#everything is passing in a haze because I have no energy to extend to it

[honeyedheartss]

.

[coldshrugs]

praying that it waits for me

featuring: douglas friedman; supporting cast: alma green, verda, tina word count: 1.4k note: a @wayhavensummer entry for the 6/13 prompt first pride! doug's gay, i said so. (p.s. if you're closeted, i love you so much and it's okay not to come out. your reasons are your business and you're still part of this beautiful community)

It's a mindless thing, the way his attention searches for purchase on something, anything, in front of him. Something immediate. All the while those inescapable thoughts hover around the edge of his attempts at stimulation.

Douglas glances down at his phone. Back to the work computer. Clicks through a few links. Tries to read a stupid listacle. Back down when the phone vibrates—a text from Dad. He’ll think about that later. He swipes it off the screen as Alma and Verda come up from the lab.

They’re chattering away in a bubble of quiet laughter and relaxed touches as they hang their white coats on hooks by the station’s kitchen. There's something familial between them, an understanding that Doug’s never had with anyone.

He’s not sure if it’s something he can have. But he can hope.

It was months ago that Alma invited him in when he had nowhere else to go, even after he’d acted like an idiot. Longer still since she’d put herself between him and an attacker. Doug can’t describe how grateful he is that she cared. No one ever seems to care.

He thought he was in love, just for a moment. Thought he could finally ignore this clawing in his chest.

The part of himself he can’t face.

He buries the thought for now. They’re wandering over anyway.

“How’s it going, Doug?” Alma leans against his desk, words caught mid-giggle, and the bubble of warmth extends to him for a moment. The natural pull of her gravity is something he can’t resist—fully aware that this is not attraction—because he knows she’d care. She’d listen and tell him it’s okay.

He doesn’t say anything important. Only shrugs and offers a weak smile. “I’m okay. Ready to clock out.”

If they were alone, he could say more. Maybe even tell her the truth.

“I hear that.” She groans.

Eric pokes his head through the glass door, both daughters in tow, and Verda meets him with a quick kiss. Douglas tries not to stare. Takes a deep breath to hide the heat in his face.

There’s something else he can’t imagine having. Best not to even hope for that.

Goodbyes are said. Doug keeps his head down. It’s not long before one of the volunteers comes to relieve him at the front desk, and then he’s free for the night.

He wanders around town for a while. A coffee from Haley’s to savor at the docks; flipping through something new at the bookstore; finally, a single beer at the bar. Anything to avoid going home.

His phone buzzes for the first time since work. Dad again. Better check both texts now.

4:52 PM: Councilman Meyers and his family are coming to dinner tonight. Don’t embarrass me by being late.

Doug is way past late. That was the one that came through while he was at the front desk.

8:03 PM: You are, as always, a disappointment.

That sinking feeling in his gut both leads the way and slows his steps as he shuffles back to the north side of town. Back to the place he feels emptiest.

Doug enters as quietly as he can. There’s the clink of ice in a tumbler from the sitting room. Dad must be drowning his fury with whiskey.

“Goodnight,” Douglas mumbles from the foyer. No response.

His father doesn’t even bother to berate him to his face anymore. Doug doesn’t know what’s worse, being yelled at or being ignored.

In the safety of his room, the weight falls away. He can practice being himself.

He curls into bed with his laptop, fingers hovering over the keys with uncertainty. Every letter, every word typed into the search bar solidifies the truth of it a little more. The forums are always full of support, camaraderie, and understanding. More empathy than he's been shown in his life.

Would he receive the same love?

Doug showers before bed, wipes the fog off his mirror, and practices saying it.

"I'm gay," he whispers to himself. Then just a little louder. "I'm gay. I'm gay."

It’s not comfortable, but it’s his. Like new jeans, still too stiff when he sits, but they fit perfectly. Boots that might cause a blister for the first week, but will last for years.

He likes how it looks on him. Likes it enough to smile.

Maybe tomorrow will be different. Maybe he'll tell someone besides his reflection.

- - -

Tomorrow isn't different, nor is the next day. Or the one after that. But eventually, after stockpiling his courage, Doug decides it's time.

He stops at Haley’s to pick up a couple coffees. He doesn’t know Alma’s order, but everyone likes a flavored latte well enough, right? He wants to extend a friendly gesture. She’s the closest thing he’s had to a friend in a long time.

He catches her sliding out of her car in the station’s parking lot. His pounding heart protests as he moves around to the front of the car to make himself known.

It’s now or never.

“Alma,” he starts.

“Morning, Doug. Everything alright?” She heaves a messenger bag onto her shoulder and bumps the door shut with her hip. He looks for any signs of annoyance--a sharpened look, a pinched brow, a disappointed frown. Things he's used to seeing when he tries to talk to his father.

But she just looks a little confused, a little curious.

“I… I grabbed a coffee for you.” He awkwardly extends the drink, and she takes it after half a second’s hesitation.

“Thank you?”

Well, this is going spectacularly.

“Do you have a second? To talk?”

Her brows raise, curiosity shifting to something like worry, he thinks. It’s more concern than he’s gotten from either of his parents in a few years. She nods and gestures for him to follow her to the bench a few feet from the entrance.

“What’s up?”

Doug hasn’t given much thought to how to say this, only that he wants to say it. Wants someone to know him.

“There’s something I, um, want to tell you.” He sips his drink to steady his nerves. “Because you’re someone I can trust.”

He starts gathering the threads. How this started, when he knew, why he hasn’t told his parents.

Why he hasn’t told anyone.

Where he plans to go from here.

He knows the answers, but struggles to weave them into anything solid in his mind. He still has questions of his own, after all.

His sexuality isn’t something he can put into bullet points, no matter how much easier that’d make this conversation. So he sits, swaying on the edge of his truth, still afraid of becoming.

“Douglas? Are you okay?” Alma’s hand is on his arm, the lightest, warmest touch he can remember.

“I’m gay.”

The words fall out in a rush, and when he looks up, he’s met with soft eyes, a quiet smile. The hand squeezes his arm and pulls him in for a hug. His body, wiry and thin, sags against her small frame. A relieved laugh shakes through him.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “I’m so happy for you, Doug.”

The smile might as well be plastered to his face for the rest of the day. He feels lighter. Just like all the nights he's gone over it alone, this isn’t exactly what he’d call comfortable, but having someone accept him instead of dismissing him... well, it means the world.

- - -

Weeks pass. Work becomes a sanctuary, and Douglas springs to life in ways he never believed possible. He joins in their conversations, shares more of himself.

He comes out.

He invites others in.

Alma and Tina invite him to come along to the Pride festival in the big city, and even if the car ride is filled with a fuzzy, nervous haze for him, Doug sings—no, screams along with them to their favorite songs until it’s time to pile out of the car and join the crowds taking to the streets.

He’s allowed to lose himself in the electric pulse of energy, the colors, the overwhelming love of it all.

There are still questions to ask.

There is still progress to make.

Douglas shines with all the vibrant trepidation of the sun at dawn, making himself known, slowly, slowly as he ascends into what was once darkness. But he is certain this is where he belongs. For the first time, he feels like he’s part of something like a family.

[saphirered]

Caleb, Essek and SO go back to Aeor after the campaign. SO is the muscle who keeps their squishy wizards safe for the journey. But something happens and now this warrior is also a wild magic sorcerer. How do they all cope?

Aeor’s been fun, even better that you get to go for a good dungeon crawl with your favourite wizards. You’ve found many new areas, many artefacts, and so many things Essek and Caleb have been fawning over ever since getting their hands on it; all the new precious shinies. Of course there had been plenty of incidents to accompany all of this. Wild magic surges are unavoidable when you’re running amuck with not one but two powerful wizards. You’ve been in the thick of it just as much as them. You were quick to find out these ‘side effects’ of spellcasting can have a ranged effect just as much as they can affect the individual casting said spell.

A wall of force holds back several creatures blocking off one path. Essek’s fighting back two, hold monster keeping one out of his range while he slings spell after spell at another. Caleb’s not doing great so you do what you can to keep the beast attacking him distracted, though these creatures are prone to attacking spellcasters over anyone else and that happens to be Caleb. You’re not reliant on magic to harm your enemies.

“Essek!” You shout over to the drow hoping he can be of any help as Caleb takes yet another hit. If this keeps going you’ll be short a wizard and with that damn monkey preventing any healing magic to take effect there’s not much you can do to save him if he down. You’re not sure how long you can keep this going yourself and you’re pretty sure Essek and Caleb are running out of spells.

No matter what, Caleb needs to keep concentration on that wall of force. If that goes down you’re all screwed. At the middle of the crossroads there’s one more gate but it’s closed and neither of you had the chance to reach it before you got ambushed. Caleb stumbles, you grab him around the shoulder pushing him behind you in the hopes at least you’ll be able to shield him from more damage. Lucky for you this creature isn’t doing so hot either so you’re on equal ground.

Purple glowing darts whistle past you striking the creature in front of you. It growls in pain as they explode. It lashes out at you and with no way to avoid the blow, you take it. Damn that hurts but you stay your ground, coming back around with a hit of your own. Caleb takes a few steps back releasing magic missiles of his own and that combined with your final strike, is enough to take down the hulking creature.

Reassuring you he’s fine Caleb leans on a piece of rubble to catch his breath. You don’t buy it. You have to get that door open. You have to but the moment Caleb steps out to take out the gem, the creatures will forget about Essek and come for him instead and that’s just something both you and Essek will not allow. So, you sit Caleb down behind the rubble away from view of the open hallway should anything have found its way around.

“You stay here and take cover. I swear, if you’re going to be stubborn about it I’ll feed you to these Aeorian hunters myself!” You hold Caleb by the shoulders. Wether it is because he sees reason in your argument to stay out of the fray or because he has no energy left in him to argue, you don’t know but Caleb nods. Good. You kiss the top of his head before you step back.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Caleb calls after you holding his shoulder in pain watching you turn your attention to Essek and the oversized monstrous cat he's fighting.

“Because there is so much you wouldn’t do.” You return sarcastically running at the creature getting a little too close for comfort for Essek. The drow jumps back to avoid a claw strike. You slide down on your knees to avoid the claw yourself, in the momentum swinging your blade at the vulnerable extended arm of the creature. It tries to bite at you but you’re back on your feet quickly, side by side with Essek.

“We have to do something. We’re not going to last like this.” Essek glances over to the injured Caleb. He’s fully aware you’re right. You have to do something and do it fast. The panther-like creature bites at Essek but you interpose your sword making it bite down on the metal instead. The action angers the creature enough to swipe its claws at you. A sharp warm sensation cuts through your skin. Good thing you’re high on adrenaline to keep the pain mostly at bay. You come back around moving to its side flank and cut your sword through the eyestalk tail. The creature screeches in pain as Essek finishes it off with a a ray of frost.

“I can’t contain that thing much longer. Swords are not going to be much good in this anymore.” You’re inclined to agree as with the last creature Essek’s got restrained had previously proven you do not want to be anywhere near it. It almost took you down in a single swipe. Imagine what it can do when you’re already bloody and bruised.

“You must get that door open at any cost. I got this.” Essek passes you the access gem you’d used for any previous doors you came across. “Be careful.” You nod. It rests upon you now and you’ll have to work quick.

“You too.” You offer him a quick kiss as Essek turns his attention back to the creature restrained by his spell and anything else that might show up in the distance, prepared for the worst.

You run to the door swipe the gem across the pad. It doesn’t work. You try again. Nothing happens. The gem in the wall lights up but the door remains closed. It’s done that before at other places and you come to the conclusion your key doesn’t give you access to this ward. Okay, that’s bad but like Essek said; at any cost. taking the pommel of the dagger you keep on your side you slam into the gem embedded in the wall with every ounce of force you can muster. The gem cracks and you see the light beginning to bleed through. You strike again. And again. And again. Over and over as shards go flying. Then, one final blow the gem explodes in vibrant light. You’re thrown back like a rag doll.

Disoriented everything is brighter around you for some reason and you’re having trouble making out any detail. Wisps of light floats in front of your face and you bat it away as the familiar purple eyes stare into you with concern, a hand touches your cheek as you’re lifted to your feet with some difficulty. Ugh, what happened and why does your head feel so light? Your arms are wrapped around two sets of shoulders and you’re all but dragged through a doorway and into a space you haven’t seen before.

Placed against the wall, one figure leaves your side while the other stays. This time it’s a blurry haze of orange that appears in front of you. Like a distant echo you hear screeching and howling, through the ground you feel pulses like heavy footsteps hitting metal. What the hell is going on? You blink away the effect and there’s a constant ringing in your ears. You see a concerned Caleb trying to keep you conscious, talking to you but his words fall upon deaf ears. He turns his head away from you shouting something in the direction the other figure; Essek had gone in. You turn with him and see Essek desperately trying to close the door.

You need something. At least your brain says you need something. All you can think is orange. Orange and silver for some reason. You search your brain just to get some clarity. Orange stone. You need amber. Three silver pins. That’s what you’re looking for. You pull at Caleb’s sleeve repeating the components. Caleb thinks you’re in some kind of delirium as this has no correlation to anything and you have no reason to ask for these components as they’re no use to you anyway. He’s sorry but you’ll have to wait. Your wellbeing and the safety of Essek and you are more important than fulfilling your request right now.

When he doesn’t give you what you want and shuts you down in a careful manner, in favour of his panicked conversation with Essek you decide to take the components yourself. Grabbing the component pouch you search for the materials and Caleb while confused lets you be. He’s got bigger things on his mind right now. Once you have what you need you get up. The wizard tries to stop you as you wobble to find your balance but you’re stronger you repeat the words in your mind, accompanied by the motions. Caleb shouts out to Essek you’re under some kind of effect and the drow tries to stop you. You don’t, not even when Essek holds onto you to prevent you from stepping out further. The words finally spoken out loud, the motions correct, albeit not very practiced, a lightning bolt arcs towards the creatures coming in your direction.

Hitting the first creature the lightning bounces between the others in the near vicinity. The creatures howl and screech in pain. Hand outstretched you have no idea what the hell just happened but the creatures scurry away as the door falls closed. Both Essek and Caleb look at you as if you’d just grown a second head. You realise everything is so bright, even brighter than before because you are. You’re literally glowing lighting up the entire space. Essek has trouble looking at you directly shielding his eyes.

“Essek, Caleb, what’s happening to me?” You try to brush off the glow from your person but it sticks remaining ever so bright. Now it’s your turn to panic. The wizards confused, cannot help but be curious about what may have caused all of this. Essek wraps his arms around you and pulls you close as you try to wrap your head around the last few moments. The embrace is loaded with emotion that makes you question the gravity of the situation you thought it to be. Was it that much worse? What did you miss?

Caleb quickly gathers his components and gets to summoning the tower. Right now you need a safe space to get this all sorted. What you don’t know but your wizards got to experience first hand was the time between you being thrown across the hallway and you waking up. It wasn’t good and a conversation definitely needs to happen. By the time the doorway appears the glowing has subsided and you’re grateful it has because e you don’t know how much longer your eyes could take. Is this how Essek feels any time you’re out in the bright sunlight? You imagine he's in the same boat as you but that doesn't prevent him from keeping you close, even if he has to shield his eyes.

You’re sat down on a couch and both Essek and Caleb scan you over, making note of all injuries you sustained, but they find them mostly healed over, just the faint marks remaining of freshly healed wounds. The two of them share a look that has you growing worried. They ask you all sorts of questions. What do you remember? What did you feel? How do you feel now? Do you remember events in your past? Your birthday? The names of your friends? You answer all questions correctly and they feel safe to say that by some miracle you haven't sustained any brain damage but that narrows down whatever theories they might have previously had.

“Please just tell me what’s going on. I can’t take this anymore.” You burst out after yet another row of questions.

“Everything is alright, just calm yourself. We’ll figure this out.” Caleb grabs your hands but you pull them free. When you do words escape your mouth. Caleb acts as if he’d gotten a shock or something. He curls his fingers in pain and hesitantly takes one of your hands in his as if he expected to get shocked again. He shares another look with Essek and you’re praying to the gods they’ll just get out with it because you can’t take it anymore.

“We think, you may have experienced a wild magic surge when you burst that gem.” Well, yes that much was obvious, right? You hit the gem, gem went boom, you got thrown across the room and…. oh… yeah… that looks bad. Maybe more happened that you just taking some bludgeoning damage from your impact.

“And we suspect you might have absorbed some of that energy… As displayed by your instinctual casting of a chain lightning spell not only out of your area of expertise but also surpassing your own previous magical abilities.” Essek treads carefully rubbing circles into your back in an attempt to comfort you as you process. This is not an easy thing to just take in and accept.

“So I’m like you now?” You ask confused about what this all means. You’re a fighter. You use weapons. Your spellcasting abilities are limited. Or they used to be according to what Essek and Caleb told you. Granted, you hadn’t magically forgotten how to wield a a sword or how to fight. That just doesn’t make it any easier to wrap your head around it.

“Yes and no. If this is as we expect you won’t be spending hours studying and copying spells into a spellbook. Instead you’ll grow into it more through a naturally sourced connection to the innate side of magic.” Caleb elaborates. He doesn’t have a vast amount of knowledge on innate magics developed naturally instead of through rigorous study but he grasps the concept well enough.

“So how long will this last?” You ask. Will this just disappear one morning and you’ll be back to your old self or are you stuck like this now?

“We’re not sure yet. It might pass with time or the wild magic has latched onto your innate capabilities and will further develop.” Essek explains as you lean your head against him. You don’t know what to do and to be completely honest neither do the wizards. They’ve never experienced anything like this before but they love you and will always be there for you. Right now you need some sense of stability so if they can provide that they will. There’s nothing like questioning everything about yourself and your life and they know exactly how it feels. You won’t have to go through this alone. Not if they can help it.

“I won’t pretend we’re experts on the subject but believe me when I say I will be there for you, we will both be there for you no matter what you choose to do. If you want to gain a better understanding of this we will stand beside you. If you wish to find a way to reverse whatever happened, we will scour the worlds just to find a solution.” Caleb kisses your palm as you smile at him. You’re not sure how you feel about all of this but to know your wizards have your back is a comfort you need right now and they happily provide it.

“I think I wish to understand. For now.” You nod to yourself. There’s a certainty and determination both wizards catch onto they recognise from within themselves; a desire to learn and understand what they previously did not. While they certainly wanted to learn more about the cause of your sudden conversion into a sorcerer fuelled by wild magic, they would never press you to do so out of their own selfish natures. This is a choice only you can make and they’ll respect. That doesn’t mean they’re not happy with your decision.

They’re already plotting and planning, figuring out where to start. They look forward to not only understanding your magic, where it came from and how it happened but also to teaching you what knowledge they have. Wild magic can be a dangerous thing as shown by your ventures into Aeor many times over so you’ll need to learn not only how to control and avoid incidents like shocking Caleb on accident, but also assure you’re not flying by the seat of your pants any time you get into a scuffle. The chain lighting incident worked out in your favour but what if the next one doesn’t. It’ll be a long and difficult road but one you can walk together. That’s all you need; your wizards at your side. And this is all just a new kind of adventure.

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles: Episode 8, Previously On

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: As they seek out Vision a Westview that doesn’t seem to want them to find him, more memories from [Y/N]’s past begin to appear. They almost seem drawn out of the dark depths of their mind by some unseen force but it’s hard to tell whether it’s friend or foe. Who is forcing [Y/N]’s memories to the forefront of their mind--Wanda or someone else?--and is it tied to the suddenly hostile Westview blocking them from finding Vision? Who is trying to keep them distracted?

Word count: 6,584

Warnings: Cursing, descriptions of death and declining mental health. Mostly angst, tbh.

Tag list: @madamevirgo @ravennight41 @multifandomgirl16 @cyanide-mustard @badasspolygenderfriend @austynparksandpizza @sophster1881 @haileyybird​ @maceidelic​ @alexpress @angelvinella

