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beyondthetemples-ooc · 3 years ago

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OC-tober Day 2: Glass

OC-tober prompts put together by @oc-growth-and-development! I have to ramble in meta instead of write, because my brain is Mush lately. (I know I’m behind but I have a lot pre-written, I just need to put it into coherent words!)

This one especially can be rambled about at length, because the most important “glass” object in my stories is one I greatly enjoy exploring: Dove’s mindscape mirror!

^ I drew it forever ago; here’s the deviantArt link if you’d like to see the big version!

https://www.deviantart.com/ravenshiddensoul/art/Dove-s-Keepsakes-Mirror-and-Box-284227087

It’s largely modeled after a bird stretching its wings upwards, with a handle like a tail and certain details are inlaid with Azarathean gold to better channel its magics.

Now, this is where the rambling begins: The mirror’s backstory, and I’ll be exploring one of my favorite things to develop in all of my stories: Dove’s mindscape!

Dove's mirror isn't one of her most prized possessions, nor super incredibly sentimental, but it IS an object touched with her mother's magic, it has flourishes of Azarathean gold (some of the last pieces to exist), and it's useful for introspection and self-soothing, so it does have some value and importance.

Dove struggled with meditating quite a lot as a child, and there was only so much her mother could do to help. Meditation was pretty important to them as both a means of helping Dove control her powers, and as a staple of Azarathean spirituality. As she so often did, Alerina poked around and asked enough questions around the temple that she was told about Raven's mirror, and she decided to replicate it for Dove. She custom ordered a gold-lined wooden hand mirror, and then cast the spells to connect it to Dove's inner world herself. It took a few tries (it's much harder to connect something to someone else's mind than your own, after all), but she was nothing if not determined to help her daughter, and eventually figured it out.

As for its main purpose: Self-reflection! (If you'll pardon the pun.) Dove uses it to meditate, but where Raven uses hers for centering and compartmentalization, Dove uses it more as a blend of escapism and a focusing aid.

Much like Raven's, Dove's mirror acts as a portal to the depths of her mind, and this is where it gets fun!

The vortex that transports the users is usually white and gold, imbued with the same energies that give Dove her powers, at least on her mother's side. It's noticeably touched with black and red in DDD. (Dove's evil side starts taking over her mind, and thus its energies manifest through the mindscape, and Dove's portal into it, hence: black and red energies instead.) It tends to open up like a light tunnel and almost opens the mental world around the user, rather than dragging them in.

Once inside, one can't expect to navigate the same way as Beast Boy and Cyborg did in "Nevermore". Every mind is different, after all! We saw Raven's mindscape divided nearly into emotional sections with a neutral space between them, and the way through each area was preset and linear. While different parts of Dove's internal world manifest in different "areas", they're not so totally divided and separate, and there's no real "neutral" zone except at the very "center". The scenery changes, but it's more of a gradual transition, and though Dove employs thresholds to mark key areas, they're very much just visual aids.

Dove's mindscape is laid out more like a series of rooms and courtyards in a very (very, very, very) large mansion. The ground is generally of crystal, spires and columns decorate the scenery, and the thresholds are modeled after birds with their wings outspread. (While this seems like a play on Dove's namesake, it's actually based on Azarath's architecture, particularly that of George Perez's Azarath in the 1980's New Teen Titans comics.)

Dove's sky shows various stars and often casts moonlight from an uncertain source, particularly when she's introspecting. The ambient temperature varies amongst the locations, chilly in the regions ruled by fear and sadness, uncomfortably warm near her demon's domain, and comfortable and breezy where her peace and contentment reside.

One could easily get lost in her mindscape if they don't know where they're going. The place can shift and change on a whim.

Where Dove spends her time building that peace and contentment, it's very closely modeled after her mother's memories of Azarath (which is where she learned how to find peace, after all): there's marble and gold everywhere, and the stars twinkle with dozens of colors in the sky.

Where Dove retreats when there are feelings of timidity, her excruciating shyness, her grief and doubt, the world becomes shrouded in thick fog. Broken buildings and pale light litter the grounds.

Where she built her love for reading, for history, for creativity and study and learning, it's arranged as rooms with dark marbled tile and a carpeted path, the floor for dozens of feet on either side littered with piles of books.

Dove's inner happy place is an open field on gently rolling hills, where thoughts take the form of birds and somehow the sky holds both the stars and suns. One might find trees, flowers, abstract forms of cottages, and forts loaded with mugs and cozy cushions. If you wander far enough you'll find very tall stone walls surrounding it, because Dove's mind is such that her happiness is one of the few things she really truly believes she needs to protect from the rest of herself.

And then there are the aspects of herself that she shoves the deepest down, secreted far away from the surface: the anger, the hunger for power, the mean streak. (Yes, believe it or not, Dove does have a mean streak! You just have to work especially hard to bring it out. Or trigger her in just the right ways around sadism, violence, war, or death. It's very much Not Recommended; bringing too much of that mean streak out could mean Dove loses control of her powers, or worse: her demonic aspects.)

Those secret forces aren't so much located in one particular space of her mind as they're hidden in every dark corner, coursing through the underside of all the ground, a tantalizing power running through every part of her, only ever set free enough to use the dangerous powers to her own ends.

Her places for Fear and Curiosity in particular will be explored in the upcoming Missing: Raven rewrite. (As they're the strongest things Dove is feeling in that story, that's going to be what Beast Boy and Cyborg encounter.) I also explored the way these things manifest in DDD, and in that same story Dove will focus on rebuilding Peace in the final chapter.

I can't talk about Dove's mindscape without mentioning the "emoticlones". These fun little guys are called by the fanon term given to Raven's "emotion clones", the separate parts of her that express a specific set of traits based on particular aspects of her personality. I had so much fun playing with their voices and thoughts in Dove's head during DDD, you have no freaking idea! I also copied the concept of them having Colored Cloaks from Teen Titans canon, because honestly it's a quick and easy way to identify them, and the fandom's familiar with this system through Raven.

Which colors mean what was more inspired by details from a really old, now-defunct website called Cartoon Orbit that had separate "online trading cards" for each of Raven's emoticlones! On that site, Raven's were labeled as such, and this is what I based Dove's system on, loosely: - Pink: "Raven Happy" - Red: "Raven Rage" - Orange: "Raven Rude" - Yellow: "Raven Smart" - Green: "Raven Brave" - Brown: "Raven Fear" (I'm pretty sure there was a purple one, but I don't recall what it was called. "Love" maybe? That might be from fanon; this site was running like 15 years ago, and I was like 10 years old, so I hardly thought to pay Super Special Attention to it...)

But I digress. The point is, I adapted that system for the key aspects of Dove's unique personality, and came to understand them as follows:

- Pink: Joy, relief, coziness - Red: Cruelty, impulsivity, anger - Orange: Apathy, indifference, disregard - Yellow: Curiosity, study, intrigue - Green: Courage, determination, activity - Blue: Contentedness, pacifism, spirituality - Purple: Compassion, friendship, romanticism - Gray: Sadness, grief, longing. - Brown: Fear, fear, fear!

But for Dove's mind in particular, it's not only HER experiences and personality that form the world! She's a telepath, and though she holds others' privacy in very, very high regard and tries never to read someone's mind without their permission, her sense of receptive telepathy is ever-present. Echoes, lights, shadows, reflections of others' memories and thoughts might affect the very edges of her mind. It's a constant sense, but it only ever causes very ephemeral changes unless something deeply affects her.

Her mindscape also grows and changes as Dove grows and changes, experiences life, learns to cope, and changes how she handles her own emotions.

Most notably, the internal struggle in DDD tore her mind apart. Initially it was due to a breakdown of certainty and confidence, hastened by guilt and grief, but it soon became a deliberate tactic to wage war on the parts of Dove's mind that were trying to resist the evil; eventually her inner demon began intentionally breaking/corrupting everything it could touch.

By chapter 20, that evil is the only strong and stable thing in Dove's mind. Raven's attack to remove the evil in her took away that stability, and strength, and thus took away what was essentially the last support holding Dove's mind together. As it says in the story: "everything collapsed". Dove's mindscape was utterly destroyed, and only the most basic aspects of her remained.

For awhile, that left Dove unable to remember things clearly, or feel emotions without great pain. Rebuilding it to the point where she was able to talk and feel Mostly Normally again took months of meditation.

When Dove is kidnapped and Leyla has distressing dreams about her mother, she, Srentha, and Raven use the mirror to check on Dove by accessing her mindscape. With her powers stripped away, surrounded by people who mock her, and certain Fauni rituals sickening Dove to her soul, naturally her mind is very different: shadowy forms flitted at the edges of vision, the ground wavered, her discomfort was thick in the air and the constant fear made everything so, so cold. "Shadows" of others' thoughts flashed in and out of existence, and Dove's desperation manifests as fleeting voices on the wind. It's uncomfortable to be in her mind while she's so distressed.

It's also worth mentioning that her mindscape changes again, essentially "growing" the part of her that belongs to Love when she finally lets herself love Srentha, and it expands again when Leyla's born and Dove once more finds depths of love she didn't know she could carry.

#oc tober #oc tober 2021 #rhs has ocs and this is the tag about them #iala yona #ddd #rhs oc tober

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sorcererinthestars · 4 years ago

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I’ve been attracted to the idea of the Fakes all holding some sort of elemental or energy powers. (Maybe this is because it’s been so gray and I’ve been thinking of the warm ones... hah!) I put this together while bored at work - I’d love to see what you guys think! Geoff: I see him being able to interact with shadows. He is not necessarily in control of night and of blackness more totally, but those gray areas where light can’t quite touch. He is often seen with more than one shadow and he can call them out to do things for him, almost like having doppelgangers with no faces at his beck and call. He can blind enemies with his shadows, blend in, and even make them semi-solid to hold people or trigger objects. When he wants to hide, he can become shadow-like himself, semi-spectral and transparent. Jack: Jack has plant magic. (If you’ve ever seen Sky High, consider her elemental control like the main girl there.) She can command plants. Normally she’s peaceful, not liking to use her powers for the more... diabolical parts of her life. Human weapons are far more effective for that, she insists, using her powers instead to nurture her multiple houseplants into lushness or care for the street plants of Los Santos. But when threatened and in danger, her powers can become vicious. She can have vines smash through windows and restrain enemies, she can grow plants and trees through her victims, she can choke and restrain and maim. Don’t underestimate Jack just because she tries to be peaceful. She has one of the most brutal magics of them all. Michael: Michael has fire magic for sure. The problem with him is learning to control it and manifest it properly without collateral damage. He’s burnt his loved ones too many times to count and it’s made him somewhat frightened of using his abilities until Geoff sits down and works with him on it. His power is obvious destruction - he can burn down buildings, create raging infernos - but also life and light. He can cradle small flames in his palms, light up dark areas, and provide warmth and heat when they don’t have it. Geoff constantly reassures Michael that his powers aren’t just for death and destruction, don’t need to hurt and burn his lovers as well as his enemies. It’s life. It’s warmth. It’s protection.

Gavin: If Geoff is shadow, Gavin is light. His powers are remarkable, contained in such a slight form. He glows slightly all the time, a side effect he cannot shut off. The Golden Boy image is an extension of that. When he is excited, he lights up like a Christmas tree, glowing and shining. But when he’s mad, his eyes go liquid white and light just streams out of all his orifices'. He blinds. He scalds. He burns from the inside out, power radiating out of every pore. When he’s mad, he’s not human, he’s some otherworldly creature ripped from some part of heaven. Jeremy: J is stone. He can manipulate rock, break it, crush it, move it. His personality is as rock (hehe) solid as his element, warm and steady even as he is shoved around in the craziness of the job that they do. He’s pretty unchangeable in his opinions and steadfast in his loyalties and provides a good counterpoint for his two hotheaded companions - as they melt and overheat, he is a steady presence to keep them grounded. But god forbid if you get him angry. He can crush rocks beneath your feet, slam enemies with boulders, crush and hit until bones are just dust beneath his feet. He is extremely strong even without using his command and almost unbreakable. Unfortunately, even like stone, there is a point where they will break under the pressure - good thing his family is there to pick up the pieces. -

Fiona: As breezy and lighthearted as she is, Fiona is wind. She blows around, flitting and jumping between interests as if she’s a leaf tossed and turned on the breeze. Airy and flighty, she’s always quick for a laugh and a good time. But her powers aren’t just for blowing hair around or teasingly causing minor chaos knocking things off shelves - she can steal the air from a person’s lungs, call down typhoons that can level small buildings and rip cars off the street, blow enemies off their feet and away, hurl things and cause massive, devastating amounts of destruction. The first person who underestimated FiFi was the first one to die. Alfredo: Fluid and adaptable, Alfredo is water. He goes with the flow, easy-going and ready for anything. Normally he’s the first one for a good laugh, trying not to take the world so seriously as some of his compatriots do. He and Michael tend to get on head to heads a lot, but they also grow close, as Alfredo is one of the only people Michael trusts to practice his fire around. While preferring his trusty sniper to get the job done, Alfredo isn’t just a man of rivers and streams. He can cause typhoons, manipulate the water in someone’s blood to make them do what he wants them to do, can freeze water into daggers that rip a man from toe to tip. Fredo is always a man ready for a laugh, but god forbid that fury comes out. Trevor: If Gavin is the manifestation of liquid light, Trevor is night. He bonds with Geoff, which is likely what gets him the job as the day to day frontrunner of the Fakes. He is secretive and quiet when he’s not dominating the show. While he’s happy go lucky as much as any of the others, there’s a quiet darkness somewhere around his soul. And when his powers are activated, he bubbles up with dark energy similar to Gavin’s light. He can plunge a room into pure blackness, he can suck the warmth out of people, he can blind and freeze. But his darkness can also be warmth and protection, cloaking those he loves in dark to keep them from menacing eyes. Matt: Matt is electricity. A man with lightning behind his eyes, he can and will shock all who underestimate him. While normally quiet and arguably lazy, he can keep going for hours, run on his own eternal battery that never goes out. His power source is in his soul, making sleep almost unnecessary. To avoid power surges and other dangerous phenomenon, he tries to keep himself mellow, but if he does get mad, watch out. Lightning storms are common around an irate Matt Bragg, sparks leaping from one finger top to another. He can fry electronics with a hand, overload breakers, steal power from any object that runs from electricity. He can be zapped and never feel it and woe betide you if he touches you with that current in his body - hearts can’t take Matt Bragg. Lindsay: Lindsay is both as slippery and steadfast as metal. Like mercury or quicksilver, she can melt metal with a touch of her hand, molding and shaping it into whatever she wants, as well as being able to rip it down and create walls and protective barriers for her friends and family. While enjoying being a menace by bending guns, breaking locks, or otherwise causing minor damage, she’s normally the fastest one to fix broken devices and remove damage. She’s normally booked solid fixing dents and scratches in the boys’ cars. As with the others, though, horrors unfold for those who make her mad or threaten those she loves - she will incase you in a metallic tomb and watch as you die.

#FAHC #fake ah crew #a bit of a character study #love to see what you think

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everamazingfe · 3 years ago

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Magic in the Mundane

Fic Summary: Everyone had something special about them, their own personal bit of magic. Most found out about their abilities early, but Gavin had always been a bit of a late bloomer. Luckily, Michael comes by to help him put the pieces together.

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Words in this chapter: 5521 Pairings: Gavin Free/Michael Jones Warnings for this chapter: None

Notes: Written for Kait (@uy8hg) for the RT Writer’s Discord Secret Sunshine event! All of her prompts were amazing and I spent far too long trying to decide between them, but I'm so glad that I decided to go with this one because it was so much fun to write. Check the source for a link to read it over on A 0 3!

Prompt: Someone discovers a new power or something that they find really cool, and they want to show it off to everyone else, with varying levels of success.

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In a world full of wonder, it wasn’t always easy to appreciate the beauty in the mundane, but those who had magic running through their veins found it quite simple. The way that magic would manifest itself in those people wasn’t always the same, though. Sometimes, the magic was in their personality. Jack had a warmth about him that could make anyone’s day better in a matter of seconds. Trevor’s charisma was off the charts, he was such a smooth talker that it was hard for anyone to dislike him unless they really tried. Other times, it was in their looks. Alfredo had a smile that could light up any room, big and beaming and bright enough to outshine the sun. Geoff had amazingly artistic tattoos that seemed to come alive if one looked at them a little too long (he would always deny this, but there was a gleam in his eye that made everyone think twice about his words). Sometimes, it was something else entirely. Their magic came in the form of special abilities, of genuine magic. Lindsay could speak to animals, using their skills for good a majority of the time, but otherwise causing mischief. Michael could create just as well as he could destroy, rendering entire buildings obsolete and creating new ones in their wake.

There was a little bit of magic in everything, but oftentimes there were those that couldn’t see it in themselves. That was where Gavin stood. He was a smooth talker, sure, but not as smooth as Trevor. His smile wasn’t as bright as Alfredo’s. He didn’t have any magical abilities. Though he was welcomed into their group, he didn’t feel as though he belonged. He didn’t have any magic. They insisted that he was part of their crew, magic or not, and that he was welcome, but sometimes he didn’t want their comforts. He just wanted to be left alone. It was hard enough to be the lone member of the mundane in their little crew, he didn’t want their pity points on top of it. Still, it didn’t stop them from trying to help.

“Maybe you’re just a late bloomer?” Fiona suggested to him late one evening when the sun had already set, laid out on her back on the roof of a building Michael had created just for her. Her magic was her ability to be good at anything she set her mind to, with an unwavering confidence that Gavin admired (and sometimes envied), even when it was misplaced. “Or you could just be totally oblivious to it. That’s always an option.”

He let out a soft sigh, shrugging a shoulder as he turned his head to look at her. “Someone else would’ve noticed it in me by now though, I think. Everyone has something, even if they're not the ones who see it.” Those who had magic were usually pretty good at picking it out in others. It had been how those without genuine magic had discovered theirs. How Jack had discovered his warmth, how Ky had discovered her strength, and so on.

Fiona bit her lip, going quiet. He had a point there, but she didn’t want to admit it. She hated when he was right. “Maybe your magic is just being an idiot?” There was a grin on her lips, but the way that she spoke made it sound like a genuine suggestion. Gavin couldn’t help but burst out into laughter, his and Fiona’s giggles echoing out across the landscape.

“Kind of a shitty magic, don’t you think, Fifi?” He asked finally, when his sides ached from laughing and his lungs begged for air. “I know Michael would certainly agree with you, but… I really hope that’s not it.”

“I don’t know, Gavvy. Could be. But I hope that’s not it too. I think you’re made for something a bit better than that.” Instead of pity, or jokes, she gave him a vote of confidence, and there was a little gleam that formed in Gavin’s eyes at her words.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do!

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The day after speaking to Fiona, Gavin was still thinking about her words. Despite how good it had made him feel in the moment, they’d ended up putting him in a worse mood than usual, and it was hard for him to even begin thinking about the magic he might have held. Was he really meant for something better than the idiocy his friends assigned to him? He wasn’t sure.

He’d set out on a hike, outside of the city that they’d made for themselves and into the woods surrounding it. Some time out in nature always made him feel better, more at ease, more connected to the magic of the world around him. The small nuances on how the ecosystem worked together to thrive always intrigued him, and he was jealous of how cohesive it all could be.

“I’m just a bit too all over the place for it, I guess,” he muttered to himself, taking a seat on a fallen tree. The moss was soft beneath him, and he ran his fingers over it as he talked to himself. Working through his thoughts aloud always made them feel less jumbled.

A figure sat down beside him with a heavy sigh, and a hand was placed over his. “Don’t beat yourself too much, Gav,” Geoff said quietly, wrapping his arm around Gavin and pulling himself close. “We can’t all be something special, otherwise there wouldn’t be anything special at all.”

Gavin let out a long sigh, leaning into the gent when he was pulled in. He’d stopped asking how Geoff could find him so easily long ago. It was the same answer every time, ‘I just know where to look, you assholes aren’t exactly all that hard to find,’ said with that same glint in his eye. “Yeah, I know. But it’d be nice to be able to do something more than exist.”

Geoff hummed softly, rubbing his thumb gently over Gavin’s shoulder. It always made him feel guilty when any of his friends were upset, particularly Gavin, but he’d been so hung up on the same thing for so long. “Are you sure you don’t just want an excuse for the attention to be back on you for a change?”

The lad sat up quickly, pulling away from Geoff and cutting him a confused look. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying! Going around talking to everyone, being all mopey about not having magic? Pretty good way to get everyone to pay attention to you for a change, right?”

Gavin scoffed at the notion, pushing Geoff away from him. “That’s not what I’m doing at all!”

“Are you sure?” He asked, arching an eyebrow as Gavin stood up suddenly.

“Yes.” They’d had a few new members join their ranks, and attention was divided as they worked to expand their little city and network with others, but he hadn’t minded people paying less attention to him. If anything, he enjoyed it. It meant there was less pressure on him to perform. “Now, I’m going. And this time, you’re not allowed to search for me.”

He didn’t even know where he was going, he just wanted to go away. He wondered if that’s what everyone thought, or if Geoff was just trying to get a rise out of him. If they all thought that way, they’d certainly never said anything of the sort, but this was how people were going to treat him, Gavin didn’t want to be around them.

“What a dick,” he muttered to himself, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as he walked deeper into the forest. It was a beautiful green and gold tapestry, the hues blending together to make a simple but pleasing pattern. The threads had been hand-woven by Matt and enchanted to protect its wearer from whatever may come their way, and it did a remarkable job.

As he ventured deeper into the woods, the trees grew taller and thicker, blocking out the sun’s rays and sending a chill through the air. As the coldness began to creep in, the cloak kept him warm and made him feel safe. However, it couldn’t protect him from the turmoil inside his own mind.

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In the city center, Michael was having a different sort of crisis, and his angry shouting could be heard all across the land.

