#circle kick similar movement to side forearm block but with leg

[cowboyprowl]

Axe kick is for breaking collarbones. Circle kick is for knocking heads off. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk

[frickyeahfanfic]

WALLS.

general hux x reader

word count: 2396

warnings: fighting for training

summary: you cross paths with your feisty general in the gym. 

________

Taking a step carefully into the gym on the Finalizer, you scan the room making sure no one else was training there. It was typically empty at this hour, so you had the space to yourself. You quickly strip off the sweatshirt you were wearing to reveal a sturdy black sports bra and pull up your leggings a little higher to ensure they wouldn’t sag down while you worked out. Twisting your neck to loosen tight muscles and crack your neck, you run your hands down your tight braids to ensure that everything was in place. 

You eye the punching bag in the corner of the room. It looked like it had just been replaced and it called to you. After a stressful day of work, getting some of the tension out by slamming your fists into the vinyl fabric usually did the trick. You wrap your hands and wrists with the fabric-like tape that you brought to protect your hands. Punching gloves usually weren’t available on missions or in the face of danger.

Each punch landed harder than the one previous, and you usually ended the set with a solid kick, whacking the top of the punching bag. Officers were instructed to keep in shape, whether doing cardio or weights, but you preferred both. Kickboxing was your preference. It kept you both toned, yet strong enough to take someone down. 

You didn’t hear the door hiss open as you attacked the punching bag. You weren’t expecting anyone either, let alone the man that had come in. 

It was a while until you noticed. You got thirsty and wanted to take a break for a second. When you turned around, you yelped, wrapped hands flying up to your chest in surprise. 

It was your General, General Hux who had been standing in the room, watching you work out. 

“How long have you been there?” You sighed, noticing that his feet were planted firmly and his hands were clasped behind his back. 

“Not long.” His eyes were locked on you dangerously, and you suddenly felt out of place in your revealing workout attire. It wasn’t breaking the dress code if you were in the gym, but in the presence of your superior, you felt a little… awkward. 

You take a swig from your water bottle, waiting for him to say something. As you wiped your mouth and forehead with a towel, he spoke. 

“I’m finding it hard to work out in the mornings, so I decided to come at night instead. If you are uncomfortable with your General in the workout facility with you, I will find a different time to complete my tasks.”

You tilt your head understandingly. “Well, as long as you’re not in my space, or just staring at me, I really don’t care, sir.” The gym was large enough to accommodate all of the high ranking members on the ship, so it wasn’t weird to see an admiral and a lieutenant working out at the same time. 

He nodded and came closer to you. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing?” 

Even though the question was extremely straightforward, it was genuine. The General never paid much interest in anything you did, so it caught you off guard. 

“I’m, uh, kickboxing, sir. I prefer it over running on the treadmill or lifting weights. I do lift weights, it's just-”

“You like fighting,” he interrupted your rambling, the quirk of his eyebrow asking for confirmation. 

You turn and head towards the punching bag. “Yes, I do prefer fighting.”

Before you can get far, a hand wraps around your wrist and stops you. “The best practice for hand to hand combat is, hand to hand combat.”

You twist your hand out of his grip, understanding his message. He wanted to spar. 

“Step up on the mats, General,” you said, planting your feet firmly on the padded ground. Hux raised an eyebrow at your command but nonetheless took off his greatcoat and sat it on a bench. As he unbuttoned the First Order emblazoned shirt, he kicked off his tight dress shoes and stood on the mat. 

You almost never saw him without his coat on, and seeing him in his tight black thermal shirt made you wonder what he actually looked like without the shell of his protocol attire. It was tempting to think about, but you pushed the odd thought out of your head. 

He prepared himself to spar, raising his arms in the defensive position. You watch him carefully, waiting for the flinch, the first move. 

Hux’s arm snapped out towards you and you dodged it simply, arms up by your face for protection. The dance of the mat had begun as the two of you began circling clockwise around the mat. You bounced on your legs, ready for another attack. 

He got impatient. He tried to strike again and you blocked it, leaving your middle exposed. His other hand punched your side and you grunted. You grabbed his arm before it could retreat back to his starting position and you twisted it with an unsuspected amount of strength. You let go for a split second, hit his stomach and jump back into defense. 

The General’s eyes were dark and his fiery hair matched the anger that suddenly fueled him. He swung at you again and you dodged it again, but you missed the feigned move and suddenly his leg swung up and knocked you in the back of your torso. You gasp as the wind was knocked out of you and you stumbled to regain your footing. 

You weren’t fast enough, as his arms wrapped you in a classic chokehold. He pulled you tight against his chest and you could feel his heart pounding in his ribcage from the effort of fighting. You struggled in his grip for a second and then wrapped your legs around his, hoping to disarm him for a second. He was too strong, however, pulling his arms tighter around your neck and throwing you to the ground. You were about to stand up, gasping for air when a knife was pointed to your neck. 

Your leg snapped to his arm, sending the knife clamoring away on the concrete floor. A hand gripped your leg and pulled it forcefully down, disorienting you and allowing the General to be completely over your body, ready to punch your face. His other arm was pinned to your neck, and you tried to pull it off as he began to suffocate you again. 

“I give, I give,” you wheeze, tapping his forearm rapidly in a sign of defeat. Hux quickly stood up but remained hovered over your body as you pushed yourself up on your forearms and looked at him. He rolled his eyes as you remained unmoved on the ground and reached out his hand to help you up. 

“You put up a good fight, Officer Y/l/n,” he puffed, and despite standing right in front of him, he still towered over you.

“Thank you, sir.”

“But not good enough. I was barely trying. You need much more training, what did the academy even teach you?” He continued harshly. 

Ouch.  “I’m sorry sir, I will seek more training,” you said obediently. 

Before you could turn around and leave he cleared his throat. “I didn’t dismiss you, Officer. Stay here.”

You can't force yourself to make eye contact with him. You were too ashamed of yourself. Weren’t even on duty, and got scolded by your superior. 

“If you desire to hone in on your self-defense skills, then I will too. I might need some more… brushing up to do, and helping you with the basics and intermediate skills will certainly help me.”

Where was he going with this?

“Sir?” You say, not understanding quite what he was explaining. Your eyes met his tentatively and he squinted as if trying to find the right words to say. 

“On the mats here, every night at 2100 hours. We will conduct out workout sessions and hand-to-hand combat together,” he forced out, still looking down at you. 

You raise an eyebrow. 

“Professionally.”

He swung a small towel over his shoulder and picked up his greatcoat. You stayed glued to the floor, unsure whether if you were dismissed from his presence or he had something else to say. 

“Officer, do you accept?” He raised his voice slightly.

“Yes, sir!” A hand flew to your forehead.

He nodded, a signal to drop your arm. “Very well. I will see you then. Do not be late.”

___________

You were late. 

Barely a minute late, which was eons in General Hux’s timetable. You burst into the facility, hands twisting and flying everywhere as you wrapped your fists in tape. He was already on the mat, complete with similar wraps on his hands, sporting a black tank top. His hair was slightly tousled, and you entertained the idea that he did a warm-up or something of the sort. He watched you as you tore off your sweatshirt and shoes, stumbling onto the mat with him and raising your fists. You didn’t have any time to braid your hair, evident in the way your bun wobbled on your head. 

“You’re late.”

“Yessir, I came as quickly as I could. Officer Mantro needed help organizing a squadron of troopers for a mission. I should have given myself more time,” you rambled. 

He was surprised that you didn’t blame the officer for your tardiness but blamed yourself for not organizing yourself better. “I am confident that you will not be late next time,” he replied. “Now, can we begin?”

You swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“We’re going to focus on a punch.”

A laugh left your body a second too soon. “Punches?”

His lips went taut and he narrowed his eyes. “If you had a decent punch, you might have had a chance yesterday when I easily bested you.”

Your jaw slackened at his cruel comment and your mouth fell agape. “Come again?”

“Yes, your arms are strong, but your core is stronger. By using your full body to swing a punch, you could’ve hit a lot harder.”

Hux meant form. Not how strong you were. You had forgotten the techniques of a solid punch, and it had come back to bite you in the butt in the form of embarrassment to your superior.  

He raised his arm and opened his hand to you, palm ready to take a hit. “Punch me.”

Your knuckles smacked into his hand. 

“Core, Officer. Twist your whole body with the movement,” he tutted.

You punch again, this time turning your arm more towards Hux. 

“Better, but if you just,” he held onto your fist and yanked it forward so that your shoulders were aligned from his perspective, “then you use all the potential energy in your body. Understood?”

He let go of your hand and braced himself for impact once again. 

“Yes, General.” You thrust out your fist and hit his extended arm backward, using your core to fully rotate into the punch. 

A hint of pleasure sparkled in his eyes. “Congrats Officer Y/l/n, you threw an exceptional punch.” His satisfaction was easily swept off his face when you grinned. “I hope that you practiced similar ones at the academy. If not, I will see to your past instructors end.”

“We did focus on these techniques. I just let myself forget them in the safety of this workout facility,” you admitted. 

Hux pointed to the punching bag in the corner of the room. “Practice now. With proper technique. I’ll tell you when you’re done.” 

You obeyed his command and began a simple routine, right, right, left. Right, right, left. You concentrated on every movement, making sure that you were properly engaging your core. Beads of perspiration dotted your forehead and dripped down your back. You knew better than to stop when you were tired, so hit after hit continued before Hux spoke another word. 

The general circled into your peripheral vision and watched you pound the bag.

“Getting tired, Officer?”

You didn’t stop. “Mmhmm.”

He marveled at your dedication to the task he put before you. He glanced at the clock mounted on the wall and realized that you had been punching the bag for almost half an hour. Hux was too caught up in watching your form to notice the time change. 

