the Montais and the Duke to take care of and support me in her place should she die before she’s able to meet with me and fix things between us....

Sadly... neither her request or her wishes could possibly be fulfilled... Just as their meeting was ending, a cloaked woman was let into the Quartz Stage by guards loyal to Samuel. This woman rendered the fully armored Umbir Dew incapacitated, killed the Duke of Coste and the Montais, and after my Half Brother took the crown and left the building, she killed Queen Cres as well.

The sounds of gunfire and screams could be heard as background noise as Umbir began to recover control of his suit, and his body in turn. After retrieving the Necklace from around Cres’ neck and pocketing it, Umbir rushed outside, and the sound of raging flames and explosions became clear... The rest of this story you all know already.”

Once more she’d pause, feeling a lump in her throat remembering how she handled everything when it was revealed to her that such tragedy had happened to her home.

“Now... when he came to me, Umbir left the Queen’s necklace with me and for some time I avoided wearing it. He told me that I needed to come talk to all of you... To give you some sort of hope by becoming the next Queen and leading you through this difficult time.... But I was unable to bring myself to do so, I was scared, doubtful, and felt I couldn’t possibly fill in the space left by the late Queen Cres... So I never came.

I left all of you scared, unsure of what the future held for you, and those emotions grew more and more each day. Growing to the point it drew the attention of Grimm. Too much Grimm for the NeverCondor to have been able to handle without help. At the time, Umbir called for me, for my team and any others I could get to help.

Initially, me and my teammate and friend Peri Gaia intended to call more people to help us confront the Grimm Horde which was assaulting the Airship. But something happened.

I’m unsure how many of you know, but I was born blind. I am blind. Though at a point in my life, my aura began changing and adapting, interacting with my eyes in a way that removed it’s protective nature as a sort of default, and instead let me perceive auras. Right now, as I look at everyone in this room, I see you as a vast array of wonderful colors. Reds, blues, greens, yellows, even a couple more uncommon ones like grays and metallic shades.

Back when I arrived, what happened to me was something that happened once before, but I saw what I can only explain to be a ghost. An aura figure that didn’t belong to any living physical body. One of a ghastly white color. Last time I had encountered it, I entered into it’s embrace and I felt at peace. Like everything was right in the world. Though it also distracted me enough for an Ursa to find me, which proceeded to hit me into a tree, injuring my head and damaging my left eye further than it already was.

Seeing the ghostly aura again, I knew something would happen if I went to it. I was unsure whether it would be something good or if it would be bad, but I had to know. , With some help from a crew member that I’m told goes by the name of Sprig, I was able to get to the figure and once again feel it’s touch. The odd aura was calming, pleasant, and for a short time it felt there wasn’t any horde surrounding me. Yet in it’s embrace, something happened this time that didn’t before.

The being spoke to me. It’s words... I couldn’t understand them at all. Yet even still, there was some sense of understanding that came as I listened to it. I came to know what I had to do to help with the Horde, to have some confidence that I could lead you, and to know it’s identity. As crazy as it sounds... I’m not entirely sure of it myself, but I’m sure the name that it put into my mind was that of our first Queen. Of Giulia Khromatos. I’m unsure why Giulia came to me or how it’s even possible, but she was there, and even though she’s absent right now, I know she’s here watching over us.

Using the knowledge Giulia gave me, what seemed to be based on an experience she herself had with the Ventian People of her time, I was able to come up with an idea that would hopefully work to fend off enough of the horde. With a Dust Crystal in hand and Giulia’s help, I was able to use the Dust to stagger the Grimm horde, and my Semblance at a much stronger state than I have ever been able to in my time as a Huntress. The combination allowed me to successfully fend off what Grimm were more of a threat, block a large sum of the horde from being able to get to the NeverCondor should those closer to the ship be destroyed.

Though I do have to give thanks for my friend and teammate Peri Gaia and the man who’s been my Father Figure for my entire life, Umbir Dew. Without the two of them, there were multiple points during the encounter where I very well could’ve died. A couple where they almost did themselves”

Turning to look back to the Komodo and the Armored man one after the other, the two both shrugged after glancing to one another and stepping forward to her sides. Emma herself looking between the two before focusing to the crowd again. A smile now present.

“Without Peri and Umbir, my effort in settling the rumors of my death would’ve turned out to be for nothing.” She could hear Peri chuckling, thus making her laugh a little alongside her. Not really even caring it would be broadcast through the entire ship. Though she did calm herself a couple seconds later.

“After what happened two days ago, I ended up losing consciousness due to severe lack of aura. According to Umbir, I was out for a full twenty-four hours. Over this time, the NeverCondor’s crew was able to clear out as much Grimm as they needed to have the time necessary for them to launch and take to the skies safely. To get all of you to safety. But this is only temporary...

If I were to have left the instant I could instead of coming here to talk to all of you, it would’ve set the cycle in motion all over again. You would feel that same fear, despair, anxiety, and uncertainty still, possibly even worse, and eventually Grimm would’ve come again. The next time would’ve likely been worse, so much so than what this time was.

But it’s because I know that and because of the faith that I’ve received from the people beside me right now, and because of the kindness of a little boy among you who welcomed the idea of me as your Queen so easily that I stayed. That I am right here, right now, speaking as I am, and addressing every single refugee. What I am about to say, I may sound unsure of myself, but that’s not because of how I’m feeling right now or because of you. It’s because of doubts I had harbored all my life and the fact that, just like all of you, I am scared to step into this unknown territory.”

Pausing, Emma took a deep, audible breath to ready herself physically, mentally and emotionally for what she was about to say. A part of her unable to believe she was taking this step, that with all the negativity that had filled her whenever she thought of herself as a ruler, she was about to set herself to such a role. There was actually a want to hesitate, to stop right now and just run, but she knew she couldn’t. She had to do this.

“I, Emma Smoke Khromatos, twelfth generation of the Khromatos lineage, will not hide any longer. Starting today, I will take upon myself the role of Queen of Ventus. As shaky as the road ahead may be with having to learn and adapt, to the best of my ability I will lead you all to a future where we can return to Ventus and free it of the legacy of tyranny which Samuel continues in his fathers stead. It may take some time to get there, but I promise you, I will get us there. I just need your faith and your trust.”

The intercom system would fall silent for a short bit. Emma quieting herself hoping for some kind of reaction from the crowd. She could feel eyes leaving her and hear voices down below. For a few seconds she was feeling unsure of whether or not what she said was right. If the words she used didn’t work and the Ventian people wouldn’t support her. She could feel her tail curling ‘round her leg as worry began to settle in.

