#even if i barely have the energy for it anymore. i guess losing her drilled that in

[snixx]

life went forward and the world moved on but I never got over among us (2018)

[lunarsaga]

EPISODE 2: Angel Among Demons

HOLY SHIT THIS BITCH IS LONG, HAVE FUN Y'ALL~ a very quick note, I wanted to work in more of Luna being bilingual, so when you see [text in brackets like this] that means that she's speaking in english. (This will only happen in her perspective—no one save Kagome will know what she's saying.)

ENJOY!!!

================================

“Luna, please tell me again why you have to go off on your own.” Kagome set her hands on her hips.

Luna sighed as she slung her shotgun holster over her shoulder and held up her sheathed short sword. “Technically I don’t have to. But if you all are stopping to rest, go ahead and rest. I’m just needing some practice with my sword—it’s been a while since I’ve even held a katana.”

“Shouldn’t you save your energy as well?” Miroku asked her. “We have quite a journey ahead of us, it seems.”

Luna shook her head. “I’m too restless to sit around right now. Besides, if we’re headed toward a fight, you’re gonna want me at the top of my game.”

“Just stay close, okay?” Kagome pleaded. “I can sense a demonic aura somewhere in the area.”

Luna tucked her sword into a belt loop on her jeans, offering her sister a little finger gun. “That is what the shotgun’s for, little sis. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

As it turns out, she wasn’t… wrong. But that didn’t mean her little solo workout wouldn’t be entirely uneventful.

She walked a little ways away from where the group was, taking a second to appreciate the surrounding nature. Even back where her dad’s place was—in upstate New York—the forests weren’t quite like this. Not only was the scenery beautiful, but the air was about ten times clearer than she was used to. Truly beautiful.

She found a nice little spot among the trees: a little clearing, mostly clear of rocks or anything she could trip or fall on, and no grass or mud to slip on while she was moving around, just dry dirt. There was a little sapling, just big enough to be a practice dummy while she worked on her form. She dropped her gun out of the way, and shucked off the flannel shirt she was wearing. With that tied around her waist, she was left in just a pair of yoga pants and a tank top.

“Alright girl,” She said, repeating words that had been said to her so many times over the years: “Let’s get to work.”

She wasn’t afraid to admit that she’d gotten rusty. In her era, she only really ever needed her modern weapons; the only reason she even had a Katana was because the rare occasion called for it. Well, this was certainly a situation that called for it.

“Sorry, tree,” she chuckled to herself, “but you’re young, you’ll heal. Life, uh...” She drew her sword, twirling it in a figure eight around her body. “...finds a way.”

It was easy for her to get lost in her training. This often happened when she did repetitive drills or workouts: the movements came rather naturally, so she could zone out and lose herself in it. It might’ve been an hour, could’ve been more than two; she wasn’t sure.

“Fighting with a katana isn’t like what you see in the movies.” That was the first thing her father had taught her when he’d given her this sword—almost ten years prior. “It’s all about moving your feet.”

She sliced an arc through the air, envisioning her sapling opponent swinging a sword as well.

“Strike fast, and dodge faster.”

As the imaginary blade “swung” her way, she ducked the blow, feet sliding across the dirt. She paused for a second, hand extended in front of her and sword raised above her head, parallel to the ground. She smirked, steadying her breathing. She remembered being thirteen and how it felt to actually wield this sword for the first time...

“You and your sister are special,” her father had told her, “you can learn to see with your other senses.”

As a young teen, she’d laughed at that. “Like using the Force? Like a Jedi?”

“Just like that.”

The Jedi thing seemed like a joke at the time. But as she grew older, she learned it was more serious than she could have ever guessed.

“Everything gives off an energy called an Aura. The more powerful something is, the easier it is to sense.”

Before she could swing again, she froze. Speaking of auras, she was picking up on a rather strong one—and it was headed in her direction. She heard no sound—other than the wind rustling through the trees and the occasional call of an animal in the distance—but this strong sense of foreboding was unmistakable. Her ears were burning, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end as a chill ran down her spine.

A demon, no doubt. And a powerful one at that.

“It’s not enough to sense its presence. Focus. Close your eyes. Where is it coming from?”

Right… over… There!

Without even looking, she whirled and flung her sword directly at the source of the demonic aura. The blade struck something—she heard the thunk—but she didn’t wait to look. She immediately dove for her shotgun, tossed the holster, and caught herself in a roll. She was solidly crouched on her knees and the balls of her feet, with the gun cocked before she looked up at the demon she’d chucked her blade at.

“Thought you could sneak up on me, huh?” She snorted. Then, she actually took in the sight of him.

First of all, her blade hadn’t even come close to hitting him. It was currently embedded in a tree trunk—just barely, it looked like it could fall at any second— about six or seven feet from where the actual demon was standing.

The first thing she noticed about him was the sheer amount of white on his person. Pristine white linen kimono, hakama of the same fabric cinched around his ankles,  an enormous (and fluffy-looking) pelt of fur over his shoulder, and silvery-white hair cascading down his back. On top of all that, he wore armor that Luna supposed was meant to be intimidating— but to her, it just looked ridiculous.

And his face. He was positively gorgeous, which was incredibly confusing given that the feeling of dread she was getting from his aura hadn’t gone away. His eyes were a striking shade of gold—but cold as a polar ice cap. He had markings on his face—two magenta on each cheek, and an indigo crescent moon on his forehead.

“You’re in my way,” he said. Even his voice was cold, albeit resonant. “Move.”

For a second, Luna forgot she had a voice. Silent as her lips were, her mind was racing, trying to do the math: What the actual fuck— why is he so pretty? He’s a demon! Demons ain’t usually this damn pretty! Who the fuck gave him permission to look like that— it’s a Tuesday for fuck’s sake!

Almost a solid thirty seconds had gone by, and Luna realized she still hadn’t said anything. Oh, fuck, okay, stop just fuckin’ staring at him and say something, you idiot— so, of course, the most intelligent thing that she could say at that moment was: “...huh?”

Those frigid, golden eyes sparked just the tiniest bit of annoyance. “I said move.”

Her grip on her gun loosened just the tiniest bit, and she straightened up just a little. After a small glance around the enormous forest surrounding them, she made an amused face at him. “What? Dude, there’s a whole forest, just go around me.”

She uncocked her shotgun, stretching her legs to stand up.

“You have quite the audacious nerve for a human.” And he sounded none too happy about that. “Get out of my way.”

Luna sighed, “And you seem to like repeating yourself. I’m doin’ something here, so unless you feel like getting your demonic energy purified today, I’d suggest you take abouuut...” she pursed her lips, pretending to judge the distance with her pointer finger. “Five? Six steps to the right? It won’t be that hard on you, I promise. No one will think less of you.”

Now she was just being facetious, which was more than likely going to cause problems for her in the future—knowing how demons tended to be—but she had absolute faith in her weapon and her own skill. With an aura as strong as his, it wasn’t likely that her sacred salt rounds would do more than wound him, but sometimes that was at least enough to scare off some spirits.

When he didn’t respond, she figured he was just going to swallow his pride and take her advice. She was about to set her shotgun down and go back to practicing, but the Bad Feeling roiling in her gut got worse. It wasn’t just the buzz of a demonic aura anymore, the energy started crackling with even more malice, and she swore there was a sickly smell in the air for a split second before she felt it pop.

Her instincts screamed at her to move, so she spun to the side, almost as if her body moved on its own. What looked like a whip made of pure green light zipped close enough to her that she felt the heat on her cheek. When it didn’t stop, neither did she; she jumped back and nearly fell over backwards trying to bend out of the way of the second snap of the whip. This time, she didn’t hesitate to cock her gun and fire.

The air was still for a second as the shot rang in her ears, tension crackling and fizzling out like the tails of fireworks. When Luna regained her balance, she aimed and pumped again to ready the second shell. No distraction this time, she was aiming straight for his face.

She expected him to be at least a little startled—hell, she could see she’d blasted the end of his sleeve off, and there was a surface burn on his hand from the Sacred Salt packed into her ammunition. His claws were still bared, still glowing green from where he’d lashed at her. What was frustrating, was that he didn’t seem like he was more than mildly perturbed.

“...how did you do that?”

She growled at him: “Sacred Salt, you wanna see it up close? Try me again, fucker.”

“Vulgar.” His voice was flat, but he did finally move… but not to walk around her. He stepped forward like he was trying to inspect her. “You are a priestess, I assume.”

“Nah, I ain’t that pretty and nice,” Luna said, keeping her stance and line of fire. “Call me a Demon Slayer, or a witch if you like. Names don’t matter, the end result will be the same.”

He’d moved to point-blank range, but that horrible feeling in her gut had only grown stronger—her instincts were telling her to run the fuck away, but logic told her the point was moot. She only had one shell left, and the first hadn’t amounted to more than a scrape on him. Even at this range, she’d never do much more than scratch him.

“Whatever name you take matters not to me,” He continued, “regardless. You are still human. And as such you are no match for my power. I will give you one more chance to get out of my way, or you will die.”

There was another tense moment of silence. Luna could feel her heart beating from her ears, to her toes, to the tip of her trigger finger. Resolute as she was—and as much as she so desperately wanted to wipe that calm, detached look off this proud asshole’s face—she knew she wasn’t making it out of here alive if she didn’t stand down. And it’d be kind of a lame-ass thing to say when she got to the afterlife: “How did I die? Oh, I refused to back down from a standoff with a super-powerful demon because I didn’t wanna give him the satisfaction of telling me what to do.”

“Fine.” She huffed, uncocking her gun and stepping out of the way. She sneered at him as she rested the gun on her shoulder. “But not because you told me to. I’m gonna be late for dinner if I don’t head back.”

The air was still thick with tension as she went to grab her sword. She didn’t look back at him, but she was hyper aware of his presence. Thankfully, this time, there was no climactic snapping of the tense energy; as she pulled her sword from the tree trunk, she felt his aura receding. When it was far enough away, she heaved a sigh of relief and let her shoulders relax.

“One of these days, girl, your pride is gonna get your ass killed!”

Luna rolled her eyes as she went back to collect her holster and her katana’s sheath. “I know, Alice,” she muttered to herself.

~ ~ ~

This was why Rin didn’t like humans.

She had only been minding her own business! She needed to eat, so she’d been foraging through the forest like she always did. She didn’t realize that she’d wandered so far away from Master Jaken and Ah-Un until she looked up, arms full of foraging spoils, and realized she had no idea where she was.

She tried to retrace her steps, calling out for Master Jaken and Lord Sesshomaru every once in a while, but it didn’t help. She remembered passing by a human village before, but she made a mistake in trying to use that as a way of finding her way back to where they had stopped. Because when she passed the village, she was confronted by some men that lived there.

“You’re the one we saw earlier, with those demons!” One of them said, “Child, you should not be living among them!”

Oh no. Rin began to back away from them, but they only drew closer. One of them cut off the path she was walking on.

The one closest to her was looming over her. “You should come with us. Demons are dangerous, you could be killed or eaten!”

“No, I won’t!” Rin said. She might’ve been trembling, but she was firm. “I won’t go with you, and I’m fine on my own!”

“Don’t be silly, you’re far too young!”

“Where are your parents?”

“If you tell us, perhaps we can help you return to them.”

“I don’t need your help.” Rin kept backing away, hoping to put enough distance between herself and the men. She clutched the little bundle of food closer to her and prepared to run. “Leave me alone!” Valiant as her attempt to escape was, it was still in vain. The one closest to her grabbed her arm, and she accidentally dropped her food. She tried to struggle away from him, but his grip was too tight.

“Let me go!” She yelled, tears pricking her eyes.

“You should be living with your own kind, girl!” the villager said, “You belong with humans!”

“OI.”

That was a new voice. Rin stopped pulling, and the villagers all turned their focus to the newcomer: it was a woman—human, as she appeared to be. Her black hair was tied up in a ponytail, and she was dressed strangely; black garb, and skin-tight like a ninja’s. She had something that looked like a very short, strangely-patterned kimono tied around her waist. In her hand was a short katana, and she carried what Rin thought looked like one of those matchlock guns on her back.

A samurai? Rin guessed. If she was, she was dressed really strangely. No armor, either? Maybe she really was a ninja.

The woman’s hazel-brown eyes narrowed at the village men. “Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” She held her hand out, gesturing to Rin. “Let the girl go, or we’re gonna have issues.”

What an odd accent. Rin looked up at the man, hoping he’d listen and let her go. No such luck yet.

“This doesn’t concern you, woman,” the man said. Rin could swear she saw a twinge of anger in the woman’s face when he called her that.

“This child was residing with demons!” One of the others joined in.

The woman arched an eyebrow. “So what? You her father?”

“No—”

“Uncle?”

“....no.”

“Caretaker?”

“No.”

“Then it ain’t much of your business either, now is it?” The woman crossed her arms, leveling a stare that could mow down a forest. In an instant, her expression changed as she shifted her eyes to Rin and gestured with her sword. “C’mere, honey.”

The man holding her wrist looked like he wanted to object, but Rin took the opportunity to rip her arm free and run away from him. She did not like humans, not in the very least. Humans were horrible, and these men were no different. But this woman—her eyes were soft, and she squatted down to Rin’s height when she stood next to her, her posture non-threatening.

“Did they hurt you?” She asked gently.

Rin stared at her a second, folded in on herself. “...No…”

“You know these guys? Are they from your village?”

Rin shook her head. “I don’t have a village…”

The woman nodded, processing that before asking: “You have someone taking care of you, sweetie?”

Cautious, Rin paused a second. It seemed this woman wanted to help her—but… she was still a human. Rin didn’t trust humans. There might’ve been something about her that was different. This close, Rin could see her eyes better: they weren’t just hazel brown, they just looked like that from far away. Most of the color was a cool brown, but right around her pupils, she had flecks of gold that took the shape of crescent moons.

Was she really a human with eyes like that? Lord Sesshomaru had golden eyes… and the crescent moon on his forehead! Perhaps she wasn’t a human after all—or she wasn’t a full human, at least. That settled it; she was definitely more trustworthy than most humans.

Rin smiled a little as she answered her: “Yes… I have Master Jaken and Lord Sesshomaru.”

Her savior nodded and smiled, then she stood to face the village men again, blocking them from Rin. “Alright, you all can head home. This girl is obviously spoken for.”

“By demons!”

“Are you mad?!” the one that grabbed her demanded. “She is in danger!”

“Probably,” the woman said. “But look at her. She’s unhurt, she’s obviously able to feed herself, and the only ones I see endangering her is you three. So scram.”

“How dare you talk back!”

Rin flinched as the leader reached out and smacked the woman across the face. She started shaking again, but this time it was from anger. “You can’t hit a girl like that!”

“Don’t worry, kiddo.” The woman’s voice was low. She cracked her neck, rolled her shoulders, and untied her odd kimono from around her waist. She turned around, set her weapons down, and held out the kimono. “Hold this for me?”

Confused, Rin nodded and took the garment, surprised at the soft, warm fabric. She watched as the woman turned back to the villagers once again.

“Alright, boys,” she said, cracking her knuckles as well. “Just remember… you hit first.”

The leader had no chance to figure out what she meant before she swung back and punched him square in the nose (Rin tried not to laugh). The other two shouted and lunged at her, but she kicked one in the side of his knee and smacked the other in the face with her elbow. When the first one went down, the second came back and tried to grab her, but she flipped him over her shoulder as easily as if she were lifting a sack of beans. The leader had fallen to his knees, cradling his bleeding nose. The woman stood before him, crossing her arms.

“Hope you’ve learned to leave young girls alone,” She said flatly, “If you haven’t, I’ll be back.” Without waiting for a response, she turned back to Rin, her face softening again. “Sorry you had to see that, honey.”

Rin shook her head, blinking wide eyes up at her as she held out the kimono. “...Are you a ninja?”

She laughed. “What? No, no, not a ninja. Just good at fighting. Thanks for holding my shirt for me.”

Shirt? Was that what that was called? This person was incredibly odd, but still; Rin was very grateful for her. She went to go gather her food up again, as the woman tied her “shirt” back around her waist and picked her weapons back up.

“Now,” she said, holding her hand out for Rin to take, “let’s get you back to your people.”

Rin happily took the outstretched hand. “Okay!”

“What’s your name, kiddo?”

“I’m Rin!”

“Nice to meet ya, Rin. My name’s Luna.”

~ ~ ~

“Rin! Where on earth have you been?!”

Well, that was the shrillest voice Luna had ever heard. And it came from—what the fuck was that?!

“Master Jaken!”

...well. Sure, when she’d heard this little kid was “residing among demons” from those limp-dick douchebags from the neighboring village, she didn’t expect to be returning her to someone who looked like your average human. But when Rin mentioned she recognized where they were, she definitely didn’t expect to be greeted with the sight of a little demon that looked like Kermit The Frog’s ugly step-cousin.

And yet, Rin spoke to him like he was an uncle. “Sorry, Master Jaken! I went to find something to eat, and I almost got taken by humans from that village!”

“WHAT?!” The little demon shrieked.