Ko-Fi Shoppe

~~~

You were too busy trying to calm the anxious gnawing in your stomach to notice Westview subtly changing around you. It wasn’t until a vine wrapped tightly around your ankle and made you almost trip and fall face-first into a fire hydrant that you looked around with a frown.

    The vine itself—thick, spiky, and definitely not native to the suburbs of New Jersey—had sprouted from cracks in the sidewalk, which spread and opened further as other vines crept after it. After tearing the one holding you off and stepping out of its reach, you noticed the fences of houses reaching far past their yards to create maze-like paths that covered the sidewalks and street ahead of you. The houses that these fences belonged to were also warped in a way that made them look like you were viewing them through funhouse mirrors, stretching far into the sky and bending overhead in your direction like they meant to block you from leaving in that direction—or meant to block you from being seen by anyone flying overhead.

    Your eyebrows arched so far up on your forehead that you weren’t sure that they were still there. “What the fuck is going on?”

    You weren’t as concerned about the magic happening itself—if some random civilian walked by, they’d barely react at all and the maze and houses weren’t causing any actual damage, just being incredibly annoying—as you were by the fact that you couldn’t tell who was doing it. Your first thought was Wanda, naturally, but it made no sense that she’d be trying to keep you from finding Vision when she was the one who’d originally sent you to go get him; not to mention that she’s never created such a bizarre display of magic, at least intentionally. You considered yourself next, as you’ve known yourself to cause random transmutations when you get too antsy, but this wasn’t the type of power that you controlled and when you tried to reach out to interact with the energy, you received opposition instead of energy bending to your will. It was somewhat difficult to pick out because it seemed to hide away under the blanket of Wanda’s magic that reached across everything in Westview, but the aura of the twisted architecture surrounding you was dark and hostile.

    You first attempted to humor whatever magic was at play and made your way through the maze but as you did so, the fences shifted around you to extend their white picket prison. You stopped and sighed. “The end is nigh… and I am not going to spend it dealing with this shit.”

    A little voice in the back of your head told you that you could probably set fire to the whole magic mirror setup and be done with it but you ultimately decided against it; Wanda would probably find out and definitely wouldn’t be happy when she did. Instead, you placed your hands on the fence and as you did so, posts morphed into gates that you could easily pass through. You continued through the maze via this method and were surprised to feel the opposing magic back away from you after your pushback.

    “Oh, thank god,” you grumbled under your breath as you made it through the last of the maze. 

Unfortunately, you celebrated too early as the cement underneath your feet suddenly began to melt back into its liquid form. It would have been fairly easy to use your powers to reharden the cement but exhausting yourself fighting with the opposing force until the sidewalks of Westview shifted into grassy fields on its outskirts seemed like a bad idea in the long run, especially with the twins’ disappearance, Wanda dealing with Agnes’s strange behavior, Monica’s return, and the warning churn of your stomach telling you to stay alert. So, you settled for trudging along through wet cement until the magic decided to back off again.

Not so much trying to cause damage as it’s trying to mildly inconvenience me, is it? you thought.

Just as before, once the magic trying to keep you distracted was rivaled by your own, it receded and you were soon walking on the regular, hard sidewalk once more. You cleaned your pants and shoes up by turning the wet cement still clinging to them into something much more manageable—water—and continued on your way. Sorting through the mix of concern, nips of mild hunger, and the energy-seeking compass in the center of your now twisting in every which direction, you managed to eventually focus back into the feeling of Vision somewhere in the distance. It got stronger as you walked, so you began to pick up the pace.

Then your unseen opponent returned, stronger and now in the mental realm instead of the physical. At first, you thought the kickback was just Westview’s borders—the Hex, Monica had called it—trying to right the wrongs of someone within it having memories of the outside world, something you’d experienced before. However, you felt the menace rippling underneath the surface of the haze and when you tried to fight back this time, you were met with an angry strength. The fog making your head feel heavy seemed to spread through your bloodstream and take home in your bones, weighing your body down until you stood still and lame in the middle of a random neighborhood. You were a prisoner in your own body; you couldn’t move even if you wanted to, but you didn’t even know if you did because your brain was so full of dark storm clouds that you couldn’t think straight. You knew that you stared slack-jawed into space but it felt more like you were sitting in a dark room inside your skull and watching the outside world from a TV screen. As you watched on, the fog that took over your mind and body took your eyesight too.

===

===

===

The first few memories were fleeting. 

You were a few years old and holding your mother’s hand. It was much less boney and knotted than you remembered your mother’s hand being, as was the rest of her. She was younger and stronger, standing next to you in a worn nurse uniform and overcoat and staring ahead with a scowl, concealing whatever emotions she was feeling otherwise. You were in a bedroom that was only vaguely familiar to you and the two of you watched an old man that was barely more than a skeleton slept under a heap of fraying blankets. As you stared on through the wide eyes of your child self, your grandfather heaved a final breath before falling into a deep, eternal slumber.

A couple of years older, you were in the old but cozy, sunny yellow kitchen that your mom love to cook in. You sat at the dining room table, kicking your legs and picking at the splitting wood as your mother and a stranger argued in the other room. You had never heard your mother raise her voice to such an extent before but at the time, you were much more concerned about what kind of sandwich you were going to help her make for lunch. You never saw the stranger aside from a flash of [H/C] as he left and he was never seen or heard of again.

You were still in the kitchen but its appearance had changed ever so slightly. Yours did too, as you were a teenager now, and now your mother sat across from you at the table. Though she was still healthy now, her overall haggard appearance would be one that she carried on for years to come. She was telling you about her doctor’s appointment but you were only somewhat listening as you were stressed about high school drama and final assignments to be turned in before summer break. You heard words like “dementia” and “Alzheimer’s” but the meanings were lost on you in that moment.

Then you were in a nursing home. You could feel the harsh lighting, hear the TV from the lounge behind you. The smell of cleaning supplies burned your nostrils but the smell of your mother’s stale perfume soothed it. Unfortunately, nothing could soothe the ache that made your heart feel like it was going to shrivel up and die when you came to tell her that you changed your major in college so you would be better equipped to help her, only for her unable to recall having a child at all.

You were pinned against a wall in a Sokovian HYDRA base, although you didn’t know the organization that you were studying with was HYDRA at the time. Shivers of equal parts fear and exhilaration made your entire body quiver and the clipboard you’d been holding clattered to the ground. While a large group of Sokovian war protestors had to hunch together to fit in the cramped and cold holding room, Wanda seemed to take up the majority of the space just from her spot of holding you into place. Her hair was a mess and her face and clothes were dirty but her eyes were full of more life than you’d experienced during your entire time working in the base. She was angry and determined and powerful and gorgeous, and she told you that if you ever ran into her again that she’d kill you—and you were surprised with how okay you were about the idea, as long as you got to see her again. When she let you go and you apologized, she told you what she and the others were doing here; this was the catalyst that sent you investigating into HYDRA and finding out about their much more sinister nature, as well as the pain you’d helped cause.

Finally, the slide show of memories slowed and instead of being confined to your brain, you were back in your own body—or so you thought until you looked around and found yourself staring at a younger copy of yourself. Instead of Westview, you were in a HYDRA testing room, and instead of simply re-experiencing, you were quite literally watching a memory unfold around you as if you were an unwanted audience member standing around the active set of a TV show. Or a ghost, you decided, as the younger you walked through you as if you were nothing but air.

Your younger self was dressed in an all-black work uniform and lab attire, with an identification card clipped to your chest that granted you high-level clearance. You’d worked immensely hard playing HYDRA’s game to get to where you were now, which was standing in the control room with two other agents and preparing to analyze the test about to unfold on the other side of a large glass window. In the test chamber, a door slowly slid open and Wanda, unkempt and spacey, entered.

You wanted to break her out. Judging by the way your younger self tensed up—not enough to be noticed by your superiors; you’d mastered your mother’s emotional lockdown of a scowl at this point—your feelings weren’t far off from the initial experience. 

Wanda made her way farther into the room, closer to a scepter with a glowing blue stone that was being held on a pedestal. As she did so, the younger you readied their clipboard and pen to take notes and one of the two agents spoke, “For our notes, Miss Maximoff, can you please state your name and confirm your status?”

The younger copy of your current partner did as she was told. “Wanda Maximoff. Volunteer.”

“Begin experimentation,” the other agent—a doctor and one of your immediate superiors—stated.

“Doctor,” the first man said, “with respect, not one subject has survived direct contac—”

He was broken off as the doctor flicked on the intercom to speak to Wanda again. “Touch the sample.”

Wanda made her way forward but before she could do much, the stone suspended in the scepter—the mind stone, you knew now—detached itself and floated towards her. As it got closer, its glow grew brighter and bright blue magic wafted over Wanda as she stared before reaching out to touch it. While you remembered this situation thus far, what happened next was completely new to you. The mind stone shattered before Wanda’s eyes, revealing yellow golden yellow magic that poured from the remains. There was an explosion of light and within it was a flash of a shadow. From where you were standing, you couldn’t quite make out the shape.

Then the light died and Wanda collapsed, and the rest of the memory ran as you remembered. The scientist and doctor ran out to check that Wanda was still alive, while your younger self recollected themselves enough to take pictures of notes and research reports from the control desk with an old school digital camera that they’d managed to sneak in.

“Well,” a familiar, incredibly out-of-place voice sounded from behind you, “that’s a surprise. I had no idea you and [Y/N] went so far back.”

You spun around to see Agnes and a modern Wanda standing just behind you. Agnes watched your echo with mild curiosity as they carefully rifled through the control desk and gathered as much information as they could to examine at a later time. The dark energy that radiated off the woman was the same that you’d sensed earlier, hiding just underneath Wanda’s own. Being this close to the unhidden source now, the magic felt sharp and acidic and tasted like bile on the back of your tongue. The anxiety that had been gnawing at your stomach increased tenfold as your guts twisted around themselves. It had been Agnes all along.

Past you finished their investigation as they were called in to take Wanda to solitary by one of the other HYDRA agents. When they rushed out of the control room, they passed through Wanda and Agnes, confirming that the women were in a similar state of being to you.

Surprisingly, Agnes was completely unaware of current you’s presence. She walked casually over to the desk and attempted to make sense of younger you’s rummaging before making a face and shrugging.

Wanda, on the other hand, was staring directly at you. To anyone else, it could be said that she was simply looking through you who the commotion happening in the test chamber, but when you met her gaze, the slightest of jaw clenches told you otherwise. While it was Agnes—Not Agnes, a ghost of a whisper in sounded in your head—whose magic had been toying with you, it seemed that it was Wanda’s doing, at least to some extent, that brought you to watch this scene with them. 

“You know,” the ravenette said, “I really did like them for a while. They were fun to string along for entertainment, and they were a hoot at events and to run errands with. Such an awkward little thing. I could see their crush from a mile away whenever you three were around each other. I just thought they’d be the out-of-place, pining neighbor whose love was unrequited, a comedic plot device of sorts. I didn’t think you would actually return their feelings, let alone both you and your husband, you naughty dogs. I should have known sooner that something was up.”

You and me both, sister, you thought with a soundless snort.

“Oh well,” Agnes—question mark?—said with another shrug, “our friendship was fun while it lasted. Let me know if you ever get bored with them. We did often flirt a bit, [Y/N] and I.”

“What do they have to do with any of this?” Wanda asked, throwing a mild glower in the other woman’s direction.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Agnes responded with a sickly sweet smile, then walked past Wanda and out of the testing room. “Come along, dear! We’ve got much more digging to do.”

Wanda glanced at you one last time before following. After a moment, you trailed after them.

===

===

===

Past Wanda was sitting and watching sitcoms via the one amenity she had the dungeon-like room she was held in when your past self walked in.

“Wanda,” past you gasped and moved to rush to her side before freezing and throwing a glance towards a security camera in one corner of the room. The faintest blue-black light danced appeared to dance around your echo’s fingers as the lens of the camera warped and changed into a round silver disc, then the light disappeared and you watched yourself hurry to younger Wanda’s side. 

She didn’t acknowledge you until you placed a gentle hand on her back. She jumped a bit and turned her glassy-eyed, hollow-cheeked face towards you; in the same instant, the TV turned off. 

Past Wanda offered past you a wobbly smile that you returned. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a candy wrapped in colored foil that looked neon in comparison to the dull coloring of the rest of the environment.

“Hey, look, Wanda,” you tried, offering the candy to her, “I brought you something. Remember these? You told me once that they’re your favorite.”

Wanda stared blankly at your gift. After a moment, she took it and began picking at the foil.

Past you gave past Wanda another strained smile. Your furrowed brows caused deep lines to be etched into your forehead, showing no lack of concern, but you tried to stay positive. Gingerly running your hand up and down Wanda’s back, you carefully looked over as she freed the chocolate-covered candy from its wrapper. “You look good. You’re doing much better than you were when we brought you back.”

Wanda’s eyes lazily traced the pattern of the room’s stone walls as she brought her treat to her lips and carefully nibbled at it. When she found it free of tampering, she relaxed a bit and popped it into her mouth.

You watched as your past self rested their chin on her shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m going to get you out of here, Wanda. I promise that I’m going to save you. I just… wish you’d let me help you more.”

Well, young me, you thought, you certainly broke that promise, then went off and murdered a bunch of people. Nice job.

Wanda’s past self finally fully acknowledged yours; she rested her head on top of yours and her thin fingers brushed brushed over the knuckles of one of your hands. She shook her head and mumbled, “I have to do this. For my people.”

Your echo sighed. The two of you sat like that together for a few moments longer before you separated yourself from her and headed out of the room. As you walked out of the room, the silver that blocked the security camera transformed back into a lens. Wanda looked back to the TV and blinked, and the television turned back on.

“Huh,” Agnes piped up to Wanda again, “they were just as piney here as they are in Westview then. Weird. I thought they had a reputation as a crazy psycho killer outside? Hoo boy, did you see any of the work that they did after Sokovia? I looked into it when I figured out that they weren’t just another ordinary townee. The Alchemist? Wished I’d managed to keep them on my side; I’d love to sit down and talk about all the ways they tore up those agents.”

You grimaced. You never regretted going on a HYDRA manhunt but it wasn’t exactly one of your most redeeming qualities.

Wanda frowned. “Trying to cope with all they had done while working with HYDRA was too much and they had to do it alone. I told [Y/N] I would return but then I never did. They thought it was their only solution.”

You were surprised to hear her empathize with you, let alone know about your revenge spree at all. You hadn’t realized how much it felt like a secret that you had been keeping from her until a weight was lifted off your shoulders when she talked about it.

“Still,” Agnes said nonchalantly, “turning an alive former HYDRA agent into a very much not alive scarecrow and leaving posting him up in his own field? Genius and I love the creativity. And the way they turned the guy who shot them into a bloody bag of bones? Delicious.

“But anyway,” she went on, the glee in her voice shifting to something more pensive, “little orphan Wanda got up close and personal with an Infinity Stone that amplified what otherwise would’ve died on the vine. The broken pieces of you are adding up, buttercup. I have a theory, but I need more.”

With a wave of her hand, a dark wood door appeared in the room’s far wall. Wanda’s eyes widened slightly with recognition and she immediately walked forward and through it. Agnes trailed cheerfully after her.

You made a move to follow them but you didn’t make it before Agnes shut the door behind her. You jiggled the doorknob but the door wouldn’t budge, and then it melted back into the wall and vanished altogether. While you were relieved to be away from Agnes’s acrid magic, panic rose in the back of your throat at the idea of Wanda being alone with Agnes and you being trapped in a bizarre memory realm with no idea of how to get out. You ran your hands along the wall in hopes of finding the door’s outline once more, to no avail. You spun around to search for another route—

—and you were suddenly standing on a street in Westview. 

This wasn’t Westview as you currently knew it but Westview before Wanda had turned it into her special little safe haven. Instead of watching this memory like a movie, you were now involuntarily reliving it as a prisoner of your head again as your body and mouth move on its own accord.

You were paused mid-walk across the street and staring at a breathtakingly gleeful Vision for the very first time. He was standing out in the open without a human disguise of any kind, wearing a very attractive form-fitting turtleneck and looking over an empty plot of land. He must have felt you staring because he turned his warm, earth-shaking gaze towards you.

“Hello there!” he hollered with a friendly wave and a smile that made you wonder if one look from a stranger could make you weep over how attractive they were. He stepped from the dirt plot to the sidewalk, then made his way to the curb. He held a slightly crumpled piece of paper in one hand and you could see a red heart in its center out of the corner of your eye.

For whatever reason—maybe because of the fact that there was a very inhuman-looking man, who was causing your body to have all sorts of reactions, walking towards you—you felt compelled to walk over and meet him. 

“Excuse me,” Vision said as you got closer and pointed to the lot behind him, “I’m looking to buy this spot here. Do you live around here?”

Temporarily, while I try to look for a cure for my dumb-bitch memory disease, you thought. Instead of saying this aloud, though, you said something much more stupid. “Are you aware that you’re red?”

Vision blinked. He looked at his hands if he was in fact just now realizing this, then looked back at you with wide eyes. One hand moved to touch the golden gem embedded in his forehead, which you now connected to the mind stone on the previous memory that you had experienced—Wanda’s memory. 

“Oh, goodness,” Vision said, “yes I am. I’m sorry, I hope my appearance doesn’t make you uncomfortable. If it does, I could make a more appealing one—”

You felt yourself break into a grin and one of your hands waved itself dismissively at him. “Not sure there’s a way to make yourself any more appealing than you already are. It’s just unusual is all.”

Vision chewed on one side of his bottom lip before smiling sheepishly at you. If only you’d been able to tell when this interaction had actually happened that he was “blushing” in the only way his synzethoid body allowed over you complimenting him; you would have had a field day with making him flustered.

Then his eyes drifted slightly above your eyeline and the hand touching his forehead gem fluttered slightly to the right—his left. Without thinking of how it might come off, he said, “You’re unusual-looking yourself.”

Luckily, you weren’t too easily offended. You briefly touched the gunshot scar on your forehead with one hand, the exit wound scar on your neck with the other, before dropping them both and shrugging. “Got shot in the head once. Operation gone wrong.”

“A soldier?” 

Unfortunately, the version of you in this memory was already struggling to recall memories. Instead of telling the pretty stranger that, though, you said, “Something like that.”

Vision nodded and awkwardly fiddled with the paper in his hands. His gaze flitted around before settling on you again, “Well, I think you’re appealing too.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm but you hid your embarrassment with a snicker. “Thanks.”

The man cleared his throat. “Yes, well, that’s good then, isn’t it? That we both like each other’s looks just fine. Not… that I want you to find my visuals appealing. Not— not that that’s a bad thing to be doing so either! It’s just that—” he paused to collect himself. “I have a partner. A girlfriend of sorts.”

“Of sorts?”

“It hasn’t really been discussed,” he clarified, “but we are deep in the throughs of our relationship.”

“Congrats? Also yeah.”

Vision blinked. “I’m sorry?”

You pointed over your shoulder. “I live around here. In a hotel more often than a home but I’m considering getting a rental a couple houses over.”

Because if I don’t find who I’m looking for—a doctor? Scientist maybe?—I’ll be stuck here until I remember where I came from.

    You were brought out of your grumbling thoughts by the childish excitement that erupted from Vision’s shining smile and spread throughout his body until he was practically vibrating. He quickly scrambled the rest of the way over and flashed the paper he held at you, then almost immediately folded it up before you could actually see anything other than a flash of red on white. He told you how wonderful it was to be meeting someone from the neighborhood and before you open your mouth to say anything in response, a billion questions seemed to pour one after the other from his mouth. You caught a few—did you know why the plot he was looking at was open, if there was a nefarious reason behind it lacking any home already? Was the neighboorhood safe, did you like it there?—but you soon found yourself distracted by the way the gear-like patterns in his blue irises swirled faster as Vision became increasingly giddy.

    Then one word came flying out of his rambling mouth and you felt like you had been hit in the gut with a sack of bricks. You actually had to stop yourself from choking on a gasping breath and steel yourself in preparation in case he said her name again. Luckily, Vision seemed too deep in his his own thoughts that he didn’t notice you blanching from the kickback of yours.

    Wanda? It couldn’t be. It wasn’t like there weren’t any other Wandas in the world. Then again, you’d never met another Wanda since your Wanda and there was something about her name coming from his mouth that assured you that his Wanda was yours too.

    Is that why you had come to Westview? Was Wanda the one you were looking for?

    You placed a hand on Vision’s shoulder, both as a way of grounding yourself and grabbing the man’s attention. It worked and Vision’s bumbling died off as he looked at you with wide eyes.

    “I’m so sorry,” he said, and lifted his free hand to scratch at the side of his neck, “I got quite carried away there, didn’t I?”

    This past version of you wanted so desperately ask about the Wanda he spoke of, to confirm that she was the Wanda that you’d known in what seemed to be a past life at this point. You wanted to know if she was safe, happy, and if he was taking care of her in the way that she so needed after everything she had been through. When you looked at Vision, though, and the plot plans in his hand and the place of his and her future home, you bit your tongue. Something told you that it wasn’t your time to ask nor was it your right to do so. It had been so long since you’d tried to help the Sokovian woman escape a dingy HYDRA base and failed, and wherever she was now, she was probably better off without you intruding.

    You put on a mask of a friendly smile to hide the way your heart was being picked to pieces by a thousand imaginary needles and gave Vision’s shoulder an equally friendly pat. “No worries. I do have to stop you, though, have an appointment to get to. I’m really not the person to ask about future home life—like I said, usually a hotel—but if I have anything to tell you, it’s that this is a good place to settle.”

    Vision beamed. “Really?”

    You dropped your arm and stepped away from the robotic stranger to take your leave. “This place is easy to turn into a home. You’ll love it here.”

    Vision heaved a sigh a relief and he waved to you and you gave a parting nod and began walking. “Thank you! Oh, and it was nice meeting you, neighbor! Hope to see you again soon!”

    Something deep in your heart told you that you wouldn’t be seeing the British gentleman again, or maybe you were finally coming to terms with the fact that your brain would drop yoru memory of him before the day was over. You cast one last glance over your shoulder, trying to commit every detail of Vision to memory the best that you could, before heading back across the street.

    “Looking forward to it!”

===

===

===

    One minute you were walking and the next you couldn’t feel any part of your body that was below your waistline. The scene had shifted again and you now found yourself staring spacily off ahead. You were outside and you felt the familiar presence of a large facility behind you but you couldn’t place what the building was for or why you were there. In fact, try as you might, you couldn’t place much meaning to anything. Your brain was blank aside from several questions that you had no answers to.

    Why were you in a wheelchair? What had happened to your legs? Why were you outside? Why were there old people and people in scrub uniforms milling around you and talking to you in passing as if you had any idea who they were? Where was your mom? You had classes to attend and needed a ride.

    You took a sighing breath and felt a tanginess of citrus on your tongue that sent shockwaves throughout your body—or what left of it that you could feel. Your eyes shot open wide and you swung your head around, looking for the source of the taste of candied citrus, the feeling of thin fingers carefully brushing across your knuckles. There was a memory there, clawing just under the surface of thought-killing fungus that seemed to have taken over your head over… however long it had been now. You just had to remember—

    Before you could could remember, you saw her appear before your very eyes. She was walking down the street past you with only a green yard and strip of sidewalk separating the two of you. She wore a dark outfit and her hair cascaded behind her in the breeze, fluttering like flames. You couldn’t see her face well because of the distance you could feel the deep, powerful sadness radiating off her in waves; it was almost strong enough to force you into tears. Still, she walked with purpose and she held a piece of paper in her hand that she glanced at every other second. She happened to turn her head to toss a stray chunk of her back over her shoulder and for a brief moment you thought that her dark eyes met yours.

    You screamed her name and attempted to chase after her. However, in that moment, you forgot that you were paralyzed from the waist down and stuck in a wheelchair, so when you lurched forward to stand, you were quickly greeted by hard earth knocking the wind out of you. You hissed in pain but the impact didn’t stop you, nor did your lack of working legs. You shoved the wheelchair away in a fit of irritation, then began crawling your way across the public yard, following a trail of a very specific shade of red as you dragged your body along.

    You didn’t make it very far before you felt strong hands grasp your shoulders. You flailed around, prepared to fight whoever was trying to disrupt your mission, only for you stop struggling altogether when a flash of reddish hair appeared in the corner of your vision. You looked up at and stared at the only face that held solidity in your mind with eyes the size of dinner plates as she knelt next to you and helped you into a decent sitting position. Once you were settled, her hands moved from your arms to cradling your face and when you could see the heartbreak in her eyes this time, you actually did feel a few tears wet your cheeks.

