#it felt so much more like an active choice to sacrifice herself than simply accepting her destiny

[prankprincess123]

I know this one is slightly controversial, but my favorite change from ATLA to the live action so far:

Zhao: I am going to kill- *pause for dramatic effect* -the MOON!

Iroh: You can't do that! Cause then there will be no more waterbenders and the entire world will be even more out of wack!

Yue: I don't need the moon to bend. I AM the moon! *freezes Sokka's feet in place so he can't save her*

[aspoonofsugar]

The Maidens: The Cycle of Life and Death

This post is inspired by @hamliet’s alchemy metas... I know nothing about alchemy, but after discussing it with her, this idea came up and I am sharing it on her behalf too.

In short, in alchemical stories (which RWBY apparently is) there are 3/4 phases. Each phase is linked to a specific color:

1) Nigredo (black)

2) Albedo (white)

3) Citrinitas (yellow)

4) Rubedo (red)

That said, often the yellow phase ends up being fused with the red one, so in most alchemical stories there are only three phases. Now, for each phase there is a major death, so there are usually 3/4 key deaths, each one linked to a specific phase.

For example, in Harry Potter there is

a) Sirius BLACK dying

b) ALBUS Dumbledore dying

c) Harry dying and being carried by RUBEUS Hagrid

Let’s highlight that each one of these deaths is especially resonant and important for the story. Sirius dies when Harry discovers about the prophecy. Dumbledore’s death leads to Harry leaving Hogwarts to look for the Horcruxes and finally Harry’s own death leads to Voldemort’s defeat.

What I mean is that the deaths linked to each phase must be resonant and meaningful either in terms of plot or in terms of themes. They must have weight and be felt both by the audience and by the characters.

So far, in RWBY we have had two such deaths:

Pyrrha’s death is linked to Nigredo, while Penny’s to Albedo. Interestingly, both deaths happened to two (supposed to be) Maidens.

This is interesting on multiple levels.

First of all, I have been asked about the Maidens in RWBY here and here. However, Penny’s death helped me gain a new perspective of their overall meaning.

In the first meta I have written this:

In a sense, the story keeps repeating. Salem kills Ozpin, he is reborn and his daughters are victims of the conflict between them.

Because of this, the four Maidens have become one of the many symbols of this endless cycle, which is clealry breaking its protagonists more and more.

This is well conveyed by the Maidens having a season theme. Seasons are in fact linked to the repetition of time aka one of Ozpin’s motifs.

I still think it is a part of the truth, but as for now I think the framing of the series over the cycle is more nuanced. It is a cycle of death and rebirth:

Goodwitch: The Maidens have existed for thousands of years. But much like in nature, the seasons change. No two summers are alike. When a Maiden dies, her power leaves her body and seeks out a new host, ensuring that the seasons are never lost, and that no individual can hold on to that power forever.

Seasons live and die, but new ones are born. It is a death that leads to a new life and that protects life itself since the Seasons are supposed to be Guardians.

This fits with the actual cycle of seasons where “no two summers are alike”, but that also accompanies humans’ lives and makes many human activities possible.

Secondly, both Pyrrha and Penny’s deaths have to do with the theme of choice, which is central to the series:

Ozpin: Maidens choose themselves.

In particular, Pyrrha and Penny’s final choices are two different declination of this idea. At the same time, they are linked to the theme explored by their respective relic as well (in Pyrrha’s case it means that her link to choice is twofold).

1) As the (supposed to be) Maiden of Choice, Pyrrha is given a choice in the Vault of Choice:

Ozpin: You, Miss Nikos... have a choice to make.

(...)

Ozpin: Are you ready? I... I need to hear you say it.

Pyrrha: Yes.

Ozpin: Thank you, Miss Nikos.

She is given some time to think about it and in the end she chooses to accept her new duty. Still, the power is stolen from her and the choice she was given is negated to her:

Pyrrha: But I can help.

Ozpin: You'll only get in the way.

However, this does not stop her:

Red-Haired Woman: She understood that she had a responsibility... to try. I don't think she would regret her choice, because a Huntress would understand that there really wasn't a choice to make. And a Huntress is what she always wanted to be.

Pyrrha’s death is about doing the right thing even if it comes with a high personal cost. She is able to make the choice to keep fighting against an enemy impossible to defeat an arc before our protagonists are strong enough to make it.

This is why... even if she never receives the powers.. Pyrrha is the true Maiden of Choice of the Vale arc. She does not need the powers because deep down being a Maiden is something deeper than that.

Pyrrha embodies the idea that Maidens choose themselves because she chooses to be a Maiden at Heart and dies true to her choice:

Pyrrha: Do you believe in destiny?

2) As the Maiden of Creation, Penny is created anew in the Vault of Creation:

As I have stated in previous metas Creation as a concept is linked to free will. Creations are free to develop and to change independently from their “creators”. This fits Penny’s transformation, who ultimately gives her back the free will that the virus had stolen:

Penny: I...I must...open the Vault. I, I do not want...Ah!

And in the end she uses her free will to make a specific choice:

Penny: Let me choose this one thing.

I have actually a lot more to say about Penny’s death and final choice, but I will write a longer meta about it, so for now let’s just say it has to do with self-actualization.

Penny embodies the idea that Maidens choose themselves because she chooses who she wants to be and how she wants to live.

What is more, her choice has to do with Creation because she saves Winter’s life and also (symbolically) makes her a whole person as well:

Winter: No, Penny, you were always the real Maiden at heart. I was just a machine. Just... following orders.

Penny: You’re my friend.

Winter: Perhaps, but I’m choosing it now. I’ve made it my own. And I take great pride in it.

Winter: You chose nothing. This was a gift.

At the same time, Penny’s sacrifice also saves the people of Atlas and Mantle who are stranded in Vacuo. If Cinder had stolen the power, they would have all died.

As a final note, we are directly told the themes linked to both Pyrrha and Penny’s death back in volume 5:

Ruby: When Beacon fell, I lost two of my friends: Penny Polendina and Pyrrha Nikos. I didn't know them for very long, but that doesn't change the fact that they were two of the most kind-hearted people I have ever met. But that didn't save them. Pyrrha thought that if there was even the smallest chance of helping someone, then it was a chance worth taking. And because of that, she died fighting a battle she knew she couldn't win. And Penny... was killed... just to make a statement.

Pyrrha died to make the right thing.

Penny died the first time as a result of her being objectified, so the second time she herself chose how to end her life in a way she found meaningful.

In short, Pyrrha and Penny’s deaths can be read as the two deaths linked respectively to Nigredo and Albedo. What is sure is that they are meant to be compared and foiled.

All this leads to a question... will we have other two (or one) major death(s) that will be linked to (the yellow and) red phase(s)? Will they be other Maidens?

As for now, I think it is possible, even if not sure obviously.

First of all, I do not know if we are gonna have a death for Citrinitas since from what I understood usually the yellow phase gets conveyed as a part of the Rubedo one. Moreover, if we have it, it might not be linked to a Maiden. After all, another pattern one could find is that both Pyrrha and Penny died at Beacon and so did Ozpin, so maybe he will be the one to die (once and for all?) in the yellow/red phase. However, as for now, I don’t think so and I am gonna theorize that the yellow and red deaths, if they happen, will have to do with the Maidens and will be other declinations of the themes explored above.

As for now, we know nothing of the Maiden of Destruction, so I am not considering her.

Still, there is another Maiden whose arc was left unsolved and who needs to come back in the story:

3) As the Maiden of Knowledge, Raven is told the truth about herself in the Vault of Knowledge:

Yang: Oh, shut up!! You don't know the first thing about strength! You turn your back on people, you run away when things get too hard, you put others in harm's way instead of yourself!! You might be powerful, but that doesn't make you strong.

And it is possible that this self-knowledge will eventually lead her to make a choice, which is what she has failed to do up until now.

If she chooses to sacrifice herself, her death will be a redemptive one and it might come to embody that Maidens choose themselves because they can always change and become true Maidens.

Finally, there is the Rubedo phase, which is the last phase. If we are gonna have a red death, it should be a key one for the whole series and one which leads to its resolution. As for now, I think there is only one character who can pull it off:

4) Cinder is a key character for the whole story. Personally, I think this volume was a turning point for her, but she failed to learn the lessons she needed to learn. What she did was to take these lessons and to twist them in a hypocritical way:

Cinder: I suppose I have only you to thank for one last lesson… Sometimes, if you want to win…you simply can’t do it alone.

And this has made her even more similar to Salem:

Salem: Why....do...you...keep...coming...back?!

Yang: Why do you?!

Penny: Why did you come back?! Why couldn’t you just learn your lesson?!

I would also like to highlight that so far Cinder has failed to learn the lesson of each relic.

In the Vale Arc, it is implied her concept of Destiny and Choice is different from Pyrrha’s. She wants to be “worthy” and to be chosen. Moreover, her idea of agency is linked to stealing others’, just like she stole the Maiden’s power and Pyrrha’s destiny.

In the Mistral Arc, she receives a warning about her Shadow Hand:

Raven: Aura can't protect your arm, it's Grimm. You turned yourself into a monster just for power.

But she chooses to ignore it.

Finally, in the Atlas Arc she manages to make herself anew. She recreates herself, but fails to truly change.

I am expecting all these failures to come back at her with the Vacuo Arc, which is about Destruction and will probably lead to everything coming together to crush Cinder (the people she used, the Shadow Hand, Salem’s true plan).

Once this happens, I think Ruby will save her with her eyes and will offer her that pity she was never shown as a child. This will lead to Cinder’s final choice which might be a synthesis of all the choices made by the Maidens she killed.

It will be a selfless choice, like Pyrrha’s, in contrast to the selfishness she displayed throughout the series.

It will be a self-actualizing choice, like Penny’s, which will free her from Salem’s shadow and influence

It will also be a redemptive choice, where Cinder finally lives up to her name and becomes the true Fall Maiden.

I am also expecting this choice to somehow solve the conflict or to be a part of the reason why the conflict is solved.

It would also be interesting if the Maidens’ sacrifices become progressively more effective in solving the conflict.

Pyrrha’s death is the most pyrric (obviously). She did not manage to stop Cinder, but barely gained enough time for Ruby to arrive and wound the villain. Still, it is a choice who clearly inspired her friends and I think that in the end it will inspire Cinder as well:

Cinder: You know, Neo, someone once asked me if I believed in destiny. And I'm happy to say I still do.

Penny’s death is framed as a sad, but powerful conclusion to her arc and saved both Winter and the people of Atlas and Mantel. It still did not prevent Salem from taking the relics and did not save the Kingdom.

So, maybe Cinder’s death, if it happens, will be key in saving the world.

This would also fit with the idea that we are going through a journey where we are getting to know the four gifts the Gods gave humanity.

Pyrrha sacrificed herself even before our protagonists received Knowledge, Penny did so after both Knowledge and Creation, while Cinder perhaps will do so after the characters have aquired all the four gifts.

[legacyofabsolutewalnuts]

Wanweird for the OC of your choice/

Wanweird - An unhappy fate.

This was...very hard to make a decision about. I have tragic aus for Vits, Montym, and Bel, but they’re all very long, so I chose to go with Dapatica’s canon fate. While not the most emotional perhaps, she dies as a sacrifice for a goal she privately doesn’t believe in, with her wives at her side, and I think that’s about as unhappy as it gets. Most of it is under the cut, as it got...a bit long. Thank you for letting me explore it! Perhaps I’ll post the unhappy aus for the others some day

There was little else to do but take up arms, and take as many of the blasted Skytroopers and Knights out with them as possible. Dapatica had made sure they hadn’t left the base with much, a limited about of supplies, and whatever weapons they could carry. Anything useful had already been dismantled, and while Cimesetli had protested the entire time they’d been loading his ship with anything that could be taken back to Dromund Kaas, he’d gone before the fleet had shown up.

They were going to lose ground, that was inevitable. The point was a stand, and to direct resources away from bigger fronts. They had made enough of a stink to draw a significant portion of the Eternal Empire’s forces away from other fronts. Hopefully, razing their former base of operations would add to the delay once they finally fell.

Sith weren’t supposed to think that way. Victory or death. But victory had long since passed as an option. Death was left. Dapatica had accepted that.

She had wanted to do this alone, but Leo had been right from the start, and alone she couldn’t hold out nearly as long. Cimesetli had taken most of her troops, against orders, but he was only a bounty hunter, outside military discipline, and her troops had been given orders by their Sith and Acina would have no choice to accept the decision she’d made. She had needed him gone long before the fleet showed up. Only one squad had stayed, a barricade created at her back.

Leo and Calica had stayed, no matter how much she’d wanted them to go. They wouldn’t hear leaving her, not if this was to be her last stand. Perhaps it was for the best, at least she could know their loyalty withstood all else, and it would not waver after she was gone. She had been forced to send Etelvina with Cimesetli because of it, nearly needing the Mandalorian to drag her Apprentice back kicking and screaming. He would have done it too, they had always had a good working relationship, and it was a shame to know most of her fellows wouldn’t compensate him well enough to get the best out of him. Men like him were needed in this war, alien or not. But she had worked to hard to leave her legacy in the hands of anyone else, if her wives were to die with her.

It should have gone to Viticalia. She was- had been- nearly a decade younger than Dapatica. Volatile Sith politics aside, Viticalia was supposed to outlive her. She had done what their parents couldn’t do with their family name, and one day, she was supposed to die, and Viticalia would be the one to have apprentices and children and continue the legacy. She had worked hard to get their family name to where Viticalia only had to worry about maintaining it.

And then Viticalia had gone and become the Emporer’s Wrath, above and beyond what Dapatica had ever asked of her sister, and things could have been perfect. The family name could be squandered for generations before the power and titles they’d amassed together were finally lost. But Viticalia would never have allowed her children to be so frivolous with their efforts.

If Etelvina was smart, and she was, cut-throat and cunning, which was why Dapatica had chosen her, she would keep Cimesetli on retainer, and use her Master’s name to her advantage to keep hold of what was now hers, with no relations to fight for what Dapatica was leaving behind.

It all should have gone to Viticalia. Etelvina should have become her Apprentice, on Dapatica’s death. Her sister wasn’t meant to be gone, the opening shot of a war, when she hadn’t known who she was firing at, or even that she was. She had been better than that. Better than a useless sacrifice. Marr be damned, Viticalia should have been one of the ones to come home, whether he did or not. But instead, she’d done her duty. Or so her Major Quinn had said. 

Dapatica had almost taken his head off there and then for saying such. Duty meant nothing anymore. He’d lived because he had been in Viticalia’s good graces, and her crew and her ship were all Dapatica had left of her. 

If the Force had a will, then duty to it or anything else was only a path of pain. The will of the Force was a crock of bantha shit. If the Force had a will, it should have kept those who could change the galaxy alive. But instead, it had let Viticalia die for duty. It should have only been a tool for good reason, it seemed.

Leo had laid up in a sniper nest, far enough back that she could run for the base, even if her bad leg gave her trouble. It wouldn’t be an escape, it was only so she could activate the defences and make it seem like the base needed to be occupied, forcing the Eternal Empire to follow her. She and Calica both had tried to show her their love as much as possible before they left. It would be the last time. They’d left their coms open.

Calica’s back was to her chest, Dapatica’s arms around her as they waited. It wouldn’t take long now, only a few minutes more before the Skytroopers set down. Calica’s rotary cannon was waiting, and her own lightsabers were a comfortable weight on her hips. She’d taken a page out of Viticalia’s book, loading up with grenades and a blaster of her own. The Force and her lightsabers wouldn’t be enough. Not to take as many of them out as she could. And she intended to take as many of them with her as possible, recompense for her own death, for Leocadia’s, and Calica’s, and Viticalia’s.

Acina would bow to Zakuul eventually. Either she would die fighting them, or live to see Viticalia’s sacrifice mean nothing.

According the Lady Beniko, this distraction would give her the opening to get onto an Eternal Empire station and get the data she would need to plan an assault on Zakuul itself. She had asked Dapatica for her help personally, hoping the information she was getting would allow her to free Viticalia.

Captured, she had said. She was convinced of it. Convinced Viticalia hadn’t been killed. That Viticalia had survived both the ship and killing Zakuul’s Emporer. She was certain they had left Viticalia alive.

She should have been able to feel her sister across galaxies if that was what it took. She had felt no death blow, and Viticalia’s apprentice Jaesa hadn’t felt it either. But she was simply no longer there. It wouldn’t have been surprising if Viticalia had had the power to hide her own death blows from them.

There was nothing left to say between them, and so the comm was silent for now. She’d told her wives of Lana’s opening, but not of her doubts. No, it was better they go to their deaths together at peace, rather having there been any doubt in their minds. They still would have joined her, they were better than that, but it wouldn’t have been fair to them.

Viticalia was gone. It would be pleasant to join her. Pleasant to have her wives at her side, and not have to watch everything they had worked so hard for fall. They would not have to watch their Empire crumble and debase itself.

Sacrifice. It had never been a Sith ideal. Perhaps in a time of war, it was, only phrased differently. A victory of sorts. At least it was not a surrender.

Leo’s voice broke the reverie, and Dapatica dropped a kiss in Calica’s hair before the other woman turned, kissing her once, and lifting her cannon. “Contact. Two clicks. Get ready.”

“Leo-”

“I know, I’ll see you both on the other side. I love you both.”

“Love you too.” Calica echoed it softly, and Dapatica drew herself to her full height, lips pursed, and watching the horizon line. They’d chosen the battlefield, taking the higher ground, and already she could see the approach, troops landing in quick succession. 