“You said what to him?!’

His relationship to Gavin was indiscernible at best, no one knew whether they were deeply in love or mortal enemies, but one thing was certain: he was fiercely protective of the fact that he was the only one allowed to bully Gavin, and anyone else could only do so with his permission. Whether they were soulmates or archnemesis, Gavin was his boi first and foremost.

“I just suggested that maybe being an idiot was his form of magic! It was funny, we were both laughing!” Fiona said, completely oblivious to the way that Michael was shooting daggers her way. Usually Michael played along with her playful teasing of Gavin, so when he didn’t continue to make jokes, she looked over. “Don’t you give me that look, you’re thinking it too.”

“I’m not, though.” Fiona scoffed, and Michael all but growled. “I’m not. You all underestimate him, and when he does find his magic, you’re going to be blown away. All of you will be.” There was a special sort of conviction to his words, one that was usually reserved for saying the most ridiculous things completely stone-faced.

Michael stormed off after that, ignoring Fiona’s demands for him to keep hanging out with her. Movement came from the bushes on the outskirts of their community, spotted just out of the corner of his eye, but his attention snapped towards it in an instant only to reveal that the movement was caused by Geoff. His eyebrows furrowed as the other tried to pretend like he wasn’t covered in burrs and twigs, like he wasn’t trying to sneak out of the brush and back into the city unnoticed.

“Do you know where Gavin is?” he asked instantly, lifting a hand swiftly to raise a dirt wall behind Geoff, who was trying to retreat back into the bushes as quickly as he’d come out of them.

“Why would I know where he is?” Geoff asked, his voice pitchy and lilted like he certainly did know where Gavin was, but also that he knew that revealing that information would get him in more trouble with Michael than not at the same time.

Michael’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, the ground beneath his feet rumbling and propelling him like a moving walkway until he was nose to nose with Geoff. “Because you know where everyone is, you always know.”

There wasn’t fear in Geoff’s eyes, but the man’s chest rose and fell rapidly with anxious breaths. The staredown was long and tense, though he eventually relented, letting out a long sigh as the wall behind him fell. He wasn’t going anywhere. “I spoke to him in the woods maybe an hour ago, he told me that I’m not allowed to look for him, but here.” He reached into his gear, pulling out a weathered piece of parchment that was rolled and tied with a thin strip of leather. A map, one that he’d made with the same magic that lived in his tattoos, that not only held the lay of the land but also markers for everyone who lived in it. Geoff offered it to Michael, who quickly swiped it from him and unrolled it. “He never said anything about you going after him.”

The lad hummed quietly as his eyes scanned the map for the forest green marker that indicated Gavin’s name, wordlessly stepping beyond the brush and into the woods towards it.

“I don’t even get a thank you?!” Geoff cried out behind him, annoyed by the lack of gratitude. The ground beneath his feet rose suddenly, knocking him off his feet and onto the earth. He cried out, flailing his arms in an attempt to stop himself from falling, but it was futile. Michael was already gone.

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The woods looked easy to traverse on the map, and they most likely would have been if Michael had stayed on the trails, but he opted to make a beeline towards Gavin. The terrain was rocky and there were steep cliffs off the beaten path, but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle. He could mend and mold the earth to make it easier to traverse, creating stairs along the cliff faces for an easy descent. The climate was what was really getting to him. The chill in the air was unbearable for him, only getting worse as the sun began to dip down, and he had a bear’s pelt to keep him warm. Gavin’s frame was thinner and frailer than his own, he most likely wasn’t faring any better.

He lit a torch as night fell, raising up dirt and stone walls around himself to block out the cold and keep himself safe from the nocturnal monsters around him. After jamming the torch into the wall, he unfurled his map and saw that Gavin’s marker had stopped moving and was instead spinning around in frantic circles. Evidently, he was trying to make camp for the night as well. With a swift movement of his hand, miles away on the other side of the woods, similar walls raised up around Gavin, and the marker finally stopped moving. Satisfied that his boi was safe, he settled down, wrapping his pelt around himself tightly for warmth as he laid down to sleep.

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Gavin was startled as the dirt walls rose up around him, terrified that something was trying to trap him within them, though he quickly became at ease when he realized what it meant. Geoff had listened and wasn’t going to be searching for him, but Michael was certainly looking out for him instead. The fear that came from being alone out there dissipated as he ran his fingers down the dirt, pulling out several clumps of roots and knocking bits of earth loose. Dirt walls were less than fancy, but they were a great comfort regardless.

He slept easily through the night with a newfound sense of safety, his cloak pulled tightly around himself for warmth. It worked wonders against the cold. As the sun began to rise, it didn’t emerge from the clouds, the sky grey and dreary as rain began to fall. Gavin could hear the rain hitting the tops of the trees, but even as he began to move none of the drops ever hit him. Above him, the branches of the trees bent and molded, shielding him from the downpours as he walked. No doubt this is Michael’s doing, he thought to himself, a small smile forming on his lips. No matter how much they seemed to argue, the other lad still managed to be protective of him. It was something he was always grateful for, even when the others seemed to give him shit for it.

His pace that day was slower, more leisurely now that he had calmed down some, but he still had no intentions of going back to the city. If Michael was the only one who cared enough to come for him, they could start their own city far, far away. Together. He quickly shook the thought from his mind, pushing his hood down and taking a look around. Though the trees were tall above him for now, he knew that if he just kept going they’d give way to a beautiful, grassy plain. He couldn’t wait to walk on grass again, the dirt and stones beneath him were starting to make his feet ache.

Several yards from where he’d first had that thought, he had to stop, kneeling down to untie his boots so he could re-lace them tightly. Moving slowly, he bent down, not wanting to end up with another cut on his knee from landing too hard on a rock like he’d already done far too many times this trek. But the terrain beneath his knee was soft, and as he looked down at his boot, he saw that there was soft, lush grass beneath him. Not dirt.

“What on earth?” He asked himself, brushing his fingers through it. There was some grass on the forest floor around him, but it was rough and patchy, nothing like this. “Michael’s really outdone himself this time.” With that thought, he smiled to himself before continuing to lace up his boots with deft fingers. Before he stood, he spotted a small wildflower that had bloomed among the blades , and he gently picked it and placed it behind his ear. “What a dope.”

What Gavin didn’t know was that Michael didn’t have the ability to create foliage or flowers underfoot. No one in their community did. And with each step that Gavin took, more of it sprouted up from the dirt beneath him.

----------------------------------------------------

Night fell again soon enough, and Gavin wasn’t sure where he was. He could’ve sworn that the forest gave way into plains at this point, but instead he found himself in the middle of the desert. Stupidly, he’d continued on, just in case the plains were just beyond it, though now he was too tired to turn back.

“Maybe Fiona was right,” he muttered as he sat down in the sand, digging his toes into it and wiggling them for some amusement as he propped his cloak up over himself like an umbrella. It was nighttime now, but it would be morning again soon enough. He didn’t want to end up burnt to a crisp before he even woke up. No walls came up around Gavin this time either, so it was up to him to protect himself.

Gavin leaned forward against his knees, peering up at the night sky for a few long moments. Jeremy had spent many long nights back in the city teaching him the constellations and the stars within them, though he could never tell which ones were real and which ones the lad had made up for his own amusement. Orion was certainly real, but Beauregard’s Chariot was almost certainly not. Almost. He picked that one out, finding comfort in its familiarity, before he decided it was time to get some rest. Toes still in the sand, he laid back, arms crossed beneath his head as he closed his eyes. He had been so focused on the sky that he was unaware of what was happening in the sand beneath him.

----------------------------------------------------

With Gavin’s slowed pace, Michael was able to start gaining on him. He raced through the trees with even greater speed now that he was beyond the craggy cliffs and difficult landscape, the earth moving beneath him to propel him along. By nighttime, he’d closed in on Gavin’s position, and he was stunned by what he saw.

Smack dab in the middle of the desert, where not even cacti could manage to survive due to the horrible heat and scorching sunbeams, Gavin found himself within an oasis. That same lush grass and wildflowers were no longer just underfoot, but in a wide circle around the lad, almost tall enough to completely hide him from Michael’s view. Small trees were even beginning to grow, supporting Gavin’s cloak above him in place of the flimsy sticks he’d set up before.

“Gavin?” Michael called softly, stepping forward with caution in case it was a facade, a trap of some sort. The desert was known for causing hallucinations, for preying on the hope of the desperate. That was the kind of magic it held, and it was very skillful at using it. But as he knelt down at the edge of the circle and reached forward to feel the greenery, sure enough, it was real. “What the hell? Gavin! Wake the fuck up!”

The lad sat bolt upright with a start, catching himself in his cloak and fighting it off with all the fierceness of a kitten. Sleep was still gripping him, catching him somewhere between being wide awake and deep asleep, but he was quickly coming to. “Who’s there?!” He shouted, finally tossing his cape away from himself and looking around in confusion. “Michael?” That wasn’t the last thing he expected to see out there, but it wasn’t the first either. “What are you doing here, Michael?”

It had taken everything in Michael not to laugh at the display in front of him, but he quickly wiped the smirk off his face to look offended when Gavin addressed him so incredulously. “Jeez, don’t sound so happy to see me,” he drawled, rolling his eyes before shuffling forward on his knees. “Mind telling me what all this is?” He arched an eyebrow, gesturing to the small haven among the sand.

However, Gavin had no more answers than Michael did. “I’m not… I’m not sure what it is,” he responded earnestly, glancing between it and the other lad before reaching for his cloak. “I thought you were doing it. You’re not?” Michael shook his head fervently, and Gavin only frowned as he pulled the garment on. “Then who is?”

Michael shrugged a shoulder, humming a soft ‘I don’t know’ before standing, stalking around the mysterious growth. This wasn’t anything that anyone he knew could do, and when he tried to make it happen himself, all he could do was raise the earth itself. He couldn’t make anything grow from it. Which left only one option…

“Come here,” he said suddenly, and Gavin looked at him like he’d asked him to do something insane. “Stand up! Get the hell over here!” When there was still no movement from him, Michael reached forward, hauling Gavin to his feet and yanking him out of the circle. Sure enough, grass sprouted up beneath the lad’s feet, extending the circle and connecting it to wherever he stepped. “Holy shit… Gavin! Look!”

Gavin had thought that Michael was angry at him, scolding him, but the tone of his voice was nothing but excited. Thrilled, even. He followed Michael’s gaze down to his feet, but he wasn’t quick enough to put the pieces together like the other had. “This happened to me back in the forest too! I don’t know what’s going on!”

“You’ve found your magic, that’s what’s going on!” Michael was practically screaming, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking at Gavin with a big beaming grin. “You can make stuff grow! That’s incredible!”

That made things click for Gavin, finally, and his grin ended up matching Michael’s. “I can make stuff grow!” Geoff was going to be blown away, everyone was. He wondered if Michael would be okay with them going back to the city immediately, they’d be able to get there by morning thanks to his abilities. “Fiona was right!”

The other bristled immediately, his grin turning to a frown in a fraction of a second. “Fiona was… Right?” She’d told Gavin that his magic was being stupid, that his special ability was being an idiot. This certainly wasn’t that, not by a long shot. “Gavin, this isn’t stupid. This is awesome! Fiona wasn’t right.”

“What? What are you on about? No, she… She said I was made for something better than what everyone else thought. And she was right! Oh, and she’s had such shit luck getting flowers to grow at her place too, no wonder!” Gavin threw his arms around Michael’s neck, wrapping him in a tight hug that was fueled by nothing but pure glee, and he could only hug him back just as tight. “We have to get back there, immediately. Everyone is going to be so jealous, Michael-boi.”

----------------------------------------------------

Some proper rest would’ve been a great benefit to them both, but Gavin had insisted that they return to the city as quickly as possible. The moving ground beneath their feet made it a relatively quick task, and Michael had managed to find a well-worn trail that made it even easier. They were back in the city by sunrise, and while the excitement had died down in Michael to give way to sleepiness, Gavin was no less giddy. Probably because he’d climbed on Michael’s back at one point and managed a small nap. Lucky bastard, Michael had thought to himself when he’d heard the soft snoring in his ear, but he hadn’t woken him up.

“Michael. Stop here, Michael,” Gavin urged, nearly losing his balance as the dirt beneath him ground to a halt suddenly. They were just outside the city, inside the same bushes that Geoff had attempted to sneak out of a few days prior, hidden from view as residents began to leave their houses to begin their tasks for the day. “I’m gonna get on your back-“

“You’re not taking another fucking nap,” Michael interjected, and the other huffed and waved him off.

“No! I’m gonna get on your back so I can do a grand reveal, you dolt. The flowers appear when I step, and if I step too soon the surprise will be ruined!”

“Hey, assholes!” Jeremy’s voice boomed across the city center, no doubt hearing the commotion, and Gavin quickly began to scramble onto Michael’s back.

“Ow! Watch it, you’re gonna knock off my glasses! Stop!” Michael huffed, swatting at Gavin’s hands as they reached for purchase anywhere they could. He stepped out of the bushes once he was settled, looking annoyed while the lad on his back was nothing but gleeful. “Hey, Lil J! I rescued our favorite dumbass. You’re welcome.”

Jeremy couldn’t help but laugh as Gavin let out a little ‘hello!’ and waved, though he was curious about why the other was on Michael’s back. It wasn’t unlike Gavin to demand piggy-back rides. Though normally once Jeremy was in view, he made it his mission to climb onto his shoulders instead. “Gav, are you hurt? What’s going on?” He stepped up with caution, ready to call for help if needed. Injuries weren’t uncommon, but if Gavin needed to be carried, it must’ve been serious.

“No, the asshole’s not hurt. Not yet, at least. He’s just got a surprise for you,” Michael assured, rolling his eyes. “For everyone, actually. Do me a favor and ring the bell? They’re gonna want to be here for this.”

An eyebrow shot up, but Jeremy was quick to comply with the request. He crossed the city center, grabbing the rope and pulling it once, twice, three times to signal that it was a meeting of utmost importance, but not one that brought bad news. When the bell rang three times, it meant that there were good things to come.

Soon, all of the residents of the city were there, eagerly awaiting to learn the reason for this meeting. Very rarely did the bell ring thrice, and there were hushed whispers and guesses of what was to come. They all fell silent when Michael, with Gavin still on his back, stepped forward.

“I’ve found my magic,” Gavin announced, savoring the look on everyone’s faces as they processed that announcement. Particularly Geoff’s, whose face was twisted into one of apologetic guilt. A sense of satisfaction bubbled up inside of him at that. And of course Fiona was delighted, jumping up and down and pumping her fists, shouting ‘I knew it!’ before she even knew what Gavin’s magic was. It didn’t matter to her. Alfredo and Trevor were also excited, but only because their beloved Dusk Boy had finally joined their ranks, though Jack and Matt simply looked skeptical. He couldn’t blame them, really. Why now? Why did it take so long for him to find it? Those were the questions behind their eyes, and Gavin wished that he had answers for them.

When he felt like he’d let the suspense hang in there air for long enough, he stepped down. For a moment, nothing happened. Matt was about to open his mouth to complain about being dragged out of bed for a grand display of nothing. And then, all at once, a beautiful display of lush grass and flowers appeared at his feet. The more he focused on it, the bigger it grew and the more beautiful it became. No longer was it simply wildflowers, either. In the hours of their journey, he realized he could control the types of flowers that grew. He opted for sunflowers this time. Everyone knew that they were his favorite. It was proof that the magic was his, and not anyone else’s pretending to be his.

The reactions were mixed, and Gavin deflated a little as several people seemed unimpressed and walked off to return to their duties. It wasn’t the most spectacular power in the world, he knew that, but it was his and he liked it. That was what mattered to him. There wasn’t much time for him to mope though, as Fiona quickly rushed him, wrapping him in a hug and lifting him off his feet.

“Gavin!” she shouted, stepping back to inspect the flowers closer. She plucked a few blades of grass, feeling them between her fingers. After a few seconds, she gasped, her eyes lighting up. “You can help me grow flowers at my place!”

Gavin laughed, nodding quickly and beaming at her. He could always trust her to cheer him up. “I can, yeah. No wonder you’ve not been able to grow anything.”

“Yeah, cause you stole my green thumb! That’s hardly my fault.”

“Oh, I dunno about that. You should’ve been keeping a closer eye on it.”

They bickered back and forth, Michael watching with a tired but fond smile, until Fiona decided that she’d had enough and thumped Gavin on the side of the head before racing off. The lad was too exhausted to follow, so he just stepped over to Michael, the foliage underfoot following him as he went. Everyone else came up to congratulate him in time, Geoff doing that and apologizing for the harshness of his words in one awkward convoluted mess that Michael wasn’t even sure was an apology, but Gavin understood what the gent was trying to say. He’d learned to decode Geoff Speak over the years.

Still, the person whose opinion Gavin valued the most was Michael’s, and once the excitement had died down and they’d retreated to their homes to rest, Michael stopped by to give it.

“I’m real proud of you, Gav,” he said, making himself comfortable on the bed next to the lad without a second thought.

“Proud of me?” he asked, snatching his blankets back from the lad as he tried to steal them. Michael always did this to him.

“Yeah. Proud of you. For putting up with the bullshit and finding your magic. Even if it was a total accident.” Michael snorted out a soft laugh and smiled, crossing his arms beneath his head and looking over at the other. “You just lucked into it, just like you lucked into everything else.”

“Including you?” Gavin arched an eyebrow as he met the other’s gaze, desperately wanting to wipe that smug look off his face.”

“Especially me, are you kidding?” That comment earned him a gentle smack to the chest, a kiss to the cheek, and a mutter of ‘I’m going to make a tree grow through your damn house.’

To everyone else, their relationship was indiscernible at best. But Michael and Gavin knew exactly what they were to each other, they didn’t need anyone else in their business about it. They were partners. Not just in life and love, but in their magic as well. As he learned how to hone and control his abilities, Gavin would decorate the city and beautify the buildings that Michael had created. And once he had mastered his skills, Michael began to create buildings specifically for Gavin to embellish. Dirt roofs became his signature style, the gravity-defying feature held together by the roots of the flowers that Gavin planted into them. The city had never looked better, and even those who were initially unimpressed by Gavin’s abilities had to admit that it was perfectly suited to him. He took great pride in rubbing it in their faces.

Gavin was happy to not be a member of the mundane anymore. His spirits were higher, and he felt more useful to the city. His abilities, with more practice, extended beyond flowers and grass and into fruit and vegetable plants. The magic that Gavin held could sustain them all.

But Gavin had always held magic within him, in Michael’s eyes. He had never been mundane. That gleam in his eye when he got another crazy idea to cause chaos was nothing if not supernatural, and his ability to find the fun in even the most boring of situations had proven to be valuable time and time again. It just hadn’t been the form of magic that Gavin had always desired, so he never took note of it despite it always being there. Michael was just glad he could finally see it in himself too.

#ragehappy #rpf #mavin #oneshot #magic au #secret sunshine #secret sunshine event #fic #my fic #my writing #everamazingfe

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wistfulcynic · 4 years ago

Text

The Eternal and Unseen (4 of 4)

‘Tis the end! Finally! I am sorry this took so long, but I could not get my mind to focus on this chapter, for weeks and weeks and weeks. Thank you all for both your patience and your willingness to stick with me all the way to the end of this decidedly weird story.

to @optomisticgirl and @spartanguard for the prompts that got it all started and @carpedzem for the art that still makes me sigh each time I look at it. And @thisonesatellite, @ohmightydevviepuu, and @katie-dub, without whom I would surely never get anything written ❤️❤️❤️

SUMMARY: Misthaven University is an ancient place, and as all ancient places do it guards some secrets. Secrets such as Emma Swan and Killian Jones, a fae princess and her royal guardian, whose true identities are well concealed behind the guise of average college students—if not quite well enough to foil the plot their enemies have hatched against them. Now their friends will have to come together, putting their own differences aside to battle an enemy that threatens them all—fae and vampire and werewolf together… plus one very baffled human named David.

For @cssns

AO3 | tumblr part one | tumblr part two | tumblr part three

PART FOUR:

The forest was dark, a deep, impenetrable blackness unlike anything Regina had ever known, a bold and mocking defiance of the golden glow of the moon hanging low above the treetops. The moonlight gilded the forest shadows as it would solid objects, caressing their curves and edges, its bright contrast only deepening the darkness within. Every instinct Regina possessed howled at her to flee and yet she walked steadily and at a measured pace, giving no outward sign of her unease as she made her way through the trees—even as their branches hissed and snapped at her as she passed and vines slithered up from the ground to wrap around her ankles and and tug at her clothing with their thorns.

Regina ignored all of this, her head held high and chin tilted in a show of haughty insouciance she desperately wished to feel. This was her moment of triumph and she really ought to be enjoying it more. She should revel in it, but instead she felt nothing but a churning apprehension deep in her gut.

At length she arrived at her destination—the clearing that still held their tools and copies of the fae histories, along with the cage of branches, roots, and vines that contained her mother and sister. Regina took a moment to look carefully around the clearing then lifted her hand and murmured an incantation. The cage rent itself as though sliced by a sword, sending Cora and Zelena tumbling to the ground, stunned and momentarily immobilised, their limbs limp and useless from being bound for hours.

They lay groaning faintly on the damp and upturned soil until Zelena dragged herself to her hands and knees and lashed out with a burst of magic. “Traitor,” she hissed, flinging a bolt of sizzling green at her sister.

Regina deflected it with a casual flick of her wrist. Zelena’s eyes bugged as she watched her magic fizzle to nothing in the deep darkness and then her fury exploded. With a howl she scrambled to her feet, teeth bared, and gathered her magic again.

“How dare you,” she hissed, raising her hands, green light crackling between her fingertips.

“Zelena.” Cora’s voice was calm, measured, and glacially cold. “This is not the time.”