    Your eyes fluttered shut as her gentle hands caressed your face, brushed away the tears that were now flowing like a waterfall. Your own hands found their way to her waist and you held on for dear life. With a wobbly voice that was barely above a whisper, you gasped her name again, “Wanda…”

    You felt the warm touch of her forehead pressing against yours, her nose ungracefully bumping against your cheek as she held you. “[Y/N]?”

    Hearing your name on her tongue sent you into a fit of sobbing laughter, though you weren’t sure why. Goosebumps erupted across your skin and you felt the stuttering of a billion bird’s wings in your stomach, pounding against your ribcage. You had so many things you wanted to say and yet you could remember a single word, so you merely fell into a bumbling chant of “My Wanda, my Wanda, my Wanda, my Wanda…” Your eyes stayed squeezed shut for fear that if you opened them, she would no longer be there. 

    Wanda’s lips brushed against your eyelids and then your cheeks, not quite leaving kisses but a warm, tingly feeling nonetheless. A smile was there, you could feel the curve of it as her mouth traveled from your temple to your hairline, but it was one of the same sadness that you’d seen in her eyes. She mumbled against your scarred forehead, “Oh, [Y/N], what happened to you…?”

    You finally opened your eyes—luckily, she didn’t vanish into thin air once you did—and finally met her gaze again. You moved your hands to cover hers that still held your face and pressed them harder against your cheeks, as if you could imprint her fingerprints into your skin.

    After a moment of just silently basking in her presence, you sighed softly and replied, “I don’t know.”

    Pain further etched itself into the lines of Wanda’s face; you quickly reached out to smooth them out with your fingertips.

    “You don’t remember anything?”

    “Not much,” you replied. Then you smiled. “I know you. All I know for sure is you.”

    Wanda looked like she was on the verge of bursting into tears herself but she swallowed her sobs instead. She adjusted her position and sat back slightly, scrubbed her hands over her eyes and looked around at your surroundings. She glanced at the paper she’d once been holding but now sat in the grass next to her before her gaze settled back on you. Sadness shifted into determination as she took your face her hands once more.

    “I’m going to get you out of here, [Y/N],” she said, “I promise I’m going to save you.”

    You went to nod but the sound of something flying overhead caught your attention, then a flash of yellow light over Wanda’s shoulder.

    A powerful jerk in your stomach seemed to control your entire body, forcing your head and body upward. Then you were standing on the sidewalk on the outskirts of a neighborhood with a maze of twisted houses and picket fences behind you. You were no longer trapped inside your own head, watching or reliving memories, but standing mid-step in the Westview that was bubbled by a Hex of modern Wanda’s own creation.

    Vision was flying through the air nearby and approaching fast.

    Your powers seemed to move one step ahead of your mind; before you finished the thought, one of the fun mirror houses was turned into a staircase that led to nowhere in the sky. As you turned and began racing up them, you waved your arms in Vision’s direction and hollered, “Hey! Toaster oven!”

    Vision was clearly on a mission home but you managed to catch his attention before he flew too far past you. He rounded back around and met you at the top of your stairs. He quickly surveyed your immediate surroundings, taking in the bizarre scenery before casting a concerned look your way. “What in the world is going on here?”

    “Uh, well,” you paused and took a glance around yourself, then rambled off, “I just spent a nondescript amount of time trapped in a mental live-action remake of my past and I’m pretty sure Agnes is not Agnes but some unpleasant, magic-y person who kidnapped our kids and now is trying to get… something, I’m not sure what, from Wanda. Also, I think she might have a crush on me and I’m pretty sure she caused the carnival set-up next to us.”

    Vision blinked. “Well, that’s… a lot.”

    You hummed your agreement and nodded. Then you held out your arms to him. “Shall we?”

    Vision eyed you from your place on a freshly mutated staircase then snorted softly as he gathered you into his arms, bridal style. “Surely there must be a way for you to travel with those powers of yours.”

    “There is,” you affirmed, “but this is probably faster and I should probably keep my strength to save our kids and your wife. Oh, by the way.”

    Vision gave you a questioning him as he prepared for flight. You wrapped your hands around his neck and brought your lips to his in an quick kiss. When you pulled away, you met his curious gaze and said, “I’m so happy to have met you.”

    Vision’s expression grew warmer and returned your kiss with a softer one of his own. He briefly nuzzled his forehead against yours before pulling away.

    “I’m glad to have met you too,” he said softly. Then he shifted his gaze to look past you, towards home, and he said, “Now, let’s go get our family.”

[awhitehead17]

100 ways to say I love you - TimKon edition:

Number 40: “I made this for you.” 

Enjoy! :D 

Considering that Kon practically has the powers of a god, how is it that a stupid cold can wipe him off his feet for several days? He swears that the symptoms of the cold is almost on par with the feelings of being in proximity of kryptonite. It’s awful.

His head is pounding, his nose is bunged up making smelling and even tasting things non-existent, his body is aching like he’s worked out non-stop for five days straight and he’s tired as hell. This is all because he’s somehow caught the flu bug going around!

He wants to blame Tim. It has to be his boyfriend’s fault right? After all Tim had come down with a cold the previous week and despite him being ill Kon had stayed with him and now Kon is ill. Somehow Tim must have passed it on to him.

Kon lets out a miserable groan, basically feeling sorry for himself. He feels like shit, it probably hasn’t helped that he hasn’t gotten out of bed all day but he finds he just doesn’t have the energy to actually get out of bed and change location. He shifts on the mattress, moving from lying on his side to being sprawled out on his back. The new position doesn’t do much to ease any of his symptoms and he groans again.

He doesn’t know how long he lies there for but at some point he closed his eyes because the next thing he’s aware of is reopening them and finding Tim’s face hovering above his own. Kon blinks at his boyfriend for a moment as his mind tries to catch up with what is going on. It only takes a second and then he’s remembering how shit he feels.

Tim’s face disappears from his view for a moment before it returns. His boyfriend looks amused as he looks down at Kon. “You look like shit.”

Kon narrows his eyes at Tim, feeling offended. “I look how I feel then.”

Tim makes a face. “Damn, you even sound awful. How are you feeling, it seems like it’s only gotten worse as the day’s progressed.”

Instead of responding, Kon tiredly sighs and chucks an arm over his eyes. Maybe if he falls asleep, he’ll wake up feeling better. It turns out that he won’t get the chance to find out because seconds after he closes his eyes there’s a hand on his body lightly shaking him. The shaking doesn’t stop until he’s opened his eyes up and is glaring at the ceiling above him.

“C’mon Kon, don’t fall asleep on me yet. I’ve got something for you.”

That gets Kon’s attention. He tiredly glances to the side to find Tim standing by the bed carrying a tray in his arms. Tim wordlessly places it down at the foot of the bed and Kon catches a glimpse of a bowl and spoon. Did Tim bring him soup?

“I did yeah. Not only have I brought it to you, but in fact, I made this for you.” Tim beams down at him and even through the tired haze clouding his mind Kon could see how proud Tim was of himself and how selfless he’s being. “Now I would greatly appreciate it if you sat up and ate it, then after that you can go back to sleep.”

Kon’s initial reaction is to refuse, he’s not hungry he feels kind of sick but Tim’s hopeful expression has him pausing, it’s only a second later he's nodding.

Tim moves over to him and helps him to sit up and lean against the headboard. The blanket piles at his waist, leaving his top half exposed to the cold air of the bedroom, while his legs are stretched out in front of him as he’s propped up by many pillows behind his back.

Once comfy Tim picks up the tray and places it over his lap, Kon watches with mild amusement and fascination as little folded legs are revealed from underneath the tray that sit either side of Kon’s thighs. It turns the tray into a mini table across Kon’s lap.

Now Kon finally gets a good look at the tray’s contents. There's a bowl of soup, he thinks it’s chicken but it’s not like he can even smell it to be certain, there’s a spoon, a bottle of water and a couple slices of bread.

Kon reaches out to grab the spoon, knowing that Tim wouldn’t let him go back to sleep unless he’s had some of it, but before he could grasp it Tim quickly plucks it off the tray and keeps hold of it. Kon shoots him a look as his boyfriend settles down next to his side facing him.

Silently Tim picks up a piece of bread, tears it in half before dunking one bit into the soup and holding it out to Kon. Kon shoots him an unimpressed look but takes the offered slice to him anyway. Tim beams at him like he’s won the lottery and Kon couldn’t ignore the way his heart flutters at seeing the happiness on Tim’s face.

They sit in silence as Kon works his way through eating the bread slices dipped in the soup. He wishes he could taste it but with his senses blocked he doesn’t even get a hint of it.

Once the bread was devoured they move onto the soup itself, this is where Kon puts his foot down and demands that he feeds himself. Despite Tim’s protests Kon holds his ground and Tim reluctantly passes the spoon over, he hovers closely however making sure Kon’s hand is steady and that he doesn’t spill anything. As he eats the soup Tim tells him about it.

“So I made this, I even managed to get the recipe off Ma Kent. Once I told her you were under the weather she said this usually picks you up back at the farm sometimes. I thought I would surprise you with it.”

Kon’s insides grow warmer, though that could be either of the warm soup he’s eating or maybe because of Tim’s thoughtful actions, he’s going to say the latter just because he can. Between bites, Kon smiles at him.

“I really appreciate it Tim. I have to admit I am surprised and I love it. I just wished I could properly taste it.”

Tim sends him a sympathetic look, understanding what Kon means. “I can always make it another time when you’re much better.”

They share another smile before falling into the same comfortable silence as before. Though it’s not too much longer before Kon is putting down the spoon, having had enough of the soup. He had eaten about three quarters of it, so that’s something, that and the bread too. Either way Tim seems happy with it and wordlessly stands up to move the tray away from him.

Once the tray has been moved Kon slumps against the headboard more than before, he knows he needs to stay up a little longer to let the food go down. In front of him, Tim returns and starts fussing with the blanket, making sure it’s covering him and double checking that he’s comfy. Kon rolls his eyes fondly at the mother-henning but feels warm affection nonetheless.

After fussing Tim hovers at the bedside seeming unsure on what to do with himself now Kon had been taken care of. Rolling his eyes yet again Kon wrestles an arm free from the blanket and extends it out to Tim who instantly takes hold of his hand. Kon uses what little strength he’s got to tug Tim back onto the bed with him.

“Stay, please.” He mumbles. Tim huffs at the action but gets comfy next to him without a word. Kon turns onto his side, wraps his arms around Tim and buries his face into Tim’s t-shirt, letting out a content sigh once he’s satisfied.

Tim’s arms rest on top of Kon and suddenly everything is perfect. For the first time since becoming ill Kon actually feels happy and comfortable. He soon finds his eyes drifting shut as he allows his mind to drift off, thankfully sleep comes easy and quickly this time round.

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Hello! ^^ Can you write a scenario in which Hange & the reader save Levi from the Jaegerists and dive into the river all together just as it went in the manga; however, when they arrive to somewhere safe the reader has already been shot protecting Levi's body in her arms and she begs Levi to wake up after implementing CPR. I would be grateful if you could add some fluff when Levi eventually regains consciousness laying on bed and finds the reader asleep while she's holding his hand.

Warnings: mentions of blood, being shot and vomiting, contains spoilers for chapter 115 of the manga

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/fluff

A/N: soo I took some teeny tiny creative liberties and I'm also crying at this. I hope you guys cry with me..

__

A simple question flashes through your mind like flood that furiously annihilates a barrage ever since you lay eyes on Levi's unconscious body.

"what happened?"

You move maniacally, helping Hange retreat him from the blood stained river side as water splashes everywhere; on your clothes, on your hair, on Hange's glasses. With shaking hands you pay on Levi's cloacked form, searching for anything that indicates a sort of movement, or another wound as Hange reaches for his pulse.

"I don't know what happened here, but we got lucky, out biggest thread covered in his own blood" Flotch speaks, managing to earn a growl from you.

"He's dead." It's only for a faint moment a fragile spasm his chest muscle make that lame you and Hange stare at eachother in despair. You drop your head at her words in hopes it looks believable enough for anyone around. The extraterrestrial contrast of your inner relief and outer grief sends Hange in awe for a brief fragment of a second as it's Flotch again who utters another growl earning statement.

"I'll send a shot through his head-"

"I know how to take a pulse, let me see him."

Panic rushes through you as he closes his mouth and you miss out on Hange's response. It's probably a good cover up, but not enough to stop you from spitting him of a response.

"Don't you dare! This is an order Floch!"

"I don't take orders from a snarky bitch-"

The clicking of his loaded gun, the bark in his tone, it's all in vain at the sight of Zeke emerging from that titan's stomach. In haze his blue eyes meet yours, spotting you over Levi's body along with Hange.

Everything happens too fast for your own liking and your vertigo infused mind. Hange throws Levi over her shoulder while desperately pleass for you to cut through the straps of his 3DMG gear and commands you to follow her. After taking a look back at Zeke's unresponsive figure you ran behind Hange with all your might.

"Get them!"

"Don't you run!"

In a series of events and screams from Flotch and his men you hear gunfires. They're louder than you expect them to be, judging by your pulse's need to muffle your hearing and each one sends a rush of cold sweat through your body. If you don't rush then you won't make it.

The bullet that pierces your thigh commands you to halt but your erratical heartbeat and the amount of adrenaline in your system assist you in pushing through the pain. You slip on the muddy ground and you refuse to fall; if you fall now there's not a chance you're getting back up. It's when you decide on accepting your fate as a future dead body laying on the muddy soil because the men after you have horses that you see Hange disappearing in the woods. You run, faster that you think you can as there's no chance that Flotch won't hesitate to double kill even if you play dead.

Finally upon arriving at a safe point in the woods you're met with Hange and Levi's body sprawled across the dirt. Hange's eyes soften as she looks at you arriving. Even though you're out of breath and wet from rain and sweat she fails to notice anything alarming.

That's until you set your hands and forehead on a nearby tree and proceed to choke on your own breath. Not long passes before you empty your stomach fluids before your feet. And Hange understands, adrenaline rushes and stressful situations lead to that occurance so she's not going to pressure you for an answer as to if you're alright. Until she sets her eyes at the profound hole in the back of your thigh. The black clothing around the wound is drenched in dark soggy blood that continuously oozes down your leg and into your boot.

Without giving her a chance to utter a word you announce, while clutching your stomach that Levi is top priority.

Needless to say that if he was awake or not even half alive he would have kicked you in the face for implementing cpr on him after having just thrown up; Hange urges you to though, seeing that his breaths are descreasing.

Please don't die. Please don't leave me like that.

Once again the familiar vertigo state engulfs your drained state of mind and you fall head first on the grass. You're unable of moving past that point. You've done your part and there's nothing you can do on that state.

"I need to remove that bullet, be patient with me (y/n). I'm almost done with Levi."

With vertigo furiously hitting your whole form it's hard to keep your eyes open for the whole of her response. In the end, sleep wins, with it's warm tendencies and calming effects to your brain.

_____

When he wakes up he sees your devasted form laying beside him, holding his unbandaged arm in peace. Your face fails to flinch or move, and no movement of breathing is detectable.

"Levi-"

"Is she dead?" He asks through grunts of pain.

"No, but she might not have enough energy to get up. She run after us while being shot. If it wasn't for her delaying them, we would have never made it."

Levi clicks his tongue in response. His eyes travel up and down your body as it lays face down beside him. There's no doubt that your eyes are half lid open, whether or not they blink he notices. There are small cuts across your face and droplets of blood running from your nostril and in a moment, he wonders if you're truly dead.

His thumb soothingly rubs on your hand on top of his, even searching for a pulse, as he recalls that drama play he read when he was first given an office with a full library, Romeo and Juliet. This all plays out too well according to it to be the real life. You find him pressumingly dead and he wakes up from his comatose state to your dead body, even for a role switch it's still accurate to a creepy extend.

As if you read his melancholic thoughts, you completely open your eyes and shoot him a warm, exhausted smile.

"Don't you dare leave me."

"I won't."

And he promises, by pressing your bloody palm against naked chest, to stay true to his words. You're going to win this war. You won't fall casualties of cruelty because the two of you deserve it. Once it's all over you'll help him build that teashop he always wanted. What you need is to hung on a little more.

My requests are open so if you want to leave one in my askbox, I'll be more than happy to see you guys interacting with me.

[eivor-basim]

An invitation

Also available here on AO3

Pairing: female Eivor/Hytham

Genre: fluff and a little hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Eivor and Hytham are passing a lazy afternoon together in Ravensthorpe when she notices a letter he’s received from the hidden ones’ brotherhood.

————

It was a rare lazy afternoon in Ravensthorpe, and Eivor had sprawled out across the ornate red carpets of the hidden ones' bureau. Golden sunlight poured slow-like-honey into the room. Its warmth weighed comfortably on her bone-weary limbs, beckoning her into the haze just-before-sleep. She tilted her head back idly to watch Hytham quietly toil away at his desk.

He was a welcome sight. Even in the shadowed corner stacked high with dusty maps and letters, enough light filtered through to dance amber-copper across his soft hair and skin. Like the colored glass windows in one of Aelfred's god-houses.

Beautiful and frustratingly beyond reach.

Eivor sighed. “Why can you not simply take a break and come hunting with me? What is it that the hidden ones do anyways? Other than occasionally sending me to lay siege to a pesky castle.”

“My love, our work is secret. There are some things I dare not share even with you,” he said without looking up from his scrolls, but the corner of his mouth twitched ever-so-slightly. “Besides, you have been away for so long. I believe you would benefit from one day of relaxation.”

She propped herself up on her elbows, narrowing her eyes. “You are saying I need a nap? Are you mocking me, Hytham?”

He finally returned her gaze, neatly setting his quill down and feigning an expression of innocence. It was a thin veil for the mischief sparkling in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t dare, Eivor Wolf-Kissed, for you are a mighty warrior and would surely have me at your mercy before the insulting words had left my mouth.”

Her mock-indignation quickly morphed into a sly smile as she rose to her feet and approached him slowly. Like a wolf closing in for the kill. She planted her hands on the desk and leaned over, fixing Hytham with a teasing look that seemed to freeze him in place.

“At my mercy, you say?”

“I— I wasn't— your—” he stammered as a sweet red-pink flush spread across his cheeks. Beautiful, she thought. To his credit, he held her gaze, wide-eyed and white-knuckled clutching at his now-forgotten papers.

She savored the moment, wetting her lips with a quick flick of the tongue that Hytham’s eyes followed oh-so-closely. Then she cleanly snatched the parchment from his hands.

“Eivor!”

She chuckled and spun away, already scanning the text as she paced across the room with Hytham hot on her heels. “Acolyte Hytham, we were dismayed to learn of—”

The words died in her throat.

She stilled and lowered her arms slowly, almost mechanically, the paper fluttering at her listless fingertips. It was a simple task for Hytham to pluck it away as she stared blank-eyed into the distance.

He stood at her side, looking down at the letter before turning his gaze on her soft-and-sweet. There was no trace of irritation left. Only sympathy.

“Eivor... I confess I selfishly did not want you to read this,” he said. His voice was sweeping-swallowing seawater, rising and falling with a deceptive gentleness that concealed its engulfing undertow.

I will not fall into it, she thought. I would not rise again.

“I understand, Hytham,” she said heavily. “Some things are meant to be private. I should not have pried. You are… you are leaving Ravensthorpe, then?”

She could not look at him. Nevertheless she heard him shuffle, tuck the letter away. Felt his hand on her shoulder and leaned into the comforting gesture despite herself.

“You misunderstand me. I did not wish to hide this from you… I merely did not know how to tell you. Our moments of peace are rare enough. I could not bring myself to shatter this one.” He hesitated. “The brotherhood has called me back and it is my duty to answer their summons.”

Oh-she-did not mean to curl her fingers into fists but the unspoken sadness under her tongue tasted like blood. The familiar iron-tang of losing another person who was supposed-to-be-there always.

“Yes, it is your home. Your people. You must, of course, return.” She crossed her arms, shoulders tensing against his touch. His hand fell away and she did not allow herself to mourn its loss.

“That… that is not why. You have made my home here, Eivor. Since the day I first arrived on your icy shores, you have opened your arms to me. Even when I did not initially extend the same trust to you.” He took a cautious step towards her and extended a hand, warily as if approaching a cornered animal.

With a sigh of acquiesce, Eivor accepted his embrace, burying her head against his chest and shutting her eyes tightly against the tide of salt-tears. Seawater I drown in. Seawater I give myself to.

Small though he was, Hytham’s arms wrapped around her sure-and-strong and his familiar warm scent enveloped her senses-- ink and paper, sandalwood and something earthy-sweet. He smells of home. The realization ached in her chest. Turned ice-cold in her stomach.

“I thought… I had hoped Ravensthorpe had become a true home for you. That you might stay,” she murmured the words without lifting her face, internally wincing at how her voice wavered and threatened to break altogether.

“Eivor, habibti, I have spent years watching you build this town into a place worthy of calling home. I and everyone who lives here owe you a debt that can never truly be repaid. But I know in my heart that my home is not here,” he said, pausing to tenderly tilt her chin upwards, urging her out of hiding. Tear-streaked and red-eyed, she reluctantly met his gaze. “This is because my home cannot be found in any one place. You have not only built Ravensthorpe. Day by day, year by year, you have built me a hearth-warmth love within which I find myself resting more contentedly than I ever have before. And now… now my home is found wherever you are, always.”

“Hytham,” she managed, but all the disjointed poem-words racing through her mind were not enough. They fluttered away like falling leaves and left her empty-handed. So I will fill my hands with what I have in front of me.

Without a second thought, Eivor curled her fingers into his hair and pulled his lips against hers with an urgency unlike any she’d ever known. He followed willingly, gladly, gasping softly before returning the kiss with fervent longing. I will put all of my love into this kiss so that it tastes of sunshine to him. Sunshine and honey and the promise of a hundred-kisses-more.

She reached one hand around his waist, discontent with even the small space between them, pulling him flush-against-her and deepening the kiss slow-sweet. Demanding more, more, more. He whimpered faintly and she smiled against his mouth at the noise. Resting there for a moment before pulling away just enough to press her forehead against his, that she might see him and he might see the adoring smile he had brought to her lips.

He returned her gaze with reverence, blue eyes wide and kissed-red lips still slightly parted. In his eyes, she found the words she had been missing.

“I do not pretend to understand,” she began, “the strange threads of fate that have brought you from afar and woven you into my life. All I know is that I am grateful.”

“As am I,” he breathed, then smiled brightly. “Come with me, Eivor. Come with me to meet the brotherhood. I need not leave home behind when I leave after all.”

She smiled back melancholy-sweet. “It is a lovely thought. But I am needed here. My clan, my brother, Ravensthorpe. What if something were to happen while I am off venturing carefree into the unknown? All I have worked for and protected could be lost.”

Hytham leaned back and bowed his head, considering her words. “Do you never stop giving of yourself, Eivor? You have poured your life-blood into securing a peaceful home for your family. Now that it is safe, allow yourself to rest. Do not build shelter for others and leave yourself in the rain.”

“Ah, but someone must stand guard in the rain so that the people inside may sleep without fear through the long night,” she answered.

“And there are others who can stand guard, who would be happy to help should you but ask. Remember you are not alone,” he said. “Do you think Randvi would prefer you to remain silent rather than trust her to protect the clan in your absence?”

“She would be insulted that I did not confide in her,” Eivor laughed breathlessly, stepping away with nervous energy as something-like-hope blossomed in her chest. She turned in place, surveying the little bureau they had built together, eyes flicking from one object to the next. The carefully-exact map of England she had watched him draw, his brow furrowed in concentration. The small bed in the corner where they’d lain for hours, legs intertwined, speaking of everything in the night-quiet. The shelves she’d pressed him back against to steal a kiss, sending scrolls flying.

Somehow, imbued with memories of their time together, the room had taken on a life-breath of its own.

It spoke clearly now and she heeded the words.

“Yes,” she said, turning back to Hytham. He stood patiently, hands clasped. The very stance he had adopted on the dock in Fornburg all-those-years ago. “Yes, yes, I will go with you. Of course I will.”

“I— thank you.” Relief sparked in his eyes as the invisible weight of doubt lifted from his shoulders. She only smiled.

“Do not thank me, you have reminded me that I must live my life for myself and choose with my heart. It is something I needed to hear. When do we leave?”

“Soon, I think, but not today or tomorrow, habibti,” he closed the gap between them, grasping hold of both her hands and looking up at her earnestly. “I did mean what I said earlier. You have long been away and should rest. Reacquaint yourself with Ravensthorpe before setting off once again. The journey will be long and newly-rekindled memories of loved ones will make our steps lighter.”

“And I will rest,” she rolled her eyes good-naturedly, “And I will spend time with my brother and Randvi and all the others. But right now, I have missed you and I believe you owe me a hunting trip since you are no longer preoccupied with your oh-so-secret work.”

“You are implacable, my love,” he said fondly. “Very well. And after?”

She smirked.

“Well, I have a few ideas for after.”

The sight of his reddened cheeks and shy smile was enough to fill her heart to the brim with warmth.

[queenof-literature]

A Sick Wild Child - Chapter 9

Here it is! Thank you all so much for being so supportive during and after my break from writing. As many of you know, I’m struggling a lot with everything going on and it means the world to me that y’all are so sweet and supportive. I hope you enjoy the latest chapter!

Chapter 9 - The Eye in the Storm

Time didn’t just dread injuries because he grew worried. Of course he worried when one of the boys was injured, it was always terrible to see one of his companions in pain. But he also dreaded it because there was one emotion he truly feared for both himself and the others… boredom. 

Staying in one place for an extended period of time got all the Links restless in different ways. The only bright side of this situation was he didn’t have to worry about Wild fist fighting a bear for fun. He did however, have to worry about the others. He had to worry about Four and Legend disappearing and returning covered in flora and fauna they wanted to observe. He had to worry about Hyrule and Warriors getting a hold of fire weapons. He had to worry about Sky and Twilight going cliff diving if they were around an ocean. The same went for Wind if he got his hands on a raft, they might not see him for hours. He also had to worry about himself, the part of him that never disappeared after years of Termina and stasis and countless travels through time, itching to run away and become a child of the forest again, even if just for a day. Time worked hard to push those thoughts down. 