“I adore you both, and if this is where we meet our ends together, I am glad to have known you both for the time we had. May we meet again on the other side.” She shook herself once, centred, prepared, and ready to rage against the face of death for as long as she could. She let her voice carry. “Men! It’s been an honour. Let’s make them hurt.”

[heartfullofpony]

Applejack

A lot of people claim that Applejack has no character development, but this is simply not true.  In fact, she has perhaps the most linear character development in the whole series.  It stretches across 3 episodes which, in my mind, contitute a trilogy:  Applebuck Season, The Last Roundup, and Apple Family Reunion.

These three episodes explore three sides of the same idea, and manages to convey an incredibly complex back story that motivates Applejack's every move, and yet, tell that story in a sideways fashion, presenting each angle presented with both elegance and simplicity.

Applebuck Season is the very first episode in the entire series to focus on just one pony in particular.  (The pilot, and The Ticket Master had both been ensemble pieces).  The very first thing the show does is characterize Applejack as stubborn.  For those who don't remember, Applejack is stuck doing all of the harvest chores by herself.  As a matter of pride, she refuses to accept help, even as she drives herself to the point of exhaustion, and ends up bungling a series of simple tasks that she'd previously committed to (before knowing that she'd be stuck carrying the whole farm by herself).

The crux of the story is presented as Applejack learning to overcome her pride, and Twilight learning how to intervene without insulting her. But what's really going on here runs deeper than mere stubbornness.  Skip forward a season-and-a-half to The Last Roundup.  Applejack hops on a train to compete in the rodeo after promising all of Ponyville that she would win, and use the prize money to fix Town Hall.  After the competition, however, Applejack mysteriously disappears.  Twilight and friends track her down.  Eventually, they find AJ doing manual labor for a cherry farmer named Cherries Jubilee, but Applejack refuses to explain why.  She won't tell her friends what the problem is, or even admit that there is a problem at all. It's odd, erratic behavior.

After much drama and a dramatic chase scene, it is revealed that Applejack had won several ribbons at the rodeo, but had not taken first place in a single event, nor won a single bit in prize money.  The whole reason that Applejack had fled Ponyville, and committed herself to working odd jobs was to raise money  to pay for a new Town Hall (rather than return in shame, having failed to fulfill her promise).

If you look at these two stories together, it's not about a pony who is simply stubborn, or who is obsessed with winning.  Applejack, for her entire life, has defined herself by her dependability.

That promise of winning the rodeo was everything to her precisely because it was a promise.

The Element of Honesty is about more than simply telling the truth all the time - it's a certain kind of integrity.  There are no excuses whatsoever with Applejack.  She holds herself to a high standard, and that standard means concrete results. No matter what.  Being able to do the harvest by herself; being able to raise the money that she'd promised to save Town Hall.  It was all about providing for others.  The defining element of Applejack's personality is not, in fact, stubbornness.  It's dependability.

This all makes sense when you think about it.  It would be many many seasons before the show decided to directly address Applejack's parents, and what had happened to them, but their absence was always felt.  Lauren Faust herself has stated in interviews that it was always her intention to convey that Applejack's parents had died.  The only reason that she never wrote that story directly into season one was that Hasbro had prevented her from telling it how she felt it deserved to be told.

Bearing this in mind, stop to think about how this experience must have shaped Applejack.  She was probably barely a teenager when her sister was born, and when her parents died.  Applejack had to step to the plate.  She had the support of Granny Smith, and Big Macintosh of course, but for a long time, she'd been the one running the farm, and for a long time, she had also been raising her sister - doing the work of a real parent - all before she herself had properly grown up.

Applejack built her entire life and entire identity around her family, and that life has been defined by sacrifices and devotion.  She has been thrust into in a position where the buck always stopped with her - where she had no choice but to be dependable.  The common good of all that she loved and cared about was at stake.

This brings me to the third part of a trilogy, Apple Family Reunion.

In case you don't remember, this episode centers around a reunion (as the title might suggest) that happens once every 100 moons.  This time, it's being hosted at Sweet Apple Acres, and Granny Smith is too old to run the event anymore.

Applejack, Apple Bloom, and Granny Smith look through the old photo album together, and reminisce about what these reunions mean to the Apple family.  This time around, it falls on Applejack to make the whole thing come together, so of course she puts tremendous pressure on herself to live up to the legacy of her ancestors.

There's a shot in this episode that tells us everything you need to know about Applejack as a character.  After looking through that photo album with Apple Bloom, and Granny, Applejack goes to the window, and sees a pair of shooting stars (obviously meant to symbolize her parents looking down on her).  It is in this moment that she develops her resolve - not only to succeed in organizing a family reunion, but to honor her roots, and organize the best reunion ever.

The problem is: Applejack forces everypony into so many stupid activities, that the family doesn't get to have any quiet time together to talk, or to bond as friends.  We see this play out both with the young ones (as Apple Bloom desperately attempts to catch up with her cousin, Babs Seed), and with the old folks who, rather than reconnecting, and sewing the family quilt in a quiet, zen sort of way, are forced into an assembly line of sorts.

Of course, it all comes crashing down - in this case, literally - destroying their barn.

I'm not sure if you remember, but in this moment, Applejack is completely and utterly devastated.  It's the shame of her failures in Applebuck Season and Last Roundup magnified a hundred fold.  She had done the morally unthinkable - she had left her family down.

The episode ends with the realization that it's not the activities themselves that make a family reunion great, it's the memories we build with our loved ones.  The extended Apple Family comes together for one last group activity - rebuilding the barn (as I'm sure you recall from the hoedown number, "Raise This Barn").

The final scene of Apple Family Reunion centers around AJ and her immediate family pasting pictures into the scrap book (after all their extended kin had hopped in their wagons and gone on their way).  Applejack once again drifts over to the doorway, and looks up at the night sky, and once again, she sees the same two shooting stars - her parents looking down on her.  This time, it's taken as a sign of approval.

That epitomizes who Applejack is as a person (pony) - the kid who stepped up and took over her parents' job when she was far too young to do so.  The pony who made herself dependable because she had to.  The pony who spends her whole life filling those empty horseshoes that her parents had left behind.

It's all there, hidden between the lines - this beautiful back story that the show wasn't allowed to tell.  Applejack is  strong.  Devoted.  Dependable.  A source of inspiration if you take the time to think about who she really is deep down inside, and the challenges she must have had to face to become the pony we all know.

-Sprocket

If you enjoy essays like these, please consider supporting my work on Patreon.  You can also follow Heart Full of Pony on FimFic

[fullmetalscullyy]

his protector - chapter 6

summary: “you no longer hold the status as my first knight.” that felt like a knife in her heart, but riza had expected it. harsh, but she knew the consequences of her actions and would accept them wholeheartedly, because it was for the king’s own safety. “you’re no longer a part of my court. get the hell out.”

rated: t | words: 4133

read chapter 5 | read on ao3 and ffnet

Riza returned to the inn she’d found Mr. K in. It

“I don’t like it,” Alphonse interrupted immediately. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Al,” Riza sighed tiredly. “It will get me on the inside.”

“No,” he barked fiercely.

“I agree with Alphonse on this one,” Mr. K – who they learned his last name was Knox – chipped in. “It’s far too risky.”

“Have you two got any better ideas?” Riza countered.

“No, but anything is better than offering yourself up to the enemy,” Alphonse retorted.

Sighing, Riza brought her fingers to her temples to try and massage her headache away. Knox stood from his chair and approached the bar, ordering another round for them. It was going to be a long night, Riza could tell.

“Al –”

“You promised me you wouldn’t leave my like my mother did,” Alphonse added. His eyes were beginning to well with tears. “You promised. I almost watched you die –” He choked on the word. “Die once before. Please don’t make me do it again.” The fight was gone from him. His voice was broken as he begged her to stay with him.

He’s still just a teenager. He was too young to have witnessed all he had.

“Al.” Riza softened her voice. “I have to finish this.”

Knox returned and placed the three ales down on the table.

“I can’t let them get away with what they’ve done. That men we caught; they were just puppets. There’s someone else out there pulling the strings,” she stressed. “I know I promised to always be by your side, but…” She sighed helplessly.

Riza was torn. The conversation she’d shared with Roy echoed inside her head. She was heeding their advice. They’d changed their plan based on the information Knox had been able to give them and Riza was ensuring that Alphonse and herself would remain safe. She just had to get Al on board with it first.

“While I agree with Alphonse – it is risky – I get it,” Knox offered in the silence that had fallen over the trio. “I want this finished too. For my family,” he added, his tone determined. His hand formed a fist on the table.

“I hate to do this to you Al…” Riza turned to face the young mage. “And if you want to walk away now, I won’t blame you for it. You should’ve walked away from this mess at the start. But…” Riza hated herself for the request, but she had to try. “We could really use your help, Alphonse.”

“What if it doesn’t turn out the way you hoped?” he asked, voice quiet. He’d broken the brief silence that had fallen over them. “What if you… die.”

“That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

“Why?” His tone suggested he couldn’t understand it.

“Because it will help so many people in the long run. It will bring peace to our kingdom, Al. It will prevent what happened to your family from happening to anyone else’s.”

Al’s shoulders sagged in defeat and Riza gripped his hand in response, hoping to offer some comfort to him.

“I know it’s hard,” Riza added. “I wouldn’t ask this of you unless I had no other choice but… It’s literally just the three of us left. We’re the only ones who can put a stop to it, because we’re the only ones who know what’s going on.”

Alphonse was quiet. His eyes were on the table between them as he contemplated what she’d said. Every word of it was the truth. She used to want to stop these bastards because of her duty to the King, and because she felt like she owed him it. Now, that had all turned to ash. She was done with it all. It was time to take her life and her actions into her own hands, and for the first time in a long time, she was doing something because she simply wanted to help people. There was no underlying duty or mission behind it. These people needed to be stopped so there wouldn’t be any more children who experienced what Alphonse and his brother had gone through. No families would be left in mourning like Knox had been.

“I don’t like it,” he whispered, eyes still on the table. When he lifted his head, his eyes were sad, but he nodded. “But I do understand. I…” He sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I feel the same way.” Alphonse shrugged helplessly. “I want to help, but don’t want to put you at risk.”

“You won’t be.” Riza gave his hand a squeeze, as if forcing her reassurance through his hand as well as through her speech. “Your spells are extremely valuable to this operation, and you’ll be masking me and protecting me. You’ll be helping. I can guarantee it.”

Alphonse eyed her, then turned his gaze to Knox, who shrugged.

“I can’t make the decision for you kid,” he stated before he took a large swig of his ale.

“All right.”

Riza smiled warmly at him. “Thank you, Al. Truly. This means so much to me.”

“Just…” He huffed. “Don’t die. Please.”

“You know I can only offer my best effort not to,” she reminded him gently. “But with a great mage like you beside me, I won’t be beaten so easily.”

*          *          *

“Ready?” Riza whispered.

Knox nodded to her right. Alphonse did the same, then closed his eyes in concentration. The familiar feeling of his magic washed over Riza, wrapping around her like a blanket, soothing the slight tweak she felt in her lower back as she shifted her weight. It was comforting. It was a reminder she wasn’t alone.

The spell the King had placed over her worked incredible wonders. Her bruising had gone within the day and she’d no longer had any agonising pain by the time she fell asleep that night.

She was still mad at him, but now Riza was in doubt. Damn him. Her mind’s eye kept showing her the image of his broken face as they’d talked. He was clearly guilty about it all. He apologised profusely and felt bad about how he’d acted, and rightly so. But the addition of that spell… He still cared. The man she’d fallen in love with was still in there somewhere, even if he had disappeared in recent weeks.

Riza was conflicted, but there was no time to deal with it now. This would be her final mission on this job, and after that… Well, if she wasn’t dead, she’d deal with it all then.

“Now remember…” Alphonse visibly swallowed. “This spell will paralyse you. You’ll be able to listen, but you won’t be able to move anything. It will slow your pulse right down to be almost undetectable. Underneath the mask of it all, you will breathe properly and your heart will beat as normal, but you won’t be able to open your eyes or speak.”

Alphonse swallowed again and lifted a shaking hand to her forehead. He swiped his thumb across it, creating a mirage of an open wound. Her skin there appeared to become sticky, but there was no pain and the mage assured her everything was still intact. He did it again. This time, across her stomach, creating a vision of a large stab wound across her abdomen. If she was going to play dead, she may as well look the part.

“Only you can end the effects of the spell. Whisper the incantation I told you and it will break you free.”

His jaw clenched as he finished his handiwork, examining her “wounds”.

“They look real.” And he looked like he was going to vomit.

“Al, I’ll be fine.”

His eyes shot back up to meet hers. “You’re playing dead and we’re handing you over to the enemy. How will you be fine?”

“No, I’m handing myself over. Once I’m in and behind enemy lines, we’ll strike. All of us, together.” She met both of her companion’s gazes. “It will only be for a moment. The traps are set. All you need to do is activate them.”

Alphonse nodded, his expression grim, then stepped out of the way so Knox could approach.

Extending his arms out, Knox stood waiting for Riza. She climbed carefully into his hold, wincing as her back tweaked again slightly.

“Let’s finish this.”

“Right,” both Knox and Alphonse agreed at the same time, the latter looking more unhappy about the situation.

Despite what the men had done to Knox’s family, he’d reached out to the mysterious ruler of this kingdom. He was still a “friend” and had brought the ruler a “prize”. Her.

They walked out into the road, beginning phase one of their plan.

“That kid has a spell for everything,” Knox muttered under his breath as they walked. “You weigh absolutely nothing.”

Riza let out a quiet breath from her nose in amusement. He was right. Alphonse was a true gem and she would never forget all he’d helped her with through this difficult time.

Knox walked for about ten minutes before finally stopping.

“Halt,” a voice called out. “State your name.”

“It’s Knox,” he shouted back. Riza detected a hint of a snarl in his tone.

“Come forward.”

With an irritated scoff, Knox obeyed.

“State your reasons for being here,” the same voice ordered.

“Your men killed my family,” Knox snarled for definite this time. His grip on Riza’s body tightened, his fingertips digging into her flesh as his anger reared its head.

Silence ensued and Riza held her breath, waiting to see if there would be retaliation, but there was none.

A different voice spoke this time. A male voice. It was smooth, almost calming and reassuring, but it still made Riza’s skin crawl.

“It’s him,” Knox breathed to her.

“That wasn’t my order,” the man spoke.

The rich voice made Riza want to shiver, but her body was frozen in place.

The spell itself made her look like a corpse, but it kept her alive. It was like a mask over her entire being, hiding a very much alive and breathing Riza behind it. She took a slow breath, easing it out as quietly as she could, but heard no sound leaving her. Riza realised she truly was hidden behind this image Alphonse had created.

“I don’t care. I brought you your prize,” Knox ground out. She was tossed to the ground as was planned, and Knox certainly wasn’t gentle. Of course, it had to be real, so Riza didn’t mind. In fact, she noticed no pain whatsoever. What she did notice, was the sudden warmth that wrapped around her body as she fell.

Alphonse’s magic.

He was watching and softened her blow.

“Now, you will leave me alone.”

Silence ensued, but on the ground Riza could hear gravel crunching underneath someone’s boots as they approached. A shadow was cast over her body, blocking out the bright sunshine above and darkening her already pitch-black existence.

If she wasn’t paralysed because of Alphonse’s spell, Riza would have flinched as she felt breath on her skin. Rough fingers were placed on her cheek and she felt herself tense. Of course, to whoever this was invading her personal space, it would appear as though she was still a limp body. The fingers gently turned her head to examine her face, then they disappeared, along with the smell of sandalwood.

“You brought me the King’s First Knight,” the man above her announced. He was suddenly so much closer than Riza expected. Her scalp and forehead tingled with the awareness of him. She was ready to break the enchantment at a moment’s notice.

“That’s right. Would I lie when I told you I would?” Knox spat.

“You’ve done me a service,” the ruler purred. Riza was desperate to see his features, to finally put a face to the invisible enemy she’d been fighting for weeks. She wanted to look into the eyes of the person who’d cost her almost everything. “As promised, we will leave you alone, along with the entire kingdom.”

Riza heard more gravel crunching as Knox turned on his heel and walked away, like was planned.

“And Knox?” the ruler called casually. “I am truly sorry about your family. I did not give that order and can only apologise profusely.”

“That won’t bring them back,” Knox muttered angrily, sorrow clouding his words.

“I know. That’s why I extend the protection to the whole kingdom as well.”

Riza heard Knox scoff and walk away, only to skid to a stop.

Silence descended over the meeting and Riza was left in limbo, unable to see the cause and if she needed to break the spell.

Suddenly, her hearing disappeared. There was a muted pop, then a sudden and very apparent pressure over her ears. Not heavy or painful, but more like the earmuffs she’d once worn over her ears in the winter months as a child. Trying to sit up, she couldn’t. She was paralysed.

Heart rate picking up, Riza was at a loss of what to do. If she couldn’t hear, she didn’t know what was going on. She didn’t know the best of most effective time to break the spell. If she did it now, not only could she die, but Alphonse and Knox could too.

Arms gripped her roughly underneath her own and spun her in place. Disorientated and not paying attention because of her loss of hearing, Riza was unsure what direction she was headed. Was this the enemy, moving her body to the place where she’d expected to go? Once she stopped, she’d be able to break the spell and would awaken to signal Al to set off the traps. With the element of surprise, she’d be able to take out the ruler’s escort and hopefully take him down.

And from that conversation, he had been intent on harming her and the kingdom. That was enough of a confession in order to stop him. Riza didn’t know how far the desire to hurt them ran, so didn’t need to kill them. She just needed to capture the enemy at the very least.

