#her latest stunt was getting angry at me for not being able to hear her yelling/screaming for me - from across the house -

[bardkin]

not to ventpost on main, but goD i fucking hate how pissed off & negative my mom is. just. all the time, no matter what's going on.

and how I always have to be the one to do damage control when she's going nuclear.

[uponrightful]

It is so hard for me to choose just one! Just one part of a fic you wrote when there is so much to love.... But I will sent you this quote from your latest chapter to Coriolis: "You are doing it on purpose… devious little thing. I should be all over you for pulling a stunt like this and getting away with it for so long. Too bad I’m the only one falling for your tricks pretty girl." So please share all kinds of information/thoughts etcetera you had while writing this chapter.

Commentary Track for "Coriolis Effect"

Hi doll 🤍 I can't wait for you to hear allll about jealous!Crosshair

***

The theme for the start of this chapter is "show, don't tell".

From the start, I knew Duchess was going to show the Batch just how well trained she is. For starters, Duchess is very unwilling to talk about Phantom Squad. (And that will be covered in chapter 14 😅... So until then, I have to pick my words carefully.) She's afraid they're going to think bad of her if they know the whole story, and although that isn't true, it's a really harsh point to explain over a drink during a mission. I gave Duchess and Echo's conversation sitting at the table a double meaning; Not only are they being vague to keep cover, but Duchess is able to use that as an excuse to give them background on her without getting into specifics she's too uncomfortable to mention outright.

Now for Crosshair, I really struggled. Not going to lie. It's almost impossible to refrain from making Cross out to be a total fucking creep. 😂 He's just so overprotective -for good reasons normally- and it can come off really slimy if I don't get the tone right. As I said before, Crosshair is best experienced in-person. And although we can't do that... I try my best to get his character across clearly, but keep as much of his intimate feelings unlimited. After all, no one is perfect, and I don't think Crosshair getting angry when Dutch is in danger is something he should be punished for. That's what any normal person would do.

To keep up with the "show, don't tell" theme, Crosshair giving her his shirt before he leave for the mission is a huge action that I'm not sure many people caught. Or if you did, I couldn't hear your thoughts.

We all know by now that Crosshair is almost always painfully awkward with words. His default is sarcasm and brashness. That doesn't bode well when you're trying to feel out the complexity of emotions, and how to explain them to someone you love. That's hard for anyone. But for Crosshair that's extra difficult because he thinks that makes him weak. That if someone sees that in him, it's going to get used against him, and it will hurt someone like Duchess or his brothers.

Even though Dutch doesn't see him the entire time he's on the ship, it's clear he's watching her all the time. Not out of hate or anger, but just simply keeping check on her like he always does. That's habit at this point. But knowing that she's out of clean clothes? That is new to Crosshair, but it comes naturally to act instead of speak. (To be honest with you, I thought about having a spicy scene here... But it felt super forced, and that's because Crosshair wouldn't do it. Not that he can't barge in and have some jealousy sex, but it wasn't the right time, and that wasn't his headspace.) In leaving his shirt, that's kinda his apology for acting like he did. I know, I know, terrible way of saying "hey you did a good job and I didn't tell you when I should have." BUT. What can you expect from a man who bullies as a form of flirting? Exactly, nothing.

Now for what you all hate me for... THE SHITTY PART.

THIS HAD TO HAPPEN. No other way around it, it had to. There were a million ideas worse than Crosshair getting his shit kicked in. (I thought of an explosion gone wrong, thermite melting his armor, and a bunch of other shit that you actually would have killed me for. Those examples are actually pretty mild. I didn't want to put you through the same thing Wolffe did during O-66. It isn't that deep.) Nevertheless, this is the first time Duchess gets to experience Crosshair being the one who's unwillingly vulnerable. It's scary -for many reasons- and there are a lot of things going on that she can't process. (I can't say too much because a lot is happening in chapter 14.)

What I would like to mention is Echo and Dutch's scene in the storage bay. I know it's short, but I packed a lot in there. Remember how Echo said Crosshair wouldn't stop talking about her? You'll find out exactly what our resident ram'ser was saying soon!

Also, this is Echo and Dutch's big turning point. Not only is Echo extending a comfort by calling her vodka (like the Phantoms) but he's expressing what Crosshair can't. That might be a little cheating to speak for Cross, but Echo knows him well enough to be truthful. Not to mention Dutch is freaking the fuck out, and there needs to be some substantial support. Because none of the Batch are going to give her that in a way that is relatable. Remember: Echo knows what it's like to lose brothers. This moment is terrifying for both of them because it's a hallmark of how easy death can come.

The two of them are facing this fear with each other because they're the only two who get it. And that's really important considering Echo doesn't have to do it. He could ignore Dutch and take care of Crosshair like everyone else. But instead, he sees that pain and panic and addresses it in a way that he feels will ease that response he recognizes in Duchess. I consider this a turn in their relationship, and from here on out, things with Echo and Dutch are going to be different. (Don't worry. I don't vibe with PolyAm stuff, so it's strictly platonic.) But you'll see just how close Duchess and Echo get after that moment in the storage room.

The key moment here being how Duchess isn't willing to let anyone near her or Crosshair, save for Echo.

[grantyort]

Clearing the Air

[The trio cruises along the empty city streets. Chris is fast asleep in the backseat while Daniel fidgets anxiously in the front.]

SEAN: Need to pee or something? 

DANIEL: Nah, I’m just nervous.

SEAN: [chuckles] About what?

DANIEL: Uh… Nothing. Never mind.

SEAN: [sighs] Whatever you say dude.

DANIEL: [turning to Chris] Is he... okay?

DANIEL: Yeah. He just hasn’t slept well since… you know.

SEAN: Well before he wakes up, we need to have a serious talk about all this.

[Sean pulls the car over to the side of the road. He gets out and sits on the hood, motioning Daniel to join him. Daniel reluctantly agrees]

DANIEL: Sean Iisten-

SEAN: No, you listen! I went through hell just so we could stay in this country, so you could live a normal life! Now you’re just gonna throw it all away on some wild goose chase?! Don’t you even care? I swear this is like Nevada all over again!

[Daniel looks ashamed and on the verge of tears]

DANIEL: I’m s-sorry Sean. It’s just that… we haven’t seen each other in months, and you don’t answer my texts and I thought if I-

SEAN: No… you’re right. That wasn’t fair. I’m guess I’m still… trying to figure this whole thing out.

DANIEL: I know.

SEAN: Why didn’t you just tell me, instead of pulling a stupid stunt like this?

DANIEL: I… didn’t want to drag you into this.

SEAN: Well guess what Daniel? I’m in it now whether you like it or not. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re kind of a package deal.

DANIEL: I’m sorry.

SEAN: There you go again. Always apologizing after the fact. For once, I want you to think things through before you go running off on your next crusade!

DANIEL: I’ll try.

SEAN: You damn well better. Remember the deal we made with the Feds, no big splashes! If they catch even a whiff of what you’re doing… ¡se acabó! They’ll throw my ass back in jail and lock you in some government black site. We’ll never see each other again. Is that what you want?!

DANIEL: No of course not! It’s just… Chris has lost everything. I just want to help him get answers and justice. It’s the least we can after all he’s done for us. We owe him that much!

SEAN: [scoffs] You’ve really grown up, haven’t you?

[Sean leans over and hugs Daniel who is taken off-guard but sinks into Sean’s arms, savoring the familiar comfort]

DANIEL: What was that for?

SEAN: Oh nothing. Just getting you back for earlier.

[Daniel smiles and rests his head on his brother’s shoulder]

SEAN: Enano, listen… I’m sorry I’ve been so… distant. College’s just been hectic as fuck. I’ve got a side-gig going on, and I know haven’t always been… there for you, like I should be.

DANIEL: You don’t have to apologize, Sean. You’ve already done so much. You should go live your own life for a change. Besides, I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of myself now.

SEAN: [laughs] I’ve heard that one before.

DANIEL: I’m serious! You don’t have to worry about me. Go to parties, hook up, cram for exams or whatever. I don’t wanna be a burden anymore.

SEAN: You’re not a burden, Daniel and worrying about you is kind of in the job description. I mean the hours are long and you don’t get paid, but at the end of the day it’s all worth it, you know?

DANIEL: Yeah I know… thanks, Sean.

If Daniel threatened Sean back at the bus depot:

DANIEL: S-sorry for what happened back at the bus station. I don’t know what got into me.

SEAN: You should be. We don’t see each other for weeks and the first thing you do is try to pick a fight.

DANIEL: I just… got caught up in the moment.

SEAN: Hope you haven’t been doubling up on your pills again.