Sky had managed to throw together something that night after their small fight over what they should have. They had managed without Wild’s skills and slate before, they could do it again. However, it was obvious the antsy group missed their cook. Said boy was still curled in Warriors’ bed roll, cold clothes placed upon both his forehead and neck after his last bout of delirium. Delirium that Time truly wished he could forget.

Based on what the terrified boy had murmured, Twilight and Time, two of the eight people he should be able to trust most, practically tortured him. Time going as far to burn him with a torch. And Din above was that a knife to the heart. Time knows, he knows that fever dreams didn’t make sense, but weren’t all dreams from the subconscious? Did Wild think that would happen? Was he scared deep down that his allies would become his enemies? Time wanted to say no, but he was never one to lie to himself. After all Wild had gone through, parts of him would never be unscathed. The same went for every Link, after all they had been through. Time was more worried about what the boy’s Hyrule had done to him. Forced into battle before he was even a teenager, betrayed and murdered by the Guardians he was supposed to trust, constantly on the lookout for traitors sworn to Ganon, it was no wonder the boy was paranoid. And these fears were constantly in his nightmares. The fever dreams must have been Hell.

Twilight wasn’t taking it well either. He seemed to have calmed down a bit after his conversation with Warriors, but Time could tell this was all getting to him. The lengths Twilight would go to help his friends was admirable, if not terrifying sometimes. But no amount of healing, potions, and worrying would fix this, and that was starting to sink in for everyone. No matter how much Twilight did, all he could was try and make it better. Twilight didn’t cope well with not being able to help, none of them did, especially with Wild. 

Speaking of, Wild had been dead silent since he had passed out in Legend’s arms. Besides the small rasps coming from his mouth and the weak stutters of his chest, the boy was completely still. After some debate they decided to put Twilight’s pelt over him again. It had always been comforting to him, and who knows if he would even remember his panic over what Dream Twilight did to him. Hylia, Time hoped not. Time hoped Wild’s silence meant he was having a good enough dream, or maybe not dreaming at all.

The chatter around the campfire was scarce that night, no one having the energy to talk outside the small conversations they had with those near them. Legend seemed perfectly fine with shoving a groggy Hyrule back to bed as soon as he finished dinner. Hyrule certainly didn’t put up much of a fight, clearly tired from healing Wild throughout the day. It wasn’t the worst they had seen him after healing, but there was no reason for him to not sleep it off. As much as Time didn’t want to admit it, they may need Hyrule’s abilities later. Nothing else seemed to be helping. Time didn’t want to make Hyrule feel like they were exploiting him, but Wild needed water and the only time he was able to keep it down was when Hyrule healed him. Time wasn’t willing to believe that was a coincidence, they needed to get Wild to hold down any water they could. But Time truly wanted anything else than to wake up their exhausted sorcerer. It was quite a conundrum.

“I could hear you thinking from across camp.” Sky stated softly, settling beside Time. 

“I don’t want to wake Hyrule, but Wild needs water.” Time said bluntly, not having the desire to beat around the bush. 

“Hmm. Well.” Sky pondered for a moment. “Wild can go the night right? When I was little, I was really stubborn when I was sick. Sun tried to get me to eat, drink, or do anything really and I just wouldn’t.” Sky put his hand on Time’s shoulder. “ I know it’s not the same thing, but let’s give Wild the night, and as long as his condition doesn’t change, we’ll let Hyrule rest for a while. Now that we’re staying here for the time being, we can let Hyrule rest and help Wild a bit until he can keep things down. I know it’s not the best solution, but we all know you’re not trying to force Hyrule into exhausting himself.” Sky radiated comfort, and Time felt bad for subtly soaking it up. It wasn’t fair, he shouldn’t force decisions on the other Links. But Hylia, he was just so tired.

“Sounds like a good plan.” Time’s lips turned up slightly, and Sky knew that was a thank you. A thank you for taking some weight off of Time’s shoulders, even if it was a laughably small amount. But it was the least Sky could do. 

~

Wild was pretty sure he was stone. There was no other reason for his limbs to be so heavy. The only thing he could really feel was pain. He couldn’t be sure where it was the worst, he was floating. He just knew he was cold. So, so cold. Wild didn’t like being cold, not when after he learned there were ways to be truly warm. Another feeling reached him, weight on top of him that he appreciated, and the fluttering of eyelashes he struggled to recognize as his own.

“...think- waking up.” Voices drifted in and out of his mind. 

“-nother… -mare?” These voices sounded weird.

“-ild?” These were outside of his body. 

Opening his eyes took more strength than anything he had ever done, but he needed to see where the voices were coming from. Slowly his eyes pried open.

Everything was blurry, but he could see shadows moving around him. If they were enemies, he couldn’t bring himself to care. It wasn’t like he could move anyway. 

“Wild?” A voice filtered into his head, more clear than before. Colors swirled as he pried open his eyes, and Wild struggled to push down the nausea that rose, determined to find out where the voices were coming from. 

“Wild? Can you hear us?” The fog cleared slightly, the first thing he saw being a colorful tunic. He knew that voice… right?

The swirling subsided a little more, now resting on the edges of his vision. The shadows that previously surrounded him were replaced by figures he recognized. He tried so hard to remember their names, and why he suddenly felt like crying. He didn’t know anything in that moment other than the figures surrounding him being warm, and Wild was still so cold.

“C-c-ld” Wild croaked out pathetically, frustration creeping up to replace confusion. Something cold and wet was surrounding him, soaking his skin. He tried to move his head in a weak attempt to get rid of the cold, but all he got was vertigo.

“Sor-... -an’t. Fever i-” Ringing filled Wild’s ears.

~

“I think he’s waking up.” Four rushed out, bringing the idle chatter around the fire to an abrupt halt. Lo and behold, the boy’s eyes fluttered, eyes flickering beneath. 

“Do you think it’s another nightmare?” Wind called out hesitantly.

“I can’t tell. Wild?” Four called softly, placing his hands on his shoulder. Blurry eyes opened, revealing a sickly haze. But they weren’t frantic, just exhausted.

“I don’t think he is. He isn’t panicked. Wild?” Four asked again as the others gathered closer around him. Legend, Sky and Warriors gathered behind Four, while Time and Twilight stayed back, clearly uncomfortable with potentially sending him into another panic. Wind stayed back with them and held onto Twilight’s hand, squeezing when he noticed how much not being able to help hurt Twilight. The older squeezed back in thanks.

“Wild?” Sky asked. “Can you hear us?” The sick boy’s half lucid eyes flickered in their direction, and they could have thrown a goddess damned party over such a simple action. Legend almost went over and woke Hyrule to celebrate. Wild hadn’t been this coherent since he got smacked into that tree, not without being in a hallucination. His eyes were fogged and consciousness was barely there, but it was still the most awake he had been since this whole thing started. 

“C-c-ld.” Wild croaked out, shaking his head slowly. Four reached out and gently stopped the movement, worried for the headache Wild was probably sporting. 

“I’m so sorry, Wild but we can’t. Your fever is too high, we’ve done everything we can.” Sky tried to reassure, but he doubted Wild understood any of it. He looked to Four to confirm Wild’s fever still hadn’t broken. Four solemnly shook his head. Wild’s eyes continued to look around, seeming to search for something, but the others didn’t know for what. 

“W-lf.” Wild choked out, his weak right hand reached out, only making it an inch before tumbling back down against his chest, clutching weakly at the furs laid on top of him. 

“Wolf? Are you trying to say wolf?” Legend asked, glancing back at Twilight. 

“W-” Wild was cut off by a rough cough. Four was ready to roll him over for choking that never came. Time could see the relief the other Links had that Wild seemed to be better, if not slightly. He wanted to remind them that this was just an eye in the storm, that sometimes with illnesses it got better before it got worse… but he didn’t have the strength to crush their hope. Deep down they all knew this wasn’t the beginning of the downhill, it was just a lull. But they deserved to have a little joy after all they had seen Wild go through. 

“He’s the most coherent he’s been in awhile. We should give him water.” Warriors pulled a water pouch from seemingly nowhere. 

“W-w-lf.” Wild insisted. 

“Get over there! You heard him!” Wind whisper-shouted, shoving Twilight forward with a small snicker. Twilight hesitantly made his way over to Wild, eyes burned into him, watching to see what Wild’s reaction would be. He knew the other Links didn’t mean to freak him out, but they certainly weren’t helping. 

Twilight gently kneeled on one knee next to Wild on the other side of Four, ready to back track if Wild showed any sign of discomfort at Twilight being there. 

“Hey Cub.” Wild’s eyes stopped for a moment, and the entire world halted, everyone waited with bated breath. Slowly eyes flickered over to Twilight, and eyes that had been dull for so long finally lit up, if only just by a little spark. 

“W-ol-T-Twi.” Wild gasped, and the others could have sworn Wild’s lips twitched upwards. 

“Yeah, Cub.” Twilight’s shoulders relaxed, dropping completely to both knees as the other Links smiled. Legend thought about teasing the cheesy sight before him but thought better of it. Hyrule would love to see Wild doing better. Aw shit, Hyrule slept through this. Hyrule was gonna kill him-

“See if you can get him to drink some water. He doesn’t seem as nauseous” Warriors insisted, handing Twilight the water pouch. 

“What if he throws it up?” Sky questioned.

“He can’t keep going like this.” Legend nodded to Twilight to try. 

“Alright, Cub. This might hurt for a moment.” Twilight soothed, before lifting Wild’s back gently into his lap, the cub’s head resting against his lower chest. With only a small gasp of pain, Wild was situated well enough. 

“Small sips.” Twilight directed, carefully pouring some water into Wild’s mouth. The boy coughed a little, but soon strained to get more cool water into his sore throat. “Slow down.” Twilight soothed, placing his hand on Wild’s forehead to stop his squirming. Wild managed to drink half the small pouch before obviously having his fill. 

“Thank Hylia.” Sky breathed.

“Don’t thank her yet.” Legend huffed. “He could still heave it back up.” 

“Maybe stop talking about it around him and he won’t.” Warriors hissed.

“How ya feeling Wild?” Four asked, deciding now would be a good time for a change of subject.

“Ngh.” Came the eloquent response. It was better than Four expected in all honesty. Twilight snorted a little at that.

“That good huh?” Twilight chuckled. He went to put Wild down and let the boy get the sleep he obviously needed. But the cub reached up and grabbed Twilight’s hand where it had come to rest on the boy's chest. Twilight could have easily shaken off the weak hand if he wished, but Hylia hadn’t Wild gone through enough already?

Wild’s eyes flickered up once more, resting on Twilight’s face. The cub’s hand squeezed so light Twilight could barely feel it, and the man quickly covered their hands with his other one. Wild’s hands were cold and pale.

“S-stay.” Wild pleaded.

“Okay, Cub. I’ll stay.”

[sagasofazeria]

Broken Chains

Song of the Seven Suns, Part 6

Summary: Dawn arrives, and the companions head to battle against remnants of the group called the Mortal Chains, led by a woman named Dymea. A reckoning is had.

Taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @hellishhin @talesfromaurea @thelaughingstag

content warnings: heavy discussion of slavery, violence and murder, injury, blood and minor gore, death, discussion of death, discussion of trauma/childhood trauma, swearing and strong language

word count: ~3900

Awake before even the sun, the five companions had already set out to confront their enemy, eyes and blades sharp as they crept through the inky night.

The shadows were long and grasping, even as the storm flashed on above. The group moved swiftly and silently through the darkness, all holding their breath for fear it would be their last.

Fuego hated it. He despised the dark, the unseen. He’d never liked the shadows and fog of his home, and he didn’t like this either. He only kept his flames snuffed because the others had insisted it’d give them away. Even though he hated the dark, he knew how to use it to his advantage, and he didn’t want to sabotage his first quest with his new friends.

So, onward they went, pushing forward through the creeping brush and craggy hills, as the slick rocks and leaves flashed with the reflections of lightning above.

Hours passed as they continued forward. Faulkron was leading the group, his faintly glowing elven eyes piercing through the dark.

As the morning wore on, the sun’s light began to begin its crawl across the sky behind the blanket of clouds that still bore down on them. The black of night became the faint notion of blue that lie beyond the curtain, gray clouds filtering what light shone behind them into a dim gloom, rain still falling through the leaves of the trees as the sky shifted.

It was in the faint illumination of the first steps of morning that the five adventurers saw the first signs of their quarry.

Faulkron noticed them first, the ever-so-slight disturbances in the silent stillness of the woods. Moments later, Shakari’s keen senses picked up a faint stench hidden beneath the clean smell of rain. They shared a quick glance, and the group quickly altered course, following the well-hidden trail.

Fuego couldn’t help but smile to hiself. He could tell he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t be any more ready for the coming fight. He saw Shakari’s eyes glinting in same way his mother’s would. Though, Shakari’s eyes were admittedly far larger, and probably scarier. Well, scarier to people who didn’t know his mother.

Shakari looked like a hunter, a proud and vicious one, and Fuego couldn’t be happier to be hunting alongside them.

•••

As Shakari pushed through the brush, clambering over the rocks and small borders that blocked their path, she never lost the scent. They hadn’t told the rest of the group what scent they’d picked up, only that they had one.

On the surface, it was the smell of blood.

Dirt.

Steel.

But beneath that, beneath the layers of rain and storm that hid the scent, beyond even the limits of her smell, something else lurked. Something Shakari could see only by extending their mind to the flows of energy around them, the movement of spirits and magic that pervaded everything, if you looked close enough.

It was there that they could smell pain.

Fear.

Despair.

Cruelty.

A poison sat on the air, one not even the rain could wash away.

And that was what Shakari was hunting. She knew the source of that poison, and on her ancestors she knew she would cure it. Today she was certain the sun would rise on one more step toward redemption.

Tail lashing with purpose, Shakari led the group forward alongside Faulkron, and in time the stench grew and grew. Before long, they found themelves in a small valley thick with trees, a grove of trees hiding them from any nearby eyes. She could smell the poison now, stronger than ever.

“We are getting close,” she whispered, holding up a claw to halt the group.

Fuego’s face pushed out of the leaves above, mouth cocked in an almost sinister grin. “Good.”

“How close, exactly?” asked Faulkron, turning to Shakari and reaching back for his sword.

“Close enough that you might need that, if that’s what you’re asking,” Shakari said, peeking through the still-wet leaves and brush for signs of a camp.

Faulkron gave a nod, pulling the sword from its sheath and steadying his grip, eyes focusing as he began to search as well.

“I don’t see anything, too many trees,” he whispered. “Fuego, can you get up any higher?”

“Naturally.”

With that, Fuego ran off into the trees, light halfling feet carrying him into the foliage without a trace.

The four of them waited for a while, and Shakari could see Alejandro and Jetra beginning to get nervous. Jetra was tapping a haphazard rhythm on a nearby stone, and Alejandro was twisting his hand around the hilt of one of his blades, palms sweaty as he went.

“What is taking him so long?” Alejandro finally snapped, voice at a tense whisper. “He should be here by now. What if he’s been injured, or taken, or—“

“Aww! Alejandro, you were worried about me?” Fuego’s voice suddenly called from the shadows as he walked out of the bushes, knocking a bit of ash off of his hands and beaming.

In a second, Alejandro had his blade halfway drawn. When he saw Fuego, he let it go with a sigh. “Fuego, you need to stop startling me.”

“You’re ignoring the question.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it?”

Alejandro sighed. “Yes, I was worried for you. Now tell us what you saw.”

Fuego nodded and shrugged. “I’ll accept it for now. Anyway, I saw the camp. Pretty well defended, actually. I had to take out one scout on the way, but they never saw it coming, so we’re all clear. I can get us there.”

Alejandro held up a hand as they all began to move. “Wait, wait. What even is our plan here? We’ve got a location, what do we do from there?”

“Don’t worry, I think I’ve got something,” Fuego said, looking around for a second before snapping a branch off of a nearby tree with a mumbled apology.

He gestured for them all to kneel around him, and began to draw in the mud. “All right, here’s the plan...”

•••

It was working so far. Jetra hadn’t expected this from Fuego, but a fortress made of wood was kind of a pyro’s playground.

Not to mention, she wasn’t sure she could have come up with a decent plan at the moment. As much as she tried to look like she was sensible and collected, she had to admit she was completely making stuff up in the moment half the time. And that wasn’t when she was crouching behind a rock, staring at the place where her father’s killer was actively kidnapping people and selling them into slavery.

She tightened her grip on her sword, and clutched the amulet around her neck. The symbol of the blue moon was cold in her hand, but it held a comfort she appreciated well. Just a symbol, she knew, but it gave her hope, and gods knew she needed a bit of hope right now.

I can’t fuck this up, she thought to herself, visions of her father’s body being lowered into the ground filling her mind. I can’t.

She looked into the camp again, peeking around the boulder. Even through the soft rain and dim light he could see the faint silhouettes of cages, and she was filled with rage.

Then I won’t.

And that’s when the smell of smoke filled the air.

Jetra watched the pile of brush, scouts’ corpses, and wet leaves they’d carefully gathered against the camp’s edge outer wall go up in bright amber flame, black smoke curling upwards to mingle with the clouds despite the rain. Jetra muttered a brief thanks to the gods that magical fire burned far better than the average flame before leaping over the boulder and charging forward, sword held aloft. Across from her Faulkron and Alejandro did the same.

The smoke and the pile of tinder behind her blew forward into the camp with a sudden gust as the Shakari’s roar sounded through the camp, the groggy slavers caught off guard by the sudden onslaught and confusion in the smoke and flame, the buildings beginning to glow with fire in seconds. Jetra tightened the scarf around her nose and mouth, gritting her teeth as the sudden gust blew her hair forward.

The first group of bandits never even saw them coming. Through the smoke and haze, Faulkron moved like a shade, hacking one of them down with ease.

The next slaver barely had time to draw a weapon before taking Alejandro’s blades through his throat and chest.

Jetra charged forward still, kicking the embers of their campfire forward and setting another slaver alight. She cursed in alarm, throwing off her burning cloak and drawing a sword.

Shouts and cries went up around the camp, as more slavers were woken from their sleep to try fight off the attackers and the fire.

Smoke still covered the camp, and there was coughing among the unprepared bandits as they began to draw their weapons.

The badnit Jetra had tried to burn lunged forward with her sword, slicing across her right arm.

Jetra hissed, feeling warmth trickling down her arm and beginning to soak her clothes.

“You’re not who I’m here for, asshole,” she growled, swinging her own sword forward into the slaver’s side, cutting through the leather and sinking the blade into flesh.

The woman only grunted and raised her sword in response, but was cut off by a hissing as a familiar red-hot scimitar pushed out through her chest and she collapsed into the mud with a gurgle.

Jetra nodded to Fuego in thanks, and kept running further forward, trudging uphill as fast as she could. Chaos surrounded her, and she could see the wooden fortifications and buildings catching fire rapidly. There were shouts all around as the slavers began to rally.

As she ran, she saw Alejandro facing a group of slavers with a snarl on his face, all of them standing in front of cages of terrified people. His rain-soaked blades flashed in the firelight, and he charged them, Faulkron right beside him.

Fuego was dancing through the smoke, laughing as he went, burning blade held aloft and cutting through yet another confused enemy.

Shakari’s mouth was glowing with power, and a whole group of slavers and buildings was blasted apart as she roared again.

And Jetra ran forward, her mind was on one thing, and one thing only.

Just before she crested the hill, where the center of the fortress was, a group of slavers leaped from the haze, blades slashing.

Jetra cried out as her leg was slashed open and a dagger was sunk into her shoulder before she brought her sword up to block the remaining swings.

Pain pulsing through her, and she screamed, her voice booming outward as the vibrations shook the ground, sending the slavers in front of her careening backwards, most of them unmoving.

She kept running.

•••

Faulkron’s blade clanged against the slaver’s, but he pushed forward with all his might, sending them stumbling back. As they stumbled, he swung in an arc and separating their helmed head from their shoulders.

He saw Jetra run forward and disappear into the smoke, but had no time to react before he felt a knife across his back, turning to the next bandit.

He swung once, but the rain was still coming down, and even his eyes found it hard to see. His blade crashed off of theirs, and he felt another slash across his side.

Most of the camp was on fire, and it seemed every slaver had rushed out of their tents to fight them.

That much more of a challenge, he thought, and grinned.

The bandit in front of him faltered a moment, coughing in the smoke, and Faulkron took the chance to thrust his sword forward into their gut, throwing them to the side with a heave.

That was when he heard Alejandro scream. Faulkron whipped his head around, and as the smoke briefly parted he saw him.

Torso shiny with crimson blood from numerous slashes and cuts, at least 4 slavers lay dead around him, but a larger warrior had shoved their spear through his shoulder, and he’d dropped one of his blades into the mud.

Faulkron didn’t know what overtook him, but he charged across the burning battlefield, rain pelting his armor, shoulder lowered. He rammed his shoulder square into the slaver’s chest, sending them both tumbling to the ground. He quickly got to his feet in the mud, but was cracked across the face by the spiked butt of the spear, and he felt hot blood dripping down his cheek and chin.

He quickly wiped it away, swinging heavily with his blade, trying to protect Alejandro. The blow glanced off of the slaver’s armor, and they stabbed the spear towards Faulkron.

He managed to block the blow with his blade, and cut once across the slaver’s gut, tearing through the leather armor. Just as the bandit could attack again, however, Alejandro quickly came up from behind, one arm bloody as he sank his blades between the slaver’s ribs, and the large man gurgled in pain, blood trickling down his chin.

Faulkron took his chance, shoving his own blade through the man’s chest as Alejandro stepped away.

As the man fell over, so did Alejandro, collapsing to one knee. Faulkron kneeled next to him, clasping his good arm in hand.

“Come on Alejandro, get back up, fight’s not done yet.”

Alejandro grimaced and took a deep breath, and clasped his arm as well.

“Of course. Somebody needs to protect you,” he grunted, a grim smile on his face.

Faulkron stood again, lifting Alejandro up.

The fires were dying down as the rain kept falling, but the haze was still heavy in the air, although most of the bandits had been slain.

Fuego ran up to them, sporting a large slash of his own across his chest and breathing heavy.

“Hurry, we have to find Dymea, she can’t be let escape,” Alejandro said with a cough.

“This way!” Shakari called from father up the hill, through the smoldering buildings.

As they ran uphill, they heard another scream, Jetra this time.

But it wasn’t one of pain.

•••

“DYMEA! Where are you, you cowardly piece of shit? Come fucking fight me!” Jetra screamed, channeling all her rage and pain into her words, cursing the name she spoke, hoping Dymea was near enough that the magic would take hold.

The smoke was billowing all around, and her knuckles were white as she gripped her sword, waiting for the knife from the shadows.

All she heard in response was a sick laugh, a laugh full of poison and malice.

“And who are you supposed to be, exactly?”

She turned to see an armored and hooded figure emerge from the clearing smoke, grinning with a cold and calculated hate, the dim firelight and predawn sky leaving most of her face shrouded in shadow.

“I’m the daughter of Marakos, and you fucking killed him. Stabbed him in the back. He never had a chance... I’ve come to return the favor, or die trying,” Jetra growled, turning to face her.

Dymea laughed again. “Of course you are. I see you’ve also decided to burn down my slave operation, which will be a problem for me after I defeat you. It’s very annoying, but makes you that much more interesting. I wonder, did the vengeful daughter also join father’s secret society for the idiotically righteous?” Dymea said, looking over Jetra with a smirk. “Oh, but of course she did...” she trailed off, smiling and casually twirling a dagger as she slowly stalked around her.

Jetra furrowed her brow. She hadn’t expected a conversation, and her mind was already clouded with anger. She felt herself faltering, mind paralyzed as she found herself off guard. She shook her head and took in a breath, clearing her head. “Enough! What are you even getting at? Fight me already!”

“Oh, I would, but it’s much more gratifying to do this first. So I can tap into your fears, know what goes on in your mind. After all, I’m going to need to know how to control you. What’s more... you don’t want to tell a boring story, do you, bard?”

Jetra froze mid-retort. How did she know? Had she overestimated herself? I won’t, I won’t, I won’t fail, I won’t fail, her own words echoed through her mind, but now they sounded more like doubts than promises. “What are you talking about? How do you know-”

“Please, I already knew you, long before you showed up here. I remember killing your father. It was a big achievement for me, really. Another reckless idiot with a sword and a bunch of lies to fuel his morals dies by my hand. You’re just the same, clear as day. But you? I’m not going to give you ‘die trying’. No... you’ll be my final trophy from killing your father.”

Jetra’s eye’s widened and she growled. “That’s not gonna happen. No game you try to play will save you. You will die today,” she snarled, weaving years of hatred into her words as she spit magic at the woman before her.

She watched as Dymea hissed and grabbed her head, a slight trickle of blood coming from her ears. 

Jetra grinned. “Don’t like that?”

“Oh, so she’s tricky,” Dymea muttered, wiping blood from her face. “Don’t worry, I have some tricks of my own.”

She flicked her wrist forward, and a long dagger sailed toward Jetra with almost inhuman speed. She raised her blade on instinct, knocking it away, only to have a second dagger sink into her thigh. She cried out in pain, and when she looked back up, Dymea was gone.

She called out to the shadows and smoke through gritted teeth. “Fucking cowardly—”

She was cut off when another dagger flew from the smoke, sprouting from her gut with a sickening thud as she cursed.

She tried to set her feet again, looking for any sign of the woman, but she couldn’t see her. Her wounds were burning with pain, and she stumbled again, grimacing.

She took a shaky breath and grabbed her necklace, closing her eyes and looking up to the rainy sky, tears and rain mingling on her face.

“I... I refuse to fail,” she whispered, letting the hope she found in the symbol grow and blossom in her chest.

As her magic faded, she felt her confidence and strength returned.

She opened her eyes saw her companions sprinting up the hill toward her just as Dymea lunged again from the smoke, knives extended towards her.

Before she reached her, however, there was a flash of blue, and Shakari leaped in front of Jetra, one extended hand sending lightning coursing forward into Dymea.

Dymea stumbled to a stop, gritting her teeth as the electricity coursed across her body from Shakari’s outstretched claws before drawing back to them, jumping across their scales as they bared their teeth.

Then, stepping out of a door of embers and smoke, Fuego appeared behind her in a blast of magic. He leaped onto her back, sword piercing her shoulder as she growled and stumbled forward.

“Funny how the tables turn, huh?” Jetra laughed, standing upright again.

Dymea snarled, grabbing Fuego by the neck and throwing him forward into the mud with a wet thud, his sword flinging off into the smoke.

