#i literally kinned an angel Like That years ago and it was just gonna happen

[corntort]

I have yet to see a gameplay of Ultrakill but I'm not sure if I want to because my current perception of it rn is "Gay Robots" and it's too perfect tbh.

no need this is accurate ur right

[henrysglock]

Do You Have A Minute To Talk About Our Lord And Savior: Vecna?

Specifically, I'd like to talk about Jericho, Book of Revelation, Paradise Lost, and the concepts of God and Satan as "good" and "evil", and try to decode who is who.

Let's start with Jericho, and go from there. Like everything else in Stranger Things, though...we'll loop back to the beginning eventually.

Season 5: Jericho

We all know about the nuclear disaster aspect, I don't think I need to continue beating that particular dead horse. (There are plenty of topics to beat into the afterlife. I witnessed a public beating re: production errors just a few days ago.)

I want to talk biblical.

I want to talk about the Battle of Jericho.

The Battle of Jericho is an old testament tale from the Book of Joshua, and there are some basics of the battle you should know:

The Israelites, who have been wandering in the desert for 40 years, prepare to invade and take the City of Jericho from its king. Joshua sends ahead 2 spies in preparation.

These spies are housed and hidden by Rahab, a prostitute. The Israelites promise to spare her and her kin for this, so long as she marks her house with a red cord.

The River Jordan dries up, allowing Joshua and his people to cross. The King of Jericho orders the walls of the city to be closed (This is important to note: He closes the walls. This is not a Rifts parallel. God opens the walls.)

God commands that for 6 days the Israelites march about the walls of the City of Jericho, one time each day. Then, on the seventh day, they are to march around the city seven times.

On this seventh day, seven trumpets are to be blown by seven priests from behind the Ark of the Covenant.

The Israelites do as God commands, and the walls of Jericho fall under the sounding of the trumpets and the cheer of the Israelites.

The Israelites kill all of Jericho's citizens except Rahab and her kin, who are accepted into their community. All of this per God's command.

Wow, that's a lot of sevens, a lot of miracles, and a lot of death.

Here's the thing about Jericho: It lay in a rift valley, and the area is historically prone to both earthquakes and landslides, which have been noted to block the Jordan for days at a time. The fall of Jericho's walls...could very well have been the result seismic activity.

If we take the recounting at face value, God likely triggered an earthquake, which caused the walls to fall.

Sound familiar?

What's also interesting about the Battle of Jericho is that there is no mention of Satan, the Devil, anything of that sort. It's just God vs Jericho on behalf of the Israelites. It's Old Testament (OT), and it's projected to have happened in 1400-1500 BC, whereas the New Testament (NT) material is all AD. (Jesus's crucifixion happens in 33 AD, and Book of Revelation is set in 81-96 AD.)

We know the OT God is highkey obsessed with 2 main things: Truth and Oppression. This guy hates being lied to, having oaths broken, being betrayed/deceived/not obeyed, etc. He has very strict commandments for his followers, and he isn't keen on people going against them. He hates human oppressors and is avid about punishing them in massively brutal ways (see: the Israelites and the King/People of Jericho). OT God is a wrathful God, and from the point of view of some...an oppressor himself.

If the other thing didn't sound familiar...boy...doesn't that one sound familiar?

Not gonna tell you who it sounds similar to yet, though. We'll save that for later. No biases in my house.

Anyway, that's all well before Christ figures and Satan as a major definable force against God. In fact, there's almost no mention of Satan as a physical adversary in the OT. "Satan" in the OT literally translates to just...adversary/traitor. There's no mention of the devil as a single entity. We know there's a fallen angel, Lucifer, a serpent in the Garden of Eden, etc., but Satan as a single, definable, physical adversary who physically fights God? Not a thing yet.

This is very different from NT literature, where Satan/the Devil/the Antichrist/etc. appear as physical figures. This is especially apparent in Book of Revelation, in which Jesus and the heavenly forces literally fight the demonic forces with swords.

This is where it starts to get spicy.

Book of Revelation

I'm just going to give you all the Cliffs Notes, because John of Patmos was definitely tripping balls...and I don't want to subject you all to that:

John of Patmos has a vision of the apocalypse: It's Jesus's second coming and the decimation of the Earth. (This is debatable historically, but for the purposes of this section lets take it at face value.)

He writes of his visions to the 7 Churches of Asia: Ephesus: "He who overcomes is granted to eat from the tree of life, which is in the midst of the Paradise of God" - They are praised for not harboring evil, exposing fake apostles, and being a symbol of perseverance and patience. Smyrna: "Those who are faithful until death will be given the crown of life. He who overcomes shall not be hurt by the second dead" - They are praised for being rich in faith in times of hardship, and is told not to fear imprisonment for holding fast against false prophets. Pergamum: "He who overcomes will be given the hidden manna to eat and a white stone with a secret name on it." - They are praised as a faithful martyr, but admonished for sexual immorality, holding false idols, and holding the doctrine of both Balaam and the Nicolaitans. Thyatria: "He who overcomes until the end will be given power over the nations in order to dash them to pieces with a rod of iron; he will also be given the morning star." - They are praised for works of love, service, faith, and patience, but admonished for allowing a prophetess to engage in sexual immorality and holding false idols. Sardis: "He who overcomes will be clothed in white garments, and his name will not be blotted out from the Book of Life; his name will also be confessed before the Father and his angels." - They are told to strengthen their works in order to achieve perfection before God. Philadelphia (yes, Philadelphia): "He who overcomes will be made a pillar in the temple of God having the name of God, the names of the City of God, "New Jerusalem", and the Son of God's new name" - They are praised for keeping God's name holy, and is reminded to hold fast to what they have. Laodicea: "He who overcomes will be granted the opportunity to sit with the Son of God on his throne" - They are admonished for being lukewarm in their faith, reminded to be zealous. They're told to buy "gold refined in fire", white garments, and to anoint their eyes in salve so they may see.

The throne of God appears, surrounded by 24 elders. All of this happens before the throne of God: - The 4 living beings appear: A lion, and ox, a man, and an eagle. They are akin to biblically accurate angels, each having 6 wings and a multitude of eyes. - A scroll with 7 seals is presented, and only the "Lion of the tribe of Judah, from the Root of David" can open it. - The "Lamb of God, with 7 eyes and 7 horns" accepts the scroll, and all present bow before it.

The seven seals are opened: First Seal: White horse, Conquering. Second Seal: Red horse, War. Third Seal: Black horse, Famine/Hunger. Fourth Seal: Pale horse, Death. Fifth Seal: The souls of the martyrs, dressed in white robes, are told to rest until the martyrdom of their brothers is complete. Sixth Seal: A great earthquake, wherein the the sun goes dark, the stars fall to earth, and the sky rolls back like a scroll. Mountains are moved, and the people of earth hide within them from the "wrath of the Lamb". 144,000 Hebrews are marked upon their foreheads with the seal of God and sealed within the caves. Seventh Seal: Introduces the 7 trumpets, one for each of 7 angels. An eighth angel devastates the Earth with heavenly fire just before the 7 trumpets begin.

The angelic trumpets are sounded: First Trumpet: Hail and fire and blood rain upon the Earth and burn up 1/3 of plant life. Second Trumpet: A "great, flaming mountain" falls from the sky and devastates 1/3 of the seas. Third Trumpet: Wormwood, a great star, falls from the heavens and poisons 1/3 of all freshwater sources. (Radiationgate!) Fourth Trumpet: 1/3 of the sun, moon, and stars are darkened, casting the world into total darkness for 1/3 of day and night. Fifth Trumpet: The First Woe. - A star falls from the sky, and is given the key to the bottomless abyss. - The abyss opens, and the smoke of the giant abyss blots out the sky. - Locusts, in the form of humans with lions' teeth, wings like hoofbeats, and iron breastplates come and kill any who are not marked with the seal of god on their forehead (the 144k Hebrews from the 12 tribes of Israel). *** Sixth Trumpet: The Second Woe. - The four angels bound in the Euphrates are released to prepare two million horsemen. These armies kill 1/3 of mankind. Seventh Trumpet: The Third Woe, in preparation for the 7 Bowls. - The temple of God, in heaven, opens. There is lightning, an earthquake, and hail.

*** ST4 leaves off at the asterisks

The 7 Spiritual Figures, leading up to the Third Woe:

A heavenly woman is pregnant with a male child.

A dragon pulls stars from the heavens and awaits the birth of the child so he can devour it: The Archangel Michael fights this dragon, as it is revealed to be the devil. The dragon is cast out of heaven, and becomes obsessed with waging war against all the woman's offspring.

A Beast with 7 heads, 10 horns, and the names of blasphemy on his heads emerges from the sea: The people of the world follow the Sea Beast in wonder, and the dragon empowers the beast for 42 months. The Sea Beast goes on to blaspheme God's name and wage war against the Saints. He is victorious.

The antichrist/false prophet appears from the Earth: He has 2 horns like a lamb but speaks like a dragon. He instructs the people of the Earth to build a likeness of the Sea Beast, and all who participate are marked with the Sign of the Beast: 666.

The "One like the Son of Man", aka Jesus, goes and defeats the beast with the 144k Hebrews bearing the seal of God.

Heaven opens, and the 7 Bowls Revelation begins with the sounding of the Third Woe/7th trumpet.

The 7 Bowls Revelation:

First Bowl: "A foul and malignant sore" afflicts the followers of the Beast (Radiationgate Sweep!)

Second Bowl: The seas turn to blood, and everything in it dies.

Third Bowl: All fresh water turns to blood.

Fourth Bowl: The sun scorches the Earth.

Fifth Bowl: Total darkness and great pain floods the beast's kingdom.

Sixth Bowl: The Euphrates dries up, and the forces of good and evil prepare to face off.

Seventh Bowl: Another earthquake and hailstorm essentially flatten the surface of the Earth.

Aftermath Vision:

The Whore of Babylon and the Scarlet Beast are shown to John, revealing their identities and fates as such.

New Babylon is destroyed, and is mourned by its people.

Marriage Supper of the Lamb: Not a whole lot to say here, people praise God (...for decimating the Earth? Okay whatever floats your goat--I mean boat I'm not a satanist hahahaha what???)

The Judgment of the Beasts, the Dragon, and the Dead:

The Beast and the Antichrist: Both are imprisoned in the Lake of Fire.

The Dragon: He is imprisoned the Bottomless Pit for 1,000 years.

The Resurrected Martyrs: All of them live with God in peace for those 1,000 years.

After the 1,000 year time jump: - Gog and Magog: The dragon is freed, and goes on to deceive the corners of the Earth once more. He gathers them for a final battle against the City of God, and is defeated by heavenly forces, at which time he is cast into the Lake of Fire alongside the Beast and the Antichrist. - The Final Judgment: Death and Hades, along with the wicked who followed the Devil, are also cast into the Lake of Fire. This is known as the Second Death, and ensures that no more suffering or death may afflict God's chosen people.

New Heaven and New Earth:

After the fighting ends, the City of God meets the Earth and it's essentially a neat and tidy "eternal life, no more suffering, we're all in paradise with God" ending. The City of God is said to be a paradise for the pure and strong of faith, and God lives among them.

Phew. That was a whole fucking trip.

Most of it is a) allegorical and highly debated based on that fact, and b) highly disputed as to its accuracy as part of the Bible...because it was written by a second generation disciple 60 years after Jesus's death. On top of that, it just doesn't fit with the vibe of the New Testament. New Testament is very much about love and forgiveness, not wrath. Wrath is very Old Testament, which I'll come back to re: Brenner and Vecna...and Lucifer.

I'm not gonna delve into allegory tonight because while the Duffers are picking and choosing bits of the story, they seem to be taking it all very literally. That is to say, this isn't a perfect one-to-one, but what is there? Tells a story.

Let's review:

The 7 Letters: Max writes letters, a total of 10. However, we only focus on 7 of them: Steve, Lucas, Dustin, Mike, El, Will, and Billy. We don't know what they say inside, however it is interesting that Billy is the final letter, akin then to Laodicea (see: Laodicea's entry), which is essentially about lukewarm faith, white robes, and anointed eyes. Max lies to Vecna in her confession, wavers on whether or not she actually wants to die, and ends up in a white hospital gown with healing eyes.

The Living Creatures: - Lion: El in Brenner's lab has a lion doll - Ox: We've got a handful of cow references, the most prominent being 010 and Brenner's dog drawing. Funny how it all seems to tie back, huh. - Man: "He was nothing but an ordinary, mediocre man." re: Brenner and opening the Rifts. - Eagle: "Fly right, Bald Eagle!" re: closing the Gate.

The 4 Horsemen: - Chrissy: First, Conquest, our intro to Vecna Visions. - Fred: Second, War, our intro into the conflict between Hellfire and the Basketball Team. - Patrick: Third, Famine, presented alongside Hopper in Russia before the feast in The Dive (which is actually presented very similarly to The Last Supper). - Max: Fourth, Death, the fourth gate. 22 dead, and the death toll continues to rise.

The Fifth Seal: The martyrs are told to rest until the martyring of their brothers is complete. Max is in her white hospital gown, indefinitely in a coma.

The Sixth Seal: One of many great earthquakes in BoR, after which 144k Hebrews are sealed in the caves. We see one earthquake in the UD in The Dive, where Nancy, Steve, Robin, and Eddie are trapped in the UD.

The Trumpets: - First Trumpet: 1/3 of plant life is killed...I'm looking at the rot in ST2 and the dead flowers in ST4. - Third Trumpet: Wormwood, a great star, falls from the sky in and poisons all fresh water. The spores. Radiationgate. - Fifth Trumpet: The abyss opens, and the smoke from it blots out the sky. Fucked up "locusts" emerge and begin killing. The rifts open, and the smoke blots out the sky. Demo-creatures will spill out into Hawkins and begin killing.

This is where we leave off at the end of ST4. We have not met Satan yet. So far? It's all God.

God did all this, up until this point, as the beginning of a final reckoning for the sinners who populated the Earth. None of that was Satan.

Things do start to get complicated here...because we do technically have a false prophet of sorts. Jason. Jason inspires the people of Hawkins to go against the forces of good in the name of defeating the tragedy befalling Hawkins. He is killed by the Rifts. He is literally killed by a fiery pit. (More on this later, because it's more complex than it seems.)

What's spicy about all this is that...the forces of good are not the religious ones, the "pure" ones, the "normal" ones. They're the freaks. The "satanic cult". They're Hellfire.

So...What is going on in the house of commons?

If Vecna is meant to be Satan, the Antichrist, whatever...why is he so obsessed with truth, penance, and giving himself the artificial moral high ground? Why does he wait for a confession, explicit or implicit, to kill? Why does he torment his victims while claiming to be relieving their suffering?

Because he's punishing the sinners, and he's doing so under the guise of saving them/freeing them from their suffering. Punishing sinners is God's job, not Satan's. Satan punishing sinners is a misconception. Satan is being punished as much as anyone else.

Vecna has the ultimate goal of decimating the human world and remaking it into a "beautiful" place where he and those like him will never suffer or die. Vecna punishes people he deems to be bad until he receives an acceptable confession of guilt, and then he soothes himself about it by killing them and "relieving their suffering".

All things considered:

Vecna, 001, The One, is New Testament God...and plot twist: he's a wrathful dick who hides behind artificial morality...just like Old Testament God.

Okay...so what about Henry? Brenner?

In true Creel form...this is my first loop backward in time. I'm going straight back to the very beginning of Satan's story.

Let's talk Lucifer. God's most beautiful angel. Smart, powerful, capable...and cast out of heaven in disgrace.

His crimes? Daring to believe he and the other angels were equal to God, and later instructing Eve that she didn't have to obey God either, alerting her to the fact that God was hiding things from her. God didn't like that, and sent Lucifer to Hell as punishment.

I'm very very much seeing Brenner and Henry here. Brenner, a wrathful, controlling OT God. He shocks those who disobey (Henry), those who lie or whom Brenner would have you perceive as a liar (Henry and 002), those who oppress (002)...all while being an oppressor and liar himself.

Brenner also quite literally calls himself Papa. Abba. The Almighty Father...and he punishes Henry repeatedly and brutally for being a) uncontrollable and b) spreading information Brenner would rather keep hidden.

He takes away Henry's status as 001, gives him a fake name...and makes him watch as he oppress the other angel--I mean numbers through the same torment he once suffered with no way of stopping it. Henry himself calls it Hell. No one ever said Hell was literally and physically separate from Heaven. Hell is very much a state of mind, and experience. Victor is "still very much in Hell"...but he's in Pennhurst. Henry is in Hell in Brenner's lab. Hell is not a physical place, it is inescapable torment and suffering.

We also get many Lucifer shots of Henry during the Rainbow Room fight...but when his hair is in the Henry style. Not the swept-back Brenner style.

Example:

So Henry is Lucifer, then, right? He's definitely not God then, right?

Yeah. Exactly. He's the fallen angel, and he's also the serpent in OT God's garden of Eden, offering knowledge and awareness to the ignorant Eleve--I mean Eve. He inspires Eve--I mean Eleven to question Papa, who has trapped her in ignorance in the Garden of E--I mean Hawkins National Lab.

But...didn't we just say he's God? Well...no. Not exactly. I said that Vecna is God.

Are we ready for the mindfuck?

Henry and Edward, and the frankly unnecessary swapping in NINA.

As per Em's analysis of The First Shadow...it's highly highly likely that Edward Creel is Vecna, not Henry.

This absolutely tracks with multiple facets:

The cyclical nature of Brenner and one of the Creel boys re: behavior and appearance.

The inexplicable hairstyle change between whichever Creel is in the store closet and...whichever Creel is in the Rainbow Room.

The inconsistency between Vecna's retelling of his childhood...and the expressions of the Creel boy on screen.

Ok, so we've got Brenner as OT God the Father, clearly...but we have Vecna as NT God, 001, The One. That's two Gods in one timeline, and we can't explain how they all seemingly ended up in the same timeline...unless Martin Brenner, Edward Creel, and Vecna are the same person at different times in different circumstances. At least one of the Creel boys is shown to have time travel abilities. Martin Brenner, Edward (?) Creel, and Vecna behave very similarly. All this to say...they're very much seeming like the same guy. There is one God, and you shall not have any other Gods but me...and all that jazz.

Henry said he spent years with 001 in the Rainbow Room. Did anyone ever stop to consider that he may have meant that literally? Did we ever consider that we swap between Henry-hairstyle and Brenner-hairstyle throughout the Rainbow Room fight because El is being fucked with by Brenner/Edward/Vecna...and by extension so are we?

Some supporting evidence here: Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) is very much about swapping places and experiences.

