#even if “small” they still make noise enough to be noticeable and hurt warren's image even more. that's why she acts
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marcusrobertobaq · 10 months ago
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I'm to lazy to get on my game and take screenshots or look for a gameplay with these dialogues, so
X1202C_PBY_LINES_PC_X12CCOP01_VIOLENT01] {S}{1}Our guys shooting down those androids is all over the news. [X1202C_PBY_LINES_PC_X12CCOP02_VIOLENT02] {S}{1}Good: {2}let the world see. {3}Our job is to protect people, and that’s what we’re gonna do. [X1202C_PBY_LINES_PC_X12CCOP01_PACIFIST01] {S}{1}I still haven’t done my report on that android march… [X1202C_PBY_LINES_PC_X12CCOP02_PACIFIST02] {S}{1}Hey. {2}Stop calling it a march. {3}Humans march. {4}Androids just go batshit. [X1202C_PBY_LINES_PC_X12CCOP01_PACIFIST03] {S}{1}Right… Right… {2}Yeah.
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Not a march, they say. Detroit Become Human Cops.
To play this game u gotta understand the law enforcement is officially against the android rebellion and civil rights movement in general, that's one of the reasons Hank just doesn't care bout the police by the end anymore and mf just gtfo.
In HPR Allen just confirms the orders are "arresting" androids or gunning 'em down if they resist. The DPD, the feds and the national guard are working on the same shit. I think Allen got a similar opinion to those cops or he really doesn't care what to call everything that's happening, he just wanna do his job even if he's impressed by Connor.
In a world where the androids won it would fall into the same issue we got nowadays, unfortunately androids would become "a minority" to get abused by cops - cuz that's one of the metaphors David Jaula uses in his shitty ass writing, it's explicit in the game.
So, no...i know u know what i'm criticizing.
I ain't talking about pov justifications or if the cops are wrong or right in "wanting to protect the city from defective androids that were tools taking care of kids few days ago and now are walking on the streets as if they're people", i'm talking about % of specific events happening. Be aware public opinion is a false alarm. U don't get support from everybody, u just shocked the whole world and they gonna act in a defensive way - public opinion supportive means some groups ain't hating u anymore and are actually supportive in androids having civil rights, what i bet doesn't make even half of the population - what should be something for a country where hating androids is almost a rule in a way u dehumanize 'em for 'em looking "too human" so u don't feel guilty at all. People questioning things to the android side is already a bad signal for a corrupt gov controlled by a megacorp like that, people questioning about it is enough to force the fucking president to do something. But will it be enough? I DOUBT IT.
Politics is also a dangerous game, we've been seeing propaganda war at least 3yrs in 2 major conflicts that still happening till today.
Internet posts won't do shit and i dare saying this is where android support in dbh falls, cuz we don't see any human marching with the androids, making protests in favor of androids. Not even the mfs that were protesting wanting jobs and android ban (cuz they were taking jobs).
But we see the opposite.
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ofvindictc · 5 years ago
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tagging:  @ofisolaticn & @ofprinciples location:  levi’s  apartment. description:  the  game  comes  to  an  end.  there’s  defeat,  there’s  victory,  and  a  few  twists  you  might  not  have  seen  coming.  
levi stone / daniel warren
when  disaster  strikes,  there  are  always  warning  signs.   alarm  bells  before  a  hurricane,  or  little  shocks  before  a  devastating  earthquake.   little  signals,  little  hints,  that  your  world  is  about  to  turn  upside  down.   he'd  always  thought  he'd  see  the  end  coming  when  it  inevitably came,  would  see  the  threads  of  his  plan  start  to  unravel  before  they  went  nuclear.    none  of  that  happens  though.     he  doesn't  see  the  bracelet  on  henrik's  wrist  (  after  months  together,  he's  never  worn  one  before;   so  of  course,  he  stopped  looking  )   and  doesn't  notice  the  confusion  on  his  face  when  the  compulsion  doesn't  connect.    he's  distracted,  thoughts  on  amelia,  or  the  horseman's  insatiable  hunger  that  throbs  like  a  migraine  you  can't  kick,  so  he  misses  it. (  do  you  want  to  talk  about  your  day?  henrik  asks,  twice,  though  levi's  told  him  to  leave  it  alone.  no,  he  bites  back,  eyes  flashing  golden  with  irritation  before  he  realizes  the  error  of  his  ways.   forget  you  saw  that.   it  was  a  trick  of  the  light.  i'm  just  a  vampire.  ) if  he  was  thinking  as  logically  as  he  once  had,  before  amelia,  maybe  he  would  have  seen  henrik  pulling  away;   would  have  suspected  that  something  was  up.   he  never  does  though,  too  caught  up  in  the  never-ending   fight  to  keep  famine  nourished,  covering  up  his  murders,  and  ensuring  his  wife,  his  family,  will  make  it  through  the  horrors  that  they've  suffered.   the  divide  between  levi  and  daniel  is  so  wide,  so  blatant,  that  sometimes  when  he  looks  in  the  mirror  he  isn't  sure  who's  staring  back.   (  it's  a  problem.   he  knows  this.  )    it's  because  his  guard  is  down,  defences  lowered,  that  he  doesn't  see  the  attack  coming  before  it's  too  late.(edited)
henrik mikaelson 
it was a blissful ignorance, henrik realized later. with little signs, little breaks in the perfect image, ones that he saw and made the choice to ignore. it was easier to ignore. a amazing boyfriend, someone who loved him fully for who he was, someone who he put his heart in the hands of. someone who made him feel loved. someone so perfect they couldn't possibly be anything other than a manipulated figment of a dream. he'd just been a fool. thinking everything is going to be okay. pure fool. the bracelet was something he appreciated. he liked arlo. it was nice making friends, even if he was a bit on the younger side. henrik didn't feel the need to console him like he did his students, arlo was an old soul. someone who understood him in a way henrik was a bit shocked at, if he were being honest. he underestimated the younger man, completely. and then, when offered a small charm of a bracelet, he appreciated it. he said yes because it was NICE and there was no reason for a no. he asked levi about his day, twice. because he wanted to know, because he felt a distance, because he loved and he cared and maybe that'd been wrong. because levi's eyes flashed GOLDEN in anger ( he angered him that much?? ) and he looked him in the eyes like a vampire did and he tried to compel. and henrik was too starstruck to say a damn thing. he'd spoken to arlo and asked, nee, begged. for the compulsion to be erased, to be undone. and then--- it was. it was an agony, and it was heartbreak and henrik hated it for making him feel like a fool. and then, he also didn't. because as foolish as he felt, that kind of love was something he cherished. he'd never felt it before and despite the fury... there was gratefulness. it was arlo's idea to orb them and henrik couldn't help but agree. orb them in and watch the spell unfold. "hey," he greeted, awkwardly.