But then she heard something, cheering and clapping, all so faint from the hallway she and the others entered the room from. The quiet applaud soon growing louder while still muffled. Louder again, the opposite side now, just another second passing before the very room she was currently in began cheering up to her. Some merely clapping, others shouting words of support and positivity.

It actually took Emma by surprise a little bit to know they were accepting her. That after all of her self-doubting, people were able to believe the would be able to lead them. Finding herself choking up some just from the realization that so many people believed she could do what she was so sure she couldn’t for so long. The impact of the moment hitting her hard enough she could’ve sworn she couldn’t breathe.

Before she was able to say or do any more, she could feel a pressure against the side of the headset. Soon discovering it was Umbir shutting the headset off. Turning her head to him, she could see his hands raising with the aura-filled pendant necklace hanging between them. Moving it closer to her to set it ‘round her neck as his aura glowed bright with happiness.

Moving to hug him, Emma felt his arms quickly return the embrace and his voice speaking one simple line that sent tears rolling down her cheeks..

“I’m proud of you.”

#The Rise of a Ventian Queen #Emma Smoke Khromatos #Peri Gaia #Umbir Dew #bunchamunchafaunus

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foxytonics-quill · 3 years ago

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A Phoenix’s Flight Through the Mundane

(Characters are from this pantheon I built for @covenunited )

Phoenaden frowned. Had he known that mortals could be so dreadfully boring, he might not have made the decision all those centuries to continue to walk among them. His siblings were surely more comfortable watching and occasionally interfering from where they resided in their cushy personal extradimensional realms, as were those who had ascended to lesser god status. However unamused he was in this particular moment, though, the Flaming Lord of Death and Rebirth knew deep down that he could never join them in distancing himself from the mortal plane. The truth was that he loved it too much. He loved feeling the wind tussle his dark hair as the sun’s rays warmed his skin, smelling a myriad of different scents depending on what specific corner of the world he’d decided to explore, hearing heartbeats and bird calls and stories, and seeing how far people had come through the ages.

Today, he was in a sleepy little town in North Carolina, nestled nicely into the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was early morning. Early enough that the sun still had yet to rise, yet people were still slowly and quietly beginning to file into the small café he’d stopped to grab a cup of joe and a muffin from. It was all so mundane. The dull mutterings of people who had likely just woken up within the hour. The somewhat weak yet still somehow overly bitter coffee that nearly scalded his tongue. The bleary-eyed middle-aged waitress who looked like she would rather be anywhere else but was trying to keep up a kind smile for the sake of the patrons. The cook behind the bar with his overly sunny disposition and boisterous greeting of almost every customer by name. His own humanoid form that he wore to blend in with mortals and to keep from accidentally burning everything around him. So completely and utterly boring, and he had to admit that he enjoyed every bit of it.

It must have showed on his face because the waitress was quick to comment on it. “That’s a curious smile you got there, fella,” she quipped wryly, doing nothing to diminish his sense of contentment.

Instead he smiled more broadly up at the woman, who looked to be in her mid-forties and wishing she was still in her twenties. “I’m in a peachy keen mood on this fine morning, ma’am,” was his chipper reply, spoken in the same subtle southern drawl he’d adopted for this particular jaunt through the United States. It really wasn’t that far off from his natural voice; all he had to do was speak a bit slower and add a bit of a rural American twang.

His natural charm combined with the spark in his fiery blue eyes seemed to win the waitress over. She rolled her eyes and gave him an exasperated smirk. “Good for you, Sunshine. Wish that kind of optimism was contagious. You want me to top off that coffee for ya?” He shook his head, politely declining the offer. She seemed reluctant to leave, though, studying him intently. “So, where’re ya from, stranger? I know just about everyone in this town, and I’m certain that I’ve never seen your handsome face around here before.”

He gave a lighthearted chuckle at the thinly veiled compliment and took a sip of his now drinkably hot coffee before answering. “Aw, you flatter me! Yeah, I just rolled into town this morning. I’ve been on the road for a while, actually. Figured now would be as good a time as any to take a break.” Hopefully she wouldn’t notice that he’d deliberately avoided giving an actual answer to her question. He never quite knew what to tell someone in regards to where he was from.

Evidently, she managed to draw her own conclusions from his evasion. “So you’re a drifter?” The judgment in her tone was beyond palpable, but it didn’t bother him.

“Is that a bad thing?” he countered with a cheeky smirk, amused by the way her brow furrowed and her lips puckered in frustration. “I have the opportunity to get out on my own and explore the world around me, so I’m taking it.”

“Right, and does the intrepid young explorer have a name and a means of paying for his order, by chance?” And now came the jealousy, something he delighted much less in. Still, he maintained his smile and pulled out his wallet.

“Aiden,” he answered, gravitating to the mortal name he reached for most often. “Aiden Tod.” A little on the nose, to be sure, but he sincerely doubted that she knew the origin of his first name or the translation of his last, and even if she did, she’d never make the connection to what he was. “And just because I’ve been wandering doesn’t mean I’m doing so because of a lack of a choice. I do try to help people like that when I can, though. Makes more sense to me than treating them as lesser beings. They’re just trying to live, y’know?” The glare of the disgruntled waitress told him that his charm had finally worn off. Despite keeping his cool, he’d managed to ruffle her feathers. He considered that a testament to how badly she needed a break, and let out a sigh. “I guess I’ll go ahead and get my check since I’ve outstayed my welcome…” he paused briefly to read her name tag, “Denise. Oh, before I go, though, do you happen to know where I might be able to get a room? I think I’m gonna be in town for a decently long while, and I’d rather not sleep in my Mustang, if I can help it.”

His smile had turned a sort of sickly sweet now, and he knew before Denise spoke again that she saw right through it. “Sure,” she muttered, quickly adopting something of a customer service voice. “There’s a cheap motel right at the edge of town, or if you’re the really ritzy sort, the Asheville Lodge is right up the road. I’ll have that check right out.” She’d turned on her heel before he could utter a halfhearted ‘Thank you,’ and he didn’t know whether to feel relived or insulted.

He downed the remainder of his coffee in one go, taking solace in the barely tolerable heat that coursed down his gullet, then began to spread some butter on half of his as yet untouched blueberry muffin. The café had gone quiet, and he realized too late that several of the regular patrons had been listening in on their conversation. Ah, yes, the nosiness of small towns. How delightful. It was almost endearing, in a way, the mix of curiosity and protectiveness on display. Everybody knew everybody, and as unpleasant as Denise may have been, she had a whole crowd of people ready to back her if needed.