To Summarize: Brenner/Edward are God and Henry is Lucifer. Hellfire club is the satanic cult fighting God....while being the protagonists who believe they're fighting a dark wizard because his actions are horrible.

A clue into this narrative fuckery is Will's painting. The Party is depicated fighting a red dragon, which reeks of the red dragon of Satan. This is likely the represent the fact that they all see Vecna as a demon/monster/Satan figure, despite his God-coding. They see him as Henry...when he is not Henry at all. Vecna is very much God-coded, but he's represented as Satan in Will's painting because everyone sees his deeds as evil...and they are horrible and unjust...and they're all pinned on Henry, our Lucifer.

If there is a physical dragon, it's not going to be biblical...because the biblical dragon does not exist here. There is no satanic dragon, we just discussed that. The dragon is going to be something else, and I'm going to touch on that later.

I want to bring in another source to speak to Henry's probable innocence: Paradise Lost.

Paradise Lost (documentary series) was an inspiration for ST4 and Eddie/The Hellfire Club, specifically in that Eddie was misjudged specifically based on his interests and the way he looks.

Paradise Lost, the docuseries, is about Damien Echols as part of the West Memphis Three, who were falsely accused of brutally murdering and sexually mutilating 3 local boys. The West Memphis Three were Damien Echols, Jesse Misskelly, and Jason Baldwin.

Paradise Lost was originally a poem about Lucifer and the fall of Man. Lucifer is presented as the tragic yet villainous protagonist. His motivations remain very much "evil". I recognize this.

However, the Duffers didn't reference the poem. They referenced the docuseries, in which our "satanic cult" was never proved guilty due to lack of evidence. Just recently, in December of 2021, evidence that was supposedly destroyed in a fire was discovered to have been kept and catalogued by the West Memphis PD (source). The lawyers of the West Memphis 3 now believe all of them may be exonerated when the DNA testing comes back.

We know Eddie is caught up in the timeline fuckery, given the age change between his physical age (19, likely) and his poster age (17), and he also has the whole satanic ritual thing, which wasn't the truth at all. He was trying to stop the murders. This ties into Victor's "demon", who we believe to be Henry based on how ST4 is presented to us on the surface...but based on the surface view, Henry would be Vecna and through him...God. That makes the demon label categorically incorrect. Victor also says he heard the voice of an angel, which drew him out of his trance. Lucifer was originally an angel. However, in the other retelling, Victor is freed by Edward (?) passing out. There is no mention of music.

The thing here is...we have no evidence which conclusively links Henry Creel to any of these murders. We don't have concrete evidence of anything, other than the fact that the murders happened and that a Creel was involved somehow. We don't see the killing of the children. There's no footage of Alice's death. We're not even given the Creel boy's name in the second retelling. We have no conclusive evidence that that's Henry. We do, however, see a blood-splattered 001 in the lab...and a blood-free Henry (?).

Just like the West Memphis Three, there's no evidence of guilt for Henry in any of the murders. However, we also don't see a concrete Henry again after the blood-free shot. It's highly possible that Edward (?)/Vecna killed him. We simply don't know what happened to him.

Lucifer may already be dead by God's hand. We just don't know.

I'd also like to point out a couple of details re: Paradise Lost and Stranger Things:

Jesse Misskelly: Miss Kelley, who was supposedly seeing all of Vecna's victims, and who wears a pendant of a clock on a key. She also shows up on the board beside the Library-Progress poster, the Drama Club/Monologues flyer, and the Tutors Needed poster. There's no evidence that she did anything wrong, and it's likely she doesn't know any more than anyone else, but it's suspicious that she's so connected to Vecna/The Creels in both plot and imagery. It makes you question the depth of her involvement.

Jason Baldwin: Jason Carver. The guy I said was a false prophet, but who I also indicated is more complicated than he seems. The thing about Jason is that he is not knowingly a false prophet. If he had all the facts, he'd likely be siding with Hellfire. He's trying to fight what he perceives as the evil in Hawkins...based on limited information. Even so, he's raising an army to fight the evil, and Vecna is aware of that because it's happening in Hawkins. Jason is an adversary. Adverary. Satan. He believes it's Hellfire who is responsible, that Hellfire is in cahoots with Vecna, who is perceived as Satan. However, Hellfire is anti Vecna. When Jason blasphemes Vecna via Hellfire...he's unknowingly blaspheming God. Thus, the fiery pit. There was no true false prophet, just some guy who went mad with grief and didn't have all the necessary information and wanted to fight the evil that killed his girlfriend.

Along those lines, I also want to talk about Nancy's beast.

Nancy's beast should at least be representative of Satan, then, right? Not necessarily. The beast in Book of Revelation is highly symbolic, and is thought to be representative of the oppressive Roman Empire.

There's one player everyone seems to forget in Stranger Things: The US Military.

The military, who consume most of our national budget like a gaping maw, and who are currently coming after the person committing murders in Hawkins. The believe it's El, but the person they want is Vecna. It's exactly the same as Jason and Eddie. They're all unknowingly coming after God while chasing someone who isn't God. Like Hopper says in ST1...they're chasing the wrong kid.

All those with the sign of the beast will be condemned. Guns don't work on Demogorgons. The military, who bear symbols that designate them as such...signs of the beast if you will...will be decimated.

That isn't to say a beast won't appear. It very much may, but it's not actually linked to Henry/Lucifer. The beast is more likely representative of the US Military as an adversary of Vecna, just like the dragon in the painting is only representative of Vecna via narrative fuckery.

The dragon in the painting will not exist in relation to Vecna/God, hence it doesn't appear in Nancy's vision. The military does exist as an adversary to Vecna/God, hence the beast appears in Nancy's vision.

Adversary. Satan.

In true Creel fashion, it's time to loop back to the very beginning of this post.

Jericho. The working title of ST5. What did I say about the Battle of Jericho?

There was no Devil. Lucifer exists vaguely, somewhere offscreen. We don't know where he is. Satan, though, simply translates to adversary.

It was just God, an earthquake, and Jericho.

There is no "Evil Devil" in Stranger Things' rendition of the Book of Revelation. Henry may exist, but he also may have been dead before the plot even began. We don't know where he is. Our figures of Satan are just a collection of adversaries against Vecna.

It's just Vecna, an earthquake, and Hawkins.

Right?

Well. We've missed a couple figures here, haven't we?

Jesus, the Archangel Michael, and the Holy Spirit.

Will Byers (Guillermo Maldonado?) and Mike Wheeler...and the Shadow.

This is where we come back to the tone of the Book of Revelation in comparison to the tone of the New Testament.

The Book of Revelation is very out of place in comparison to Jesus' teachings of love, peace, and forgiveness. God goes ham in Book of Revelation, to the point of frankly unnecessary pain, harm, and cruelty. So why would Jesus, Mr. "Loves Saves All", get involved in that? Why would Archangel Michael, "healer of the sick and champion of goodness", get caught up in that?

Logically, they shouldn't. Unnecessary cruelty goes against everything they seem to advocate for.

Everything Vecna does goes against everything Will and Mike stand for. Byler won't have a villain arc. Byler will not join Vecna. Jesus is not going to join God, here...and neither will Archangel Michael.

Archangel Michael fights Satan's red dragon, which we discussed as nothing but a narrative distortion of Vecna and Henry when present in Will's painting.

However, the painting is not biblical. Will didn't literally paint Mike fighting the devil. It's DnD. That dragon is likely Tiamat, the evil mother of all dragons. She is very similar in personality to the Whore of Babylon, who rides upon Satan's red dragon, and who reeks of Virginia...and by extension Karen.

Mike is fighting the mommy issues dragon. He's fighting the physical manifestation of his neglectful relationship with his mother, and Will is going to be be his side to help him.

Classic Byler W.

Finally...The Shadow, our Holy Spirit.

I'd like to call attention to some wording surrounding the Holy Spirit and the Shadow especially in relation to Jesus.

Luke 4:1: Then Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan River and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness.

Matthew 10:20: For it is not you speaking, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.

John 16:5-7: Holy Spirit cannot come to help you until I leave. But after I am gone, I will send the Spirit to you.

Acts 2:1-4: Suddenly a sound came from heaven. It was like a strong wind blowing...The flames separated and settled on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit. 

In ST2, Will is possessed by the Shadow via Vecna. One might say he is full of the Shadow. When Will first sees the Shadow in one of his visions, there is a strong wind. He becomes more and more replaced by Vecna/the Shadow as time goes on. Vecna speaks through Will. Joyce asks "What happens when my boy is gone?"

In ST3, once Billy is all but gone, when Vecna can truly speak though him, he begins to send the Shadow to others. They were filled with the Shadow.

Then, in ST4, we see the Shadow in Russia. When asked about the freed/revived demodogs, the Russians say the Shadow "went into them". They were filled with the Shadow.

Are we convinced yet? Do we need more? How about this:

The Holy Spirit acts at God's command; it is an agent of divine action.

The Shadow acts at Vecna's command; it is an agent of his action.

All this, all these hundreds of words to say a few things:

In Stranger Things, Jericho = Book of Revelation.

There is no "Evil Devil" figure in Stranger Things. God is the bad guy.

Vecna is God, and so is Brenner.

Vecna is most likely Edward Creel.

Via the canonical time-travel powers of at least one Creel boy, Edward Creel and Martin Brenner are likely the same person.

Henry Creel is Lucifer.

Henry Creel is also innocent.

We don't know if Henry's alive or not, and if he is alive we don't know where he is.

Mike's dragon is most likely Tiamat, the DnD Mommy Issues Dragon.

The Duffers ship Jesus and Archangel Michael. Deadass.

A few interesting but ultimately unnecessary details below the cut:

In 1984, the same year ST2 is set in, Depeche Mode released Blasphemous Rumors. It's a song about the perceived cruelty of God. In it, a girl attempts suicide and fails. She finds new life in the church, only to be struck by a car and killed. The chorus goes: "I don't want to start any blasphemous rumors, but I think that God's got a sick sense of humor // and when I die, I expect to find Him laughing."

U2 released Joshua Tree in 1987, the year ST5 is supposedly going to be set in and/or skip. It was immensely popular and jam-packed with biblical references. The Mormons (Suzie!) named the physical Joshua Tree is named after biblical Joshua...the same Joshua from the Battle of Jericho. Here's some more about The Joshua Tree:

Book of Revelation is a wartime piece. It's highly debated as to whether it's an actual vision, or if it's just John of Patmos, a second-generation disciple embittered by Jesus' failure to return as promised to save his people from the Romans, writing a fix-it fic where God brutally kills everyone except John's people. Is it a vision? Is it God? Or is it just the vengeance-porn work of a traumatized second-generation disciple who feels abandoned? No one actually knows. Is Vecna literally God? Or is he just a traumatized, abused boy who wants vengeance on the society that harmed and abandoned him? No one actually knows.

Kronos, in Greek mythology, is the god of time. He's the father of the Greek gods, all of whom he tried to consume. He is equated to Father Time in modern folklore. Edward (?) Creel has time travel abilities...god of time...Father Time...Papa...Brenner...consuming the Greek gods...consuming the numbers...just something to chew on.

Henry's costuming seems to be modeled after altar boy robes, both as a child and as an adult. We all know about the rape scandals with altar boys in the Catholic church. The Pope, God's official mouthpiece to the world, let it happen. Priests, also referred to as Father (cough Papa cough) were involved in raping boys...and the Pope covered it up. God, essentially, let it happen. Both our God figures being rapists, specifically of children/boys, may be a commentary on this scandal.

[archived-kin]

solomon deserves a husband so i'm giving him one (it's you)

note from kin: i don’t know HOW i’ve managed to get this out so soon after my last piece but i do know that it is a miracle (now watch me disappear for like a month lmao)

anyway there’s a severe lack of content for the boys in this fandom and therefore i am here to try to mitigate that!!

(as a heads up, this is sort of an au version of obey me’s story?? there’s no exchange program, and the general human world doesn’t know about the devildom or celestial realm, apart from sorcerers and similar special cases. solomon and simeon both still visit the devildom, though - solomon because he has a sort of job at the r.a.d., and simeon as an ambassador sort of thing for the celestial realm. the r.a.d.’s also less of a school and more of an organisation?? i haven’t really fleshed it out haha)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): male! reader, solomon, mammon (briefly), simeon (briefly)

pairing(s): solomon/reader

warning(s): blasphemy??? solomon disses god really briefly and that’s about it

genre: fluff!!!!!!!!!

As a general rule of thumb, Solomon doesn’t believe in destiny.

He’s lived long enough to know that, no matter what he does, the universe does not care about him, much less have some sort of plan for his future. The course that the world takes isn’t affected by some grand puppet master pulling the strings; one has to force the so-called path of fate in the direction they want it to take if they want something. Solomon knows this better than anyone.

It’s as much a downfall as it is a strength - as much as power as he’s amassed over the countless years, his constant need to challenge the universe’s power has lead him down a path far from humanity. There had been a time when he was like every other human on the Earth, when he was still young, full of hope and determination and promise, believing earnestly in some God high in the sky who would guide him through his life.

He shudders to think what sort of insufferable fool he’d been back then. An almighty God? Don’t make him laugh. The ruler of the Celestial Realm is incompetent at best, and a downright childish brat at worst. He doesn’t know how the angels put up with him - though he supposes his realm-smiting power is part of it. Why the universe chose to place such power on such a being’s shoulders will always be beyond him.

Long as it has been since he had been so naive, Solomon has learnt his lesson, to say the least. He’s seen people come and go, witnessed kings and queens reign and fall, watched on as friends and family live and die. It’s a truth that he’s been forced to learn across the years of his long, long life, a curse that he brought upon himself the moment he gave up the purity of his soul in pursuit of magical arts. 

He supposes he’s always had an insatiable thirst for the unknown - to play all his cards out front, to tempt fate’s hand, to jump into the void and hope to find ground beneath his feet when he lands. It’s that sort of reckless abandon and hunt for knowledge that has led him so far down this path, through so many years, across so many sleepless nights. The world continues to swirl around him, always changing, but Solomon refuses to be swept away. Because, even in the tumultuous movement of the universe, there has always been one constant that keeps him anchored - you.

The night he'd first met you isn’t as clear in his mind as he would have liked. He wants to be able to remember everything - the way the soft blue light of the will-o’-whisps had lit up your eyes in the dark of the night, the way that your hand had felt in his as you greeted him with a handshake, the way that you had said his name for the first time - in sharp detail, but Solomon knows better than to hope to recall something so long ago so perfectly.

He’d still been relatively new to a sorcerer’s life at the time - excited and determined and a little too full of himself. You… well, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he does remember thinking that you must be the most handsome being to exist. The you of today would probably shake your head and dismiss the past you as an obnoxious high hoper, but Solomon has loved you for so many years that he’s never been able to think of you as anything less than perfect.

There are times when he wondered how he managed to stumble upon such luck. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Solomon has has had truly insufferable periods over the years he’s known you, and he’s always considered it a miracle that you still chose to stay. Even through all the restless nights and the exhausting trips, even after all of the clashes and vexation, you have refused to give up on him.

He had asked you once, in the aftermath of an argument spurred by his inability to confide in you and your own frustration with his refusal to communicate. He remembers that night so vividly that it might well have happened just yesterday - the frustrated shouts, the shattering of glass, the warmth of your arms around his shoulders as he finally collapsed on himself. He doesn’t know what your face had looked like as he stuttered the question out in stuttering breaths, head buried in your shoulder in an effort to conceal his tears, but he imagines that it had been soft.

“I’m not going to leave you to yourself,” You had told him matter-of-factly, stroking his hair with such fondness  that it still sometimes brings a tear to his eye when he remembers it on particularly long nights. “And I’m not giving up on you, either - not now, not ever.”

Solomon had been unable to speak, too choked up by his feelings and the sudden, overwhelming love spreading through his entire body to reply. He’d only sunk deeper into your embrace, wishing that the moment could last forever.

I wonder if he still remembers that…?

“...lomon! Anyone home?!”

He jolts up from the table he’s sitting at so abruptly that he nearly knocks his head right into Mammon’s chin. The Avater of Greed, however, reacts quickly, and hops back before Solomon can break his jawbone.

“Jeez, you’re off on a different planet today,” He comments, setting his hands on his hips as Solomon shoots him the sort of look that tells him that he’s not particularly enthused about his presence at the moment. “What’s up with ya?”

Solomon isn’t quite sure how to answer. Sorry, I got distracted thinking about how perfect and lovely my husband is and how I’m the luckiest man in the entire world - nay, the universe - to have him. He nearly physically shudders at the thought of how much teasing he’d receive if he answered like that.

Instead, he chooses a much safer and still technically true option. “Just thinking about going home today.”

Mammon nods in understanding, pulling up a seat next to him and throwing himself down into it without much grace. “I feel ya. S’ been a long day.”

“You’ve barely done anything today,” Solomon quips flatly, not particularly impressed by the demon’s attempt at… empathy? Relatability? Either way, it isn’t working. “I doubt it’s been that hard.”

“Now, now, Solomon, let’s not be rude,” interjects a soft voice from behind them. Simeon is still dressed in his fancy envoy cloak - the one so long and heavy that it trails along behind him like a bridal train, decorated with a number of elaborate golden charms that jingle as he moves.

Solomon attempts to shoot him a slightly annoyed look, but it’s kind of hard to stay irritated by one of the literal embodiments of holiness and light, even if he wakes you up at very unholy hours of the morning to help him figure out how to answer an email. Solomon isn’t ungrateful for the new age of technology descending on humanity, but he’d like it a lot better if it hadn’t somehow reached the angels as well. The amount of times he’s had to tell Simeon that he needs to actually turn his D.D.D. on before he starts calling someone is… embarrassing, to say the least.

“You’re back in the Devildom, I see,” He observes as the angel pulls up a seat and sits beside him. “Did Michael send you down again?”

Simeon nods with a smile. “There were some arrangements that needed to be made with Lord Diavolo. Naturally, I volunteered.”

“Naturally,” Solomon echoes, raising a brow at his friend. “I don’t suppose your biases had anything to do with your decision?”

“Well, they may have had some effect,” Simeon answers with a shameless smile and shrug, beginning to undo the tassels of his heavy cloak and draping it on the back of chair he’s sitting on. He’s still wearing all of his regular clothes underneath it - including the other, much smaller cloak. Solomon wonders how he hasn’t somehow melted in the heat.

“When’re you gonna start heading home, anyway?” Mammon asks, beginning to pick at a loose thread on his jacket sleeve. “It’s gettin’ late.”

Solomon blinks and looks up at the clock. “...ah, you’re right. In that case, I'll get going now.”

