#by I guess making it feel safer to Blitz

[angstandhappiness]

Interesting

... Oh

[ariverrunsviolet]

Hostage Situation (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Summary: A surprise attack has left you captured and under interrogation by an unknown enemy. Only one thing brings you comfort; a certain soldier is out there looking for you.

Gif @ gifbuckybarnes

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Timeline: Post The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Reader is a fellow Avenger that has teamed up with Sam and Bucky. Warnings: Violence, sexual assault, language Words:  2158

Songs I listed to while writing this: Opus by Hoity-Toity, Next Contestant by Nickelback, Protecting Me by Aly & AJ Let me know what you guys think! I have ideas for a part two *Please don't repost this anywhere! Especially without my permission!*

“You’re a stubborn one, ain’t ya?”

You managed to pool a mouthful of spit and blood and hocked it in the direction of your captor. Your breathing was heavier than normal after their relentless interrogation efforts. Time was lost to you; it could have been 12 hours or a whole week since you had been separated from the group and captured.

It had been a surprise attack; Torres’ intel didn’t account for the blitz that struck and took you away from Sam and Bucky.  It had all happened so fast—the smoke bombs, a harsh tase to your back, and you woke up here. In this hellhole.

The greasy interrogator lit a freshly drawn cigarette between his fingers and took a deep inhale, blowing the smoke out in your face. “How much longer do you think you can hold out love?”

You refused to look him in the eye as he took another puff. With a screech of his chair and a few steps forward, he yanked the back of your hair and made you face him. As you gasped in surprise, he plunged his mouth into yours and exhaled again. He planted himself firmly against your mouth and nose; you couldn’t release his breath at all. The smoke burned your nose, throat, and lungs as you choked on it.

He finally, finally, pulled away and you struggled to breathe as tears streamed out of your good eye—the other was swollen shut—and down your bruised face.

“I can hold out as long as you, darlin’. Trust me, I’m enjoyin’ myself.” He said, eyeing your uniform. He unsheathed a dagger from his belt and did a quick and clean slice up the center of the clothing, leaving you exposed in just your bra. With your hands chained to the seat behind you, there was nothing you could do to cover yourself.

You kept up your stone-faced resolve. It was an intimidation tactic, and you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of watching you squirm.

“Yeah…Yeah, I think I’ve found some more to enjoy.” The dozen lackeys spread throughout the big, empty room either snickered or stayed eerily quiet.

Before you could manage to spit at him in disgust a second time, you heard a clutter of noises down the hall. They were stifled through the thick walls, but consistent and growing closer.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a warmth of relief spread through your stomach and you managed a small smirk.

“The hell is going on out there?” One of his henchmen by the door grunted as he pulled out his gun.

“Don’t ask me you moron, go check on it!” The lead interrogator barked. The one by the door nodded to the man next to him and they entered a code into the keypad. With a hiss, the door slid open, and the two rounded the corner to search.

As the door slid back to a close, the leader of the group finally seemed to register the look on your face. “And what the fuck has you looking so giddy?”

“The last mistake you’ll ever make.” You rasped out, giving a full bloody smile, counting down in your head.

By the time you reached down to one, there was a slam against the door to the room, a large, rounded dent showing in the thick metal. The pounding continued, each time adding a newer, thicker bulge to the door. It only took a few more punches until the door flew into room, knocking down one of the men.

And there he was in the doorway, with his shining arm and clear blue eyes. There was just a moment as he locked his gaze with yours and you saw wave after wave of relief, rage, and an assessment of the room all come through his face in that brief second.

The lead interrogator started screaming for his men to attack, but they were already at a critical disadvantage. Bucky was on a warpath, and everyone else in the room was just fodder when it came to his end goal: you.

One of the men dangerously close to the avenging soldier stuck his assault weapon right in Bucky’s face. Gripping the front of the gun, the ringing of bullets stopped at his vibranium palm and jammed the front of the weapon. Yanking it out of the henchmen’s grip, Bucky swung out with it and clocked the aggravator clean across the face, knocking him out cold. These weren’t super soldiers they were dealing with; just sneaky men with big guns and smoke bombs trying to play in the big leagues.

And Bucky was tearing through them like tissue paper. You couldn’t help but feel growing satisfaction; the only thing that would’ve made it better was being free to do it all yourself.

As you watched him move through the room, calculating, quick, and aggressive, the average eye could assume The Winter Soldier was active again. He was snapping guns in half like they were twigs, flipping through the air, and throwing men into each other so hard that they crashed into the wall and laid dazed on the ground. All of this while deathly silent and his eyes glazed over in a look of duty and fury.

Except when he sparingly glanced back at you. Quick looks, making sure you were still there. In those quick, apologetic glances, you could see what he was saying. ‘I’ll be there in a second, hold on.’

He was taking care of the last of the lackies when you felt a hand grip your chin and cold metal shove into your temple. You could feel the slight shaking coming off the leader, as he whistled loudly to get Bucky’s attention.

After an effective punch to the solar plexus of the last of the henchmen, Bucky spun around and set his sights on the handgun rammed into your face. His muscles tensed and for a second, you saw terror flit through his blue orbs before rounding back to steely resolve and rising to meet the gaze of the man that held you captive.

“Drop your weapon.” A demand, with a wall of threatening anger standing tall behind his words.

“Not a chance, Barnes.” The man squeezed your face, making you hiss in response. Bucky’s fists tightened. “If you come any closer, her brain turns into confetti.”

“You do that, and nothing will stop me from breaking every one of your bones into splinters with my bare hands.” Even though you were currently held at gunpoint, Bucky’s threat made you go cold, and a shiver ran up your spine. You didn’t have to be close to the super soldier to know he sincerely meant every word coming out of his mouth.

“You won’t risk it. Not on her life.” His finger hovered over the trigger. “I know that arm comes off your body. Remove it.” Bucky didn’t move a muscle until the man jammed the gun hard into your face, making you wince and causing a quiet cry to escape your throat. “Now!”

Bucky’s resolve broke for an instant, his face panicked until he locked eyes with you. You tried to make it as apparent as you could with just your facial expressions; you had a last-ditch effort ready. Your pupils flicked down to the man’s hand holding your jaw, and you gave a slight and quick head tilt back and looked to Bucky’s face to see if he knew what you were plotting. He understood you like no one else, and with a hesitant, affirmative nod from him, you moved with haste.

Your teeth gnashed down into the man’s hand as you shoved your feet into the floor and launched your chair backwards into the goon behind you. Natasha had taught you this move way back when. The man yelped in surprise and started shooting wildly. You fell to the floor as you watched Bucky cover himself with his arm as a shield, the bullets showering off his vibranium buffer as he surged forward.

You couldn’t see what happened after Bucky had rushed past your line of sight, but the noises you heard told you that he was giving a thorough, yet justified, beating to the man that had haggled with your life.

Even though you were sure Bucky could go at it all day, it wasn’t long until you felt his arms around you, gently pulling your form and the chair upright. He twisted his metal fingers into your shackles, attempting to safely free you, all the while saying “It’s alright. I’m here, you’re safe.” You guessed he was reassuring himself as much as he was reassuring you.

You wanted to jokingly ask “What took you so long?” But you knew he was probably internally beating himself up, asking the same question. Instead, you settled on a quiet but sincere “my hero.”

Your bindings fell to the floor in a flurry of metal clangs and even after singlehandedly dismantling an entire room of kidnappers, Bucky was unprepared for the way your arms whipped up and around his neck, pulling him down to you. His arms instinctively enveloped you, and you knew, you were certain, that you could never feel safer than you did in that moment.

He breathed in all of you, and briefly closed his eyes, relaxing into your hold like warm putty. Both of you needed this more than the other realized.

You pulled away briefly, feeling tears run down your face in warm streaks again, this time in relief. His thumb gently padded them away, careful to avoid your bruised eye, and then rested on your lips. You had no idea how long your eyes were locked into each other until you heard a groaning behind Bucky.

Your stomach, currently swirling with relief and pulsing with adrenaline, felt a hot stab of anger strike through you as you made your way to the man angrily grunting on the floor; Bucky hovered protectively behind you as you moved.

The man’s left arm had been dislocated, and you saw some of his teeth sprinkled on the floor around his face. Your arms stiffened with growing fury as you remembered all of the hell he had gleefully put you through—all of the pain, and embarrassment. You started to reflexively pull your torn clothes around your torso until you felt the warmth of Bucky’s leather jacket cover you. It smelled of pine, and fire, and gunpowder, and just—him. It made you tingle from head to toe as your arms found their way into the sleeves—well, one of the sleeves. Your left harm hung out the gaping hole that was normally meant for Bucky’s vibranium extremity as you zipped up the front.

“We gotta get moving. There are probably more coming that’ll be here any second.” He looked back over his shoulder to the open doorway as he debriefed you, his hand lightly tugging at yours.

“Just give me a second.” You squeezed his hand in response and knelt to fully tower over the shell of a man that had once joyfully taken part in torturing you.

It looked like he was about to say something, probably snarky and condescending, but you beat him to the punch with a swift uppercut into his solar plexus, like Bucky taught you. All of the air left his lungs in a pained shout and he curled into a fetal position, wrapping his one good arm around himself and groaning.

You stood quickly and turned to Bucky, who nodded approvingly and looked impressed, but not surprised, at your aim and the power of your strike. “Okay, I’m good to go now…” your voice faded; the adrenaline flushed out of your system like water running from a faucet. The strong wall that you had put up to survive the interrogation began to dissolve, and it suddenly took everything you had to stay standing, or even keep your eyes open. Your knees gave way and Bucky’s arms were around you in an instant, breaking your fall.

“Hey, (Y/N).” He carefully tapped your cheek a few times trying to rouse you. “Hey, c’mon, stay with me. Please. (Y/N)!”

“Mmmm so sleepy…” you mumbled. “Quick nap, then I’ll be…” you trailed off unwillingly from the dizziness and heard him curse as he hastily called into his earpiece for Sam, demanding he fly his ass and shield down to our location, pronto. His arms swiftly and surely lifted you up into his chest.

‘Thank you for finding me…Bucky’ You would have sworn on your life, in that moment, that you had only thought those words. You had no strength remaining at this point, and darkness was closing in around you. But you must have either said it out loud, or you and Bucky truly had an impenetrable connection. Because he gave your form a light squeeze and the last thing you heard was him mumble assuredly.

“Always.”

[hazbincalifornia]

I love this dark au and I love the idea of Stolas treating Blitzo like a doll and wanting him always pregnant to stay by him.

I... didn’t actually think of that, but oh man that would be evil and I kinda love it.

The idea I had was as soon as Stolas found out Blitzo was pregnant (if he hadn’t purposefully planned it in the first place, without Blitzo’s knowledge) he pretty much smothers him because he sees this as a second chance at happiness since he likes having Blitzo and loves his daughter, assuming Blitzo is just as excited about this as he is and brushing off anything that doesn’t fit that.

As soon as little Stellaluna is born (and boy does that name make it even more obvious he’s redirecting his other stresses here) Blitzo is expected to be always happy and as good a parent as he can be, no matter how stressed out he actually is about the whole thing. 