finn mikaelson
always  and  forever  is  a  pesky  mantra.   it  means  standing  by  the  sides  of  your  siblings  when   they  needed  you,  even  if  it  risked  exposure.  he'd  planned  on  just  keeping  an  eye  on  his  more  vulnerable  siblings,  make  sure  they  were  safe,  but  it  had  turned  out  that  his  youngest  brother  was  anything  but.    the  compelled  memories  tell  a  story  that  mystified  even  him  but  he's  not  in  a  position  to  give  henrik  grief,  only  solutions.   it's  why  they've  orbed  into  the  man's  living  room,  magical  binds  summoned  with  a  spell  to  knock  the  man  (  no,  the  hybrid  )   to  his  knees.
"  someone's  been  naughty. "   his  words  are  dry,  a  vial  of  truth  serum,  home  brewed,  gripped  in  his  free  hand.    the  man  struggles  against  the  restraints  as  he  approaches,  the  vial  poured  down  his  throat  once  he's  close  enough  to  keep  him  still.     the  restraints  might  not  hold  him  forever,  but  the  aneurysm  inducing  spell  that  can  split  a  vampire's  head  wide  open  with  a  powerful  migraine  will  be  equally  as  effective.
the  hybrid's  chest  is  heaving,  fangs  distended  as  his  eyes  glow  golden.    he's  exposed  himself  for  what  he  really  is  now;   there'll  be  no  denying  it  now.    "  who  the  hell  are  you ?"    this  is  directed  at  finn,   smirking  in  the  body  of  arlo  park.    "  henrik,  what  the  hell  is  this?   don't  let  him  do  this. "    the  original  considers  intervening,  telling  him  to  shut  up,  but  this  isn't  his  place;   this  is  henrik's  fight,  he's  just  here  to  ensure  it's  a  fair  one.
henrik mikaelson 
the memories were both like a romantic comedy and a horror movie played out through his eyes. they picked apples, they had romantic evenings, and henrik fell in love. and as much as it was fake, it also wasn't. not all of it. being aware of the facade didn't take back those whole feelings of love he felt. it didn't erase every wanting moment. every kiss, hug, comfort. what it did was on a level, worse. leaving a dark poisoned shroud over them. it was funny thing, when the thing you love most was a detriment. he remembered all those compulsions, every single one. from the ones to tell him to shut up, to go away, to not care when levi took bites out of him. god, he'd been a human blood bag for so so long and he thought it was OKAY. so yes, as much as there was love remaining there was also fire building. or maybe gasoline. the fire had yet to ignite. he'd spoken to arlo more then he planned to. confessed all the emotions that hurt so fucking much. he'd bee surprised at the man's sympathy as henrik went on and on and on. he considered a lot of things. telling a friend, boarding himself up at magic school, even telling his family, begging klaus to rip him to shreds. that idea had been appealing until he realized how much it would hurt. because his seething betrayal didn't shatter his LOVE. henrik sort of fucking hated that bit, admittedly. it'd be easier if he could straight up hate levi. he remembered the utter terror of running from the man, of him killing his own neighbor and compelling henrik that dreaded night. that... wasn't easy ( he kept flinching at loud noises now and he'd defeated THAT response at 19. he would need to defeat again, he would. )
. but, as much as he knew he didn't want to see levi die. some things did change. he used to be one of them, one of the most important people, one of the people henrik would do most anything for. from ignoring the wrongness of something, to helping commit atrocities if it meant keeping them safe and happy. that didn't apply anymore. he couldn't erase his feelings but he could erase that. he couldn't choose to not love, but he could choose not to care. he'd never heard arlo speak with such dryness. not that henrik could blame him all too much. golden eyes glow and henrik is... unsurprised. he knows what he knows, and he feels TIRED. he wants this over with, but he knows it's not that simple. the truth serum, arlo guaranteed it would work. which was why it was easy to ask such blunt questions. "do you love me?" he asked the words gently--- weakly, both dreading and expecting the answer all too well. "and..." better to rip off the band aid, right? "whats your name?"