DANIEL: Of course not! I’m not stupid Sean!

SEAN: Never said you were.

DANIEL: Sorry. I don’t wanna fight.

SEAN: Me neither. But just for the record, I would have kicked your ass.

DANIEL: (rolling his eyes) Sure Sean.

SEAN: I did last time.

DANIEL: That didn’t count! You caught me off-guard!

SEAN: That’s kind of the point, genius. You think the bad guys are gonna warn you before attacking?

DANIEL: What bad guys? Besides, even if one of them got the jump on me, I’d still stop them all. Easy-peasy!

SEAN: This isn’t a superhero movie, it’s real life. You gotta pay attention to your surroundings at all times!

DANIEL: (mockingly) Whatever you say… sensei.

DANIEL: Are you… doing okay?

SEAN: What do you mean?

DANIEL: You know… with college, and track and everything. I don’t really know much except what I hear from Lyla-

SEAN: Oh you mean your little spy? I still haven’t forgotten about the library incident you know.

DANIEL: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

SEAN: Yeah, yeah! play dumb! You’re lucky that marker was washable otherwise your ass would be grass right now!

DANIEL: I thought you were supposed to be able to see that sorta stuff coming.

SEAN: I was asleep! Besides that’s not how it works!

DANIEL: Pfft excuses!

SEAN: Don’t push it. I’m still mad at you, you know.

DANIEL: (making a funny face) Yeah? How about now?

SEAN: [laughs] Okay. I’m letting you off the hook this time.

[Daniel pulls a chock-o-crisp out his pocket and begins to eat]

SEAN: Still eating those?

DANIEL: (mouth full) What? I’m hungry!

SEAN: I read an article that chock-o-crisps can stunt your growth. You better cut back or you might be stuck an enano forever.

DANIEL: That’s bullshit! I grew 3 inches since Christmas. I’ll probably be taller than you soon!

SEAN: Ha You wish! [he ruffles Daniel’s hair]

DANIEL: Stop it! You know how long it took me to get it just right?

SEAN: Since when do you care so much about your hair?

DANIEL: Chris says that it looks cool like this.

SEAN: I thought you “always looked good”.

DANIEL: Yeah, but I just like it better this way.

SEAN: Okay, okay. Hands off the hair. Got it.

DANIEL: So Sean, you...

Seeing anyone? 

Talk to Mom lately?

Seeing anyone?

SEAN: Taking an interest in my love life? Who would've thought?

DANIEL: It’s not like I really care. I just… don’t want you to get lonely.

SEAN: Don’t worry about that, enano, I got plenty of term papers and angry TAs to keep me company.

DANIEL: I’m being serious Sean.

SEAN: Well if you must know, I did meet someone recently. We were actually supposed to have dinner tonight but… you know.

DANIEL: Oh… sorry.

SEAN: (jokingly) You should be. We don’t even live in the same state anymore and somehow you still manage to cock-block me!

DANIEL: (cheekily) That’s my real superpower!

SEAN: (rolling eyes) Yeah, yeah keep laughing. Who knows? Maybe someday, I’ll return the favor.

(They both laugh)

SEAN: How about you? How’s school? Anyone giving you shit?  

DANIEL: Nah. Everyone likes me, well except Wilkes and Brad. But they’re assholes. Anyway, there is this dance coming up next week and I still don’t have a date. I was thinking of asking this one girl, Millie. We text and stuff and I guess she’s pretty!

SEAN: Whoa dude, slow down! Focus on keeping your grades up. You’ve got plenty of time for that stuff later. Me on the other hand. I think I’m just about ready to die alone.

LYLA <-> FINN/CASSIDY (Determinant)

LYLA:

DANIEL: What about Lyla? She’s single! 

SEAN: Dude no! It’d be way too weird. We’ve known each other since forever. It would never work. And besides, I’d never take her from you.

DANIEL: S-shut up. That was just a stupid crush! I’m totally over her! 

SEAN: (deadpanning) Oh no. I’m sure she’ll be devastated.

CASSIDY:

DANIEL: What about… what’s her name? The smelly hippie with the purple wig.

SEAN: Cassidy? She’s all the way up in Canada, dude! Plus, I need to get clearance every time I leave the country. It would never work.

DANIEL: That’s okay. You can totally do better!

SEAN: Oh ouch. Still holding a grudge, eh?

DANIEL: I just think… you’re too good for her.

SEAN: I’ll take that as a compliment. I guess.

FINN:

DANIEL: What about Finn? Weren’t you totally into him?

SEAN: Finn’s still in jail dude. What are we supposed to do? Make out through the glass?

DANIEL: Haha true.

(If Sean forgave Finn in Episode 4)

DANIEL: Do you ever wish things turned out differently with him?

SEAN: Sure… sometimes, but life’s too short for regrets.

DANIEL: You’re starting to sound like Mom.

SEAN: I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that.

(If the player did not forgive Finn in Episode 4)

SEAN: He’s applying for early parole and wants to me be at his hearing. Can you believe that?

DANIEL: You’re not going, are you? He totally used us. He deserves to be locked up!

SEAN: Whoa where’s this coming from? Didn’t you use to be his biggest fan?

DANIEL: What are you talking about?

SEAN: (mockingly) Oooo Finn’s so cool! Finn lets me do whatever I want. I wish Finn was my brother!

DANIEL: What?! I never said that! Besides, I was just a stupid kid back then!

SEAN: Yeah and no one’s denying that.

DANIEL: Whatever. If you want to go, go.

SEAN: Nah… I’m done with Finn. There’s plenty of better guys out there.

Talk to Mom lately?

SEAN: Yeah got a call from her two weeks ago. Business has been booming ever since… they legalized it in Arizona. So, expect an extra big birthday present this year.

DANIEL: Bet you want to move there so you can (he makes a toking motion)

SEAN: Haha, maybe after I graduate!

DANIEL: (sigh) I miss Away.

SEAN: I do too. There was something special about that place. Everyone there was so chill. Not like here.

Ask about Away

DANIEL: And Joanne? Is she still-

SEAN: [sigh] The latest round of chemo didn’t work. So they’re preparing for the worst…

DANIEL: I want to see her Sean, before…

SEAN: I know enano. But Arizona’s too far and way too close to the border. The Feds would never go for it.

DANIEL: I don’t care!  I need to say goodbye to her, in-person.

SEAN: [sigh] Okay. I’ll talk to Flores, see if we can work something out.

DANIEL: Thanks Sean.

SEAN: Arthur and Stanley got a new puppy! His name is Rufus. He’s a bit of a handful but super cute.

DANIEL: No way!

SEAN: I’ve got pictures.

DANIEL: Dude! Send them now!

Ask About Sean’s Eye:

DANIEL: How’s your eye?

SEAN: Can’t complain. Still gets itchy from time to time but that’s what the eye lube’s for. 

DANIEL: Ew, can you not call it that?

Ask about Sean’s Appearance

DANIEL: Dude what’s with the beard? It looks all itchy and gross!

SEAN: You’re just jealous cuz you can’t grow one!

DANIEL: Could too! I just don’t want to.

SEAN: Yeah sure… Have your heuvos even dropped yet? 

DANIEL: Ewwww, shut up!

SEAN: I’ll take that as a no. And since you love my beard so much. Here, feel it! [He rubs his cheek against Daniel’s.]

DANIEL: (laughing) Stop Sean! That tickles! Quit it!

SEAN: RESPECT THE BEARD!

[Sean drapes his arm over Daniel who leans on his shoulder. They look at the night sky together]

DANIEL: Whoa... check out that moon!

SEAN: How about a team howl? For old times’ sake?

DANIEL: Yeah! Diaz Lobos! 

[They howl together as “Into the Woods” plays]

< Previous

[littleshebear]

Little Bird; Chapter 3

After a very, very long hiatus, we’re back with this story. Little Amanda continues to be an escape artist, enter Cayde-6, Zavala picks up the pieces as best he can while battling with impulses that may or may not reflect memories of his first life. 

Part 1 | Part 2

AO3 Link. 

The tips of Amanda’s fingers ache as she fiddles with the screws holding the window frame in place. They will probably start to blister soon but she won’t give up. The orphanage had become a great deal more stringent in its security since Commander Zavala had delivered her back after her last night time jaunt but they still weren’t vigilant enough to notice Amanda slip a little butter knife up her sleeve after dinner. Taking inventory obviously wasn’t something that was a priority. 

