#i think its once again root problem is their giant fucking tail

[termagax]

i think fish is just kind of Always Cold and while idk if i want to say theyre cold blooded or not i do think theyd either way have circulation issues

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 14

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Also as a heads up, since college started back up for me I decided to change my posting to every Thursday night rather than Friday Mornings. There also might be times where I won't be able to post that week or be late due to schooling, so this is an apology in advance!!!

Chapter 14: Memories Intertwined

A clear cut path was set for the public eye as it stood between rows upon rows of Plum Blossom trees and flowers spread all around. There were quite an abundance of people along these paths as families came together for a picnic, couples went for a stroll together as they held hands, or the occasional jogger or artist that ran or drew as they wandered in. Many don’t try to venture off the path, not because of its danger, but rather in fear of getting lost in the woods.

Well except for two people, a human and a Monkey, as they stood on the outskirts of the forest.

“Well this is it, welcome to the Plum Blossom Forest,” MK said as with his arms raised high. “The most awesomest place to be.”

It took a few minutes for Wukong to respond as he took in the beautiful view, but also felt that there was something else rooted in the leaves, along the branches, and deep into the ground within the forest. It wasn’t bad, just something different. Normal trees don't usually have any types of aura on them unless they are spiritual in nature, these aren’t those types of trees. At the same time though it does, he can’t quite put his fingers on it, but it just feels like…like safety. “Yeah, it is.”

“Monkey King?”

“O-oh yeah,” he snapped out of it, “this place looks absolutely amazing.”

“It sure is, now follow me,” MK went into the forest as the Monkey King followed.

“It would probably be faster if I used my cloud instead of going through the forest, you know,” he pointed out.

“Sure, but this is your first time, so you have to experience it on foot at least for your very first experience!” He countered.

“You got me there,” he grinned, “on foot it is. So, tell me more about this place, anything interesting about it besides the abundance of trees?”

“Tons! Like this forest doesn’t just have regular animals, but it also has so many mythical creatures living here!”

“Really? What kind?”

“Well we have a few Qilins that like to roam around here.”

“Qilin, haven’t seen one of those in a hot second,” he muttered.

“They sometimes come and go, but some even make a den here,” MK continued.

The further they went in the clearer it was that MK really knew the forest as he began to excitedly tell all sorts of things to his mentor.

“So the faeries tribe get along with the Xianglu? Now that is something I didn’t think was possible, the faeries are especially a…crafty bunch,” which was Wukong's way of saying manipulative sons of bitches. He got lost in a forest for a month because of those little bastards.

“Not really surprisingly, they both like to collect shiny things so they usually like to show the other what they have found, bargained, and/or stolen,” he shrugged. “And-oh hey BaBa!” He cheerily waved to his long time friend.

Wukong just blinked as he looked at her and just nodded, “Okay, not even gonna ask how or why he managed to get a Bashe here.”

“Dad says that apparently she just came here one day and decided to stay.”

The monkey opened his mouth and promptly closed it instead to bow to her, “It’s nice to meet you.”

BaBa gave a shallow nod to him and laid her giant head back down and curled up in the sun rays.

“Come on! We’re almost there,” he grabbed the Monkey King's hand and dragged him back on track, or at least they tried to get back on track as not even twenty minutes later, MK was ambushed by a couple of macaque monkeys.

“Guys! Guys! I’ll play with you all later,” he tried to push them away, but they held a tight grip on him. “Guys! Why are-don’t you even think about it,” he snatched one by the tail, who was sneakily digging into his pockets and hanged him upside down. “Really?”

They all just grinned at him as the infants attempted once more.

“That’s-okay, no! You can’t just steal from me like that unless you have a distraction in place,” he managed to gather all four of them in his arms and put them down. “A distraction helps a lot, it will steer your target attention away from the pickpocketer and towards something else.”

The monkeys were paying very much attention to his impromptu lecture as they stared wide eyed.

Wukong, on the other hand, was holding back his laugh as he looked on in the scene with fondness and amusement as he was drawn into a familiar memory.

“I can easily steal from those people no problem, why do I have to disguise myself and sneak in?” Wukong groaned out as they made their way to the edge of the market.

“Just because they look weak doesn’t mean they are, haven’t you heard the phrase ‘Don’t judge things on how they look.’” Macaque argued back.

“No.”

“Of course you haven’t,” he rolled his eyes, “well how about this, you distract them, I’ll grab the food from the assholes.”

“Works for me!” He happily threw away his brown cloak and gave a loud screech as he dashed through the market causing a huge commotion when he ran into people.

“I didn’t mean now,” he hissed to himself as he quickly grabbed the fallen cloak, but nonetheless got to work as he stole from the fruit vendor, who cussed them both out yesterday, grabbed a few loaves of bread from the bitch who decided to stomp on Wukong tail, and took a few things here and there from customers who he recognized from other days that always sneered in disgust when they saw him.

He was just about done wrapping up, and with such a nice haul, all that was left now was to sneak around and look for Wukong, quickly tug on his shadow to bail out and make way to the forest.

Unfortunately, it didn’t work out quite like that as not even twenty paces in he heard sounds of a fight occurring as many scruffed up looking people were all going at it at each other, and guess which reckless monkey is in the middle of it all.

“Damn it Wukong,” his eye twitched as he once again contemplated about leaving his reckless ass, but begrudgingly moved his way to the front. The first, and last, time he had tried that, he got side tackled hard by the monkey and he swears the bruises haven’t left him since.

When he reached the point where he was not entirely in the front, but still had a good angle on the fight, he saw that it wasn’t just humans that were drunkenly fighting each other, but also demons…who were wielding weapons.

“Shit!” The monkey shrieked as he dodged a flaming spear to the back of the head.

Weapons that happened to be enchanted…great.

“How does he even get himself into these messes,” Macaque lowly growled as he made sure everyone's attention was focused on the fight before slipping into the shadows, something he has recently been learning when he saw something on the rooftop. There was a figure standing there and in his hands was a bow and arrow that was aimed right towards the fighting monkey.

Now this wouldn’t usually worry him, he has seen him tussle with deities for fun, but then he noticed that the arrow too was also enchanted as he heard a soft crackle and saw a shimmering blue glow as he soon released it.

“Shit!” He quickly, and he will admit a bit recklessly, dived into the shadows and straight in the middle of the brawl.

Good news, he made it to the middle of the brawl and tackled his friend out of the way. Bad news, he currently has an arrow stuck in his right shoulder that hurt worse than the time he got stabbed by the selkie.

“Fuck!” He grunted as he laid on top of Wukong and promptly winced when everyone started screaming at the arrow that came out of nowhere.

“Mac! What do you do that for-your shoulder!” He screeched as he got the monkey off of him and sat him up and saw his shoulder was currently smoking. He didn’t even look back to use his tail to throw the man about to attack them from behind as he was focused on the arrow. “What happened?!”

“We can worry about this later,” he gritted as he tried to stand up, only for his head to feel dizzy and he stumbled.

Wukong quickly grabbed him before he could fall and set him back down. He knew that he had to get the arrow out of him soon, but now was not the best time to do that as he gazed upon the people looming over them. He looked to see his friend trying to stand back up despite his injuries and was fully ready to fight back with him.

It was time to go.

The monkey stopped his black furred companion from moving, “Shall we bail?”

Macaque gave a nod as he grabbed his friend and sank him down into the shadows once more and managed to travel all the way to the outskirts of the fight. They didn’t stop there though as Macaque quickly gave Wukong his cloak back and the two began to make their way through the town, past the entrance, and back into the field with a large tree stood, which is where they agreed to meet up in case things went south, like a lot of times before.

“Well,” the injured monkey grunted as he sat down, “that could have gone a lot worse.”

“You're telling me,” the bruised simian agreed as he began to look over the arrow that was still embedded in his friend's back. “Sit still, I’m about to take this out.”