It’s more psychological horror than anything, I just need to find a reason for Blitzo to not get the hell out of dodge that isn’t Stolas directly threatening his life/the life of his employees. My best guess so far is that Stolas implies that he could get Blitz in trouble for seducing him for the book in the first place- Stolas might get a mark on his reputation, but Blitzo’d be probably ruined for life, and with him, Loona and Millie and Moxxie.

Blitzo seems to have buried issues about feeling lesser and wanting to do shit himself without help, so he probably just steels himself to deal with this for just a few months to keep the others safe... but by then Stolas doesn’t want to let him go.

I think Big Stella would absolutely put her foot down about him trying to knock Blitzo up again, because having him in the house is bad enough, but the thought of Stolas using it as an excuse to keep him there would be rough. As-is, he probably just tells Blitzo that it’s safer there, under his protection.

[florainkingdom]

"Well, if the Keeper was to put up a bit of a fight about it, he'll have his hands full with my sister out there. Hopefully he'll at least work with her so that doesn't happen, because she isn't the greatest at pulling her punches. Then again, if the Keeper has a personality like her, well, I guess a fight is unavoidable." Blitz had seen a lot of time gods, and they sure loved to be in control of things. Made sense given their job.

"Well, I had a feeling you might be tempted to ask if there was something we could do to not have them marry. Figured I'd get it out of the way first." Blitz would take a seat. "I wonder if dream tea still stays after you leave the dream," the fox said before taking a sip.

"Oh, trust me, I know all about divine twins. When I became a primordial all the others were up in arms, well, expect for one. Anyway, they decided to ask Forger to create an opposite for me, just to take me out and take the power I was given back. And they nearly got me to a lot of times." Blitz then looked off to the side seeming to think before looking at Sol and leaning forward slightly.

"They said I only had one choice, end them and each one who holds their power next. Though I knew that would only start a cycle, one that wouldn't end. So, I made a different choice. I let them get back up, watched them recover, and we just kept going at it. Fought for six months, and made he realize there was another choice, to exist together."

"Because if there's one thing I learned about fate, is that it can bite me. Sometimes, we have to make our own branch. I won't say we get along, though we don't try to kill each other. We keep the balance in the universe, just in our own ways. That said, it's easier to find a balance when it's broken. Wish I could give you an easy solution where everyone walks away happy." Blitz doubts his story would even help, though never hurts to share in this situation.

The fox then looked at the orb, chuckling a bit. "Sorry, not finding your offer funny. I just have a bit of a better way." He would pull out a seed from his pocket, holding it out for Sol to take. "A primordial seed. Plant it, and you'll always be able to contact me and I you. Besides, it's a bit safer than me carrying something I could lose. I get in a LOT of fights. As for the Keeper, I think I'll let my sister handle that. By now she should've gotten the ticket I made. Can't have something with a small amount of my energy around."

Sol wasn't a fool, she'd lived long enough to see stars born and blink out of existence. She knew any change to a timeline could ripple along the sands of time creating a great wave that could shatter reality. It was why only gods of time were ever allowed to manipulate time in any capacity. She knew the care taker would see that nothing was damaged or changed to drastically. It was his duty to oversee time until such time as the keeper returned. Still she knew that this would happy the moment Poppy decided to bind herself with that Flora girl. But it made her happy, and that lone made Sol happy.

" The Keeper of Time's assistant is the only one who can truly facilitate any alterations to the time stream. With the Great Keeper missing, he is all that maintains the great clock. His realm is not easily accessed however. "

She only smiled as she poured them both a cup of tea and nestle down onto a great chair. Her smile as bright as the sun, there was naught but joy in her smile when speaking of her daughter.

" Talk my daughter out of her notion of marriage? I doubt i could or you or anyone else. She is quite smitten by Poppy, though i hope she does not grow to regret this choice. She has all to often rushed into love without thinking... but i suppose that is the mortal part of her... "

She glanced to one side her eyes looking softer still as the conversation shifted to her cycle. Her inevitable death, and the ascension of her daughter. It wasn't sadness at her own passing but of the trials that yet awaited her daughter. She knew every goddess faced there own troubles and Blazes she feared might be the greatest yet.

" I understand what you intend and i do appreciate the kind sentiment. But i must decline the offer, there are reasons i am locked away as i am... "

She spoke with a somber tone as her eyes looked out her window toward what appeared to be a great darkness in the distance. As if it threatened to consume her dream and yet the bright light kept that darkness at bay.

" You must have guessed by now that i did not lock myself away out of simple paranoia. Or to avoid the war, the truth is... every divine being has there twin. A divine opposite, whose power is equal to there own. In my case... we are eternally bound together... two halves of the equation. If i were to wake so to would he... and his darkness would consume all of Sol... so i must remain, until the fated time arrives... "

The dark truth revealed, a truth not even the priests of Sol knew. That the darkness that nearly consumed all of Sol during the cataclysm was her dark sibling. Together they were life and death two halves of the coin. She could not wake without also waking them, and so to protect Sol--- She remains in her slumber eternally.

To his final question she looked conflicted as if she was unsure if Blaze was ready for such power. Ready to take on this mantle, and to assume the role of guardian. To keep the darkness in check, to become its warden.

" Blaze is far from ready to face the trials of Ascension. But make no mistake... she's far more powerful then she knows. I have confidence that my little flame will be ready when the time comes. until then i shall be there in her dreams to console her as best i can. "

She created a little orb in her hand, a well of knowledge a simple way for gods to pass on information. She offered it to Blitz with a humble smile as she held it toward him.

" The location of the great clock... you will still have to convince the Caretaker of your plight... and do be careful. Not all gods in Sol are as kindly as Morpheus and myself. There are those who will see your presence here as a threat... "

[kyberphilosopher]

Chapter Nineteen

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Adamus was a really scrawny kid. He wasn’t the fastest, or strongest, or even the smartest. He wasn’t really an introvert, but he was the quietest. Adamus knew what he was. He knew his limits. But instead of accepting himself as he was, it only motivated him. The boy became ambitious, almost to a fault, and knew he had to prove himself. But Adamus didn’t want to prove that he was just as good as his peers. Adamus wanted to prove that he was better than them. He wanted to prove that he was better than all of them.

Adamus grew into himself over the years. He was a little bit of a late bloomer, but that was made up for and forgotten about very quickly.

The scrawniness melted away, revealing a stocky body. He was naturally muscular under all that skin and bone. He got taller and taller, until he was finally slightly above the average man. His hair reached his neck, curling at the ends with natural waves. Except for his padawan braid, which he hated because it was so long and constantly hitting his shoulder. His eyelashes got longer, jawline sharper, and brain more aware.

Adamus had few friends in his Jedi years. One was a boy, Argos, who was clumsy and far more extroverted than Adamus would ever be. There was also Knox, a boy who was killed during the Clone Wars, and Ethin Edin, who was actually a distant relation of mine that I’d never learn about.

Adamus was close to his master, which was somewhat of a problem within the order. Attachments are frowned upon. Something I disapprove of. Adamus will deny that he looked up Fir Aro if you ever ask him, but I know the truth.  

Adamus tried saving him. Then he watched him die in a pool of blood, and not all of it was his own. Adamus blames himself.

Today, I wake up free of nightmares. For the past few nights, they haven’t bothered me at all. I guess my thoughts before bed have been so focused on Adamus and analyzing him that my brain hasn’t had time to cook up any new terrors for me. But I’m not so sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.  

No matter where the last thing I can remember takes place, I always wake up in my little nook. I usually assume that I either fell asleep at the table with my chin in my hand, or eventually drifted off while leaning against my door frame. Waking up in my nook would mean that Adamus puts me to bed, which honestly makes me feel quite guilty. I’ve already fallen asleep listening to him tell me about his deep rooted anguish, now he’s taking me to bed without even taking credit. I would thank him, but then something would change between us. Something already changed when he began to cry that night in my room, but actually admitting that one of us did the other a service is… different. I’m already pushing my luck by making eye contact with him during the day, why acknowledge the possibility that we’ve seen each other at our most vulnerable?

I rebraid my hair a little sloppily and shrug on a thin black  jacket over my outfit. I have to use the bathroom, so I do. I even flush. But I still refuse to shower.

The door slides open as I exit, and I stalk out in my usual demeanor. No smiles, head down, eyes apathetic as my weapon hits against my hip. People still stop and stare at me as I walk by, but their conversations still flurry through the air. The people don’t trust me. I don’t trust them either.  

I pass the control room, and take one of the hallways. Stretching my arms, rolling my shoulders back as I keep my eyes to the floor. It’s dark silver, and clangs under the weight of my boots. Even as I walk by, civilians of the Harbinger eye me with distaste. I let them. I don’t bother to let myself eye them right back because I know nothing can change the person I am. I’ve accepted that I’ll always be a threat wherever I go. That’s how I know I have to get away from these people.

The cafeteria is the same size as the medbay, I’m told. It’s lined with rows of tables with built in benches and counters. Volunteers serve slops of what’s usually nearly stale portion bread and ration bars. Sometimes there’s caf, but not usually. I wouldn’t take it anyway. Too bitter.

Adamus and Aheka are almost always sitting together in the mornings. At first I wondered about the exact nature of their relationship, though now I see it for what it is. They’re companions, close comrades, friends. Almost sibling like. Nothing close to romantic.

I pull my hood over my head as I walk by them, just missing Adamus’s kaleidoscope eyes of judgment by a single step. To the left side of the room is a long counter that serves as a buffet. Volunteers hand out the food, and today a yellow Twi’Lek gives me a slop of mush gray stuff on a silver tray with a distrustful scowl. I don’t bother saying a word about how I asked for the portion bread instead of whatever he just gave me. I know how to pick my battles, and this is one I won’t win. I don’t have the social skills for it.

When I turn to face the rest of the cafeteria, I gage out the seats I can take. There’s one at the opposite end of where Aheka and Adamus are, so definitely not there.

There’s another table at the very end of the hall, that’s almost completely empty except for one person who has his back to me. That will do.

Having my hood up makes me feel better. It’s not perfect, but it gives me the feeling of having walls around me, so I can feel more alone. I think that’s something I need. The world feels safer, more closed off. Like a room with three walls and then whatever’s in front of me. Like I’m a glitch in the simulation. Yeah… a glitch.

I set my tray down and slide onto the bench. The other person at the table- a man- is at the other end, on the other side. There’s no way we could be affiliated with each other.

With a cheap fork, I poke at the mush. It’s warmer than I expected- not hot, but not cold. I’ve eaten worse. I’ve purified my own piss and swallowed it down. This is not the time to get picky.

But I’m not hungry.

I look back up, glancing around to observe the surroundings of the room. There’s the counters where I got my tray to the right, the rows of tables ahead. Aheka and Adamus are about five tables up. There are some foot soldiers, one man I saw in Adamus’s meeting reading over some papers, a green woman carrying a crate. One of the lights over head is flickering so quickly, you wouldn’t even notice the sputter if you weren’t hardwired to notice everything.

And as for the man sitting at the table with me… well, it takes me a second to notice him.

I eye him for a few seconds, not for any particular reason, simply because I can. And then he tilts his head up and to the side, catching my orbs, which began to dilate with the beat of my heart.