“Mother,” Zelena whined, “she betrayed us!”

“Did she?” replied Cora, fixing Regina with a piercing stare. “I think not.”

Regina smiled and waved her hand again, and from out of the stygian shadows a figure stumbled, both bound and propelled by cords of Regina’s magic.

“Ah,” said Cora with satisfaction. “The fae princess, in our hands again.”

“Not only that.” Regina withdrew a small object from her pocket and held it up for all to see. “She has the dark magic.”

“No!” cried Emma, her eyes flashing fury as she struggled against her magical bindings. Zelena looked at her sharply as Cora’s mouth fell open in awe.

“Is this it?” she breathed, taking the object from Regina and stroking it with trembling fingers. “Is this truly it?”

“It is,” Regina confirmed. “They call it the tywyll stone.”

Cora held out the stone to Zelena. “Daughter?”

Zelena took it and gave it a skeptical look. “Are you sure this is it, Regina? The most powerful dark object in the world? It looks like a cheap hippie trinket.”

“Why, Sis,” replied Regina silkily. “Can’t you sense its power?”

Zelena’s expression turned sullen. “It does appear to contain a great deal of power, Mother,” she said. “More magic than I’ve ever felt in one object before. Far more.”

Regina grinned smugly.

“It just doesn’t look like much,” Zelena snapped.

“A perfect disguise, then,” purred Cora. “Excellent.” Her smile was ice and razors. “It seems you’ve done well, Regina, despite your constant whining.”

Regina preened beneath her mother’s approving gaze as Emma struggled harder against her restraints. “It was easy,” she gloated. “They were so eager to believe me.”

“For all my life my mother has been obsessed with my magic.”

Regina sat hunched in an armchair near the fire in the common room, a steaming cup of tea clutched in her hand. Behind her was a mirror, a tall one set with rippled glass and framed by slender, twisting vines twined together to form a series of knots. It was Harriet who had brought it into the common room, carried in vines of her own. David tried not to stare as she adjusted the mirror so all in the room could see it then curled herself around Emma’s chair as they sat and listened to the dark-haired woman’s story. He wondered how Harriet had managed, being cooped up in Emma’s dorm room for so long, and felt a wave of guilt for being the cause of her confinement. One of her fronds hovered near his knee and he offered it a tentative stroke. It curled welcomingly around his fingers. David smiled, making a mental note to find a way to make it up to her.

With the smile still on his face he returned his attention to Regina. As she spoke the glass in the mirror had turned cloudy, and when she now paused to gather her words the clouds resolved into the image of a woman, cold and terribly beautiful, and with a smile that sent a shiver down his spine. Was this Regina’s mother?

“She discovered my powers early,” Regina continued after a bracing gulp of tea. “As soon as they manifested. It’s like she was—waiting for them to appear.”

“How early is early?” Emma asked.

“I was… four? I think?”

Emma nodded. “That seems about right.”

“It was later in my sister,” said Regina. “I don’t think hers showed until after mine did, though she’s almost three years older.” Her lip curled. “One of the many things she holds against me.”

Snow bristled. “It’s hardly your fault!”

“Zelena doesn’t see it that way,” sighed Regina. “She’s always seen us as being in competition with each other. In everything, not just magic.”

“Is Zelena Mountain Tribe by any chance?” asked Emma.

“I don’t actually know,” Regina replied. “I don’t think even Mother does. She doesn’t like to talk about Zelena’s father.”

The image in the mirror grew cloudy again and then shifted, resolving into the same woman as before though far younger, deep in conversation with a tall and slender red-haired man. They all watched as she took his hand and pressed it low against her belly, and they all saw comprehension dawn in his eyes. For an awful moment the mirror focused on his face, frozen in utter horror, and then the image faded.

“Mountain tribe,” confirmed Emma grimly. “Unyielding and slow to forgive. Vengeful.”

“That sounds like Zelena.” Regina turned her attention from the mirror with a grimace. “Her father left before she was born and she’s never forgiven me for it.”

“But—that’s not your fault either!” Snow sputtered in indignation and appeared to have far more to say on the subject, but Emma silenced her with a look.

“Her father left,” she said softly, “but yours stayed.”

“Yes.” Regina’s voice was nearly a whisper. “Though I’ve never understood why. My mother never loved him and I know he didn’t love her. I have no idea what kept him with her for so long, but she must have had some sort of hold over him. He gave in to nearly every demand she made, without even a protest.”

“Nearly every demand?” echoed Emma.

Regina nodded. “All except one. He wouldn’t let her become part of his tribe. Not when she begged, not even when she threatened. That was the one thing she most wanted, her ultimate goal, but no matter what she did to try to force his hand he always refused. He cut off all contact with his kin rather than allow her any foothold among them, and he never budged on that, no matter how many tricks Mother tried to get him to change his mind. It was a constant battle between them and I was always so afraid…” Regina swallowed hard. “Every morning I expected to wake up and find him gone, but he was always there, ready to take another day of her abuse. I wish I knew why he stayed.”

The clouds in the mirror swirled into the image of a man, short and round and with the same tree branch marking his daughter bore, just visible beneath the cuff of his shirt. He stood in the doorway of a darkened room, leaning against the jamb and gazing into it with an adoring expression. The image shifted to reveal the object of his gaze—a young girl asleep in a bed, her dark hair messy on the pillow.

“He stayed for you,” said Emma. “He adored you. He couldn’t bring you to the tribe because that would give your mother the right to follow and claim a place among them as your kin. He couldn’t let that happen but also he couldn’t bear to leave you. He stayed with her for you.”

“Oh!” Regina gasped as she stared into the mirror, blinking hard against the tears in her eyes. She stared until the image faded, then she gave a sniff, wiped her cheeks with the cuff of her jacket and continued. “My father was the only source of comfort in my life,” she said hoarsely. “But then one morning my worst nightmare came true. I woke up and he was dead… Mother said he had been sick for a long time and had hidden it from me, but I knew, I knew she had killed him. That was the day she told us her plans for taking control of the Black Fairy’s magic.”

At these words a heavy silence fell on the room. Each face was grim, David saw, and each was shaken. Even Killian. Even Emma.

“Us?” asked Snow, in a small voice. “Who else?”

“Just me and Zelena. I lost my father, met my half-sister, and learned of my mother’s plan to take over the world, all in the same day.” She gave a slightly hysterical laugh.

“Met your half sister?” Snow demanded. “Didn’t you know her already?”

Regina shook her head. “Apparently when she met my father, Mother left Zelena with some distant relatives and pretended that she had no children. She never told me I had a sister, though it seems she visited Zelena regularly and told her all about me. So on the day my father died, before I’d even had a chance to mourn, Zelena appeared, hating me before we’d even met, knowing all about Mother’s plan and fully on board with it. Both of them just expecting me to fall into line and go along with it. And since that day I haven’t known which way to turn.”

Regina looked up at Emma, desperation in every line of her body. “What they want to do is madness,” she whispered. “I’ve tried so hard to tell them but they won’t listen to anything I say. They think they’re the only ones to read the fae histories and work out the clues about the Black Fairy’s magic. Like no one else in four thousand years has ever picked up on them.” She gave a haughty sniff. “But my father showed me the truth.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “He showed you your visions?”

Regina gulped hard then nodded. “I’ve never told anyone that before. He swore me to secrecy. He said the consequences of Mother finding out would be unthinkable.”

“What did you see?” asked Snow.

“The history of our tribe in the war against the Black Fairy. The writing of the Covenants. Enough to understand Mother would never succeed in her goal of finding the Black Fairy’s magic and using it for herself, though nothing about where that magic was actually kept.”

“Almost no one sees that,” Snow told her reassuringly. “None of us had any idea it was with Emma until Killian showed us the tywyll stone.”

Regina gasped and gaped at Emma, wide-eyed. “So it really is you,” she breathed.

“Yes,” said Emma slowly. “Didn’t you know?”

“No.” Regina’s mouth thinned. “Mother has no idea what she’s looking for or who has it. But everyone knows that Andersen Hall is where the fae students live”—David gave a start and felt his cheeks go pink—“and so she took a chance that one of you would either have it or know where to find it.” Her mouth curled in a small smile. “I have to admit it was gratifying to see you defeat her so easily, though I doubt she’ll learn any lessons from that.”

Emma’s face wore a thoughtful expression. “But why now?” she asked. “And why this move? Given that your mother is so badly prepared and so ignorant, why is she taking such a risk on drastic action now, when she could bide her time and learn more before acting?”

Regina gave her a sharp look. “Oh I think you know the reason. Princess.”

Emma smiled. “The moon.”

Regina nodded. “The moon.”

“I told them you had no magic and they laughed at you,” Regina informed her mother. “They thought it was hilarious, the foolish human attempting what no fae has been able to do in thousands of years.”

Cora’s jaw tightened and her eyes flashed fury. “They will rue the day they underestimated me,” she hissed.

“Of course they will,” Regina agreed. “If anyone was ever going to rue anything, that would be it.” Zelena gave her a sharp look, but she met her sister’s suspicious eyes with cool composure.

“Did she tell you anything more about what is required? Any fae secrets or hidden dangers?” Cora demanded.

“No.” Regina shook her head decisively. “Everything we need to know is in the histories. The ritual as we planned it will release the magic from the stone. She’s basically confirmed it.”

Cora’s lip curled triumphantly. “And what have you to say to that, Princess?” she spat. “About a lowly human so easily discovering your secrets?”

“Curse you,” snarled Emma, struggling frantically against her bonds. “Curse all of you. But especially you, Regina. I trusted you. I was going to help you! Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!”

Regina’s eyes made an exasperated sort of half-roll and she huffed a sigh before fixing the smug expression back on her face. Zelena’s eyes narrowed. Cora cackled.

“It’s a hard lesson you’ve learned,” she gloated. “The first of many hard lessons the fae will learn when I have control of the dark magic! Oh yes, then you’ll see! Then you will know what it’s like to be powerless! Then you will give me what I deserve!”

Emma’s expression shifted from fury to fear. “Stop this!” she pleaded. “I’m begging you! Don’t release that magic! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Your Highness,” spat Cora. “You heard Regina. We’ve studied the histories. We know your secrets. And now we will break open this stone and the dark magic will be released!”

She turned to her elder daughter. “Zelena, you know what to do.”

“Mother, are you sure?” Zelena asked. “I think they might be—”

“Do it!” Cora snapped.

“Please!” cried Emma again, raising her voice to be heard over the rustlings and whisperings emanating from the forest around them, growing steadily louder as Zelena reluctantly began the ritual to remove the magic from the stone.

“Do you hear that?” Cora crowed. “That is the sound of this forest greeting its new master!”

Zelena cupped the stone in her palms and held it up above her head to catch a slender shaft of moonlight that had fought its way through the dense dark of the forest. She began murmuring low under her breath as the glow of the moonlight met the shimmer of the stone to shine more brightly than either could alone. She continued to murmur as Emma struggled and Cora quivered with eager triumph. A buzzing noise filled the clearing, low at first but slowly rising, filling their ears with the sound of a hundred bees and then a thousand, their bodies vibrating in concert with the sound until the air was rent with an earsplitting crack—and then silence.

Zelena cried out and dropped the stone, stumbling backwards and landing hard against a tree trunk, her eyes wild and fixed on the spot where it had fallen. Where now an oily rope of magic began to rise up, coiling through the air, as black as the forest shadows but distinct from them in a most unnatural way, a way that would turn the most stalwart stomach.

“At last!” Cora shrieked. “At last! After all these years it is free! It is mine!”

“Free it may be but yours it is definitely not,” said a voice in her ear, and Cora turned to see Emma, unbound by magic and smiling a smile that froze her blood.

“Wh—what?” she gasped.

Emma gave her head a small, pitying shake. “I warned you not to release that magic.”

“As I was saying before,” said Emma, “it’s the timing. She has to act now because she might not get another chance. Because of that.” She pointed at the window to the left of the fireplace. A tall window in the arched Gothic style as all Andersen windows were, within which the heavy golden moon was perfectly framed.

“The full moon!” exclaimed Ruby.

“Exactly.” Emma nodded. “But it’s not just any moon. Belle!” she called out, and the ghost resolved in front of the fireplace. “Why don’t you explain this part.”

Belle’s faint image solidified, though the flames of the fire behind her were still perceptible through her form. “Right,” she said, looking a bit nervous at the number and intensity of the eyes staring at her. “So as you all know, tonight is Calan Gaeaf.” Every head but David’s nodded.

“Um—” David cleared his throat. “Sorry, but—I don’t?”

“Oh, right, sorry.” Belle gave him an apologetic smile. “Calan Gaeaf is the traditional first day of winter in fae culture. It’s the one day of the year when the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest, when spirits roam abroad, and of course when magic is at its most potent and most accessible.”

“So, Halloween,” said David.

Ruby gasped and Graham growled. Victor stood straight and reached for his scalpel, and August’s eyes flashed red. Emma hissed and Killian’s jaw went hard as iron. Belle looked horrified, Snow sorrowful. Even Regina fixed him with an icy glare.

“You were raised among humans, mate,” said Killian tightly, “and taught their ways, and so we’ll let that slide. This one time.” He swept the room with a glare and the others slowly relaxed. “But that is one word that must never be spoken in the presence of fae. It’s incredibly insulting.”

“I—” David began, but he had no idea what to say.

Emma gave him a small smile, though temper still flashed in her eyes. “It’s an appropriation of our culture,” she explained. “Misrepresentation of it. Vampires, werewolves, witches, fairies—these are human inventions intended to erase the fae from their culture. They ignore what we are, our nature and our history, and turn us into cutesy children’s stories or simplistic monsters ultimately defeated by human ‘heroes’.”

“Though they’re more than happy to use our magic when it suits them,” Victor added, for once without a hint of mockery in his voice. “Human medicine and science, even their technology either makes use of fae magic or is based on it. But we’re never given any credit for our contributions.”

“And more and more we’re marginalised in the human world,” added Snow. “We either have to hide what we are so we can live peacefully among you, or live far away from human settlements. Something that’s become next to impossible the more your cities grow.”

“It’s why we choose to live here,” said Graham. “Here at Andersen we can at least be ourselves, and have each other for company. We have to out ourselves of course—”

“Though some of us never bothered to do much hiding,” retorted Ruby with a glare at August, who simply shrugged and muttered something about riding the wave of the zeitgeist.

“We have to out ourselves,” continued Graham loudly, “and some of the other students are scared of us—”

“Or just flat out don’t believe in us,” said Snow.

“Or basically pretend we don’t exist,” said Ruby.

“—but it’s worth it, to have this place for ourselves,” concluded Graham.

“Although we do occasionally have to, um, encourage certain RAs to switch to other dorms,” said Emma.

“Walsh?” whispered David, and a mutter went up around the room.

“That asshole,” sneered August. “He was the worst of them all.”

“You’re one of us,” said Emma, “even if you didn’t know you were until this morning. We were so exited when Killian recognised you.”

“Though we didn’t think it would take quite so long for you to pick up on all the hints we’ve been dropping,” said Ruby.

“Yeah, we haven’t exactly been subtle, David,” Snow teased.

“Look you guys, when my grandmother put a spell on someone, she put a spell on them,” said Emma. “It’s not his fault.”

“It might be a little bit his fault,” said Killian with a smirk.

Snow reached out and patted David’s hand. “It’s not his fault he didn’t know about the H-word, though,” she said.

“That’s true,” Killian conceded, and they all nodded.

“I’m sorry I said it, though.” David’s chest was tight as he looked around the room and made eye contact with each of them, one by one. “I won’t again.”

The lingering tension in the room drained away and they all visibly relaxed. Emma gave Belle a nod and indicated for her to continue.

“So Calan Gaeaf is always a particularly powerful magical time,” Belle said. “And this year even more so. This year Calan Gaeaf coincides with a blue moon—that’s when there’s a second full moon within one calendar month,” she explained before David could ask. “A full moon on that day is rare enough, but a blue moon is far rarer. And a blue moon that is also the Hunter’s moon, falling on the one day of the year when dark powers are easiest to access? Well, that’s—”

“The perfect time for an attempt to release the Black Fairy’s magic,” said Emma. “Really the only time that a human woman and her amateur daughters would have any hope of managing it. Er, no offence,” she said to Regina, who had bristled at the word ‘amateur.’

“None taken,” said Regina stiffly. “It is true we haven’t had the benefit of the education you’ve had.”

Emma flushed. “No, I guess you haven’t,” she acknowledged. “Sorry.”

“But—do they have any hope of managing it?” asked Snow. “I mean, really?”

“They shouldn’t,” Emma replied. “They don’t have the knowledge or the authority. They don’t even know that they need authority. But a blue Hunter’s Moon on Calan Gaeaf makes the situation very different. The mother may have no magic but Regina and, er—”

“Zelena.”

“—Regina and Zelena are powerful, despite their lack of training. It’s actually just their kind of raw, untapped power that Calan Gaeaf makes stronger. If they try to force the magic from the stone, just brute power applied like a sledgehammer… well, it might work. It has a good chance of working, in fact.”

The room fell silent again, silence that David felt weigh on his shoulders and press the air from his chest. “So what are we going to do?” he burst out.

Emma smiled, a smile that spread slowly across her face and sharpened the green of her eyes. A smile that if you saw it approaching you on along a darkened path would send you hurrying back the way you came, trying desperately not to look like you were hurrying. A smile that took no prisoners.

“We’re going to let it work,” she said.

“I warned you,” said Emma now, eyes glowing that same sharp green beneath the golden moonlight.

“But what—h-how?” stuttered Cora. “Regina? You—you let her go?”

“I never had her,” said Regina coolly. Cora turned to stare at her daughter and found Regina ready with magical bonds, real ones this time, which she wrapped securely around Cora to hold her in place.

“How—how dare you!” Cora hissed, struggling vainly against the restraints.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” said Regina. “I truly am. Sorry that you spent your life being envious of others and pursuing something you could never have. But this plan of yours? It was never going to work, and at least now you won’t destroy yourself and us too.”

“But it did, it did work!” Cora cried. “I found the dark magic! I released it!”

“You did,” Regina conceded. “But you could never have controlled it. Look at it!”

The rope of dark magic was still rising from the broken stone, splitting apart and branching out, filling the clearing, hissing and spitting as it swirled around them, dodging Zelena’s increasingly furious and haphazard attempts to corral it.

“You unleashed powerful dark magic with no consideration for the consequences, and were it not for your daughter’s good sense you would have been its first victim,” said Emma coldly. “Instead, we’re going to save you from it. Oh no”—she held up her hand as Cora moved to speak—“no need to thank us.”

Cora gave a furious huff—though there was dawning horror on her face as she watched the magic swirl around them—and Emma turned to Regina with a nod. “It’s time,” she said.

Regina squared her shoulders. “I’m ready.”

Emma began muttering under her breath as she raised her hands high and then flung them downwards, as though to embed a a dagger in the ground. Puffs of silver smoke burst up from the earth, a circle of them around the clearing. The puffs appeared to startle the darkness; its oily tendrils recoiled when they appeared and when the last wisps of smoke whirled away into the night Killian was there, lip curled in a snarl and sword drawn… Snow with her bow at the ready… David behind her, sword in hand and trying to look like he knew what to do with it… Ruby in wolf form snapping her jaws… Graham in the shape of a panther, sleek and deadly and near-invisible in the shadows… August flickering in and out of vision, fangs extended and eyes glowing… Victor with several steaming beakers at his feet and a mad gleam in his eyes.

Cora’s own eyes were wild with fear but she made one last attempt at bravado. “What, all this for me,” she scoffed, with a wheezing attempt at a laugh.

“Oh, Mother.” Regina’s voice was thick with pity. “Do you still think this is about you?”

Without warning the darkness lunged, snapping its thick and curling tendrils at the assembled fae like lashes of a bullwhip. They leapt into defence, slashing with swords and teeth and claws at the dark magic—all but Zelena, exhausted from her earlier struggles, who was caught up around the waist and roughly shaken. She shrieked with fury and with agony, tearing at the darkness that held her. Killian leapt forward, his sword describing a glittering arc in the moonlight as it sliced through the tendril to free her. Zelena fell to the ground in a heap, screaming as the dark magic still coiled around her sputtered and fizzled against her skin. Victor appeared at her side, faster than it would have seemed possible for him to move, armed with a smoking beaker. This smoke he wafted over Zelena’s writhing form and the darkness dissipated, slinking away from Zelena and leaving her panting and exhausted on the forest floor.

Killian fisted a hand in the front of her coat and hauled her up, slamming her back against a tree. “You have a decision to make,” he snarled in her face, so close their noses were nearly touching. “Fight with us, or let the darkness swallow you whole.”

“I’ll take my chances with the darkness,” Zelena spat. She clenched her fists and burst of magic exploded from her chest, knocking Victor off his feet and dropping him flat his back in the dirt. Killian, as all Guardians would be, was unaffected.

“What!” Zelena roared in fury and reared back for another attack. Killian raised an eyebrow.

“I’d save my strength if I were you, love,” he said, stepping back to clear the way for the dark magic. “You’re going to need it.”

The darkness howled as it wrapped once again around Zelena, tightly enough to muffle her screams, and Killian turned his attention back to the clearing. The dark tendrils were everywhere, whipping and writhing in their ancient fury, attacking through whatever opening they could, barely held at bay by the valiant efforts of his friends. At the centre of it all stood Emma, feet planted firmly and arms open, surrounded by an almost blinding glow of light. As he watched, a slender strand of darkness, deftly evading Ruby’s snapping jaws, made a lunge for her and Killian—though fully aware of Emma’s ability to defend her own self—dove in and cleft the tendril in two with his sword. He landed hard on his shoulder, carried the momentum of the fall into a forward roll and sprang back to his feet, whipping the sword up behind him, poised and ready once again to defend Emma to and with his dying breath, whether she bloody well liked it or not.