She came back just as he was finishing his sweet breakfast, carrying his receipt and a black pen that probably was almost out of ink, then walked off to serve someone else. He waited until he was sure she wasn’t looking before pulling out double the amount of cash he needed, signing his assumed name at the bottom of the ticket, and flipping it over to write a short note on the back. It read, ‘I’m sorry your morning isn’t going so well. Hope it gets better for you. Hang in there, and next time you get the chance to do something for yourself, don’t hesitate.’ He ended it with a little winking smiley face just for an added juvenile touch, and left it on the table with the money before quietly taking his leave. It was relatively easy to slip out of the café unnoticed, all things considered.

He thought about exploring the city further, tracing the lines of magic woven throughout it like a dense spiderweb, but he could feel fatigue beginning to overtake him. He’d been driving all day and night, after all, and this mortal body he’d trapped himself in so long ago still needed to rest and recover. He unlocked the jet black 1969 Ford Mustang, slid into the cherry red driver’s seat, and set out to find the lodge that Denise had mentioned. A nap sounded absolutely incredible right about now. Finding the Asheville Lodge was easy, as was booking a room for a few weeks. They weren’t quite so busy this early in the summer, as most students were still in school and not ready to take vacations yet. The receptionist very perkily told him that he’d arrived at the perfect time, and he had to agree with her. He might have even flirted with her a little bit if he wasn’t so eager to fall face first into a plush bed and pass out. As soon as he got up to his suite, that’s exactly what he did, drifting into an almost death-like slumber as soon as his head hit the pillow, despite the caffeine in his system. Exploration and flirtation could wait until later in the day.

#✒️do not step into the faerie circle🖋 fantasy #✒️picking up my quill🖋 my writing #covenunited #phoenaden

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sylviathewanderer-blog · 7 years ago

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Sylvia’s Sci-Fi Series - A sneak Peak

So I've mentioned that I enjoy writing science fiction before. Well I was working on a sub story to go along with an episodic series I've been working on. The sub story is about the alien that crashes on earth and leave behind the wreckage that eventually gets reverse engineered and used to create humanity’s star ships. Each small section is told during the opening of every episode as a way to explain the history of the universe and important events that tie into the main story in some way

Currently, I haven’t posted any of this story anywhere else as I’m just not sure where I’d do that. I’ve also never had any of my writing published. This is just something i enjoy doing for fun, though I would love to let others read my writing eventually. So far the only people who have read my work have been close personal friends.

This community has been so nice to me and helped me so much while I tried to figure out just who I am that I figured I should try to give something back. If you like it let me know, especially if you know a good place for me to start posting the series as a whole so it has a place to live, grow, and be seen by the rest of the world.

When this story begins it is 1947 in the USA and the main character is the sole survivor of the Roswell UFO crash. He’s been picked up by the military and is now being held at a secret military base. (i’m not happy with that section yet and am still rewriting it, which is why it has been omitted from this sneak peak.)

* * * * *

A small large headed grey humanoid sits alone in a tall wooden chair, his stubby legs hanging off the ground as he shifts trying to get comfortable in the stiff, unpadded seat. He rests his long hairless arms on the top of a small square table placed directly in front of him. A single light hangs directly above his head barely illuminating the rest of the small barren room. He drums his fingers idly on the surface of the table while looking at a large mirror set in the wall in front of him.

“Yup, real intimidating guys. . .” he says rolling his large eyes.

He straightens up as he hears the door to his right side unlock. The door gives a slight groan that nevertheless echos loudly around the mostly empty room. Two humans, a man wearing a military dress uniform practically covered in metal bars carrying a second chair, and a woman wearing a soft pink A line dress with her dark curled hair mostly tucked up under a small pink hat holding a clipboard and a pen. The military man sets his chair across from the alien and sits in it folding his arms across the surface of the table and glaring deep into the alien's large grey eyes.

“Ah, so I guess that makes you the 'Bad Cop' then?” The alien asks holding back a chuckle.

The military man looks from the alien over to his female cohort raising an eyebrow at her.

“We have very good hearing. I was listening to you both going over your plan in the room behind the one way glass the whole time.” He leans around the man in front of him to give a wave to the mirror across the room “Hi, other guys back there still! Don't bother whispering, I can hear that too. . . Yeah, even that.” He slowly leans back to sit straight in his chair again giving the man across the table a satisfied grin.

“Then you know why we've come?” the man says with a snarl never dropping his piercing stare.

“Yup, you ‘mean to see a man about a ship’. Am I right?”

The small framed woman steps forward. “We don't wish to steal your ship from you. We mean to offer you a trade. A. . . er, an offer of purchase!”

“Yeah, I've been hearing all about that.” the alien says waving her off “Dunno who the 'Rooskies' are, but I'm sure they'll be shaking in their boots.”

“Are you interested in hearing our offer.” The man states rather than asking trying to maintain his own illusion of control over the situation.

“Yeah, and I'm not interested in any of your currency, land, nor any resources. I could use a beer, though!” The grey alien shifts his glance between the intimidating stare of the man and the look of shock on his assistant's face. “What? I'm an alcoholic, alright! There, you made me say it. What is that, Step 1 on the road to recovery?”

The woman lowers her clipboard and cants her head to one side feeling her grasp of reality slipping a bit. “You'll sell us your ship for a beer!?”

“Oh, not just a beer. I want all the beer I can drink.”

“That can be arranged.” The man in the uniform says flatly, letting a small smile drift across his lips for the first time since entering the room.

“And I want one of the ships you produce after reverse engineering the wreckage. That point is non-negotiable. Wipe out your Rooskies. Take up asteroid wrangling. I don't care what you all do after I leave. I just don't plan on spending the rest of my life stuck on this rock!”

“You'll help us then?” The woman asks approaching the table.

“As long as I get what I want out of it and you guys don't try to pull anything on me, absolutely. Keep in mind though, I hear everything!” The alien says leaning over the table and giving a glare of his own.

* * * * *

A small grey skinned man roars in frustration slinging a stack of papers off of a low table screaming in his own native tongue as he paces, stomping back and forth across a room filled with diagrams and wall sized computer terminals.

A woman with dark curly hair wearing pressed business attire walks into the cramped workspace. “I-is that cursing or some kind of drinking song from your home world?” she asks laughing a bit to herself.

“Swearing! Definitely swearing! What the Hel-” he stops as she raises a carefully trimmed eyebrow. “What am I supposed to do with this. . . garbage!?” he yells motioning to a large computer bank with a pair of tape reels spinning on the front of it. “Is this seriously the best computer your planet has!? Magnetic TAPE!? Your species seriously hasn't figured out nano-cellular processing yet!?”