“Yeahhh, it hurts like hell,” he grumbled as he sat in place as Wukong got the arrow out and only flinched when he began to lick the wound shut. The first time he found out that this was a thing was when he pricked his hand against a thorny bush and the impulsive simian decided to put his finger in his mouth without warning. He had almost chucked the monkey for that. Soon enough it was over as the bleeding stopped and the tongue left his back.

“That should be good, though you were an idiot for getting struck in the first place,” he said.

“Me?! I was only doing that to save your stupid ass,” he indignantly said.

“I would have been fine!”

“Maybe, but I wasn’t about to take that chance with an enchanted weapon,” he shot back.

“That does explain the weird marking, wait there was another one?” He was already interested in that flaming stick that the demon used, but now there was another weapon he didn’t even see…that had struck his friend…he really wants a round two with those fuckers. “Who even were they?”

“Hopefully people we don’t have to meet anytime soon,” Mac grunted as he took the sack that he managed to quickly snag on their way back and grabbed himself a nice looking mango. “Come to papa,” he said and took a big bite.

“Bring it here,” he said and he caught the bag thrown at him and rummaged through it a bit before he found some nice looking loquat.

After that, they filled the two rested up in the tree, and dozed off in a peaceful slumber. Though the same couldn’t be said for a certain group of people as in the middle of the night they were ambushed by a cloaked figure and proceeded to get thoroughly pummeled into unconsciousness, the archer especially as his hands were broken beyond use and his bow shattered. Then the figure slipped off into the night with his hoard of coins and trinket stashed into his pocket and bounded his back to the tree where his friend laid.

No one was allowed to mess with anything that was claimed by the great Monkey King after all.

“Bye! Now use that to mess with everyone else!” He was snapped back to reality as he saw the monkeys leaving and MK waving to them. “But don’t use it on the faeries please, they tend to hold grudges!”

They got screeches of confirmation as they eventually vanished from sight and were ready to commence their new found knowledge amongst the wildlife.

“Alrighty,” his protege clapped his hands, “let’s back on track.”

“I’m just gonna assume that means we’re heading to that big tree over there,” he pointed to the enormous tree they were heading towards.

“Yup! It’s the very first Plum Blossom Tree that was grown here!” He stated as they continued onward, “and it’s where our home is.”

“You guys live in a treehouse,” Monkey King amusedly said.

“Yup!” He exclaimed as he began to climb up the tree and leap towards the house, “race ya there!”

“You're trying to challenge a monkey?” He grinned as he easily began to catch up to him. “You don’t stand a chance!”

“Home Field advantage!”

“Dream on!”

“First!” Wukong cheered as he landed on the wooden porch.

“Damnit!” MK said not even a second after, “you cheated! You pulled me down!”

“All is fair in love and races,” he cockily grins then he stilled as he felt a killer intent behind him. He swiveled around only to stop and see a smiling child behind him. “Hel-”

“MK, it’s about time you got here,” the girl playfully rolled her eyes as she wrapped her arm around him. “It took you long enough.”

“Says the one who was lazing about here waiting for us, speaking of us,” he wiggled out of his sister's arm and pointed to the monkey. “Mei meet the Monkey King!”

It could have just been Wukong, but he swore that her grin seemed to grow a little wider when their eyes met. “It’s nice to meet you Mei,” he tried to play off that weird feeling.

“Same,” she said as she stepped forward and pushed MK towards the kitchen, “it’s your turn to help pops in the kitchen.”

“Why? Can’t you do it?” He whined, he literally just finished walking here.

“I already did my part, now wash those nasty hands of yours,” she fully pushed him out the room.

“But-”

“Bye~”

“Ugh fine!,” he huffed and turned to his mentor, “You can wait in the living room with Mei! I’m pretty sure there are still some plums if you want, we have plenty of those.”

“You're telling me,” Wukong chuckled as he saw his student leave the room, so he turned back to Mei. “So how long have you-” he paused as he saw the pigtailed girl hold up a small piece of paper in front of him with words saying.

I don’t like you

“Umm,” he paused as Mei continued to smile.

“Well let me show you the living room,” she said as she went to the next card.

You may be MK mentor, the great and powerful Monkey King, and Dad old friend, and they may have both forgiven you, but I will not

“Thank you,” he managed to wrangle out as he followed Mei who began to walk forward.

“It’s no problem,” she said as they made it to the living room and held out the last card. “Just promise me to remember where it is next time monkey man.”

I know what happened and I’m keeping an eye on you, cause if you fuck up again then it won’t be pretty

Her eyes glowed a dark green as she stared down with wary golden eyes.

“I promise,” he nodded his head.

She looked at him for a few moments before walking away, passing by a trash can filled with torn up letters, and to the kitchen, but not before calling out, “I do hope you keep that in mind.”

It was only after she had left that Wukong sank down into his seat and breathed. ‘Well that wasn’t frightening at all,’ he sarcastically said to himself as he picked up a plum from the middle of the table and began to eat it. ‘I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I expected it to be from the awkwardness, not the girl who looked like she would gladly see me twenty feet under.’

He would continue his train of thought, but then he smelled something delicious making his way to him and saw Mac walk towards him with a plate in hand.

“Hope you still like dumplings,” he said as he plopped a huge tray of dumplings, filled with various fillings, in the middle of the table.

“Hell yeah…So you learned how to cook?” He was about to reach for the chopstick but paused and waited until the other monkey sat down first.

“Kinda had to with everything and all,” he didn’t specify as he sat down on a chair adjacent to the couch Wukong was on.

“Do you know how to cook?” Wukong was momentarily surprised at MK's voice as he and Mei were actually following behind the monkey and carrying plates, cups, and a pot.

“In a way yes, thank you,” he nodded his head to Mei as she gave him a wide grin.

“Hair food does not count,” Mac deadpanned.

“Hair food?” Both teenagers looked in confusion.

“He uses his hair to make food.”

“It’s not that bad,” he tried to defend himself.

“It’s fast I’ll admit, but it’s bland as hell,” he stated.

“It’s still not that bad.”

“I’ll take your word for that,” MK said as he sat down next to his mentor and happily began to eat the dumpling.

Wukong, after seeing everyone starting to eat, began to follow suit and his eyes widened as he quickly grabbed another dumpling. “This is delicious!”

“More than your hair food,” the black simian smirk.

Wukong stuffed another dumpling in his mouth in place of answering and drank some Plum tea, only to blink in surprise. “What kind of tea is spicy?”

“Pffft,” Mac couldn’t help himself as he barked out a laugh that was quickly followed by MK giggles.

And that’s how it was for the rest of the lunch, small chatter here and there, mostly from MK as he talked about his week or Wukong in his small questions from ‘What he likes to grow in his garden?’ to ‘How long did he take to build his home?’ It was nothing too invasive, just simple questions here and there and they finished up the plate, though there was a small fight between both humans and the sage monkey over who would get the last beef dumpling. It was a tense match, but it was MK who won in the end after a serious battle of Jan Ken Po.

“Victory tastes so good,” he smirked as he devoured the dumpling.

“I will remember this,” Mei hissed as she messed with her pigtails.

“Maybe it’s time we review the basics again,” Wukong huffed and he slurped down the tea.

“You're just mad that I won.”

“Children all of you,” Mac said as he got his clone to put the plates in the sink.

“You're not wrong,” she said as she leaned back against him.

The simian hands then began to unconsciously undo her messed up pigtails and groom her hair. Both parties didn’t really take note of the change as this was a daily routine for anyone who has known them long enough.

Wukong just eyed the scene with mirth and a small bit of jealousy, that he will forever deny, as he watched his friend groom his child.

“Can I groom your fur,” he was startled by MK’s question.

“Wha-I mean, sure,” he quickly agreed after getting caught off by the question.

He smiled widely as he pushed the great sage Monkey King to the floor and began to gently groom his hair as well. He couldn’t help himself slowly become relaxed as the fingers gently caressed his fur. He has done this multiple times with his tribe, but this feeling will never get old.

“What is up with your fur being so soft?” The boy commented, “Dad’s fur is super soft and now yours? Is there a rule that demon monkey fur has to be soft?”