“Halt.” Your fist stopped mid-air. “Grab a drink.”

The ground seemed to sway beneath you for a second and your heart felt like it was punching your ribcage. Hux held out your water bottle to you, knowing that if you bent down to pick it up, surely you would collapse. You furrowed your brows as you drank, observing that the General had no signs of exercise, not like you at least. 

“What’s the matter?” He questioned, red brows mirroring yours. 

“Nothing,” the bottle left your lips and you placed it on the ground with newfound energy. “Well, it’s just, you’re not training. You’re just making me do work.”

He hummed as if taking into consideration your words. Inside, you braced yourself for attack. “Indeed. I came here before you to get a workout, knowing that I would have to shape you up to have a worthy opponent. I already got my work done. It’s your turn.”

Ouch again. His words always stung. You showed no signs of offense at his response. 

“What’s next?” You said, folding your arms, trying to seem tough. 

“I was thinking you could use some more strength in your legs. How about running on the treadmill?” Hux suggested.

He knew you didn’t like running. 

Hux wasn’t just training you. He was testing you.

“How long?” You countered. 

“An hour. I’ll leave you to it. I trust that you’ll run the full time.”

His snarky response boiled your blood. An hour? He would definitely check the security camera feeds to see if you were running for the whole time, just to prove a point. 

You were determined to prove him wrong. 

“I will see you tomorrow, General Hux,” you practically sang, making your way over to the wall of treadmills. 

He lifted his chin and straightened his back, watching your cross over to the other side of the gym. “On time I hope.”

That man would be the death of you. What did you sign yourself up for?

(a.n. definitely going to make a part 2)

[danielslilangel]

Make Love Not War- Daminette (Pt. Three)

Part One

Part Two

Part Three 

(Thanks everyone for all the love! Daminette is my new favorite ship and I’m obsessed with all of the amazing Maribat content out there now!)  

“Begin!”

Neither one moved at first, trying to guess what the other was going to do. Unsure, though the whole thing had been her idea to begin with, Marinette took a slow step to the left. Damian mirrored the movement and they slowly chased each other around the perimeter of the circle.

“Hey!” Jason yelled, drawing the attention of the two heroes even though neither of them turned to look in his direction. “Is this a fight or what? I’ve got good money on the line so let’s get this show on the road!”

Damian rolled his eyes at his brother’s words, but noticed a shift in the energy between him and Marinette as they came to a stop across.

The two of them launched themselves forward, movements blurring with the speed at which they attempted to attack each other. They quickly became a tangled mess as feet, knees, elbows and fists found their marks.

Damian charged forward with a soft growl that grew louder in frustration as Marinette jumped in the air, using his shoulders as a spring board, leaping over him. As soon as her feet sunk into the mat she raised one leg back to donkey kick Damian away as he moved towards her once again.            He grabbed her from behind only to let go when she unexpectedly sunk her teeth into his forearm. He was proud of her for not being afraid of fighting dirty. As soon as he released her, Marinette spun and launched a series of kicks towards his midsection that Damian struggled to block with his arms. One kick caught him in the hip. Instead of moving out of the way, he stepped into the blow and caught her foot in his hand.

Without hesitation Marinette put all her weight on the foot he held and used his hand as a step and lifted herself up into the air over him. She hooked her thighs around his neck and used her momentum to toss him to the ground, pausing for a second to appreciate the shocked look on his face before he rolled to absorb some of the impact.            "Oh shit,“ Jason whispered. “Is it too late to change my bet to Marinette? Cause she looks a lot less like sunshine and rainbows and more like… I don’t even know what… She’s just… different all the sudden.”            "I’m still betting my money on Damian,“ Dick said, having seen what the Demon Spawn was capable of against his enemies.            "At least they’re no longer holding back. It’s pretty interesting to see a competition bring out this side in them.”            "They are actually pretty evenly matched considering neither one of them have managed to land a devastating blow.“ Tim watched as the pair danced around each other inside the circle, perfectly countering the other’s attacks. Marinette was proving to be much more capable than the Ladyblog videos had let on. No matter who won this round he had a feeling that Ladybug was going to be making quite a few more appearances throughout the city.            "I don’t even think they’ve drawn blood.”            The Wayne boys resumed their silence as Marinette and Damian’s groans and panting filled the room, the pair now drenched in sweat from their efforts to prove that they deserved to win.            I underestimated her, Damian thought as he dodged yet another kick that barely missed connecting with his jaw. That one would have broken it. He grabbed her next flying fist after jerking his head out of its path and used her locked arm to flip her over his head, taking her to the ground.            As he moved his hands to better hold her down, Marinette slid out from under him and pushed herself back into a standing position.            I’m not used to drawn out battles, she thought as she feigned left and managed to connect a heel to his calf though he danced out of the way to avoid much of the blow. He gains the advantage the longer this fight lasts. With no lucky charm to help her this time, Marinette had to rely on herself more than ever to try and win. She decided to risk it and stepped closer to him, trying her hand at landing more hit with close combat. He had more formal training than she did, but she was smaller and faster than him. Their similarities and differences just kept balancing out as neither one managed to get a solid punch to the other.            "How long has it been?“ Dick asked, not taking his eyes off the two dark haired blurs going at it in front of him.            Tim glanced at his watch. Eyes wide, he announced, "seventy-three minutes.” Usually the boys’ sparring never lasted more than half an hour at most before someone was injured or pinned.            Damian tried to keep his focus solely on the fight, but he couldn’t help the voice in the back of his mind that would not stop gushing praise for his girlfriend’s level of skill. He claimed it was logic that told him she’d be safer if she avoided getting into any battles while they were out on patrol but with each kick of his she blocked and punch of hers she landed upon his body, Damian knew that he had been blinded by love. He was nearly out of breath, something that hadn’t happened in quite a while, and knew that she was getting tired too, but she still kept going. He was giving their fight everything he had and it was just enough to keep her from overpowering her. Though he acknowledged her ability to hold her own, the need to win was preventing him from stopping.            Suddenly, Marinette tripped, and that small mistake was enough of an opening for Damian to leap at her, sending the pair sprawling onto the ground. She bucked as he tried to pin her and tangled her legs in his, using her thighs to flip him over so that he was now laying with his back on the mat as she straddled his waist. She had the chance to take a shot at him that could have led to her victory, but paused just a second too long to follow through with it. She couldn’t help but stare at her boyfriend who lay beneath her, white t-shirt sticking to his wet body like a second skin from all of the sweating he was doing. His muscles were taut from the fight and she was too easily distracted by a heat overcoming her that was not brought on from the batter. A heat that only intensified as she lifted her gaze to his eyes.            Not wanting to let an easy opening pass him by, Damian used his abs and the counter pressure of her sitting on his lower half to sit up and wrapped his fingers around Marinette’s pale wrists that had, for some reason, been laying at her sides. He brought their arms up above their heads, meaning to use that motion to push her into the mat and claim his victory, but he found himself once again caught in her blue gaze as she looked up and stared at him.            Marinette let out a small whimper as his fingers locked around her wrists and caught her bottom lip between her teeth.            All at once, Damian became very aware of the fact that his opponent, who just so happens to be his girlfriend, was sitting on his lap in just her leggings and a sports bra covered in sweat from rolling around on the floor with him for the past however long it had been since their last match had begun. Marinette. His very brave, very strong, very attractive girlfriend… Was straddling him… biting her lip… As he held her wrists above her head… Looking at him with a look he hadn’t yet seen from her.            Marinette released some of the tension in her legs from holding her position as Damian froze after sitting up. She managed to hold back another whimper as Damian closed his eyes and let out a low moan, his body treacherously responding to the sudden pressure he felt as she shifted, lowering herself more into his body, brushing his…            His eyes snapped open, once more locking eyes with hers as he released her wrists in favor of grabbing her bare waist so he could stand up while still holding her pressed up against his body.            The sudden movement made Marinette gasp and she reflexively wrapped her legs around him, crossing her ankles to hold on tight as her arms fell around his neck once freed from his grasp. That was all it took for Damian to growl and bury his face into her neck, covering it with feverish kisses, enjoying the taste of her salty skin, as he made his way out of the gym.            Forgetting all about his brothers and the match, he made his way down the hallway and enterer his bedroom after fumbling with the doorknob with one hand, not willing to let go of Marinette more than he absolutely had to to get them alone.            Entering the room, he lifted his leg back to kick the door closed but found that Marinette had already nudged it shut with her own feet so he decided to turn the pair of them around to lock the door. He moved a little too fast though and found himself pushing Marinette’s back against the door, causing the girl to open her lips in a breathless gasp that threatened to tear him to pieces. He needed to hear that sound again more than he needed air to breathe. He leaned closer and caught her lips with his own, flicking his tongue to get them to part them again.            "Damian.“ She couldn’t stop his name from sliding past their tongues into his open mouth anymore than she could stop the small moans and gasps from coming. Her voice must have snapped him back to reality though as he pulled his face away to look her in the eyes.            "Tell me if it’s too much for you. I don’t want to make you do anything you’re not comfortable with.” His eyes were addled with lust and she knew that the last thing he wanted was to stop as they hardly ever had anytime to themselves and had yet to be able to move beyond making out, but he would absolutely stop if that’s what she told him to do. “I want you to want this. To be ready.”            "Damian…“ She couldn’t find the right words to say so she decided to lean in for another kiss, but Damian pulled back.

“I need you to use your words Angel. I want to be sure this isn’t just something that is happening from the adrenaline.”