Mammon shoots him an odd look as he pushes himself up from the table and reaches for his bag, managing to hoist it onto his shoulder with some effort. He’s never been particularly good at heavy lifting - you’re usually the one helping him carry everything around the house.

“Oi, oi, what’s the rush?” the demon asks as Solomon adjusts the weight of his bag and starts heading for the door. “You on a timer or something?”

“I promised [Name] I’d be home earlier tonight,” is Solomon’s slightly absent-minded reply as he fiddles about in his pocket to find his transportation charm, nearly losing his balance and dropping his bag in the process. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Mammon watches him in clear confusion for a moment as he pats down his pockets, mumbling a quiet curse under his breath as he realises that he’s left his charm at home again. How many times this month does that make it now...? He supposes that he could always perform a teleportation spell, but knowing his luck with those, he’ll probably end up somewhere in Morocco again.

“Oi, Simeon,” Mammon hisses to the angel, who cocks his head slightly to the side and leans over so as to hear him more clearly. “Who’s this ‘[Name]’ Solomon’s talkin’ about?”

“You don’t know?” Simeon blinks at him in blatant perplexion - as if he can’t even fathom the idea that Mammon might not know who Solomon’s talking about. “He’s talking about his husband.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Then—

“Solomon has a HUSBAND!?” Mammon practically shrieks, completely flabbergasted. “I thought he was totally, like, the forever alone type!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed?” is Simeon’s bewildered response. “Who do you think Solomon is always talking about buying groceries for?”

“I thought he was just buyin’ them for himself!” Mammon fires back, looking far more ruffled and shocked than he probably should be. He whips around to look at Solomon, who’s flicking through the little packet of blank charms he keeps on him at all times in an effort to find the right one to create a temporary transportation charm. He’s had to do it so many times this month that he’s already beginning to run out. “You’re married?!”

“Of course,” Solomon answers vaguely, briefly raising his left hand, allowing Mammon to spot the soft glint of a ring around his fourth finger. “You’re not?”

“Wh— ‘course I’m not!” Mammon exclaims, positively scandalised by the very concept. “Why would I get married, huh?! It’s a waste of time and a waste of money!”

“Think whatever you like,” Solomon dismisses him easily, which only seems to irritate Mammon further.

Finally having found the right blank charm, he plucks it out and begins carefully tracing patterns onto it with a single glowing finger. He’s dimly aware of Mammon furiously whispering to Simeon in the background, with the angel responding in kind, most likely sharing some exaggerated story from back when the three of you had worked together - when Solomon had accepted a job from the Celestial Realm. The details of the whole thing are a little fuzzy to him now, long as it has been, but he’s almost completely sure that Simeon somehow still remembers the whole thing flawlessly.

“How old even is he?!” He hears Mammon hiss.

“I’m not so sure myself,” Simeon replies, placing his chin in a thoughtful hand. “Let’s see… their two millennial anniversary’s coming up in about two years, and I remember Solomon saying that they got married when he was around two hundred or so… which means he’s about twenty-one hundred years old.”

“Holy shit,” Mammon mutters in disbelief, turning glance at the sorcerer as he starts folding down the corners of his charm into the right shape. “Humans aren’t supposed to live that long. How’s his husband still alive, then?”

“That isn’t really a question for me to answer,” Simeon shakes his head slightly. “I suppose you can always ask him yourself if Solomon ever brings him to work with him.”

“I doubt it,” Solomon speaks up for the first time since announcing his departure. “He’s usually busy during the day. Besides, transportation charms make him queasy, and I’m not making him walk all the way down here.”

“Aren’t you a wizard?” Mammon asks, scratching his head. “Just do one of ya fancy teleportation spells. Why d’you need a charm?”

Solomon sighs. He hates to admit it, but he can’t be bothered to make up some other reason to cover up for himself. “I’m afraid that teleportation spells aren’t actually particularly accurate. We could end up somewhere in the Pacific if I’m not careful.”

Mammon looks thunderstruck. “Then what about all those times you’ve teleported us?! Don’t tell me we coulda ended up in, like, the Archaic Pit or something?!”

“Well, it was always a possibility,” Solomon shrugs in reply, finishing the charm with a deft flick of his hand. “You’re a demon, I sure you could have handled yourself.”

“But…!” Mammon crosses his arms and turns away like a grumpy child. “Hmph…”

“Do say hello to [Name] for me, will you?” Simeon requests as Solomon turns to open the door, ignoring the sulking demon sitting beside him. “We haven’t been able to talk for a while.”

“You text him every day, don’t you?” Solomon asks, shooting him an unimpressed look. “I’d say that’s conversation enough.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to be stingy,” Simeon countered with a smile, tilting his head slightly to the side and leaning forward. “Besides, one misses the presence of an actual person after a while of nothing but electronic communication... especially texting is so difficult. Tell him he’s always welcome to come around for some tea - Luke would be happy to see him.”

Solomon shakes his head, but makes a sound of affirmation nevertheless. You had mentioned that you’ve missed seeing Simeon since he’d started the whole negotiator businesss, and he isn’t the sort of person to deny you the company of a friend. “I’ll let him know. Anyway, I should really be going now…”

“Have a safe journey!” Simeon calls after him as he swings the door open and sweeps out. Solomon waves a hand over his shoulder in response, then disappears down the corridor, most likely to a quiet spot in the courtyard to use his charm. He’s been banned from using them indoors ever since he accidentally shattered one of the fancy artifacts in the assembly hall and sent hundreds of shards flying everywhere. Apparently Barbatos is still finding tiny pieces of glass in the crevices of the floor.

“Why didn’t Solomon ever say anythin’?” Mammon asks Simeon after a moment of quietude. “Seems like the sorta thing you’d mention.”

“Solomon’s a private man,” Simeon says with a shrug. “Besides, he and [Name] have made plenty of enemies over the years, and you’d be shocked by how quickly names and locations can spread…”

“Does he mind us knowin’ about it, then?”

“Well, personally, I’ve known for a while,” Simeon answers, “And I’m sure the others will have worked it out by now - Solomon’s always finding ways to mention [Name] in passing. But no, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. He’d say something if he did.”

Mammon nods and goes silent for a little while. Then he asks, “What’s this [Name] like, then? Must be some guy if Solomon liked him enough to put a ring on him and keep him for that long.”

“Well, let’s see…” Simeon drums his fingers thoughtfully against the tabletop. “He has quite the penchant for raising deadly plants, he hasn’t gone more than a full month without exploding something or another for about five centuries, he takes clocks apart in his spare time, he likes his coffee with a touch of vanilla, he collects cursed books, he makes a lovely butterscotch-cinnamon pie, and he works as a curse breaker for hire.”

It takes a moment for Mammon to process all of the information that’s just been dumped on him. “...sounds like the kinda guy Satan would get along with.”

“I thought so as well,” Simeon agrees. “Their house even reminds me of Satan’s room, in a way… [Name] is quite the avid reader.”

“What, you’ve been?”

“Only once,” Simeon’s eyes flutter closed for a moment as he reminisces. “Quite a long time ago now. I wouldn’t know where to find it even if I wanted to go again, though - it’s always moving.”

“Do they move house a lot, then?”

Simeon shakes his head. “Oh, no, no. They’ve lived in the same house for centuries - it’s the house that moves itself.”

Mammon pauses. “...what?”

“The building,” Simeon clarifies. “They’ve got an enchantment on the whole thing that makes it change locations every couple of weeks or so.”

“But… why?”

Simeon shrugs. “[Name] doesn’t like staying in one place for too long.”

“Still, isn’t that a bit much…?” Mammon pulls a face. “They could always just travel, ya know…”

“As Solomon said, transportation talismans make [Name] feel queasy,” Simeon explains. “And he prefers not to use teleportation spells when it comes to him, just in case they end up somewhere dangerous.”

“And he doesn’t care about the rest of us ending up somewhere dangerous?” Mammon huffs and collapses forwards onto the table.

“Well, you can’t really compare the two,” Simeon says patiently as the demon continues to mutter indignantly under his breath. “He’s his husband, and we’re essentially just his friends from work.”

Mammon opens his mouth to make a rebuttal, then thinks about it for a moment and changes his mind. After a moment, he comments, a little less resentfully, “Well, you’d think he’d at least introduce us.”

“He’s been planning to for a while, actually,” Simeon tells him. “Give him some time and he’ll probably bring it up on his own.”

Mammon nods. “He’d better!”

“I’m home.”

You look up from the book you’re reading and hop down from your seat on the roof just in time to see Solomon emerge from the back garden, looking noticeably dishevelled, with leaves decorating his head like some sort of fancy accessory.

“Welcome back!” You greet him happily, setting the book aside and moving forward to start picking the leaves from his hair. Solomon smiles softly at you as you take his bag in one hand and start pulling him to the front door with the other. “You forgot your talisman again, by the way.”

“I noticed,” He laughs, gently removing your hand from his upper arm and wrapping his fingers around it instead. “Why else do you think I ended up in the hedges again?”

“It’s a wonder that you’ve had to make these temporary talismans so many times and you still haven’t gotten one right yet,” You tease in reply, nudging him in the shoulder. “How many points is that on the tally now, then?”

“Ten for the basement, seven for the roof, and eleven for the hedges now,” He answers with a small pout as you laugh. “Honestly, you’d think I would have learnt my lesson...”

“You never do, love.” 

The door creaks as you and your husband enter the house, only to immediately be greeted by a bundle of scales hitting you head-on. You manage to keep your footing and steady yourself on the doorway; Solomon isn’t so lucky, and ends up laying spread-eagled on the floor with about two hundred kilograms of excited adolescent dragon purring on his chest.

“Looks like Triton missed you,” You comment with a bright smile, setting Solomon’s bag down beside the umbrella rack and leaning over to give the dragon a scratch behind his left horn, just the way he likes it. He rumbles happily and jingles the little bell around his neck at you. “Isn’t he getting big?”

“I saw him this morning, [Name],” Solomon wheezes from his position on the floor, somehow managing to reach up and tickle Triton’s chin with one hand despite the dragon’s weight. “He can’t have grown that much in ten hours.”

“You never know!” You tell him, reaching up and wrapping your arms around Triton’s neck. He coos in a delighted fashion and raises his head, setting it heavily on your shoulder. Solomon uses the brief lightening of the weight on him to take in a deep breath as you allow your dragon to nuzzle furiously into your neck. “Dragons are unpredictable, you know.”

“Believe me, I do,” He sighs tiredly as Triton blows out a pleased puff of hot air and knocks the clock off the wall again. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Triton, I’d quite like to get back up again.”

The dragon blinks and raises his head from your shoulder, glancing down at the sorcerer that he’s crushing under his weight. Then he huffs and turns away again.

“Oh, you—!” Solomon curses as the dragon seems to press even harder into him. Your laughter rings out across the hall, and while he’d normally take a moment to admire the sound, he’s a little preoccupied. “[Name], stop laughing and help me!”

“He’s like a rebellious teenager!” You splutter helplessly in reply, voice still trembling slightly out of mirth. Triton makes a happy noise as you reach up and rub his scaly cheeks, his ears fluttering slightly. “Awww, you’re really growing up, aren’t you, baby? Your poor dads are really going to have their work cut out for them, huh?”

“Hey,” Solomon calls reproachfully from beneath Triton’s enormous chest. “Your husband’s still being crushed down here.”

“Oh, right!” You click your tongue and give Triton a meaningful look. He grumbles but obeys nevertheless, hopping off of Solomon (though not without knocking all the air out of him by using his chest as a launchpad) and scampering off, most likely to go play with the salamanders that have set up shop in the storage room again.

“I’ll never understand how you manage him so well,” Solomon sighs as you bend down to pull him to his feet, rubbing at the sore spot on his chest. “He never listens to me.”

“Aw, he loves you, really,” You reassure him, taking his hand and pressing a comforting kiss to his knuckles. “He just likes roughhousing with you.”

Solomon shakes his head, wanting to complain further about the big lizard that the two of you had adopted six months ago after the last one grew up and flew the nest, but then he sees the smile on your face, and he feels the flicker of irritation in his chest die down almost immediately. It’s at times like this that he’s really reminded of how absolutely worth it all of the nonsense he has to put up with at work is - because, at the end of the day, you are here, with your warm eyes and your lovely smile, with your comforting hands and your warm embrace, and there is no road too long to walk if you are waiting for him at the end of it.

“I know,” He sighs, tugging off his shoes and stepping into his favourite pair of slippers - the ones with the little cat faces printed on them that you’ve charmed to always maintain a perfect temperature for his feet. He glances at your own feet and notes that you’re wearing your matching pair as well.

The two of you have long since set up a routine for this sort of occasion, and you both fall into it with unconscious ease. Solomon changes into something more comfortable while you put the kettle on in the kitchen, and the two of you inevitably spend so long snuggled up together on the largest armchair in the living room, unwilling to leave the warmth of each other’s presence, that the water cools down, and you end up having to put it back on again. Then you sit together at the table, you with a coffee with a dash of vanilla and him with his favourite chrysanthemum tea that you always brew just the way he likes it. Sometimes you’ll sit side by side, shoulders pressed up against each other as you show him the specifics of your latest curse-breaking commission, and sometimes you’ll sit across from each other, holding hands across the tabletop as he tells you about his day.

Today it is the former, but Solomon can’t help but zone a little out of the detailed deep-dive you’re giving him about the intricacies of the spell that’s cursed this teapot to shoot its contents at anyone who attempts to fill it. It isn’t that your explanation is boring - quite the contrary, in fact; Solomon could probably listen to you describing the most mundane or trivial of things on loop for the rest of his life and be perfectly content with it. No, it’s more to do with the fact that this is the first time he’s been home before dark in a long while, and he can’t help but revel in the fact that he can spend time with you like this again. Of course, there’s something wonderful in coming home to be able to collapse into bed beside you and bury his face in the crook of your neck, drifting to sleep as you burrow closer to him even in your sleep, but Solomon can’t run off of that forever - he needs to see you with your eyes open as well, after all. 

“You’re not listening to a word I say, are you?” You ask as you note the far-off look on your husband’s face. You’re not offended in the slightest by the way he starts at the directed question, evidently guilty, but you are a little puzzled. “Is there something wrong?”

Solomon’s mouth falls open slightly, then shuts again. There’s something about the way you’re looking at him so earnestly that makes his heart stutter like nothing else. Honestly, you’d think he’d be used to this after nearly two thousand years, but it seems that he’s still as weak for you as he was on the very first day of your marriage. “...I suppose I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“You always have a lot on your mind,” You counter softly, giving his hand a brief squeeze. “Come on, you can tell me.”

He laughs quietly, bringing your linked hands up to his face and gently holding yours to the side of his face; you, in turn, unfurl your fingers from around his and rub his cheek affectionately. After a moment, a fond smile pulling at his lips, Solomon replies, “I’ve… missed you a lot this week.”

You pause in mild surprise, but it quickly turns to endearment as Solomon presses his body even closer to yours. The hand that you’re using to hold your mug of coffee moves to settle on his shoulder as you pull him closer. “Really now? What a coincidence. I’ve missed you lots as well, love.”

He chuckles a little bashfully, his cheeks flushing. It seems that your ability to fluster him hasn’t declined even a bit over the years. He’s still well and truly besotted.

You can’t help but find it rather amusing that, despite already having spent a good hour and a half or so in the living room, bundled so close together in the blankets that you could feel his breath on your skin, the two of you are still nestling so close together now. You suppose it’s the effects of a week with much less contact than usual.

You lean forward and press a kiss to his jaw before pulling back again, reaching for your coffee and taking a sip. Solomon exhales softly, pulling his own drink towards him and draining the last of the tea in a single mouthful.

“You know,” He says, setting his empty cup down on the table. “One of my coworkers was asking about you earlier.”

“‘Coworkers’,” You snort at his choice of language, earning a reproachful poke in the side as punishment. “Come on, just admit that they’re your friends.”

“Fine,” He sighs. “One of my friends, then - Mammon, the one that Lucifer’s stringing up all the time.”

“The one with white hair?” You recall, thinking back to the group photo that Simeon had sent you a while back. “He’s the Avatar of Greed, right?”

“That’s the one,” Solomon nods. “Apparently he never noticed that I was married.”

“Well, you can’t really blame him,” You say, giving him a playful nudge. “Honestly, the way you keep your mouth shut, you’d think I was some shameful secret or something.”

Solomon looks scandalised by the very idea - it had only been a little joke, but his eyes flash with such affront that it’s almost as if someone has genuinely called you such a thing. “Of course not! I’d never—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I was joking,” You cut him off before he can get more riled up. Solomon calms down quickly once you set a comforting hand on his knee, though he still looks a little indignant. “I know why you don’t like talking about us much, but really, it’s okay. They’re your friends, aren't they?”

He hesitates, then nods, releasing another deep sigh soon afterwards. “I suppose. There isn’t much I can really do about it at this point anyway… according to Simeon, most of them have somehow figured it out already.”

“They’re probably a lot smarter than you give them credit for, Sol,” You hum, reaching up and brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes for him. “They’re demons, after all. They’ve lived even longer than us.”

“Believe me, they really aren’t.” Solomon shakes his head, a frown pinching at his brow at the very memory of the amount of things that his coworkers have done recently - some of the most notable being Diavolo setting an entire flock of geese free in the courtyard for an ‘experiment’, Levi quite literally throwing himself out of a window just to win a bet against Mammon about who could get down the stairs faster, Asmo causing a stampede in the main hall by dropping and shattering a bottle full of a powerful aphrodisiac potion that became even more powerful once released into the air, and Lucifer accidentally breaking one of Solomon’s favourite cauldrons when he’d transformed into his demon form and inadvertently smacked halfway across the room it with one of his upper wings.

“I’d really love to meet them some day,” You sigh, swirling the contents of your mug around. “They sound like fun.”

“Trust me, the trouble isn’t worth it—” Solomon attempts to reason with you, but he gives up laughably quickly as you pout at him in protest. “Oh, fine. But don’t blame me if you get sick because of the charm again.”

“We don’t have to use the charm,” You shake your head. “Just do a teleportation spell!”

“You know that that’s risky,” Solomon sighs, chucking you under the chin and leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose. You laugh as he draws back again, a pleased smile rising on his face at your reaction. “We could end up anywhere.”

“You’ve teleported them a bunch of times, though, haven’t you? And you haven’t ended up in Texas or the Sahara Desert any of those times!”

The resemblance to his earlier conversation with Mammon and Simeon is almost uncanny. “That’s different. I was still teleporting them within the Devildom, not across an entire realm barrier… and besides, I can afford the risk with them. You’re a different story.”