Her body thumped down heavily, her head hitting the ground painfully. Al hadn’t protected her that time. Fear gripped her heart. Was he okay?

She almost broke the spell, but another set of arms began to drag her again after hearing a muted thump very close to her ear. This person’s movements were move hurried, hauling her body none too gently along the gravel.

Finally, she came to a stop and there was a shadow over her body again. She couldn’t feel much, just the vibration of the ground and the pressure on her ears.

There was a distant thundering sound. The ground trembled harder underneath her body and fingers. It shook and the air felt slightly different. It was charged… Like there was a lot of magical energy in the air.

Unable to take it anymore, she broke the spell –

Only to come face to face with a distraught and tearful Roy.

His hands were running down her cheeks, smoothing down her hair as he sobbed. He froze, his hand falling from brushing her fringe off her face. His hand fell limp on the grass beside her head. His expression was one of shock as he blinked down at her, disbelieving what he was seeing. The next thing Riza knew she was bundled tightly into his arms. A hand rose to the back of her head, holding it in place as he pressed his face into the crook of her neck.

Her hearing returned, and Riza heard shouts and blasts of magical energy. Looking over his shoulder, Riza saw a battle raging on where she should have been lying, “captured” by the enemy.

“You’re alive,” he whispered in relief, hugging her body tighter against his.

Relishing in the comfort he brought and momentarily forgetting their argument in the heat of the moment, Riza clutched at his back, securing him tighter against her.

“What –”

An explosion ripped through the air and Riza had to close her eyes to protect them from the light of the blast. The force of it knocked them both backwards. Instead of falling and crushing her, Roy caught himself on the grass beneath them, but used his body to shield her from anything incoming.  His chest covered her face, his elbows down by her ears as he took the brunt of the blast.

He was protecting her.

That was her job…

Lifting up carefully, Roy spun in place to see what had happened. Riza knew she should do the same, but only one thought dominated her mind as she stared at him instead.

He used his body to shield you from the blast.

He was crying. He thought you were dead.

He cares.

“Are…”

Roy stuttered to a stop, still disbelieving that she was all right.

Riza swallowed. “I’m all right. We’ve got work to do.”

It was true, but also an attempt to try and run away. Riza recognised that, but while a battle raged on behind them, she was justified. After all, she wouldn’t leave a job half done, nor would she allow others to fight her battles for her.

It was time to finish this.

As Riza stood and took a shaky step forward, her body adjusting to being mobile again, a hand on her wrist arrested her movements. Turning back, Roy’s eyes were boring into hers with an intensity she didn’t want to see right now.

“Are you truly all right?”

Riza nodded, gripping her sword tightly. “I promise. It was a spell Al cast. Do you know where he is.”

“Over there,” Roy nodded and Riza whipped around to search for the young mage.

He was about ten feet away, face a picture of concentration as his hands waved in expert patterns in front of him. Sparks and various elements flew from his fingers as attacks. Knox was the same, except he was lowered in a crouch, one hand placed on the ground. The ground shook beneath the enemy’s feet, shifting and alternating shape as Knox manipulated the ground they walked on. It stopped anyone from progressing any further forward.

Stepping forward to approach them, she was stopped once more by Roy’s hand. Turning back to face him, she saw the remorseful look on his face. The tracks his tears had made were a tell-tale sign he’d been upset over her “death” and was still reeling from it.

Shifting her stance, Riza shook free of his grip to grab his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze.

“I promise I’m all right,” she stressed softly. “Now, I need to help my friends and finish this once and for all.”

Roy nodded, giving her hand a squeeze in return.

“Right behind you,” he promised.

Riza wasn’t sure how Roy had ended up here at the same time they had, but she couldn’t deny that the added manpower was their saving grace. Riza hadn’t been in the fray ten minutes before the ruler surrendered as she cut down his soldiers.

He kneeled in the centre of the road between the two kingdoms.

“I surrender,” he announced, his voice carrying clearly across the makeshift battlefield.

Eyes zeroing in on the man who’d been an invisible enemy for so long. His hair was white, falling past his shoulders. A beard of the same colour framed his mouth and chin, trailing down to his chest. His armour matched the colour of his hair, although was now spattered in blood stains at various points, marring the perfection of the still glistening armour.

“Please, stop killing my men.”

Riza eased her stance but didn’t lower her sword. She nodded at the man, who looked away as soon as she agreed with his request.

Roy called for his men to round up the prisoners while Riza approached him cautiously.

“I didn’t intend for things to escalate this way, but it did.”

Riza paused as he began to talk. Readying her stance and her sword, she was silent as he continued.

“I should’ve finished the job with you though, years ago,” he muttered, almost too low for Riza to make out. It took her a second to process and realise what he’d said.

A spear of light left his fingers as the man’s face twisted in anger. Riza tensed, expecting the blow to be aimed for her, but it shot right past her, faster than her eyes could keep up with, and hit a target to her right.

Slowly, Riza’s head turned, and found the spear of light poking out of Alphonse’s stomach.

Her whole world shuddered to a halt. All sound was blocked out at she stared at the entry wound. The spear of magic was covered in blood…

Alphonse’s blood.

“Al!”

The cry was ripped from her lips as she lunged for the young mage. He sputtered, blood spitting from his mouth as his hands gripped the spear of magic embedded inside of him. It was almost too bright too look at, but Riza didn’t care. Not now.

There was a flutter of activity behind her as well, however Riza didn’t care what the verdict was with that bastard. Not right now and not anymore. None of this was worth it if Alphonse died here today.

She was supposed to help people. Riza was supposed to protect him.

Failure. Once more, she’d failed the people she cared about.

His knees buckled as Knox caught him. Riza followed them both down to the ground, her knees crashing painfully down and jarring her still tender back.

“Al, talk to me,” she begged, taking his hands in hers. Knox waved his hands over the light and it blinked away in an instant, leaving a gaping hole, and blood… So much blood.

“Al!” she cried, letting her emotions run away with her.

Knox shifted and Roy was by her side in the blink of an eye. Alphonse looked back and forth between them both, terrified. His breathing was shallow as he panicked, blood bubbling from his lips.

“Alphonse,” Roy stepped in, his voice calm as his hands moved in a pattern over his abdomen. “I need you to listen to me, all right?” Roy stopped his movements, hovering his hand over Al’s body as his eyes closed in concentration. Riza watched, on the verge of hysteria, because her nightmare was becoming a reality. If Roy wasn’t so focussed on the casualty, he would have seen her begging him  with her eyes to help Alphonse and save his life.

“I need you to remain calm, all right?” Roy commanded. His eyes were still closed as his eyes furrowed, his fingers tensing and forming a claw in the air as Al began to choke.

Riza tore her gaze away from Roy’s work, shifting so she could rest Al’s head on her lap. She never let go of his hand though. She couldn’t. Smoothing down his golden hair, she shushed him as tears fell down her cheeks. Al’s eyes were torn away from Roy’s face, meeting her own. They were begging her to make it right, but she wasn’t gifted with magic. She could do nothing but put his life in Roy’s hands. If Alphonse died, it would’ve been because of her…

No! He won’t die!

“Easy,” Roy soothed as Alphonse’s body jerked. His eyes opened, meeting Al’s with determination. “I won’t let you die. I know this is easier said than done, but I need you to remain as calm and as still as you can. Are you able to do that for me?”

Both adults waited for his response, but there was none.

“Al?” Riza prompted desperately, giving his hand a squeeze.

Alphonse’s head rolled and his eyes closed, his grip slacking in Riza’s hand.

“No!”

Roy burst into action. He was no longer gentle as he worked. Although it looked frantic, his movements were controlled as he cast spell after spell to try and repair whatever damage the spear had done.

Riza sobbed above Alphonse, bending her head so their foreheads met. She pressed hers against the young mage’s begging him to wake up and be all right.

“Don’t you dare, Alphonse. That’s an order,” she whispered. “You…” She hiccupped. “You can’t leave me.”

Now she knew how Alphonse felt.

It felt like she was losing a son. They’d worked so closely over the last few months and she had come to care for him as if she was his parent. She hadn’t intended to, but it was inevitable…

That bright, sweet light that resided inside his soul couldn’t be put out. Not because of her.

You did this. You brought this on him by involving him.

“Please be okay,” she begged, praying to everything that was in the heavens above that Alphonse would survive this.

[qualquercoisa945]

When You’re On Your Own

Title Inspiration: When The Sun Goes Down from In The Heights

lmfao literally n o n e of you are ready like this is just pure angst have fun y’all

trigger warnings- alcohol mention, illness mention, death mention, none are discussed in heavy detail but they’re mentioned so yeah

In between rehearsals, then touring, then shows, and then moving in together, the six queens didn’t have a lot of time where they were completely alone. Not that they minded, really. Still, there were those rare moments where one of them would be able to be on their own.

Catherine actively seeked out alone time in the beginning, but often times those plans were foiled. And when they did succeed, the consequences rarely made it worth it, which was why she had begun to try to become closer to the other queens.

Still, even then there were moments where silence filled the house, and Catherine’s mind began to run wild with thoughts that her logical side desperately tried to fight off. And of course, it just had to happen when no one else was around- not that Catherine would reach out, mind you, but knowing that she could go be with them afterwards to get her mind out of it always seemed to make it just that tiny bit easier, even if she’d never admit to it.

Images of Henry, flirting with her in the earlier stages of their relationship; of her in the castle, capable of hearing Mary’s cries and whimpers of pain when she was sick but unable to do anything to comfort her; of Henry’s servants, coming to her chambers to inform her of the divorce and of Henry’s plans for her; of herself on her knees before Henry, begging him to let her stay; of her servants, following her to her new residence once the annulment was finalized.

And, of herself, laying on her deathbed shivering, feeling like, if for whatever reason she went to Hell, it wouldn’t affect her, since she was experiencing it in that very moment.

She hated herself for not being able to control her mind, for letting herself wander back to those memories whenever she wasn’t focusing on anything else. She was supposed to be the one that kept her head cool, not the barely contained mess behind a well practiced facade that she forced herself to keep up.

Still, after all those images flashed through her mind, and (although she’d never admit to it) after wiping away tears, upon hearing a voice call out “I’m home!” (was that Jane? She wasn’t sure, but not that it mattered much) she’d take a deep breath, wash her face, make sure there was no way of telling that she’d just been crying, and then go down to meet her fellow queen

After all, one of them had to keep their cool, right?

Alone time was something that Anne had despised since she was a child. She couldn’t help it, she was an extrovert, being around people was as natural to her as it was to breathe. Alone time felt rather suffocating, if she was being honest, and it only got worse after she’d been reincarnated. And God, she sometimes wished she hadn’t. The memories were too strong- of her siblings, of her daughter.

Elizabeth… Anne was oh so proud of her, there was no denying it. And yet, the pang she felt in her chest every time she thought about someone sitting her down, at only two years old, and explaining to her that Mum wasn’t coming back… Well, it wasn’t uncommon for Anne to have to excuse herself from the room when it happened, to have to take a few minutes to collect herself before walking back like nothing had ever happened.

And this was one of those days, where she’d excused herself from their designated table at the bar when the six of them went out for drinks after their last show of the week and fled to the bathroom, locking herself in a stall like some teenager in a dramatic coming of age movie.

And often she’d reach up to her neck and scratch at it, but she knew she had to make sure she could come out without anyone noticing she’d been crying, so instead she just pressed her fingers against the back of her neck, keeping them there until the pain became too much and she had to lessen the pressure, hissing quietly while rubbing the spot lightly.

And then she’d unlock the stall and leave, looking at the mirror in the bathroom to find her makeup pretty presentable. Thank god for waterproof makeup. She examined her reflection, making sure you couldn’t tell she had been crying. And then, as she always did, she walked back to the queens with her usual cocky smirk.

Had to keep the mood up, right?

Company was something that Jane had always enjoyed. Although she didn’t come from as large of a family as some of the others, time spent together was always treated as a good time in her house, and thus she had those values engraved into her.

Still, it’s not that she disliked alone time. Love them as she might, the queens could be a bit much sometimes, and she needed a break from them every once in a while. However, every now and then (which was more often than she’d like), her mind would wander off to unpleasant memories and thoughts. And today seemed to be one of those days.

Specifically, Edward. She regretted not being able to raise him- to see him grow into the bright young man she knew he became. Not to say that she didn’t love her daughter- she’d sacrifice the world for Kat, but that didn’t erase the agonizing pain that came with everything related to her son.

And then there was the subject of Henry. After Kat’s outburst, she’d been mulling over her claim that Henry had never loved any of them. Even after Kat had apologized, it just stuck with her, because the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she was right.

Or better yet, accepted. Yeah, Henry didn't love her. He loved her son, but not her. And that hurt. But, while it hurt, she didn’t let herself cry. It wasn’t that big of a deal. The others had it far worse, she had no right to complain.

So, when she heard Kat call her name from downstairs, she swallowed, to stop the knot in her throat from getting any tighter, called out a soft “Coming!”, and then stood up and left her room, heading downstairs like that whirlwind of emotions hadn’t just hit her. She couldn’t let the others see her like this, had to remind them that they could always count on her.

That they would always have her support.

Like always, Anna was the last one in the dressing rooms, still getting ready for the show. She stood in front of the mirror, staring judgingly at her reflection as she made sure her hair was perfect, as well as her makeup, outfit, and just about every aspect of her appearance.

As much as, during the show, she acted like what had happened between her and Henry didn’t affect her, that was a complete lie. Every single comment that she’d heard about her appearance stung, and although she knew her band mates wanted to help with their kind words, they fell on deaf ears.

That was the problem with trying to seek out comfort, wasn’t it? Any words that loved ones tried to use to comfort you felt fake- forced, even. Logically, she knew that wasn’t the case, but that didn’t change the way her heart felt. It was tiring, honestly, to drown in self hatred everyday, but what else could she do?

She heard the intercom turn on, hearing their stage manager call for places. She sighed softly to herself, then turned around as she heard the door open. “C’mon Anna, we gotta go!” Kat called, smiling kindly at her. Anna chuckled, glancing at her reflection one last time before following the girl, chin up and lips quirked up in her usual cocky smirk as if her entire self deprecating inner monologue was non existent.

Staying confident was key to keeping up appearances, after all.

Kath actively avoided staying alone. Being alone meant being vulnerable, and although logically she knew the girls would never do what they did to her, the paranoia was harder to get rid of than simply using logic.

So whenever she actually was alone, she’d grab her phone and put something on, be it a silly cat video, or a conspiracy theory, or whatever. She just needed something that made noise, to give her mind the illusion of not being alone.

However, sometimes not even that was enough, and today seemed to be one of those days. Thoughts swarmed around her mind, of hands roaming all over her body, groping and rubbing all over.

She shivered, trying to shake the thoughts away before she begun actually feeling their touch- it wouldn’t be the first time, and it wouldn’t be nice, at all.

She heard the front door open, and took a shaky breath, trying to keep herself collected. A few tears fell, but she quickly wiped them away. And when she actually went down and sat near Jane and Cath, she kept a healthy amount of distance between them.

After all, getting too near just meant getting hurt.

And although I pretend to not be affected, every night your voice and memory come back to haunt me, never letting me rest until the witching hours, by which I grow too tired due to weeping to stay up. And yet you taught me that silence is survival, thus building up walls that I had no choice but to help construct, trapping me inside my mind. And walls are so much harder to tear down when you’ve helped build them up.

Catherine hadn’t even noticed she’d begun crying until a tear fell onto the paper. She blinked, then pushed the chair backwards, wiping tears away while she looked up, waiting a few minutes to collect herself before pulling the chair forward with her, staring back at the sheet of paper she’d been working on.

And so you trap me again, centuries after your reign over both this country and my life. It frustrates me, to not be able to be rid of your tight grip on me even after all this time. I must assume the others also feel it. I just hope it isn’t as strongly as I do. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.

She set the pen down on the paper, before folding her arms on the table and burying her face in them, letting out a quiet sob. She just cried, feeling utterly exhausted of keeping it all in, and yet seeing no way out.

Once tears stopped streaming, Catherine looked up, wiping away at tear tracks before looking back down at the paper, picking up the pen again as inspiration struck.

And when I see even the smallest of cracks, my first instinct is to cover it up. I’ve been living under the assumption that silence is survival, and as one says, old habits die hard. So to be rid of that is to be rid of a big part of me. And if I am truly being honest, I do not want to be rid of it. It keeps me grounded, keeps me safe.

And at the same time, I just want it gone and I want it gone now. Because it traps me, and holds me back from pursuing new friendships, and from deepening my bonds with those I care about. I love the others, but at the same time I cannot help but to hide from them. Because those walls are still there. And you’ve left me with one rule.

Silence is survival.

[admiralty-xfd]

Culmination

This is Chapter 9. If you missed Chapter 8 click here. 

INDECISION

(Requiem)

MULDER

The FBI auditor’s voice is a hollow sound in his head. Mulder has been here before, many times, defending the merit of his life’s work to someone lacking an open mind.

This time, it’s about money. The FBI wants to shut the X Files down because the Bureau can’t justify the expense. Mulder semi-seriously suggests he and Scully could start sharing motel rooms, but the auditor presses on about the continued legitimacy of his work.

He doesn’t know it, but he’s given Mulder something to think about.

The auditor is right, kind of, Mulder begrudgingly admits to himself. He has discovered the truth about his sister. His singular obsession has finally been satisfied.

But this ridiculous guy doesn’t seem to realize there are infinite truths still out there, waiting to be discovered. That’s why the FBI needs an X Files unit. That’s why he’s still doing this. That’s why Scully is still doing this with him.

Isn’t it?