She tangled her fingers in his dark hair and gently tugged on it. “I want this. I want you Damian. I’ve never wanted anything so much before.” She bit her lip as heat crept up her cheeks from her blatant words but pushed through the mild embarrassment and kept going. “We may have gotten caught up in the moment out there, but that doesn’t change that fact that I’ve wanted to get you alone like this for a while and now that we are here… I don’t want to stop.”

“Angel.” Damian buried his face in her neck once again and smiled as he kissed her over and over and over again. Since he had taken a second and forced himself to pause and take a deep breath, he wanted to do this right.

“But…”

He instantly pulled back to peer at her.

“I don’t… know or really care- well I do care, but not a lot like to the point of…” she trailed off before starting again. “It’s just that… I’ve never… done this, uhm, kind of thing before.”

He didn’t mean to, but he laughed, the sound warm and deep. He removed Marinette’s legs from around his waist and set her down on the ground. He slid a hand up into her hair, removing the tie so that the blue-black strands fell loose around her face. She peered up through her dark lashes at him and he smiled at her confusion. “I don’t know what you’ve been led to believe during our time together Angel, but I’m not exactly a people person. I went on a few dates here and there before I met you, but I’d never been in a relationship until you came into my life. I never expected you to be…” he tried to think of the right word to say. “Experienced. I’m still glad to hear it though because I want to be your first… your only, Marinette.”

In a quiet voice she squeaked out, “Does that mean I’m your first?”

He chuckled again and moved so that their lips were almost touching, relaxing as he breathed in her air. “Yes Angel. You’re my first and I hope you’ll be my last.” Damian stayed where he was, letting her make the choice for herself.

She didn’t hesitate. Marinette threw herself against his body, crashing their lips together.

As they made their way to his king-sized bed the pair, once again, became a tangled mess of limbs as their clothes disappeared like magic and they found a way to heal every aching muscle left over from their fight.

Basking in the warmth of their love, Damian rubbed slow circles on Marinette’s bare back as she lay contentedly draped across his chest wrapped in his covers.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“I wasn’t talking about just now.”

“I know.” She lifted her head to rest her chin on his chest so she could look him in the eyes. “I get that you were just worried about me and wanted to protect me.”

“It was still wrong of me though. I know you’re capable of holding your own… especially after seeing how you managed to keep up with me.”

“I did more than keep up,” she laughed.

“True. I do have quite a few sore spots on my body.”

He arched an eyebrow as Marinette gave him another one of her wicked little smiles.

“You know how Ladybug has the Miraculous Cure? Well, I have that power too.”

“Oh really?” He liked where this was headed.

“Absolutely.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she disappeared under the blankets.

Damian definitely liked where this headed.

TAG LIST I hope you enjoyed the surprising (hopefully) ending! :)

@zazzlejazzle @jessigurl-design @xxmadamjinxx @imfreakingmagical @constancetruggle @shizukiryuu @segajr @mystery-5-5 @black-streak @heldtogetherbysafetypins @eliza-bich @2sunchild2 @northernbluetongue @dont-touch-my-dinosaur @vgirl-10123 @mochinek0 @unabashedbookworm @queencommonsense @crazylittlemunchkin @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @tbehartoo

[thebiasrekkers]

Fragmentation 0.9

Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | The Matrix!AU | angst | sci-fi | action | drama

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: Strong language, allusions to suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,138

AN: Like all of my works, there will be OCs working opposite of the boys. In this story, we have three. Next in the Fragmentation series is Sabine. As you may recall, she is Hoseok’s childhood friend and the one who convinced him to leave The Matrix with her. This is her tale on how she became the captain of their ship. On to Animus’s origin story for Defragmentation! All information in the universe can be found on the official Matrix Wiki so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!

Tag List: @aroseforyoongi​, @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432​, @taegiq​, 

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Taking a deep, slow breath, Sabine peered out over the cityscape. The number of buildings she could see were seemingly endless. A soft wind tickled her face as her dark auburn curls flew back - the air whipping past her ears in a way that made it almost impossible to hear. Ambient noise from below seemed to pulse from the ground, rising to meet her as the sun began its slow descent beneath the clouds. Everything was cloaked in smatterings of gold, orange, pink and purple, signifying that the end of the day was drawing near. The twilight hour. 

It was her favorite time of the day.

A soft smirk pulled at the corners of her lips, her hands stuffed into the over-sized hoodie she was wearing. When the wind finally eased up, Sabine felt her hair settle around her cheeks and shoulders before she turned away. The heels of her boots scraped along the concrete of the rooftop she was currently situated on. She took a step back, reaching the edge, and breathed in another lungful of air.

Then she took another step back, her body lifting up onto the lip of the building. 

Another rush of wind pushed against her back, as if telling her not to take another step further. Because another step further would mean falling off the edge. It would be the end of everything that meant something to her if she did. 

The door for the rooftop access slammed wide open. Sabine’s eyes narrowed as several Agents filed out, their guns trained on her. The smirk never left her face, but her head tilted slightly when the sound of several hammer clicks registered. Scoffing more to herself, she pivoted her body to the left - feeling her legs kick off the ground as she did a left handspring on the edge of the roof just as several gunshots rang out.

Bullets zipped by her until Sabine was forced to lunge forward, her body curling into itself as she rolled across the ground. Several pairs of feet thundered along the concrete as more bullets impaled along the surface. She continued to roll until there was nowhere left for her to go. Scrambling to her feet, she jumped and broke through the nearest window, her body continuing its fluid motion as she rolled down the stairs.

Her back slammed against the wall, forcing her to catch her breath as the Agents piled back into the building. Springing out, she quickly dashed down the stairs before gripping onto the handrail, spinning off the stairs, and lurching her body over the railing to sail down the central opening of the spiraling staircase. Spinning her body around, she pulled out both of her pistols from her holsters and aimed upwards just as the Agents pursuing her opened fire.

Firing off several shots, Sabine made quick mental notes of an immediate exit strategy once she hit the ground. She managed to empty out both clips completely before rolling her body around in mid-air, her heels crashing onto the ground. The stone tiles cracked and popped up from beneath her, causing the entire building to shake from her impact. Without looking back, she tore through the front entrance of the abandoned building and took off in a dead run down the street.

Glass shattered around her as bullets zipped by, spraying various contents in different directions. She felt one graze her shoulder, causing her to wince. She jumped over several crates and boxes, her legs pumping hard as she made her way through the industrial district. Pedestrians looked on in wonder, but she didn’t have the luxury to tell them to get out of the way. They would be fodder and the reason for her existence being erased if she made a mistake. 

Rounding a corner, she gasped as she came face to face with the barrel of a handgun. Instinct urged her to swivel to the right just as the gun fired. A distinct ringing noise pinged in her ear and she barely managed to jam her elbow out to hit the Agent’s forearm. His hand slammed into the brick wall, forcing the gun from his hand. Her body jerked to the ground, her fingers grabbing the gun in one swift motion. She surged forward, her shoulder bashing into his chest as she slid her forearm against him. Pressing the barrel of the gun under his chin, she didn’t hesitate to squeeze the trigger. 

A ripple of electricity revealed that the Agent took over an old woman. Sabine scoffed, dropping the gun and bolting for the subway entrance. It was dangerous to be underground, but she only needed to get to one place. She only needed to make it there with a few seconds to spare.

Her boots clicked along the pavement, her breathing labored as her heart thundered against her chest. The sound of a phone ringing reverberated off the stone walls. A train sped through, its wheels screaming along the metal track. She skid to a halt just in front of a row of pay phones, dust rising up around her. She managed to snatch it off the hook, but not before the head of the receiver exploded near her face. Plastic pieces shot out and scraped her cheek, forcing her to drop the ruined device as it swung purposelessly from its metal connection rope.

“Shit!” she snapped, barely dodging a fist aimed for her face. 

Spinning on her back heel, Sabine avoided another hit as her back slammed into the wall. Her leg shot up, knocking the gun from the Agent’s hand as it went flying onto the now vacant train tracks. The Agent flung a kick out at her, forcing her to use both arms to block the blow meant for her chest. Her body went airborne and slammed into the wall. The impact was similar to being hit with a mack truck, leaving behind an imprint of her body as broken pieces of concrete and brick littered the ground around her feet.

A spray of red mist escaped from her mouth seconds before she crashed to the ground on her knees. Another phone rang, preceding the harsh symphony of another train speeding along the track further down the tunnel. Pain exploded along the back of her neck as another kick successfully landed against her, causing her body to slide along the ground. 

Sabine groaned as more blood leaked from the corners of her mouth. The sound of the phone seemed to almost mock her, telling her that she was so close to the finish line but that she would not, in fact, finish. The thought of failing angered her, fueling something inside of her that she knew lurked among the shadows of her own heart. 

She spit. “Get up,” she muttered, her body screaming at her to move.

The Agent advanced on her, his movements slow and predatory. Sabine growled as she spun her body up, her legs kicking into the air before flipping right-side up onto her feet. She reached into her jacket and quickly whipped it out, the metallic shink sang out as the steel baton extended. The Agent canted his head slightly and Sabine flashed a blood-stained grin, launching herself forward to charge headlong at him. He parried many of her attacks, but she kept a close eye on his feet to ensure that he was backing up with her mindless assault. 

Screaming at the top of her lungs, she spun and whipped her arm out. The baton slammed into the Agent’s forearms as he lifted them up to block her attack. The subway shook with the approaching train’s momentum, causing small bits of dirt to fall from the ceiling. Sabine took another breath, leaped forward, and took aim for the Agent’s face. He caught her by the forearm, but not before she was able to spin around, landing a solid heel kick to his shin. He buckled, allowing her the opportunity she needed to slam her knee into his face. Using the force of his motion, he landed a fist straight into her gut. Sabine flew backwards into the wall, a sharp cry of pain all she could muster before hitting the ground.

