#in case anyone was wondering what the scoundrel has been getting up to in more... Specific specifics:

[hanzajesthanza]

omg 👀👀 i was looking thru ang content on tumblr and i saw an old post of yours about the dandelion+countess stael=ang theory and !!! I actually had wondered earlier if you were at all interested/supported this theory bc I read about it awhile back and actually love it so much? :,) It's a favorite hc of mine and I may have tried to subtly incorporate it into my ang design...i just think its too Incheresting an idea not to explore tbhhhh

oh wow! i remember this theory :)...!

post explaining the theory in case anyone is confused

or tl;dr of the theory: essentially, it's that dandelion is 38 years old, dandelion knew countess de stael 19 years ago, dandelion has a penchant for lovin' and leavin' 'em, angouleme is 19 years old and is the daughter of an unknown noblewoman and some scoundrel that seduced her. and they're both blonde.

this is from june of 2019, which should provide some context.

(okay, so... sorry for long and kind of serious response to a lighthearted ask <3 i do not want to spare the details!)

firstly, i was never too fond of it as a serious headcanon in the first place, i proposed it as more of a crack theory. i wanted more reason for dandelion and angouleme to get more attention, and i thought, no harm done in a silly "what if", right? well...

secondly, only a few months after i came up with this theory... netflix's witcher premiered, and... it immediately became insufferable to have headcanons and theories about dandelion because of the shift in fan culture. i did not want to associate with the fans who were making farfetched theories about jaskier-dandelion.

due to the behavior of the netflix community, which in my experience completely disregarded canon facts and characterization, AUs and "what if"s overall stopped being fun to engage with. in reaction to the netflix fandom culture, i felt a need to stop making "weird-fun-silly" headcanons, theories, etc. that would contradict or cut against the grain of canon, and instead focus on headcanons, theories, etc. that would either support or be supported by canon. it's somewhat regretful, but i think it taught me an important lesson about why i'm here, and it deepened my appreciation of the storytelling and literary qualities of the witcher.

thirdly, since more time has passed since then, i've also engaged with new headcanons... @toussaintred and i came up with a lot of headcanons about the countess de stael and dandelion's interactions with her in august 2021. instead of being a romantic peer-to-peer relationship, she was a mature woman who he developed a crush on and was inspired to change his life and identity because of her.

i ended up writing a post about those headcanons re: dandelion and the countess de stael as they exist now, if you are interested :')

but most importantly the reason i didn't go through with this headcanon is because i want dandelion and angouleme to exist in the same space without their relationship being fraught with tragedy and disdain; i think, were he her father, she wouldn't be able to even look at him. and the guilt may destroy him, too.

it's also, for me... i have this interpretation of the hanza in that they have all made such mistakes or been the victims of mistreatment in their lives, but despite these strong emotions, they cannot go back into the past and confront the people who hurt them, or apologize to the people they hurt. all they can do now is live in the present and try to do better in the future. for each member of the hanza, there is no closure.

i see this with cahir, who harmed ciri and cannot undo that, but has now joined the company and denounced nilfgaard. i see it with regis, who destroyed his own life and pushed everyone away, but is now seeking humanity. i see it with milva, who has spilt and lost blood of her own, and learning vulnerability. and angouleme... angouleme cannot know her parents, they abandoned her and will always have abandoned her. they receive no second chances, she'll never know them, and has to deal with that emptiness which persists with her. even when in the company, which comforts her... despite her beginning to heal and try to take care of herself, she'll never find closure about her mother or father, because they're irrevocably gone.

i also think dandelion and angouleme can have a really positive relationship without a biological connection between them. i mean, i think the thought could occur to dandelion: "she is younger than, i suppose, however old little eye is now. plague, she could even be the daughter i never had- ptu, will never have..." but i don't see dandelion ever having a father-daughter relationship with her. it's more like his relationship with ciri, where it takes a village to raise a child, and he's a close friend of the family...

but i do think dandelion would impart some knowledge onto her, especially that around politics and how to navigate the social interactions of a court, which she wants to do but is unfamiliar with. it's somewhat ironic, because he himself completely disregards these kinds of manners and formalities. but he does know them, so he can tell her... dandelion and angouleme have opposite relationships with nobility and i think the most interesting thing about them in beauclair would be that dandelion is using his noble identity to secure a life he wants, but a life that contradicts his broader identity and desires in life, because his vision is clouded by the dreams of toussaint...

[a-written-dream]

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 1,399

Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa/Han Solo

Characters: Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker

Additional Tags: Movie: Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Pre-Relationship, Missing Scene, Light Angst, Conversations, POV Leia Organa

Summary:

Han thinks he knows exactly what she wants, and she hates that he’s right.

–

Or: Leia apologises for using Luke to get back at Han, and Luke gets her to admit more than she'd like.

Leia stops in the doorway to Luke’s room in the medbay. He’s reading a book she doesn’t think she’s seen before, a book that looks like one of those history books that shouldn’t exist anymore, those burnt and destroyed by the Empire.

Luke seems enthralled by it, entirely unaware of Leia’s presence, and it gives her a wonderful excuse to leave and do this later – or never. But she isn’t one to avoid something simply because it will be difficult and she came here with a purpose; she won’t leave without having accomplished it.

She still watches him turn the page twice before she finally decides to step around the anxious feeling in her stomach and knock on the doorframe.

“Luke,” she says softly, catching his attention.

He looks up from the book, a smile forming quickly on his lips when he spots her. It makes Leia feel all the worse.

“Leia! Come on in,” he says, tucking an access card between the pages of the book and placing it in his lap.

“Luke,” she says again, before she can reconsider and back out. “I-“

Luke tilts his head in question, eyebrows furrowing just the slightest, but his eyes are encouraging, kind, and patient. Blast it, it makes Leia even more angry with herself.

She’s never once been one to let her feelings dictate her, and yet she’d done just that a mere hour ago, letting Han get on her nerves and taking it out on Luke. One would expect more from a galactic senator and spy, and she certainly holds herself to higher standards than that.

“Luke, I’m sorry, about the kiss. I shouldn’t have-“

Luke waves her off even before she finishes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.” His grin is reassuring in a way that makes Leia know that he really isn’t upset.

“Still,” she says, sitting down in the chair next to his bed and folding her hands in her lap. “I shouldn’t have used you like that.”

“You wanted to put Han in his place, I get it,” Luke says sagely, nodding as if it makes entire sense to kiss your friend just to get a guy off your case. Leia doesn’t think it’s entirely right, but she’s relieved to know she hasn’t jeopardised their friendship.

It’s what allows her to break, to show the frustration and irritation bubbling under her skin.

“He just- gets under my skin!” she exclaims, and Luke nods in understanding. It’s more than enough to encourage her to continue. “He’s so infuriating! He walks around talking all big about how handsome and attractive he thinks he is, and how he’s so damn certain I’m drooling over him like some- ugh! He’s so certain that I find him attractive and would want anything to do with that scoundrel, and I just- I just hate how he’s so- so-“

“Right?” Luke finishes for her. It almost feels like a slap to the face.

Leia’s cheeks grow warm and she’s certain the heat is showing on her face. It’s from anger, she tells herself.

She instantly opens her mouth to argue, but Luke interrupts her. “I know he’s overdoing it, but do you really think he would be doing it if he didn’t actually think there was some truth to it? Yeah, sure, he seems like a cocky asshole sometimes, but you don’t see him act the way he does around you with anyone else, do you?” he says. “As much as he doesn’t seem to pay attention to anyone but himself and the Falcon, I think he’s a lot more perceptive and caring than we give him credit for.”

Leia purses her lips, because she knows he’s right. She knows Han doesn’t walk around chatting up every person he lays his eyes on, knows he’s not as much of a sleaze as she tells herself he is. And she knows, too, how much attention he does pay, how much he does care, even if he won’t admit it. It’s in the little things, the small gestures, the way he wraps his jacket around her shoulders when he sees she’s cold, in the way he ruffles Luke’s hair and says something stupid to get him to smile when he’s having a rough day, in the way he gives Chewie part of his rations because he knows the Wookiee doesn’t get enough to eat, in the way he grins at her across the hanger when she’s stuck in a boring conversation for too long and he sees her start to lose focus.

“I’m sure he’d get off your back if you actually genuinely asked him to,” Luke gives her a teasing smile, “and meant it”

“That’s not- I don’t-“ she stutters, trying to deny the feelings she has been aware of for months but hasn’t wanted to acknowledge. Because telling Luke means telling herself and she isn’t sure she’s ready for that.

Besides, if Luke knows, it’s only a matter of time before Han does too, and she thinks she’d rather face Vader again than have that happen.

“You don’t have to pretend around me, I won’t judge,” Luke tells her. “We’re friends, right?”

Leia purses her lips again, holds her breath, and watches Luke’s reassuring eyes. She lets the breath go in one heavy sigh, and allows the worries and fears to settle over her.

“I just.. I’m helping lead a rebellion! I don’t have time for romance or whatever game he’s playing,” she says, sinking further into the uncomfortable chair. She isn’t about to let him woo her into something just to leave her with a broken heart. Because Han has said over and over that he’s leaving, time and time again. He’s even been close to it, a few times, and Leia doesn’t think she could handle it if she let him in only for him to leave.

“I don’t know,” Luke says thoughtfully. “I don’t think he’s playing any games.”

The worst part is, Leia doesn’t think so either, not really. But it’s easier to pretend that she does, and that he is. It makes it easier not to give in to the feelings she wishes she didn’t have.

“I’m not saying do anything you don’t want to, but I think he likes you, for real,” Luke says, voice soft and eyes softer. “And when will you ever have time, really?” he adds. “Who knows who gets to see the end of the war and who doesn’t?”

Leia knows that he’s right, and she hates it. There is no ‘right time’ in war, too high a risk in waiting for a time that may never come, and she’s not oblivious. She sees the way Han looks at her, feels the gentleness to the way he lets his hand rest on her waist when he guides her somewhere, hears the soft way he calls her Princess or Sweetheart, knows just as well as Luke does that Han isn’t fooling around, for all that it might seem like it.

But it can’t just be that easy, to let herself fall into whatever is between them; they’re in the middle of war, and either of them could be dead tomorrow. Leia doesn’t have time to be distracted by some cocky scoundrel, no matter how pretty his hazel eyes are, or how good he looks in that stupid leather jacket of his, or how his smile makes her insides flutter, or-

It’s not the time, not now, not when the Rebellion and the galaxy need her. And if that means that it’ll never be the time, then so be it. She has more important things to focus on than a man who looks at her like she’s more important than any of it, even when she wishes his gaze would be on her always. She has more pressing matters to concentrate on than love, even when her heart aches for her to take Han’s offered hand. She has more crucial things to think about, even if every day could be their last and she wishes nothing more than to know what it might be like, to love and be loved by him.

She has more important things to focus on, even if she aches to give all her attention to him.

Han thinks he knows exactly what she wants, and she hates that he’s right.

[moonlit-imagines]

Grand Novice

Loki Laufeyson x Grandmaster’s child!reader

warnings: death, weapons,

a/n: obviously y/n is a grown person in this?? i just didn’t know how to label them correctly ???? you feel???

prompt:

“I like him.” You told your father when the newest arrival of Sakaar had been dismissed.

“Well, good for him! He’s safe!” Grandmaster cheered to you, who didn’t take to many as quick as you had to Loki. “For now.”

“Oh, stop it, dad!” You giggled while Topaz stood behind you with the melting wand, offering it to you as if you were hiding your true feelings. “What about what I just said made you think we should melt him? Put that thing away!” You shook your head and gazed upon the crowd to see your new guest acclimating nicely to the subjects of Sakaar.

“Why don’t you go sit with him for a while, my dear?” Your father nudged you in his direction, but you didn’t need much more than that. With your robe dragging on the floor behind you, you parted the crowd and seated yourself right next to the Asgardian.

“Hello there, your highness.” Loki smirked when you leaned on his shoulder, but he genuinely didn’t mind it a bit. “How has your day been?”

“Oh, just wonderful.” You reached out for his hand shamelessly while other Sakaarians watched with hidden gazes. Now, Loki wasn’t one to get uncomfortable so easily, but he also wasn’t one to rush into something like this.

It’d be foolish to reject someone in a position of power, wouldn’t it? Loki was just given a spectacular opportunity, there was no passing this up.

“And why’s that?” He questioned, lifting your hand to his lips for a respectful kiss that only wooed you more.

“Well, I met a man who might just be perfect for me.” You weren’t one to hide your feelings, Loki appreciated that much. Although a liar could read another like the back of his hand, a truth-teller was impossible to figure out. At least, for him.

Maybe the challenge was another reason he grew attracted to you, because by the second week that he had been stuck on this miserable planet, he’d actually started to care for you. His romantic gestures were not forced, he had begun to open up, and he couldn’t spend a moment away from you.

The day that Thor arrived was a different story, though. Loki had mentioned his brother died recently, but now he was an eligible contender! Funny how the universe works.

“Are you worried for him, my darling.” You inquired as you played with his hair, he was noticeably zoned out, you’d like to help him any way you could.

“No, not at all.” Your boyfriend had brushed your concern off. “Thank you for asking, though. You’re too kind.” He placed a kiss on your forehead after cradling your face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” you practically melted around him, and you’ve seen people get melted before, “would you like to watch him contend, then? We’ll have the best view in the stadium!” You hugged him tightly and awaited his obvious agreement, he couldn’t help but giggle at your excitement. Had he truly gone soft?

Loki’s life had truly flipped once his brother had broken loose and rampaged above the streets of your beloved home. You were outraged until Loki offered to take his brother down, declaring it was for you.

Someone like yourself didn’t work very hard, you had better things to do. You were of a higher class, but you weren’t completely useless. You had much more energy than the Grandmaster, which is why you spent it on following the tracks of Thor, leading you to Loki suffering a constant shock on the floor.

“Oh, no!” You rushed over to assist him, grabbing the remote nearby and releasing him from the painful device. “Are you okay, my love? Please tell me you’re alright.” You hopped on top of him and pressed your ear against his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat continue on. His arms engulfed you in a real act of selfless love, he couldn’t believe his life had come to this. It was more unfortunate that you had no idea that this was the first he had ever felt this way.

“I’m alright, thanks to you.” The crown of your head collected a kiss and you rolled off of him.

“That scoundrel will pay for this!” You clenched your fists and ran to a ship equipped with weaponry, but Loki had done a bit of contemplating while he was confined to electrocution. Maybe he had gone mad, or maybe this was a turning point?

“Y/N, wait.” He sighed, catching your attention fairly quickly. You spun around and ran right back to him, holding his arms as he placed his hands on your hips. “Before me, when was the last time you were happy an Sakaar? And I mean truly happy?”

“I...” You blinked through thoughts as you tried to pinpoint an answer in your mind. “Why?”

“The Grandmaster, he thinks you’re happy, but you’re not. I can see it in your eyes, my dear.” He traced his tired fingers down your cheekbones. “Your father, he doesn’t give you all the freedom you desire, does he?”

“No, but—” You were cut off before you couldtry to defend him.

“We’re more alike than we appear, mine was the same way.” Loki explained to you. “I ask you this because...I need to go back to Asgard. I have a sister who is about to doom our people, but I don’t want to go without you.” You were caught off-guard by Loki’s change of plans, however, they were enticing. “You’ve never been off of this planet, I can show you the rest of the galaxy, give me a chance!” Now he held your hands so enthusiastically, yet so gentle. He knew he was getting through to you.

“Loki, my love,” you looked away and to the collection of your father’s ships, then took a pause as Loki’s expression grew concerned while studying yours, “We’ll take the biggest one, but we may need to take some of the prisoners for backup if we want to save your people.” You finally agreed and witnessed Loki breathe a sigh of relief and pull you into such an emotionally deep and serious kiss, you couldhave cried.

“I’ve never once in my life felt this way about anyone before you, y/n. You have succeeded in stealing my heart away from me and I couldn’t even see it coming.” His own way of making a declaration of love was all you could dream about, but you were running out of time here.

The plan was going better than you could have thought once the contenders burst through the doors, that was one thing off of your list.

“Great for you to join us, all! Would you like to come with us to help Thor?” You asked the group, who had their suspicions about you.

“Aren’t you the Grandmaster’s child? Is this a trick?” The one made out of rock had asked, earning agreement from the group.

“Y/N’s had a change of heart.” Loki kept one of your hands in his while he squeezed it tightly. You couldn’t tell if he was comforting you or himself, but at least it was guaranteed that you’d be sticking together.

“Oh. Alright then.” The Kronan understood without anymore questions, easy enough.

“Great! Everyone in that big ship now! We’re already late!” You led the army away, Loki supposed that leadership was in your blood. It came so easily to you, and it was a smidge attractive, too. What can he say? Power will always be his first love.

You’d never seen combat through your own two eyes, but you had begged Topaz to teach you how to use “big guns,” so you made do with what you had.

“Scrapper 142, would you be willing to trade places?” You called to her as she rode in the sky with your father’s ship.

“We aren’t on Sakaar anymore, your highness! I’m not a scrapper here.” She retorted, making your face heat even more than the exhaustion had done.

“My apologies! Please forgive me, I’ve better start getting used to life off of Sakaar.” You told her as she made room for you to use the exhilarating weapon. “Will you be flying?”

“Hopefully,” she said as she got control of the craft, “I’d like to keep this thing in the air for as long as I can.” It was a rocky start, but you trusted her for it. And she was beginning to trust you, as well. You weren’t a complete basket case like the Grandmaster, you’d be capable of changing. You could become a dear friend.

The ship crashed.

“Y/N!” Loki came rushing your way as the ship exploded in a multicolored blaze behind you. “Are you alright? Let’s get you up.” He helped you to your feet, but you were in no mood to slow down. Honestly, this was the most fun you’d had in ages.

“I’m more alive than ever!” You looked over his shoulder to take in the commotion. “Do you have any other weapons I could use?”

“Would...a dagger work?” It was a simple gesture, but you’d appreciate it to the end of your days after you plucked the blade from his hand. You’d never fought with a dagger, but there was no harm in trying. Yes, there was. But fortunately, fortune was on your side. The fun never lasts though, that was a fact. “Might I suggest you help evacuate instead, darling?”

“I suppose that’s an option!” You figured he’d realized just how dangerous hand-to-hand combat would be for someone without experience, but you were still living in some sort of fantasy land, you needed to be grounded.

So you rooted for them from the sidelines, helping people onto your ship. It was extremely hard to concentrate at times, especially when you couldn’t find Loki out there. A little warning that he was running off, that would’ve been nice.

And then there was an explosion that really rattled your bones, you’d never been in so much danger before. That’s when Loki darted straight towards you and each of you hopped into the ship.

“Are you hurt?” He moved his hands up and down your body to check for any injuries, but you insisted on doing the same.

“No, no, I’m fine. Are you?” While both of you were clutching onto each other, you shared another passionate kiss, glad that you both were still in good health together. Now the two of you merely spectated to destruction of the planet he had called home. “I’m sorry about Asgard.”

“No, I am.” He lowered his head. “I imagined a life with you here, but those plans will have to change.”

“That’s alright,” your tired voice softened once you laid your head on his shoulder, “we’ll make it work.”

—————

Loki didn’t live long enough to build a life with you, Thanos made sure of that. The entire reason you left your homeworld was to be with him, now you were stranded in space without a plan for your future. Who knew what this galaxy held? You’d been so naïve to run into the unknown, but there was only one thing left to do now, and that was get revenge.

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedficrecs // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck // @randomawesomeperson102 // @spideyandtheboys //

[jarienn972]

La Sirena - Chapter Ten (Epilogue)

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 

(that’s finally being completed in winter)

We have reached the finale of this @cssns tale at last. This has been such a fun and challenging experience trying to build this universe, and I hope that readers have found it enjoyable as well. Thanks for all of your lovely words and feedback along the way!

I thank you, @kmomof4, for all of your assistance and input. You rock as a beta!  And @courtorderedcake​, thank you once again for the beautiful artwork that really brought to life the imagery of the opening chapter!

And now, back to the story... Here, we pick up moments after a stubborn and confused Killian pretended to be asleep to avoid his brother. He’s about to get a wonderful surprise...

Catch up from the beginning here on Tumblr: One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Or read in full on AO3 or FF.net

The instant that Killian was certain that Liam was out of earshot and wouldn't be present to scold him for faking sleep, his eyelids sprang open wide to behold the most wondrous sight. Perched in the chair just to his left was the very same angelic vision he'd first laid eyes on back on that deserted beach days ago. She looked different with her long, gilded tresses pulled back by a ribbon and seemed a bit more diminutive while wearing a vastly oversized sailor's white uniform tunic and navy woolen trousers but he knew for certain it was her.

But how? How was he gazing upon a beautiful siren here in his own quarters? How could she be here and still be real?

"Emma? It's you!" he exclaimed, trying to sit upright to greet her properly despite the pain. "What are you doing here? How are you even here, Love?

"One question at a time," she chuckled as she reached over and placed her hand atop his forearm to urge him not to move. The moment her fingers brushed his skin, he felt a tingle pass through his entire body - one that was warm and tender. His heart was suddenly racing, but it was no longer driven by fear or anxiety. He welcomed her touch, her presence. "I'm here because this is where I belong and it would seem that even the gods agree."

"But you're a siren. I thought your home was those isles and the surrounding seas? I thought you couldn't leave without…" His voice trailed off before he could say sacrificing your powers.

Her demeanor rapidly switched from jovial to serious at Killian's off-handed, yet important questions. Her eyes avoided his for a moment, then recaptured his gaze with an intensity he'd not seen from her before. There was a new melancholy about her as she took in a deep, reflective breath before responding.

"That cove was no longer my home. In truth, it was far more of a prison for longer than I care to remember. I thought I was happy alone when I left the ranks of the siren council, but I had no idea how wrong I was - until you floated into my bay." Killian's jaw gaped in stunned silence as he watched the tears begin to well in her eyes, but she shushed him when he tried to reply. There was more to her confession that she needed him to hear before he could respond properly. "I may have rescued you from drowning that fateful day, but it was you who rescued me from an eternity of loneliness. And then watching my sister attempting to harm you only strengthened my resolve…" She paused to take a breath, unsure how he was going to react to her next words. "I guess what I am trying to say is that I am here right now on this ship, wearing these ridiculous garments because I knew I couldn't let you go. I risk sounding like a fool right now, but there is something I must confess. I love you, Lieutenant Killian Charles Arthur Jones of His Majesty's Royal Navy. Nothing in my entire lifetime has felt as right as the days I spent with you, and because of that, I asked the mighty Poseidon to make me human so that I could accompany you."

"Emma… I…," he stammered, his thoughts an incoherent jumble.

Her jaw wavered as she dipped her head, almost ashamed of her utterance. "I'm sorry if I've upset you, but after all we've been through these past days, I believed you should know the truth. I do understand if you do not feel the same as I do."

Ignoring his body's cries of pain, Killian threw off the blanket and forced his protesting limbs to sit upright, swinging his legs over the side of the bunk so he could position himself close enough to her that he could cup her cheek in his palm and brush away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

"Emma, there is no need for tears," he assured her. "While I will admit that your revelation to be a siren - and all of the events that followed - were a tad horrifying, I still knew I would gladly spend the remainder of my years stranded in that cove with you. But you, you gave up being a siren - being immortal - for me?"

"What good was being immortal if it meant losing you?" she said with a sniffle just as Killian leaned forward to capture her lips with his, neither of them even caring if Liam were to reenter Killian's quarters right then and there. For a brief moment, the universe was theirs alone until Killian's protesting rib cage caused him to reluctantly pull away, but not without more questions.

"But my brother and the crew, they didn't suspect you to be any less than human? Liam, he addressed you as Miss Swan? Since I don't believe that sirens have family names, wherever did that come from? Whatever did you tell them whilst I was incapacitated?"

"No one suspects me to be a siren, if that is your worry. Once your fellow crew members reached the cove to rescue you, I had to tell them something, so I led them to believe that I was a fellow prisoner from the sunken pirate ship. They believe that the pirates attacked my family's vessel prior to abducting you on that isle of Neverland you spoke of. It isn't as though any of them could corroborate my story with your captors. The crew also collected several damaged trunks and weathered chests that had washed up on the shore, believing them to be part of the stolen loot from the sunken ship. I happened to notice that there was a swan's head carved into one of the wooden trunks so as I boarded this vessel, I introduced myself to your captain as Emma Swan. Do you believe I should have chosen something else?"

Killian chuckled at the thought of her thinking up a surname on the spot. "I don't think anyone will make the connection. I kind of like it. You're beautiful and graceful like a swan. It suits you."

"Thank you," she blushed. "I hardly feel beautiful in these borrowed clothes. This fabric, it is rather unpleasant."

"I'm sure we can find you some attire more suitable for a lady when we next make port. Women aren't common on the high seas. There's an old legend that they're unlucky."

"What nonsense," she muttered with a frown. "But no matter. I have it on good authority that no harm will come to this ship. No creature of the seas would dare challenge Poseidon's edict."

"I still don't understand how this is possible. How does my brother not know that the expedition to the uncharted island went horribly wrong? He wants to award me a bloody commendation that I don't deserve. They think I've lost my mind."

"This will need to be our secret, but the events as you remember them never actually transpired," she stated, which of course left Killian befuddled. He opened his mouth, prepared with a barrage of questions, but she raised a hand to shush him, wanting to explain what she meant before letting him speak. "I know you will have many questions, some of which I will never be able to answer, but in simple terms, Poseidon modified all of the events that led up to your brother's ship arriving to rescue us from the cove. Everything that transpired remained in the same order, but not in the same manner. You still encountered the pirates on that island, they still took you prisoner, and the sirens still laid siege to the ship before it ran aground and sank, but Poseidon changed the scope of each event and allowed your brother's ship to pursue the pirate vessel to locate you. Your injuries were all believed to have come at the hands of your pirate captors and during the escape from the sinking vessel. They have no reason to suspect otherwise."

"But what about my crew? Does no one remember their sacrifices?" he queried anxiously, afraid that those men's lives had been lost in vain.

"Some of them were never there, never set foot on the island. Others were there but their fates were changed by the modified events," she explained, although her words did little to alleviate his confusion. "In this revised timeline, there was no actual battle with those scoundrels. You alone were captured by the pirates. I have no way else to explain, but essentially, Poseidon changed how your history played out. No one beyond our realm will ever know of the version you lived through."

His jaw remained slack as he shook his head and tried to come to terms with a turn of events that was nothing short of miraculous. "But how? Why?" he stammered. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"He said I reminded him of his daughter, Ursula, and he recognized your good heart - much like the man Ursula fell in love with so long ago. He knew you'd been wronged, as had I, and he wanted to put things right. He granted my wish to become human and accompany you, and brought your brother's ship into the bay so you could be saved by your kind."

"Do you know what became of your sister?"

"Not all. I do know that she had her powers revoked for abusing them and that she was made mortal, although not by choice in her case. I don't know if Poseidon turned her human or made her a permanent creature of the sea, and in truth, I don't care. I've made my peace with it. Now, all I wish is to be with you, if you'll have me."

"I wish for nothing else," he replied with a beaming smile. "I just don't know what sort of life I can provide for a former siren… There's so much out there…"

"And I want to experience it all!" she exclaimed giddily as she gestured towards the faded map of Britannia that Killian had pinned to one of the beams lining the walls of his cabin. "I know little of the world beyond our isles. If my time is now finite, I want to see and experience as much as possible! I want to visit these other lands and sail the other seas…"

Killian chuckled at her enthusiasm, not really sure what would be physically possible, but hey - after surviving several harrowing encounters with mythical beings and living to tell the fantastical tales, he was open to adventure.