Emma stood still and silent as chaos swirled around her. She forced herself not to heed it, to trust her friends and Killian to do what they had to do to hold the dark magic at bay until she was ready with her own. She closed her eyes and focused her mind, concentrated on the magic within and around her. Not on the darkness of the forest but on what surrounded it—the magic of the trees and the earth and the moon above.

The darkness continued to attack on every front, spreading around her and reaching out, trying to touch her, to claim her. Killian stalked in a circle around her, his sword a blur as he sliced at the magic, while Victor flung the contents of his beakers, Snow shot her enchanted arrows, and Graham and Ruby ripped with teeth and claws.

Emma saw none of it, heard none of it. She felt only the magic, rising up and coursing through her, pulled from the moon and all the plants and creatures of the forest. It filled her with its light and its power, and then she raised her hands to the sky and began to sing.

David paused from where he was hacking away at the tendrils of magic—there hadn’t been time for Killian to do more than teach him a few basic sword-fighting moves before Emma called them to the forest, but he was doing the best he could with what he had—and turned to stare at her, his jaw dropping in awe. Her song he was astonished to discover he recognised; it was the one he had heard in his vision, sung by Emmas ancestor, Arianrhod, four thousand years before—the same language set to the same melody. And yet David, though he did not understand the words, could sense subtle alterations in pitch and phrasing that he began to realise had transformed the ancient tune into something very new indeed.

Arianrhod had called the darkness to her and forced it to heed her will, imprisoned it in the tywyll stone for all eternity, or so she had intended. The darkness was angry now, restless from its long confinement and out for bloody vengeance—David could see that plainly in the way it fought and clawed to get to Emma—yet the song that Emma sang made no attempt to stifle or recapture it. Instead she appeared to be… letting it go?

The dark tendrils froze as if in wonder, staring at Emma—if indeed magic could be said to stare—and then slowly, slowly, the thick black ropes began to soften and unfurl, uncoiling themselves into ever more slender strands… the merest wisps of magic by the end, wisps that whispered away on an unseen wind and vanished into the night.

The final note of Emma’s song rang sweetly through the trees and through the shadows beneath them that no longer held any hint of menace. It lingered in the air and when at last it faded Emma opened her eyes and smiled.

“It’s done,” she breathed, echoing again the words of her ancestor. “It’s done.” She drew a deep breath and released it in a sigh of profound relief—and then her knees went out from under her and she collapsed to the ground. Killian dropped his sword and leapt forward to catch her, cradling her gently in his arms as he lowered her to the forest floor.

“Swan,” he said softly, then again more harshly as she tried to speak but couldn’t, as her eyelids fluttered shut again. “Swan!” Killian choked. “Emma… Emma, no, no!” He clutched her to his chest as her body went limp, shaking her gently and calling her name until Snow and David managed to pry him away.

Victor came forward and knelt beside Emma, the look on his face uncharacteristically solemn. He felt her forehead and her cheeks, then pressed his fingers to her wrist to take her pulse.

“She’ll be okay,” he said, rising to his feet again. “Jones, listen to me. She’ll be okay.”

Killian swallowed hard and nodded. “She’ll be okay,” he repeated faintly. “But—will she? You’re certain?”

“She’s exhausted,” said Victor. “Drained of almost all her strength. She can survive that but she needs rest and restorative potions. We have to get her back to the hall, as soon as possible. There’s no time to lose.”

“How—” Killian’s voice broke “—how can we get her back in time, it’s at least an hour’s walk and that’s without having to carry her—”

“I can take her.”

They all turned to Regina, who flushed under their scrutiny. “I can take her,” she repeated. “I can transport her by magic, the way she did with you.”

“Are you sure?” Snow asked. “Have you ever done that before?”

“No, but I saw what Emma did and I’m a fast learner.” Regina’s eyes were terrified but her jaw set with determination. “I can do it.”

“You’ll have to take me too,” said Victor. “I know what potions to give her, and where she keeps her supplies.”

“O-okay.” Regina gulped. “Okay. I can do that.”

Killian shook off Snow and David and sank to his knees next to Emma’s prone form. Gently and with trembling fingers he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, my love,” he murmured. “Until then you fight, do you hear me, Swan? Fight, and don’t give up.” His voice broke again and he brushed his fingertips over her cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered, almost too softly to be heard, then pressed a kiss to her forehead and stood swiftly, striding over to where he had dropped his sword. “We’ll take care of everything here,” he said, picking it up and sheathing it at his hip with brusque, determined movements, “and meet you back at the hall.”

Regina nodded. She inhaled deeply then raised her hand, muttered some words under her breath, and flung her hands towards the ground. Three puffs of dark red smoke rose up, and when they dissipated she, Victor, and Emma were gone.

It wasn’t until three hours later that the rest of them finally arrived back at Andersen. The dark magic was gone from the clearing—or not gone, not really, not as such, Snow had attempted to explain. It was more that it had been returned… to the plants and the soil and the air itself, from which the Black Fairy had stolen it all those centuries ago.

“It’s back where it belongs,” Snow said. “It won’t harm us anymore.”

But there was still Cora to contend with, who despite still being bound in her daughter’s magic did not, as they say, come quietly.

Nor did Zelena, once they found her—not torn apart by the darkness as Killian had feared but huddled in a hollow log, eyes burning with madness and snapping at anyone who attempted to approach her. Her magic crackled wildly from her fingertips and sparks of it skittered across her skin and between that and the shrieking none of them were able to get near her.

In the end they managed to lasso her with a vine, identified by Snow as one that would be strong enough to hold both Zelena and her magic. “I don’t have magic of my own like Emma does, but I do have a certain touch with birds and plants,” Snow explained, as a flock of forest birds assisted them in wrapping the vine around and around Zelena, securing it with strong knots until she was thoroughly immobilised.

From there, they just had to drag her and Cora back to the dorm.

Once the two women were locked in the dungeon (“The what now?” David almost hollered, to which Killian replied with a smirk “Did you really think there wouldn’t be dungeons, mate?”) the group made their way back to the common room, to fall gracelessly onto the sofas and chairs and think wistful thoughts about hot things to drink.

David could see the tension in Killian’s body, the set of his shoulders and jaw drawing tighter the closer they got to Emma’s room, the strain of the anxiety and fear he’d been holding at bay since she had collapsed in his arms. He strode straight past the common room to her door and swallowed hard before giving a tentative knock.

Victor opened it and draped himself against its jamb. “You took your time,” he snarked, but Killian was in no mood for verbal sparring.

“How is she?” he demanded. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. Just as I said she’d be.”

“Can—” Killian cleared his throat. “Can I see her?”

“Well,” Victor smirked, “That depends on—”

His words were cut off by a blur of green—Harriet’s vine, wrapping around his neck and giving it a squeeze, a thorny leaf hovering with intent just above his head.

“Yes, yes, go,” Victor rasped, “go see her!” Harriet released him and he clutched at his neck, gasping for air as Killian elbowed him out of the way and hurried into the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Victor retreated into the common room, still rubbing his neck. “She’s fine,” he repeated, meeting the glares of his assembled dorm-mates with a shrug. He cleared his throat. “Regina transported us perfectly and I was able to get her the potions in more than enough time. She’s weak and needs rest but she’ll be fine.” He settled himself into an armchair and gave Snow an expectant look. “You know what would really hit the spot right about now?” he remarked, apropos of nothing. “A nice cup of your whisky apple tea.”

Snow rolled her eyes but she made the tea—for all of them, and David had to admit that it really did hit the spot. It was sharp and sweet and soothing, and it warmed him to the tips of his fingers and toes.

Snow settled down next to him with her own steaming cup, and he regarded her hesitantly as she sipped. “Um,” he said, after a rather long silence, “this may be a dumb question, but—no, scratch that, it’s definitely a dumb question but I’m going to ask it anyway.”

Snow looked amused. “What is it?”

“Couldn’t Killian—back in the forest, you know—couldn’t he have just, er, kissed Emma? To make her better? Or is that a human idea?”

“True Love’s Kiss?” replied Snow. “No, that’s a real thing. But it’s really just for magical afflictions and Emma wasn’t cursed or anything, she was just exhausted. Using that much magic takes a lot out of a person.”

“It killed her ancestor,” said David quietly.

“Yes.” Snow smiled at him, soft and full of empathy. “But fae healing has advanced a lot since then, and Emma knows her limits. I know it was scary back there, her fainting like that, but she’s smart enough to know how much magic she can handle before it’s too much.”

“So she’s really going to be okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure she will.” Snow smirked. “Victor’s bedside manner may leave a lot to be desired, but he’s actually a pretty skilled healer. And Emma’s potions are second to none.”

David shook his head. “I can’t believe it’s been less than twenty-four hours since—well, since all this,” he said, waving his hand to encompass the room at large. “I’m still not certain it isn’t all just a very weird dream.”

Snow laughed. “Sounds like someone could use another cup of tea,” she teased. “But in all seriousness I imagine it will be a tough adjustment for you. It can’t be easy finding out that everything you thought was true isn’t quite, and what you are is very different to what you thought you were.”

“Er, yeah,” chuckled David. “That.”

“You know,” said Snow, dropping her eyes to her lap, where her fingers twisted nervously around her teacup. “If you ever need someone to talk to about it, you can always come to me. Anything you need, I—I’m here. Just ask.”

David swallowed hard and nodded. “We could start with that tea,” he said gruffly.

Snow smiled. “Tea it is.”

David Nolan was no longer surprised by people’s reactions when they learned he was the Resident Assistant for H.C. Andersen Hall at Misthaven University. If anything, he thought, they should be far, far more afraid than they were. If they knew the things he did, if they had any inkling of the secrets the hall contained… well, they would do a lot more than just twitch nervously at the mention of its name.

A lot more.

“Just a Halloween prank gone a bit too far,” he stated firmly when the Chancellor summoned him to his office, to inquire hesitantly and in a quavering voice if David had any idea what had caused the peculiar conflagration of smoke and light that other students had reported as coming from the forest in the early hours of November the first. “Shenanigans. You more than anyone, sir, must know how crazy students can get on Halloween.”

“Er—yes.” The Chancellor fiddled with his pen, his eyes darting between David’s face and the wall just over his left shoulder. David gave him a bland smile. “Hallow-halloween. Yes. Shenanigans. Indeed. That would appear to be a perfectly plausible, um, explanation. Er, thank you for coming in, Mr Nolan.”

“No problem,” said David jovially. “If there’s anything else I can do for you just let me know.”

The Chancellor nodded and David stood to go. His had was on the doorknob when the Chancellor spoke again.

“Er—Mr Nolan?”

David turned. “Yes?”

“About the, um, the forest. You haven’t happened to notice anything, erm, different about it? Since, ah, since Halloween?”

David shook his head, his expression guileless. “No, sir, I can’t say that I have. Why? Have you?”

“Ah, no, um, just, er, a report or, ah, two,” stuttered the Chancellor. “But they must have been, um, mistaken… thank you again for, ah, coming in…”

“Of course.” With another bland smile and a nod David left the office.

In actual fact, he reflected as he strolled home through the bright and frosty November morning, the forest had changed, and quite a lot. Gone was the sense of eerie menace that had always lurked among its grey-green trees, the creeping tension that hovered between the shoulder blades of anyone who ventured too far into its depths. The trees stood taller now, and straighter, their leaves rustling in playful breezes and dappled with the bright yellows, reds, and oranges of autumn. The birds who nested in their branches sang happier songs and Emma predicted that come springtime there would even be flowers venturing to poke their colourful heads above the soil.

“Balance,” she’d replied with a shrug when he asked her how it could be that releasing dark magic back into the world actually made that world lighter. “Everything needs a balance of light and dark. The Black Fairy took away the dark magic and the light couldn’t balance without it, so it retreated, hid away to protect itself, and left the forest a sort of empty, dead place in its absence. So by restoring the dark we also brought back the light.”

“To balance it,” David murmured, nodding. He gave Emma an appraising look. “Did you know that’s what would happen?”

“I was almost certain,” she replied with a grin. “My ancestors thought the darkness needed to be contained so it could be guarded—so no one could ever use it for their own ends again. I was raised to believe that was the only way to protect the world and I did believe it, until—well, until I admitted to myself that I was in love with Killian. That forced me to take a hard look the things I’d been taught, and for the first time to wonder why? Why couldn’t Guardians and their charges be together? Where was the harm in it? And once I started questioning the so-called wisdom of the ancestors, I found I couldn’t stop.” Her mouth twisted in a wry expression. “Turns out challenging authority is addictive, and so is that word ‘why.’ Why did we shroud the tywyll stone in such secrecy? Why did we even have to have the tywyll stone at all? Then when Cora came along with her plan to release the magic, I thought well, why not? Calan Gaeaf and the blue moon made it possible for her to release it but she would never be able to control it—no one could. The Black Fairy was more powerful than any fae before or since, and it’s unlikely anyone will ever again be able to replicate her magic. So, I thought, why not just let the darkness go? Put it back where it came from, where it’s needed. And if ever another person comes along and tries to harness it the way she did, well, this time we’ll know how to handle them.”

David shook his head. “But you were only almost certain that would work?” he teased.

Emma laughed. “Nothing’s ever completely certain when it comes to magic,” she replied. “I was as sure as I could be.”

They were silent for a moment before David spoke again. “There’s one more thing I’d like to ask, if that’s okay,” he said.

Emma’s eyes twinkled. “Only one?”

“Well—yeah, okay I have a lot of questions, but only one for now.”

“Hit me.”

David chose his words with care. “Killian—he told me, after I woke up from my second round of visions, that H.C. Andersen wasn’t the original name of this building. That it was renamed in order to, er, erase the fae from the university’s history.”

“That’s correct,” said Emma. “Is that your question?”

“No. I was just wondering… what was the original name?”

Emma smirked. “Prifysgol y Tragwyddol a'r Anweledig,” she replied.

“Er—what?”

She laughed. “University of the Eternal and Unseen,” she translated. “It was built to be a place where fae magic and human science could come together. To enhance each other, and to build great things in harmonious collaboration. Or that was the idea, at least.”

“I’m sorry that’s not how it turned out,” said David.

“Eh.” Emma shrugged. “Eternity is a long time, and trends come and go. Even social ones like fae-human relations and attitudes to magic. Who’s to say that some day this building might not be known by that name again, and serve out the purpose for which it was intended?”

David recalled another thing Killian had told him, and the penny dropped. “That’s what you and Killian are planning, isn’t it?” he said. “To bring fae culture out of the past and into the twenty-first century. To forge something new. New ways to interact with humans, maybe?”

“Well look at you, all clever with your deductions,” she teased. “You’re right, that is our plan. Time will tell if anything actually comes of it.”

“Well, whatever comes I’m on your side,” declared David. “You know that, right? I mean, I may not have had the chance to be your official Guardian but I’ve always felt a sort of—well, like a call almost. To keep you safe. And I want to help.”

Emma smiled, a soft smile glowing with affection and pride. “Even my grandmother’s magic wasn’t strong enough to wipe the Guardian out of you completely,” she said. “You’re a good man, David Nolan. I’m glad you’ve found yourself again. And that you’ve found your way here to us, for now and for the future.”

Later that evening they all came together around the fire in the common room, sharing spiced apple cider and hot tea and some crispy golden cookies that Emma called cacennau enaid. David sat on a sofa with Snow tucked against his side and observed the scene around him.

Around a small table Victor and Graham sat, along with Regina—who would officially enrol at the university for the spring semester and in the meantime had elected to remain at Andersen, a circumstance into which the Chancellor had declined to probe too fully—all three deep in conversation about Victor’s latest experiments with electricity and anatomy. Ruby was near the fire chatting to a remarkably visible Belle and tossing the occasional barbed comment in the direction of August, who lounged in an armchair parrying her verbal blows with a cool nonchalance that David was certain must be at least 80% feigned. He knew by now that Ruby and August—in keeping with the werewolves and vampires of their human-tale counterparts—would never be friends. Nor would either one admit how much they both enjoyed their rivalry.

Emma and Killian sat on the other sofa, curled together with his arm around her waist and her head tucked into his shoulder, their hands entwined and resting on Killian’s knee. His fingers tangled in the ends of her hair as he whispered in her ear, words too soft for any other to hear but ones that made her blush and snuggle deeper into his embrace.

David smiled as he surveyed the room then gathered his courage and took Snow’s hand, twining their fingers as Emma and Killian’s were. She looked up at him in surprise, then a happy smile curved her lips and she relaxed against him, resting her cheek on his arm.

David sighed in supreme contentment. Andersen Hall, he thought. Definitely the best gig on campus.

—

A note about language: All of the non-English words in this story, including the names of Emma’s ancestors and the other fae ancients, are Welsh, a language I do not speak. If there are any Welsh speakers out there in the fandom, ymddiheuriadau dyfnaf, I did my best ❤️.

#cssns #cssns20 #cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #magical au #captain swan #college au #fae lore #magic in the forest #a big scare but a happy ending #the eternal and unseen #profdanglaisstuff

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itsuki-minamy · 4 years ago

Text

“K - THE FIRST STORY”

EPILOGUE: TO BE CONTINUED (Complete)

* K - The First Story (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

The "Green King" looked at the monitor and muttered under his breath.

"The Weissmann deviation of the 'Colorless King', the Weissmann deviation of Adolf K. Weissmann and the Weissmann deviation of Mikoto Suoh have disappeared."

The man in priest's clothing next to him frowned at the simple words of the "Green King."

"In the end, the 'Golden King' didn't move."

"Yes, but there is a record that the 'Golden King' communicated with the 'Silver King'. Maybe he entrusted everything to the 'Silver King', or..."

The "Green King" slightly raised the edge of his mouth.

"Does the 'Golden King' no longer have enough power to move on its own?"

A child sitting under the feet of the "Green King" snorted when he heard it.

"If the most troublesome guy is seriously getting old, isn't that convenient for us?"

"Affirmative. It may not be long before we get out."

A sleek young man leaning on the couch looked at the "Green King" with tentative eyes under his long lashes.

"But it's a shame that your obsessive 'Silver King' died so easily. Or rather, the immortal 'King' actually died, didn't he?"

"What about that?"

The "Green King's" eyes gleamed as if waiting for something. His eyes were looking at the state of the school island when he was about to settle through the monitor.

"The "Silver King" is an immutable king. Even if the body was abducted by the interference of the "Colorless King", his soul escaped immutable without being invaded. Once again, his "immutability" may still be alive, although it seems that it has been burned by the flames of the destruction of the 'Red King'."

"Kuwa! Kuwa!"

The parrot, who was sitting on the "Green King's" shoulder, made a loud noise.

This parrot was a friend and go-between for the "Green King". He also had a conversation with the "Colorless King" through this parrot.

The "Green King" put his cheeks on his head as if he was aiming at a parrot.

"If the 'Silver King' is alive, he will be back soon. This time, the 'Silver King' will be on my game board."

All his friends looked at the "Green King". Everyone felt that his body was silent, but releasing a large amount of energy.

++++++++++

After sending Kukuri to the place where the other students were evacuating, Kuro joined Neko and returned to Gakuenjima to search for the boy.

Neko seemed to have slept the entire time after using great power. The current situation didn't swallow well, and she was walking fast on an unstaffed school island, rolling her big eyes, only to find that the boy was purely lost.

Kuro knew that the boy headed into the battle between the "Red King" and the "Blue King", keeping the soul of the "Colorless King" trapped in his body. He witnessed the bright red column of fire that tore through the heavens with the full blow of the "Red King" and the fall of the red sword of Damocles.

Later, he crossed the connecting bridge in Gakuenjima alone and confirmed the appearance of the "Blue King" Munakata returning from a distance. He couldn't tell Neko what those facts meant.

The sun was bent, and the red light of twilight stained the uneven island of the school. The place where Suoh and Munakata transformed into a battlefield, had a particularly large mark of destruction, showing the ferocity of the battle.

He crossed between the trees that were burned black and felled, and finally they headed to the place where they could see a huge column of fire. Neko followed with an anxious look behind Kuro who was walking silently.

The column of fire rose around the shrine at the rear of Gakuenjima. Climbing up the long stone steps that collapsed after the battle that followed the shrine, Kuro made his way to the place with Neko.

As soon as she climbed the stone steps and opened her eyes, for Neko who was small, it was impressive.

In the shrine precincts, the soil was excavated like a crater and did not retain its original shape.

As they approached the rim of the crater, the ground was still warm and the temperature was transmitted underneath the shoes. Kuro walked slowly along the edge.

Suddenly, Neko screamed and ran off, yelling "Shiro!" Kuro reflexively waited for Neko to run.

However, what was there was not the figure of the boy, but the red umbrella that the boy always had.

The umbrella sank deep into the ground like a tombstone. Neko grabbed the handle of the umbrella and pulled hard to remove it.

"Uh, it doesn't want to go out!"

With Neko's power, the umbrella half buried in the ground did not move, but Neko's hand slipped and fell back. Kuro slowly approached and took out the umbrella instead of Neko. Neko desperately jumped on the umbrella Kuro was holding.

"Give it to me! I'll give it to Shiro!"

Seeing her hug the umbrella carefully, a sad thing rushed into his chest.

"Hey, Neko. You won't be able to hand it over to Shiro anymore."

He spoke those words to her in the softest voice possible. The words he spoke returned to his thoughts and he felt pain.

Neko filled with tears in her eyes and made a wet voice.

"No! I'll give it to Shiro! I'll give it to Shiro!"

It became difficult and Kuro involuntarily strengthened his vocabulary.

"Listen to me! Shiro is…!"

"Because Shiro is a 'King'!"

Before Neko who yelled that at him with a desperate face, Kuro was shocked and lost his words.

(I am the immortal "King".)

The appearance of the boy who said that with a kind expression and a calm voice revived in his mind.