levi stone / daniel warren 
tw: suicidal ideation
he  doesn't  bother  pulling  at  the  restraints  once  his  knees  hit  the  floor.   he  squirms  away  from  the  witch  that's  prying  his  mouth  open,  tries  to  growl  but  simply  ends  up  choking  on  whatever  they  pour  down  his  throat.    the  restraints  burn  his  wrists,  likely  some  kind  of  vervain  derivative  cooked  up  to  keep  him  down.    he  thinks  maybe  he  could  break  them  but  not  without  great  sacrifice.   (  famine's  already  weak.   he  hasn't  fed  today,   he  won't  be  able  to  help;    he  has  no  get  out  of  jail  free  card.  ) there's  a quiet  desperation  in  his  voice  as  he  pleads  for  henrik  to  stop  this,   for  him  to  free  him,  but  when  he  starts  asking  questions  —  that  mask  slips.    he  knows  now;   henrik  knows  the  truth.    there's  no  sense  arguing,  or  begging  for  mercy  --  for  compassion.     he's  been  found  out,   there's  no  absolution  here.    "  no. "    the  words  come  out  through  clenched  teeth,   one  last  attempt  at  keeping  this  charade  from  imploding.   he  fails,    like  maybe  he  always  knew  he  would,  and  hammers  the  final  nail  into  his  coffin.  "  i  never  did.   i've  only  loved  one  person   and  she's  not  you. "   it's  not  said  maliciously,  just  honestly.    maybe  the  most  honest  he's  ever  been  with  him. the  second  question  is  more  complicated.   it  draws  a  laugh,  wrists  tugging  against  the  restraints  and  inhaling  sharply  when  they  burn.   (  he  tugs  again  —  maybe  he  deserves  this  )    "  that  depends.   it's  getting  a  little  crowded  in  here  these  days. "    he  feels  compelled  to  tell  the  truth  but  he's  been  running  from  it  for  so  long  ...   it  feels  like  he's  poking  something  fractured;   something  damaged.   "  my  name  was  daniel.   then,  it  was  levi.    oh,  and   famine.   it's  a  regular  party  in  here. "(edited)
henrik mikaelson
despite it all, despite every single thing levi had done. from gaslighting him, to sinking his teeth into his skin, it still pained henrik to see him in this state. to see him held down with chains, his jaw pried open, he had too look away as arlo poured the truth serum down his throat. he felt guilt, guilt he knew was unwarranted considering the situation but still, horribly, there.  he never heard his boyfrie--- no he couldn't call him that. calling him that would only make him feel even more of a fool then he already did. henrik had too much self respect for that. a slip, he could manage. but he wouldn't willingly say the words or think them. there it goes. expression changing so easily, it broke henrik's heart to watch the man he loved dying right before his eyes. a metaphorical death, but death nonetheless. lips pressed together because it was easier then letting out the shaky raw breath gathering in his throat from the confirmation of such a thing. he was so sure, that levi was the first person who loved him. no obligation, no strings tying them together beyond their hearts. and now? it was all a lie. and yeah, it hurt like hell. henrik knew the man would be able to see it all over his face, levi obviously knew him well by now. even if the man himself was a stranger to henrik. he hadn't been the one with the mask on the whole time, after all. he nodded his head, expression betraying him. it was irrational heartbreak, he knew. rationality and emotions ran parallels, lines that never met. "you didn't even care, not for a moment." it was silly threads he was holding onto, but he wanted to hear it from levi. maybe then, it would be easier.
. the laugh sent shivers down his spine. so unlike the man he thought he had known. his face brittles with confusion because DANIEL he remembered from his memories. but famine? "like the horseman?" yeah, he knew some mythology. not all of it, but enough. it was practically courses in magic school, henrik did pick up some things.March 24, 2020
levi stone / daniel warren 
maybe  he's  not  a  complete  monster.  maybe  somewhere,  buried  deep  under  layers  of  anger,  or  resentment,  of  hate,  he  can  find  an  inch  of  compassion  for  this  person  he's  hurt;   he's  wrecked.   maybe  he's  capable,  but  even  in  the  end,  in  the  revelations  of  his  own  failures,  he  doesn't  regret  his  choices.  his  plan  was  good,  it  was  flawless  even  —  and  maybe  if  he'd  been  less  human,  more  monster,  it  would  have  worked.   (  he's  not  sure  if  he's  angry  or  relieved  about  that.   maybe  some  mix  of  the  two.   it's  complicated.  ) "  i  didn't. "   he  agrees,  mostly  because  he  has  to.   whatever  they've  given  him,  it  won't  let  him  say  anything  but  the  truth.  (  ironic,  given,  he's  not  sure  even  he  knew  some  of  these  truths.  )  "  you  weren't  a  person  to  me.  you  were  a  chess  piece.   the  mikaelsons  are  a  fortress  and  i  needed  an  in. "   henrik,  human  henrik,  was  an  easy  mark  and  he'd  exploited  that.   "  —  but  don't  take  it  personally,  i  didn't  care  about  anyone.  i  just  wanted  revenge. "   he  still  does,   he  still  feels  that  undercurrent  of  anger  that  runs  through  him,  but  it's  diluted;   he  feels  other  things,  too.   has,  ever  since  amelia  came  back.   "  my  switch  was  flipped.   mostly,  anyway. "   it's  —  not  something  he  considered,  not  really.   he  felt  anger,   felt  vindictive,  but  never  considered  a  world  where  you  could  blot  out  half  and  focus  on  the  others.   it  was  ...  a  surprise,  even  to  him.