Months and months of helping her parents fix the vehicles that made up their caravan to the city had given Amanda a good eye for recognising a passable make-shift tool when she saw one. She had correctly guessed the knife would fit the grooves on the lock’s screws but the knife was short, meant for children. The handle was small, stunted, with little to grab on to and almost nothing in the way of leverage. Her persistence eventually began to pay off as the first screw gave, then the next and the next until she was able to ease the window open far enough to squeeze out. She dropped the knife and screws into her pocket. She would replace them when she got back before her dorm’s alarm call. No one would be any the wiser.

She knows she probably shouldn’t be doing this. No, that’s dishonest, she knows for sure that she shouldn’t be doing this. It’s against The Rules but the people who make The Rules don’t understand what it’s like. She can’t breathe in here. How do the others stand it? How do they not wake up sweating and afraid, gasping for breath? Why doesn’t this confinement upset them as much as it does her? She can’t comprehend how anyone could stand being confined this way so she rationalises that it’s not her fault if she feels the need to break out. She can breathe out there.

She squeezes out of the window and edges her way along the sill, torn between not wanting to look down but needing to make sure that her feet stay planted firmly away from the edge. She eventually reaches a fire escape and crawls up through a gap in the steps. She gingerly gets to her feet and exhales slowly. It worked. She had chosen that window carefully; it wasn’t one she has used before and it was in easy reach of a way down. She buttons up her jacket and resists the urge to skip down the steps. She’s pleased with herself but she needs to tiptoe, lest her feet on the metal steps alert anyone to what she’s done. 

She climbs down the ladder at the end of the steps and drops down. A noise from above startles her. It’s like a thunderclap followed by a lion’s roar. She looks upward to see that the source is a ship streaking through the sky high above her. She watches the lights on the chassis and glow of the engines fade into the distance and with that, she knows where she wants to go. 

-/

“Hey, shortstuff…” 

Amanda turns around from her vantage point at the doorway to the hangar to see an exo hunter looking down at her. He is a hunter, she’s fairly sure. Hunters are the ones with capes. 

“Are you up here by yourself? Pretty sure kids aren’t meant to be up here.”

She stares up at him unblinkingly. There weren’t many exos on the road so she’s somewhat fascinated by the orange glow that accompanies his speech and by how eyes that are essentially blue LED’s can manage to be so expressive. 

“Hey kid. What ‘cha doing up here?”

“My mom’s an engineer.” Amanda finally answers. Her mother was an engineer. It’s a little white lie. 

“Oh. You waiting for her? She getting off shift soon?”

She just nods, maintaining her composure. She rationalises that it’s not her fault this Guardian came to the wrong conclusion of his own volition. 

“Okay! Just don’t go in. There’s a seat over there, just wait there for her. It’s dangerous in there. Wouldn’t want you to get sucked into a jet engine. That’d really ruin my day. Got it?” He points at her with both hands, thumbs up and index fingers outstretched, as though he were holding two pistols. 

“Got it.” She obediently seats herself on a bench off to the side and gives him a demur smile. 

“Good kid!” He clicks his, his whatever Amanda supposes exos have instead of a tongue and one of those blue eyes dim in an approximation of wink. She giggles and waves as he makes his way into the hangar. 

She sits on her hands, kicking her feet and waiting until people have stopped noticing her. She eventually slides off the bench and steals her way into the hangar. It’s easy for her to be small and unobtrusive. It comes naturally, it was a survival mechanism on the road. She darts between storage crates, circles around people to make sure they keep their back to her and eventually crawls under a work-bench. She helps herself to a piece of tarp to better cover her hiding place, slips off her jacket and uses it as a pillow. 

The hangar is as open and expansive as the orphanage was stuffy and confined. The dorm she escaped from was quiet as a grave, far too quiet, far too many silences that could be filled with painful memories and bad dreams. The hangar by contrast is bustling, even at this hour. She can hear the sounds of engineers working on ships and sparrows, air traffic announcements. Most children would find the noise frightening but for her it’s exhilarating. The stench of oil and exhaust should be disgusting but to Amanda, it smells like home. It reminds her of Ma. 

She settles down, resting her head against her bunched-up jacket and watches ships come and go, the Frames guiding them in with luminous batons. She drifts off to sleep, borne away by a lullaby of engine roars and tannoy announcements. 

-/

When she stirs, she can make out the sound of voices. In her sleepy fog, she can’t understand exactly what they’re saying but one sounds irritated while the others sound nervous. She forces her consciousness towards wakefulness and finally begins to register the words.

“Sir, we weren’t really sure how to handle it-”

“Wake her up, she’s a child, not an explosive!” 

Amanda knows that voice. It’s angry and familiar in a way she can’t quite place. She bolts upright, crying out, “Pa?” 

She blinks her eyes furiously, trying to adjust to the sudden onslaught of light after sleep. A pair of luminous blue eyes look intently at her. Not her Pa. She gives herself a moment to acclimate. She remembers how she snuck out of the orphanage, how she crept into the hangar and found a place to hide, how she’d nodded off...oh no. She finally registers the silver armour worn by the blue eyed man crouching down before her. 

“Miss Holliday?” Zavala rumbles softly, not unkindly. “This is becoming a habit.”

Amanda rubs her eyes and focuses on the Guardian crouched before her. "Am I in trouble?" She asks in a groggy voice.

He nods slowly and responds, "I would say so, yes. Come on." He holds a hand out to her, speaking in a tone that brooks no argument. "Out."

She crawls out from under the workbench but refuses the proferred hand, preferring to grab her jacket and clutch it in front of her. It's only a small act of defiance but it takes away some of the sting of being caught. She keeps her eyes fixed on her feet and tries to ignore the sensation of her cheeks burning with shame. It's a relief to her when the Commander turns his ire on the onlookers gathered around.

"I want a review of security procedures, now. This is an unacceptable breach. I expect a report on my desk by tomorrow afternoon at the latest."

"Sir, it's already late-" A man dressed in dirty coveralls attempts to protest but earns a withering look from the Commander.

"That it is. You had best get started."

Amanda shrinks back behind Zavala when this comment earns her a barrage of glares from the hangar staff.

"Did no one see her come in? I find it hard to believe no one noticed a child wandering around the hangar, alone," Zavala continues, addressing anyone within earshot. Amanda spots a flicker of movement off to the Commander's side. It's the hunter she'd spoken to earlier, backing away slowly. They make eye-contact and he puts a finger to his metal lips before taking out his Ghost and transmatting away. Zavala's head snaps around when he hears the sound and his eyes narrow.

"Izanami," he says evenly, summoning his own Ghost. "Contact Sundance. Inform her I would like a word with Cayde at his earliest convenience.” 

"Leave it with me, Zavala." The Ghost leaves Zavala's upturned hand and floats down to her. "Don't let him scare you. His bark is worse than his bite. He just worries," she whispers before bobbing away after the wayward Cayde-6.

-/

After they leave the hangar and wend their way back to the orphanage, Zavala struggles with how to deal with the exhausted-looking child who has somehow fallen into his care again. He slows his walk to a shuffle in order to allow her to keep up with him and glances down every so often to make sure she hasn't wandered off. Some long-buried instinct tells him to offer his hand to her but he resists, keeping his hands clasped behind his back. He is not her care-giver, certainly not her parent, yet here he is. In his mind, he silently drafts and redrafts how to address her behaviour, rejecting one approach for being too harsh, abandoning another for being too lenient. Eventually, she preempts him.

"Are you mad at me?" She asks, blue eyes gazing sadly up at him.

He sighs deeply before answering, "No." He comes to a halt, wanting to emphasise the importance of what he is about to say. "You might not realise it but you put yourself in danger when you run away."

"I'm not runnin' away," Amanda protests, "I always go back."

"Always?" Zavala repeats. "How often do you do this?"

Amanda bows her head and shrugs. "A bit."

"Amanda, listen." He is met with silence. "Amanda. Look at me." She slowly raises her head to meet his gaze. "What you did today was very, very dangerous, you could have been badly hurt. The hangar is no place for a child, the machinery there-"

"I like machines." She interrupts in a tiny voice. "I like fixin' stuff. I used to help momma fix stuff all the time."

"If you want to learn how to be a mechanic, we can look into it but you can't just sneak off on your own like that. Promise me you won't do it again?" He does his best not to sound angry, he is at pains not to raise his voice but her face still crumples at his words.

"I don't like it there," she states, her voice rising in pitch as her throat constricts with the threat of tears.

"Why not?"

Her only response is a sullen glare and an over the top, violent shrug. She immediately looks away and back at the floor.

Zavala opens his mouth and closes it a few times as he recommences his mental redrafting exercise. "I know its not perfect," he eventually manages, "But they're doing their best, I'm sure." He doesn't mention the serious conversation about security he's planning to have with the orphanage's governor, every bit as serious as the one he just had with the hangar staff.