"Whatever your heart desires, Emma. Whatever your heart desires is what I want for you," he repeated as he pulled his siren - his beautiful angel - in for another heartfelt, lengthy kiss, almost certain that he felt a surge of energy embrace them both.

A few years later…

It was a perfect morning. Only a few wispy clouds broke up the brilliant blue skies as gentle ripples made their way across the serene harbor. Crew lowered and secured the huge canvas sails of the Jewel of the Realm as Liam oversaw their arrival at the dock. His sailors worked like a well-oiled machine performing their tasks, which was a good thing since their Captain might have been a tad distracted.

Instead of supervising lines being tied off, Liam was scanning the shoreline in search of something - or rather, someone. He'd made sure to send out correspondence through courier when they last made port making sure that Killian was aware the Jewel was on its way to the port of Misthaven where they'd agreed to rendezvous.

He hadn't been particularly overjoyed when Killian had decided to resign his commission upon return to Britannia, but if he was honest, the decision hadn't come as much of a surprise. His little brother had endured a harrowing experience, one that Liam knew he could never fully understand. In the process, he'd formed a bond with the lovely Swan woman and Liam had seen all the signs that Killian had fallen head over heels in love and feared lengthy deployments at sea that would keep him apart from his love.

Liam also had to admit that he was a little envious of his brother, but it was clear that while Killian loved the sea, his calling wasn't a career in His Majesty's Royal Navy. He knew that his sibling had taken up as captain of a merchant ship, but since it had been nearly a year and a half since he had last seen Killian, he was curious to see how his brother was faring in his new pursuits.

"Ahoy, brother!" he heard a shout from the pier and off in the distance, he spotted his sibling waving like a fool. And was he wearing black leather?

Once the Jewel was safely moored, Liam gave out his instructions for crew liberty and then made his way down the gangplank with dozens of rambunctious sailors at his heels. He chuckled as they darted past him, scurrying along the pier on their way to one of the local taverns. At least one of them would likely end up spending a night in the brig for overindulgence, but Liam couldn't be bothered with that right now.

His brother awaited him at the far end of the pier, casually leaning against a stone pillar with his foot propped up on an overturned barrel. It was a far more confident stance than Liam recalled when they'd last seen each other, but it was Killian's attire that spoke volumes about his newfound fortitude. He'd not expected to find Killian sporting an ebony leather duster that hung to his knees atop of a bold crimson waistcoat and black woolen trousers that, even from a distance, appeared to be far softer than Liam's own scratchy uniform. Killian clearly seemed to be happy and must have been doing well for himself to afford such luxuries.

"You look well, brother," Killian greeted him.

"As do you," Liam replied, pulling his younger sibling into an embrace and patting him heartily on the back. "Whatever are you wearing?"

"Ah, this…," Killian smiled as he took a step back so Liam could take in all of the elaborate detail on the coat which included embroidered cuffs and lapels along with silver clasps and carved bone buttons. "This was a gift from Queen Ava. The circumstances behind how it came to be is a rather long tale that I'll not bore you with since we've little time to catch up."

"Of course…," Liam responded, raising his eyes skyward with a shake of his head. Killian always seemed to have a new, unbelievable tale these days. "Where ever is that lovely wife of yours? I expected she would be here with you."

"She's waiting for us back on our ship. It's getting a tad more difficult for her to get around these days."

"So then, my new niece or nephew will be arriving soon?"

"Soon enough. Likely before the next full moon. It is why we'll be sailing back to the port of Arendelle, leaving the day after tomorrow," an excited Killian announced.

"Arendelle?" Liam questioned. "Why are you heading there?"

"We were invited by the Queen, and one simply does not turn down the invitation of royalty."

"You were invited by Queen Elsa?" Liam asked incredulously as they ambled along the cobblestone street towards another section of Misthaven's bustling harbor that was filled with smaller fishing boats and merchant ships. He tried to figure out which of the vessels was the one Killian now owned but he couldn't be certain.

"Queen Anna, actually," Killian corrected him. "Queen Elsa stepped down from the throne last year as she believed her more vivacious sister was better suited to handle the duties of the royal court."

"Alright, but that still doesn't explain how you secured a royal invitation."

"While sailing the Northern Isles last summer, we stumbled upon the wreckage of a galleon that had partially sunk in a narrow, rocky fjord. We explored it to see if there was anything worthy of salvage and located a chest containing a crown and other treasures that had been stolen from the Kingdom of Arendelle. We returned the riches to the castle and received a hefty finders fee for our efforts and Emma made fast friends with the Queen. We've made several visits back to Arendelle and have kept in correspondence with the royal family. As soon as Queen Anna learned that Emma was with child, she extended the royal invitation to come join them in the castle. She's already arranged a midwife for Emma, and has said we're welcome to stay as long as we wish. Can you imagine - living in a castle? I would never have thought it possible…"

"I'm very happy for you, Killian, and very proud of you as well. For someone who believed himself a failure not so long ago, you seem to have fortune smiling upon you."

"It hardly seems possible, brother. I feel like the luckiest bloke in all the world," Killian gushed, stopping at the bottom of the gangplank of a decent sized ship with a single towering mast. It was far more compact than the Jewel, but still large enough to carry crew and cargo comfortably. "Here we are. This is our lovely lady, La Sirena."

"Beautiful vessel. Interesting choice of name though. What led you to christen her after such a creature?"

"Oh, I have my reasons," Killian smirked. "But anyway, here's Emma now." A broad smile lit up Killian's visage as he stared up at his wife who was leaning over the railing on the deck above them. "It's almost unfathomable how I ever got so lucky that the gods would send such an angel to watch over me." Emma didn't say a word herself but the smile that stretched from ear to ear across her own face seemed to echo his sentiment.

But then maybe she suspected that the love that blossomed from a heart that was true and good was worth far more than a little bit of luck.

[navigatrixnarrations]

Sometimes Always, Part 5: Thief In the Night

Catch up here

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, language

Word Count: 2841

The night is moonless and the road is blocked by branches and debris. From out of the gloom, a rasping voice rumbles “Stand and deliver! Your money or your life!” The coachman’s lamp reveals a broad-shouldered man standing beside the makeshift barricade before the stopped carriage, completely swathed in dark clothing, face hidden, a cutlass at his waist, aiming a pistol.

The adrenaline sings in Charles Vane’s blood; he’s missed the thrill of the plunder. This promises to be a rich prize, one that will assist in repairing the Adventure. One that may make Margaret see him as a partner rather than a burden, an obligation, or worst of all, an object of pity.

The coachman is older, with a soldier’s bearing, but seems disinclined to put up any resistance. In the coach, a man made rich off the blood and toil of those he claimed to own. His shaking hands are trying to load a pistol, which Vane snatches from his hand. To think this sniveling, scared weakling who would call him a scoundrel had the confidence to travel unguarded with this amount of coin — there’s the difference between those who dwell on land and those whose home is the sea, he supposes. The ocean is unforgiving and even wealthy men cannot stay sheltered in its domain.

Vane hoists the sack of coin over his shoulder. A pistol shot rings out, but misses, and despite the snow on the ground, he’s into the trees and out of sight before the coachman or the mark could reload. By the time he pushes his skiff from the riverbank, he almost feels like a proper pirate again.

The night is bone-achingly cold, even more so on the water. If he hadn’t botched things so terribly, he’d be warm in the West Indies. He’d be known and feared, not a thief in the night with his face and name hidden. He’d have a crew, and he’d be sailing under the black with Margaret at his side...

Can he pinpoint it, the moment he started to trust her? Perhaps it was when he awoke aboard the Revenge and she told him he was free.

“What kind of weapon made that?” She pointed at the brand on his chest.

“Hot iron.”

“Why?”

“So the person who owned me” -- he felt his face twist as he said it -- “could tell I was his slave. Find me and take me back there.”

“I won’t let him,” she said with a ferocious scowl, her voice surprisingly dark for one so young. “I won’t let anyone.” And he believed her. He was right to believe her.

He shakes himself from his reverie. He’s got to focus on the task at hand. There’s little traffic in the harbor tonight, but still enough for him to blend in as he sails around the horn of the Battery and makes his way back to the garret. With his hair tied back, a woolen cap pulled low and his laborer’s clothes, with the sack of coin slung over his shoulder he looks like any other longshoreman coming home from a long shift of loading and unloading cargo.

He imagines the look on Margaret’s face when he shows her what he’s robbed, and smiles as he climbs the stairs.

His smile fades as the door handle is jerked right out of his hand by her, her expression one of worry and anger. “Thought you’d have been back hours ago. Was out looking for you.”

“I told you I’d be back.”

“I was afraid someone recognized you! I was afraid you’d been captured or killed!” Her chest heaves under her coat, and he feels his body warm more than the small fire in the hearth should have allowed.

“Well, I wasn’t. And look what I’ve brought us.” She was worried? About him? He drops the sack on the table and opens it. “Coin, Magpie, more than enough to complete the repairs to the Adventure.” When she doesn’t respond, he repeats “It’s coin. We won’t even need to fence it.”

Margaret sits down heavily and wrestles her temper. “Where the fuck did you get all this?”

“A bit of highway robbery.”

“Charles. Next time, if there is a next time, take me with you.”

“Didn’t want to put you in danger.”

She narrows her eyes and her lower lip juts out stubbornly. “Says the man whose life I’ve saved how many times now?”

They stare at each other, neither willing to back down.

“I’ve got things to do besides make sure you don’t get yourself killed,” she informs him. And then, more quietly, so quiet as to be nigh inaudible, “I lost Sully. I can’t lose you too, not again.”

“You won’t.”

The table is between them, and he’s about to upend it, coins and all, just to get it out of the way, when Margaret gets up to stoke the fire. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful, Charles. But you’ve a recent history of getting yourself nearly killed to help friends.” She pauses. “They’d never say so, but Anne and Jack are beside themselves with guilt about what happened.”

“How the fuck do you know about that?”

“Idelle told me.” Margaret fixes Vane with a fierce stare as she returns to her seat across the table. “She loves you dearly, you know.”

“Idelle is a good woman.” He’d sensed sometimes that she did, and not only because she didn’t always charge him in full for her services, though at the time he’d mostly put that down to being one of the few who took care to make sure she enjoyed herself as well. And he respected her directness and sharp mind -- traits she shared with Margaret. Yes, there was the rub.

“She almost broke when you shook your head no from the gallows.”

Vane doesn’t reply.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d be one to give up, regardless of your pretty speech about fearing death being a choice.” He can almost hear in her accusatory tone the words Margaret once cried out: I thought I knew you, Charles! More fool me.

“Didn’t want to risk more of us getting killed trying to save me. Thought my death would drive a rebellion.”

“It wasn’t at all because some part of you no longer wanted to live?”

Sometimes he swears the blasted woman has the ability to see into his mind. Though if that was the case, perhaps things between them would have taken a different path. “I was worth more dead than alive. Had to leave Nassau. Fucked over your father a second time to help Flint fight England. And…” he trails off and stares into the middle distance.

“And?”

“The woman I was in love with loved another.” Vane’s voice is low, confessional, but there’s an edge of challenge in it.

“The woman you were in love with loved only power. Control. Wrapping her soft, weak little hands around whatever bits of influence she could grasp,” Margaret says waspishly.

Vane’s thin lips curl back, baring his teeth. “I’m not talking about Eleanor.”

“No?”

“No!” Vane slams the palm of his hand into the table for emphasis. Fucking hell, why can’t she understand what he’s telling her? He’d stopped loving Eleanor well before her final betrayal, well before she battered his face in his cell as he awaited hanging, well before he saw the sickening, smug look on her face as he stood at the gallows, though that certainly drove the point home.

His arm tremors, and from the slight furrowing of Margaret’s brow, she noticed. He wonders if she takes any satisfaction in seeing him like this, broken and brought low. He can’t say he would blame her if she did. But her lips part in concern, and her eyes are worried. She wraps a hand, callused and graceful, around his forearm.

“I need you to know that I took the shot the moment I was able; I didn’t delay or let you hang any longer than necessary.”

“I never doubted that, Magpie.” And he didn’t. Margaret never struck him in anger, never lied or broke her word to him. The scar on his brow is his own fault for startling her when she was holding a marlinspike; as for the scars on his heart, well, perhaps those are his own fault too.

It was barely dawn when Sully staggered shirtless out of Margaret’s tent, reeking of drink. Vane, up all night on watch duty in the Revenge camp, wanted to gut him. How dare he go to her drunk like that? Vane felt sick to his stomach, as though he’d been sucker-punched while nauseous. Hearing him approach, Sully turned to him with a grin. “Morning Charles…” His smile turned to a look of surprise when Vane shoved him, knocking him over backward into the sand, his long plait flying over his shoulder as he fell.

“Charles!” Margaret yanked on his arm, spinning him around to face her. She was fully clothed, though she looked like she just woke up, and she was livid. “What the fuck did you do that for?”

“You’ve a right to fuck any man you wish to, Magpie, but you at least deserve one who isn’t stumbling drunk.”

“Charles.” Margaret’s voice was patient, as though speaking to an idiot or a recalcitrant child, “I didn’t fuck Sully. I’ve never fucked anyone, of any state of sobriety. I’m likely the only virgin in Nassau.”

He didn’t smell sex on either of them, it was true, and Margaret didn’t even smell of rum. But even so. “What was I to think, when he stayed the night in your tent?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but he decided to drink on an empty stomach, and I dragged him in there to sleep it off.”

Sully hauled himself to his feet. “I was a perfect gent to our Maggie-Pie, I was,” he announced. “And I’ll knife anyone who isn’t.”

Margaret whirled on him. “If you call me Maggie-Pie, I’m going to call you Mick.”

“I hate it when you do that,” Sully said cheerily. “Look sharp, here comes Hands.” The three of them straightened their postures; it was important to present a united front before that bastard.

******

The first year after Sully was killed passed in a haze of agony. The second year, Margaret was mostly numb. By the third year, the grief had become sneakier, creeping up to knife her when she least expected it. She could go days feeling what now passed for fine, and then something -- the scent of the tobacco he’d favored, a snippet of a song he’d liked -- would rip open the wound.

What a fool I am, thinking Charles might care for me, Margaret berates herself. Her flirtations the night of the skiff race went uncommented-on, unacted-on. Of course she should have expected that: the moment there was a girl fawning over him whose body was unscarred by blades and musket balls, whose hands weren’t roughened by rope and salt, whose face wasn’t bronzed by the sun, he’d stopped paying her any attention, hadn’t he.

He’s finally asleep, and she can weep. Quietly. She forces herself to stay silent despite the sobs wracking her body. Then a hand, Vane’s hand, reaches for her in the dark, finds her own, and holds it. She glances at him, crouched beside her bed so as not to loom over her. She hadn’t even heard him come into her room.

“Turnabout is fair play,” he says. She sits up, and he sits beside her, using his free hand to wipe her tears. Margaret tries to affect a steely dignity, but his voice, honey over gravel, cuts through. “You held my hand in the dark. I was a fool to have let myself ignore that. A man should never forget who held his hand in the dark.” She lets him gather her in his arms; it’s been so long since the last time she’d been held. She feels the stubble of his cheek pressed to the top of her head, his long hair hanging over her arm, the deep inhale he takes. She allows herself to lean into him, to nestle her face into the junction of his neck and shoulder and inhale the smoky scent of him. “Now,” he continues, “do you want to tell me what this is about?”

“Of course I fucking don’t.”

One of Vane’s hands is stroking her hair while the other rests between her shoulder blades, heavy and warm and anchoring. “I recall,” he says, his voice a purr reverberating through her torso, “a smart girl once telling me that there is nothing wrong with accepting help from people who care for me. That I’m not alone in the world.”

Margaret raises her head and looks at him sharply. Did he just say he cares for her? She had been telling herself that she’d laugh in Vane’s face if he showed any signs of being sweet on her. But here, in this moment, in his arms, she can’t bring herself to be cruel to him on purpose, not when his gaze is so gentle, so uncharacteristically unguarded. God knows they’d caused each other enough pain already, however inadvertently. “And turnabout is fair play, Charles?”

The strong shoulder that her cheek was just resting upon lifts in a shrug. “You ought to take your own advice.”

She leads him into the main room, where it’s warmer. Brings out the rum bottle. Vane is leaning toward her, letting her have her silence, but his own silence has a questioning quality to it.

“I’m thinking of the nature of promises. How to keep them. What it means to keep them.” Vane is simply watching her, waiting for her to continue. She takes a swig of rum; she wants liquid courage for what she’s about to tell him. “When Sully got killed, I threw everything he owned overboard. Any reminder of him was too much to bear.” She’d been certain she’d lose her mind with grief if she saw a shirt of his on someone else. She sees Vane trying to connect what she’s saying. “He once made me promise if he should die first, that I wouldn’t spend my life in mourning. That I’d find a way to be happy again.” And someone to be happy with, Sully had emphasized, though she’s not ready to tell Vane that part. “But I can’t see a way forward.”

“You were happy, though. With him.” He isn’t asking a question.

“Yes.”

Vane nods to himself and stares down at the coin he’s rolling back and forth between his fingers. “That’s all I ever wanted for you, Magpie. For you to be happy.”

For a moment, Margaret is afraid she’s going to burst into tears again, and she forces her expression into one of stoicism. “Were you happy? With her?”

The coin ceases its glittering dance across Vane’s knuckles. “I thought I was, for a time.”

“Do tell.”

He raises his face with a scowl to meet Margaret’s eyes, but his expression softens when he sees the real curiosity there. “In the beginning, she pursued me hard, lavished me with what I thought was love. Then she’d withdraw her affection, and I’d try to regain it. I see now that was her strategy.”

“To hear Idelle and some of the others tell it, Eleanor had you dancing like a puppet on a string.” Vane recoils as though she’d slapped him, and Margaret wonders if she pushed him too far, twisted a knife in him that she hadn't meant to insert, truly she hadn’t. “Charles, I…”

He cuts her off. “I assure you that I’ve got long-overdue clarity about the manner of woman she is.” He closes his eyes for a moment and sags slightly in his chair. He huffs out a short, mirthless laugh. “She’s a shit and everything you told me was correct.”

Margaret stands with an unstifled yawn. Damnation, but she’s exhausted. She considers telling him it took him long enough to figure out what she and Sully saw from the start, but what purpose would that serve? “I’ve got to be up early. Tide’s coming in about five, and the Adventure should be coming out of drydock with it. Got to move her to a proper slip.” Vane rises as well and they stand for a moment, looking at each other with uncertainty. He looks like he’s about to step towards her, so she simply says “Good night, Charles.” In response, he reaches out to squeeze her hand, ever so briefly.

As she settles herself back into bed, she smells him brewing coffee; he’s gotten in the habit of fixing a pot of it so that it would be ready when they woke, something she appreciates. If she could see through the door, she’d note him sitting before the fire, elbow on his knee and chin in his hand, staring into the flames, a man lost in thought.

Tag List: @whenimaunicorn @n3rdybird

[kyouxa]

Diabolik lovers Chaos Lineage: Kino (Story 08+CG)

In terms of the gameplay: The black choices lead up to a bad ending, the white choices lead up to a good ending. Please no reposting onto other sites, ask me before translating this into another language too!

Monologue

When I woke up, I once again felt the pain of the scars from yesterday’s blood sucking running through my body. Kino-kun continued to thrust his fangs into my body mercilessly, while I realized how I was unable to go against him.

As I tried standing up, I also recalled how this matter has left me extremely fatigued.

It was useless trying to encourage myself over my broken heart over only one night. And on top of that, I’m still unable to tell anyone about Kino-kun’s plan. Thinking about this caused myself to feel miserable and made my tears run down once again. 

While the inside of the Scarlet mansion continued to have a rather unfriendly atmosphere, suspiciousness still rises.

Shu-san shut himself in his room while Yuma-kun worked on his vegetable garden, both of them went out of each other’s way by attending their own business.

Reiji-san is the only one who’s silently drinking his black tea in the living room all by himself.

The tense air seems to somehow really mark everyone’s skins full with bites.

Place: Scarlet mansion — Living room

*Reiji pours tea*

Reiji: You two should have one as well.

Kino: Thank you, big brother Reiji.

Yui: (Kino-kun’s goal is to get rid of everyone in the Sakamaki family)

(If only I could somehow make Reiji-san aware of the situation…)

Ah… um, Reiji-san.

*something hits her*

Yui: (...Did something just hit my foot?)

(..... ! Those were Kino-kun’s feet…)

Kino: …..

Yui: (Is he trying to threaten me with this… ? In case I say something—)

(Nn… I guess I really can’t tell anyone after all…)

Reiji: You. What is the reason for you calling out my name and then suddenly sinking into silence?

Yui: Ah… um… I’m really sorry. I simply forgot what I wanted to say.

Reiji: What does this mean exactly?

Kino: It mustn’t have been of great importance if you forgot it this easily, right? More importantly, what about the teacake?

Reiji: Haa… I did prepare it. There is no need to rush for it.

*Reiji gets the teacake*

Yui: (I can’t discuss anything with anyone as long as Kino-kun’s monitoring me like this)

(If so, am I really just going to watch him continue? Watching everyone in the Sakamaki family… getting killed by him… ?)

Place: Scarlet mansion — Kino’s bedroom

Kino: Hey, did you seriously risk trying to talk to Reiji earlier? Were those unpleasant things I did still not enough?

Yui: Err… !

Kino: Fufu, there’s no need to worry since you’re still an important piece in my plan. I won’t kill you just yet.

Yui: (Even if he says he won’t kill me, this won’t make me feel relieved since he’s still able to do something to me… Nn)

Kino: Don’t get scared, we should still get along well. That’s only because you’re still a thing that belongs to me though. Keep in mind that the one who becomes the king of the demon world, will be me.

Yui: No way… I-I...

Did he actually objectify me and claimed that I belong to him just now? ...He’s certainly wrong about that. But that’s not what I should tell him now though…)

(I’m scared… and I hate it, but—)

...I-I’m going to be the one who stops you, Kino-kun.

Kino: ...Hah? What an impertinent woman… was it really not enough for me to torment you like that? Are you a masochist?

*Kino grabs Yui*

Yui: Eek… g-get away… ! Stop...

Kino: Why do you think you can stand up against me while your body is clearly shaking? Do you really want me to continue playing with you?

Yui: I-It’s different...

(My whole body is clearly going against it. I don’t want anyone to get hurt anymore… but,)

(Letting him end up killing Ayato-kun and the others — I’d hate that too!!)

Kino: ...You still do have that rebellious face on. I wonder if I have to thoroughly teach you that there’s no escape.

Yui: B-But still, I’m sure your plan isn’t going as you thought either…

Not everyone will simply break up with each other that easily… !

Kino: You saw that big quarrel yourself, and yet you’re still able to say this? Could that by any chance be because you’re concerned about them?

Ridiculous… don’t make me throw up.

Yui: ...Nn

Kino: That’s right. Let’s go and see what the situations of the other houses look like.

Yui: Stop… if you continue pulling my arm so hard… ouch...

Kino: If those in Reiji’s aren’t enough, I’ll show you the fragility of those outside of the Scarlet’s mansion… you’ll obediently follow me then, right?

Yui: Nn… F-Fine with me...

Place: Orange mansion — Outside

Yui: (We slipped through Reiji-san’s eyes and once again got to this place…)

(Moreover, isn’t this Ruki-kun’s Orange mansion? Why did we even come here… ?)

Kino: I thought that, since you’re such a kind soul, I should bring you along to have you witness it yourself.

Did you think I lied about Laito and Kanato apparently being on good terms back then?

Yui: Ah… speaking of which, you said that to Ruki-kun—

*flashback*

Ruki: What are your intentions, loitering around in enemy territory and dragging the prey with you?

Kino: Nothing in particular. I just thought I’d like to talk to you, so I ended up coming here.

I recently saw your little brother Kanato speaking with Violet’s Laito.

They didn’t seem to be acting like enemies at all, y’know. They honestly seemed to be getting along rather well.

This is just a simple warning. Whether you believe me or not is up to you at the end.

Ruki: …..

*end of flashback*

Kino: Around this time, don’t you think suspicion also spread among the brothers from Ruki’s mansion, just like Reiji and his siblings?

Yui: (He only brought me here to show this to me and make me feel even more despair than I already am…)

Kino: Fufu… all they have to do now is to kill each other like insects.

Yui: To call them such a thing as insects…

Kino: You keep getting flared up each and every time I say something. Should I remind you of your situation again?

Yui: ...Nn

Kino: Even though you have no powers yourself, you won’t learn no matter how much you disobey me.

With the exception of me you’re similar to junk. You have no value in society if you don’t have any powers.

That’s exactly why you’re not even powerful enough to bring everyone together.

The only one being able to do this is, Karlheinz’ illegitimate child, me.

That’s also why everyone should realize that they have to appreciate me.

Yui: (If I’d start to argue with him now, I don’t know what he might do to me… which leaves me with no choice but to stay silent and listen to Kino-kun)

Kino: Ah, look inside the mansion. Ruki and the others are gathered there, and they seem to be having a talk with each other now.

Place: Orange mansion — Living room

Kanato: What sort of business do you have with me if you had to summon me?

Ruki: Do you perhaps have any idea in mind why I would need to call for you in the first place?

Kanato: I truly have no idea. If it’s nothing urgent, I might as well return to my room now.

Ruki: Kanato. Is it really true that you’ve met up with Violet’s Laito?

Kanato: What?

Shin: We’d consider it best if you talk honestly about it. There’s obviously a reason for our eldest brother to ask you something like this.

Ayato: Can you really say that Kanato is making moves to turn into a traitor? We can’t be careless then.

Place: Orange mansion — Outside

Yui: (Kanato-kun is being questioned by Ruki-kun right now…)

Kino: Now, I wonder where it goes from there?

Yui: (As things are now, Kanato-kun is obviously being as suspected as Shu-san—)

(Is there really nothing I can do now? Please, somebody… help…)

Place: Orange mansion — Living room

Shin: Now, you just have to obediently tell us. Reveal everything to us.

Ruki: Kanato.

Kanato: ...Why?

Ayato: Hm?

Kanato: Why are you doing nothing but pressing questions onto me...

Shin: That’s because someone who’d try to cover up their suspicious behaviour would be bad, right?

Kanato: If that’s the case, then—

*ground shakes*

Kanato: Why aren’t you waiting for me to say something about this!?

Ayato: Uwah!

Kanato: Why!? How come? Why is it that you do no more than question my honor? Everyone here’s joining forces against me to make me look like the bad one.

Do you really hate me this much? I’m sure that’s it, otherwise you wouldn’t make up those crimes for me!

Ruki: Stop screaming. There simply were some rumours about you silently going out to meet up with one of our opponents.

There’s no smoke without fire. In order for us to confront the truth—

Kanato: Rumours? And you really started to doubt me because of some rumours? Or is it that there was some serious proof about this matter?

Did you really try to make me look like a scoundrel, despite not having any specification about anything?

Shin: That’s why we’re now here to listen—

Kanato: See!? There’s no evidence for anything. And here I was, almost about to cry over you doubting the significance of my respect, what a laughing stock.

This is beyond displeasing for me!

Shin: No, Kanato...

Kanato: Shut up, Shut up!

First of all, I’m free to meet whoever I wish to see. And yet, you go as far as trying to get control over someone and stealing their freedom!

Shin: Even so! It would obviously be a big problem if you went to meet up with one of our rivals! Why are you getting angry despite being wrong to begin with!?

Ayato: Hey, let’s think about it again. Would it really be a huge problem if he did meet up with that pervert in the end?

Shin: There’d obviously be a problem with that, right? If he ended up betraying us and our plan, he’d deserve death penalty!