* "  yeah,  him. "   his  smile  dies  on  his  lips,  feels  the  horseman  restless  in  his  head.  like  a  siren's  song,  mere  mention  of  him  has  him  stirring.   "  i  was  out  on  patrol  when  a  mysterious  fog  rolled  in.   it  was  him,  and  he  needed  help. "  his  visage  cracks,  exhaustion  bleeding  through.   "  he  said  we  needed  each  other. "    maybe  they  had,  maybe  he  wouldn't  have  gotten  this  far  without  him,  but  right  now  he  just  feels  tired.    tired,  angry,  and  caged.    (  he  pulls  hard  on  the  restraints  again,  just  to  feel  something  else  ) 
henrik mikaelson 
he felt used. and it hurt. he was so sure everything was going so well. he had his family, he had his friends, he had his boyfriend. it'd been so perfect, so flawless. henrik should have known better. a life of hardship didn't seamlessly disappear like that in favor of being happy. and now here he was. broken hearted for so many things, so many losses. the loss of love, the loss of trust, the loss of faith in his very self. the loss of the person that made him so so happy... it hurt. a nod of his head, glassy eyes and fragile expression. "i... i figured that." still needed to hear, still painful to hear, to know. but then levi--- daniel, he went on. and oh. henrik didn't know it could get worse but then there it was. getting worse. daniel hadn't felt a thing for him, because you can't feel things for pawns. and that's all henrik had been to him. all those late night movies, apple picking, candle lit dinners, the way he made him feel--- none of it was real. and fuck. there was a desire to ask arlo to change the plan. hold him down while henrik got out a piece of wood. he could stab levi right in the heart, the same place levi stabbed him. watch the man fall apart before henrik's eyes, like henrik was falling apart in front of his. but no. because it'd be a second later in which he'd realize what he'd done. and that love he felt for levi stone would become even more of a burden then it already was. and trust him, it was plenty of a burden. "that's sad." he didn't say it with judgement, with empathy or sympathy. there was sorrow in his tone, not for levi. but for himself. for his hopes, his dreams, his future which was now something he never expected or would have dreamed of. finally, his eyes met levi's and henrik spoke. words he hadn't expected to admit, let alone feel. "i almost feel sorry for you. you spent so much time on revenge, so much time using me and... and it was a waste." it wasn't even gloating. just a melancholy statement.
. there was no interest in his life story or even why levi wanted revenge. henrik couldn't bring himself to care. what's done was done and what scarred him would never be erased. well, it could be. but he wouldn't want it to. as much as it hurt, it'd remain as a reminder. a reminder to be smarter, a reminder to be stronger, a reminder of how much he loved his family, a reminder of how stupid he had been. and to never be so stupid again. at least, not anytime soon. he bit his lip, because the horseman did change things. the plan had been simple enough but this was a new factor. he had planned not to tell his siblings of what happened, not have them condemn him or pity him. it would have been easier that way. but what if his plan wasn't enough? this was a horseman. and if not telling his family could put them in danger--- he couldn't do that. fuck. "and he wants to help you with your vengeance." the confirmation was needed, if only purely for henrik himself.
finn mikaelson
there's  an  amount  of  pride  that  finn  feels  as  henrik  stares  down  the  hybrid.   he  didn't  know  him  very  long,  or  very  well,  in  the  short  period  of  time  he'd  been  back  but  his  restraint  is  remarkable.   by  mikaelson  standards.    his  other  siblings,  save  maybe  freya,  would  have  painted  the  walls  with  this  creature's  blood  if  they'd  have  deigned  to  be  played  as  such.   (  this  speaks  to  his  humanity.  something  the  whole  family  is  sorely  lacking.  )
he  only  intervenes  when  the  hybrid  snaps  forward,  the  restraints  pulling  and  crackling.   they're  powerful;  he  figures,  if  push  ever  came  to  shove,  they  could  even  hold  one  of  his  siblings.    all  the  same,  he  tightens  his  hand  into  a  fist.  hybrids  might  have  accelerated  healing  but  those  pesky  little  blood  vessels  popping  in  his  head  ?  it'll  hurt  like  a  bitch.    "  don't  interrupt. "   he  says  simply,   eyes  on  levi.   "  let  him  speak. "   after  all,  doesn't  henrik  deserve  his  moment  in  the  sun  ?   he  sure  thinks  so.