And then there’s the mysterious illness he has. Ever since the cancer man put him under the knife earlier this year, his doctors have been telling him his health has been steadily declining. Not one of them can tell him what it is, and he’s been to several. Irregular brain activity, they all say. He’s only very recently started to worry something might be terribly wrong. How can he be dying? Even though he refuses to accept it, he can’t help but feel the heavy burden of mortality weighing down on his every decision.

He hasn’t told Scully yet. She’d only worry. He’s not sure what to say, so he says nothing.

They are back in Bellefleur, Oregon, where everything began. Full circle. Déjà vu all over again.

It’s exciting being here together again now, considering how different their relationship is. He still remembers exactly how she looked that night in his motel room like it was yesterday; that wonderful night when they began to understand each other. So young, but still unmistakably Scully. And when he bared his soul to her, how somehow it felt like the right thing to do even though they’d only just met. He knew even then they had something special.

That was seven years ago. Could this work still hold the interest and excitement for her it once did? Why hasn’t he bothered asking her? Could she really just be sticking around for him? So many things they’ve lost, she’s lost, all for a quest that started out as his own.

You were just assigned, he once said to her in a huff. This work is my life.

And it’s become mine, she had responded.

She chose him time and time again, in spite of the odds stacked against them. In spite of the danger, the sacrifice, the loss. Why? Is it really as painfully obvious as he thinks it might be? That she’s doing this all for him?

He loves her, of this he is certain. But he worries that maybe simply loving her won’t be enough. Maybe he can’t give her everything she needs. What if she throws her entire lot in with him and he fucks it all up? Or now, knowing what he knows, even dies? She’s already given up so much. The pressure to be everything to her is enormous and while it feels amazing right now, he’s not sure how long it can last.

They are sitting now in Theresa Hoese’s living room. One of the many abductees they’ve encountered over the years, and somehow she’s here, living her life, just as he’d wished she and all the abductees they’ve ever met could.

Just as he’d wished Scully could.

Theresa holds her new baby, then she hands the baby over to Scully as she gets up.

Scully looks at Mulder a bit uncomfortably as Theresa leaves the room to retrieve medical records, but the motherly instinct kicks in and she bounces the infant on her knee, grabbing a Big Bird toy from the coffee table and talking to the baby quietly.

Mulder watches her and his heart breaks.

***

He’s trying to concentrate on work but his thoughts are with Scully. He has no clue exactly what kind of life she pictured having but he sure as shit knows this isn’t it. He knows as well as she does that the day she was assigned to be his partner was the day all of that changed.

There’s nothing he can do about the past. Maybe there is something he can do about her future.

She knocks on his door and he lets her in; she’s not feeling well and they both wordlessly agree to break their fraternizing rules yet again.

As he tucks her into his bed and wraps his arms around her, he knows what he needs to do.

“It’s not worth it, Scully.”

“What?”

“I want you to go home.”

She is so feverish he can feel her shaking. “Mulder, I’m gonna be fine.”

“No, no, I’ve been thinking about it. Looking at you today holding that baby. Knowing everything that’s been taken away from you, a chance for motherhood and your health… and that baby…”

He trails off for a minute, thinks he hears her sniffling.

“I think that… I don’t know, maybe they’re right.”

“Who’s right?”

“The FBI. Maybe what they say is true, though for all the wrong reasons… it’s the personal costs that are too high.”

He chooses his next words carefully because he doesn’t even know what he wants anymore. He wants her, of course, more than anything, but not if that means holding her back. Not if it means one day breaking her heart.

“There’s so much more you need to do with your life. So much more than this. There has to be an end, Scully.”

She says nothing, but reaches for his hand and pulls it in close. They are quiet for a while, then she speaks softly, so sadly.

“I can’t imagine my life without you in it, Mulder.”

All he can consider is what a mess they’ve gotten themselves into. How he wishes she’d left him a long time ago, before all these feelings were involved. Before her abduction and the violation of her body, leaving her sick and powerless to start a family of her own. Before her sister was murdered. Poor Queequeg, who he never really liked but the dog had made her smile and that had been everything.

“I’m responsible, Scully. I’m responsible for all of it. I can’t continue to let you put yourself at risk for me.”

She turns around on the bed to face him. “You are not responsible. Don’t put that on yourself, Mulder. I have always chosen to see this through. I want to be here.  It’s been my own choice, every time. Please stop trying to protect me.”

“I knew our work would be dangerous and I never told you,” he says. “You never knew the risks beforehand. I did. Deep Throat warned me the first time I met him. He specifically said I was putting both of us at risk. I didn’t listen, I didn’t let you decide whether to take on those risks. That is on me, Scully.”

She looks at him thoughtfully.

“It doesn’t matter. Do you really believe I’d have listened? I already thought you were crazy, Mulder.”

He laughs, squeezes her tighter. “I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll never know.”

She places her hand on his cheek and looks into his eyes. “I do. I know. I would have followed you anywhere.”

Closing her eyes, she nestles into him as tightly as she can. She’s still shivering a bit and he shifts to get underneath the blankets with her, pulling her close.

He wants to tell her he loves her, but something is stopping him. If he tells her, it will make this all harder than it already is. Whatever he does, however she makes him feel, he can’t shake the pervasive thought that all of this is his fault. She doesn’t want him to protect her, but he must. He will always want to protect her, no matter what. She is his entire world, even at times when his world feels like it’s about to shatter.

He wonders if he needs to let her go before things can get worse. He only wants to save her from himself.

He falls asleep with his arms around her, after he’s sure her shivering has subsided and her breathing has calmed.

That night he has a dream.

He’s in the woods and he’s running towards something. Running, running. Finally he sees it: the spacecraft. It’s bigger than life and right there, in front of him.

He hears a sound, a voice calling his name.

“Mulder!”

At first he thinks maybe it’s Skinner calling him but... no. It’s Scully’s voice.

"Mulder, where are you? Come back to me.”

He wants to go back to find her but… that craft. That craft. Nothing in him will let him stay away. He slowly approaches and sees friendly faces bathed in ethereal light, beckoning him. He sees the ship above and stares in wonder.

“Come back to me.”

All the answers he’s ever wanted within his grasp. But Scully isn’t here. She’s... somewhere else.

He knows he has a choice. It’s a choice he’s never wanted to have to make.

And he never wants to have to make that choice.

Suddenly he wakes up, sweating. Scully is still in his arms, sleeping peacefully.

But he doesn’t feel relief, he feels loss. He tries desperately to get back to the woods but instead falls into a dreamless slumber.

SCULLY

I’m not going to risk losing you, he’d said.

She can’t make him stay. She knows this much. He’s too close to the truth now, and she can’t be selfish. But she won’t deny him this wish, this desire to protect her. Not this time. He will have to go back to Oregon without her.

Her partnership with Mulder has always been based on mutual respect. She wonders if any of this changed in his mind when their relationship crossed over into new territory. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit to herself it had been a concern of hers. He’s always been protective of her, but something feels different now.

If he doesn’t want her to join him this time, what about the next time? Once she’s allowed him this indulgence, will he request it again and again until they become something completely different?

And what did he mean when he said he wanted her to do more with her life? He couldn’t have possibly meant without him, could he? She hasn’t been so confused about her own feelings for a long time, and she’s definitely not sure about his.

Everything has been too perfect for too short a time. Of course it’s been too good to be true, of course it has.

It’s close to midnight and she’s sitting on his bed, watching him pack.

“What time is your flight?”

“3:20. Arriving in Oregon around 6AM, local time.” He says it like a flight attendant, trying to lighten the mood. “Skinner is meeting me at the airport.”

For some reason everything feels odd tonight, and weighty. She has a terrible, ominous feeling.

“I feel like I’m abandoning you, even though you’re the one leaving.” She feels this way anytime he makes her stay behind. It always feels like she’s the one who’s failed him.

“I’ve got this, Scully,” he zips his carry-on bag closed and steps around the bed to her. “And don’t say that. You could never abandon me. I’m the one who always ditches you, remember?”

He crouches down so his hands are on her thighs and he’s looking up at her, smiling. She smiles and gives a tiny chuckle. “How could I forget?”

He takes her hands in his. “When I get back, we’ll figure this out. You and me, this whole thing, you know? We’ll figure everything out.”

She nods because she doesn’t know what else to do. It feels like he’s saying some kind of real goodbye, and she doesn’t know why, she can’t understand. She feels so helpless, and he’s doing that thing she hates where he goes off somewhere far away in his mind she can’t follow.

She feels like anything she says or he says is only going to make her feel worse, so she decides they don’t need to talk at all.

“Just kiss me, Mulder.”

He obliges, and they fall back onto the bed. She has an overwhelming urge to take stock of every precious moment right now, so she does. And for some reason it feels like he’s doing the same.

***

A couple hours later, Mulder’s alarm sounds. He quickly taps it and starts to get up, but she pulls him gently back down.

“Don’t get up yet,” she says, softly. “Just hold me for a few more minutes.”

He lays back down beside her. “Okay.”

She turns to face him and pulls him in close. They lay together quietly. She wishes she could make time stop for the two of them. There’s so much she wants to say, but she feels so unsure after what he’d said in Oregon.

It was almost as if he was trying to break up with her, but they haven’t discussed if they’re even a couple or not. She wants to tell him it’s what she wants but now she’s more confused than ever. He said they’d figure things out later. Would they? They haven’t so far.

She wishes she knew what to do. She’s always got an answer for everything, always some theory or hypothesis she can test and discover some truth. Not with him, though. She wishes their relationship was something she could put under a microscope.

He kisses her cheek. “I’ve got to get to the airport.” He gets out of bed and starts getting dressed. As she begins to do the same, he leans down and kisses her again.

“I’ll call a cab, you stay here and sleep.”

“No, I’ll drive you,” she offers. She can’t shake the feeling that she needs to spend every remaining second she can with him.

After she gets dressed, she idly picks some of his clothes off the floor. She finds a striped collared shirt she can’t help but remember she herself stripped off him the last time they were here. She sets the shirt down gently on his bed.

“You should really clean up in here. It’s not so impressive for the ladies.”

“I’ve already got the only one I want,” he grins, and winks at her.

At the terminal, they pull up and see Skinner waiting. Oddly, he doesn’t seem the least bit surprised to see her dropping him off at 2:30 in the morning and even odder, for the first time she doesn’t really care.

Mulder turns to her from the passenger seat and she puts the car into park.

He just looks at her. She looks into his eyes and doesn’t say the words yet again, but leans forward because even though Skinner is right there, watching, the need to kiss him right here, right now is much stronger than her desire to keep them a secret. He doesn’t hesitate, and it’s a good kiss, a passionate one, a kiss definitely not for coworkers but one for the ages. Skinner sees just enough to turn around quickly and find his own fingernails extremely interesting.

Mulder pulls away first and looks over his shoulder. “Well, shit. This is going to be an awkward flight now.” He grins.

“Sorry, I guess it was bound to come out at some point.”

He leans in one more time for a last, quick kiss.

“Be safe, okay?” she whispers, holding his face. “Call me when you find something.”

“Okay.” He gently pulls her forehead to his and they hold each other for a moment. With one final look, he opens the car door, gets out and closes it. He waves at her through the window, joins Skinner and in a few seconds he is gone from her sight.

The call never comes.

Thanks for reading! To continue the story click here. Otherwise I’ll see you back here tomorrow!

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, CARA! You’ve been accepted for the role of HIPPOLYTA. Admin Jen: If I could, I would drone on and on about every gripping detail and every thrilling aspect of your app, but let me just summarize it all by declaring that it was simply a wonder to read, Cara. I was hooked from the moment I started reading your plots, and then I moved on to the writing samples and my intrigue only doubled with every line I read! I was so drawn to the care and thought that you’ve put into exploring the crucial points in Halcyon’s backstory and the little hints you’ve given about how you envision her future. I can’t wait for you to bring it all to the dash, and I’m so excited to see what more you have in store! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Cara

Age | 34

Preferred Pronouns | She, Her

Activity Level | Please describe how active you think you’ll be in a few sentences. - I’m able to get online everyday and do replies. Depending on how many and the lenght, I can write one to three replies perday. I do have a busy schedule during the weekend, so these would be my less active days.

Timezone | EST

How did you find the rp?  | I’ve been aware of it since it’s first run and was happy to see it back last year. I’ve been checking in often, waiting for the right moment to apply.

Current/Past RP Accounts | Provide any current or past roleplay accounts that you think best showcase your writing! This is OPTIONAL.

https://laraxrutherford.tumblr.com

https://theninalowell.tumblr.com/

IN CHARACTER

Character | Hippolyta, Halcyon Santos

What drew you to this character? | I’ve been eyeing Diverona since it opened and the character I always come back to is Hippolyta.

To say she’s resilient would be an understatement. There’s something amazing in her, in a woman who falls from grace like her, someone who had everything and still defied the odds and wanted her own path. Her label being the Phoenix is only proof of that. Halcyon is a woman who sacrificed a lot to the idea that others had of herself, who she was or should be. Being good of heart, like she once was, doesn’t make it less a sacrifice. Halcyon existed for others only for a long time, something that she didn’t challenge. Her purpose served others until her time came.

The strength she showed since Cosimo came after her is not something she showed before. Not in such a raw way. It was one of the most determining moments of her life, when she asked to be taken to him, and it was her first taste of another kind of power,. She didn’t accept death because there’s something stronger inside of her, a  will to live on her own terms. She had nothing left to lose, she had been betrayed by everyone she ever loved and trusted. She saw an opportunity and took it, something that is very interesting to her. She has the ability to see steps ahead, of being able to size her opponents the minute she sees them. It’s something that most likely comes from all her years of sitting quiet, of observing the world around her without making a move.

Halcyon is a complex person, with two sides. She is kind, something that hasn’t changed in all those years, surprisingly. Her kindness is mostly shown through her work for the Church. Halcyon always had a want and a need to help those who were less fortunate than she and she’s still doing it. But that kindness has hardened over the years. Halcyon has been holding her breath for so long, that when her husband died and she knew the Capulet would come for her, in a way, she started to breathe again. His death was the final push she needed to let go of the life she lived and to forge a new one.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

Rising higher. Halcyon is ambitious, there’s no denying. She is deeply loyal to Cosimo and Vivianne but what about the others? How far will her ambition take her? I would like to have her be confronted with the opportunity to do something, maybe double-cross one of her own, in order to rise higher. Or even be faced with the choice of choosing between Vivianne and herself. Because as much as Halcyon isn’t selfish, how far would she go, in terms of sacrificing herself? Her loyalty to Cosimo is strong but weaker than the one to herself. Breaking away from the Capulets wouldn’t be easy, if even doable, but if her life was at stake,, or if Cosimo betrayed something she strongly believed in, she  would try to keep her head high and rise from the ashes of that betrayal, one again.

The ties that bind. When it comes to Halcyon, blood doesn’t run deeper than water. At least not anymore. Her parents caused her too much pain. But could she go as far as hurting them? Halcyon cares deeply about Verona, but what if her parents stood in her way? She never fully let the darkness and ugliness stain her, but would going as far as to cast out her own blood be the thing to push her over the edge? Killing for others is easy, but killing for oneself is harder. In a moment of anger, Halcyon would be confronted with the ghosts of her past and seize that opportunity to completely severe her current life from her past life. Because there is a darkness inside of her, despite all her goodness, and having that balance tip when it comes to her parents specifically would be something that completely unleashed that darkness inside of her.

Greatness. I see Halcyon has still being adored, even if not as much as she used to be. Those who watched her fall and get up, more than once, might have even more faith in her. But I want that faith the people have in her, the symbol they made her be, to eventually fade, either because they turn their backs  on her or because she did. Though I imagine if they knew what she was really up to, they would be the ones to cast her out. It would also test her faith, and that’s something I’d like to have happen to her, to wonder who or what she is without God.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes. Death is needed for this kind of group and while I adore Halcyon with all my heart, killing her would be a good plot. I would just like her to have been developed and written a bit before, so that her death could be more meaningful and that she would have her moment to shine.

IN-DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample: Again, write as much or as little as you need to get your interpretation across.

Sample I

It had been a strange request, to dye a wedding dress in red, but the Santos name held too much for the tailor to turn it down and the hush money helped too. “Why do you need two dresses?” her future husband had asked, his tone bored. It was an arranged wedding for him as well, and he hoped to gain a dutiful bride. He had been assured that it would be the case.

Halcyon and Callum has gone on a few very public dates, the wedding being regarded as the event of the year. The Santos and Pardi, united as one. Halcyon Pardi, the woman hated the sound of that. Where Celia had insisted they both keep their maiden name, Halcyon was expected to shed hers as soon as the vows would be pronounced. Nonetheless, she smiled on these outings, nodded when he talked and voiced the right opinions only when prompted. She knew that her life would be just like that and she wanted to feel Celia one last time, to feel passion before losing it forever. And so, she had Celia’s wedding dress dyed crimson, a sign of the fire that burned her and the blood her heart had bleed.

“Everyone except me to have one for the wedding and another for the ceremony. A woman has to be trusted on these things dearest.” The words sounded sweet, they all did when they came out of her. But they tasted bitter to Halcyon, bile rising into her throat. They ached, every single one of them. They cut through the very fabric of her soul. And she bore them, like the children she would never give him, refused to give him. She was thankful for the pills she could take, until she wasn’t fertile anymore, so that she would never give this man and her parents what they hoped; an heir. Her two biggest rebellions, she thought as her finger ran through the fabric of the dress, now tucked away in her closet, never to be worn again. Celia was gone and she was now someone’s wife.