You pout again, shoulders dropping in defeat, though it doesn’t escape Solomon’s notice that his sentiment seems to have appeased you at least a little. “...guess we’ll just have to use a transportation talisman, huh…?”

“That’s your only option if you really want to visit, yes.”

You go quiet for a moment or two, nose wrinkling and face scrunching as you think it over. Solomon doesn’t mind the lack of conversation - he entertains himself by studying your features, wondering for perhaps the millionth time how he managed to find someone like you.

Finally, a determined look rising on your face, you nod and proclaim, “Then I’ll do it!”

Solomon cocks his head slightly to the side. He can’t say he’s surprised by your eagerness, but he had expected it to take you longer to make up your mind. He opens his mouth to say something, but tou answer his question before he’s even asked it, a skill that you’d managed to pick up within the first year or so of knowing him.

“I really wanna see what you actually get up to when you work,” You explain, looking a little sheepish. “You’ve had a job there for nearly two years and I’ve never even said a word to the people you work with.”

Solomon laughs. “It isn’t usually a requirement in the workplace. Wear appropriate uniform, bring any equipment you need, introduce your husband to your coworkers within the decade…”

“Still, I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least meet them,” You say. “Besides, I want to see Simeon as well. You said he’s working down in the Devildom for a bit as well, didn’t you?”

“Why are you so eager to see him, huh?” Solomon’s tone is light and teasing, so you know not to take him seriously as he puts on an hurt expression. “I’m offended. Your dear husband’s right here and you’re thinking about some angel.”

“Oh, stop it, you,” You shake your head in slightly exasperated amusement as he runs a finger down his cheek in lieu of a tear. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” He pulls an exaggeratedly petulant face and pretends to turn away like an upset child. “Sometimes I feel like you love him more than me.”

“Simeon’s a lovely guy, but you’re still the only guy for me, you doof,” You tell him, tapping fondly at the cheek he’s turned to you with your free hand. Solomon obligingly turns back around to look at you, a grin pulling at his mouth. “Why would I marry you and then stay here for two thousand years if you weren't?”

“I guess I always assumed it was out of pity or something,” He jokes in response, leaning forward and briefly brushing his nose against yours. “And, just so you know, you’re the only guy for me as well.”

“I’d better be,” is your lighthearted reply as he pulls away. After a moment, looking at him expectantly, you begin tentatively, “So…?”

He sighs, but gives you a smile nevertheless. “I’ll ask Diavolo. He probably wouldn’t mind if I brought you without asking first, but Lucifer definitely would.”

“What’ll we do if they hate me?” You ask. “Do demons actually eat humans?”

“They wouldn’t dare,” He replies firmly. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Besides, they won’t hate you. I doubt anyone could.”

You laugh and drop your head to rest on his chest. “You’re too nice to me, love.”

Solomon turns to wrap both his arms around your shoulders, setting his chin on the crown of your head. You smile into his jumper, looping your own arms around his waist and pushing yourself closer to him.

“I’m not just being nice. Honestly, [Name], you’re kind of the most perfect man in the universe.”

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXXVI: Winds of Change

I

Early spring, the rustle of the reeds against a gentle breeze. An indentation made among several rows of them as I lay, pressed into the damp soil. Arms under my head, eyes closed, thoughts floated away, just as they ought to. There were many reasons to worry, many wrongs to correct, and many mysteries to solve. But none of those things could happen unless I allowed myself a moment’s rest.

What of the others? Did I abandon them? No. But I wasn’t meant to stay for very long, it just wasn’t who I was. By nature, I was a drifter. By trade, almost, if such a thing were possible in the current age.

Ray gave me a phone so that he could call whenever things got bad again. It was like an ebb and flow, little tremors. Sometimes the activity would quiet down, but not long enough for anyone to think that the nightmares were over. Then they would build back up and people would show up with gashes, scrapes, bruises, all over their bodies with no explanation. Some reported whispers and little shadows that resembled people, but not quite. Whenever it slowed down, I went away again and found some place to hide out.

Why? Well, let’s just say I had my suspicions that I was just as much a target as were Ray and the others. Just the simple fact that an anonymous letter requested my death was enough to warrant such a suspicion. Ha. If whoever was behind that note wanted me so bad, they should have just fought me themselves. No games, no beating around the bush. My time could come any day now, but if someone wanted to take this life from me, by all means. But they ought to expect a fight.

Speaking of notes, there was one which was left for me that night when I met Remora in that abandoned building (well, not so much “abandoned” now, as I managed to get the electricity working before I left. Tragic as it may be, that was all I could do before I left and things turned south for me. I guess too many tip offs and “authorities” grew suspicious. So I bailed, as I often did, and I could only hope that those homeless friends I met weren’t so homeless, even if there was so much more I could have done had I managed to stay). It had Ray and Sunny’s address, as well as the phone number of the one who killed Rhea.

When I awoke, the piece of paper had been next to me, and curious, I picked it up. As soon as I looked over the contents, I scoffed, let out a little laugh.

“She’s really insistent, isn’t she?” I shook my head as I mused to myself. On the back of the paper was a further explanation of the events which transpired between ‘Ves’ and Rhea:

“Ves told me the story at the bar. Not that I needed to know the details from her, I already had an idea. Her original name was Etna Modelo. If that name rings a bell, it’s because she was part of the original ‘ETNA’ project. She had begun to grow unstable as the part of her that housed the angel of happiness clashed with the part of her that was human. Such a clash had adverse effects on those around her. The other ‘R’ and Douglas Fir were tasked with removing her from the world. Both met their end, although Ves seemed rather mournful of ‘R’ when we met, and although cured, it’s evident that the ordeal still effects her.

As I wasn’t there, I don’t know the full story, so I would still recommend asking her yourself. Your call, though. I’d just like to move on from it.”

Remora probably wrote that figuring I wouldn’t want to contact Ves myself. Yes, ‘Etna’, I’ve heard of her before: the girl on the run, the experiment, the artificial doctor. All of her incarnations. Hotheaded, explosive, short-tempered were all words that were used to describe her in reports and between eavesdrops of idle gossip from those who were aware of The Flashbulb’s pet project.

I considered contacting her, but felt it best not to. We were strangers, and she probably wanted to move on from such a thing as well. Besides, that was all I needed to know. Maybe whatever angel was with us now came here because they sensed one of their kin? Who the hell knew?

Rather than solve some cosmic mystery, some existential threat, I was instead relaxed in the fields of a small town in Idaho. As of late, I’ve been staying with this middle-aged man named Cleaver in his little shack. Two hammocks hung inside, he slept below, I above. Next to him was a wolf who he named Mange. Not my first choice of names for a wolf, but it wasn’t my place to judge.

I got up and stretched.

Still early in the day; a crisp air, a cerulean hue in the sky. Everything was early, yet not. As I made my way back to the shack, I caught a glimpse of cleaver with his sagged, sunken face and his potbelly hanging low out from his white T-shirt. Scruff all over his face, gray hairs all over.

“Fancy day for a squirrel barbecue,” he scratched his chin and announced in a low voice.

“Ha. You and your meals,” I replied as I brushed aside some tall grass. “You do realize there’s a restaurant nearby, right?”

“Bah! You just don’t get it, Zephyr: that shit costs money. You know, our ancestors got by just fine without money.”

What makes you think your ancestors are my ancestors?

“Sure, but are you really gonna subsist on corn and rodents?” I retorted.

“Hey, if it tastes good and it doesn’t kill me, what does it matter?”

I put my hands in my pockets and shrugged my shoulders. Fair, I guess.

My swords were laid inside his shack. Mange knew better than to knock them down. When it came to food, I had two options: The Garage Cafe, or run 8 miles to the nearest city and get some Wendy’s.

“I might be gone for a few hours,” I mentioned, “so see you later in the afternoon?”

“You know I don’t care where you go,” he waved off. That was something I liked about staying with him, is that neither of us ever minded the other’s business. He reminded me of an old man I once knew who I also crashed with. Rather literally, but I’d rather not get into that. He was kind enough, and I might not have survived without the help, but it was clear he wouldn’t last. I was just glad that I got to see off that old man. That was a few hundred years ago, but memories were funny that way, how they didn’t care how long ago something was, just how important they could have been.

Before I could depart to Wendy’s (let’s be real, while I knew it was junk food, I couldn’t help but love that place because of its name), I heard the sound of shoes against soft soil, someone running, and their short breaths.

Sounds of Mange’s growls could be heard from inside the shack. I scanned the area until I spotted the source of the running: a young woman, about a foot shorter than I, with messy, shoulder-length blonde hair. Still, there was no denying that I recognized that face.

“Fi...finally,” she huffed and hunched over to catch her breath once she approached me. “I found you. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it was to find you.”

Tell me about it.

I blinked. I opened my mouth, then closed it. It took a while before I could figure out what I wanted to say.

“How did you find me?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“I asked some of your friends in Chicago. Otis, I think was his name, told me how you said you were headed to Caldwell, Idaho. So I went there, asked around, and apparently an employee at the Wendy’s there says she’s seen you head over toward Notus.”

“Dammit, Otis,” I cursed under my breath.

Really, it’s my own fault for telling anyone where I’d be heading. I just figured after I returned from Ray’s diner that I’d check in on how some of those folks were doing.

“You know this girl, Zephyr?” Cleaver called over.

“Yeah. She’s fine. Tell your dog to knock it off,” I called back over to him.

“MANGE! SHUT IT!” Cleaver yelled to the shack. There was a low whimper, then nothing after that.

“Zephyr?” She asked.

“Yeah. That’s my name now. Demetria, was it?” I asked right back.

“Mm-hmm. That much hasn’t changed.”

I studied her but nothing looked all that different from when I met her. If she had an air about her that was different, I didn’t sense it.

“So, Demetria, what can I do for you? It’s clear you wanted me for something, but for what, I don’t know.”

She straightened up her stance and looked up at me, a more resolute expression took hold on her face. One which said that she was ready to get right down to business.

“I want you train me,” she stated.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me: I want to hone my skills with the blade.”

I puffed up my cheeks, desperate not to break into laughter.

“What?! You think I’m some wise, old master? Do you expect me to take you on as a pupil, and at the end bow and go ‘you have done well, my student?’ Is that it?”

“If that’s what you want to do, go ahead. But I’m serious.”

That much was obvious, but it still didn’t make sense to me.

“Why do you think I’d be a good fit to train you?” I questioned.

“Because our weapons of choice are similar. The way you fight, act, react, every movement has a purpose and it’s like you’re ready for anything. You don’t leave yourself with openings. If I had to pick someone whose style of attack was similar to my own, it would have to be you. Meanwhile, I’m reckless, less refined, and don’t know what I’m doing half of the time.”

“OK. But is there a particular reason why you want to be trained so bad?”

“Because I want to learn restraint.”

That still wasn’t good enough. I felt like I was missing the full picture, and despite how plain her answers were, it was like she was holding back, or avoiding giving anything away.

“Restraint, huh? And you think me, the cop killer, can teach you that?”

I glanced behind me. Cleaver didn’t seem to react to what I said. Strange, I thought that he would have. But I guess he figured it just wasn’t his business.

“You’re right,” she replied, “but I never said I wanted to be you, nor did I say what I meant by restraint.”

“Indeed. You didn’t.”

I paced about and thought it over.

“You use knives, I use large swords,” I pointed out, “each blade is different, with its own style and use. You don’t use a kitchen knife the same way you do a hunting knife. You don’t use an Oodachi the same way you use a Kodachi. Catch my drift?”

She nodded.

“What I can teach you, and let me be upfront, I’ve never taught anyone, may not help you.”

I continued to pace. While I explained such things, my mind was yet to be made up.

“That said, I do have some experience with small blades, but they’re not quite like the knives you’ve got,” I thought back to that night when we fought, “throwing knives and a hunting knife, right?”

“Yes. Although I’d like to broaden my horizons a bit.”

“Mm...I see. Short sword may do, then. But let’s not rush anything. Because if I’m going to train you, you’re going to need to learn more than just how to use a short sword.”

“Of course. So does that mean you’ll accept?” Her words were ones of excitement, anticipation, but her voice was flat. As for me, my smile widened and I let some teeth show through.

“Under one condition: every day, I want you to buy me Wendy’s.”

“Okay, sure, there’s one eight miles away, I can just take Cybele’s plane and head right back.”

“On foot,” I clarified. While I didn’t know who this ‘Cybele’ was, taking a plane would have defeated the whole purpose of such a training.

“What? Really? Do you know how long that would take me? Your food will get cold by the time I bring it back to you.”

“Then learn to get faster,” I shrugged. Wasn’t my problem, so long as I had my grub.

“Hey, don’t mean to butt in, but I got a solution,” Cleaver hobbled forward and chimed in.

“Oh yeah? What?”

“You and this girlie here should run together to the city, then you both can eat once there.”

“Ooh, like a race?” I liked the sound of that.

“Something like that. I’ll even take you back home in the back of the truck by the end of the day, since I can already tell she’s just starting out.”

“Hey! I bet I could run right back here!” Demetria protested.

“Go ahead and try, but I’m doin’ you a favor. Trust me,” he replied. He was right, of course, too, and that gross overconfidence of hers was all the more reason why she needed training.

“By the way, if you’re going to be running, you’re going to need a bottle of water,” I advised, then went into the shack to grab my water bottle: a nice and thick tin thermos. “Take this. We can stop at the Garage Cafe on our way to the city so you can fill it.”

“What about you?” She asked.

“I’ll get water once we get into the city. Plus, I can always get another thermos.”

“All right, all right, so when can we start?” She tapped her foot. Ever so impatient to be tortured, I see.

“Now,” I answered.

“What? Now? I just got he –”

Nope. Wouldn’t hear it. Especially after she begged. I took off toward town, then toward the highway right away. I’d glance back to see her in the distance, and it was clear that she was trying to run.

Okay, when we get to the city, I’ve got to teach her proper form.

Down on the highway, she was still quite behind, but she started to speed up.

“How...how much longer?” She huffed, short on breath, and still early in.

“Like, seven more miles?” I guessed. Really, we weren’t even a quarter of the way there. More like a quarter of a quarter.

She stopped and hunched over to catch her breath.

“You’re not going to get very far standing still,” I stopped too. Even though I was ahead of her, the training would have been moot if I just ran off without her. “It’s not about speed. If you try to sprint your way there, you’ll tire out fast. It’s about sustained motion.”

“How is anyone supposed to keep running for eight miles?!” She gasped out and threw her hands up.

“I just told you. You will get faster, eventually, but what’s important is to build up stamina and use up as little energy as possible. You can walk every now and then if you have to, but you need to keep moving.”

She gasped a few more breaths, then straightened up her posture.

“Okay. Let’s keep going.”

Throughout our run, she’d stop to walk for a few seconds, or take a sip from the thermos, then she kept going for a short burst before walking again. It wasn’t ideal, but I suppose she had to start somewhere. When we finally made it into the city, and Wendy’s, about two and a half hours have passed. Again, not ideal, but I suppose it wasn’t too bad.

She was collapsed at a booth in the Wendy’s, all huffing and puffing and complaining about feeling sick.

“You should get yourself something to eat,” I looked down at the suffering apprentice.

“I can’t. I feel like I’m gonna throw up,” she wheezed.

“Yeah, that’s how it is at first. But hey, I’m amazed you made it at all. It’s a good start. But seriously, some food will help you feel better. Plus you need the calories to replenish your energy.”

“...I’m...vegetarian…”

“Okay? So? Get a freakin’ salad. Go to another restaurant. But eat something.”

Her hands shook as she grabbed on to the edge of the table and struggled to sit up.

“I suppose I can do a salad,” she heaved out the words. I gave her a heavy pat on the back, which made her bellow out, “oof!”

“That’s the spirit!”

A few minutes later, she returned with a box salad, a large thing of fries, and refilled her water.

“Fries, huh?” I pointed out.

“It’s not meat,” she shrugged. Eh, fair point.

I myself had one of those big burgers, large fries, large soda, large chicken nuggets, large everything. Again, it was junk, but considering the name, I was biased.

“So, I should tell you this upfront: if you’re going to train under me, you need to have a reason. I don’t need to know what that reason is, but I won’t accept it if you don’t have one.”

“Trust me, I do,” she responded, not quite focused on me, and more looking listless as she dipped her fries in a pile of red sweetness.

“By the way, do you have a place to stay?”

“No, but I can check into a hotel. It’s not like I don’t have money.”

“If that’s what you wanna do, sure, but while you’re here, you can sleep over at the shack. It’s not the most comfortable, and you’d have to sleep on the floor, but it won’t cost ya anything. More convenient, too. Cleaver won’t mind.”

“Cleaver, huh? You sure seem to make friends easily,” she observed.

“Heh. It’s not quite like that, but I try to form connections where I can. I think you’ll find that it’s practical, pragmatic even, to get on someone’s good side wherever you go. Doesn’t matter if you think you’re stronger or weaker,” I shook my head and smiled, “it’s a lonely world. Universe, even. But there’s things you can do to make it less lonely. I’m a loner, both by trade and nature, but we’re all here on this Earth to help each other.”

“That’s a good philosophy. I’ve never given such things any thought.”

“You probably never needed to. It’s better if you don’t have to give it thought, but when you’ve lived as long as I have, with as many experiences as I have, you get plenty of moments to think. Reflect.”

“Huh?” She looked my way, as if I had caught her attention with my little musings.

“Huh what?”

“Oh, I thought you said my name.”

“What? ‘To think’? I guess that sounds like Demetria…”

‘My hearing’s probably off because of all that running,” she shook her head and groaned, “seriously, my ears won’t stop popping.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“How long do we have to keep this running for, anyway?”

“Until you can manage to do it without stopping to walk. Stopping for water is one thing, but even then, it shouldn’t take long. As I said, it’s not about speed. It’s fine if you run slow, just don’t stop running.”

We stretched outside after our meal and wandered around.

“I’m taking online classes, actually, so I may have to pass on your offer,” Demetria mentioned as we walked through the city.

“There’s Wi-Fi at the shack. I’m an engineer, it wasn’t too hard to do.”

“Oh, okay. You really think of everything, huh?”

I denied such a claim.

“I just try to see what’s possible. So tell me about these online classes of yours.”

“There’s not really much to tell. I’m studying marine biology, but I don’t really care for it. I’m just doing it to finish what I started,” she gestured toward me and I caught a glimpse of her reflection through the glass of an electronics store. She looked so animated, even as she told me how little interest she had in her studies.

