#especially with the soul scraps blazing on the side there as well

[victorluvsalice]

Welcome back to the Chill Valicer Save, where we have hit Summer Thursday! And, as promised at the end of the last update, the gang spent this day out and about again, this time taking their Van Liddleton Snacks stand out to the OTHER major desert world in this game. How did that go for them? Let's find out –

-->Started the day around 2 AM, with Smiler jamming on their guitar and Victor and Alice snoozing in bed despite being at full energy (because, you know, their awesome bed is awesome). After stealing some sacred candles from Victor’s inventory to put around the séance table in the séance room (one behind each chair – it’s an idea that I came up with while working on the last Chill Valicer Save update here. Doesn't it look fucking awesome? :D), I woke Victor and Alice up and started deciding on tasks for everyone –

Victor of course had to Repairio one of the wind turbines (because at least one is always broken), then Transportalated himself down to Toothy’s pen to feed it once I noticed the cowplant had its cake tongue out. Once that was sorted, it was time for breakfast – leftover banana split waffles, om nom – and a trip to the bathroom! All in his underwear, because for some reason Victor is allergic to dressing himself half the time. XD

Alice had to use the bathroom first, then got sent outside to take out a twisted tendril, clean up various dog poops, and put away Shadow’s chewed-up bird ball (which – she put in the box with Smiler’s herbalism ingredients, for some reason O.o). Hey, her werewolf instincts were demanding she go outside anyway! Alice then got her own waffles out of the greenhouse minifridge (pumpkin spice in her case) – and took them into the bathroom so she could talk to Victor while she ate. *facepalm* Guys, I love that you two are comfortable enough to do that, but – really? At least I made sure Victor remembered to wash his hands mid-conversation!

And Smiler had it easiest – after a quick break to play with Shadow (who had seemed spooked about something and thus needed some cheering up), they just played guitar until they maxed out their Guitar skill! :D So now they are the best at guitar and can play avant-garde songs. We’ll have to figure out what one of those sounds like later. XD

-->With everyone more or less settled into their morning routine, I took a moment to save (under a new save branch – like to do that every so often, just in case), cleared some of the alien fruits out of their inventories (I got just over $11,000 from just the quill fruits! O.O), then made a few purchases – specifically a jewelry-making bench and a nectar-making tub! Because I bought Horse Ranch and Crystal Creations and I’m determined to use activities from them, damn it. XD I had Smiler head out and start smashing up grapes to make grape nectar (they took a few tumbles, but ultimately found the process rewarding enough they developed a Like for it) while Victor and Alice finished up their conversation in the bathroom (because you can't rush things in there). Victor then took a moment to Scruberoo the grill (while I put some nearly-spoiled food that was sitting out there on the back porch in the fridge), then I forced him to put on actual clothes before sending him to go tend his greenhouse. XD Alice ran off to watch a movie while I wasn’t looking, but her attempts at entertainment were stymied by a creepy doll appearing in front of the TV – fortunately, Alice knows very well how to deal with creepy dolls and just kicked it apart. I then had her clean up all the plates around the place (including the one she’d left in the bathroom – sink slots officially have a dark side) –

[meximango]

Day 19 - Taken - Tibby - G

Summary: Tibby leaves home.

Ngl I don’t remember the layout of the Ruby Sea and how she would’ve gotten to the big city organically lmaooo I was too tired to open the game and map it out myself.

I could’ve made this the continuation of the last one so easily, the word was like PERFECT, but alas! Too sleepy to think of how to do what I want to do with that.

So I made this instead. A chance to dip my toe into writing about Tibby! Idk if I'll write her again for the current event, but I'm glad I gave it a shot.

Tibby did not have to survive on the surface for long before she found an abundance of inspiration and resources. 

Sui-no-Sato had been all she’d ever known. Her life there had been safe, simple, free of worry–and it was incredibly boring. She might not have ever mustered the impetus to leave, had the outsider not arrived. 

When an adventurer passed through and shared stories of her travels and grand encounters with the townsfolk, Tibby had been enraptured. She was a very animated miqo’te (she’d never seen one before! A tail covered in fur instead of scales, and two fluffy ears atop her head instead of horns. Truly fascinating.) The adventurer also had a book full of complex equations and geometrical figures, which she used to bring forth elemental creatures to aid her in battle. The beautiful blazing Phoenix, a fearsome visage of Bahamut, the winds of Garuda, Titan’s hold over the earth, and Ifrit’s flames. Yet despite being able to summon such miniature simulacrums of terrifying primals, Tibby’s favorite was the simplest creature, the default carbuncle. So cute! That was the first spark that lit the fire in her soul that wished to leave and travel. She wanted to travel the world so she could see other cute creatures, until she found the one she liked best. Then, she would recreate it in mechanical form. (She’d made a few tiny robots while growing up, but they were simple, so they couldn't do much. Also, they were ugly. Bleh.)

She was too shy to talk to the adventurer one on one, but she did a lot of eavesdropping and watching her as she went about her time in the village. The outside world was full of danger, but adventuring sounded so exciting! Besides, she had a plan for getting around the danger. She’d just blow it up or hide behind the safety of other adventurers. If she could make it all the way to Ishgard, she could get an apprenticeship at Skysteel Manufactoryl to become a machinist, so she could get the big guns–literally. She felt completely prepared to leave her bubble under the sea and go to the surface world as soon as she gathered enough materials. It was a few months after the adventurer left that Tibby felt prepared enough to depart. Her backpack stuffed to the brim, she rented a striped ray to take her to the shores of Onokoro, and from there convinced a porter to take her directly to Kugane. 

She helped at the city’s blacksmith for a while so she could learn more about crafting weapons. She was used to tinkering with whatever was laying around her home village, so she had the building and engineering side down, but she hadn’t been able to do much with it. She was going to need firepower if she was going to be an adventurer and stand a chance against enemies. Either that, or she’d need to learn how to build up her defenses. That was when she split tracks and started to apprentice at the armorer’s shop as well. 

During her downtime, she kept up with her self-taught studies as well, which was easy enough. The amount of scrap to be found up here had her spoiled for choice! Her bosses didn’t need to know when she took bits and bobs here and there, especially the unwanted junk–treasures to her, just as the phrase went. If she also went around the other shops in town, especially the goldsmith, and did the same? Well, nobody ever caught her or cared enough to say anything, so she made a habit of it. If she had been caught, she would have simply explained she was just a poor soul trying to hone her craft! Surely that was a worthy pursuit entitling her to some free crafting components?