A voice was heard and Halcyon rushed into the master’s bathroom, avoiding the man she kissed every nights. His voice sounded angry and she knew he was talking about them again, the Capulets. Her husband was greedy, money wasn’t enough, he wanted power. And the Capulets had the one thing he really wanted, Verona. Halcyon ran the bath’s water, creating a diversion. She played the almost empty headed wife so well, he often forgot she even had thoughts that weren’t his. Callum felt safe around her, too safe. Pressing her ear against the shut door, she could hear everything he was saying. He had been trying to buy the police department lately, thinking that if he had them in his pockets, the rest would follow easily. But they were not easy to bribe and he was going at it all wrong. He was playing a dangerous game, pretending to help Cosimo while working against him. He wanted to be mayor and he needed more than the few businessman that stood in his corner.

Halcyon could see all this unfolding before him and the man still thought he was on top of everything. Every little mistakes he made, she predicted, finding some sick joy in it, in watching him be a fool. She kept quiet and maybe, just maybe, if he didn’t expect her to be nothing else than an accessory, would she have helped him see what was coming. But with every day that passed, he kept asking why she wasn’t pregnant when it was all she had to do. He kept treating her as if she was failing at the only thing she was supposed to be good at, bearing children. She pretended to cry and despair as he badgered her about it. But that was her secret, at least one of the many she was starting to collect.

As she stood there, holding her breath so that not even that would make her miss a word, she could see too well the choices she had in front of her. If she talked, if she said it all, surely he would understand his mistakes and be able to stay alive. And wasn’t that her duty, as a wife, to help her husband? Hadn’t she vowed, in the Cathedral, to stand by his side, for better or worse? It was a holy bond and Halcyon respected the Church. But she knew her words had been empty then, they meant nothing if they weren’t spoken to the woman she loved. It was there, in their bathroom, that she was conscious, for the very first time, that she would let this man walk into his death. From the outside, it would look as if she had been passive in all this, not involved. But the reality was different, every moment she choose to stay quiet was bringing her one step closer to her freedom and she knew that.

Maybe one day she would understand that he had been her first kill, her first taste of the darkness that was buried inside herself. And years later, when Vivianne would suggest she infiltrated the police department, she would smile, knowing that she would succeed where a man failed.

Sample II

A delicate flower, that’s what they had built her to be. They gave her poise and grace, told her she was the best and deserved the world. And in return, she smiled, nodded and extended her hand to those who needed it. She had walked among them, an angel, her light inspiring others. Never did Halcyon let it alter her, her heart remaining pure. She had loved, believed in it. Like an innocent girl, not yet the woman she was today, she was bound to wed. The fire that consumed her gave her strength, made her better. Halcyon was naive, she believed that everyone was like her, good, or at least, that those who raised were as good as she saw them. She had been wrong, fooled by her faith. When her fire ended in ashes, she had to get up. She rose above herself with a burnt mark that would always follow her, a scar forever etched on her heart. Had it been a mistake, to nurse her broken heart and not turn the city upside down looking for her missing  half?

No matter how deep the bullet lay, reality was ugly. The woman she loved could be bought. And by none other than her parents. It was with trembling hands, already feeling the blow in her heart, tears coming down, that she had taken the note that was left with the wedding dress. A soft finger ran  over it, even when she couldn’t see the words anymore obscurred by her vision. That’s when the light had gone out. There was rage that first night, something that she was ashamed of. She had sought out her confidante the next morning, feeling herself calmer in the hot air of the Cathedral. She was told that God had a plan for her and she believed it.

Halcyon draped herself in her sadness, coming out of it even more beautiful than before. Her faiedl engagement wasn’t a secret, the Santos’ were well-known in the city. And it wasn’t long before talk of another wedding ran through the streets.

“I can’t,” she cried many times. “Please don’t make me do this.”

“You’re marrying him. We gave our word.”

“Mama, please,” she appealed to her mother, the one who had nursed her, taken care of her.

“Listen to your father. He knows what’s best.” And Halcyon knew, she had left her mother’s womb for good.

“Stop being a child, Halcyon,” her father snapped. His final words on the subject.

She smiled the day of her wedding, she was gracious to the guest, she played her part. And she played it well. There had been too many tears, too much pleading that had lead to this moment. Her parents had as good as killed her the day they gave her hand away, sealed her faith in a magnificent ceremony, a funeral where she was dressed in white. It wasn’t the fact that she didn’t love him. It was the fact that they extinguished her light, put her in a cell and threw away the key. Halcyon didn’t exist, the shadow that walked this world instead was not her. And they didn’t care, for they all had what they wanted. Her parents gained more money and her husband gained the most beautiful woman in the city. A trophy, polished regularly, something that people took pride in, a simple object. Never did she let others see  any of this. She was only his wife, but she was a good one, a dutiful one. Devoting herself to charities, the only thing she was allowed to do, and the halo on her head grew bigger. Little did they know, her hands would soon be bathed in crimson. When her husband was killed, the tears weren’t for him. They were for her, for finally being free from him and from her family.

Halcyon knew Cosimo’s men would come for her. Against everything, she hadn’t fled the city. Verona was her home and like a Queen, she would never leave it behind. Her blood would soil the city if needed, her pain and anguish visible for everyone. A martyr. She had left the door unlocked, knowing there was no need to try and protect herself. Cosimo was powerful and a locked door would not stop him or those who worked for him. Her back was to them when they came in as she looked at the city she called her own all her life. It would all be over soon. “Please,” she started. Make it quick. Her life flashed by, the faces of those she helped and of those who caused her pain. But what troubled her, even more, were the words she heard all her life. Fragile. Useless. Deviant. Wife. Martyr. Fiancée. Beautiful. Kind. Icon. Weak. One word was missing, one word had never been spoken to describe her. Determined. Never before had she felt such courage, or rather, had she been aware of it. “Take me to him.” The words were said as she turned to face them, an angel awaiting her death.

All her life, Halcyon had stood by, quiet, observing. The world unfolded in front of her and she watched it, in awe. Never before had she thought that all her observing would pay off for her, that being quiet would serve her. A presence quick to be forgotten, a pretty face deemed nothing more, the woman has listened. And learned. Until this moment, until her life hung in the balance, she never understood how precious that gift had been. It paid her in information. Her husband was dead, killed by the Capulets. And they thought, foolishly, that all of his secrets were buried with him. They had been wrong. Information was precious, the most powerful currency there was. Information would be her most powerful weapon. “There’s more he doesn’t know.” The words were a whisper as the woman slowly found her voice, the one that had been muffled all her life. She could be valuable, something she saw for the first time in her life. Every moment led her to this, right now, she could finally see it. They thought they had put her down for good, but she got up, stronger than ever. The shackles  on her hands were gone.

Extras: If you have anything else you’d like to include (further headcanons, an inspo tag, a mock blog, etc), feel free to share it here! This is OPTIONAL.

Headcanons

Training Halcyon was easy. Her years of ballet made her graceful and athletic. Hand- to- hand combat came easily to her, it was another form of dance. The woman surprised everyone by how easily and quickly it came to her and soon, she was able to  best more experienced fighters.

She started at the bottom and rose rather quickly because of her determined and dedicated she is. Halcyon directed all her energy and emotions into the tasks that were given to her, breathing and living solely for the Capulets. She was running and quick-thinking, able to see many outcomes unfolding before her. Her charm and apparent sweetness fooled more than one and it played at her advantage.

Halcyon is still nursing her broken heart. Celia was the great love of her life, up until this point. She was aburning fire and Halcyon gave herself completely to her lover., Tthe woman always knew she was attracted to other women. And to men at times, something that was very confusing for her Catholic soul. Never before Celia had she been so open and free with another person . It was Halcyon, timid and fair compared to her passionate lover, who proposed. The ring was exquisite and when Celia said yes, Halcyon thought she could never be happier. In the days and weeks leading to Celia’s departure Halcyon could feel something had changed. She thought it was the wedding’s excitement, as the day was nearing. But when she came home to an empty house and saw the dress, she knew. Her heart hasn’t mended since].

The first tasks she had when she joined the Capulets were easy enough. Her first kill wasn’t. It was a conflicting moment, one where her soul fought the two sides of her, the light and the darkness. Never before did she thought she would or could kill another. But when the moment came, it felt…easy. There was half a confession to Hugo, Halcyon talking of a great sin without naming it. But she found that once you committed something that seemed hard, the next times were easier, until it came almost naturally. There was a war to fight and she was now part of it.

[lj-writes]

How Finn and Rey saved each other again in The Last Jedi

Or: How TLJ is RotS averted far more than RotJ subverted

At the end of The Force Awakens we watched Finn and Rey both stand up to Kylo Ren for each other, effectively saving each other and themselves from the Master of the Knights of Ren. When Rey was knocked out Finn took up the lightsaber; when Finn was injured, Rey woke up to his screams and snatched the lightsaber from Ren to defend Finn and herself.

This dynamic takes place again in the climax of The Last Jedi, except Finn and Rey were not in the same scene like they were during the dueling sequence in TFA. in TLJ, though kept apart until their heartwarming reunion hug, they saved each other through the choices they made and what each meant to the other.

The A-plot of TLJ has been called a subversion of Return of the Jedi, for good reason. Rey attempts to bring Kylo Ren back to the light in scenes that are some very direct callbacks to Luke and Vader in RotJ, except Kylo Ren, unlike Vader, refuses Rey’s plea and rises to the position of Big Bad instead.

TLJ is only primarily a subversion of RotJ if you focus on Rey and Ren, however. If you broaden the focus to Rey, Finn, and Ren and the dynamics between them, it is the tragic ending of Revenge of the Sith averted.

In fact, seeing TLJ as RotS averted subverts the very idea that Kylo Ren was ever Anakin to Rey’s Luke: Rather he is Palpatine, and Finn and Rey parallel Padmé and Anakin respectively, except they each avoided destruction and enslavement. Rey, in no small part due to Ren’s manipulation, saw him as a tortured soul who could be redeemed. In fact he was a master manipulator who was drawing her in for his own gain.

Rey’s lack of genre savviness, based on a mistaken character reading, almost led to her meeting Anakin’s fate as the subservient apprentice to an abusive master. Instead, she was able to avoid it because of the love between her and Finn. In turn, Finn and the Resistance avoided destruction in part because Rey did not turn on Finn as Kylo wanted and as Anakin turned on Padmé.

The similarities between Finn/Padmé and Rey/Anakin, and also their story together, have been commented on enough times, recently in posts like @jewishcomeradebot’s (link with my addition). What I have not seen discussed is the similarities of their dynamics to Kylo Ren/Palpatine, the man who manipulated a powerful younger Force user under the guise of friendship only to use them to grasp l power, and tried to take his rival out of the picture for good.

Put simply, Finn is Ren’s opponent and rival, much as Padmé was Palpatine’s opponent and rival. They share a common background and know each other, have opposing convictions and goals, and work against each other. Rey on the other hand, is someone Ren wants to turn and make his apprentice, much as Anakin was targeted and groomed by Palpatine. The tragedy in RotS was that Palpatine achieved his goal of defeating Padmé and making Anakin his apprentice. The happy ending in TLJ is that Finn and Rey escaped that fate.

How did Finn and Rey avoid the tragedy that was Padmé and Anakin’s story? On Rey’s side, it was because she knew Kylo Ren was full of bantha poo-doo (and also was poo-doo himself) when he told her she was nothing except to him. She had incontrovertible proof that this wasn’t true, no matter how he might twist the knife in the wound of her abandonment, no matter how alone and desperate she felt by his design.

She knew because Finn had come back for her to Starkiller Base. He had returned to the very heart of the nightmares that he was ready to flee to the ends of the galaxy to run from, and he very nearly paid the ultimate price for it--for her. She knew that Han had thought of her as a daughter and that Leia and the Resistance loved her. The love she had been filled up with since she left Jakku, with Finn and his sacrifice for her at the center of it all, anchored her and prevented her from being swept onto the shoals of Kylo Ren’s deceit.

On Finn’s side, he avoided total defeat and death in large part due to Rose’s and later Luke’s intervention, but even their help would have meant little in the long run if Rey had turned against him and the Resistance as Anakin had turned against Padmé and all she stood for. Where Anakin and later Kylo himself had committed mass murders at their masters’ behest, Rey refused to stand by and let her friends be slaughtered and joined forces with them. Where Palpatine had triumphed by turning Anakin against Padmé, Rey was steadfast in her loyalty to Finn, and Kylo failed to tear their bond apart. Their love proved stronger than his violence in TFA and his wiles in TLJ.

The culmination of TLJ, then, repeats that of TFA with Finn and Rey saving each other through the strength of their love. The duels in TFA were just between Finn, Rey, and Kylo with a personal, even claustrophobic feel. Only Finn’s life and Rey’s freedom were in suspense since the destruction of Starkiller Base was already imminent. In TLJ the stakes are even larger, with more people involved and the future of the Resistance--and by extension, the galaxy--in the balance.

Incidentally, seeing TLJ as RotS averted and Ren as a so-far unsuccessful Palpatine means there is no need for Ren to have an understandable motivation. As @jewishcomeradebot has pointed out (link), Vader’s motivation for falling to the Dark Side is completely opaque in the OT. Luke, the actual protagonist, had no reason to know or care about Vader’s reasons. I would like to add that the PT explored Anakin’s internal life, but that was because Anakin was the protagonist of that series. Kylo Ren is not a protagonist, he has been and remains the main antagonist. The motivation behind his fall is irrelevant to Finn and Rey. It may be that there is no reason other than his belief that he is superior to others and is entitled to power, much like Palpatine.

Where does Finn and Rey’s story go from here? With the pretension of TLJ being the new RotJ dispensed with and the tragedy of RotS avoided for the moment, SW is on entirely new ground. The ends of both preceding trilogies were teased but subverted or averted. There is no precedent to guide us now.

One constant in the ST, however, is the strength of the bond between Finn and Rey. Both the ST movies so far ended with that bond both reaffirmed and acting as a powerful force (maybe even Force) for good in the lives of our protagonists and the ongoing war. To carry this motif forward Finn and Rey’s love could be tested even more, with still larger stakes--the outcome of the entire war.

On Rey’s side, one interesting dilemma would be whether she can accept the risk of losing Finn in order to honor his conviction. This was a test that Anakin had failed in regard to Padmé, to both their destruction. Rather than stand with Padmé Anakin turned against everything she believed in, and the desire to control her to avoid losing her overwhelmed his love for her. We know that Rey, like Anakin, wanted nothing more than a sense of belonging and attachment and she found that with Finn. Now that Finn, like Padmé before him, found a cause bigger than the two of them, can Rey honor that cause even if it might mean she cannot be with the only person who came back for her? What is love? is it holding on to the beloved no matter what? Or does it lie in accepting change if it may come, and accepting the beloved’s free will even if it means parting with them?

On Finn’s side, his story has been about freedom and the ever-expanding awareness that he cannot be free by himself. From the first he needed another person, Poe, to escape the First Order. After losing Poe he sought freedom for himself as he continued running, unexpectedly picking up a comrade that he became more and more attached to. This attachment grew to the extent that it overrode his original goal--he found that his individual freedom meant little if Rey was suffering. Then, in late TFA and TLJ, the Resistance and a larger awareness of the galaxy were enfolded in his circle. In the next movie the galaxy itself, including possibly the Stormtroopers in forced servitude, is likely to be included in his fight.

With his circle of moral obligation expanding so much, can Finn remember to think about himself and his closest relationships? This was something actively discouraged in him in the First Order as selfish and inconsequential, and after his arc in TLJ his earlier conditioning may lead to his falling into the same habit of self-effacement, though for an opposing cause. Is it selfish to think of his beloved when the universe is at stake? Can he bring himself to think he deserves to love and to be loved? Does true freedom exclude considerations of love, or is freedom only complete with love? Rose gave one answer at the end of TLJ, that freedom can only be won through love, and certainly Rey avoiding servitude through love is a case for that assertion as well. This conclusion is likely to be tested, though, as the fight intensifies and the demands of the war grow harsher.

Where Rey’s continuing story seems to be about the nature of love with implications for freedom, Finn’s appears to be about the nature of freedom with implications for love. Resolving this continuing arc will hopefully lead to a satisfactory conclusion of the sequel trilogy and the story of Finn and Rey.

(For @finnreyfridays )

[osmw1]

Poison-Wielding Fugitive   Chapter 36

Cold sweat drips from my brow as I apply more poison to my bolts—the kind that can take Elbatoxin down. But as soon as I break eye contact with it…

“Yukihisa!”

Arleaf dives and crashes into me.

“Whoa!” “Kya!”

As we collide in a thud, I look beside me at the girl who just ran into me, only to find no one there. Arleaf had been sent flying against the wall by Elbatoxin.

“Arle—”

I was just calling out to her only to have Elbatoxin swipe its tail at me.

“Argh—”

I get thrown to the ground, rolling round and round. Ow… I hadn’t been injured in a fight lately; I’ve forgotten what it felt like to hurt from head to toe. Somehow, I stand back up. I clutch my arm and focus on Elbatoxin.

‘You mustn’t look away from me, boy. But this is wonderful, just wonderful! A little more… and I can erase every living being from this region. First, though, I must create more followers.’

I suddenly recall Veno’s reminiscence of that decisive battle with the man who dreamed of reclamation. A creature fiendish enough to selfishly sacrifice underlings for their own power… and that feeling of disdain for that vile creature come to mind. If I don’t do anything against Elbatoxin now, then not only will I die, but Arleaf and Muu as well. So will Arleaf’s parents and the others in the dungeon. And everybody in this whole area. Of course, also the Midnight Blue Wolf Alpha. I’m afraid Elbatoxin will—save for its own minions—massacre every last being.