"I guess," Amanda concedes in a defeated mumble.

"Come along." A rebellious hand leaves its place behind his back and gives in to that impulse that has been gnawing at him since he found her weeping to herself in Traveler's Walk. He rests his hand between her shoulders and steers her back towards the nearest thing she has to home.

"Your mother was a mechanic?" He asks to fill the awkward silence that ensues.

"Uh huh," Amanda answers before yawning expansively.

"And that's what you want to be when you grow up?"

"I wanna fly," she finally cracks a tiny smile when she says this.

"I might be able to help with that," He assures her before adding, "if you're willing to put in the work. It isn't easy."

"I know," she yawns again, stumbles over her own feet, then grabs on to his mark, fisting her fingers in the cloth, pulling hard on his belt for support.

The instinct he's been pushing away clamours at him and he finally gives in, offering his arms to her. "Do you want me to carry you?"

"Uh huh," she nods, mirroring the gesture, any proud artifice of orphan resilience giving way to her fatigue. He lifts her onto his hip and she makes a good show of staying awake before her head droops on to his shoulder and she falls asleep. 

[strangewhitegirl321]

Electricity (10th)

{Not my gif}

Words: 3341

Originally posted to my Wattpad account.

   "Put on a fancy dress, Donna!" The Doctor screamed as she disappeared down the hall. Hearing her call of acknowledgement, he nodded in satisfaction before skipping over to his reflection. Quickly fixing himself up, he smiled at himself before wheeling on his heel.

   Hastily, he set the coordinates of the TARDIS, humming as he skipped and hopped along to drive her. She shook and wavered, shuttering before landing with a small crash to the ground. Just on time, Donna stumbled out into the console room.

   "You idiot!" She immediately shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at him. "I was just slipping on my dress, when I fall head first into a bloody rack of clothes and take a couple buttons to the nose!" Immediately, he put his hands up in surrender.

   "Oops?" He muttered sheepishly. Then, as she began to march over to him he began to try and save his hide by appealing to her interests.

   "Wait, wait!" The man cried. "We're somewhere expensive! Mini quiche, escargot! And fancy wines! Think of the chocolate wines! Yum!"

   Donna continued to march towards him, not stopping as she backed him up into his own ship's console. However, her gaze had softened from anger to curiosity faster than he had ever imagined.

With a stomp of her foot, she demanded, "Well, tell me where we are, then!"

   Letting a relieved sigh pass his lips, he ran a hand through his hair. Slightly rolling his eyes, he turned on his heel and began to march towards the door. For a moment, he stopped to look over his trench coat. However, instead he checked he had his sonic screwdriver with him and left the coat as he opened the door for Donna with a dramatic bow.

   "My lady," He teased, causing her grumble angrily.

   "Well, at least you have manners," She mumbled, stepping out the door. Looking around, she noticed they were on a familiar street of London. However, it was night and the street was almost empty save the people crowding into a large building about a block away. Glancing at the street, she noticed how clean they were, and how old the concrete appeared.

   The Doctor closed the door behind him, stepping out beside Donna and taking a deep breath in through his nose, "Year two thousand fifty two, January third. London, England. The day a new power source was born."

   Glancing at him, she nodded slowly, "A new power source? Or, a perfected one?"

   "A new one! Isn't that exciting?" The Doctor exclaimed, reaching out to loop his arm around Donna's. "Allons-y!"

   Quickly, he tugged her along as she suddenly complained, "Man, and I thought my dress was fancy." The Doctor turned to catch what she was looking at, and grimaced at a woman wearing a full ballgown seeming to be completely made out of different types of feathers.

   "Oh, I think I like your dress better," He admitted, continuing to pull her along. Easily using his psychic paper as an invitation, he got the two of them inside without any problems.

   Suddenly, just as he was about to lead her to a couple of seats, Donna jumped excitedly, "Oh look! Fancy punch!" Confused, the Doctor's head swivelled as he turned to glance at a giant fountain filled with a bright red liquid. He watched as people dunked their cups under, before turning around to chug it.

   "Fancy indeed!" With a grin he agreed, going off course. Grabbing a cup for both Donna and himself, he dunked it under the falling liquid. Immediately, he handed the second cup to Donna, and together they tilted it back and took a nice gulp.

   A satisfied moan left Donna's lips as she cried, "By God this stuff is good!" People turned to glance in her direction, and she shied away from their glances. Just as her eyes turned to meet the Doctor's gaze, she caught him once again dunking his cup under the fountain.

   "Did you already drink all of that?!" She hissed, slapping his shoulder as he chugged it. With a yelp, he nearly sent the drink flying all over himself.

   "Oi! What was that for?!" The poor man asked, rubbing the shoulder Donna had just smacked.

   "For being an alien-pig!" Shamelessly she scolded him. "I swear, I can't take you anywhere."

   "You? Take me anywhere?" The Doctor repeated slowly, mouth slowly starting to gape open before he began his attempt to argue. "You know, that's kind of funny because last I checked-"

   But before a real argument could ensue, a sudden wail of a microphone caused everyone in the room to jump in sync through their surprise.

   "Welcome, everyone!" An old, withered voice echoed through the room. "I am Brendon Kiger, one of the founder's of Solid Gold Energy! And also, one of the few scientists who created the Auric Energy Source."

   The Doctor set his cup lazily on the table beside the fountain, forcing Donna to put hers down as well before dragging her over to the group of people beginning to take their seats. Leading her to the first row, he chose the last two seats filled by a couple of young men before flashing them his psychic paper.

   "Sorry, but I believe these are our prepaid seats," He claimed nonchalantly. With a bit of hesitance, the boys glanced at each other before getting up and attempting to find a couple other good seats.

   Frowning, Donna watched them go before turning to the Doctor, "I don't know about you, but I feel kind of bad for that." Shrugging, he sat down and glued his attention to the stage.

   "And, I am Herod Prince. The latest member to join the wonderful crew of Solid Gold Energy working on the Auric Energy Source," A man about Donna's age introduced himself. "Today, we are here to give a small presentation on our new, amazing product."

   The older man stepped forward, and began talking as his hands waved in the air, "Our new product is not only efficient, but gorgeous. Instead of the boring wires, or even your wireless devices, you can show off the gorgeous gold hue that bolts through the clear wires specifically meant to display the beautiful colour."

   "In just a moment, we will show you a large example of just how alluring the energy itself it," The young man once again took over speaking. "However, we figured that we should mention just how much the amount of energy you are about to see is capable of.

   "Within this pipe-" He pointed to a long, clear cylinder about as wide as a human head that grew from the floor to the ceiling behind him on stage. "-there will soon be enough energy to power the whole of England. Every single home, every single facility, car, plane, and boat."

   The audience seemed to gasp, and with a wide smirk the young man continued, "Now, finally we will show you the amazing product we have been able to produce."

   Stepping aside, the whole crowd seemed to lean in to witness the raw, visible energy that would be passing through the clear tube. The Doctor himself tilted forward in his seat, confused beyond all means as he tried to imagine how the science behind it could work, even trying to remember if he had ever seen such a thing- suddenly, his brain seemed to malfunction.

   A familiar, golden energy suddenly blasted through the tube and up into the ceiling. Everyone, including Donna, gasped in amazement as the light glimmered and danced. The Doctor's mouth fell open, and his brows rose.

   "No," The Doctor began to panic. Already recognising the golden glow of the regeneration energy, he almost bolted from his seat and onto the stage before Donna grabbed his arm.

   "Oh my god, it's gorgeous!" She gasped, not noticing the look on the Doctor's face.

   He frowned, foot beginning to tap anxiously as his eyes stared down Donna, " I know." His eyes turned back to the raw energy he knew so well just as it disappeared. His whole face seemed to sink, and every breath he took appeared to be stunted. It was dawning on him that there was a slim possibility of another Time Lord. Fear, excitement, and dread coursed through his veins, and he shook the whole line of seats through his anxious hopping in his chair.

   "Just the reaction we were hoping for!" Mr. Kiger exclaimed with a victorious laugh. "This is the absolute best energy source we have. Currently, our source is classified. However, the source has more hope of spurring on humanity's technological growth than any of the other ideas.

   "From harnessing the sun's solar energy; harvesting lightning; using the Earth in geothermal energy; and even at one point using humankind itself to produce energy-" The man paused, a large grin that made the Doctor sick to the stomach stuck on his face. "None of it compares to what we can give to our planet!"

   Finally, the Doctor grabbed Donna's hand and hauled her out of her chair. With a confused grumbling, she unhappily trotted behind him as she tried to keep up with him. Keeping her head down in an attempt to avoid peoples' stares, she stepped on his heel to catch his attention.