Once confident that she could craft defensive and offensive implements equally well, as well as the delicate work involving cogs, springs, and crystals, she sold a bunch of her creations to make enough gil to travel from Othard to Eorzea–specifically, to Ishgard. She was lucky the city let her in, as it apparently had been shut down to outsiders for ages during the Dragonsong War, but they were opening their gates more and more ever since a certain adventurer swept through (she knew there was more than one adventurer on the star, but the descriptions she heard certainly sounded familiar, so she was pretty sure she’d met some major celebrity level of adventurer. How funny, that she came to their secluded, tiny town. Hydaelyn worked in mysterious ways. But also, damn. She should have gotten an autograph when she had the chance!) 

She was reminded of home briefly, but that was ok. She could go back one day to visit, but she was still on a mission. Ishgard was in need of help with reconstructing a district of theirs called the Firmament, so her crafting skills came in handy. She gained the notice of Skysteel Manufactory’s owner, and from there she finally got her wish to learn how to become a machinist. With the help of Stephanivien, she developed a rook autoturret. It was certainly fancier than her previous robotics, but still not very cute… She took it apart and built it up again, and again, and again, each time with slightly improved designs. Eventually, Tibby wanted to modify it into something truly unique. Maybe she’d make it look like a karakul, those were pretty darling. A sheep that shot bullets, what could be better than that?

For now, Tibby was content to learn all she could with Stephanivien, but one day soon enough she knew she’d get the itch to really start adventuring in earnest so she could fulfill her quest of finding the cutest creature out there to have the honor of becoming the visage for an automaton death machine, the queen of all turrets! Then normal citizens could feel safe, knowing monsters stood no chance against the face of something that could pass as a mechanical pet to the undiscerning eye. Maybe even the people in her village would feel safe enough to leave and see the world for themselves…

She wasn’t really sure if what she wanted was ridiculous, why she cared. Would she grow out of it? What would she do when her goals would be reached? How does one even know when they’ve found the right creature? Did she just want to see new things? To prove her innovativeness and become a celebrated inventor?  She may have not been completely sure, but she’d at least try out adventuring. If she hated it, she could go back home. If not, then maybe she could make some friends who could help her discover more about life purposes. She had plenty of time to figure it out.

[cat-alyzing]

How does the afterlife work here?

Aaaa yes I needed this. I’ve just been going through the family tree and needed something else to chew on.

So the afterlife. I have many thoughts about it. It’s very Christian, heaven and hell which I don’t really care for? I mean a cat being thrown to permanent starvation all alone (if before po3 atleast) in a gross constantly changing forest. Especially since we’ve seen how the council can be incredibly swayed and unfair. Also the fact there’s literally no chance at redemption even for the cats who were far more innocent than cats like Mapleshade or Brokenstar. And then cats like Ashfur being barely tried to get into paradise while Squirrelflight almost is sent to the DF. It’s just icky to me and very very unfair I don’t care for it. I can’t completely scrap it though. Plus it can be interesting if tweaked a tad.

Onto ATOT’s afterlife. I’m keeping their starry paradise tho im changing its name, and the DF is staying it’s very changed. But I’m adding another place, the between. Cats who are unable to be properly sentenced or haven’t accepted where they themselves should go will be sent to the between (for canon reference Onestar would’ve gone here to reflect).

The Starlit Plane

Similar to canon Starclan the Starlit is a paradise where the clique cats reside in. While it is a reflection of the biomes below them it is not the same and has sections for each proffered place, riverlands, forests, pines, and valleys. To the left of the paradise is a mountain rage that glitters as if made of solid quartz, snow capping the tops making it shine even more. From the mountain a river slices through and goes down until it creates the pool which the starlit cats use to see into and visit the living world. All cases where the council has to weigh where a cat should go is done around the pool, and if agreed that the cat is to go to the starless they are pushed into the pool.

Spirits are much the same except I’m adding a few of my favorite hc’s into them. All spirits have a central star in their pelt and this will be brighter or darker depending on the cats morality, Firestar would have a blazing white one while Leopardstar would have a very dull almost black star. Leaders who have lost lives but not all of them will have a ghostly version of themselves in the Starlit, though it’s lifeless and just lays near the pool until their last soul is completely used up. Whatever caused a cats death is also reflected in their pelt, a wound filled with stars, sickness reflected by herbs around their throat, old age reflected by the cats silver hair bright to show their age.

The Starless Plane

I am changing the DF a lot. It’s a marshy forest instead, the trees dead, thorns everywhere, water so dark it looks as if it could swallow a cat. There is a sun and moon but both are red and the only light they give of feels like the sharp gaze of something watching them, reminding them of their crimes that lead them here. The forest is always in a winter state and the pool on their side is frozen to block off any stray spirits from escaping their realm.

Similarly to my Starlit cats they also have certain features to mark them as dead, though Starless cats are a lot more monstrous. Those who were sentenced here for bloodshed are permanently stained with the blood of their victims, a sickly reminder of what they did. The wounds or reason for their death is similar as well to their starlit counterparts except it’s always open and oozing. But for a more monstrous take the cats will have unnatural features, horns or plants, hooves, fangs, all as ways to push them even further from their starlit foe. While it’s rarely happened cats who have redeemed themselves will keep some of their monstrous features but any open wounds will stitch up.

The Between and Past

The in between is a idea I really like. It is a a seemingly endless space area of water. Lily pads and aquatic plants dotting the surface shift depending on a cats progress in acceptance, blooming when they do. While a cat can wade through the expanse to think if they sink in they’ll fall into their memories. They can relive their mistakes and past over and over until they finally come to a point where they find peace. The between is entirely chosen by a cat and no cat can be sentenced there. To get to it a cat will sink into the pool like they’d be going to the starless but instead they’d wake up in the between.

A cat who is using the pool to travel to the living plane will be stripped of almost all of their features, as the living cannot see them truly for who they are. While some cats can recognize a cat most do not and will just see these mysterious starry figures in their dreams.

[sirius-archive]

Chaos Theory

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader, Reader x [redacted], Reader x [redacted] ;)

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 3350

A/N: Finally, it’s here. After much planning and many, many drafts, it’s here. I want to state for the record that this is going to be full blown fic, I’ve already got a heap of chapters planned and three have already been written. Also, things are not what they seem. There will be twists and turns and love interests pouring out from the earth because I’m That Bitch. I’m also a sucker for drama. Anyway, enjoy chapter one!!