“Technically not a demon, but that is just the side effect of quality grooming,” he had to stop himself from letting a purr out as the kid continued. “Makes the fur nice and silky.”

He didn’t really pay attention to what his student said next as he closed his eyes and let the soft hands thread through his fur then when he opened his eyes once more it was dark and the hands had stopped.

He took a quick glance around and saw that he must have dozed off during their impromptu grooming session as he saw MK was now leaning against him in deep sleep and Mei curled up like a small cat on the couch with a pillow under her head. Yet there was no Macaque insight, his eyes flashed a bright golden as he scanned the area and saw the familiar outline of violet aura sitting on the railing outside.

So, he carefully dislodged himself from his student grip, laid him down gently with a blanket, and softly padded his way outside the warm home and into the cool night air.

“Could have sworn you were passed out,” Mac said as Wukong sat down next to him.

“What can I say, grooming plus silence equals sleepy time,” he shrugged, kicking his feet as he looked around, “you do have a nice home.”

“Thanks,” he awkwardly answered.

“Must have taken quite some time to build.”

“A few years.”

“Oh,” he said, then an awkward silence filled the air as neither side knew what to do without the kids acting as some sort of buffer between the two. Neither monkeys knew how to go from here despite one inviting the other over, they didn't know where exactly how to start nor, which is both their biggest worry, how it might end. But the inevitable conversation did need to start, so Wukong turned to his friend.

“Look, about the whole fight the other day and me saying you were just trying to use MK, I’m sorry,” he really knew he did a major fuck up then. “You really do care for the both of them and I can tell that they really love you as well.”

“…thanks, I got really lucky having them in my life,” he smiled then he winced, “Sorry about almost killing your friends back then, that was stupid of me.”

“Yeahhh, about that,” he turned his whole body to face him, “that has been nagging me for the longest of times. Why did you attack them?” He surprisingly watched the black furred monkey groan and put his face in his hands.

“It was both parts stupidly and sheer impulsiveness. I came to find you after Guanyin freed you and I heard you screaming and I saw you in pain, I thought you were being tortured,” he quietly replied.

Wukong's eyes were shot wide open as the truth of this finally came to light. This whole time he thought rage towards humans finally erupted in one huge explosion and attacked them, but it wasn’t. That wasn’t it. Macaque attacked them because he thought they were hurting him, he attacked his friends because he thought he was in pain because of them. Everything that happened, from the fight to their long separation was due to a fucking screwed-up misunderstanding!

“Oh,” yet he didn’t know how to voice any of that out, which is ironic considering he is known for being a loudmouth after his impulsiveness.

“I am sorry,” he reiterated as he barely got a reaction out of his friend. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, but I just heard screams and I saw you lying there, that I couldn’t stop myself from listening to the voices,” he admitted. Wukong is one of the few people he has ever told about the voices that like to whisper in his ears all their malicious intent and their cruel lust.

“…we both are truly hot messes huh,” he finally said as he looked back to the moon and gave him a small nudge. “Just look at the two of us, you somehow became the recluse medicine man that lives in the forest alone, but still somehow ends up with two kids, and me, who lives up in the tallest of mountains and became the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.”

“You forgot to add reckless idiot, somewhere there,” Mac lightly jokes.

“Heh yeah…I forgive you,” he quietly stated.

Macaque whipped his head to him, “Just like that? I almost killed you and your friends back then and that whole fight, and the words-” they both winced at the reminder of those damned words they spoke to the other. “What I did was horrible.”

“And we fought and I made you fucking blind!” He hissed out as he tried to see past the glamor in place to look at his hazy eye.

“I’m pretty sure I left you with a few scars yourself,” he shot back.

“A few scars are nothing compared to being blind!”

“That is just one injury compared to the multitude!”

“It doesn’t work like that, you are literally a physician?!” He threw his hands up.

“And I do declare myself completely capable despite my disability!” He barked back.

“I never said you weren’t capable, I know better than to underestimate you. Remember back with the fire spirits.”

“Which ones?”

“The arrogant bastard ones.”

“Which ones? There are numerous of them,” he deadpanned.

“The ones centered by the river, you know the spirits who thought they were powerful enough-”

“To take on the deity that commanded that puddle of water,” he said with him and continued. “I still can’t believe that those words came out of his mouth,” he snorted.

“And after we kicked their asses,” Wukong reminded him with a wide grin, “remember the look on their faces when the river goddess heard what they said.”

“I have never seen a fire spirit look like they want to piss themselves that fast before,” he barked out his laughter.

“Right!”

The two shared a laugh at the memory of the deity whooping their asses once more as the arrogant spirits either ran away screaming or died beneath her thundering waves. Both of them were completely safe as they watched the entire thing from on top of a tree and made bets over which idiots would survive. Their laughter eventually died down as the night silence took over once more, but it wasn’t the awkward silence that greeted them but a kindling of familiar comfort they shared before.

“We really are idiots,” the medicine monkey faintly commented.

“Glad to hear you finally admit it,” the sage monkey replied then he paused as he thought for a moment, but pushed forward. “After our many years of friendship, I would have never thought I would ever hear the day.”

Mac's eyes widened at his admission, “Friends?”

“Yep,” he boldly looked him in the eyes, “I mean I have spent centuries with you, so I think we are way past that level you know.”

“Despite not seeing each other in between those centuries,” the simian retorted.

“Well friends do have stupid fights with each other sometimes, it’s just not specifically for mortals you know,” the monkey slightly grinned.

“You're not wrong,” he swung his feet, “do…do you want to start over? Maybe try anew?” Thinking that maybe they couldn’t go back to how things were before, how the easy smiles and laughter that they used to share between the two of them and thoroughly dissipated. That maybe, if they begin right here and right now, there can be some resemblance of that bond that was once shattered.

Wukong let that answer sink in and ponder it only for a few moments before shuddering. “I…no I really don’t,” he said with a surprising harshness in his tone. “You were the one person who has known me longer than anyone other than the ones that still reside on the mountain, you are the only one who knows me the best out of anyone, and call me selfish, but I don’t want to start over with the only person who knew me from the inside out and still give a damn about me.” He can’t even imagine just throwing away all those years that he spent with moonshine, it would be easier if they ripped his head out instead, at least then the pain won’t be so bad. “So how about we both agree we made and did stupid ass decisions and continue on, cause if I’m being honest here, I really missed your grooming,” he teased.

“You just want me for my hands,” he couldn’t help but say.

“You do have very lovely hands,” he didn’t deny.

Macaque snorted before nodding, “Yeah, I like that peaches.”

“It’s been a while, mango,” Wukong grinned as he took in his friend form once more. He really had changed a lot since the last time he saw him, who he was is still the same, but he has opened up his soul a little wider and has beautifully flourished. Just how, well he just has to see more for himself. But not just his soul, but his whole outer appearance and he’s not talking about his ‘feminine’ clothing, both of them aren’t ones who care for gender roles or whatever the humans have decided their identity is based around. Rather his long fur that is swaying gently in the breeze under the moonlight night.

He couldn’t stop himself from taking glances at that fur each time he looked at the black furred simian. From just the sheer size to the fluffiness, as his student had proclaimed (though he can’t help but agree) he really just wants to thread his fingers through his fur. Maybe it’s just the absence of not grooming his friend fur in a long ass time, but he wants to remember how soft his fur is, to gently smooth out any tangles, to let him sit in between his legs as Mac sinks into his ministration and purr once more, to hold him as long as he can as they gently relax in each other arms to have his hands move down from his gorgeous fur and to his beautiful face and tilt his head up so that his golden eyes meet his own and ben his head down to meet-…oh.

And it was at this moment as he stared at Liu Er face did the thought occur to him as their tails unconsciously had entwined for the first time in over five hundred years and sat together beneath the stars.

‘I still love him,’ he faintly thought and his own heart pounded in confirmation. Not even when they have been separated for five hundred years did he stop loving his moonlight. ‘I really won’t stop loving him…and for some reason, I don’t mind.’