   "Why are we leaving?" She asked, sulking as she glanced back at the stage.

   Gritting his teeth, he stopped just beside a little red box, "That wasn't regular energy." He began, causing Donna's eyes to narrow.

   "Then what was it?" She asked, watching as he whipped out his sonic screwdriver. For a moment, he paused to glance at her.

   "It had to come from a living being," He tried to explain it vaguely, but knew he couldn't pass off being so upset without giving up the full reason. "More specifically- a living Time Lord."

   Immediately, Donna gasped, "Oh my god." At her shock, the Doctor pressed a button on his screwdriver and set off the fire alarm. Grabbing Donna's hand, he turned around and bolted into the crowd of confused people who rushed out of the building quickly.

   Squeezing by angry, confused people and keeping a tight grip on Donna, he reached the stage. The men talking earlier had disappeared, probably fled the building.

   "To the back!" The Doctor hollered over the loud screech of the alarm. He and Donna broke into a run, bursting through the curtains and dodging workers as they leapt onto the stage.

   Suddenly, the Doctor caught sight of an elevator opening up backstage. Out wheeled a large clear capsule. Inside, there was a young (h/c) woman who kicked around weakly as she was completely strapped inside. The metal that wrapped around her head, arms, legs, hips, and chest were tightly squeezing her. Wide, humiliated (e/c) eyes darted around wildly as she fought the cage she was trapped in.

   Suddenly, her eyes connected with the Doctor's. Both of them seemed to freeze for just a moment, and she desperately tried to keep her eyes on him as the men pushing her pod forward ripped him from her view.

   "Stop!" The Doctor rushed forward, grabbing one of the men's arms. "Stop right there!"

   Donna immediately shoved herself right in the path of the pod, and put her hands on the glass, "Sweetheart, can you hear me? Are you alright?"

   "Who the hell are you?!" One of the men asked, shoving the Doctor off of him. When the Doctor nearly fell, he stood up and immediately rushed back to grab onto the man again. Immediately, the man brought out pepper spray. The Doctor quickly took a step back, ready to roar.

   Taking a deep breath, the Doctor gave him a glare, "I'm the man who's shutting all of this down."

   A laugh echoed behind him, and a hand suddenly clasped his shoulder, "It's alright. She's not human, only looks like it." Herod tried to reassure. Immediately, the Doctor whipped around and aggressively threw his hand away from him.

   "Exactly!" The Doctor growled. "She is a being from another world. One of the last of her species!"

   With a roll of his eyes, Mr. Kiger stepped forward, "We treat her as if she were porcelain. There will be no harm to come to her-" The Doctor couldn't help it, for so long he had been against violence- yet in that moment he delivered a strong right hook that caused his hand to ache. Donna gasped and hollered something unintelligible at his action, she never expected to see that in her life. The struck man wailed as he crumpled to the ground, and an employee rushed forward to replace one of the guards holding the Time Lady's cell. The guard grabbed hold of the Doctor, muttering threats if he tried to get loose.

   "Do you even know her name?" The Doctor asked, venom dripping from his words. With barely any effort he shrugged out of the guard's grip, who followed him warily as he walked around the glass so he could face the young woman. The girl's eyes seemed to light up upon seeing him, and his mouth dropped open for just a second. Taking his screwdriver, he scanned the glass. Glancing at it, he put an arm out to Donna and took a step back.

   "Close your eyes," He warned to the girl. With no hesitance, she complied. Once her eyes were closed, he pressed a button and the glass shattered and crashed to the ground.

   Once he could reach her, he turned to Donna, "Scold them or something." He gestured to the men who were either too shocked to step in, or were helping the bleeding man on the floor.

   Then, he turned back around to the girl. Connecting eyes, he was glad to see just how relieved she appeared. With gentle hands, he reached forward and cupped her face. The guard behind him tried to reach out and seize him once again, but Donna quickly put a stop to it.

   "I wouldn't do that if I were you," She warned, stealing his pepper spray right from his own hand in a wave of bravery.

   Both the Doctor and the girl closed their eyes, and immediately he began to search through her memories. A mutual understanding seemed to pass between the two: One at a time. So, she kept from his mind for the time being.

   Quickly, the Doctor searched through her memories. He saw how they stole her energy, and grimaced at the screams he could hear echo from her memory. Then even further, he found how they had captured her.

   She had just arrived on Earth in a different face, horribly wounded. Dragging herself over to a alley way as she whimpered, he watched as she regenerated. The blast of energy had drawn in locals who came running to get a peak, and the Doctor recognised the face of Brendon Kiger among those who appeared to gawk at the girl who just changed faces.

   When she had collapsed to the ground, new (h/c) hair thrown across the pavement, Kiger raced forward and grabbed onto her. He fought with other people for the right to take her, and quickly hauled her into a car and drove off with her.

   As he went further back into the girl's memories, he discovered she had only appeared on Earth after barely escaping the Time War. It hadn't been long for her since she had lost her planet- and as he quickly discovered she was so, so young to him. Only two hundred and thirty three years old. He couldn't imagine how it must have felt to be so young and loose all you have, just to be captured and turned into an experiment.

   Suddenly, he could feel the girl spurring him on. She wanted him to keep going, and began to take control of showing him her memories. Soon he saw her place in the Time War: She was a hero. The girl before him had rescued thousands of Gallifreyan children. Even through all the strife, she continued to head back into the fire just to save another crying child and take them someplace safe. Before she was sent to Earth, she had jumped in front of two older boys to ensure their safety as they were about to be struck.

   In payment, the boys and other children had taken her life into their own hands, and against her will sent her to Earth. Her kindness was repaid in full- but he could feel just how devastated she was to not have been able to protect them in the end. The Doctor could feel how it tore her apart as if it were her own fault.

   Then, finally, she showed him her name: (Y/n). Nothing grand, simply a human name she had chosen.

   Slowly, he retracted his hands. His eyes stared into her solemn, lost irises.

   "It wasn't your fault," He told her quietly. Then, he used his sonic to release her. Slowly, (Y/n) stumbled out on shaky limbs, grabbing onto the Doctor. Quickly, he responded and steadied her. The guard also rushed forward to help stabilise her- and together they lowered her to the ground.

   "What are you doing?!" Herod suddenly yelled, angrily shaking a fist as he helped Kiger to his feet. "Somebody stop him!"

   However, a woman who had previously been helping his partner shook her head in disappointment, "This is just barbaric!"

   In a moment, it seemed her words took full effect on anyone who had stopped to gawk at the almost fairy tale situation. One man even approached Herod with white knuckles and stuck a finger to his chest, scolding him with harsh words.

   The Doctor watched it all go down, before he felt a soft hand pull at the collar of his jacket. Glancing back at (Y/n), he reached down to cup her head as it practically lolled around on her neck. He figured she had been in there so long, even the muscles in her neck had begun to deteriorate.

   Her wide, (e/c) eyes stared up at him. Slowly measuring him, studying everything about him. Then, with hesitant fingers she began to reach up to touch his face. Even with his encouraging nod, she still froze a mere inch from his skin. So, he reached up and held her hand against his cheek.

   Then he showed her his past. When he first started the telepathy link he worried how she would react. But he had quickly discovered she was different from all the other Time Lords. Even largely different from himself. The way she acted in general, and all her regenerations were almost strikingly human in his eyes.

   Slowly, she softly picked through his mind. While her eyes were closed, he took the time to observe her face. When she stumbled upon something that interested her, her lips would pucker as she seemed to think about it. Connecting all the lines of who he was, she opened her eyes.

   However the Doctor kept her hand firmly on his face. (Y/n) stared up at him, brows furrowed. She wasn't judging him for what he did- rather, she seemed curious and understanding. Finally, she let a relieved sigh pass through her lips and she curled herself against his chest and shut her eyes.

   Even through Herod and Kiger's anguished screams and all the people who tried to get in his way, he shoved his way outside. He waited for Donna to catch up, who glanced up at the Doctor after observing the girl in his arms.

   Giving him a knowing look, she laughed as he rolled his eyes. Then, her entire face softened.

   "So," Donna began softly. "Are you going to tell me who she is?"

   Gradually, a smile grew on the Doctor's face. Watching the grin that slowly overtook his face, she couldn't help a smile of her own to see him so happy.

   "Special," He answered at first. "Strong, even. A hero."

   "Well, you sure got lucky then," Donna commented, causing him to laugh. Then, she opened the TARDIS door for the Doctor, and he carefully carried the girl inside her new home.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Nocturne (24/30) - Ao3 Link

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairings: Mostly Gen

Summary: In which Cor Leonis loses his temper, accidentally acquires a kid, and tries to single-handedly dismantle the Lucian immigration system – and that’s before he and his lawyers find out about this Prophecy business. If the Astrals think Cor’s going to let his kid’s best friend die without a fight, they’ve gotten the wrong cheetah ‘taur.