Fuego coughed and tried to roll away, wind knocked from his lungs, but Dymea grabbed his hair and yanked him upward. She smiled at Jetra, dagger flashing in the fading firelight before she stabbed him in the back with a growl, and he coughed blood.

“You’re right. It is funny,” Dymea snarled, before kicking the dagger, sending Fuego sprawling into the mud as he screamed.

Jetra felt her heart sink, and her breath caught. She gripped the sword tighter as they converged on Dymea. Jetra was not going to let her kill Fuego, or any of the others, not when they were so close.

Dymea drew a shortsword and started to step back, but she was quickly interrupted by Faulkron, who knocked the blade aside before bringing the end of his sword across her face with a yell, drawing a line of blood across her cheek even as she leaped away.

Alejandro, adrenaline fueling him through the pain in his arm, pushed forward and stabbed her once through the shoulder as she tried to dodge away, then slammed his knee into her back as she stumbled forward, cursing. She tried to recover, only to be slammed backwards by a boom of thunder, as Shakari split the air with a bolt of lightning.

“And you call me a coward. How many people did you con into helping you kill me, exactly?” Dymea chuckled, spitting out blood.

She stood again, brandishing her last two knives. She looked around at them all, but they had her surrounded. She looked at them all in the eyes, then laughed. “Don’t you know? I don’t fear death. None of us do. Our chains—“

She was interrupted again as Faulkron lunged forward in a sudden explosion of movement. She lashed out, sinking one blade into his arm before Faulkron stabbed his own blade into the earth in front of her, one hand holding it steady.

She looked at him in confusion for a moment, and he only stared back. Then, he grabbed her by the back of the head with one hand and slammed her face into the metal hilt of his blade. Faulkron grabbed Dymea around the throat while she was stunned, crushing inward as she struggled to breathe, unable to escape his grip no matter how much she struggled and tried to move away. Alejandro ran up next to him, grabbing her arms to further restrain her, even as he growled in pain from his wound.

Fuego was still lying in the mud, struggling to push himself up and coughing blood.

“Keep her there!” Jetra yelled, before running over to him, hefting him up from the ground and placing one hand on his chest.

“Get up, damn it. Your story isn’t over yet,” she grunted, letting the healing magic flow into him and close his wounds. She watched as the dagger was forcibly pushed out of his back in a flash of light.

“Thanks... let’s kill this lady?” he panted as he stood and steadied himself on her hip.

Jetra turned back to Dymea with a glare. “With pleasure.”

Jetra strode up to the still-struggling slaver, grip tight on her sword.

“You wanna know why they’re here? They’re all here because you’re a sick fuck who sells people into slavery, and you’ve got a trip to the Nine Hells we don’t want you to miss,” Jetra growled, filling her words with malice again and grinning as Dymea hissed and struggled, more blood leaking from her ears.

She tried to respond, but Shakari clenched her fist, and the lightning coursing around her flashed, spearing into Dymea and causing her to convulse again and fall to her knees, still held by Alejandro and Faulkron.

Fuego held up a roiling flame in one hand, but Jetra put out her arm.

“Don’t. I want to do this.”

She stepped forward and put her sword beneath Dymea’s chin, staring her dead in the eyes. “This is for my father, and all of the people you’ve made suffer.”

Dymea’s final act was to choke out a smile.

“Good. It means I won.”

At that, Jetra shoved the blade upward.

Part 5 | Part 7

[moonlogw]

Silver Soul pt 2

pairings: regulus x oc 

warnings: BRIEF mention of injury; in no way am I bashing the Marauders in this, I love them to pieces but I wanted to also show their immaturity over the course of the last few years as well. 

word count: 2330

summary: Celeste can’t get away from Regulus. Everywhere she turns he’s there. Eventually the burning desire to know why he won’t leave her thoughts comes to a head and she confronts him. Maybe it will work in both of their favors

pt 2 

Over the next few weeks, Celeste saw the youngest Black everywhere. It was like that now that she knew him she was aware of him. Without even thinking, she would search for him in the Great Hall or catch his eye in passing in the corridor. Not only was it frustrating but it was exhilarating because he would be looking back.

Never in her life had Celeste been actively seeking for anyone. Since she was young, Celeste had always been trying to keep the onslaught of other people’s emotions from taking over her life. But now that she knew Regulus, she wanted to continue to know him. If she tried hard enough, she could even seek out his emotions. It was thrilling to know she could control that. 

The first Hogsmeade trip had finally arrived and Pandora had made it a point to drag Celeste along with her. What Pandora had failed to mention was her new boyfriend Xenophilius Lovegood was tagging along as well. 

“Dora,” Celeste hissed when the boy had waved at them from the entrance of Three Broomsticks. “I thought you said it would be just you and me?”

“I never said that,” Pandora laughed airily and tugged Celeste along without worry. The irritated scowl she wore slipped off when they joined the taller boy and entered the pub together. 

Xenophilius was a nice guy. He was tall and pretty, with high cheekbones and long blonde hair. He was a year older than them and a Ravenclaw prefect. His blue eyes were always bright with mirth and his joy laid thick around him like a cloud. It was easy to see why Pandora fancied him. 

The pub was bustling with energy. Excitement, mischief, and glee bounced off the wet walls. Everyone was ecstatic for the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. Xenophilius lead them over to a quiet table in the back and then bounced off to get their drinks.

“Isn’t he lovely” Pandora gushed as she leaned over to clutch Celeste’s hand. 

Celeste plastered on a smile, suddenly overwhelmed with a rush of adoration. She blinked a few times to clear her mind as she nodded. “Just the best. Is he going to be with us the entire time?” She asked, trying to broach the subject and not offend her only friend.

“We planned on just touring Hogsmeade together. If you don’t want to third wheel then I completely understand.” Pandora said sincerely. It wasn’t meant to be brash, but it seemed like Pandora was brushing her off. 

Celeste just shrugged and sat back in her seat. She stared at the knots in the table with a furrowed brow. Why would Pandora invite her to Hogsmeade when she was just going to ditch her for Xenophilius? It would’ve been much more productive for her to spend the weekend with Madam Pomfrey trying to work on her control of her empathy. 

Xenophilius joined them shortly later with three Butterbeers. Celeste would’ve left but she didn't want to be rude, so she stayed and sipped at her drink at the other two fawned over each other. It wasn't Pandora’s fault. The girl was just trying to be nice. Celeste should’ve known. 

Stifled giggles erupted from the table behind them and Celeste subtly turned to see what they were all about. 

“shut it, Wormtail, or he’ll hear,” Sirius Black hissed at his friend across from him. Sirius was just an older version of his younger brother. Same gray eyes, high cheekbones, and long silky black hair. The only difference was the easy smirk that never left his face.

Celeste knew them well. A little group of four in the year above her that liked to call themselves the Marauders. Their leader, James Potter, was tall and dark with messy black hair and dangerously placed glasses. His laugh was loud and always forthcoming. Beside him at all times was Sirius Black himself. The pair were always followed by Peter Pettigrew. He was a quieter blond with giant eager blue eyes. He trailed after them like a lost puppy, always soaking up whatever shenanigan Black and Potter got into. The last, Remus Lupin, was the only one that Celeste knew personally. They both spent a lot of time in the infirmary. 

Being around Lupin was physically exhausting. The pain that one boy could hold in his body always threatened to knock her over. She could feel exactly what he felt and it was torture. She didn't know how he endured it. In her first year, after a really bad episode in her potions class, she was dropped in the infirmary in a bed next to Remus. Madam Pomfrey had no clue why Celeste wasn't resting and had no idea why she was feeling as she did. 

“I don’t understand, Minerva,” Pomfrey said, worried to the Professor. Her cold hand brushed against Celeste’s burning hot forehead. “There’s nothing wrong with her.”

Celeste clutched at her side, skin itching and raw. Her head swam with pain she didn't even know she could ever have. After slipping sleeping draught into her tea, Celeste drifted off into a fitful sleep and woke a few hours later alone and in a haze. She glanced over at the bed next to her and saw a boy sitting up, a book resting in his hands. He sucked in a deep breath, wincing in pain at the movement. Celeste winced in time with him. 

Rising from the bed, she slid back the thin curtain separating them and wavered on her feet. The boy stared at her with wide eyes, “Hello?”

“You’re hurting,” she said bluntly and pointed at him. “I feel it.”

“What?”

Celeste studied his pinched brow and the one hand pressed to his ribs. White bandages covered a large gash across his neck and two little ones were pressed to a cut on his cheek. “Your pain hurts.”

The boy blinked at her in confusion, “Yeah, I know. Its painful.”

Celeste rolled her eyes and took a step closer. “No, I feel your pain in here,” she said and pointed to both her heart and her head. “You’re also scared and angry.”

He stared at her again, at a loss for words. How did she know these things about him? It wasn't like he wore a button that said everything he was feeling.

“How do you know?”

She sighed, “I just told you, I can feel it.”

“How?” 

Celeste shrugged. “I don't know. But I guess what I'm trying to say is that you aren't alone. I'm Celeste Gallant.” She smiled weakly and extended a hand. 

The boy stared at it for a moment. He had absolutely no idea what was going on. “Remus Lupin.”

Celeste beamed and slid into the bed beside him. “Well, Remus, looks like you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together.”

And they did. Celeste usually ended up in the infirmary at least twice a week. She was usually only there to escape the sea of emotions that paraded around the school, but she always made sure she was in there during the day after the full moon. It was easier for him to have someone there who understand his pain.

Now sitting across the room from her, Remus flashed her a tiny smile and Celeste returned it. She shifted her gaze to his friends. The other three were bent over, whispering loudly and occasionally interrupted by giggles as they glanced over to a another table. Celeste followed their gaze until her eyes locked with a familiar pair.

Regulus was already watching her. It was something she had become accustomed to since the episode in charms. A question was always on his face, but he kept his distance, too afraid to ask. Celeste cocked a brow and glanced between his table and his brothers’. Regulus was joined by boys he called his friends, other Slytherins who kept their distance from Celeste and Pandora for the most part, but had no qualms about hexing the table of giggling boys.

Severus Snape was on his left as Barry Crouch Jr sat to his right. Avery, Mulciber, and Evan Rosier completed the circle. They were all caught up in their own conversations, oblivious to the plotting of the Marauders. Celeste wasn’t sure she wanted to be there when the plan erupted, and she was sure it would erupt.

Downing the rest of her Butterbeer, she took one last look at the scheming boys and cocked a brow to Regulus. He was already watching her and copied her movements, turning to whisper something to his friends.

“Hey, Dora,” Celeste whispered, tapping her cousins arm. Pandora turned to her with a smile. “I just remembered I have to go get new quills, meet you back at the dorm later?”

“Do you want us to come with you?” Xenophilius asked, already reaching to gather his things.

Celeste gave them a grin and shook her head. “No need, but thank you. You too have fun.”

Pandora stared at her for a moment, blue eyes studying her face, but she must have found what she was looking for because she gave her a gentle smile. “Oh course. Be safe.”

Celeste followed her gaze to both the table of Slytherins and the Marauders. Tensions between the two groups have always been high, increasingly so as rumors of war continue to blossom. With one last smile, Celeste rose from her chair and zigzagged her way through the mobs of students bubbling about their summers. Bursting out into the early October air, Celeste pushed past newcomers and ducked into the little alcove of the shop next door. She crossed her arms over her chest as she waited. Moments later, the door of the pub bursted back open and the shrill laughs and conversation from inside spilled out onto the street.

Stepping out of the alcove, Celeste met the eye of the boy she couldn’t stop thinking about. He was dressed in dark green robes, hair combed neatly to the side. It was very different from Celeste’s loose blue jeans and tucked in button up. She was starting to understand the vast differences of his Pure-blood raising. Pushing that aside, Celeste cocked her head.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” She asked, not even giving a hello to buffer her assault.

Regulus blinked at her, surprised by the bluntness. He tucked one hand into the pocket of his robe and glanced around. Hogsmeade was bustling with people. Witches and Wizards were going about their daily business as school kids giggles and talked all throughout the street. No one even passed a glance to the pair.

“You are the most unique person I’ve ever met,” Regulus answered, gray eyes unrelenting to give up anything else. Celeste remained silent, needing a little bit more than that. “I have never met anyone like you. Ever.”

“So you’ve said.”

Regulus pursed his lips and took a step forward. “Do you understand how rare you are? The Ministry classifies Empath’s as extraordinary individuals, high up there along with seers.” His gaze shifted around them again before he leaned in. “They require registration for it.”

Celeste furrowed her brow. If this was the case, then why hadn’t Dumbledore or Pomfrey told her any of this. They were the most intellectual Wizards she knew, yet they had failed to mention this extremely crucial part. It was almost as important as the werewolf registry. Another way to control her when she didn’t have control herself.

“How much do you know about this?” Celeste asked, gulping down the lump of panic in her throat. “How much do you know about me?”

“My parents have all these books at home about literally everything,” Regulus explained. “After my brother-“ he trailed off, hands tightening in his robes before shaking his head. “I had a lot of free time and spent my holidays reading. In class the other day when you snapped on me,” he chuckled lightly and gave her a tiny smile. “It struck. If you want I can show you them. I’m sure the library has all kind of literature on it.”

Celeste was stunned. No one had ever been this concerned about her before. Not even her parents. They were all along the edges of Pandora. It was a gift, don’t question it. But how could Celeste not question it when it consumed her day.

Clenching her jaw, Celeste stared at him. She could feel the excitement brimming underneath his worry. Worry that she wouldn’t expect. But there was something else.

“In turn, what do you desire?” She asked, knowing that no one ever offered their help freely.

Regulus gave her a shy smile. “Um, I just want to know if my brother hates me.”

“What?”

That was not what she had expected him to say. More along the lines of blackmail, use this to hurt somebody or something. But he just wanted something as simple as that? Regulus ducked his head, toeing the cobblestones beneath them. Shame coursed through him, but why. What was he ashamed of? Caring for his brother? But just underneath it was overwhelming loneliness. Celeste frowned.

“You miss him.”

He didn’t even try to deny it. Not that he could lie to her anyway. He kept his eyes on the ground as he nodded. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you why,” he started softly and lifted his head. “But I just need to know if he hates me.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t-“

“I need to know, Celeste. For sure.” The burning intensity of his gaze had her agreeing before she could even think.

“Okay, I’ll help you.” Celeste said.

If not to be kind then at least to understand what she was dealing with. For once in her lifetime, someone else was extending the branch out to her. Regulus was giving the the opportunity to have her own freedom. To have control over this power she had.

Who was she to deny that?

[uwua3]

Hi! I love your writing! Can you do headcanons for childhood sweethearts with Misumi?

summary: misumi’s life was split into two acts—before and after his grandfather’s death

warnings: angst, family death, lying, memory loss, mentions of physical abuse, open–ended, running away, trespassing, unhealthy parental relationships

author’s note: this is somewhat childhood sweethearts but not the right time :) please enjoy this angst(?) and i hope to make you proud!

word count: 4,500

music: older brother’s theme (fall, then rise again) – shalfi

14.

🌻⚠️ ikaruga misumi

misumi couldn’t remember anything before he was 14 years old

it was as if his life was split into two acts: before his grandfather’s death versus now, after hakkaku tragically died

he knew his grandfather had to have a spare copy of his life’s script somewhere, perhaps hidden underneath his stacks of original works carefully stashed away in his office. was it folded into those paper airplanes he took the time to make? maybe, preserved within a dusty folder alphabetically organized within his filing cabinet

he just wanted to see one picture, of his grandfather’s smiling face towards the camera and hear all the fond stories about mankai and acting and what it meant to live your dream with your best friends. if he was lucky, maybe watch a clip of his favorite troupe acting while his grandfather wrote in the waiting lobby with scribbles on an old notepad

all misumi had to go was go back. was that too much to ask for?

but, he wasn’t allowed to come back, not anymore now that his parents were alive

misumi forgot who he was before hakkaku’s untimely death; he wasn’t anyone except his grandfather’s little boy and that was more than enough for him

now, he wasn’t anyone’s. just ikaruga misumi, the neglected son that didn’t exist to the public eye

misumi was 14 when he forgot what it was like to be happy

but, misumi was also 14 when he also stopped seeing you anymore

you were misumi’s childhood best friend who he met through his grandfather. you were the next door neighbor who didn’t judge him for his irregularities and soon enough, you two spent your years playing at hakkaku’s home after school

(“let’s get married, sumi!” you giggled, falling back onto the grass as the sun shined upon your happy faces. misumi didn’t think anything of it, taking your hand as he laid next to you and turned his head towards his best friend. “kay~ only if you make me onigiri!”)

(you paused to contemplate the deal before nodding, determined. “i’ll make you onigiri, let’s marry when we’re old then!” you were certain you could learn and misumi giddily cheered, kicking his legs with his sudden energy. “i’ll wait, then!”)

yet after his grandfather’s death, slowly but surely, misumi’s memory of you faded into nothing. days went by where misumi tried searching his brain after feeling like something was missing, but the process of grief took a toll on his mental state. he felt like there wasn’t any closure despite attending the funeral—what, or who, was missing?

after hakkaku passed, there was no one left to stop his parents from controlling every aspect of his life

from how he acted in public around other children to what he did every minute of the day outside of the house, any part of misumi’s rare freedom he treasured with his grandfather was taken away for the worse

this meant misumi wasn’t allowed to especially communicate with anyone outside of the pre–approved social circle (aka, no one)

it was a trap. all to gaslight misumi into believing his parents’ manipulative behavior came from how much they loved him

it wasn’t their fault, it couldn’t be. they wanted the best, even if it was at his own sacrifice. how could they, his parents, the people who were meant to love him, mean to do this?

they loved him, because if they didn’t, who else would?

misumi only knew one thing from his hazy past: hakkaku loved theatre. acting was his calling, it’s what made his grandfather smile the biggest even until his dying days

so misumi acted. he put on a smile everyday just like his hakkaku (he hoped his grandfather was looking down on him with that same smile)

misumi grew up to the family disgrace, no matter how hard he tried to fit in. he always stood out, wasn’t the same as the other perfect model students at the top of the class

other boys spoke when asked, had a polite tone constantly, rose their hand properly with the elegance of a crown prince. misumi could never sit still, was always called out for bouncing his leg or tapping his pen rapidly against the desk too much

everything misumi did was too loud; he drew attention to himself even if he desperately tried to look the part of a heir to a business legacy family

every time the rumors got a bit too much, he’d arrive home to both his parents sitting at the kitchen table and he knew what he had to do

they called it trainings, but it really felt like an excuse to punish him for not being like his younger brother, madoka

one day, it was a particularly hard session of training. misumi’s legs wobbled even as he ran as fast as he could, feeling the sting of his mother’s slap upon his cheek as tears threatened to fall. it was raining so loud, the droplets smacked against the ground and covered evidence of his leather shoes against the pavement

he was about 16 when he found himself at hakkaku’s house after all this time, at the entrance of the gate with his fists clenched and breath uneven as he skidded to a stop

misumi was about to scream at the top of his lungs, even if it meant risking being seen, before he noticed something in the midst of the haze

a drenched figure staring back at him with wide eyes

misumi paused, the ambush of the storm filling the space between you two as thunder sounded in the distance. you didn’t say a word, just at the bottom steps of the door past the gate

how did you make it in? did you jump it? misumi backed away to take in the full height of the gate and back at you, he nearly didn’t believe it until you sprinted full speed at the metal

“wait—!” misumi yelled over the rain, reaching his hand out to signal you to stop but you gripped the bars and propelled yourself with ease

he swore everything felt like it was in slow motion. the raindrops seemed to freeze midair when misumi’s eyes caught yours, even if it seemed like you were attempting to ignore his sharp gaze

that feeling of missing something came back again, but stronger than ever

time sped up quickly. you landed beside him with a thud even on the slippery mud. you didn’t spare him another glance, just moved to run. he didn’t stop you

misumi watched you leave after trespassing, standing in the rain as your shadow turned the corner

why didn’t he stop you? you were a stranger trespassing onto his dead grandfather’s property but why...

why did it feel like he knew you?

misumi stared after you, barely feeling the buzz of his phone in his back pocket as he pulled it out blankly, knowing it was his father

he picked up and didn’t even flinch at the sound of cursing anymore, just obediently said he’d come home without looking away

“i’m sorry father, it’s my fault, i know.”

misumi was 17 the next time he went to hakkaku’s home

there was no particular reason why. unlike last time where he arrived suddenly, it was like something was calling him this time. an instinct in his conscious was pulling him towards the abandoned house

this time, he was taller, a year older now, but still as outcasted as before. he skipped school just based on a gut feeling, his uniform not ironed like the other boys in his class

misumi sprinted faster, feeling the blood rush through his head as he barely managed to breathe from trying to release his energy. of course, he’d never be like the son his parents wanted so much

the long grass beneath his creased shoes indicated how long it had been since he had visited, the unmowed lawn extending into the road as misumi inhaled in the still atmostphere

the birds chirped in the background, the new day setting in as the calming blue sky passed by with distant clouds. the morning dew was still present and misumi knew his grandfather would’ve been reading the paper by now

misumi stopped by the gate again, closer this time as his fingers brushed the bars. he took in the way he used to pull the barricade open just to see his favorite man in the world, now it was locked and kept away from the public

a deep breath in and out. panting slightly, misumi closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the gate, embracing the cold chill of the metal upon his skin

misumi was about to turn away and hurry back to school to avoid a serious lecture again before he sensed something, or someone

a hesitant footstep in the grass confirmed his suspicions when he quickly whipped around and came face to face with a familiar figure

it was you! the person from last year!

misumi didn’t know how he knew because you looked different, too. you had on a school uniform as well, but a cheaper, less well–known one compared to his

(he didn’t recognize it, his parents didn’t let him interact with anyone outside of his private academy, anyways)

you were just as surprised, maybe even a bit scared this time, as you took a step back

misumi gripped the gate subconsciously, as he looked down at you. suddenly, he remembered who he was and what family he belonged (or wanted to belong) to. he automatically straightened his posture, standing tall like his parents taught him to

“who are you?” misumi asked, forcing his voice to come out colder than he intended. you winced at the question for some reason, turning your head to look at the wildflowers instead

you seemed to think before lifting your stare to the blue, clear horizon. your voice rang out and it felt like something misumi heard before

“a friend.”

silence. then, misumi sighed, his shoulders dropping and the tension bleeding out of his body when he realized you didn’t particularly care for the meticulous act he was meant to star in

you visibly relaxed when misumi let go of the gate, instead he slouched a bit as he put his hands in his pockets. you noticed how he rocked back and forth on the heels of his shoes despite the obvious price of them

putting his hand out for you to shake, he bit his tongue, automatically about to share his last name before refraining, knowing it wasn’t his to begin with

“my name’s misumi.”

you hesitated as well, but he didn’t know why. you appeared to already know his name as you carefully took his hand, seemingly debating something before sighing softly

you said a name that you’ve never gone by before, and before he could say anything, you smiled

“misumi... means triangle, right?”

misumi didn’t question a thing, just grinned genuinely for once and he looked much, much younger

there were some things left unsaid in this sudden and unusual friendship. misumi didn’t ask who you were to hakkaku, or why you were here in the first place, just accepted you had experience jumping over fences and trespassing

you didn’t ask misumi anything because you knew who he was. to the world, ikaruga misumi was a confusing teenager who didn’t belong to his prestigious family. to you, an acquaintance, misumi was the boy that was the reason you visited this home in the first place

it was something like a fever dream when you saw misumi again those years ago. you almost didn’t recognize his stylish trendy haircut you knew his parents forced him to have, the tight fitting uniform he must’ve hated for how constraining it was, or the polished dress shoes made of the finest imported leather

but you knew it was him when you noticed the loose tie with the triangle base prominent, the triangular–shaped handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket neatly with a creative pattern you knew he bought himself, the bright neon socks peeking out from underneath his classic straight leg pants

misumi grew up but he was still the little boy you played with at hakkaku’s residence, he just forgot about anything that made him happy before that

so when you ran away that day, you regretted it. you turned on your heel just to see an empty road where he used to stand, and the downpour was heavier by that hour. you were too late, you had missed him again

until when you were both 17. it was that day where you forged a new identity at the place that defined your childhood

you and misumi scheduled to meet at least every week, sometimes more if misumi’s family life was beginning to get to him (he didn’t have to say it, you already knew just based on his appearance alone)

you’d both hop the gate and rest together at the front porch regardless of weather, hiding from the rest of the world and forming a friendship again after years apart

to you, misumi wasn’t ikaruga heir to the family fortune and business with an eccentric flair and broken, fragmented past. he was the boy who really looked up to his grandfather, folded paper airplanes in a split second, and transformed himself into anything with a mold to please the people he loved

this meant he was willing to be anyone anybody needed at any time because he simply could, even at his own sacrifice

you were still 17 when misumi helped you over the gate even if you didn’t need it and decided to break in. it was sunny with the afternoon coming in, golden hour casting both your shadows across the landscape

“do you ever miss your grandfather?” you asked quietly, breaking the comfortable silence that always remained between you two. misumi helped you land on the ground, carefully releasing your hand and letting out a contemplative sound

he pushed his hands in his academy blazer pockets, almost pulling them out abruptly before remembering it was just you. despite the short time knowing you (or so he thought), he was oddly comforted by your presence and let himself slouch just slightly

“every day...” misumi started, his tone heavier than usual. you stopped walking beside him to listen and he followed suit, turning his body towards you but his gaze set on the warm silhouette of hakkaku’s home