But instead of saying anything, he instead put his face on top of Macque's head and playfully nuzzled him. He can see his moon fondly rolling his eyes at his antics, but lean in as he feels his smaller friend rest his head on his shoulder.

‘This is enough,’ both simians privately thought as they cuddled close together.

Though they weren’t quite alone as two pairs of eyes were trained on them from the living room and they haven’t moved an inch since they heard Monkey King walk outside for the first time.

Mei and MK looked at each other in complete shock as they took in the scene. The surprise wasn’t from their conversation nor from the harmonious aura that surrounded them, but rather from the black and brown tails that were intertwined with each other. Now they may not know how romantic love feels and looks except from t.v, movies, couples strolling, and the scarce amount of times Mei parents come around, but they can tell there is something definitely there as it was hanging around the two monkeys and seeing them like this, it clicked.

‘Holy shit, Monkey King is the old flame!’ MK exclaimed with his eyes as he looked toward Mei.

‘It would seem so,’ her eyes flickered.

‘And he likes Dad back!’ His eyes widened.

‘Indeed he does,’ she narrowed her viridian eyes.

‘What do we do?’ He blinked three times as he was happy that they reconciled, but was unsure of what’s to come.

‘Watch for now and see what happens,’ she breathed as they both turned to look at the two silent monkeys basking together in the night.

Slow burn? Slow Burn?! They have been slow burning for countless centuries that even the polar bears are starting to feel the heat

HAHAHAHA I’m turning up the fucking heat for these damn monkeys

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Adventuring requires fast solutions to dangerous problems and sometime that problem is gravity, terminal velocity, and the fucking ground. Home-game excerpt. Death Ward lets you do some wild shit.

*

Orlia speaks Sylvan.

She’s a ranger and a dwarf so it’s reasonable she might have the occupational need to do that and also the lifespan to mess with weird supposedly unknowable languages. She’s used it on one previous occasion on this hellish trek; to lure giant elk in for nose-pats and oatmeal treats. She probably did it specifically to appease the party’s gender-indifferent tiefling cleric (Rime) who, being a Secomber local, is aware exactly how terrible it is being out here.

Which is to say, getting to pat a giant deer was one of the very, very few highlights of sneaking around the hobgoblin infested moors. The many lowlights have been vampires, a manticore, flaming skulls, goblinoid assassins, and dreading the fact they’re literally trying to hike across a war zone into giant country.

A fun note: Things that survive being in the same ecosystem as giants are, themselves, motherfuckingly dangerous to say nothing of the giants themselves. Blue – the team sorceress, Triton nobility, and the only one who speaks Giant – insisted that appealing to the diplomatic side of giant-kin is a GREAT idea. Will – the team half-elf, part-time werewolf, former highwayman, and monster hunter – pointed out rather keenly that, no, asshole, that’s a terrible idea. And then they bickered all the way from Secomber to the Emerald Enclave forward camp.

Bian (tabaxi rogue,former privateer, team sneak) and Rime have resigned themselves to a future getting punted two miles across the monster-infested moors. It’s been that kind of month.

Anyway, back to Orlia speaking Sylvan:

“They’re cool with it,” she’s saying in Common.

“How confident are you in your ability to understand Giant Eagle?” asks Will.

“One-hundred percent.” It’s convincing because one of the four giant fucking eagle standing behind her begins to preen her hair amiably. “I mean, like, if you’re a dick and they drop you for being a dick that’s on you, but they’re into the idea of helping y’all clear out hobgoblins.” A beat. “Also, they do understand Common. The Sylvan is for, like, effect. Ya know?”

Will eyeballs the three other giant eagles who are cocking their massive raportial heads at the group. “There’s only four of them…”

“You four go ahead. I can move faster alone. I’ll catch up to you.”

“Are we really going to ride giant eagles?” Rime is beaming, their big jet-black eyes lighting up with glee as the flower crown literally rooted to their horns starts to bloom with happy colors. They snap their fingers again, thaumaturgy generating their words for them. “They’re okay with it?”

“Yup,” says Orlia, her craggy features splitting into a grin. “You get to fly with eagles.”

“Fuck,” says Bian at conversational volume.

Rime laughs. “That’s amazing!”

“Fuck all of you,” Bian emphasizes. Her tail looks like a white bottle brush.

“They aren’t scared of cats,” Orlia says in what is probably meant to be a comforting tone.

“Fuck you especially,” Bian says, pointing. “This is a bad idea.”

“Is it safer though?” Blue asks.

“Yeah,” says Orlia. “They can drop you right in giant country—” Bian mutters something like ‘oh yes, the very definition of ‘safe’, sure’ – “and you can skip all the other heinous shit in this godforsaken tundra.”

“Yeah. God forbid we be tired when we meet the race of enormous bastards who will probably kill us,” says Will, totally deadpan. “Like it’s gonna make a difference.”

“I always make a difference,” Blue declares, marching past her ex-husband and flipping her long white hair so it smacks him right in the face. While he sputters, she approaches the nearest eagle and plants herself arms akimbo before it. “Hello. Your name is Murder Wings. We will totally take out hobgoblins.”

The eagle cocks its head back and forth like it’s considering the name ‘Murder Wings’ with some seriousness.  

“We’re gonna die because you’re all stupid,” says Bian.

Rime, who is already petting their eagle and feeding it scraps of jerky from their ration pouch, looks up from what they’re doing and says, “Hmm?”

“Never mind.”

They all, with varying amounts of awkwardness, clamber onto the horse-sized giant eagles. Rime has the least amount of trouble with this, probably because of the jerky bribery and genuinely friendly vibes. Blue’s eagle literally drops to a sitting position like a nesting sparrow while the tiny Triton woman boosts herself up. Bian, once mounted, clings stiffly to the back of her eagle and says, angrily, “I can’t stab anyone while we’re sitting on big fat birds, you know.”

Will falls off his eagle for the second time and says, “This bastard better not roll while we’re flying.”

“Again, for fuck’s sake,” strains Orlia, “they understand Common.”

Will’s eagle pecks him on the head.

*

Bian can’t quite hear what Rime is yelling at her until they snap their fingers and throw their words across the roaring, open skies directly into her left ear.

“This is amazing!”

Bian doesn’t have thaumaturgy like her adorable teifling priest buddy. (For whom, by the way, she has come out to this miserable inland war zone.) So she can’t tell her newest partner in crime (friend, ally, and genuinely good person pal) to literally go fuck themselves with a cactus the way she would like to. She can only cling to the back of a giant eagle and resist every single instinct in her body to sink tabaxi claws into the feathers beneath her.

They are about half a mile in the air and Bian has been trying not to think about that. Just imagine she’s riding a very feathery magic carpet barely two feet off the floor. The deafening roar of the wind, freezing air, and Rime’s occasional magic bursts of cheerleading are not helping. She would flip Rime off, but she can’t bring herself to spare a paw.

“Murder,” she says to herself like a mantra. “Stabbing. Future glorious vengeance.”

Her eagle’s head jerks a little bit. It eyeballs her suspiciously.

“Not you. Another guy.”

The eagle doesn’t look convinced, but that doesn’t matter because it’s about then Rime’s voice booms at three times its usual volume. Bian jerks, fur standing on end as Rime shouts in panic: “WYVERN! WYVERN, BEHIND AND FOLLOWING!”

Bian risks it then to jerk her head around and look over her shoulder.

Rime is ducked low against the back of their eagle, the wind ripping wildly at the ribbons and flowers that encircle their head. They’re pointing backward and up into a thin mist of cloud cover… and at a massive, draconic shadow as it abandons stealth and dives, screaming, from the stratosphere to gain ground. Bian struggles immediately for the crossbow on her hip, yelping as her eagle starts to fly a lot fucking faster away from the fuck-huge predator now chasing them.

“No, you dumb bird! Go back!”

The eagle flaps even faster.

“Goddammit!”

She looks over her shoulder. Rime shouts something and a flare of divine light ignites at their chest and spirals down their outstretched arm. A blinding bolt bursts from their palm and cuts a line of pure white through the sky, exploding into radiant fire across the wyvern’s chest. It screams as bright beads of magic cling like static to its hulking frame. It’s eyes shimmer with rage even from a distance as it rears up and –

Instantly gets a ball of chromatic lightning to the face.