“No, it’s okay! Miss Luna helped me!” Rin turned back to look at her with a wide grin on her face, and Luna gave a little three-fingered wave.

“Yo.”

“I thought she was human at first,” Rin went on, “but now I think she might be a demon!”

Luna laughed at that. “What?”

“You foolish girl!” “Master Jaken” chastised her, “That’s no demon!”

Rin looked confused. “Huh? But… she has gold in her eyes, just like Lord Sesshomaru!”

Gods above, this kid was adorable. Luna shook her head, smiling fondly. “I promise, I’m not a demon.” When Rin looked disappointed, she added: “But I promise, I’m not like those guys that tried to take you. I’m one of the good ones.”

She was snapped out of her good mood by a familiar feeling. A demonic aura, another strong one. With her focus on the adorable kid—and the little demon and the horse (dragon?)-looking demon so close—she hadn’t noticed it until she felt it directly behind her. Her grip on her sword tightened, and she hazarded a look over her shoulder. And who should be standing there, but the pompous asshole she’d run into earlier.

Startled, she practically launched herself into the air, shouting: “[JESUS FUCK!]” in English. She didn’t dare draw either of her weapons, just stood out of the way so she wouldn’t be killed.

“Lord Sesshomaru!” Rin greeted him happily.

What the fuck. “[Y… you’re—]” she stopped herself, trying to get her brain to go back to the right language. “[God damnit], you’re her Lord Sesshomaru?!”

“Lord Sesshomaru”, of course, didn’t answer. He just glared at her, likely planning how he was going to murder her. “Rin. Who is this woman.” It wasn’t a question, and those disdainful golden eyes never left Luna.

“This is Miss Luna!” Rin answered. “I was just telling Master Jaken: she saved me from these terrible villagers that were trying to take me away!”

Luna held up her hands defensively, never breaking eye contact with the demon. “Didn’t know she was with you. I just wanted to help her.”

Sesshomaru was silent for a moment, but his glare disappeared and his expression returned to indifference. Luna gave him a nod, a silent (yet contemptfully begrudging) sign of submission. Without another word on the subject, the demon passed her by.

“We’re leaving.” He said to the other two.

Luna made a face at him behind his back, then shook her head. Fuck, this guy pissed her off to no end, and she’d only known him for a little over an hour. The little girl, however, caused her to smile again, and Luna waved goodbye as she turned to leave.

“[What an asshole.]” She muttered, once again in English.

~ ~ ~

Luna had to admit, watching Inuyasha choke on his instant noodles was pretty hilarious. “You did WHAT?!”

“Yeah, this demon lord guy,” Luna said, waving her chopsticks around as she spoke. “Colossal dickhead. I had no idea that this little girl was his—well, not his, but— [dammit, what’s the word for it again…?]”

Kagome pressed her hands together, looking like she was about to burst a blood vessel. “Luna. Do you remember when I told you about Inuyasha’s older brother?”

“Kinda?” Luna said, slurping up more noodles. “Somethin’ about the swords, right? Inuyasha sliced off his arm?”

“Yes. You remember what his name was?”

“Uh…” Luna trailed off.

“Sesshomaru.” Kagome deadpanned.

“What’s this got to do with that assh—” It clicked, and Luna swore her eyes nearly came popping out of her head. “Wait— THAT was the older brother?!”

“Yes! I told you about him, Luna!”

“[Son of a BITCH, Kags!]” Dammit, she had to get better about that. “You know I’m shit with names!”

There was also, of course, the fact Kagome hadn't mentioned that he was fucking gorgeous, but there was no way in hell Luna was gonna say that out loud now.

Sango looked a little worried. “It doesn’t bode well that you just ran into him randomly.”

“Well, it’s not entirely impossible,” Miroku said, “he is searching for Naraku, just like we are. Unfortunately, that means our paths are likely to cross at some point.”

“What’s amazing is that you came out of it alive!” Shippo said to Luna. “He’s crazy powerful, and none too friendly at that.”

“I refuse to believe you just dodged his poison whip like that,” Inuyasha snorted. “He’s way too fast. You woulda been dead meat right then and there.”

“Maybe I’m just faster than you~” Luna teased him.

“You are not, ya damned liar!”

“Or maybe it’s cos I’m stronger—I am taller than you.”

“COME AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE!”

“Guys, not over the food!”

[sonicringbond]

Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 32

Today’s scene is perhaps a little different from most, as it’s really time to start breathing life into the plot of the AU with some world building. And it is perhaps a lot, but hopefully everyone finds it entertaining in...

    “Mote says that wouldn’t be a good idea.”

    “Really? Rosy asked and looked over at Draw.

    ~Our travels had taken us far and wide, but today we had ended up in small river town. Almost everything was made up of bricks from the buildings to the roads. The exception of course were the steam pipes that lined the city and powered the massive machine at the heart of the city that directed river traffic and moved water from the river into brick walled canals. The canals took water away from the city and out into the surrounding farmlands. It was pretty amazing considering a single Ring Shift could up end everything. Though there were plenty of signs of new construction, and even abandoned drills here and there.

    ~But the city was far from what had caught my attention that Draw and Mote warned me against. There was a poster that had been put up and it was advertising a Knight’s Banquet. It was to be hosted by a knight by the name of Claymore the Purple. The thing is though, looking at his photograph on the poster… well, it was obvious he was an autogolem. His gears and pistons were clearly visible under his armor. It was really sharp looking armor and with his long pointy helmet made him look like he was designed around a sword. Still, it was weird Draw didn’t want to go after him. I wonder if there was something special about him.

    ~We had already heard word about him as it was too. The black robed priests, the Preservers I guess, had been making a fuss about him everywhere we encountered them. They warned that any who still committed the heresy of interacting with the Rings would be put to the good knight’s sword. Honestly, that doesn’t seem very knightly or good to me. But he must have his reasons. I’m sure of it.~

    The story of Claymore the Purple was not one Rosy was likely to hear in any detail any time soon. Rather, just the rumors surrounding the autogolem knight. The Preservers themselves had thought that the member of the Sword Knights was but a relic of a forgotten age who had long since stopped functioning. But then the day came when the second Red Star Ring rose into the sky and a bolt of red lightning tore across it from one horizon to the other becoming a permanent scar and crack in the sky. As the world stabilized from the onset of sudden Ring Shifts and opening of Ring Gates all over, the purple armored autogolem came to life with violet glowing eyes and stood for the first time in ages under its own power.

    “Oh, to wake again! Hohoho! How many ages has it been I wonder?”

    Striding confidently from the temple that housed his slumbering form, Claymore observed the city of Tower Point. It was a religious city that was a mess of towers and bridges stretching into the sky. The architecture of every last one of them was as though meant for a gothic cathedral, save where great telescopes watched the ominous little planet in the sky. Though as Claymore strode across the bridges and terrified the clergy who called the city home, the telescopes were watching the red crack and the world beyond it.

    “Hmm, I hear radio chatter, but it seems to be a rather primitive use. Has the world fallen further than we anticipated? Ho! It best be then that I seek out answers to my questions.”

    Claymore seemed to lack any real sense of direction towards his goal and simply asked the first black robed priest who fell over and could not flee in terror.

    “Ho good Preserver!” Claymore greeted them with a raised hand and boisterous mirth. “You seem fearful of my visage so I must presume that it has been some ages since your order was founded to keep the world safe from Yoluku. I see the foul orb still hangs in the sky as well, but I sense not it’s presence. Would I be wrong in presuming then that Yoluku has not woken?”

    “N– no!” the priest managed to stammer out. They nigh screamed though as Claymore squatted down halving his three-meter height and rested his forearms on his knees.

    “Yet your words hold question good Preserver. Has the name Yoluku been lost then? To think the Rings could absorb even that much. Have the Preservers then failed in their mission to keep the people aware of the evil of the Rings and Yoluku?”

    “No– No!” The priest exclaimed in adamant denial. Managing to get to their feet, they looked upon the gleaming purple autogolem and swallowed fiercely, but their pride and faith gave them strength to address the knight. “The Rings are taboo. Only heretics such as the Engineers would make use of them.”

    “Heretics you say. Ho!” With a mirthful laugh Claymore again rose to his tremendous full height. “A few heretics are to be expected. But that they wear not the name Yoluku, then surely, we are fortunate. The foul evil may have been forgotten, but it holds no influence. Yet this scar…”

    Stepping forward, Claymore took his pointed chin in hand and gazed upon the cracked sky. “Someone remembers and they are afraid. A Sword Knight would not be woken otherwise.

    “Tell me good Preserver,” Claymore again turned his full attention onto the priest, “how many Red Star Rings have you seen rise into the sky? And fear not should you not remember, I shall but wake my companion who can make use of the cursed Rings. After all, the Rings will always remember.”

    “…Two…,” the priest managed to answer staring in awe at the knight, and not the least bit free of confusion either. “And within recent enough memory. We can give you no definitive time, but children have far from become adults since the first one was seen. That a second and now this crack across the sky have appeared… The people are afraid–”

    “Good Knight,” Claymore interrupted the priest to remind them to properly address him. “I am a knight and will be addressed with the respect I am due good Preserver.”

    “Of– of course Good Knight!”

    “Glad to hear it. Ho!” Claymore patted the priest’s back gently in affirmation of his good cheer. The priest could still barely contain his horror however at the autogolem and needed prompted to continue. “Now, as you were saying about the good people.”

    “They are afraid–,” a look came from Claymore as the priest nearly left out proper addressing of the knight and they near bit their tongue to correct themselves,” Good Knight. They fear that the world is at its end.”

    “Ho! Only to be expected. Such is the fear they should hold of Yoluku. But tell me, do the mediums hear Yoluku’s whispers?”

    “Mediums, Good Knight?”

    “Ho!” Claymore exclaimed in surprise. “Are there none left who speak with the gods? Ho! Completely preposterous. Surely there are some. There must be! How can you know it is time to wake the Sword Knights if there are no mediums to warn you of Yoluku’s whispers?”

    “I’m afraid I do not know, Good Knight. Fortunetellers and such witches are at most a curiosity and a mockery of a good occupation. None take their ramblings seriously, and any who do are usually swindled of their time and hope. They are crooks and charlatans.”

    “And surely none of which are mediums. Ho!”

    Turning away from the priest and again to the sky, Claymore rested his fists on his hips as his cape fluttered down around him. “Yet I stand woken, The scar tears across the sky. There are those who seek the evils of the Rings. Ho! Surely it is a mystery. Could it be that one of my companions stands woken? We must know good Preserver.”

    “But how can we, Good Knight?” The priest regretted asking as soon as Claymore turned around and bent at the waist to lower himself to the priest with a raised finger.

    “Why by hosting a banquet. And one that all far and wide are welcome to. In such a fashion any of my woken peers will come, and we will be able to find any mediums in their wake. And the sight of a Sword Knight will surely alleviate their fears. We stood victorious once against Yoluku and the Traitor, so there is little doubt that we can prevent Yoluku’s awakening. Ho!

    “Now go good Preserver. Gather your fellows and tell them that Claymore the Purple calls for a banquet. And to ready the world for its salvation! Ho!”

    As unlikely as it seemed, the autogolem had his way and plans for the banquet were made known far and wide. Pressing a finger into her cheek, Rosy tilted her head as she continued to study the poster.

    “What’s the hold up? Sonic asked as he walked up behind Rosy.

    “Oh! Sonic!”

    Turning to Sonic, Rosy missed Draw tear the poster from the wall and crumble it up.

    “Nothing,” the young koala dismissed the whole event. “Just this weirdo gushing about how cool you supposedly are.”

    “Supposedly?”

    “Take that back Draw! Sonic really is really, really, cool!”

    ~I guess Draw did a good job of distracting me. Calling Sonic only supposedly cool though. Hmph! How could he? Sonic is infinitely cooler than some golem knight.

    ~But he is an autogolem, so does that mean that he’s powered by a fairy like Mote?~

    Her playful pursuit of Draw losing its energy, Rosy again pressed a finger into her cheek as she tried to catch a glimpse of the yellow fairy who avoided her at all cost. Naturally, she did not spot Mote and grew thoughtful as she looked back to where the poster had been.

    ~I wonder why it is that Mote is so against me meeting them? Could they be a really strong golem like Ix? Or are they his ally. Maybe, maybe they’re the one who put Mote and their friends in those first auto golems I saw.

    ~Ooh~! I really don’t know what is going on anymore, and my friends are all still out there somewhere too. What am I supposed to do when I don’t know enough?~

    “Something wrong kid?”

    “Nothing now that you’re here,” Rosy squealed and grabbed onto Sonic’s hand as it landed on her shoulder.

    ~That’s right~ Sonic’s here~♥ In that case, I know everything will be okay. We’ll find our friends, find a way home, save Mote’s friends, and save the world too if we need to! As long as Sonic’s here, we can do anything!~

Scene 32 · CLEARED And After That, End

-----

And there we go. Maybe a little off from expectations for a Sonic story, but it’s necessary to really start building the world and starting with a strongly out of place element is a good start as I get to slowly blend it together into a cohesive whole. It’ll take some time, but I hope everyone will bear with me while we travel down what will hopefully be a long and enjoyable Journey.

-----

Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – Lumacie Archipelago: Mystic Woodland – Tsutomu Narita – Granblue Fantasy Original Soundtrack

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Glad To Take Care Of You

Characters: Matthew Gray Gubler x Reader

Word Count: 2,164

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You get so wasted that you don’t recognize your own boyfriend.

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me.

This is the December 7th fic for my 25 days of RPF Christmas with the prompt: “You’re drunk. I’m driving you home.”

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

The bar you and your friends are in is packed and crowded. Sweaty bodies grind on each other to make room for virtually everyone in the place. The bar is swarmed with people requesting the new drink that’s got everyone raging: spiked eggnog. Luckily, you and your friends got there early so you were one of the first ones to get this popular drink. Bars all across town are serving it, and you just can’t get enough of it. To start off, you’re having a light drink since you want to ease yourself into the hard stuff instead of just going for it right away.

The same thing can’t be said for your friend Tiffany, who is already wasted and grinding on a guy she just met on the dance floor. He’s got his hands on her hips, but you can tell from your seat at the bar that he’s trying to lift the ends of her dress. He doesn’t look threatening, but in today’s society, you never know who you’re dealing with. Tiffany has always been the tough one of the group, so you weren’t worried about him taking advantage of her. She’ll knock him on his ass, wasted or not, if his touches weren’t wanted.

“Look at Tiffany go. Man, I wish I could get that,” Valerie sighs longingly.

“You’re single! Mingle it up!” you encourage.

“Oh yeah, what man wouldn’t want a single mother of three who barely sleeps and whose boys are rowdier than any other kid I’ve seen?” she scoffs.

“You’ll find a man who wants that sooner or later.”

“And what about you? Does your boyfriend want that for you? Or does he know you’re bar hopping with your closest friends?”

“Yeah, he knows. He’s the one who suggested I do this. It’s been a while since I’ve been out with you girls, and I guess he sensed that I needed the break. He would have been with us, but he’s filming late. Apparently, there was some technical problem a few weeks ago, and they’re filming what they couldn’t before.”

“I wish I had an actor boyfriend,” your other friend, Darcy huffs.

“Don’t tell Darren that,” you laugh.

Darren has been Darcy’s boyfriend for over two years, so you know her comment was only playful. This night has only just begun, but you’re already having such a good time. As you drink your alcoholic beverage, you can feel your purse slap against your leg which only reminds you of what’s inside. Matthew trusts you no matter where you go, who you’re with, or what you do. He has no reason to behave otherwise. However, he doesn’t trust others around you and gave you a taser for protection. Since you’re going to be drinking this entire night, you’re afraid of electrocuting yourself, but you keep it inside your purse just in case. Maybe playing an FBI agent for 15 years has gone to his head, but you love how much he cares about you.

“We should hop to the next bar. This one is getting kind of lame,” Olivia, your absolute best friend, shrugs.

“What and leave Tiffany here by herself?” you ask.

“She looks like she doesn’t need us anymore,” Valerie points out, motioning to your other friends. Tiffany has her tongue down the man she’s been dancing on all night.

After telling her you’ll be leaving to the next bar, you and your other three friends headed to a club nearby. Much like the previous establishment, they were serving eggnog that is just a tad stronger than you’re used to. The music is loud, everyone is dancing and having a good time. There are so many clubs on the strip you’re walking on, but Darcy knows the bartender very well. They’ve been friends since high school, so that means discounted drinks for everyone.

It’s not a good idea to have discounted drinks, especially since Darcy is a lightweight. She likes to mix her hard and soft alcohol, which means she’s fucked up almost every single time. You keep telling her how much missing alcohol is bad, but she never listens. Her friend keeps supplying the drinks, and you and your friends keep drinking them. You’re not wasted yet, but if you keep drinking like this, you will be.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Darcy groans.