That could have been a manifestation of the boy's intention to go back to Kuro and Neko.

A gentle tidal-scented breeze blew from the sea, caressing Kuro's skin to comfort him. In his heart, Kuro chanted a phrase.

(Embracing resignation, the curtain does not fall.)

He once encouraged the boy with that phrase. He wasn't going to give up. Where are you? He mentally asks the boy. He chided himself for trying to give up hope of finding him.

He walked over to Neko, who was hugging the umbrella and stiffened, and Kuro gently approached her.

"That's right. Shiro is our 'King'."

Neko stared at Kuro in amazement, and she stared into Kuro's eyes for a while, trying to discern with her large eyes.

Finally, Neko relaxed her strengthened body and placed her hand on Kuro's.

The thin white hand of her partner was tightly wrapped by Kuro and he pulled hard.

Neko held the boy's umbrella in one arm, held one hand in Kuro's and stood up.

++++++++++

Reporting how the Weissmann deviations of the three "Kings", "Colorless King", "Silver King" and "Red King" disappeared, Daikaku Kokujoji replied with a single word, "Yes."

The "rabbit" gently looked at the Lord's face from under his face. There was no sadness on his face with the deep drag that makes you feel the years that he has lived.

The "rabbits" also hid a war-etched face under the rabbit-shaped face. It is an old "rabbit" that only differs ten times from the normal path. For many years, he was the oldest "rabbit" that had slipped through "Tokijikuin" and moved like his limbs.

This is why he realized that Kokujoji did not have a calm heart now.

This rabbit knew that while Kokujoji Daikaku was a solid and unshakable person, he had an old friend who lived in the soft part of his heart.

The reason why he changed the figure to "Golden King" was to rebuild Japan, which was devastated after the war. In fact, thanks to him, there is now development in this country. At the same time, Kokujoji continued to be the "King" and to defend the Dresden "Slate" due to the friendships and dreams that were cultivated in Germany during the war.

(Only I will be the ideal "King", so he watches from there.)

The "rabbit" never forgot the expression of determination that young Kokujoji had, looking towards the Himmelreich, the airship in which Adolf K. Weissmann was on board, which arrived in Japan. It was the moment when the "rabbit", who was still a child, decided to dedicate himself to his path.

"His Excellency..."

The "rabbit" involuntarily called out to the Lord, called out to him, but did not know how to continue his words after that.

Kokujoji opened his mouth before the "rabbit" found the words.

"Prepare for the departure of the 'Meifu (Underworld)'."

The "rabbit" opened his eyes. The "Meifu" was the same type of airship that Weissmann had that crashed, the "Sky" Himmelreich, and was kept secret by Kokujoji in case of emergency.

"That is the immortal 'King'."

The "rabbit" said that to get ahead of Kokujoji's response.

He was embarrassed by the misunderstanding that he thought that the reason Kokujoji's heart was not calm was because of grief over the loss of an important old friend.

The "rabbit" bowed deeply.

"Yes."

"What about his clan members?"

"Kuro Yatogami, who was a member of the Ichigen Miwa clan, and a Strain girl who calls herself Neko."

"Fix the room where he lived at school, and make it the base of them. Tell them: 'Wait for your Lord in this room.'"

"Yes, his Excellency."

The "rabbit" quickly turns around and begins to move to fulfill the Lord's intentions.

Things related to the "Silver King" are not over yet.

++++++++++

He washes off Mikoto Suoh's blood from his hands.

The red one, symbolizing the man who so upset Munakata, was easily washed away by running water and disappeared.

The world seemed to be broken due to the cracks in the crystals that entered during the battle.

The gesture of washing off the blood and drying wet hands with a towel became complicated. He realized that now he was upset.

"Captain."

Awashima's voice was heard. Hearing the voice that was the flag, Munakata's disturbed emotions subsided and he returned to the control of order.

"All students on the evacuated school island were confirmed to be safe. Students whose bodies have been abducted by the 'Colorless King' do not appear to have sequelae. Only the slightly injured, but the injured students were taken to the hospital in cooperation with the ambulance team."

"Okay. Good job."

"I have confirmed all of the Gakuenjima students, but... the girl named Neko and Kuroh Yatogami, who were working with Yashiro Isana, are missing."

"That's all."

Munakata turned to Awashima. The scar on the flank stabbed by the Red Clan member who was kidnapped by the "Colorless King" was small. It was a shooting pain that did not go away after treatment.

"I wanted to ask them about the detailed history about the circumstances of the incident, but... it can't be helped, especially since the ability of that girl named Neko is difficult to trace."

"Yes.", Awashima took control and looked at Munakata as if he was looking at her. Just looking at Awashima, Munakata realized that he was somewhat disturbed even when he was seen from the edge.

"Awashima-kun. He had never made a mistake before."

Awashima didn't reply and urged him with only her eyes. Munakata continued steadily.

"But this time I made a mistake... I couldn't stop that guy."

Looking only at the results, Munakata will be the "King" who stopped Damocles from Suoh's fall. But that was what Suoh wanted. Suoh broke Munakata's restraint and ran down the road to ruin, and Munakata was only forced to clean up after that.

Awashima didn't say anything about how Munakata stopped the "Red King". He simply said "Yes." with a serious face.

Feeling safe from it, Munakata smirked to himself.

"How disrespectful. I complained."

"I'm your assistant. Tell me anything."

"That is reliable."

When Munakata smiled, Awashima's expression, which did not break her serious attitude, suddenly shuddered when she looked back.

Munakata looked back to follow her gaze.

There were countless little red lights there.

A group of small red lights moved like fireflies out of season and rose into the sky like sparks. The red lights were born from the bodies of "Homura", who looked in the direction of Gakuenjima at the seashore below the connecting bridge.

"This is…"

Awashima was impressed. Munakata also closed his eyes and looked at the scene.

"Part of Clansman's power is undone with the death of the 'King'. It is ironic that such a violent and selfish man left this dreamlike vision behind."

Fushimi stood by the bridge railing in a stunned atmosphere. He held the area around the left clavicle with his hand. Munakata knew that there was a "mark" burned in that place, from when he was in the red clan in the past.

From Fushimi's body, a small red light spilled out from the place where the "mark" was and soared into the sky.

Munakata, who was silently looking at Fushimi looking at the red light rising from his body with a face like a lost child, suddenly felt a signal to flee the school island.

A familiar kitten and a black dog run in a straight line.

"Oh."

It was the girl Strain and Kuroh Yatogami, of whom Awashima had lost their whereabouts, although they were taking the form of a small animal by reconnaissance operation.

Munakata thought for a moment and ignored it as he was.

Just today, he couldn't feel like catching and questioning those who had lost their precious loved ones.

++++++++++

For a long time no one could move.

The fall of the sword of Damocles. There was no one there who didn't know what that meant.

And more than that, each of them felt the loss of their main existence due to the flames they had on their bodies.

Yata, who would have been angry if he had explained it in words, would have insisted that he did not believe it, but he was stunned without saying a word about the fact that he felt with the flame as his soul.

Kusanagi also stood up without saying anything, holding up Anna, who had collapsed from calling Suoh so much until she was speechless, and continued to look up at the sky over Gakuenjima, where the sword had disappeared.

Finally, the accelerating winter sun set, and the sky dyed only the western edge light red, filling in the signs of the night.

Anna in his arms was no longer crying, and she looked down expressionlessly as if she had turned into a real doll. He had to take her back to a warm place early.

Cooled by the snowy winter air, Kusanagi thought he had to tell them something.

Suoh was not there, who was already a pillar. Not even Totsuka to laugh and empower Kusanagi when he was having a hard time.

Kusanagi had no choice but to speak to his disappointed companions.

However, the words weren't going up Kusanagi's throat at all.

Maybe anything he digested would bring them up to speed. No, when he thought it was his role to chase after him, Kamamoto uttered a low voice.

"No Blood! No Bone! No Ash!"

What Kamamoto said was the motto of "Homura".

No Blood! No Bone! No Ash!

A word that inspired them before the battle and was spoken as an open voice so that they all became a single flame.

But at the same time, it was a word of mourning for those who died.

"No Blood! No Bone! No Ash!"

In response to Kamamoto, the people around him chanted and raised their voices, pushing their fists skyward.

He tightened his voice to sublimate his sadness, and at least he was proud to hide the pitiful appearance from Suoh that left.

Yata, who was crying in a daze, saw his friends cry and raised his fist without wiping his tears.

"No Blood! No Bone! No Ash!"

The men's voices became one, and the air swayed and echoed.

In it, Kusanagi saw a flaming butterfly soaring.

He was surprised to remember the butterfly that Totsuka used to skillfully make with his own flame, but if he looked closely, it was not a butterfly.

It was a small red light that had no shape. It dance like a fluffy butterfly and climb to the sky.

A small light rose from the bodies of "Homura" members. The light that was born from each and every one of them pointed to the sky as if they were trying to serve Suoh. Some of Suoh's flames may have unraveled and separated.

Kusanagi also felt a fever around the right shoulder blade with the "mark." A red light emerged from Kusanagi's body.

Kusanagi's light flew into the sky with the same smooth movement as everyone's light. As the cold white snow billowed from top to bottom, the sight of the warm red light fluttering from bottom to top was fantastic, and Kusanagi breathed trembling.

Anna licked her lips too and stared at the cluster of red lights. Anna descended from Kusanagi's arms, spread her arms and looked up at the sky.

"It's a beautiful red..."

Anna murmured in a low, soft voice.

Kusanagi thought that this scene might be the last gift Suoh gave Anna, and that it was too romantic.

(The king's flames are not all terrifying. They are warm and clean.)

"Can you hear us, Mikoto?"

Kusanagi muttered, narrowed his eyes and looked up at the sky. Red light gathered in the air and colored the dark night sky red.

Perhaps due to the temperature of the light, his body heated up before he knew it, even though he was under the snowy sky.

Mikoto Suoh was a man who was not suitable to be "King". Kusanagi still believed it.

Still, Mikoto Suoh was the "King" more than anyone.

He was amazed with fierce flames, fascinated by the beautiful red, cured at a mild temperature, ran alone and wasted away.

To everyone who gathered here, Mikoto Suoh was a "King".

++++++++++

Isana Yashiro was floating.

Although his body was burned to pieces, Isana Yashiro's existence hadn't disappeared and he was floating somewhere.

(This is death?)

The boy thought about that, even though it was something absurd to think about.

When that happened, he felt that everything up to now had been a long dream.

Researcher Adolf K. Weissmann. A trilogy of Weissmann's dream, the dream of the passerby "Silver King" and the dream of a peaceful high school student, Yashiro Isana.

It was all over and he feared that he would not be able to go to heaven or hell.

(That's fine?)

That was the reality of the boy's thinking, which was fluffy like a dream.

(Adolf K. Weissmann, "Silver King", and Isana Yashiro, do you still have something to do?)

(I am the immortal "King".)

Remembering his words that he had left behind, the boy tried to fight even though he had no arms. He tried to figure out where that was, even though he had no eyes. He tried to listen without ears, pay attention to the smell without a nose, and try to find the feeling of the environment without skin.

Sister. Lieutenant. Neko. Kuro.

He tried to name the ones he was thinking of, even though he had neither a throat nor a mouth.

For the first time, Isana Yashiro struggled to live.

#k #k project #k the first story #k novel

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myforeverforlife · 5 years ago

Text

the sacrifice (part one).

Sorcery. Witchcraft. Burnings.

You lead a privileged life, connections to the royal family and the dormant magic of generations of witches keeping you safe from the witch hunts. You pose no threat, your family had abandoned the craft ages ago. But as your cousin lays dying and running out of options, you go against the king’s orders and run the risk of being put to death. Now, your only choice is to seek out the age-old traditions of your family, with all of its secrets and mysteries, in search of the answers you need. But what do you do when the answers that you find aren’t the ones that you want?

A/N: Mentions of minor character death in this chapter

Pairing: Baekhyun and Fem reader

Word count: 5,155

Series masterlist: ( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 )

Masterlist

You weren't destined for an ordinary life.

As niece to the king of Elyxere and best friend to the crown prince, your life was already considerably different from that of anyone else's. You were not descended directly from the great kings and queens, only considered royalty through association. Your aunt had married extremely well, and while your father and mother were not of noble blood themselves, they were still considered part of the renowned royal family.

But greatness was known to manifest in many forms.

As a child, your favorite stories were not of how Prince Sehun's grandfather had fought off the kingdom's invaders, but of the magic that your aunt and father's ancestors had possessed.

The same magic that now flowed through both of you.

Of course, no one in the Shin clan had proven to have any powerful magic for centuries. The last witch had been your one of your father's distant relatives, a woman who could conjure up remedies for everyday illnesses and ailments.

Oh, how you wished time and time again that the few drops of magic blood would someday manifest in a large display of power. The promise of magic had always interested you, even as you grew older.

Now, magic was your only hope.

You gulped, heart leaping up into your throat as you carefully flipped through worn pages. These books hadn't been touched in decades, not since your aunt passed.

Not since magic had been banned.

Your senses were on alert, head constantly looking over your shoulder at the slightest bit of noise. Your aunt's room remained just as she left it, and the king would have a fit if he heard that you were snooping around.

But you had given up on trying to reason with him long ago.

It had taken lots of waiting, lots of strategic planning for you to make it to your aunt's bedchambers unnoticed. If anyone had any clues on where the witches were hiding, they would be here. Your father had never been interested in seeking out the craft, leaving all of the family heirlooms to his younger sister. The stacks of books called out to you, tips and histories from ancestors past who still had advice to share.

With a grunt of frustration, you shut the book, placing it to the side with the ones you had already skimmed through. You didn't need recipes, or guidelines for rituals. They wouldn't work for you anyway. What you needed was a map, a journal entry, anything that would point you in the direction of the last remaining witches.

Sehun was doing his best to keep the servants distracted, you knew. Possibly another complaint about how the latest doctor hadn't done anything to help either, or a refusal to take his medicine. That would surely give you another ten minutes, at least.

Leaning against the bookshelf, you reached up on your tiptoes, fingers searching for any last books when they brushed against a leather spine. Your legs were starting to ache from the stress, but you pushed onward, determined to grab the book.

You let out a deep sigh when you finally had it in your grasp, pulling it out and instantly flipping through the pages. Upon first glance, you could already tell that this book was different. Some of the text was indecipherable, written in a language that you didn't understand.

But what caught your eye was the list of names.

Names of people in various clans, different covens stared back up at you, row after row. With a gasp, you traced the script that made up your own name — one of the last few members of the Shin clan.

You didn't recognize any names outside of your family, yours and Sehun's barely squeezing in at the bottom of the page. But the next page held more promise.

"Friends," you read aloud. Friends of your aunt? Of your family? There was only one clan listed there — the Byuns, who were last rumored to be living far away from the capital of Elyxere.

A bustling in the hallway interrupted your thoughts. You scrambled to put the books back where you found them, saving the last one for yourself.

Sliding silently over to the door, you waited until the commotion died down. Now was your chance. You had no time to lose.

With a speed you didn't even know you possessed, you were out of the room, up the lesser used staircases and inside your bedroom before anyone spotted you. The book would have to wait until later. You tucked it into your chest of drawers, hidden under layers of underclothes before heading back out into the hall.

Sehun would be antsy, waiting for good news.

People were coming in and out of his room as you neared the crown prince's chambers, some faces relaxing once they caught sight of you.

"Lady Y/N," one servant greeted you. "His Royal Highness insists that you be here while he takes his medicine."

You forced out a laugh. "Of course. Thank you." Nodding in dismissal, you hoped that you didn't look as nervous as you felt.

Sehun sat up in his wide bed, an almost childish pout on his face as the physician stood beside him. "Y/N!" he exclaimed, face lighting up once he saw you. To the others, he merely seemed excited to see you. But you knew that he was dying to hear of what you had found.

"Will you be a good little prince and take your medicine now?" you asked, taking a seat at the foot of his bed.

Rolling his eyes, Sehun inclined his head towards the physician. "Alright. I'm ready."

The man sighed, worn out by the prince's antics. "Your Highness, this is the same medicine you've been taking for months," he said as he stirred the hot mixture.

"And yet I remain ill. You'll have to forgive me for being wary of medicine that doesn't seem to do me any good." Sehun raised an eyebrow, hands outstretched as he waited for the physician to pass him the bowl.

The room was silent as Sehun slowly, steadily drank up every last drop of the bitter medicine. At this point, he claimed that he didn't even notice the taste anymore. Once he was done, the physician took the bowl back with a relieved smile.

"I'll see you again, same time tomorrow, Your Highness. Lady Y/N," he nodded towards you, bidding you both goodbye. The rest of the servants in the room trailed behind, the last one smoothly closing the door.

Once the door shut with a soft click, Sehun was motioning you closer. "Well?" he whispered. "Did you find anything?"

"Did you mother ever mention anything about the Byun clan?" you asked, just as eager as your cousin.

Sehun's face wrinkled in thought. "No. Who are they?"

"In one of her books, they're mentioned as friends. It's the only lead we've got."

The ailing prince nodded, bangs flopping against his forehead. "When do we leave?"

"You are not going anywhere," you exclaimed. "What would your father think if you just up and disappeared in the middle of the night? The crown prince, of all people."

"What would your parents think?" Sehun countered. "There's no use in arguing, Y/N. I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not."

"Sehunnie," you begged, even as the prince scowled. "This trip would be too much for you. What if you got worse?" Scooting closer, you held your hands out for his own, posture relaxing when they met yours. "You’ve been sick for too long, and I won’t stand for it anymore. I swear, I will not return until I have found your cure."

"But this is my life," Sehun mumbled. "You shouldn't have to do this for me."

With a gentle squeeze, you shot him the most reassuring smile you could muster. "You would do the same for me."

It was true. A relationship forged in the early years of childhood and strengthened through multiple hardships had only resulted in an unbreakable bond. There was no one that you trusted more than your best friend, and you knew without words that he felt the same.

"When do you leave?" he asked.

"Tonight, once I figure out how to get to the outerlands without being detected." Sehun's eyes darkened with worry. "I'll be back, I promise."

The prince let go of your hands, his thin arms extended for a hug instead. You weren't much of a hugger, but for your best friend, the boy who was practically your younger brother, you had no complaints.

"Stay safe," he whispered into your hair. "It's not worth it if you get hurt."

Your stomach twisted in disagreement, but you forced yourself to nod. "Alright. But only if you stay safe too."

Sehun snorted. "I don't think I can help it, being locked up here all the time."

You rolled you eyes with a grin. "Yes, locked up in your golden cage. You know, just because you're sick doesn't mean that I won't hesitate to tickle you."

The prince scrambled back quickly, hands up to protect himself as you began your offense.

Just pretend for a few more hours, you reasoned with yourself. Pretend that your lifelong friend wasn't dying, that your parents wouldn't be heartbroken by your disappearance.

That you weren't possibly facing death by going against the king's orders.

Baekhyun's nose wrinkled in concentration, hands hovering over the rounded crystal before him. His power was nowhere near that of his great-great-great-grandmother's, but he still had enough to be able to use the family scrying stone. However, it was hard to look into the future when the rest of the coven was running around the house like a couple of madmen.

Grumbling under his breath, Baekhyun sat up, hood falling back from his head. Mongryong's ears perked up, the corgi resting next to his master on the floor.

"Can you keep it down out there?" Baekhyun shouted, not even trying to mask his irritation. "None of us are going to find out what happens in the near future if I can't concentrate."

Immediately, the house went quiet. "Sorry," Minseok squeaked out.

"I told Tanie not to chase Dotori around like that," Baekhyun heard Jongdae whisper.

"Well, maybe your familiar shouldn't have been trying to steal her food again."

Fed up with the constant interruptions, Baekhyun stood up, Mongryong already at his heels. He pulled the door open, letting it slam against the wall as the other two members of his coven stared at him in fear. Minseok's cat, Tanie ran to hide behind his legs while Jongdae's chipmunk familiar burrowed herself into the depths of his tunic.

"What have I said about making noise while I'm scrying?" Baekhyun barked out, one brown eye flashing darkly while the other remained an icy blue. "I know concentration's not a big deal for either of you, but I need all the help I can get."

Jongdae and Minseok glanced at each other, the two brothers sharing a knowing glance. "Baekhyun," Jongdae started. "What's wrong?"

The witch ran a hand through his hair with an irritated huff. "The stupid crystal hasn't showed me anything for days, and your constant noise while I'm trying to work is driving me insane."

Minseok came closer, reaching out to rest a hand on Baekhyun's shoulder. "Maybe there's nothing for it to show you right now."

Baekhyun couldn't help but glare at the older man. "It always has something to show me. Even with Mongryong around, the crystal still won't respond." He ran a hand over his face, letting out a low breath. "Maybe there's something wrong with me," admitted, the words coming out in a quick rush.

"Hey," Jongdae said, appearing at Baekhyun's other side. "That's not true."

"Yeah, well it's definitely not the crystal's fault. It has to be me."

After a bit of stifling silence, Minseok finally spoke up. "You know, we have our off days too. What, you think everything I brew turns out perfect? Don't you remember that time I accidentally turned Tanie pink?"

Jongdae chortled with laughter. "A pink cat. That was a first."

"And Dae's spells haven't always worked out," Minseok continued. "Going through a slump is inevitable."

Baekhyun shook his head. "You don't understand. Never, in the century that I've been alive has the crystal failed to respond to me. Why now?"

The other men didn't have an answer to that, both of them stunned speechless by Baekhyun's admission. Mongryong suddenly let out a short bark, running back into Baekhyun's room. The witch turned around, eyes widening when he saw the familiar glow of the scrying stone.