“Sorry if my people aren't sufficiently advanced for your liking Mr. St-Straz-zt'dak-ou-”

The alien shakes his head at her “Don't hurt yourself trying to say my name. Just call me Grey like everyone else. It worries me every time you try to say it. Your eyes start rolling into the back of your head and you do that odd lip. . . pucker. . . thing.”

The woman stops suddenly feeling very aware of her own facial expression. “Oh. . . I er. I'm sorry, Mr. Grey.”

“I do like that thing you're doing right now where all the blood is rushing to your cheeks, though!” He says giving her a smirk.

She whips around trying to hide her blushing face. “Please. Just stop teasing me for a minute so i can try to help.”

“Look, the problem is that with computers like this, we'd need the ship to be larger than this entire base just to make fit one powerful enough into it.”

“Can't we copy the computer your old ship used?”

“Not without material from my home world. We're going to have to wait for you guys to learn to build more compact computers with what you have. The first step will be ditching the tubes and the tape.” He shoots another scornful look at the large spinning reels “I'd love to teach you how, but I'm not a computer engineer! I'll start working on propulsion in the meantime, but this is a huge setback!” Grey says pulling a few schematics out of a filing cabinet.

The woman bends down picking scattered sheets of paper off of the floor. Most of the drawings are clearly done by hand and the text is stretched, crooked, and a bit oblong. “You're handwriting is just terrible. You know that?”

“Yeah, sorry I wasn't raised writing in English. You only have, like, five good letters!”

“Oh?” she says as she straightens her stack of paper

“Yeah O, Q, C, G and D. . . U is almost tolerable, but the rest can fu- . . . I can do without.”

“Sorry, that was insensitive. I wasn't thinking about what your native texts look like when I said that.”

“Nah, don't worry about it. This whole thing has been culture shock for everyone. Am I clear to get some fresh air, yet?”

“Sorry, it's still light out.”

“I don't see the big deal about people seeing me. So I'm an alien? There's tons of us out there! I don't even look all that different from you all, just healthier in color, less hairy, and not as badly stretched out!” Grey says rolling his schematic out on the table and looking over it.

“They're afraid it would cause a panic. There's been all of those movies about aliens attacking folks and all.”

“And who's bright idea was it to start making those?”

“Well, the hope was that seeing aliens would slowly make people comfortable with the whole idea of your existence. Then Hollywood went and made you all the monster of the week, and. . .”

“Yeah, brilliant plan.” Grey stops working and looks up at her. “Why green of all colors though?”

“See, I was more confused by the antenna.”

“No that actually makes sense to me. I think they were trying to explain how I hear so well without visible ears.”

She laughs a bit, slowly rotating her pages and trying to sort them into the proper order before looking up at the small grey man carefully marking his schematic “Are you really us leaving as soon as we get your ship built?” she says after a moment.

“Why? You thinking about coming with me, or do you want me to stay here with you?” Grey says looking over at her.

She simply looks into his eyes feeling tears welling up in her own.

* * * * *

Grey slowly stretches his arms under twinkling stars enjoying the feeling of the cool night air on his thin arms. He tilts his head back stretching his neck and shoulders while staring out into the black.

“Hey, Carla, what are you waiting for? It's a nice night out here!” He calls out to the curly haired woman standing in a nearby doorway.

She slowly steps out looking both ways before crossing a dirt road marked with deep jeep tracks. “Sorry, it's just cold out.”

“That's just your small fingers. Put on some gloves and you should feel fine! Here, sit.” he says patting the surface of a nearby picnic table.

She walks over slowly backing onto the top of the table and pulls her purse off her shoulder.

Grey hops up beside her dangling his short legs over the edge. “So how long have we been doing this, now? Hiding like animals in the dark while we slowly building a super weapon for your government. . .”

“It's been a year, maybe two years, I'm not sure. Please don't call it that, though. We are building a space ship, one we can use to get humanity to the stars!” She says digging through to bottom of her bag looking for her pair of black Isotoners.

“Come on, let's not pretend to be naive. I know exactly what I'm doing for you all. For me it's my chance to get back home, for you all it will be the weapon to end all wars.”

“I thought that was what the nuke was for.” She says slipping on her gloves.

“Heh, supposedly. It's never as simple as all that, though. Having the biggest, baddest weapons changes nations from being on the defense to suddenly scrambling for any excuse they can find to go on the offense. I've already heard rumblings about preemption. That's how it starts and then next thing you know, you are the evil empire that's threatening everyone else.” Grey says pulling a short hand rolled cigarette from his pocket and placing the tip of it in his mouth.

“Where did you get that!? That stuff is illegal. It's dangerous!”

Grey rolls his large eyes at her and pulls out his lighter to light it. “Tch, you believe everything you hear on the radio? This stuff isn't gonna cause madness. It actually does the opposite. It's calming my nerves which wouldn't need calmed if I got a bit of sunlight every now and then.”

“Say what you want, but it's still illegal!”

“Yeah, and so am I. What are they gonna do? Arrest me?” he says as he takes a long drag being sure to carefully blow the smoke away from Carla.

“Oh, that stuff stinks! I wish you would smoke tobacco instead.” she says fanning the front of her face.

Grey simply smirks watching her put on a show. “Nope, that junk doesn't work. Funny hearing you protesting now. You used to partake with me. You go and get married on me, they gave you a fancy title, and now you're going all proper on me!”

“We all have to grow up sometime, Mr. Grey.”

“Back to Mr. are we? Tch, what's this world doing to us?” He says a bit sullenly as he pulls the rolled paper from his mouth. “You can't tell me you don't want to have a go for old time sake.”

She looks at the gentle curl of blue smoke rolling off the end of it for a moment before reluctantly taking it. “You are a terrible influence on me, you know it?” She says before placing it between her own lips and taking in a long, deep drag.

“I just can't stand seeing you not being true to yourself, is all. You're bigger than all of this pretense and prudishness, and you know it.”

She blows out a long stream of billowing blue smoke toward the sky feeling some of her worry and tenseness slowly escaping along with it.

“See that? There's still a rebel in there, somewhere deep down, just looking for a chance to escape and run free.”

“Run away from her life and responsibilities with a crazy man from beyond the stars.” She says slowly before handing the roll back to Grey and pulls up her legs crossing her arms just under her knees. “Are we even getting close? Everyday that dream feels further and further away.”

Grey looks at the bruises on her wrists then down at the dirt and sand “It's slow. We have a lot of men working on it, but the technology just isn't there yet.”

She tucks herself further into her own legs resting her chin on top of her knees. “We're running out of time. Brass isn't happy with our progress. I'm starting to worry that they are going to shut the entire project down if we don't come up with something.”