Her bartender friend seems to know the drill because she’s pulling out a large bucket and handing it to Darcy. She takes it and throws up in it. Her head does not leave the bucket for the next ten minutes. Darren is out of town for the next two weeks, so the only way she’s getting home is through a cab that you’ve already called. By the time they got here, Darcy has calmed down quite a bit. Throwing up is her body’s way of telling her to stop. The only thing that will help her now is a tall glass of water and a fuckton of ibuprofen. The cab is paid for by you, and you’re helping her into the back seat.

“3684 W Highland St. Gate code 8494,” you told the driver.

“You got it.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Darcy mumbles.

“You’re welcome. Take medicine, drink water, and get some sleep,” you instruct before the driver pulls away.

Two down, three to go—if you’re counting yourself. Darcy is the only person who knows the bartender week, so it’s time to move into the next bar/club for some new experiences and tasteful alcohol. Olivia is drunker than she realizes because as soon as you enter the place, she’s tripping over her own two feet trying to get to the bar. She doesn’t throw up when she’s done like Darcy, she dances… and sings… and gropes.

The music is pounding through your skull, but you enjoy whatever content the DJ is spitting. Olivia is downing shots one after the other, and you and Valerie are watching with open mouths. She finishes with a satisfying “ahh” before sliding off her stool.

“Olivia are you okay?” you ask.

“Never better,” she grins and wobbles across the dance floor.

As soon as she’s swarmed by other people, she begins dancing in the worst way possible. Your comparison is much like Jessica Day on New Girl and the way she dances freely without giving a shit about anyone else’s opinions. Or like Amy Santiago from Brooklyn Nine-Nine. It’s funny to watch, but that dancing will soon turn into groping if you don’t do something about it soon. You take out your phone and dial her husband’s number so he can come and pick her up.

“Hello?” he sleepily asks.

“Hi, I just want to tell you that your wife is currently trying to dance on some dude who is clearly interested in another woman. I think she’s had too much to drink.”

“I’ll be there soon. Text me the address. Thanks, Y/N,” he grumbles and hangs up.

When he arrived not long after, Olivia jumped into his arms with a happy squeal. It was nice to see her get loose, and you decide it’s the best option for you too. Instead of drinking eggnog all night, you went for the much harder stuff. It was just down to you and Valerie, who keeps checking her phone every few seconds.

The next place you two go-to is another bar, but it’s much quieter than the first. The music is still loud, but you’re able to hear what Valerie has to say from where you’re sitting at the bar.

“Wow, you’re really packing it,” she comments when you down your third drink at this bar. It’s safe to say you’re pretty wasted at this point.

“Whoa, there are three of you,” you giggle. Darcy throws up, Olivia dances and gropes, you love to giggle. Your body’s way of telling you it’s enough is when you giggle so much that you pass out from the energy spent doing that small action.

“I hope you’re having fun,” she smiles, and her phone rings. She gets up and leaves the area to answer it and comes back ten minutes last with a frown on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I got a call from my babysitter. One of my kids is sick and is calling for me. I really should get home to deal with this.”

“Yeah, go, take care of your little babies,” you chuckle and get up with her.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Me? Okay? I’ll be fine! The nights not over!” you giggle as you follow her out of the bar.

“Do you want me to call Matthew to pick you up?”

“Who?”

“That’s a yes,” she whispers to herself. “Well, I have to go. You have fun, okay?”

“Yes! Fly like the wind my little butterfly!” you giggle.

You two separate with her getting in her car, and you stumble on down the street. Luckily, it’s that time of year/night when barely no one is out on the street. You’re all alone which is dangerous, especially with your state of mind. You don’t know how much time has passed, but when you look to your left, you see a car driving slowly next to you with its windows down. You hiccup and stumble over to the car which has now stopped.

“Hey, Valerie called me. You’re a bit drunk, are you?” Matthew says with a smile.

“I don’t know who you are. Leave me alone,” you slur and leave his car. Matthew follows slowly next to you since he doesn’t want to lose you.

“Y/N get in the car please!” he calls out. People are passing by and giving him weird looks, and he refuses to look like a creep. “Don’t worry, she’s my girlfriend! Everything is okay!”

“I have a boyfriend, you know,” you stop and face Matthew.

“You’re drunk, I’m driving you home. Get in the car, Y/N.”

“I have a boyfriend, and he’s going to be mad if I get into another man’s car. He’ll beat you up really good, and you’ll be crying and wishing you never talked to me in the first place!” you mumble and begin walking away. Matthew parks the car with a smile and gets out, jogging over to you. It’s sweet that even in your state, you’re still thinking about him.

“There’s a warm bed waiting for you at home,” Matthew coaxes and puts his arm around your shoulders. It doesn’t take much for him to steer you in the direction of the car. You’re stumbling over small pebbles in your way, and Matthew holds you up every time you wobble.

“I like a warm bed,” you whisper.

“Yeah, and there’s a warm blanket just ready for you snuggle the whole night,” he chuckles. He helps you into the passenger side and reaches over you to buckle your seatbelt. You giggle for no reason, and he smiles in retaliation. He loves the sound of your laugh whether you’re drunk or not. It’s so pure and innocent that he just can’t get enough. He rounds the car to the driver’s side, gets in, starts her up, and pulls away from the curb.

“You know, my boyfriend is going to be worried when I don’t show up,” you say.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! And you’re going to be in big trouble, mister, if you don’t return me to him! He’s too great to worry about me,” you start to get emotional. Matthew can’t stop smiling, but lets you continue.

“He’s nice, and funny, and so handsome. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone as handsome as he is. He doesn’t deserve you taking me away for your own selfish reasons! I love him so much,” you whimper emotionally.

“I love you too,” he grins widely.

The drive to your shared house is short, but you’re fast asleep by the time he parks in the driveway. He gets out and goes to your side, opens the door and unlocks your seatbelt. You’re so wasted you don’t even wake from this. Usually, you’re a light sleeper, but not when you drink. He hooks his right arm underneath your knees and supports your back with his left one. He carries you inside the house and to your shared bedroom. When he got the call from Valerie, he made sure that everything is set up for your arrival. Painkillers and water on the nightstand, the fan on, the blanket warmed from the dryer, and your pillows fluffed. He lays you in bed and began stripping you of your clothes. You like sleeping in just your underwear, so it wasn’t hard for him to get you into that state.

He doesn’t mind taking care of you when you’re like this since you’re rarely like this. You deserved a night out with your best friends, and he’s glad to be the one to take care of you through the massive hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. After all, you’re the one he truly loves.

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[echo-bleu]

Garden Parties

A gift for @eveningspirit​ for her birthday. Her prompt was John&Marcos, "You don't look so good." It fit right into the Reasons To Live series and the new one I was planning of John's migraines, so I went ahead and wrote this.

Happy birthday! I hope you like it :)

Title: Garden Parties

Fandom: The Gifted

Words: 3563

Summary: “Are you alright?” Marcos asks.

“I'm fine.”

“You don't look so good.”

John blinks, surprised. “Lorna didn't tell you?”

Relationships: John Proudstar & Marcos Diaz & Lorna Dane, background Marcos Diaz/Lorna Dane

Series: Part Two of Reasons To Live and Broken Toys (five times John had a migraine)

Also on AO3 and FFnet.

-

John desperately tries to stay focused on Lorna's words, but it's a lost cause. He's missing half the words by now, and he's not getting any better.

“−and we'll have to repair the roof, it's started leaking again. Sage also says she really needs another monitor if she wants to be able to keep up with all the local police communication−”

John groans internally as he loses his train of thought again. He felt the migraine coming even before he got up this morning, but he really thought that he could sit through their morning briefing before it fully took its hold on him.

Lorna's voice is too loud. Marcos tapping his fingers on the table feels like a hammer on his brain. John rubs his eyes, as discreetly as possible, but he catches Lorna giving him a look.

“Shatter, Marcos, can you go on the supply run today?” she asks.

Shatter just nods, but Marcos looks confused. “Wasn't John supposed to go?”

John opens his mouth to answer−too slowly, so slowly that Lorna is already halfway through her next sentence by the time his brain reconnects and realizes it's too late to protest.

“−and John is going back to bed. Which is why I need you to go.”

“To bed? Are you sick?” Marcos asks.

John feels his gaze on him, on the out-of-place sunglasses−the room is usually fairly dark, although it doesn't feel like it to him right now−and he opens his mouth again.

“John, go,” Lorna orders. “I'll explain.”

“No, I can−” John protests, wincing at the sound of his own voice.

“I'll drag you back to bed myself if I have to.”

“Fine,” John mutters, when his brain has managed to process that. From the look on Lorna's face, at least thirty seconds to late.

He stands up, careful not to misjudge his strength and tip over the chair. He's more tired than he thought he was. He feels like curling up on himself as soon as he reaches a vertical position, the nausea doing nothing to help. At least he doesn't think he's going to throw up right now.

He still takes the time to get a bucket he can use if he doesn't end up losing whatever is still in his stomach from last night, since he skipped breakfast. He closes the blinds in his room and kicks off his shoes before he buries himself under the covers. Having some kind of weight on him helps, even if it's just a couple of blankets.

“How are you feeling?” he hears Lorna murmur, already half-asleep. He didn't hear her coming with his ear defenders on, although his ears are picking up enough that he can see her crouching beside him through closed eyelids.

“'m fine,” John answers.

“Obviously. Well, I won't be far if you need me, okay?”

“'kay. Thanks.”

If she speaks again, he doesn't hear her, already fast asleep. Knowing that she's here, that she can handle any crisis that comes their way, lets him feel safe enough that he can let go of the tension. Sleep is the only thing that will help the migraine.

John doesn't fully wake up again until the late afternoon. He has vague memories of stirring, wincing against the pain, to see Lorna keeping vigil over him, like she often does when he has a migraine, but she's not there anymore. There's a glass of water on his nightstand, though, that wasn't here earlier.

John gulps down the water−and regrets it immediately, when the noise makes his head explode. Here in the dark, mostly quiet room, the headache had almost abated to something bearable, but the ear defenders have the unfortunate side effect of increasing the sounds inside his mouth and throat tenfold.

Sighing−internally, because there is really no need for more noise,−John removes the ear defenders and stands up. Nausea and dizziness assault him immediately, but he breathes deeply and they back down until they're not much more than an annoyance at the back of his mind.

As far as migraines go, he's had much worse. He's not exactly in a fully-functioning state, but it's one of the mild ones. He can still move without screaming. He decides to go handle his responsibilities toward the station while he can, and tries to arrange his hair with his hands so he doesn't look like he just slept through the day before stepping out.

Marcos is the only one in the corner of the main room they use as a makeshift kitchen, fixing himself a coffee. He hands John a mug, almost automatically, and John nods gratefully.

“Are you alright?” Marcos asks.

“I'm fine.”

“You don't look so good.”

John blinks, surprised. “Lorna didn't tell you?”

Marcos has only been with them for a month, so although they're quickly becoming good friends, he hasn't been here for one of John's migraines before. Everyone else around here know, at the very least, that they shouldn't bother John on days when he's wearing sunglasses indoors.

“Tell me what? I was on the supply run all day.”

I did not need that conversation today, John thinks. “Where is she anyway?”

“I think she went down to the vault,” Marcos answers. “Seriously, what's wrong?”

“Nothing,” John mutters, annoyed and knowing he shouldn't be. “Just a migraine.”

“Migraine? Like a headache?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” John says. He has no energy to explain more right now. “Sorry I missed the supply run.”

“It's fine, it wasn't anything heavy anyway. And Shatter's not a strong as you, but he's got muscles.”

“Good. I'm, uh−” John starts, trying to find a way to escape the conversation. The sound of Marcos's voice is echoing in his head painfully, and he's starting to feel seriously nauseous again. “I'm gonna go up to the roof to see that leak.”

“Want some help?”

“I'm good. It's usually the gutter clogging up, it shouldn't be hard to fix.”

Even just talking with Marcos for five minutes has taken more energy than John really had. The only thing he feels like doing is going back to bed, but there's work to do, and he's been sleeping all day. He drags himself up the three flights of stairs, then onto the scaffolding ladder going up to the roof.

He has to sit down once there, out of breath. His head is pounding, and the birds' songs feel like drills piercing his skull. The sunglasses barely help against the glare of the summer sun. John moans and presses his hands against his eyelids.

“Do you know where John is?” Lorna asks fifteen minutes later, walking into the computer area where Marcos is working with Sage. “He's not in his room.”

“On the roof,” Marcos answers.

“What? What the hell is he doing up there?”

“He said he wanted to go seal off the leak before it gets worse.”

“And you let him? In the middle of a migraine?”

“He said it wasn't bad−” Marcos starts.

Lorna rolls her eyes. “He always says that, Marcos. He still shouldn't even be up, let alone on the damn roof!”

“Hey, I didn't know!”

Lorna deflates. “No, I guess you didn't. Well, here's rule one: never let John do anything when he's having a migraine. That includes going onto the goddamn roof!”

Marcos raises his hands to calm her down. “And how am I supposed to stop him? He's way stronger than me.”

“Today he's not. You could flick him and he would probably fall over. Now let's go and drag him back to bed.”

Marcos looks at Sage, who nods and waves him away. He almost has to run to catch up with Lorna. She's taking the stairs two by two, obviously in a hurry.

“Is it really that bad?” Marcos asks.

“Not every time, but going onto the roof just isn't safe. If this is a mild migraine, he's just going to be tired and in pain for a couple of days.”

“Days?”

“Usually. Sometimes they go after the first night, but it's pretty rare.”

“You said a mild one,” Marcos says. “That doesn't sound mild.”

“Oh, it is. A bad migraine is when he's in so much pain that the only thing he can do is lie down and puke.”

“Damn,” Marcos murmurs, shocked.

Lorna looks at him, a bit sadly, then starts going up the ladder.

“John!” she calls−strangely quietly, given how annoyed she seems.

Marcos doesn't hear an answer, but he climbs behind her. When he reaches the top, he finds Lorna frowning, and John sitting against another ladder that goes up to the watch tower, his face white as a sheet.

“John, are you fucking kidding me?”

“What?” John asks weakly.

“You're nauseous and dizzy and having sensory processing issues and you decide to go repair the roof on your own?”

“I'm fine, Lorna,” John sighs.

“So if I were to move that metal ladder you're using to sit up, you wouldn't fall?”

John precipitately removes his back from the ladder−and almost overbalances. He looks at Lorna, sheepish.

“Now will you come down?” Lorna asks, like to a little child.

“We need to stop this leak before it does even more damage,” John says.

“Which I will do, as soon as you're back in bed,” Lorna says.

“Fine,” John relents. Marcos watches him closely as he stands up and takes slow steps toward the scaffolding, clearly unstable on his feet.

“You okay going down the ladder?” he asks.

John looks at him−or maybe through him−for a moment, as if trying to process his words.

“Sure,” he says eventually.

That does not reassure Marcos at all. He goes down the ladder first, stopping halfway through to watch John carefully reach down. Marcos wants to stay close to be able to catch him if it goes wrong, but he realizes that John's weight would be more likely to crush him and make them both fall.

“Wait,” Lorna says before John can start moving down. “Get one of those bracelets on your other wrist.”

“Why?” John asks.

“Because I can use them to catch you if you fall, but if I do it with your watch, it'll be ruined.”

“I don't need you to catch me.”

“Right,” Lorna says, rolling her eyes again. “Just do it for me, okay?”

Johns shrugs and obeys. Observing closely, Marcos can see Lorna's hands make tiny moves, supporting John with her power just enough that he doesn't lose his balance. John must feel it, but he doesn't comment.

He's putting on a good face for me, Marcos understands. He doesn't need to pretend with Lorna, and he's willing to accept her help. Just not outwardly, not when Marcos is there to watch. It must be very hard for him to let go of his tight control on himself.

John makes it safely down the ladder, but he looks exhausted. He staggers once back on solid ground, and Marcos grabs his arm to steady him.

He can feel John tense, almost try to escape his grasp, then relent and accept his support. He even leans into Marcos's hold, just a little.

“You okay?” Marcos asks.

“Um,” John nods vaguely, wincing.

“Noise down,” Lorna murmurs in Marcos's ear as she passes by him. “It hurts him.”

Marcos nods, blinking. That and the sunglasses...are migraines like hangovers and make everything louder and brighter? With John's mutation, it must be torture.

Lorna authoritatively takes John's arm and drapes it over her shoulders.

“Lorna−” John starts, but he fails at sounding annoyed.

“It's dinner time, everyone with be down to eat,” Lorna says. “No one will see you.”

John relents and leans on her. On instinct, Marcos imitates her and ducks under John's other arm. John freezes.

“No,” he mutters. “'m fine.”

“John, let me do this,” Marcos says. He tries to make his voice firm despite whispering, but it only makes him sound angry. John blinks and nods, clearly unable to think past the tone.

They make it down the two flights of stairs to John's bedroom slowly, with John dragging more with each step. He tries not to lean completely on his friends, but Marcos still bows under his weight, at least twice that of a human his size.

John drops on his bed fully clothed, with the clear intention of sleeping right then and there. He's dropped the pretense that he's fine, and now he simply takes off his sunglasses and curls up on himself.