“i hope gramps is watching me right now.” misumi mumbled, seemingly lost in thought before you ignored your own irregular heartbeat and smiled, tilting your head to catch his distant eyes

“do you want to go inside?” you carefully offered, unsure of his answer. misumi didn’t react, just continued staring at the moving shadow of the house before he nodded, as if unaware of his own subconscious decision

“i’m here for you, okay?” you said, holding your hand out for some reason. misumi took it without thinking and you fought back the surprised blush on your face, instead taking the lead and avoiding his considerate expression

“you feel... familiar?” misumi commented out of no where, and you laughed

“you too.”

misumi didn’t ask anything else, he knew his place. just helped you open the lock upon one of the windows he knew like the back of his hand (it was ingrained in his body, even if he didn’t exactly remember the fine details)

(when you came inside, you and misumi didn’t notice the framed picture hung by the entrance of you and misumi in hakkaku’s arms)

from that point on, you and misumi allowed yourselves to be surrounded by hakkaku’s creations as a way to cope with his inevitable death

at first, it was a silent way of mourning. you and misumi didn’t discuss your connections to hakkaku, the satisfaction of knowing you could share your pain was enough. but after gathering the courage to enter the home, you two became more open and honest with each other about how important misumi’s grandfather was

yet, you fabricated a web of lies in order to maintain your secrecy, pretending like all you did was live besides hakku or something else minor. misumi didn’t question it, he didn’t ask for much and was content with your company even if he rarely and silently questioned your truthfulness

during your time together, you’d take your time exploring each room over a span of months after overcoming the obstacle of invading a dead man’s privacy. it wasn’t much, just standing in the middle of rooms misumi barely remembered and running his fingers over the dusty surfaces

it was like he didn’t have it in him to find out who he was before his grandfather’s death anymore

you were both 18 when misumi decided to look through his grandfather’s office

“i’m ready!” misumi proudly exclaimed, his energy infectious and feet tapping against the hardwood floor. after a year, he had allowed himself to express his loud and odd personality without putting on an act of who his parents wanted him to be (living a double life was exhausting, but being himself with you was worth it)

(you understood, somewhat)

you smiled, giving him a big high five to return his energy but feeling your heart drop to your stomach. it was selfish, you know, but you almost didn’t want him to. if he found all those old scripts you and him wrote together, the awful calligraphy from your childhood years, the photo albums hakkaku liked having of his best kids—

you didn’t have the heart to tell him “no”. you trailed behind misumi as he took a moment to rest his hand upon the screen before pushing it aside, revealing the aged and undisturbed office that belonged to mankai’s first playwright

misumi took a step in and stopped, his breath hitching in his throat as his eyes darted from every corner of the room. you hesitated behind him, your shaking hand hovering over his shoulder before dropping it to your side. misumi spun around, a big grin on his face and you couldn’t help but smile, too

(even if reliving the memories he couldn’t remember hurt)

“i just know gramps must’ve worked here.” misumi mumbled in wonder, amazement even, as he let out a “wow” at the stacks of folders and cabinets with hundreds of bindings. you nodded, unable to find the voice to speak, treasuring the way his eyes shined just like before

“i wish we could’ve been here together with him.” misumi mentioned and you stifled a sound of regret in your throat. you wish you just told him who you really were, that you were his best friend of long ago, that you would always be his friend

but, you didn’t

you smiled, and nodded

“me too.”

from then on, you relived all those years acting out various scripts even though he was your only audience. growing up, you had the maturity to recognize how talented and powerful hakkaku’s writing was, and how every heroic role was created for misumi

(you particularly remembered a script hakkaku penned when he whispered to you that the bold, eccentric, one–of–a–kind protagonist was based on misumi. so when misumi found a copy, you told him the secret and you had never seen him happier)

piece by piece, misumi began unlocking parts of his childhood memory. blurred events became clearer with specific details of the rooms he explored—except one

a person? something, or someone, was constantly a blank figure at the back of his mind. every happy important memory he shared was with someone besides hakku, but he couldn’t remember who or why

sometimes, if you said a line a specific way, or struck a dramatic childish pose with a laugh, misumi’s eyes lit up in recognition. he’d take a second to look over you with a troubled furrow of his eyebrows, as if he was sure he knew you from somewhere

“are you sure we don’t know each other?”

“i’d never forget a boy like you, sumi!”

“you’re right! i’d never forget you, either!”

you were both trying your best to move on from the untimely death of your greatest mentor and parental figure. as long as you two had each other and hakkaku’s home, it would be okay

but, you and misumi were 18 when his parents found out about everything

it was the night after high school graduation. you and misumi laid on the mat floor of his grandfather’s work office, staring up at the open windows to the dark night sky. between you was an open bento box you packed for both of you, a favorite you were satisfied to discover hadn’t changed: onigiri

he was still wearing his satin robes and his cap was left abandoned by his side, the previously tight tie now barely looped around his neck and gel dried in his slicked back hair. with you, he let himself be the messier, less responsible version his parents reprimanded him for

(you seemed to like him regardless and he didn’t know it, but he liked you, too)

misumi bit into his onigiri, trying to compliment you with his mouth open as he giggled behind his hand. you never thought you’d be here again—sharing a homemade meal with a friend who came back into your life

you laid your arms behind your head, turning it to see misumi was already staring at you. you waited for him to continue rambling about his day, the rush of finally leaving his stifling academy, but misumi didn’t say anything

until, he smiled

“how did you know onigiri was my favorite?”

then, you felt a pang of guilt. it had been a few years of lying, even if everything else was true. somehow, that second name became a part of who you are, but you knew it was still wrong

the truth you wanted to confess was right at the tip of your tongue. the silence was eating away at you, and like always, misumi could tell if something was on your mind

“are you okay? here, have onigiri!” misumi smiled, holding out food without any care in the world. you paused, blinking

the moonlight illuminated his silver blue hair, making him glow even more as the amber hues of his eyes made your breath hitch. you could see the stars in his presence and before you knew it, you admitted your truth

“i‘ve loved you ever since we were 14.”

“what do you mean? we didn’t know each other before gramp’s death—”

misumi was cut off by a car door slam. when you heard the wheels stop, it’s like both of you knew

without wasting a moment, misumi grabbed your arm and pulled you to the dark corner of the room. your figures passed by the walls quickly as you pressed your back against his chest, trying to stifle your rapid breath in the shadows

you cursed under your breath, crouching behind the height of the desk as misumi’s arm around your waist held you back. you could hear their hushed voices around you; you thanked whoever was listening for misumi’s high athletic ability to launch both of you out of sight

“how do you think they found us?” you murmured, shutting your eyes with a gulp, trying to ignore the situation for as long as possible. misumi looked around, attempting to pinpoint the footsteps

“i... i don’t know.” misumi responded quietly, sounding defeated and solemn for once. you could physically feel him retracting back into his shell, putting on his mask to hide his true feelings

“misumi! you are coming home right now!” misumi’s mother shrieked, startling both of you to the core as misumi inhaled sharply. you knew what would happen if his parents found out. you started pushing him towards the window, muttering a “go, go!”

you knew if misumi was caught, he wouldn’t survive the brutality of his pathetic excuse of a family

“climb onto the roof.” you ordered, not giving him time to refuse. you knew he had the physical capability to do it and he knew it, too. as misumi pulled himself up with a flip into the roof shackles, you stood at the window anxiously as the footsteps got louder and louder

“come on, i got you.” misumi whispered, holding his hand out to you. you didn’t take it just yet, reaching into your pocket to place something in his palm, putting your other hand above his for a moment

(the gold of the triangular earring glinted in the moonlight. it was almost your way of fulfilling that marriage pact all those years ago, even if he didn’t remember)

“i love you, we’ll see each other again.” you promised even if there wasn’t nothing to guarantee it. before misumi could ask why, you let go at the sound of the screen door slamming open

you let yourself witness the moon for a last moment of peace, before turning around and confronting the parents you never thought you’d see again

they said your name and you winced, hearing a slight disturbance above you. you knew he knew, and sighed but remained standing your ground

“i’m sorry.” you whispered, much to the confusion of the ikaruga parents. but, you hoped he heard your overdue apology

“we thought we told you to stop seeing him.” his father said at the entrance, making you laugh with no humor whatsoever. you glanced at the half–eaten onigiri discarded on the floor, wishing you could go back to that time minutes ago

“he isn’t here.” you lied, knowing damn well the scuttle across the roof and noisier bristle of the trees was the last time you’d see him for a long time

hakkaku’s home became nothing more than sold property. not even a week later, the ikaruga family employed businesses to sort out the furniture and clear out the rooms. nothing was left that symbolized it was you and misumi’s safe space

but, misumi... it was like he was gone. if the ikaruga household was a professional family portrait, misumi’s figure would’ve faded into the background and disappeared for good. you knew he must’ve ran away, for the sake of himself and his disappointed family

(“i’ve always let my parents down... i’m not a good brother, he doesn’t like me.” misumi admitted one day after you found him in his grandfather’s office, curled up in the same chair hakkaku used to sit in. you simply folded a paper airplane with an encouraging message, throwing it towards his lap. the teary smile was worth the precise lines)

you didn’t see misumi anymore, and you couldn’t believe it. for some reason, you didn’t expect to lose him a second time

but when you reached up to your ear and knew that triangle earring was with him, you tried to move on. but, this time, alone

who knows? maybe, you’d see him again. you waited since you were both 14, you could wait again

[ivystjamess]

𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍

WHO: @julienschuester and ivy st.james WHERE: the choir room. WHEN: wednesday, march 10th. WHAT: following a long hiatus from one another, ivy says sorry in the best way she can think of how, and her and julien (finally) start dating again.

IVY: Ignorance was bliss, but in this case, it had been dragging Ivy down and enlightenment was a savior. Ivy St.James and Julien Schuester were tethered to two ends of the same rope, and as of late, there hadn't been much slack to give. Julien's hot and cold moods, tugging on the rope, and bringing it closer kept her up at night was rattling to say the least and it left Ivy tossing, turning, and thinking her brain away. While her actions showed she was sorry, and that she was obviously interested in Julien still, her lips hadn't uttered a formal, heartfelt, i'm sorry. With Spring Awakening rehearsals bringing them close, numbers for lessons, and just generally being back within the same school, Ivy knew something had to be done. What did her dad always say? Sing About It. Under the pretense of an emergency meeting, Ivy beckoned Julien to the choir room with a text. And although he looked surprised to find Ivy alone, she sat on her stool calm as ever and gestured to the red chairs in front of her, "Wanna like, sit? I have some stuff I want...need to say to you." Watching Julien cross to sit had Ivy furiously rubbing her lips as she prepared to place her heart on a platter for Julien. Rarely did she get nervous, but rarely did performance mean so much to her. "Julien, Jules, I just like..." Why couldn't she think? Why did her fingertips feel fuzzy? Ugh! "Sorry, I'm like, kinda nervous." she shamefully admitted, but this was all about honesty, wasn't it? "I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for egging you, and for switching schools, and not listening to you, or trusting you. I was being selfish and guarded and whatever, and it wasn't cool." A breath, "But, I'm back now, and I'm like honestly going kinda crazy not being with you. I know who I am without you, and as hot and awesome, and mean as she is...I wanna be like hot and awesome and a little less mean with you." Still having more to say, she didn't want to waste anymore time, so Ivy began to speak rapidly, "But I think, as awful as it all was, I've really like, learned a ton from this! And I hope you have too and stuff. Even with like being sorry or whatever, I totally know the ball is in your court, so I guess I just wanted to like, give you my thoughts, and your space, so, yeah! I think this sums it up." Ivy flashed a nervous smile as she let out a breath and turned to the band. Softly, they began to play Duffy's Oh Boy. It was a simple performance with Ivy, Julien, and her heart speaking to him through song. Sure, she sounded polished, but there were no fabricated tears or elaborate choreography. Just her on a stool, trying to get a message across. And when that was done, and she knew she had tried her best, she clapped her hands down against her thighs, and looked at Julien with an anxious anticipation, "And that's all I have to say, I can totally let you go now, or like I can go, I don't want this to feel weird or whatever I just needed to do that."

JULIEN: When Julien received a text from Ivy about an 'emergency meeting' in the choir room, he sped through the halls of McKinley like his life depended on it. He paced through the hallways against the flow of traffic, narrowly dodging people with frantic 'excuse mes' and 'i'm sorrys' until finally, he busted through the door. "Hi! I'm here," he said breathlessly, fully expecting to find the choir room up in flames, only to find Ivy alone. He paused in the doorway for a moment when she spoke. "Uh oh," he responded as he hesitantly made his way to a chair across from her, "am I in trouble or something?" He was trying to be playful, but a tense energy hung thickly in the air and being around Ivy alone like this instantly made him nervous. Once he took off his backpack and set it down beside him, he sat down and relaxed. "Okay...I'm listening..." he drawled, waiting for her to continue. At her admission that she was nervous, Julien felt his cheeks starting to burn and his lips curving up into a slight smile. "It's okay, I'm nervous too and I don't even know why, so we can be nervous together," he encouraged with a nod, gently nudging her to keep going. It was no secret that things between them had been inconsistent and unpredictable as of late. It was obvious that they still had feelings for each other, however, it was also obvious that there was still a lot of hurt between them...and Finn had been right. Julien had been acting like all of the horrible Vocal Adrenaline stuff hadn't happened. Being with Ivy was just so easy and it felt so good and it was what he wanted...but if he just rolled over and decided to forgive her without her ever even really saying sorry, then what would all of his growth have been for? He had to stand up for himself. Even if it hurt. After Ivy had asked 'what changed' and Julien answered, the last thing he had expected was for her to summon him to the choir room for a genuine, earnest, and thoughtful apology. But here she was. And here he was—slack jawed and completely dumbfounded. "Ivy..." he said quietly, sitting up slightly as he took a deep breath. He knew what he wanted to say, but it was like his head was suddenly empty. Like she could sense his state of shock, Ivy kept talking and eventually that talking turned into singing. When the band started playing the opening chords to 'oh boy' by Duffy, Julien softened and relaxed back into his chair. As Ivy's crisp voice filled the choir room, he kept his eyes glued to hers and watched, in awe, as she sang directly to him. She chipped away at his hurt with each sweet lyric she sang until eventually, he was left with nothing for her but love and forgiveness. Julien was a soft and tender hearted person, so it was surprising to exactly no one that when the song came to an end, he was indisputably misty eyed. As she concluded her song with a finalizing statement, Julien rose to his feet and shook his head as he walked towards her. "Don't go," was all he said before he placed his hands on either side of her face and crashed his lips into hers. He knew he would actually have to say something in response to everything she had said, but he needed to do that first. Once he pulled away, he smiled down at her and gently strummed her cheeks with his thumbs, "thank you. You know, like, for saying all that stuff and for the song." Before Julien could say more, he caught a glimpse of something sparkly dangling from around Ivy's neck. Looking down at it, his smile warmed and he shook his head. "You've been wearing this thing this whole time..." he stated,  moving his hands to the back of her neck to unclasp the chain, "how come?"

IVY: Although Ivy hadn't gone that long since meeting Julien's lips whether it be sneaking him into her room, or on stage for Spring Awakening, it had felt like a life time had passed since their lips connected like this. Both of them were absolved of tension and aiming their potential animosity at one another. Instead, it once again felt like they were just them, but better than ever. Like a tulip emerging after a long winter, Ivy felt like she was sprouting from the dark ground and up into Julien's sun. Changed, but the same. While there wasn't any verbal confirmation, Ivy knew that rejuvenated feeling was mutual. Julien need not say it. She could feel it in the pads of his fingertips brushing her cheeks, and in how tenderly he moved his lips against her own. Pulling away, in a post-kiss haze, Ivy blinked Julien into view and nodded, "I won't go. Ever." As one hand cascaded down his arm to lace their fingers, the other popped up as she extended her pinky, "Pinky Promise." Ivy said seriously, then shrugged. "Seriously like, don't mention it. I wanted to." There was still some response to be desired though. Did he hate it? Did he love it? Was he just being polite? Before she could push him into answer her, Ivy inhaled sharply as Julien roped the chain  she was wearing into his grasp, then eventually moved closer to her to unclasp it. It took some serious willpower not to kiss him again, but she found the strength to answer his question. Now moving her own hand to cup Julien's cheek, Ivy made sure to lock up and into his stare so he knew she was being serious. "Because we like....made a promise?" That was the obvious answer, and the deeper one-- "It wasn't like I stopped loving you just because I was being stupid or whatever."

JULIEN: Despite not being together, Ivy and Julien had still been making an awful lot of time to kiss each other. Whether it be in the dark of night or under the glow of a spotlight, the universe always carved out a path for them to get back to each other. This kiss though, in the fluorescent choir room in the middle of the day, felt different than the rest. It wasn't tainted with doubt or stage directions or alcohol. It was just them—albeit a little wiser and a little more mature—choosing each other. Hearing Ivy confirm that she wouldn't go and then watching her raise her pinky caused a warm sensation to bloom from Julien's chest and spread through his whole body. "Ever," he echoed, repeating the promise back to her and linking his pinky through hers without any hesitation. With a sigh, he dropped her hands and swiftly shifted his attention to her necklace. He made quick work of slipping the ring off the chain to hold it in the palm of his hand. He stared down at the ruby jewel, a million thoughts running through his head, until Ivy touched his cheek and brought him back down to Earth again. Hearing Ivy say she never stopped loving him sent his heart into overdrive. "We did make a promise, didn't we?" he asked rhetorically, tilting his head as he glanced back down at the ring and reached for her hand. "I never stopped either," he admitted as he began slipping the ring back on to her finger, where it belonged. He stared at it for a little while longer before turning his attention back to Ivy and closing some of the distance between them by stepping towards her. "I owe you an apology too," he started, holding her gaze and shrugging, "I should've like stood up for you more and stuff or just...I don't know...talked to you more. I know I haven't always been good at that. But I will be now," he playfully raised his eye brows, "getting punched in the face kinda changes you like that." A breathy laugh escaped him before he pulled her into him, nuzzling his face into her neck as he hugged her tightly. "I missed you," he confessed, pulling back slightly to look at her, "I don't wanna waste more time not being together." A pause as a doting smile danced its way on to his lips and he bashfully added, "you really almost made me cry with that song! It was like 'run to you' but more intense but in a good way and stuff because it was just us. But I mean, jeez, you're..." a dreamy sigh, "you're like...perfect. The song was perfect." He playfully bumped his nose into her cheek and then into her nose before bringing his lips back to hers for another kiss—one to seal the deal. "I love you," he said as he pulled back, "let's never do the whole breaking up thing again."

IVY: In full agreement with Julien, Ivy couldn’t have felt happier. Her only regret? She had to go away for Cheerios Nationals this weekend, and she couldn’t spend it tucked into her bed with him. Lots about them had changed, they’d both garnered a deeper sense of clarity, learned their lessons the hard way, but one thing that wouldn’t ever change was Ivy’s constant need to feel close to him. Enough of the apologies and reminiscing on their worse times, Ivy was completely wrapped up in staring down at the Christmas Present on her finger, “Yknow, this looks like, way better on my hand than on a chain on my chest.” Ivy commented offhandedly before shifting her gaze back to Julien. “Well I’m glad we’re on the same page and stuff. I totally missed being in sync. And being with you.” she admitted, welcoming the warmth that his breath brought into the curve of her neck. “You can’t help that you almost cried, I’m like really good, and I love you a lot.” Ivy explained, as if anything about this whole months-long debacle had been simple. Her entire expression lifted into a smile as he called her perfect and Ivy was quick to cut in with a “Only the best for my guy.” Her arms made their way back to the familiar place around his neck as she pulled herself fully into him. “i love you.” Ivy repeated, tone filled with adoration. And as her way of agreeing with the final sentiment, she shook her head, and whispered, “Never.” Into Julien’s lips as she pressed her lips to her boyfriend’s for a final, affirming kiss. And just like that, once again, all was well.

THE END.

[stefciastark]

“I Don’t Want To Go” ~ Webpril Day 2

A/N:  Here is Part 2 (of probably 3 or 4) of this storyline! Based off of the prompt "I don't want to go", we continue to make our way through the mines, but not everything goes as smoothly as Peter hoped it would. The Sterling Hill Mining Museum is a real place, and although I have taken some creative liberties with it having never been there myself (and needing certain things to work out for plot points), you can check out some pictures of it to help visualise :) I write these daily, so apologies for any errors in spelling, grammar, etc. Life is crazy and hectic, but I just love being able to put these short stories out xx

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------This isn’t so bad.

That’s what Peter had begun telling himself halfway through their tour through the mines. They had first passed through the Zobel Hall Museum that used to be the Change House for the miners, but it was now filled with mineral displays including a really cool periodic table filled with actual samples of each element. Sam was a good guide; his excitable energy reminded Peter of a young Labrador puppy and almost made him forget about where they were. Almost.

Next, they entered the ‘mine’ portion of the tour. It was cool and damp, and Peter was glad May told him to bring a hoodie ‘just in case’. He had pulled it on not long after they began their walk through the tunnels, where he wasn’t sure if it was anxiety or the temperature itself that was turning his insides to ice. His only reassurance was the hard edge of the eyepiece on his suit that his fingers brushed against at the bottom of his backpack. Since Vulture, he’d started packing it regularly on the off-chance that if anything did happen, the Friendly Neighbourhood Spiderman would be there. Sometimes he felt silly and naïve; after all, he was still just a kid from Queens. But he was part of something bigger now, and a grave sense of responsibility sat on his chest during every waking moment.

    The thing about being underground was that the further they went, the thicker the air got until Peter was almost sure there had to be no concentration of oxygen down where they were at all. Of course, if that were the case, they would all be hypoxic by now. Then again, the early symptoms of hypoxia - anxiety, confusion, and restlessness – aptly described Peter on a good day, so who was to say for sure.

They walked through more tunnels in which they could only fit single-file, “I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for this portion of the tour!” Sam led them into a more circular and open area, fluorescent shades of lime green and flaming orange licking up the walls and snaking along the ground. Peter and Ned gaped at the sight before them, almost in sync with the way they spun on the spot, tilted their heads up and down, trying to capture as much beauty behind their irises as they could. “This is the Rainbow Tunnel. Appropriately named for the crazy fluorescent lights these rocks throw, although between you and me, I prefer to call this place ‘The Rave Cave’,” Sam finished melodramatically, eliciting a few chuckles from the class. “Anyways, long story short, shortwave ultraviolet light causes the minerals in the rocks to glow. The green is willemite, which is a minor ore of zinc, and the red is calcite. Now, feel free to have a look around, and we’ll regroup in a couple of minutes before heading lower.”

Peter was still in awe at all the colours surrounding him, and he felt like the rocks should be dancing, all things considered. His anxiety hadn’t plagued him for a little while now, and he was finally beginning to relax. Naturally, that would have been too good to be true.

“It’s like you haven’t seen rocks before.”

Peter started at MJ’s voice, too lost in his thoughts to notice her coming from behind. “Oh my god, MJ,” he breathed, hand clutching at his chest, “don’t sneak up on me like that.”

In response, she only lifted an eyebrow, sending him a questioning glance that asked more than could be said in words. To her credit, she didn’t begin her sleuthing into what had him so tense and nervous, instead opting for a conversation start that made everything oh so much worse in Peter’s brain at that moment. “You know, ironically if an earthquake hit, the roof’d be way more likely to collapse in a room like the one we’re in than if we were in a small passage.”

Sam cut back in before Peter got a chance to ask MJ to elaborate, if not only in the hope that he could prove her wrong and calm the racing that had begun in his heart once more. “Alright, if I could please have everyone checking the straps on their helmets, make sure they’re all secure! We’ll be heading back around now, so please form a line again and follow me out.”

Peter had been frozen in place since he’d heard MJ. The nerves that he had so tightly kept control over had started to fray, and he could feel his pulse rising, his breath quickening, and his knees trembling ever so slightly. Incidentally, because he noticed himself begin to panic, the panic came all faster and all the harder.

Vaguely in the periphery of his mind he noticed that most of the class had filed out of the cave room, and soon himself and Ned would left to take up the rear. That was if he could get his legs to move. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was in public around his classmates (particularly in front of MJ) that he felt he was keeping himself from absolutely losing it right then and there. It was different than any other anxiety attack he had ever experienced. Before, he felt as if he were reliving specific memories and he had the urge to run, to pump his legs like he never had before and just escape; he usually did, with varying levels of success. This time, he was glued in place, his mind racing and imaging scenarios that probably wouldn’t happen, but he was convinced in that moment would happen. It was a level of catastrophising he hadn’t experienced until that moment.

“Hey c’mon man, let’s go, we’re going to be left behind,” Ned said, pulling at Peter’s arm. When Peter’s eyes met his but it looked like he didn’t quite see him, Ned pressed again. “You okay? We gotta go.”

Peter’s eyes shifted to the long and thin tunnel before them that led back to the main lobby. He knew that the only way to freedom and the fresh open air he desperately needed was back through there, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Onwards it extended, stone deposits shaped like teeth closing around his classmates one by one. He felt more than heard himself say, “I don’t want to go.”

“What do you mean you don’t want to go? We can’t stay, we gotta stick with the guide, remember?” Ned nervously glanced back and forth between Peter and the exit.