(a young adult novel set in @kickingshoes’ ‘taur AU)

—————————————————————————————— ——————————————————————————————

“I can’t believe you actually still made the detour to Succarpe,” Regis says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Clarus passes him a cup of tea and pats his shoulder. They’ve already had the welcome ceremony for the Oracle – there was no way they were keeping this one quiet, so they didn’t even bother to try – and Sylvia was very regal and accepting and retreated quickly to her rooms, pleading exhaustion, but more likely with the intention of speaking with Luna and Ravus as soon as possible.

In Clarus’ view, after the whole incident where an entirely airborne unit from Niflheim’s army showed up at the Wall, claiming to have defected, dealing with the Oracle and Cor is positively easy in comparison.

Thank the Glacian for mobile phones, at least. If Highwind's unit’d showed up without Regis and Clarus having been informed of their impending arrival ahead of time, even Clarus isn’t sure about what would’ve happened.

As it was, he’s still not sure what to do with them, other than simply acknowledging that the Crownsguard now has a de-facto aviation branch that’s gotten quite a lot of people very excited, running the full gamut from children who now dream of taking to the air in Lucis’ defense to engineers who descended upon the repair workers of the crew with demands for technical specs and factory designs. On one hand, they need to vet them; on the other, everyone is very excited...

For that matter, he's also not sure what to do with the visiting dignitary-slash-religious-figure that's staying – potentially indefinitely - at the Citadel. The diplomatic reaction from Tenebrae, not to mention Niflheim...!

And unlike some people, Clarus thinks grumpily (and admittedly ungraciously) as he looks at the perfectly serene Cor, I don’t have the fortune of being able to shrug and say ‘not my problem’.

"The detour to Succarpe was necessary," Cor says, adding in a belated "Your Majesty" the way he tends to when his heels are dug so far into the ground that he will hear no word against whatever it is that he did. "I obtained the Katana of the Warrior, which would have otherwise required a lengthy trip in its own right."

"You're telling me the Oracle didn't object to the diversion?" Regis asks, looking skeptical.

"Oh, she objected all right," Cor says. "I shoved Prompto at her as a distraction, told her we were going to find something for him, and went anyway."

"You – of course you did." Regis sighs. Clarus shakes his head; of course Cor did. "And then you fought a – what was it?"

"The taxonomists have called it a Marlboro," Cor says helpfully. "The Ulrics were very useful in defeating it, as was the Oracle –"

"I thought you left the Oracle with Prompto," Clarus interrupts.

"I did," Cor says. "Prompto informed her of our actual destination when she began to question how long the train was stalled, and she decided to give me a piece of her mind and followed us down the trail to do so. Of course, she got distracted when she saw the Marlboro attacking –"

"Giant tentacled plant monster," Regis says with a sigh. "Yes, I'd imagine that would be a touch distracting."

"She was very helpful in defeating it," Cor repeats. "And then the tomb was right there, so it was easy enough to pick up the Katana and usher her back to the train before she remembered to start yelling again. And she brought the Trident with her as well."

"She did? Of course, she would – wait, how many does of the Arms that get us to?" Regis asks, now thoroughly distracted from yelling himself.

Clarus reflects to himself that Cor's gotten rather better at diplomacy over the last few years, or at least the forms of diplomacy involving avoiding other people getting too angry over his latest ridiculous stunt by cleverly applying the art of distraction.

It won't work on Clarus, of course. He’s just choosing to save his yelling until they’re in private.

"All but one of the Royal Arms," Cor reports. "The only outstanding one is the Mace of the Fierce."

"Do we know where that one is?"

"Yes," Cor says, with a small sigh. "The Rock of Ravatogh."

"Ah. I see."

"Yes. We'll have to pick that up when we go there for the covenant with Ifrit," Clarus says. "Which, as we've discussed before, will require a serious frontal assault by the military. Niflheim's defenses around the volcano are considerable, and will only become more so."

"There's a chance that they might become distracted soon," Cor offers. "Hopefully requiring them to withdraw at least some of their troops from the Rock."

"Something you've omitted from your official report, Cor?" Regis asks, giving his Marshal a sharp look.

"Not at all," Cor says. "Just a hypothesis."

"Do share," Clarus says dryly.

"The people of Gralea have taken in the MT children," Cor says with a shrug. "Some of them have left Gralea to visit relatives further out in Niflheim so as better to avoid notice. Either way, word will spread."

"Of how the MT program works?"

"And how they treat children that look exactly like their own," Cor says dryly. "Even if they had some idea of the MT process, which I doubt, the subjects of Niflheim put a lot of stock in their emperor being good and just, and this evidence will suggest to them that he is being corrupted – presumably from the outside. The usual blame-the-evil-minister business."

Clarus thinks wryly to himself that Cor is far too familiar with such accusations – for all of his popularity in Lucis, he has definitely faced more than his fair share of accusations of undue influence, especially when Drautos was quietly fomenting unrest among the populace – but that, indeed, he's finally learned diplomacy.

"You're trying to get them to depose Chancellor Izunia," he says, more than a little impressed.

"They won't launch a palace revolt against Aldercapt, that's for sure," Cor replies with a shrug. "The Emperor is old, and he's been moderate enough over the years, treating them well enough when it comes to taxes and whatnot. The first stab at his popularity came when the Glacian attacked, but he handled the aftermath well – more leniency, more Niflheim-centric parades and education. The reduction of the draft was also particularly popular."

"The MTs," Clarus agrees. "They went from a supplement to the main force of the army after that point, allowing the army regulars to become officers or to lead supplementary forces only. All our attempts to show them how exactly that miraculous cut in the draft was accomplished have been ignored as foreign propaganda, though now that they have evidence and testimony of kitlings of their own – yes, I suspect they might be very unhappy indeed."

"How do you intend to turn them against Izunia in specific?" Regis asks. "Emperor Aldercapt has many advisors."

"By coincidence, Besithia left quite a few documents thanking Chancellor Izunia for his assistance," Cor says dryly. "I didn't even have to go to the effort of inventing any."

Clarus snorts.

Regis shakes his head. “We can hope, but we can’t count on it,” he says. “We haven’t generally been lucky when it comes to Niflheim, historically speaking…on the other hand, there’s only one Covenant left, and one Royal Arm. After that, the Chosen King – technically, Prince, at this point, unless I’m about to keel over –”

“Try not to,” Clarus advises. “Regencies are terrible, and I say this as the person most likely to be splitting power with Aulea if there is one.”

Regis swats at Clarus’ tail with his hind-paw, rolling his eyes. "After we obtain all the pieces we require, Noctis is supposed to 'vanquish' the Accursed, at a terrible price of some unspecified sort. Shouldn't we wait until he's a little older..?"

"The whole point of doing this now is so that we can shoulder his burden for him," Cor points out. "He'll be ten by the next Inferniad. It's not an ideal age –"

"Says the 'taur that took his son to infiltrate Niflheim at age nine –" Clarus coughs.

Cor ignores him. "– but I still think it's better to move forward. Bahamut accepted Scientia's arguments that if Noctis is below the age of reason, his price could be paid by another; if we wait much longer, that loophole won't apply. Who knows what age the Astrals consider to be the age of reason?"

"And so we must proceed," Regis agrees gloomily. "Has Scientia checked on the legal technicalities..?"

"They're sound," Clarus assures him. "Under Lucian law, if you declare your abdication and trasfer the Ring to him, Noctis becomes king – in law if not by coronation – until the imposition of a regency. Once we have the final few pieces and figure out how we will be confronting Izunia, we will give Noctis the title he requires for the final battle."

"Don't forget: Noctis can summon Astrals now," Cor adds, his voice dry. "He stands a decent chance, by my calculation."

"We don't know what this Accursed can do," Regis points out in return. "We can only guess."

He sighs, looking down at the ring on his finger. The Ring of the Lucii, which burns those who are unworthy from within and which pulls the life out of those who bear it. When Noctis had been born, Regis had been relieved by the thought he had decades before he had to impose that burden on his son, and here he was, less than a decade later, plotting to give it to him early. "A Covenant, a weapon, the title and the ring. After that – a mystery."

Clarus doesn't bother to reassure him any further. He knows that no one can predict the future, and Regis has had so many sorrows to endure in his life. So many disappointments. He won’t be the cause of stirring up hope when there was a good chance this could only lead to another. Who knows what the future might require? The Astrals have already demanded so much from the line of Lucis...