Marcos stands back while Lorna removes his shoes and pushes his hair out of his face. It feels too intimate, a process in which he wouldn't be welcome. Lorna and him are tentatively exploring a relationship since their kiss the other night, something John doesn't yet know about, but John and Lorna's friendship long predates that. They've been living together and sharing everything for years.

Marcos knows there's no reason to be jealous, though he feels a pang of envy at the thought. He's never had that kind of friends. You don't make close friends in a cartel, and certainly not on the streets of Bogota.

“Let's let him sleep,” Lorna murmurs, standing back up.

“Does this happen often?” Marcos asks when they're far away from John's room not to risk bothering him.

“He has a migraine every couple of months or so,” Lorna answers. “Sometimes it's much worse than this. In general everyone here knows to leave him alone, but I still haven't gotten him to stop worrying about missing a few days of work. He's stubborn.”

“I've seen that. Doesn't he have some sort of medication?”

“We're fugitives, Marcos, we can't exactly get health insurance. John especially, his military file would raise all kind of red flags.”

“What about the...less legal ways?”

“It's easy to get Kicks, not so much migraine medication,” Lorna shrugs.

“Not even painkillers?”

“He won't take them. Please don't bring it up with him, though. It's complicated enough as it is.”

Marcos nods, sensing a story there that he's not privy too. He wonders briefly how mentioning painkillers could make the situation more complicated, but a few images of the addicts who came to the Guerras' club desperate for a fix pop up in this mind. They weren't always looking for heroine.

“Noted,” he says. “Anything else I should know? I want to help.”

“He gets really sensitive to...about everything. So I try to make sure his ear defenders and sunglasses are close by. And don't wear perfume, or Cologne. Not just during the migraines, apparently it can trigger them, too.”

Marcos nods, taking it all in.

“There's not much else to do,” Lorna continues. “Sometimes he likes a presence, usually only when he's too out of it to worry about bothering us. Sometimes he really wants to be alone. He might throw up, that's nothing to worry about, but it's important to make sure that he drinks enough to stay hydrated.”

“Thank you,” Marcos says. “I'll try to remember all that.”

Lorna shrugs. “I don't even know why I'm telling you all this, it's unlikely he'll allow you to help him again. He's very private about this. I'm the only one he lets in even a little.”

“I'm still glad that I know what to do. At least next time I'll know not to let him go to the roof.”

“Right,” Lorna says. “Yes. No roof for John when he's not feeling well.”

“Rule one! I think I've got it.”

They both laugh, relieving the stress a little. Marcos hadn't realized that seeing John like that had affected him so much, but he can feel the tension in his shoulders.

“I should go check out the roof for real,” Lorna says. “It does need to be fixed.”

“I'll go help Sage again,” Marcos nods.

“Hey, Marcos!” Lorna calls him an hour later from the stairs.

“You done with the roof?”

“No, it's more complicated than I thought. It's going to take a while, but I need to do it now because it's going to rain tomorrow, according to Sage.”

“Do you want any help?”

“Not with the roof, but could try to get John to eat something? Get something plain, he'll be nauseous. Maybe some broth if you can make it. And could you make me a sandwich or something else that I can eat up here?”

“Sure,” Marcos says. “I can put a tuna sandwich together if you give me a minute.”

Marcos goes back to the kitchen corner and grabs some bread−over a day old, but it's all they have−and a can of tuna. He turns to put a pan of water to heat on the camping stove and drops a stock cube into it. It's the closest he can get to broth with what they have.

“Thanks,” Lorna says when he hands her the sandwich, going back up the stairs while taking a bite. Marcos quickly eats his own sandwich while the water finishes heating up, then pours half the broth into a bowl. He adds a bunch of bland biscuits and a glass of water to a tray and carries it over to John's room.

A groan is the only answer he gets when he knocks on the door, so he takes it as permission and walks in. The blinds are still closed and the room is nearly dark. Marcos is careful not to trip up on the way to John's bed.

“I've got some broth for you,” he whispers, pulling the desk chair closer. “How are you feeling?”

“Marcos?” John asks, confused. “Where's Lorna?”

“Fixing the roof. I'm sure she'll check on you when she's done.”

“'kay,” John says, but he's still frowning−and he hasn't even opened his eyes. Marcos has been wondering for a while if the man can see with his eyes closed or something, because he often hides them when he's using his tracking power. “I'm not hungry,” he adds.

“Nauseous?” Marcos asks.

John hesitates, then nods.

“The broth is clear enough, if you want to try. I brought water too. You need to drink, at least.”

John seems too exhausted to question that. “Lemme sit up,” he murmurs.

Marcos almost makes an instinctive move to help, but he's not sure it would be welcome. Instead he stands by helplessly as John pushes himself off the bed and winces, holding his head.

“Thank you,” he says when Marcos passes him the bowl of broth.

The bowl wobbles dangerously as soon as Marcos lets it go. “Wow. Let me help.”

“Sorry,” John murmurs sheepishly, trying to get into a more stable position. “This thing makes me clumsy.”

“You mean the migraine?”

“Yeah. Muddles my senses.”

“Does it come from your mutation?” Marcos asks, curious, since John seems willing to talk.

He nods. “Sensory overload. Sometimes it gets too...loud.”

“That's a hell of a downside,” Marcos says.

John takes a few sips of the broth, then hands Marcos back the bowl. “What's yours?” he asks.

“I can heat this back up...” Marcos starts, letting his hands heat the bowl. John immediately covers his eyes against the light. “Oh, sorry. I didn't think.”

“It's fine,” John says.

“Anyway, fine control isn't easy, especially when I'm stressed out. Heating up a bowl of soup is fine, but you wouldn't believe how much money I lost because I burned holes through the bills.”

John laughs weakly. “What about people?”

“You mean do I burn them? I try not to shake hands too often.”

“What about Lorna?” John smirks−the effect is unsettling on his too pale face, with his eyes still closed.

Marcos blinks. “What about her?”

“You burn her too?”

“What do you−” Marcos starts, and trails off. John is not supposed to know about them kissing, but then he's a tracker. With a really good hearing.

“I enjoyed the aurora,” John teases.

Marcos sputters. “You saw that?”

“Your traces were all over the place. I didn't even mean to look.”

“And you're okay with it? Lorna was hesitant about telling you.”

“Of course. You guys are adults. As long as it doesn't interfere with our work, you do whatever you want.”

Marcos nods. “You two are close, though.”

“Not like that,” John shrugs. “She's like my sister. It just means you'll have to deal with me if you hurt her.”

“I won't,” Marcos promises.

“And…you don't have to tell her I know just yet. She deserves a hard time for thinking I wouldn't find out.”

Marcos laughs. “Don't be too hard on her. She really loves you.”

“I know. Doesn't mean she gets to keep secrets from me.”

They both chuckle. Despite John's slouched position in bed, the exhaustion and pain on his face, the whispered conversation is good for both of them. Marcos can feel the beginning of a new camaraderie in John's teasing, but also trust that wasn't there before. John could have easily have closed-up and refused to let Marcos see him in a moment of weakness, like he seemed ready to do just hours ago, but he's decided to trust him instead. A warm feeling of belonging spreads over his concern, and he relaxes.

Lorna sticks her head into the half-open door while they're still quietly laughing. “Joking around, uh?” she says. “You must be feeling better.”

“Not quite yet,” John answers. “But I will.”

-

The title of this fic comes from the flashback to the beginning of Marcos and Lorna's relationship in 1x03: "Look, we're hiding fugitives, not hosting garden parties. What matters is we're together. We fight for each other. We take care of each other."

[killjoy-loveit]

Hack This Part 9

A/N: You may or may not know the drill by now, but here it is anyways: this is in 1st POV (like my other stuff), I hope it will be 10 parts (if it isn’t I will make it very clear), and I would also like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction. When mature content starts it will be denoted with ***

Summary: Reina almost loses hope for receiving the file, and her feelings are laid bare.

Word Count: 2,175

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 10

Bonus Scene

Profanity/MATURE CONTENT Warning!

***Do NOT read if you are uncomfortable with sexual content!

    I didn’t hear from Noah for two weeks. Two weeks. The only option was to assume she got caught and for some reason that left my stomach in knots. My one chance of getting Z’s file was obliterated, just like that, and it was killing me. Now I would have to find some other way to get to it, if there even was a way and this wasn’t just some hopeless fools errand. I think I might have to get Z involved, it might be the only way now, as much as it pains me to admit.

    “Z?” I call out, stepping into the living room.

    “Yeah?” He answers back, sticking his head out from the archway of the kitchen.

    “I need to talk to you.”

    Z moves out of the kitchen hesitantly. “This doesn’t sound like a good thing. Did I do something wrong?”

    “No, no. Nothing like that, Z. It’s- it’s something I did. Something I need your help with.”

    A frown replaces the unease on his face as he makes his way over to me, taking my hands in his. “What is it?”

    “I--.” I get cut off by the abrupt ringing of my phone. Pulling it out of my pocket, completely prepared to silence it, or shut it off entirely, but the name lighting up the screen made me freeze. In that moment I forgot about Z’s presence, hurriedly answering the phone and pressing it to my ear. “Noah?”

    “Thought I was dead didn’t you?” Her snarky tone came across the line.

    “Yes, actually.” I murmur, looking up at Z’s face at the squeeze from his hands.

    “I got the file. It took longer than I thought it would. I slipped into the mailbox of your apartment ten minutes ago. That’s it, the life debt has been repaid.”

    I whisper into the phone. “Thank you.” The line went dead.

    “Why was Noah calling you?” Z questioned, tilting his head.

    “She-she was doing me a favor, I guess.”

    “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “So, um, what were you gonna tell me?”

    “It can wait, there’s something I need to do now.” I say, slipping my hand from his and rushing out of the apartment.

    The file had everything. Everything. Names, numbers, amounts, locations, how much of the debt has been paid off, how much is left, and every job Z has ever worked. It was a crazy amount now, that much was for sure, what with the interest rates being extremely high. The time it would take to gather the amount to cover this debt would be a while, especially if I didn’t want to draw any attention to us. I would need at least three weeks to accomplish this, and that infuriated me because I just wanted this over and done with.

    For the past week and a half I barely left my room, only leaving to get food and energy drinks. And then I was right back at the computer, coding until my vision swam. I couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but finally getting this done. The relief it would be, how amazing to be free once again. For him at least, there was no way I’d be let go without a fight, they’d probably rather kill me first. This was the one thing I could do for him though, give him freedom from this life, the freedom to live how he wanted now.

      I was about halfway through hacking into a very-well off businessman’s bank account- he wouldn’t miss a couple million dollars, not with how much he had stored away. When the door to my room burst open, revealing Z who looked quite frustrated about something. He stood there for a second, his eyes locked onto mine, and appeared quite domineering in the small doorway. Then he moved forward until he was right in front of where I sat, towering over me.

     “I got a call from Noah.” He finally said after what felt like hours.

      Panic rose in my chest, she wouldn’t tell him about what I’d asked her to do would she? As if he could sense my thoughts, Z laughed, nodding his head lightly.

     “She asked me if that file had been able to help with my situation. I didn’t know what she was talking about at first, but then she kindly explained it to me.” Z turned, his feet carrying him across my room. He kept going like that, pacing in order to piece together his thoughts so he could form a coherent sentence. “You had her risk her life to get my damn file. Why? Why was it so important, Reina?”

     I froze in my seat. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Z this upset about something I’ve done before. “I-I needed the file, Z. Your file is practically your life, and she said you saved Jongup’s life and for that she owed you. A life for a life!” I cry out in a weak attempt at an explanation for my actions.

     His head snapped towards me, and he stalked forward, his stare burning holes into my skull. “A life for a life? This isn’t 17th century B.C.E, normal people don’t live by those rules anymore! She could have died, Reina! Do you understand that?” Z shouted, the veins in his throat making an appearance and letting me know just how upset he was.

     By this point I was getting frustrated, tears had welled up in my eyes due to this frustration. “I know what could have happened! I’m not an idiot, Z. But when it comes down to it, the question to me was who is more important? Some girl I don’t know, or the guy who saved my life? It’s a no-brainer! Not when the guy in that question makes me feel safe, and makes me feel happy for the first time I can remember in years! To me, your life was more important, can’t you see that?” Tears streamed down my face as I spoke, the internal dam I built keeping them at bay having broke at his crushing words.

      Z froze, my words sending him into a stupor. “Wait, wait. What? Could you please repeat that?”

     “Which part? The part where I said you make me feel safe and happy? Or the fact that I find your life is more important?”

     The anger faded from his face, a small smile appearing. “That’s it. The part where I make you feel safe and happy. Really?”

     I let out a short laugh, choking softly on my tears. “How many times will I have to repeat myself? Yes, you make me feel safe, and happier than I have been in years. You-it’s so stupid, but you’ve become my sense of security, and you make me feel at ease, comfortable. I trust you. God, I’m such an idiot for admitting this.”

      I spin the chair around, not wanting to face him after baring my feelings like that. Hands on the back of the chair spun it back around to face him. His eyes were intense with some unknown emotion, it was a fire burning deep in them, seeming like it might jump out and swallow me whole. I kind of wanted that, for the fire in him to burn me up. What would it be like to be consumed like that? Would I cease to exist the second the fire’s put out? Or would I emerge a new person, a phoenix from the ashes?

     Z reached down, pulling me to my feet. “I can’t believe you feel that way.” He breathed out. “Because, damn, you make me feel almost the exact same way. You made me realize that I am not who this life made me become, you help me with that every day. Just with a smile or your snippy comments. Fuck, you make me so happy.”

     Without any warning his lips were pressed against mine the second he stopped talking. The kiss started slowly, a gentle pressure against my lips. Then it turned heated, his tongue slipping into my mouth to deepen the kiss, his hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer to him. A soft sigh escaped me when he finally broke from the kiss to take a breath, but he didn’t pause long, his lips went right to my neck not a few seconds later. My hands lifted up to thread through his hair, bringing his face back to mine. Our eyes met and I felt that connection I already had with him get stronger, pulling us closer together.

     “Take your shirt off.” I whispered, a faint blush rising to my cheeks.

***

     There was no hesitation from him as he yanked his shirt over his head, but then he smirked at me, giving me a heated look. I knew what he wanted- my shirt off as well. That was something I could do, the material slipped over my shoulders, leaving me in my bra and jeans. Then just like that we were once more attached at the mouth in a heated kiss. There was no real battle for dominance in this, just a sense of the two of us working in tandem. I was becoming impatient though, the fire boiling in my veins and pooling in my nether regions making me needy.

      My hand slid down his torso, coming to rest on his crotch, giving it a quick rub to which he bucked his hips in response. With that simple action, everything seemed to fast forward. One minute we were standing there making out with our shirts off, and the next we were both stripped naked laying haphazardly on the bed. His hands were exploring my body, squeezing, pinching and caressing, while his mouth made its own exploration with licks and bites. Of course I was going through the exact same exploration process with him, I wanted to know what made him tick. No, I needed to know what made him tick.

     With a particularly harsh pull of his erection, he let out a hiss, hips bucking up into my hand. “I need to know how far you want to take this… I don’t know how much more I can take.” Z grunted, his lips leaving my neck.

     I released his cock, my hands coming up to cup his face, making him look at me. “I want you. All of you. Right now.”

      All trepidation of this situation left him, and warmth filled my chest at his worry for me. Though that warmth soon disappeared as his fingers circled my clit, and one pumped inside me. A moan slipped from my throat at his ministrations. After the addition of a few more fingers, he determined I was ready. As he hovered over me, lining himself up with my wet heat, a look passed over his face. One that showed concern, happiness, and, I think, serenity. It was brief and quickly replaced once again by lust, but I knew what I’d seen.

     I cried out at his first thrust, hands clutching his shoulders desperately, willing myself to adjust quickly. “Move.” I panted out after a minute passed of him keeping still as a statue. Just like that the spell was broken, and Z began fucking me in earnest. His hips snapping into mine, driving me deeper into the mattress. Breathless moans were all I could manage at this point, with my head tossed back on the pillows, eyes half-lidded as I kept my gaze locked on his face. An assortment of grunts, groans and curses left him as he sped up, pounding harder and deeper into me.

     “F-Fuck! Right there!” I cry out as he hits my g-spot.

     He continues to fuck into me, hitting that one spot just as I asked, causing my orgasm to come crashing down on me without warning. My body quivers and shakes, muscles clenching around him as he continued to buck into me, trying to find his release. It didn’t take long either, not with the added constriction of my orgasm urging him on. Z shifted over so he was lying next to me, the sounds of our heavy breathing being the only things to fill the silence.

      My eyes shut instinctively as exhaustion washed over me. I hadn’t been taking proper care of myself recently, too focused on fixing Z’s situation. Sleep would be really good right now, and I had almost completely drifted off when I felt a cool, wet cloth on my body. I opened my eyes in irritation, upset that such beautiful sleep had been taken from me. But I couldn’t really be mad at him, he was just helping, trying to make me feel more comfortable.