Sharp jawline, heavily angular features. The slim eyes like a hawk, golden brown. Nose turned down at the bridge, arched brows, thin and chapped lips. And that hairstyle… I know it.

My lips part in realization. I can feel my heart stop.

“So-”

A tray slams down in front of me with a clang, startling me with a jump.

“Were you really going to try eating alone?”

I stare up at Aheka from under my hood. Her pale green eyes are staring into my own with that twinkle of compassion, but the corners of her lips are upturned with charisma.

Before I can respond or think of a response, Aheka slides her tray forward until it bumps against mine and seats herself in the slot ahead of me.

“I hope you slept okay,” she frowns. “You look sick.”

I catch her glance at my missing finger, causing me to jerk my hand back in embarrassment and anger. “Why are you eating alone?”

Under the table, my right hand twitches. “Didn’t want to disturb you and shit for brains,” I lie, watching Adamus’s back tense from behind him.

“You wouldn’t disturb us,” Aheka assures. “Here. This tastes better than that.” She nudges her tray against mine again.

“I can’t take your food,” I swallow. It feels like the inside of my chest is sweating.

“Come on. I’m not going to eat it, and I know how that slush tastes. This is the better option.”

Her plate has steaming golden chunks on it. It does smell better than the warm gray thing in front of me. “Thanks,” I mutter, staring down.

“So,” the Togruta begins. “I’ve got an offer for you.”          

I raise my eyes from under my hood to watch her face, which has a small, excited smile on it. It fits her pretty features.

“Okay.”

“You’re sleeping in the side medbay, right? I know that thing is small and well… I was thinking you could start to bunk with me. We’d have to talk to Adamus probably, but I have the space. I just figured it’s better than that tiny little thing. Warmer too.”

She adds the last part with a smile as if it were a cute little joke. I, on the other hand, can’t stop myself from inwardly cringing. My eyes flicker between her own, searching for the answer to my confusion.

“Why?” I question.  

Aheka crinkles her eyebrows. “Why? Well it’s… it’s the right thing to do isn’t it?”

…The right thing to do?

“Besides,” she continues. “It’s either me or bunking with Blitz, right?” She nudges her thumb at the man at the end of the table, and my heart attack starts all over again.

"Have you met?”

I stand up suddenly, my fists balled so tight my knuckles pale over.

“Keres?”

How could they… how could they let it in here? Don’t they know what it is?

The man at the end of the table turns to look at me slowly. His golden eyes meet mine.

A hand clasps on my right shoulder.

“Keres,” speaks Adamus. His tone is low, though not threatening or dangerous. In my core, it feels understanding. It feels… I don’t know. It feels like something I should listen to. Like the little voice of reason in the very back of my brain I so often try to mute.

It’s enough to snap me out of my daze somewhat. I turn my head over my shoulder to meet his eyes, which are steeled compared to usual. Usually, they’re a flowing billow of blue and green and grey, but now they are like steel, nothing but turquoise. Not even a circle of light appears inside of them to give a sense of security.

"I know,” he says. But no matter what he would’ve told me, I wouldn’t have felt like he knew.          

“Are you okay?” Aheka asks, slowly standing, eyebrows creased with concern.

No.

“Yes,” I decide. “I’m okay.” And then I push myself back into my seat, struggling to tear my eyes away from my newest problem.

“His name is Blitz,” Adamus tells me as he removes his hand. “He’s a soldier.”

“Where did you find him?” I mutter hoarsely.

“A cantina in the outer rim. He’s trustworthy.”        

I want to snap ‘no, he’s not’, but I decide to stay quiet.

“I know what happened to you,” Adamus says lowly. “I know what you’re thinking.”

I turn my head back to face him. “How could you do this?”

“Keres,” Aheka breaks. “What’s going on?”

I don’t get a chance to explain or lie. Adamus answers for me. “I’m ‘gonna take her to the meeting with me today. She can help in the vote.”

“Adamus…”

"It’ll be fine. She’ll see Blitz and we can use her.”

Now I’m the one out of the loop. How did it change from Aheka to me so quickly?

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she says with knitted brows.

Adamus looks between her light green eyes with a still face. After a moment, he pushes himself up out of his seat. “Come on, Keres.”

I watch him, not moving for a second. Then Aheka looks at me and nudges her head after the boy. “You should go with him.”

I breathe out through my nose before standing up myself. Aheka shrinks away behind me, sitting alone at the table with only the monster and a gray tray.

I push my hood off my head, keeping Adamus’s back in front of me. I think about killing him- sinking my blade through his flesh and muscles until he’s crumpled on the ground. I could. There’s no one down our current hallway but us. The lights are down low, if Circe is on the security camera’s, he’s not going to tell anyone what I did.

Murder. The very thought makes the blood rush through my veins faster and tighter, coursing and getting hotter and hotter. I wonder, if I kill him, will I get some of his power? He can do things that I can’t do. I don’t know what those things are exactly yet, but I know he can.

But if I kill him, then I’ll always remember the way that he cried in my room.

Do it.

Don’t.

My hand creeps down to my waist, trailing down my belt and to cool metal of the saber. Around us, the world closes in. The lights grow even dimmer. Adamus is directly ahead of me, walking straight with his fists at his sides. I can see the muscles in his back tensing under his shirt.

Kill him. Kill him, and then kill the Clone.

“Before we go in,” Adamus turns around to face me. For a second, I’m completely blown away. I lean back to avoid the flash of gold that overtakes his hair, and the shadows over his face that make him look just like Garreth. My eyes widen, but the boy in front of me doesn’t say a word about it.

“I need something from you.”

I blink, folding my arms over each other. “The General needs something from me? I’m honored.”

Adamus inhales. “I proposed something and I need you to vote it down.”

“What did you propose?” I question.

“I just didn’t… I didn’t think the whole thing through.”

I furrow my eyebrows in seriousness. “What was the original plan?”

“I-”

“General Adamus, Vagor,” a drawl voice takes me from my thoughts. One of the Admirals- a Chiss named Sirsal- walks toward us from the other side of the hallway. He’s been distrustful of me from the beginning- not that I blame him- and he’s been more than open about it. I’ve never talked to him one on one, but he doesn’t actually seem so bad. He’s just doing his job. It’s nothing personal, and if it was, I’m in no position to tell him off. “How lovely to see you. Are you ready to vote on the proposal?”

“Of course,” Adamus replies coolly. Always a talent of his, I’ve noticed. “I was just going over the plan with our lieutenant.”

Sirsal’s eyes look at me up and down in distaste. His top lip curls in disgust when he seems the mud on top of my black boots, the rip of my leggings on my right thigh, the beaten gauze acting as gloves around my arms. “Yes, of course,” he says slowly. He changes his gaze back to Adamus, his expression softening as he sees the boy is far more cleaned up than myself. “I wasn’t aware you had appointed her as Lieutenant.”

“It’s a work in progress.”

I can feel the annoyance radiating off the Chiss man. His mind burns with a single question: Why not me?

“I see,” he says instead. “Well, let us hope this newcomer is capable of leading us to victory.” His eyes linger on me once more to get his distaste across.

Sirsal disappears through the metal door with a hiss.

"I like him,” I say.

“That was your take away from that interaction?” Adamus questions, amusement shadowing his tone.

“He’s funny.”

Adamus’s face returns to stone. “Voting down my plan is the right thing to do. Do I have your word on this?”

I stare into his eyes for a moment. For just a split second, I think they’re blue. Then they return to a swirl of pale greens and greys and teals and I know I’m far off. Adamus hasn’t really… asked me for anything before. But this, this is a favor. A personal favor at that.

“Alright,” I shrug.

The door opens up. “I’ll owe you one,” he whispers in my ear as the uniformed men turn to greet us. His words send shivers down my spine, but not in a bad way. In a way that I only feel when something excites me- like a prank or some cruel joke I’ve thought of. It makes my stomach explode with butterflies and my… no. Never mind.

“General Adamus,” one of the men greets. “Hello.”

“The topic of today’s meeting is to vote on the proposed offensive plan,” Adamus says, ignoring him in his leader voice. He crosses to the center of the room, pushes a button on the holotable and watches as the men gather to look at the blue hologram. Three Imperial Star Destroyers, and a planet that seems strangely familiar but unrecognizable. I cross my arms and lean against the wall to stay out of their way. I can still see alright, and they don’t have to worry I’m close enough to stab them in the backs.

“There are three Imperial Ships around the planet Mustafar. I believe this one, Maker’s Thrall, is in control of the Imperial shield generator on Endor, and possibly another on Ryloth. I proposed that we engage the other two Destroyers in battle as a distraction, while a smaller force infiltrates and takes out the Thrall.”

A hum of approval and nods fall over the men. Honestly, it’s not such a bad plan. It might need some refining, more detailing, but it’s a good start. Decent.  

“However, I have obtained some new information.”

“Information from her?” one of the men jabs his thumb in my direction while the one next to him tries not to roll his eyes.

“No, Admiral Raincork, and I advise you keep your thumb to yourself. I came to this realization through my own conscious.” Adamus takes a pause. I can feel his heart beat in nervousness from across the room. “If the Thrall is to be destroyed, someone will have to stay behind and…”

A roar explodes through the men now. Adamus’s voice is drowned out in the gasps. “I know, I know. This would mean suicide for whomever does this, and we can’t ask that of our people. Nor should we.”

“Why don’t we just destroy it from the outside? Or plant bombs? O-or take out the shields?” a pink skinned man asks.

Adamus shakes his head slowly. “Destroying it from the outside is impossible. A mother ship like that has more shield power than you would imagine. Taking it out would give little to no time for the group to escape and bombs would be the same.”

A few of the men nod in understanding. I try to analyze each of them. The Chiss is unswayed by Adamus’s admittance and feels that loss of life is necessary. The Twi-lek thinks it would be wrong to ask anyone onboard to do such a thing. Aheka would more than likely agree, Circe would take the side of the Chiss.

And… honestly… I would too.

“What about the people acting as distractions? Won’t they be at risk of death too?”

“No,” Adamus says. “I won’t allow that. The mission will be kept short enough that no lives can be lost. They will not be at risk.”

Adamus… it was a good plan. You knew what had to be done. You always have. That’s what being a good person means.

“So, I call for a vote,” Adamus says lowly. “Those against the original proposed plan?”

Adamus raises his hand, more slowly following. The Twi-lek raises his and so does the one next to him. I count exactly half of the men calling for this to be stopped.

“Those in favor?”

Adamus drops his hand and Sirsal raises his. Admiral Raincork follows his lead, along with the other half of the men. Adamus counts them silently, eyes widening as they drop to mine. He sees what I’m about to do. His heart is pumping, mouth dry. Don’t, he begs me. Please don’t. You said you wouldn’t.

I raise my right hand in the air, earning some of the men whipping around and gasping. Sirsal raises his eyebrow as if he’s impressed I was capable of making such a decision.

Adamus’s eyes narrow. I watch his jaw clench in anger, his hand curling into a tight fist. His eyes are darkening like a cloudy sky. He’s pissed. He’s so pissed.