‘Now then, shall we get back to your “mercy” and “benevolence”? Oh, that’s right. I’m the one who should be the one saying all that. I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you live for a little longer if you just turn around and start running. I’d just love to see Veno Yveval with his little tail tucked between his legs!’

Is it giving us a chance to escape?

‘Ding ding! Round two!’

No. Elbatoxin just wants to play with its prey it thinks we are. With that little bit of time, though, and if we could escape… I can’t come to terms with that. More importantly, I don’t want to give up. But can I turn this around?

‘… aye. We have one last option.’

Veno mutters in a low voice.

‘The toxins of the girl’s cooking still do the bastard much pain. Look at its labored breathing. And, it is absorbing as much mana as it can from nearby.’

I glare at Elbatoxin. Veno’s right. It’s breathing heavily, and probably not because it’s angry.

‘Elbatoxin may seem like it has the upper hand on us, but it, too, is cornered. It must be very desperate to kill us here and now, while we still seem weak.’

But all I can do is weaken Elbatoxin. My attacks don’t seem to be able to be lethal to it. I’ve thought of using Arleaf’s poison as well, and if all goes well… I might be able to knock it out. But it’s really all or nothing. Much too risky for comfort.

‘Perhaps not. Perhaps…’

Veno continues on after the slightest hesitation.

‘If all goes well, thou art not only able to weaken the monster, but to slay it for good. But there is a price: essentially, we are to tell our pursuers where we are.’

… what do you mean?

‘Doth thou remember how before we entered the dungeon, the altar’s strength flowed into me? That trifling amount I have recovered then is enough for me to bury Elbatoxin. The price to pay is that our pursuers will be alerted to this discharge of power.’

So, in other words, even if I kill Elbatoxin, we still have to flee the village and escape the guys chasing us.

‘Aye. Not only can I not guarantee this peace we had until now to remain, but the villagers will also learn of thy fugitive status. They will likely curse thy name. But even then… shalt thou find the conditions acceptable?’

I look over to the girl who took a bullet for me, as well as Muu and the Midnight Blue Wolf Alpha. It’s almost as if it wouldn’t be surprising if you told me they’ve died already. Man, I’m really in a pickle here.

But I think of the villagers. Even a stranger of an adventurer like me was welcomed with open arms and treated like a friend. Would I rather have them treat me with scorn? Or would I rather just run away…?

… heh. Did you even give me a choice? You’re a real jerk, Veno. “Take responsibility,” right? This is nothing more than a continuation of taking responsibility. If it means saving these guys, I’ll tread on the thinnest of ice! No time to waver now.

Veno replies with… what seems to be a soft chuckle.

‘Thou hast but one shot. Try not to miss.’

An icon displaying the name of a skill pops up in my vision. Even the details and the knowhow to activate it comes to my mind.

‘It’s time for your choice! Are you going to shamelessly run away or are you going to take me on, even when I’m so big and powerful now?’

Elbatoxin looks calm and cool. I noticed a small piece of Arleaf’s Poison Cooking rolling on the ground, seemingly to have come out of nowhere. I stuff it in my mouth. Arleaf must’ve dropped it when she was slammed against the wall. It may be improper to eat food off the ground. It may even give me the runs. But I’m a Poison-Wielder. The poison coursing through my system is sure to kill off the germs.

Arleaf’s toxin immediately begins to circulate in my system, making me stronger and replenishing the health and mana I’ve lost. Veno only has the power to give me one chance at this.

Elbatoxin’s going down. Veno hands me a bolt and I grip it in my hand. I apply Slow Poison to it with Poison Enchantment… then stick it deep into my arm.

‘Hahahaha! Has the pain gone to your head and made you a masochist?’

Blabber all you want. This is my own way of Self-Recovery. Just like Arleaf’s Poison Cooking, my own poison gives me buffs too. The pain ebbs as the poison circulates and Slow Poison gives me a buff to agility.

“Get a taste of this!”

I stoop down low and rush Elbatoxin as quickly as I can. I don’t have the time to pick up my weapon it smacked away. But this is fine. My crossbow may be light, but it’ll only weigh me down now. I use Poison Release to build up the thickest mist I can with swamp toxin. Then, I run straight at Elbatoxin. It swipes and swipes with its claws spread out.

‘What’s this? You still don’t know the huge difference between our strength? Fine by me. Now perish!’

Elbatoxin, still taking us lightly, tries to slash me with its claws. The sword that was on Arleaf’s back flashed, almost as if it were synchronized to the beat of my heart.

‘W-What the?!’

The light had not only surprised Elbatoxin but momentarily caught its attention. —gotcha! I deflected its foreleg with my hand and sent it flying. It gets chopped up exactly how I move my hand.

‘Gaah?!’

Elbatoxin falls back after losing a limb. This chance that Veno’s given me is using that small amount of power he recovered to resist against Forced Possession Summoning. The skill goes by the name of Dragon Claw, befitting a dragon like Veno. Not a single normal monster would live it through.

‘Augh… is that all you have? I’ll show you true stre—’

In a literal split second, Veno struck Elbatoxin through a crack in dimensions. I don’t think it saw that one coming.

‘Nay, let me show thee.’

Veno clutched the one functioning foreleg and pulls Elbatoxin through the gap in space. Into the dimension inside me, caused by Forced Possession Summoning…

‘W-What are you trying to do?!’ ‘Dost thou understand not? Surely ‘twas thee who wanted “round two.”  I shall be thy opponent in this dimension where I am trapped!’

Using Spatial Compression Magic, Veno drags Elbatoxin into the tiny dimension that he is trapped in. I bet it’s an all-you-can-Dragon Claw in there.

‘N-No! Stop! Let me go! Let me goooooooo!’ ‘Thou hast treated me with such disdain and contempt, almost as if thou hast forgotten my power. Come now, let me help thee remember.’

Try and try as Elbatoxin did to resist, it could not best Veno’s strength. After all, the force is trying to keep Veno locked up in there. No doubt it’s strong.

‘Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!’

It ended up being pulled completely in by Veno.

‘Hahaha… I have been waiting. Time to jog thy memory.’ ‘Eeeeeeeeek!’

I could hear blows after blows before what sounded like Elbatoxin being ripped to shreds. And then… tranquility.

“… muu?” “Awoo?”

Almost immediately afterwards, the crystals and the Bloodflower pattern on Muu and the Midnight Blue Wolf Alpha disappears. The duo get up as if nothing ever happened.

“U… ugh.” “Mu!”

Realizing Arleaf had been bashed into the wall, the two rush to assist her. They even get medicines and ointments out of her pack to apply on her wounds.

“Y-Yukihisa, what happened to the monster?” “I defeated it.” “I’m so glad. But…”

Arleaf, who’s just starting to regain consciousness, unwedges herself out of the wall of the cave and stares at me.

“Ah… right. Well… you know. Stuff happened. Umm… promise not to tell anyone?” “No… see, I’m a…”

That’s all I could tell her before she passed out again. I look over to see her gas mask has cracked open! Shit! How do I fix it?

‘Simply use thy hands to seal the gas mask. Do not underestimate thy Poison Absorption.’

Veno’s totally speaking with his mouth full of food. Hey, what the hell are you eating?

‘Hmm? What, thou ask—'

You know what? Don’t tell me. I already know. I’m just astounded by how you can eat at a time like this.

‘Is that right?’

More importantly, though, is that everyone seems to have gotten better right after Elbatoxin died. How convenient; it’s just like a game. But so inconsistent!

‘No, actually, it is not so. After dragging the bastard in and analyzing its magic, I have used a counteracting skill to cause Bloodflower and Dorimsvoyta to self-destruct.’

So, you stole its login and password to remotely destroy its handicraft? Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that you analyzed its code and wrote an uninstaller.

‘By and large, thou art correct. I used the mana I acquired from the scum to do so, but before Forced Possession Summoning drained it.’

You really saved my skin, but you’re still in a bad spot.

‘After slaying the originator, Bloodflower and Dorimsvoyta had calmed down as well. The infection should have massively slowed down. But even then, I am worried that the rapid propagation caused unexpected effects.’

As soon as I plug up Arleaf’s gas mask with my finger…

“Cohgray! So, here’s where the monster is!”

A little late, but Arleaf’s parents along with the villagers and the Midnight Blue Wolf pack rushes on over.

“But it seems like that you’re all finished here, eh?”

Arleaf’s father looks for traces of Elbatoxin… and suspiciously stares at the track made by Veno’s claw. I’ll try to change the subject.

“Is everybody alright?” “Yeah. I really thought that we were all goners, but everyone who was down and out sprang back up all of a sudden.”

It’d be foolish if I were to chastise them for being no help. I mean, I’ve made a mess of this whole Elbatoxin fight too. But if I didn’t do anything, then these guys would’ve been toast.

“Anyway, is Arleaf okay?” “She protected me from the monster’s attack and now she’s… it’d be great if a healer could take a look at her.” “Ah, leave it to me.”

I entrust Arleaf to her parents. Arleaf’s mother casts restorative magic to treat her daughter. Luckily, it doesn’t seem like it’s anything too bad. She’ll probably be back up on her feet soon.

“In any case, the miasma’s awfully thick here, so let’s head on back.” “Yeah.”

Speaking of which, killing Elbatoxin didn’t stop the miasma.

‘It had little to do with the miasma. Of course, it had spawned a few of its own monsters, but they are fundamentally different from the monsters of the area.’

Hmm…

“Mu.” “Woof!”

The Midnight Blue Wolf Alpha, who had quite valiantly fought for me, runs over to his two subordinates, barking about something. They must be happy about how their boss is back to normal. And then look at Muu, with its axe on its back, riding the wolf like it’s a horse. We hurry and find out exit out of the dungeon. It’s still covered in a blanket of toxic gas, but it seems to be a little brighter than before.

“Awoo!”

As soon as we reach the outdoors again, the Midnight Blue Wolf Alpha howls out and lets Muu down.

“Muu muu.”

Muu shakes the alpha’s hand before the pack runs off into the distance.

‘All is well that ends well.’ “Thanks for everything."

I shake hands with Muu too. The Midnight Blue Wolf Alpha glances over at me before disappearing in a flash. The parting of comrades in a battle hard-fought. I can but pray that they live peacefully ever after.

We arrive back at the village and see that everyone has been freed from the grasp of Dorimsvoyta. What a relief. And so, tired from a long and arduous battle, I hurry back to my room and flop on my bed. The poison may be able to recover the body, but it certainly can’t rejuvenate the mind. However… I look out from the window of my room to see Arleaf’s parents with grave faces discussing about something in the town square… and curiously branding the image onto my mind.

previously: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /ch013/ /ch014/ /ch015/ /ch016/ /ch017/ /ch018/ /ch019/ /ch020/ /ch021/ /ch022/ /ch023/ /ch024/ /ch025/ /ch026/ /ch027/ /ch028/ /ch029/ /ch030/ /ch031/ /ch032/ /ch033/ /ch034/ /ch035/ /ch036/ /next/

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[recentanimenews]

The Quintessential Quintuplets – 17 – Working Five to Five

The New Year is here, and Fuutarou and Raiha spot the Quints at the local shrine positively resplendent in their kimonos. I don’t often comment on the wardrobe of the sisters, but it is never not 100% on point, whether it’s modern or traditional garb. From there, Raiha invites herself to their new place, which means Fuutarou comes too.

The Quints’ new apartment is far more modest and normal than their previous spacious penthouse, and while, say, even Nino is fine with sharing the warmth of the kotatsu, the sisters simply aren’t used to the close quarters (Itsuki excepted, as she lived with the Uesugis for a while).

Newly reunited and empowered, the sisters are on a blessedly united front on the subject of Uesugi continuing to tutor them…they just don’t know how to pay him back! Ichika is the only one working, and is falling asleep during their first study session of the year, which isn’t a good sign! Because they’re watching a romantic TV show, there’s talk of a “peck on the cheek”, which is carried out by Yotsuba when she nonchalantly eats cream off his face.

Realizing having only Ichika pay their way isn’t tenable, the other sisters consider other jobs, which is really an excuse for the show to have sumptuous pans of them in various career outfits: Ichika as a tutor, Yotsuba as a grocery clerk, Miku as a café maid, and Nino as a dominatrix!

Speaking of cafés, Fuutarou is trying to advance at the one he works at, but while the apple pie he bakes looks identical, it is underdone. His boss then tells him they’re closing at noon to allow a film crew to shoot there, and who should Fuu encounter but Ichika—in full horror movie ditzy high school girl costume.

“Tamako-chan” wall-slams Fuu in a very romantically lit back room scene, voicing her embarassment with him watching her perform such a silly role. She feels she has no choice but to take any and all acting work she can, since rent, food, and utilities are proving more expensive than she thought. Nevertheless, the eldest sister will be strong for the other girls, and won’t let Fuu try to convince her otherwise.

To her surprise Fuu doesn’t scold her; in fact, he’s proud of how hard she’s working and grateful she’s making it possible for him to keep tutoring them. Once her scenes are filmed, Fuu catches her studying on her own, only to nod off from fatigue. Fuu provides a shoulder for her to nap upon and he says “good work”. Little does Fuu know she’s only pretending to sleep…she can’t let him see her blushing face!

While on a shopping trip in which she and Fuu are being used as Nino’s pack mules, Nino almost drops a bag of rice Yotsuba gives her to tie her shoe, but Fuu catches her, causing her to blush and her heart to beat faster. Having just gotten over his blonde alter ego, Nino simply isn’t ready to accept that Fuu is her “prince.”

While heading home, Yotsuba spots Ichika at a Starbucks with their dad. Believing her to be the most “amenable” (read: malleable) daughter, he insists that she and the other sisters return home immediately. When Ichika mentions Fuu, her dad says he’ll be welcomed back too…but as an aide to a professional tutor of his choosing.

When Ichika bristles at that, he asks her if she really believes Yotsuba can earn a passing grade with Fuu’s continued tutoring. Fuu, Nino, and Yotsuba are listening in from the bar, and Fuu cannot stand to hear the sisters run down by their own father, but Nino takes his hand and asks him to hold off.

Instead, Yotsuba approaches the table and tells their dad they’ll be continuing with Fuu and Fuu alone. Her Dad’s fine with that, but on the condition that this is collectively their last chance to pass. If they fail again under Fuu’s tutoring, he’ll transfer them to a different school for their third year—one that will accept them regardless of their scores.

Papa Nakano is an odd duck. One can’t overlook his resemblance to Fuutarou, nor his cold manner to match his wan complexion. He loves his daughters in his own way, but like most dads with daughters their age, he’s loath to let any man have them. He comes right out and tells Itsuki he “hates” Fuu. Part of that could be that Fuu chewed him out when he resigned, telling him to be more of an active father and calling him an asshole.

But another part of him could simply be envious that Fuu is able to spend so much time with them. Like Ichika, her dad works alone to pay the bills that come with raising five girls at once. I wonder if he regrets the sacrifice he made so they could live in luxury, seeing as how the result of never being around was that they moved out.

In any case, the Quints have really put themselves and Fuutarou on the spot. If Dad is to be believed, this is their last shot. They’ll have to improve their scores considerably, or they’ll end up at different schools next year. I wish that felt more threatening, but they spend so little time actually in school—it’s more that Fuutarou truly does want to help them. If they fail again, he’s failed again That can’t happen.

Episode Five Quintuplet Ranking:

Ichika: Between being surprised by almost bumping into Fuu in the new place (so he can examine her mouth) to the whole Tamako-chan performance and their quality time “backstage”, Ichika takes her first win of the season. It was only a matter of time! Total Points: 13 (3rd)

Yotsuba: The other girls are all talk and blushing, but only she actually puts her mouth on Fuu’s face, so she wins on that front. Combine that with the fact she carries a bag of rice for Fuu and stands up to their dad with conviction, and #4 had her best episode yet. Total Points: 12 (4th)

Nino: For once Nino wasn’t in the spotlight, but her feelings for Fuu continue to simmer at key points this week. Her inviting him to sit under the kotatsu and taking his hand at the café were both nice moments.  Total Points: 22 (1st)

Itsuki: I’m not saying she would have folded without backup, but I’m glad Yotsuba was there to back her up against their manipulative papa. Total Points: 18 (2nd)

Miku: That Miku has yet to even slightly improve her culinary skills stretches credulity at this point—the joke is officially stale. There’s no doubt that she’d be a popular café maid, though. Total Points: 10 (5th)

By: sesameacrylic

[imnxtsorry]

about & verses (or my hot take on Elizabeth Swann). Read at least the main verse after the about if you skip this part, to know what I’ll write by default.

about my Elizabeth (again, you can skip to the next section)

I write Elizabeth as clever, opinionated, bold (but without being too scandalous unless it’s truly necessary). But I don’t see her as hating everything about her regular life, I see her as wanting adventure, freedom, which women in her world pretty much lack if they aren’t criminals, but also as genuinely wanting to be married as soon as she feels she found the one so she won’t have to compromise her values, and wants to have a ‘safe place to go back to’ whenever her curiosity is sated, which can be one person too; she would find being always at sea a limitation too because she must have choices. She won’t hate all women’s clothes but only the ones that are uncomfortable, won’t hate the social events as much as the formalities and boringness that comes from most of the people invited, and could enjoy them in the right company and forgetting some unnecessary ‘proper’ ways to behave. Will not calling her by name despite having known each other for years ends up insulting her, after all.  She’s ready to do anything to get what she wants, like kissing Jack to distract him when she wants to chain him to his ship or agreeing to a proposal in the heat of the moment, but also as someone with enough heart and ability to feel guilt Elizabeth will try her best to make amends after, even if she doesn’t often apologize nor explains her reasons until cornered. I do believe that for a moment there, when convinced things wouldn’t work with Will, she saw James Norrington as a viable option for a husband even if she didn’t love him, simply because he is a fine man, someone she clearly got along with (once past the awkwardness). He wasn’t fully her type, he was formal, he followed all the rules without complaint, but after all she clearly intended to follow what was expected to her too, even if she wanted more. But at the same time her yes to his proposal, while not given lightly, was not as unconditional as she claimed when first made, it gave him a reason to follow her requests, and after she could turn it unconditional and claim the truth only because she knew the commodore wouldn’t take his word back either.