     “Come on, let’s go to sleep.” He murmured after he put the cloth back into my bathroom, crawling into bed beside me. His arm wrapped around me, pulling me to his chest, and I knew then, I would have no trouble staying asleep. I nuzzled my head into his chest, letting his warmth envelope me, and promptly fell asleep. 

[texanredrose]

Omega’s Strength (Pt 4)

Yang leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over her chest with Blake and Weiss beside her while Ruby stood in the middle of the loading bay. Across from her in their make shift ring was Nigel, who seemed more than a little apprehensive about facing off against the young woman hefting the huge sniper scythe like it was nothing. The twin SMGs in his hands didn't seem like they'd be capable of standing up to the cutting edge of Crescent Rose, even if he did combine them into their pole ax form.

"Okay, so! We've got about three days before we disembark to infiltrate the abandoned base. Before then, we'd better get some practice in working with each other," Ruby said, the cheer in her voice grating on her sister's nerves. Most of it came from sheer impatience, wanting to be the first one to fight just to keep the thoughts at bay. "We're going to start with some one-on-one drills, and then some cooperative ones against hard light opponents and Weiss’ summons. Sound good?"

"Uh, couldn't we do some old-fashioned, 'two truths one lie' bonding instead?" Nigel offered with a weak smile.

While the rest of his team laughed, Yang shook her head. "This guy's supposed to be a solider?"

"It takes all types, Yang," Blake replied, nudging her shoulder lightly. "And we played that game the day after initiation."

She winced, opting to remain silent rather then dredge up any more memories from their time at Beacon. As the battle began, she had to admit that she'd judged him a little too harshly; the young man displayed a genuine amount of skill and focus as he reacted to her sister's fighting style. It actually took Ruby a solid minute to land a hit, sending him sprawling and taking a chunk out of his aura level in the process. They wouldn't be able to push each other as hard as they had in school, where their recovery time could be easily monitored and adjusted, but he still had some fight left in him.

With the gunshots to cover their conversation, Yang glanced at her partner and cleared her throat. "Congrats. By the way."

At first, the Faunus raised a brow before seeming to sense why the blonde was so terse. "Thanks. I'm sorry I wasn't the one to tell you."

"It's whatever."

"No, it's not," Blake replied, and she could see how her partner turned to look at her from the corner of her eye. "Yang, I know you're going through a rough time right now and I'm sorry for the part I played in it. I never meant to hurt you again."

She sighed, turning to meet those concerned amber eyes. "Oh, come off it, Blakey. This isn't your fault, same as before. We've talked about this." Shaking her head, the blonde glanced away a moment before returning her lilac eyes to the Faunus beside her. "Look, I'm not mad I went into heat. It was bound to happen eventually and better last week then in the near future, yeah? And it could've been worse, so it was probably for the best." A frown touched her lips and she looked away. "It's just reality. Face it, Blake. I'm not mate material anymore. That's... that's just how it is. I've accepted that."

"You're lying through your teeth right now." The Faunus' voice became tight, her volume lowering to keep everyone else unaware of her anger. She didn't have the same inscrutable mask the Schnees favored but she kept her ears up and her face smooth, leaving her eyes and voice to convey the emotions, something they did all too well as Yang could practically feel her partner's heated stare boring a hole through the side of her head. "Did you talk to Winter about this? Did she say any of this?"

"I got mounted and I have no mark to show for it; does she really have to put it into words?" Her left hand slid down, grip tightening on the metal of her prosthetic. "We already talked about it. I told her I made a mistake. I shouldn't have bitten her."

"Yang." A hand laid on her shoulder, pulling her gaze back to Blake. "Did you mean it? The mark?"

She wanted to look away and deny it but... she couldn't. From one Omega to another, between partners, she could admit the truth just once. "Yeah, I... I did." Her shoulders fell and her gaze dropped. "I dunno why I thought... I just... in the moment, it felt mutual, ya know? But I was wrong." Shaking her head, Yang shoved everything aside, drawing herself up to her full height. "None of it matters now anyway. In a few days, it'll be like nothing happened." Her lips turned down at the corners. "And to her, nothing did."

With a thump, Nigel landed flat on his back, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling while Ruby stumbled away, hefting Crescent Rose with only a small wince. "Okay! So! That was pretty good!"

"Lady, you got a funny definition of 'good'," Oswald said, smirking and cracking his knuckles. "Guess I'm up next?"

"Stand down, O-man. I want the next fight." Stryker called out, heading over to help her teammate up while carrying her over sized, serrated falchion with the other hand, resting the flat back of the blade against her shoulder.

"Oh, great!" Ruby laughed, collapsing her own weapon down and storing it on her back. "I'm sure Weiss would-"

"Actually, I think I'd like to have a go at Yang." The blonde's eyes snapped to the Alpha's. "What'd'ya say, Blondie?"

Yang furrowed her brows, her frown growing more severe. Well, she wanted in on the action, but she had a feeling the woman wasn't going to take her seriously as a combatant. No better time to disprove that than now, she supposed, though Blake quickly grabbed her arm when she pushed off the wall.

"Maybe it isn't such a good idea, fighting an Alpha straight off the bat." The Faunus' ears twitched, as if she had more to say but chose to keep it to herself, and that had the woman gritting her teeth in barely contained frustration.

"Winter rejected me; if she wanted a say in who I'm around, she missed that chance." With a jerk of her shoulder, she pulled herself free of Blake's grip, Ember Celica expanding to cover her forearms in the next moment. "And I don't want a mate anyway."

If she said it enough, she'd believe it.

It was an old fashioned tradition- and one she'd rather liked- for mates to pit their strength against each other as a sign of trust. Back in the day, it arose out of practical necessity; everyone had to fight to keep the Grimm at bay and everyone needed a training partner. Most often, Alphas were too protective of their mates to stay on the sidelines and Omegas often faced the same problem, the former rushing in to beat back an attacker while the latter would defend their mate from any foe. Betas tended to control themselves a little better but they felt the inclination, too, and often lept into the fray themselves. During their time training together, she'd somehow tricked herself into thinking Winter saw their bouts as something similar, a way of testing each other and feeling the other out. It was why she always withheld the final blow, never wanting to push too far; it wasn't about winning or losing, it was about improving side-by-side.

That romantic streak helped land her in this situation to begin with, though, and she shoved all those thoughts aside. This was about one thing alone: fighting. They had four new comrades-in-arms to acclimate to and the sooner they did it, the better. Alpha, Beta, Omega- none of that mattered at present.

As she took her spot across from Stryker, Yang felt her entire being focus on the impending bout, all too ready to fall into the soothing rhythm of combat.

"Ready?" Ruby called out, a hint of trepidation in her voice. "Go!"

The Atlesian immediately swung her blade around, holding the grip with both hands and readying for a sweeping strike to ward Yang off. Except, she'd learned a thing or two since the Fall of Beacon and didn't fall for the obvious advantage her weapons' smaller size would grant her to dart in for a quick first strike. Instead, she brought her fists up, curled loosely so she could snap to defense or offense depending on the situation, and shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. So acclimated to facing off against Winter, she almost started her usual bob and weave, trying to bait out the woman's first attack, but she had a feeling it wouldn't take nearly so much to provoke a reaction from Stryker. Throwing a quick jab with her left, Yang shot out a single round, testing the woman's defenses.

Rather than take the shot and shrug it off or blocking with her weapon, Stryker made a show of jumping to the side, rolling back to her feet and charging towards the blonde. A sloppy waste of energy- ducking would've accomplished the same thing considering how high she'd shot- but Yang set aside her mental critique to remain focused on the battle at hand. She watched the jagged edge of the blade as it swung towards her, skipping back to stay just out of reach while watching the woman's footwork. 

She carried her momentum forward with every strike, either unable or unwilling to change course once committed, and that proved to be a weakness Yang could exploit with ease. 

The blonde bided her time, moving to keep the blade out of reach but never so far away that she couldn't close the distance if she so desired. It almost seemed like Stryker was being intentionally ostentatious with her fighting, leaving herself far too open for someone of her presumed experience. Bearing that in mind, Yang waited for another sweeping strike before darting to the woman's undefended side and delivering a medium strength hook to the spot just below her opponent's ribs.

If she'd sparred against anyone else, it would be a full strength blow, coupled with the concussion of her weapon and powerful enough to send them clear across the cargo bay. This time, she gave the woman a warning shot, a bit of encouragement to take the fight seriously, and she wasn't disappointed when Stryker rolled with the momentum and brought her sword around for a full strength counter attack. Before the Fall, she might've tried ducking beneath it or rolling out of the way, maybe shooting at the ground to aid in her escape, but now Yang merely set her feet and raised her right arm, allowing the prosthetic to act as her shield. 

It had taken months of training to become accustomed to the idea that the flimsy bit of metal fed by her aura would ever be as good as flesh and blood, but she'd come to rely on the construction as her fighting style changed. The teeth of the falchion tried hard to gouge into the metal but her aura flared, reinforcing the artificial limb as she absorbed the shock of the blow without budging an inch. 

The sudden, jarring impact threw the Atlesian off, her own footing shifting to maintain her balance as eyes opened wide.

Deciding to send the message loud and clear, Yang quickly rotated her prosthetic arm in a circular outward motion, shock having made Stryker's stance too weak to prevent her blade from being moved and trapped between the blonde's arm and body. With that threat effectively neutralized, she shifted her hips and threw her weight into the motion while slamming her left hand against the side of the blade, turning a quick half circle and dragging Stryker with her until her grip gave out, separating the soldier from her weapon as she went sprawling. Although disarming her opponents typically fell outside Yang's forte and style, working with her father to reestablish equilibrium had given her a little insight into not always relying on her offensive strength alone. 

With a dismissive grunt, she lifted her arm and let the falchion fall to the ground.

"I can see my previous advice went unheeded." Winter's voice at once grated on her ears and made her heart stutter in her chest, lilac eyes quickly snapping to the door leading into the cargo bay, where everyone not already present- with the exception of Ren and Nora, likely up in the cockpit- stood, watching the demonstration with various degrees of amusement. None could be found in the Alpha's expression, though, arms clasped behind her back as she tilted her chin up a little. "You're not taking this seriously. You have joined forces with survivors of the Fall of Beacon, individuals who are well and above what your skill level was when you were their age." She paused, gaze landing on Stryker as she pushed herself to her feet. "And perhaps even now."

"Well, pardon me, Specialist." Stryker growled, raising her chin defiantly. "Perhaps you'd like to show us how it's done?"

Yang's shoulders tensed. Immediately, she wanted to shoot the proposal down; not only did she not want to be used in a territorial power play between two Alphas, she didn't really want to spar against Winter again, not so soon. Being in close proximity hadn't started feeling normal yet, not enough time had passed to take away the sting, and she didn't trust herself not to get distracted or, worse, betray her own turmoil in the middle of the fight. 

However, after the initial panic passed, she acknowledged that there seemed to be no easy way to get over her heartache, but the unpredictable rhythm of battle had always helped her sort through her thoughts. 

Yet again, fighting against Winter... it still seemed like too big a risk to take.

"Do you honestly need a visual demonstration?" Winter's tone, cool and crisp and dripping with well earned condescension, cut through her thoughts. "I'd thought you were trained better."

"Apologies, Specialist." The other Alpha gave a salute, though the lazy execution conveyed a distinct level of mockery. "I didn't realize you'd retired from the front lines."

The words pricked at Yang's pride. Were they mates, it would be well within her right to step in and offer her own opinion. Despite lacking that distinction, though, she'd still chosen Winter as a mate, she'd been willing to bond with the woman, and the insinuation that the Alpha couldn't back up her word with skill angered the Omega. 

Many things she would let slide, but not that.

"She's just trying not to embarrass you," she said, taking a few steps forward and then turning around, ensuring Stryker was only able to see her side and not her back. Raising her fists, she resumed her ready stance, lilac eyes falling on Winter. "But I like to actually break a sweat during training."

The Alpha remained silent for a moment before sighing, striding forward purposefully. "I would hate to waste your time. I trust the rest of you will be paying attention."

"Absolutely," Stryker replied, obviously miffed by Yang's dismissal, but the Omega didn't rightly care.

She watched as Winter pulled her blade free of her hip, hitting the button that separated her dagger out before the battle even began. To some extent, that mollified Yang's wounded pride a little; if nothing else, the woman at least saw her as a competent combatant, warranting none of the beginner tricks that she so often played on others. 

They'd sparred against each other enough that it seemed only natural to start near the top of their respective abilities, and the Omega repaid the gesture in kind, clenching her right fist harder to activate the plate in her palm, red dust threading between the grooves in preparation for her first strike with her prosthetic. From the corner of her eye, she could see the worried look on Ruby's face, barely assuaged by her decision to allow the display to continue.

"Ready? Go!"

No hesitation, no breaks- Winter flew forward, sped along by her glyphs, and Yang could hardly blink before both of her arms shot out to block the Alpha's first few blows. Sparks flew as metal met, her opponent not bothering with the test of strength and instead flipping her blades around to try from a different angle. Their sparring sessions usually came to this in one form or another- the flash of steel as Yang defended herself, throwing the occasional jab to create distance and waiting for the right moment to strike. She couldn't allow Winter to create too much distance, though, or allow either of her weapons to remain free, because the moment she did, a white Beowulf or Nevermore would come bursting to life from a glyph to harass her, and then she'd be defending herself twice over with little to show for it. 

Instead, she had to balance remaining within striking distance with defense, all too aware that the biting edge of either blade would be enough to weaken her defenses, and throwing a punch where she could. They hardly ever landed, the woman's quick movements and incredible flexibility merging with the grace of a dancer, and any time it looked like she might've robbed her opponent of her sure footing, a glyph would appear to stabilize her.

They traded blows for a few minutes, shuffling back and forth, before the woman made to retreat, aided by her glyphs, and Yang immediately gave chase with a burst from her left gauntlet. The moment her foot hit the ground, though, she turned her body, right fist cocked back and ready to unleash the first in her counter offensive even as a summon began to take form just out of her direct line of sight. She threw every ounce of her weight behind the blow, but the telegraph was too obvious, allowing Winter to dodge; it worked out well, allowing the Omega to spin and slam her fist into the side of a Beowulf's jaw, it's gaping maw disintegrating with the rest of its body as the one strike managed to dispel it entirely, a wreath of flame issuing from the line of her knuckles and scorching the floor. 

Usually, the heat would force Winter to take a moment and collect her bearings, but this time she seemed to press forward regardless of the sweltering temperature, flipping the shorter blade in her off hand around and beginning a series of strikes that had Yang twisting to keep her prosthetic between blade and flesh, blocking each blow until she could press forward, lowering her shoulder to deliver a devastating uppercut with her left that just barely clipped the Alpha's chin.

Had the hit landed solidly, it probably would've taken a chunk of aura and significantly impaired Winter's senses for a moment. As it stood, her head snapped back and the rest of her followed in a fluid backflip that might've looked to the naked eye like she'd avoided the blow entirely, landing in a crouch and shooting forward in the next moment to attack again. Always aggressive, always pushing every defense Yang had- she could feel the sweat accumulating on her brow and rolling down her spine as she worked to block and bob and weave, the sounds of gunshots ringing through the air as she used her blasts to either avoid, close, or disperse yet another summon. 

The longer the fight wore on, the more glancing blows got through her defenses, and the more strikes she landed in turn. On the one hand, she probably had more stamina, and blow for blow could last longer if each one landed, but Winter knew her weaknesses a bit too well, never hitting hard enough for her semblance to flare bright. The Alpha would bleed her dry with papercuts before being foolish enough to try and win a contest of brute force, and both of them could sense the tipping point approaching.

She'd somehow managed to land a solid punch against the woman's left side with her right, hampering her movements slightly, but Yang had gone on the offensive too often in order to get that, allowing a bit of her hurt to spur her forward. The Omega's aura was likely dangerously close to having the fight called, so the next time Winter retreated, she flicked her right wrist and cycled to yellow dust, lightning arcing along her prosthetic and she shot forward, ready to land the last blow. A white Beowulf blocked her path for a moment, but she jumped up and over it, spinning around so she could bring her fist down on top of the Alpha. At least, that's what it looked like she planned to do, but a shot from her left pushed her past Winter, allowing her to whirl around.

Fist cocked back, feet planting themselves as her hips twisted, Yang had every intention of following through and delivering the strike that she'd always held back in every previous bout. She couldn't impress the woman, couldn't sway her, so why not release the rage and anger and hurt in a decisive way?

Yet, her body went stock still, fist still a good half foot from making contact and cackling with undischarged lightning.

She couldn't do it. 

It had nothing to do with the pragmatic concerns, that they shouldn’t be pushing each other this hard considering the stakes; she couldn't take the last blow and potentially insult the woman. Winter had taken it easy on her, remaining on the ground rather than forcing Yang to deal with an aerial opponent; this wasn't about trying to outdo the other or prove who was stronger.

It was never about that.

Chest heaving and blinking sweat from her eyes, Yang noticed that the Alpha hadn't bothered turning around fully, only barely looking back at her out of the corner of her eye and over her shoulder. 