“That settles it,” he says, eyes not daring to leave mine. His enraged gaze goes straight to my heart and to the pit of my stomach, swirling up emotions I couldn’t name at blaster point.     “The plan will continue on at a later date. If you have any further questions, I will answer them tomorrow at the next meeting. Any more topics? Alright, meeting concluded.”  

The men begin to shuffle out of the room, talking to each other. Half of them gives me looks of respect and the other half is anger mixed with disappointment. I don’t care about any of them. I find that the only face I really care about right now is Adamus’s. He follows the men closely, not even looking at me as he passes.

I watch his back muscles contort through his outfit as he leaves me alone in the room. The door slides shut much louder than usual, even though it’s not possible to slam it. I want so badly to talk to him. I want so badly to reach out to him.

I find that the second thing Acer Adamus gave me is guilt about other people- guilt over the living.

[gear-project]

My response to the Closed Beta Survey:

People were asking me for more specifics on how I felt about the survey, so I guess I ought to outline in a larger broader sense what I think so far of Guilty Gear StrIVe.

Graphics: 

Outside of individual characters/animations, the stage graphics needed some better rendering for certain objects.  Things like grass and smaller objects looked “plastic” or “lego-like” in some areas, so that could be tweaked.

Lighting seemed okay, effects from various attacks also looked very good, and better than I was expecting at the time.  Clash/Offset graphics need improvement so that they appear more obvious to players (I still miss Danger Time however... that added an extra spice to the game that GG has missed since the original Instant Kill screen in the first game, perhaps it can be optional in certain modes?).

The beta was especially slow in terms of load times between matches though, and even the matching function for netplay was sluggish as well.

I would like to see actual dramatic clash intros instead of “talking head sequences” for rivalries in the future... the first trailer suggested that was possible, so I hope they can actually achieve this once more like Accent Core once had for Sol and Ky especially.

Animation-wise, nothing really outstanding to note other than the fact I still find Ky’s battle stance to be somewhat strange for him, given the screen-facing perspective... I just find it particularly odd to have his battle stance changed so much since the older games.  While Millia’s stance did change, it was more subtle, for example.

The Tension gauge didn’t seem to provide enough information to me, and was rather overly simplified, and I would like better notifications when my risc guard gauge is high.  Character select still looks dull, though I did like the post-match rating system.  I think players would benefit not just from ratings when they win, but tips and advice when they lose as well.

The lobby still needs a lot of work, but I did like the concept of only having access to certain “floors of the tower” depending on how strong you are as a player.  It makes things feel more like a dungeon exploration than just a netplay lobby.  Gatekeepers truly do exist... so such gameplay should reflect that.

I would like to see something closer to what Granblue Fantasy Versus has, times of day, weather, minigames to do while waiting between matches, or even just a place to mess around with stuff.

Sounds:

Everything sounded okay, albeit random.  Normally I have sound effects much louder than music, as certain sounds serve as important “tells” during a fight.  Voicework tends to come second to that, but I did note that in certain underground stage areas, character voices gained acoustics, which was an interesting change.

I also liked how the voices gained a dramatic echo like the Guilty Gear X era once had, particularly for Overdrive Attacks, which I hope they keep.

Controls:

I’m going to say this up front, but I never liked the concept of throw wiffs for Guilty Gear... while it might be more useful for games like BlazBlue, GG was more fast-paced, and generally geared more towards spacing and neutral attacks, giving throws an opportunity to neutralize an attack at close range.

This made throws safer, but also kept players in check who were always about close-range mixups.  Option selects were also important in older games too.

Add to this, and I dislike the idea of them being attached to the Dust button.  This makes it difficult to do things like run up and perform a Dust attack, or airdash in with a Dust without accidentally inputting a throw input.

Unless they came up with a way to better control throws as opposed to pressing Dust and a Direction (or give it a better input window), I’m not sure I like things how they are.

Another issue I have is the Roman Cancel Button... under most circumstances, the default Roman Cancel macro is P+K+S... this was always the default button in most games, but you couldn’t opt for other macros, like S+K+H, or P+K+H.  This is important for characters who negative edge inputs, like Johnny or Zato, as they might need a different macro input so they can better “hold certain buttons” without having to rely on the default Roman Cancel input.  This applies to other things like Slashback, Blitz, or Faultless Defense as well.  Limiting input macros just leads to more problems if you ask me.

Gatling Combo cancels seem “okay” for now... and I understand why they put limits on Punch and Kick buttons, simply because those kinds of moves have higher priority and are safer in most situations.  I think it makes sense to limit benefits when priority is on taking less risk in a fight.

In other words, using stronger attacks is more of a gamble, and therefore should get more natural benefits.  Bigger risk, better rewards.  This goes for guarding as well.  While blocking itself isn’t taking much risk (or rather, raising RISC), players who use technique like Instant Blocking or FD blocking should get benefits from using it.

I don’t know if Blitzshield will return, but I wouldn’t mind if it did, especially if it functioned the same as Slashbacks in older games, especially on block or wakeup.

Gameplay/Nuances:

Not enough special moves/tools for characters to my liking... though some felt overpowered.  Ky’s 6H acting like a Dust Launcher felt way too powerful for someone like him... though I can understand why such exists if it’s a slow attack.

Other characters felt “sluggish” at certain areas, like Chipp Zanuff and his combo routes (which would normally feel easy to chain together).  Even Alpha Blade felt a bit slow.

Airdash Speed/Height also felt slow and limited.  Also I don’t like the idea that forward Airdashes have the “Air Hike” glyph (DMC), but Air Backdashes do not as much.  If they’re going to have air dash “tells”, it should work for any form of airdash.  That’s especially needed for crossups and IAD situations.

Also it felt like Backdashes weren’t very safe, not to mention the damage output being too high.

I missed moves like Ky’s Grinders or Sol’s Riot Stamp... or even classic moves like Tyrant Rave Alpha, Sidewinder, or Crescent Slash.

Lots of characters felt lobotomized and overly simple to my liking, compared to their more developed older versions.  Even EX characters felt more developed in the older games.

I’m still not sure how I feel about Roman Cancels having a “hitbox” or “launch hit” when they go active, but I guess it takes getting used to.  It’s not a bad tool, but I’m not sure how effective such would be as a Dead Angle on defense.

I was also told that blocking reversal moves (DPs) in the air causes a large blowback... I find that interesting, but I don’t know if there’s pushback when blocking said moves on the ground.

It’s fine if you can FD moves to deal with reversals safely, but common blocking without Instant Blocks should at least have some knockback to put some value in reversal moves.

Other Stuff:

I liked the concept of getting to use normal attacks immediately after certain key special moves (like Sol’s Vortex), or the simplicity of the juggles.  Though I hope they improve things like Dust Air Combos... right now Dust only causes launch on counterhit, there are no more ground Dust combos like Xrd had.

It also felt like the window for an air combo was very small as you could only do 3 hits at most after a Dust Homing Jump.  I would like to see more uses of Jump Dust for characters, or even momentum-based combos.

Things like Impossible Dust (homing jump cancel) or even Jump Install would also be nice.

I would like to see more character-customization, like having different types of weapons/outfits, abilities, or stats, in an adventure-style game (like Granblue currently uses, but bigger in scale perhaps).

I would also like to see different modes of gameplay, like an Isuka Mode, or a 3-on-3 battle setup for team battles (not necessarily tag style, but KOF style teams as well).

I would also like to see GG Generations return... classic modes for every style of play:

GG1 Mode, GGX Mode, GGXXAC Mode, Xrd Mode, and maybe even a GG2 mode that makes special moves resource-heavy (like Granblue currently employs).  Having separate modes of play would satisfy everyone... EX fighting styles as well, to further expand character play.  Gold Bosses and Darkside enemies need to return as well.

I would also hope they explore the prospect of a GG animated film or movie, though that’s still wishful thinking.  Having English novels would also help move things along.

Roster-wise, I just want everyone to return at their best, along with really cool new faces.

Closing Notes:

Experiencing the beta first-hand, I can definitely say it has Guilty Gear aspects at its core, but I felt wanting more.  I know they can pull it off, and I gave them everything I could possibly want in the game.

There’s a possibility they might update the beta later on... so I hope I’ll get to participate in that as well.

[thepilgrimofwar]

The Holdouts of the Black Banner - Edited Roll20 Log

[Event Start!]

The journey up to the Cloudrend Glades starts with cobbled path up a minor slope, to a winding road snaking its way up a mountainside, then, as Zarannis takes the Heroes of the Emberglades off the beaten path- a climb with steps made from ancient wooden boards to terraform the soil itself into steps. Before long, they were hundreds above sea level and could see the whole realm from an outlook in the mountainous woods. Mist shrouded lakes of the Cloudrends, beyond that, hills and woods, beyond that the half-burned fields of the Heartlands, and beyond those was The Great Sea.

Zarannis turned back to the others. “Not far now,” she said, carrying upon her back her black greatsword as well as the Black Banner of Lord Tar’saren. One that Sederis had once carried into battle. The hope was that the sight of it would lure out one of their patrols to at least speak with them- at worse, ambush them thinking they were Alliance lackeys who had stolen it.

Then, as they drew to a narrowing between two minor cliffs, something felt off to any observant enough to feel it.

[Perception Roll]

[A figure steps out of the woods. An unshaven elven man armed with a crossbow.]

Gerren Shatterspear lowers his weapon, a crossbow of shoddy construction maintained by animal sinew and hewn wood from the surrounding trees. “Lady Highdawn?”

Zarannis looks back to the member of her entourage.

Thanidiel just fucking squints - the blaze of her fel-green eye dimming some through her golden greathelm. A very simple, direct-to-the-point, statement sounds: "Who the shit are you?" Which, if anything, confirms the man's guess.

Ethalarian:"Making friends everywhere you go, Thanidiel."

Gerren Shatterspear regards the others around her and further lowers his weapon to his side. “Gerren Shatterspear. You don't know me, but we know of you...You were there at the Battle for the Isle. You were there when Lord Emberheart fell.” He pauses for a long moment, as rusty cogs begun churning within his mind. “We didn’t we? We actually won?”

Thanidiel lets out a long 'Mmmmm' that reverberates deep through her chest and comes out muffled from her armour. Perhaps debating Ethalarian's choice of the word 'friends.' "The Kingdom of Quel'Thalas stands, the North from the efforts of the Black Banner preserved; the South diminished by foul magicks."

Zarannis nods at Thanidiel's response. “In short, yes we did. Months ago. Hadn’t you heard?”

Gerren Shatterspear shakes his head. “It’s hard to receive news when you’re constantly fighting for your life.”

Zarannis narrows her eyes. “If you consider stealing grain and cutting down crops fighting- I’m afraid to tell you that you’re inflicting misery upon the local peasantry.”

Gerren Shatterspear frowns. “No, even if they aren’t the Alliance subjugated serfs we thought they were, the peasants were a means to an end.” He thumbs behind him into the deep woods. “You know of the Troll Tunnels that run beneath the Glades?”

Zarannis gives him a look. “I am familiar.”

Gerren Shatterspear “So you know they were infested with the Undead, even after Sederis’ campaign to make them safer.”

Ethalarian perks up.

Zarannis lowers her head. “They’re still down there then.”