levi stone / daniel warren 
* the  pain  rocks  through  levi's  skull,  forcing  his  eyes  shut  as  he  growls.  his  eyes  are  blown  wide,  pupils  bright  yellow  as  he  snaps  at  nothing.   he's  unable  to  break  free,  to  do  anything  but  fight,  and  what  was  once  apathy  is  now  pure  rage.    (  he  thinks  this  is  famine's  doing;   he  has  the  reigns  now,  is  pushing  daniel  down.   so  far  down,  all  he  can  feel,  all  he  knows,  is  the  horseman's  anger.  ) "  tha fios agam dè a th 'annad. no an àite, cò. "   the  horseman  spits  the  words  at  the  witch,  using  gaelic  to  mask  his  words.   "  tha thu a ’coimhead nas fheàrr na nuair a chunnaic mi mu dheireadh thu. "  he  knows  the  witch  understands,  sees  the  recognition  and  the  fury  pass  over  his  features.    i  know  you,  i  know  what  you  are.   you  look  better  than  when  i  last  saw  you.   (  he  wonders,  idly,  if  the  youngest  mikaelson  knows  about  the  imposter  masquerading  as  this  witch.   he  bets  no,  but  decides  to  keep  that  to  himself;   a  bargaining  chip.  ) "  you'll  have  to  forgive  your  boyfriend. "   famine's  eyes  flutter  back  to  their  natural  hues,  look  up  at  henrik  with  interest.  "  he  can't  come  out  and  play right  now.   i'll  let  him  know  you  feel  pity  for  him  though.  * GREAT*  stuff. "   lips  twitch,  a  hint  of  a  smirk  at  play.    he  doesn't  bother  tugging  at  the  restraints;   he  knows  he's  too  weak  to  break  through  them.   he's  a  pragmatist.   "  when  his  interests  and  mine  aligned,  yes,  i  helped  him. "   which  is  true,  for  the  record.   "  —  but  he's proven his  WEAKNESS.    he  deviated  from  his  plan,  got  sloppy  and  that's  not  really  how  i  play  the  game. "   the  horseman  shrugs,  cavalier  twist  in  his tone.    "   just  consider  me  a  silent  partner.   or  a  gatekeeper,  if  need  be. "
henrik mikaelson 
the hybrid snapped forward and henrik didn't even flinch. he didn't know where such bravery came from, or if it was bravery at all even. perhaps, it was foolishness. regardless of what it was, he didn't back down. eyes connected to daniel's, and staring him down with strength henrik needed to dig into. ( he didn't typically have it, only stored on behalf of other's. this was the first time, in a long time, he was using that streangth on behalf of himself ). "thank you arlo." he spoke, tone even but kind nonetheless. watching levi, daniel was something of an experience. in his memories held few times with those golden hues faced at him. but to see him and be aware, not be running or on the verge of being compelled, it was something else entirely. there was chanting, and henrik was lost. he didn't enjoy the feeling, not after all that had happened. he lacked so much control for so long without having known it. he wasn't keen on staying locked out of the loop for so long. "he's not my boyfriend anymore." and he said the words so fast without hesitation because if not for famine's sake, but his own, he needed to remember that. " a gatekeeper." henrik echoed, not quite convinced. he read about the horseman with a student once. they were having troubles with their studies and henrik volunteered to give a helping hand. he read about the horseman bringing forth the end of days, each bearing a ring upon their finger. a source of their power. famine, not the most powerful but powerful nonetheless. no, henrik couldn't take the risk of a changed mind and such power in the hand's of a man who hated his family. brazen, he crossed forward and wasted no time in sliding the ring off daniel's hand. eyes set on him, seeing how such a loss would effect him and hoping it'd be the right response.March 30, 2020
levi stone / daniel warren
it's  as  the  ring's  twisted  from  his  finger  that  levi  feels  one  last  surge  of  overwhelming  anger  from  his  passenger  as  its  ripped  from  him.   it  feels  like  someone's  sliced  open  his  sternum,  reckless  fingers  ripping  famine  from  his  psyche  as  he  screams.   (  he  has  a  high  pain  threshold.  he  thought  he'd  known  pain,  thought  he'd  known  suffering,  but  this  is  somehow  WORSE.  ) he  loses  consciousness  at  some  point,  likely  his  body's  way  of  protecting  the  fragility  of  his  mind  from  the  abrupt  splintering.   the  last  thing  he  feels  is  anguish  mixed  with  revulsion  as  the  black  seeps  in  and  sucks  him  under.
finn mikaelson
 with  more  warning,  perhaps  finn  would  have  cautioned  his  brother  from  angering  a  horseman.  it's  inevitable  that the  ring  find  its  way  back,  the  essence  of  famine  returning  to  whatever  withered  husk  it  had  left  behind  when  it  chose this  body.   he  doesn't  though,  simply  makes  one  of  those  'yikes'  faces  teenagers  constantly  make  before  turning  back  to  henrik.   "  with  the  ring  off,  he  won't  be  able  to  access  famine's  powers. "   he  smiles,  because  to  henrik  this  is  a  victory  --  even  if  it's  likely  only  temporary.    "  i  can  take  it  if  you  want,  for  safekeeping. "   this  face  looks  innocent,  looks  trustworthy.   "  we've  got  this  thing  that  traps  powerful  cursed  objects.  i  can  put  it  in  there  and  lock  it  away.  it'll  be  safe. " behind  him,  he  hears  the  hybrid  start  to  stir.   he  debates  whammying  him  again  but  knows  this  is  a  fight  henrik  needs  to  finish,  no  matter  what  he  chooses.