Then, she noticed that Winter had flipped her sword around so that it protected her back, anticipating the attack and prepared to use the flat of her blade to knock aside Yang's fist. She could've easily dropped down, pushed her shoulder into the Omega's gut and flipped her using her own momentum, but she'd held back as well.

"Holy shit," someone said, and with her heart beating so loud in her ears, Yang couldn't properly tell who the voice belonged to, but that didn't matter.

Haltingly, she drew her fist back, gulping in as much air as she could manage while Winter straightened up, blue eyes scanning over her form. "Are you hurt?"

"Sore, but fine," she replied, both hands still curled into fists. Talking to the woman shouldn't be this hard, shouldn't feel like a thousand claws digging into her chest to rip out her heart, but there it was; they were comrades and nothing more. "How's your side?"

"I'm quite certain it'll bruise." The woman offered a small smile. She probably meant the comment in a kind way, acknowledging the strength it took to leave any sort of mark without breaking someone's aura first. In combat, very few could pull it off, and the only exception that existed adorned Blake's and Weiss' collarbones- mating marks, which seemed to fly in direct defiance of aura and science.

The reminder stung.

"It'll fade," she said, sourness infecting her tone as she turned on heel and started walking away. "Just like before."

Shame and self loathing rose within her again, making bile appear in the back of her throat. Tears threatened to fall but she forced them back; this wasn't about anything other than getting back to normal and she'd likely have to face off against the Alpha several more times before she would stop acting like a kicked puppy.

Her feelings didn't matter.

With a quick motion of her right arm, the lightning that had remained trapped in her artificial limb discharged in a bright flash, leaving the whole thing smoking lightly. Yang reclaimed her spot beside Blake, ignoring the worry shining bright in amber orbs and crossing her arms over her chest. The metal felt hot against her skin but she wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t show an ounce of her inner turmoil.

"I'll trust that served as sufficient proof," Winter said, her voice as steady as ever. She stood facing her countrymen, hands clasped behind her back and appearing for all the world like she hadn't spent the past several minutes fighting a battle that ranged all over the enclosed space. How the woman could so consistently resume her normal poise would forever confound the Omega... even if she did still admire it. "They may be taking it easy on you for now but you've still much to learn in the way of real world application of your techniques before you can hope to match them. There is a distinct difference between being graduated and being blooded; remember that you haven't earned the second title yet, and they have. You'll learn much more that way."

Apparently through with her lecture, the Alpha turned, missing the glare thrown at her back by Stryker and heading straight for the doors leading back into the ship. With only a bit of trepidation, Ruby cleared her throat, trying to resume the training by calling out Oswald and Blake, pitting the Omegas against each other. Probably a good idea, considering the way Weiss' jaw immediately clenched, blue eyes riveted to her mate's back as the combatants prepared to face off. Yang trusted the Alpha's restraint but, considering the demonstration previously, some part of her worried how far everyone would push before someone snapped.

"So... you and the Ice Queen, huh?" She sighed through her nose, turning her head slightly to see Qrow leaning back against the wall beside her, the smell of whiskey heavy on his breath. It really shouldn't surprise her that the 'errand' he'd ran involved replenishing his liquor supply. "You two make a good pair."

"You hate her," she replied, turning her attention back to the fight. Unlike the previous two rounds, Oswald and Blake seemed to be decent matches, combining long range and short range attacks effectively. Where her partner had flexibility and her clones for distractions, her opponent had a good amount of brute strength and determination, not to mention a surprisingly solid stance. No matter what, Blake couldn't seem to get around his guard, his movements even faster than Ruby's- no, wait. 

Yang squinted, focusing intently on his shield arm. It seemed to flicker from one position to the next- an illusion semblance, forcing Blake to aim for a target that might not even be there. Clever.

"I don't hate her." He puffed out a bitter laugh. "Let's just say, she reminds me of someone I used to know. It sucks being trapped in a memory by yourself." Red eyes glanced her way. "Feel like you probably know how that feels."

"You're doing great at this pep talk thing, by the way."

"This ain't a pep talk. It's a 'pull your head outta your ass' talk." He straightened up, reaching up to the collar of his shirt and tugging it aside, putting the mark there on display. Yang had seen it before, briefly, but never learned who gave it to him or how long he'd walked around with a mark and no mate, just a ghost he tried to drink away the same as his semblance. "You're not stupid enough to end up like me, Yang, so stop acting like it. When this war's said and done, you've gotta find a way to keep going. Hell, even now, you can't just give up again, alright?" He straightened up his shirt, scratching at the hollow of his jaw. "Way I figure it, either you need to get back with her or move on. Walking around pissed off every day of your life ain't gonna cut it."

"Guess that decision was made for me then, huh?" Yang pushed away from the wall and turned, stalking off towards the cargo bay exit. "I'm done listening to this."

Maybe she couldn't stay angry at herself forever- it might die out eventually- but listening to her uncle try and smooth this over... she didn't know what happened to him because he wouldn't tell her. Far be it for her to feel guilty over a story she didn't know; she'd done that for enough years already.

His point remained, though. She couldn't keep sniping at Winter to soothe her wounded pride and broken ego. The feelings weren't mutual and that wasn't anyone’s fault- she couldn't demand that the Alpha return them for her sake.

"Yang." She stopped, looking back at Weiss, whose own gaze remained riveted to the ongoing battle. "Why didn't you use your semblance?"

"She didn't hit me hard enough," the Omega replied, furrowing her brows slightly. That much should've been obvious.

"You've been stomping around, angrier than a hornet's nest for the past week, and bleeding it off through your solo training hasn't quite done the trick." Blue eyes flicked over to her, and it should be uncanny how much she resembled her older sister but that never seemed to strike Yang quite as hard as it should. Perhaps it came down to how they'd met or the months spent at Beacon, but she could always clearly separate the sisters, just as most anyone could separate her and Ruby; their shared features always managed to look off just enough that she couldn't mistake one for the other. "You should have more than enough fire coursing through you to have brought a little bit of heat to the fight."

Brows furrowed, she turned to glare at the shorter woman. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Who'd you disappoint? Me, Winter, or yourself?" The line of her shoulders tightened as Weiss turned her attention away from the fight, setting her hands on her hips. The Alpha looked her up and down, expression pinching into one of minor annoyance. "Given the state of your clothes, I'm leaning towards the latter. Seriously, when was the last time you showered?"

She opened her mouth to snap back with a response but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she shook her head. "Look, if you're just going to give me a hard time-"

"You're doing that well enough, don't you think? Beating yourself up on the inside." The Alpha held her gaze, seeing if she'd balk, but Yang had both hands clenched into fists and her jaw set, just barely restraining herself. "Really, I wish it was more difficult to read your mind recently, but you might as well be putting everything up in neon lights!"

"What. Do you want. From me?" She could feel the red swirling into her eyes, fire burning in her blood as her anger began to boil. First Blake, then Qrow, and now Weiss- would there be no end to this torment? How many times would it be shoved in her face? "What's it gonna take?"

They stared each other down and though a little voice whispered in her ear that she should avert her gaze, she refused. Weiss had her mate and the Omega refused to let herself be swayed again, beholden to her instincts when only her sense had any merit left. She'd known from the beginning her heat was doomed and she'd let useless emotions and hope convince her otherwise. 

That mistake she wouldn't- couldn't make again.

"Stand by your team," the woman said, even as Ruby called an end to the match. "And when you stumble, let us help you up. That's what we're here for- and this time, we will be here. Don’t shut us out."

Blue eyes shifted to focus on Blake, who seemed to be working out her left wrist while exchanging a friendly handshake with Oswald. For his part, he seemed winded but in high spirits, and seeing as the only one to perform notably poorly was their team leader, Yang couldn't help but wonder how much longer until tensions began to rise on team SNOW. 

Considering how many times Stryker had looked her way since the end of her spar against Winter, she could only imagine how bruised the other woman's ego was; hopefully, her team would find a way to sooth the injury rather than exacerbate it.

"So, that just leaves Wisteria and Weiss!" Ruby called out, a cheery smile curving her lips. "After this, we'll go grab some food and talk about ways to improve." Silver eyes darted around the cargo bay before she cleared her throat, not a soul meeting the proposal with anything other than resigned acceptance and putting a dent in her pep. "Uh, on second thought, food in an hour, free time until then?"

"That sounds perfect," Weiss said, flashing a smile at her partner while taking Myrtenaster in hand and settling into her stance. "Ready when you are."

Wisteria pulled her whip free, the coils unfurling while the metal chain on the very end hit the ground with a sharp chink, and nodded.

"You looked good fighting Winter." Blake's voice pulled her attention away from the impending fight, not that she was very invested for the combat’s sake.

The blonde could see Stryker's pouting in her peripheral while looking at the fight and it made her feel a bit smug; that's what she deserved for daring to imply Winter was anything less than an expert in combat. "I still feel a little off balance."

"Balanced enough to toss that Alpha aside like she was nothing," the Faunus said with a forced chuckle, biting her lip the moment after. "You... think she's going to give you trouble?"

"Nah." Lilac eyes darted across the cargo bay, briefly catching Weiss and Wisteria trading plumes of fire before focusing on the grumpy Alpha for a moment. "I think it's just a military thing. She's got something to prove; it has nothing to do with me."

When she looked back at her partner, the disbelief was written plainly in her expression. "She's obviously interested in you."

Yang shook her head, ignoring the worrisome crack of lightning that issued from Wisteria's whip. "Stryker's interested in getting one over on Winter. I'm just the person who can give her that."

It should've stung, but it didn't; no one would be sincerely interested in her, and she'd gone through quite enough to cement that fact in her mind. At the very least, she had no illusions about the Alpha's intentions, no way she could possibly misinterpret that flirtatious tone of their first meeting or the cocky banter before their bout. 

It perhaps served as the only category in which Stryker could conceivably beat out Winter.

"As long as you're aware, Yang." Her partner sighed, obviously treading a fine line between pushing too hard and not far enough. "About what you said earlier... for what it's worth, I don't think Winter sees it as nothing."

She almost snapped out a response, anger flashing through her, but somehow managed to keep the words in check. Blake was trying to help but it just made the pain worse, images flashing in her mind. 

Dutiful Winter, trying so hard to toss her base nature aside and be the pragmatic soldier- she hadn't quite succeeded in remaining entirely detached and likely saw that as a failure of some sort, as if resisting the call of an Omega in heat remained something any Alpha could do with enough determination. 

"Maybe. Doesn't change the facts though.” She mumbled. “We don't... see each other the same."

The Faunus sighed. "If you say so."

That seemed to be as far as Blake was willing to push at the moment, relenting to the other Omega's stubbornness. Personally, Yang believed her to be trying far too hard for something that would never happen. Even if she somehow magically could be around Winter without feeling like her heart was about to be ripped from her chest, things would never be like they were before, that mutual respect and trust that came so easily when they trained against each other laying in fragments around her mind. She'd wanted Winter to see her as something more than her sister's teammate or an Omega who had failed in the one moment when triumph was paramount.

As lilac eyes returned to the battle before them- Wisteria's dust whip certainly had versatile uses but Weiss hadn't even seen fit to try summoning yet, though her defense seemed hardly able to keep up- Yang's mind wandered through her memories, sifting through the days after reuniting with her team. Between working through Blake's lingering guilty looks at the prosthetic replacing her lost arm, Weiss' erratic mood swings between unrelenting joy at their reformation as a team and the constant need to live up to her own impossible expectations, and Ruby hitting her emotional limit and unloading all the fears and insecurities that were born that fateful night as Beacon fell, Yang had enough things to focus on that shoving her own problems aside had come naturally, but her time spent training with Winter brought a different sort of liberation. 

She'd never met the woman properly before the Fall and had no memories to compare against when it came to their battles. The Alpha didn't have a picture in her mind of how Yang used to be, treating their every interaction the same, and with that came a strange sort of comfort. None of Blake's babying her, or Weiss' razor edged concern, or Ruby's worries; just the rhythm of the fight and a new bar to surpass, a new challenge to overcome. As much as she'd come to rely on her team like she did before, she couldn't escape the memories of their days at Beacon, when everything felt simple and straightforward. 

With Winter, she'd had that again- no complicated, painful goodbye to mar their time together.

Well, not until recently, at least.

Beyond the gratefulness she felt for having a glimmer of that old mindset back, she'd started to fall in love with the woman's poise, her quiet but forceful demeanor, her unrelenting pressure and passionate defense. Winter could be calm as a placid lake or as angry as a hornet's nest and anywhere in between, just as emotive as her sister but requiring a bit of finesse to coax it out. The Omega thrived during the times she could do such, because it seemed like the woman genuinely found her puns amusing and listened whenever she got started on a story, even the ones she obviously embellished. 

Perhaps she'd tricked herself into thinking polite interest meant something more, that a compliment about her style or strength weren't just methods of improving her morale. Maybe Yang's attention wasn't the reason the Alpha would tell stories from her early days in the Atlesian military or her own Academy days.

It seemed possible that every interaction had only existed in her head as something more than a comrade in arms interacting with another. She'd wanted to believe, fervently, that she could be desirable... but there remained no single moment she could turn to in her recollection that displayed as much.

Yet... their little exhibition match felt so much like they always had. A good workout but not a serious threat against one another- their auras hardly ever took enough hits to be concerning, almost like they weren't able to bring themselves to risk harming the other. They didn't fight against each other in earnest often; if Yang wanted a real test, she'd go up against Ruby, her sister's speed a good way to get around her heavier movements. Weiss and Blake often had to get too close to do serious damage, unless the Alpha summoned, but those tests were better served against Winter's own summons, so that neither wasted precious aura while honing their concentration.

Out of everyone available, I think I have the most experience fighting you, if it comes down to that.

They fought against each other most often but never hard enough... she'd obviously misinterpreted the reason for that. She thought it resembled Blake's bouts against Weiss...

She'd thought wrong.

The fight between Wisteria and Weiss ended on an amicable note, with the Alpha using her glyphs to rob her opponent of footing and the Beta being too hard pressed to recover adequately. With Myrtenaster against her throat, Wisteria yielded, and even Yang had to admit she'd learned quite a bit from the exhibition. Team SNOW obviously had a ton of experience fighting in regulated, supervised matches, but the raw demeanor Team RWBY had adopted on their quest to defeat Salem's agents went above and beyond what could be taught in any classroom. Loss and pain had taught them what instructors couldn't and everyone seemed keenly reminded of how much they'd grown since their Beacon days.

Yang, however, didn't feel nearly as optimistic despite all that. Blake and Weiss were obviously still getting acclimated to keeping their instincts in check, their fresh bond nearly pulling both into the fights. Discipline and the lack of a truly dangerous threat had kept them on the sidelines but the battlefield wouldn't be as kind. A cry of pain, a groan of effort- it wouldn't take much to distract one or both of them, which meant plenty more training in the days ahead. Even if they had a heading now, the time traveling to their next fight would be used honing their skills as much as possible.

That's why the Omega found herself standing in front of the Chief Engineer's quarters once more. This time, it wasn't to seek out some scrap of a memory; her fight with Winter had made it clear that she needed to close the chapter on her infatuation for good. Perhaps it would get Stryker to cool her jets a little, focus more heavily on the battles ahead, and give the lot of them a clear mind. The Alpha might've been able to put the events behind her and move on as if nothing happened but, as long as Yang kept coming back her trying to relive something that never truly existed, she would continue feeling strange around Winter.

Best to do it quick, like ripping off a bandage. Go in, put the furniture back, take the blankets to the laundry, and wipe the slate clean. It really stood as her only option.

Yet, she hesitated.

What's wrong with me? She frowned at the door, hands still curled into fists. Her anger at herself hadn't abated in the slightest, despite Blake's efforts to cajole her. At least Uncle Qrow and Weiss had kept their 'advice' to themselves, allowing her to leave without any further conversation after the last match ended. Just go in and do it. You can't keep walking around like this. You're distracting everyone. Get your head on straight.

"Yang?" The blonde blinked, turning her head to see her sister approaching her. "You left the cargo bay pretty quick. Is everything alright?"

"It’s going great," she replied, a sour note in her tone that made her sigh. "Sorry, Sis. I didn't know you wanted me to hang around."

"Well, I meant what I said about the hour downtime. I think everyone needs to get their thoughts in order." She walked closer, and it struck her again how much Ruby had grown. Where before she'd hardly come to the Omega's shoulder, now they were nearly eye to eye. Aside from gaining considerable combat experience during her time traveling with the broken remnants of Team JNPR, the Beta had also grown taller and leaner, the baby fat in her cheeks whittled away. But she hadn’t lost her smile. "But I wanted to check on you. We... haven’t really talked much lately."

"Yeah. Sorry about that." She sighed, shaking her head. "I've been kinda... out of it is all."

Silver eyes darted to the door. "Your heat really did a number on you, huh?"

Yang frowned, looking towards her feet. "That's one way of putting it."