Gerren Shatterspear gives her an ominous look. “Them and more. Truth be told, I’ve been sent to get help. From the Alliance. But it’s clear that you’ll make a good substitute. Because the Amani are hunting us down.”

Zarannis also perks up. “The Amani? Here? Impossible, the Amani who lived in the Cloudrends were wiped out in the Fall. Sederis and I went in search of them.”

Gerren Shatterspear nods. “They hunt us from beyond the grave.”

Iriina pipes up. "Going to be hard to get help from the Alliance when they've run off with their tails between their legs."

Gerren Shatterspear shrugs. "Then it is pure luck that I've run into you and yours then."

Thanidiel:"I would not turn down putting down beasts; I believe we were aware it may come to such when we were first briefed."

Following Gerren, the Heroes of the Emberglades find themselves at the entrance of a grand tunnel. Black obsidian tiles marked with intricate designs and pagan runes that held no more meaning for the living. “Follow me close.”

Gerren Shatterspear speaks, half-preoccupied with a lost zombie. Giving some direction to the party. "My company is up ahead. Left tunnel, then turn right once you hit the end and following on through until you hit a cross section.

"Are we moving as one or shall I delve as far as I can go?" asks Thanidiel.

"I can run with you if necessary," Iriina replies

Zarannis nods, "as far as you can go as long as we can support you."

“Then it will be so." Thanidiel shoulders past Ethalarian, taking at Zarannis' heels and eventually outpacing the Farstrider down the tunnelway.

[Combat Start]

The group moves as one initially. Cutting down the Undead that wandered the halls that seemed to grow thicker in number the deeper they went. But as Thanidiel and Zarannis spearheaded their way into the darkness, they quickly leave behind others who begin exploring smaller offshoot tunnels. Zombies start coming at them from all directions, and though they were large in numbers, the party deals with them easily. Save for Iriina who is eventually covered in viscera as she holds back the ones that explode.

Eventually they regroup at a junction where a centralized force of Undead seemed to be fighting the Undead Amani Trolls that Gerren had spoken about. Capitalizing on this, the group engages them while they are occupied. Tearing into them and drawing the attention of their leader.

[Undead Mage Encountered]

A skeletal mage in ragged robes and a blue fire in its chest steps round the corner. Confused to why half of his warriors had ceased to be in the last two minutes. Siviri Stormsinger screeches. “Who in Fel are you lot?” It verbalizes through a blue flame at its heart. It’s teeth clattering as he spoke as if by habit.

Gerren Shatterspear blinks. It is obvious that the soldier had never run into an undead in the tunnels that spoke. He decides not to shoot it on sight. "The living?" Gerren responds, as he wrapped his mind around this.

Thanidiel notes this, "and now we have a target." She leans sidelong, looking behind her and down the corridor to Ethalarian in the distance, "Dawnstalker!" She barks, "Double time, we've the leader of this band ahead."

Ethalarian wastes no time in blitzing down the corridor, Faithbreaker a veritable beacon in the dim light by this point so hot is are the winding flames along the blade's edge. Leader. The mage? The mage. Once in range, he steps hard with his front foot and snaps his hips, putting every ounce of his weight into this blow.

Siviri Stormsinger screeches and responds with a spell, freezing the air around Ethalarian.

Ethalarian grimaces as the air around him immediately turns to ice, freezing his exposed skin and biting all the way down to the bone.

Thanidiel moves forward to support Ethalarian, her poleaxe starting to flare with the same holy flame as her companion. The weapon swings to crumple its weight down into the mage's guard.

The Mage’s Boneguard disintegrates into a pile of bones and armor pieces in a pillar of flaming light.

Ethalarian had wavered for a moment after the ice lance punched through his armor. His Light flickered in the dark, and his knees threatened to buckle. Before they buckled entirely, he managed to brace himself against the wall. "You'll find I'm not so easily killed, stranger," he says to the blonde as he downs the phial of viscous crimson liquid and presses forward down the corridor behind Thanidiel. When he catches sight of the group of trolls just beyond his colleagues, however, he doesn't waste a moment in blitzing past them to engage the newly emerged threat.

[The Bone Mage is Slayed. The group travels forth, and engages the Undead Trolls now]

Highdawn rounds the corner and see's a barricaded section of tunnel, besieged by Undead Trolls. "Are the men behind that barricade?"

Gerren Shatterspear yells. "Then we don't have much time!"

Zin'dayat bellows, her voice carrying through all the nearby tunnels. "More living? Slay them too! Trespassers, all of them!"

Thanidiel yells back at the party. "Hurry up, I'm taking attention off the barricade."

Facing two Troll Warlords from beyond the grave, the party tears into their numbers. Unleashing explosive arcs of Light that sanctifies the waves of minions that are sent to slow them down. Thanidiel charges in, placing herself between the barricades of the Black Banner Holdouts and the worst of the assault. Giving the reckless paladin cover with their crossbows, the Undead Trolls soon find themselves surrounded and attacked from both sides, their retreat down the main tunnels cut off.

In the final moments of the battle, the barricades are breached. But instead of a retreat the Black Bannermen surge through the gap and engage Zin’dayat with bolts and steel. Joining in as the party brings Taufik and his raptor low and putting an end to the would be Warlord of the Amani Tunnels underneath The Emberglades.

[Combat Ends!]

Gerren Shatterspear waits for a moment more as silence begins to finally fill the hallways of the tunnels. Then when it is clear that there was no more fighting to be done, he starts to laugh. "To think we could have ever lost the war. He looks to the heroes around him as the other Black Bannerhold outs retreat to the rest of the company- Many of them not at the barricades themselves wounded, or tending to them.

Zarannis lowers her weapon. "We came to get you home. I'd say that as long as your commanding officer doesn't believe that we're somehow Alliance spies- We've succeeded this day."

Muroco speaks. "Do I look like an Alliance spy to you?"

"That's how they get you," Thanidiel says, dry and humourless.

Gerren Shatterspear gives the Tauren a look. "No, and I'm sure the company won't believe that either." He shakes his head and gives Zarannis a look. "And there is no commanding officer. We're a collective- And we don't have a home- Lord Tar'saren made sure of it to deny Lady Everleigh entry to the Glades."

Muroco gets a cloudy thought bubble over his head as he thinks about all the Alliance members that want him dead. "If someone like me was able to ingratiate myself into the Sunguard for years and act as an Alliance spy then your race truly is doomed."

Zarannis snorts at Muroco's comment.

Iriina is busy helping tend to the wounded, but she starts laughing at Muroco's comments anyway.

Isilos speaks. "Our race is doomed for many reasons, but that is not one of them."

Zarannis turns back to Gerren, raising the Black Banner off her back and giving it to Gerren. "Then we'll build a new one. I've been offered Lord Tar'saren's title." She does not mention that she had not taken it, nor that she had been avoiding it. Until now.

Thanidiel gives the girl her support. "Commander Wintergale proved herself like no other after Tar'saren fell in the Kingdom Greater."

Gerren Shatterspear scratches his chin. "We've heard rumors of reports but had believed them to be fabrications of the Invaders to lure us out of hiding. But I see that the reputation of not only her, but all of you were true to life."

Zarannis points to the others around here. "We're all here to fight for Stenden. Rightful ruler of the Emberglades. I'm sure you've seen signs of fighting down in the Heartlands. Now I won't press you to fight for us, seeing that you've never stopped fighting as it is. But any support you can give me will be appreciated."

Ethalarian:"I'd definitely recommend not fighting against us at the very least."

Gerren Shatterspear shakes his head. "You misunderstand, Commander Wintergale." The girl doesn't seemed phased by the description any longer. "Fighting is what we do." He shoots her a smile. "If there's no home to return to- Warfare is the next best place we can go to."

With that, Zarannis gains the command of a Company of Black Bannermen. Though it might take some time to gather up the wounded and get them back to fighting shape, it gave her the power she could use on her family's behalf.

[Event End]

[boszbichblitzo]

"Well, good thing you don't need to. I'd give it to you for free." The answer came out automatically and Blitz looked like he even surprised himself. Were they back on this level yet? Where he could be crude and pervy and obnoxious and Stolas would actually enjoy it? He was flirting, so maybe it was okay? He couldn't think about it too long as Stolas continued speaking and blaming himself for everything wrong with their relationship before. "You wouldn't have done any of that if I didn't come for it in the first place so maybe we share the blame on this one? And.... I mean, I know I hurt you too. And the shit I said that morning, before that stupid party.... that wasn't okay and I'm sorry. I–– honestly, I didn't really understand what was going on or why you suddenly didn't want me anymore and I really fucked things up. I think I just–– it felt.... safer when it was all transactional, y'know? Like as long as I did good, I could still be close to you–– and sex is something I'm good at, feelings..... aren't. I guess I kinda.... panicked when you started walking away. And I'm an asshole when I'm upset and I just ended up making everything worse." Alright, this was something they needed to talk about, but now probably wasn't the best time. He'd had over a month to sit and think and stew on it though and he'd been dying to just.... get some kind of apology out there to Stolas. He'd been trying since that night when everything fell apart between them in the first place, he just kept getting in his own way.

As Stolas dropped to his knees, Blitz preemptively stepped down from his stool so he'd have more sure footing to actually support the owl as he clung to him. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and rested his chin on the top of that feathery head, one hand lightly tracing patterns over his back with his claws. Blitz let him cry for as long as he needed, never loosening his grip or letting go until Stolas was ready to. "You don't have to repay me for caring, Stols. Just watch out for my daughter too if she ever needs it, yeah?" He lifted his chin to look down at him, trying to catch his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. "Let's give her a call this afternoon. Do you think they'll be monitoring her phone to see if your contact comes up? You can use mine instead if you want. I uh.... I probably wouldn't trust any texts you get are definitely from her either, that icy fucker seems like he'd send mean shit from her phone just to fuck with you."

Stolas had always found Blitz to be extremely amusing — the words that he chose to string together were often crude in the most entertaining of ways and the tone he would use (especially when paired with a little, cheeky, smirk) never failed to brighten his mood. Even now, on the brink of despair, those little jokes kept him grounded. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he muttered out as a soft whisper, the words feeling too heavy to speak fully aloud. Their little full moon rendezvous were certainly sexually pleasing, but he’d also grown rather attached to the messy man behind the passionate sex. The bird shook his head with a soft huff, “It’s not about letting you off the hook, Blitz. I truly am to blame…” he began to explain, “I arranged our tryst, let you use the grimoire—utterly unregulated, might I add— I-I neglected my royal duties…I hurt you. It was so petty, a-and, Lucifer! I’ve made a mountain of mistakes.”