Ayato: I mean, this is all about whether or not this guy betrays us by changing sides, or if he’ll be classificated as an ally.

Shin: ...Eh?

Ruki: You’ve got a point. This individual is surely pulling some sort of strings behind the scenes, this way he influences us so nobody would be able to notice his next moves.

Neither do I think he could imitate that behaviour. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t even think about joining hands with someone else.

Shin: B-But, brother...

Ruki: If this rumor was about either me or you, it would’ve been improbable. But this is about Kanato.

In other words, I can assure you that there’s no need for any declaration.

From this moment onwards, I’ll make sure of the truth before rushing into conclusions.

Shin: Well, I guess as long as our eldest brother is convinced by that it’s fine...

Kanato: Nothing’s fine, it’s still displeasing! If any of you ends up doing similar things again, I’ll make sure to break everyone’s neck in here.

Place: Orange mansion — Outside

Yui: Kanato-kun...

(For some reason, Ruki-kun was convinced about this being different from what he was told to…)

(I’d never think that Kanato-kun’s habitual behavior and personality would somehow be effective in such a place)

(But, that’s good though ...! Everyone in the Orange mansion didn’t end up having an unfriendly atmosphere!)

Kino: Hmph, how boring. Seems as if I ended up aiming for the worst prey of them all. I thought I’d get to see an unimaginable farce.

Guess it would only be a waste of time to stay here any longer. The next one we’ll go to will be Violet’s mansion.

Yui: Eh? You’ll keep going… ?

Kino: We’ll only keep going because of Kanato being a huge failure at the end. Violet wouldn’t do that to me though.

Yui: (Violet, huh… that’s right. Kou-kun…!)

*flashback*

Kou: What the… you sound as if Azusa and Yuma really are on good terms with each other...

Kino: See? Azusa and Yuma did build up mutual trust together.

I wouldn’t completely ignore that there might be a deeper meaning behind my words.

Kou: He might have reasons to get along with the enemies side… but are you really trying to tell me that Azusa is trying to betray me and the others… ?

Place: Orange mansion — Outside

Yui: (Kou-kun, he also has been given false information from Kino-kun back then)

(Even though Azusa-kun and Yuma-kun probably didn’t even end up meeting nor getting along well with each other… !)

Kino: Violet has already cancelled their attack at us once. That’s definitely some sort of evidence about something going on inside there.

Is that because of Kou and Azusa? Isn’t it about time things start to get all interesting all over again?

Next, I’ll make sure to teach you a lesson though… there’s no such thing like it in Scarlet you said, right?

Place: Violet mansion — Living room

Kou: Hey, Azusa-kun. Could you hear me out about something for a bit, if it’s okay?

Azusa: Hm… what’s it?

Kou: It’s- It’s just a story I heard though!

I heard that you betrayed us by meeting up with Yuma, but you didn’t do that, right?

Azusa: Eh… ?

Place: Violet mansion — Outside

Yui: Kou-kun… Azusa-kun...

Kino: Fufu… perfect timing. I was already starting to get worried since I didn’t continue to pursue them until today.

Now, will he ask him for an explanation? Don’t end up not amusing me to the fullest.

Yui: Nn… Kino-kun, is it really fun for you to look at them like this… ?

Kino: Of course. It’s pretty interesting, and it’s nice to be able to push you into despair like this too.

Yui: (That’s right… his answer was already obvious before he even opened his mouth)

(Even though the Mukami brothers really are close…)

(I don’t want them to keep on doubting each other and continue everyone to develop cracks in their relationships)

Place: Violet mansion — Living room

Kou: Hey, Azusa-kun, answer. About Yuma-kun… did you really go to meet up with the enemy?

Azusa: …..

I really didn’t go anywhere without telling you about it.

Kou: Really? And you’re not lying to me?

Azusa: Hm… it’s the truth.

I’d never try to betray you, Kou… I said it once already… but my brothers are way too important to me.

Kou: Brothers...

Azusa: We’ve all been continuously holding hands and surviving all this time together already...

Isn’t that right? Kou...

Kou: I see, you’re right. We’re brothers… that’s right. We’ve been going through so much together by now...

...Sorry. I really did say something strange.

Azusa: Hmm…

Place: Violet mansion — Outside

Yui: (Kou-kun really ended up believing in Azusa-kun…)

Kino: Hah… ? What was that? Right now, why was he so convinced by that? Why didn’t he want any sort of evidence from him?

Kou: Anyway, I want to hurry up and get Eve as soon as possible already.

Azusa: Our raid… it has been delayed, right?

Kou: Gotta tell you that it was said that this Kino guy actually has some unexpected powers, and he also seems to be good with tactics.

Azusa: Hm... but I’m sure that we’ll see Eve again soon.

Kino: Kch… they’re already starting to talk all cheerfully again...

How ridiculous. For real, why did this happen again!?

*Kino walks away*

Yui: Ah, wait!

Place: Outside — Forest

Kino: I just don’t understand this guy at all. Does he usually really believe anyone so easily? Or is that only because Kou is an idiot too?

Yui: ...Honestly, I was a little surprised because of that too. I thought he’d aim for Azusa-kun like a wolf would.

But I think it ended differently because they really do trust each other a lot.

Kino: Trust… ?

Yui: The Mukami’s are really close with each other after all.

I think that’s also because all four of them have overcome various things up until now.

Even if their memories have been rewritten, and they don’t remember anything whatsoever, the bond they have with each other still remains.

Kino: Are you really still keeping up with saying that? Do you really think there is such a thing as a bond between vampires?

Yui: Yes, I do believe that.

Kino: ...Nn.

Yui: I do believe that any existence can develop a bond with somebody, even if they’re something like a vampire.

Kino: Heh… then could it be that we might be able to develop a bond between us as well?

Choices

1) Answer him immediately (black)

2) Be troubled to answer (white)♡♡♡

— Answer him immediately

Yui: That’s right. We might be able to develop something like that if we stay together.

Kino: And what makes you think that?

Yui: I have no idea...

Kino: Then how are you able to say that all nicely even though you can’t explain your theory!?

I hate it when you open your mouth and then speak without thinking about it first!

Yui: Kino-kun...

(I wonder if I should’ve told Kino-kun about this in different words...)

— Be troubled to answer♡

Yui: That is…

Kino: Tell me. Or do you think we can’t have a bond?

Yui: That’s not it. I just can’t say that for sure right now.

If we do take the time to understand each other, I’m sure we might develop one.

Kino: That means that it’s no more than just tightening the relationship, right?

end Choices

Kino: Well, whatever... I might be able to understand what you said in a bit.

Yui: Eh? Really… ?

Kino: Therefore, you’ll forgive me if I do something like this now, right? Since this will be our bond!

*Kino grabs Yui*

Yui: Kyaaa!?

Kino: You should look closely at the place you’re bitten in. Look, I’ll slowly… sink my fangs into your skin...

Kino: Ngh! Nn… !

Yui: Ouch… it hurts...

(Because he’s biting down more carefully than usual… the pain doesn’t go away like usual… Nn)

Kino: So you won’t resist, hm? You’re doing this in order to prove the bond between us is a real thing… right?

Yui: ….. !

(Kino-kun’s really trying to do it. If I’d say that I dislike it now, my words might end up never reaching him...!)

(That’s why, I’ll have to endure this much...)

Kino: Heh…so you’re trying to admirably endure it? That’s no fun.

Then… what about this? Nn…

Yui: ...Ah

(He gently kissed my wound… this is so sly of him)

Kino: Fufu… your face turned all bright just now.

And your blood... because of the pleasure, it’s getting even more delicious. It’s just as a seasoned wine.

And you call this a bond between people? That’s an awfully disappointing way of putting it.

Yui: (I have to tell him that this isn’t the case… but, I can’t get anything out of my mouth…)

Kino: Now, this is merely where the fun starts. What would you think if I’d gently push my fangs down into your skin once again?

Yui: Eh… ? No, stop...!

Kino: Now then, I’ll have to give in again. Nn… Nn… !

Yui: Nn, ahh... !!

(My whole body, it’s becoming all dim… I cannot let this continue… I  have to do something)

Kino: Ah, so you did end up resisting? Guess I won then.

Yui: Ah… Ngh...

Kino: Don’t you dare say anything about having bonds anymore, from now you’re only allowed to stay silent and think about how you’re being used next.

This time I just ended up aiming for a bad prey. Next time I’ll make sure to have them crush each other.

The gap between Shu and Reiji is still pretty deep, which makes it easier to have them kill each other without fail.

And when that happens — I’ll let you taste that despair to its fullest.

[aifastic]

Winning Lines

The @talesofteufort zine has been shipped, and the PDFs sent! Thank you very much to everyone who contributed. I’m very glad to have been able to participate in this project; it was a wonderful experience and it’s been great working with everyone aaaa ♥

I’m really happy to share my piece for the zine! I really hope you all like it ♥ (Read it below the cut)

Title: Winning Lines Words: 1845 Warnings: None Summary: BLU has a drawing contest. Demo just wants his magazine back.

-----

“ARE YOU MANN ENOUGH TO DRAW THIS BETTER THAN US?”

The header caught BLU’s Demoman’s attention. He’d been reading the latest issue of Hat-Wearing Man when he found the ad at the bottom of one of the pages. There was a somewhat simple drawing of a monkey in a spacesuit. “If you draw Poopy Joe better than our extremely talented artist, we’ll give him the boot—and kick his ass in the process! And your picture will be the new image of our project and you, our lucky friend, will win nothing less than $700 dollars!”

“Huh, it doesn’t look that hard…” he said, pensive. Suddenly, the magazine was snatched from his hands. “Hey!”

“Ohohoh, what’s this?” Scout said, grinning at the magazine. “Hey, I’d win this in the blink of an eye!”

“Oi! Get your own!” Demo took the magazine back. “I’m gonna try this. Mum will love the extra money,” he added to himself.

“Pffft, no way, it’s a waste of mail money, pally. If someone should participate, that’s someone who actually has a chance.”

“Heh.”

They turned around to see Sniper in a corner, grinning.

“What’s your deal, Long Legs?”

“Shut up, ya scoundrel. If anyone has a chance here, it’s me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Demo asked. “Where’s your credentials, mate?”

“Don’t need any,” he said. “Quiet kid, hours at the back of the classroom sketching the teacher being eaten by a croc.” He grinned. “It should be easy as cake.”

“Oi, do ya remember the magazine is mine?”

“I agree, though—the chance should be for whoever’s got the talent.”

Demo sighed. “Aye, alright. But I’m not gonna just give it away.” His face lit up, an idea coming to his mind. “You’ll have to beat me for it.”

“Huh?” Both mercenaries stared at him quizzically.

Demo grinned, eye glinting.

“Let’s have a drawing contest.”

-----

They emptied the kitchen table in order to make room for their sheets of paper, pencils and pens. In the meantime, they threw evaluative gazes at each other, competitive strike flaring up.

The rest of the team slowly wandered to the room to find out what was going on.

“What is noise?” asked Heavy, scratching his chest. Medic, who was right behind him, had just closed it, having found himself too distracted by the ruckus to continue his surgery.

“We’re about to find out who’s gonna win 700 dollars!”

Medic perked up. “I am in. What is the bet?”

“We’re not betting, mate.” Sniper showed him the magazine’s ad. “It’s a contest.”

Medic’s smile turned dangerous. “Even better.”

“Heavy is in, too.”

“Aw, come on, guys! It’s not as if you’re gonna beat me!”

Heavy threw Scout an unimpressed look. “It is fun. I want extra money. I am in.”

“Alright, alright, mate. Sure.” Demo handed them both some extra sheets of paper they'd brought just in case.

Medic excused himself to go search for a couple of pens. On his way out, he almost crashed onto Soldier.

“Ach, watch where you’re going!”

“I need sustenance, maggot! And you’re on my way!” He shoved Medic away, making him stumble on the way out. A couple of German swears could be heard from the corridor. “Hello, everyone!”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re gonna get in too,” Scout groaned.

“In what?” Soldier inquired, tilting his head. Demo showed him the magazine’s ad.

Engineer peeked over his shoulder.

“Oh, a drawing contest?” he said, looking at it with a fond smile. “Heh. It’s been a while since I tried my hand at one o’ those. But I thought they allowed only one entry per ad?”

“That is point,” Heavy said. “We are fighting to get chance to earn money.”

“Oh…” Soldier grinned. “I’m in, maggots! I actually studied art with Kickasso.”

Everyone stared at him.

“Sure, mate,” Demo said, patting his back and attempting to lead him into the kitchen.

“You don’t believe me!” Soldier looked at everyone. Engie shrugged. Scout picked at his nails, and Sniper scratched the table distractedly. Heavy’s eyes said it all. “I will prove it to all of you!” And he headed to the table, snatching a paper sheet from the pile.

Demo brushed a hand across his own face. “I hope Medic brings enough pens.”

“I’ll go for mine,” Engie said. He added, “And I’ll go look for Pyro; they’ll love this.”

Scout groaned. “Anyone else? Maybe Saxton Hale?”

Spy’s laughter can be heard from a corner of the room.

“Oh, this is priceless. I wasn’t going to butt in, but this looks like too much fun to pass on the opportunity.”

“The opportunity to what?” Scout said, miffed.

“You’ll see,” he said with a glint in his eyes. “Besides, you need a referee, don’t you?”

“Ugh,” Scout said, bonking his head on the table.

-----

Everyone looked at each other from their respective places. Scout’s leg bounced nonstop; Sniper picked unconsciously at his pencil. Heavy’s grip on his pen was strong enough for Medic to worry about it breaking.

“Alright,” said Spy. “You have to draw…” He squinted. “Poopy Joe, following the ad’s instructions; the best artist wins. The rules are: no interfering with anyone’s drawing. No kicking under the table. No destroying anyone’s drawing. No rising up from the table until all this is over. No showing your drawing until everyone is finished. Understood?”

Everyone nodded. Pyro hummed happily.

“Excellent. So, on the count of three: One, two… Three!”

Scout’s pen tore onto the paper. “Shit! Do you have a spare?” Spy handed him one. “Thanks,” he muttered.

The truth was, Scout wasn’t that confident of the fact he was going to win. When it was just him and Demo, he’d been sure he’d win to the unsteady hand of a drunk man. And Sniper was all bragging anyways. But Medic? He’d probably drawn lots of skeletons and stuff at college. And Engineer’s schematics always look exactly like the finished product. Shit. And—did Soldier really paint with Kickasso? Nah, he shook his head. He didn’t think so. Heavy was a wild card, though.

But he had to try anyway! He couldn’t back off now. So he put his all into it.

Engineer turned his sheet of paper down. Hell! That was fast. He tried to concentrate in the lines that formed Poopy Joe, and emulated them the best he could. Damn, his hand was sweaty… He hated drawing. His cousin had always been better at it, and it pissed him off even now, far from home.

He slapped his drawing on the table, face down. “Done!” He looked up to see everyone had finished. Crap.

“Alright, then,” said Spy. “Let’s see what you came up with.”

“Come up with?” That had many meanings, but the way Spy said it… “What do you mean?”

“The challenge was to improve on the design of Poopy Joe drawn by the artist, not to copy it.”

“Oh, darn,” Engineer said, showing a perfect copy of the Poopy Joe logo. Holy shit. “Guess I got a bit carried away. I’m more used to copying stuff, ya know.”

Soldier snickered.

“Let’s see what you did, Soldier boy.”

“Alright! Look at it and weep!”

He showed them all a mess of lines with dots in seemingly random places.

“Soldier, that’s…” Scout got elbowed by Demo. “That’s cool. What are… those?”

“Those are his eyes!” Oh, God.

“Let’s see Demo’s!” grinned Soldier, confidently.

“Ach, you know I’m no artist, mate,” he said, showing his drawing. It was… Actually, it was pretty decent. His drawing had a cartoonish style that drew everyone’s eyes in.

“Interesting,” said Spy, nodding approvingly.

“Demo did great job,” Heavy said, crossing his arms.

“Aw, thanks, mate.” Demo shrugged it off, somewhat flustered. “What about yours?”

Heavy showed his drawing. It was simple, a single line delineating the silhouette of the monkey astronaut. It was stylish, though it was difficult to guess what it was at times.

“Wonderful, mein freund!” Medic clapped, and revealed his. It was… Oh, my god. “I might have put a bit too much emphasis on his organs.”

“Next!” yelled Scout, tearing his eyes away from the gory drawing. Shit. Now he had to show his. Alright. You can do this, he told himself.

He turned the page face up.

“Mate,” Sniper said.

“Oh, buddy, we made the same mistake.”

“Y’know? I saw RED’s Scout draw once and I secretly thought we were doomed.”

“Oh, shut up!” Scout said, face beet red. It was true, he’d tried to copy the drawing, like Engineer did. And his lines weren’t as sure as Demo’s or Heavy’s. Shit. He screwed up big time.

“It’s good overall, mate,” Sniper said. “You just need more confidence.”

Scout flushed. “What about yours, Mister Expert?”

Sniper grunted, and showed his drawing. Oh, wow. It was really good! The monkey looked like it’d come out of the page and tear them apart. He felt as if he would be able to touch its fur.

“Wow, Slim! That’s one helluva good drawing!”

“Thanks,” he said, grinning. “I told ya: quiet kid.”

“Where is his spacesuit, though?”

His face dropped. “Aw, hell.”

“Hmmmph!” Pyro yelled, pointing at their sheet of paper.

“Alright,” Spy said, grinning along with Engineer. “The moment of truth has come.”

“What do you mean—?”

Holy shit.

The drawing was astounding. The monkey looked cartoonish enough not to look real, but in a way that made the drawing look alive. Everything was there, and in wonderful detail: The space-suit, the stars… Even an additional full moon in the background that was a perfect circle.

“Holy shit, Py!” Scout said. “How did you do that?”

“Hhmph?” Pyro asked, pointing at the moon. Everyone nodded. Pyro mumbled happily, grabbing another sheet of paper, and drew a classical Greek style face, then erased the rest of its features little by little until they got a perfect circle.

Oh, for the love of—

“Well, it seems we have our winner,” said Spy, handing Pyro the magazine. Pyro clapped with glee, running off with it.

“Aw, man. That was totally unfair. You knew this would happen!” Scout pointed to Spy accusingly.

“I had my suspicions,” he said, grinning.

“Hey, maggots,” Soldier said, sniffing. “Is that smoke?”

They all turned around to watch Pyro as they set the magazine on fire.

“Ach! My magazine!” Demo ran and stomped on it. However, many of the pages, including the drawing contest ad, didn’t make it. “Hell. Why, mate?”

“Hmmphmmphmmph!” they said, pointing at everyone in the room, then at their drawings. Then they clapped.

Everyone looked at each other, and found a common understanding. Who knew what Pyro said? But they had the feeling they meant they were all winners today.

“So it was a huge waste of everyone’s time. Fantastic,” Spy said. “Entertaining, though.”

“Shut up, Spy, we were having a moment,” Scout said.

And yes, indeed. Because even though Demo lost his magazine, he left the room with a good feeling inside. And he was sure that the rest felt the same way.

Poopy Joe’s artist could keep his job for another day.

[goth-surana]

Hope and Hopelessness Chapter 4

Chapter 4 of 7(?)

Main pairing: Anders/Male Hawke

Main tags: Angst with a happy ending, tranquil!Anders, cure for tranquility

Summary: After some time on the run with Hawke, Anders is caught and made tranquil. Hawke cannot bring himself to kill him, instead chasing a distant hope that there may be a cure.

Read on AO3 or below the cut

Hawke was on his last fucking legs when the letter arrived. More dead ends, more people recognizing them and therefore more fights

The inquisition was handling some amount of the chaos in the world, but enough was left that Hawke and Anders still had to make their way through.

Hawke wished they could still be helping the rebel mages from afar, but now they were too concerned with their own survival. Now Anders was practically defenseless. Sure, he still knew how to swing a staff as a weapon, but he was no longer the powerhouse he used to be without his magic.

Hawke used to get frustrated with Justice a lot, but now he missed the bastard. He may have worked Anders to the bone, may have been somewhat unreasonable, but by the Maker had he protected Anders. Hawke didn’t have to worry so much, knowing Justice was there.

When the messenger found them Hawke almost punched her in the face. She moved too quickly, too silently.

“I’m a friend!” the scrawny elf said after she deftly avoided Hawke. “Tethras sent me.”

She handed Hawke the letter, and scurried off without a word.

Hawke opened the letter and what was inside stole his breath away.

“We found a cure. I’ll grant you safe passage to Skyhold.”

Hawke’s hands went numb holding that letter, his eyes fixed on that first sentence.

It couldn’t be real. It. It couldn’t…

Hawke made it to a back alley before his knees gave out and he sank to the ground. His hands shook, his shoulders shook as he began to cry.

There was hope. There was a way to bring his love back.

“Hawke?” Anders asked. “What has upset you?”

Hawke just shook his head, unable to stem the flow of tears. He had stopped crying so long ago, and now that he started again he couldn’t seem to stop.

Anders waited patiently for him, standing passively. Eventually Hawke stopped crying long enough to speak.

“We’re going to Skyhold.”

Anders regarded him for a moment. “Okay.”

Hawke stood on shaking legs, then stared at Anders. He looked into his vacant eyes and thought about how they would be once more filled with emotion and anger and laughter, full of everything that made Anders himself.

There was hope. Hawke hadn’t been needlessly torturing Anders every day, hadn’t been prolonging his suffering for nothing. Hawke had made the right choice.

On the first night of their journey to Skyhold, Anders had figured out the contents of the letter.

“There is a cure,” he said simply.

“…why do you think that?” Hawke hadn’t been sure how Anders would react. Would he resist?

“Because of your emotional reaction to the letter. You have not cried like that in some time. I thought at first that you were given evidence of an inability to cure tranquility, but were that the case you would have killed me when we were away from sight.”

“You… you were going to let me kill you?” Hawke asked.

“I was not certain you would. The news would have to be either of a cure or of the absence of a cure to cause your reaction. If I ran from you I would likely die. But if I stayed with you there was a small possibility I would not die.”

Hawke just shook his head. Even after all this time, Anders’ blank deductions broke his heart just a tiny bit more. Only now there was an end in sight.

“You’re not going to resist?” Hawke asked. “I thought you were fine being tranquil.”

“I am,” said Anders, “but you are not. If I stay with you, you will force me to go through with the cure. If I run, I will die. I am skeptical about this cure you speak of, but I do not want to die.”

Another blow to Hawke’s heart. But Anders was right. No matter what Anders’ feelings on the matter were now, Hawke would make sure he was cured. He remembered what Karl described tranquility as, knew Anders could never truly be happy in such a state.

Before Hawke would have said he would never force Anders to do anything. Anders’ whole life had been full of others forcing their will upon him, Anders deserved to be free…

But not this time. This was Hawke’s breaking point, and he was making this decision for Anders.

They didn’t talk much during the rest of the journey. Hawke wondered if Anders was nervous about being cured, if he was even capable of nervousness.

Hawke didn’t know how he felt right now. It wasn’t happy, not yet. He wouldn’t be happy until he saw Anders returned to him. Until then, he was… hopeful. That too was a foreign feeling after so long. Hawke may have refused to give up hope completely, but he had been living with so little of it that it couldn’t be felt.

Skyhold was incredible, massive and daunting. Hawke and Anders both covered their heads with cloaks, it was still a secret that they were coming here. Many here would see Anders dead, so Hawke was content with the secrecy.

How many of those people also wished him dead, he wondered? Fewer, he knew. While he was an outlaw, a strange tale of a hero still followed him. Hawke found that strange, because he made it clear he supported Anders. Hawke doesn’t even know if he would have stopped him if he knew about the chantry… it was an awful thing, but wasn’t Kirkwall full of awful things? Hawke had done many awful things… with far less noble intentions.

Varric’s tales of Hawke as a hero had overwritten his past as a scoundrel, it seemed. A very affable scoundrel, but a scoundrel nonetheless. Hawke knew Varric’s stories also portrayed Anders in a positive light, despite how angry he was. But that wasn’t enough to sway public opinion. Why was that, Hawke wondered? Was it just easier to hate a mage, easier to love a man born from noble blood?

If Hawke could, he would take all the hate for Anders onto himself. He played no small part in the escalation of the violence in Kirkwall, although Varric tended to omit those parts. Hawke fought the bloody night commander at every turn, and probably had some hand in making her paranoid enough to try to annul the Circle.

It was no use dwelling on the past. Could there have been a peaceful solution to the monster that was Kirkwall? Probably not, in Hawke’s opinion. Others might say different, and maybe they were right, but Hawke was a jaded man. He had just seen too much.

An inquisition soldier met Hawke and escorted him and Anders through the stone halls. The young man was clearly nervous, knowing who he led.

They came to an imposing set of doors, and were let into a wide room with a large table in the center. Chairs surrounded the table, and Varric sat in one. Hawke caught his friend’s eye and wished he could muster a smile. He hadn’t seen Varric in a long time.

Next to Varric sat a woman who must be the Inquisitor herself. Whatever Hawke expected, this was not it.

It wasn’t that the woman was Tal-Vashoth, it wasn’t that she was a mage. He had thought she would be imposing in her stature, and maybe she was at her full height. But right now she was leaning on one elbow, long brown hair falling across her shoulders as she looked up at Hawke with sad, tired eyes.

Hawke recognized that look, it was the look of someone who needed a fucking break.

“Champion,” she said, smiling slightly. There was something familiar in her appearance, in her coloring and her ice-blue eyes.

The woman stood and walked over to Hawke, extending a hand. Hawke had been right before, she was more imposing at her full height. Hawke and Anders were by no means short, but she was at least a head taller.

“Rosalind Adaar,” she introduced herself, shaking Hawke’s hand.

Oh, Hawke realized. She was the daughter of the Tal-Vashoth couple that had saved his and Anders’ lives. The world had an odd way of playing jokes on him.

Hawke was about to respond, when the world decided it would be even funnier. The doors burst open, and in walked Cullen Rutherford.

Hawke barely had time to balk before he was speaking.

“Adaar, what is the meaning of this? Varric sent for Hawke?” He asked incredulously.

“You knew!” Came a new voice, a woman’s voice. She was tall, carried herself like a warrior and had short black hair.

“You lied to me! You always knew where the Champion was.”

“Why is-“ Cullen began, and then his eyes landed on Anders. The man’s expression turned to shock.

Hawke stepped in front of him, holding out a protective hand.

“Don’t get any ideas!” Hawke snarled. “We were promised safe passage by your inquisitor.”

What in the Maker’s name was Cullen bloody Rutherford doing here, and why hadn’t Varric told him? It seemed Varric was lying to quite a few people these days.

“Cool it, Curly,” said Varric, getting up from his chair. “He’s telling the truth, Sunflower promised they would both be safe here.”

Hawke presumed “Sunflower” referred to the Inquisitor. Varric seemed to have a thing against calling anyone by their name, excluding Hawke. Hawke had always wondered if it was because his name already sounded like a description.

“No!” The woman exclaimed in surprise. “Do not tell me… if that is the Champion, the man with him-“

“Is under my protection,” Adaar cut in firmly, her arms crossed. “I am Andraste’s chosen, am I not? That’s what you always say.”

The way she said that and the look she gave the woman spoke of some backstory there. An old argument.

“I will not allow this inquisition to shelter that murderer!” The woman responded.

“My inquisition,” Adaar said. “You keep telling me it’s my call to make, that I need to step up as the leader. Well I’m bloody doing it now, and I extended my protection to Hawke and Anders.”

The woman was about to reply when Anders took his hood off, probably because it was obvious now who he was.

“You’re tranquil…” the woman said. “I had not heard that. You could have told me that, Inquisitor. I would not have objected to his being here as much as I do now.”