“That’s still impressive in its own right,” I replied. It got me thinking about how many projects I left unfinished, how many times I had to leave a place and its people behind, how many missions went abandoned when new information made me see a different perspective. Even the times when I just abandoned a project out of a loss of faith or desire to see it complete. What could have come of them had I completed them?

We wandered around town for a little while, then sat at a park, although little was said. Just before sunset, Cleaver’s rusty pickup truck sputtered and screeched as it arrived at the base of the park. Both Demetria and I hopped in the back and we let the gentle breeze of early spring overtake us. Soon we were back at the shack and once we landed on the soft soil, I broke down the plan.

“While she’s training with me, can she stay here?” I asked.

“I don’t see a problem with that, but she’ll have to sleep on the floor next to Mange.”

“Who’s Mange?” Demetria leaped out from the side of the truck and landed on her feet with a thud.

“Eh, just my dog. He’s friendly. Might growl at ya. Might even bite your arm. Might even rip it off. But he’s friendly.”

She squinted.

“It’s a lone wolf he found,” I explained instead. As it turns out, Cleaver wasn’t very good with this stuff. “I think as far as Mange is concerned, as long as you don’t actively pose a threat, he’ll probably consider you part of the pack.”

“Hold up. Why do you have a pet wolf?” She turned to Cleaver. He scratched the back of his head.

“Helps keep away the cougars,” he answered all matter-of-fact.

“Why do you need to keep away older women for?” She questioned and I almost spat out the soda that had already been digested three hours ago.

“I like this one,” he pointed his thumb to her, “she knows what’s up.”

“Actually, I think it’s the opposite,” I refuted.

“So while we’re training, what if we practice sparring right outside the shack?”

Then it would get interesting, I thought the devious thought. Of course I wasn’t going to disclose that.

“We’d just have to keep the door closed, I guess,” I said instead.

We all made our way inside, a very cramped space. There was a bathroom in the back, complete with a shower, but aside from that, it was a bedroom with little room to house one person, let alone three plus a gray wolf. Besides the bunk bed hammock and the wooden planked floor, there was a dresser on the left end once we entered, and on the right was where Mange slept (when he wasn’t sleeping outside).

“You don’t mind if I have my laptop open while you sleep, do you?” Demetria asked Cleaver as he was already headed up to the top hammock to get some shut eye.

“Do what you want, but if the bright screen wakes Mange, don’t come cryin’ to me when he bites ya.”

“Here, I’ll sleep on the floor across from you,” I offered to her, “so don’t even worry about it.”

“Thanks,” she turned quiet and looked down to her side.

“She’s working toward her degree!” I cupped my hands to tell Cleaver. “Her studies are very important to her!”

“Really, now?”

“How the hell should I know? They’re her studies, not mine,” I hissed out the words, trying not to be too loud as to wake Mange.

“Bah, you know it’s all a scam,” he grumbled.

“You’re a scam,” I mimicked back.

“Are you gonna be okay sleeping on the floor?” Demetria seemed puzzled at my offer.

What about you? I bet you’re more used to sleeping on a bed than I am.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t care where I sleep. I’ve slept just about everywhere,” I reassured her.

“Bah, there she goes again. ‘Look at me, I’ve slept in penthouses and castles and trash cans alike’. We’ve heard it all before,” Cleaver started up again. I ignored him, and leaned in to whisper to Demetria:

“That’s him on his good days. Now type away.”

Sleep never came easy for me, if much at all. That’s always been true, or at least as far back as I could remember. The dim glow of Demetria’s laptop didn’t make much of a difference. Mange for his part stretched during a couple of intervals, but other than that, didn’t seem to pay Demetria any mind. Not even as she was leaned up against the back of his fur.

There wasn’t much else to do but watch. After a while, she started to yawn and her eyelids started to droop down. There were a few more clacks against the keyboard, then she pulled the laptop screen down slow and closed it before setting it aside. She didn’t seem to notice me at all. All the better for it. I wasn’t fixated on her, but my surrounding as a whole. It was a quirk of mine which I attributed to countless years of pursuit. Always alert, always looking forward. If someone were to try to kill me in their sleep, they would be left disappointed.

If somebody managed to kill me while I was asleep, I’d like to live long enough to thank them.

Still, for what it was worth, I was still human. Tiredness was still a thing. Sleep came eventually. Even if just a single wink, I would have liked that. An hour must have passed, and I felt ready to nod off when I heard Demetria mutter something. It was faint, but I had peachy keen ears, and was able to make out what she said:

“Games? Like having a snowball fight? Building a snowman? Then again, it doesn’t have to be a snowman…”

“Snowman?” I mouthed. I had to think about it, because it sounded familiar. I soon began to hum a little tune.

“Isn’t that...from a movie?” I asked myself in a low mutter.

Not something I ever watched, but I’ve probably passed by TVs in display windows playing that thing. Those kind of animated films with songs are inescapable, regardless of the quality of said tunes. Well, I’m not going to speak on the quality of something I’ve no interest in. It’s just kind of amusing that she’d be reciting such a song in her sleep. Despite her moody exterior, maybe she’s just a kid at heart.

Demetria started to stir and then her eyes crept open.

“So, Frozen, huh?” I asked, my voice a little hoarse. Likely due to my lack of sleep.

“Mm...what?” She yawned a sleepy little mumble.

“You were talking in your sleep. I think you were singing a song from Frozen,” I pointed out.

“Huh. The only Disney movie I like is Finding Nemo. So what song was I singing?”

“Hmm...’do you wanna build a snowman?’ I think it’s called.”

“Oh wow. Asleep me has poor taste. Can’t say awake me has any better taste, but still.”

“Whatever. Just let it go and get back to sleep.”

She nodded, then closed her eyes again and leaned back. Soon it seemed that sleep had taken her once more, though I did hear her mutter one more thing before departing to a soundless rest:

“Not like I plan on being around much longer, anyway.”

Heh, I leaned my head back against the dresser. You and me both.

In the morning, I stepped out of the shack and took in the crisp morning air. It was bliss, it was serene, it was –

“Ugh...so sore…”

Behind me, a shambling zombie-like figure groaned. Almost as if someone had raised the dead.

“Right. I should have taken that into consideration,” I groaned as well, realization of who was behind me set in.

“What are we going to do?” She scratched the back of her head and a look of general displeasure possessed her face.

“We eat some food, we do some stretches, we do some heavy lifting,” I ran through the check list.

“Heavy lifting?! I thought we’d be taking it easy today since I’m so worn out!” She was flabbergasted and most devastated.

“This is taking it easy. We’re not going to be running to the city today. Instead we’ll work the upper body.”

“What happened to ‘buy me Wendy’s every day?’” Demetria mentioned, something I didn’t expect to get brought up.

“Eh,” I shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be every day. How about just every time we go into town? Now, I’m going to make it so you hurt in other places, so are you ready?”

She gulped, being given an answer she didn’t expect, herself.

“If at any time you want to quit, just say the word,” I offered. “Because it’s not going to get any easier from here. You’ll just need to get better.”

She gulped, being given an answer she didn’t expect.

“If at any time you want to quit, just say the word. Because it’s not going to get any easier from here. You’ll just need to get better.”

Another gulp, then she shook her head.

“I’m not going to quit. I can’t afford to.”

Her determination was commendable. I had to give her that. If I didn’t end up breaking her spirit, she could very well end up a force to be reckoned with in her own right.

So it went: we stretched. We walked around the fields near the shack. Our day came and went with little word save for what was spoken on her resolute face. Another night. Another dim glow from her screen as she typed away at whatever project she had.

Dusk turned to daylight; we ran once more the following morning. There were still some stumbles, still some hurdles. She steadied her movements more, and with only being the second run, it was a startling improvement. Maybe minuscule in the grand scheme of themes, but I would have thought it would take longer for her to show any signs of improvement.

Two or three miles in, she stopped, slowed to a walk, then a few minutes later, built back into a jog. This happened another mile out, as well as the next. During the second half, however, whether it be a high or just having found a rhythm, she managed to keep pace the whole way through.

After our meal, we found a nearby park and wandered into a deeper portion of the park, less populated, with the thicket of trees concealing us from the potential misunderstood eyes of passerby.

“All right. Now it’s time to fight.”

She was slumped over as she had followed me into the park already worn out. However, upon the word ‘fight’, she perked up. That, or it was a look of shock. Either way, I had her attention.

“A...Already?! It’s only the second time running here and I’m still a little worn out.”

“Your enemies aren’t going to care if you’re worn out. Hell, they’ll use that to their advantage,” I corrected her. Not that she had enemies. Maybe I was just drawing from experience with that example.

“You’re right,” she agreed, something which took me by surprise. However, as poised as she looked, it was little more than show, and her knees wobbled before the fight even began.

I swerved my left leg to the side and dragged my foot against the soft grass, which tripped her and she fell before she could even attempt to avoid it. She landed right on her butt and struggled to get up. Before she could bring herself up, I stomped down, and that time, she reacted well enough to roll over.

“While the idea does turn me on, some things are more important,” she remarked with a grimace.

...What?

She hurried up that time and I swung my right fist in a slow and deliberate manner, slow enough that it would have given her enough time to do any number of things in response. She chose to block it with her left arm and although she reacted in time, I soon overpowered her. In spite of that, she tried to hold her arm up. As she was distracted, I once again swept my leg to the side and knocked her down.

“Don’t try to block if you can’t withstand the hit. Dodge instead. Also, don’t leave yourself open. Your enemy could find an array of maneuvers to attack you if you leave yourself an opening.”

She winced and gave a short nod.

II

Further days passed; what was one week turned to two. Run, stretch, block, dodge, react. After two weeks, she managed to run the whole way through. From Notus to Caldwell with a reserve of stamina left over. At the park, she jumped when I did a side-sweep. Either a short jump, or jumped back. When I swung my fist, rather than block it, she would either duck down, or lean back.

Another week went by and on the third week, I introduced weapons into the mix.

“Dodging, avoiding hits, all that’s well and good, but you’ll also need to fight back,” I instructed.

“Of course,” she replied.

I knew she had her knives on her. I also gave her a short sword to use. For my part, I had my signature katana, though to make it more fair for her, I pressed a button on the blade’s scabbard and split them into two kodachi-type blades.

“Wha – how did you do that?” Her eyes widened and she blinked, astonished at the sight.

“It’s not an ordinary blade. It came with my old profession, you could say.”

“You mean as a janitor? Did everyone have weapons like that?”

“Some. I’m sure you’re aware that Remora’s rifle can split into two smaller, pistol-like guns which fires off a wave of energy. My blade, or blades, are coated in an oil which repels a certain kind of creature.”

“Angels,” she answered.

So you know? Whatever the reason, I’m sure it’s not a good thing.

“That is one way to call them. But not angels in the biblical sense. No, more like the ‘beings beyond comprehension’ sense.”

“Yet we comprehend enough to craft weapons to deal with such things,” she added.

“Sorta. It’s hard to know when these weapons will be useful, or even how useful they will be. Especially when dealing with beings that are unheard of.”

Like what Ray and Sunny were dealing with up in the arctic. Whatever was behind it, I had little to go off of. If they even wished to stand a fighting chance, I would need to know more, but I didn’t know how to learn further.

What was known wasn’t comprehensible, either, as it didn’t seem to fit a specific pattern or intention – creatures that were an amalgamation of other creatures, contorted to a strange shape. Shadowy mass filled with various materials and limbs, like rope, wire, legs, and tentacles that could cause others to lose their sense of self. People whose limbs grew out from their backs, who could control such strange hybird creatures. Then the latest addition – a fog which blanketed the area near Ray’s diner and gave injuries to passerby. Some reported shadows of strange shapes, others reported voices.

What exactly did it feel? What did it embody? How did all of those phenomena correspond with what the source embodied?

At any moment, one of the diner’s proprietors would call me up to tell me that things got bad again and I’d have to cut the training off there so I could hurry to their aid. Remora’s rifle more than likely protected the diner from the inside, but the surrounding area was fair game for the entity and the beasts it produced. For now, however, I could focus on training Demetria, who still had a great deal to learn, even if she picked up on things at an alarming rate.

We clashed with the blades, and that time, she was able to block well. At one point, I swung down only for her to block it with the scimitar I let her borrow. When I swung the other blade to the right, she side-stepped to avoid the swing. Then the left, and the same. However, she kept up the block the whole way and even if she managed to dodge in spite of the openings she left, she was still overpowered when I swung both blades down against the scimitar. She tried to bend her knees and apply more pressure, but it wasn’t enough, and both blades were but a hair’s breath away from her face.

Without any more strength to give, she fell. I put aside my weapons before they could cut her down, then I scolded her.

“Again, don’t block if you know you can be overpowered. You did good blocking one blade, but you left yourself open. If the enemy starts adding more pressure and you can’t keep up, release and get out of the way.”

“Right…” She sounded wiped out. I couldn’t blame her, and she was improving, but she needed to know where her weak spots were.

“We’ll call it a day for now. Tomorrow we’ll spar by the shack.”

“Right on! I’ve been wanting to do that since the beginning!”

Are you that excited to get beaten up?

“What’s so special to you about training near the shack and training in this park?”

“Well, for starters...I’m always worried someone’s gonna show up and get concerned. It might scare someone and they could even call the cops!”

“Let the cops come. I’ll skewer them all with glee,” I dispelled any unease she had.

“It’s not just that! The field by the shack is really secluded so we can go ahead and go all out!”

Ah, yeah. That is a good point.

Our training continued the next day at Cleaver’s shack. We had an open dirt clearing where we weren’t as hindered by tall grass. Both of us stood on far ends of the circle with our weapons in hand.

“Come at me, bro!” She shouted.

I had a moment of weakness. As in, I hesitated, hearing such a ridiculous statement. Or phrase, rather. It only took a moment, though, and after that moment washed away, I rushed in.

Our blades clashed once more and she dodged the attacks, struck when she saw an opportunity, and timed her blocks well as well. Although I could also block and dodge each of her attempts, it had more to do with my experience.

You really are a fast learner, aren’t you?

However, another weak point showed through once more as soon as I struck with a side-slash. No, she managed to dodge it. That wasn’t the problem: the problem was that she pushed her legs in and jumped up. If she didn’t manage to jump high enough, or didn’t move in time…

“Wrong!” I shouted as I stood in place.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice squeaked and she scowled. To her it must have been just a disagreement of ideas, and she looked ready to protest my scolding, but it had to be done regardless.

“You dodged it, but the way you did so was way risky and took up more of your energy that it should have. You’ve built up a lot of stamina, but in a fierce battle, every bit of energy counts. It would have been less risky and have used up less of your energy to have stepped back, even jumped a little backward, than to try to jump over it.”

“Yeah...I see what you mean now,” she looked down and shook her fists, obvious shame written all over her.

“I’m not saying this to be rigid. If you didn’t jump high enough, you would have gotten slashed for sure.”

“I’ve been slashed in the stomach already,” her voice turned low, and a sullen look took over. She then lifted up her shirt, which made me take a step back. Across her stomach was, indeed, a long thin scar. “So it’s not so bad, right?”

“It’s true that slashes are generally less harmful than stabs. It’s said that in old wars, soldiers would slash rather than stab their enemies so they wouldn’t have to bear the weight of killing another person. But a slash can still be very harmful depending on how much force is placed, and the proximity. If you get a deep slash, like say you strike a vein, expect blood to spray out. An endless flow that you wouldn’t be able to stop, and if unable to be treated soon enough, death. Given enough force, one could even slash a limb clear off or cut someone in half.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Sheesh. Such gory imagery,” she made little “ack, ack” sounds to accompany her statement so that she could further express her disgust.

“It’s just muscle memory is hard. I know the right moves but sometimes I do the wrong one because so used to a particular pattern,” she added, something which I understood.

“Which is why we need to take it from the top until you get it right.”

We continued through the afternoon until sunset hit. After we called it good, Demetria headed back into the shack.

“Well, this thesis isn’t going to bullshit itself,” she told me as she waved before entering the shack. I waved back, but sat out for a while, letting myself bask in dusk’s chill.

“Is this what I’ve been reduced to? A mentor? An escort?” No, such thoughts weren’t good, especially not when spoken out into the air.

It was too late, of course. Once those words were spoken, the rest of the thoughts followed. Like, was I ever alive at all? What did it look like when I had a life? What was I now but a ghost, a shade, a wandering remnant? It wasn’t even that I didn’t want to help others or be a mentor, but that the only semblance of a life I had was one that would never leave. Violence was ingrained in me, ran through my bloodstream as I lived and breathed. There could be no help without it and the only justice I knew was an unshaken, violent justice.

For a while longer, I let myself sit beside the comfort of darkness. Close to silence, with the only sounds to fill the air being the crickets and the frogs which hid out in any given direction.

With a sigh, I allowed myself back inside. Demetria sat there, as she had many nights, with her face glued to that laptop screen. However, when she saw me enter, she closed her laptop and addressed me.

“How are you feeling?” She looked up.

I sat down and crossed my legs. I smiled, for I knew no other way to express anything.

“Just how I always am,” I shook my head, it sounded like such a carefree dismissal. Part of me expected her to be satisfied by such an answer.

“And how is that?” She asked instead.

That was a more difficult thing to answer than it should have been. It wasn’t a sense of monotony, but something else. Loss of life, or a loss of humanity.

“Forgive me if I’m unable to give a straight answer,” I replied after some thought.

“That’s okay, I’m gay.”

Fine, but just know that you brought this on yourself.

“Some say that ghosts are just memories, so in that sense, nothing ever leaves, does it, so long as the memory is there?” I posed the question. As I said, I couldn’t give a straight answer.

“Are you saying that you feel like a ghost?”

I shook my head.

“Not quite. I told you once that I considered my old self dead, right?”

As well as my current self. But only in a different sense.

“Yeah. How you were accused of –”

“I told you what my original name was back then. It was a lie. Not the story, but the name. Considering how long ago it was, my name was more than likely a simple one. Like Kuso Gozen, or something. There were bits and pieces of that life, that girl, that I remember. Being accused of an assassination, being put to death...but much of the details are lost. Forgotten. Hell, it’s enough for me to question if what I remember is real or made up,” I let out a deep breath. I was doing this again, wasn’t I? And who was I to say that was to confide would be any more real than last time?

“It could have been that I did murder someone. That I was given due punishment, and chose to evade such punishment. Based on what I know of myself, I wouldn’t put it past me to take out a corrupt official. But that’s beside the point.”

“What is the point?”

I shook my head.

“Ha. If I knew...well, I suppose the point is: maybe it’s better that I don’t remember. Maybe it’s better to be forgotten. To be more than dead, less than a memory.”

“I think I can relate with that. I suppose most people would prefer to be remembered, but I suppose to some, it may be better to forget. Like if you did something bad.”