She looked up to see the Agent falling into the path of the train seconds before it approached. It zipped by in a blur and Sabine quickly pushed herself off the floor. She ran back toward the row of pay phones, all but tearing it off the hook and pressing it against her ear. Everything disappeared around her in a wave of green - all of it transforming into strings of code.

“So,” mused Rear Admiral Brahn, “I see you were able to obtain the data we needed, Commander.”

Animus saluted, her eyes staring straight ahead as Brahn circled her. He held a case containing a data disk inside, moving it back and forth as he walked. After he nodded, she lowered her arm and stood at attention. Others stood behind the Rear Admiral, Captains of their own vessels. They were overseeing the last of her field training since she initiated her pursuit for her rank promotion. 

In her mind, she had no doubt she would achieve it. They had no reason to deny her. The Council also agreed that she was fit to lead.

Rear Admiral Brahn, however, was another matter altogether.

She could see his stern expression in her peripheral vision. Her eyes continued to look ahead as he obstructed her line of sight. Pity. She was enjoying herself by studying the rust building on one of the pipes hanging overhead. 

“You took on an Agent, Commander Animus. That was both reckless and unnecessary.” His eyes narrowed at her. “Your mission was to secure the information you obtained and return from The Matrix immediately . Nothing else.”

“Sir, yes Sir!”

“Explain yourself, Commander!”

“Sir!” Animus saluted again. “I was left with no choice.”

“You were fortunate there was more than one avenue for an Operator to get you out. But what if that wasn’t the case?” He scoffed. “You can’t expect to make those same kinds of decisions if you’re a Captain, Animus. You’re liable to get you and your crew killed.”

Slowly, Animus lowered her hand back down to rest at her side. She took a breath, expelled it, then shifted her gaze to meet Brahn’s. “We won’t always be able to run from them, Rear Admiral, Sir. It’s an operative’s duty to the people of Zion to gain every advantage we can in this war. The Machines are willing to do anything to stop us.” 

Brahn quirked a brow. “Your point?”

She narrowed her eyes. “We have to be willing to do the same, Sir.”

There was a pregnant pause that seemed to stretch on for half a lifetime. After feeling Brahn’s eyes scrutinizing her for a few seconds longer, he pivoted away from her and made his way toward the other Captains. She wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved, but Animus held her breath all the same.

“Well, I certainly hope you can maintain that enthusiasm when leading your crew, Commander Animus.” Brahn set the mini disk case on the table where the other Captains sat, craning his neck to look at her. “If you can’t, their blood will be on your hands.”

She could feel her heart thudding wildly inside of her ribs and she smothered down the smile that threatened to break out across her face. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Animus saluted as the other Captains saluted her as well. She saw some smiles of approval while the others’ expressions remained impassive. That was fine. It was fine. 

Her test was over now.

“Your new rank appointment and credentials will be sent to you by oh-seven hundred tomorrow. You’re dismissed.”

“Sir!”

She turned to head out of the briefing room. Animus waited for the doors to slide open. Just as she was about to leave, she heard Brahn clearing his throat loudly. She paused, craning her neck to peer back into the briefing room.

“Sir?”

“Your First Mate, Crash, has your crew manifest.”

Animus blinked in surprise. Her best friend was going to be part of her crew. Hiding her elation, she nodded slowly in understanding before raising her brows in question. “I already have a ship assignment, Sir?”

“Yes, you do.”

She smiled. “Her name?”

The Rear Admiral smirked as he folded his hands behind his back. “The Amaterasu.”

Her smile remained and, again, she saluted her superior. “Thank you, Sir.”

[aworldfullofmusesmoving]

Just Like Her Mama

Drabble for @dangerous-smoll that was not asked for but is getting anyway because reasons

The gym was empty except for the two of them, which worked well for Shane as that meant there would be no distractions. He leads her to the boxing ring, handing her a pair of boxing gloves and showing her a few stretching exercises before they began.

“You ready to lose, old man?” the fourteen year old challenged, grinning with confidence at her old man as she tied her dark hair into a high ponytail and slipped on the gloves. Shane bounced from leg to leg, punching the air to warm up his arms and get the blood pumping. He chuckled, his lips curling in a smirk. “Aren’t we cocky, today,” he mused, adjusting his own hand gear. “Sounds like you don’t want me to go easy on you this time.” Amanda replied firmly, “I’m not an amateur anymore, Dad. I’m ready.” Pride swelled within the father, his little girl was becoming a touch young woman right before his eyes - at least he was doing that right. “Alright, then. No more kid games. Let’s see what you got, baby girl.” 

The two of them met in the middle of the ring and bumped their gloves together, a sign of respect he made sure she remembered, before retreating back to their corners. They began similarly than the previous sessions, circling and faking each other out, before Amanda threw the first punch to get them started. Shane blocked each one of her attempts and countered, throwing hooks left and right, all of which his daughter moved out of the way of and ducked under. His last of four swings was blocked by her forearm and she shoved her protected fist right in his gut, knocking the breath out of him and causing him to stagger back a bit. She didn’t give him a chance to recuperate, throwing several more punches but failed to connect as Shane did a roll and recovered to his feet just in time to block a backhand. He held on to her arm and performed a take down, pinning his daughter to the mat. 

Amanda let out a yelp as her back hit the ground and winced, the impact stinging a little. Shane felt guilt tug at his heart, he really didn’t want to hurt her but he also knew that she would be upset if he did still go easy on her - she was just like her mother in that sense. After a couple of seconds, he let her up and they went for their second round, their routine similar to the last. This time, however, it was Amanda who took Shane down for the pin, tying up their wins. Their third round commenced not too long after and Shane went on the defensive, blocking each one of his daughter’s punched with ease. It made the fourteen year old frustrated, she didn’t want to lose this time, the desire to prove herself to her old man burning within her like a furious flame. She went all out, rotating between punching and kicking relentlessly, sometimes making a hit but it wasn’t enough to capitalize on to get the pin. 

All of her frustration and the adrenaline that pumps rapidly through her veins drove Amanda over the edge, pushing her past the limit - completely shattering the barriers holding her strength back. The opening she had been looking for showed itself and, without thinking, the fourteen year old swung with all of her might, punching Shane as hard as she could; the boxing glove caught him square in the face, the bridge of his nose cracking under the force, breaking it. Not again.... While Amanda gasped in shock, Shane yelped and staggered backwards, losing his balance and collapsing onto his back, gloved hands raised to cover his face. Blood squirted from his nostrils and dripped onto the mat; upon seeing what she had done, Amanda began to panic. 

“Oh my God...Oh my God-Oh my God, Dad!” she declared, kneeling to his side, gloves discarded and tossed away. Shane rolled onto his side which helped to take away some of the pressure that swelled in his face. Damn, that hurt, he thought, his eyes squeezed shut for a moment. As he lay there trying to deal with the pain, his mind plunged itself back to a time where something very similar happened, only it wasn’t AMANDA that hit him. She really was Nita’s daughter. This situation was all too familiar, except back then he had shrugged it off and continued on with the match - but he was older now, frailer than he had been, so it was taking a little more time and effort to shake this one off.

“Dad, I-I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Oh, God, you’re bleeding! Oh my God, what did I do - I’m so grounded, aren’t I?”

All he could do was laugh. Doing his best to sit upright, his daughter helping him by wrapped her arms around his shoulder and back, dark eyes glanced at her and he sighed though it was more of a breathy groan. “Don’t worry, honey,” he said, reassuringly. “It isn’t the first time this’s happened.” Her movements had practically mimicked Nita’s perfectly if he recalled correctly - he wasn’t sure, his memory from that fight was a little foggy...Actually his memory period was fucked up - that’s what age and a fractured nose, maybe even an diagnosed concussion, would do to you. “That was great - you did awesome, kiddo.” She helped him take off his gloves so he could put his hand on the top of her head and rub her hair, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m proud of ya.” His words caused her to smile, which he loved to see, but he could also see the guilt and sadness in her eyes. He’d have to treat her to ice cream later to make her feel better. 

“Do me a favor and go get me some ice, okay? Don’t worry, I’m fine - go on.” He gently nudged her jaw with his knuckles before she rushed out of the ring and towards the locker room of the gym. As soon a she was out of sight, Shane had to lay back down, the pounding in his head stinging like a bitch.  “Yep,” he groaned, one hand pinching his nose to stop the bleeding while the other held his forehead.

“Just like her mama.”

[aeyemenethes-blog]

Lathbora viran Ch. 13

Here is the next installment. It can also be found on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10213937/chapters/24891768

Curls of ink and emerald wrapped my spirit up in a calming shell. As I sat cross-legged at the edge of the Fade where my friend once lived, I focused on centering myself. All around the spirits and Fade beings glided by me without a passing glance, and I barely took notice of their movement. Opening my eyes I stared at the spot again and traced the spirals of energy dancing happily.

Ellana’s hand slides behind my neck and pulls my head toward her…and those kissable lips…

I shook my head to banish the memory. This was hardly the time to think of her when I was mourning a dear friend. The strand of energy pulsed a bright green, then blue as if making words to string into conversation. It was young and beat in an excited tempo as a new creature exploring its world.

“…felt the whole world change?”

“A figure of speech.”

“I’m aware of the metaphor. I’m more interested in felt.”

“You change…everything.”

“Sweet talker.”

I blinked my eyes rapidly, bringing the Fade back into my vision. Every pore, every single strand of hair on the back of my arms and neck, rose stiff and high. Even staring at the energy, I thought I saw it split into two shapes, forming two elves that danced around each other. My eyes followed the shapes interweaving around, between, inside each other, and my breath hitched.