Basically: she will not compromise her morals (however what’s acceptable to her might not be to others) or take the easy way out, to her it's unthinkable to leave everyone behind and running away if the option to fight and save them exists, but at the same time when it's a lost battle she does expect a brave sacrifice (see Jack and the Kraken) or she will make it happen. Not all that is proper is bad or boring, the problem is the limitations she has to face as a woman, and daughter of a governor at that, and her father never actually discouraged her from following her heart if it wasn't actively hurting her (including pointing out Will as a viable option too). She wants a good man with a rebellious and adventurous streak. She adores her father. She feels good being the pirate king and at ease around pirates, she definitely enjoys learning everything she can, and she’d want to find a way to work and keep herself occupied regardless of how her life goes - as much as possible in her situation, but would not want to be a pirate for love because of all the things that the job entails in reality and her wish to be able to choose what to do and when to be on land. I also see her as having serious communication problems with Will that need to be solved (he didn’t share his worries about her being in love with Jack, she didn’t share what she had done or how she felt, and the first time they addressed it in ended in her leaving the room). Whether I write with a Will rper and they are together or they broke up, that’s something to be solved if we want a ship.

 She’s a mix of traits because her world is too small for her before the first movie, but I also doubt she’d want to live as a pirate for long with everything that it entails in reality. I will come up with more personalized headcanons here.

two (admittedly norribeth) metas have inspired me to explore her character in general, here and here. Not a must read, only if you are curious.

verses - note that I will not impose my headcanons about her relationships with a character on people who play said character, but only allow her to express them with others:

v. free woman. main verse. she and Will break up before the wedding due to their communication problems (and more reasons) and that will cause a certain amount of insecurities and soul-searching. She will fight to free Will just as much and follow the rest of the main plots. Obviously threads will explore the differences from canon, but it wasn’t romance the driving point of the next two movies and we can assume they looked for Davy Jones’ heart, she gave Jack to the Kraken, etc. If you don’t play Will and the thread is set in the second movie, your muse might need to be told they broke up. If you play Will you can ask for v. mrs turner as default. If threads are set after the movies she’s keeping Will’s heart safe regardless of their relationship status and trying to build a new life (maybe away from Port Royal or maybe not, details are thread-dependent) while also dealing with random Pirate King’s duties, very likely having more adventures every now and then with Jack, since with him she won’t have to commit or condone horrors that she would never accept. She’d also get to slowly deal with the constant traumas and losses starting from her father’s death. 

v. mrs turner. for will rpers only: they don’t break up after the first movie, and events can follow the next movies or be completely different in threads. Point is they stick together and navigate this new relationship - which after all is a big change after years of keeping proper distance. 

v. hold on. she doesn’t break up her engagement with James Norrington even if she does help Jack escape his hanging - whether because not in love with Will or because Will never confessed his feelings. In the second movie she’s likely looking for James in Tortuga on top of wanting to free Will, and ends up joining Jack anyway. 

v. follow the compass. threads about random plots like ‘soulmates au’ and the like. The events of the movie can or cannot happen depending on what we’ll decide.

v. fine woman. threads where the movies haven’t happened (or not yet and will happen later than in canon), and Elizabeth is living her life as a lady and growing sadder, longing for more. The stories will start from there. This includes threads with Will or James where their relationship develops in a different way (slightly younger Elizabeth etc.)

v. bring me the horizon. threads where the movies haven’t happened or not yet but one way or another she runs away looking for adventure. May or may not be kidnapped and brought to Tortuga. Her reputation ruined, she has to make a life there. 

v. gilded ship. after the events of the movie, regardless of other differences from canon, she can’t return home because she has been ‘outed’ as pirate in most lands, being the king and all, and has to adapt to a pirate’s life and/or look for other options because she doesn’t want to be trapped that way either. 

v. captain. one way or another, it’s Elizabeth who succeeds Davy Jones. Threads can be set before, maybe during, and of course after, when she comes ‘home’.

[bloodline-rpg]

Congratulations, J! We have accepted your application for Your OC, Seraya Cain! Please create a blog for your character and send us the link via ask box as soon as you can. Welcome to Bloodline!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/Alias: J Age: 28 Preferred pronouns: she/her Timezone: EST Level of activity: Graveyard shift life, but as much as possible!

CHARACTER DETAILS

Character’s Name: Seraya Cain Desired FC: Tristan Mays Character’s Age: 22 Character’s Species: Wolf Character’s Sexuality: Bisexual

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

Seraya Cain has only known heavy-handed and short-lived maternal love. Seraya was born to one of the Deveraux Pack wolves, a foot soldier and no one of real rank or importance. Her parentage was always explained to be inconsequential to understanding her role in the hierarchy of power within the dynamic of the pack and the overall political factions. Seraya asked her mother about her father only once but was chastised for her curiosity into a matter that she didn’t deem relevant for her daughter to know. She never asked again for fear of disapproval or angering her mother but Seraya also learned it didn’t particularly matter. She knew she was a wolf and she knew the role she existed to serve made it easier to keep thing clearly defined in black and white. Sentimentality and feelings existed in the gray area between and Seraya never wasted her time on trivial things when she could be training to become stronger, faster and more lethal to rise in the ranks. Her mother died when she was young, leaving her to be raised at the mercy of the regimented pack but like her mother she was an ideal soldier even from an early age. She took orders without question, kept her mouth shut and understood the necessity and importance of sacrifice in the line of duty. During her late teenage years is when Seraya’s personality began to shift and diverge from the complicit and obedient sentry she once was. She was flippant and outright disrespectful to her superiors, garnering more disciplinary action and punishment than ever before and she was fueled by one of the many uncontrollable emotions she’d always repressed: rage. Seraya was angry; all of the time. She was often irritable and short-tempered, finding more and more reason to keep to herself than actively take part in the pack but Seraya was a storm of conflicted emotions waging war within someone who’d never been taught that feelings didn’t make you weak. Seraya lacked the emotional depth or maturity to understand her own feelings or sexuality, made only worse by werewolf genes and rampant teenage hormones. She’d developed feelings for someone, an attachment she’d never understood in regards to anyone apart from being told what to do but made worse by the fact that it was an Original Witch who’d become the object of her misplaced affection. Seraya had been raised with the understanding that her existence was somehow worth less, she wasn’t a person allowed to entertain romantic notions or feelings and those were reserved only for classes above her but how could she ignore what felt so visceral and real? She began to question the blind subservience and code she’d always lived by, finding a new sense of pride in who she was and what she was and bucking the system that she was somehow beneath the object of her feelings. It was a stupid mistake, to profess her unrequited feelings to someone who not only didn’t feel the same way in return but refused to feel anything for her simply because she was a wolf. The unbridled rage in Seraya had been unleashed that night and she’d vowed to leave the pack, exact her revenge and do whatever it took to get back at the witch who’d rejected her and ultimately shattered her fledgling heart. Seraya left when she was only fifteen, but the weight of the choices she made in retaliation have haunted her ever since. She was the reason locations of witches were compromised, she was the reason for hunters finding and slaughtering witches mercilessly as if somehow the bloodshed would salve her untended wounds. Seraya became a lone wolf, long since rejecting any ideal of pack or family, she doesn’t even begin to know what either of those really mean. The loneliness she felt became her constant companion, a penance for the lives she was responsible for and failing in her duty as a wolf sworn to protect the lives of the witches she’d given up for the slaughter. It didn’t matter where she tried to run, the guilt was always faster and is how she’s now found her way back to Carden Manor. Seraya claims she’s returned only out of necessity, self-preservation and looking out for her safety the only reason she seeks asylum but secretly it’s her mission to atone for the deaths of the witches she was responsible for. She was a child who made an egregious error but she’s never forgiven herself for what she did out of hurt and anger born of her confusion in her personal and sexual identity. Seraya has been alone for a while now and adapting back into the ranks of the pack and learning to trust others to any degree is exceedingly difficult to force herself back into the dutiful role she no longer believes in. Her drive to protect what’s left of the witches is stronger than ever before but makes her a lot more reckless and dangerous when it comes to her own safety.      

CHARACTER PERSONALITY

Despite being born a werewolf into a pack, there’s something about Seraya’s nature that was born as The Loner. The lone wolf roams the wild with a thirst for freedom and it was a drive she never understood when she was younger until tumultuous emotions boiled over causing her to seek vengeance against witches by murder. Lone wolves tend to be more aggressive and far more dangerous than the average wolf that is a member of a pack and there’s always been a free radical variable about Seraya’s character that can’t be trusted or pinned down. She always tries to remain aloof and emotionally unable to interact with others, but mostly because she’s never developed the skills or tools to cope in emotional settings. She runs on logical and tactical default, the only emotion she usually understands is anger and the drive for bloodlust for sake of eliminating a target or protecting an objective. Loyalty and respect aren’t easily earned, rarely does Seraya think highly of others because her nature is secretive and distrustful of anyone else when the only time she ever ventured into trusting someone ended catastrophically. It’s easier for Seraya to rely only on herself, her anger and loneliness her companion in lieu of a pack because she’s resentful of the pack she was raised in and resents the person they tried to make her become. Seraya can be quick-tempered and stubborn though she’s only slightly less destructive than her formative years. Seraya’s main form of communication apart from violence is sarcasm and it’s one of the intentional protective measures instilled at her core to keep everyone at arm’s length. She’s at the Manor to provide a service, to pay a debt and she’s biding her time until it’s squared and she’s set to cut and run…again.

[iamtooarealdoctor]

Diary 7.24.87

We’re alive…I think.  Straf is gone.  He tried to teleport, I think…he disappeared and never reappeared.  I don’t think he meant to abandon us at this stage - he has few redeeming qualities, but cutting and running is not his way.  Zan is…gone.  Dead.  Sublimated into apotheosis.  I don’t know.  I don’t-  Joachim is dead.  Still dead, rather.  Mannix’s insistence that we wait 24 hours seems to have just been a delaying tactic.  With Straf gone it looks like he’s going to get his wish.  I don’t understand.  Do they hate each other so much?  Do they hate us so much that they would literally rather be dead?

Maybe losing Joachim was an omen that we were going to fail.  Simeon Tor said that the Device would need both magickal and technological expertise in the same person to activate it - there had been some thought that Mannix and Joachim together could do it, although we’d hoped it wouldn’t be necessary… When Joachim…bowed out…maybe that was the message that the question was ultimately a moot one.

Could we have gotten to the Device first, or at least caught up with our enemy, if we had made different choices?  Maybe.  Probably.  But…we needed to rest and repair.  We were expecting another fight and not at all ready for one.  I had thought the Arachnesses’ help had put us far enough ahead that we could afford it.  I had counted on our enemies not knowing where they were going or what they were looking for.  I once again dismissed the urgency of the one person I should know by now to listen to.  And once again I have been proven horribly, devastatingly wrong. 

That was the first distraction - taking the time to take care of ourselves. The next distraction came almost immediately, and it came to ever-practical Zan of all people.  The moment we stepped into the hall on the trail of our enemy, she said she heard - or felt, rather - a call, almost a pull, as of a silver clarion voice calling her name.  I distrusted it, but… we needed any advantage we could find, and I figured if we didn’t deal with whatever it was now, it would crop up to our detriment at some less opportune moment.  And Dyna wanted to check it out as well.  I didn’t realize until almost too late that she was also being called… Zan led us to a door, on which was inscribed Mazarin’s Mystery, inset with gemstones representing each of the 11 Ancient Gods.  They could move on tracks, the object being to put them in the proper relationships with each other.  I hadn’t realized back when I first saw the diagram back at the University of Tarant, but it seems to be of a type with Pelojian’s Riddle - the offerant is intended to walk a specific path, whose endpoint was here.  That should have been a warning.  We don’t even know the names of all the gods, let alone having visited their altars, and Zan is - was - a follower of Nasrudin.  Perhaps if we had… but she was not to be deterred, and with my and Dyna’s help she opened the door and we beheld the Temple of Velorian, All-Father of the Gods.

Torg’s Altar is little more than a forgotten pile of stones in the wilderness, and Bolo’s is about the same, only with added squirrels; Makkaal and Geshtiana both have active cults, but the altars themselves are still not all that impressive when you come right down to it. But this… On one side was a towering silver statue of Velorian, holding a spinning eleven-poined star. Above was the cosmos itself, stars all in motion like living things. And in the center a raised dais, flanked by eleven thrones facing inwards towards a stone circle, the altar itself. The plinth of the statue had verses such as we’ve seen before, detailing what sort of offering would be pleasing to the god in question - but where the other gods asked for precious stones of one sort or another, the All-Father demands Life - the life of the offerant in its totality.

Mannix says this place is Evil, and…I think I agree with him. To ask for such a sacrifice is wrong. To accept it is worse. And perhaps an offerant who had walked the path set out by Mazarin’s Mystery would have been …prepared, or gotten some benediction in return for this leap of faith. But it called Zan. Each of us came in bearing the blessing of one of Velorian’s children - but it called Zan, who had never even heard of the Ancient Gods and had no chance of being found worthy or whatever it was looking for. She didn’t blunder foolishly into this place - she was called. And that? That was unconscionable. We begged and pleaded with her not to ascend the dais - and all that accomplished was to convince Dyna to go with her. If I hadn’t tackled her, she-

Zan stepped into the circle and began to glow. Bits of her started to flake off in glittering flecks of pure light. The stars and constellations that had floated above our heads descended and swirled around her, as her body dissolved into stardust and joined them. And then she was gone…

I hope she found the Truth she was seeking

We waited for a little bit to see if anything would happen. It did not. Thankfully Dyna made no attempt to follow. And then we left. I…may have flipped off the statue. Probably blasphemy. I don’t really care. Why didn’t we try harder to stop her? The verse on the plinth was almost painfully straightforward. Any of us could have done something…but none of us did. I closed the door behind us…and I removed the ruby from its socket. No one else is going to feed Velorian’s altar.

It was clear that our enemy had descended to the next level of the city, but the information we had gotten from the Nursery keeper suggested that the research areas, and therefore the Device, should be on the Sixth (ie our current) level. This was our third fatal delay. We actually succeeded in finding the Experimental Laboratories - guarded, of course, by another automaton. We approached this one somewhat more intelligently, with subterfuge rather than a head-on attack. Dyna hid in Norman’s internal compartment and the two of them …bluffed their way past it. Norman told it he had to get parts to repair the two we’d fought yesterday - and it let them through. They did not find the Device. They did find the Journal of one of the scientsts, which said that the Lieutenant Governor had had it moved to his own offices on the next level after Arronax’s attack on the Governor. In all the newspaper scraps and documents we have found, there has oddly been no mention of Kerghan. The Device itself seems to have been the creation of a Dr. Freuhof. But perhaps Kerghan was this Lieutenant Governor who took such an interest in the project, and who seems to have covered up certain details of his predecessor’s fate.

And here is the paradox of our situation. We had finally discovered the location of the Device we sought - and in so doing had allowed our enemy to reach it first. We could never have gotten ahead of them simply by following their trail - but if we had pressed on we might have caught and killed them, and been able to search at our leisure. Or they might have killed us and still gotten away with the prize… we should have taken the risk. And now it is too late.

They must have faced a similar paradox - whether to race forward or stand and fight. They split the difference by leaving hasty but effective traps behind them. The last of these contained the Keeper’s missing child, rigged with dynamite to explode as we opened the door. This was where we lost Straf. He was going to teleport into the room, but he disappeared and…never reappeared. Maybe he will have some better success wherever he is now. Instead Dyna scrambled through the small window and set to disarming the numerous tripwires and triggering devices. It was masterful -and all in vain. For this final trap had not been left unattended.

The servants of K'an-Hua are cruelly petty as well as being nihilistically evil. They had already found the Device, and came back to watch us fail. One of them lurked, invisible, and waited as Dyna applied herself against their traps. He waited, holding the object of our quest, for the sole purpose of letting us know that we had lost. And then he set off the dynamite and teleported away.

So we're alive, I guess. Some of us at least. Alive, and stranded in the depths of a dead city, without our prize, at the opposite end of the world from where events are unfolding. We have failed utterly, and all us lost.

[unstable-reality]

The Space Between Echoes: Chapter One

On the eve of the Battle of Yavin, Jyn and Cassian are sent to scout out a new location for Alliance headquarters. They grow closer.

But as for the mission, well... It doesn't go quite as planned.

I’m playing fast and loose with Star Wars canon/lore with this; aiming more for the spirit rather than the word.

[AO3]

“It’s my right to be involved.”

She stood in the war room, leaning over the table, hands wrapped around its edge. The air buzzed with the sound of comlinks, of operators relaying instructions and confirming receipts. Half her face was bathed in the blue and green light of a nearby readout, and through its glow she perceived the rest of the space -- dark edges limned with emerald.

Across from her, General Draven draped his forearms over the back of a chair. Mon Mothma stood beside him, hands linked. It was surreal, to think that the last time Jyn had been party to such a scene, she’d been a prisoner, a bargaining chip. She was in a much better position, this time around.

Not that it was making a lick of difference.

“I’m sorry,” Mothma said. “I understand why you want to be a part of it, but that operation simply hasn’t a role for you.”