Hawke wanted to punch that woman. She sounded relieved, relieved that Anders wasn’t dangerous. Wasn’t that how everyone saw mages? The rest of Thedas liked to pretend they weren’t the Qunari, but “dangerous thing” was all that mages were to them.

“Cassandra…” Adaar said calmly, but tiredly. “He won’t be tranquil for long. I’m testing out the cure.”

“You wish to return this murderer to his full power?!” Cassandra almost yelled. “Inside our base! Inside all we have worked to build!”

“I wish to return this man to his mind,” said Adaar. “Does his being tranquil make you feel safe, Seeker?” Adaar practically sneered. The two women may be coworkers, but something was clearly bubbling under the surface.

“Of course it does,” replied Cassandra, “you know well what he is capable of.”

“The same as I’m capable of,” said Adaar. “Same as any mage. Would it make you feel safer if I was tranquil too?”

Hawke felt he should really not be in the middle of this. He had clearly walked right into a storm.

“I have never begrudged you for what you are! You are the Inquisitor, and I have always respected you as such.” Cassandra shot back.

This only made Adaar’s face grow darker. “I am a mage, Cassandra. I have always been a mage, always will be a mage, even if you refuse to acknowledge it.”

“I do not see you as merely a mage!” Cassandra responded, frustrated.

“You don’t see me as a mage at all!” Adaar raised her voice, clearly some deep frustration boiling over. “Say it Casandra, say I’m a mage because it’s what I fucking am! I know none of you want to see it, none of you want to reconcile that you work for a mage, I know you think I’m different, but I’m not! I’m just like the others! If you’re so happy with fucking tranquility then brand me right now, because every mage you feel glad is tranquil is me. We are the same!”

Cassandra took a step back, still angry but somewhat stunned. “I would never wish you tranquil.”

“Every mage you hurt is me!” Adaar replied, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “None of you see it because you’re all so busy pretending I’m not a mage! Do you know what Sera said to me the other day?”

Adaar almost laughed, but clearly she was miserable.

“I know you and Sera don’t always see eye to eye-“ Cullen began, raising a placating hand.

“She was worried, because of my training as an arcane warrior, that I was becoming like them! Like other mages! Dangerous things…”

Tears fell from Adaar’s eyes. “I’m sick of it. You all say you respect me but do you respect what I am?”

Cassandra had no answer for that. She looked taken aback, and tried to regain control of the conversation.

“This-“ she pointed to Anders, “is an important matter. You still let a murderer into Skyhold-“

“We’re all bloody murderers!” Adaar snapped. Then she took a deep breath and steadied herself. “… I’ve made my decision as Inquisitor. You may inform the inner circle but no one else. Leliana already knows.”

She sounded so very tired, as tired and full of hurt as Hawke was now accustomed to feeling.

Cassandra left in huff, storming from the room. Cullen made to leave as well, when Adaar stopped him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Cullen.”

“Adaa- Rosalind, please don’t think I would ever want you tranquil…”

The man looked genuinely hurt. What a joke, Hawke thought to himself. This monster had stood by when dozens of mages were made tranquil. Something was clearly different about Cullen now though, especially as the Inquisitor didn’t actually look mad at him.

“I don’t think you do,” Adaar assured him, “I don’t think any of you do… and you know, you actually see me as a mage. I don’t have to be someone I’m not around you… so thank you.”

“I know that has been a source of contention between us in the past…”

“What we fought about was better than the silence I get from the others,” Rosalind huffed. “And you know we’re past that. I know you were a Templar and I recognize that about you, you know I am an apostate and you recognize that about me. You’re my friend, Cullen.”

Hawke must be fucking dreaming. Cullen, friends with an apostate? This Rosalind woman was showing him genuine charitability… she must not know who he was. Hawke filed that away for later in his mind, but didn’t voice anything. It wasn’t his business, he didn’t know these people. He was here for the cure, nothing else.

Well… he had agreed to help them with Corypheus, that was part of the exchange. Before he hadn’t thought of that as his responsibility, he had already tried his hand at killing the bastard. But the inquisition’s spymaster still wanted his take on the situation.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Champion,” Adaar said. “I am… not at my best, currently.”

“Don’t worry,” Hawke replied, “I’m not either. And just call me Hawke. Kinda got sick of the whole “Champion” thing.”

Adaar chuckled. “I can relate. I’ve spent so long being the Inquisitor now, it’s hard to remember being myself. Rosalind, Roz, Adaar…even Sunflower, those all suit me better.”

The room was silent for a moment after, all present acknowledging how tired they all were. Thankfully, Cullen left. Hawke breathed a sigh of relief. Cullen may be different now, but Hawke didn’t trust him around Anders. Hawke still remembered his words back in Kirkwall, his actions back in Kirkwall.

“How do we cure Anders?” Hawke asked the room. This nightmare needed to be over soon.

“Right,” said Adaar, giving her head a small shake. “It turns out that the Seekers of Truth have known the cure for tranquility for some time now. They… they kept it from the world…”

Adaar’s eyes were brimming with tears again, she looked furious.

“The Seekers that you’ve been working with,” Hawke pointed out.

Adaar smiled sardonically, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Cassandra didn’t know… but those above her did. I’m… I’m so sick of this place, honestly, but I’m too involved to leave. I have too much power at my disposal to leave, I have the power to help mages.”

The conviction in her voice was so painfully familiar. Hawke smiled at the woman. Adaar continued to explain.

“To cure the tranquil, a spirit must touch their mind. The problem is convincing a spirit to do that, so a spirit healer is needed.”

“And you have one?”

“Not yet, but Leliana sent for Commander Surana.”

“Surana’s a spirit healer?” Hawke asked, startled. The woman hadn’t seemed to have much of a knack for healing. Hawke’s shoulder remembered that.

“Leliana said she learned on the battlefield,” said Varric, easily sliding into his role as storyteller. “So her methods were… unconventional and untrained.”

“But she can connect with a spirit of the Fade,” came a new voice. Entering the room was a red-haired woman that Hawke knew must be Leliana.

“And,” the woman continued, “my beloved is willing to make the connection to help her dear friend. She should be arriving tomorrow.”

“We will be safe for the night?” Hawke asked, frowning.

“As long as you are under my protection, no one will touch you,” Adaar said firmly.

“Why are you doing this for us?” Hawke asked, trying and failing to let his guard drop for even a minute. The world was cruel, they shouldn’t keep meeting people who were kind. First they met Adaar’s kind parents, and how she was going out of her way to help.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Adaar told him. “Anders started something incredible, something I never thought I’d see in my lifetime. Ever since I was a girl I’d known that tranquility would likely be my fate were I ever caught… thanks to him, there is a future where the next little Vashoth mage grows up without that fear. Where every mage has a family like I did.”

Leliana spoke next. “My feelings on his actions may be complicated, but he has allowed the dream of my beloved to come true. Adaar and I want to build a world without Circles, where people like my Regan will never be caged again.”

“And,” Varric added quietly, “… people care about him. He was a good friend.I wasn’t just gonna let him stay like this, and Commander Surana wasn’t either. You know, Hawke, you don’t have a monopoly on caring for Anders.”

Varric chuckled while he said it, but the sincerity in his voice brought tears to Hawke’s eyes.

“I…” Hawke said, making sure he kept his composure. “I suppose I just got used to being his only protector.”

“And you’ve done your job,” Varric assured Hawke. “You brought him here. Now let the rest of his friends and supporters handle it. We’ll bring him back to you.”

Hawke took a sharp breath, covering his face as he began to cry. This was real. This was happening.

[manga-and-stuff]

Interview with Makoto Yukimura, the Mangaka behind Vinland Saga

REALQ: What kind of child were you? Yukimura: I was a laid back kid, who took a very, very long time to come to a decision. I'd be late to dinner because I was thinking about something or other. Once, while I was alternately touching the right and left eyes of a snail, I became aware that night had fallen. I wondered why my group of friends were always in such a hurry. I would focus on something and lose the ability to tell if time was passing quickly or slowly.

REALQ: When did you first encounter manga? Yukimura: I was five-years-old and the manga was Akira Toriyama's Dr. Slump. I remember thinking the cover art was cool. When I was little, I used to think that the cover art and the story inside were drawn by different people. [Laughs]    But I watched the Dr. Slump anime before I read the manga. Later, someone told me that there was a manga that the anime was based on and I found the weekly magazine where it was serialized. In the beginning, I was dubious. I didn't see why there needed to be both a manga and an anime. Like, why do the same thing twice? How-ever, after I saw them both it made sense because each had its own idiosyncracies. REALQ: Did your parents say anything to you about reading manga? Yukimura: No, they never said anything. They came from a generation who said reading manga made you an idiot, but they didn't say any-thing. They didn't say anything when I told them at 16 that I wanted to draw manga, either.

REALQ: Was there anything that your parents, siblings, or people around you would say to you often?

Yukimura: There certainly must have been various things, but I don't remember because I was probably concentrating on something else at the time and didn't hear them. However, one thing I do remember is being told to watch out for cars. Like, at the very least, try not to die. [Laughs] Nevertheless, I really did get into a traffic accident. Once, on my way to the park to play with my friends, I ran out into the street and got hit on the side by a sedan. I rolled over the top of the car—the hood, wind-shield, top, rear window, then the trunk. Strangely, I wasn't seriously injured and played in the park afterwards. Actually, there was also another incident.    My sister and I were riding together in a car. It was just the two of us and as we were going down a hill, a car suddenly appeared and we hit its side. I was sitting in the backseat and was launched forward like a catapult. My sister was so surprised she called out, "Mako, you're flying!" Strangely, I wasn't injured that time either, and we decided not to tell our mother. [Laughs] REALQ: Did your way of thinking change after the accident? Yukimura: I think that if it did change, I wasn't conscious of it. Despite being a near-death experience, it was a miracle I wasn't injured. My mother getting angry at me afterward was more frightening. [Laughs] In terms of my "way of thinking," I'm a little different. Like something in me is lacking. It's often the case that for some reason I don't fully comprehend a conversation even if I'm really trying to concentrate on what the other person is saying. What's the reason? If I'm honest about it, it's because I'll start thinking about something else, even if it's just for a moment. REALQ: Did you also have trouble paying attention during class at school? Yukimura: Yeah. Especially classes that didn't interest me. I continued to have this problem in high school, where I'd often be sitting in class and before I realized it, the bell would ring. However, my notebook would have stuff drawn in it...manga. REALQ: Didn't teachers or friends say anything? 

Yukimura: In high school, I didn't have much of a social life, so nobody said anything. I went to reasonably academic schools [REALQ Editor's note: Yukimura graduated from Chuo University and Suginami High School] and my peers studied quite hard. The feeling that I was so different from most of the people around me had a big effect on me. I didn't fit in. I lived in my own world.

REALQ: Did student life give you anxiety? Yukimura: Anxiety was the only thing I really felt. In a way, isn't school a microcosm for society? Despite it being a microcosm, there's this feeling of being left behind. That made me really anxious and sad. But as a result of suffering in this way, I realized that society existed out-side of this microcosm—a kind of society that I had never experienced inside the microcosm of school.

REALQ :What lead you to have this epiphany? Yukimura: It occurred to me out of the blue one day when I was feeling totally devastated. I was 16. One autumn day after school I thought to myself, "I'll finish high school because if I don't, it will make my parents sad. But participating in a society reflected in this kind of microcosm will be impossible." It was just like that moment when a cup is filled to the brim with water and suddenly the surface tension breaks and it overflows.  However, thinking this made me feel better. Until that point, the "ruler" for determining success since the first year of high school had been getting good grades, getting into a good college, and then finding a job with a good company. This ruler contained within it a system of values for how one should live their life. When I decided that this was not the ruler I wanted to use to measure my own life, things became a lot easier for me. I used to get burnt out worrying so much about getting decent enough grades that would allow me to get into university. Like, "please let me just graduate!" Realizing that there was another way to live was a lifesaver. 

Of course, I think it made my parents nervous. In that era, there was still a deeply rooted notion that one's academic background was im-portant and working for a good company made you a good person. Back then, this was like saying, "Your child is the type of kid who won't find their way in the world." It was like throwing away the most important ruler and replacing it with a new ruler that was a little bent and covered with indecipherable markings. [Laughs]    REALQ: Was there anyone from your high school days who had an influence on you? Yukimura: A teacher who taught classical literature. He was apparently a teacher with quite bizarre interpretations of the material. More than anything else, what left the greatest impression on me was when he used class time to talk about how wonderful Michael Ende was [REALQ Editor's note: a German writer of children's fiction]. He introduced me to The Never Ending Story. Once I knew about Michael Ende, he became an influence on me. It was the first book I knew of in which someone wrote a book because he had a sense of obligation and a goal in relation to society and the world. I thought that someone who wrote a book because he felt that it was something he had to do was a rather beautiful thing to wish for. REALQ: Next up... Yukimura discusses the connection between himself and Thorfinn Karlsefni, the protagonist of his Vinland Saga. Is there anything that makes you hesitate when you draw your manuscripts? 

Yukimura: For characters, it's probably the hands. Hands take time to do well. The strength of a character's grip on a sword, for example. Male and female hands are hard to differentiate, too. Hands are the most expressive part of a character, after the face. 

I've heard that you can tell a person's personality from their hands, so I always look at them. [Laughs]    You can fake a facial expression, but your hands will show how hard you work or how hard you don't. If you show the character's life in their hands, you'll get a good result. REALQ: When did you start paying attention to how you drew hands? Yukimura: Since I was young. But I still find it difficult now. When I look at the work of other manga artists, sometimes the faces are well drawn, but the hands are not. To put it bluntly, if I were to choose among artists, I would choose them by how they draw their hands. REALQ: Is there anyone whose work you reference? Yukimura: I'm especially influenced by artists with high amounts of realism. When it comes to hands, it's gotta be Katsuhiro Otomo. 

It's not just his hands, though. It's everything. [Laughs] 

Also, the young, up-and-coming artists are all quite good. Their hands are pretty, but you can see the structure clearly as well. REALQ: Any thoughts on these hands? [While looking at Sigurd's hands in the manuscript] Yukimura: Yes. These hands are drawn fairly well. In Sigurd's case, de-spite the muscularity, his hands are not rough. That's because he has his underlings do the tough work. In Thorfinn's case, he has many small cuts, and there is more cracked and peeling skin.

REALQ: Are there any scenes in Vinland Saga strongly influenced by your own experience? Yukimura: When Thorfinn is on his knees, apologizing. [Laughs] The part where he says, "Please. I won't ask you to forgive me, but allow me to live a bit longer." I've been drawing manga for 20 years. There's always a shadow of guilt that hangs over me. I'm sorry for being so selfish. So, I feel I have to, at the very least, draw something that readers will love... I'm nothing without that. Thorfinn is a young viking from medieval Europe. Since his teens, he's pillaged, fought in wars, and done many other terrible things. His feelings change as he grows, and he starts to feel guilt for his past actions. The ghosts of those he killed appears in his dreams, and he is ravaged by nightmares.    I am only here today because of the care of those around me. I am truly thankful. If anything about Thorfinn comes from my experiences, it has to be this. In his current state, the protagonist has no right to convict anyone else. No matter what kind of scoundrel he meets, Thorfinn always feels that he has done something worse in the past. I think it's good this way.

REALQ: Did you know from the beginning that Thorfinn would become the way he did? Yukimura: Yeah. The story began with the premise that the protagonist is fated to have done many terrible things. He goes from being the oppressor to being the oppressed, and in doing so, he learns many things and becomes an adult. He then departs, saying, "I will go to a new land beyond the sea and build a peaceful country." That is an escape from the values that dominated European society. They do not feel that it is bad to wage war and plunder other countries. And, although their opponents are human beings, they believe they have the right to make the weak into slaves and kill them if they need be. In the society of that time, such things were seen as good things. Thorfinn experiences—and hates—both. But he is powerless to change the system... So he decides to leave. There will be terrible bloodshed if he decides to change the world. So he leaves it to Canute. Because Canute has the power and the shorter path. "I am different," he says. "I will live in a different way." When I put it into words, it seems like a lot of what I think is reflected in my work. [Laughs]

REALQ: From your childhood experiences and your writing process, I get the feeling you are a perfectionist who doesn't com-promise when it comes to goals or ideals. Do the people around you feel the same way? 

Yukimura: I think I am a perfectionist. In the past, my seniors and teachers would say, "If 100 points is amazing work and 0 points is nothing, it's easy to get to 80 points. However, each point beyond that is incredibly difficult. Past 90, it's so rough that you'll start spitting blood. And nobody gets to 100." I don't know if, by absolute standards, my work is at 80 points. But, for my own standards, I care a lot about each of those 1 or 2 points beyond 80. I care so much that others see the changes I make and say, "He pushed back the deadline for this? What's changed?" [Laughs] I've even rewritten an entire manuscript before. REALQ: Is it really rough when you have to throw out a whole manuscript? Yukimura: It's sad that to know the work won't produce results, but the worst possible thing for me is to feel regret afterwards. If I can choose to suffer for a brief moment as I draw, then I'll do it. The regrets afterward stay around much longer... REALQ: Are you happy about the reactions of your overseas readers? Yukimura: Yeah. It's encouraging to know they like my work. Especially when I heard some of them were reading Vinland Saga side-by-side with a dictionary. I forgot which language they were translating from and into, though. [Laughs]

REALQ: Let me change the subject: Advice from adults to children... Do you think it's important to emphasize the importance of having dreams? Should we tell kids to have dreams and tell them their dreams will come true? Yukimura: I used to think dreams were just desires. However, I was a good-for-nothing back then, so I think I was being resentful. [Laughs] At the very least, I don't think doing whatever you want to do is a beautiful thing. That's just you doing what you want to do. The truly beautiful things are helping others, volunteering, things like that... Finding a home for a stray dog, or doing things that no other person wants to do—that's beautiful.    This includes me, but to do what you want to do is simply selfishness. I received my role in society, but I couldn't carry it out. I wasn't a modest enough person for that. I said such things because I thought I would do what I wanted to do no matter what other people said to me. It's the same for everyone, I think. Those who do what they want and succeed are simply the ones who ended up with a place in society. It's a miracle. After all, what some people want is to carry out meaningless terrorism... But it's the same thing. Both are "dreams." REALQ: If you could give an hour of advice to your younger self, what would you say? Yukimura: I'd say, reflexively, to be 3 times as careful of oncoming traffic. [Laughs] More seriously, I'd say, "You're worried that you're inferior to others. But don't worry." I'd tell myself that there isn't only one ruler to mea-sure yourself by. "Humans come in all sorts," I'd say. "There's not a single number line that we all stand on." Text by Shuta Miura

[filmista]

Gilda (1946): An uncoventional femme fatale

-Isn't it wonderful? Nobody has to apologize, because we were both stinkers, weren't we? Isn't it wonderful? -Wonderful.

Gilda could be the ultimate example of a film in which a single scene transcends the entire film, making the viewer forget about everything. Some may not have even seen it yet, but they do know of that iconic striptease.

What is film noir without the relationship between the protagonists? What is left in a film noir when we strip it of this element, of those murky and sickly as well as fascinating relationships?

Make no mistake: the sophistication that characterizes film noir would be meaningless without the protagonists. And in this sense, Gilda has its own characteristics, something of a film noir, but with a development in its characters very different from the genre.

Here, the femme fatale doesn’t need a man to lead "to perdition." Her reason for being isn’t that, far from it. Therefore, Gilda breaks with that film noir rule; here the protagonists drag each other in that whirlpool that only brings misfortunes, which is resolved in a totally different way in this film. 

One of the characteristics of film noir is that of the love triangle although, in this case, we could speak of two love triangles, one of them very particular. At the beginning of the film, we see Ballin rescue Farrell from the street, from the underworld of Buenos Aires.

He has saved his life; one feels indebted and the other responsible for the act. Next we see the third component of this triangle, the cane. A cane that hides a  a deadly weapon.

Ballin: It is a most faithful and obedient friend: it is silent when I want it to be silent, but talks when I want it to talk.

Farrell: Is that your idea of a friend?

Ballin: That is my idea of a friend.

It’s not trivial to consider that cane as another member of the relationship between the two men; in fact, when Ballin introduces Gilda, Farrell says: "I thought we were three already”, referring to the cane. 

That strange triangle is agreed upon and closed with the following words by Ballin: “This I must be sure of, that there is no woman anywhere. Gambling and women do not mix.” Farrell becomes Ballin's right-hand, his best friend and confidant. 

And there it is, the second triangle, and this time, the real one. Ballin appears with his new wife, Gilda, Farrell's old love. As they walk up the stairs, guided by Gilda's siren song, Farrell mumbles an "I hope everything is as before", which sounds more like a wish that he knows won’t be fullfiled; his relationship with Ballin isn’t going to be the same as before. He stands at the bedroom door while we see on his face that he recognises the voice, that voice that he has heard sing so many times in the past.

Ballin tells him that "he seems stunned" listening from the doorway. When Farrell reminds him of the "no women" pact, Ballin replies "my wife is not a woman.” And it is then when Ballin asks Gilda the question:

-Ballin: Are you decent? -Gilda: Sure I’m decent.

The tension between Gilda and Farrell is evident. We don't know what happened between them (that could be another movie), but the wound there is palpable; Ballin is no stranger to that, he realises it perfectly. The Casino workers notice too, in fact they joke about it. When Ballin asks Gilda not to call him "Mr. Farrell", but Johnny, she says "Johnny is a very difficult name to remember and very easy to forget."

And here that obsessive triangle unfolds, so obsessive that, despite Ballin's suspicions that Johnny and his wife knew each other from before, he asks him to stay near her, to take care of her. It seems to be a game that Ballin enjoy. That macabre game reaches its height during a dinner in which the three share a table, in which they toast the misfortune of the woman who made Johnny suffer:

Ballin Mundson : Now then, before we were interrupted, I believe we were about to drink a toast. So: disaster to the wench who did wrong by our Johnny. No, Gilda? You won't drink to that?

Gilda : Why not? Disaster to the wench!

When Farrell admits to Ballin that they knew each other from before, he says, "I taught her what she knows." Up to that point we can imagine what Johnny has meant in Gilda's life. Thinking that Ballin is dead, Gilda and Johnny get married in a wedding that could predict what comes next: we only see her through a window, through the rain that falls outside.

Johnny begins to punish her by leaving her alone, humiliating her, to such an extent that she has to go see him at the office: “Hello. Do you remember me? I am Gilda, your wife ”. Farrell enjoys humiliating her; He lights her cigarette by placing the lighter at waist height, so she has to "bow" to light the cigarette.

She married Ballin out of revenge on Johnny, and he marries her to humiliate her. So much so, that their new home is dominated by a huge portrait of Ballin. She is a prey to her past. She tries to run away from Johnny, but wherever she tries to go, he torments her.

When everything is over, Gilda surrenders and decides to leave the country; He returns to ask her to leave together, while apologizing for his behavior: “We were both scoundrels. Isn’t it wounderful". That obsessive triangle becomes a couple of neurotics, in which with their strange relationship of emotional dependence., they feed each other until they reach the point of recognising that it’s wonderful that they don’t have to ask for forgiveness or that anyone is guilty of anything, the two have been just as awful.

But Ballin returns from the shadows to claim what is his: his wife.

But prophetically it’s a member of the previous triangle, the knife hidden in the cane, that is going to solve this triangle, and this time forever. Ballin dies at the hand of his best friend, 

The tagline for the film announced that "there is no woman like Gilda". There may not be a more iconic female character in film history. She has such strength on  screen that perhaps because of that the viewer may not have been able to judge her in depth. She has nothing to do with the rebellious woman we all thought her to, nor is she a man-eater; Gilda is simply different. She is a woman with an apparent happiness, that hides an immense sadness and melancholia. 

A woman who complains about "so many people and so much loneliness.” Her need for attention and love is palpable. From the moment she meets Johnny Farrell, The expression on her face changes: the past has returned. When Johnny first goes to the ballroom run by Ballin, he meets a beautiful woman and, when he asks about her they tell him: she is a harpy.

Harpies, fantastic beings with the face of a woman and the body of a bird of prey. In Greek mythology, they were the beings in charge to enforce the punishment of Zeus to Fineo, stealing his food. Later on, various traditions gave them malevolent connotations, carriers of catastrophes. 

When Ballin appears to be dead, Farrell finds himself between two harpies reading Ballin's will and instructions.

Gilda can’t be considered the classic film noir femme fatale. She seeks to torment Johnny, but in order to make him  jealous, her end goal is not money, as is often the case with the film noir woman; She is in love with him, she marries Ballin for money, yes, but it’s a question that Ballin was not oblivious to when he married her; for him she is a beautiful and hungry little girl. 

He feels like a man, he realises himself as such by feeding her. But Gilda's wound is very deep; referring to Farrell, she says: "I was once loyal to a man, and look what happened." Ballin justifies her marriage to him: “She said she was born the day she met me. The three of us have no past, only future. Interesting, right?". Those same words are the ones Johnny used when he met Ballin, who had been born the day he met him.

There are two very important themes in Gilda: hatred, hatred that’s been shaped by Gilda’s pain. She reiterates many times how much she hates Johnny, but it’s a simple excuse; She loves him so much that she has had to turn the feeling into hate as a barrier against pain: “Hate can be a very intense emotion (…). Hate is the only thing that warms me. ”

And Farrell in turn thinks about her: “I hated her so much that I couldn't forget her. I was in the air I breathed.” The reunion with Johnny makes her want to plunge into a self-destructive spiral that, that would destroy everything she knows.  Her words to Johnny are very significant: "I hate you so much that I would destroy myself to drag you down with me."

But the love game she plays with Johnny reveals something else: She doesn’t hesitate to be seen with other men to arouse his jealousy, a game into which she falls very easily. At the Carnival, with another identity, with a mask, they dance as it seems they did before. She’s mischievous: “I can help you regain practice. I mean dancing. "

He asks her to throw her hat back. He shoves her away violently while she laughs amused. The love-hate game between them is very powerful. We can’t forget the famous slap that he gives her ... although he doesn’t escape a few himself. The game of erotic power play and violence often present in film noir is very noticeable here. 

When he takes Gilda home, she does’t hesitate to stress again and again that they are alone. He can’t avoid the temptation and goes up to the bedroom. She has removed her disguise, she is Gilda again, a Gilda in the shadows. They hesitate whether to approach each other or not: "I hate you so much that I think I'm going to die from it ... darling." Their neurotic behaviour could be summed up in this phrase, in that kiss during which the two explode when they say that they hate each other to death.

Gilda’s death drive leads her to an obsessive superstition, another important theme in this film, in which she leaves her life and actions in the hands of that belief, she sees signs everywhere and subjects her life to that destiny. The night the three of them toast to the misfortune that Johnny suffered (herself), she is afraid to drink the glass, as if consuming the champagne closes a pact with the devil.

But after a moment of doubt, she drinks without hesitation, as if that liquid were a poison and she wanted to die right there. She doesn’t care that she’s toasting to her own misfortunes. She’s so superstitious that when she tells the maid, she asks her not to repeat it. Whilst being in luck at roulette someone says "lucky in the game, unlucky in love", and she stops playing to avoid tempting luck. On her wedding day with Johnny, a lonely, sad and glamorousness wedding, a wedding that we as spectators only see through a window, she says: “The rain has stopped. Maybe it means something. ”

Of course Gilda is not the typical film noir woman. She is a tremendously sad woman, sadness caused by love, and who seeks to flee from herself, from everything inside herself.

A woman afraid of her husband and destiny, fearful of life, in a word. In the end, feeling cornered by everyone, the only thing left for her to do is a farewell worthy of her, an iconic dance: She knows she’s being observed by everyone, especially by Johnny. A song in which she asks to blame someone else, "Put the blame on me."