Her palm, soft and calloused from years gripping her staff, ran along my cheek as fireflies blinked as stars in the meadow we sat in. At the edge of the forest, and Clan Lavellan, we drank in the other’s presence not caring that, at any moment, we could get caught by one of the clan’s hunters. Her eyes sparkled as sapphires in the firefly light.

“I may also need a favour.”

“You just have to ask.”

The Fade Haven swirled in a circle through my vision as I locked onto those perfect, full lips. Ellana was closing her eyes now, and leaning toward me.

“Alright. Let’s go get your friend.”

“Thank you!”

Ellana flew through the smoke and ash of mage fire and melee fighting. Every strike with her staff hit in a precise dance, meeting its careful mark on the demons hide. Overhead the sharp, green brilliance of the Breach blocked out the natural light from the moon. The putrid stench of the dead and dying smothered the air, and yet, my eyes wouldn’t leave the lithe form of the elven mage hell bent to close the large rift.

I stopped short, my jaw fell open slack and my eyes quivered at the sight of my friend chained and bound by bolts of lightning. Six spires made of stone tore as claws through the sky and, every few seconds, waves of electricity crackled up and down their lengths, and my friend would grunt in pain.

“Inquisitor! Please!”

Her arms wrapped around my neck and mine found her waist, pulling her in and allowing our lips to meet. Our jaws worked, tongues sucked greedy for just another taste. The blood in my veins sang, melting against her warm body.

Memories flooded one after another all working, out of order, toward an inevitable climax. In the beginning they were fresh and crisp, but they slowly melded into a series of deep emotions and vibrant colours until I was breathless at their revelation. When they ended, I relaxed back and noticed that the tiny energy also calmed.

A ghost of a smile flickered upon my lips and I stood up, giving a slight bow of my head toward the swirling energy. “Ma serannas, Lethallin. You are very right.”

It pulsed its reply and I allowed myself to wake up.

. . .

 Skyhold’s impressive gates opened without hesitation for me and, as I entered the fortress, I noticed Ellana descending down its stone steps. As if fate intervened. Her eyes fell upon me, and a smile lit her exquisite face. Her delicate calf muscles bunched, giving a spring to her step as she rushed to greet me.

“Inquisitor.” I greeted trying to put the thoughts and memories behind me.

“How are you, Solas?”

My heart skipped hearing the melody of her voice as she spoke.

“It hurts. It always does, but I will survive.” I could hear the cracking in my tone.

Her face fell, and sorrow laced her eyes as she stared at me. “Thank you for coming back.”

A tingling sensation sparked along my lip and fingertips thinking about what we’ve been through already. “You were a true friend. You did everything you could to help. I could hardly abandon you now.”

“Where did you go?” Ellana asked in a genuine tone.

“I found a quiet spot and went to sleep. I visited the place in the Fade where my friend used to be.” I relived a lifetime with you…us. “It’s empty, but there are stirrings of energy in the Void. Someday something new may grow there.”

Curiosity reflected from her eyes, but there was slight hesitation when she asked her next question. “What happens when a spirit dies?”

Our ethereal forms cease to exist in a sense… “It isn’t the same as for mortals. The energy of spirits returns to the Fade. If the idea giving the spirit form is strong, or if the memory has shaped other spirits, it may someday rise again."

“You’re saying your friend might come back?” There was a gentle hope in her tone that sought to calm my pain, and I appreciated her attempt.

“No, not really. A spirit’s natural state is peaceful semi-existence. It is rare to be able to reflect reality. Something similar may reform one day, but it might have a different personality. It would likely not remember me. It would not be the friend I knew.”

I watched as her fingers twitched at her side as if seeking to touch me. Part of me wished she did, but I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate given what happened. I didn’t trust that I could pull away if she did, and kissing in Skyhold’s courtyard wouldn’t be a wise idea. No doubt it would set tongues wagging and Varric to start another book, if he hadn’t done so about the Inquisition already.

“The next time you have to mourn, you don’t need to be alone.”

How I wish it was that easy, Lethallan…that I could abandon myself in your presence without consequence.

I lowered my head. “It’s been so long since I could trust someone.”

“I know.”

Lifting my head, I stared at her, a little taken aback by her agreeing with me so readily. “I’ll work on it. And thank you.”

“Inquisitor!”

We both looked across the courtyard to see Commander Cullen bounding over with some parchments in his hand. As she turned her full attention toward him, I ducked out of their way and toward the tavern. Perhaps another drink or maybe just the company of loud voices to distract my careless thoughts; I don’t know exactly what drove me to the bar or up the stairs.

“I am sorry your friend died, Solas.”

I stopped short seeing the young, blonde haired assassin sitting on the railing of the second floor in the tavern with his feet dangling off. His light blue eyes were clouded as they fell upon my form. Before I knew what I was doing, I had climbed the stairs to stand next to the boy. His sorrow was heavy.

“Thank you, Cole.” I said hearing the thread tone in my voice return.

It was as if hearing this spirit of compassion speak, created a raw cavern inside. Maybe because he reminded me of the friend I lost.

“I didn’t know there were spirits of wisdom.” Cole remarked, kicking his feet in the air and gazing at them as he did so.

Leaning forward I braced my forearms on the railing and watched the patrons laughing, singing off key with the bar, and otherwise engaged in their everyday lives. It felt good being a spectator to their revelry and the boy’s energy washed over me warm and inviting.

“There are few. Spirits form as a reflection of this world and its passions. We will never lack for the spirits of rage, or hunger, or desire. The world gives them plenty to mirror. The gentler spirits are far more rare. We can ill afford the loss of even one spirit of wisdom, or faith…or compassion.”

I directed the last to Cole specifically. Whether the boy knew his intrinsic value to this world was of great importance to myself. We couldn’t afford to lose him to this world.

Cole remained silent for a few heartbeats, and I barely picked up the steady rise and fall of his breathing. For a moment, his eyes glazed over staring at the candlelight radiating from the chandelier. Maybe he didn’t think much of his vital part in the fabric of this world, or maybe he just didn’t feel worthy of it. The deep seated sorrow from him made me think that something really did try to destroy him long ago.

“I will try not to die.” He spoke in a soft voice, almost a whisper, and it created a smile on my face.

“Do that, please.” I answered with sincerity.

He gave me and faint smile before fading and leaving me alone with my dark thoughts.

You can’t afford to be alone, Solas…

I know.

But the more I stood there, watching the bustle of people down below, the more I felt claustrophobic. Many of the rowdy were mages, human mages, and I gritted my teeth remembering the cowering mages who destroyed my friend. Mana bled to the surface of my fingertips and I itched to lash out at the mages. Any mage could do what those humans did to another spirit or even Cole. Vivienne already expressed her hatred for the boy’s presence. She didn’t understand.

None of them did.

I forced myself from where I stood and took the steps down two are a time until they led me to the barkeep. Ordering a few bottles of the strongest the dwarf had brewed that night, I retreated back to my room.

The familiar scent of paint, copper and earth wafted up in a welcomed greeting and, sighing, I relaxed into my high-backed chair. Uncorking the first bottle, I worked to rid myself of all my nightmares.

 . . .

 “Bright and brilliant, he wanders the ways, walking unwaking, searching for wisdom…”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and shot an annoyed glance at the blonde assassin who entered my room with his arms crossed.

“I do not need you to do that, Cole.”

Don’t root through my mind, please!

Cole looked up and cocked his head at an angle toward me. “Your friend wanted you to be happy, even though she knew you wouldn’t be.”

Setting down the second half-empty bottle, I sighed, knowing that the spirit boy just wanted to help and didn’t think he was causing any harm. “Could you…if you would remember her, could you do it as I would?”

Not my thoughts…do not voice my feelings!

The tone in Cole’s voice dropped as he recited the next words as a person might a play. “He comes to me as though the Fade were just another wooded path to walk without a care in search of wisdom.”

I closed my eyes relishing in the imagery the boy’s soft tone yielded.

“We share the ancient mysteries, the feelings lost, forgotten dreams, unseen for ages, now beheld in wonder. In his own way, he knew wisdom, as no man or spirit had before.”

As his voice faded, I slowly opened my eyes, catching the Inquisitor leaning against the doorway, watching the both of us.

“Thank you.” I said as much to Cole as I did to Ellana.

“That was lovely, Cole.”

The young man turned and nodded toward the raven-haired elf, then to me, before he swept out of my room without a word. I stood up and walked out from behind my desk just as Ellana stepped into the rotunda’s center.

“Inquisitor. I was…” Just thinking about you… “Do you have a moment?”

She raised a curious brow and her nose scrunched in that cute way that stole my breath from my lungs. “Of course.”

Gesturing, I led her up to the tower where her bedroom resided, once it was my room, but that was many lifetimes ago. My eyes swept over the plush green and red carpet over a polished wooden flooring. The old stained glass of halla and wolves in the window panes were replaced with the steady rise of forest and herd animals that symbolized the modern day Dalish. Though similar, there were still distinct differences but it lightened my heart that the Inquisitor still honoured her clan.

A stylish white leather sofa pressed up against the wooden railing opposite of the intricately carved desk piled high with requisition forms and tomes, next to the fireplace, now smoldering with the cooling remnants of a fire. Then my eyes fell on the gold and scarlet bed, large enough for two, possibly three inhabitants to lay down with curtains gathered on the bedposts ready to be freed for needed privacy. I blushed as my thoughts began working away from the chaste questions I intended.

Immediately I broke for the marble balcony where there was fresh air and not as much blatant temptation. I heard the whisper of footsteps as the Inquisitor followed me.