Chapter One                                                              

Like most complicated things in life, this story starts with a boy, a secret and a smile.

Even in retrospect, they seem like they’ve been scribbled on a scrap piece of paper and blindly plucked from a nice, big bowl of what-else-can-the-universe-thrust-at-me for the sake of twisted arbitrary, but not everything is as it seems, and everything seems ridiculous and inconvenient. But, at the same time, maybe you should have seen this coming. Maybe you should have predicted the shit storm that was going to spin your life into vertigo, like the earth has been tipped off its axis, latitude and longitude slipping and colliding while the corners of the map fade to ash.

It happens, as you would later realize with an impending sense of doom, like this:

In the summer of 1994, you and your friends stumble through the forest, looking for an old boot.

The forest breathes a cool sigh of air against your cheeks as you wander past the trees, eyes glued to the ground for the boot. Every time your mind drifts to the Quidditch World Cup, the excitement begins to bubble up inside your stomach and you can’t fight back the smile that spreads across your face whenever you reflect on the past few days. Staying at the Burrow was always like an improved version of home, but this time, it's different somehow.

Perhaps it’s the freedom of staying somewhere that isn’t your home. Not that your place isn’t comfortable; you don’t think anyone could deem a Victorian mansion with sprawling, manicured lawns ‘uncomfortable’. But it’s starting to feel more like a sad skeleton with marble walls for skin instead of a home, especially with your father always working and your brother, Luke, staying with his Slytherin friends for the summer.

There’s something about the company, too, that makes this moment so special. Being reunited with the Weasley family and being welcomed into their home is always like visiting relatives. And there’s always something to catch up on with Hermione. Then there’s Harry…

You glance at Harry, who is sifting through the leaves beside you. He’s talking about…something…one hand jammed into the pocket of his jeans, the other swinging by his side, and it’s somewhat refreshing to see Harry so relaxed, so undeniably Harry. Warmth thrums through your veins like honey and you can’t help but smile as you regard him fondly in the late morning sun.

It’s been a while since you’ve shared a moment alone with your best friend. Usually, you’re joined by Ron and Hermione, but they’re currently preoccupied with a debate over…whatever they debate over. You can actually hear them bickering; Hermione’s voice tight and shrill and Ron’s sarcastic remarks muffled by the distance between you and them.

With the sound of their bickering in the background, and the warmth of Harry’s presence forming a bubble around you, the urge to chisel ‘I love my friends’ onto every single rib in your ribcage floods you like a wave of sunlight. It’s essentially how you feel when you’re not saving Hogwarts from corrupt teachers and giant basilisk or helping innocent fugitives escape the kiss of a Dementor. And moments like these remind you just how fortunate you are to have found your friends.

Harry’s gentle chuckle brings your wandering thoughts back into the moment as it fades into a gleeful smile.

“You should have seen the look on his face…” Harry smirks, though the context of the conversation is lost to you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now Dudley second guesses himself whenever he tries to bully me. He’s constantly looking over his shoulder because he’s expecting Sirius to jump out and turn him into – I don’t know¬– a dung beetle,” he pauses and then barks a laugh like he’s just remembered something, “Or a pig! Did I tell you about the time Hagrid gave Dudley a pigs tail?”  

“He didn’t…” you gasp, and Harry gives you an exaggerated, shit-eating grin, “Merlin, he actually did!”

“When he first told me that I was a wizard and delivered my letter to me…he used his umbrella and…” Harry mimics pointing an umbrella at a stone and pretends to cast the spell. You playfully punch his shoulder and Harry recoils with a yelp.

“That was for not telling me,” you scold, fighting back the smile that’s tickling the corners of your lips, “I thought we agreed to tell each other stupid stuff that happens to our relatives.”

Harry pouts an apology, “Can I make it up to you?”

“You can,” you smirk, “but are you prepared to pay the price?”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it,” Harry grins.

There is a fleeting moment where the two of you stare at each other in silence, but the moment is broken with a laugh as you both dissolve into hysterical laughter. A good five minutes pass before you cradle your stomach and heave out a sigh, attempting to regain your composure. Once the remainders of your chortles and giggles fade, you notice a strange look crossing Harry’s face as he stares at you.

“What is it?” you ask, breathlessly, wiping away tears.

“(Y/N) I–”

“(Y/N)?” a curious voice asks from somewhere behind you. You swivel around at the sound of your name, lips curling into a smile when you see Cedric Diggory standing behind you.

Your mouth goes a little bit dry.

“Hi Cedric,” you smile as Cedric approaches, and you suddenly feel self-conscious and bashful.

Your eyes travel over him as he draws closer. He’s tall and broad and athletic, bronzed skin and eyes so blue you could drown. His expression is one of pure delight, like stumbling upon you had been the best thing that’s happened since Christmas, and it’s so genuine it almost convinces you that it’s true. And his smile; gracious and gentle and golden–

That smile of his could cure every disease known to man.

“It’s good to see you,” He grins, boyishly, sounding genuinely pleased.

“You too,” you reply, your voice sounding distant like you’ve stepped outside of your own body and your mouth is moving on its own accord.

Cedric gazes at you with a gentle warmth, eyes as blue as a clear, summer sky, drawing you in. And there’s something inviting about his smile like his lips want to reach down and embrace yours in a tender kiss–

Harry clears his throat and it jolts through you like electricity, almost startling you “Oh, Cedric, this is Harry. Harry, this is Cedric–”

“It’s great to finally meet you now that we’re off the Quidditch field, Harry,” Cedric beams, extending his hand.

Harry takes it, “Yeah, you too…”

Cedric turns back to you, the blue in his eyes washing over you like a wave, “How was your summer?”

You put a little too much effort into a smile you hope looks graceful “Oh, um, it was…pleasant.”

“Pleasant?”

“Yeah. Harry and I have been staying with the Weasleys. How’s yours?”

“Pleasant,” He echoes, grinning, and you feel heat tickle apples of your cheeks, “I met this girl at the end of last year and she…she’s really something y’know? I can’t seem to get her off my mind…”

Cedric trails off into a sigh, gazing into your eyes. You’re reminded of a wilted fire lily pressed between the pages of a dozen letters, all of them signed off with a curling ‘C’; long strands of amber butterbeer melting over your tongue; a spring breeze fragranced with wildflowers and the promise of romance; and a smile, soft and reassuring and setting your entire world alight in a fiery blaze of heat and passion.

Harry clears his throat again and it whips both of you back into the present.

“Looking forward to the game?” Cedric asks.