Don't blame Gilda; she’s already fleeing Buenos Aires. But Johnny asks her to go with her. What was Gilda looking for? To be loved. Nothing more, nothing less. Gilda represents the “whore” who wants to emancipate herself to become a mother. Almost no woman in film noir is a mother, a femme fatale is not a mother, she’s a temporary distraction and obstacle to the hero. 

But Gilda wants to escape such a condition, and we could really see her as a loving mother and living together with Johnny. In Gilda the woman could be seen as a symptom of the man, Gilda comes to substitute those other symptoms that these men have (sadistic in the case of Ballin, vengeful in the case of Farrell), and take them out on her. 

Film noir always plays with appearances: nothing is what it seems to be. But in Gilda, this premise turns to "but in the end everything was what it seemed to be." That game of appearances, like at the Carnival, ends when the participants remove their mask, this time, in a violent way. Neither is Ballin the good Samaritan who saves lives altruistically, nor is his Casino his main activity, not even his death is true. We are shown his shadow on different occasions, in profile; we never see him fully.

Gilda and Johnny’s life is also a lie, to bear their pain. The Casino is itself a lie, a place that Ballin uses to hide his work, and that he has arranged to be able to  see without being seen. His office is upstairs, from where, thanks to a set of lights, blinds and windows, he can see everything, like an omniscient God.

It’s the only way out of the suffocating atmosphere of the game room. Gilda is no stranger to what that game of points of view can provide to her, on two occasions she knows she’s being observed by Johnny, she seeks to be observed by him, but she doesn’t see him watching her, as if he doesn't want to see her face and guess what she’s thinking at the moment. The final moment, Gilda’s iconic dance, seems meticulously prepared for him to observe her, but also for him to see how others look at her. What does Farrell do? He stops her.  He can’t stand what’s happening.

Doesn't that moment remind us of this one from Paris, Texas?

Or this one?

Two absolutely different women, but in a sense mirrors of each Gilda is the whore who wants to emancipate herself to become a mother; Jane is the mother who emancipates herself and becomes a whore, once Travis appears, she takes the path back to that role of mother. Could that moment that game of points of view, be the beginning of that emancipation, of that path?

That claustrophobic environment and that game of viewpoints is exemplified in Gilda and Johnny's wedding: We only see her through a window, through a rain curtain, we don't even hear what is being said inside the room. We are spectators. But aren’t we during the entire film?

Gilda’s iconic phrase: If I'd been a ranch, they would have named me "The Bar Nothing.", is now more ironic than ever. No, she is not the free woman we were made to believe; she has an owner, Johnny. The mare is back with the stallion.

@purecinema​ @idasessions​ @missdubois​ @mad-prophet-of-the-airwaves​ 

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels: Lock n’ Load

This one’s for all you people who are really into sci-fi gadgets like I do.  It’s a little on the short side, so sorry for that.  I’ll try and make the next one longer.  Please note that, as always, only the Tongues of Fire characters belong to me.  All others belong to their respective writers and owners.  Now, sit back, relax, enjoy, and try not to die!

Tongues of Fire Galaxy, In the far reaches of system XBH-9974

The starships of the Magnificent Scoundrels arrived perfectly on time to the coordinates Thomas Drake had sent them.  It was a dreary system in the middle of nowhere, with four barren rocks of planets orbiting a small star, and one that looked to be more mud than anything else.  Drake had invited all of the Scoundrels and any of their retinues on board the Apocalypse for the mission briefing.  They met him in the massive cargo bay of the ship; stainless steel walls and massive stacks of rectangular cargo pallets greeted the new arrivals.  Drake himself was nowhere to be seen, and so they mingled, talking, gauging exactly what type of people they would be working with.  Master Chief slid over to Cooper.

“How was the voyage?” he asked.  Copper gave a long sigh.

“It was...long.  And hard.”

“Thaaaaaattttt’s whaaaaat sheeee said!” came Drake’s much too over enthusiastic voice from one of the doorways leading into the cargo bay.  Several snickers came at his words.

“I don’t get it...oh,” muttered someone.  Copper just sighed and looked at Master Chief.

“That’s the type of shit I’ve had to deal with the entire voyage.”  Drake grinned and held out his arms in greeting.  

“Welcome aboard the Apocalypse everyone!  You��re all looking fabulous today.”  He swaggered towards them.  “I’m assuming you’re all wondering why exactly we’re all here in the ass end of nowhere.”  A handful of nods greeted his words.  “Well I’m not a man to make extensive, complicated and loquacious speeches unless I need to, so I’ll put it simply.  On the mudball planet is a group of thieves, pirates, mercenaries, whatever you want to call them.  Point is, they stole something from a client of mine.  We’re here to get it back, and I am here to see just exactly how good you are.”  He grinned.  “SO.  We shall decide the details later.  Right now, time to ah, get equipped.”  He sauntered through the massive space, the rest of the Scoundrels following him, and touched several buttons on a wrist mounted computer.  Massive panels on the walls slid open, and racks upon racks of weaponry and equipment was displayed for all to see.  Drake grinned again.  “While I was finding information about all of your galaxies, I took the liberty of...acquiring, yes, we’ll stick with that, acquiring quite a lot of things.  Guns and gadgets and weapons and cool stuff!  It’s gonna be glorious!”  Most of the Scoundrels stared, open mouthed, at the truly staggering amount of stuff that Drake had just revealed.  The tough-looking man with the purple masked figure in their retinue, who had been identified by Drake’s report as John Shepard, moved over to one of the weapon racks.  

“Is that...a black hole gun?” he asked Drake.

“Yes,” replied Drake with a typical smirk.  Ciaphas Cain looked as if his eyes were about to pop out of his sockets.  He touched a long barreled gun with a long sniper scope on it.

“Please tell me this isn’t an Exitus Rifle,” he half aske, half pleaded to Drake.  

“As a matter of fact, it is.”

“How did you get that?” asked Cain, a note of fear in his voice.

“It's probably best if you didn’t know.”  

“Yeah.  It is most definitely probably better if I didn’t know.”  Adam Vir walked over to a glass case displaying a lithe grey suit on a manikin.

“This...this is Iron Eye armor,” he said with wonder.  He frowned.  “I’m not even going to ask where you got this.”  Drake nodded.

“At least there’s someone with sense in this room.”  Han Solo, ever the pragmatist, spoke up.

“Where did you get all of this?”  Drake beamed.

“You of all people ought to be able to figure it out.”  

“You stole it.”  It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“Oh no my dear man,” said Drake with a laugh, “I acquired it.”  Jack Cooper sighed.

“I’m surprised you haven’t stolen a Titan yet.”  Drake whirled around to face him.

“What a wonderful idea!  I think I will.  I’ll add it to the list.”  He turned around and gestured to the various gear.  “Now, I know how some of you like your stuff.”  He spun to face Solo.  “You.  Jacket, boots, holster of unknown material but probably some sort of leather, DL-44 blaster.”  He spun around to Vir.  “You.  Spear, Drev metal.  Iron Eye armor, when necessary, but not a lot.  Have an odd tendency to not wear armor and gasmask when out exploring planets and that has led to problems.”  He wheeled away from Vir and slid up to Cooper.  “You.  Pilot’s suit with cloak, good with anything but like the Flatline.  Prefer the new heavier x-shaped Militia visor as opposed to the old IMC one.”  Drake spun on his heel and pointed at Starlord.  “You.  A rather odd sort of helmet that expands from the ear.  Don’t know how it works, but I’ll find out.  Jet boots, Quad blasters, had a Walkman but now a Zune.”  The Scoundrels stared at Drake, mouths gaping like landed fish.  “You.”  Drake pointed at Master Chief  “MJOLNIR armor, MA5D assault rifle, you’re a soldier so you bring grenades...and so on and so on.  Point is, if you use it, if you want it, I've got it.  Take your pick.”  Shepard made some sort of gagging noise.

“Exactly how much do you know about us?”  Drake gave a grin that was more like a predator baring its teeth than an actual smile.

“Everything.  Including that one thing all of you seem to have that you’d rather me not know.” 

Well shit.  

“Really?  You could just be bluffing.  Prove it,” said Kirk.  Drake held out his hand and a nearby Apocalypse crew member held out a data pad.  Drake tapped several buttons, scanned his fingerprint, then, carefully hiding the surface so as no one else could see it, showed Kirk the contents.  Kirk blanched and tugged at his collar.

“Uh, yeah...he’s not bluffing.”  Drake smiled, this time genuinely.  

“Don’t worry though.  I won’t tell anyone your secrets unless you want me to.”  He rubbed his hands together.  “So.  Let’s get to it, shall we?”  He gestured at a large holographic projector in the corner of the room.  Everyone walked over, Drake tapped his wrist mounted computer, and a glowing green projection of what looked like a military base appeared.  Drake gestured at it.  

“This is their base, if you haven’t guessed already.  It was originally an observation outpost for the Federal Military, which is why it’s as formidable as it is, but it was abandoned, well, because it’s smack-dab in the middle of nowhere.  Why they built it in the first place is a mystery.  Anyway, they have about oh, say, 200 to 300 people there.  All of them are armed, and while they don’t have anything too heavy, like, say, anti-aircraft or -tank weapons, they have quite the compilation of small arms.  Nothing we shouldn’t be able to handle.  We can also probably disable their long range sensors, allowing us to land on the planet without detection.  The question is: what do you want to do from there?”  He looked around at the group.  “Oh come now.  Any suggestions?”  

“This is your party, your home galaxy; what do you suggest?” asked Shepard pointedly.  Drake laughed.

“Well, there are usually two ways of retrieving an object of importance from a hostile group: either no bodies for the guards to notice or no guards left to notice the bodies.”  Several of the team looked horrified at this, and Drake gave a bloodthirsty grin.  “Option two is easier as there aren’t any local law enforcement.  In fact, there isn’t anyone of significant authority to apprehend us within anywhere near here.  Hell, we don’t even need to hide our presence.  We have enough firepower to blow them into molten slag; we can retrieve the object afterwards.”  He paused and considered it for a moment.  “Although, if we go with an orbital bombardment we run the risk of destroying the object.”  Vir stared at him in horror.

“An orbital bombardment?  You can’t be serious.”  Shepard and Kirk nodded at this.  Drake scoffed.

“They’re a group of 200 pirates on an uninhabited mudball of a planet.  No one’s gonna care.”  Was Drake testing them?  They looked at each other, and Shepard spoke.  

“No.  We’re going to go in stealthily.  No need to get anyone hurt unnecessarily.  We land undetected, we,” he gestured at himself, Vir and Master Chief, “go in, steal the thing, get out.  You guys are our support.”  He pointed at Drake and Cooper, “You two stay on that side,” he gestured at Cian and Quill, “you two on that side, and you two,” he looked at Solo and Kirk, “are ready to get us out if anything goes wrong.  Any objections?”  Most of the team nodded.  Drake gave them an odd look.

“If that’s how you want to do it.”  This was definitely a test.  “Ok.  If we’re all agreed, then let’s get to it.  Take whatever you want, but tell me or the quartermaster first so I know what you’re taking.  Other than that, I bid you good luck.”  Now then, what to do?  What to choose?  Celeric, the Apocalypse's morose quartermaster, was demonstrating to some of the Scoundrels’ crewmembers the horrifying effects of some glowing green weapons.  Cain and the officers of the Valhallan 597th were all buckling on bulky armored plates and picking up strange rectangular-looking rifles attached to heavy backpacks.  Apparently they knew what they wanted.  Master Chief wore full combat armor all the time, so he didn’t need anything. Solo had already disappeared, and Shepard and Cooper were browsing through gear from their home galaxy.  That left two.  Adam Vir and Peter Quill stared at each other awkwardly, then seemingly decided at the same time to walk over to where Drake was.  

Drake was sitting next to a large rack of ornate black armor.  While not exceptionally detailed, it looked extremely advanced and very expensive.  Drake himself was humming along to some song playing from his wrist computer while fiddling with a sleek triple barreled weapon.  A blueish-purple glow emitted from the center where a magazine would be on a normal weapon, and Drake seemed to be inspecting it for any flaws.  He turned and stopped what he was doing when Vir and Quill approached.  

“Ah!  Can I help you?” he asked politely.  

“What are you doing?” replied Vir in lieu of a response.  Drake chuckled.

“Well, these are mine.  Can’t be going into combat un-prepared, now, can I?”  He indicated the armor and gun.  

“What are they?” bath asked at the same time, then looked at each other, surprised.  

“Modified armor and a modified triple-barreled supercooled assault plasma rifle.  Cost me quite a lot, but worth every penny.  And, of course, this.”  He tapped the portable computer.  “The best in the market, modified, of course, by yours truly.  It can slice into almost any security system and can pull up anything from the Apocalypse's main computer.  And it plays music.”  This got their attention.  

“What kind?”  Drake shrugged.

“Oh, you know, the classics.”

“What do you consider ‘the classics’?” asked Vir.

“You know, the classics.  Uh, Country Roads, 1812 Overture, I’m Sexy and I Know It…”

“One of those does not belong with the others,” muttered Quill.  

“Eh, doesn’t matter.  I know the both of you have quite good taste in music.  Should be interesting.  Talk to Celeric if you have any questions about the stuff.”  Quill wandered off, and Drake took out some sort of screwdriver-like tool and fussed over a panel on the suit of armor.  “Look at this.  Best of the best.  It’s got all the gadgets on it: enhanced strength and support, slot for the wrist computer, thermal vision, the works.  But now...now the possibilities are endless!  Built in flamethrowers, omnitools, cybernetic implants, personal shielding, digital weapons...oh it’s going to be glorious when I’m done with it.”  He turned to Vir, who hadn’t moved.  “Can I help you?”  

“Er...yes, you can, actually.”  Vir fidgeted with his collar and turned a slight shade of red.  “What do you know about me?”  

“You?  Everything.  I already told you that,” replied Drake as he turned back to his work.

“I mean...specifically.”  Drake sighed and turned back towards him.  

“Specifically?  I know of your war record, which is painful, but not that deep of a secret.”  He pursed his lips.  “How shall I phrase this...does the acronym LFIL mean anything to you?”  Vir turned a deeper shade of red.  

“Uh...yes.  Yes, it does.”  Drake nodded.

“Good.  Just so we’re on the same page.  I won’t tell anyone, though.  You can trust me with that.  In fact,” he began to laugh, “In fact...well, I can’t tell you.  But I shall ask.  Worry not, for I shall ask.”  Drake paused and seemed to consider something for a moment, then stood up and put a hand on Vir’s shoulder.  His voice changed from light and breezy to serious and almost fatherly.  “Let me give you a bit of advice.  Do not ever let a servant of the Imperium of Man know.  They will kill you for it.”  He looked past Vir at something in the background and sighed.  “Speaking of bloody which,” he turned and walked towards the Imperials, who were lugging crates emblazoned with the double headed Imperial eagle towards the exit.  “Oi!  You guys are just going to walk away with all my hellguns without telling me?”  And while Drake was arguing with Cain, Adam Vir stood and pondered Drake’s words.

Due to the overwhelming technological superiority of the Scoundrels, the bases’ long and close range scanners were taken down with relative ease, and the assault was to commence.  Drake had placed his own soldiers on board the various ships that would be landing outside the base, as a rather obvious attempt to see how good the rest of the Scoundrels really were.  Shepherd stared in distaste at the sleazy looking man who accompanied them aboard his ship, the Normandy.  Vir and the Chief were in the hold, ready and waiting, and Shepard was to bring them just outside the base.  The rest were to be dropped off or teleported by the Millennium Falcon or the Enterprise.  Shepard turned towards Drake’s armsman, named Nathaniel if he remembered correctly.  

“So, Nathaniel.  Drake seems a bit...off.  Is he really, well, on top of things?”  Nathaniel gave a sleazy smile.

“Here’s the thing.  People don’t follow others because they’re popular or high born.  People follow others because they’re good at what they do.  Don’t matter if they’re nice, or rich, or sane, it matters if they’re competent.  And the Captain?  Well, he’s a little off.  Whether he’s actually nuts or just likes acting like it doesn’t matter.  He’s the best of the best at what he does and I’d follow him into hell.”  Shepard didn’t have time to reply.  

“Commander.  We’ve arrived.”  

Well, that’s it.  Hope you liked it.  If you have any questions, comments, concerns, reviews, advice or criticisms, feel free to ask.  Hope you have a nice day!   

[if-the-crown-fits-translate-it]

Duchy Conversation 4

[27/03, 4:29 AM GMT - 27/03, 6:13 AM GMT]

[The following transcript details the conversation is between one of the Crown ARG Discord members and Duke on Twitter]

Donti: “Hi! How was your day?

Its me again :)c

((If its late or youre sleeping dw about responding :p))”

Duke: “Forgive my tardiness, my embroidery was enchanting me so that my ears laid unaware!

How do you do, Donti? It is the Duke speaking. I must say, my sister has quite the opinion of you!”

Donti: “Oh its great to talk to you again Duke :D I hope I left a good impression! Is your embroidery going well?”

Duke: “It is going quite splendid! The Crown truly does spoil us, giving my sister and I such rich-coloured thread. Truly we are fortunate for his generosity and love.”

Donti: “Ohh! Good colors always make embroidery fun! What are you making?”

Duke: “I must ask though - as a sheep yourself why must you graze on such nimble hearts? Wolves are not supposed to concern themselves with the opinions and thoughts of prey such as yourselves but Prince is but a pup, why must you all be so cruel? I am quite interested in the answer, you see, because it is I who saw the tear tracks down faers face and I who heard the drums of despair in this household.”

Donti: “Oh..

Are you talking about blunt anon?

All of us are very angry at them, whoever they are.

I promise they do not reflect us as a whole.”

Duke: “To answer your previous question however, I am making a rose for Baroness. I do feel horribly for how I was unable to aid her with her spoiled dress so I do hope this gift soothes her and shows that there is no ill will from I to her.”

Donti: “Thats nice! Baroness loves flowers and nature! Thats super thoughtful of you. Im sure she'll love it :D

But back to Prince... Are fae ok? we're worried about faem.”

Duke: “"Blunt anon" is quite a peculiar name I must say. Indeed that is the scoundrel I speak of. It is wonderful to hear that you all are not that way - frankly, if I suspected you were the one to make Prince cry I would have simply neglected to respond, as is customary when one deals with enemies of one's family. Prince is currently recuperating, poor thing. A bleeding heart only leads to death and yet fae still has not learned that yet. I do wish you to send out a warning if you would be so kind - do let anyone know that if they ever treat Duchess in such a matter they will swiftly come to regret it. A gentleman does not revel in violence but she is my most dearest sister.

I thank you for your kind words however, I do indeed hope she enjoys my gift so - do not tell the others but she may be the only one in this family I can truly connect to on an intellectual setting, besides my sister of course.”

Donti: “Ill tell people not to be rude to Duchess. Not that they would.. Im pretty sure they like her :D”

Donti: “"Blunt anon" came when people would send... Rude asks to people. It was originally just blunt questions. But it escalated to... What happened to Prince :( We're trying to find them, but theres only so much we can do

Oh wait! have other people reached out to you all yet?”

Donti: “I know some of my good friends have talked to duchess.. But not to you yet!”

Duke: “Ah, indeed people have reached out and only Duchess was there to greet them. It pains me of course but I found myself with activities to do throughout the day. Schooling is still important to Duchess and I so that took up quite a bit of time - do not tell Crown but I was indeed spending time taking in the beauty of ballet instead of working purely on my Latin. Tea time too is an important affair, especially for I, and then it is always important to spend time with ones sister! So alas, you have been the only one I have graced with my thoughts and feelings out of your crowd of sheep.”

Donti: “Hm. I like the name sheep... Its a little kinder than "plebs"

You seems to like a lot of.. Elegant things! (I hope thats the right word) like embroidery and ballet! Where did you learn such refined taste :oc”

Duke: “Where did I learn such refined tastes? They have always been apart of me, you must understand. The Crown helped unlock those parts that I kept buried deep away and help nurture them. Oh such a brute I used to be! No care for the finer things in life, only one-upping my beloved sister. To think I used to slide in the dirt just for a measly point - bah! Truly I am in much debt to the Crown, for without him I still may have been a unruly fool.”

Donti: “... You played sports before you met Crown?”

Duke: “My sister and I both did, yes. It does not do well to dwell on such miserable times, Donti. This is why little one you are still a lamb.”

Donti: “Oh! If you don't want to talk about it, you dont have to! ^u^ Friends dont force their friends to talk about uncomfortable things!

Hm... But if the plebs are sheep... And I am a lamb... Who is the shepard...?”

Duke: “How sweet! Tell me, little lamb, who do you think the shepherd is? Or if there is one at all?

If you are a little lamb then I must ask, is there a Mary to be found alongside you as well?”

Donti: “Hm.... I think from our perspective the shepherd, (or shepherds in this case) would be our lovely mods :D

But from your point of view? Its most definitely Crown!

Andd.. Im assuming a Mary is a leader... Little lambs follow Mary after all... Hm. A lot of us have shown leadership at some point in time or another! It really depends on the scenario!”

Duke: “Intriguing.

It depends on the scenario you say?”

Donti: “Yep! People take charge depending on whats happening, and sometimes theres no leadership, just us discussing and working through it!

Why do you ask?”

Duke: “When the flocks have gone and left and all there is is the gentle bobbing of the water, who do you trust to save you from drowning? While you thrash and scream and feel yourself weaken who do you look towards for guidance? When the taste of salt kisses the interior of your esophagus whose name is on the tip of your dying tongue?

For I, it is the Crown, as he saved my sister and I from exactly that fate - but who is it for you?”

Donti: “Hm.. As a "flock" we all support one another.. That way, we can have multiple points of support! One person supporting that many people would be very stressful for that one person, you know”

Duke: “Of course.

Even then in a home all parts play along and join in the symphony but even with that, some are still load-bearing.

Who would be your load-bearing walls? All I ask is for some simple names, you understand. My curiosity is much like a cat, you see. Only satisfaction may truly bring me back.”

Donti: “Hm.. Are you asking for the names of my friends?

Well. There's Jack and Raeva, whom Duchess has spoken with, I think. Llyr, Ren, and Luna are also friends of mine. But I try not to burden them.

They are not so much load bearing pillars, but more of frail walls to shield me from the cold.”

Duke: “The drifting breezes that bring forth frost and tremors truly are such tiresome times. That you have shields is wonderful and it does ease my heart, but I do feel as though I must impart some wisdom else I'd be an unfavourable acquaintance - do try and build yourself a roaring inferno, little sheep.

Have so much fire around yourself that the winds cannot glance your way and even the Grand Archer Yi looks on with fear.”

Donti: “... And what if the fire burns me?

What then?”

Duke: “Do you think yourself unable to control the flames?”

Donti: “...Yes. Flames are temperamental, after all. When the inferno's dried up every last bit of water and eaten all of the wood, what will it turn to?”

Duke: “You want the answer to be yourself, I can see you reaching for it with an outstretched palm. Here is the truth: you can quell flames easily with just a few words. You can breathe in the ash and let the smoke dissipate. You do not have to be burned.

Ah, but these are just fun matters to think about. Do not dwell on my words too much. I would hate for you to overthink just simple pondering.”

Donti: “...Ill take your words to heart, friend. Even if it's just banter.

How do you know this?”

Duke: “Do not cause yourself concern with such a thing. In case I have caused you to distress then please do take this video as repentance. Isn't it so lovely how she spins?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqejv_BQ7Zg”

Donti: “Oh! that is a pretty video.. I wonder how long it took for her to make it so effortless..?

Do you dance?”

Duke: “Such an exquisite form of art. The mastery she has put forth would bring others to shame and ruin. A true professional since birth. I myself do not dance in this way - my sister and I are well versed in the waltz and ballroom dance as is customary for our statuses - but ballet alludes me. Alas, if only that was the direction I chose for my life to go but no matter - I have embroidery, poetry and oil painting to keep me truly green from envy.”

Donti: “Those are very enviable hobbies! I imagine you're skilled at them too! As for ballet... Ive heard that in order to dance that way, one has to go through great pain. I'd hate for you to experience that”

Duke: “A bit of suffering is always worth the pain if beauty and joy can be received in the end, do you not think?”

Donti: “As long as youre happy, I suppose!

I’m sorry to cut this short, but its getting late for me! And probably for you too ^^

I hope you rest well!”

Duke: “I hope you have humble dreams and a quiet rest. Goodnight, little lamb.”

[midnightactual]

Yoruichi and Co. & Kaien (Part 2)

Last time, in Part 1, I seemed to have exhausted Tumblr’s ability to nest images in a text post. So, let’s finish this up on this go-around:

Rukia & Kaien and the Hōgyoku

@mysteriousshopkeeper​​ had a post fairly recently entitled Urahara’s Motive, Means and Opportunity for Suppressing the Hōgyoku, about why Kisuke chose Rukia as the host for the Hōgyoku. Within was the conclusion that she was chosen because, “I think she was most likely just a target of opportunity.” Our thinking (as we discuss these things regularly) has somewhat advanced since then (as evidenced in the post His Research), but given all the above, it has an even simpler explanation, given in chapter 268:

Rukia is—quite simply—Kaien’s final disciple, inheritor, heir, successor, protégé, or whatever else you want to call her, and thus the most recent and also purest of them. (It’s easy to see that Yoruichi and Kisuke, given the demands of the Onmitsukidō and 2nd Division, were likely at least partially corrupted, tainted, or compromised by their experiences, in a way which Rukia would not be.)

If you take it for granted that Yoruichi was heavily influenced by Kaien (which I think has been well-demonstrated), it would make sense that the same be true of Kisuke. If that was indeed the case, his selection of Rukia on the basis of her holding Kaien’s heart would make complete sense. But what other proof of this do we have...?

Kisuke and Yoruichi & Ichigo and Rukia

As early as chapter 48, during the fight with the Menos Grande, Kisuke indicates he already conceives of Ichigo and Rukia as a team:

Rukia’s efforts to try and save Ichigo here are, incidentally, another parallel with her trying to save him in the way she couldn’t save Kaien (as are her efforts to involve herself in the Grand Fisher fight, and her efforts to save him from Renji and Byakuya). However, Kisuke prevents her from doing this not just so that she can witness Ichigo’s growth, but so that she might grow herself. This will ultimately only be fully realized when Ichigo saves Rukia from the Sōkyoku, but you can see that he had already placed tremendous faith in them. Why?

It doesn’t make much sense... unless you accept that he believes that together, they are the true inheritors of Kaien. (The Sand and Rotator mimicking what Kaien promised, if you will). This is most obviously affirmed with his infamous ‘deathbed speech’ in chapter 666:

But other examples of it abound. Most (if not all) of these are focused on Ichigo, such as this example from earlier in chapter 48 (where Kisuke notably completely ignores Uryū, much as Yoruichi earlier ignored everyone but Ichigo):

Or this example from chapter 518:

Where Kisuke rebukes Chad (and Orihime, who is notably silent and thus seems to share his doubts about Ichigo) for not believing in him sufficiently.

Yoruichi’s input on Ichigo is more limited (and she has none on Rukia, which is bizarre given their similar history) but she clearly goes along with Kisuke’s general plan, and she articulates her thoughts directly to Renji during Ichigo’s bankai training in chapter 137:

Her rather carefully chosen and almost hesitating words here lead one to believe that what she’s saying is something of a cover, don’t they? Even still, note her words, “I believe in him.” Yoruichi never says that directly of anyone or anything else.

Taken together, I think it’s very hard to refute that Kisuke and Yoruichi have an unshakable belief in Ichigo and Rukia (even if it’s rather unstated in the latter’s case). A belief that they will do the right thing—like Kaien would’ve.