"I'm sorry it didn't go well this time. I know you really hate not having the suppressants because of how bad it gets." She heard the contact more than felt it, her sister's hand lightly grabbing onto the prosthetic just beneath the anchor. "We'll try to find some next time we borrow Altesian cargo to resupply. And maybe, once this is all over, you can start looking for a mate?"

At first, she wanted to chuckle at the Beta's concept of 'borrowing' but felt her amusement cut by a sharp knife, brows furrowing into a scowl. "That's not going to happen. Ruby, I know it's hard to understand, but... that's not in the cards for me anymore." She lifted her right hand, tapping her thumb and forefinger together, the clinking of metal against metal echoing in the hall. "This... most Alphas aren't going to look past this. I'm not as good as I used to be."

"But you're so much stronger!" She should've expected her gear head of a sister to see only opportunities where others saw deformity; honestly, she should probably be grateful the Beta hadn't done something foolish to justify having one of her own limbs replaced with a weaponized prosthetic. "You're really getting the hang of your new fighting style! I mean, the way you disarmed Stryker and moved against Winter? Even Weiss admits you've pushed her sister harder than she ever did! And that last battle when-"

"Ruby," she said, trying to be forceful without betraying her anger. It shouldn't surprise her how optimistic the Beta could be but that didn't mean she wanted to hear any of it. "None of that matters. There's more to life than being a Huntress. I wanted a family of my own down the line and that's... that's not possible now." Yang pulled her artificial limb out of her sister's grasp. "This thing? It's a hunk of metal. Just because I can use it to fight doesn't mean it replaced the flesh and blood I lost." Lilac eyes traced along the prosthetic, her lips curled into a grimace. "Omegas are supposed to protect the people they care about most and be the gentle, supporting heart of the family. I can't do any of that." Metal creaked as she clenched her fist, pushing the gears to their limits. "I lost my arm because I wasn't strong enough to defend my partner. I let you run off to fight a war alone- I practically sent you to do it. I can't even keep from hurting myself, who's going to trust me to hold a child, even my own?" Beneath the boiling rage coursing through her veins, she could feel the sadness, that endless pit of despair she felt so ready to be dragged back into, and refrained from doing that by the barest margins. "Sometimes, this is the hand life deals you. Literally." She tore her gaze away, glaring at the door to the Chief Engineer's quarters. "It's shit and it's terrible and it's nothing at all like what you wanted. You just have to accept it... I just have to accept it."

Silence descended upon the sisters, with the blonde keeping her scowling gaze focused on the door ahead of her.

"I thought you... didn't spend your heat alone." The younger woman spoke tentatively.

Yang winced. "It would've been better if I had."

They fell quiet, the only noise being the swishing of fabric as Ruby stepped close enough to wrap her arms around her sister. The moment she registered the hug, all anger and pain fled from her system, her shoulders dropping as she glanced at the mop of hair pressing against her chin. "I'm sorry."

With a sigh, she carefully extricated her arms and returned the embrace properly. "Don't be. I did this- all of it, and I have to accept the consequences."

"Well, you know you're not alone, right?" Her sister muttered into her shoulder, squeezing tighter. "Blake, Weiss, me- we're all here, rooting for you. Jaune and the others, too."

"Yeah. I know." Yang felt her lips twitch into a smile. "Tell you what. After we kick Salem's butt, we'll have a big party- bake a whole bunch of cookies for everyone, stay up late playing video games, and pretend like we didn't just save the world from absolute evil. Just like old times, right?"

Ruby giggled. "It's only like old times if you tell really cheesy jokes all night, you know." They separated slightly, a small fist lightly knocking against her shoulder. "And for what it's worth? You've always been the heart of our family." Her smiled grew even larger. "Dad, Uncle Qrow, and I would've been hopelessly lost years ago without you there to set us straight!"

The Omega chuckled, shaking her head slightly. "Whatever you say, Sis." She patted her younger sibling's shoulder. "You should head up and grab some food, plan out what you're going to say to everyone. I've... got some things to get in order first."

"Okay. Don't be late!" With a flick of her cloak as she turned, Ruby started towards the stairwell. "Love you, Yang! See you in a little bit!"

"Love ya too, Rubes." She waited until the Beta disappeared before allowing her expression to fall. At the very least, her sister didn't push too hard in reassuring her and soothing her injured pride; neither did she seem too keen on addressing Winter directly. That boded well, since it meant she could maybe put the issue to bed after this. Assure everyone she'd moved on and be done with it. Hopefully, they'd believe her.

If she was really lucky, maybe she'd believe herself, too.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Yang palmed the door open, stepping inside after another moment's hesitation. Nothing had changed since her last visit and she did her best to breathe through her mouth as she began moving the furniture back into place. Resetting the room to its default state... it stung, slightly. Washed away any resemblance to her memories, distanced her even further from them, but that was the whole point of the exercise. Most Omegas either didn't bother with such or would restore everything to its pre-heat state before leaving their temporary nest. Had she the choice, she would've left everything as it had been... but it just encouraged the emotions she needed to kill.

It took a few minutes but she managed to get everything set back against the walls. Now, all that remained to even hint that anything had happened were the blankets, still stacked and folded on the bed, save for the one she draped around her shoulders during her last visit. Tentatively, she inhaled through her nose, eyes fluttering closed as the scent filled her lungs. Hers and Winters intertwined, but not the way mates would be. The tang of salt, the sweet undercurrent of sex, coupled with their individual scents made it clear that they'd been together but that the singular occurrence remained just that. Once the sheets were washed, the scent would die out completely within a couple weeks, only discernible to those in heat and maybe Faunus. In two months' time, it probably would be gone entirely.

Yang went and gathered them up, turning her head away so she wouldn't be tempted... but the pain in her chest stopped her. If she washed them, it would mean the destruction of the last trace that anything existed between them, no matter how brief. As terrible as it sounded, some part of her desired a memento from it all. She had no mark, no child, no words of affirmation- just blankets drenched in the scent of herself, Winter, and sex.

Wash them, burn them, throw them through the cargo door- just get rid of them somehow.

Lilac eyes glanced down, looking at the fabric gathered in her hands.

As long as they exist, you're going to remember.

With a sigh, she let them fall back to the bed. She should probably be ashamed of herself- always clinging to stupid hope when sense said otherwise- but the Omega couldn't bring herself to destroy the last remaining proof that, for a glimmer of a moment, she'd been worthy. Even without her arm, she'd been at least a warm body and a friend dear enough for the Alpha to consider easing her agony.

Yang would never have a mate... but she at least had friends.

Tears pricked at her eyes. "I've made a lot of dumb decisions. Might as well make one more."

She turned, ready to finally leave the room for good- and she meant it, this time- but her feet wouldn't cooperate. Despite having compromised so much already, she felt as if one more had to be made before she could be entirely satisfied. 

Yet, it probably remained the stupidest one she could make.

You're an idiot.

Growling, she turned and snatched one of the blankets from the bed, throwing it around her shoulders and marching out of the room. When the door closed behind her, she turned, punching the door control repeatedly until the metal crumpled, electricity crackling for a few moments before the whole thing shorted, the lights in the hallway flickering briefly as the door's indicator lights all powered down. Locking it probably would've been the better long term plan but... no. If she happened to go into heat again, she couldn't bear going back to that room. It would be an even greater torment that her first stint.

Yang looked left and right, clutching at the blanket and hurrying towards the stairwell. She kept her ears and eyes sharp, unable to rely on her sense of smell at all, and scurried to her quarters as quickly as possible. Once there, she closed the door and locked it, snatching up the handheld game from her dresser top and sitting down on her bunk.

"Guess picking up bad habits runs in the family." The blonde muttered, pulling the blanket around her shoulders tighter and inhaling deeply as the game started up. 

She had about twenty minutes to kill, anyway.

[lil-blue-one]

In Secret - Musings

It's been two weeks. I've gone with Gajeel almost every night now for two weeks straight. I feel stronger, at least a little. My arms have started losing the little bit of flab I had, and my stomach too. He had me doing push ups, sit ups, lunges, some exercises with weights, AND practicing defense techniques with the kids. Every. Night. I was so tired, I barely had energy to shower before passing out by the time I got home.

I'd told Jet and Droy I was so tired because I'd been rearranging bookshelves in my apartment. Since I live in Fairy Hills, they're not allowed in, so they couldn't come help me anyway. They wouldn't know I had been lying to them. I hated that I was lying, but I knew they wouldn't understand. Wouldn't understand why I was helping Gajeel, keeping the kids secret, or even why I was trying to get stronger. They'd be hurt, thinking I didn't trust them to keep me safe. I did, mostly, but I didn't want to have to.

I was lying on my bed, an arm thrown over my eyes to keep the sun out of them, trying to convince myself to get up. My sore legs- we'd focused on legs yesterday- were protesting and I hadn't even tried to use them yet. The kids were doing great, doing all of the same exercises as me. They had agreed to let me train with them as payment for the reading lessons. And I offered to teach them basic maths too. I was really having a lot of fun, sore muscles aside.

I finally talked myself into getting up and dressed, wearing an orange halter dress that was trimmed with my usual detached sleeves and a headband that matched it around my head. I had to let out the band on my sleeves, just a little, my new muscles making them too tight. Finally, I pulled on some thigh-high black stockings and slipped my feet into black ankle booties. I was taking today off from working out, so I could wear clothes that were more cute than functional. Maybe Lucy will go out with me later? I could use some girl time.

Presentable at last, I headed out to the guildhall for lunch. I'd slept through breakfast. Again. That had been happening almost every day this week. I walked in and saw Lucy at a table with Natsu, Gray, and Erza. Happy was perched on Natsu's shoulder like a bird. Gajeel was sitting at the bar, munching on some iron bits. I walked up to the bar and stood next to him, asking Mirajane for some food. While she was getting it around, I gave Gajeel a friendly smile and said "Good morning!" He raised a studded eyebrow and looked at me. "Hey." He looked at Mira, and glanced around to see if anyone was watching. "What's up?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to say good morning." I saw Mira watching us out of the corner of her eye, and Gray was watching too. Lucy probably told him to, since he was facing this way and her back was to me. I sighed a little, "I just... I'm not scared of you anymore, and wanted to say hi. That's all. Thanks for the food, Mirajane!" And I walked away. I almost laughed at the confusion in his face. He knew I wasn't afraid of him, much, because we'd been together almost every night at the kids' warehouse. But I was tired of how everyone else was treating him, so I figured I'd start letting them all see that he wasn't a terrible person.

"Lu-chan! Want to go out with me tonight?" I asked my friend as I sat down at the table. She smiled at me, "Sure! Anything specific?" I shook my head and chewed the food I had stuffed into my mouth. "Ooh, want to go get pedicures?!" She got excited, putting her hand to her face as she continued, "and I can have Cancer do our hair! We could go shopping! Oh! And there's a new book out I want to go get!" I laughed as she kept going. "Sure, Lu! That all sounds great!"

I kept eating as we discussed our plans. At one point, Natsu tried to invite himself along, but Lucy put a stop to that pretty quick. "Geez, you idiot. They want to have girl time, you don't want to be around for that." Gray chipped in. "Who're you calling an idiot, Ice Princess?!" Natsu yelled as he stepped up on the table. Lucy groaned, and I just sat back a bit with what was left of my food. "You, Flame Brain!" And there went Gray's shirt.

"Lu-chan, will you take my dishes to Mira? I'm going to go back to my apartment really quick before we go, okay? I'll come back soon!" I ran off as she scrambled away from the table. I saw her dive behind the bar as our table went flying, and noticed that Gajeel wasn't sitting there anymore. Weird, normally you can hear him thudding around, but I never heard him leave. I chuckled at Natsu and Gray as I jogged out the door.

I directed my run towards the girls dorm, smiling and reveling in the beautiful weather. I found I could keep pace for longer, now that I was more active every day. I thought I heard someone behind me, and slowed to a walk so I was ready when I felt the hand on my shoulder. Instead of screaming or freaking out, the little training from this week kicked in and I reached up and grabbed the hand, leaning forward to use my momentum to pull my assailant over my head.

As I followed through and watched him fly over me to land flat on his back, my brain caught up with muscle memory and realized I knew the hand. Gajeel was laid out in front of me, looking up with approval. I blushed a little, then let go of his arm so he could get up. I was also politely ignoring the fact that he was trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him. "Sorry. You startled me." I said.

"Nah, it's alright. It wasn't what I'd meant to do, but it's nice to see the trainin' pay off." He brushed off his pants, and I caught my hands before I brushed off the back of his shirt. Ever since I'd seen him working out that first day I would find myself wondering what it would feel like to trace those muscles. He turned to face me and I let my hands drop. "What was up with that back in the hall?" He asked bluntly.

"Oh! Well, I figured it would be good to start gradually talking to you in front of other people, so if I ever slipped up and said something to you, or anyone ever sees us talking outside of the guild, they wouldn't start asking questions... I'm sorry, I should have probably warned you before I did it." I looked at my feet, mentally kicking myself. After just a moment I heard him grunt. "Pretty smart, little nerd. I hadn't even thought of that. I guess it worked out. A few weeks ago I'd have been pretty surprised by you talkin' to me at all, so the surprise I showed today woulda tracked with that. I still won't approach ya, probably. I can't see any of yer friends bein' chill about that yet." I nodded, looking up at him.

"Yeah. That makes sense. I'm sure you heard, but I'm not going to be there tonight, okay? I need a little break." I knew he wasn't some kind of drill sergeant, to force me to work out every day. But, he did encourage it. "No big deal. I'll keep at the kids, but it's fine for ya to go do yer girly stuff with the bunny girl. The other shrimps will be glad to catch a break from schoolin'." I glared at him for Lucy's nickname, but he just laughed his signature "Gihi."

"Well, I've got to get going, but give Sam a hug for me, okay?" I laughed then, at the face he was making. "Oh come on! Sam hugs you all the time anyway! It's not like I told you to hug Fitz..." I was still laughing when I got to the dorm. Glancing out my window, I saw him still standing there, staring at the building. I waved and saw him look towards the movement. He grinned at me and gave me a little half-wave before finally leaving. Gathering my wallet and a satchel, I ran back down to the guild to meet Lucy.

Ah, that's her room then. I'd been wondering how I would get information to her if I was ever changing things up with the bastards, but she'd just solved that problem twice. First off by talking to me at the hall, and second by showing me where she lived. I could have probably figured it out, but I didn't want someone to catch me climbing all over the building looking in the rooms. No telling who I'd see, either. I shuddered, imagining a scarlet haired woman catching me looking through her window and killing me.

As I walked towards my home, I found myself sulking a little about the fact that the tiny woman wasn't joining me tonight. It made sense, and I was surprised she'd made it this long without taking a break, but I was still bummed. When I got home, I flopped onto my bed and stretched out with my hands behind my head.

She should have a night off. Why am I being such a sissy about not seeing her for one night? There was a certain possessiveness fighting to the surface of my thoughts. What the hell is that about? Ain't like she's mine at all. Tch. I rolled onto my stomach, face buried in a pillow. She could be... A small voice in the back of my head said. I snarled and threw the pillow, pushing myself up. "Right. Like she could ever care about me. Or deserve to be stuck with such a monster." With those words, my thoughts drifted to the story she'd read that first day. I shook my head. That was a stupid children's story. Real life doesn't work that way.

I glanced at the clock and saw that I'd been brooding longer than I'd thought, and it was almost time to go see my brats. Huh. When did they become mine? I hadn't realized I'd claimed them as mine in any way, but I guess I had in my head. They were my little gang of bastards, to train and protect. With a grunt, I grabbed a bag of jewel and left. I made an impulse stop in a certain bookstore moments before it closed, then stopped to grab some food for the little buggers on my way. Who knew if they'd eaten?

Fanfiction.net - https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12352494/14/In-Secret

[heartslogos]

pull the morning out of the night [78]

Bull is in the middle of trying to figure out how to tell a Sentinel belonging to June how to fuck off without using the words fuck off specifically. He’s said it once, he’s said it one time too damn many, diplomacy is not his strong suit. Nowhere does it say that his purpose is to be diplomatic. That, generally, is not what you look for in a mercenary or an undercover spy or an enforcer.

And yet here he is, standing in the doorway that leads into the foyer of Ellana’s quarters and trying to figure out the exact conjugation in high tongue for fuck off and if the word is gendered or not.

“Chief,” Krem says, coming into the room and sounding frazzled. That is not the right word for Krem in that Krem is never frazzled. Krem does not do frazzled. That’s half the reason why he’s Bull’s second in command. Bull inclines his head towards the man but doesn’t look away from the Sentinel because these bastards are tricky bas and he’d rather not fucking lose the guy. “Chief.”

“What?”

“Incoming,” Krem says sounding strained and Bull turns in time to see the glass doors that lead from the foyer to the shared space rattle open as Ellana - Ellana, looking more like a reasonably elven woman than she has in the past few days, as in the right side of her body looks more like an actual body that could possibly bleed; whether it would bleed blood or some other shit he isn’t sure, but the point is, she would bleed. - bursts out, eyes flicking around the room before settling on the Sentinel. Ellana’s lip curls up to reveal that despite what she looks like, things are still very wrong underneath.