All three men scrambled into the room, Baekhyun pulling the hood of his robe back up onto his head as the other two sat behind him in respectful silence. Baekhyun reached out once more, almost cradling the crystal in his hold. He peered into the depths of it, an unconscious pout on his lips. Squinting through the cloudy surface, he struggled to make out the image swirling within. His confusion only grew as he spotted long skirts, a mess of hair tangled by the wind.

"A girl..." he mumbled to himself. Jongdae opened his mouth, about to ask something when Minseok threw a hand over his mouth. Baekhyun waited patiently, a skill only cultivated after a century of practice and nagging from Minseok about his restlessness.

The murky surface started to clear as Baekhyun concentrated, clouds dispersing to reveal a face. He had never seen the royal family, but the magic running through his veins told him who it was upon first glance. Baekhyun gasped aloud, everyone in the room waiting eagerly. "The princess," he shared aloud.

"Princess?" Jongdae raised a brow. "Not the crown prince?"

"Maybe the crown prince's cousin," Minseok whispered to him. Everyone in the kingdom knew of the royal family and their lineage.

"She's riding on horseback," Baekhyun continued, not even acknowledging the others behind him. "Leaving the castle. Searching for... me."

"You?" both brothers shouted at once.

"That's it. This is the end of the Byun and the Kim clans," Jongdae began to worry. "If a member of the royal family knows where we are, we're dead. Literally."

"She has a grimoire." Baekhyun was practically hypnotized by this point, his voice taking on a dream-like quality. "The late queen's. An artifact of the Shin clan." With that, Baekhyun let out a last shuddering breath before dropping his hands, the scrying stone falling to the floor with a thump and rolling away. Mongryong jumped up, blocking the crystal from rolling any further by lying down on top of it.

"She's coming here?" Minseok repeated as Baekhyun turned around. "But why?"

"To collect us and bring us to the king," Jongdae interrupted.

Baekhyun shook his head. "I don't think so. She was alone, and had the family grimoire too. Why would she bring evidence of witchcraft if she was coming to turn us in?"

"To make us think that she's one of us?" Jongdae suggested weakly. He groaned, the words sounded off even to his own ears.

"She is one of us," said Minseok. "Her and the crown prince, even if the king chooses to ignore it."

"I don't think she comes with any intent to harm us," Baekhyun spoke slowly, tasting the words. "I didn't see anything to suggest otherwise. Mother," his voice faltered. "Mother used to tell me that the late queen's clan was an ally of ours. Maybe she's trying to rebuild ties, fix what's been broken."

"You mean fix the murder of thousands of witches at the hand of her uncle?" Jongdae's face darkened, an unusual expression for one usually so bright. "To ban witchcraft is one thing, but to allow these witchhunts to go on... And to ignore the fact that he has witches in his own home!"

"His wife died because of a witch," Minseok argued softly. "I'm not saying that this excuses anything, but I can understand why he’s been seeking vengeance."

"No amount of magic was going to get the queen better — she had been sick for years! The king used that witch as a scapegoat for his anger when the potion failed to make the queen better, and we've been suffering ever since." Jongdae's eyes were glassy now, pent up frustration rising to the surface. He had never dealt with the full range of anger and despair at their losses. None of them had.

"I think we should let the girl find us," Baekhyun said softly. "Trust me," he added upon seeing the others' shocked faces. "If there was any evil intent, I would have sensed it. If she comes, and things do end up... heading for the worse, I think we can handle one girl."

Tanie rubbed her face against Minseok's knee, coaxing a smile from her owner. "What, do you expect me to turn the princess pink?"

That got a chuckle from Jongdae, the man covering his mouth with one hand. "Stop it," he mumbled. "I'm still angry."

A grin spread over Baekhyun's face. Even with all of the loss and heartbreak shared between the three of them, they still always managed to cheer each other up — even in serious moments like these.

As Dotori climbed out of Jongdae's pocket and curled up in his hand, Mongryong waddled over and plopped himself down onto Baekhyun's lap. Three witches, three familiars. They would be fine, Baekhyun reasoned.

How much trouble could one girl cause?

With each passing day, you found yourself further and further away from the castle, the place you considered home. You barely avoided being recognized by strangers in the first couple of days. Now, a week later in the far edges of Elyxere, you could walk around without fear of a single person knowing who you were. Most of them had never been to the capital before, let alone seen the king's niece with their own two eyes.

You kept your aunt's book hidden from all, only pulling it out in the darkness of night and the security of a rented room. According to what you read, the Byun clan was less than a day's travel away.

Members of the clan were gifted with clairvoyance, able to see into the near future. You learned that your own clan had been known for spell casting, with a few clairvoyants appearing every couple of generations. Reading about your family's rich history often left you with an uneasy lump in the pit of your stomach. How could the king ban witchcraft, ban a talent that had been used to help others?

The memory of your aunt's passing was still strong, especially when you remembered how distraught Sehun had been. The queen had insisted on using magic to save her, after trying countless remedies with no improvement. The king sent for one of the most powerful witches, one skilled in potion-making. Everyone had placed so much faith in the witch's abilities, that it came as a blow to all when the queen only worsened. The king was in denial when she died soon after, taking his frustration and anger out on the witches and their craft.

Things only escalated from there, and soon people were organizing their own hunts for the witches, burning those who showed any sign of controlling magic. You, Sehun and your father were only kept safe due to your relations to the king, as well as the fact that the magic had never manifested for the three of you.

But it still didn't stop you from feeling sick about the hatred, the unbridled violence that people had for the witches.

Sitting up in bed, you slammed the book shut. That was enough reading for now. You'd be lucky if you didn't have any nightmares tonight.

You fell asleep more easily than you had anticipated, breaths evening out as your drifted off into slumber. Most nights, you slept without dreaming — falling asleep and waking up without remembering anything in between.

But tonight, you were very aware that something was different. Even as you slept, you could feel the haziness of a dream clouding your mind. And yet, you still thought as clearly as you did when you were awake. Your skin prickled with goosebumps at the realization — you were lucid dreaming.

"Indeed," a woman's voice called out.

You looked around, searching for the new voice. There was nothing around you, only what looked like a dense, gray fog, filling the air. "Hello?" you called out timidly.

"This is your first dream like this, I suppose? But not the last," the voice continued, almost crooning softly in your ear. "You're very close. Follow your path, and you'll find what you're looking for."

With that, the fog receded, darkness giving way to light before you were forced awake.

Your eyes flashed open, taken aback to see the sunlight filtering through the curtains. Had you really slept through the night? You could have sworn that it had only been a few minutes since you had fallen asleep.

The woman's voice played over and over in your mind, focusing on the firm reassurance behind her words.

"Follow your path, and you'll find what you're looking for."

Your path led you to a forest a long ways distance from the village you spent the night in. Occasionally, the reins would slip from your sweaty grasp. You weren't the most experienced of horse riders, but you had enough training to manage.

The horse slowed as you reached the edges of the forest, whinnying uncertainly at the darkness within. You slid down from its back, trying to figure out how you'd find the Byun clan all while managing not to get lost.

As soon as your feet touched the ground, the horse reared back with its head held high. It let out one last whinny of terror before turning around, galloping as fast as it could back the way you came.

Great. You supposed that's what you got for stealing a horse.

"Follow your path, and you'll find what you're looking for." You repeated the strange woman's advice under your breath, words coming again and again as you tried to reassure yourself. Adjusting your knapsack, you inhaled deeply. You had no other choice. You had to save Sehun.

Carefully, you took one step forward. One step became two, and soon you were walking at a steady, slow pace. The glimmering of the midday sun shone down onto the forest floor, warming up your skin and making you feel less alone.

You could have been walking for hours, for days and you wouldn't notice the difference. It made you uneasy to realize that not once had you come across another person, another animal. Birds chirped from the eaves above, but you had yet to see another living creature.

Your feet moved by their own volition, keeping you going even as you felt yourself start to zone out. The occasional fallen tree branch or cluster of bushes would wake you up, all senses on alert as you pushed forward. You forced yourself not to stop for too long, only pausing for a couple sips of water from your slowly depleting canteen of water, or a few bites from a loaf of hardening bread.

But even with all your progress, you still felt like you were walking in circles.

Groaning in frustration, you stopped by a small stream, resting on top of a lumpy boulder. "Where could they be?" you whispered to yourself, the heaviness of your legs suddenly too much to bear.

A rustling in the trees nearby startled you, head whipping around for the source of the noise. "Who's there?" you called out, a wobble in your voice.

No answer. The tree branches shook lightly as the creature moved around, a chipmunk appearing as it scampered down the tree. Its nose twitched curiously, tail puffed up in interest as it stared at you.

You couldn't help but laugh at yourself. "Really, Y/N. Scared silly by a chipmunk." Rummaging through your bag, you pulled out a couple of berries. "Here you go, little friend. I'm sorry it's not much. I wasn't expecting to be traveling for so long."

The chipmunk came over to your open palm, stuffing one berry and then the other into its mouth. You cooed at the sight of its cheeks, one side round and stuffed with food.

The animal ran back down to the grassy floor, looking into the depths of the trees before staring back at you.

"I don't have any more to share, I'm sorry."

The chipmunk ran around in a small circle before climbing up your skirts and back down. You watched, intrigued as it stood in the same spot as before, almost like it was waiting for you.

"What?" you asked.

With a squeak, it ran into the darkness. You thought your new friend was gone forever until it came back, waiting at the base of a tree.

You had the strangest feeling that it was trying to show you something. It wasn’t every day that you had a chipmunk try to grab your attention. “Should I follow you?" You stood up, legs already sore at the thought of walking again.

It continued to stare, standing still as it waited.

You sighed. "Alright. Your guess is as good as mine."

With a chipmunk as your guide, you continued the long trek, winding throughout the forest. To your surprise, it seemed to know when you needed a break even before you did. It would be rude not to reward such a kind companion, and soon all of your berries were stuffed into the chipmunk’s cheeks.

The sun had left its spot high up in the sky long ago, orange flames licking up the approaching onset of nighttime. "I think we need to find a place to sleep for the night," you panted out.

Giving a high-pitched squeak, the chipmunk circled around your feet before continuing on.

"I can't move as quickly as you do," you complained.

Even as you tried your best, the distance between you and your guide only continued to grow. You called out to it, begged it to slow down, but soon enough you lost sight of it.

"No," you cried, dropping to the floor. Your chest was heaving with the continuous exercise you had put yourself through all day. "No," you said again. "Please."

You thought of Sehun, of the years he had spent lying in bed as his body failed him. You had to keep going.

With a cry of pain, you pushed yourself up, legs shaking as you hobbled forward at a snail's pace. A few seconds later, you could have sworn you saw a tiny light far off in the distance.

Squinting, you tried to figure out if this was real, or a figment of your exhausted mind. The light grew larger, weaving among the tall trees.

"Here!" you called out hoarsely. "Help me, please!"

As the light grew nearer, you realized that it was a person holding a small lantern. You stifled a gasp when you saw the tall, pointed hat on its head, long flowing robes trailing behind it.

A witch.

The figure seemed to glide through the forest, even as it came close enough for you to see its face. As he lifted the lantern up, you were surprised to see the face of a young man.

"My friend tells me you've been traveling for a long time," he spoke, lips curling in a manner you could only describe as feline.

Just then, you noticed your forest guide sitting patiently on his shoulder.

"Great job, Dotori," the man praised. He laughed upon seeing the chipmunk's full cheeks. "Looks like you got some snacks already. I think you'll be fine without any more."

With an almost angry squeak, the creature climbed down the front of the man's robes, burrowing itself into a pocket. Its little head reappeared, an acorn in its paws.

"You... you understand it?" you asked, staring at where the chipmunk was resting.

"Of course. Dotori is my familiar." The man cocked his head to the side, taking in your disheveled, worn out appearance. "Why did you tire her out?" he asked his... familiar? "You could've taken your time," the witch continued to admonish.

Dotori only held up her little acorn in response.

"I know it's almost supper. What have I said about letting your little belly get the best of you?" He sighed, shaking his head before sending you an apologetic grin. "Sorry about that. I hope you're not too tired."

You supposed it would be impolite to complain to a stranger about how you were aching all over, so you mustered up a small smile.

"Come," he said, robes swishing as he turned around. "The others are waiting."

"Others?" Adrenaline surged through your body at the mention of more witches, the rest of his clan. "Are you one of the Byun witches?" you asked, hurrying to keep up with him.

The man paused, a wary look in his eye before he continued on. "No. But we are practically like family."

His evasive answer caught you off guard, but you didn't let it deter you. "My family descends from the Shin clan. We've been allies with the Byun clan for ages."

A muscle jumped in the witch's jaw. "I know, little witch. I suggest you save your questions for Baekhyun. He's the one you want."

Baekhyun. You turned the name over in your mind, trying to remember it from among the lists of names in your aunt's book.

The light of the witch's lantern lit up your path, the clustered mess of tree roots and other flora slowly clearing with each step until you reached an open area ringed with trees. Your mouth fell open upon seeing the house nestled in the center.

"Hurry, before they eat all of our supper," the witch said. He extinguished the lantern's flame before opening the door, Dotori's head peeking out once more.

You followed behind, the sudden gravity of it all hitting you. Finally, you would find the answer you had been searching for.

The witch took off his hat, tucking it under his arm as he yelled out for someone. Shaking his head, he went up the flight of stairs close by, leaving you behind.

"Hello."

The new voice had you jumping out of your skin, only relaxing when you spotted a man sitting by the fireplace. A dog lay beside him, eyes closed as the firelight danced against its fur. This new witch stood up, studying you under his gaze as he approached. You stifled a gasp, taken aback by his eyes.

One a comforting brown, the other one startlingly light blue.

"Why have you been looking for us?" he asked, voice low.

"I," you struggled to get out. "I need a cure. My cousin is dying, and nothing else has worked. I need the help of the Byun witches." You gulped upon seeing the hardening of his eyes. "Are you one of them?"

The man laughed hollowly, the sound sending a chill up your spine. "Princess, you're looking at them."

"I am the last of the Byun clan."

Series masterlist: ( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 )

A/N: I have always, always wanted to do some sort of story focusing on witches. This draft has changed multiple times, from being a loosely inspired fic based off of rapunzel with jongdae as the person in the tower, to a fic where y/n is the lost princess, and enlists the help of a mischievous coven of witches to find out who she really is. And now, we’ve come to this final fic idea haha. I think what finally did it for me was seeing baekhyun’s latest magazine shoot, and just knowing that I needed to write this up asap before this just ended up changing again and sitting in my drafts for another year. But I hope you all enjoy it! I’m not sure how many chapters there will be yet, maybe around 4? I also can’t guarantee that the next update will be soon, but once classes end, I should be back on here more regularly by the end of may (and in time for baekhyun solo woohoo)

For clarification, baekhyun’s and minseok’s spirit familiars are their pets in real life, and jongdae’s is a chipmunk because honestly the idea of writing tiny jongdae with an even tinier chipmunk was just too cute to pass up. dotori also means acorn in korean! If you have any questions, my inbox is always open!

#exo #baekhyun #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun fanfic #exo scenario #exo fanfic #writings

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orthodoxydaily · 4 years ago

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Saints&Reading: Wed., May, 19, 2021

May 6/May19

Saint Job the Righteous

Saint Job the Righteous lived about 2000-1500 years before the Birth of Christ, in Northern Arabia, in the country of Austidia in the land of Uz. His life and sufferings are recorded in the Bible (Book of Job). There exists an opinion, that Job was by descent a nephew of Abraham, and that he was the son of a brother of Abraham – Nakhor. Job was a man God-fearing and pious. With all his soul he was devoted to the Lord God and in everything conducted himself in accord with God's will, refraining from everything evil not only in deeds, but also in thoughts. The Lord blessed his earthly existence and rewarded Righteous Job with great wealth: he had many cattle and all kinds of possessions. Righteous Job's seven sons and three daughters were amiable amongst themselves and gathered for common repast all together in turns at each of their homes. Every seven days Righteous Job made for his children offerings to God, saying: "If perchance any of them hath sinned or offended God in their heart". For his justness and honesty Saint Job was held in high esteem by his fellow citizens and he had great influence in public matters.

One time however, when the Holy Angels did stand before the Throne of God, Satan appeared amongst them. The Lord God asked Satan, whether he had seen His servant Job, a man righteous and without blemish. Satan answered audaciously, that it was not for nothing that Job was God-fearing – since God was watching over him and multiplying his riches, but if misfortune were sent him, he would then cease to bless God. Then the Lord, wishing to prove Job's patience and faith, said to Satan: "Everything, that Job hath, I give into thine hand, but only he himself touch not". After this Job suddenly lost all his wealth, and then also all his children. Righteous Job turned to God and said: "Naked did I emerge from the womb of my mother, and naked shalt I be returned to my mother the earth. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. Blest be the Name of the Lord!" And thus did Job not sin before the Lord God, nor utter even an unthinking word. When the Angels of God again did stand before the Lord and amongst them Satan also, then said the devil, that Job was righteous, since that he himself was without harm. Thereupon declared the Lord: "I permit thee to do with him, what thou wishest, sparing only his soul". After this Satan inflicted upon Righteous Job an horrid illness, leprous boils, which covered him head to foot. The sufferer was compelled to remove himself from the company of people, he sat outside the city on an heap of ashes and had to scrape at his pussing wounds with an shard of clay. All his friends and acquaintances abandoned him. His wife had to see after her own welfare, toiling and roaming from house to house. She not only did not support her husband with patience, but rather she thought, that God was punishing Job for some kind of secret sins, and she wept, and wailed against God, she reproached also her husband and finally advised Righteous Job to curse God and die. Righteous Job sorrowed grievously, but even in these sufferings he remained faithful to God. He answered his wife: "Thou speakest, like someone hysterical. Shalt we have from God only the good, and have nothing bad?" And Righteous Job did sin in nothing before God. Hearing about the misfortunes of Job, three of his friends came afar off to comfort his sorrow. They reckoned, that Job was being punished by God for his sins, and they urged this righteous man though innocent to repent. The righteous one answered, that he was suffering not for sins, but that these tribulations were sent him from the Lord in accord with the Divine Will, which is inscrutable for man. His friends however did not believe him and they continued to think that the Lord was dealing with Job in accord with the laws obtaining under human standards, thus punishing Job for the committing of sins. In begrieved sorrow of soul Righteous Job turned with a prayer to God, beseeching Him Himself to bear witness before them of his innocence. God thereupon manifested Himself in a tempestuous whirlwind and reproached Job, in that he had tried to penetrate by his reason into the mystery of the world-order and the judgemental-purposes of God. The Righteous Job with all his heart repented himself in these thoughts and said: "I am as nothing, and I foreswear and repent myself in dust and ashes". The Lord thereupon commanded the friends of Job to have recourse to him in asking him to offer sacrifice for them. "Since, – said the Lord, – only the person Job do I accept it of, lest I spurn ye for this, that ye did speak concerning Me not thus rightly, as hath instead My servant Job". Job offered sacrifice to God for his friends, and the Lord accepted his intercession, and the Lord likewise returned to Righteous Job his health and gave him twice over more than he had previously. In place of his deceased children was born to him seven sons and three daughters, more beautiful than any other in that land. After bearing his sufferings, Job lived yet another 140 years (altogether he lived 248 years) and he lived to see his descendants down to the fourth generation. Saint Job prefigures the Lord Jesus Christ, having come down to earth and suffering for the salvation of mankind, and then glorified in His glorious Resurrection. "I know, – said Righteous Job, afflicted with the leprous boils, – I know, that my Redeemer liveth and He wilt raise up from the dust on the last day my decayed skin, and I in my flesh shalt see God. I shalt see Him myself with mine own eyes, and not through the eyes of some other see Him. In expectation of this, my heart doth jump within my bosom!" (Job 19: 25-27). "Know ye, the judgement, in which be justified only those having true wisdom – the fear of the Lord, and true understanding – the departing from evil" (Job 28: 28). Saint John Chrysostom says: "There was no human misfortune, which this man did not undergo. He was the firmest and most adamant, beset by sudden tribulation by hunger, and by woe, and sickness, and bereft of children, and loss of riches, and then suffering abuse from his wife, insult from his friends, reproach from his servants, and in everything he showed himself more solid than a stone, and a source before the Law also of Grace".

The Monk Mikhei of Radonezh (1385)

The Monk Mikhei of Radonezh was one of the first disciples of the Monk Sergei of Radonezh, and lived with him in the same cell, and under his guidance he attained to high spiritual perfection. For his meekness of soul and purity of heart, the Monk Mikhei during his lifetime was vouchsafed to witness the appearance of the Mother of God to his great teacher. One time the Monk Sergei, having made the morning rule of prayer, sat for awhile to rest, but suddenly he said to his student: "Be alert, my child, for we shalt have a wondrous visitation". Hardly had he pronounced these words when a voice was heard: "The All-Pure One draweth nigh". Suddenly there shone a light brighter than the sun, and the Monk Mikhei fell down upon the ground and out of fear lay there as though dead. When the Monk Sergei lifted up his disciple, that one asked: "Tell me, father, what is the reason for this wondrous vision? From fright my soul hath nearly parted from my body". The Monk Sergei thereupon informed his disciple about the appearance of the Most Holy Mother of God. Saint Mikhei reposed to God in the year 1385. The celebration of the Monk Mikhei is done on 6 May, and his relics rest beneath a crypt at the Trinity-Sergiev Lavra. On 10 December 1734, over the place of burial of the Monk Mikhei, there was consecrated a church in honour of the Appearance to the Monk Sergei of Radonezh of the Most Holy Mother of God, together with the Holy Apostles Peter and John the Theologian.

John 6:35-39

35And Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me shall never hunger, and he who believes in Me shall never thirst. 36 But I said to you that you have seen Me and yet do not believe. 37 All that the Father gives Me will come to Me, and the one who comes to Me I will by no means cast out.38 For I have come down from heaven, not to do My own will, but the will of Him who sent Me. 39 This is the will of the Father who sent Me, that of all He has given Me I should lose nothing, but should raise it up at the last day.