It was MJ’s voice that finally cut through the haze in his brain, calling out from the mouth of the tunnel. “Hey losers, aren’t you guys coming?”  

“Y-yeah!” Peter called back, voice quavering slightly.

In that moment, all the anxiety and sickening unease culminated into a crescendo, and then finally at its peak had all the hairs on Peter’s arms attempt to rise straight up through the fabric of his hoodie. It sounded as if a faraway aircraft was passing overhead and was slowly but surely becoming progressively louder and lower in pitch. He felt his stomach drop as he felt the ground beneath him tremble and dip.

Adrenaline flooded his veins rapidly and he grabbed Ned’s arm, yelling at him to “go, go go,” as he pulled them both towards the tunnel. Pieces of stone fell like crumbs all around them, and it was only thanks to Peter’s gifted (or maybe it was cursed in this moment) eyesight that he saw a micro-fissure appearing in the ceiling.

And then that micro-fissure wasn’t so micro anymore.

He managed to yank Ned back from where a portion of the ceiling completely gave way before them, a large cloud of dust invading Peter’s airways and he had to turn his head to cough. Rock fragments snowballing in size were falling with increasing speed from every angle. Every step Peter pulled them towards, they were cut off once again by what were now becoming boulders crashing from above.

There was no way out.

He heard an ominous metallic groan from beside him as one of the large steel support beams bent at the centre before beginning its descent towards them. He decided in that moment that he never wanted to see that look on MJ’s face again. It was one of such profound horror and helplessness that he promised himself if he made it out alive, he would make it his personal mission to make sure she would never have to feel that way again.

Rapidly finding a small clearing he hoped would stay clear, he pushed Ned and threw himself to the ground as the beam above came to a grinding halt in a triangular position along the opposite wall. The roar of the earth beneath him had decreased to a faint rumble, but too soon he let relief flood his heart.

Mother Nature had one last gift to give, and with a resounding clang, an immense boulder slammed itself along the length of the steel, where it proceeded to slide down the wall, carving with it weakened and deteriorated portions of the cave wall.

With little support left, the rest of the cave walls came thundering down. 

[brax-was-here]

Scarlet Briar: The Redemption of Ceara Chapter 10

Written by: Braxxus

Chapter 10: It Made Me Hurt Everyone

Sometimes we must bear the pain

     Ceara and Amaranda exited the waypoint beam on a hillside overlooking a stretch of branded terrain. The elder dragon Kralkatorrik had flown over the area in the past and crystallized everything in its wake. The once brown and green hills were now purple and covered in giant crystals. Any living beings caught in the path were crystallized and now minions of the crystal dragon. A thick haze hung over the valley that reeked of the smell of ozone.

     “Pale mother…” Amaranda whispered in astonishment.

     “You’ve never seen the brand before?” Ceara asked.

     “Never this close.”

     “Well, you’re about to get a lot closer.” The duo made their way down the hillside, the ground slowly changing from soft grass to rough crystals.

     “It’s eerily quiet. Not even the birds are chirping.” Amaranda said, a slight nervous twitch in her voice.

     “Everything here has been transformed by the crystal dragon. Be cautious. We could be swarmed at a moment’s notice.” Ceara pulled out the small scanner and extended a short antenna.  She fiddled with the controls for a moment, and the device beeped. Looking off into the distance, she pointed at a rising ridge with very large jagged crystals protruding from it.

     “There. It looks like those protrusions are what we need.” She said.

     “The land looks dangerous. It seems we’ll have to climb a bit to get to them.“ Amaranda said quietly.

     “Indeed. Let’s go.”

     “I can’t shake the feeling we’re not alone here.” Amaranda said keeping a watchful eye on the surrounding area. “It feels like the very land is watching us.”

     “That’s because it is. The branded are here. And they’ll kill us if they catch us.”

     “That doesn’t settle my nerves any.” Amaranda sighed.

     “And what would?” Ceara asked, a bit of contempt in her voice.

     “Ceara…” Amaranda took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean-“ she was cut off by Ceara’s finger in her face.

     “The best thing you could do right now is to stop talking about it. I know I’m not well. I haven’t been well for a very long time, and I may never be again. I’ll never be able to forget what I did, but I don’t like to be reminded about it. I’m trying my best to be better now and trying to leave the past behind me. But what you did back there…that hurt me. A lot. I trusted you. You’re the only person I feel I can trust. But that…that shook that trust.”

     Amaranda looked at the ground and nodded her head lightly. “Ok” she muttered.

     “Now let’s get moving.” Ceara barked. “Be careful. These crystals can cut you to pieces.” Slowly they made their way up the ridge. Neither one said anything to the other until they reached a small level offed area.

     Ceara took a deep breath. “Amaranda?”

     “Hm?” she replied.

     “Do you ever think…” Ceara paused eyeing the crystals further up the ridge. “Do you ever think we sylvari will evolve to the point where we could bear children like humans do?”

     “Um…” Amaranda was taken aback by the question. ”I…I don’t know. That is a rather odd question. One I don’t have an answer for it.”

     “Think about this. The oldest of us is roughly 30 cycles old. We have not existed for very long. We don’t even have a written language, even a spoken one, to call our own. If something were to happen to the Pale Tree, there would be no more sylvari.”

     “Well, I don’t think mother is the only tree of her kind in existence.” Amaranda replied.

     Ceara looked over her shoulder. “Malyck?”

     “Yes. He wasn’t born from our mother. We don’t know where he came from…or where he went for that matter. How do you know about him?”

     “I did a lot of studying while I was…” Ceara paused.

     “I understand.”

     They continued to climb. The latter part of the climb was easier than the first. It wasn’t long before they arrived at the ridge with the crystals they needed.

     “Hopefully I don’t get electrocuted.” Ceara said, as they paused. Tiny sparks arced over and in between the large crystal spires. She pulled out the cutter the asura had given her. “Ok, I’m going to start cutting. You keep a watch out. Have the shield ready.” Ceara put her goggles over her eyes and activated the small blade. As she went to make the first cut, a loud roar echoed over the brand.

     “What was that!?” Amaranda stammered. A shadow passed over them. They looked up to see the shape of a dragon passing over through the clouds above. Ceara grabbed Amaranda and pulled her under an outcropping of crystal.

     “Is that!?...”Amaranda sputtered.

     “It’s not the elder dragon. One of its lesser subordinates. Shatterer or something like that is the name it’s been given. If it was Kralkatorrik, we would have been crystallized.

     “What is it doing?” Amaranda asked as the dragon flew off into the distance.

     “I don’t know. Patrolling maybe? We’ll have to work quickly.” They crawled out from under the ledge and immediately started cutting the large crystal. “This shouldn’t take long, hopefully.”  Minutes felt like hours as Amaranda nervously kept a lookout. It felt as if the very land was alive.

     “This is…” she didn’t get to finished as she was struck by something big, knocking her off her feet, almost causing her to tumble down the ridge. Ceara, focused on her work, didn’t noticed the crystalline hand reaching for her. Before she realized anything, she was being flung through the air, landing on the rocky ground.

     “What in Tyria!?” she yelled as she looked up to see a huge crystalline beast lumbering towards her. “A branded ogre?” She scrambled to her feet and unslung her rifle. She fired several rounds at the creature, but it seemed unfazed as it started charging towards her, raising its great fists in the air. She rolled out of the way as they came crashing down, cracking the crystal ground. She got up and brought the rifle around, but the beast knocked it away, back handing her in the process, knocking her to the ground. She felt the creature’s hand grab her by the back of the head and hoist her in the air. She reached back trying to hit the beast with an electric charge from her gauntlet, but it was unaffected.

     “Release her at once!” Ceara heard Amaranda’s voice. Opening her eyes, she was sure her vision was failing her as she saw Amaranda in multiple places around her and the beast. Each one seemed to attack the creature in a different way. Some launched beams of energy, others attacked at close range. It was enough to cause the creature to drop her to the ground, giving her time to scramble away. She turned to see the ogre flailing at the numerous Amaranda doppelgangers that were swarming it. It wasn’t long before the beast dropped to the ground, seemingly dead. The doppelgangers disappeared, leaving Amaranda standing by herself holding the beam sword the asura had given her. Ceara staggered over to her, holding her head.

     “Illusions?” Ceara asked.

     “Yes.”

     “Since when?”

     “I don’t just sit around writing all the time when I’m at home. I’ve trained a little bit.”

     “A little bit? We could have used those at the pavilion.”

     “Scarlet kind of caught us off guard if you remember correctly.”

     “True. Are you alright?”

     “Yes, just a nasty bump on the back of my head. And some cuts where I almost fell off the ledge. How about you?”

     “Some cuts and bruises, head hurts a little bit.”

     Amaranda knelt down and looked at the beast. “So this is a branded creature?”

     “Yep.”

     “Chilling. To think that could have happened to us.”

     “We wouldn’t have felt it. Anyway, let’s hurry and get this over with and get out of here before more show up.” They rushed back to the crystal and Ceara continued her work. The moments seemed to drag on.

     “Ok, I think we have enough.” Ceara finally said, shutting down the cutter.

     “Ceara?” Amaranda said, nervously.

     “Yea-“ Ceara paused as she turned to Amaranda and saw the large group of branded lumbering towards the ridge.

     “Elementals? Briars! Hurry! Get them loaded!” The pair started loading the crystal shards into the container as fast as they could. Within moments they were being bombarded with crystalized energy that exploded all around them.

     “Go now!” Ceara yelled at Amaranda,

     “I’m not leaving without you!”

     “Go! I’m right behind you!”

     Amaranda used her transporter device and disappeared. Within seconds she was back in the lab.

     “Yay! You made it!” cheered Joujou. “Um…where’s Scar-“ Ceara tumbled out of the waypoint beam with a pistol drawn, the containment unit clattering across the lab floor. She was covered in crystal shards. Amaranda rushed to her and helped her to her feet.

     “What happened?” Joujou asked.

     “Griffon. Swooped out of nowhere. Got out of the way just in time.” Ceara said, taking a deep breath. “But we got what we needed.”

     “Fantastic!” Shikijo exclaimed.

     Shikijo grabbed the container and opened it. “Hmm…minute electrical arcing. Not enough to be deadly. More like a large dose of static electricity.” He took out a crystal and placed it on a worktable. Grabbing a scanning device, his eyes grew wide as he passed it over the crystal.

     “By the eternal alchemy…” he gasped.

     “What? What is it?” Joujou asked, full of curiosity. She looked over his shoulder at the scanner. “Oh my…” she gasped.

     “What are you two gasping about over there?” Ceara asked, marching towards the workbench. She looked at the scanner as well. “What are we looking at?”

     “This crystal…Bring the container over here.” Amaranda grabbed it and passed it to the asura. Shikijo grabbed another from the pod and scanned it, then looked at Joujou, both of them grinning as wide as they could.

     “YES!” they both exclaimed loudly.

     “What are you two on about!?” Ceara asked raising her voice.

     “These crystals are full of dragon energy. Kralkatorriks energy to be precise!”

     “So… what does that mean?” asked Amaranda.

     “It means that we could possibly have enough power here to disrupt Ms. Ghostie and really do some damage!” Joujou exclaimed.

     “And what if we possibly don’t?” Ceara asked, a tinge of concern in her voice.

     “Then we may be adding to her reservoir?” Shikijo replied, a look of concern on his face.

     Ceara closed her eyes and sighed. “We have got to be sure that this will work. Let me see the data you have. All of it.” The two asura started opening screen and monitors around the lab. “While you two are setting up, I am once again going to change into a normal set of clothes and try to get these blasted shards out of this armor.” Ceara grabbed some of the fruit that was still on the cart and walked back to the washroom.

     “Pale mother…” she muttered as started removing the pieces of her armor. She sat on the edge of the tub and removed her boots. She leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees, and stared at the floor. “What if this doesn’t work?” she muttered to herself, thinking about the vision that Ventari showed her in the Mists. She was interrupted by a knock. She found Amaranda standing in the doorway again.

     “Mind if I sit down?” Amaranda asked.

     “Not at all.”

     Amaranda sat next to her on the edge of the tub. There was a long moment of silence.   

     “What if this doesn’t work?” Ceara asked.

     “It will work.” Amaranda replied. “It has to.” Ceara nodded lightly in agreement. “So, what happened in the Mists?” Amaranda asked.

     Ceara thought for a moment. “I saw…well..I was chased by sand worms at first. I managed to outrun them and climbed up an outcropping to get away. I still don’t know how I did it so fast.” Amaranda smiled. “And then….” Ceara’s voiced trailed off.

     “And then?” Amaranda looked at her inquisitively.

     “And then...I... I saw Ventari.” Ceara fell silent for a moment. Amaranda looked at her, her mouth agape. “Well, I shot at him at first, but then I figured out who he was.” Ceara continued nonchalantly.

     “YOU WHAT!?” Amaranda screeched.

     “Well, I didn’t shoot directly at him. I shot over his shoulder.”

     “You shot at Ventari!?”

     “Well, he was rather rude. Just showed up and did this “woo-wah” thing with his staff and made the sand worms leave. He didn’t even introduce himself.”

     “So you shot at him!?”

     “Fine, yes, I shot at him.”

     Amaranda shook her head. “You meet the one, the caretaker of our mother tree, and you shoot at him.”

      “I didn’t know it was him at first. Like I said, he never introduced himself. I only figured it out once he started his mumbo-jumbo about “even the weed blossoms given enough time.” Ceara said, deepening her voice in a mockingly manner.

     “I can’t believe you are mocking him.” Amaranda sighed. “What did he say to you?” Ceara fell silent and stared at the floor, remembering the vision. Amaranda grew concerned. “Ceara?”

     “He said…” Ceara started, “He showed me a vision. A vision of the pale tree. How she would have looked under the jungle dragon’s control. She…would be a birthing factory of sorts. For his army. Monstrous creatures, the same as I saw in my nightmares. Creatures that…we would become.” Ceara looked at Amaranda. “And it could still happen if that thing isn’t stopped.”

     “Oh no…If anything were to happen to mother…” Amaranda gasped. Ceara nodded in agreement.

     “Let’s get back to work.” Ceara stood, continuing to remove her armor. “I’ll be along shortly.”  Amaranda stood and headed back to the lab.

     Entering the lab, Amaranda gasp as she was greeted by a myriad of screens all over the room. Each showing different schematics, diagrams, graphs, and meters.

     “Oh! There you are. Where’s Scar..uuuhh…Cara? Cera?” Shikijo asked.

     “Ceara. She’ll be here shortly.” Amaranda replied, eyeing the pitcher of tea and a cask of what she assumed was the winterberry ale that Ceara asked for. “Is this?...”

     “Yep. It arrived while you were down the hall.”

     “Ok…” Amaranda sighed, trying not to imagine what may happen after the ale starts flowing. She walked over to a seat away from the work area and sat down. “This is all so beyond me…” she thought to herself, watching the Asura frantically working. It wasn’t long before Ceara entered the lab.

     “Ok, what do we…oh! we have ale! And tea!” she spouted as she saw the cart. She grabbed one of the mugs that were stacked and filled it with tea. She then opened the cask and took a deep breath, smelling the sweet aroma. Smiling brightly, she added just a tiny bit to the mug before lightly stirring it.

     “Ahhhhh!” she gasped taking a sip. “It’s been too long. Now, what do we have?” she asked again looking over the room full of screens.

      “Well, we’ve pulled up everything that we have on the dragons, which isn’t much. Most of it is Professor Gorr’s research showing that the dragons sustain themselves by consuming magic. We also pulled up some schematics for some equipment that we might be able to modify for use against our ghostly adversary.” Ceara looked over the all the screens until she settled her gaze on a device with the name ‘Energy Disruption Field Barrier.’

     “What is this?” She asked.

     “That is a device used to disrupt the flow of a predetermined energy through an area, essentially rendering anything that uses that energy useless. We’ve only managed to get it to work a couple times.” Shikijo responded.

     “So, you think it will work against her?” Amaranda asked.

     “It’s possible, given the right modifications. Of course, we’ve never used it against any kind of dragon energy so we have no clue what the outcome might be.”

     “It’s worth a shot.” Ceara quipped. She turned her gaze to a rifle schematic. “And this one?”

     “A high powered rifle that we kinda helped developed using ley energy to accelerate a high velocity projectile faster and farther than a conventional rifle. It never got any farther than building a prototype.

     “Can I see it?”

     “Um…sure. It’s in a vault in another part of the building. We’ll have it brought here.” Shikijo turned and nodded at Joujou. She activated a screen that brought up an image of another asura.  

     “Mikki, it’s Joujou. Can you bring case number X78ER to lab 25?”

     “X78ER!?” The asura exclaimed excitedly. “That super awesome rifle!? Sure thing! If you guys are working on it again, I want to be a part of it. I want to see that thing in action!”

     “Uh…we’ll let you know when we’re ready to test it.” Joujou shut the screen off.

     “He seemed rather excited about it.” Ceara stated, taking a sip from her tea.

     “He’s a good guy. Just like’s to be adventurous a little too often.”

     “What do we have here? Some kind of flying device?” Ceara looked at another screen.

     “Yes! That’s my glider that I’m designing!” Joujou shrieked with exceitement.

     “A glider?”

     “Yep! It will be good for taking data over a large area while gliding safely above any hostile beasties!”

     “I see. Couldn’t you do that with an airship?”

     “We can’t afford one.”

     “Well, let’s get started, shall we?” Ceara said, smiling, looking up at the hologram of her doppelganger.

     “Well, I think the first thing we need to do is to cut Ms. Ghostie off from any energy supply she may be attached to.” Shikijo stated. “I believe doing so will greatly weaken her.”

      “You mean cut her off from the Dream?” Amaranda asked. “You can do that?”

      “Possibly. If we can tune the energy disruptor to dial into the energy signature of the Dream, we should be able to localize it around her, and cut her connection.”

      “Will that keep her from travelling to the Dream?” Amaranda continued.

     “More than likely, yes.

      Amaranda and Ceara looked at one another. “Ok, that…that sounds good.”

     “Excellent. We’ll need to set up an energy monitor and one of you will have to be attached to it so we can tune the device. Preferably Ceara, since you have the same brain energy pattern as Ms Ghostie.” Joujou stated.

     “What!? You want me to open my mind to the Dream while attached to some machine!? The last time that happened, it didn’t turn out so well!”

     “We know. But this time, you won’t be viewing the Eternal Alchemy. We’ll just be monitoring brain activity to get the disruptor tuned in.”

      Ceara took a deep breath. She didn’t like the idea, but she did see the positive side of it. “Ok, but let it be known I’m not happy about it.”

     “Great!” Joujou exclaimed. “Follow us!”

     “When I said let’s get started, this isn’t what I had in mind.” Ceara muttered under her breath, taking a sip of her tea before setting the mug down. Following after Joujou, they entered a small lab not far away. There was a reclined seat attached to some monitoring equipment.

     “It looks…like it hasn’t been used in a while.” Amaranada stated. “It’s quite dusty.”

     “Well, yes.” Shikijo said bluntly. Amaranda and Ceara looked at each other again, a little concerned.

     “Ceara, we’ll just need you to sit down, and we’ll connect the headset.”

     Ceara took a deep breath and hesitantly approached the seat. She slowly sat in the chair, which was not comfortable at all. Joujou placed the headset on her and secured it.

     “Ok, connecting the disruptor now. We’ll be ready in a few more moments.” Shikijo stated from behind the console. He was busily making adjustments and checking over the equipment.

     “I’ll be right here.” Amaranda said to Ceara softly, placing her hand on Ceara’s arm. Ceara sighed.

     “I got a bad feeling about this.” She said.

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     Scarlet stood on a ridge overlooking the crashed giant marionette in Lornar’s Pass. She watched as members of the Durmond Priory moved about studying the pile of twisted metal.

      “One of your greatest creations, my dear.” She mused to herself, leaning her head to one side slightly. “Hmm…I wonder…” She raised her hands, envisioning the giant puppet standing from it’s twisted pile by vines instead of the giant chains that was used to control it. Her smile slowly turned into a look of disgust as she slowly dropped her hands.

     “Leyline energy was used to power this thing through means I…I don’t understand fully.” She said, staring off into the horizon. Moments passed before she smiled again. “Maybe another time. But now back to work.” She raised her hands again, chuckling to herself.

     The Priory members were busy looking at diagrams and notes when they heard a low rumble above them. Looking to the sky, they saw a ghostly image of Scarlet’s giant machine dropping the the marionette. Ghostly forms of Scarlet’s modified watchknights appeared all around, as well as citizens of tyria. The battle raged around them.

     “What in Tyria is happening!?” one of them shouted over the sounds of the ghostly chaos surrounding them.

     Your end…” Scarlet said to herself before pausing. She felt a slight tinge in the back of her head. Her smile grew as she felt a connection to the Dream that she had been waiting for.  

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     “Ok, we’re ready to start. Once we start, we’ll hopefully be able to monitor any connection to the Dream you have.”

      “Ok, I’m...I’m ready.” Ceara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Joujou started the device. Lights lit up all over the chair and beeps were heard everywhere.

      “Ok, we’re getting small readings. Nothing major. Whenever you’re set.”

      Ceara nodded her head and glanced at Amaranda, then slowly opened her mind to the Dream.

      “Ok, we’re starting to get readings. Programming the disruptor.”

     Ceara saw an image of the Pale Tree in her mind. “Mother…” she whispered. Then a sharp pain struck the back of her head. She winced, her teeth clenched together which then slowly turned into smile.

      “What’s happening? The readings are all over the place!” Shikijo said.

      “Ceara? What’s wrong?” Amaranda asked.

      Ceara’s head fell forward.” So, you’ve returned…” she muttered. lightly laughing to herself, her bioluminescence flared brightly. “That old centaur was so kind to send you home to me.”

      “No…” Amaranda eyes were wide when she realized what was happening.

      Ceara looked up at her, tears starting to form in her eyes. She was gasping for air. “Hel….Hello, Amaranda. Nice to see you again.”

      “SHUT THIS THING DOWN NOW!” Amaranda screamed at the asura.

      “We almost have it set!”

      “Look at it.” Ceara quickly turning her head to the wall. “Wasn’t it lovely? Our giant puppet. See it. We loved our killer marionette, didn’t we?”

     Ceara closed her eyes and screamed. “No…Get...get out of….my head!”

     “You’re lucky, my dear.” She continued to speak. “The seer seems to be helping shield you, as well as your mother tree? That’s very surprising. Plus there is…something else. Something that I don’t recognize. Hmm…interesting. A shame, really. Otherwise, I would be home right now.”

     “We have it!” Joujou threw a switch and the machine powered down. Ceara gasped for air and vomited over the side of the seat. She then curled up into a ball. Amaranda knelt down beside her and put her arms around her in a comforting manner.

      “It’s ok. I’m here.” She whispered.

     “She was in my head again. I saw things…from the past. Images.”

     “It’s ok. She not here now.” Amaranda said softly,

     “I saw…” Ceara paused for a moment, before looking at Amaranda. “I saw what she plans to do.” The asura approached the seat.

     “What happened?” Joujou asked cautiously.

     “Scarlet happened.” Amaranda replied sternly. “This device almost allowed that thing to take control again.”

     “We had defenses set up-“

     “It almost wasn’t enough!” Amaranda spat angrily. She gently touched Ceara’s cheek with her hand. “What did you see?”

     “Lion’s Arch…she plans to…she plans to open a rift to the Mists…and feed energy from the Mists into the exposed leyline in the harbor, using herself as the conduit.”

     “What?” Shikijo asked, a very concerned look on his face. He and Joujou looked at each other and ran off.

     “Come on. Let’s get you to a bed so you can rest.” Amaranda helped Ceara to her feet and walked with her to a small room next to the washroom. Inside was a bed and small table.

     “I don’t…I don’t have time to rest. I have work to do.” Ceara said, a slight quiver in her voice.

     “No, I’m telling you…ordering you to lay down.” Amaranda said sternly. Ceara laid down and curled up. “You rest. I’ll go see what those two are up to.” Ceara nodded her head slightly as she watched Amaranda disappear through the doorway. The asuran duo were feverishly working at their terminals when Amaranda entered the lab.

     “What is going on?” she asked. The duo didn’t answer her. She approached them and looked over their shoulders. Nothing on the holo screens made any sense to her. The only thing she recognized was a map of Tyria focused on Lion’s Arch.

     “This is bad.” Joujou muttered.

     “What do you mean ‘bad’?” Amaranda asked.

     “By these calculations…” Shikijo started. “If she uses herself as a conduit to transfer that amount of energy from the mists into the leyline…” He paused.

     “Out with it.” Amaranda was becoming slightly agitated.

     “She’s already a walking bomb. You add that kind of energy from the Mists…we’re looking at a catastrophe that could completely flatten what’s left of Lion’s Arch, but part of Gendarran to the north, Bloodtide to the west, and the Dominion of the Winds to the east. An explosion so big that it would alter the face of that region of Tyria. All that volatile energy…”

     “We won’t let that happen.” Ceara’s voice said behind them.

     Amaranda turned to see Ceara leaning against the dorrway. “Ceara? What are you doing out of the bed? You should be resting.”

     “No rest for the wicked, so they say. We need to work fast. She needs to be stopped now.” Ceara stated, looking up at the hologram of her doppelganger.

     “The rifle is here.” Shikijo said, pointing to a large case set off to the side. Ceara looked over at it, a small smile on her face.

     “Oof!” she gasped as she lifted it by the handles. It was much heavier than anticipated. She got it up on a workbench and popped the locks open. Raising the cover, she gasped, her eyes wide.

     “It’s never been fired. We don’t even know if it works.” Shikijo said to her, walking up to her side. She lifted it out of the protective material inside.

     “Pale mot…” she cut herself off. She couldn’t believe the weight of the weapon. But it was balanced. “Couldn’t you have made this thing lighter?” She looked it over, already making modifications in her head to improve the design.

     “That’s one of the reason’s it’s never been tested.”

     “Well, then we’ll just have to test it.” She said smiling at Amaranda.

     “That might be a bit tricky. We don’t have a leyline powercell to power it.”

     “Oh really? I think I know where we can get one.” Ceara responded playfully. Shikijo and Joujou looked at each other, somewhat cautiously excited.

     “Where!?” they asked in unison.

     “The pack of my armor. It houses 3 powercells. We could-“ Ceara paused lost in thought.  

     “We could what?” Joujou asked. A smile grew over Ceara’s face. She looked down at the rifle.

     “Ceara?” Amaranda asked. “What are you thinking?”

     “I could create an interface between this rifle and my gauntlets to feed it the power it needs. Definitely something to look into.” She said thoughtfully. “But anyway, lets test it out, shall we!? I shall return momentarily!” Taking a sip from her tea, her eyes bright. Ceara rushed out of the lab to retrieve the pack from her armor.

     “I have a feeling we’re in for some trouble.” Amaranda muttered. Ceara returned shortly and place the power pack on a worktable. She wasted no time opening it, revealing 3 small powercells inside that were charged with leyline energy. She removed one and held it up in front of her.

     “Here. Will this work?” she asked.

     “It’s a little smaller than needed, but we might be able to make it work.” Shikijo grabbed some tools and removed a panel on the stock of the rifle, exposing an empty compartment where a powercell would plug in. Ceara placed the cell inside.

     “Just a little too short. We might be able to weld a piece onto this contact point to extend it to make it work, as well as put tension on the cell so it doesn’t move.”

     “What are we waiting for!? Let’s do it!”

     “Amarda, please bring that welder over here.” Shikijo asked pointing at a small device on a shelf nearby.

     “Amaranda…” she replied.