“Definitely,” you grin, excitedly, “This is Harry’s first Quidditch World Cup,”.  

“It is?” Cedric peers around you and smiles at Harry, “You’re going to love it. Especially this game; two teams at the top of their game, competing for the trophy…”

“It’ll be interesting to see who wins,” You remark, pensively, “Penelope will probably want me to write an article about the game for The Howler, no doubt.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing it,” Cedric remarks, “I admire your articles anyway.”

Your heart staggers clumsily around in your chest like someone’s reached down and yanked it up into your throat. Your face is definitely changing colours now; you can feel the heat of a bright red blush burning your cheeks like sunburn.

“Y-You do?”

“Yeah! I genuinely look forward to reading everything you write. They’re interesting and well written. I especially liked the one about the Toad Choir...”  

Your mouth flaps open as you search for words, stumbling over letters and syllables like a bashful child, “Well–uh–I–”

“–Over here, Arthur! Over here, son! I’ve found the Portkey!”

Amos Diggory’s voice split through the still air, the echo rippling through the trees and startling some sparrows.

Relieved by the distraction, you spin on your heel and follow the sound of Mr Diggory’s guffaw’s and Mr Weasley’s voice. Cedric walks on your right side, Harry on your left. It is suddenly unbearably hot like the sun is boring its fiery gaze into your soul. An itch forms on the inside of your wrist as though there was an insect wiggling beneath the thin skin. You claw at it hastily, fingers fumbling with your bracelet in an effort to distract yourself. 

Hermione and Ron join you a few minutes later while Mr Weasley introduces his family to Mr Diggory. As they talk, you can feel Hermione’s eyes moving over you as though she were micro-managing every movement that you make, like you’re pinned beneath a microscope. You turn to her, unsurprised by her expression. She raises her brows expectantly, her eyes darting between you and Cedric.

“Oh,” you bleat, turning to Cedric, “Guys, this is Cedric. Cedric, this is Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.”

Cedric’s lips quirk into a genuine smile, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“You too,” Hermione smiles gracefully.

“Yeah,” Ron agrees. Well, at least they can agree on something.

Mr Diggory makes his way over, clapping a hand on Cedric’s shoulder and regarding you curiously. Cedric introduces you to Mr Diggory and his lips curve into a knowing smirk.

“So you’re the writer my son can’t stop talking about,” Mr Diggory’s remark is followed by a firm handshake, “It’s good to finally meet you in the flesh, (Y/N).”

Cedric’s face flushes an intriguing shade of pink, “Dad…”

Mr Diggory barks a warm, boisterous laugh that rattles your chest, “Don’t worry, son, I don’t think she’s going anyway soon.”

He turns to face you, his benevolent, round face beaming at you, “Cedric showed me an article you wrote about last year’s Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Beautifully written. You’re a real talent, y’know. Though I shouldn’t expect any less, given that your old man is the editor-and-chief of the Daily Prophet.”

Warmth glows beneath your cheeks as you smile bashfully at Mr Diggory, “Well, thank you, sir.”

“Sir,” Mr Diggory echoes, followed by a single laugh that punches the air. He turns to Cedric, whose boyish features ripple between embarrassment and pride, and jabs him in the ribs, “She’s a keeper, Ced.”

Cedric winces, an adorable, pink flush blossoming across his cheeks as he fumbles to change the subject, “Er, Dad, we should probably get moving.”  

“Right you are,” Mr Diggory nods, his gaze searching for Mr Weasley amongst the throng of redheads.

As the conversation moves toward Mr Weasley and – predictably– steers toward Harry, you meet Cedric’s eyes and he offers you a bashful, apologetic smile.

You pray to God, Jesus and Merlin that he can’t hear the tha-thump of your racing heart.

***

Portkeys are, perhaps, the second worst way to travel. The first is through the Floo Network because it’s dusty and dirty but Portkeys are…sudden, and the uncomfortable tug in your stomach only makes you feel dizzy and slightly nauseous.  

Fortunately, you’re not the only one who fell face-first on the ground and consequently got a mouthful of dirt. When your vision finally stops spinning, you notice most of the Weasley family collapsed on the ground. Ron groans beside you as Hermione and Harry scramble to their feet. Mr Weasley, Mr Diggory and Cedric are the only ones standing, the latter of whom looks a little windswept. He bends down and offers you a hand.

“You alright?” he asks, concern pinching his perfectly chiselled face. You nod and bite your lip as he helps your sorry self to your feet.

You dust the dirt from your grass-stained knees and iron out your denim skirt with the palms of your hands, using it as an excuse to tame your pounding heart. Pushing your hair back, you flash Cedric a shy smile, “Thanks.”

“Happy to be of help,” Cedric grins.

“Of course you are…” George snickers from behind Cedric and Fred snorts.

Cedric swivels around and flashes a polite smile, “Pardon?”

The sun’s heat feels concentrated, baking you with the kind of heat that could shrivel a Sunday roast. The itch returns to the inside of your wrist and you nervously scratch at it with newfound intensity. 

“Oh, nothing, your Highness,” Fred mimes an exaggerated bow, “Er, I mean, Cedric.”

“Good ol’ Ced,” George winks, glancing between you and Cedric. 

Fred claps a hand on Cedric’s shoulder, “Ric…can I call you Ric?”

“Well–”

“Anyway,” you interject before this conversation can get any more embarrassing, “We should probably get moving.”

Without even thinking, you take Cedric’s hand and lead him away from the twins, hoping to create as much distance between you and them as possible. You finally come to a stop behind Ginny and Hermione.

“That was….”

“Awkward?” you suggest.

“I was going to say ‘Interesting’, but ‘awkward’ works, too.” Cedric offers you a lazy, boyish smile. 

You realize your fingers are still interlaced with his and you jerk away from him hastily, as though he’s infected with a contagious virus, and anyone else would be offended by it but not Cedric. Instead, he eyes you with an expression that resembles amusement or intrigue or both, but he doesn’t say anything. You kind of want to leap into a barren, boundless void and hibernate in there for a few thousand years.

“So, my dad is going to hang out with his Ministry friends tonight,” Cedric begins, glancing away shyly, “He…erm…says it’s his ‘Quidditch tradition.’”

“So you’re essentially being ditched by your own dad,” you snort, “Nice.”

“Well, here's the thing…if I say I have company then he won’t feel so bad.”

You blink at him, “What are you saying?”