Bull does not know this woman very well. Bull understands this woman in parts. He knows parts of her. But he does not know how those parts come together to make this woman, and how those parts work together to cause this woman to do the things she does and to behave the way she behaves. This woman, who is sometimes a wolf and is sometimes bleached bone and other times the waves that drain and drown the wolf to create the beached bones, is an ever changing puzzle that the Iron Bull and Hissrad were never trained to read because there is no teacher in the world who could possibly anticipate this kind of eternal and resistant knot of a riddle.

Ellana does not want to be seen. Ellana does not want to be read. Ellana is a book what is wiping its pages before you can finish a chapter and then rearranging her paragraphs before you can go back and check what you think you know.

She likes to read, she does not like to be read.

Her transparency, in all things, is forced, strangled, squeezed, bargained, and begged out of her. The Iron Bull is willing to do all of these things in order to complete his assignment. But they are very, very, very draining.

“What is this?” Ellana says, standing too still and the Iron Bull takes a step back and to the side just in case.

“Wolf Ascendant,” The Sentinel bows his head, “The Crafter wishes to - “

“Fuck the Crafter,” Ellana says, eyes fixed on the crown of the Sentinel’s head, “Why are you here? Who gave you permission to speak to my house? Leave. I will not tolerate this - and you can tell all of them that. If they wish to speak to me they speak to me and me alone. They do not go near my house. Leave while I am still feeling generous, adjunct.”

And then Ellana rounds onto him, “And you.”

“Me?” The Iron Bull blinks as Ellana raises a hand and literally waves the Sentinel out the door. The Iron Bull hears the Sentinel grunt at the impact of hitting the wall in the hallway, and the doors slam shut, a ripple of a barrier expanding over it and fading through the room’s walls. Ellana’s eyes - both blacker than anything, pupils expanded to take up too much of her eye, too much to even be a pupil anymore - are fixed on him.

“Why were you talking to them?” Ellana quickly turns to Krem, then around, as if she’s just seeing where she is - as if she is surrounded, “Why are any of you talking to them? Leaving here? Me? You should not. Who told you to? You are to stay here with me. Only me.”

The others, drawn by the noise, have slowly filtered into view. Dalish - looking tired and sleepless - leans against the doorway and sluggishly looks between Ellana, the Iron Bull, and the door.

Rocky looks like he’s about to say something but Ellana’s eyes snap to him.

“You don’t need them,” She says, “You don’t need any of them. What did you want? Why didn’t you just ask me? I promised you, did I not? Do you not trust me? I promised to take care of you. Always. In all things. Whatever you want that is in my power - whatever you want that isn’t, I will try to find a way for you.”

Her head quickly snaps to Dorian - “I told you, did I not? That I am trying? Dorian, I am trying, for you. For all of you. Why do you leave? Why did you leave? Shut up Compassion, I did not ask you.”

A flicker of barely visible glass-green forms the suggestion of a person next to her before it raises its arms as if to shield its face and is blown away.

“Why don’t you trust me?” Ellana rounds onto him again.

“I never said I don’t trust you,” He says.

“But you don’t,” Ellana says, “Why?”

“Should I trust you?” The Iron Bull asks, “Give me a reason.”

“You trust them over me?”

“No,” Bull says, “What do they have to do with whether I trust you or not?”

“Everything!” Ellana exclaims, “I will not lose you to them. I will not lose any of you to them. I will not let them take what is rightfully mine. Say that you trust me.”

“I trust you,” The Iron Bull says, meeting her eyes. It is not exactly a lie.

“Prove it, I want you to swear it. On their lives,” Ellana gestures. “I want all of you to swear on each others lives. You are mine to command, mine to do with as I please, mine to do with as I will, mine. Swear it.”

“I can’t do that,” The Iron Bull says, “I can swear for myself, but not for them. I am one man, not all of them.”

“Swear it,” Ellana pushes, and it feels like something is pressing between his brows. Something small and hard and increasingly bright, it burrows into his skin, spreading like a headache but worse. More kick. “Show me how loyal you are, show me. Let me see into you, let me see into all you of you - show me your truth.”

The air begins to ripple with energy, and Bull’s temples throb in protest.

“Reveal to me how loyal you are. You will not swear it? Show me, then. Show me your devotion to your god. Show me how you love us, show us your whispers, show us what eats you so that we may eat it in turn,” Ellana’s voice curls into a rumbling hiss and Bull pulls the words out delivering them like stones -

“Even if I am unwilling?”

“Why would you be unwilling? You are my house, you are my blade. Our will should be your only will,” Ellana rasps, the heavy thing between his brows sprouts branches and they begin to dig, to probe, as if physically peeling his skin apart and drilling into he bone of his skull. Bull sucks in a breath that feels like it goes nowhere. Ellana’s right palm begins to glow, deepening in color - blackening. “Your will is only what we command it to be.”

“And are we your possessions as the others were his possessions?” Bull grinds out and Ellana snarls, hisses. The sound seems to multiply around the room - distorting until he can’t pick out her voice. Bull forces his vision to focus on her even as everything blurs out - Ellana’s face is no longer visible. It is a mask of smoke, magic, a distorted and warped green-black stained glass image.

“All things,” The voices that are centered around Ellana intone, “Return to us in time. We are the beginning of you, we are the end. As we make you, we unmake you. Your life is our gift, your death is our blessing. You are ours, as you have always been ours.”

The voices seem to expand, filling his ears like something heavier and far more expansive than water.

“In the beginning there was us,” The voices seem to lift, physically hooking Bull under the collarbone like a slab of meat and dragging, “There has always been us, the Creators and the Makers and the ones you have Forgotten. You think you have buried us, but we sing you to life endlessly. Selflessly. We forgive you your trespasses, for we love you so. Succumb. Return. Renew. Awake. We are the beginning you forgot, we are the end you remember.”

Bull drags in a breath, - parts of him hesitate. He can understand, now, parts of why she gave him these exact words all those months ago. Knowing what parts he knows now, he can hazard some guesses as to the truth of these words, the depth of how they will severe, not cut. But parts of him hesitate anyway. He would not turn this similar kind of blade against Krem or Dalish or Skinner, or even Dorian. Is it safe to turn it against her? Other parts of him demand that he do so. They were her orders. They were her command.

They are what will keep his people safe.

“Who speaks? Fear or deceit?” Bull asks and it is as if every face and voice, Ellana’s included, recoils

“You dare?” Ellana’s hand is a bright and dangerous thing as it raises, cutting through the distortions in the air, raising and crossing the space - ready to strike. “Insolence. Who speaks? We speak. We sing. As we have always sung. Ungrateful child, unworthy wretched spawn, who speaks it asks, we speak we answer, we, endlessly we - “

“And does Mahanon speak?” Dalish’s voice is quiet, soft, unassuming, and sharp through the thousands of other voices that seem to come from everywhere at once. The Iron Bull can no longer see the shape of a woman at all, just - just energy.

The hand, glowing and grimacing, pauses as it hits the apex of its swing. A single face, underneath every other body, blanches. A single voice, underneath the cacophony of voices and murmurs and animal groans, gasps, and whispers “What?”

“I said,” Dalish repeats, louder, even as the tendril of power that burrows and pulls apart the flesh at their skulls seems to burst and scatter, “Does Mahanon speak?”

[sammoonwatcher]

Death comes for all part eight.

Reaper shifted impatiently. They’d never expect this. It was past midnight, clouds of an approaching thunderstorm had blocked out every star in the sky. The moon hidden in it’s own shadow. The silent aircraft flew just above the water, below the radar.

The lights of watch point Gibraltar reflected across the glassy surface of the water. After the attacks today they’d be resting at worst, wounded at best. It was easy luring them into attacking, it was even easier to make the trap seen like it was meant to kill. That after the damage Talon would need to regroup.

Thanks to Talon Reaper now had more than a few new toys that they were unaware of. And now Reaper was at the peak of his power. The souls were frenzied. Trying desperately to somthing. Warn them. But Reaper had planned for that.

They played right into his hand. Now all he had to do was finish the job.

Shadow stepping out of the stealth aircraft he found himself in the middle of the watch point.

He was taken back by the familiar surroundings.

The faint ocean breeze, Soft roar of waves, The buildings nestled into the opening of earth and rock.

Making his way into the first building he knew exactly where to go to find the stupid ape that ruined his plans not so long ago… If he’d succeeded then this would’ve been so much easier.

But then again, He wouldn’t have been able to enjoy this.

The ape didn’t stand a chance. But the dumb animal managed to set off the alarms.

“Go ahead, let them come, they can run away or face me here. Nothing can help them now… I am Death, And I, Have come to collect.”

And they came. Zarya managed to hold him off for a while. But the barrier couldn’t hold for ever. Reaper was now covered in burns due to the laser but he didn’t care. The wounded flesh dissolved into smoke and new flesh stitched itself together. The skin hardened and cracked and red blood flowed underneath the cracks like lava until the burned area reassembled the rest of his living corpse.

Unfazed Zarya put up a fight, as strong willed as she was strong. “…You still won’t beat them… I know it… Together… they are stronger then you” Reaper had to admire her conviction to her friends, even in the face of death. “We’ll see about that.”

You can’t kill somthing that was already dead.

Mcree tried reasoning he opened his mouth to speak but he only received gunfire in response. It didn’t take long for Reaper to gun down his former student. A gasp arouse from every one. Blood soaked through Reaper’s cloak as he moved to claim the gunslinger’s soul. “Well… I guess… that outta settle it…” Jesse shifted painfully. “You can’t say I didn’t try.” Then to Gabriel’s shock, stood up. His were movements jagged and painful, it was obvious it took him a tremendous effort to stand. He always was a tough kid, Reaper thought. “I’m sorry jefe, I’m not going down that easily.” He said, gritting his teeth. That name. Jefe. The same from the glory days of black watch. The same way he found away into every kink of armor and got himself under Gabriel’s skin. The way he got himself that stupid cowboy get-up and made every one around base smile. The way once captured by Overwatch from dead lock he’d done every thing in his power to drive Jack crazy. The moment Gabriel realized he’d be dammed if he sent this kid to life in jail for just doing what he had to if he wanted to live. The same name he called him when he almost died.

“Hey jefe,… get off.” He was alive! Gabriel’s heart leaped. Looking away from Jesse’s face the relief died instantly. He needed to stay calm. “Keep talking kid.” He said tearing off his shelve. “I can’t feel my arm…”

“Remember, when you wanted to save my life? Not end it?” Mcree asked Reaper shook his head, trying and failing to brush off memories. “The past is worthless.” He said aloud. He struggled to keep himself together, and tears were already forming behind his mask. “You’re right, I guess it was all just memories and lies, wasn’t it? Gabriel?” Mcree shouted. Mcree had the first move darting in towards the wraith. Reaper was slow to react. Mcree got three point blank shots into Reaper’s chest. Reaper thought his dead heart couldn’t be broken anymore than it was, but now he felt it was tearing itself apart. He grabbed Jesse by the neck, unfazed by the bullets. He knocked his gun away. Mcree struggled but couldn’t get away. Reaper tightened his grip, his claws drawing blood as Mcree tried vainly to escape his grasp. He drew his gun. He needed to claim the soul on the verge of death, he silently wished he could’ve done this quickly. And fired into Mcree’s gut. There was a moment after the shot when time seemed to freeze. And the whole world gasped. Blood splattered across the wall. Chunks of flesh missing from his student were scattered everywhere. The gaping hole in Mcree matched that of the wraith’s heart. What have I done? The thought ran throughout his mind. What have I done? How could he have done this? What have I done? Their eyes met. There was question, confusion, and hurt in Mcree’s as they started to lose focus, glazing over. Mcree flicked his wrist and a flash bang stunned Reaper. He dropped Mcree. Jesse fell against the wall, keeping him propped up. Reaper knelt by him. Mcree tried to speak. He couldn’t. His heart kept beating for just a minute more. His breathing became harsh. There was fear in his eyes as he realized that this was his end. “What have I done?” Gabriel whispered. He held Jesse tightly. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He repeated. “I’m… scared… Gabe” Mcree whispered, barely able to speak. “Don’t worry kid, it-… it only hurts for a little while.” Gabriel said. Mcree went limp. His heart gave in. Gabriel pulled him closer. “Oh God What have I done?” He killed him. Gabriel took off the mask. “You- you shouldn’t have come back. You shouldn’t have come back here.” Gabriel sobbed. “I never asked for this!” He knew he was lying. “This isn’t what I wanted!” He screamed. “I never wanted this! I-I never… meant for this…” Gabriel held Jesse close, as a final farewell. “I’ll finish this.” He carefully laid down Jesse. Reaper claimed his soul and put his mask back on. Jesse died there, along with Gabriel and whatever humanity Reaper had left. He all ready lost it all. He needed to end this. He walked out side to be met with a crowd of heroes.

Pharah rocket jumped out of the back firing a volley of shoots. Reaper was already in wraith form slipping through the rockets. The wraith laughed. “Like mother, like daughter.” He sprang upwards at an inhuman speed. The two collided mid air. Pharah was knocked off balance, and Reaper shot at her ‘wings’. The two tumbled in mid air spirals downward out of control. Their arms inter locked Reaper refusing to let go. Pharah struggled to break free. Reaper stared coldly at her. Pharah feel the cold, hollow eyes of the mask drilling into her as they plummeted towards the earth. Reaper could see tears on her face. She drew her rocket launcher. At this range? “Go ahead, I dare you.”

The blast had no effect on Reaper other then to knock Pharah away. She crashed down to the ground. Along with Reaper. Undamaged by the fall he approached Pharah, lying on the ground, stunned and helpless. Smoke clouded in around the pair. Reaper couldn’t help compare Pharah to a small bird with a broken wing, small and fragile, where she was once grand and powerful. No where to run, no where to hide, no way to fight back. The wraith pitied Pharah, Jack left her to die, just like he did to Gabriel and her mother. She gasped for breath. “Take… your mask… off…” He did. “You… don’t … look like… A… monster… Gabriel?… you’re not…” She stopped and coughed up blood. It became apparent that the fall had broke her rib cage. She was suffering from internal bleeding as well. “I… I… remember… you… Gabriel… you’re not… like this… ” Her words fell away as she had to focus all her energy to continue breathing. “…Mom?…” Reaper raised his hand above her. “… You’ll see her soon…” Pharah went limp. The fire in her eyes darkened into a dying ember, before fading out completely. Peacefully. He put his mask back on. Reaper could feel his power growing. Each new soul made him feel more… alive. His thoughts were interrupted by the pathetic excuse for a robot, Zenyatta. “You cannot be serious, you’re going to stop me!?” The wraith laughed. Reaper was about to begin his assault before Hana, in her mech crashed into him. The look in her eyes was serious. No trash talk, no slang, no jokes. Reaper laughed. “I won’t let you win Reaper! I won’t let you get away with this!” She shouted. “I already have.” They exchanged fire but Reaper was still unaffected. “Here, let me tell you somthing. I crushed that pathetic whelp’s soul into dust, too bad. People like him have too much faith in humans. I spared him a wasted lifetime. Sure I cut it short, so what? He’s lucky. He got to feel all the good in life, without its downs.“

Reaper ducked in time to dodge an arrow. Maybe a real challenge? He reached Hanzo with out even shadow stepping, up close the archer stood no chance. Reaper was about to end him when a sword sprouted through his chest cutting his heart. Reaper was stunned at first, being caught off guard. He laughed. Genji twisted his blade. Reaper laughed at the pain. “It takes more than a knife to kill a dead man.” Reaper turned sword still in him to face Genji. He shot once before an arrow struck his side. In fury Reaper turned and finished the archer, giving time for his brother to escape, wounded.

Reaper turned to face the crowd of heroes before him. In a exaggerated fashion he grabbed the blade of the sword and pushed in the blade back the way it cut through him.

He tossed the sword down. The next hour became a blurr of rage and pain. For the time being it seemed the only colors left in the world were midnight black and blood red. Soon the remaining heroes all started scattering, like the cowards they were. Reaper soon could once again pick them off one by one. Zenyatta was done in by a few quick shots. The omnic fought valiantly but Reaper triumphed in the end.

Jack ran at the wraith. His mind racing and broken heart pounding. Rage, grief, guilt, and fear stirred in cauldron of adrenaline in his thoughts. He wasn’t thinking straight, but he didn’t want to. Reality and guilt were already forming unbearable weights on him. The ghost saw him and nailed him once, point blank. The old soldier fell to his knees. The wraith grabbed him by the neck and flung him against a wall with inhuman ease.

“Just stop trying Jack, don’t worry you’ll be last.” Reaper said. Jack’s last conscious thought was that Gabriel must’ve lied to him. He still couldn’t be trusted. Jack realized the one truth Gabriel had spoken was that Reaper was saving him for last, and he wanted to make it very painful.

“Now, unless anyone else wants to interrupt, may we continue?” The wraith laughed turning to face Hana