“I doubt that. They spent all this time and money renovating this place and relocating everything so we could use the dried lake bed as a test site. Why go through all the trouble and resources just to shut us down a few years later?”

“Ha! Now who's being naive? You don't know the government the way I do! It's a bunch of old men with no real world experience, and even less patience, all jockeying for favor by making everyone who disagrees with them look foolish. They spent a ton of money on this project knowing that their enemies would accuse them of wasting tax dollars on us. They're demanding some kind of trinket they can throw back into their detractor's faces to prove that it isn't all a waste.” Carla says frowning as she looks down at her smoking partner.

“Science doesn't work that way.” Grey says trying to wave the comment away with a long hand.

“Yeah, but politics does, and for now politics is paying the bills.”

Grey huffs loudly looking back up at the sky. “Humans and your damned obsession with money. . . It's no wonder you all are so far behind.”

“You never cry.”

“Hmm?”

“I've seen you get sad. I've seen you sulk. I've seen you mope. I've never seen you cry.” Carla says staring down at him. “It's therapeutic, you know. You don't have to pretend to be tough for me.”

Grey laughs. “It's not that. I'm not pretending to be anything. My species can't cry.” he pulls at the bottom eyelid of his left eye. “See? No tear ducts. I couldn't cry if I wanted to, which I don't. It's just not an instinct my people have. Instead we use sarcasm.”

Carla laughs a bit “Wait, but if you don't cry then how do you clean dust from your eyes or keep them lubricated?”

“We didn't evolve from mammals like you. We came from amphibians.”

Carla tilts her head slightly still looking into Grey's large eyes.

He sighs a bit “We have a secondary eye lid that has a mucus coating for that. It's hard to show you because it closes at the same time as our primary eye lid, but here.” Grey grabs his top and bottom eyelids holding them open. They twitch painfully as he closes his other eye and slowly forces the slimy secondary lid to slide out from the side rolling away from the center of his noseless face. He lets go of his eye lids and blinks several times from the irritation. “Did you see it?”

“No I missed it. You'll have to do it again!” Carla laughs

* * * * *

A soft blue convertible speeds across a dried lake bed trailing a billowing cloud of dust and debris high into the bright blue sky. Behind it sirens and alarms ring out echoing across the desert. Carla holds onto a wide brimmed hat steering her car with one hand trying to maintain control while getting as much speed as she can out of the vehicle. In the passenger seat Grey sits on his knees watching chaos erupt from the military base behind them.

“We're doing this thing! We're actually doing it! We're going on the lamb like Boner and Clyde!” He yells over the sound of the engine roaring

“That's Bonnie and Clyde” Carla calls out looking over at him. “And I'd like this to go a lot better than that! Forgive me if I don't want to see you, me, and the car all filled with bullet holes!”

“Hey, I'm just glad to be out of the base and in the sunlight!” He turns around and stretches his arms. “It's been years since I felt the warmth of a star on my face. Where are we headed anyway?”

“Mexico. It's about the only place we can reach that won't expedite!” Carla says as she steers the car towards an unmarked dirt road. “This is stupid. This is idiotic. I had a future! I had a position. I had money! I had a comfortable life! I'm a married woman! What in the hell am I doing!?”

“I think this is called an affair, isn't it? Or do we have to sleep together for it to become an affair? Wait, what was eloping again?”

“It's treason! I'm going to be caught and killed. I'm going to get us both killed!”

“No, treason is when you betray your country.” Grey pauses for a moment “Ok, yeah this is treason. I mean for you. For me this is just a prison break. . . maybe oath breaking, too. Shit! I'm not helping am I?”

Carla bites her bottom lip shaking her head as the car bounces down the uneven road.

Grey slides over and puts one hand on her shoulder and uses the other to slowly stroke her back. “We're in this together now. You and me against the world just like its always been.”

“I don't see a way out of this. I don't know what to do. You're sure about that signal? There is a ship nearby and you can hail it?” She says fighting the urge to look into his eyes for comfort.

“Absolutely, it's not one of my people's but it's friends! I've got the radio from my ship all I need is something to rig it with to use as an amplifier and we'll have a pickup in seconds! Don't worry, I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. We are going to see the stars, Carla. You and Me, out in space having a real adventure! No more stuffy military bases, no more shitty husbands, no more being yelled at for not being able to do the impossible! Real freedom!” He says gently patting her back.

“Alright, I'm calm. Please get back in your seat and buckle up. I can't do this without you.”

“Heh, yeah seat belts, like that crap ever helped anybody!”

The car swings a wild left screeching it's tires as it turns onto a paved road at full speed. Grey suddenly feels himself pulled away from Carla and flung over the passenger door. His long fingers barely reach the door in time, pulling his entire body down around the outside of the car. His eyes sink down to his feet as the road zips past, each bump and rock threatening to take off a foot as they scream past. Slowly he hoists himself back into the car.

“Alright, seat belts. Good call. Wouldn't want to get hurt.” He straps himself in still feeling his heart pounding away in his chest. “What's that sound?”

“They're scrambling choppers to track us. We need to find some cover to ditch this car and lose them.” Carla says feeling her own heart racing.

“Helicopters? Dammit! This is why you don't piss off the military. They have all the good toys!”

#writing #sci-fi & fantasy #scifi #science fiction

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randywalkerwriting · 8 years ago

Text

Greybarrow Sunrise

Having proved both their mettle and the quality of their character in the eyes of Raszyara, our heroes prepare to cross the threshold into the astral plane. Most people set in to sleep; Helena convinces an eagle to retrieve a sapling from below the treeline and promptly plants it in the House’s garden (for the sake of natural beauty, of course).

Stepping through the rippling veil, the party finds itself standing upon what appears to be a floating concretion of rock suspended in a vast silvery sea of similar drifting structures. Though on closer inspection, it became clear that these masses were in fact composed of a wide and varied assortment of materials, sporting different forms of architecture and natural geology. Drawing upon such deep pools of influence, these cosmic wanderers seem as fragments: isolated details of forgotten landscapes and hometown edifices, left-behind castings of the fading childhood memories of an entire universe.

Producing the vial containing what appears to be Raszyara’s breath, Prosper recalls her instructions to find “high ground,” decides upon her best relative idea of “up,” and ambles up the rock. It’s hard to describe, but the effort is hardly a physical one, and is found to be more taxing upon the mind, recalling the sensation one might have while in the throes of the calculation of figures and overly elaborate bookkeeping.