Stolas, whose legs already felt wobbly and entirely unsteady, crumbled down to his knees at Blitz’s over-so-gentle tugging. The owl flung his arms around the imp and clung on for dear life — as though he were concerned that he might suddenly disappear. Soft, heartbroken, trills left his beak as he simply cried into Blitz’s chest. It felt cathartic finally fully letting his concerns regarding his daughter escape his beak without reserve. The words soothingly spoken to him settled his mind on one key thought: he wasn’t doing this alone. It had felt, at times, like Stolas was standing entirely alone against an insurmountable task. However, it was clear that Stolas was not, by any means, alone. If anyone was going to harm Octavia then they’d have to get through Blitz — and that was no easy task. “You’re right, and I-I…I would like a call, if she’ll speak to me.” the words tumbled freely, his head nodding a little. Baby steps, right? Even if she hated him, better to hear the resentment than grow distant. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Blitz,” he spoke finally, the words all hoarse and sniffly “…I will pay you back for this kindness, eventually…”

[ncitycafe-blog]

word count: 2.3k

—

it was late, about 10 pm, but you were in a relatively safe part of downtown so you felt safe walking alone, and your apartment wasn't too terribly far. shops were closing one by one, most of your light came from the amber glow of the street lamps with the occasional fluorescent hue from still open convenience stores and office buildings. you were stopped at a light and took time to admire what was around you. there was something so peaceful about the night, you almost got lost in it. up until there was a grip on your elbow, it was gentle but it was so sudden you almost let out a scream.

"babe, sorry!" you looked up a man with slightly longer brown locks. one, mind you, you did not recognize, "i had to close tonight and it took a little longer than usual, i should've texted you to wait inside."

does he have you mistaken for someone else? just as you are about to politely tell him you have no clue what he is on about, he leans down and whispers in your ear.

"if you slyly look over your right shoulder, you'll see a shady looking man. he's been following you for a few blocks now."

you look and, sure enough, you make eye contact with a guy wearing all black and he quickly averts his gaze to look away from you. either way, you had two choices: take the chance of the prince-like stranger being a complete lunatic or take the chance of the guy behind you blitz attacking you the moment he had the opportunity. you took your chances with your knight in shining armor or...nice suit rather.

"it's okay!" you reply cheerily, playing along with the ruse he started, "wanna grab something at the diner before we get home?"

"yeah, sounds great!"

with that, he grabs hold of your hand and the light gives you the go ahead to walk. the guy still follows you two, but now from across the street where he every so often sneaks a quick glance. luckily, he seems to continue walking once you step inside the diner.

"so," you start after the both of you order milkshakes and he gets a burger, "to whom is it i owe thanks for my rescue. and, just to let you know, i carry pepper spray and a pocket knife at all times. that is both a threat and me telling you i could have handled it."

he chuckles, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, "johnny seo."

your blood runs cold at that moment. johnny seo? infamous mafia member under Nterprises? maybe you should have taken your chances with the shady guy.

"don't look so afraid, darling," he says, leaning back against the booth seat. "could never harm a pretty face like yours."

he winks at you, sending a chill down your spine and warmth up to your cheeks.

"well...uh, thank you," you stammer quietly. "isn't it dangerous that i've...y'know...seen your face? for you, that is, because...y'know..."

"hmm, not unless you're confessing right now to having the intention of turning me in, but you seem smarter than that," he shrugs.

your waiter walks up, setting your orders and mumbling a "enjoy" before skittering off. johnny pays no attention to the odd behavior as he dips a fry into his milkshake and then proceeds to eat it, earning an odd look from you.

"what? have you never tried it?" he asks, genuinely shocked when you shake your head. "you have to! it's really good i promise!"

he slides over the fry basket and you mirror his prior action, eyes widening upon realizing he's totally right. he smiles, seemingly pleased with himself for introducing you to one of his favorite food combinations. the two of you finish what you have in silence before he walks you the rest of the way home.

"thank you, again," you say at the lobby entrance, "and for the milkshake, too, though i wish you let me pay."

"no, no, can't let you pay for the first date. however, if you want to buy us coffee sometime..." he trails off.

"date? are you— maybe i should've maced you," you scoff under your breath.

"hey!" he pouts, "that's not very nice."

for a moment, you had forgotten he was a member of one of the most powerful gangs in korea, but that moment was gone upon catching a glimpse of the handgun in his waistband.

"well, better get going!" you laughed nervously, trying to reach the safety of your apartment soon as possible. only, he catches your wrist just as you turn away, whispering lowly in a tone much darker than the one he spoke in all night.

"seriously, i advise you not to try anything, it wouldn't be pretty and i don't look forward to what would have to be done."

with that, he disappears into the shadows of the night, leaving you in the cold embrace of the wind and the moon as your witness. did this make you an accomplice to the mafia? maybe if you just never saw him again, you could pretend it all happened in the first place. head spinning, you finally stepped into your building and made your way up to your room, crashing as soon as your body hit the mattress.

and you didn't see him...for a couple of weeks. but one night, he showed up at your doorstep. how he got through lobby security? you haven't a clue, but he surely was insistent as he brushed passed you, into YOUR home.

"shit, well, come on in i guess," you mumble.

"the night we met," he ignores your remark, annoying you further, "did you notice anything strange?"

"afraid you're going to have to be more specific than that. what kind of strange? two men casually following me strange? handgun on one of said men strange?"

"can you be serious for two seconds?" he pleads, "did you see anyone else suspicious?"

you sigh, taking a moment to actually think, "um, the waiter acted a bit odd. scared, i guess?"

"what did he look like?" he asks firmly.

"jesus fuck i don't kn—"

"well, remember." his tone sounds bitter, harsh.

"woah, attitude much?"

"sorry, sorry," he takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. "i think someone saw us, me, that night."

"why do you think that?" now you're concerned.

he doesn't answer, just hands you an envelope. inside, there are photos of you two walking, sitting in the diner, outside your apartment complex. you can't quite grasp what this all means, but you don't like it one bit.

"i— johnny?" your voice wavers. "w-what does this... am i..."

he nods, "pack a bag, believe it or not you're safer with us for the time being, until we find out who did this."

"us?" you ask, rhetorically.

he nods again, waving you off to go pack as he sits on your couch, placing his head in his hands.

and that's how you wound up under the unexpected protection of Nterprises.

a few months passed, all leads leading to nothing but dead ends. you grew numb to it after awhile, but johnny was frustrated as when the hunt began. a bounty on his head? fine. a bounty on you? it tore him apart. there were times you found him silently weeping alone in the middle of the night when you'd gotten up for any reason, and every time, your heart ached. he blamed himself. sure, from some standpoint he could be held accountable, but this isn't what he wanted. it was just the wrong place at the wrong time.

you had learned more about the "business" whilst living under headquarter's roof, it was only natural. the first night you'd come in everyone was attentive and tried their best to...make you feel welcome. it was the least they could do, and there was no point in wasting time pretending you didn't exist. they knew you would be around for quite some time. Nterprises was built under the lee clan decades ago, and had held steady ever since. taeyong is head of the business, he's the one who really briefed you on everything. he made it very clear they didn't go around killing people as they so please, they hardly did any killing at all. to them, it was all about money, which did set your mind at ease a slight bit. he was surprisingly nurturing, not just to the other members but to you as well, much more so than you ever could have expected. he was one of the ones you saw more often, along with mark and haechan, and johnny of course. doyoung, taeyong's second in command, appeared as cold and indifferent to you, but taeyong assured you he would have your back if the time came. the others were always either busy behind closed doors or away on what mark simply put as "business trips", so you didn't have much interaction with them. you made the best of your time, there was no point to spend it wallowing.

you spent so much time with johnny, you two naturally became insanely close. in the rare times you could forget about the world around you, you would did anything normal friends would. cook and make a mess in the kitchen (much to taeyong's discontent), watch movies, act a damn fool, talk about anything and everything under the sun. he was incredibly goofy, having the boyish charm of a young child. however, he was also the most genuine and caring soul you'd ever met. he was deep thinking and seemed to always appreciate the finer things in life. there was a light in his eyes that never seemed to burn out.

one night, around 2 am, you are woken up by a clatter in the main room. you open your door, taeyong and yuta, one of the other members, run by you in a flash. you follow suit, gasping and tears welling up in your eyes at the sight in front of you. johnny is torn to shreds, scratches covering his face and a couple of deeper wounds on his biceps, probably a broken rib as you examine the way he clutches his side as he writhes on the floor in pain. you push passed the boys, kneeling down beside him.

"what happened? who did this? johnny, oh my god, we need to get you to a hos—"

"nakamoto," he says bitterly through gritted teeth, "your men wish you farewell, i sent them your regards."

you turn around, confused. taeyong has his gun drawn and pointed at yuta, who has a shit eating grin on his face.

"tsk, tsk," he mocks, "too clever for your own good. you really weren't supposed to make it back here tonight, what a shame."

"enough!" taeyong shouts, and it echoes throughout the room.

"yeah, yeah," yuta dismisses him as he puts his hands on his head, "do what you must, i took the risk. besides, i've transferred enough information, i'm really the least of your problems.

taeyong walks him deeper into the house, disappearing into its shadows. you turn back to johnny, tears in your eyes.

"c'mon, w-we have to get you to a hospital," you choke through tears. "doyoung! doyoung, g-get the car he's—"

"he's seen worse," mark says, barely audible above a whisper.

"the kid's right," doyoung sighs, "and we just can't risk that right now. let's get him upstairs and patch him up, we have enough in first aid, patch him up and he'll be okay. as long as he actually rests."

johnny? resting? you would have laughed if not for the circumstances. but you get him upstairs with the help of mark and doyoung, washing your hands and wiping your tears as he sits against the wall of the bathroom, and you begin treating his wounds the best you can. it's silent for awhile, but you finally manage to clear the lump in your throat so you can speak.

"sometimes," you start softly, "i sit in bed and wonder what would happen if things were different."

"what do you mean?" he questions, wincing as you wrap the gashes on his arm.

"what if we met under different circumstances? what if we'd met like in one of those cheesy romance movies, and we'd fallen in love so seemingly oblivious to the cruelties of the world?" you laugh halfheartedly. "or, what if we never met at all? then, neither of us would be here in this moment right now. you wouldn't be hurt, i would just be in my apartment alone probably watching some stupid series on netflix to pass the time alone. and that's just it, i would rather have this than have nothing at all, than not having you. and maybe that's what being in love is, being willing to face anything so long as you have what is most important to you."

the room falls silent again, and you attentively continue to treat his wounds. you feel dumb, like you just made something really awkward out of the situation. you were so overwhelmed that it all just came out without even thinking of what he—

"marry me," he says tenderly, looking into your eyes.

"w-what?"

"i said," he carefully lifts up one of his hands to cup your cheek, "marry me. maybe not now, maybe not this year, but someday."

“someday," you smile, just before placing your lips gently on his.

"i told you!" you hear haechan snickering outside the door.

"children! go to bed!" johnny jokes sternly.

and you both giggle, still sitting there on the bathroom floor as you hear the sound of footsteps fleeing down the hall.

[hannahgrunberg-blog]

Chapter 3: Meeting the Pevensies

Everyone knew that Hitler was gearing towards France, and the war was escalating to the point where things weren't looking so well for Hannah. There was a constant aroma of fear that took over. The news of possible bombings from Germany certainly distracted her. The fact that her own country was now threatening the country she learned to love gave her mixed feelings. This wasn’t her Deutschland. Not the one she grew up in, at least.

Hannah stared down at her dinner, picking the food with her fork. A single fried egg lay on her plate, waiting to be eaten. The yolk dripped down slowly, like lava from a volcano. However, a volcano would’ve been more interesting to look at. Rationing, as a person with a big appetite, was something Hannah did not like. It was introduced as a way to save food, due to the war going on.