"We have only a little time left," he says instead. "Cor's mission has taken up much of the time between the Archead and this year's Inferniad, but it has also given us an entire airborne division to supplement our own forces. The calculus of a frontal attack therefore changes considerably."

"We might not need to do it that way," Aulea says from the door.

The three of them turn to her. She has a letter in her hands.

"Have you found what it is that you were searching for?" Regis asks. Her library mission has rather consumed both her and Cyrella, and Clarus is fairly sure that if Scientia wasn't tied up with the final Kingsglaive prosecutions, she would be there at all hours, too.

"Not yet, but I think we're getting close," Aulea replies. "This is a little different."

"What is it, then?"

"An invitation," she says. "To an Inferniad celebration."

They blink at her.

Her tail is lashing with anxiety, Clarus notices, and wonders what possible party invitation could have spooked the normally unflappable Queen so much.

"An Inferniad celebration," Aulea says slowly, "at the Rock of Ravatogh."

"What?" the three of them chorus.

"Courtesy of one Ardyn Izunia," she says, then suddenly frowns. "You know, I was looking for an Ardyn, under the assumption that the last name was a fake, but it may very well be that Izunia is a name of some significance; we will have to expand the search –"

"Aulea," Regis interrupts gently. "The letter?"

"Ah, yes," she says. "A trap, obviously. It requires that we all attend this 'party' at the very top of the Rock – we meaning the Lucis Caelums and the Nox Fleurets, that is – and that we do so alone. I'm just not sure if the goal is to lure us away from Insomnia, or if he's simply trying to set the stage of the battle on his own terms."

"Either way, we should accept," Cor says.

"Cor!"

He shrugs. "He knows what we're after, and where. He can stop us indefinitely if he needs to. Obviously we bring our own forces, but I don't really see that we have much of a choice."

"We really don't," Clarus says grimly. "We should convene a Council meeting to discuss strategy at once, but I agree with Cor: we have to accept this invitation."

Regis sighs. Aulea crosses the room to sit by him, pausing only briefly to hand Clarus the letter, and puts her hand on her husband's.

Clarus knows how to take a hint.

He and Cor quickly retreat.

"I'll go summon the relevant military personnel," Cor says, nodding down a certain hallway. "We should be able to –"

"Later," Clarus says firmly, and puts a hand on Cor's shoulder. "First I want to talk with you about our guests. And your tendency to blow things up every time you go to Niflheim. And –"

Cor considers this for a moment, and then makes a break for it.

"I'll get you later!" Clarus shouts after the blur of a cheetah in full retreat. "You're such a child!"

Honestly.

Luna's not sure what's the worst part about having her family here in Lucis.

The best part, of course, is that she finally gets to see them again in person after so long.

The worst part, though...there's so many options to choose from.

There's the fact that she was ten the last time her mother saw her in person, and somehow her ability to recognize Luna as anything older than that (as she seemed to do when they spoke on the phone) has entirely disappeared, right alongside with any scraps of respecting Luna's autonomy.

There's the fact that Scientia is clashing none-too-subtly with her mother about parenting techniques, caught halfway between "she's your child and I respect your right to raise her as you wish now that you've been reunited" and "there is nothing wrong with how I parented her for nearly half a decade and anyway she's still living under my roof so my rules still apply".

There's the fact that her mother gets immediately swarmed by a long line of petitioners from Insomnia and its surrounding regions, many of which are far too distant to make a pilgrimage to Tenebrae to see the Oracle and which are trying to take advantage of her temporary presence, since apparently Luna isn't good enough for them, and that means she barely even sees her mother during the day anyway.

There's the return of the uncomfortable overly-formal family dinners that she never much liked, with fancy catered food and too many types of forks and impromptu quizzes on international politics at any moment, with stern disapproval pointed your way if you fail. Not to mention that the sort of active debates Scientia prefers at her table are expressly disapproved of as unnecessarily combative, which is less actual disapproval and more that her mother is still resentful of Scientia's influence on Luna.

There's the uncomfortable dawning realization that they all have during these dinners that Luna would really prefer to be having dinner with Scientia and Iggy, and that makes both her mother and her brother sour – and that sourness, in turn, makes it harder for Luna to connect with them, which she really was initially happy to get more of a chance to do.

Her brother – oh, that's its own can of worms.

Ravus was planning on kidnapping her.

For "her own good", of course – he viewed it as saving her or some such rot, because apparently he'd decided on his lonesome that King Regis had stolen Luna away from Tenebrae and corrupted her, no matter what she had to say about it, and the only thing for it was for him to trample all over her agency and sense of self and come galloping to the rescue.

Oh, it makes her so angry even to think about it. She'd been overjoyed when he'd first arrived in Lucis freed from Niflheim, horrified by his stories of what had happened there, and then, when he'd finally spilled his story, when he'd confirmed what Luna had until that point refused to believe: that he had in fact gone to Niflheim willingly, of his own free will, and, worse, that he defended that decision by saying it was meant to be for her benefit...

She'd slapped him and stormed out of the room, disregarding her mother's orders that she come back and apologize.

Apologize – hah!

She still refuses to speak with him, despite all of her mother's lectures – that Ravus was misled by Niflheim, that he is only a mere boy (two years older than Luna!), that he's family, that he should be forgiven.

Luna doesn't care about any of it.

How dare he blame his weakness on her! How dare he choose to believe his own version of events above all evident logic, above her own regular reassurances that she was doing fine, that she was there uncoerced, that they were treating her well..!

Oh, Luna still helps her mother try to heal him at their now regular sessions, pushing back the Starscourge flowing in his veins – it’s a new strain of it, one they’ve never seen before, and only by working together do they even make an impact, and finding a way to heal it fully is still a long ways off – but she won't forgive him. Not until he actually apologizes, anyway – his mealy-mouthed excuses and explanations that he didn’t realize the extent of Niflheim’s crimes aren’t apologies, they’re ways of avoiding guilt. They’re all nothing until he admits that he was actually wrong. Wrong to doubt her, wrong to doubt Lucis, wrong to take up arms against them – wrong, wrong, wrong!

It makes those formal dinners even more awkward than they were back in Tenebrae, but if they think Luna's goodwill can be won by overwhelming and guilt-tripping her, then they had better think again. She can be stubborn when she wants to be.

Coming home from school, she reaches the end of the hallway to her new quarters – her mother insisted on Luna moving in to the guest quarters where she's staying despite it being less comfortable than the room she spent nearly five years in, even though Scientia offered to let her continue there, another stupid powerplay on her mother's part – and heads inside, planning on retreating to her room as always.

Ravus is there.

"Lunafreya," he says quietly, his left hind-hoof scratching the ground in silent anxious misery. "Can we talk?"

"No," she says, and turns around and marches right out of there.

"Luna, wait!" he calls, and she hears the distinctive clopping sounds of his elk hooves on the tiled floor, coming after her.

"I don't see why I have to," she says, marching steadily onwards.

She's not expecting him to break into a sprint to catch up, or for him to grab her arm. "How long are you going to keep this stupid grudge?" he shouts at her. "You won't even let me apologize –"

"Apologize? Hah!" she snaps back, finally saying out loud what she’s been thinking for days. "You just want everything to be sunshine and roses and the blue fields of Tenebrae again –"

"I don't see why that's such a bad thing to want! You were born in Tenebrae – it's your home –"

"The blue hills of Tenebrae belong to Niflheim now," Luna says. "And so do you, you awful, filthy traitor!"

She rears back onto her hind hooves and kicks at him with her fore-hooves.

He's not expecting that, but he dodges to the side. "You've been here too long," he says grimly. "They've gotten to you –"

"Oh, yes," Luna says with a sneer. "That's it, that's definitely it. There you go again. It's evil Lucis this and evil King Regis that, because obviously poor dumb little Luna couldn't possibly be making her own decisions –"

"That's not what I meant –"

"I don't care what you meant! That's why I won't forgive you, you know, because you still don't think you were wrong – you just regret that it didn't work out the way you wanted, with you getting all the power and respect you've always wanted – wanted more than anything – more than family –"

"That's not true!"

"– and all it really is about is the fact that you're jealous, pure and simple!"

Ravus' fingers tighten on her arm. "Jealous?" he spits. "Jealous of Lucis, sitting safe and snug behind their Wall, while other people suffer outside –"

"Jealous of the fact that I have a new brother I like better than you!" she screams at him.

His grip tightens even more. "You take that back!"

"Let go of me! You're hurting me!"

"You take that back!"

Luna drops abruptly, going limp just the way Cor taught her, and uses the way that it throws Ravus' momentum off to snap her hind-hooves down and around in a spin to knock Ravus off his hooves, sending him tumbling over her back.