Reaching the peak, Prosper raises her arm as high as it will go and flips open the vial’s lid. Out from the silvery edge of the vessel pours a vaporous light, a mote of greenish brightness trailed by a similar but dimmer mist. It floats upward in a meandering flight, and suddenly the mote begins to pulse, a rhythmic brightening that clearly follows a pattern, but none that any member of the party can recognize. It continues to bob in the shimmering sea above them, when suddenly it is sharply pulled laterally in a particular direction, quickly being drawn merely a handful of inches before disappearing entirely.

A similar light in the distance appears, repeats the pattern once, and is then snuffed. Despite being visible to the naked eye, this light seems to be so impossibly, impossibly far away. It’s a strange sensation, closest probably to the experience of being painfully aware of a concept that you truly know is beyond your capability for true comprehension.

The dissonance of the moment passes quickly however, as a shape begins to come into view precisely where the distant light had previously shone out. Coming closer, the details of this object begin to become clearer: the form begins to resemble that of a sailing ship, then specifically a warship, and then finally resolving to specifically a damaged wreck crewed by glowing humanoid shapes. The ship glides up to the rock, at which point the apparent captain—and only individual bearing any sense of a corporeal form—emerges onto, then leaps down from, the ship’s rotting deck, coming to land with graceful force upon the rocky surface with the booted tip of one, then both feet.

It is at this point the visitor’s appearance is fully seen: a human wearing the fashions of a dashing sea captain, albeit severely out-of-date. Also, the vast majority of their flesh is missing. The skeletal sailor affects an elaborate bow, and with a bony hand bereft of two of its fingers, tips their tricorn hat, briefly revealing a patchy scalp with faint traces of reddish, but faded, hair. Swiftly breaking the silence, she introduces herself as Myrcella Breakwave, and inquires about the nature of whatever problem warranted her summoning. The nature of the journey is explained, from the planar leakage, to the hope that the Astral Lighthouse will be able to help the group make contact with the vagrant soul of Zeanok.

Myrcella is elated to hear that her old friend Juniper is still flitting about, and is quite qualified to bring them to the Lighthouse, given that her charge these days is to patrol the Sea surrounding it, keeping it free of ne'er-do-wells that might have more nefarious intentions than our heroes. She beckons them onto her ship, and after they take their place among the milling glowing figures, she leaps up to the wheel and barks a command to the crew in an unfamiliar language. They turn in acknowledgement, arrange themselves in rank-and-file positions, and uniformly sink beneath the deck into the bowels of the ship. The ship is enveloped in their glow, and, powered by the collective willpower of the crew, pulls away from the floating rock, twisting and pivoting downward to face a seemingly random and arbitrary direction, then picking up speed.

Slow at first, the ship suddenly reaches incredible speeds, the surrounding structures smearing horizontal in peripheral vision as they are sped past. Eventually the speed reached forces these shapes into a homogenous white noise, revealing a backdrop of truly colossal forms: rocky spheres the size of small planets, gigantic humanoid shapes, and beyond. In stark contrast to the fantastical scene, Myrcella speaks with a calm, vaguely disinterested tone as she points out various sights, her arms draped loosely around the ship’s wheel, the need to steer apparently left behind with everything else.

“That’s the memory of a dead star, and that’s a nonexistent moon conceived of by some sub-Underdark society based on one accidental surface-dweller’s inaccurate description of one of our actual moons. That guy, over there? That’s the corpse of an old god, snuffed out when the last of their worshipers died out some centuries ago. Sucks for him, yeah? And that twisty thing what looks like a bramble? And sounds like a chorus of one thousand screaming voices carried on a black wind? An accretion, offal comprised of stifled feelings of homesickness.” She sighs, the brief pause tarnishing the façade of aloof distance. “Swallowing your stirrings already makes for a poor constitutional, but it turns out those sentiments don’t just flit away, no lump of sugar to a glass of water.” One bony finger, which had been idly scratching at one of the wheel’s handles, looses a splinter of wood, which begins to float away. Myrcella pinches it, scrutinizing it with an empty eye socket.

“No, they cast more like oil. They hang about, slicking the glass until they can be tolerated no longer, and are forgotten down a runoff somewhere.” She flicks the splinter away towards the side of the ship, watching it spiral away over the bulwark, reaching the boundary of the ship’s glowing aura, and immediately being flung backwards with the rest of the racing static that continues to surround them. “Welcome to The Gutter, I suppose.”

Some moments pass, the silence cut only by the thrum of the glow below deck. “We’ll be arriving momentarily.” she says with a purposeless clearing of an incomplete throat. The ship slows to a more manageable speed, and begins to circle a particularly large chunk of rock. Coming round the bend, a shimmering can be seen, eventually revealing itself to be a rhythmic circular oscillation of a signal light, of a lighthouse. “Destiny ahoy, kids.”

The lighthouse, while appearing to possess the general form of a normal lighthouse, looked like no lighthouse any of the group had ever run into on the Prime Material plane. Nestled in the rock, the tower seemed to incorporate architectural touchstones from various cultures, lending a strange eclectic quality to its construction, but still managing to be cohesive. As the ship draws to the balcony surrounding the top and the party disembarks, Myrcella produces another glass vial identical to the first and breathes the same green light into it. She closes the lid and, spying the empty vial still clutched in Prosper’s hand, tosses the glowing vessel to the halfling.

“Go do your thing. Just be careful, okay?” The skeletal captain turns to Sidur and Nokri, the latter clutching the porcelain egg reliquary. “Zeanok was a good guy, and my friend. I truly hope that this works. I miss him, and Juney, too.” Her grip on the wheel tightens, and begins to pull the ship away. “I suppose saving the cosmos is important, too,” she adds with a dusty, windblown laugh. “I SUPPOSE.”

Turning towards the centerpiece of the lighthouse, the party finds themselves in front of an elaborate structure. A pedestal topped with a sort of convex plate or dish rises from the floor, above which glows a strange ghostly fire. Resting in the center of this dish are what appear to be the charred remains of various materials. On top of all of this is an elaborate metal cage, laced with a filigree of complex tracery, enclosed around an angled glass lens, spinning in place and refracting this ghost-light outward from the housing.

Some testing is done by Helena, which involves placing various materials on the dish. Each one burns up in a similar fashion, but elicits no response from the Lighthouse. While the party discusses potential approaches to the problem, Sidur and Nokri are heard arguing, quietly but forcefully, gesturing angrily at the dish, at the reliquary, and at each other. At some point, Sidur breaks from the spat, approaches the apparatus with a teary-eyed determination, and reaches her hand onto the plate. Before she can reach all the way in, she yells in pain and reels back, clutching at a steaming hand, and eventually looses her footing and tumbles onto her back, a spiral of trailing smoke describing the arcing nuances of the descent.