henrik mikaelson 
the sight of levi, daniel, before him--- bellowing in such pain and agony. henrik couldn't help but FLINCH at the sight. even now, after all he'd done. it made him feel something to see him in such pain. he felt guilty for that. he should be able to ravish his enemy's wildering pain ( enemy, the world felt wrong in his mind. unfamiliar and uncomfortable ). and yet, watching him in pain, henrik needed to look away. there was no regret. even if it made him feel some type of way to see daniel in pain, henrik didn't regret a single thing. a firm nod of his head, relieved at the loss of power's. the last thing he needed was daniel enraged and coming after his family. ( yeah, a very loud FUCK THAT in the back of his mind. ) "actually that'd b great." he wouldn't have known what to do with it anyhow, probably would have given it to niklaus or magic school. both of which options would demand explanation, which he wasn't keen to give. he didn't want klaus to know how he'd been duped, nor magic school to think he was a liability. maybe it was selfish, probably was. but he wouldn't risk it. so yes, letting arlo have the ring was his best option. "thank you." daniel begin to stir, and henrik had some words left. harsh words, that would not be easy to say. but he would do them anyway, he needed to. "after we finish how long could you keep him down?" he couldn't stay in that apartment. and he wouldn't risk getting everything in case of running into daniel or daniel finding wherever he lived next. wherever that would be. ( he'd figure it out ).
finn mikaelson
he  takes  the  ring  when  its  offered,  securely  tucking  it  into  his  pocket.  he  might  not  be  as  consumed  with  a  thirst  for  power,  for  status  as  some  of  his  siblings,  but  he  knows  not  to  underestimate  an  opportunity  when  it  falls  into  his  lap.   (  better  in  his  hands  than  someone  else's.  ) he  watches  as  the  hybrid  stirs,  glancing  over  at  henrik  when  he  asks  the  question.   "  that  depends.  i  can  keep  him   down  for  a  few  hours,  put  him  in  a  suspended  state,  or  we  can  put  him  down  for  good. "  it  certainly  wouldn't  be  any  skin  off  his  back  to  eliminate  the  hybrid  from  the  world.  it's  beyond  an  abomination;  a  bastardized  creation  from  niklaus'  bloodline  that  should  never  have  existed.     "  whichever  you'd  prefer. 
henrik mikaelson 
"we aren't putting him down for good." it was said in a more demanding tone than henrik was used to using, but he couldn't help it. the idea of it, despite everything, made him sad. for all the bad memories daniel (as levi) had given. he also had given kind ones, warm ones. it didn't make his actions lessen or null. but it did change some things. "a few hours would work, thank you." his tone switched to something far kinder, and more appreciative. arlo was doing a lot for him, after all. a deep breath as he watched levi--- no, daniel, begin to open his eyes. "i have some things to say to you," he preempted. "and you... you're gonna listen." a deep breath. "anyone else in my family would slaughter you. they would make you hurt in ways you wouldn't dream and make you regret every single thing you've ever done." he stood straighter, with more conviction. "but i'm not my family. if you'd done this to one of them... maybe. but you did this to me, your life... it's mine." he took a step forward and knelt closer. eye level with daniel. "i'm letting you keep it. no more death, no more manipulation, no more anything. i'm letting you live." he emphasized. "this time, that is." more somber, he said. "there will be no next time. what saved you, was the happiness you brought me. lies or not, compulsion or not, i still remember it." and a spiteful part of him hoped daniel would hate that. you live by the grace of my will. "but... if you so much as go near my family, go near me... i'll tell them everything. and i know my brother's reputation, i know you do too. and my older sisters, my other brothers, all of them. my family, if they know what you attempted. they'd end you. there would be no place for you to hide. and this time, i won't stand in the way." it felt like a threat. henrik didn't know if he wanted it to be one, how he wanted daniel to feel. but he felt strong. and that was all that mattered in the end, in this moment.
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azvolrien · 6 years ago
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Anchored Tempest - Chapter Four
I would like to say I was busy or got distracted but I actually just forgot about this. But I’m back on it now.
~~~
           “You’re sure it’s a good idea to take them to the Warren?” asked Ikara, watching dubiously as Una rubbed some of Karash’s healing salve over the welts the bindings had chafed into the dragon’s hide. “I mean… All right, this pair does seem harmless enough, but is everyone else going to believe that?”
           “No, I doubt it very much,” said Karash. “Nirali will be fine right off, and most of the other Memory-Singers should at least hear them out. But the warrior types, and especially the other Windkindred…”
           Ikara gave a small hum of reluctant agreement. “So we keep them a secret until we can get them to the Warren?”
           “No! No. The land between here and the Warren is too populated for there to be any hope of that, and if they’re only seen as some… some shadowy figures lurking in the mountains, people will get scared, someone will do something stupid, and someone – possibly the same someone, possibly our guests – will get hurt as a result.”
           “So… you do want people to know they’re here?”
           Karash folded his arms. “Yes, but… in a controlled way. We take them back to the village first, so a few people can get used to them and see that they aren’t a threat. That way, whatever gossip starts to spread will at least start with the right information. Still, you might have to fend off some of the more hard-line Windkindred.”
           “I’ll be honest,” said Ikara, “I’m not looking forward to explaining this to Tagra. You know what she’s like where the g- where the dragons are concerned.”
           “Mm. In the meantime, it can’t hurt to find out a little more about our guest.” Karash rocked onto his feet, stood, and walked over to crouch near Una. She gave him a friendly, if somewhat wary smile and tied a clean bandage over the worst of the welts on Star’s muzzle.