“Child, stop daydreaming,” Ms. Macready snapped. “If the yolk drips I’ll have you clean the entire dining room floor before you go to bed.”

Her voice snapped Hannah back into reality. She picked a bite with her fork, not wanting to make the Macready mad. A cool breeze of wind swept through the floor, causing goose bumps to appear on her legs.

The Professor shivered, “Looks like I didn’t close the windows.”

Before he was able to get up, Ms. Macready panicked and rushed to him, convincing the man to sit back down. “No, allow me. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Ms. Macready, I’m not that old,” the Professor joked, winking at Hannah. She liked his humor. The way he talked about himself in a sarcastic demeanor always lightened the mood. The door was shut with a loud slam, nearly causing the lamp to shatter.

"I wasn't joking," Ms. Macready said, in a softer tone. Hannah rolled her eyes at the way she talked towards the Professor, when she always was a bit harsher with her. "When it comes to you and that history novel you're writing, you're locked in that room for hours. Look at what it's doing to your health."

The Professor sighed, admitting his defeat. Hannah spent her days wandering alone, talking to herself and reading the books in the library. Meanwhile, the Professor was crammed in a room all by himself. She enjoyed the fresh air, kicking her football around like she used to when she played with her friends back in Berlin. This made her feel selfish. Hannah never thought of the Professor's health, and he was the man who cared for her all this time.

"My Father was a doctor," Hannah stopped to correct herself, "A dentist, but he still gave great advice about everything, even though he worked with teeth."

The Professor cocked his eyebrow, leaning in to hear her. His expression looked like an exaggerated face of the "Ponderer."

"Would you like to play some football with me tomorrow?" Hannah asked. "Not sure if there'll be bad weather though."

"These legs don't work like they used to," the Professor patted them for emphasis.

"It would be good for you," Ms. Macready agreed.

"Now if you two are agreeing at something," the Professor said, smiling. "Then I guess football it is."

The three of them shared a laugh. Before Hannah knew it, she was in her blue night gown, her hair bushy and down.

As Hannah slept soundly, German bombers flew silently. They blended in with the dark night. In just a few moments, what would be known as the Blitz would begin. When a bomb fell, the ground shook. Then came the screams. The cities of England woke with a display of murderous fireworks, while the peaceful countryside was greeted with the bright, morning sun.

It was clear that Hannah's greatest fear came true that night, but she wouldn't know until morning. She was greeted with a golden ray of sunshine piercing through her window. The leaves that were visible from the outside were bright green, and trimmed grass was perfect for running on. After putting on a light shirt and shorts, she hurried down the stairs for breakfast.

"Good morning Professor," she greeted him, cheerfully. "Did you rest well?"

Her question was ignored. Hannah looked closely as she approached the dining room. The Professor was studying a paper with a serious expression on his face. She stopped in her tracks, slowly approaching him.

"Professor?" she repeated.

"Good morning, Hannah," the Professor replied. "There's a piece of bread and some jam left for you."

"You seem like you're in a rush," Hannah said. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm afraid not, Hannah," the Professor said, quietly.

Hannah raised an eyebrow. She listened to him intently as she spread some cherry jam on her bread.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"The city was attacked last night. German bombers," he explained.

Hannah shivered. This was all too familiar. She couldn't believe what she heard. Was this really happening? Her stomach started to hurt. Slowly, she put her sticky piece of bread on the plate.

"Does it look like Germany is going to win the war?" Hannah asked, her voice shaking.

"You never know how the tables can be turned when it comes to war," the Professor stated.

He explained how the Government placed an ad about the bombing. It asked for those with large homes in the countryside to consider hosting children for safety, in case there were more attacks.

"At least you won't be so lonely anymore," the Professor said. "You'll have company. I don't know how long they'll have to stay. Attacks could go on for days, weeks! The children are nearly in the same position as yours. I expect you'll get along with them quite nicely."

"And you'll also have to help tidy the house for the guests," Ms. Macready said, firmly.

"So that means I won't get to play football with you, doesn't it?" Hannah asked.

The Professor shook her hand a bit to comfort her, looking at her with his gentle eyes. "There will be other children to play football with."

The news about German bombers attacking the English city was something that Hannah never expected would happen. She was sent here to be safe. England was supposed to be safe. Now, it was just as vulnerable as any other European country.

After Hannah finished breakfast, Ms. Macready had given Hannah a list of more chores for the day before the four siblings arrived.  Hannah rushed to do them with excitement. For the first time in years, she wouldn't feel alone. Even if she was in a large house with so many things to do, finding something to entertain herself shouldn't have been a hard task. Most of the activities, such as the games and sports equipment, would've been used to play with others. They were stored in dusty cabinets and closets, not touched in years. The Professor was so busy that he never had time to play with her. On the other hand, the Macready wouldn't have been interested.

The radio rung throughout the manor. While Hannah was cleaning, the voice of the wireless accompanied the sounds of the mop-sweeping and dish-washing. "In just the early month of September, children are being evacuated to safer parts of the country due to the German bombers' unexpected attack." This was followed by some classical music played, the soft sounds calming the nervous atmosphere.

Hannah imagined what it must've been like for the children to find out that they had to leave their mother behind. This led her to think about the rage and frustration she experienced. Her mother said it was for her well-being. "A mother's greatest blessing is knowing that her child will be safe," were the exact words spoken. "Please give me that blessing, Liebling."

Blessings were very important to her mother. She strongly believed that a blessing would protect her. It was linked to the blessing being a ritual of the Jewish faith. Her mother believed that if you were blessed, then by God's Will, you would be protected. But where was God at this moment? Where was He when He was needed most?

"I need a sign," Hannah muttered to herself. "If you're real, then give me a distraction."

That distraction came in the form of the children. Hannah heard about how their father was fighting in the army. They didn't know if they were going to see him again. That feeling was one she had known for a long time.

The next day, the Manor was ready for the children's arrival. There were two extra beds placed next to Hannah's for the two girls. One was no older than sixteen, and the youngest already turned eight. Hannah wasn't going to be alone in this room anymore.

There was a sharp knock from the door. Hannah quickly got up from her bed and got dressed. She had to help Ms. Macready with the horse and get it ready for the carriage.

The horse that Ms. Macready owned was a beautiful white horse with a silver mane that looked like it could've been a unicorn if it had a horn. One thing that the two of them had in common was their fascination with the creatures. Although Hannah didn't admit it, but whenever Ms. Macready flared her nose, it grew so wide that it reminded her of a horse's nostrils. If there was one thing that the woman loved the most, it was her horse she named Adam.

The air surrounding the small barn was damp and had a nasty stench. Scraping the poop wasn’t a task Hannah enjoyed to do. She had to cover herself up to makes sure nothing got stuck onto her skin. Ms. Macready even looked sweaty by the time they cleared all the dirt.

"It looked like Adam has been eating a lot," Ms. Macready chuckled, turning to the horse. "You're getting a bit fat, aren't you?"

Watching how she cared for the horse made Hannah realize that there was more to The Macready, the supposedly evil wicked witch of the west. There was a softer side in her. The way her eyes gleamed when she looked at Adam and rubbed his back.

"I always thought he could've been a charming unicorn," Hannah laughed.

"A beauty, isn't he?" Ms. Macready smiled. "I used to take riding lessons, and when I was eighteen, my father gave Adam as a gift. Now he's getting a bit old, like myself."

"You surely don't look it," Hannah said, sincerely. "You don't look past forty!"

Ms. Macready chuckled. Her voice, for once, sounded sweet and genuine. She couldn't believe that she had a nice conversation that didn't end with her telling to do a chore. That made her think, perhaps  The Wizard of Oz would've ended differently if Dorothy tried to be friends with the Witch.

"To be honest, Hannah," Ms. Macready said. "This was a nice trip."

"I always thought you didn't like anything," Hannah admitted. "It always looked like you never liked me."

"Well, now you saw a different side of me," Ms. Macready replied. "You shouldn't be so quick to judge someone," she paused to adjust the reigns on Adam, "Besides, it's best to make friends than enemies, especially in a time like this."

Ms. Macready was already in the carriage. Hannah untied the dirty wrapper that was over her formal clothes. She wore a blue dress that went down to her knees with no sleeves. Her hair was tied in a braid due to the hot weather, two curls dangled on the side. Hannah sat straight in the carriage, watching the countryside whizz past her. She even saw some cattle and bigger farms; much bigger than the Professor's. The big patches of green grass sparkled in the sunlight. Even though it was beautiful, it quickly became a boring sight after what seemed like hours of traveling.

Professor Kirke must've written a whole novel by now, Hannah thought. Adam moved quickly, but his steps were quite heavy and it took some force for him to push the wooden carriage. As the time flew by, Hannah was more anxious about meeting the children. She wondered if they really would've been a pleasant lot. Maybe there was even a boy or girl her age? There weren't many twelve year old children that lived near the Manor.

It looked like she was going to get her answer soon, however. Hannah spotted a few metal patches not to far off.

"The train tracks!" she cried. "We're nearly there! Come on, Adam! You could do it, we're just a few more feet away!"

The horse neighed loudly, as if he was answering to her. It really did look like he was moving faster. He picked up his head and neck, pushing the carriage faster.

Soon Hannah approached a familiar site. Her head slightly spun a bit, making her feel nostalgic. Adam started to slow down when Ms. Macready stopped flicking her reigns. In front of her, was the same station that the two of them used to get to the Manor from Liverpool two years ago. Hannah blinked at the four faces in front of her. They were the only people there. Tags were clipped onto their clothing. Hannah looked down, touching the left side of her coat. She remembered wearing one herself.

"Small favors," Ms. Macready muttered to herself.

The horse came to a stop, allowing Hannah to look closer at the faces. The eldest boy had blonde hair and blue eyes; the picture perfect Aryan. His hand wrapped around the youngest sister protectively. She lowered her head in submission, looking no older than eight. There was a boy with dark hair and eyes who had a moody expression. Hannah noticed the eldest sister's beauty right away, but she looked quite scary when she started to scold her younger brother.

"Ms. Macready?" the eldest boy spoke up.

"I'm afraid so," she replied, looking at there suitcases. "Is this is it, then? Haven't you brought anything else?"  

"No m'am," the eldest boy said, politely. "It's just us."

Ms. Macready scoffed to herself. "Small favors."

Hannah stood up to to help the children. She couldn't help but smile as they looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"My name is Hannah," she introduced herself. "I've been staying with Professor Kirke for a long time."

"Nice to meet you Hannah," the eldest boy said, letting his hand out to shake after he fit his luggage into the carriage. "I'm Peter Pevensie."

The eldest girl pushed her suitcase in gently. "That's Susan," he continued.

The little girl with the short hair that reached her shoulders eagerly approached Hannah, "I'm Lucy!"

"And-" Peter started.

"I'm Edmund," the dark haired boy finished for him, glaring at his older brother. "I can introduce myself, and why do you sound so weird?"

Hannah stepped back a bit, startled by his comment.

"Ed!" Peter scolded.