Shaking off any attempt at medical assistance with a protesting grunt, Sidur clutches at her wounded hand, which is now missing the very end of its middle finger, and whose ring finger still sizzles at its own tip. She forces some ragged deep breaths, closes her eyes, and spits onto the wound. The acidic spray, afforded to her by her copper dragon heritage, cauterizes the wound, at least to her satisfaction.

“It still works, at least,” she says, rising to her feet. “It, uh, shows you things, turns out,” she adds, casting a haunted glance at the apparatus. Hypothesizing that the Lighthouse was responding to the presence of living material, the group wonders if formerly-living material would have an effect, and looks to Nokri to bring the remains into the apparatus.

The dragonborn, clearly still in shock at both what her older sister had just done and the results of said action, nodded shakily and made her way to the pedestal, trembling with every slow, deliberate step. She opens the lid, raises the reliquary up to balance it on her chest, and with a deep, sniffling breath, upends the contents onto the dish. Ashes, scales, and teeth pile up, and almost immediately begin to smolder. The flame above the plate grows in intensity, and the slowly spinning lens atop it begins to increase in speed. As the remains continuously burn away, Nokri joins her sister to stand beside her, grasping blindly at Sidur’s uninjured hand until she finds it, and clasps it tighter than she has in over 20 years.

The light, now nearly blinding and spinning wildly around at the surrounding expanse, suddenly stops at a specific angle and begins to thrum. Bright pulses start shooting down the length of the light shaft, towards the Lighthouse. With each thrum and pulse, tiny motes of lights begin to orbit the apparatus. As more appear, they being to cling to one another, until one whole swirling mass of tiny lights have formed a miniature celestial sphere of stars. The pulsing stops, the thrumming quiets, and the light-sphere continues spinning, only now, these tiny motes of light are spiralling off to coalesce on the floor of the chamber, collecting and gathering in the general shape of a humanoid.

With a flash, the glowing silhouette is replaced by the form of a silver dragonborn wearing a simple robe. Simple, save for the fact that the interior lining of the garment seems to be quite literally made of stars. The dragonborn seems fascinated by his own two hands, flexing the fingers and progressing to more and more elaborate gestures. Until he happens upon something akin to a fingersnap, which seems to keep him enthralled for an extended period of percussive snapping. When it appears that he notices the other people in the room, he clears his throat with a look of surprise.

“Oh! Hello there. I imagine this is your doing?” He says, gesturing to his body. “I am very grateful; it seems one loses themselves a bit the more time spent here as an unbound soul. In truth, I am being flooded with memories as we speak, so you may very well have saved my life, such as it is. I must say, it is truly a blessing to be able to breathe aga-” he pauses, attempting several deep breaths. “There’s no air here. It is truly a blessing to be able to TOUCH again!” he hastily adds, clutching a small broken piece of the marbled floor of the chamber.

His eyes suddenly take on a focus they had lacked up until that point. “I...my name was, is Zeanok. I remember that now.” At this confirmation, Nokri, who had so far remained silent, begins sobbing into Sidur’s broad chest. The culmination of her entire adult life’s work—and the closest person her people had to a messiah—was standing just over there, a mere stone’s kick away, and that proved to be enough to tear down the chiseled statuary of blade-faced cool that she had built up around herself over the years in spite of everything.

At this, Zeanok turns toward the coppery pair. “And it pleases me to no end that we dragonborn continue to thrive back in the realm of the Material! I worried for so long. Wait, the Material Plane IS still there, right?” Affirming, if confused, nods spread across the party. “Oh, okay, good. Never mind that! I’m guessing I should be really thanking you most of all!” he says, addressing Nokri specifically. “Your shoulders betray the impression of a great weight lifted. I take it you had a major hand in this?” Nokri, not looking up from her hiding spot in her sister’s arms, shakes her head no. Sidur, making purposeful eye contact with the silver dragonborn, silently nods yes in correction.

Smiling, Zeanok adds, “Well, whatever work you did, it helped bring me here, no matter the scale. Hah, scale! Like our...because we’re dragonborn, and we have...you know. Oh, that is quite rich, a fun little coincidence of language. A rare treasure, indeed.” He chuckles to himself, pleased at his discovery of the concept of puns. He soon regains focus, however.

“Speaking of which, why did you all bring me here? Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I can’t imagine it was simple.” The party recounts the situation, and the mention of Juniper and Myrcella strike a spark of recognition in his eyes. Soon, he is enamored with the possibility of being able to meet them again. Regarding the rifts, he is not fully clear on the particulars. He knows that the rift he went through, inside of Mt. Korzhal over in Norvasir, was lined with a reddish crystal, like some sort of planar scar tissue, and by retrieving the missing piece from the other side, he was able to repair and close the rift. Unfortunately, it did so while trapping him on the other side, while leaving his soulless body to rot on the Prime Material plane. Whose continued existence, he adds again, is very good news for him.

At this point, Sam steps forward and clears his throat. “Yes, you mentioned that earlier. What’s that all about? What made you worry about that in the first place?”

Zeanok hesitates for the first time since his arrival, looks briefly at Sidur and Nokri, sighs, and says, ”There wasn’t anything on the other side of that rift in the mountain.”

“So?”

“I don’t know if this isn’t common knowledge or anything, but the opening of that rift is what brought all dragonkind to this world, fully-formed, and with no conscious memories of our prior lives.”

“Of course. I knew that. I totally knew that.”

“We didn’t know where we were from. We did, however, have this dream, a shared dream, one we all experienced from time to time.” Sidur and Nokri both nod slowly. “In this dream was a beautiful world of crystal and light, shores of shimmering glass caressed by prismatic waves borne of kaleidoscopic seas, nestled beneath the luminescent shadows of gemstone mountains. It was a paradise, and we hoped that it represented a memory of our prior home, or barring that, a promise of what was to come when we die. I had hoped that returning to the site of our ‘birth,’ that crossing that rift, would return us to this collective dreamland we all shared. As I mentioned, there was nothing on the other side of that rift; I had been wrong. But I clung to the hope that this world was what waited us after our lives had ended, after our souls had made their way through the Astral Sea, onto the final destination guaranteed to any living being who dies well. Armed with this hope, I set about repairing the rift. In that nothing that was on the other side, there was but one aberration: a shard, made from the same crystalline material coating the rift. Given that the material world still exists, my efforts to restore the rift apparently worked, but things didn’t end up so well for me, and I found myself stranded without a body, adrift in the Astral Sea. Content to let my being pass on to our world of glass, I continued to drift, waiting for my apotheosis. It never came. What did come, however, were the displaced souls of other deceased dragonborn, and it was around that time that I theorized that perhaps our dreams had not been glimpses into an existing space, but rather memories of a long-gone place. That whatever caused that tear and forced all dragonkind through it, also in the process destroyed this dreamworld we shared. My new task,then, was to determine the fate of our missing world, gather the wayward souls adrift at sea, and escort them to their final home, wherever that may end up being.”