“Mm...that’s not quite what I mean. As for that old self, yes, she’s forgotten. But my current self? I don’t mind people knowing my deeds. But this life I’ve had...I don’t want to preserve it.”

“What? You mean you’re going to let yourself get killed?”

No, that wasn’t quite right, either. But then, what ever was?

“Hell no,” I refuted, “I wouldn’t go down without a fight. But I’m just waiting for my time. Some say I’m like a cockroach, the way I’ve survived so much and had so many lucky breaks. But for the sake of my own sanity, I hope that’s not the case.”

“Why live your life that way? Why are you so eager to die?”

“It’s not like that. Maybe it’s a curiosity. How it will end and when. Will it be a quiet one, or a roaring crescendo? Will I be remembered afterward? Talked about? Or will I be forgotten, not even a passing name.”

“I’ll remember you. I already met you. Plus you’ve got all those homeless friends,” she pointed out.

“Ha! I guess you’re right about that one. It’s easy to call anyone a friend when you know you’re just passing through! We form a connection, make small talk, and then I disappear into the wind. It’s not really any different than how life was like with that company – I’d visit different places in different timelines, meet some people, do my job, and then go onto the next one. That’s just how it was. I suspect everyone who worked there, it didn’t matter what their personalities were or how big of a heart they had, got that way: just passing through, not really being alive. If any of us ever were in the first place.”

“How do you even know others were like that?” concerned dripped from her lips. Despite her stoic front, she really couldn’t keep all of that in, could she?

“Let’s call it an observation. I’ve seen how others were: some cope by indulging in their vices. Sex, drugs, booze, you name it. Some go numb, others break down, unable to find a sense of calm. Some can try to settle down, live a quiet life, maybe try to start a family, but it never leaves them. That feeling, like life, death, it may as well be the same thing. I think it’s the job, it does something to you. To all of us. Maybe that’s why I think that the ones who died were the lucky ones. Otherwise you just end up like me, waiting for your time to come.”

I gave a hearty laugh and smiled, not caring who I would wake up.

“I guess that’s why it’s so easy to talk to you about all this, because it doesn’t really matter. I may as well be talking to myself.”

She turned her head, puffed up her cheeks, and scowled. I thought she was ready to blow up at me, talk about how unkind that statement was, that I shouldn’t have had that mindset, but when she finally spoke again, it was about something else entirely.

“Do you know how Rhea died?” She asked, a fun topic for the whole family.

“Yeah. Was assigned to get rid of someone who was possessed by the embodiment of happiness. It was a pretty big task: potential world at stake scenario. Anyone could have lost to something like that.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m not so sure.”

“Why do you say that?” I stroked my chin, eager for her explanation.

“Ves is my cousin’s wife. She’s still mournful about the whole thing. She never wanted to kill her, and in fact, I think Ves was the one who could have easily been defeated. Apparently the two actually talked, tried to work out a compromise. Rhea actually showed her mercy, and in the end, I think Rhea was holding back because she wanted to be the one to go.”

How interesting. Mercy. Well, I suppose I would have at least tried to figure out what all of the options were before going in for the kill. So it’s not too surprising if it happened to be the same way.

“Did your cousin’s wife tell you all that?”

She nodded.

“It may have been the case that she was holding back, who’s to say?”

“But why would she do that if she knew the world was at stake? Did she just forsake the world?”

I remember the first time I met up with Demetria, she said that she had little interest when it came to Rhea. So now the sudden interest struck me as a little odd. But then again, maybe there was something to spurn such interest and I just didn’t know it.

“It’s doubtful the world ever mattered in the first place. After all, it was just one instance of the world, out of an endless amount of instances.”

“Yeah, but it’s my world! It’s the only instance I have!”

I leaned over and pressed my finger to her lip.

“Shh. Others are sleeping.”

After I released my finger and returned to my original position, I continued.

“She didn’t have a world she belonged to. While I’m sure she understood the risk, the stakes weren’t the same for her as it may have been for you. Maybe she was just done, and knew of no other way to go but through a fight.”

“But why did she show Ves mercy? That’s just not like her, is it?”

“Maybe she had a last minute change of heart. It’s possible.”

“Do you think she was infected by the entity? Is that why?”

I shook my head.

“It’s a possibility. There’s no way to know that for certain, though. As much as it’s natural for many of us to speculate, the bottom line is that the only person who knew what was going through her head was herself, and she’s not around to give us any answers.”

“You’re right...I was just wondering: what would you have done if you were in her position?”

I thought it over some.

“I don’t think I would have done anything different,” I concluded.

“Do you think she was lucky as well?”

Ah. So maybe that’s why she brought it up. I had to close my eyes for that one, lest the piercing glare give anything away.

“What do you think the answer to that one is?”

There was a pause, and there was something serene about such a pause. The heavy breaths of the wolf behind her, the snoring of the middle aged man at the top hammock. It carried with it a peaceful wind.

“I’m worried about you,” she said at last.

“Don’t be,” I shook my head and smiled, “the student has no need to worry about the mentor. You should get some rest.”

When we picked up on the following day, her growth was more than apparent. I’d strike down, but she’d sidestep, then do a sweeping slash, which I blocked, then did a slash of my own. She surprised me next, by sliding down, then struck up. I had to react fast just to block it.

“Ha. You’re getting better at reacting, but you’ve yet to land a hit,” I remarked.

“Just you wait,” she shot back with a smug smile.

Such confidence. I wonder if it will last.

In an effort to show that it wasn’t just a bluff, she rolled once, did another side step, which made me turn around as she made her next strike. Again, our blades clashed, and I still had another blade in my other hand. However, this time, she pulled something out from her pocket and I leaned my head back just in time not to get hit by what turned out to be a knife.

When I realized what she just tried, I couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t a condescending laugh, in fact, I was quite impressed. All the same, I was as amused as I could ever be.

“Ha, good one. You fancy yourself a ninja or something?” I gave a hearty chuckle.

“Not quite. I just need to learn all that I can,” she dispelled any such idea. She didn’t look any short on energy, either. That was good.

We’ll have to hone that aim of hers, but she seems to already have some sort of grasp. Force and precision, two things to work on.

“Let’s make things more interesting, shall we?” The proposal slithered out from my mouth as I slipped a cunning grin.

“MANGE!” I called out.

She looked over, a sharpened glance. It wasn’t even so much of a reaction, but more of an acknowledgment.

Has she adopted some of my traits? Is it from the training? Or did it just come with the confidence?

Busted out through the door of the shack came Mange, all fired up. That tired old wolf may not have been much but a heavy sleeper on his good days, but he could still be tricked into thinking there was trouble.

“Now you’ll have to dodge both of us.”

Before, I’d have expected her to react like, “really? Wolves are much faster than people! And they’re huge!” But instead, once again, a single nod of acknowledgment.

We clashed further, clangs of our blades as we maneuvered around each other. But soon, Mange gave chase, and as expected, darted toward Demetria. She stepped back, but he was quick to turn. She stepped to the side, but that didn’t stop him in the slightest. It was getting to the point that she was backing further away from me without even realizing it.

Panic seemed to set in and she turned her head from side to side and noticed how much further she had gotten. Mange was seconds away, and Demetria rolled forward, which seemed to do her little good. I charged toward her, like a little nudge to remind her who her target was, and I watched as she knew she was cornered on both ends: Mange behind her, and I about to strike her down in front.

So in a twist of events, she crouched down, then when Mange got close enough, she leaped into the air and launched herself off of that poor wolf’s nose, which propelled her further. I watched as she tossed a knife down in my direction, and I blocked it with the sword at my right. However, she then swung her blade down from over her shoulder, and I reacted just in time, with the blade at my left hand overhead. However, the force was strong enough that I needed both arms free, and before I could lift the other sword, she swung her legs together and flung herself forward against my abdomen, knocking me to the ground.

With her on top, the blade raised against my head and her head close, I could feel her warm, heavy breaths on my face. They weren’t breaths of exhaustion, but excitement instead.

I wonder if that’s what she meant when she said she wanted me to teach her ‘restraint’.

“Well, you’ve got me pinned down. What’s next?” I flashed a sharp-toothed grin.

No answer. Mange didn’t seem so interested in pulling her off, despite the image present. So it was up to me: I grabbed her by the wrist, even with that sword firm in her hand, and tossed her off of me.

“Waah!” She squealed, caught off guard.

I got up and brushed off any dirt that had gotten on me.

“Good job. That was a risky move, but it paid off. To think I had just tried that today and you had already figured out a counter,” I commended her. However, she walked off and seemed to have brushed aside every word.

“It’s still not enough,” she grumbled.

“What is enough?” I demanded. As much as I hated to admit, her attitude got to me.

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll know when I get there,” she huffed out a reply.

“Hey,” I called her out. That time, she turned around. “I know I said you didn’t need to tell me the reason, but what is it that you’re after, anyway?”

“I need to improve my aim when throwing knives, I need to improve my reaction time. My reflexes still aren’t enough.”

“Bullshit. What more do you need?”

“I need to be able to dodge a bullet,” she replied with such conviction that despite the absurdity of the statement, I had no choice but to take it seriously.

“If that’s your goal, you should give up right now. It’s never going to happen, no matter how good you get.”

“I need to.”

“Nobody’s fast enough,” I shot down once more, “you think I can dodge a bullet? You think I’m faster than what comes out of a gun? I just have to get lucky and hope there’s something I can shield myself behind. That, or hope that I’m faster than the one with their hand on the trigger.”

“Fine. Then I need to be able to block a bullet,” she was adamant, which only served to irritate me further.

“With what? A sword? Even if you could react fast enough, it’s more likely that the bullet will break the sword. What then?”

“I’ll…” She grit her teeth, “I’ll think of something.

How stubborn. Looks like I’ll need to compromise.

“Fine. How about this? For the next few days, or however long it takes, I’ll borrow your throwing knives, toss them your way, and you’ll have to dodge them. I’ll paint some targets on trees and I’ll have you keep throwing until you can manage to hit the middle. I’ll make sure you’re using proper form. Does that sound good?”

She gave it a few seconds pause, then signaled her approval with a single nod.

“Good. Now, let’s practice some sprinting. Run around the field for a while until you get worn out. Mange will chase you around, but don’t worry, he won’t actually hurt. He may knock you down, and he is heavy, but he’s friendly enough.”

With a sprint, she took off. As she went busy with that, I returned to the shack and decided to lay down for a little while on the bottom hammock. For whatever reason, as I lay, a smile formed, then plastered its way onto my face. Above me came the gruff voice of Cleaver:

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I am,” I replied, “who’s to say?”

“You’re not fooling anyone. You’re getting a kick out of this.”

“Of course,” I gave in, “I’m most alive in a fight. Not to mention, it feels refreshing. Both to fight without such high stakes, and to be a mentor. It feels like I’m passing on my knowledge to the next generation.”

“I don’t really get it, but I could tell there was something up with you ever since you first showed up.”

“Oh?” Consider my interest piqued.

“I mean, c’mon, some tall Japanese swordswoman just shows up looking for a place to crash? Like, what time period do you think this is? Obviously there’s something up with that, either that, or you’re just a weirdo.”

To be honest, I’m more of an oddball than I’d care to admit.

“But you know,” he went on, “I never pried, I never asked about what your story was, because I just didn’t care. As long as you’re going to help me out and mean no trouble, then it’s none of my business.”

“See? That’s why we get along so well. I’ve never asked you what your deal was, either,” I threw at him. If it wasn’t clear, I was a little cheeky.

“You wanna know something else? When you and that girl are talking late at night, I can hear you. You’re not as quiet as you think you’re being.”

“Aw, Cleaver, at your age, you need your beauty sleep.”

“Guh,” he grunted, “you’re one to talk. What with your talks. I’ll be honest, I don’t understand most of it, but your whole ‘I’m just waitin’ for my time’ bullshit like you’re some old woman about to croak.”

“Heh. I am. I’ve lived a long life, Cleaver.”

“You’re younger than I am. I bet you haven’t even hit forty.”

“I bet you’re right. But I’m past my expiration date, so to speak. With the kind of life I’ve lived, I’d say I’m past the average life expectancy. It’s a little strange...just to exist at all.”

Large breaths of air lingered just before the last few words were uttered. It was as if I had gone speechless, starved of oxygen.

“Well, if you’re havin’ fun, that’s gotta count for something,” he seemed like he was trying to make some sort of attempt at encouragement.

“Never said it didn’t, but thank you for the sentiment.”

“Another thing, uh, for what it’s worth, what does it matter if you’re just passing by? Doesn’t mean it don’t got meaning. Plenty of people are just passing by, having chance encounters. But it still has value.”

“I agree. Try not to put too much stock into the things I say,” I advised him. Selfish as it may have been, part of me wanted to know what kind of life he had lived, and why he lived in a shack out in an open field. Was it choice or circumstance? Was there another option? But just like him, I was fine with not knowing.

I think it’s always been that I’ve gotten along most well with older folks of a certain kind. Lost souls, or those who were destitute, vagrant, fallen on bad luck and hard times. Hermits whose own lives had become a distant memory. There was nothing to be fascinated by it, nothing romantic. It was just a certain kinship I felt. I in no way ever wanted to just scrape by with whatever I could reach for. It was just what I developed into, and now I felt as if I could live no other way. If I could even live at all.

III

Even as the days passed, and another couple of weeks flew by, it proved not to scratch that itch she so desired. Despite every throw closer and closer to the bullseye, every projectile avoided, every knife caught in the grip of her gloves (that one surprised me the most. Another risky move, but one I allowed, despite the trouble that could have caused. It seemed like less of a mistake and something she wanted to do. Still, I made sure to drill in her head not to try that with bullets, because all that would do, best case scenario, is give her a bloody hand), it wasn’t enough.

Throughout the training, I had wondered what her reason was. Although I told her she didn’t need to tell me, it was still important enough to her that she sought me out. She could have sought out anyone, a professional trainer, for example. But no, it was me. There had to be something specific there, and I had my suspicions as to what it was.

“Satisfied?” I inquired after she had managed to hit the target, square in the middle.

“Not quite,” she shook her head. That all but confirmed it; no more beating around the bush, I had to ask:

“Are you trying to be like your crush?” I drilled to the center of the matter, hoping to find gold.

“Excuse me?” She asked in turn.

“Remora. You haven’t mentioned her since you got here. You mentioned Rhea, which is surprising in of itself, but she never mattered much to you. As I’m sure you’ve thought, yourself, her and your cousin’s battle had nothing to do with you. But it was Remora who you were interested in, wasn’t it?” Her brows creased, and I could tell she didn’t enjoy such a topic.

“I’ve just had nothing to tell. Feelings can change,” she replied, her voice lowered, guarded in its response.

“Indeed. So it was a falling out?”

“Something like that. It’s a period in my life that I’m done with, so I don’t need to think about it anymore,” she flat out stated. Still, she didn’t echo the same confidence that she did in our spars.

“So that’s just it? Yet you came here, to someone you knew worked the same job as her, and talk about wanting to dodge bullets. Even if you don’t feel like you don’t need to think about her, you either have her in mind, or something similar.”

That time, her defensive face relaxed, and she changed her expression: a smile took hold and stretched to a smug grin.

“Something similar, you could say that. You could say I want to be just like her.”

I figured as much, although a part of me hoped it wasn’t such a case.

“Or rather,” she added, then turned away, “I’d like to be strong enough to be able to kill someone like her.”

Such confidence. This could be interesting, if also disconcerting.

“Someone like me?” I suggested.

She shook her head.

“I’d rather not kill. That was the whole reason why I wanted to learn restraint. But if my suspicions are correct, then I may need to. Which means I have to make sure I’m strong enough to do so, even if it means becoming like one of you guys.”

“Suspicions? What are you talking about?”

It sounded like some delusion of hers, although I knew better than to think such a thing. If there was even a chance of someone else like Remora or I, even alive and out there, then what did she want with someone like that? Did she have some personal vendetta? Did someone kill someone close to her? What could have prompted such a desire?

“I think I’m ready to show you,” she paced about, then brought out her phone.

Yes. Please. Show me.

I watched her put her phone up to her ear, then speak into it.

“Hey Cybele. It’s me. I’m ready for you to pick me up. Oh, and I’ve got someone with me. There’s a place I want to show her. Both of you. I might be able to get you your money, there, too.”

There was a short pause.

“Cool, see you soon? Cool.”

She ended the call, then turned back to me.

“You can take your sword with you, if you want.”

Was planning on bringing it, anyway. I’ve got some bad vibes from all this.

“What is it you want to show me, anyway?” I asked her.

“You’ll understand when we get there,” her smile held as she assured me.

What was left in me was a sense of confusion. Before me wasn’t the same Demetria that showed up a couple of months ago, but then, she must have had such a thing planned out. So either she had been masking how she really was, or it was an alarming determination. Something which she was driven to see through.

“By the way, you should get that dog back inside. I don’t think my friend would like seeing them,” she advised.

“Mange is a wolf,” I corrected, then stuck two fingers in my mouth and whistled. “Hey Mange! Get inside!”

Mange let out a whimper as he slowly walked toward the shack. He looked over at me, let out a soft, “awoo,” then pouted and went inside.

“Yeah, yeah. Awoo to you too.”

About fifteen minutes later, a woman with a blonde ponytail and wearing a blue blouse and a pencil skirt walked approached us. At first, she stood up straight, but as soon as she saw us, she slumped over.

“Ugh, lemme tell you, it’s so hard to find parking when you fly a plane everywhere,” she bemoaned. Then she stood right back up and looked over to me. I raised an eyebrow and gave a short wave.

“Hey, who’s this?” She asked Demetria, who looked up at both of us.

“Cybele, this is Wen...err...Zephyr,” she introduced.

Cybele then smiled a big smile and held out her hand.

“Heya, nice to meet ya! Nice muscles,” she greeted. I took her hand and shook it, then tilted my head.

“Thanks, I made them myself?” I replied.

She let out an awkward laugh, then turned to Demetria.

“So, what’s this place we’re going to?”

“You’ll see,” was all she said in response, then made her way toward the plane.

“Oooookay. Looks like we’re off,” she strutted off. I followed behind.

Aboard her plane, I just realized that I had heard Cybele’s name before.

“I think Ray’s talked about you,” I mentioned to her.

“Oh?” She sounded curious.

“Yeah. He’s really serious about this thing that’s been going on.”

Demetria scowled and sat across from me, her arms folded.

“So you know what’s going on too? Was I the only one who didn’t?” She accused and stuck her nose up.

“Of course I know what’s going on, girl. I showed up at the diner a little after you left. You would have known too, had you stayed.”