“What were you like before the Anchor?” I asked, turning to address her.

Though I knew the answer from my own experiences, I needed to hear how she thought of herself. Before I left Clan Levallan, I burned my residual from her mind, because I couldn’t bare lying to her. Even now, I felt the press of the danger Ellana threatened to bring if I pursued this, but I wasn’t sure if I could bring myself to make her forget…again.

At my question, Ellana looked at the palm which held the Anchor. Such intensity and fear rivalled for dominance in her eyes, but she glanced back up at me before either motion won.

“Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, you…spirit?” Your feelings toward me?

I let that thought go unvoiced.

A gentle smile tugged up her lips. “If it had, do you really think I’d have noticed?”

Has it corrupted you…?

“No. That’s an excellent point.” I found myself admitting.

Her eyes sparkled, “Why do you ask?”

Because it’s my orb. I’m Fen’Harel. The Dread Wolf. Because I’m the reason behind the Breach, and Corypheus’ rise to power and –

“You show a wisdom I have not seen since…” My friend, General Aly’xin, led the Elvhen out of this place when I brought down the Veil. Since myself and the Evanuris won the war against – “Since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade.”

I kept my eyes to the ground for fear she might see the truth I eluded for a fraction of a second before lifting my gaze to search hers. “You are not what I expected.”

But everything I find myself needing.

Ellana chuckled and tilted her head. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s not disappointing, it’s…” I sighed. I didn’t want to upset her, but I was never good and voicing my raw feeling. “Most people are predictable. You have shown subtlety in your actions, a wisdom that goes against everything I expected. If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours…have I misjudged them?”

For a moment, Ellana held her tongue and I knew she tried to think of what answer to give. Then that smile returned. “I don’t hold the Dalish up as perfect, but we have something worth honouring. A memory of the ancient ways.”

“Perhaps that is it.” I nodded in agreement. “I suppose it must be. Most people act with so little understanding of the world. But not you.”

“So what does this mean, Solas?”

Heat rushed up to colour my cheeks as I voiced the answer internally as immediately as I did aloud. “It means I have not forgotten the kiss.”

Ellana took steps to close the distance between us and I noticed the pink painting along her cheeks too. “Good.”

As she neared, she clasped her hands behind her back and leaned into me. I could feel the heat rising from her breasts and the smell of perfume and femininity hit hard enough to stiffen my cock. I sucked in a deep breath and shook my head. I couldn’t breathe.

This isn’t right.

I turned to leave. I said my peace to her, didn’t I? If I stayed much longer –

Pressure clamped down on my elbow and she stopped me from leaving.

“Don’t go.”

That silky voice wracked my body with delicious shivers that practically paralyzed me. I shook my head, trying to figure out the right course of action. Here this woman begged for my attention, and she was so different from the others before.

“It would be kinder in the long run.” Just as I was able to do so when I left her clan. But… “But losing you would…”

Our lip met and I snaked my arms about her waist, crushing her body to mine. She stiffened for a second before melting into me, her hands grazing my hips. I thrust my erection against the inside of her hip, growling at the agonizing friction it gave. A deep moan erupted from the hollow of her throat and she parted her teeth to allow my tongue inside.

The kiss brought back all the blissful nights we stole away from her clan for just the two of us. Lovers getting to know one another. Except now, Ellana knew my name, and I hadn’t lied to her.

Ellana gasped and trailed her fingertips down my broad shoulders, then my back, and I felt as if the heat from her skin would burn wounds into me. She tasted of honeyed-tea and so much better in reality than traveling in the Fade.

As she found my leather belt, Ellana pulled the tunic through and traced along the skin she revealed. I gasped, my hips jerking into her clothed thigh. I felt the metal buckle click and my belt loosened. My growl grew long and low and I laced my fingers into her dark curls, pulled her hair free from the bun she regularly kept it in. Silken tresses tumbled down over my fingers and I wrapped the strands in my hand. With the hair free, a bloom of perfumed soap found its way to my flared nostrils. I moaned.

If you continue Solas, you two won’t part til dawn.

Wolf’s cold voice shocked me like a bucket of ice water emptied on my back. My spine went as rigid as my cock and I broke the kiss. Ellana’s eyes opened up and I stared at her lips, swollen and glistening from our kiss. I wanted to stay. To make love to her.

But…I wasn’t ready.

“Ar lath ma, Vhenan.” I whispered instead, and tore from her grasp before she could pull in for more.

Fenedhis! Fenedhis! Fenedhis lasa!

Right now wasn’t the best of times. I needed air. I needed to think!

My eyes settled back on her bed and my cock twitched in protest. Biting my tongue, I hastened my speed to get the hell out of there.

[1inawesomewonder]

From Sullivan Arena in Goffstown, NH – January 30, 2019:

Sometimes in hockey, the uptempo skating and pace of one team make the other team look less effective, or if nothing else, makes them look sluggish. Then again, that’s why you have to compete for all three periods or more. Goffstown battled back, tied the game late in the third, and won the game in overtime, 3-2.

Here is a clip (Courtesy of GTV Sports) of the game-winning goal. Or what should have been the game-winning goal, but for reasons that have been bewildering, to say the least, another call this season that was blatantly missed. This was a beautiful play that culminated in Colin Burke slamming the puck into the open side of the net.

Anyways, when the game started, after a recording of one of my all-time favorite National Anthem performances (Wayne Messmer 1991 NHL All-Star Game at the old Chicago Stadium) while troops were over attending to Desert Storm, I was ready to go. It turns out that I wasn’t alone. Kingswood showed their team skating ability right from the start, as did the Grizzlies. The first period wasn’t much to watch as far as whistles, or scoring was concerned. Well, Joey Vetanze made a pair of brilliant saves in quick succession on Griffin Cook and Sebastian Beal respectively from right out front in the second half of the period. Actually, several of us thought that the game was marred with penalties early on but not a single one was called. As a matter of fact, the entire 15-minute period was played in just over 18 minutes of elapsed time which included all stoppages, faceoffs, line changes, etc. That’s actually hard to do, but nothing was being called and both teams went up and down the ice. Kingswood outshot the Grizzlies 7-6 in the period. At times it seemed as though there may have been more shots on goal per team than completed passes because not much seemed to click.

Jacob Noonan meanders into the slot area looking for a chance to shoot. (Photo by Charron)

Luke Chase gets after Kolbe Maganzini and the puck at Sullivan Arena. (Photo by Charron)

Grady uses some of his Sumo Wrestling footwork to elevate his game. (Photo by Charron)

Okay, pick an opening to shoot at, all in a fraction of a second while all parts are moving. (Photo by Charron)

In the second period, it was quite different from the start. Eric DesRuisseaux playing on defense made a potentially dangerous turnover, but partner Colin Burke helped him out with a great poke check to break up the play just 59 seconds into the period. Then a slashing call and hooking call was whistled back-to-back on the Knights from Kingswood. Goffstown was unable to capitalize on either powerplay opportunity despite some really good chances. Sebastian Beal took a roughing penalty but the Grizzlies held. Then it was Vetanze again, this time robbing Griffin Cook on a point-blank redirection that appeared to hit the knob of the goalie’s stick and fall harmlessly away. Kyle LaSella, not to be outdone, made an absolutely sensational save on Sam Danais who had broken in behind the Goffstown defense. Danais, working from right to left, left a soft shot back to his right, where LaSella made a brilliant left toe save while moving to his right. Incredible save! Then finally, a goal. Grady Chretien picked the puck right off of Cole Emerson’s stick behind the net, turned the corner and fired a shot past Vetanze to give Goffstown a 1-0 lead. The score would hold to end the period and both teams had 9 shots on goal in the middle stanza.

Theo Milianes heads up ice in a special colored high-speed lane that only he can use. (Photo by Charron)

Eric DesRuisseaux graciously pauses so the photographer can capture hockey picture number 100,000 of her career. Outstanding achievement! (Photo by Charron)

Colin Burke impressed the judges with his Great Blue Heron of Hockey move. Notice the forearm, stick, and back leg all in a line. Shoulders turned, parallel. Creative and beautiful. (Photo by Charron)

Isaac McGregor ladies and gentlemen. (Photo by Charron)

Goffstown started the final period with a 1-0 lead and when Kingswood took a penalty at 1:12 it looked like the Grizzlies might be able to add to their lead. As it turned out, Sebastian Beal sent a pass behind Grady Chretien which led to Sam Danais using his speed to grab the puck and off to the races. Danais managed to outduel Chretien on a 1-on-1 break and slipped a backhand shot past Kyle LaSella to tie the game at 1:48. Despite the goal against Goffstown, the home town team turned up the pressure and dominated time of possession, shots, and scoring chances for most of the period. Joey Vetanze robbed Chretien more than once with outstanding saves for the senior goaltender, including an acrobatic glove save. Even though the Grizzlies were getting chance after chance, they were still quite careless with the puck. They threw pucks to open spaces and to places where the opponent was waiting to pilfer. Then after winning an offensive zone faceoff, the Knights turned a Goffstown shot into a goal in a matter of seconds. Colby Gamache won the faceoff right back to Griffin Cook. Shot fired but the shot was blocked by Kolbe Maganzini who then hooked, hacked, and held Sebastian Beal while the shot deflected to the corner. After a quick movement of the puck from Nick Potenza and Cody Emerson, Sam Danais had the puck on his stick at his own blue line. He made a quick, accurate pass to Colby Clegg flying through center ice. Brett Lassonde and Jacob Noonan reacted to the speedy Clegg and both converged on the forward. They managed to separate Clegg from the puck on a play that could easily have been called a tripping penalty on the Grizzlies. The puck ended up on the stick of onrushing Cody Emerson who deked, shot, and scored at 10:06 to give the Knights a 2-1 lead.