Acts 8:18-25

18 And when Simon saw that through the laying on of the apostles' hands the Holy Spirit was given, he offered them money, 19 saying, "Give me this power also, that anyone on whom I lay hands may receive the Holy Spirit." 20 But Peter said to him, "Your money perish with you, because you thought that the gift of God could be purchased with money! 21 You have neither part nor portion in this matter, for your heart is not right in the sight of God. 22 Repent therefore of this your wickedness, and pray God if perhaps the thought of your heart may be forgiven you. 23 For I see that you are poisoned by bitterness and bound by iniquity. 24 Then Simon answered and said, "Pray to the Lord for me, that none of the things which you have spoken may come upon me." 25 So when they had testified and preached the word of the Lord, they returned to Jerusalem, preaching the gospel in many villages of the Samaritans.

#orthodoxy #orthodoxchristianity #originofchristianity #spirituality #holyscripture #gospel #wisdom

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starlightsearches · 5 years ago

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Office Romance: Ch. 15 Secrets

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

AN: The reader smokes in this one (I do not condone smoking, lol, I’m an asthmatic)

You were holding your head in your hands, trying to gather some strength, before you leaned back and took a deep breath. Ren was anxious to hear what you had to say, and more than a little annoyed that you had asked the general to be present. He had lost his chance to get rid of Hux, but he would undoubtedly be presented with another one sooner or later. It was only a matter of time.

“I’d kill for a cigarette,” you said with a small chuckle, and immediately the general reached into his greatcoat, pulling out his pack and a lighter. A look of surprise crossed your face, but you took the offered cigarette from his fingers. Hux leaned in close to you, reaching forward to light it, and your hands shook, but you smirked at him as you took a drag before letting the smoke curl out of your parted lips.

“I didn’t know you smoked, General.”

“There’s probably a lot of things you don’t know about me, Lieutenant,” Hux responded, an inside joke apparently—and a weak attempt to lighten the mood—because your face became shadowed, the focus of your gaze burning a whole in the floor.

“Not for long, General,” you said, and there was a deep and fathomless sadness evident on your face as the general leaned away from you, looking pained. Ren shifted with impatience, and you picked up on his restlessness, clearing your throat before you began.

“My mother worked for the Prydes before I was born, first as a maid, but later she became the head of the household. After she found out she was pregnant, she told the Prydes that she would have to leave. They said no.” You breathed deeply through your words, staring alternately at the floor, then the ceiling, but avoiding eye contact, instead taking another drag off the cigarette.

“Why would they do that?” Hux asked, trying to prompt you through your pause.

“She was an indentured servant. They owned her. I think she owed them something like 7,000 credits for room and board? She never could have paid it. They offered to take care of her until I was born, and they promised that they would allow both of us to stay with them after.”

“Seems generous,” Hux said, skeptically. The small space had filled with a smoky haze, but your hands had stopped shaking, and you had fallen into a rhythm as you talked. Still, Ren was growing impatient; what did all of this have to do with force suppression?

“Mira, Pryde’s wife, had always wanted a child, but she couldn’t have any of her own. It was a source of tension for her and Enric. I think he saw my mother’s situation as a solution to their problems. They essentially owned her, and he believed that they owned me too. After I was born, Mira took care of me while my parents worked. I saw her more than I saw my own mother. She must have sensed that they were . . . planning something. To get me away from Mira, she started to send me to work with my father once I was a little older.” For the first time since you began, tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you blinked them away.

“He worked for the neighboring estate: a caff plantation, as a farmhand and mechanic. He was a good man. I hardly remember my mother now, but my father . . . he was everything to me. During those years, I was away from the Pryde house so often that I hardly saw my mother. I didn’t even notice when she started to get sick.

“I don’t really remember much of what happened after she died. I still lived with the Pryde’s, and I saw my father sometimes, but it was always very strange. One of them was in the room at all times, and my father made a lot of vague statements about ‘taking me away.’ I didn’t understand any of it; I had just lost my mother and I liked living with the Prydes. I didn’t know any better.

“One night, I was sleeping in my bedroom when I heard . . . something outside my window. I remember that one of the worker boys had told me stories about monsters that wandered the grounds at night trying to scare me, and I wanted to see if they were real. I went to check and,” now you were crying in earnest, your cigarette discarded on the floor of the ship, “it was awful. There were so many of them, their faces covered, and my father on the ground, Pryde standing over him with a blaster in his hand. I screamed, and Mira came in, I tried to get her to stop him but she placed her hand over my mouth to quiet me instead. . . She didn’t pull me away from the window, and I couldn’t look away.” Your head fell into your hands, and when you looked back up your eyes were rimmed with dark circles, the makeup that had been so carefully applied earlier spilling down your cheeks in thick black lines.

“You can’t imagine what it was like, living with them after that. But I was a child; I had nowhere to go. The only family I had was dead, and the Prydes . . . I knew I had to be careful around them.” Ren had known that you were frightened of the allegiant general, but he had never imagined something like this. A morbid kind of nausea found its way into the back of his throat.

“What does this have to do with your connection to the force?” The general asked gently, and you wiped the tears away with the back of your hand before Hux continued, “I want you to know that I believe you, Lieutenant. But if Pryde really is cutting off your connection to the force, we need to figure out how. It would be helpful to know why.”

“You don’t know Pryde like I do, General. He didn’t need a reason; it was always about control, with him. When I lived there . . .” you whispered, and Ren could feel you remembering—so many instances flooding your mind that had seemed inconsequential or innocuous that suddenly held a greater weight. “When I lived there, he kept me on a tight leash. I did what I could to try and get away, but none of my attempts really worked, not until the Order.”

“Why do you think that is?” the general asked. Ren knew he was hoping to solve the puzzle, hoping to figure out the plot in order to gain your favor. Please, he had accused Ren of hoping to save you, but Hux was no better.

“Because he has eyes here,” you said it so matter-of-factly, and Ren paused. What had he been missing?

“Eyes? Who?” Hux was skeptical once again, already trying to figure out which of his men had split loyalties.

“I’m not sure, but it should be easy enough to find out now,” you brushed off the general’s concerns before turning to Ren, pulling your knees into your chest, “now, tell us what you know about force suppression.”

“There isn’t much to say,” Ren started, keenly aware of your attention on him, and Hux’s as well. This was not information he wanted the general to have. “It’s a power that some force users exercise against others to cut off their connection to the force. It’s difficult to accomplish, and can be deadly.”

“Deadly?” You were concerned, for obvious reasons.

“Once you become reliant on the force, losing that connection is devastating.”

“But Pryde isn’t force sensitive,” you said, “and my connection to the force has nothing to do with proximity to him.” The three of you sat in silence for a moment, trying to work around the problem.

“Wait,” Hux said, then, breaking the silence, “I think I might know how Pryde did it. Where are your things, Lieutenant?” You stood, moving to your feet quickly and out the door, propelled by the sound of urgency in the general’s voice.

“What’s this about, General?” Ren asked, trying to find answers in the general’s mind, but Hux had put up barriers to Ren’s power, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to break them down before you returned.

“I have it here,” you said, walking back in through the door, “why do you need it?”

“Your necklace, the one from the Prydes, is it in here?” You began digging through the pockets, before finding it and placing it in the general’s gloved palm.

“A very long time ago, my father was part of a division of the Directorate—a secret taskforce working to limit the powers of force sensitives, as a failsafe.”

“I’ve never heard about anything like that,” Ren said, and Hux looked up smugly.

“You wouldn’t have, it was kept very private so that the information wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“How does it work, then?” You asked, looking at the necklace.

“It didn’t,” Hux responded. He was studying the item too: a simple chain with a small stone in the center. It looked worthless, in Ren’s opinion, less than worthless. Could it be true that something so inconsequential could make someone like him . . . powerless? “They found an element that they believed could dampen the powers of force sensitives, but everything they tried had little effect on those trained with the force and the group disbanded as soon as the Supreme Leader came into power.”

“But I was untrained when Pryde found me,” you said, “any connection to the force wouldn’t have manifested for me until later. Maybe that’s what made the difference. How long ago did your father work on this?”

“I don’t remember, exactly, but it was before I officially joined the Order,” Hux responded, “I would sometimes listen in on my father’s meetings, when I thought he wouldn’t notice.” You flinched away from the general, your eyes filling with disbelief and sadness at the mention of his childhood. You had been right before, it seemed; the general could no longer keep secrets from you.

You cleared your throat, trying to shake away the general’s memories before speaking, “It’s possible that they were working on this around the same time that I moved in with the Prydes.” The information was fitting together now rapidly, and Ren looked up; he had found the last piece.

“You were the failsafe,” he said, and you understood him, taking the thoughts straight from his head.

“That’s why Pryde wanted me so badly, not some other child. He must have known about my mother’s force sensitivity, and he wanted someone with that same power loyal to him in case his position was threatened. But how could I be useful to him without training?”

“You do have training, though,” Hux said, “you’re a soldier. That’s why Pryde let go to the Academy. If you couldn’t be trained in the force without his knowledge, at least you could be trained in combat.” A silence fell over the room, the weight of the truth heavy on each of your shoulders.

“So then where does that leave us?” You took the necklace from the general’s hands twisting it between your fingers.

“We’ll continue with your training,” Ren said, “if the Allegiant General tries to use you against me or the Supreme Leader, then you’ll be ready.”

“We know his plan,” Hux said, hoping to give you some assurance, “so we’ll know if he decides to move. But for now, there’s not much we can do. You said Pryde has eyes here, which means that we’ll need to act as if everything is normal.”

“We should start with getting out of this damn closet,” you said with a small chuckle, and then, unexpectedly, “Ren, why don’t you leave first?”

Hux was surprised at this turn of events, but grateful as well. After the confrontation with Ren in the alley, he was glad to have a few moments alone with you. “Hey, come here,” you said as the door closed, pulling him closer.

“Give me your wrist,” you took his hand in yours and then rolled up the sleeve of his uniform, wrapping the necklace twice around his wrist before securing the clasp.

“I want you to have this,” you said, holding his hand in yours, “it won’t keep Ren out of your head, but this way you can have some privacy while I learn to control myself.” Your smile was sad, and Hux couldn’t move, afraid to do or say the wrong thing. No one had ever given him a gift before.

“What if I don’t want privacy?” he whispered.

“Then I guess you’ll have to talk to me, like a normal person would.” You adjust his sleeve back down, the back of your thumb running across the inside of his wrist. You moved, heading for the door, but Hux wasn’t ready to be alone just yet.

“I’m sorry about your father.” He said, and you paused, turning back to him.

“And I’m sorry about yours, General. You deserved better.”

Walking out of the storage room and back into the main area of the ship was like running into a wall, and you stumbled back for a moment, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions and thoughts that came at you rapid-fire from all angles. In the closet, with Ren and the general, you could almost shut it out, but now the hum of other peoples’ thoughts in your mind was disorienting.

“Hey,” Mitaka appeared at your side, “what did the general want, and the commander?” You had to think of something quick, but it was so damn hard with the noise inside your head. You reached out to Mitaka, steadying yourself on his shoulder, and for a moment, the emotional buzz quieted as you tuned into him directly. A flood of concern rushed through you: Mitaka’s own concern for your well-being.

“Are you alright?” he asked, holding you steady, and the increased contact gave you extra focus.

“I’m fine, Doe, just a little dizzy,” you said. Mitaka tried to pull you to a seat, but you stayed in place. At least on the edge of the transport you had a little relief—moving between the others on the ship would be overwhelming in your current state. Maybe you should have kept the necklace.

“The general reprimanded me for disobeying orders, and for taking Soar on by myself,” you said, forming the lie on the spot, “and the commander wanted information on Dameron. He’s planning on hunting the pilot down.”

The ship jolted as it touched down in the hangar of the Finalizer, and Mitaka kept his arm around you as he prepared to disembark, your bag over his other shoulder. You let him lead you off the ship, vaguely aware that Ren and Hux were close behind. You closed your eyes against the bright lights of the hangar and leaned more heavily on Mitaka. Today had been exhausting, and it was to have someone take care of you.

“What the hell?” The question was mumbled, and you felt it in your head more than in your body as the general brushed past you.

“Oh my god,” Mitaka shook you gently, and you opened your eyes to see what the commotion was, “what are they doing here?”

The six dark clad figures stood in the middle of the hangar, their faces masked, their hands resting idly on their various weapons. The general approached, followed closely by Ren, and you pulled Mitaka to a halt, curious to see what would happen.

“What are you doing here?” the general asked, but the figures ignored him, each falling to one knee as Ren approached.

“Master,” one of them spoke, but you couldn’t identify which of them it was, “the Supreme Leader sent for us. We are here to aid you in your training.”

“Rise,” Ren commanded, and they obeyed, each standing to their full height. They were conversing silently, through the force, but you could hear it clearly as if they were speaking aloud, each mind focused on one question: who?

Your stomach rolled. They weren’t here just to help Ren train, they were here to help Ren train you. Ren’s thoughts moved to you with a little reluctance, and you watched as the six black masks turned in unison, their invisible gazes burning into you. You flinched, keenly aware of how you must look: still in your costume from the club, tear tracks running down your face, barely able to stand on your own. This was not an ideal first impression.

Tags: @acunningstargazer, @itsa-pseudonym, @ddaeing, @dark-night-sky-99, @i-jus-wanna-writehappy, @fresa-luna, @leiadelreyy, @averillian

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #armitage hux fanfiction #kylo ren fanfic #star wars fanfic #office romance #my writing

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alternativewinxcontinuity · 4 years ago

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Margarita

Home World: Eraklyon (Born in Isis) | (Father is from the lagoon planet: Laugos)

Purview: Fairy of Pearls (Fairy of that which is hidden by 'beauty' or gilded, has a manifest preference for pearls)

Hair Colour: black with an iridescent sheen (purple and blue)

Eye colour: amber-brown

Skin: peachy-beige

Height: 5 foot something (in heels)

Personality Key Words: polite, accommodating, five-seconds-from-feral, sharp/prickly

Hobbies: diving for treasure (sometimes treasure is a handful of pearls, sometimes it's getting to see a fun looking fish)

Favourite Foods: has a secret love for soft, stuffed fruit-buns

Pixie: N/A

Mother and Early Life:

Margarita comes from a mixed background, born to a single mother in Isis after a brief affair which her mother, Sabbia, believed to be the start of a long lasting relationship, Margarita has always felt the weight of her mother's expectations and desire for a better life for them both.

Their family line has had only weak fairies, and those have been spread out over the generations. Sabbia, was the first fairy of any real strength but her familial duty kept her home bound and helping with the old inn their family runs instead of learning more than the basics about her powers.

During a treaty summit roughly 16-18 years pre-series, the inn hosted the King of Laugos and his entourage, and Margarita was conceived, but Sabbia was left behind when the party returned to their own world.

Her mother pushed Margarita to embrace all the chances Sabbia had missed in her youth, and become the best fairy Margarita could be.

(And also with the hope Margarita's father would acknowledge her existence.)

Unfortunately for Margarita, this push for excellence hits unhealthy levels of obsession for her mother, something Margarita is aware of, but she doesn't feel like she can get out of her current circumstances without throwing everything her mother has ever sacrificed for Margarita back in her face. (And she believes she has nowhere to go.)

Margarita plans to get a well paying job that will allow her to take care of her mother and repay everything Sabbia has ever done for her, but one that will also take her away from her mother frequently. (Academically, logically, Margarita knows she shouldn't have to pay her mother back for doing the basic motherly steps of raising her own child, but beyond just feeling beholden to her mother, Margarita has some genuine affection for Sabbia which makes it difficult to keep an emotional distance.)

As a result of Sabbia's drive for Margarita's success, Margarita had very little social life as a young child which left Margarita feeling forever out of step with her peers, only her experience helping at the inn gave her the (customer service) ability to interact with others in a way that makes her seem personable.

Her academic achievements meant Margarita was always at the top of her class and often somewhat ahead, which helped her to secure scholarships to Eraklyon's premier school to study magic.

Which is where she met Diaspro.

Academia and Diaspro:

The two young women have been fighting each other for the top spot in everything since they first took the same exam. Despite driving one another ever harder, they recognise a kindred spirit, both of them throwing away their own desires (not that they’ve ever really had the chance to figure out what those are exactly) to strive for unobtainable perfection.

They share a mutual, if grudging respect for one another, and any time another student comes close to replacing them at the top of the score boards, they close ranks and study together. (“If someone's going to beat me, it had better be you! I won't lose to some nobody!”)

The high stress of always having to maintain perfect grades and be friendly (if not friends) with everyone is extremely taxing, and Margarita often feels like she's on the edge of a complete meltdown.

Biological Quirks:

As a fairy from a long line of strong fairies associated with the elemental idea of earth and stone, Diaspro has a higher than average natural strength which Margarita will never match.

As someone who has a parent from Laugos, Margarita's body has a more efficient respiratory and cardio vascular system which allows her to run for longer and endure less hospitable air qualities better. (and dive for longer without spell assistance.)

Of course, Margarita can't shake off being thrown through a brick wall as easily as Diaspro.

And there's a down side to Laugossian heritage.

Laugos is called the Lagoon planet, it is covered primarily by lagoons and shoals, the surface water in most areas is often only 50 - 100 metres deep, though there are some sections of ocean which are said to be dozens of kilometres deep. (The furthest down most people go is 5 kilometres, which is half the depth of the Marianas Trench on Earth.)

The people of Laugos live in the shallows of the ocean, in crystalline under water cities, their eyes are adapted for extreme glare and constant shifting of light.

Margarita's eyes aren't able to handle the light like a pure-blooded Laugosian would, but her eyes aren't Eraklyon standard either, and occasionally she wears glasses or contacts to regulate her eyes' photo-sensitivity.

During the Series:

Margarita has never been Sky's biggest fan, finding out about the events of the Day of the Royals had her ready to commit treason and beat him to death with his own arm, but she decided Diaspro need a sympathetic shoulder more.

After Diaspro was kidnapped from her own palace while attending her princess duties, Margarita told Diaspro that she'd developed a theory:

M: “Weird things have been happening to you in the past few years, and it always seems to be while you're off doing your princess things, and therefore I miss them. I propose, you stop going places with out me, because I am clearly the anchor your life revolves around, nothing bizarre has ever happened to you around me, so for your own safety...”

D: *starts laughing and doesn't stop for several minutes* “Yeah, sure, that's how I get my life back on track”

M: “Well if you're going to be sarcastic, see if I ever help you again.”

D: “No! Come back! I need you to help me make 'Queen Consorting for Dummies'.”

M: “... what for?”

D: “urgh, Bloom. Sky's dating her, probably wants to marry her, which means she needs to know everything I know, and she has far less time to learn it in.”

M: “Your making her a cheat guide for Consort studies? Really? Her?”

D: “Sure, why not right? It's my duty as the Heir of Isis to ensure Eraklyon is in the best capable hands, which means making her hands any kind of capable. It's just duty. It's not like she ruined my life, stole my purpose and destroyed my entire sense of identity!!”

M: “... I don't know exactly when I became the calm, stable one in this relationship, but I hate it.”

Shortly before Valtor broke out of the Omega Dimension, Margarita received a summons from her father requesting her help.

Prince Litore, the heir to the throne had been injured and cursed in an attack by an ancient sea witch who had suddenly crawled out of the depths of Laugos's ocean, from a place called “koiláda tou thanátou”, (lit. “Death Valley”) the deepest chasm in the ocean floor which few have ever gone into, and which none have ever returned until now.

Margarita was called because her father had known of her existence, but never planned to acknowledge her, until the witch returned. Their ancestor had been a Guardian Fairy who'd defeated the witch before locking the tool she'd used away so it couldn't be misused, and only a fairy of her bloodline could free it.

Margarita is, of course, the only known fairy of her bloodline currently alive available. And naturally the Prince can’t be un-cursed until the witch has been defeated, so she absolutely has to do that while she’s there retrieving the witch-be-gone-device anyway.

By the time she's finished and able to return to Eraklyon, Diaspro has already been banished.

(Which makes Margarita laugh in hysterics, because she's just gotten herself perma-banned from Laugos for punching the king in the face after he acted like they'd done her a favour for calling her, rather than her doing Laugos and the royal family a favour by showing up and risking her life to save them.)

Margarita agrees that she could see how people would think so, but she's 100% certain Diaspro did not roofie prince Sky of her own free will. Not that Margarita can ever prove it one way or the other because the Eraklyon Royal guards stonewall her attempts to investigate.

Margarita's Father:

You may have guessed, Margarita's father is the King of Laugos.

Unlike with her mother, Margarita has no mixed feelings about her father and thinks he's 100% a piece of garbage (and not even the classy kind you're supposed to recycle).

She's also 78% certain she has more siblings than Prince Litore, who she thinks is arrogant and naïve, but not a complete loss if he can get his head out of his ass.

#winx club oc #winx OC #Winx Alt Con

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kaypeace21 · 6 years ago

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El & Will created the Upside Down & the Mindflayer (Theory)

After, rewatching both seasons it’s become clear that the upside down/mindflayer is not only an allegory for their (cannon) ptsd/ and trauma but also (because of their powers), it’s become a physical manifestation (with a life of it’s own), that spreads. So the only way to destroy both , will be for them to not only physically destroy the MF and close the gate, but to “confront their pain.” Before this pain “kills” them both. This is meant in both the literal sense, but also is as an allusion to suicidal thoughts. Owens even says in regards to Dr Brenner’s experiments “mistakes have been made... we can’t fix it, but we can stop it from spreading.”

The original title for Stranger things was “Montauk”- in reference to the Montauk Project. It was about experiments conducted on psychic children, where the scientists would “break” them psychologically to strengthen their powers and to program them. “The aim was to fracture the mind so they could programme you .” In one story their was a boy named Duncan who could open portals to other dimensions and periods of time. However, one day “Duncan let loose a monster from his subconscious.”