“I was under no obligation to stay,” she rebutted.

“You’re right, but I take it you would have, had you known.”

“No shit.”

“Still, she knows now,” Cybele butted in.

“She found out?”

“Ray told me, then I told her. She seems pretty serious about saving them.”

My ears perked.

“Is that so?” I turned back to Demetria.

She shook her head, arms still crossed.

“Finishing up school is more important. They can handle themselves.”

“Wow, cold,” I reacted.

“Not as cold as the arctic,” she shrugged.

“Well, you’re right about one thing: there’s no reason for you to get involved. If it gets to be too much, Ray will call me back over there.”

She didn’t say anything after that. By the looks of her, she seemed disappointed, as she hung her head low, but she didn’t make any objections.

“Say Cybele, you got any drinks on this plane?” I called over to her. She walked over and got into stewardess mode.

“Yes, what would you like?”

“Got any alcoholic beverages?”

“We have spiced rum,” she offered.

“Cool. I’ll take it.”

“I’ll be right back with your drink, miss,” she did her best to sound polite, then raced off to the back of the plane. I leaned back and awaited our arrival to the mystery destination.

We landed a few hours later in a clearing through a forest. Demetria got out of the plane first, followed by myself. Demetria looked up to Cybele, who was still next to the door of the plane, then addressed her:

“Cybele, can I ask you to stay there? We’ll be out soon, promise.”

“Trust me, that place looks foreboding enough as it is. I’m totally cool with staying here,” she assured.

Demetria gave Cybele a thumbs up, then we walked toward the building in question: this long and high marble building with few windows. Around the perimeter was a barbed wire fence.

“Apparently this place used to be a prison,” Demetria explained. Not that I was interested in the building’s origins. My interest was more in what we were doing there in the first place.

She opened the door inside, then motioned me to follow her in. As if that was really necessary. I would have done so anyway.

Once we stepped foot inside, I noticed the thin tunnel-like corridor, many rooms on the floor above us, and an absence of sound. Another thing of note was that the lights were on, which made it appear less abandoned than it really was. Demetria looked around, then remarked in passing:

“Looks like she took care of the dead bodies like she said she would.”

That caught me off guard, and also made me take note of the floor. Indeed, there wasn’t any hint of bloodshed or anything of the sort.

“She?” I inquired.

“I encountered someone who wants to kill Remora. She said that Remora killed her father, so I take it it’s personal.”

Figures. That frosty bastard wasn’t as good at taking care of loose ends as she thought she was.

“Do you know whose father she might have killed?” Demetria asked.

“No idea. I never shared any missions with her, and I don’t know what kind of jobs she took on. Could’ve been anyone’s father.”

“That makes it difficult,” Demetria shook her head. I wonder, do you still have some concern for her?

“What is this place, anyway?”

Our journey took us to the end of the hall, where two flights of stairs to the upstairs were situated, and we stopped at a door along the back wall.

“There was this organization. They were trying to revive the janitor company. Don’t worry, though. I took them all out, so it’s not going to happen.”

“You mean, you killed them?” Was my first question, although there were many others which could have taken precedence. Like why anyone would want to do such a thing, let alone how they knew of such an organization in the first place.

“Their turret killed them,” she corrected. “They were too heavily armored for me to have done anything on my own.”

She opened the door, then stepped inside. I followed suit, and my jaw just about dropped at the sight of stacks of cash lined up along shelves on the walls. Aside from that, there were several guns strewn about the floor, and alongside those weapons, there was something else quite peculiar: minerals which appeared to change shape and color without end, going from smooth to jagged to crystalline. Brown, gold, blue, purple, green, black, white. No specific consistency, and yet at the same time as it made those constant changes, it was as if the ‘minerals’ or whatever they were, were still objects and objects which made no such movements to warrant such a change.

“Concentrated celestial aura…” I heaved out the words. Demetria turned to me as she shoveled stacks of cash.

“You know it?” She asked.

“They’re the materials created from the essence of angels, made solid. They were used to forge the weapons we use. What they’re doing here...no, how they got their hands on…” I was just about speechless.

“Yeah, I don’t have an explanation, either,” Demetria echoed my sentiment. “There’s many things I don’t know, but I figure with this, I’ll have a fighting chance.”

“Fighting chance? What are you talking about?” I snapped.

“I want a new weapon of my own created from this stuff. I’ve already got an idea as to what I want, it’s just a matter of finding someone who could forge with these.”

Astonishment turned to irritation, and I held my fist against the wall.

“That’s not what I mean! What do you expect to do with a weapon like that?”

Her face turned sullen, and her voice lowered.

“I have an idea of what’s causing these phenomena that Sunny and Ray have been dealing with at the diner. If my suspicion is correct, then I need to make sure I’m prepared.”

“Prepared? How the hell could you possibly know what’s going on up there?”

“Because I’ve dealt with it already!” She snapped right back. “There was a man who ate two people alive, two people who I tried and failed to save! Who claimed to serve an indescribable creature, and even though I burned that place down, I know it didn’t take care of anything! There were still monsters in the arctic, strange things that went on, and they’re still going on! I have to put a stop to him! It’s my responsibility!”

“No, it’s not. You need to stay out of it. I get that you’re worried about them, but you don’t have the experience that I do. So just go back home to your family, live a quiet life, and let me deal with it.”

She didn’t budge.

“I know I lack the experience, that’s why I had you train me, so I could be strong enough to take them on. Like it or not, they are my family just as much as my biological family, and you better believe that I will protect them.”

“So you were planning to go there after all? Was the education thing a lie?”

“Not at all. I’m graduating at the end of the month. After that, it will take another month or two to forge the weapon. Then, I’ll find a way to get there. Mark my words. I just hope that I’m not too late by the time I get there.”

I pulled out my sword.

“Maybe she no longer matters to you, but do you think Remora ever wanted you to be like her? What about me? We went through hell to become the kind of people we are, and you’re saying you want to be like that too?”

“You’re right: I wouldn’t want to go through the same things you guys did. I can’t even imagine how you dealt with it. But I’m willing to put myself through hell if I have to for those people, because damn it, they’re worth hell. So we can fight right now if you want to, but I’m not backing down from this. Not when their lives are at stake.”

I let out a single heavy breath, then eased my nerves as I sheathed my blade.

“Fine. I did tell you that I didn’t need to know your reason, but you better understand that there’s no guarantee of success and if you’re not careful, this will cost you your life. Are you still willing to proceed?”

“Without a doubt,” she answered without hesitation.

“Very well. We’ll take these materials with us,” and before we could get ready to do so, I spied something beside the boxes of celestial auras. “Hey. You said you wanted to be able to block a bullet?”

She nodded. I picked up the small devices and handed them to her.

“These are miniature bounded fields. I’ll train you how to use them.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

“I still don’t like the idea, but I can tell that your mind’s made up.”

So I grabbed a couple of boxes of the minerals while she carried stacks of cash and the miniature bounded field devices. My load was heavier, but I could take it.

“By the way,” she spoke up while we hauled the items back to the plane, “I don’t remember if I’ve asked, but did you know any janitors named Cronus?”

“No,” I replied, “do you think someone by that name is behind these attacks?”

“Yes. Or someone using that name as an alias. What about someone who ate people alive, or had a big mouth. Anyone like that?”

I had to think back a little, there were so many others, now lost to time.

“There is one person who comes to mind, but I don’t know much about him,” I suggested.

“Who?”

“He had the codename ‘Tarrare’. Apparently his specialty was more akin to a true janitor...as in, he cleaned up messes, all right. From what I heard, the higher ups would find jobs that had to do with disposing of dead bodies, and they’d send him out to devour the corpses. It’s kind of gross to think about, but I guess he had the stomach for that sorta thing.”

“Anything helps. It’s hard to believe there’s any other janitors alive, but I’m not going to rule it out.”

Just a few minutes later, we arrived back on the plane and took off. Demetria handed Cybele the cash, Cybele hugged Demetria tight, and few was spoken after that. In fact, I stewed in my thoughts.

I can’t believe I’m letting her do this. She must have been planning this a while, but how will she manage? For that matter, will she be okay with who she becomes? Or was it who she already was, and she just needed the resources? Then I considered that it must have been the latter.

We returned to the field later in the afternoon. Demetria waved goodbye to Cybele.

“How will you get around without me?” Cybele wondered.

“I’ll figure something out. Besides, I’m sure we’ll meet again soon enough,” Demetria assured Cybele.

“Okay. Stay safe, and remember: you’ve got friends!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Demetria waved off and dismissed. “You take care, yourself.”

As soon as Cybele took off, I turned to Demetria.

“What’s next?” I inquired.

“We keep training, I go to campus to get my degree, and then I take off to get my weapon forged.”

“I see. What kind of weapon do you have in mind?”

She flashed a smile.

“I dunno. I was thinking a sword,” she gave a little wink. So much for originality.

“All right, so we’ll train a bit more, you’ll graduate, but do you even know a blacksmith who can work with this stuff? For that matter, how will you get back to the diner? In case you aren’t aware, normal flights aren’t going near there, and if Ray knew you were coming, he’d try to pull out all stops to keep you away.”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it all out.”

I couldn’t help but smile in response to all that.

“Now I’m curious as to what you’ll come up with.”

She shrugged. Looks like I’d just have to wait and see.

The end of the month came, so too, did the end of spring. Demetria rushed out the door of the shack that morning, laptop and backpack in hand, and woke us all up.

“What’s the rush?” I turned to her, voice all hoarse and groggy.

“It’s my graduation. I’ve gotta get my degree in person. I think it’s dumb, but rules are rules. So going to take a Greyhound bus a few states over. See you in, like, a day at most.”

I clapped.

“Well good for you. It’s like you’re growing up and everything.”

“Oh, shut it,” she laughed. “Anyway, bye.”

“Have a good time,” I waved to her, then she was gone.

Cleaver sat up from his hammock and looked down.

“That kid gone?” He looked around.

“Yeah, but she’ll be back,” I informed him.

“I can’t believe it’s been three months already,” he shook his head. “Crazy, huh? She turned from a pipsqueak to a powerhouse.”

“She was already a powerhouse, she just needed for that power to come to the surface,” I corrected him, “now I wonder if she’s something more than a powerhouse.”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” he climbed down. “I’m going to find some possums to barbecue. Wanna join me in the hunt?”

“I’ll pass. But send my regards to Mange, will ya?”

He grumbled an incomprehensible grumble, then walked out the door.

“I suppose all that’s left for me to do now is wait,” I spoke into the air. Wait for Ray to send me that call, telling me that the place was in danger, or wait for Demetria to return. Wait for so many things, up to and including the prospect of an eternal rest.

So I went around town, I rested in the fields, I swung around the sword, but for the most part, I just sat and waited. On the following afternoon, Demetria returned running toward the shack, with plenty of stamina in tow.

“Hey, welcome back,” I greeted.

“Thanks!” She replied, and there was something different about her, as she was grinning and a glow seemed to surround her.

“You seem in a good mood. How was it?”

“Oh, you know, boring stuff. But you wouldn’t believe who I saw there. It was an old friend who I thought I’d never speak to again, let alone see! I guess we’re really still friends after all. It’s hard to believe,” she seemed to wipe a tear from her eye, and she continued to smile.

“Who was it?” I asked.

“Not who you’re thinking!” She backpedaled, and I was a little confused.

“I wasn’t thinking of anyone in particular,” I argued.

“Well, it’s not who you weren’t thinking of in particular, I can tell you that much! It was just an old friend from college. We used to be roommates.”

“Look at you! Being all social and stuff!” I congratulated.

“Stop it. I doubt I’ll see her again. My life’s just heading in a different direction and I probably won’t be able to have as many bright and cheery moments as that one. I have to accept that.”

How unfortunate.

“You should at least allow yourself the moments of happiness you can find,” I advised her.

Her smile lowered down until her face turned more serious.

“Yeah...you’re right.”

Before either of us could say anything else, Demetria’s phone rang, and she answered.

“Would you look at that, perfect timing,” Demetria remarked as whoever was on the other end must have greeted her, “been a while, hasn’t it, Hera?”

Hera? Was that the friend Demetria knew back at her university? I didn’t know, but I continued to listen in.

“Oh my. You want me to come over? Gee, I’d love to do that, but I don’t have any way to get there. I don’t have...how do I put it...the coin.”

You need a coin to get...well, she was probably talking of transportation money. But still, doesn’t she have plenty of money considering what she took at that building?

“Wait. You’ll come get me? Well this changes everything. Okay. Hold on. Slow down. I’ll meet you in Caldwell, Idaho. You can probably find me at a coffee shop. Thanks so much,. Bye.”

She then hung up and looked down where I sat.

“Well, time for me to run down to the city while carrying rocks in my backpack,” she announced, then tossed me her phone.

“Why did you give me this?” I looked down, confused.

“Can you hold onto it for me? Where I’m going, it’s best if I don’t have this.”

I was still confused.

“What am I supposed to do with it? I’m a homeless old bat!” I griped.

“Oh, come on. You’re not that old. Just pretend to be me if anyone texts.”

I shook my head and sighed.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but what the hell?”

“Thanks! So I’ll see you around!” She rushed out the words and was in such a pose that suggested she was ready to run off then and there.

“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” I cautioned.

“Ha. Do I ever?”

We both allowed ourselves a little bit of a laugh, and then she ran off inside the shack, then ran back out with the backpack on her shoulders. Without so much as looking back, she ran off at once. Before long, her image faded from view. Then I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the shack.

“I think if fate will allow, I’d like to live at least long enough to see how this plays out. If not a little longer,” I sent my wish out into the air. It wasn’t so much of a wish as it was a certain sentimental idea. I wouldn’t have minded if my time came tomorrow, or that very instant.

[icarus-suraki]

12, 46, 119 :)

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

In no particular order...

The Banjo Beat Yeah, I know it's a meme staple, but it's got the kind of sound I love and how cool would a bellydance choreography look to this?

Little Dark Age (slowed) Yes, I first heard this in one of the Angels & Demons tiktok compilations and I loved it, shut up. I love the 80s goth energy in the video too. Like, it just hits the spot, you know?

Tick.Tock.Magical.Idol.Time  Because sometimes you just gotta find a happy place, okay? If there's ever a lipsynch or idol show at a convention, this is gonna be what I perform in my cute cyclops kigurumi mask. Absolutely. (The Pripara animes got me through a very long winter a few years ago. I'd literally get up earlier than I needed so I could see the latest clips after a new episode aired before I went to work lol. And, yes, I love Yui, but Lalaa is best girl. They get to perform together, though.)

Lots of Zenbukimi and Not Secured,Loose Ends songs lately. I'll throw these here for an example: "Loud Asymmetry" and "独白園" ["Garden Monologue" or "Monologue Garden"?]. I have a whole YT playlist, lol. I'm kind of fascinated by the whole "underground idol" phenomenon and the CodomoMental label groups because they're both idols and anti-idols, which is kind of an interesting conflict within "idol-style" music in Japan...

Superman This is what I use for my alarm every morning in the hopes that high energy ska-punk will make me get up. It doesn't always work, but I like the song anyway. I've been on a real ska and ska-punk streak lately.

46. What are you paranoid about?

On the one hand, as a Thomas Pynchon fan, who has major themes of paranoia in, uh, all of his books, I have to laugh. But, at the same time, I'm so much less paranoid than I used to be. I put this down to my medications. In the past, wow, I've been paranoid about, uh, everything?

I think I'm kind of weak willed because any kind of "world's gonna end on x date" thing would send me into multi-day panic attacks. Nostradamus, obscure and dubious prophecies, biblical interpretations, Book of Revelations, political stuff, anything. I'd find myself believing all kinds of irrational things but not feeling like I could do anything about it (I mention this in particular because it’s markedly different from the Q-Anon fandom that is determined to Do Something about what they believe is happening; I felt informed but helpless, like there was an air raid siren blaring but nowhere to go and no shelter to be had, only inevitable destruction needling down from the clear blue sky). Like, all these terrible things are going to happen to us all and there's nothing we can do about it. Biblical stuff would always set me off in a major, major way. I'm rather proud I can shake off all the people talking about microchips in vaccines because a few years ago I would have been panicking about whether that was true and what the ramifications would be because, obviously, there was no way to get out of this inevitable fate or possible damnation and maybe it was the Mark of the Beast so what does that mean? Are there going to be people starving outside grocery stores now? Was xyz event really a sign? How much are we going to suffer??? What if I'm not good enough for God?????? Lots of religious anxiety in my past, as you can see. And some still, to be honest.

Yeah, it sucked. Glad I got most of that anxiety sorted before 2020 lol. (I sometimes think I could use a bit of anxiety because now I'll do dumb shit without fear because, eh, who cares? So I may have swung too far in the opposite direction.)

119. Favourite book? It's a three-way tie, baybee!

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury: I wrote a bang-up college admissions essay on this book and why it's not actually about censorship (as is usually but incorrectly taught) but rather about a disinterest in books/reading or an anxiety about the intense emotions that reading can bring out in the reader and I want to major in English so please let me come to your school to do that. And, guess what? They did. I read this book and then I felt feverish for, like, a week after. That's how hard it hit me, especially surrounded by high school classmates who really didn't care about school or reading or anything. It was like "fuck, this is too close to possible!" Anyway, it's still not about censorship.

Ulysses by James Joyce: This book, this thing, has such a reputation of being Evil and Dirty. So I read it. Fuck it, why not? Actually, I had been assigned some stories out of Dubliners to read over the Thanksgiving break my freshman year and I was kind of like "why the fuck did no one ever tell me to read these before now?" So I went and read Portrait of the Artist. N.B.: I think I was ~18 or 19 at the time and that thing hit me like not just a ton of bricks but about six tons of bricks. Like, I know I'm part of the .05% of people who actually like The Catcher in the Rye, but I think that's because I read it when I was ~15 or 16, because I was the ideal age and in the ideal mindset to read it. (The older I get, the more I identify with Holden's teacher, Mr. Spencer, who essentially tells Holden that if you can just hang on, I promise it gets better and you can do the shit you want really soon. But I also know how badly that would have gone over with my 16 year-old self, so...) So, anyway, in internet parlance, I realized I was kin with Stephen Dedalus, right? The only natural next step after PotA was Ulysses, since that picks up after PotA, so I just jumped into that with a copy from the used bookstore and separate annotation book from my school's library. And, o my fuck, Jim, you fucko, how did you do this? Like "I'm gonna create so many references and so many layers that you're going to have fun picking at this for years." And he was right! I have never been to Dublin but I can navigate the older parts of the city thanks to this dirty, profane, vulgar, obscene piece of literature lmao. I finished it the first time when I was almost 22, Stephen's age in the book. I went to Europe that summer, 2004, which was 100 years after the events in the book (1904) and intended to play at being Stephen, but that shit did not work out as planned and ended up being more accurate to canon than expected: i.e. everything was terrible and I suffered very artistically. I had planned on going to Ireland this year, because I turned 38 this year, Leopold Bloom's age in the book. 2020 wasn't having it. So maybe 2021? Or maybe 2022, the anniversary of its publication. This thing hangs in the background for me constantly and it's like the most amazing running joke in my life. I dressed up as Stephen for Halloween in 2004 too. Just sayin’.