I am not up on all the rules but there appears to be something wrong with Colby’s hockey stick. (Photo by Charron)

May the flex be with you. (Photo by Charron)

Griffin Cook corners and ice shavings fly. (Photo by Charron)

Eric DesRuisseaux poised to shoot likes he’s competing in the shooting accuracy contest. (Photo by Charron)

Then at 11:35 or so of the period, Sebastian Beal and Colin Burke looked as though they had connected on a game-tying goal as the puck went to the goal line, or over it, or who knows. Based on the call that would come a few minutes later, it’s hard to say. Either way, the puck stayed in play, the play continued. With about 2:30 remaining, Brett Lassonde got caught flat-footed at center ice trying to play the puck out of the air. He missed. The puck landed and Cody Emerson, who was flying up the left wing, grabbed the puck and led the rush. He drew Jacob Noonan wide with his speed and dropped a beautiful aerial backhand pass to Cole Emerson right on the doorstep. Kyle LaSella held the nearside post and made a great left pad save to keep the Grizzlies within a goal. Even after the save, Goffstown turned the puck directly over to Kingswood twice in the following 20 seconds but staved off any further damage. At 13:19 Logan McEvoy slashed Griffin Cook’s stick right out of his hands and the call was too obvious not to be called. The Grizzlies went on the powerplay and pulled LaSella from the net, but first, they used their timeout. After half a minute, Colby Gamache won an offensive zone faceoff to Griffin Cook. Cook made a short pass back to Grady Chretien at the right point, who made a perfect east-west diagonal pass to Colin Burke. Burke, at the left-wing faceoff dot, ripped a wrist shot that banked off of the crossbar, hit the far post, and then the strings. It was the perfect bank shot, to tie the game at 2-2 with 1:11 to play. Powerplay goal, with the goalie pulled, yeah, it was pretty exciting. Kingswood called their timeout. LaSella returned to his place between the pipes, and there were 71 seconds left to decide the outcome in regulation.

Your captain, Sebastian Beal, focused on the puck vs. Kingswood. (Photo by Charron)

Grizzlies bench vs. Kingswood. Some folks may have had a longer day than others (trainer). (Photo by Charron)

Slightly biased maybe, I love the look of the captain’s little brother in the stands as the Grizzlies celebrate Chretien’s OT winner. (Photo by Charron)

All good things must come to an end. Last year one of the C’s left the team, I mean, graduated. So Colby became this year’s C to go with B for Beal, and C for Cook. CBC the sequel has lived up to the hype thus far, with 45 goals and 59 assists between them. (Photo by Charron)

Here again, played out something eerily similar to what had happened just a minute of game-time before. Gamache wins the faceoff to Griffin Cook, drops a pass to the point, and so on. This time the puck goes low to Burke on the left-wing dot, back to Cook at the left point, and over to Brett Lassonde on the right point. Lassonde skates into the right-wing circle and makes a perfect pass through traffic to Burke on the doorstep, and Burke made no mistake, burying the puck into the net with 6.something left on the clock. The referee, on the goal line, but close to the corner, skates toward the net, then blows his whistle and looks at #9 of Kingswood signaling a kicking motion before waving his arms to say no goal. So the goal was not a goal despite that Burke never kicked the puck. And overtime began. As it would turn out, Grady Chretien scored the sudden death, overtime, game-winning goal at 2:27 of the overtime to win it for the Grizzlies. Luke Chase got the lone assist on the play and the Goffstown bench swarmed Chretien on the ice in celebration. What a game! Kingswood executed their game plan nearly perfect. Goffstown’s top line was a -2 on the night, mustered a single assist, and still beat a good team.

In the game, the Grizzlies were not crisp with the puck at all. This, of course, is in part due to the Knights making it difficult to maneuver with ease. The Grizzlies also lost possession of the puck or had to completely reset their offense no less than four times in the game when passes were dropped to one point of the other, that had been vacated by Colin Burke. Burke took numerous walkabouts in the offensive end of the ice which led to some serious disruption, and a mild heart attack or two. However, it is equally, if not more important to note, that Burke has been immense over the last few games for the Grizzlies. In two of the last three games, Beal and Cook have combined for a total of one assist, yet the Grizzlies won both games. Colin Burke has been a huge reason why Goffstown has won those particular games, including 2 goals and 2 assists in the games mentioned. We all know that it will take the entire group contributing in order to finish strong and make any kind of a run in the tournament. As for now though, it was a great overtime win for Goffstown. Next, they get ready for Windham, now a Division I opponent.

NHIAA Hockey: Updated Records: Goffstown (9-2-1) Kingswood (5-6)

Sullivan Arena, Goffstown, NH  January 30, 2019. 7:30 PM Start:

Summary: 

Goals:

Goffstown: 0-1-1-1 = 3 Kingswood: 0-0-2-0 = 2

Shots:

Goffstown: 06-09-19-03 = 37 Kingswood: 07-09-04-02 = 22

Scoring:

1st No scoring

2nd Goffstown at 12:51. Even. Grady Chretien (17) unassisted.

3rd Kingswood at 1:48. SHG. Sam Danais unassisted.

3rd Kingswood at 10:06. Even. Cody Emerson from Colby Clegg and Sam Danais.

3rd Goffstown at 13:49. PPG. Colin Burke (6) from Grady Chretien (4) and Griffin Cook (18).

OT Goffstown at 2:27. Even. Grady Chretien (18) from Luke Chase (4).

Penalties:

Goffstown: 

Sebastian Beal 2:00 Rough

Griffin Cook 2:00 Trip

Kingswood: 

Kolbe Maganzini 2:00 Slash

Bailey Savage 2:00 Hook

Nick Potenza 2:00 Hook

Logan McEvoy 2:00 Slash

Special Teams:

Goffstown Power Play: 1 for 4. Kingswood Power Play: 0 for 2.

Saves: Goffstown: Kyle LaSella 20 of 22. (46:57) Kingswood: Joey Vetanze 34 of 37. (47:27)

Hockey: Goffstown 3 vs. Kingswood 2 (OT) From Sullivan Arena in Goffstown, NH - January 30, 2019: Sometimes in hockey, the uptempo skating and pace of one team make the other team look less effective, or if nothing else, makes them look sluggish.

[rebornbluehaze-blog]

Dream of Awakening - (The First Lord)

Name: Teron Ar

Titles: The First Lord, Warlord Teron, High Lord of Ardora, The Foolish Leader, The Stone King

Age: Unknown

Species: Ardor

Gender: Male

Birthplace: The Steppes

Occupation: Warlord

Distinct Features: Taller than any human and most other species on Kerros, The Ardor are creatures of fire. Flesh of the color of fire, with the heat to melt stone. A body with metal armor that only covered the necessities and etchings that displayed his great triumphs and glorious defeat. He was the first of his kind, the perfect specimen that Father Fire could imagine with his power.

The Story So Far:

Lindor lead his small troop of acolytes through the final tunnel. It was the last one they hadn’t explored in the deeps below the ruins of Teradar and he was tired of running through the dark for a god who only gave him one command with no other follow up in the decades since. Lindor thought he should have given up by now, but what else would he do? Go back to being a beggar? He shook his head and kept slogging on. The tunnels weren’t cramped at least.

The group was trundling down the dark tunnel with his torch being the only source leading the way. Lindor had no idea how long it would keep going. If it was similar to any of his past explorations, then it would stay like that. He looked back and heard more than saw Herod complaining in the back as usual probably with Joran quietly listening. Anora was keeping pace behind just behind himself. After his customary check on their well being Lindor returned to his own thoughts. Lindor could remember what his life was like before he was singled out by the Tortured God. Living simply on the streets of Bapurisan, in the slums of Old Wall Gate with nothing to his name except a few thieving jobs gone wrong. Left with no one he could trust, he stopped doing anything even the Bapuri that monitored the area looked him over after the shooing aways failed. Then suddenly a vision in his head told him to seek out the Stone King. The vision repeated itself over and over and over until he was driven insane and did as it commanded. That was over thirty years ago and all it had done was lead him into a cave at the bottom of the world on and Island full of little black and red demons that hated trespassers. He wished he could go back now that he thought about it. He was brought out of his trance with a hand on the shoulder.

“Hmm?” he questioned.

“Looks like a dead end,” Anora responded, pointing. Lindor followed her finger to a giant wall that blocked their path. The light reflected off the flat surface revealing the black rock that dominated most of the tunnels underneath the old fire city. Lindor walked a bit closer to it. He examined the flat black surface with a feeling of finality settling in that he didn’t expect. This is it then, he thought to himself. He sighed, lowered the torch and stepped a little closer to get his last impression before leaving. Another trail ended.

As he stepped closer, the wall showed more details. They began reacting with the light, drawing it in as smoke through a chimney. Scratches and markings slowly faded into being with the light of his torch dimming. When he was as close as he dared, the light of the torch was little more than a used candle, but the wall glowed with a dim radiance to match the light before. Lindor looked down at his feeble source of comfort and closed his eyes. This really is it.

“Well, what now?” Herod asked, yelling slighting to echo in the chamber. “Do we turn back or what? I’m getting tired, we should head back to camp.”

“We don’t turn back,” Lindor answered, his old voice crackling. He coughed a few times then regained his composure.

“What else then?” Joran asked. “Is this what we’ve been looking for?

Lindor nodded his yes and moved to open what should be the doors to the Chamber of Fire. Anora grabbed his wrinkled wrist and pulled it back a bit. “We don’t know how long this has been here or for what reason,” her warning given in a soft voice, unusual of the well spoken woman. “We should test it first for traps and such.”