She climbs to her hooves, still glaring at him. "And you want me to let you apologize," she snarls at his startled face. She's so angry at him. "You want a truce, not peace – you've lived under Niflheim so long that you've forgotten what real peace looks like! You know why I call you a traitor? It's not because you were stupid enough to go to Niflheim. It's because you're still there, in your heart. You're an enemy to Lucis, Ravus, and to be an enemy of Lucis now as we get closer to the fulfillment of the Prophecy is to be an enemy of the future. And I won't have it!"

Ravus looks up at her from the floor in shock.

"You want my forgiveness?" she continues, glaring at him. "Then prove it. Prove that you're not just saying whatever empty words you think will win me over. Prove that you're on our side in this war, that you believe me that this war is real and that it's here and that you've picked life over the emptiness of death and daemons."

"I –" he starts.

"And maybe," she continues, still seeing red, "maybe when you do that, you'll apologize to King Regis, too, for all the things you've said about him, and to Noctis, and to me, too, for all the times you made me cry because I thought it was my fault that you were being so awful! Until then, you can go jump in a firepit!"

She storms away.

"Luna!" he calls.

"I'm going to Scientia's for the evening!" she shouts back. Mother technically hasn't banned her from doing so, but it's been heavily implied that it would be better for Luna to be at their awful family dinners and stay in her new room instead to better 'acclimate' back to her family. "You can tell Mother I'm spending the night. And tell her that I don't even care what she has to say about it!"

She makes it all the way back home before the rage seeps out of her, using the key that she still has to make her way into the living room – where Scientia and Iggy are sitting quietly, putting together a puzzle, and look up in surprise when she bursts into the room –

And then she bursts into tears.

[theliterateape]

A Conversation About Guns In Schools

by J. L. Thurston

I meet lots of interesting people. We all do. Even introverts have occasional conversations. The other day I met an older man, grandfatherly, who was and always had been a people-person. He chose to talk with me and I’m glad he did.

We were in the ER, in a patient room. His wife had tripped on the sidewalk and was awaiting stitches. He sat in a chair beside her bed, both of their faces turned upward and slightly to the side as they watched the miniature television screen mounted in the corner of the ceiling.

The news was going on about the latest shooting. You know the one.

“Can you believe all this?” the old man hissed.

His wife pursed her lips, as though able to taste the bitterness in the world, and gave a solemn nod of agreement.

Feeling the need to reciprocate in the spirit of socializing, I said, “It seems like there are more and more shootings these days.”

The old man looked right through me. He’d seen three times the years I had, he had wisdom I could only dream of.

“You think they should take away guns?” he asked me in that knowing voice teachers often use.

In my line of work, I know enough to bite my tongue when it comes to opinions. Especially on heated topics such as Trump, immigrants, and guns. If I said the wrong thing to a patient, they could report me and I could be reprimanded. It’s just so damn easy to offend people.

But there was something in this grandpa’s voice that made me think it was safe to express myself. His eyes glistened with real interest. I don’t know. I felt like I could talk to him, which was too rare of an occasion to let pass by.

“Honestly,” I began, hoping my next statement wouldn’t bite me on the ass. ��Guns or no guns, if someone wants to kill people they will find a way.”

He gave a wry smile and nodded. My shoulders sagged in relief and there was a squirm of pride in my belly. I had won the approval of this nice, wise, old man.

But he wasn’t through with the conversation. “What do you think about people wanting to arm teachers?”

I actually hadn’t heard that one, yet. My first response was a bark of laughter. In my mind, I envisioned a teacher of my past packing heat. In seconds, this scenario played out in my head. Mrs. Schnell, my algebra teacher, strutting back and forth in front of the marker board with a Glock resting comfortably at her hip. She was a thin woman, bony, and always wore high-waisted pants with her shirts tucked in. In her youth she was very beautiful, and had retained beauty and health in her golden years. For pep rallies this woman would do the splits with the cheerleaders. I’m not making this up.

But there she was in my brain with a gun. I suppose she popped up foremost in my imagination because she was so sweet and fair and kind, and even funny, but math terrified me almost as much as a gun would.

It was a reasonable scenario that my brain formulated for me to ponder over. What did I think? What would it be like to have the stress of class and the knowledge that your teacher has the means to kill a rogue student in order to save us? Could she have pulled the trigger on one of us? If any of us had lost it and gone nuts, could she push away the motherly love she undoubtedly developed over the years of teaching the same kids? Even if it meant saving lives?

“I think it’s a little absurd,” I concluded. “But I can see why people want it to be an option.”

Not to name names, but I thought of another teacher of my past. This one wasn’t so kind. He had a short fuse and a rough life. He had hard opinions and grew easily frustrated when a student refused to bend to his will.

A friend of mine, Kayse, knew the Bible pretty well in those days. She made a comment in class that tattoos were against God, in the terms that He considered our body a temple and tattoos would be a form of desecration. This teacher didn’t like that kind of talk, even in this small town with nine churches. She ended up bringing a Bible to class just to show him she knew her references, not really in a pushy way but annoying nonetheless, and he became so angry he threw a chair against the wall.

What if he was armed? I’m sure he wouldn’t become enraged so badly that he’d shoot a kid. But… I actually wouldn’t put it passed him. He had a temper that would shame an Irishman. I witnessed this over a single Bible verse. How would he react when a boy threw a spitball at him? Or refused to stop Tweeting in class? What would he do to the kid from the rough family, who swore a lot and wasn’t afraid to yell at his teacher?

It’s horrible to think a teacher would gun down a student because the student was being a little shit. But in the heat of rage, people have been known to murder their own parents. I’m not saying it happens a lot, but I am saying that it does happen.

The old man broke up my thoughts with a story. “When I was a kid, we used to have Pest Contests. Do you know what they are?”

 At first, I thought he had said Piss Contests, but my ears caught up with my brain and I shook my head. “No, sir.”

A soft smile formed on his graying lips at the memory of his boyhood. I think he must have had a very happy childhood, judging from the serenity brightening his face. “A couple times a year we’d have these Pest Contests where all the boys could bring their rifles to school. Nearly all of us had our own rifles, and those who didn’t have ‘em would bring their daddy’s. At recess, we’d go out into the woods outside the school and we’d all shoot at birds and squirrels. We’d collect our kills and whoever had the fullest game bag would win the contest. So, imagine, a school where the lockers were wooden and didn’t even have doors on ‘em, and almost each and every one of ‘em containing a loaded rifle.

“Times were different, back then,” he continued, his eyes shadowing now as they gave a sad glance back to the television screen. “We didn’t think about killing each other. We even got whooped by our teachers and never for a second would I have raised violence toward them. It just wasn’t an idea rolling around in our heads. I suppose, there must have been Pest Contests somewhere else that ended in injury. Maybe one or two that ended in tragedy, I don’t know. You didn’t really hear about much back then if it wasn’t in the paper or on the radio. We weren’t really afraid of getting hurt like that.”

He had gone from the joyful carefree days of his boyhood to the dark and twisted present we live in. The change in his eyes nearly broke my heart.

“I have a stepson who’s a freshman.” I began a little story of my own. “He overheard another student threatening to bring a gun to school. That boy listed names of kids and teachers he wanted to shoot. My stepson was worried. He told his friend’s mom and they reported it to the police. I was at work at the time. When I heard that he had gone to the cops I was pretty mad. I kept thinking that my mother would have beat my ass if I’d pulled a stunt like that.

“But my stepson lives in a different time. His school is constantly locked up, there’s metal detectors at the doors, drug sniffing dogs get passed by the lockers. Schools get shot up frequently. He’s grown up in a world where being murdered in school is a very real possibility. Once I realized that, all my anger faded. Instead, I wanted to cry for him and for all the kids of this generation. I can’t imagine not feeling perfectly safe in the classroom. If a kid threatened to shoot up the school in my day we just called him a spaz and forgot about it. But not anymore.”

I took a breath. The old man was paying close attention. His eyes encouraged me to go on. “What I’m saying is, yeah, times are different, but the problem isn’t taking guns away or adding new ones. The problem is kids who are wounded so deeply their souls are fractured, and no one helps them. These kids get broken so badly that they give in to the call of violence. We live in a culture that considers therapy as shameful. We are embarrassed to seek mental help, and we are mostly blind to kids who need help with depression or anger. So, the bottom line isn’t guns. It’s failing to save the shooters before they become shooters.”

It was a daring statement to make while in a position that limits opinions. But this grandpa, in all his years of experience with joy and success, pain and lamentation, puffed out his chest and smiled approvingly.