Gravity's Rainbow: When I was working at a major chain bookstore immediately after college, it was retail hell and I was extremely depressed and everything sucked. I had no direction, no plan, no nothing. I kind of wanted to go get a PhD in English, though. So I started using my employee's discount to buy and read all the books that everyone seemed to talk about but had never read. Among those was Gravity's Rainbow, which was a title that intrigued me but I had no idea what it was "about." And saying what it's "about" isn't all that easy but that's kind of not the point. Just know that it's a dirty little book about sex and rockets. The point is the fuckery that our boy Tom Pynchon does with words and language and imagery and little winking references to things. I fucking love it. It's like, yeah. It's set during World War II and immediately after and it's bonkers and the author wrote most of it while very, very high. I went on and read the rest of his books (The Crying of Lot 49 is pretty much tied with GR for my affections; I would cosplay a theatrical interpretation of a Tristero courier if I ever had the opportunity) and bought Against the Day literally on the day it came out because I had become that much of a dork. (I also read Finnegans Wake about this time, which I also really love, a fact which really unsettles some people.)

Why can’t I be normal? I have no idea. I blame my past and my proclivities. 

Ask me stuff! Put question in, get blathering out!

[broken-heartedgirlff]

Chapter 26 ~ Focus

Lizzie

Today was literally fucking awful. Like I can not express to you, how horrible today was. Hell, I even passed out once getting to the hospital, thank God my baby was okay, but all I can see is Dominic getting shot, Angel’s, Giselle’s and Mason’s screams. Everything was horrible. 

“After Much deliberation, I have decided that Ms. Rossi is to get at most $150,000 for her pain and suffering on losing her child in such a traumatic way. Also, Mr. Cartier is not giving Ms. Rossi any alimony or half of everything he owns. It was the decision of Ms. Rossi to not find employment, as well as Ms. Rossi and Mr. Cartier was not married and were not together for 7 years, after 7 years, the common law marriage practices would’ve taken place, but even in this circumstance it would have not, being that Mr. Cartier is married.

I have found that the child Angelique Marie Boudreaux Cartier will be under the care and full custody of her father Dominic Cartier. With the death certificate of Giselle Boudreaux being null and void, the legal adoption of Angelique to Ms. Rossi is also Null and Void. Both parents have to sign off on giving up their parental rights for adoption, and Ms. Boudreaux-Cartier stated that she didn’t give her right up.  

I fine the defendant $150,000 to the plaintiff. Court is now dismissed”  

When I tell you our entire family rejoiced. I was ready to leave this chapter behind us, just like everyone with us. I couldn’t help tear up at the sight of Giselle crying and holding Angel, this is now what will let them have a better relationship, and it was a beautiful sight.

We were all about to leave when I saw Dominic talking to Katie. I knew that he had no animosity towards her, and that he still had love for her. But with my sister being back, and Katie being insecure about Giselle, He was all about Giselle again.

I guess Gi caught on to them talking, and called out to him.

“Baby” She said softly.

He smiled and finally started walking to his family, when Katie mumbled something and then pulled a gun out of her purse.

“DOMINIC!!” I yelled, but I was too late, he immediately fell to the ground as the bullets went into his backside.

“DADDY,” Angel and Mason screamed,

Giselle ran to him immediately, trying to put pressure on the wounds, ““DOMINIC!!!! SOMEONE CALL 911” She cried out.

“DOMINIC! STAY WITH ME PLEASE!! DOMINIC! DOM! PLEASE SOMEONE FUCKING CALL 911!!!!!” She cried again

I was looking around and Kam was protecting all the kids, X and Jeremiah apparently got ahold of Katie, Both bailiffs were dead on the floor, The judge was also shot too, but she had gotten to safety. I couldn’t find Olivia,

“LIV!!! LIVIE!!!” I screamed

“Lizzie!” She gasped

I ran and she was on the other side of the table, holding her stomach from bleeding. I took off my scarf,  

 “You’re gonna be okay Liv. I promised.” I said crying

“Stop crying then stupid.” She smiled

I nodded, and laughed, but the tears kept flowing. “I promise, you’ll be okay”

She grabbed my hand. “Lizzie, don’t let me die, Please, I want to see my Children grow up. Please.”

“I promise!”

The Police came in and then followed by the EMT’s, They came and got Liv from me, and she wouldn’t let go of my hand. So I went with her.

Giselle was still crying over Dominic’s body when the EMT’s came in. She wouldn’t let him go, Xavier had to tell her to let him go so that they can help him.

Now we are here, at Mount Zion Hospital, Dominic is in surgery, Olivia is in surgery. Mason is in a cast on his arm, apparently as soon as she shot Dominic, He ran towards Dominic and the bitch shot my nephew in the arm.  

We got word that both bailiffs were killed, and so was the judge. I wouldn’t be surprised if Katie got the death penalty. and if she didn’t, we would make sure she was dead her first moment in jail.

“Family of Olivia Lavigne?” The doctor spoke  

We all rose up, he laughed, “Next of Kin?”

Jeremiah spoke up with Sage in his arms asleep, “I am her husband.”

“Your wife is out of surgery, she had a heart attack on the table, but we fixed everything, she’s going to be bed ridden for a while. She was shot in her lower stomach, so we had to fix little of her internal organs but I am going to keep her here for awhile.”

“She’s okay though? She’s going to live?” He chocked out

“Yes, Sir. She will.”

He let out a breath and kind of a laugh “Oh thank God” He rubbed the tears out of his eyes, and shook the doctor’s hand.

“Thank you so much.”

“What’s taking Dominic so long.” Giselle mumbled. 

Rakim

I was sitting in the hospital with Rose when I got the call about Dominic and Liv. Thank God they were in the same hospital, because I don’t think that I could leave Rosie that long.

She’s finally getting better. We still don’t know why the baby was making her so sick, to the point that she was dying. She has this rare disease, and it causes the baby to take all of the good stuff from Rose, I really don’t know, but I don’t care. They told us that Rose could never carry a baby full to term, but I don’t care, as long as I have my Rosie.

“Baby, go see Olivia. X said that she’s fine and that they’re just waiting on hearing about Dominic.” Rose spoke from the bed.

I shook my head, “I can’t see my sister like that.”

“Well, what about Lei’Lani or your mom, you know that they are here, and you know they are freaking out.”

“I understand you are trying to help, but I can’t see her in a place like that. Last time wasn’t the best for me.”

“What do you mean?”  

“I was 14, Lei was 13 and Liv was 17” 

~ 11 years ago~

“LEI’LANI!!! Stop! I have to go to football practice!” I screamed

She stuck her tongue out at me, “Mommy said she would take me to dance practice!”

“She promised me football practice!!!” I yelled back

“OLIVIA!!!” We both screamed.

“Will y’all stop screaming! Liv isn’t here to take neither of y’all to either place…your mother and I have to.” My dad spoke to us.

“Daddy…” Lei pouted

“Bro, Pops please don’t fall for this! She is just trying to mess with me so that she can get on my nerves.”  

Lei being the baby, she always got everything she wanted. I was tired of that shit. She was ONLY 11 months younger than me! I was tired of this before the shit even started.

“WILL Y’ALL BE QUIET!!! I’M TRYING TO HEAR ON THE PHONE!” My mom yelled

We knew not to mess with her because as soon as she was mad, that would be our asses, before we could leave, we heard my mom again,

“What the fuck you mean, she’s in the hospital Xavier! I Sent her there to get away from him! He followed her there?!”

My pops ran into the kitchen, I knew it couldn’t be good.  It had to be Olivia’s ex-boyfriend, Cassiius. That nigga was mental, and I knew for a fact that he used to beat on my sister, but I could never prove it until i would catch her covering it up, so momma sent her to live with her Dad’s side of the family in Cali to get away from the nigga. But i guess it didn’t work.

“Rah, we gotta go to Cali, Liv is in the hospital” Lei came back crying, then she just ran into my arms crying.

Seeing my sister, in the hospital bed, literally bandaged in every way. I wanted that niggas blood. I wanted to see him worse than he put my sister.  

He gave her internal trauma, external trauma, broken bones, a brain bleed and she was all bruised and battered. This nigga left my sister for dead.

“Rah, you’re going to break the bed” I heard my mom say. I guess I was gripping the edge so hard, my knuckles had turned white.

My family was always worried about my anger issues, and stuff like this didn’t help it either.

I wasn’t really paying attention, when Liv’s family came in the room. It was her cousins Giselle, and Elizabethe and their dad Xavier. He had two light skin niggas behind him.

“Who the fuck are they?” I spoke pointing to them

“Andre! Language!” My mother scolded.

“They not family, they don’t need to be here. So who are they and why are they here.”  

One of them, the thicker one, was about to say something but Xavier put his hand on his chest.

“It’s okay Jeremiah, Rakim is right, can you and Dominic step outside.”

They both nodded and stood outside, but the one that was Jeremiah, kept his eye on Liv and kept the door slightly ajar to hear what was going on. 

Of course my mom and dad kicked out myself and Lei so they could talk to Xavier. It was simple, I want this nigga dead. I’m tired of doing all of this talking shit. He needs to die, he hurt my sister.

Lei was talking to the girls in the waiting area, and I just kept staring at the wall, I didn’t even notice the two other niggas come and sit by me. But they just stared at me.

“The fuck y’all looking at.” I spat

“Look Nig-“ Jeremiah spoke

“Jeremiah. Don’t.” The other spoke.

“I know y’all not stupid, what do you want?” I asked again

“You Liv’s little brother huh? She said you were a lot” the other laughed

I just blankly stared at him.

He shook his head, “Just like Olivia… I’m Dominic, this is Jeremiah. We work for your uncle Xavier.”

“He’s not my uncle, He’s Olivia’s uncle. Her pops older brother.”

“Understood.” He said

“So Y’all going to kill the nigga or what?”

They both looked at each other before they looked back at me.

“Look, I maybe 14, but I’m far from fucking stupid. This nigga Cassiius did this to my sister. My parents sent her here so it wouldn’t happen. and look what happened. Do y’all even know what happened?”

The Jeremiah guy cleared his throat and answered,

“We think he’s been watching her for awhile, but he can’t really get too close to the mansion because of other things. But what set him off was she went on a date, when she went home she was grabbed.”

I nodded my head trying to grasp the information, but then he spoke again.

“ I should’ve stayed. But she said it was fine.”

“Wait, you’re dating my sister?”  

He couldn’t even answer the question, because I simply didn’t care.

“Just kill this nigga and we straight my dude. Long as you treat her right and don’t hurt her, I don’t give a fuck what y’all be doing.”

“No one will ever hurt her again, if it’s up to me” He said

“I see why you don’t like Jeremiah very much anymore, he didn’t beat on you sister like the other dude did, but he hurt her just as emotionally as the last one did.” Rose said rubbing my hands. She always knew how to soothe me.

I nodded, “He basically left her for dead when he cheated and had another baby outside of his marriage. My sister had to beg me not to kill him. Motherfucker lucky I love my nieces and nephews, because he would’ve been gone hella ago.”

“Rah, you can’t hold that anger in, you got to let go, and forgive Jeremiah.”

“No thank you. He fucked over my sister, I don’t play about family.”

“What if Jeremiah and Olivia get back together?” She asked.

I turned my face up, “Doubtful.”

She just laughed, “You spend so much time hating him, you don’t realize that they still love each other.”

“Again. Doubtful.”

She just shrugged and went about her business because she knew the conversation was dead with me.

One month Later

Writer’s perspetive

Both Dominic and Olivia were laid out in comas. Dominic’s condition was worse than Olivia’s and the doctors  were  afraid that he would never be able to walk again.

This absolutely scared Giselle, seeing that he would never be able to play with the kids again. Or walk Angel down the isle at her wedding. Play Football with Mason when he’s in High school. Or even jus simply stand to hug her, she was petrified, but she never left his side.

Jeremiah also never left Olivia’s side, he was conflicted as well. The doctor informed him that Olivia was 4 weeks pregnant. It hurt his heart that she was having another man’s child. But it hurt even worse when the doctor told him that she miscarried, and because of her injury, she would never be able to have children.  He knew that, the news of a miscarriage and fertility problems would kill her. He didn’t want to be the one to tell her, but he knew he had too.

Callie immediately went to see her sister, but Katie weren’t allowed Guests. I mean would you be allowed Guests if you killed two police officers and a judge with Dominic and Olivia in critical condition from her actions.  

Did Katie regret what she did?  

No. She wasn’t remorseful. She had planned to do that if she had lost anyway. She just didn’t expect Giselle to be there. Katie honestly wanted to kill Giselle, but their son got in the way and she ended up shooting him, which didn’t matter in Katie’s mind because Giselle took her son away. So it was an eye for an eye. 

 If Katie couldn’t have Dominic and Angel…. No one could and she stuck by that.  

But Callie had to worry about her own problems.

After everything went down, she asked to meet with Kamryn. She still wanted to go through with the abortion, but she needs Kam’s approval. Kam was conflicted. She knew that Callie would have the baby and leave it… it could be the baby that she’s been trying to have, but let’s be real. As strong as Kamryn is, she isn’t strong enough to raise her Husband’s mistress’ child, and after talking with X. They let Callie out of her contract and she got an abortion.

Kamryn was extremely relieved. She didn’t have to deal with this mess of Callie or X having an outside baby, so she tried harder to save her marriage. X tried harder too. He loved his wife and wanted to make their family whole again. They both decided to go to counseling and to put having another baby off until they were back on good terms with each other.

Rosalie has been getting better, and the entire family was happy. She was sad about her condition about carrying kids, and she was worried that it would affect her relationship with Rakim but he reassured her that nothing could tear them apart. The love they had for one another was greater than the thought of having children. They even talked about adopting or surrogacy. 

 Everything was going great, expect for Dominic and Olivia.

Giselle

Everyday, I would wake up hoping that last month was a dream. I prayed everyday for Dominic to wake up, I needed him to wake up.

Angel and Mason really haven���t talked since the day that he got shot and I cant blame them. They saw that bitch, shoot him down. I’ve taken them to therapy, but they both just sit in silence the entire time. Mason usually tells me what is wrong, but I cant get it out of him.

The doctors were worried that D would never wake up. They’ve asked me to take him off life support 2 times already, but I could never do that to him. He’s the love of my life…. I cant let this be the end. I even got into an argument with Mama Celeste about it.

“My son wouldn’t want this Giselle.” She cried

I shook my head for the millionth time “Mama, I said No. Dominic is okay, he just needs his rest. His body is under a lot of stress. BUT HE IS FINE!” I rubbed his curls that he’s grown since being in the hospital.

“Giselle.-”  

“I was without him for more than 4 years, Taken away by my father, by Vincent. I will not be away from him for the rest of my life. If I go bankrupt because I am keeping him alive I will do it.”

“His will states-“

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t give a fuck what his will states. LEAVE! If you don’t support my decision to keep him alive. GET THE HELL OUT!”

I haven’t seen her since and that was 2 weeks ago. I’m not keeping her away, but she’s staying away right now. Jeremiah was pissed at me, but i don’t care. I refuse to lose him again. I mentally couldn’t handle it. But she’s taking care of the kids for me while I am here.

Wiping my tears, I just rubbed his hands and arms. I just want him to wake up. I miss his brown eyes, and his smile. The way he would always be laughing and being goofy with the kids. I just want to see him again. I would give anything for him to hold me one more time.  

Then suddenly, he flatlined. 

Olivia

All I heard was talking and I couldn’t move my body, but I knew for a fact that I was with Jeremiah. Because I heard his voice.

I also hear a heart machine and I feel groggy. I couldn’t help but to think, where was Sage, I couldn’t hear her. She’s usually with Jeremiah. What the hell is going on!

I tried to open my eyes, but the lights were too bright, so I groaned.

“Olivia?” Jeremiah asked

I turned my head and opened my eyes, I could barely move, and I couldn’t talk.

“Water?” He asked again

I nodded my head. He got me a cup of water off the table and helped me drink it. I probably drunk all of it, but it helped my throat.

“You good?”

“Yes, thank you.” I said raspy  

“Jeremiah, what happened. Did Cassius do this to me? Why am I here?”

“Cassius?”

“Where’s Sage? Where is everyone?”

“Olivia, what is the last thing you remember?” Jeremiah asked me

I shrugged, but I couldn’t really remember anything. I tried to think long and hard, i even closed my eyes. It took me awhile, and a few minutes later,

“I remember getting into a fight with you, and you stormed out of the house, I took Sage with me to Dinner with Lizzie and Giselle at Riviolli’s. Coming back home, I ran into Cassius. That’s all I remember.”  

He sat down and stared at me in shock, “Riviolli’s closed after Sage turned 4.”

Before I could ask what he meant by “Sage turning 4.” A man and 4 little kids walked in. One went strictly to Jeremiah, and the other 3 ran to me.

“MOMMY YOU’RE AWAKE!!!”

“MOMMY I MISSED YOU!!”

They all hugged me and the man said “Baby, I’m glad you’re awake.” I recognized him as the new partner from the firm.

Baby?

I looked at Jeremiah, “Jeremiah, what is going on? Who are they?”

The oldest child said “Mommy, it’s me Sage.”

Before I could even say anything, Jeremiah saw my face. “Dont freak out Olivia.”

“Jeremiah, what the fuck is going on! Who are these kids and this man!!” I screamed out

The man said “I’m Jordan, your boyfriend?”

“I dont have a boyfriend, I’m married to Jeremiah! Have been since I was 20 years old! We have a 3 year old!”

“Olivia what year is this?” Jeremiah asked

“What the hell do you mean! It’s 2014!” I screamed

“Mommy, it’s 2018.” ‘Sage’ said

I looked around at all the confused faces, “Jeremiah, I want to go home, please what is going on. This isn’t funny. Where is Sage. I DON’T KNOW THESE PEOPLE” I cried out.  

I was scared that Cassius found me and beat me, leaving me for dead again. I just wanted to go home with my husband and my daughter.  

I dont know what is happening right now.