“It ain’t no trap,” Herod said. “None of the other ways had false doors and traps. This has to be it. If you won’t open it then I will.” Herod shoved Lindor and Anora back. Anora stumbled and caught Lindor as he started to fall to the ground. Herod placed his hands on the flat shimmering surface and pushed. His hand instantly denigrated, ash flowing to the ground like snow in the winter. The sudden absence of support startled Herod and he lost his balance. He fell toward the door, silent as he still hadn’t recovered from the loss of his hands. His arms and shoulder touched the door turning into ash as quickly as his hands did. The pain finally hit his brain and he screamed. Anora had to cover her ears from the sudden outburst that echoed fiercely in the tunnel. Lindor was frozen with shock watching the man fall to bits before him. Joran ran past them to try and catch Herod before his head touched the door. He didn’t make it. The screaming stopped with a jerking sound. Joran stopped when he saw the newest acolyte’s head disappear into the black door. The body kept its momentum and fell the rest of the way. The body fell until only the bottoms of the shins were left untouch, resting on the floor.

The three stood in silence for a few moments, the last of the echos dying down. Joran moved over to the feet. He scrunched his nose at the foul smell that permeated the tunnel. He kicked the remains off to the side and studied them for a few seconds. He shrugged then and turned to Anora “You did warn us,” he said, his expression controlled, not revealing anything. Anora had recovered and stepped up next to Joran. She looked at the remains as well and offered a small prayer.

 As they stood in silence over their fallen, a sound jolted the floor. They all wobbled on their feet, Joran and Anora holding on to each other for support, Lindor just barely handling himself. They turned back to the wall and watched as it split in half and swung inward, opening up the path to the inside. Lindor didn’t hesitate when he saw his destination. Thirty years of work paying off right at the end of his rope. He walked in almost wide eyes, even if only because of the deep blackness of the room.

The room was only dark for a few moments after Lindor walked in. A fire along the walls ignited to light up the large chamber. Pillars of gleaming metal held up the ceiling. A torn, burnt carpet lead his eyes down the center path that ended with a dias that presented two thrones. One large and ornate, occupied by a statue. The second throne was a smaller one with as much detail as the first, but empty with the top of the backrest cut at an angle, the top resting on the floor beside it. The chamber  was mostly empty with no tapestries hanging on the walls, no tables on the floor, no chairs to sit. Only the fire that lit the walls and pulsed from the pillars gave depth to the vacant auditorium. 

Lindor walked to the center dais to examine the statue that was his long sought goal. The six wide steps gave ample space for someone to lay down on before the next step up. The hard red stone that made up the floor and the steps reflected the light as a perfect mirror, almost slippery to the touch. He stopped at the first one to take in his moment of triumph. His long awaited achievement finally come to an end. His god would surely reward him for his dedication to the task. The possibilities ran through Lindor’s head until he saw the glowing start to flow into the statue.

Anora and Joran stepped up beside Lindor and watched as the fire crawled its way into the stone. The lines flowed like veins up to arms of the king that then jaggedly shot through the body to where a human’s heart would lay. It gathered there, pulsing faster with every breath Lindor took. The light it gave off changed from a dull red to white hot and the heat almost drove the three back, but Lindor refused to move, giving strength to his followers. Time seemed to slow down as Lindor watched the statue come to life. He felt that he knew what would happen, even if he never thought about it. It was right that the Stone King returned, just as the old tales said. Lindor knew he was meant for that moment and tears rose in his eyes as the stone started to shatter and break away.

The fingers where the first to released from their ancient shackles. Red fingers with steel-like metal casings around them but for the joints. They flexed when the stone loosened, allowing it to collapse with the movement. They balled into a fist and jerked up, pulling the arms free with a crack like a boulder shattering. Silver metal still encased the limb in the same fashion of the hands, but fire-etched lines detailed the forearms and biceps. The freed arms gripped the armrests of the stone throne and the body lifted as if a blanket were the only thing to hold down the ancient king. The rock fell away and a heat filled the room as though a brick furnace had been opened. The Stone King’s head was engulfed in flames that were captured by his metal horn crown. His broad chest was decorated with a metal chest-plate that detailed a large creature standing over a circle. The details grew smaller and more intricate as Lindor stared following the glowing lights that carved the scene. His legs were covered as the rest of his body, but his feet remained bare.

The King looked up and around until his gaze settled on the throne next to his. The fire that was his hair changed from its dark flowing red to an intense white. He said something in a language that none of the three could understand. It sounded as an inferno with a deep rumble that shook Lindor to his very soul. Lindor took a step back. The sound of his foot scrapping the floor reached the king and he turned to look upon the three humans that stood in his chamber. He said something again in that same language, but no one answered. Lindor stepped forward, presenting himself as the leader and tried to speak, but his mouth had run dry from the heat. Only empty gasps came from the frail old man.

The king watched Lindor struggle then walked towards the group. As he took a each step, the heat abated until the king stood on the last step, less than three paces away. He was a giant comapared to the three standing in awe of his awakening. Half again as tall as a man, his slender frame exuded power and strength with every line and crease of his muscles. The king held up a hand to stop Lindor from his failing attempts at communication and beckoned Joran forward with a hand. Joran hesitated and looked at Lindor for guidance. A flame erupted to the side of the chamber, startling all three. Joran looked back at the king, nothing given away by the large creature. Joran slowly stepped up and almost climbed the first step. A massive red hand rested on his head to stop him and a voice rumbled through his mind. Joran made eye contact with the King for a moment then he stopped. Even his breathing.

Lindor watched as his young friend stepped up, fearing what he did not know would happen. For that moment, nothing seemed to transpire, until Joran looked up to the red face and the glowing orange eyes. They locked gazes for a few second, then an explosion of hot ash filled Lindor’s eyes. They burnt and melted the skin it touched, but only for a heartbeat. Lindor and Anora screamed their pain and fell to their knees, their hands franticly trying to brush off the hot ash. A voice as deep as the ground filled the room once again.

“I would ask again who you are, but that man has given me those answers that I need. As a courtesy for me taking the life of two of your companions, I will let you answer another question he could not. Where is your Tortured God?”

Lindor struggled to regain his composure through the pain, but he slowly rose. He rested a hand on Anora’s arm, trying to calm her as well as give himself support. His eyes were watery, but he blinked them clear enough to make out the figure before him. The king’s face still an unknowable mask.  “I don’t know,” Lindor coughed, the pain still not entirely gone. “I was only told to find you and here I am.”

The king’s expression gave away nothing in the silence between his response. “Joran knew nothing of your single man cult until you found him and offered him a purpose. He was very suspicious of your motives up until that fool fell onto my door. Now you affirm his greatest fear that even you didn’t know what you were doing.” The king bent over slightly, looming over Lindor. “Would you like to know what Joran would say to you in this moment, Old Man?”

Lindor opened his mouth to give asnwer, but yet again nothing came out. instead another voice left his open maw. A high reedy voice that sounded as though it scrapped through ice to reach them. “Would you drop the theatrics Teron? You always were too dramatic for your own good.”

The king lunged forward and lifted Lindor from the ground by his neck. Anora couldn’t follow the movement and only recoiled when the heat from the king hit her. Lindor struggled off the ground, his feet wildly flailing and his hands reaching for his throat. He couldn’t make a sound.

A figure coalesced behind Lindor and Anora in a cloud of black and deep blue streaks. The figure was dressed in a long grey robe with a hood that shadowed his face. Holes and tears spotted the cloth in various places, showing wrinkled and torn blue flesh that looked rotted. “You still don’t know how to control your anger. After these long years of just sitting, you would think someone would gain a sense of how to accomplish that?” Teron dropped his prey and threw a wall of fire at the figure. The wall engulfed it, but nothing happened as the fire dispersed and the figure still stood. “It’s a shame really. I was hoping that you would have mellowed out some. That would make this much easier.”

“Why are you still here?” The king demanded. “Kayalah promised Father that you would be punished for the the remainder of days. Did that watery hag changed her mind after a few years as he usually does?”

“As you will be happy to know,” the figure said with a slight whimsy to his tone. “She didn’t. In fact I am still there right now. The pain is unbearable, so I decided to take a small trip through this poor mortal’s body. His mind is a dreadfully boring place, I should have gone with Joran or little Anora here.” His arm gesturing to woman frozen in place. Lindor had stopped struggling, his breath catching up to him. “Things have changed a great deal while you have been resting Teron. A new way of life has risen up in place of our old ways. I am more powerful now than you ever were against Goral and his legions. I just wanted you to know that before I washed you away like the rest of the dirt Kerros has allowed to live. If you don’t like that,” the figure disappeard then reappeared in front of Teron, “then come find me.” The figure left.

Teron stood where he was, unmoving, even when Anora and Lindor started towards the exit. They were almost out when they black doors slammed shut. Anora sobbed her terror with Lindor’s arm around her shoulders. “I gained much information from Joran. He was very gracious in giving it to me, but he did not hold all the answers I need.” Footsteps crept up behind Anora and she couldn’t hold back the tears. She didn’t turn around, her fear freezing her in place. She slowly dropped to her knees and Lindor sat down next to her. Lindor again rested a hand on her shoulder, this time purely for her. He turned to face her. Her once perfect skin was marred with red welts and burn marks. Tears streaked her face with channels through the ash and grime. She silently sobbed and held her eyes forward, not meeting his. Lindor felt the familiar heat as a hand touched his head. A voice filled his mind and then it faded away. His final thought before the end was how much this all felt right to him. He smiled then ash filled the air. A scream the last thing he heard.