Cedric smiles boyishly, “Well…I’m saying…asking, really….if you’d like to come over and we can sit around a fire and eat s’mores and just chat. I like talking to you instead of having to send an owl all the time.”

You bite your lip and nod, “Okay. So it’ll just be…us?”

“What will ‘just be us?’” Ron sidles up to the two of you, Harry following. Harry’s eyes move between you and Cedric. There is something unreadable in his gaze. 

“Oh, I was just….” Cedric flushes, as though he were internally battling something, before conceding with a somewhat forced smile “Would you guys like to meet up later tonight?”

“Sure,” Ron shrugs, “Anything to get away from them two.” He jabs a thumb at Fred and George.

“Oh we’re coming too!” George chimes, “We don’t know what it is but if it’s going to be fun, we’re there.”

“Otherwise we’ll make it fun.” Fred adds.

You turn to Cedric, who is graciously trying to stave a grimace, “Of course. You guys can come too.”

“Come along then, son.” Mr Diggory waves Cedric over, smiling at the two of you, “We’d better settle in before the game begins.”

The game isn’t for a few hours but Cedric doesn’t argue the point. Instead, he gives you a lingering look and grazes his hand against yours, “I’ll see you later on tonight.”

“See you tonight,” you call after him, grinning from ear to ear.

Later on tonight, you think with a smile. Your mind pulls apart the words and stitches them back together, your heart singing like a dove in your ribcage.

***

Out of the hundreds of wizards and witches gathered on the camping grounds, you just have to run into a familiar, blonde-haired prat, like he’s a rather annoying shadow.

Whether you like it or not, Draco Malfoy is always there, just waiting to claw his hands into whatever is left of your optimism for the day and tear it to shreds. You can’t even go on a walk with your friends without him popping out of a bush or crawling out of some den like a predator. Even if you’re soaring on a high from Cedric’s earlier invitation, Malfoy almost insists on wiggling his way under your skin. He’s an irritation you haven’t learned how to scratch yet.

You nudge Harry in the ribs when you spot the boy, nodding in Malfoy’s direction. Thankfully, it’s just the four of you, and you remember with a sense of relief that Mr Weasley isn’t here. You don’t want a repetition of what happened the last time he encountered a Malfoy, even if he is a miniature one.

But before either of you can react, Malfoy has already spotted you and he’s swaggering over to the four of you with a malicious glint dancing in his cold, blue eyes before you can formulate a plan of escape. 

“I knew I could smell something foul,” Malfoy scorns, crinkling his nose, “You can smell a Weasley from a mile away from the stench that reeks off them. I suppose you all can’t afford to take showers every day since there’s so many of you. Got to save water now, don’t we?”

Draco snickers gleefully as Ron’s fists curl at his sides. His face is flushed crimson with anger as Hermione grips his wrist warningly.

“Malfoy,” Harry spits, his tone cold and venomous, “The only putrid smell around here is you.”

“Please, Potter, don’t play pretend,” Draco sneers, “Just because no one knocked any sense into you doesn’t mean we have to put up with the peasant and the mudblood.”

“You watch your mouth, Malfoy!” Ron snarls, “Before I break it in with my fist.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Draco smirks, challengingly.

“We all know you’re a coward,” Harry snaps, “Your dad isn’t here so you don’t have to prove your worth anything.”

Draco’s expression darkens, “What would you know about fathers, your father is dead.”

Harry moves to lunge at Draco but Hermione pulls him back. You can almost feel the loathing rolling off Harry as his mouth twists into a frown and his eyes light up like emerald flames. You turn to Draco, imploring him with a pleading look.  

“Look, you’re wasting all of our time. We’ve got better things to do…”

Draco sniffs, fixing a glare on you, “You’re lucky you’ve got your pretty, little girlfriend here to protect you, Potter. Next time, I’ll make sure you’re not so fortunate.”

Draco whirls around and leaves before any of you can say another word.

“Good riddance,” Ron spits, his temper simmering, “He always has to ruin everything…”

Hermione rolls her eyes, “Don’t let stuck-up snobs like Malfoy put you down. It’s the World Cup. Forget about it.”

Hermione drags Ron away, charging through the crowd. You’re about to follow her, too, but notice that Harry is rooted to the ground where he stands. You put a hand on his shoulder and rub soothing circles, hoping to release some tension.

“Forget about Malfoy, Harry,” you smile, “Let’s enjoy the moment and look forward to the game…” and spending the night with Cedric your mind whispers as your heart leaps excitedly.

Harry offers you a weary half-smile as you take his hand, tracing comforting circles across the top of his thumb. He’s always been good at deflecting Malfoy’s attacks. But there’s something ominous in the way he stares at you that has you thinking that maybe this isn’t over. 

You don’t bother to bring it up, though, hoping Harry will release it with all his other worries.

Chapter Two will be coming soon! 

[intrepidguardian]

Toot That Horn (12th with 5c Humans)

Well, since I said I would (and I need to get used to typing on my new keyboard), I’m going to talk about my last PPTQ. First, I like to Toot That Horn and talk about how good Militia Bugler is. 

Militia Bugler is the TRUTH. I was a little skeptical of it as a two-of when I first tested it, but it is the answer to the deck’s biggest problem: card advantage. A lot of iterations of the deck tried to clean up that problem by trying to use creature-centric spells (Collected Company), using creatures that have card advantage tacked on (Restoration Angel, Dark Confidant, Bloodbraid Elf), or just try to ignore the problem entirely by ending the game faster (Kessig Malcontents). Militia Bugler solves this problem by having a reasonable body (2/3 with vigilance is entirely reasonable), and offering not just card advantage, but also card *selection*, which is a luxury that creature decks almost never have. For a majority of game 1s, this basically translates into seeing more Reflector Mages, Thalia’s Lieutenants, and Phantasmal Images, which gives the deck a level of consistency it never had before. With Phantasmal Image, the deck already felt like it ran eight copies of its most impactful cards - now Militia Bugler makes it feel like the deck can run almost 12 virtual copies. And the fact that Bugler can grab Phantasmal Image, which can become a Bugler and dig even deeper? Insane. Post-board, it’s all about the silver bullets, all of which can Bugler can recruit. “Two or less power” is a low bar, and it opens up a lot of creatures, especially out of the sideboard.

And the real “hidden power” on the card is how the etb operates: looking at 4 cards, taking one and bottoming the rest. As a three-mana card, if I can cast this, I’m basically set on lands anyway, so even if the etb whiffs, that’s still some mix of lands/Aether Vial that I’m not drawing later in a game, and not drawing 3-4 lands in a row could be the difference between wins and losses. 