           “Tell us,” said Karash in slow, careful Orcish, not too taxing for the little Una had picked up so far, “about your name.”
           Una frowned. “My name?”
           “Names are very important to the orcs,” said Karash. “What does yours mean?”
           “Um… Think ‘one’. ‘First’, ‘oldest’.”
           “That sounds more like a cradle-name,” muttered Ikara.
           Karash gave her a stern glance. “And are you?” he asked Una.
           “Is what?”
           “The oldest.”
           Una made a vague well-maybe gesture. “Is oldest… need younger. Is only.”
           “Huh. Is that normal? It’s quite unusual amongst orcs.”
           Una shrugged. “Not normal. Not strange. Just… is.”
           “I see.”
           “Me bringing… is mother… almost death. Parents is… not want danger other.”
           “I don’t even know what she was trying to say there,” said Ikara.
           “Be nice, you didn’t speak much better once. I’m pretty sure she means her birth almost killed her mother, and her parents didn’t want to risk it again.”
           Una nodded firmly.
           “See?” said Karash. “She’ll improve with practice.” He stood up and pointed downhill, along the stream and out of the old charcoal-burners’ camp. “We are going to the village now,” he said, enunciating each word as clearly as he could. “Follow us down the path.” He pointed downwards. “On the ground. Not in the air.”
           Una nodded again and vaulted onto Star’s shoulders, stowing her helmet in a bag tied behind the saddle. Ikara sighed but mounted Tsheer without vocal complaint. Karash loaded the last few bits of their makeshift camp into the panniers and, with a bit of help from Rohone’s trunk, climbed up behind his bond-beast’s head. Rohone gave a relaxed sigh and began to walk down the trail, still hauling the now-empty sledge behind him with effortless strength. Every so often he paused to ram shrubs and small trees with his tusks, widening the trail for Star and Tsheer. Neither of the other beasts seemed happy about being stuck on the ground; they weren’t built for walking, and had to crawl awkwardly along on their taloned feet and the claws at the wrist-joints of their wings. Beside them, Swift River grew broader and lazier; up ahead, the trees thinned out as the hillside levelled out into the wide valley floor. Smoke from the chimneys of Crooked River Village reached their nostrils.
           “Down here,” said Karash. Rohone grunted an acknowledgement and turned off the trail and down into the deep, mossy depression of a small and long-disused quarry. Una slid down from Star’s back and kicked around in the fallen leaves, uncovering the stone-circled scorch mark of an old fire. “The village youngsters have parties down here sometimes,” Karash explained at her curious look. “You and Ikara stay here. I’m going to go and talk to the village. Rohone will make a sound when you can come out.”
           They both nodded. Karash unhooked the sledge from Rohone’s harness, took a deep breath, and rode out of the quarry and towards the village. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; a breeze stirred the long grass in the fields, while the chime of Ragla’s hammer rang out from her forge. A herd of about twenty shaggy goats trotted out to their pasture, driven along by a little boy in a woollen kilt.
           “Hi, Karash!” he said, waving his staff in the air as Rohone plodded closer. Only a few tufts of fur around his shoulders hinted at the cape he would grow as an adult, but his tusks were already half-grown at the corners of his mouth. “I’m herding the goats!”
           “So I see,” said Karash, climbing down from the longtusk’s back. “I know you’ve got a very important job, Rekki, but before you head down to the river, can you do me a favour?”
           “Like what?”
           “Can you go speak to your parents, and tell them that I’d like as many people as possible to gather in the middle of the village? There’s something I need to speak to everyone about.”
           “Yeah, I can do that!”
           “Good. I’ll keep an eye on the goats for you while you do that.”
           “All right. Don’t let them get away!” Rekki shouldered his staff and ran back to his house at the edge of the village. Karash spent a few minutes keeping the very determined goats away from the river until Rekki returned. “They said they’ll gather some people and see you in the meeting-place,” he said with great solemnity.
           “Good work,” said Karash. “I’ll let you get back to your herding now.”
           “The goats will try and go in the river if I don’t watch them,” said Rekki as if confiding a great secret.
           “I noticed,” said Karash. “Go on, now.”
           “Bye, Karash!”
           Karash watched for a few more seconds until certain the goats were behaving, then sighed and made his way to the meeting-place with Rohone walking steadily behind. Rekki’s parents, Ragla and Chanag the smiths, Fireesh the baker, Jari the council spokesman and most of the other adults in Crooked River Village as well as about half of the youngsters were already waiting for them.
           “You’ve been gone for a while,” said Jari. “Where did you and Ikara vanish to?” He looked around. “Come to that, where is Ikara? Didn’t she come back with you?”
           “Yes, she did,” said Karash. “She and Tsheer are down in the old quarry, with… Well, that’s what I need to tell you about.” He climbed onto the stepped base of the story-stone, the better to see over the crowd and to let the crowd see him. “But before I start, I will have your words that you will listen to what I have to say, and not run off with your pitchforks halfway through before you have the whole story.”
           The villagers shared a few doubtful glances, but Jari nodded. “We will listen,” he said.