The sky lights up with azure electricity, crackling as the wyvern shrieks.

Blue is twisted at the waist on the back of her eagle, thighs dug into its flank, one fist buried in dark plumage. Her right arm is up over her head gripping the crackling diamond component of her spell. She bares her teeth in a big battle-grin, her smile white in the light of her spell as her eagle inexplicably cuts its speed and begins to lag back. It places itself between Rime and the shrieking dragon-kin racing after them.

There’s a boom from Bian’s far right as Will pulls his scimitar one-handed from his back and activates the thunderous spell effect on the blade. He, like her, is not doing much good a mile in the air. He, like her, is realizing their eagles are pulling ahead of Rime and Blue. He, like her, is imagining the future six seconds from now when the beast hunting them picks its next target from the two spell casters.

“Fuckity fuck fuck,” Bian hisses, scrabbling for a crossbow bolt, jamming it between her teeth, fangs biting wood as she uses her other hand to rack the bow before slotting the arrow and locking it. “This is so fucked.”

She looks over her shoulder in time to watch Rime light off another bolt of tracing magic from their hand, the glow silhouetting their body against the dreary sky. Ribbons spin in an uncontrollable halo around their head. Their fingers spread wide and infused with light. Impact. The wyvern’s shadow blooms massive across the bone-white backdrop of the cloud wall behind it and it roars, blood spraying as a chunk of lightning-charred flash disintegrates from its neck and shoulder.

Blue’s eagle is still lagging behind, its claws flared with predatory intent.

Bian and Will exchange a look of horror.

“IS SHE TRYING TO FIGHT THE FUCKING DRAGON THING WITH HER FUCKING BIRD?!?!” Will bellows, horror in his wind-reddened face. “IS SHE TRYING TO FIGHT THE–?”

To Blue’s credit, she appears to be kicking her heels into the eagle’s flanks like a rider encouraging a horse to gallop, but the eagle ignores her. Blue yells something inaudible, turns, raises her fist and another lightning burst roars chromatic across the sky and ignites the wyvern, tearing flesh from its back and wings. It thrashes, tumbling, screaming… then flares its wings to catch itself.

It dives at Blue’s eagle.

It hits like a cannonball, feathers and blood bursting into the atmosphere. Blue’s body disappears between two massive beasts as they collide. The wyvern shrieks, talons tearing red lines into flesh. The eagle screams, clawing back, trying to break away… The tail lashes out, like a scorpion’s strike, slamming into the giant eagle’s ribcage and punching deep. Ribbons of blood begin to spiral out from beneath its body, snatched away in the wind. Its wings stop flapping.

“BLUE!” Will is yelling. “BLUE! BLUE, NO!��

Bian stares, transfixed, unmoving, and flying away from the battle.

As Blue’s eagle.

Falls out of the sky.

And drops through the clouds.

Rime screams. They do it with their real voice, the demonic one, and it sounds like a roomful of people screaming their friend’s name. Bian’s eagle just flies away even faster as she yells at it to turns its useless dumb bird ass around. Will’s body erupts on the back of his mount, fur and muscle swelling against the constraints of his chainmail and leathers. He bellows something werewolfy at his eagle and it begins to dive, following Rime’s mount as it too begins to dive.

Then they, like Blue, are gone beneath the clouds.

The wyvern is already gone, chasing its prey to the ground to finish off anything (if anything) still breathing.

Bian doesn’t see what happens next. She only sees the end of the fight.

Will though…

*

Will is a werewolf riding a giant eagle with a roaring scimitar that’s now on fire. It would be fucking legendary if he wasn’t scared shitless and diving at terminal velocity toward the ground. Even that would not be so bad if he wasn’t almost certain that Blue just fell half a mile out of the sky and she’s a burst corpse of organs and blood on the permafrost. Even that would not be so bad if… if…

His eagle slices through the cloud cover into the lower atmosphere, hooking hard up to level out at three-hundred feet up from the ground. The momentum is so intense Will has to literally bearhug his eagle which immediately shrieks as the flaming sword hazards it face.

Immediate landscape: Almost directly beneath them, Blue’s eagle is on the ground, flat, smeared like bloody throw rug. Blue herself is visible, sprawled half on top of the dead bulk of her bird, unmoving, but not (importantly) herself a fucking smear of internal organs across the moorland. Rime’s eagle is not diving with the same zeal that Will’s eagle dove, so the cleric is about 50 feet up from Will, their bird circling downward like an anxious vulture.

Most importantly: The fucking wyvern is on the ground, waddling its way like a hulking, leathery, lizard bat toward Blue who may or may not be too dead for their cleric to do something about.

Their cleric who is stuck on the back of an eagle too far away to do shit.

Will is thinking things like ‘Can’t these stupid birds go faster?’ and ‘Maybe if I jump, I’ll be fine. I’m a werewolf. Yeah, I think… I think it wouldn’t kill me.’ and ‘Blue can’t die yet, we didn’t finish this thing out.’

And that’s what he’s thinking about when Rime jumps off their eagle.

Later, Rime will explain that what they did was pull out the spell scroll they found in a crypt two weeks ago. Later, Rime will explain what Death Ward is: a spell a that wraps the hand of a god around someone and asks a favor from the pantheons of death for a just a little leeway. Later, Rime will explain they clutched that spell scroll to their chest like a fistful of flash paper burning in their fingers as they cast a spell too advanced for them to know.

And it worked.

But right now, in the moment, Will is calculating his odds of surviving the very same jump to the ground…

So Will has enough time to think ‘What the FUCK’ as Rime Raishon falls past him in a blur of armor and ribbons. They drop two-hundred plus feet to the permafrost. Will hears them hit the ground with a hideous, bone-shattering crunch. Will stares down, then, at Rime’s body outlined, sprawled, unmoving, on the rock and grass 200 feet beneath him.

He has time to think numbly, ‘Why did they do that? Whydidtheydothat? Why the FUCK did he—?!’

And then Rime stands up.  

Not, like, easily. But they get up.

Rime levers themselves up on one elbow, then up on one knee. Their scream as they do so – agonized and feral – comes to Will on the wind as they stagger to their feet. Will watches their cleric stumble into a run toward the wyvern, hobbling on phantom limbs splintered in a suicidal drop to earth. Their hand comes up and across the field a familiar eruption of ribbons blooms like a razor-wire flower and begins to tear at the wyvern. Rime’s spiritual weapon whacks the dragon-kin across the skull as it looms over Blue’s body.

Will has no time to figure out, in that moment, what the fuck Rime just did.

He’s too busy hitting the ground as his eagle dives, pulling into a flat glide feet from the ground where he can roll off its back into a stumbling run. He bolts past Rime whose standing, shaking, their eyes glowing with arcane light as they unleash bold of radiant fire, screaming something that might be Infernal at the wyvern as it starts to take flight, the corpse of the giant eagle (not Blue!) in its claws.

Will barely notices. Blue is a crumpled tangle of lacy blue dress, ghost-white hair, and twisted limbs in the grass. She’s like a broken doll and as he skids on his knees to her side, he can hear the ugly, wet, dying noise of her punctured lungs gargling. He tears a potion from his belt, uncorking the vial with his teeth and grabs her jaw, turning her face up and pouring the entire contents into the blood-filled ruin of her mouth. (It looks like she bit through her tongue on impact.)

“Fucking drink it,” he hisses, terrified she’s going to choke it up instead of swallow.

The wyvern is screaming, its wings buffeting the air nearby, but Will ignores it. It’s flying away. Some other direction. He can’t physically tear his eyes away from Blue’s mouth, the pool of purplish blood and glittering magic liquid on her tongue.

“C’mon, c’mon…”

Blue’s throat bobs.