Rukia and Ichigo

So what do Rukia and Ichigo believe in anyway? What makes them, as @mysteriousshopkeeper​ put it, Kisuke’s “Chosen Champions”? The answer given would suffice: “And what do they have in common? Compassion. Ichigo is fiercely protective to those who can’t protect themselves, and even wants to reform Soul Society.* Rukia believes it is a shinigami’s duty to protect every conscious soul.” This is true enough, and they tell us as much in chapter 2:

Ichigo makes it clear that he doesn’t believe Rukia just helped him out of duty (and likewise, it’s clear she didn’t just help him because he resembled Kaien), but doubts his own commitment. (This is the same commitment Chad questions later in the manga, which Kisuke believed in absolutely.) Ichigo gives a few additional remarks in chapter 48:

These demonstrate the degree to which his desires to protect had expanded even by then, thus reaffirming Kisuke’s trust in him (and Rukia) in the same chapter. And it’s this same desire which Byakuya will identify after their fight, because Soul Society inherently endangers people. This is also what Kaien believed in... and imparted to Yoruichi, Kisuke, and Rukia, among others.

Kaien & Aizen

So, you might be wondering what all Kaien has to do with opposition to Aizen. I think that Aizen’s choice of threat to Ichigo in chapter 388 is more than literal:

Because Aizen goes on to mean it, more than literally, in chapters 410 and 414:

Aizen wanted to kill Ichigo’s friends to try and provoke Ichigo’s growth, to use him as a kind of yardstick for his own. This seems significant as Kaien tells us, in chapter 268:

It can be inferred, given Karakura is in Soul Society at this time, that were Ichigo’s friends to be killed, their deaths would be permanent... and they would die alone. Aizen’s threat to “rip out [Ichigo’s] heart” is, as I said, more than literal: he’s seeking to destroy Ichigo’s bonds with his friends in so far as possible.

In this regard, and in his more general behavior (such as his desire to “stand alone at the top”) he is not opposing Kisuke... but Kaien. So when Aizen angrily berates Kisuke, in chapter 421:

We can say that Aizen has simply failed to see what Kisuke (and Yoruichi) are trying to achieve through Ichigo and Rukia, in the image of Kaien. This is because Aizen is seemingly incapable of seeing beyond oneself as the primary actor in effecting change: he doesn’t see Kisuke immediately taking steps, so he assumes Kisuke accepts the status quo. It is plainly evident from his words elsewhere that Kisuke does not do any such thing.

It would seem that Aizen is apparently unable to even understand truly trusting in others, and it is this which makes him Kaien’s opposite.

Yoruichi & the Shiba in CFYOW

And on that note... we come to another core motivation of Yoruichi’s. I don’t really like or rate Can’t Fear Your Own World for a host of reasons (I think it’s rather like trying to turn the Appendices of Lord of the Rings into the 7th and 8th books of the series, featuring almost none of the main characters from the first 6 books), but I do think it provides some interesting insights into Yoruichi (although I disagree with some of its characterization of her).

In Chapter 2 of Volume 1, we have the following:

Shiba Kūkaku is both a pyrotechnist on the surface as well as behind the scenes, all involvement with Squad Zero and such were declared “side jobs”. It is for this reason, that there exists a curious big-shot like air about her, even if Hisagi, as Vice Captain of Squad 9, ranked higher in terms of station; many among the Vice Captains view her with a sense of respect.

In fact, although they are currently a fallen house, the Shiba clan is a respectable family that once produced a number of seated officers and Captain ranks, they were a family of good social standing to the degree that they were known as one of the “Five Great Noble Clans” alongside the likes of the Kuchiki and Shihōin clans.

For that matter, Shiba Kūkaku herself, who is standing before him, is also a considerably powerful person.

He has heard that she struck down one of the mighty gatekeepers of the Seireitei with Kidō alone; in Hisagi’s eyes, she wasn’t merely a pyrotechnician, but a figure of great influence hidden in the depths of Soul Society.

and also:

“…I wonder if big brother knew something.”

This brother he speaks of is Shiba Kaien who served as Ukitake’s lieutenant before the collapse of the Shiba clan.

Although they were ousted from their position as nobles due to his death and the disappearance of Kurosaki Isshin who belonged to a branch of the main house, Ganju still considered his big brother the pride of the Shiba clan even now.

Recalling the face of her older brother who was no more, Kūkaku cast her eyes down to her sake cup whilst forming her words.

“…Who knows. The Shinigami are only alert to external threats all for the sake of protecting Seireitei.”

...

“Just like it was with that Aizen bastard, when it comes to the Shinigami, they may just wind up becoming all kinds of thick-skinned against the scoundrels created by the Seireitei itself.”

We see in this that the Shiba remain movers and shakers, and are reminded of the relation that Aizen had with them (notably, having indirectly killed Kaien with the experiment of Metastacia, and having indirectly lead to Isshin deserting). We then get the following in the Epilogue of Volume 1:

In response to Yoruichi’s easygoing manner of speaking, Tokinada gave a wry smile, then his expression turned serious and he began to broach the real issue at hand. “I’d like to revive the five great noble clans… or in other words, I intend to propose a restoration of the Shiba clan.” At those words, Byakuya was still expressionless, Yoruichi raises one eyebrow ever so slightly. The Shiba clan were once part of the five great noble clans, but a man who was a descendant of that house and serving as captain of squad 10 at the time - Shiba Isshin - disappeared into the Human World, as a result they were stripped of their noble standing in the form of bearing responsibility for it. Members of Isshin’s household who were the branch family were broken up, and head house members Shiba Kūkaku and co who had taken up residence in Rukongai from the very beginning, were completely expunged even of their status amongst the five great noble clans which was already a mere title in name only at the time. As an outcome, they were formally prohibited from travelling in and out of Seireitei. But naturally, in Kūkaku’s case, she would later infiltrate the court by force accompanied by Jidanbō, the gatekeeper of the Hakutōmon* (* White Road Gate) in the west of Seireitei. As the two waited for him to continue with the conversation, Tokinada went on. “It’s true, Shiba Isshin’s departure is an act that can only be described as a betrayal towards Soul Society. However as a consequence of that, Isshin’s son… despite coming from the lineage of a branch family, Kurosaki Ichigo a descendant of the Shiba clan, defeated the king of Quincies. Don’t you think that meritorious service is enough to clear their name?” Because it was a view that was more earnest than what she could have imagined coming from him, Yoruichi in turn was suspicious of what Tokinada was thinking. Meanwhile, Byakuya’s facial expression remains as undisturbed as before, with a nonchalant air he spoke of his own thoughts. “I agree about Kurosaki Ichigo’s meritorious service, but Kurosaki Ichigo will not accept the status of a noble or anything of the like.” “That’s true. For that guy things like status and prestige are simply not regarded as a reward. Rather it only appears to be a nuisance to him at best. If you’re speaking for the sake of entire Shiba clan it may be better received, but neither Kūkaku nor Ganju are thinking of returning to nobility again.” After listening to Byakuya and Yoruichi’s words and quietly nodding in understanding, Tokinada gave a weak smile as he replied. “So, it’s true Kurosaki Ichigo is that sort of man. If that’s the case, then how about we make his two younger sisters nominal clan heads? They won’t need to be involved in any practical duties. It’ll only be a formality so there’s no problem.” “You’ve investigated even as far as Ichigo’s family members huh?… However, I don’t see what you’re getting at. Why are you so fixated on restoring the Shiba clan?” A look of vigilance was playing on Yoruichi’s face, at her question Tokinada replied with honesty. “Ah, for the sake of valuing justice. I have no problem forcibly getting things done with the might of the Tsunayashiro clan, but that will only create a breeding grounds for future problems amongst the people of Soul Society. They would think they were under my dictatorship wouldn’t they? For this reason, I want it to be known the world over that the Seireitei operates through just procedures.”

“……?” “So long as the five houses are all present, and we’ve acquired the Soul King’s formal consent – – the five great noble clans will have a position equivalent to that of the Soul King Palace and can become Seireitei’s decision making body surpassing the Central 46. Perhaps, the Central 46 at the time decided to decimate the Shiba clan in order to prevent a situation like that.” As he stifled his laughter, Tokinada continued even further. “In any case, have you never thought to question it? Why, out of the five great noble clans, it was the Shiba clan that were met with a cold reception from the very beginning? Supposedly, it’s because they took up residence in Rukongai in order to set up a Shiba clan secret cannon there. However, before they were stripped of their position amongst the five great noble clans, the Shiba clan received treatment no better than a bunch of poor people from lesser nobility. Aren’t you curious about both the Shiba clan and why it was deemed acceptable?” “Who knows, when looking at value alone, the Shiba clan residence was in no way inferior to the ordinary noble’s, perhaps they simply felt that was enough. However, I’m surprised by your arrogance, you go as far as to call even nobles, poor people.” Although it was a matter that was certainly on her mind, Yoruichi replied as if she wasn’t going to tread to deeply into that topic right now. She concluded that going along with Tokinada’s ideas here will only serve to stray further away from the truth instead.

Bold emphasis is mine. Notice Yoruichi’s suspicion here. Yoruichi will go on to have a verbal sparring match with Tokinada in Chapter 11 of Volume 2, but it isn’t immediately relevant. What is relevant is Chapter 16 of Volume 2:

Yoruichi held out her hand, displaying the contents. In her hand, stood a small columnar glass case, containing a human foetus fused with Hollow parts.

"This thing was lined up along with others in the Visuals Department. A bit incongruous for this department, don't you think? I don't recall seeing anything like this down here before. It would be nice if I could take it to the Central 46, but for the time being, I guess Kyoraku will suffice. Children are easier to manipulate as puppets, aren't they?"

Tokinada listened to Yoruichi, a sneer playing upon his lips.

"I don't disagree with the last statement. But is it really okay for you to reject my proposal regarding the Rei-o and the House of Shiba? The chat the three of us had the other day, you, me and Byakuya.."

"I don't know about li'l Byakuya, but I don't want any more trouble for Kukaku."

"Hoh?"

Tokinada smirked, looking interested. Yoruichi folded her arms and looked at Tokinada.

"I could still tolerate the idea of Aizen standing atop the heavens, but you, my friend, are a different story altogether."

"I see, I see. It is such an honour to be treated as a greater rogue than Aizen."

"Did you not hear what I just said? I meant that you're a sleaze-bag."

Yoruichi re-phrased her statement. Tokinada laughed aloud.

"Ahahahaha! Indeed! There is a big difference! But it is strange to hear such words from you of all people. You too belong to the Four Great Noble Families."

"I'll say it again and again. I don't care about my ancestors. I don't care about head-ship. Your family lineage and past deeds are irrelevant to me. I don't give a damn about the will of your family."

"That's right, yes. You don't care about our family, but you do care about Byakuya. Not that I'm envious, mind you. Yes, even the House of Kuchiki that commands the greatest respect. It stands firm like a tall tree, but if you start peeling off the bark from the outside, the core is just like ours. They are just as corrupted as we are. Still, the House of Kuchiki acts as a pillar supporting the Seireitei, unlike the House of Tsunayashiro, which is rotten to the sprouts rather than the trunk."

Bold emphasis is again mine. Yoruichi’s personal disgust with Tokinada aside (and it’s notable that she holds him in even greater disgust than Aizen), her main concern throughout seems to be the wellbeing of the Shiba, particularly Kūkaku. It’s also interesting that Tokinada is so fixated on why the Shiba were treated poorly “from the very beginning.” The answer as to why is obvious: because they fought Soul Society’s laws—something which Yoruichi herself has carried on doing, as this essay has hopefully made clear (and which is also hinted at in one of the bolded sections).

You come away with the sense that, although Yoruichi is a Shihōin by blood, by heart she’s practically a Shiba, and I feel this is echoed with her actions and choices throughout the actual manga.

Summary & Conclusion

I would hope that after all this some core takeaway ideas have been substantiated, at least in part:

Yoruichi obviously had a close personal relationship with Kaien

Yoruichi accepted the bulk if not the entirety of Kaien’s value system

Directly or indirectly by either Kaien or Yoruichi, these values were also passed on to Kisuke (and Tessai)

Yoruichi, Kisuke, and Kūkaku all recognized Ichigo’s similarity to Kaien in their own way, not just Rukia, Jūshirō, and Byakuya

Yoruichi (like Rukia) achieved what Rukia failed to do with Kaien by saving Ichigo

Yoruichi (and Kisuke) refute Jūshirō’s logic, which got Kaien killed

Yoruichi (and Ichigo) thus turned Jūshirō to insurrection as well

Yoruichi (and Kisuke), much like both Ichigo and Kaien, is involved in fighting the laws of Soul Society 

Kisuke (and Yoruichi) saw and believe that Rukia was Kaien’s rightful heir

Kisuke (and Yoruichi) believe in Rukia and Ichigo as a unit standing in for Kaien in the scheme of opposing the rules (and history) of Soul Society

Kisuke and Yoruichi moved forward on a plan to change Soul Society which revolved around Ichigo and Rukia acting in Kaien’s stead

Rukia and Ichigo’s ethos, ethics, morals, and philosophy (their “will”) are a continuation (and possibly expansion) of Kaien’s

Kaien’s will existed in direct opposition to Aizen’s, although they had an ultimately similar objective (fighting Soul Society’s laws)

Yoruichi is in large part motivated by Kaien’s will and identifies heavily with, and is very sympathetic to, the Shiba clan

Anyway, thanks for reading if you made it this far in!

[flightofaqrow]

informant

qrow + Victor Alabaster ( @casketdweller​ )

“I’ve already been requested to track down a specific Faunus who stings, if you catch my meaning, and a little bird had told me you knew him. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask more about him.”

“…alrigh’, fine. i’ll bite,” qrow relents with greater gravity than the other gives someone who really shouldn’t be underestimated, “but i’d like t’know who this client’a yours ’s first. ‘sides someone cruel enough t’send ya anywhere near tha’ crazy joker.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Is this even going anywhere, or are we done here?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

clever fox must have thought a drunk man made for an easy target. or maybe he knows exactly who qrow branwen is, given the annoying air worn like a coat that he seems to know everything.

but not everything, or there’d be no reason for the subtle hounding. may not even know anything that really matters. qrow scoffs, slides his glass back and forth, slippery with condensation across the counter, and crimson eyes watch amber liquid wash around while ice cubes clink. there are things he knows, privy to only a carefully selected handful, and no amount of alcohol will have them slurring out.

truths too shady for even the slipperiest of scoundrels; better to cut things off at the head of what trail this conversation leads to. better to stay not knowing. go about petty little life as the other knows it, and leave qrow to live his. ( for whatever one could call wallowing in loss and misery and running from all his fears and own family to be living. )

different questions might produce different results, an exchange of different facts that don’t go down that rabbit hole, if still interested.

but qrow’s not the one to take first strike at this deal, and won’t be the one to carry it.

burns away bitter memories with a wash down of something even more bitter, then takes a breath.

“well,” he answers rough, and only spares a side glance to sharp corners of his eyes, “it cer’ainly seems like yer done, at any rate.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Easy target or maybe a potential client?

Victor hadn’t been entirely sure, but the fox Faunus had a delivery for him at either rate. But, given how their ‘transaction’ was going, he was getting less and less willing to pass it off. Especially given how the man dodged his inquiries and comments as if they didn’t exist. Hmph, humans.

Always thinking they were better or some such.

“I was feeling charitable.” He commented, picking up his own glass and studying how the leftover liquor left it with an amber colour. “I’ve already been requested to track down a specific Faunus who stings, if you catch my meaning, and a little bird had told me you knew him. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask more about him.” Shame, shame. Victor supposed he’d mention it off hand. “Said client even said they’d have information to pass along, but seeing as you’ve made it clear that you’re not interested; then I suppose after this drink I’ll carry on my way.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

charitable, he says. even as everything else talks about the job. but can’t say he doesn’t catch qrow’s full attention with that little tidbit. head turns in full to face him with opened eyes, pointed edges moving further out on the lines of his cheeks with far more seriousness.

“…alrigh’, fine. i’ll bite,” he relents with greater gravity than the other gives someone who really shouldn’t be underestimated.

finally gets to the point, but treats it like a game in patronizing words and tone, but maybe that’s just how this guy talks. though, the hurt’s already been done because qrow made that mistake once already; played around too much in their fight, not knowing just what that faunus and that stinger could do. a score to settle, but on another day - once he dared to show his cartoon face again, or once haven is officially safe.

this conversation would have been better to have earlier in the night, but ideal doesn’t exist in qrow’s world. another mouthful swallows and follows with sigh, “but i’d like t’know who this client’a yours ’s first. ‘sides someone cruel enough t’send ya anywhere near tha’ crazy joker.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Mm, wasn’t anyone cruel or anythin’. A friend of a friend requested a favour. I’m only doing this because it’s so hard to get anywhere for the moment.” Long nails clink against the glass as the fox Faunus rolled it against the counter. “Men of iron are hard to find, but so are the kind hearts of those in green. Don’t you agree?” Cryptic enough, though Victor figured that the other Huntsman was smart enough to pick up the cues.

“I’m only here for the night,” A burner Scroll was placed by Qrow’s elbow. “That the information I’m supposed to hand over. Didn’t peek, scout’s honour.” He wasn’t a scout, but it didn’t matter now did it?

“So how about you tell me a pretty story, and we can part ways as if nothing happened?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

gods, it’s like trying to have a conversation with Raven, and if qrow’s addled brain is reading the situation right, that’s one of the few people in his life left unmentioned. no idea who this man is, and yet the fox knows an uncomfortable amount of intel on himself.

he orders another round for them both. a show of good faith, a sign to stick around. …and a way to cope with yet another example of how life never did like to let him have the upperhand.

otherwise silent aside from an exasperated breath, and only in sliding aside an empty glass does qrow snatch the scroll up and stick it in his pants pocket to look at later.

later, once the screen wouldn’t be spinning from swimming vision.

a lean in closer lets on to the trust bought less by the other’s word, and more by association. qrow doesn’t have to like the guy to work with him under Oz. temporary contract or no.

“…wel’then. i c’n tell you a lil’ somethin’ about a tail. what part y’need to know?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He watched the drunk, sorrow, Qrow snatch up the burner scroll and tuck it away in a pocket. Hm, not entirely wasted then. Fascinating. Victor had, of course, heard of the infamous Branwen twins - who hadn’t? - and of their exploits, but nothing too concise. He was glad, at least, to have tempered his expectations.

What a let down.

Victor’s own tail twitched at his question, humming in contemplation as he took hold of the glass. A study of it, partially out of caution, partially due to contemplation. “Something for the client, I s’pose. They’re curious if you’ve heard anything regarding one of those fables.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow lets a lot of people down.

and that’s fine when he only has to answer to one. results matter more than other people’s opinions. the other man can give him piteous looks all night, and it’ll only make qrow like him less.

give him more of a reason to drink.

one less friend, and one more failure to forget. but the bartender trips on his way back and that next round ends up all over floor. the cost of qrow’s patronage might just outweigh the revenue.

he sighs, and sits back. still unsure of whether this guy talks in code because he doesn’t know what it really means, has to, or is just trying to be obnoxious. fable huh? there’s plenty of those, but qrow has a suspicion. and that at least takes them off the topic of Tyrian, “no’yet. bu’ we’re gettin’ close. tha’stinger set us back a’ways. …an’ another lil’bird iss’ill keepin’ ‘er secr’ts.”

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Chartreuse green eyes closed at Qrow’s words. So the assassin caused a set back, and one of the birds was keeping her secrets still. Well, in a way he didn’t have to really hunt her down, since the goal had been to find this one, not the other. However, Victor wondered if it’d be worth the detour…

                   … Maybe, not.

“I see. Well, in that case I’ve done all I can then.” The informant said, picking up the glass and taking the tiniest of sips from it. “I’ll be out of your feathers in a bit. I’d like to linger just a bit longer before I continue on. I’m sure you understand.” A smile was flashed to the Huntsman, and Victor turned his attention back to the drink.

“Unless you have anymore stories I might be interested in relaying…?”

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well, while they’re on the topic. while qrow’s already spilled.

fingerpads tap slow enough not to make any sound along the counter in the absence of a glass to hold, an emptiness within and without, and nothing delivered yet to continue to try filling it, and maybe qrow prattles in the space left. or because he’s not used to people lingering.

nor used to knowing his secrets before he says them. this clever fox really must have been trusted by Oz.

qrow doesn’t smile back, but he doesn’t glare anymore either.

he gruffs, “sure, wh’not. …think th’lion’s lost’is roar, an i’m startin’ t’think some pieces fr’m the board in this place’re missin’.”

he brings his other arm up, hands resting softly atop each other in front of him, while his gaze sinks to stare at them, “anyway, wha’s y’r name?”

hopefully that wasn’t a riddle or secret.

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Noted, noted, noted. Missing people and a cowardly lion, sounded like it’d been plucked from a faerietale. Heh. “Name’s Victor. Alabaster. S’pose that’s a freebie I can give.” The fox Faunus didn’t see the harm in it, figuring they may be in steady-ish contact. Perhaps. Perhaps not. He didn’t seem the type to like people lingering, and Victor didn’t blame him.

Lingering people always were the ones to keep an eye on.

Glass sat down, drink barely three quarters full. He’d lost his taste, and the bartender was looking at him in a way that told Victor he’d best consider an alternative place to hover. He flashed a grin at Qrow, “Should you need to pass anything else along, I’ll be in the area for a couple of days.” Couldn’t promise to be easy to find, though.

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“yeah, okay,” qrow mutters like it matters. he’ll remember the name like he remembers most of his confidants, but this one would eventually be gone, too, whether by choice because of his semblance, or by consequence of… his semblance. not worth making friends.

someone having the audacity to grin in the middle after exchanging such somber news makes him lift his glass for a good gulp while the other leaves his behind.

“nice t’meet’ya,” he says it with faded finality - more like a farewell than the opener of a relationship; doesn’t even look up until dull red eyes lift to watch the other leave.

Then goes right back to his drink.

[swanqueeneverafter]

The Once & Future Queen Pt.30

Camelot. (Guinevere, Lancelot, Merlin and the Knights ride out of Camelot toward an unspecified destination. Over hill, through valley and beyond, they come upon a cliff overlooking the Impenetrable Forest.) Lancelot: “Where now?” Merlin: “Through the Impenetrable Forest.” Gwaine: “But it’s. . .” Elyan: “Impenetrable.” Gwaine: “We can’t possibly get through there?” Merlin: “We must.” The Impenetrable Forest. (The group make their way slowly through the forest, cutting away at the branches in their path. Gwaine manages to rip his cloak on the thorns, leaving a piece of it behind. Everyone stares at him while he frantically thrashes around in an attempt to free himself.) Gwaine: (Composing himself:) “Keep going.” (Everyone smiles and continues on through the forest.) Meanwhile, In Another Forest. (While Morgana rides, she drags a bound Anastasia by the hands behind her horse. Breathing heavily, Anastasia collapses onto the forest floor. Dismounting, Morgana walks over and offers Anastasia a drink from a canteen.) Morgana: “Here.” (Anastasia glances at the canteen but does not accept it.) Anastasia: “I don’t want anything from you.” Morgana: “Drink it. You may need it.” Anastasia: “Why?” Morgana: “I would not be in such a hurry to know.” (Morgana lifts her arm and pours all the water out of the canteen onto the ground. Remounting her horse, Morgana continues to drag Anastasia along on their journey.)

Arendelle. Forest. (After a quick trip across the sea, Regina and Emma have journeyed to Arendelle to seek advice from their friends.) Emma: "Are you sure Kristoff will be all right watching Maria by himself?" Anna: "Oh sure, he's very capable. Plus it'll help him get used to the idea of having a baby around." Emma: "Ohh, so you're feeling a little broody huh?" Anna: "Maybe... and besides, Maria will need some friends to play with someday." (As the foursome continue walking through the woods, the conversation turns to Elsa and Anna's childhood.) Regina: "So you were forced to hide your magic from others and made to keep away from your sister?" Elsa: "Yes and no. My parents knew of my powers from an early age and, while they may not have openly encouraged it, they were supportive. It was only after the accident with Anna that they became concerned." Anna: "An accident I still don't remember by the way." Elsa: "Well I do and my parents were right. I could've killed you, Anna. That's why I chose to lock myself away, for fear of hurting the people I love again." Emma: "I’ve been there. I know when my magic was out of control and accidentally struck Henry, all I wanted to do was keep as far away from people as possible." Regina: "Yes, but as you now know, that wasn't the answer. Your parents told you to conceal your magic because they didn't understand it, Elsa. That won't be the case for Maria. Whatever problems or accidents that occur, we'll be ready for." Elsa: "I hope you're right. I still shudder to think what would've happened if not for Grand Pabbie." Anna: "Speaking of which, we're almost there, come on." Valley of the Living Rock. (Eventually, they reach the valley and Anna calls out.) Anna: "Grand Pabbie, it's us." (Nothing happens for a moment as the four women stand around waiting and then a large boulder rolls towards them, revealing itself to be the leader of the trolls.) Grand Pabbie: "Oh, Anna, how wonderful to see you again. And I notice you've brought some new faces with you." Anna: (Smiles:) "Grand Pabbie, these are our friends Emma and Regina." Grand Pabbie: "Ah yes, the ones who united the realms and will one day do so again." (Regina and Emma look to each other confused by this statement.) Anna: "Grand Pabbie, they seek your help." Grand Pabbie: "Well I would be honoured to help you ladies." (Taking Emma's hand, Regina steps forward and gives a polite bow.) Regina: "We are the ones who are honoured, Grand Pabbie." Grand Pabbie: (Chuckles:) "It is remarkable how far you've come, Queen Regina. I can feel the lightness of your energy pouring out of you, matched only by that of your wife, Queen Emma." Emma: (Smiles:) "Well flattery will get you everywhere, but I'm no queen." Grand Pabbie: "Of course not, at least not yet. But enough of my musings, you came to me with questions?" Regina: "Yes. (Glances at Emma then back to him:) We wanted to ask for guidance in regards to our daughter." Grand Pabbie: "Oh yes, the miraculous child known as Maria. What is it you wish to know?" Emma: "Well, the thing is, we've only recently discovered that Maria possesses magic and we wondered what the future holds for her?" Grand Pabbie: "I see. Why is it so important for you to know?" Regina: "We realise she holds great power and we wanted to know if it was light or dark magic that she possesses." Grand Pabbie: (Chuckles:) "Well that is easy. There can be no doubt that Maria was born of both light and dark magic, just like the connection between you both feeds the strength of your combined powers. A power so great that it is unrivaled by everything that has come before it. However, if you wish for me to see into the child's future, I would have to be in her presence, but I urge you to let the future remain unwritten. I fear you humans put too much stock in prophesy and I do not desire to be responsible for another child's fate." Regina: (Sighs:) "Thank you, Grand Pabbie. I believe you're right. Knowing too much about the future can lead to terrible things." Grand Pabbie: "Wise words, Your Majesty. Is there anything else you wish to ask me?" Emma: "Actually... I was wondering if you could tell me more about what happened in Ingrid's past?" Regina: "Ingrid?" Emma: (Nods:) "Since she gave me back my memories and after everything we went through, I've always been curious to know just what happened to cause the Snow Queen so much pain." (Anna and Elsa step forward.) Elsa: "I think we'd both be curious to know too." Anna: "She was our aunt after all." Grand Pabbie: "Very well, that I can show you, but I give fair warning, it is not a happy tale. If you would all take each other's hand, we can begin." (Anna, Elsa, Emma and Regina all hold hands and at the moment Emma and Elsa take Grand Pabbie's, the vision of Ingrid's past plays out before their eyes.)