     “Sorry, Amaranda.”  Amaranda grabbed the unit and placed it on the table in front of him. Joujou handed him a small piece of metal.

     “Everyone step back while I work.” Shikijo placed his goggles on and started welding the small piece into the compartment.

     “What are you planning?” Amaranda asked Ceara quietly.

     “If that rifle is as powerful as they say it is, and if those crystals can harm her? I’m going to make bullets out of them to use against her and put one right between her eyes.

     “Won’t that…won’t that kill you too?” Amaranda gasped. Ceara stared at the rifle, lost in thought for a moment.

     “It may, but that’s the price that will have to be paid.” She sighed. “And I’ve already paid it once, in a way.”

     Amaranda looked at her puzzled. “What do you mean?”

     “The vision I had in the mists. The way to end that nightmare…I had to kill myself. It wasn’t pleasant. But…I believe all roads lead to that ending.” She looked at Amaranda.

     “No. They don’t. It won’t end that way. There must be another way.”

     “I don’t think there is.”

     “I don’t believe it.”

     “There! It’s in and the powercell is secured! Shall we test it out?” Shikijo asked excitedly.  

     “Oh course!” Ceara squealed with a huge smile on her face. She lifted the rifle and looked it over. Flipping a small switch on the side near the trigger, the rifle lit up, humming to life.

     “I may need a moment to myself!” she exclaimed excitedly.

     “Ceara!” Amaranda yelled.

     “What!? This…this is…I can’t even describe it!” she stated looked at Amaranda. “Would you like to hold it!?”

     “No…no…” Amaranda sighed.

     “Do we have any ammunition for it!?”

     “Um…we did?...not sure where it might be.

     Ceara’s face fell. “Really? Are you serious?” Her shoulders slumped as she lowered the rifle to the table, shutting it off. “What a mood killer, you are.”

     “Well…we hadn’t planned on getting back to it anytime soon. Plus, we don’t really know if it will actually fire a bullet or not. It might even just detonate in your hands.”

     “You two disappoint me.” Ceara sighed. “At least I have this…” she took another sip from her tea.

     “We’ll make some bullets.” Joujou stated.

     “Of course we will!” Ceara replied. “Along with all the other gear we’ll need! Now, let’s get to work!” The hours seemed to stretch forever as the group worked feverishly modifying existing equipment and creating new gear to stop Scarlet Briar and her plan.  Eventually, the asura were starting to slow in their work as sleep was wearing on them. They retired to one of the small sleeping quarters to rest. Amaranda also was starting to tire as the night wore on.

     “Why don’t you go get some sleep?” Ceara asked her, soldering some circuitry together.

     “I should.”

     “Go. I’ll be fine.”

      “Are you sure?”

     “Yes. You’re about to fall over.”

     “Ok…” Amaranda nodded. “I’ll be back soon.” She walked out of the lab towards the small room next to the washroom.

     “Hmm..if I adjust this output flow here, this will allow just a little more air into the chamber to give the charge a bit more explosive power.” She said to herself as she adjusted some of the equipment they had quickly developed to hopefully stop Scarlet and capture her, if that was indeed possible.

     “Ah, you’ve really outdone yourself this time, Ceara. She’ll never see it coming…” her voice drifted off. “Like they never saw it coming…” Her thoughts turned to Lions Arch and that fateful day. She gently laid her tools down and stared at the table in silence. She lifted her hands and looked at her palms. “There is not anything I can do that will ever clean the blood from these hands…” she said. She sat back in her chair dropping her arms to her sides, closing her eyes, an emptiness in her chest. “I’m so sorry…” she whispered. She opened her eyes slowly and focused on the bottle of ale on the table.

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      Amaranda awoke. She wasn’t sure what time it was, only that her right leg was stiff from the position she found herself in. As she stretched it out, she could hear mumbling coming from the direction of the lab

     “She is still working?” Amaranda sighed lightly. “I guess those stories are true. She’ll work herself to death if she could.” Amaranda stood and stretched. As she approached the door to the lab, she realized the mumbling she heard was Ceara singing the song of the Pale Tree, except slurred and greatly out of tune. Reaching the door, she was overcome by the heavy stench of the winterberry ale. She saw Ceara, practically naked, partially slumped over a worktable, her head resting on her arm as she toyed with a small piece of equipment. She cut her eyes over at Amaranda.

     “Ama…Amad…Amee! You’re here!“ Ceara exploded with joy. “I need more tea. Can you fetch me some?”

     “Ceara, what is going on? You…you’re inebriated! And..and where are your clothes!?” Ceara was wearing just the barest of clothing.

      “I’m not in..ene..I’ve only had a little bit to drink! I just took a short break. And my clothes are right…”Ceara looked around herself staggeringly…”They’re right there!” she said, pointing to her clothes piled in a corner. “Well, you know me? Work until I fall down!”

     “Yes, but not like this.” Amaranda grabbed the empty bottle of ale and shook her head. She sighed heavily. “Come on, you need to rest.”

     “No, there’s no time.” Ceara slurred. “We have to defeat… “ Ceara contorted her lips mischievously, her eyes wide. “My mind!.” She started laughing. “My own mind!...or…a part of my mind. Whatever it is.”

     “No, right now, you’re going to sleep this off.” Amaranda said, grabbing Ceara’s arm.  

     “Don’t you dare touch me.” Ceara barked drunkenly. “Do you know….do you…do you know who I am?”

     “Yes” Amaranda replied sighing.

     “Good! Who am I?” Ceara narrowed her eyes, an impishly big grin on her face as she laughed to herself.

     “Ceara.”

     “Wrong! I’m Starlet…sar…” “Ceara paused, looking somewhat confused. “Something Briar! “She suddenly blurted out. “Ceara was a nerdy loser student who wanted to do great things. But I did them instead! HA!” Ceara said, haphazardly laughing.

     “Sure, you’re Scarlet Briar.” Amaranda agreed.

     “Yes! I’m Starlet Briar!”

     “Right. And right now, you need to rest.”

      “There is no rest for the wicked, my darling. Now bring me more tea.”

     “I’ll bring you more tea, if you go lay down.”

     “You can’t bargain with me, Amee. I do the bargaining around here. I’m the bargainer. You’re the bargainee.” Ceara snorted and started laughing again.

      “Ok, fine. I’ll take you to get more tea.”

     “Now you’re talking! Let’s go get more tea!” Amaranda grabbed her arm again. “What are you doing?”

     “I’m leading you to the tea.”

     Right! Let’s go!”

     “By the pale tree, you are a disaster.”

     “That’s right. I’m the most beautiful disaster Tyrias have ever known. I mean all the Tyrias. All of them! Wherever I go, I disaster.” Ceara playfully sneared.

     “Yep” Amaranda sighed. Ceara pulled away from her.

     “You know what we should do, Amee? We should…we should find Canuckle…and Lan..Laran…that Vigil guy…and we should all have a secondborn party!. Mother’s disaster children! All of us…and not invite any of those shady firstborns. What do you think!?” Amaranda rolled her eyes and grabbed Ceara’s arm again. She led her back to the room where she had been sleeping.

     “This doesn’t look like any tea. There’s no tea here. You lied to me.”

     Amaranda pushed Ceara down on the bed. “That wasn’t very nice, Amee.” Ceara protested, laughing again

     “You’ll thank me later. Now get some rest.”

     “I can’t. The nightmares will get me.” She slurred. “because…there’s one…right there!” Ceara awkwardly pointed at Amaranda and giggled again.

     “Go to sleep, Ceara.”

     “Ok...” Ceara closed her eyes and started snoring. Amaranda watched her for a few moments before grabbing a blanket.

     “AAAAAAAHHH!!!!!” Amaranda jumped to the far side of the room as Ceara screamed behind her. She turned to see Ceara smiling at her.

     “It was nightmares.” She said smiling. Amaranda just glared at her.

     Cearas smiled faded as she stared at Amaranda. “Are you mad at me, Amee?” she asked softly. Amaranda said nothing. Ceara looked down at the floor for a moment before rolling over, facing away from Amaranda. “Nobody likes me, Amee. The whole world hates me.” She said softly. She pulled a sheet over her and curled up into a ball. Amaranda sighed and knelt next to her.

     “Sister” she said softly as she put her hand gently on Cearas shoulder. Ceara seemingly tried to shrug it off.

     “I’m so sorry…” Ceara sobbed lightly “It made me hurt everyone.”  Amaranda rested her head on Cearas shoulder.

     “Sister…” she whispered. “It will be ok.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

     Scarlet opened her eyes. She was sitting on her throne of vines in the Dream. “It was nice to be home for a little while…” she thought. “So close.” She looked at a ghostly image of Ceara floating in the air before her. Her eyes thinning, she looked down at her hands. Ghostly flames erupted lightly from them. “Maybe…” She stood and walked over to the image, the cold dead ground of the Dream crackling beneath her feet. She slowly passed her hand through Ceara’s face. “Possibly…” she muttered looking at her hands again. Turning her gaze towards the horizon, she could sense the jungle dragon stirring.

     “It’s time.” She said out loud. She faded from the Dream, appearing on a beach in Lion’s Arch. The morning sun was just breaking the horizon, slowly bathing the sky in hues of red and orange. She looked out over Sanctum Harbor, the twisted remains of the Breachmaker jutting out of the water.

     “A beginning and an ending.” She smiled. “But as one door closes, another shall open.” She floated out over the water, approaching an area where steam rose and the water boiled from where the exposed leyline was leaking energy. Dropping into the water, she circled her way around the gigantic drill bit that was once part of the Breachmaker, singing to herself as she followed its flutes down to bedrock below the harbor. As she neared the bottom, she could feel the energy seeping out.

     “Look at you. Aren’t you so precious!?” she gasped, smiling widely. “I need a moment.” As she fanned herself with her hand, acting as though she was going to faint, then laughing to herself. She held out her hands towards the leyline. “Now…” she spoke as the energy slowly drew towards her. She felt herself empowered. “It’s...intoxicating…” she smiled. She looked herself over, her ghostly body glowing brighter than it ever had before. She felt strange. A tingling sensation, like needles where piercing her from every direction. She laughed and retraced her flight back around the flutes of the drill, breaking the surface of the water, the stream of white energy trailing behind her. She turned towards the morning sun. “A new world is dawning.” She laughed.

[thought-42]

Fictober Day 5: “Unacceptable, try again”

Critical role, 950words, Caleb. Warnings for Caleb’s backstory, torture, burning people alive, unreality "Unacceptable, try again."

Bren breathes in, holds for seven seconds, breathes out. That's fine. He can do this again. 10.6 seconds and an increase in forty degrees at maximum temperature, but sure. Yes, Master Ikithon. Bren will kill another fucking drunkard too stupid to keep his mouth shut in the presence of foreign spies. He has absolutely nothing better to do with his day than stand here in the stone basement beneath the manner house and clean up the trash to satisfy Trent's hyper-fixation on detail.  Fire is an efficient weapon, a difference of a few seconds isn't going to make anyone less dead.

The man in the cell in front of him is saying something, but the words are just noise. When Bren meets his gaze --never let an opportunity to practice pass you buy-- his form wavers, like a heat haze over cobblestone. He extends a hand, and his forearms do not ache-- of course they don't. They burn. They always burn, the pain never settles into the kindness of an ache.

The fire blackens his fingertips. Trent says it's a gift, the way it comes so naturally for him. Trent says it makes him superior, naturally so. Trent says he is nothing more than a barbaric beast if he cannot identify each component of his fire, the precise pressure he must use when he reaches out with his sense of self to the air and the earth around him, the exact time and heat and force of each bit of flame. Though he would never say it, it makes Bren think of the schoolmaster asking him to show his arithmetic work. Things have always come easily to him, and to pull the process apart into its component parts simply slows it down, makes something that ought to be beautiful and instinctive into an awkward, clunky thing.

Bren thinks of each particle of air heating around his hands, the blue white flare, the rapid disintegration of everything in his path. Something cold trickles down his neck and something warm tickles down his cheek. It's always hot in the basement after he's been practicing for a while. Trent says he should be able to control that, too, focus the radiant heat until there is no excess spill-off.

The body in front of him curls inwards and blackens. He can hear screams. The other prisoners must be awake. Easy enough to ignore.

He pulls energy through the foreign presence under the skin of his forearms. The flames should burn hotter. They don't. Something flickers off to his side-- movement, but he can still hear Trent's even breaths behind him. Keeping the fire burning, he flicks a hand out and catches whoever, whatever it is moving in the shadows-- not an object, blood and air and warmth-- his hold on the creature is almost absent-minded, but he forces himself to take the milliseconds for a more deliberate restraint. He remembers the first and only time Astrid accidentally crushed a tiefling's lungs in her enthusiasm. He's not sure Astrid remembers that night, but the lesson stayed with all of them nonetheless.

"Unacceptable," Trent says, "try again."

There is still fire in his hands. There is still someone screaming.

"Unacceptable," says Trent. "Unacceptable. Unacceptable. Unacceptable." And gods, Caleb *knows*, you don't have to keep reminding him.

Another drop of water slides down his neck from the dripping cave ceiling.

"I think I am bleeding," he says.

"Unacceptable," says Trent.

"I'm sorry."

"Caleb."

Someone touches his hands. He can smell burning flesh. Someone else takes his wrist and--

"Fuck, Don't!"

Trent is cutting into him, he is putting something beneath the skin of Bren's arm and the rope holds his wrist pinned to the table because he is too weak to keep it there himself, and--

"Caleb!"

He looks down. There is mud on his boots.

"Unacceptable."

"We're safe now," someone says.

"You can stand down."

Caleb shakes his head furiously. His entire body feels numb and shaky, like being drunk without any of the good parts. He gasps in air frantically, curling in on himself.

"Fuck," says someone-- Nott. Veth. Veth is beside him and her hands are blistered. Caleb spreads his fingers in front of his face and the fire grounds him but he forces it away. What he needs doesn't matter. What he needs is rarely what other people think he needs.

"Are you back with us?" Essek is on his other side, robes torn and dirty, leaning against the wall with an arm wrapped tightly around an outcropping of rock.

"Sure," says Caleb. "Ja."

He looks in front of him and where there were once bandits there is now only ash--

"The others?" he asks, closing his eyes.

"Safe," says Veth, shortly.

"Cowards," says Essek.

Veth growls lowly, but she doesn't contradict him.

Caleb opens his eyes again and looks over Veth towards the cave entrance. He can see Beau standing guard, back turned to him, and Molly pacing around her, hands in his hair, tail lashing.

"The others are outside," Veth says. "I promise they're safe."

Caleb breathes out shakily, forces himself to take slow, even breaths, feels his ribcage expand under his book holsters. He's dizzy, and the floor keeps shifting beneath him like the deck of a ship. He looks again at Essek, the clench of his trembling jaw, and then at veth who is holding her hands out away from her body like she's afraid to brush against her clothing.

"So," he says, aiming for levity and definitely hitting manic, if nothing else. "We just live in this fucking cave now, ja?"

[vannminner]

-

Where Magic Flows

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A03

FanFiction

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Part Three: Of the Water

-

Nokk remained at Elsa's side until the sun set; when the stars began to twinkle amongst the night sky. Only when full darkness surrounded her, did Elsa start for camp. Watching her go, Nokk was sadly forced to return to the sea. His lost eyes pulled back to her, only briefly, and then he faded into an incoming wave.

Regretfully, Elsa had to wonder if that was the last time Nokk would truly be her ally? As with the others, his time to rebel would come. Nokk would revolt against the forest, and leave this place behind. He would be lost to these lands, searching the seas for somewhere new to live out his days.

As she walked back to her hut, Elsa considered what might be coming next. After Nokk turned, would she call back the village, or should she wait and see if someone stepped forward? If this was all a ruse to render the forest defenseless, leading an attack after Nokk would be the logical ploy.

And how would their villain enter the picture? Elsa's thoughts continued to spiral amongst her mind. What face would this enemy have, and what was their end goal? Would they lead an attack, or would they make the time to explain? There was so much Elsa hadn't considered before now. Yet, her time was up. She was at the brink of the end, and she could feel it. Her days had been filled with so much turmoil lately, she failed to realize just how many had gone by.

Feeling anxious, Elsa knew sleep would be a moot attempt at passing the time. She wasn't certain her mind was even capable of resting at this point. Still, there was nothing left to do but wait; wait for Nokk's rebelion, and wait for their villain to appear.

Upon returning to camp, defeated and stressed, Elsa dragged her feet toward her hut.

She fell back on the bed with a thump. Her eyes held wide at the ceiling, stomach unsettled and appetite, low. What she did next made no difference in the grand scheme of things. The only guarantee Elsa had, was that she'd face whatever she needed to when that time came. She could plan, and she could worry. Yet, neither would help her in the long run. Elsa knew she should gather her strength; prepare herself to do the next right thing. However, she hated not knowing. It made her impatient and uncomfortable.

Despite the thought that she would be unable to sleep, Elsa decided she must have. One moment her eyes were open, and the next; she was fighting a haze of fatigue to push herself to sit. Rising, Elsa didn't know how long she'd been unconscious. Only the desperate need for more proved that it couldn't have been for longer than an hour or two.

When she was fully alert, Elsa spun against the mattress. Her feet were planted into the floor. She dragged a cold hand over her face and stretched into her arms. She was awake now, but the question was why. For as tired as she suddenly felt, Elsa considered that waking could not have happened unprompted.

Her eyes raised slowly. Elsa listened to the world outside her hut. She expected wind in the least, but remembered Gale had gone away. She was on her own out here, and only Nokk remained.

That thought filled her with a tinge of fear.

The earth and its waterways were silent. Everything around her was incredibly still. There was no sign of threat, nor spiritual disturbance, just as it had been before she fell asleep.

Elsa was alone.

Or was she?

A fire popped and crackled beyond the walls of her tent. At the sound, Elsa's eyes drove wide, and she leapt up quickly from her bed. She hurried for the exit, feet unsteady over the ground.

Elsa threw back the tarp and ran out into the dark night.

Relief coursed through her instantly, but then she was met with anger; pure unbridled rage. It barreled deep in her chest as it rose to the surface.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

The words burst from her throat. She stomped across the clearing. Sitting at the fire pit, with her face awash in an orange glow, was Honeymaren. She didn't look up as Elsa approached. She knew it would not take long for Elsa to sense her arrival, and so she expected anger; even as quickly as it came.

"Have you eaten anything?" Honeymaren asked her calmly.

Elsa blinked. Her fists drew tight. "What? Have you lost your mind? What are you doing here?"

Drawing in a sharp breath, Honeymaren released the contents of her canvas sack into the pot above the fire. "I'm assuming you haven't... Afterall, you are terrible at taking care of yourself unless forced to."

Infuriated by her nonchalant demeanor, Elsa placed herself between Honeymaren and the flames. Her hands were wide on her hips, but Honeymaren looked right through her.

Elsa snatched the spoon from her hand. "I'll ask you again, what the hell are you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Her eyes pulled up to Elsa's. "I'm making lentils."

Elsa pinched the bridge of her nose. Her arms folded over her chest. "You know what I mean! What are you doing here instead of at the North Mountain?"

Standing, Honeymaren stole back her spoon. Her expression layered between spirited and mad. "Did you really expect me to go there without you? I never even made it to the trails before I circled back this way."

Groaning, Elsa fell to the log where Honeymaren had sat. "Mare… No! This is not what I needed from you! Do you not understand what's coming?"

"It's because of what's coming that I decided to come back."

"No! That is foolish. Don't you get it? What if I can't protect you, Honeymaren? What if Nokk floods the village? What if he throws waves that take down the trees? I can't defend Northuldra like I would without you here! What were you even thinking?" Elsa's breathing came in short gasps. Her hands tugged through her hair, threatening to snap each strand from its root.

"Hey, woah! Relax, would you? I can swim. I'm a fighter, you know!" She sat beside Elsa with a hand to her knee.

Too tired to remove it, Elsa glared instead. "This isn't about knowing how to swim, Honeymaren! This is about having no where to swim to, and having no way of protecting yourself against the Nokk!"

Her hand defiantly pulled away, and Honeymaren leaned forward to stir the pot. "Well, I'm here now, and by my own rights, so you might as well get over it. Besides, I am not looking for you to save me from drowning. I am here trying to protect you, in case anything goes wrong!"

"How?" Elsa fought back. "How do you expect to do that? You don't have powers! You are defenseless against the spirits. Not even twenty-four hours ago you were more frightened than I had ever seen you before, and all because you nearly drowned in the river! Do you not understand that is an actual reality for you if you stay?"

If the question scared Honeymaren, she didn't show it. Her expression held stern and her gaze on Elsa never faltered.

"I don't need powers to protect you. Don't you understand that?" Her brow arched coyly as she sat back on her hands. "The way that I feel about you, the lengths I would go to keep you safe; that makes me more powerful than your magic could ever be."

Sighing, Elsa shook her head. "I wish that were true. I do, but I'm afraid that caring for me is not going to help you here!"

Finally drawing her eyes back to the flames, Honeymaren pursed her lips. "It doesn't matter. I'm here now. You'd save yourself a world of energy if you'd just shut up about it, okay?"

Honeymaren never failed to surprise Elsa with her actions, and with her words. Unlike those she was raised beside in Arendelle, Honeymaren wasn't afraid of her. She took little care in how she spoke to Elsa, never worrying she might push her into reacting dangerously. She trusted her, and though that sentiment was sweet; Elsa wished that it could be enough to calm her in that moment.

But it wasn't. Elsa was too upset to feel the warmth of Honeymaren's trust, and she was too angry that she might be forced to see their friendship come to an end; if only things didn't pan out well for them, that was.

"So, lentils?" Honeymaren didn't wait for her to respond. She handed Elsa the spoon and positioned the pot between them.

Elsa stared at her for a long moment, not moving an inch. Finally, she sighed. Elsa leaned forward over her knees and took a small bite. She returned the spoon to Honeymaren, who decidedly did the same.

"Does Yelena know you've returned to the forest?"

Honeymaren refilled the spoon and held it teasingly against Elsa's lips. "By this point... I am certain she does."

The lentils waggled before her mouth. Elsa rolled her eyes and stubbornly accepted the bite.

"You are insufferable." She told Honeymaren.

Honeymaren shrugged. "No more than you are for refusing to leave with us."

Elsa frowned, shaking her head. "You know, I will never forgive myself if something happens to you."

"Good," Honeymaren nodded. She placed the pot at her feet and touched a finger to Elsa's chin. "-now you can fully understand why I had to come back here, then."

A slow smile worked its way across Elsa's cheeks. She didn't pull away from her touch. Elsa's eyes began to brighten and she simply stared. The way Honeymaren was looking at her caused Elsa's heart to flutter.

Her lips parted to respond as a powerful crack came barreling out from the forest.

Bright flashes, like lightning, spiralled around them. Thunder clapped loudly as smoke traveled in; billowing thick and dark amongst the evening air. Honeymaren and Elsa were overtaken by the haze. In unison, they leapt to their feet- Elsa's palms awashed in magic, and Honeymaren with her staff extended in her reach.

The smoke continued to grow, stealing their sight.

"How sweet this is…"

A low voice sang into the clearing. Elsa's head whipped over her shoulder, trying to decipher from where it had come.

"This reunion has been a long time coming." The mysterious words continued. "How lovely it is to be seeing you again, Elsa of Ahtohallan."

-

At the end of her first full day without Kristoff at her side, Anna laid awake in bed. With the window open, she listened to the waves lap against the shore. Crickets hummed songs at the base of the mountains, and the lone grey owl sat perched above the fjord.

Anna rotated against the sheets, relaxing in the sounds that were carried in by the night air. She considered how peaceful this evening would be if she were her child and snuggled up in bed; calm, without a care in the world.

At the thought, Anna placed a tentative hand over her abdomen. She hadn't the luxury of time to think about the life growing inside of her.

The funny thing was, a short day ago, Anna was completely perplexed by what was happening to her. Whether stress or sickness, she didn't have a clue.

Now, however, since Doctor Laugen explained to her that she might be with child; Anna knew it to be true. It was as if she could feel that life, heart beating, and sharing space within her. With eyes closed, she could make out the future beginning beneath her navel.

It was strange to have this happening to her now. Yet, what was stranger was feeling the state of bliss that had come with it; all while being overrun with concerns. For Arendelle, for her sister, and for Kristoff, too- the list went on and on. Wanting to relish in the excitement of parenthood had fueled Anna's motivation to solve the mystery. She would find out who poisoned her people, and she would punish them without caring why they had done it. Anna had never been so determined to make things right. The sheer weight of that desire had her losing sleep and making plans for her morning.

With Kai's assistance, Anna planned to face the royal guard. She would send scouts across the North Sea, and run inspections with any ship who sailed through, or near, Arendelle's waters.

Anna no longer felt fear in facing their culprit. No, now she was driven by the sheer force of rage; to hunt down whoever had taken the lives of the children, and she vowed to make them pay.

-

As the smoke cleared from view, and the night sky surrounded the camp in darkness, Elsa spun on her feet.

Honeymaren shuffled beside her. Her brown eyes pulled in a slow circle, and her hand tightened on her staff.

Out from the shadows, a figure stepped forward. Elsa adjusted her hands, and a second figure appeared. At the same time, Honeymaren's back tucked into hers. Across from Elsa, Honeymaren faced her own dilema. One figure appeared, and then another. She fought to turn her staff wide, bordering herself between the figures and her dearest friend.

They were surrounded by long dark cloaks. Their faces shielded under thick fabric, and while Honeymaren could not see through them; she had the fearful thought that they could easily see her.

Once their numbers reached eleven, the cloaks ceased to appear. They held their stance, creating a circle around both women. They didn't move, and they barely appeared to breathe.

When a final cloak stepped from the darkness, air caught painfully in Elsa's throat. The blood red silk and black mask caused Elsa's back to stiffen. Honeymaren felt the tension vibrate through her own spine. She turned beside Elsa, startled to find the red cloak moving toward her.

White gloves raised to them in warning. The fabric began to glow. Power surged beneath them, not at all dissimilar to Elsa's own.

Thinking quickly, Elsa's magic burst to life within her palms. The cloaks didn't move, nor did they appear to respond in any way. The red cloak, however, continued to come closer. Their fingers waggled, and their power only grew. Hands directed at Honeymaren, then. The red cloak turned from Elsa entirely as they came to face their target.

Drawing inside herself, Elsa conjured up a blast of Nordic winds. She aimed, firing at the red cloak. Her power barreled through the distance, nearing their oddly calm foe.

But then, something unexpected happened. Elsa magic slowed. Just before impact, her powers suspended mid air, but only briefly. The red cloak braced their hands together and forced Elsa's magic away from their chest.

The blast was sent reeling back at where it derived.

Panicked, Elsa winced. Her eyes drew closed. She heard the impact of her powers connect with something solid. Yet, that something solid was not her as it was intended. A different weight, a softer weight, had fallen against her.

Elsa's eyes reopened wide. She had Honeymaren holding herself up by Elsa's shoulder. Her other hand wrapped alarmingly over her own chest. Right before Elsa's magic was cast back at her, Honeymaren had slid in between them. She'd taken the full force of Elsa's ice powers… straight into the heart.

-

Cheers,

-M.