A little overwhelmed by the lengthy explanation, the group decides it’s time to get back to the Material plane, and begin their return journey by summoning Myrcella once again. The reunion of the two friends is rendered slightly awkward by virtue of Zeanok not remotely recognizing the bony sea captain at first, second, or third glances, but the trip goes otherwise smoothly. A polite greeting, thanks, and farewell is exchanged with Raszyara, and finally it is time to return to the aerie.

Simultaneously amused and shocked to be greeted at the entrance by a large, offering-laden, somewhat inaccurate statue of himself, Zeanok accompanies the party through the town as they make their way towards Nokri’s home. As they pass by the central communal area, however, they catch sight of a crowd of excited, chattering dragonborn children surrounding two adult-sized figures: one a red-skinned, well-dressed tiefling with swept-back, branching horns cresting their dark hair, and the other a taller, amber-skinned tiefling with much simpler, more practical clothing draped about their muscular frame, two small horns protruding from the forehead below a messy crop of white, silvery hair. The slighter, red-skinned tiefling is mimicking exaggerated spell gestures and invocations in the direction of the larger, amber-skinned tiefling, who is bearing the weight of two dragonborn children who are shrieking with delight, one on each shoulder. The amber tiefling spots the party approach, and with a face of excitement that rivals those of her passengers, suddenly groans loudly in pain.

“Ugh, you got me, you dastardly sorcerer! I am done for, for sure! Sorry kids, this two-headed ogre is down for the count!” she says, while lowering down onto one knee. The two children, dejected, each slide off of her shoulders and go to join the others in the circle, though one quickly turns back to throw a quick hug around the arm he had just slid down. Despite his best efforts, his arms cannot clear the circumference of the tawny bicep, and he resumes his journey back to the circle of his peers.

“Seriously, Meia? We just got her—”

“DOWN. FOR. THE. COUNT. NEPH.”

“Honestly, Meia, you should know better. A single Magic Missile could never take down a—”

“Allergic to Magic Missiles. Who knew, what are the odds, et cetera. Gotta go, kids, excuse me!” Inmeia shouts excitedly as she tiptoes through the throng of children as they push towards Nephmys, cheering and clapping for her great success against the fearsome monster. Nephmys, trapped in a wading pool of admirers, looks on as Inmeia runs at full sprint towards the approaching group. As Inmeia closes the distance, she lowers her posture, and goes in for a hug from her favorite halfling, who she is beyond happy to see return alive and well. Unfortunately, the conspiracy of physics, biology, and the resulting centers of gravity rears its ugly head, and the large sprinting tiefling starts to lose her already precarious balance. She manages to recover, but in so doing, Inmeia inadvertently forces what was intended to be a simple crouching embrace into a flourishing movement, wherein she scoops up Prosper bodily into her arms, pirouettes into several spins of corrective balancing, and finally comes to a stop, their faces level with one another, wide-eyed, noses touching. Blushing, she apologizes for her clumsiness and places her friend back down on the ground taking a few steps back, the rust-colored smear of embarrassment spreading across in increasingly freckled face.

Seeing this small disaster play out in front of her, Nephmys wants to be angry, or frustrated, or disappointed. She’d even settle for jealousy. But nothing comes, and the melancholy is left by its usual lonesome self. Then she sees the silver scales. The Silver Scholar, alive and present. She reminds herself of her exercises, and begins to take account.

The warlock, whose thirst for the unknown almost rivals her brother’s, and she loves them for that.

The barbarian, the only person she’s ever seen genuinely contain such vast, unbridled rage alongside the purest compassion for all of Nature’s creatures, and she loves him for that.

The druid, whose secretiveness and forced air of mystery and distance reminds her so much of her teenage self, and she loves her for that.

The monk, an individual who is clearly broken in many ways, but in others is nothing short of a machine of perfection, a pure duality, and she loves him for that.

The bard, currently doing secret work for her in Westheath, and whose confidence and boastfulness is matched only by his ability to back it all up, and she loves him for that.

The paladin who, despite everything, was always trying to live his best life, free from tyranny, and she loves him for that.

The dragonborn, one of whom is a powerhouse of muscle, a font of morale, whose cup spilleth over with regret. The other is a damned flirt who knows when she’s got someone by the horns, and can trick a fully grown woman into saving the goddamned world with nothing but a crooked smile. The both of them are the fiercest fuckers on the planet, full stop, and they’re going to tear Hell in half before this is through, and gods, o burning gods, does she love them for that.

The cleric, who by all accounts is afraid of absolutely nothing in this world, who places faith into those who have never experienced it, or those who might not deserve it, but nevertheless acts upon the best that we all have to offer, and keeps alive in her the notion that we all deserve love, and that that alone makes this all worth it, and she loves her for that. Also pastries.

The bodyguard, without whom nothing in her life would be possible, and who she had previously thought was also afraid of absolutely nothing in this world. Who destroyed that false belief mere moments ago by way of a spreading streak of rust-colored blush, perfectly matched with the burned hues laid beneath, complementary shades chosen by some unseen hand for the express purpose of stabbing her in the heart every time she laid her eyes upon them. Who believed in her when no one else would, and confided in her when no one else should. Her summer moon. Her winter sun. Who taught her so much about the true face of strength, who showed her the true path of the universe, and how it wends its way toward the final shape, and how that shape is love, how the whole can be both greater than and separate from the sum of its parts, and why that means the sun can sometimes set in the east, a mountain can sometimes be a valley, a desert can sometimes be an ocean, and how a scared Roycedale girl—who never wanted any part in this, who wants to run and hide, and sing quiet songs about loud times into the white curls of her best friend’s hair—can sometimes get the job done with the right people by her side. All these people, these misfits, and this woman who was raised from birth to hate her but couldn’t hack it when push came to shove. Her Greybarrow Sunrise. Her Brightstone. Who taught her long ago how to hold on. Who was teaching her now how to let go.

Nephmys blinks the mist from her golden eyes, returns to the present, returns to the aerie, returns to the sight of this small disaster playing out in front of her, this beautiful, beautiful mess, and cannot help smiling. She looks down to the clamoring children around her legs, crouches down, and begins asking them what their favorite spells are, and which monsters scare them the most. She absolutely cannot wait to save the world for them.

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