#leather is still worked and cured today the way it was for most of human history

[ongoing-catastrophe]

The west is a lot more industrialized than much of the global south, and in many ways has lost a lot more of its past and memory to time and labor.

But we remember. Somehow, despite all that was lost under colonial weight, this was not. I've seen my grandmother's spinning wheel, and I inherited her ancient sewing machine. I've never touched a charkha myself, but I sing folk songs that remember spinning it. I dance to songs about spinning, and I cry to them too.

I thought it would make you feel better, to know that. Not everything ancient is dead. Often, it's alive in song, if in nothing else.

I've had a hard time articulating to people just how fundamental spinning used to be in people's lives, and how eerie it is that it's vanished so entirely. It occurred to me today that it's a bit like if in the future all food was made by machine, and people forgot what farming and cooking were. Not just that they forgot how to do it; they had never heard of it.

When they use phrases like "spinning yarns" for telling stories or "heckling a performer" without understanding where they come from, I imagine a scene in the future where someone uses the phrase "stir the pot" to mean "cause a disagreement" and I say, did you know a pot used to be a container for heating food, and stirring was a way of combining different components of food together? "Wow, you're full of weird facts! How do you even know that?"

When I say I spin and people say "What, like you do exercise bikes? Is that a kind of dancing? What's drafting? What's a hackle?" it's like if I started talking about my cooking hobby and my friend asked "What's salt? Also, what's cooking?" Well, you see, there are a lot of stages to food preparation, starting with planting crops, and cooking is one of the later stages. Salt is a chemical used in cooking which mostly alters the flavor of the food but can also be used for other things, like drawing out moisture...

"Wow, that sounds so complicated. You must have done a lot of research. You're so good at cooking!" I'm really not. In the past, children started learning about cooking as early as age five ("Isn't that child labor?"), and many people cooked every day their whole lives ("Man, people worked so hard back then."). And that's just an average person, not to mention people called "chefs" who did it professionally. I go to the historic preservation center to use their stove once or twice a week, and I started learning a couple years ago. So what I know is less sophisticated than what some children could do back in the day.

"Can you make me a snickers bar?" No, that would be pretty hard. I just make sandwiches mostly. Sometimes I do scrambled eggs. "Oh, I would've thought a snickers bar would be way more basic than eggs. They seem so simple!"

Haven't you ever wondered where food comes from? I ask them. When you were a kid, did you ever pick apart the different colored bits in your food and wonder what it was made of? "No, I never really thought about it." Did you know rice balls are called that because they're made from part of a plant called rice? "Oh haha, that's so weird. I thought 'rice' was just an adjective for anything that was soft and white."

People always ask me why I took up spinning. Isn't it weird that there are things we take so much for granted that we don't even notice when they're gone? Isn't it strange that something which has been part of humanity all across the planet since the Neanderthals is being forgotten in our generation? Isn't it funny that when knowledge dies, it leaves behind a ghost, just like a person? Don't you want to commune with it?

[grey-water-colors]

After All This Time (Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader) Part 2

I went ahead and wrote the second chapter, I was so excited. I did a lot of research on PTSD and the triggers. I may not have a full grasp on it, but I hope I at least got some of it right. I feel kinda iffy on writing the characters, but I did my best to stay true to who they are. I hope you like this chapter!

Summary: The real world is a scary place, even more so when you’re alone. You live alone in a apartment filed with the ghosts of your memories. You’ve both changed since you last met your fiancé, but can love mend the gap after all this time.

Pairing: Bucky X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture, violence, yelling. Talks about triggers and PTSD. Mentions of death and killing. If there are any that I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 2,492

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve, I don’t understand why you’re dragging me out here to this museum.”

“They told me that they made a new addition to the Captain America exhibit and I didn’t want to go alone.”

Bucky clenched his vibranium hand and continued to follow Steve. “Did they at least tell you what it’s about?”

Steve sighed, “No, they didn’t. I wish they had though, I hate going into these things blind. Who knows what they’ve dug up.

“Steve, did you find it?”

“Uh, yeah Buck. I don’t think you want to see it though. It’s something they had no business digging in”

“What is it Steve. And don’t even think of lying to me, I know you too well.”

Steve sighed and led Bucky to the new exhibit. A memorial just like Bucky’s, but it was dedicated to Y/N L/N.

Bucky scoffed but read it out loud anyways. “Y/N L/N was a childhood friend of both Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Y/N met the two in 1923 and they were close ever since. In 1941 record says that she became engaged to Sargent Barnes, but never married. Y/N was drafted as an Army Nurse but died in Germany in 1944.” A picture of her before the war and in a case were her dog tags, which was weird. If she hadn’t been found, how were her tags here.

Bucky trailed off, the rest just going on about what kind of person she was. They stood in silence for a while, both staring at her picture. Steve finally broke the silence, “How much of her do you remember?”

Bucky looked away and tried to remember the girl in front of him. Flashes of smiles, tears, and laughter floated through his head, but he could only focus on one memory.

“I don’t remember her before the war.” Steve’s head moved to look at Bucky so fast that his neck cracked.

“What do you mean before the war Buck.”

He looked at Steve and backed up until he could collapse on a bench. A deep breath then, “I remember seeing her when I was the Winter Soldier. I vaguely remember a mission, maybe a couple, and then an order. I couldn’t help myself. All I could do was watch as I choked her to death, them dragging her away after declaring her dead.”

He shook his head as if he could erase the memory, make it disappear to never see again.