Anyway, this is the list I took on Saturday:

// Spells: 4

4 Aether Vial

// Creatures: 37

4 Champion of the Parish 4 Noble Hierarch 4 Thalia’s Lieutenant 4 Meddling Mage  4 Kitesail Freebooter 3 Thalia, Guardian of Thraben 3 Phantasmal Image  4 Mantis Rider 4 Militia Bugler 3 Reflector Mage

// Lands: 19

4 Cavern of Souls  4 Unclaimed Territory 4 Ancient Ziggurat  4 Horizon Canopy  1 Seachrone Coast 1 Plains  1 Island // Sideboard: 15 2 Damping Sphere 2 Dismember 2 Auriok Champion 2 Selfless Spirit  1 Kataki, War’s Wage 2 Izzet Staticaster   2 Reclamation Sage  2 Sin Collector

To make room for the 4 Militia Bugler, we ate the flex slot, then cut a Thalia, a Reflector Mage, and a Phantasmal Image, with the thought that these cards are powerful, but are the most context-dependent, and if we really need them, Militia Bugler should be able to find them.

Match 1: 0-2 vs Green-White Valuetown 

So we didn’t get off to the hottest start. Game one was getting buried under a bunch of Coursers of Kruphix and Voices of Resurgence. Game 2 saw my opponent resolve a Worship, then proceed to Eldritch Evolution a Tireless Tracker to play a Cataclysmic Gearhulk.

Ouch.

Match 2: 2-0 vs Blue-Red Control

I had seen this deck from Pro Tour Rivals of Ixalan, but had never played against it. My opponent tried to turtle up behind a Thing in the Ice in game 1, but Reflector Mage cracked that shell open and cleared a path for the rest of my team. Game 2, we both had slow hands, but he had a Keranos, God of Storms. A topdeck Militia Bugler was able to find a Thalia’s Lieutenant, which both insulated my team from the god and put enough pressure on my opponent to end the game quickly.

Match 3: 2-0 vs Krak-Clan Ironworks

A very experienced opponent with one of the best decks in the format sounds like a tournament-ender, but Militia Bugler really shined here. Game 1 was decided by Kitesail Freebooter and Meddling Mage locking my opponent out of the game. Game 2 I resolved three Buglers which had all found creatures, and my opponent was forced to use an Engineered Explosives on 3, which cleared my board, but also blew up his own Scrap Trawler with nothing to get and his own Ghirapur Aether Grid. My second wave of creatures emptied his hand and eventually beat my opponent. 

Match 4: 0-2 vs Green-Black Elves 

Both games my opponent was able to have active Heritage Druids on turn 2, and my Meddling Mages missed both times. The matchup feels REAL BAD. 

Match 5: 2-0 vs Krak-Clan Ironworks

This went a lot like Match 2, except Kitesail Freebooter kept my opponent from having any real chance.

Match 6: 2-1 vs Red-White Burn

My opponent and I both knew we were unable to claw into top 8, but would still have some prize money to fight over, so we played it out. Game 1 my opponent kept a one-lander and got locked under a Thalia, Guardian of Thraben. Game 2 my opponent burnt away most of my creatures and cleared a path for two Goblin Guides. Game 3 my opponent admitted to keeping a mediocre hand that an Ensnaring Bridge, with the intent of staying under it until he drew enough burn spells to burn me out. I had not sided in my Reclamation Sages, so I only had one chance - I needed to draw enough Meddling Mages to strand cards he couldn’t cast in his hand, then chip away with whatever creature could fit under the bridge and get boosted by Noble Hierarchs. We jockeyed for board position and I eventually had two Auriok Champions going alongside three Meddling Mage and two Noble Hierarches. My opponent showed me two Searing Blazes stuck in his hand and conceded. 

So I ended up getting 12th. In my opinion, that was a good result for me considering how little Modern I play these days. But, it is Modern season, so if I wanna compete, I gotta play this format. I’ve got another tournament this coming Saturday, and I’ll probably bring something like this: 

// Spells: 4

4 Aether Vial

// Creatures: 37

4 Champion of the Parish 4 Noble Hierarch 4 Thalia’s Lieutenant 4 Meddling Mage 4 Kitesail Freebooter 3 Thalia, Guardian of Thraben 4 Phantasmal Image 4 Mantis Rider 3 Militia Bugler 3 Reflector Mage

// Lands: 19

4 Cavern of Souls 4 Unclaimed Territory 4 Ancient Ziggurat 4 Horizon Canopy 1 Seachrone Coast 1 Plains 1 Island // Sideboard: 15 2 Damping Sphere 2 Auriok Champion 2 Selfless Spirit 1 Kataki, War’s Wage 2 Izzet Staticaster   2 Reclamation Sage 2 Sin Collector 1 Militia Bugler  1 Riders of Gavony 

Now, I still love The Bugler, but I do recognize that it can be a clunky card a times, so we shipped one to the sideboard for matchups where I expect to need the card advantage (Mardu Pyromancer, various control decks). And since Humans seems to be getting more popular, the ol’ mirror breaker is probably pretty good. 

I’ll probably do another tournament report next week (unless I get totally smashed), but until then, happy spell slinging!

[silverfall-patriarch]

A Commander’s Vigil

What remains of my General burns bright in the courtyard of Castle Kiden yet the world is darker for the betrayal and injustice seen this day. I knew all along the pain of this loss would be excruciating and that this watch kept until her body burned to ash would be a hellish landscape to endure. I’m watching the muscles and lean lines of her body melt and crackle when not but yesterday my hands were on them as she whispered my name. The dark strands of her hair have already disappeared, but I can still feel the way they slipped through my fingers while she slept. This torture is unrelenting, but I do not look away.

I will watch as every scrap of her body burns to ash. I will stand for these endless, soul wrenching hours as the shell of one more is taken from me. I will endure this sorrow and crushing weight against my chest, because no matter if it was ever said or not, I loved her. That is enough for me to stand with the strength of the Praetorium at my back and see this through to the very last cinder dims to nothing.

Thankfully, Addie knows this as I see her cross the courtyard in her black and gold armor and take up a position at my side. It’s a breach of protocol given her rank, but not one person would say a word about it. Nor when she moved to wrap her arms around my waist and spoke in whispered words only we could hear.

“Tell me something good, Papa…” Those words bring back so many memories as she relies on an old game we used to play when her training would become especially grueling. Among all her frustrations and anxiety, I’d request the same of her, and refocus her mind to the positive, and now she used those tactics against me.