She wretches, rolling on her side and vomiting up blood and phlegm as her lungs knit and immediately struggle to expel what’s blocking her airway. She coughs. Gags. Yells as a twisted wrist snaps back into alignment and cuts on her face sluggishly congeal and clot. She growls in pain, punching the ground repeatedly before rolling onto her back and looking deliriously around her.

“What happened?” She blinks blearily at him. Her eyes drift somewhere over Will’s shoulder. “Where is…?” Her eyes focus. She screams. She jackknifes instantly into a sitting position. “RIME!”

Will looks over his shoulder. Horror makes it slow, like time drags its heels in a nightmare.

He looks over his shoulder.

To see the wyvern flying away at speed.

It’s got something in its jaws – a dripping ragdoll trailing bloody ribbon the colors of a festival god. It’s flying away with Rime’s unmoving body clamped between its jaws. Because, obviously, obviously – idiot, idiot, idiot, oh fuck, oh no – it was flying back to attack the only spell caster left on the field. The one fucking stupid enough to keep inciting its attention until it mauled them unconscious while Will was getting Blue back up.

Will stands, even as his brain tells him it’s too late, it’s too fast, too hale, too healthy to run down.

It’s going to fly away with Rime. If they’re alive it’s going to eat them that way. If they’re dead, there’s no undoing it. Bian, Will thinks dully, Bian is going to be so fucking –

Blue screams in Aquan – a pure primal, primordial shriek – and her hands spin through complex pattern then lock like she’s got her fingers around something’s throat. The air around her sours with ozone, the smell of her magic as her eyes ignite lightning bottle blue.

Static leaps between her teeth and she says, “GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP!”

And the wyvern, against all fucking odds, instantly goes slack in midair.

Its ungainly bulk glides for a moment on its momentum, like a tossed dart through the cold winter winds, the arc of its trajectory falling ground-ward. Not far to the ground (it must have kept low to snatch Rime in its mouth), but it hits and skids to a halt after about 30 feet, a long drag of torn dirt in its path. Then it lies there in a pile of muscle and burnt hide. It doesn’t move. Just lies there, its massive flanks rising and falling slowly.

Dead asleep.

Blue’s hands are shaking. Arcane light still glitters in her eyes. She’s whispering to herself, softly, “Just barely. Just barely. Oh fuck… fuck…”

Will breaks into a run at precisely the moment Bian’s eagle comes wheeling down at a leisurely, cautious flight speed to alight on the ground about nintey feet off from the downed wyvern. It fucks right off the moment it realizes the dragonoid is still breathing and Bian kicks herself free of it, cursing and swiping her claws furiously at the giant bird. Then she rockets, tabaxi-quick, across the gap between her and the wyvern and immediately dives under one limp, tented wing.

Will skids around the body, hand jumping to his belt for a potion, fumbling at the strap.

But Bian looks up – her fur sticking up along the back of her neck – while Rime coughs, choking on the contents of the healing potion she’s just given them. The cleric is literally still wedged between the wyvern’s jaws, the massive points of its fangs grinding and squeaking on the battered metal of their breast plate. Rime’s covered in blood – a slick, sticky dark color just barely distinguishable from their natural tiefling complexion.

“Don’t wake it up!” Will hisses, ducking down and carefully prying the creature’s jaws apart. Like a dog with a chew toy. “Get out. Fast, fast, fast, it’s gonna wake up.”

“It’s asleep?!” Bian yowls, lunging away.

Rime wiggles out of its mouth, gasping with pain as the fangs drag across their armor, using one hand to grip a massive lower canine and push it out from where its shallowly lodged in a gap below their armor. They slip free, blood still running from their gashed arm and upper shoulder, soaking through the ribbons around their arms. Bian drags Rime all the way away across the grass as Will readies a direct blow to the beast’s skull. The burning scimitar flares in his fist.

“Blue?!” he shouts.

She has her diamond in hand already. Lightning crackles in her fist as she strides toward them, hell fire in her eyes.

“Do it!”

Will brings the blade down as Blue calls down lightning.

[darling-child-tisarwat]

I’m late for crossover day by a few hours but!! Raksura/Murderbot Crossover Day for Murderbot Week!

If you don’t want to read it on Ao3, I’ve copied it under this read more:

“Well,” Moon said as he watched the lone groundling figure stomp through the forest floor, “it’s just one groundling.”

Jade flicked a spine in dismissal. “Look at it though. It’s covered in metal—or something like it. Stone said he hasn’t seen anything like it before, but you’ve been to different regions. Do you know what it is?”

“I don’t,” Moon said, then risked Jade’s annoyance by gliding down closer near the base of the mountain-tree sapling they were using for cover. The groundling was thickly built like an arbora but with none of the grace. It certainly did have metal armor or plating over most of its body, with no facial features, just a smooth, reflective surface like glass.

Jade appeared next to Moon soundlessly and he said, “I think it’s wearing armor. That’s not it’s part of its body.”

Higher up in the branches, they heard a trio of warriors land. Balm glided down and said to Jade, “Knife said there’s a metal flying ship just past one of the hunter’s camps to the south. It’s damaged badly, and the groundling came out of it.”

Moon puzzled over that. “Just one groundling in a flying ship doesn’t—“

A high-pitched keen emanated from a thicket of ground foliage and several grasseaters thundered past the groundling. The groundling widened its stance and its arms shifted to reveal some sort of weapons hidden within. It pointed them in the direction the grasseaters came from, and then two long tendrils appeared, one wrapped around a struggling grasseater, the other whipped towards the groundling.

The Raksura watched as the groundling fired projectiles from its arms, faster and louder than any Kishan weapon. The tendrils retracted, dragging the screaming grasseater back into the foliage.

“Well that wasn’t so bad,” Moon said. Jade gave him a stern look and then the tendrils were back, one using the still screaming grasseater as a bludgeon, striking the groundling in the chest and off its feet. On its back, the groundling was slow to get up, and another two tendrils appeared as the first continued to beat the groundling with the body of the grasseater repeatedly, as the second looped around its legs and neck.

Moon tensed and Jade rustled her spines in warning. “We can’t just let it die,” he said.

“We can,” Jade said.

“We don’t know why it’s here, or if there are others.”

The groundling fired its weapons up into the grasseater as the predator slammed the carcass down on it again. Chunks of meat and viscera flew everywhere and the groundling got an arm under the tendril around its neck while the others tried to restraint its arms. It wasn’t apparent who was winning.

Moon made a face and gestured as if to say I’m going to help, and this is your chance to look like you agreed. Jade growled but jumped off the ledge and onto one of the tendrils, Moon and the warriors following after.

The creature retreated once the Raksura ripped one of its tendrils off, and the groundling sat up and stared at Jade before laying back down again. It didn’t move, just laid there not responding to Altanic or Kedaic. Not responding to anything.

A huge dark shape crested overhead and then shifted to land next to Jade. Stone stood, taking in the scene. Jade flicked a spine in acknowledgment.

“Is it dead?” Sand asked in Raksuran, looking out from behind Balm. Nobody was sure.

“Well,” Stone said after a moment, “Guess I’ll carry it back. The mentors can look at it.”

“What if it starts shooting its weapons at us?” Root said, his frills twitching.

Stone looked unconcerned as he walked towards the groundling and tilted his head to look at it with his good eye. “Then I’ll kill it.”

#

I hadn’t planned to not answer the aliens, but I’m never really one for conversation, even when I’m not being nearly ripped in half by hostiles.

Still, I guess it was sort of rude, seeing as they had helped me. But it was too late for awkward attempts now.

The company’s data packet, shit as it was, had included a file of the layout of the region, a module on Altanic (local trade language), and a brief summary of the Raksura species, seemingly excerpts from a longer data pack written by a Delin-Evran-Lindel. I dunno how the fuck they acquired all of that, if I was supposed to be a preliminary scout to the region (read: meat shield in case shit went south, which it had, I guess.) but it was better than being here without it. And it wasn’t my job to figure out why the company did what it did. All I did was kill things, or kill things so other things didn’t get killed. That’s it.

My current stupid problem: My battery was at 7% and no where near my transport.

“It just stopped moving after you saved it?”