Arendelle. Past. (In the castle's garden, Ingrid sits clutching the urn and her new blue gloves.) The Duke: (Approaches:) “Ah, the Golden Crocus. A mysterious flower that blooms only for those who are willing to wait. I don't believe we've had the pleasure.” Ingrid: “Ingrid. (She curtseys:) You must be here for Helga. I'll go and fetch her for you.” The Duke: (Blocks her path and Ingrid drops her gloves:) “Yeah, I-I'd heard rumors of this mysterious third sister, but I had to see her for myself.” Ingrid: “Oh.” (Attempts to retrieve her gloves but the Duke advances on her.) The Duke: “The stories did not lie. You are more beautiful and intriguing than I could have ever imagined. Did I say that out loud? (Chuckles:) Of course I did. Oh, you are enchanting.” (He tries to kiss her.) Ingrid: “Oh, no. Don't do this.” The Duke: “Helga will never know.” Ingrid: “She loves you.” The Duke: “But it's you that I want, you mysterious flower... The Queen to be.” (He holds her.) Ingrid: “No, no, no, no, no, no! Get back!” (She pushes him away with her magic, sending him flying across the ground.) The Duke: “What dark sorcery is this? Stay away from me!” Ingrid: “Please, don't tell anyone. Please. This has to be our secret.” Helga: (Arriving:) “Ingrid. Ingrid, what's going on here?” The Duke: “Your sister started kissing me. She told me she loved me. And when I rebuffed her, she tried to kill me with... With her magic.” Ingrid: “No! Helga, no.” Helga: “Thank you, Duke.” Ingrid: “That is not...” Helga: “Thank you for showing me what a... Liar and a scoundrel you are, and for saving me the trouble of considering taking your worthless hand in marriage.” The Duke: “How dare you?” Helga: “We shall see to it that your diplomatic mission here is over. And we shall send you straight back to Weaselton.” The Duke: “It's pronounced ‘Wesel-ton.’ And I am its Duke, and I do not take orders from you. Believe me, when Arendelle learns the truth about her, they shall side with me.” Helga: “Ingrid is my sister, and I love her for who she is. And so shall everyone else.” The Duke: “Really? Is this why you hide her away from balls and royal dinners? Why no one has ever laid eyes on this freak?” Helga: “You are out of line, ‘Weasel-ton.’” The Duke: “Mock me all you want, but the people deserve to know what their future Queen is. Before I'm through, all of Arendelle will know your secret. And when they find out how dangerous your sister really is, you won't have to hide her any longer because they'll lock her up and throw away the key.” Helga: “Enough!” The Duke: “Because that is the only fate befitting a monster.” Ingrid: “Stop!” (Ingrid uses her power to hurt the Duke but Helga protects him and she is hit by her sisters magic.) Helga: “No!” Ingrid: “N-no! No! Helga! Helga, no. Helga.” Helga: “Ohh.” Ingrid: “Helga. Helga, hey. I'm so sorry. H-Helga... No. I... No! No! No! No! (Helga freezes to death:) What have I done?” (While the Duke runs for his life, Gerda arrives.) Gerda: “Ingrid? Ingrid, what happened? Where's Hel...” Ingrid: “I didn't mean to.” Gerda: “What did you do? What did you do?!” Ingrid: “I was trying to stop the Duke. It was an accident. You have to believe me.” Gerda: “You stay away from me. Stay!” Ingrid: “No! No. Please... Please, don't be afraid. We said that we would always be there for each other. We made a promise. I love you. Gerda, please, you have to help me. Take my hand. Please take my hand. You're all I have left.” Gerda: “Ingrid... You killed our sister. You're... You're a monster.” Ingrid: “No, G-Gerda, no. (Gerda takes the urn and traps Ingrid:) No! No!” The Dark Tower. Present. (Anastasia begins walking up a long flight of stairs with Morgana following her, holding a torch.) Morgana: “Keep moving.” Anastasia: “Where are you taking me?” Morgana: “You’ll find out.” (They climb the stairs all the way to the top of the tower. Morgana opens a door and Anastasia steps inside.) Anastasia: “What is this place?” Morgana: “Sleep well.” Anastasia: “Morgana. . .?” (Anastasia runs towards the door just as Morgana slams it shut, locking her inside. Anastasia turns and walks further into the room.) Forest. Recent Past. Night. (Guinevere walks alone in the forest, she passes by a tree and moments later Morgana steps out from it.) Morgana: “Guinevere.” Guinevere: (Stops, then slowly turns around:) “Thank you for meeting with me.” Morgana: “Your message was unexpected. After all these years, you still do intrigue me so, Guin.”

Guinevere: “After all we’ve shared, I’m glad I can still surprise you.” Morgana: “Indeed. And is that why you called me here, to lure me into a surprise attack?” Guinevere: “Would you still be here if you sensed any danger?” Morgana: “Then why am I here?” Guinevere: “I wanted to thank you.” Morgana: (Scoffs:) “For what?” Guinevere: “For sparing my life. You could have easily killed me back in those woods and yet you didn’t.” Morgana: “A rare oversight on my part.” Guinevere: “No, you knew what you were doing. In your own distinct way you chose to protect me. It was in that moment I knew the real Morgana was still in there somewhere.” Morgana: “You can’t possibly be this naive.” Guinevere: “You can protest all you like, but I know there’s good inside you, Morgana. That’s why I won’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself even further.” Morgana: “Merlin is the one destined to destroy me and yet you house him in the castle.” Guinevere: “I’m aware of the prophesy and I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening.” Morgana: “Really. So is that why you wanted that sword from the Lady in the Lake?” Guinevere: “The sword is not meant for you.” Morgana: (Laughs:) “Oh no, of course not.” Guinevere: “I would never see harm come to you, Morgana, I swear it. I’ll prove it to you.” Morgana: “And how do you intend to do that?” Guinevere: “Lancelot rallies his men to find you, even as we speak. There is no place near that is safe for you right now.” Morgana: “I am aware of it. I have plans to travel far beyond Camelot’s reach.” Guinevere: “Regardless, it is only a matter of time before Lancelot and his men find you. And when the time comes, I shall send warning, giving you ample time to escape.” Morgana: “You would defy your beloved Lancelot to save my life?” Guinevere: “I owe you that much.” Morgana: (Chuckles:) “Oh Guin, such noble words. You’ll forgive me if I find them hard to believe.” (Guinevere gives her a look. A horses whinnies in the distance as a patrol approaches.) Guinevere: “Go!” (Guinevere pulls her hood up and runs off back towards the castle. Morgana calmly walks the other way. Gwaine arrives in the clearing, and spots the hooded figure running. Turning his horse, Gwaine heads the direction Guinevere went. As he passes, Morgana magically pulls Gwaine off his horse, sending him crashing the the forest floor and knocking him unconscious. Meanwhile,  Guinevere makes it out of the woods and straightens her cloak and walks back to the castle.) The Sacred Cave. Present. (Having navigated through the Impenetrable Forest, Lancelot and Guinevere enter a cave. Walking cautiously through the darkness, they turn as one at the sound of an aged woman’s voice.) Dochraid: “Who dares enter the sacred cave?” Guinevere: “We come to petition the Dochraid.” Dochraid: “Give me your hand. (Guinevere takes a step forward but is stopped by Lancelot who offers his own hand. The Dochraid takes it, sniffs it and pushes his hand away in disgust:) I smell the stench of enmity.” Guinevere: “We come in peace. In friendship.” Dochraid: “You are no friend of the Old Religion.”

Guinevere: “Great Dochraid, I am a friend of Morgana Pendragon.” Dochraid: “Silence! I know you, Guinevere. I will have no part in your plans.” Guinevere: “How do you know why I’ve come here?” Dochraid: “I am the Dochraid. The Earth speaks to me. You are not welcome here. Depart!” Guinevere: “Oh, I cannot do that. Not until I have what I came for.” Dochraid: “You dare challenge me, the ancient Dochraid? You? A puny Queen?” Lancelot: (Steps forward once more:) “And yet we will have what we came for.” Dochraid: “I am a creature of the Earth. You cannot kill me.” (Lancelot draws his sword and shows it to the Dochraid, who recoils in fear.) Lancelot: “This sword was forged in a dragon’s breath and it will do my bidding.” Dochraid: “You do not have the power to wield such a weapon.” (Lancelot swings the sword and slices the Dochraid’s arm. She cries out in pain and covers the wound with her hand.) Guinevere: “Please, we wish you no further harm, Dochraid. Tell me what I need to know.” Dochraid: “Your friend is doomed, Guinevere. Her spirit has been consumed by the Teine Diaga. Bound by the silver wheel for all eternity. Her body is nothing but an empty vessel filled by the will of another.” Guinevere: “By another? Do you mean Morgause?” Dochraid: “Regardless, Morgana has been set on a path to claim the throne of Camelot and will stop at nothing to achieve her goal.” Guinevere: “How do I break this spell?” Dochraid: “Only the greatest of sorcerers can attempt such a thing.” (Lancelot points the sword at the Dochraid again and she recoils in fear.) Lancelot: “Merlin, the greatest sorcerer who ever lived travels with us, he can break any spell. All we need to know is how?” Dochraid: “You must travel to the Cauldron of Arianrhod. There you will need all of your powers, for you must summon the White Goddess herself.” (Lancelot brings the sword closer to the Dochraid.) Lancelot: “And that is all?” Dochraid: “No. Morgana must enter the Cauldron. Its waters hold the Goddess’ power. Only their touch can heal her. Remember, Morgana must enter the water willingly. If she is tricked, forced or beguiled, she will fall into the abyss and be lost forever.” (Lancelot lowers his sword.) Guinevere: “Thank you, Great Dochraid. Thank you.” (Guinevere and Lancelot turn to leave the cave but the Dochraid uses her magic to throw a dagger at Lancelot’s back. Lancelot turns and uses his sword to block the blow, then using the blade to strike the Dochraid once more. She cries out in agony and crumples to the floor. Guinevere looks down at her for a moment before Lancelot takes her arm and leads them out of the cave.) The Dark Tower. (Anastasia is laying on the floor when liquid from a mandrake root above her drips onto her face. Anastasia sits up and sees mandrake roots all around her. A cacophony of shrieks and screams fills her ears. She crawls on the floor trying to distance herself somehow from the screaming when the door opens and Morgana walks in.) Morgana: “Come. . .let us have something to eat.” (Morgana leads Anastasia out of the room and she quickly follows.) Arendelle. Dining Room. (Returning to the palace, the foursome reunite with Kristoff and Maria. Taking a seat at the table, Emma speaks with Elsa while Regina allows Anna to spend some time with Maria.) Regina: "I hope she didn't give you any trouble?" Kristoff: "Nothing I couldn't handle. (When Anna looks to him eagerly:) Uh... but then you were only really gone for about an hour." Regina: (Smiles:) “Relax, Emma and I won't be leaving Maria here overnight anytime soon." Anna: "Oh but you will stay tonight, won't you?" Regina: "Well, we didn't want to impose..." Anna: "Nonsense. We have rooms for days, we'd love for you to stay over." (Regina looks over to Emma who nods.) Regina: "Then we'd be honoured." Lily: (Entering:) "That'll make a nice change." Elsa: (Rising from the table to welcome her:) "Lily!"

Lily: (To Regina:) "I mean it'll save you and Emma from having to find some random room where you can fu-" Elsa: (Wrapping her arms around Lily:) "What took you so long, I thought you were coming straight from work?" Lily: "I was, then as I was leaving I got a call about some disturbance." Regina: "A disturbance, in Storybrooke?" Lily: "I know, shocking right? It was at your vault in fact." Emma: (Joining them:) "The vault?" Lily: "Yeah, turns out it was nothing, just some false alarm." Regina: "Well that's a relief." Lily: "Yeah, but I'll tell ya, your sister has quite the attitude problem." Emma: "Zelena? What was she doing there?" Lily: "I don't know, but she accused me of trespassing before kicking me out." Emma: (Closes her eyes:) "As tactful as ever." Regina: "Thanks for checking it out, Sheriff." Lily: "Hey, not so loud, we don't want to jinx it." Emma: "Oh I have a feeling the job's as good as yours." Elsa: (Clasping her hands together, smiling:) "Well I'm starving, let's eat." (With a general murmur of approval, everyone takes their seats at the table.) The Dark Tower. (Sitting amongst the cobwebs, Morgana serves Anastasia some food at the large dining table.) Morgana: “Eat. Here. Food always makes me feel better. Would you prefer some chicken?. . .You must eat. You are fading away.” Anastasia: “I don’t know what cruel trick you are playing but I will not be broken by you.” Morgana: “I thought this would be nice. I know how lonely you must be. All by yourself in that room. At least you’re not shackled, there’s daylight, you can move, you can see. That’s a lot more than your sister was afforded in my hovel.” Anastasia: “You expect me to be grateful?” Morgana: “I too have suffered Anastasia. I spent years living in darkness. I would have sold my soul for someone to show me kindness such as this. Do you want me to take you back up there?” (Anastasia shakes her head and reaches out for a small bread roll. Watching her take a bite, Morgana smiles and pours the wine.)

The Impenetrable Forest. Night. (Guinevere, Lancelot and the knights are all sleeping in the forest while Merlin watches over them. Being immortal and with no need for sleep, Merlin continues his meditation. Opening his eyes, Merlin’s attention is drawn to something in the bushes. Glancing back at his sleeping companions, Merlin follows the fluttering sound through the woods. Only when he is out of sight from camp does the winged creature reveal herself to him.) Queen Mab: “Welcome to my realm, Merlin.” Merlin: “Who are you?” Queen Mab: “Why, I’m Queen Mab. I am the spirit of this place. And all the places that bring despair to men’s hearts. Few have ever seen me, Merlin, you should count yourself fortunate.” Merlin: “You... everything in this forest, it’s bewildering.” Queen Mab: “The forest is but one step on the journey.” Merlin: (Crouches down so that he is eye to eye with the forest spirit:) “How do we find a way out?” Queen Mab: “Oh powerful one... you should not have to ask. Left is right and right is left. And the way behind is the way ahead. It is simple.” Merlin: (Scoffs:) “Oh...simple.” Queen Mab: “You have a minds eye, Merlin. You must learn to trust in it. For far greater challenges lie ahead.” Merlin: “When we reach the Dark Tower?” Queen Mab: “If...” Merlin: “What do you mean?” Queen Mab: “You must beware Merlin, the tower is not a real place. It is the heart’s rest. The mind’s deepest fear. The stillness in a humming bird’s eye...” Merlin: “Stop, talking in riddles.” Queen Mab: “Then I shall speak in rhyme. Heed my words which you concern, for one of you will not return.” Merlin: “What do you mean? (Queen Mab chuckles gleefully. Merlin looks back towards camp:) Which one? (When he turns back, Queen Mab has disappeared. Hearing more rustling coming from his left, Merlin stands ready:) Show yourself.” (Much to his surprise, Merlin sees not a forest spirit but instead, with her bow in hand, Merida steps out of the darkness.) Arendelle. (Regretting her decision to stay in the dining room to talk with Lily while Regina put Maria to bed, Emma now finds herself lost and wandering the halls of the palace.) Emma: (Muttering to herself:) "This is god-damn ridiculous. (Knocks on a door and peers inside. Finding no one, she closes it and continues on:) Who needs a palace this big? (She tries another door with much the same result:) You would think one ball room would be sufficient for anyone's needs, but oh no, not here in Arendelle, they're just ball crazy apparently. Gotta have at least three ball rooms or the people might not take their Queen seriously. (Opens a door and closes it:) Balls. (Another door:) Balls. (Yet another door:) Balls. (No luck:) All right, deep breath Emma, you can do this. (She breathes deeply and slowly exhales before continuing her journey down the long hallway, passing several doors and pointing to each one as she goes:) Eeny, meeny, miny moe, Catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers, let him go, Eeny, meeny, miny moe. Pig snout you're... (Coming to the last door on the left:) out! (Sighs:) Well, here goes nothing." (Emma approaches the door and knocks.) Regina: (From inside:) "Come in." Emma: (Greatly relieved, turns the handle and enters the room:) "You would have to choose the furthest room from..." (Emma stops in her tracks when she sees what awaits her. Wearing heels, stockings, suspenders and a bra, Regina stands leaning over the bed, casually reading a book.) Regina: (Looking up:) "Finally." Emma: "Regina, what-" Regina: (Stands up, stretching her back and giving Emma a luscious view of her curves:) "Well, as this is our first official evening spent in the palace, I thought I'd make it special. (Walking towards her:) Had I known you'd take this long talking shop with Lily, I may not have bothered." Emma: (Smiling at the vision before her:) "I'm sorry. This place is humongous and I just got lost. (While Regina walks around her to remove her jacket:) Can you ever forgive me?" Regina: "Hm. I don't know, you did keep me waiting an awfully long time. (Walks around to step before Emma, her arms folded and one foot tapping the floor as she playfully considers accepting Emma's apology:) Perhaps if you were naked I'd be more likely to forgive you?" Emma: (Counters:) "I think if we were both naked we'd each feel better about the whole situation." Regina: "I agree wholeheartedly." Emma: "And, seeing as you've got a head start, I think it only fair if you helped me out of my clothes?" Regina: (Smirks, her hands already unbuckling Emma's jeans:) "Sounds more than fair to me."

[rosesnink]

The Cursed Heiress, Chapter 5: About Journeys and Middle Truths

A/N: I know I pubish a chapter every 1932 years but it’s because, unlike PB, I appreciate quality over quantity. This is the most complex story I have ever written and it consumes a lot of my time, but the result is worth. That said, I’ll leave you with the reading. 

Summary: Joanna meets the lastest of the people in her cards and arrives in London. 

Rating: T, although I am not explicit on this and make it sound poetic, it is my duty to rate it. There’s a sex scene, but with vague descriptions and easy to skip. 

Word Count: 7947

Catch Up Here 

Vincent Foredale closed some things as he awaited the hour where he’d bid his goodbye to his dear Joanna. Every day, he was sicker and Joanna now needed some healthy environment after dealing with her fiancé’s death. Her year of grief hasn’t ended yet, but it was the only way that he’d ensure that his dear estate fell to his bloodline’s hands and not the scheming ones of Henrietta. He signed the last paper when a familiar presence came to him. Nene Mills, Mary’s aunt. She was less skeptical and conservative than Nya, but she lived fearing her own twin sister. He curtsied to the elder witch and offered a seat, but politely declined.

“My lady. What brings you to my estate?” He asked curious.

“Oh! Nya sends me to check on Joanna and bid her goodbye and good luck on the London season and hunting down her asassain, which can be frightening—”.

“What? Someone’s put a price on Joanna’s head?” He was now, really scared about his daughter’s future “That’s why she left of all sudden of the garden party”. 

“Yes, my lord. It is a shock for all of the supernatural factions, because her death would mean breaking the agreement of all the royalty of each faction”.

“I… Am not sure I follow”.

“Your daughter was supposed to be born. Her birth was planned and Mary was the one who’d conceive her with some special traits that no other witch ever had”.

“What? But… What is she, then?”.

“My lord… You may want to sit down. This is a long tale”.

As Joanna woke up, she noticed her hands more black, all her fingers with the color of the ink. She sighed heavily and got dressed. She went to the parlor, where her grandmother found her. She smiled brightly at her. 

“I knew he’d stick the estate to our bloodline. I knew he wouldn’t let Edgewater fall to Mr. Marlcaster”.

“But at what cost, Lady Grandmother? I know we talked about men of rank, but one thing is innocent flirtation and other big line is marriage” She bit her lip, concerned.

“Well, yes, you certainly can’t hold the estate without support against the countess?”.

Joanna scoffed as she pressed her lips together and tried not to bicker if it was truly necessary to be a man’s propriety. She had heard how men minimalize their wives once they’ve inherited their money and spend it on cheating on them with mistresses and stupid things like cigarettes and being drunk most of the time. If that was marriage, she’d certainly make every man hate her and leave the Earth to be a glorious warrior back to the Circle.

“Joanna, dear, I know that the idea of marriage doesn’t appeal to you, you may even despise it, but I promise you, there are fine men who will grow to respect you and your times”.

“That’s the thing, Lady Grandmother! I don’t want to be forced to respect a scoundrel with useless titles and meaningless money! I want ardent passion, pure respect that is not forced, adventure and pure admiration from the other, but of course, who needs that when the dear money is there? I’m telling you, that fortune will be nothing but ashes one day and you selling me to someone who is not worthy of me will be for nothing!” She snapped.

Her grandmother took a few steps back as she processed all she said.

“How could you say that, Joanna? We must marry of rank so when your sons grow up, they ought to sacrifice themselves much less because they’ll live better! And so will your grandsons and your great-grandsons!”.

“What kind of mother and example would I be, Lady Grandmother, to teach them that is normal to bed a stranger and give him heirs and obey like a ‘good girl’? That’s all I am to you? A maiden who is in need of a man and then will depend on her sons? Is it what all women are? Just reproductive tools? And then what? Do we really have to lower ourselves to a man just not to damage his superiority and fragile ego? I just… kneel down to a worthless scoundrel? Is that my duty? Is that what I’m worth of? Not just me, but all girls and women? Well, shame on you all. Women are just more than tools. Women, they are ambitious, clever, smart, resolutive, tender and much more. They have dreams, they have goals, they can be great, like Cleopatra was once, like Anne Boleyn was once, like Margaret of Anjou. They can also be brave and courageous like Joan of Arc! They shouldn’t be less women just because they decided to have a title that makes them superior to a man. We, too, should have a saying on our lives and what we should be, more than aspiring to marriage and motherhood. What if I want pure glory and eternal greatness? Why I can’t have that? Because I am a woman, because I port a womanhood? Tell me, Lady Grandmother, do we deserve all of this?”.

Her grandmother’s mouth was agape as she processed all she just said. She maintained her stare, not giving up.

“I’m sorry, Lady Grandmother, but I will not tolerate being a courtly toy for those men” She left the parlor, trying to hold back all she had. All the frustration, the anger, the disappointment. She just wanted her father with her and nothing else but bathing herself in love, but instead she’d play courtesan games! She called for Elias.

Maybe some training to stretch her legs would help.

A few days’ later

While Briar helped her with the journey, Joanna’s mind wandered back to the letter, which was clutching in her hands so hard Briar yelped when she saw blood in her hands and Joanna looked at her hand. Some claws were there and she was also biting her lip. She wiped the blood off her mouth as miraculously her claws were in again, her regular nails back. Briar sputtered something before shrugging

“I guess so much blood triggered my view. There’s no way you’d had such monstruous hands! You have a flawless hand”

She nodded as she dropped the letter

“Scares aside, I can’t believe we’re going to London!” She beamed, her hands together, dreamily.

“I thought that you’d chicken out because you didn’t want to leave your, oh so dear Mr. Woods”.

Briar smacked her lightly but laughed.

“Can you blame me? You’d be sobbing in a corner, or writing him letters of a questionable length” She teased, a smirk on her corners.

She showed her the ink-stained fingers.

“I may have left him a letter to find once we’re gone”.

She shook her head but patted affectionely her shoulder. Briar has always been a big flirt and had all the boys long for her. She envied her. She was quite beautiful, her tan skin and blue eyes, her black hair made an acre cascade. Her beauty was simple, yet elegant. If you added her sweetness and iron will and fierce loyalty, she swore her beauty duplicated. Mr. Woods was indeed a lucky man to fancy such a wonderful woman.

“Ha! I knew you did!”.

“But I won’t let a man miss the opportunity to go to London. Let the man miss me a little”.

She smirked at her.

“I taught you well”.

Joanna looked at the clock and frowned as she bit her lip.

“I better get dressed or I’ll appear in London on my nightgown”.

“I have already loaded your trunk with dresses, but you must pick something to wear on the journey!”.

“I… guess some special sleeping gown to sleep and pass out all those hours? I just want to sleep and forget about the bigots I’m supposed to endure though the season”.

“But—Joanna, think about meeting fellow travelers riding there! What if you meet your husband during the journey?”.

Joanna arched an eyebrow and kept herself silent. Briar raised both her arms and sighed.

“You can’t be like this forever! Marriage can’t be as bad. I’m sure you can find in a man the holy trinity: wealth, rank and love. And you’ll let it go just because you have that poor idea of marriage”.

She rolled her eyes and Briar slapped lightly both of her cheeks, startling Joanna. Not that it hurt her, but Briar wasn’t the kind of woman who recurred to violence.

“Alright, madam, you are going to dress and try be positive for, at least, a pair of hours! No more negativity” She leans over the wardrobe and snatches a rather dashing dress.

“I found the most darling dress to ride! Anyone who sees you on it will be eager to get to know you!”.

But what if I don’t want to and I just want to sleep it off? But she just kept her mouth shut or Briar would do something about it.

The dress is a military-style riding jacket in Edgewater’s colors navy blue and gold. Joanna decides to try it on and Briar adds a necklace. She looks at herself in the mirror as she nods to herself. Maybe mortals do have taste.

“You look perfect! Your father and your grandmother await you in the porch”

She nodded as she hid some daggers and her golden staff. Just in case. Elias had all the rest of her equipment with him. She heard of all sudden a sound and in a minute she was outside the barrier spell. With flying knife in hand, she glared with her view and saw… Kamilah Sayeed, alone. She looked at her and started to speak.

“I’m not here to attack you, Joanna. I’m here for an invitation, in fact”.

Joanna glared at her “Why would I trust you?”.

“You can always put a truth spell on me. I’m not here to cause harm, I’m here to invite you to an invitation. Gaius wants a truce”.

“How do I know that I will keep my head attached to my neck?”.

“Because Gaius wants me to… watch over you. There’s a secret he wants to tell you. Let us know if you’ll come before midnight. Until then, Lady Joanna” And with that, she was gone.

She approached her father and grandmother outside, concerned looks on their faces.

“Who was that, dear?” Her father asked.

“She… was an old acquaintance. Nothing to worry about”.

He nodded, relieved and took her hands in his.

“Joanna, you don’t know how pleased I am to have you representing our family in London” He beamed and she rubbed her thumbs in his hands “You look every inch of the sophisticated young heiress you are. No doubt every gentleman will want to meet you”.

Her grandmother beamed at her “Meet her, nothing. If she keeps dressing like that, she’ll have a dozen men asking for her hand!”.

“I loathe every word of that sentence you just said” Joanna grimaced. Last thing she wanted was lustful mortal men preying over her hand and money.

However, the earl’s face fell “I wish I could come with you”.

Joanna’s heart skipped a beat “You’re not coming to London?” No, no, no, no, no! She couldn’t be there alone with a lot of men and her permissive grandmother. Not him.

“Not right away. I’ve got a lot to handle back at the estate at the moment…”.

“Father… I can’t do this without you” She placed her hand in his cheek… and saw it. A familiar voice, a death curse, blood, pain, helplessness… She got livid as she understood what was holding him back “She came to visit you, didn’t she?” She asked, breathless “She… she found you”.

“Joanna… what do you mean? You’ve gone livid!” Her grandmother gasped. She tried to reach her but she raised a hand and glared at her.

“I want a moment alone with my father. Alone”.

Her grandmother sighed and nodded, leaving both of them alone. Joanna grabbed gently both of her father’s forearm as she examinated him. Thin, hard stomach, low blood pressure, cold flesh, tiredness, fever, sore throat and heavy lungs. She punched the carriage hard, making a big dent on it!

“Joanna… why do you seem of all sudden… on edge?”.

“My grandmother… she has cursed you, Father. These symptoms are primarial to a slow death curse” She tried to fight back tears “All because I prefer your love over hers”.

She looked around and took off one of her gloves and her father’s eyes went wide, caressing her black fingers. Joanna bit her lip and he kissed them, putting them on his cheek.