“I’m not so sure the-“ My words are cut off as she lifts a hand and covers my mouth in order to stop the negative train of my thoughts. I don’t even try to argue, as I know she’s a hundred times more stubborn than her old man. “Something good…the…world will no longer suffer the incompetence of the hangman?” My offering is grim to say the least, but it quirks her lips in a small amused look.

“I’ll make sure to send your regards to Lycan…” Addie whispers to me, as I pull my eyes from the pyre to look down at her. I hate that she has to be so strong for me, but I can’t help but be proud of her. Her attention snaps across the courtyard where Lord Kiden is only now beginning to mourn his fallen sister. The worry is so evident in her face, forcing the gold threads of her eyes to flash in color.

“He needs you.” “You need me, Papa…” It’s not something I can deny as I pull her closer and lay my cheek against the top of her head. “Tell -me- something good, Pixie..” I whisper, knowing we both need a distraction from our pain. “Raelin’s got it in his head that Light’s Hope isn’t good enough for the General, says he’s moving the celebration to Icecrown…the Baron’s already got jousting on the mind, and –“ “…why is that a good thing?” “Means you won’t be alone… in Eversong… like you always are after something like this…”

My daughter knows I want to bury myself in the swing of a hammer and the production of something tangible. I, however, know the look on her face that clearly states she wouldn’t be taking no for an answer. It goes unspoken, but Addie won’t be joining me, or us…and that gives her far too much worry. We both know she will not be there, and making sure I am looked after will bring her peace. How could I deny her that small thing, when I know it pains her heart to see me in such a state of despair? I can’t.

Bowing my head in resignation, I can see the tension leave Addie’s shoulders as she breathes out, casting her eyes back to the grief stricken Priest across the courtyard. It’d hard to see her hurt like this, as it is in a father’s nature to seek protection for his children, but even I can see it is built in the foundation of love she has for him. Lord Kiden and I may not see eye to eye on a great many things, but I can’t deny him and his Guardian will take care of my Addie…or that they feel the same way for her. Which, for now… is the only peace I can find.  

“Papa…” Her small hand reaches to brush away the tears that had started down my cheeks yet again. “…you were made better for having loved her, and she you….but we cannot dwell in the shadows that are left behind by her loss. She…would not have wished it… not when her sacrifice was so valiantly made.”

“Where did you learn such wisdom?” “…it is what you told me when I stood vigil over Vinnie’s pyre.”

The parallels and pain of this are written all over her face as I brush a bit of her dark hair from her face and nod in understanding of my own words that she offers back to me. “Still holds true…” I manage to croak out, looking back to the fire that still lights the courtyard.

“It does…and it’s the reason you’re going to Icecrown. Not because your heart is breaking, or because you need to find solace in the bottom of a bottle and your hammer on the anvil… but because you, as a knight, as the Commander of the Praetorium, and as someone who loved her dearly… you owe it to her to celebrate the honor and courage she had in life to make real the oath we all take.”

I have to crouch down to gather her up in my arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as she tucks herself in against me. “…and if I happen to unseat the Baron while doing it?”

Tipping her chin upward, the relief she feels at the quip I’ve made is obvious as our lips quirk in the same manner with amusement.  “All the better…”

I follow her gaze once again to Lord Kiden as he clings in his despair to his daughter, as I do mine. The first piece of common ground I can find in the man is our mutual love for the children we have been blessed with, and it reaffirms my decision to have sent Adilynia to him in the first place. I am reminded of my General’s request that I send someone to safeguard the last piece of her heart, and realize I have done just that.

My ultimate sacrifice was never to go down in a blaze of glory or give my life for the knights at my back, though I gladly would do so. It was in sending Adilynia to Nishan.  

“Pixie, I need your help wi-“ “Anything, Papa…” she interrupts, looking up to me with a concerned expression. “I need you to help me keep my promise to Lochlyn.” “I’ll stand right by you during the vig-“

“No…that’s not what I mean…” I begin, offering a faint smile as confusion wrinkles the bridge of her nose. “I need you to go be what she can’t anymore…to protect that last piece of her heart for me, no matter what. Not because your Commander is asking, or even your father…do it because I loved her…and because you love him.” Her somber expression becomes one of understanding as she unwinds her arms from my neck, idly flattening the hem of my tabard in reflex of so many years as a squire. “No matter what…” she echoed in her reverent tone that came with every promise and oath she made. “Love you, Papa…” “And I you…” I press one more kiss to her temple as I release her from my arms and back to Lord Kiden’s care, knowing full well my sacrifice had not been made in vain.

(( @adilynia @teren-k @lochlyn-kiden @ly-canthos @daughterofkiden for mentions!))

[calligraphist-artemisia]

A Kidgemas Story (Eleventh Day)

Summary:  12 mini-fics based on different Disney movies, all revolving around Keith/Pidge. Each day gets a different movie.

Also posted on AO3 and fanfiction.net

Previous - Masterpost

This one got a little long on me, but I don’t think anyone will really mind that.

Eleventh Day of Kidgemas

::Poor Unfortunate Soul::

The loss of the Green Paladin had hit the team and the coalition hard, but no one took it worse than one young member of the Blade of Marmora. Even in the weeks after the others had given up hope of ever finding her, he stubbornly pressed on, convinced that she was out there somewhere, still alive.

“I won't give up on her.”

Shiro rested a hand on Keith's shoulder. “None of us want to believe she's gone either, but it's been nearly a year and we haven't found proof that she's still alive. It's time to let her go.”

“That's what everyone said about you too. It's why I can't give up,” Keith said, turning his attention back to packing his rucksack. “Her family deserves to know the truth, just like I did.”

“Her family is why I'm telling you to call this off. Let them mourn, Keith. Let us mourn. We can't do that if you keep this up!” Shiro told him.

Keith zipped up his bag and slung it over one shoulder. “You won't have to, because I'm going to find her and bring her home.” He turned around to look his friend, his brother, in the eyes. “Whether you believe I can or not.”

Keith didn't stick around to hear Shiro's response. He headed down to the Castle's hangar to stand in front of the Green Lion. He stared up at the great beast, gathering his resolve, and then placed a hand on her massive paw.

“Lets go find Pidge.”

The Green Lion bent down and opened her mouth wide, letting him inside.

It took them weeks to find a trail. It was only when they hit the outer reaches of space, that the Green Lion began to move on her own. Keith could feel her anticipation as he gripped the controls, doing his best to help her on her way.