Oh shit. I had avoided looking as that thing had carried me through the air, but opened them as it dropped me down inside what seemed to be a giant knothole in an unbelievably huge tree.

Now I was in some sort of naturally grown room, and looked up to see two humans speaking a language I didn’t know. So there were humans here too. Great. The company didn’t say anything about that, but I guess why would they ever include pertinent information. At least they weren’t on my contract.

“Yeah, just looked at Jade and then laid down and stopped moving. But we don’t think it’s dead.”

“Maybe it’s a defense mechanism.”

I’m extremely uncomfortable at the best of times, but not knowing what they were saying was making me more anxious than usual. I could just say something in the Altanic, but that would require speaking.

“Well what are we going to do? Just wait?”

“Don’t look at me. You’re the mentor, Heart.”

One of the humans crossed its arms, a single bracelet on his wrist. I fixated on for a moment so I didn’t have to make eye contact. Even with my helmet on, I still avoided it if I could.

“Go get Chime. He always figures out weird things like this, and he’s the most non-threatening thing we have.”

“Good idea.”

#

Another human appeared, this one looked more nervous with a mess of sandy blonde hair. He was slow to approach, and held out his hand as if to show he wasn’t a threat and tried to speak slowly. It was more uncomfortable to watch him do this, so I finally just said, “I speak Altanic.”

The human blinked and smiled. I did nothing.

“Oh. Oh good!” He clasped his hands and tilted his head, as if trying to figure out where I was speaking from. He’d probably never seen a SecUnit before, but this whole planet was very strange and I wasn’t about about to explain more than I had to.

“My name’s Chime,” he said and paused as if he was expecting me to give him a name. Which was extremely uncomfortable. After a few seconds he asked, “Are you injured?”

“No, but my battery is low and I’ll have to go into stasis if I can’t charge it.”

Chime stared at me the way humans do when they are freaked out by me and trying not to be.

“What’s a battery? Stasis?”

Shitty company language module. And I doubted they had a ready room or a cubicle I could hole up in.

“I need electrical and resupply leads. If you don’t have SecUnit facilities, I have an adapter I can hook into a standard output.”

Chime’s brow furrowed deeply. He moved towards me, which was alarming in itself, and then he reached out and actually put his hand on my shoulder. And then something even stranger happened:

Performance reliability at 7% and charging.

“Uh.”

Chime removed his hand, apparently aware something had happened. He looked at me, and then shit just kept getting weirder.

“Are you a shifter?”

I had no idea what that meant. So I froze up and said nothing.

“Do you have another form? Are you magical?”

“What?”

Then Chime blurred and if I was capable of pissing myself, I would have. His outline warped and shifted into the form of one of the lizard creatures that had brought me here.

Okay. That’s normal.

I must have said it out loud because Chime said, “most groundlings freak out and think we’re going to kill them. Usually we don’t, though.”

“Sounds familiar,” I said. Chime smiled and at this point I was in too deep so I flipped my visor back and began taking off my armor.

“So it is armor,” said one of the two humans (humans?) from earlier. She had been lurking just outside the door it seemed, listening. Another familiar occurrence.

Once I was vulnerable and exposed, Chime decided to touch me again, which I loved. But the strange recharging happened again, as if I was connected to my cubicle.

“So I’m sort of weird for a Raksura,” Chime said like he was apologizing. All of this was weird, but I didn’t say that. “Sometimes I have abilities normal mentors don’t have—I know I’m a warrior but it’s a long story—and apparently I can heal you. Or charge you. Or whatever you said.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I wasn’t about to argue. The alternative was to be stranded on this planet with a crashed transport and a still inactive beacon. I had my suspicions about how and why the transport crashed, but it would have to wait. I could explain after a recharge and a couple episodes of my shows, to calm me down enough to think clearly.  And I think by this point these weird self-energizing aliens would have killed me by now if they had wanted to.

“It looks like I need physical contact with you to heal you.” He seemed weirdly pleased by this  -!: then whipped a tail up and around my wrist. The connection held when he let go with his hand. “Come on, we can settle up in a bower until you’re better.”

The room was quiet and comfortable, with cushions surrounded by a warm hearth. The other two human-lizard things (Raksura) came back, thankfully in their human forms. Horrifyingly, they settled around Chime and I, one cuddling up to Chime, the other resting her leg against me on my other side.

“Listen, I uh,” I didn’t know what to say, so I blurted out the first thing I could think of, “Have any of you ever seen Sanctuary Moon?”

They all froze and looked at me like I had just slapped them. I know my taste in entertainment is quantitative rather than qualitative, but I guess they really hated it.

“Sorry, nevermind I’ll just—“

“How do you know about that court? It’s one of the oldest in the Reaches,” Chime said, somewhat incredulous.

“What? No it’s a drama not a court show—“

“I’m assuming Moon is a pretty common name for a consort,” the one with the bracelet said, his green eyes full of amusement.

“I mean, Sanctuary Moon was an old southern court, near Opal Night,” Chime continued. “The histories are vague, but we think the bloodlines mingled back into one court for some reason.”

“So my name is an old family one?”

“Yes, but you know how we are with names, or, hmm, maybe you don’t know.”

I decided showing them was easier than explaining so I just set the show to project on the wall before us and threw together a slap-dash set of Altanic subtitles over the feed. It wouldn’t translate that well, but it would keep their interest and it would be insufferable to sit there and just talk to them otherwise.

The opening title screen rolled and they all watched at rapt attention.

“That’s Eden,” I said, when they came on screen, and found myself supplementing information and pausing to explain, even rewinding a few times.

After an episode, they seemed genuinely interested, so I put the next one on.

I’d worry about the mission after we got through season one.