And this is where Stranger Things comes in...

The upside down/ opening of the gate/demorgorgan is described as something that grows and spreads, “like a cancer”. And something that will eventually kill her, if not confronted.

In s1 Dusting even asks, Eleven “Do you have cancer?” In a literal sense no, but the buzzcut ( which makes people assume she has cancer) represents the abuse she’s been through. And if she doesn’t confront her trauma it will slowly eat away at her until it kills her.

The name El is the name of a Canaanite God, which means “god of creation.”

And the fact that the Mindflayer shows up when Will is experiencing his “anniversary effect” relating to his ptsd, may not be a coincidence. Will even says he writes and draws stories in s2. And an interview confirmed that Will’s dog died between s1-2, and then in s2 the demorgorgans become demo-dogs. HMM? And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but if I’m right- this also implies Will was m***sted as a kid (probably by Lonnie), who always called him homophobic slurs.

The cannon spotify character playlists (which netflix and spotify worked on and published together after s2) alluded to this on both Jonathan and Will’s playlist,

Will’s playlist- Creature comfort: “Some boys hate themselves spend their lives resenting their fathers...Some boys get too much, too much love, too much touch.”

Jonathan’s Playlist- We’re happy family: “Eating refried beans (poverty). Gulpin' down Thorazines (pills for a mood disorder). We ain't got no friends. Our troubles never end. Daddy likes men. Daddy's telling lies.”

Enter sandman: “Don’t forget my son. Sleep with one eye open. Gripping your pillow tight, Exit light, Enter night. Take my hand, we’re off to never-never land. Something’s wrong, shut the light, heavy thoughts tonight. Dreams of liars and of things that will bite, yeah. Hush little baby don’t say a word, and never mind that noise you heard. It’s just the beasts under your bed, in your closet in your head.”

Also,will doesn’t initially call the Mindflayer a “he” but an “it”.And if you only take out certain pieces of dialogue between Joyce and Will, when they first talk about the mind flayer, where they only refer to it as an ‘it’ … and if you put [‘he/him’] pronouns there instead… then the rest of the discussion about the mind flayer literally sounds… questionable.

Will: “It all just went blank and then you were there”

Joyce: “Will I need you to tell me the truth.”

Will: “I am!”

Joyce: “But … But I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on. So you have to talk to me. Please. No more secrets, okay? Okay.”

Will: “ [*It] came for me and … and I tried… I tried to make [*it] go away … but [*it] got me mom”. (*he, * him,* he)

Joyce: What does that mean?”

Will: “I felt [*it] everywhere. everywhere. I- I still feel [*it]. I just want this to be over!” (*him, *him)

Joyce: “LOOK AT ME! I Will never let anything bad happen to you ever again!”

It hit way too close to home. The stone face look, trying to say you tried to make it stop (feeling guilty), then bursting into tears. It was way too similar to a kid admitting he was m*lested, and telling his mom about it .Like seriously rewatch the scene...

And once again, relating to the vines and the shadow monster/Mindflayer himself- they are also described as spreading, and we are told that it will kill Will.

Will is even the first to call the Mindflayer a “he”, instead of an it- even though in d&d Mindflayers are “sexless”. Will even says “ the more he spreads the more connected to him I feel.” And if I’m right about Will becoming number 12, it’s interesting to point out that 12 is a numeral symbol for “God of creation”, as well.

The other Drs/scientists are extremely callous and say they need to continue the burn (even if it kills Will). However, Dr Owens even says after this “You’re putting a bandaid on this.” Meaning they aren’t addressing the real problem- Will & El’s trauma.

Also the latest s3 trailer confirms that the shadow monster stayed in the real world, after the gate closed (and didn’t do anything for a year). But don’t you find it strange that the shadow monster only decides to come out now, in the summer (despite it not liking hot temperatures). Well, one articles said that Will , in s3, will feel “more alone than when he was when stuck in the upside down.”

Which is because his abandonment issues- caused by his father, Lonnie, begin to resurface and strengthen. Bob (his father figure) died protecting him, Dustin starts hanging out with Steve, Lucas has a girlfriend, Jonathan will probably be too busy trying to financially support the family/dating Nancy, and to top it all off he then has a fight with Mike about not being “ kids anymore”. Will even runs to Castle Byers right after this.

Will uses castle Byers as the one place he feels safe while in the upside down, or just on a daily basis. But it’s still a reminder of his deep-seeded abandonment issues. The day Will’s dad left , Jonathan and Will built Castle Byers all night in the pouring rain. Jonathan saying “we just had to finish it no matter what”. Will was the one who made-up Castle Byers in his imagination, and drew it, before Lonnie even left. He drew the sign “all friends welcome”, because with Lonnie around he never felt ‘welcome’ in his own home. So then when Will goes to Castle Byers in s3 at night in the pouring rain … he’s probably thinking that Mike (and his friends) are going to abandon him just like his dad did!

I wouldn’t be surprised if supernatural happenings occurred before this. But after this scene, things start to escalate. The upside down may have been created by El and Will. But now it’s a real world entity (with a mind of it’s own) and both the Americans and Soviets can/will try to weaponize it. However, Will and El will only defeat the Upsidedown/Mindflayer with their powers , only after they confront their trauma (in s5).

Kali even says about herself....

*gifs not mine

@nancykali , @willthecleric thought you might like this

#will byers #el hopper #Jane hopper #stranger things theory

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theanarchistfaery · 5 years ago

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Star Wars Episode VIII - The Last Jedi Review

Thanks to a certain streaming service I was finally able to watch Star Wars Episode VIII – The Last Jedi. And I guess I have an unpopular opinion on it. It seems no other Star Wars movie, not even The Phantom Menace, received such a major backlash. Nonetheless I am trying to be unbiased and as honest als possible. As always, spoiler alert.

Ready for light speed!

The film opens wih the First Order (basically the Empire) hunting down the remains of the Resistance (basically the Rebel Alliance) after the destruction of the Starkiller Base (basically a more powerful Death Star). The Resistance is having a hard time losing their enemy, because, as it turns out, they have a device which allows them to track down ships while they are in hyperspace.

Finn, the deserted stormtrooper meets Rose Tico and together with Poe Dameron they develop a plan to infiltrate the First Order' mothership Supremacy and deactivate the device. But they keep it secret, because they fear that Vice Admiral Holdo would never agree to it. Finn, Rose and BB-8 fly to a casino on Cantonica to get the best code cracker in the galaxy. They hire DJ instead, a dubious code cracker who helps them in exchange for Rose's amulet.

At the same time Rey is trying to convince Luke Skywalker, who lives in exile, to help the Resistance. He refuses, stating that he blames himself and the Jedi for the treason of Ben Solo a.k.a. Kylo Ren.

While at first every word she said was wrong, Rey learns the true nature of the force herself, cuts a stone in half with a lightsaber and even has a telepathic conversation with Kylo Ren. He then tells her that Luke had tried to kill him. Luke on the other hand tells Rey, that Kylo destroyed his Jedi academy and killed most of his students. Rey however believes there is still something good left in Kylo, so she hops on the Millennium Falcon and leaves Luke behind on his exile planet, hoping she can bring Kylo over to join the Resistence.

Luke then tries to burn all that is left from the Jedi scripts. Yoda's force ghost appears and he tells him in his iconic grammar that failure the greatest teacher is.

Meanwhile Finn, Rose and DJ managed to infiltrate the Supremacy. Rey arrives there in an escape pod and meets Kylo. He brings her to Snoke. It comes to a dramatic showdown, where Kylo kills Snoke and helps Rey to escape. He does however not switch sides.

Finn, Rose and BB-8, who were surrounded by Stormtroopers thanks to DJ's betrayal, also escape. Poe has raised a mutiny against Holdo to buy them some time. He puts her under arrest and goes to the bridge. But then Luke Skywalker or rather a mental manifestation of him, shows up.

The First Order's fleet is still after them, so they decide to abandon the Raddus. Holdo however stays behind onboard the Raddus and performs a kamikaze maneuver, flying the ship with lightspeed into to the Supremacy so it gets destroyed and the Resistance ships can escape to a base on planet Crait.

Here the First Order makes a last attempt to smash the Resistance but Luke's projection shows up to distract them. The Resistance escapes and Luke, who never physically left his exile, exhausted from his massive performance, dies in a similar way Yoda did in „Return of the Jedi“.

In a final scene, back on Cantonica, we see a bunch of children who are obviously force sensitive and telling each other stories about Luke Skywalker and the Rebel Alliance.

This may come as a shock to some of you, but I really liked it. I even would go so far as to say, and as blasphemous as it sounds, it captures the very essence of Star Wars. While „The Force Awakens“ felt more like a retelling of „A New Hope“, just with different characters, which was fine but not great, this film dares to be different and original. Sure it has some pacing problems. The sub plot with the resistence fleet trying to escape the first order and with Finn and Rose is a bit too long and too complicated, but it wasn't too bad. What I liked the most about it, was that we finally could see some conflict within the Resistence.

I'm glad they went back to explaining the force like Yoda did originally. As this mystical energy field that is generated by every living thing and that holds the galaxy together. No pseudo-scientific explanations here. Midi...what? Midichlorians? Never heard of those.

Star Wars has a tradition of drawing clear moral lines. There is good and bad, the Jedi and the Sith, the force and its dark side. My personal interpretation is that Luke's statement that the Jedi need to die is a reckoning with the black and white thinking of the past. Obi-Wan once said, that only a Sith deals in absolutes but on more than one occasion the Jedi did this as well, when they for example said that someone who was once tempted by the dark side, can not be redeemed, or when Yoda said „do or do not. There is no try.“ The truth Luke learned was, that the force itself is amoral, and that both the Jedi and the Sith can be arrogant and ruthless in their actions. He is convinced that as long as Jedi exist, there will be people who get tempted by the dark side.

For the first time, not only in the expanded universe, but actually in a movie, so as canon as it an get, the Jedi's ideology is scrutinised. Not only that. It is questioned by Luke Skywalker himself.

We also learn that Rey's parents were complete nobodies. Kylo Ren however is the son of Han and Leia. He is the heir of both Skywalker and Solo, and yet he was tempted by the dark side, or rather in a morally grey area. The message could not be clearer. Heritage means nothing.

At that one scene where Rose keeps Finn from sacrificing himself to destroy this weapon of the First Order, I at first could not decide if it's brilliant or stupid. Sometimes, and especially to win a war, sacrifices are nessecary, but if everyone sacrifices themselves in order to survive it kinda defeats the purpose, so I can't help but agreeing with her.

If I have anything negative to say about it, I'd say that it could have been at least 30 minutes shorter. The Finn and Rose scenes as well as the final showdown have a pretty problematic pacing.

And yeah it is a little irritating how good Rey is with literally everything, from lightsaber fighting to using the force. Things that normally take years, she manages within a short amount of time, depending on how convenient it is for the plot. Many people already called her a Mary Sue character and I can see why.

But maybe this is the point. Luke in his exile shares some similarities with the protagonist of Friedrich Nietzsche's „Thus spoke Zarathustra“. They both live as eremits and they both in a way speak about the death of God, which stands for the fall of an old belief system leaving us in a state of nihilism.

If you look at it that way, Rey could be a quite literal representation of the Übermensch, a being that actively overcomes nihilism and leads humanity to a new moral system that is beyond the categories of good and evil from the Jedi's perspective. She is not a superhuman because she is extremely powerful but rather because she realises a deeper truth, that the force can not guide her to what's right or wrong and that she has to figure this out for herself.

But if we consider what happens in the final scene in which the children draw hope from the old stories about the Jedi, this theory either falls completely apart or the movie totally misunderstood what Nietzsche was trying to say.

What the movie did surprisingly well was that it deviates from everything that came before where it needed to do that, while keeping true to its legacy. It may not be perfect, but I prefer this over the prequel trilogy anytime.

#spoilers #starwars #thelastjedi #rey #finn #lukeskywalker #kyloren #yoda #leia

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fightevilandthengetblownup · 5 years ago

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FIC: Surpassed All Men V

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It took him all of five minutes upon returning to the small house, concealed and simply observing as he wanted, or rather felt that he needed, to be completely specific and accurate when he appeared to tell the girl her reality, to figure out exactly what the other Trickster had been on about.

The swirling of power in the area had held a tang to it, a sort of electricity in the air that only came from rapid and continued reality shifting and altering as well as the crackle of mischief that hung about the house like an invisible cloud, that he knew all too well from the centuries spent befriending others of her kind.

The sugary-sweet scent that wafted perpetually out of the house wouldn't have been unusual for this space, but watching from the wall he lent invisibly against to see the blonde shimmying around the kitchen to some song his eyes had immediately gone to the bright, golden bear-shaped container that sat out on the kitchen bench and had been held and brought to her lips more than once a minute as the woman had baked.

He had frowned in realization, but stalking through the rest of the house he could see items that shimmered under his vision in a way only the reality-warping powers of a Trickster could do all over the house. A painting on the wall, a jacket draped over the back of a couch, and more than one vase of flowers filled with blooms that he’d never seen before were all scattered around the house like a trail of crumbs that would all lead back to their creator in the kitchen.

Gabe frowned deeply to himself understanding just what the perky blonde had become, and as he turned to watch through the open door to the kitchen to see her lifting the golden honey bear back to her lips absently as she cooked something, his look got darker realizing just what trouble she could find herself in before he left again leaving no signs of his visit behind as he made his way back to his last stop.

Crow had laughed. Hard. With that cawwing sound that came from his throat harsh and brash, and matched by the laughter of his birds all around as the archangel had returned. The old god had stared at him after his laughter, dark hands folded in his lap as he pinned the angel with a serious look, before there had been a hum and his soft, listed voice gravel thick asking the question Gabriel had had trouble coming to terms with himself.

“So. How are you going to help her?”

---

Gabriel could not tell if meeting with the pair as a pair was better or worse than one on one. Two birds one stone, but the two birds outnumbered him two to one if they decided to lash back out at him.

This time of year they were in the Russian’s home for once, but as the archangel pushed open the flap of the traditional yurt the scent of the other’s choice of smoke filled the air - rich with tobacco, bearberry and the staghorn sumac that made up the blend of his people from the cold North - with an undercurrent of sweet tang of reindeer milk and the fermented berry drink that had had the angel pulling a face the first time he tasted the rancid drink that turned sweet the longer you kept it on your tongue. There was a blend of both men’s favorite foods with slabs of wheat and acorn loaves soaked to dripping in honey and berries surrounded by the sour-tang berries that made that juice, with piles of corn husk wrapped maize filled with softened blueberries, blackberries, and cloudberries, corn pone with fresh sweet corn kernels and then in the middle as if a secret that they wanted to be disguised amongst the rest was a bowl of boiled sweet candies.

Neither god seemed to look up at his presence as they continued to pass a journal back between one another, marking sharply a line on a page before handing it back to the other. It was a nonsense thought game that Gabriel had always struggled to comprehend - some connective string between their people that had them in a battle of wits over charcoal and paper - but the fact they still persisted and, from the age of the book they wrote in, seemed to be on the same match from the last time he had met with them made him want to laugh.

“What’s this? You think this is a game, Kutkh?” The taller of the pair asked, looking with a tight frown of his brows at the page. Wisakedjak flicked his gaze from between the journal and the god sat across the low table from him, dark brown eyes flashing for a moment as he ran a tan finger over whatever marking he was complaining about. “You’ve not tried this move for the last century.”

There was a whistle from the other man, and Gabriel recognized the wicked smirk on the Russian’s lips. “Perhaps it is time to try something old, lyubovnik.” The dark-haired man’s eyes were closed as they had been since Gabriel had passed through the door, and he rested his head in his palm, propped with his elbow on the table.

“Speaking of old, look which nitotem has finally decided to visit.” “Jackie, that won’t get you off from your returning mark.” “Nicimos, you should open your eyes more often. We have a visitor.”

Gabriel swallowed thickly as he took a further step in under the watchful eye of the American Trickster, as he entered the circle of lighting from the torches that hung from the yurt frame. The god’s eyes were sharply focused on him and where he was used to seeing the humor in their depths instead there was a harsh cold that did not bode well for this meeting, as Wisakedjak lifted a hand sharply in greeting before running it along the long thick braid to the right side of his head. Gabe found himself taking a step back as the other made to tug on the end of it, a tingle down his spine as he knew what that move could do if the god felt inclined.

“Oh, so we do. What a surprise to see you again, Loki.” Kutkh added, turning so the shaved side of his head with the raven feather tattooed sharply onto his scalp that shimmered in a way a real feather would before he let out a sharp laugh reminiscent of the last god the archangel had visited. “Have you decided to prostrate yourself to the mercy of your lessers now, feather-duster?”

“I see you have heard the news.” Gabe found himself replying as there was a crackling in the air before a third seating pillow materialized and the table shifted to a triangle between the two men and the open third position. He found himself looking between it and the American Trickster as Wisakedjak dropped his hand from the braid he had tugged at. “I... am here for a reason, and not for myself.”

“That old bag of feathers did mention something last month.” “Yes, Crow visited my lyubovnik and mentioned to him about your little girlfriend-” “Oh was it the one that the fairy hated? I did not realize-” “That is because you are the pretty face of us both, Jackie.”

“She’s not... That’s not what it is like, but yes. I’m sure Crow gave you a run down more efficiently than I have.” Gabe found himself gritting his teeth as he moved to sit in the spare cushion cautious that the shimmering he could see of the item might suddenly disappear or manifest something dreadful from the muskrat-fur wearing man. “It appears that-”

“Yes, yes, a human becomes demigod. It happens sometimes.” Whiskey cut over him sharply, a sharp glare still on his face in contrast to the friendly amusement and warmth from the other god. The pair always seemed at odds, always one amused and one responsible, but were a match that Gabriel had always found unsettling should they decide to unleash their trickery at the same time. “What is it to us though, angel? You should speak to her new people.”

Gabriel found himself biting down on a scowl as he leaned forward to pluck one of the sweets from the central bowl as the American Trickster had raised a curved, sharp eyebrow towards him. Shaking his head as he popped the candy in his mouth, he stared back with his own brow raised after a moment. “That would be why I’m here, Whiskey.”

“No Americans have been of our ilk since my love here, Gabriel.” Kutkh cut in quietly, his voice soft as the wind that brushy against and flapped the canvas of the tent, as he sliced a piece of the honey-soaked bread and held the plate towards the angel in a way that was far more familiar and friendly than he’d expected to receive from any of his old friends. “I doubt she is a new one. Perhaps you should seek out the other newcomers, perhaps you should talk to Flagg?”

“She’s one of you lot, Kutkh, and of everyone sending her to speak to Nyarlathotep is probably the worst possible suggestion.” He found himself snapping back, taking the offered treat but pinning the god with sharp look at the suggestion. Kutkh’s lips twisted into an amused grin, the wickedness bleeding through under the friendly look. “So I am here to get your assistance with-”

“Nicimos, I believe the lying angel wants something from us.” The American cut over the top of him, leaning across the table a little to take the other god’s drink from his hand, sipping from it rather than pouring his own. “I believe he thinks his little friend may need some kind of.. protection or help with meeting her own.”

“Jackie, that seems rude to assume wouldn’t you say?” “I thought so too. What is it about a group of Tricksters that would make one think we would be rude to our own?” “Especially a new one. If she, in fact, reaches our level.”

Gabe found himself sighing heavily watching the pair bouncing off of one another. They always did this, and it was always their own annoying pattern to do it. The only one more frustrating to deal with was Gwydion when he would bring his brother or be missing his brother, or anything to do with his brother or the topic of brothers, in general, was brought up. Rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he watched the pair communicate through looks - twitches of lips, rise of brows and jerks of heads - for a long moment as he sucked on the boiled sweet, the archangel felt the desire to sigh again bubbling up inside before the American gave a growl.

“Fine, nicimos, we shall help the Westerner.”

“You really do hold grudges for too long, Jackie. Perhaps your having a new friend will be good for your patience.” Kutkh shot back, a smirk curling upon his lips in a way that made Gabriel want to shudder. The Russian picked up one of the boiled maize desserts, squeezing the dark purple colored filling out with a grin. “After all, you will have another American to meet that isn’t that dog-man you loathe so much.”

“You promised not to bring that beast up for another fifty years, Kuttie.” Wisakedjak snapped back harshly, the fire in his eyes back but no longer directed towards the third of the group that felt somehow better for Gabriel’s luck and mission at that point. The god snarled back, crossing his arms before adding. “Though, I suppose we should get to her before that foul-”

“What he means to say, angel, is that we will assist. Crow shall tell you when we’re gathering to meet your.. friend.”

Gabriel found himself frowning a little as the Russian looked at him, a glint to his eye that made the archangel feel like either the words were the sincerest of the whole conversation or the most dangerous, before the other cut over the top, continuing his rage regarding his Southern counterpart. Taking the offer at face value and unwilling to stay seated for yet another rant about the antics of Coyote and Wisadjek’s complaints about the other god as he had suffered through over the centuries, Gabe found himself slowly rising and then slinking out of the yurt as Kutkh’s eyes followed him without moving his face from staring and nodding at the other man’s words.

As he stood outside the intricately decorated yurt, Gabriel found himself breathing in deeply to rid the sharp scent of smoke from his nose as well as to shake the electric feeling of the trickster’s energy from his shoulders. There was a moment, where he could still hear the rise and fall of the voices behind him, muted and softer than they’d ever sounded before he found himself disappearing before they could change their minds. Perhaps they were both still unhappy with his trickery, but at least it allowed three voices to be potentially supportive of the blonde when he finally decided to tell her what she was becoming.

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#fic #gabepov #au stories #kidverse #kid verse

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