They touched down on a blue-gray planet ringed by ice and asteroids, and the Green Lion pointed him in the direction of the open mouth to a cave before settling back on her haunches and going still. Armed with only his blade, Keith entered the cave.

He soon found that it was more than just a simple cave. It was a whole network of tunnels, which led deeper and deeper underground. Bio-luminescent fungi grew along the walls of the main tunnel and went with his gut instinct to follow it, hoping it would lead him where he needed to be. He couldn't imagine why she would be in such a bleak place, especially when it was so far from where she had disappeared – from where everyone said she had died in an explosion.

Keith clenched his hands, trying not to think back to that time, but it was too late. His mind was already there.

The war was over.

There was no reason to keep fighting, but there were Galra who still resisted and they needed to find out who they were, and where they were hiding. It was supposed to be a simple recon mission. From all reports, the ship was abandoned and was empty of cargo and crew, but the system was still intact. The plan was for her to go in with a handful of rebels to watch her back, so she could get the information they needed to end things for good.

And then everything went wrong.

The Galra had set a trap, specifically for her, knowing she wouldn't be able to resist such tempting bait.

A virus had been planted in the servers and the moment she began her hack, it activated.

Keith could still hear her panicked screams.

He would never forget his failure to get to her in time.

He wouldn't fail her again.

They had recovered the bodies of the rebels who went with her and gave each of them a proper burial, but they never found her. There wasn't a single sign that she had been there. No piece of armor left behind. No scrap of cloth.

Nothing.

And from nothing, was born hope.

A flickering flame, steadily growing stronger, until it blazed as bright as an inferno. There was no force in the universe that could stop it.

Keith paused as he stepped into an open cavern filled with humming machines he couldn't begin to name. He cautiously looked around before moving in, keeping an eye out for the slightest sign of movement.

And then he saw her.

She was floating in a glass tube that was filled with a purple liquid which tinted her entire body in the same shade. There was a tube covering her mouth and nose, no doubt supplying oxygen.

“Pidge,” he gasped, rushing towards her prison. He pressed one hand against the glass, hardly able to believe that she was really there, right in front of him. He'd spent so long dreaming of finding her, that he'd never planned on what he would do when he finally did.

“I was wondering when you would arrive,” a voice croaked out.

Keith whirled around, yanking his blade free to hold it out in front of himself as he did so. He stood protectively in front of Pidge, looking around for the source of the voice. It didn't take long to spot who had spoken.

There was an old woman with white hair, cloaked in black, who slowly emerged from the shadows. Her glowing, yellow eyes were fixed on him. “There is no need to worry, young one. Your friend is safe. More importantly, she is alive. You should be grateful.”

“Grateful for what? You're holding her prisoner!” Keith snarled.

“I am not the one keeping her here,” said the old woman. “But I can see you will not believe me. You wish to ask her yourself?” She reached out with one gnarled hand and pressed a button, which initiated the pod to begin draining.

As the last dregs of purple liquid drained out the bottom, the doors opened and Pidge fell forward. Keith moved just in time to catch her in his arms and gently lower her to the floor.

“Pidge! Pidge, can you hear me?” he asked, his voice rising in fright. He pushed her wet hair  away from her face and brushed against a pointed ear as he did so. He drew his hand back and took a second look at her. He'd assumed at first that it was just the liquid which made her skin look purple, but she was free of her prison and the color remained.

Keith glared at the old woman, who kept her distance on the other side of the room. “What did you do to her?!”

“I saved her. She knew the consequences and she was willing to pay them.”

He tightened his grip on her. “What did you do to Pidge?”

“...Keith?” Pidge's voice was weak, but it was the most beautiful thing Keith had heard in months. And when she opened her eyes to stare at him with open confusion, he couldn't even bring himself to care that her eyes were more gold than the brilliant brown he remembered.

“It's okay, Pidge. I'm going to take you home. Everything's okay now,” he promised.

Pidge's brows furrowed. “You're not supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to find me.”

“What are you talking about?” Keith asked. “Why not? I've been looking everywhere for you! It's been – it's been a year, Pidge. Everyone thinks you're dead! Your family thinks you're dead! And you're first words to me are: 'You're not supposed to be here'!? Why the hell not, Pidge? Why am I not supposed to be here?”

“Because I'm a monster!” Her words lacked any volume, but that didn't make them any less deafening to Keith.

All of his rage deflated. “You're not a monster.”

Pidge turned her head away. “Look at me. What else would I be?”

Keith cupped her cheek, gently turning her head back. “You are a Paladin of Voltron and one of the most brilliant people I know. You're stronger than this. I know you are. Come back with me and I'll spend as long as it takes to prove to you that you are not a monster.”

The old woman cleared her throat, reminding them both that she was still there.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Keith snapped.

“Well, there is still the issue of payment to settle. I am not asking for much. It is just a token – a trifle, really,” she said. “What I require is a sample of blood. Preferably one from each of you. It would greatly benefit my work here, you see.”

“I don't understand. Why would that help you?” Keith asked, plainly confused.

The old woman chuckled as she began to bustle about and gather her equipment. “It is quite simple. I study hybrids. Often they are the combination of the strongest traits of each of their parents – it is quite fascinating. Through my research, I found the way to save the life of your friend.” She walked towards them, heedless of the way Keith was glaring at her the whole time. “Earthlings are an unusual species. Very adaptable. More so than any other I have studied. The process is one that many others have been unable to survive, and yet here she is. Perfection.”

Pidge shied away from the old woman's gaze.

“And I can see that you are a true hybrid, born of Galra and Earthling,” she said, removing a syringe from her case. “If you would-”

Keith held out his arm before she could finish her sentence. “If it means I can leave with Pidge, then take what you need.” He looked away as he felt the pinch of a needle against his skin and focused on his friend instead, taking in the changes she had gone through. Her hair was the same, albeit longer than he'd ever seen, and her skin was a pale lavender in color. Her pointed ears were hidden beneath her hair, with just the tips trying to peek through.

She was hardly the monster she believed herself to be.

In short time, the old woman finished with her work and bid the pair goodbye. She bustled away without looking back, muttering to herself.

Keith tried to help Pidge stand so they could leave, but quickly realized she'd lost too much strength during her recovery in the pod. Instead, he swept her up into his arms and carried her back through the tunnels.

The Green Lion roared in triumph at their return and soon they were on their way home. And though he didn't have to, Keith held her in his arms the entire way.