“Why haven’t you shown me this before? And why would your grandmother want me dead?”.

A tear helplessly rolled down her cheek “Because Mother and I loved you over her and it’s illegal to love a mortal, man or woman. She broke the vow and my grandmother cursed her and now you, as a lesson to me to not get too attached to humans or they’ll all… suffer while I keep living, their blood in my hands”.

“But… that’s cruel! Loving someone superior or inferior shouldn’t be forbidden! Love should be beautiful, not tragic…”.

“That’s why I can’t marry a mortal man of rank, father. The Circle will find out and will kill yet another innocent man. I…I have enough blood in my hands. I don’t think I could handle another corpse”.

Vincent hugged his daughter tight, making ghosts on her back, kissing her head, holding her. Joanna hugged him back, sobbing lightly, affording herself to be weak among mortals.

July 1814, Grovershire

“Come on, this way!” The boy yanked his fianceé’s hand as they both giggled, the dawn barely there as they approached an abandoned barn “Hurry up, Jo!” He beamed, giggling.

Joanna giggled before he pulled her in a secluded corner. He kissed her with a sly smile on his face. He took her across the barn to a field no one in Grovershire seemed to talk about. He sat in the grass, patting a seat beside him. She arched an eyebrow but sat beside him. He kissed her again, caressing her hair lovingly, letting her being atop him. He looked at her, biting his lip and his hands were doing that nervous movements.

“What is it, Tommy?”.

“I just… I want to try something with you, away of prying eyes. Do you trust me enough to… close your eyes?” A pink blush came from his ears and she nodded. She had a good view even with her eyes closed “Just… tell me… when I should… stop”.

His fingers brushed past her ankles and pantalettes shyly, gazing if she was comfortable. She caressed his shoulder as an encouragement and when she thought he might throw her like a prank, she felt a jolt on her whole body and she gasped, surprised but delighted. She looked at Thomas and nodded. She had read about these activities, but witnessing them was… another whole world. She bit her lip as the sweet tickle and pleasurable nerves surrounded her, her hands on his back, his name dancing on her lips, little gasps escaping.

“Do you like it?” He asked. She nodded “Are you comfortable?”.

“Thomas… never stop”.

And with that, they kissed.

Joanna sighed as she remembered the last of her conversation with her father while she was in the carriage.

“I would not ask you to bid to someone who doesn’t please you” His face fell “A marriage of advantage can be… bleak”.

“You say it because of that nightmare made of curls and weak bones of Henrietta?” Joanna arched an eyebrow, her blood boiling.

He was about to say something when the countess herself appeared without looking at her eyes, speaking to her father over her shoulder.

“Edmund and his fianceé have already left to London. I am confident that they will make more valuable connections” And with that, she slammed close the door, and Joanna wished to hurl the damn door to her back, but again, she contained herself.

“Alright, why on the Seven Hells will Mr. Marlcaster and Miss Sutton be with me at London? They have nothing to do there” She scowled.

Her annoyed grandmother said “She has sent them to turn people against you, clearly” Then, she composed herself and looked at her, considering her words “Although… they’re not as loyal as you think they are. If you treat them with kindness, you might be able to turn them against her, with one or both”.

“Why befriend someone who thinks of me so low? The only thing they deserve from me, is my cold shoulder” Joanna scoffed.

“I understand why that might not be pleasing, but Edmund is a sweet boy and his abilities have never matched his mother’s ambitions”.

She hummed as she considered if she shall do it or she’d just leave them be.

Now, she saw how the carriage was now getting away of Edgewater, Clover trailing not too far and Briar talking to her. She looked at Briar and took her hand in hers.

“Hey, I don’t mean to offend, I love talking to you but… I could use some air for some hours if you don’t mind”.

“Of course, I was just trying to take you away of bad thoughts”.

“And I appreciate the effort. Truly”.

The carriage stopped and she asked Mr. Harper to hand her Clover. The horse neighed and she mounted her, patting her head. She salutes Miss Parsons and Briar from the window as she rides slowly the horse, feeling a strong connection to her. She patted her head as she gazed to the English land, a pinch of nostalgia in her heart. She remembered visiting the Court of the Circle and dance during three straight days and do magic freely, not worrying about if someone would rat on her. She took in the breeze and exhaled, a bit of her own air grazing the carriage. She smirks for a moment before whipping the reins, the wind in her blazing hair. Mr. Harper laughs as she takes the lead, a determinate smile on her lips. For a moment, she feels alive and connected to this enthralling world.

Several hours, the carriage puts a halt for a snack and rein Clover as Mr. Harper tries to help her out, but she jumps and lands expertly on her feet, an amusing smirk on her face. He laughs at the sight and she approaches the ladies.

“This place looks like a perfect spot for luncheon” He comments.

Moments later, the luncheon is served with mortal delicacies and Joanna tries out the apples and nods approving at the mortals.

“This tastes rather delicious, indeed”.

Clover dips her head as she tries to nip at one of the apples but she raises an authoritary hand.

“Don’t”.

She halts and neighs. Mr. Harper is again impressed about her antics. Clover begs her for a bite and she hands her one special apple.

“Here, dear. This one helps you to heal faster and will strengthen you when we get on the road again”.

She neighs happily as she eats the apple and Mr. Harper quirks an eyebrow. She shrugs.

“The dowager countess sent lemonade!” Mr. Harper beamed.

“My favorite!” Miss Parsons exclaimed.

They all ravened on the food as Joanna observed the whole thing. After it, Miss Daly spoke up.

“So… how does this… marriage market… consist of? I hope Joanna is not to be auctioned”.

Joanna rolled her eyes as she shook her head.

“Oh, you know, the girls from the best families compete to catch the eye of a man of an even better family and men try not to be caught at all”.

Joanna quirked an eyebrow, now interested in what they had to say about that.

“Why ever not?” Briar wondered.

“I assume they like their independence. If I had a man’s freedom, I’d never want to be tied down to a wife” Joanna commented.

“It’s a game” Mr. Harper said “They do it because they’re bored”.

“Well, I don’t think giving little women hopes and then dropping them is an amusing game” Joanna huffed “If they’re bored, they should play chess or whatever mortal men do to unbore themselves. Back in my land, that is a big shame of a man to do such an awful thing to a young lady”.

“I hereby agree with you, Joanna. Though I wonder… is it the same among gentry?”.

“Aye” Mr. Harper replied “When we marry, we’re looking for someone who’ll make our work brighter and bring us happiness. If you’ve no money to gain, you might as well have the joy to enjoy it”.

“Now that’s a little fairer”.

“Well, when it’s not the bride expecting as well…”.

Everyone laughs, but Joanna keeps being stoic and the laughter fades. Joanna stands up and stretches like a cat.

“If you all excuse me, I’d like to walk for a while alone while I can”.

They all nodded as she started walking when she sniffed the smell of something evil… another shadow who wanted her dead. She quickly casted a barrier spell towards the group of mortals and prepared her staff.

“Come on… I know you’re in there!”.

A horrible howl ripped the silence and a demonized bear charged against her. She mirrored his actions and jumped high, twirling her head to the sky and landing on the other side as she shot him a spell and prepared her hands when she felt bleeding on her lips... fangs. She hissed and ran towards him and snapped the bear’s arm in two. She felt the claws again and she was in awe. A vampire’s fangs and werewolf’s claws? What the hell was going on? She had no time for this! She lunged and hit the bear right in the ribs and scratched the shoulder with her claws. She closed her eyes for a moment and summoned the ancient forces and a portal appeared! Only faeries could do that… She kicked hard the monster and sent it right to its hell dimension and the portal closed and her strengthened barrier spell faded away. She dropped her hands to her knees and panted before starting the auto-healing. When Mr. Harper and Miss Parsons approached, she was as flawless as always.

“My lady! I heard screams and howls! Are you hurt?” Mr. Harper asked, concerned.

She nodded and walked to the carriage.

“I’m fine. I have to”.

Several hours later, Joanna rested her legs as she played with her own gloved fingers, gazing at the landscape as she wondered what happened at luncheon. She had the claws of a wolf and a vampire’s fangs, along their speed and strength but not their bloodlust. She could also create fae magic and summon what they summoned. She knew she had to write a message to her aunt at once. How was this possible?

“You awake, ladies?” Mr. Harper asks, breaking the silence “We’re almost in London”.

“Hmm? Already?”.

She looked at the window to find fine townhouses and its architecture. She had to admit, mortals knew how to build a city.

“It’s so huge!” Briar commented, her mouth agape.

“Hmm, it’s a nice view”.

“There’s near a million people living here” Miss Parsons commented.

“It must be the grandest city in the world!”.

Joanna chuckled ironically, not believing she just said that. She has transported herself to New York, Prussia, Russia, Spain… There were bigger cities than London.

Suddenly, the carriage slows down and Mr. Harper calls someone down.

“Was someone supposed to meet us here…?”.

Joanna looks at the streets. No one is awaiting them on Edgewater’s name nor looking at them at all… Joanna uses her supervision to look further from her safe spot and sees nothing.

“Please tell me that someone knows how to get to the townhouse from here” Poor of them if they didn’t.

The carriage falls silent as Joanna climbs down, determined to find a spot to cast a location spell.

“Joanna, what are you—”.

“We’re lost, Briar. But do not fret, I shall find a way there before this gets ugly”.

Miss Parsons’s worried face looks out of the carriage window.

“I’m confident that is near somewhere Grosvenor Square, but I… cannot find an exact way to get there”.

“Then I shall find it myself!” Joanna said confidently.

Joanna takes a few steps away of the carriage, determined to go home, no matter what. She just had to find out how without drawing suspicions. She looked around as she observed the walking, hurried people and the carriages going and coming. She closed her eyes as she tried to locate Elias, but the connection was shattered… corrupted. She opened her eyes, gasping and getting on her knees-thing that was unusual of her- and her breath got ragged. The world shakes as she sees a familiar figure afar from all that mess. Thomas. Her Tommy. But there’s something wrong… his eyes are all back and his shape is all gray, something evil about him. She tries to reach him, but he sees something, smiles devilishly and disappears. She turns her head to Thomas’s direction as Mr. Harper cries out her name.

“My lady! Look out!”

 A gold-decked coach barrells straight to her! She closes her eyes as her hands open as she cries out, helplessly

“NO!”

 The horses neighs as some energy makes the coach bolts lightly and the driver reins the horses, both obeying the woman before them. As she raises, clutching her gloved hands together, she glimpses through the window how the shocked man offers his hands to steady her.

 “I’m good, thank you” She manages to say

 “Gracious lady, I offer you a thousand apologies and the head of my driver should you demand it!” He says, completely embarrassed to almost trample the lady.

 “Do not fret, my lord. No heads shall roll for now, and I accept your apology. You don’t seem like the kind of maggot that would do that on purpose” Joanna comments

 “That was a mere joke. I do apologize. I don’t ever expect a lovely lady walking unescorted in London”

 “I just arrived. My carriage is right there. Do not fear for me, my lord”

 The man bows flourish as Joanna asks herself if all this fuss is truly necessary. Something tells Joanna she has seen this man before.

 That attire, his foreign features and his hair… he was The Sunkissed!

 “I know it is bad from here not to wait to be introduced, but I am a foreigner and I may take some liberties, no? I am Imperial Prince Hamid, envoy to England from my cousin the sultan”

 “The sultan of the Ottoman Empire, you say?”

 “Yes, His Imperial Majesty Mahmoud the Second, Caliph of Islam, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire and Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques. As his ambassador, I am pleased to make your acquaintance”

 “Pleased to meet you, Your Highness. I may confess that you are quite the charmer, despite the fact that you almost trampled me” She teased him as she bows slightly, careful with the skirts.

 Prince Hamid catches her hand and tries to lift her to her feet, but she lifts herself with a cat’s agility.

 “Careful of your skirts, I wouldn’t wish to damage such a lovely attire”.

 “My name is Lady Joanna Mills of Edgewater”.

 Prince Hamid’s face lights up with recognition.

 “Then you are the Earl of Edgewater’s daughter”.

 “Equilicuá”.

 “I should have recognized the Earl’s clothes in your dress” He admitted “I have worked for your father in the Parliament! He is a great man. Perhaps I could offer you a ride back to his townhouse?”.

 “Well…” She thought about it, maybe she could bond with him, convince him to see each other again “I’d love to, really, but my carriage is—”.

 “Your man can follow me, but tell me you would not deny the opportunity to spend these few minutes with you, to apologize for the injury I nearly caused?”.

 She teased him, pretending to think before shrugging. She looks at Mr. Harper, who nods and she looks at the prince “Hm, how could I say no to a man apologizing for being careless? Much more when I can torture you with that excuse”.

 Prince Hamid’s coach was comfortable, with plump cushions and well sprung wheels that she could toy with that hardly jolt on the rutted streets. She nods to herself before looking at the man “I have been posted in London for the better part of two years. It is my greatest pleasure to serve my sultan by travelling the world” Prince Hamid beamed.

 “Sounds enthralling. Where else have you been?” She crossed her legs as she looked quizzically at the man.

 “Before coming to London, I spent three years in Athens and one year at the court of the Tsar Alexander. It is my aim to see as much as I can of the world”.

 “I, too, have travelled in my training quests” She smiled proudly “I’ve been in Portugal, the Kingdom of Spain, China, India, South America, the Caribbean, Italy, Siberia and Japan”.

 Prince Hamid seemed in awe with her and broke into a smile “Truly? That sounds incredible! How many languages can you speak?” He asked.

 “As many as my brain allows me to” She winked.

 “Can you speak in one of them?”.

 “Hmm” She thought of one and then broke into a smirk “Tvoya kozha napominayet mne boga apollona” Your skin reminds me of the god Apollo.

 The Prince chuckled “Thank you, though I have never been compared to a God before”.

 “First time for everything. What brings you to London though?”.

 “I am asked to negotiate a treaty with the Parliament. Trade and borders most of the part” He said, sounding sad… and done. Men could be real exhausting.

 “Englishmen won’t leave the other countries’ borders alone and mind their businesses instead of acting like they were like ancient conquerors, will they?” She asked, knowing better about the supremacy of those morons “Can’t say I’m impressed or surprised. They like getting what they want like the Prince Regent to drink even the water from the vases”.

 Prince Hamid laughed out loud with her witty remind as he nodded “Yes, the Prince Regent has a true liking for drinking, indeed”.

 “Sounds importantly dull though. Listening to grown men in cigars and clothes from 1656 while they talk about how important is to please their king while they’re all half-drunk? Pass”.

 Prince Hamid laughed again as he shook his head at her remarks “You are quite unusual, my lady” He looked at her, like some fascinating thing to study “I am quite fortunate that Parliament moves with all the speed of a glacier, so I have vast amounts of time to fill myself”.

 “See? The drunk men drowned in cigars and supremacy makes it that slow. That’s why they never last that long in life”.

 Prince Hamid chuckled “I guess their habits are a bit excessive and prejudicial for their health”.

 “That and how they get mad at everything and behave like they can do everything. Whereas us women have to endure the fact to give birth to the children of those useless twats” She scoffed.

 Prince Hamid crooked his head to the side “You seem to have made up your mind about men”.

 “I might be young, but I’m not blind or deaf. I have vowed in fact to never attach to a man that is not my equal in romance, but friendship, complicity and the promise of great adventures. Also, motherhood…” She grimaced “I don’t think I’d be up to the task. My lifestyle would be… too much for such a young, small thing”.

 “I… don’t think a noblewoman’s lifestyle is too much for a baby”.

 Oh, dear, if you only knew. Witches are infertile. And vampires. The process could kill me.

 She shook her head “Anyways… does your lifestyle in London running down young ladies in the streets as one of your hobbies by any chance?” She changed the subject rapidly.

 “Only today. But perhaps it is something I should try more often, should it always introduce me to someone so lovely” He smiled.

 She scoffed amusingly, shaking her head “Ay, por favor”

 The carriage pulled up in front of a stately townhouse. Prince Hamid opened the door and tried to help her out, but she jumped expertly on her feet and smirked at him, He chuckled at her action.

 “I suppose I must bid you farewell now. This is your father’s house, and you will be wishing to see it” He commented, looking sad.

 The truth, she itched to get to know the man a little bit more. The house could wait.

 “Thank you for the ride, Your Highness”.

 The prince bowed with an exaggerated frown “Lady Joanna, I am heartsore that our time together ends so soon. Now that we are here, I wish I had led you through half of the city before we stopped here” he whined.

 Joanna chuckled, shaking her head “If you wish more of my precious time, quit the riddles and say it already”.

 “I won’t deny that it would bring me great joy to have more of your time… I find you fascinating, Lady Joanna of Edgewater. I have met so few English ladies and none are like you” He admitted “I must get to know you better”.

 “What is holding you back again?”.

 “Walk with me now, Lady Joanna. We are both outsiders to London. Let me show you the city, and have a moment longer to bask in your fiery beauty” He proposed.

 “I was wondering when you would request it”.

 “I’m doing it now” He beamed.

 Prince Hamid tucked her hand firmly on her shoulder as they walked down the street of three-history, white-washed houses. Joanna studied the architecture as she wondered if these houses were made by the time the House of York ruled, representing the white rose of the said family.

 “The lords of Edgewater have always maintained their townhouses year round, but most of them are rented. When Parliament ends, they sit empty”.

 “Can’t say I’m surprised” She remarked.

 “You seem to know a bit of these lords even if you have grown up in the countryside”.

 “People like to talk and many lords have lands in Grovershire. One just listens and I happen to have unpleasantly met those lords, trying to… well, you know it, but they always failed or ended up giving them a piece of my mind” She shrugged “And you? Are you in London a year-round? Or you eventually return home?”.

 “I was fortunate to be invited by the Prince Regent last year to winter with him in the Royal Pavilion in Brighton” The prince shrugged, the colorful silks of his shirt rippling and catching light “This year… it will depend if my lord, His Imperial Majesty, calls me home to Constantinople”.

 Joanna tilted her head to the side “I will never get the devotion to the mortals to one man just because of a God-given title. Last time I checked, death, sickness, we’re all the same in those and yet we are ought to obey. Worst of it, they never talk about the great Queens or Empresses! They’re as worthy of appearing in the books as men” She said, determined.

 “I guess we’re taught to obey and oblige to them. But you’re right, I hardly hear a word about the Queens or the Sultanesses of the countries”.

 “Because men themselves toss them to a corner because, in the end, we are more powerful on our own than with a man and I stand by that”.

 Prince Hamid seemed impressed by her “What makes you think that?”.

 “Let’s start with Cleopatra. She was a fine queen until Marc Antony and Caesar appeared and ruined her with their stupid wars that she ended up killing herself beside a man who wasn’t worthy of such an exquisite woman like her. Catherine of Aragon was also a great queen, but the men had to win. Elizabeth Tudor, need I to keep going or you get now my point?”.

 Prince Hamid smiled widely, highly impressed by her knowledge “I do and you’ve got impressive points. There is truth in those women’s lives”.

 She smirked with sufficiency and looked at him “Your Highness… tell me about Constantinople. I never had the chance to visit the town inside, but I saw the walls of it”.

 “For me, it is home, which never holds the interest for me of travelling from afar. But it is the city that will always hold my heart”.

 “I know the feeling. I’ve seen great wonders, but none of them hold my heart so dearly as my humble Grovershire” She smiled fondly at the memory of the fields and the green “What is it like?”.

 “Ah, you ask more than you know. When Saxon tribes were still fighting Vikings in the mud of London, Constantinople was the capital of the East. It is hard not to feel our history there. Especially one of my family”.

 “I know your sentiments very well…”.

 Prince Hamid gave her a rueful smile “But we are not in Constantinople now. We are in London, and you have seen little of it either”.

 As they turned a corner, they suddenly drew into view of an immerse castle of soot-coated white stone “I take that’s the, oh so feared Tower of London?”

 “Even across the world, we have heard of all the executions which took place there”.

 Big minute of silence to Anne Boleyn and the witches that were burnt there, indeed.

 “I know how you must feel. A man’s fear and closed mind and power-driven mind can be very dangerous, monarch or not. I have witnessed many horrors, but none of them compare to the ones who think they can play God’s advocate”.

 “Which horrors?” If she could tell him… Minotaurs raping young women, massive slaying, the Order trying to purify the world, wars between elves and humans that ended in horrible bloodshed, but she always shuddered when she heard a wife has been killed or raped by a man because he thought he had the right or she ‘was asking for it’. Men were more dangerous when in many states of mind than the Gods gave them credit for, and all following that lecher of Zeus.

 “That is an unpleasant tale for other day” She shrugged it off.

 “It is a pity that such a beautiful building has such a grim story”.

 “It could be worse. When it comes to show authority, men won’t hold back to show who has the power, especially the ones who are under his command. But women are far more merciless, we just don’t need bloodshed to show our power and fury. In fact, my mother herself has shown men how to make them fear and obey her without killing or torture anyone. We are smarter in that upfront”.

 “Your mother sounds like the kind of woman that no one would like to cross indeed”.

 “She taught me well about it”.

 “Which is why I live by the philosophy that we must make every effort to grab for happiness” He smiled.

 “Oh really? What makes you happy?”.

 Prince Hamid gave her a slow smile “A walk with a woman of rare beauty and insight”.

 She scoffed amused as she rolled her eyes “Flatterer”.

 “It’s true though. So many of the girls here are loathe to share their opinions with a man. Especially a foreigner”.

 “I don’t. I like to think that our opinion does matter and we should all be heard and we should hear everyone. Free speech should be a human right. Also, that bad is to share an opinion with such an outrageous flirt?” She teased.

 Prince Hamid laughed, startling a nestling pigeon. Joanna bit the inside of her mouth to not laugh “Perhaps that as well. I admit I see little appeal in modesty”.

 A few well-dressed men stopped and were watching the couple with disdain. She heard them perfectly saying ‘These foreigners are invading our home’ ‘They should’ve stayed at home’. She glared at them and growled at them “Come and say that to my face, maggot, and let’s see how many teeth you conserve” She started to walk towards them, but Prince Hamid stopped her on her tracks, a frown on his face.

 “They’re not worth the effort”.

 “But—I have heard what they said! They have no right to call us that just because they were born and raised here! Maybe if they removed their stick wedged between their—”.

 “It doesn’t matter, really. I know I am still novelty to some Londoners”.

 “What you are is a human being worthy of respect, no matter the color of your skin and place where you were born, as me and everyone!” She gave them a dirty look and challenged them with the look, intimidating most of them “I know this because my mother and I were treated the same way in my former home, but that never stopped us to stand up to ourselves. We were different, but as worthy of their respect as all of them. We were still human. Our hearts beat the same, we bleed when hurt and we die in similar consequences, isn’t that enough?”.

 “And yet, I hear you are to be the heir of Edgewater” He smiled.

 “Thing that displeases many people, but I know my value and it’s not worth to try to please people who I don’t tolerate myself to be accepted. I rather be alone that with company that will backstab me soon” She lifted her chin.

 “Perhaps it is in the hands of those like you and I to… broaden the people’s worlds” If you only knew what I know…

She lifted her chin, showing that she was still worthy and respectable young lady and showing pride in who she was, walking past the scowling men, not letting them win as Prince Hamid swept them a low bow “A good day to you all”.

 “Those men will remember you with kindness. Those small gestures are always remembered”.

 Prince Hamid smiled and took her arm “Kindness is a gift that you can offer everyone. And the more you give, the more you have left”.

 “A beautiful philosophy, indeed”.

 “My cousin the sultan says it is why I am a good diplomat. Always, I ask the question ‘what can make everyone happy’?”.

 Joanna’s face fell “You cannot make everyone happy always. People will get hurt soon. They will leave. They will fade. We cannot make anything to stop it. Not even the own creators” She gushed.

 Before he could speak, down the road the church bells suddenly chimed. Prince Hamid took a guilty step back “I have enjoyed our walk, Lady Joanna, but your father would not thank me for keeping you away longer”.

 “My father is in Edgewater”.

 “He let you come to London alone?” He asked, surprised.

 “Well, my friends are—”.

 “Waiting, of course. I will return you to them now”.

 He walked her back to the townhouse, where she found Briar and Miss Parsons just coming outside, looking for her friend. Prince Hamid kissed her hand and Briar clasped her hands in her mouth in excitement.

 “I have enjoyed our walk. I hope most ardently to see you at some other balls and parties this season. I should be greatly obliged if you save me your first dance”.

 “First I’d have to be eager to dance or attend a ball at all”.

 She rolled her eyes as the prince laughed “I shall be sure of having an excuse to make you come, then, if that means I can see you more often”.

 “I shall see, indeed”.

 “Farewell, Lady Joanna. I trust your staying in London is… pleasing”.

 “We’ll see”.

 Briar and Miss Parsons looked at her with burning curiosity as the prince remounted his carriage and drove off “Who was that tall, dark Adonis?”.  

 “Shh, Miss Daly! I believe that was Prince Hamid from the Ottoman Empire”.

 She gave her a sly grin and Joanna arched an eyebrow “I know where this is going, just don’t”.

 “He seems to have quite taken a fancy to you”.

 “Well, I didn’t” She composed herself “We were just talking and being friendly, nothing else. Not everything is about romance” She scoffed.

 Before they could say anything, she stormed off to the stairs and into the house.

 The air was cold, so cold it felt like a thousand glasses were cutting your skin. The figure steps in front of the man in the throne, his white hair, signal of his elderly power looked at the boy.

 “So… did she saw you?”.

 “Yes, my lord”.

 “And did you get to hurt her?”.

 “No, my lord. But a carriage almost trampled on her. She sensed black magic.”

 His lips curled in a devious smile as he laughed, caressing the woman’s silhouette, her ghostly shape huffing “You see that, Mary? Soon, your child will be mine and I shall reign as their only and beloved sovereign”.

Two shadows bring in the old woman, who is grunting and struggling. They throw her in front of the man, who snaps his fingers and gives her back her Sight.

 “You! Traitor…”.

 “Shh, Nya, dear. I don’t want to hurt you… I just want to merely chat”.

 “How dare you… after what we did for you after your wife’s passing—”.

 He slammed his fists into the stinky throne made of skulls… human and supernatural skulls.

 “Don’t you dare to mention my beloved Cirilla!” His eyes were pure rage, now turned red. The boy shuddered, but never moved a single inch.

 “What shall I do with the girl, my King?”.

 “Corrupt her. Drive her crazy. Make her feel powerless, useless, utterly useless. Get in the bottom of her darkness and destroy her from the inside. I will do the rest. Joanna Mills won’t touch a single golden inch of my rightful throne. I’ll kill her before she discovers anything”.

 “You complete ass” Mary snapped, her chains sounding “That will be breaking the peace treaty you agreed to sign. Chaos, war and bloodshed will spread around this universe soon we will know nothing, all because of your ambition”

 He looked down to her as he curled his fingers, making her scream in pain, grabbing her throat tightly, gasping.

“That is where you are wrong. The world will be ruled by the one and only superior race: the witches and warlocks. We will be the only ones in this galaxy, to hell with the mortals! They are useless and despicable, I shall erase them forever! I will not sleep until everyone of them is dead, and when they are, I will be the one and only rightful king. No more hiding, no more fear, just us and our magic. And Joanna will be dealt with, trust me. No other sixbrid will ever step on my plans. But before kill her, I will ruin her. By next year, I will be the purest, holiest, most powerful man alive!” He extended his hands, laughing as a storm took place. Nya shivered in fear as Mary looked in horror at the boy.

 “How could you? She loved you! She loves you!”.

 “I am not her Thomas anymore. I am her destructor” He curled a smile on his face as the image of Joanna glaring to Mr. Marlcaster appeared on the screen.