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

NSFW #15: Melon’s Creed

The Carmel Bunkers on Turó de la Rovir. Stone barriers overlook the great city of Barcelona. John Bishop Church quietly admired the breathtaking view on this day just on the precipice of the sun setting. He leaned over the wall and seemed oblivious to the camera filming him. He had the hood of his light grey jacket up. His boots and the bottoms of his blue jeans were covered in dirt from the hike to this locale. He spoke out into the ether. “Hey.” He spoke in a conversational tone and let that set in before continuing. “This whole thing has been a humbling experience. In this last year, I’ve had the privilege to do what I’ve always wanted to do. And to enter into a partnership that has been absolutely exhilarating to be a part of. Since NSFW’s humble roots, we have scraped and clawed our way to the top. There has been a common thread throughout. Somebody somewhere has claimed that they do what they do for a divine purpose.” He scoffed. “Whether it be the megalomaniacal ramblings of a prophet, the dissidents of chaos …” John sighed, perhaps perturbed at the mere mention of this. “...or the machinations of the melon gods. Such grand proclamations are fruitless in the face of the golden standard of tag team wrestling. Now, Mike …” There was a pause. He pushed off of the wall and turned around - looking to the stairs that descend down the hill. “Mike?” “Dude!” The redhead, backpack over her shoulders and clad in a grey unzipped hoodie over a Carlos Ruiz t-shirt, appeared over the crest of the hill a moment after her name was mentioned, puffing a bit as if she’d started running as soon as she realized how far she’d fallen behind her partner. “My legs don’t know how to be as long as yours, man. Phew…” Catching her breath, the Bronx brawler raised a hand, wiping some sweat off her brow. “Besides, I kinda got distracted. You won’t believe what I found. It’s full of so much crazy shit, I dunno if I can look at the world the same fuckin’ way again.” Reaching back, Mike unzipped her pack and pulled out a large, dirty, ancient looking book, fraying at the corners and tops of the spine. Embossed on the cover, with traces of nearly worn away gilding, are the words ‘ARCANA CUCUMIS’. “What?” Coming the rest of the way up and leaning against one of the curved concrete walls, Mike flipped the book open with care, as not to jar any of the yellowed pages loose. Shifting a bit, she beckons her partner over, holds the tome up, and points at one of the pictures within. “I found this in the catacombs when we split away from the tour group to… when we split away from the tour group. Look at this shit. It’s like, all of the Melon Club’s fuckin’ secrets. I had no idea they went this far back and had their nasty vines stuck in so much stuff.” “Oh no.” John placed a hand on the page, obscuring its contents. He looked at his friend with concern. “This is Leviathan all over again.” “Nah man. This is worse. They’ve been in all of humanity’s fuckin’ key institutions. Look at this for example.” “These fuckers killed JESUS, man. I mean, according to the text here, fuckin’ Judas served him that melon, ironically enough, right before the big J.C. said one of his people was gonna betray him.” John gave the warped portrayal of the Last Supper a once over. “So Judas was part of the Melon Club.” His tone was deadpan and in no way inquisitive. “Exactly. But it doesn’t stop there. Look here.” “This guy, I’m sure you know, is L. Ron Fuckin’ Hubbard, the nutball behind Scientology. According to the book, people have been misunderstanding his writings all this time because of an elaborate cover up. See, Hubbard didn’t really mean Xenu. He meant…” She jabbed her finger at a specific spot on the image. “...honeydew.” John was exasperated in his own diminutive way. “The Melon Club are pulling the strings of the billion dollar multinational religion because?” Mike shrugged. “Power. Control. Y’know, all that shadow ops supervillain shit. And it’s not just the major stuff either. I mean, take a look here. I really feel bad about this one considering week before last…” She flipped a few pages, landing on a classical Grecian image. “The Eternal Circle are unknowing followers of the melon gods.” “Exactly. Sad, but true. I guess they gotta come to terms with that now.” ”Mike.” It was like a plea to come back to reality. “Look. Religious iconography has been changed to suit the needs of whoever used it. I’ve never been much a believer. I mean, maybe something exists. But all along its been the melon gods?” His fingers gestured dismissively at the book. “This … doesn’t make any sense.” “Yeah, I mean, I guess that’s true. But the thing is, it’s not just religion that these fucks have been manipulating. See? I mean, I know you for one are gonna be seriously pissed at this one. See, it looks like around 48 BC, the ancient Roman scholars were on the tail of uncovering the whole Melon conspiracy before it overwhelmed everyone. Luckily for them, no less than the Roman emperor, Julius Caesar, was a devotee and he made sure to have the entire library burned to the ground before anybody could find out the truth.” John’s bottom lip quivered slightly upon looking at the image. “All of that knowledge.” But he shook his head. “No. So next thing you’re going to tell me that his assassination was ordered when the Melon Club had no further use for him.” Mike snapped the fingers of her free hand. “YES. Exactly that. And it’s not the only assassination they’ve indulged in either. I mean, Arya herself’s a trained killer, it shouldn’t be that big of a shock that these people have bumped off anyone who was a threat to their fucking organization.” Mike grimaced as she flipped the page again. “They never did figure out who Oswald was working with. Or for. And that one picture of him, people always thought it was altered in some way. Well it fucking was. See?” “The Melon Club assassinated JFK.” “It’s the only thing that makes fucking sense. I mean all this time. All these theories and debates and discussions. The Zapruder film analyzed frame by fuckin’ frame. And all this time, Oswald was a lone gunman cuz only a Melon Club trained assassin could pull off a ricocheting shot like that.” “But… why?” Mike exhaled, then drew a breath in. “Because they fuckin’ can. Because Kennedy’s embargo on goods from Cuba was hurting the fuckin’ melon industry and that’s how they spread their fuckin’ propoganda. All those sweet, juicy cantaloupes, canaries, and watermelons that people gobble up without a second thought, not knowing every last bite is only serving the forces that control their entire fucking lives.” “Mike. I don’t know what to say. Maybe we’ve been lied to.” “You don’t know the half of it. It’s to the point now that they’re just meddling in things just to make everyone miserable. The Super Bowl a couple seasons back. Patriots vs. Falcons. The Falcons had the Pats dead to fucking rights. Brady was getting his stupid handsome face shoved in it and it was glorious. But then after the half they mounted this miraculous comeback that by all fucking rights shouldn’t even have been fucking possible. How? I stayed up fucking nights, man. I had no idea how the rug got yanked out from under the Falcons so utterly. But now. NOW I know. Look at this. The absolute bastards.” “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” “Oh yeah. You probably didn’t see it. Trust me, you’re better for it. It fucking sucked. Tom Brady is an asshole. He’s the absolute fucking worst human being ever shat out onto this sorry planet and the sooner everybody realizes what an overrated piece of crap he is the better.” John closed the book. The pages gave off a fine poof of dust as they slammed together. “Okay. So The Melon Club are zealots who throughout time have manipulated the world in every which way possible.” And then he pointed to Mike and himself. “And acquiring our tag team championships are now part of that great design?” “Sure. Why wouldn’t it be? They have their claws in everything else. Why else would people trained in the fucking deadly arts be getting in the ring with us?” “And so we are the only people standing in the way of a new dark age?” “I mean, I found this thing in a crypt if that tells you anything. We know too much. They’rereally gonna want to take us out now, cuz we know how dangerous they are and we’re telling the whole fucking world so.” Mike glanced at the camera, brows knit in a very concerned fashion. Her fingers twiddled nervously between each other. “They’ve been here for months. Walter and Arya Melon. Mixed results. Between the bouts of tedium and fruit puns, I’ve inclined to tune them out. They win one tag match. Against two teams that chose to not take them seriously.” He placed a hand on the book. “We’re taking the Melon Club serious.” John joined Mike in looking directly at the camera. “Dead serious.” “To be frank, I underestimated you guys. My partner didn’t cuz he’s smarter than I am, but I looked at that three-way and you were the last fucking people I thought we’d wind up fighting. Shit, I’d already done some studying and had to throw it all out the window. The fact you pulled that shit out is proof you shouldn’t be taken lightly, whether or not you guys are part of a giant all consuming conspiracy wrapping the world in melony dominance.” “I thought we were going to have a viking problem on our hands. But instead, two cunning opportunists came away with the victory. And speaking of opportunities, it’s clear that through the facade, you two are students of the game. We know what you see as an opening.” Mike gave a firm nod, reaching up with her left hand. Her fingers were free, but the palm and wrist were done up in a cast, by now liberally covered with the signatures of friend and fan alike. “I’m not gonna pretend to know what you think of us. It’s probably better for everybody’s fuckin’ sanity that there’s no telling what’s going on in those, heh, melons of yours. But like my partner said, I know, we know, what you may be thinking about doing. Let me tell you for one, this hand? It ain’t gonna be a fuckin’ issue. Better people in this business than me have defended titles with far worse fuckin’ damage. It ain’t gonna slow me down.” She twiddled her fingers and then balled them up tight, forming a fist around the covered palm of her left hand. “Yeah. We’re not mind readers but we know what you want. And there is no fucking way in seven hells that you’re gonna get it, not at WrestleFest and not ever. You’re welcome to give it a shot, but a lot of teams have tried, and they’ve all met the same fuckin’ end.” The plaster casted fist slammed into the opposite palm. “Knocked for Six, kneed in the face, Cherry Bombed, put to sleep, and checked by the Bishop and the Queen.” “That’s not arrogance on our part. That’s just what happens. What will happen. And I get it. You two think you have divine providence on your side. What bounty have the melon gods gifted your little club? A middle in the pack finish in the Rumble. Trading victories with Frankie Romono. And now this. An opportunity.” He reached behind him and shoved the book out of the sight of the camera. The focus was solely on Bishop Church, Mike McGuire, NSFW, the EWC World Tag Team Champions. A leveled gaze from Church was directed to the challengers. “An opportunity to be a footnote in our history.” Folding her arms as best she can, Mike gave a firm nod. “We’ve worked too hard and come too far to have it end here and now. Nobody’s found a way to fuckin’ kill us yet and neither will you. No assassins, no kooked out religions, and No Schemes of Fucking Watermelons are going to take us down. But if you really think you can?” Her grim expression melted into a smirk, a brief ‘heh’ slipping from her lips. “Come and get it, ya fuckin’ fruits.” John looked at his partner, eyebrows raised. “Wait, what?”