Draven straightened and took a step. “You aren’t a fighter pilot, Erso. You’re a thief.”

Her body grew stiff. “Oh, is that all I am? Still?” She lifted her chin.

“Not all, no; but still? Yes,” he responded. “It’s what you’re best at, isn’t it? It’s why you were able to accomplish what you did on Scarif. You scout. You case. You infiltrate.”

She narrowed her eyes. Only a few days had passed. Her injuries had not required full or even partial submersion; topical care had sufficed, and since being cleared, she’d wandered about in something of a daze. The initial rush of victory had given way to listlessness. She knew exactly where it came from, but she’d never been good at facing that sort of thing. She yearned for a distraction. She yearned to get back into the fight, to get out there and finish the task that had been given to her, that was made for her, that represented everything that moral duty alone could never get her to acknowledge.

The men and women around her, the strangers who now all seemed to know her intimately, could be a bit much. She’d been alone and drifting for so many years. But they were eager, as eager as she was, and she found herself feeding off their energy. The news about Alderaan only made them more impatient. And it made her burn, with fervor, to take her father’s sacrifice and transform it into something worthwhile.

When Mothma had summoned her, she’d hoped it meant the time had come. Now, it looked as if that might not be the case. It looked an awful lot like they might just sideline her, despite her history, despite what she’d done.

What would that mean for her? Would there be any reasons left for her to stay? Most of them were gone.

Most.

Mothma glanced at Draven and took a breath. “In light of recent events, we believe that the Empire will soon know the location of this base. We need to begin planning an evacuation. That requires the identification of a fallback position.”

Jyn frowned. “You don’t already have one?”

“There are several possibilities, but we need to make certain they’re still beneath the Empire’s attention before making a selection.”

She breathed, slow. Her gaze moved to the table. In its inert state, it was a simple star map, with the dark expanse of space carved into concentric circles. She had an inkling of where they were headed with this, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“What’s that got to do with me?”

There was a pause long enough to make it obvious that the general wasn’t completely on board with his own proposal. “We would like you to formally join Alliance Intelligence.” His jaw tightened as he said it. “For your first assignment, you’d be deployed as a long-range scout, traveling to potential base locations and reporting back to us on their viability.”

The colors on the readout changed, becoming orange, red. Draven’s features shifted; in this light, he looked more gaunt. More tired. She didn’t want to do it. It made sense, if she thought about it. She was more suited to that sort of work and, well, she wasn’t a fighter pilot, and all of her training and soldiering had fallen into the “guerilla” category.

But it was her right.

“There must be something else,” she said. “I stayed with you to stop the planet killer, to convince you to stop it. I want to be here when it burns.” She rocked on the balls of her feet. “Set me up as an operator if you have to, but don’t send me away.”

“It’s not sending you away; it’s sending you where you’ll be the most useful.”

“I can be useful against the Death Star.” Only a fraction of her believed it.

“No. You can’t.” Draven sighed and shook his head. “Feel free to take it up with General Dodonna if you’d like; he’ll tell you the same thing. If you want to be a part of this fight, then this is what’s on the table, take it or leave it.”

She closed her eyes. Thought of her father. Thought of Saw. Causes were slippery things; she’d learned that from the latter.

Mothma cleared her throat. “It’s worth mentioning that you’d be Captain Andor’s partner on this mission.” The corner of her lips quirked upwards, and she shifted her weight. “He specifically requested you.”

Jyn blinked. She felt a tightening in her core, a tugging that was at once gentle and fierce.

Well. Her father had believed in the Rebellion, right? She could honor him, still, by working to keep it afloat.

She could honor other things, as well.

She closed a fist around her kyber crystal.

“Fine. When do we start?”

Cassian looked exhausted.

It took a fair bit out of a person, convalescing in a bacta tank, and he’d spent 16 hours floating in the one on base. He’d slept for a full solar day afterwards. She knew, because she’d asked after him, often enough that the medical droids had started being curt with her.

Their irritation had reminded her of K-2.

They moved through the interior of the temple, packs slung over their shoulders. It was always busy, always bustling, but at this moment, at this hour, activity had died down just enough for them to be able to comfortably walk abreast. She felt an urge to reach for his hand. She ignored it.

“No matter what they’ve told us, this is partly about loyalty,” he said. His gait had a hitch to it. Bacta couldn’t fix everything. “I disobeyed, and so did you; there can’t not be consequences for that. But they also can’t deny what we’ve done for them.” He shrugged. “So, this is what we get.”

“I take it you’re not thrilled with this, either.”

“No. I’d rather be here. Like you.” He shot her a glance. “But I also know that this is needed. And it’s better than nothing.”

They’d been briefed a few hours before, not long after she’d accepted the assignment. The sight of him, the first proper one she’d had since he’d been taken away from her after Scarif, had warmed her, had secured her in her decision. There were a handful of worlds, selected over months and years by various operatives. Cassian had been among those who’d cultivated contacts in the systems around them. His rank, combined with the breadth of his network, made him an obvious choice for the mission. But there were others who could have done it, and it wouldn’t have been remiss for the Alliance to have chosen them, particularly under the current circumstances.

They’d hadn’t, however. They’d decided that he was their man, and she wasn’t about to leave him when he wanted her. Not after he’d refused to leave her.

The corridor they travelled turned sharply right, and then opened onto the hangar bay. Several hundred feet of clay-colored cement lay before them, terminating in a darkness that clawed its way upward, to the tops of trees, to a jagged skyline that framed the purple-black of night sky, the pinprick glow of stars. Rebels hurried between ships, hopping over and around cables, shouting to one another, waving in sign. Some sat, or stood in circles. The air was filled with chatter.

Cassian dipped his head toward hers. “We could get lucky, of course. I’ve highlighted our best bets. If one of them pans out, we may be able to get back here in time for the show.” A cluster of laughter erupted to their right. “But I don’t have too much hope for that.” He leaned close. “Is that going to be a problem for you?” His breath tickled her ear.

“A little.” More than a little, really. “I wanna see that kriffing thing go down.”

“I know.” His fingers wrapped, briefly, around her upper arm. “Believe me, I know.”

He led her across the hangar, toward a wedge-shaped ship that was a handful of meters smaller than a U-wing. Ground personnel hovered about it. The hatch lay forward of its exhaust and just to the right of an upward slope, which evened out at the cockpit. She’d seen only a few such ships in her day. It had always been under illicit circumstances.

“Are we going to be smuggling on the side?”

He smiled at her. He hadn’t smiled much, if at all, when she’d first met him. “Some people transport goods legitimately, Jyn.”

She strongly doubted that “some people” would include him, if he’d ever had to bring in a haul. “If you say so.”

They boarded and made their way to the cabin; it had been divided into separate sections by thin, after-market plasteel walls -- a cheap, ad-hoc modification. Jyn chose a bunk, dropped her pack, shoved it underneath. Retrieved her blaster (if they were boarded...). Paused to think. She could hear Cassian moving about in the compartment to her right. Her stomach flipped; she took a deep breath, pursed her lips, let it out, slowly. Smiled, just a bit.

She thought of the moment they’d shared on Scarif, in the turbolift, and wondered.

The cockpit was a squat trapezoid; the seats were tucked close together, and lay barely half a meter from the door. When she entered, Cassian was already there, settled into the pilot’s seat, head tilted back, running through calculations. The engine hummed, and the comlink was a well of noise, singing with lilting tones, static, half-formed instructions. The channel was open. He lifted the headphones and settled them over his ears, didn’t bother to pull down the mic.

“Anyone who should know already does.”

She sat beside him. A half-realized notion, a sense that something was not quite right, teetered on the edge of her thoughts.

“We’re heading to Derso first,” he said. “It’s the most hospitable of our options.”

The engine’s hum galloped up a steep crescendo, became a roar. She gripped the arms of her seat.

It was always grueling to leave a world’s atmosphere. The thrust, the force of it, pushed one back, back, tried to bury. And the initial transition to light-speed improved upon that sensation. It felt, to her, as if her flesh was aiming to break free of her bones, as if her body desired nothing more than to stay in the space that it was leaving behind, while her spirit longed to sunder itself from it. There were equations, drawn up by people far smarter than she, that explained exactly what it was she was experiencing. But she didn’t see the point in knowing something if the knowing didn’t impact the doing.

“You all right?”

“Fine.” It had ended, in any case.

“Good.”

The stars had become a cascade of light, a stream of vibrant blue-white. The ship had become a gentle lullaby, consistent, true, lulling. Her body had caught up with her soul, but her stomach clenched with an unnameable anxiety.

“They’re naming a squadron after him.”

Jyn furrowed her brow. Cassian hadn’t spoken since they’d pulled away. “What’s that?”

“Bodhi.” His eyes met hers. “Rogue Squadron. It’s his.”

“Oh. Right.” Listlessness. “I’d heard about that.” She looked down. He’d known her father. He’d brought the task to her. He’d been very brave, braver than she had been or could ever be, surely. “I’m glad. He deserves it.” Deserved a hell of a lot more, if she had any say.

“Yes. He does.”

His hand brushed hers. Her fingers curled upwards and, for a moment, became linked with his.

That’s when she realized what was wrong: there was no droid with them.

“So,” she said. She was fidgety. “Where are we going if this place doesn’t work out?”

Their hands separated. He looked at her for a moment, considering, then pushed himself forwards and up, retrieved a sheet of flimsiplast from the inner pocket of his jacket. Handed it to her. On it was a list of systems, each bearing a mark to its left. “If it turns out we can’t use Derso, we have a few decent alternatives.” He leaned over her, and his scent and the heat of his body invaded her space. She breathed in. Her back arched. “But these I’d like to avoid, if we can help it.” His finger slid, paused, three times.

“I’ve heard of Borga.” Swamp planet. “Can’t blame you for not wanting to go there.” Wet and stinking and nigh impossible to properly land on and suitable only as, from what she’d been told, a last resort for the desperate. “What’s wrong with the other two?”

“Edelis is in a heavy volcanic period,” he replied. “And Hoth...” He paused. “Hoth is a frozen wasteland.”

She eyed him. The obvious question hung on her lips: you’re from Fest, aren’t you? But, of course, she wasn’t supposed to know that, and although he likely wouldn’t be surprised that she’d found it out, it was doubtful he’d appreciate the admission. Their brand of trust relied, at least in part, on them maintaining the polite fiction that they weren’t actually the people they were.

She dropped the flimsi onto the console, drew up her leg, settled her heel onto the edge of her seat. In the first year after Saw had left her, she’d picked up work as a farmhand. She’d needed credits, and lodging, and food, all of it badly enough to answer the first posting she’d come across. Her employers’ dwelling had sat at the crest of a gentle slope, half-submerged in the earth, surrounded by yellowing condensers. On an overcast day, when the air had been thick with moisture, and a near-constant breeze had sliced through her tunic, she’d looked over the space and felt her stomach lurch and her throat close. She hadn’t taken a farm job since.

“You like Yavin 4, don’t you.”

Silence, for a moment.

“Sure, I like it well enough,” he said. “It’s certainly not the worst place I’ve lived.” His forehead creased, and his eyes danced over her face. “Why?”

Because it’s nearly the opposite of what you want to avoid. “It suits you.”

He snorted. “It suits me? And what is that supposed to mean?”

Instead of replying, she rejoined their hands.

[729renegades]

FAILURE IS YOUR FRIEND. . . AS LONG AS YOU LET IT BE! PART 1

That’s what they say, but to be honest, at the time it doesn’t feel like a friend and I wouldn’t like to be friends with anyone who could kick me in the balls that hard!

Over the next two articles I wanted to share with you some of the feelings or despair I had when I lost my business in 2007. It was a tough time and truly my rock bottom.

The failure itself was just a point in time, an event that happened that I allowed, for a long time, to dictate what I did and how I felt about myself.

These articles are brief, and I don’t have the time or the space to share everything with you, but hopefully you’ll see how we can all use a failure to positively affect our lives.

The failure is your friend quote is something that I heard John Maxwell say from a stage at his certification event I attended in Florida in 2016. I have to say it made a huge load of sense to me then but that’s because I had made a lot of progress since my catastrophic business failure in 2007. Ironically it was more or less nine years to the day from that fateful day I accepted the inevitable (about 6 months too late in honesty) and locked the doors on my office for the last time, until I heard him say those words.

A lot of water had passed under my bridge in that time. Some was a trickle and at other times it felt like a raging torrent of white water. Needless to say, I had learned a lot from that chastening experience, and I wasn’t the same person anymore.

I’d been down and out and at rock bottom and from there jumped back, for a short time, into being employed before finally climbing back on that horse with new spurs and a goal of never going back to that cold, dark place again.

I had been metaphorically kicked in the balls (by a pissed off thoroughbred racehorse!) but I was back in the game.

I saw this quote on the internet the other day, when I was composing this article and it resonated well.

“Giving up on your goal because of one setback is like slashing your other three tyres because you’ve got a flat”

You can’t ever give up, and part of the healing process for me was accepting what had happened and making peace with myself. At some stage you have to move on and make peace with yourself. Hopefully, by being in the Renegade community and surrounding yourself with the knowledge and positivity that comes from it will ensure that if you’re going through, or have been through a tough time, it’ll take far less time to make that peace than it took me.  

I think, like any kind of mourning period, healing takes time. I don’t use the mourning word without realisation of its seriousness, but to me, losing my business and that first failure resulted in just that, a period of loss and I spent the 3 years mourning. 

Looking back, I feel that on the outside I got back into things quite quickly. To be fair, with a wife and two kids, a mortgage, etc, etc to pay, I wasn’t left with much choice on that front. So, I just sucked it up and got on with life.

I was hurting inside, that is the understatement of the year.

“Giving up on your goal because of one setback is like slashing your other three tyres because you’ve got a flat”

I was blown apart by my first ever failure. Until then I was young and dumb and full of bravado and believed I was invincible. I could use silly sayings like, “at least you’re not dead” or “it won’t kill you” but in honesty, on times I felt like I would have been better off dead. Sad, but true. I never once felt suicidal, but I was very down and I did a great job of hiding that from everyone, even those closest to me.

I did some odd jobs and kept money coming in and even went back to being employed and then started a new business in 2009 but I still wasn’t right.

It’s fair to say that even though I had picked myself up somewhat, I wasn’t 100%. My mind was still in 2007 and I knew I needed to snap out of it and move on and if I didn’t do it soon my new business would be doomed as well. 

The day of reckoning came totally out of the blue, literally…

By being in the Renegade community and surrounding yourself with the knowledge and positivity that comes from it will ensure that if you are going through, or have been through a tough time, it will take far less time to make that peace than it took me

In 2010 we had planned a holiday of a lifetime in Florida. It was at least two years in the making. Since 2005 we hadn’t had a proper family holiday, my business had robbed us of all the necessary funds to make that happen and I refused to give up the time. Sad but true.

My family had paid the price and made the sacrifices that I enforced on them. When you think about it, by not setting up the business properly I had been so selfish in pursuit of my own satisfaction. I’m sure I’m not alone in recognising that and I appreciate that there are hundreds and thousands of entrepreneurs out there doing exactly the same now. 

Anyway, in 2010 we had planned three long weeks in the Sunshine State where we would travel around and see some of the parts that all the tourists see and some only a few do. We had our itinerary meticulously planned and everyone was excited. 

Looking back, since the business had gone in 2007, I had never really had any length of time to reflect and think about what had happened. I had lurched from liquidator meetings to creditor meetings and then survival mode and then back into full time employment where I hid away and tried to get our lives back together. I hadn’t had time to stop and think about things. As like any holiday, this would be that first time. I hadn’t consciously set out to achieve that head space, it was helped by clear blue skies, warm sunshine, time with the family and copious amounts of Cuba Libre!! 

After landing in Miami and a couple of nights to get the body clock synced, we headed up Alligator Alley to the beautiful gulf coast and a week in Clearwater Beach.

We had booked a great hotel right on the beach and like always in the States it came with the kind of attentive customer service with a smile that you can only get State side. Not being one to sit on a sun bed all day, I alternate between get wet, either in the pool or in the sea, having a kick about or fooling with the kids or walking around and partaking in a favourite sport of mine – people watching.

I can spend hours watching people. I try to be discrete, but this is a habit I must have taken from my mother. That said, Mum is far from discrete and simply loses herself watching others and unless she is alerted to the fact can spend hours just staring at people which can be embarrassing!

Outside of that I used to take a walk up and down the beautiful sandy beach. I used to walk at the water line, slowly padding up and down the beach as the gulf waters lapped my feet. I could spend a good hour in isolation on a walk which inevitably would lead to me having a good hour, totally undisturbed to partake in my new pastime – kicking my own arse, telling myself how pathetically stupid I was and good old-fashioned self-depreciation and loathing. Pathetic really but it’s true.

One day, on one of my walks, I was continuing in the same vein as the previous day’s discussion with the dick head in my brain. Pretty much the same conversation that had gone on for nearly three years after the dust had settled on the liquidation.

I was looking out over the blue waters of the Gulf and watching as the pelicans nosed dived into the still waters for their lunch time snack. All of a sudden, I stopped walking and stood still. My brain was still active, and the argument was still raging in my mind, but I was just stood there on a quiet part of the beach away from the few people that were on the beach that day.

As I stood there, totally still, with the sea coming in and out relentlessly covering my toes, and then my ankles, a voice spoke, louder than the argument that was in full swing between the good and the bad in my brain.

It simply said, “Stop. Enough. Stop It. Enough. No More Arse Kicking. It’s done – now move on”.

Next time I’ll share with you what happened after that moment of clarity and the lessons I learnt from that experience.

  To be continued. . .

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