           “Good.” Karash laid one hand on the story-stone, tracing the carved outline of a dragon with the tip of one claw. “Several days ago, Ikara and Tsheer were flying a routine patrol up near the Grey Watcher when they sighted a creature you would recognise from the songs and the images as a god. A live god, bearing a rider.” A frisson ran through the watching orcs. Jari opened his mouth, but closed it again without speaking.
           Karash went on. “Ikara trailed them south from the Grey Watcher, past the Garden of Bones to the cave on Swift River. There, she and I successfully captured both the god and its rider.”
           “Are- are the Sky Kings returning?” asked Fireesh, tearing a loaf of bread in her claws. The others shushed her, but Karash shook his head.
           “They are not. I spoke with the rider. She and her dragon – the ‘god’, though they are not gods and never were – are here alone, and they say there are very few left in the north. Too few to conquer us again, even if they wanted to.”
           “How do you know you can trust this – this rider?” demanded someone at the back of the crowd.
           “You swore,” said Karash, “that you would listen.” The mutters subsided, if only mostly. “I have been this village’s Memory-Singer for more than ten years now,” he continued. “I know the stories. I can recite the Dirge of Shattered Earth, the Lament of Chains, the Song of the Silenced Voice and many others besides. I and the other Memory-Singers understand the horrors of the Sky Kings’ reign better than anyone else alive; only those who were there to see them in person could know better. So you know that I don’t speak lightly when I say that I believe the newcomers’ account. They are not Sky Kings – they are descendants of a separate faction, as different as Islanders and Mainlanders – and they are not here to take up their whip. They were sent to find the rest of the dragons, if any remain, and take them back to the north.
           “We believe that there may be answers somewhere in the Tempest Spires, beyond the storm. That is why Ikara and I are going to take Una – the rider – and Star – the dragon – to Nirali in the Warren, who knows more about the old powers of the Sky Kings than anyone and may be able to help break through the storm.” Karash folded his hands behind his back. “Any questions?”
           “Several,” said Jari into the stunned silence.
           “Una may be able to answer some herself,” said Karash, and patted Rohone’s leg. “Make some noise, pal.”
           Rohone tossed his head, lashed his trunk from side to side, and let out a trumpet that sent birds scattering from the village roofs. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Jari took his fingers from his ears and looked around.
           Leaves rustled in the forest as if stirred by a sudden gust. A few more birds took flight. Karash’s ears cupped forwards; he pressed one fist over his mouth to hide his smile, and two huge shapes erupted from the trees. Ragla and Chanag grabbed Fireesh’s arms to stop her running back to her house in a panic as Star and Tsheer circled out over the village, the rukh close behind the dragon, and landed in the meeting place to either side of the story-stone.
           “Was the dramatic entrance really necessary?” Karash asked out of the corner of his mouth. Fireesh, still in the smiths’ hold, seemed to be vibrating with terror; the rest of the villagers were outwardly calmer but still rooted in place, every eye fixed on the dragon.
           “Probably not, but it was fun,” said Ikara, propping her forearms across the back of Tsheer’s neck.
           Karash sighed. “Now would be a good time to look friendly,” he said to Una in Balaurin.
           She nodded, took her helmet off again, and climbed down to the ground. The tense crowd relaxed a little when they saw how small she was. Star sat up on her haunches to inspect Jari’s weathervane, but quickly crouched back down at some unspoken word from her rider.
           “My name is Una Falkari Smith,” she said in correct, if somewhat halting Orcish. “This is…” She paused for a moment, frowning, then shook her head and kept going. “This is Star. We are… not danger.”
           “Dangerous,” corrected Ikara from Tsheer’s back.
           “Not dangerous,” repeated Una. “We look for other dragons. If find, take back to north land.” Her Orcish grammar continued to falter and she lapsed back into Balaurin. “Am I just repeating what you’ve already told them?” she asked.
           “Yes, but it’s probably good for them to hear it from you as well,” said Karash. “I might be straining their trust in me a little,” he admitted more quietly. “But nobody’s picked up a spear so – what is she doing?”
           Una turned. Star crawled forwards, her nostrils twitching as she picked some scent out of the village’s usual mixture of fires, livestock and people, and stopped in front of Fireesh, who had ceased shaking and was now completely frozen. Star sniffed again, lowered the tip of her snout close to the ground, and delicately snapped up the pieces of the loaf Fireesh had nervously shredded. She gave a slow blink and stepped carefully back to sit beside the stone once more, a soft croon rumbling in her throat.
           Una rolled her eyes and roughly combed her fingers through her short red hair. “Star say,” she said, in Orcish again, “‘very good bread’.”
           The villagers collectively released the breath they had been holding. Jari gave a nervous laugh. Fireesh moved for the first time in a couple of minutes. “Um. Thank you?”
           “We’ll set out for the Warren the day after tomorrow,” said Ikara, still on Tsheer’s back. She climbed down, gave the rukh’s neck a scratch, and headed for their home. “We’ll need more supplies for the trip, and I want to sleep in my own house for a couple of nights.”
           “Will you be staying with Karash and Ikara?” Jari asked Una with great politeness.
           “Yes, they will,” said Karash when Una just looked blank. “Apart from anything else, we’re the only ones with enough room in our barn for the dragon.” He looked up just as Rekki sprinted into the meeting place, waving his staff in the air. “In the meantime,” said Karash with a sigh, “I think we’re going to have to fish some goats out of the river.”
~~~
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