Hannah knew right from the start that she had to be wary of the boy. He seemed to be quite rude and she felt like he didn't want to be bothered.  She tried to look into the boy's dark eyes one more time, letting out her hand. Once again, Hannah was rejected.

It must've been hard for the family to leave their home because of the war. She certainly empathized with them. That boy was probably hit hard because of his Father.

The ride back to the Manor seemed to be quicker than the ride to the train station. Hannah got along with the eldest children quite nicely. The youngest was friendly and sweet, like a little sister Hannah always wanted. Edmund was just sulking in his seat. Hannah didn't want to bother with him yet.

"Come on. Good boy, come on!" Ms. Macready praised the horse. Slowly, Adam pulled closer and closer the Manor.

The way they reacted to the Manor made Hannah giggle. They had the same wide eyes and smiles, but Edmund didn't look so pleased.

"It looks like a castle!" Lucy exclaimed.

"It does look exquisite," Susan agreed.

Hannah raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"How do you not know what that means?" Edmund piped up from the back cart.

"I think the question is, if you know what it means," Peter teased.

"Of course I do," Edmund answered back.

The five of them entered the Manor. Hannah couldn't stop watching the Pevensies as their jaws dropped. It was a common reaction; she watched tour guests gasp at the site of the artifacts, the paintings, and sculptures. Ms. Macready approached them quite rapidly, interrupting the silence.

"There will be no shouting!" she said. Hannah giggled softly, already knowing what else she was going to say. She stood in her best posture, mouthing each and every word. "Or running! No improper use of the dumbwaiter!" Lucy smiled at Hannah when she copied her movements, "No-!"

Hannah nearly jumped as Ms. Macready's voice echoed through the walls. She turned to see Susan, her eyes gleaming with fascination at a sculpture. Susan paused in her tracks, slowly lowering her hand., 

"Touching of historical artifacts!" the woman continued. "And above all," she turned to face the children, furring her eyebrows. "No disturbing of the Professor!"

With that, Ms. Macready was on her way to set up for supper. Hannah lead the four Pevensie siblings through the corridor, opening her bedroom. There were two extra beds already laid beside her own.

"This is going to be the girl's bedroom," Hannah spoke up. "Peter, Edmund, your bedroom will be next door in the guest room."

"The lady scares me a bit," Lucy admitted.

"In any case it makes you feel better, you may call her The Macready," Hannah replied, giggling a bit.

"The Macready?" Edmund repeated. "Why would you call her that?"

"It's just a joke," Hannah said. "She's not that bad once you get to know her."

"Don't worry," Peter reassured me. "He's just like that."

Hannah certainly hoped he wasn't always like that.

***

For the rest of the night, Hannah managed to get to know the Pevensies quite well. She gave them a tour of the Manor. Edmund didn't join them, but that was alright with her. She didn't want to deal with his attitude anyway.

Before Hannah knew it, the day was coming to an end. She led the sisters to their bedroom, showing them where to put their belongings.  The Professor had many spare rooms for guests, meaning the boys were able to easily find one  on their own. The echo of the radio accompanied them as they got ready for bed.

"German aircraft carried a number of attacks on Great Britain last night. The raids, which lasted for several hours-"

The radio was shut off by Susan. Hannah was thankful for that, since she did not want to hear anything about German attacks anymore. Each time she heard about Germany, the thought of homesickness plagued her mind. She missed the old Germany. Hannah had no idea what was going on back home.

"I was getting tired of hearing that anyway," Hannah said.

Lucy, who was already in her pink nightgown, seemed like she couldn't go to sleep. "The sheets feel scratchy."

"I always feel it too," Hannah agreed. "You'll get used to it."

Susan sat beside her sister, while Peter and Hannah stood near them. "Wars don't last forever, Lucy."

Hannah looked down, "Although, it might seem like it. You just have to hope."

"Yes," Susan nodded. "Let's hope that we'll get home soon."

"Yeah, if home's still there," Edmund piped up from across the room.

Just from the first glance, Hannah didn't like the boy, but did he have to make himself so unpleasant?

"Isn't it time you were in bed?" his sister asked, sighing.

"Yes, Mum," Edmund retorted.

"Ed!" Peter scolded. His scowl quickly turned into a gentle smile as he spoke to Lucy. "Don't worry, Lu."

"Peter's right!" Hannah acknowledged him. "This place is huge!  I've lived here for a long time and I haven't run out of things to do. We'll all have fun."

"Yes," Peter said, smiling. "Tomorrow's going to be great, really."

With that, the boys left the room. The light was turned off, both of the sisters were sleeping. Hannah went back to her own room. She buried herself with her bed sheets. She was trying to force the excitement from leaping back into her heart. It was hard when thoughts were plaguing her mind. Thoughts of her four new friends. Before she closed her eyes, Hannah looked around, taking in the fact that she wasn’t alone.

[madefate]

Loona chooses to trust Stolas' unspoken promise - she doesn't have any particular reason to doubt him, but then, she's never needed a reason to doubt anyone before. It's always been the safer option, and for most of her life it's been the correct one. Fuck, even now there's really only one person she doesn't doubt consistently - but that, too, is changing because it has to. She has Moxxie and Millie, now, and she doesn't know if it's the urgency of the circumstances, but she kind of wants to put Stolas on that list too.

( maybe it's just exhausting, being on guard all the time. )

She knows he's keeping up with her, but she didn't realize Stolas was taking her murmured comments seriously until she hears, after a beat, ❝ A needle. ❞ - Shit. Loona's fairly certain that any of the three of them could get up after a taser attack, especially if they could get away, but drugs were a whole different fucking story. Her fangs grind together, thinking of the way Blitz never talked about what transpired last time these fuckers nabbed him.

Humans are so - weird, stupid, frustrating. What the fuck did any of them do to them in the first place? This doesn't even seem to be revenge for the follow up slaughter ( well fucking deserved, in her opinion ) - they're just ... obsessed. Ritualistic, clinical, looking at her like they want to rip her open.

❝ Right, alive. - I guess that makes sense. They're not hunters like that crazy Satanist family. They have'ta want something. ❞

It's getting more and more obvious that the human fucks didn't just get lucky with their ambush - this had to be a divide and conquer, and Loona feels the pit of her stomach churning at the thought. Just working with Millie alone, they'd manage to clear a path to the boys last time - if the scents were together again, they couldn't have been conscious. Fuck.

She hates the feeling that comes with having to rely on someone else, but she's hit her dead end and now she watches Stolas carefully. He's smart, good at putting clues together and figuring shit out. She feels electric currents of anxiety roll down her back, tries to channel them into rage. Rage is easier. Rage protects you; rage gets the fucking job done.

Her tail stiffens out when the expression on his face changes - darkens. Loona creeps closer, about to demand what it is he's thought of, but Stolas is already turning to their hostages. What is it, what's happening damn it!

The leader guy only flinches a little when Stolas focuses his attention on him, demands he tell them where they were taken - fuck, fuck! Are they not even here anymore - ??

❝ I don't give into the demands of demon scum - ❞

He's cut off by the other guy, the one who's clearly way more fuckin' traumatized. ( good. )

❝ It's a base to a portal, just under the grass - it'll activate - ❞

❝ Shut the fuck up ! ❞

Loona growls in the back of her throat, the sound ripping out of her in a way that usually made the other Hellhounds run away from her, bloodlust in her eyes. The coward had already looked cowed by Stolas' commanding tone, and while the leader flinches again he still doesn't look moved to speak. What kind of idiot doesn't value his own life?

❝ There's a key we use, and when it's active it portals you to an offsite - ❞

Loona doesn't wait for him to finish speaking before she's lunging for where she found the scent of metal. - Fucking no wonder she didn't notice anything; it's only when she starts digging a little does she unearth the base of something metallic.

❝ I think I found it ! ❞

The more time he spends with Loona, the more Stolas wants to get to know her better. She was Via's best friend, Blitz's daughter, but more than that, she was important in her own right. He wants to protect her, even though she doesn't need his protection, wants to give her the world, to wrap his arms around her and give her a safe space for as long as she needs it. All of which will have to wait until they're in a less precarious, time-sensitive situation.

But giving her a moment, helping her take a second to ground herself had seemed to help at least a little bit. Stolas watches as Loona tells him not to say anything about the choice she'd had to make, a soft smile on his face. He puts a hand over his heart, as though to say "I promise" as she shakes herself off before turning back to the trail she'd been following.

He picks up the rope binding their human captives, tugging them after him as he follows behind Loona.

❝ ... The fuck kinda weapon makes an injury this small. ❞ she asks, and his sharp eyes immediately hone in on where she's looking, the splatter of black blood drawing his gaze. It wasn't much, but the sight of it sends a chill down his spine.

"A needle," he finally says, eyes still fixed on the splash of blood on the ground as he feels dread begin to pool in his stomach, the worry he'd been trying to keep at bay steadily creeping back into his system. "But that means they wanted them alive," which had to be a good thing, didn't it? It would at the very least give the two of them more time to get to the others. But if the humans had blessed weapons…, if they used them on any members of the team before that point…, what would happen to them?

Stolas didn't even want to entertain the idea that they could be too late; they were going to get to them, and everything was going to be all right. It just had to be. If he let himself think of other possibilities, he would start to spiral, and that wasn't useful to anyone right now.

He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, shoving all his fears, his worries away; he would deal with them when he had to. Right now, Blitz, Moxxie, and Millie needed him to keep thinking clearly, to be logical, one of his strong suits. He needed to lean into that, to fall back into keeping his emotions in check.

And it was almost too easy to do, to slip back into that mask, one he'd fought so hard to rip away, to leave behind. But if it helped the others, he would do it a thousand times over.

Loona picks up speed, and Stolas follows behind her, all of his senses on alert, scanning the entire forest, looking for any signs of the others, anything they might have missed. Despite the relative darkness, Stolas can still see pretty well, and he uses that to his advantage, picking up on the physical trail of the scent Loona's following, the faint footprints and disturbed forest around them.

When she says she found something, he's at her side as quickly as his legs can carry him, dragging the humans behind him. He meets her gaze as she turns in a circle, frown on his face as he tries to figure out what that could mean. Their scents were strong, all three of them, but there's not more trail to follow?

And then a thought occurs to him, something that makes his blood run cold, that he desperately hopes is just his mind reaching for impossible scenarios. He steps forward, the galaxy of his magic surrounding the hand that's not holding a rope, pulsing darker than it usually appears, reflecting his roiling emotions as he feels out the energy of the area, hoping against hope that he is wrong, that he's jumping to conclusions.

But there is no mistaking the faint energy residue he's picking up on; he's worked with enough portals to know the telltale signature like the back of his hand. And coupled with Loona's words about what she can smell, the implication that there's more blood..., he can feel himself growing more frantic with each passing second as he shoves the nerves down, keeps them from showing on his face for even a moment. He would deal with his own panic later; this wasn't the time.

He turns, his movements slow, deliberate, carefully controlled, to face their human captives.

"Talk," he says to the one who had seemingly been in charge of the operation, the one he hadn't yet possessed. "Or I will make sure you wish you'd never been born." His voice is low, quiet, but there is an undeniable threat laced in his words, pure power that he is holding onto, keeping from erupting. "Where and how have your humans taken them?"