“If you killed her-“ Steve paused, “If you went on missions with her then she didn’t die in 1944. She was captured by Hydra. Then there could be a possibility that she, well that she could still be alive. Could it be possible that it was staged? Buck is there any chance at all that she could still be alive?”

Bucky shook his head again and looked at his hands. “I felt it Steve, I felt her neck crush. There’s no way she survived that.”

He took a deep sigh and felt the world shift, his heart plummeted to the ground as he realized the full gravity of what happened. “Oh god. Oh god, I killed her. I killed my fiancé, Steve.”

Steve just sat down next to Bucky, still in shock. She had been a good friend to Steve. They had come from similar backgrounds, hell they had grown up together, she understood him in a way that Bucky never could have at the time. She had been there when needed and even when she wasn’t. A ray of sunshine in a dreary New York. He had taken a picture of them after Bucky had proposed. They were all so happy.

It shook Steve to his core that Hydra had gotten their hands on her. He couldn’t imagine the horrors that she had gone through, might still be going through much like his best friend. Was she as much of a shell as Bucky?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It felt good to walk into her apartment without having to break in. She had hassled every office and bank that had her name in its databases to get her back as a registered live, human being. And to get electricity and water going to her place.

She had already been living in the apartment, but now she could cook, light a fire, and make noise. With her accounts opened again, she bought a couple pairs of clothes to wear while she cleaned the place.

Starting with the kitchen she cleaned every surface, threw away all the canned food that had been left behind.

By the time she had finished cleaning, she was physically exhausted, but she couldn’t bring herself to sleep in the master bedroom. She had managed to turn off her emotions for the day. No tears had been spilled because there had been work to get done. But her new superpower didn’t work now that she had nothing to do. Y/N stood in the middle of the living room desperately trying to stuff her emotions back into the box they had been in, but they had seen their chance and taken it.

Tears filled her eyes and she took her first real look around the place she had once called home. It was like she had never left at all. A place for everything and everything in its place. She turned to face the worn leather wingback. The thick blanket draped over the back just like it always had. She shuffled over to the chair and sat down in it. The leather was cold but familiar with the smell of her life before the war. Ghosts of days past floated through the air around her. She curled up in the chair, thick blanket pulled over her.

Things had been so easy then, and it would be so easy now to just fall back into that time when everything was perfect. Except the person that had helped make it perfect wasn’t here. A tear fell from her cheek onto the leather, and she quickly brushed it off not wanting to ruin the chair.

As she was wallowing in self-pity, a fight broke out on the street below her window, voices piercing the air and pulling her back to a place she never wanted to go again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Project Cecilia had become a nightmare. A nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. The project was a testing ground of trial and error. They tested the trial serums, triggers, enforcers, and everything else to make sure that they wouldn’t damage whoever took the role of Winter Soldier. The project was named after the scientist who did most of the testing.

The serums were bad, it felt like lighting her blood on fire, like hell itself was inside her. But trigger testing was far worse. For every test or experiment, a trigger experiment came after. Is sound more effective than smell? Are words better than sounds? What kind of words work better than others?

Trial and error for over 30 different types of triggers until they settled on a list of words that would mean something to the Winter Soldier. Her mind was blocked off so carefully that she couldn’t remember anything before the last trigger.

Here she was, testing how much electricity a super soldier could take before things started to shut down. And then the doctor walked in. Constantine Cecilia was the man who haunted her dreams. She couldn’t ever quite remember who he was, but somehow she knew that when he arrived, things would be bad.

“How is our little rabbit doing today? I believe a congratulations are in order, you finished testing.”

He put on plastic gloves and his assistant walked up to them both. “She’s due for sound this time.”

The doctor smiled. “Good good.”

Things were going well; the set-up went smoothly. She was ready to receive the trigger, the thing her mind would take as a trauma to seal away all of the bad.

But then a fight broke out, and then people were yelling, screaming at each other. The trigger was set.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shuri had done her best at getting rid of the physical effect of the triggers, and by best, she was completely successful. Unfortunately, there was still an emotional effect that came with the triggers. Certain smells, sounds, colors, and even sometimes emotions would send her spiraling into a memory. Most were memories that terrified her, they brought her back to Hydra and their torture. Some were good, like remembering life before the war.

They happened less at home, surrounded by memories of a past that never hurt. The outside world was what tortured her. Going outside was like sentencing herself to relive the worst of her life.

And she remembered it all. Hydra had done such a good job of playing Tetris with her brain that every time that Shuri released a trigger, she remembered everything. Y/N bet that Dr. Cecilia was laughing in his grave at her tragedy.

Y/N fell asleep under the thick blanket on the chair of the man she had loved more than anything else in the whole world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N decided to visit the Veterans Center, hoping that they magically had the cure for what Shuri called PTSD. She walked inside and was met with the smell of burnt coffee and laughter down the hall. She followed the noise until she came to what looked like a break room, or a very poor excuse for a kitchen.

A tall man took notice of her and he excused himself to go talk to her.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“I, uhh, came here to talk to someone, hopefully.” Y/N cursed herself for feeling so small. She was a veteran after all. She just fought in a different war.

“Are you a vet?”

“Yes?”

He smiled, “Well then welcome. My name is Sam Wilson. I help run this place. Mostly I work with the people though. Business isn’t really my style.”

Y/N gave a weak smile.

Sam spoke up again, much to her relief. “Why don’t we go somewhere to talk so we aren’t standing in a door way.”

She merely nodded and followed Sam to a room with foldable chairs and a couple beat up sofas.

After they had sat down, and awkward silence filled the air. Sam cleared his throat, “So what’s your name?”

Y/N took a deep breath and “My name is Y/N”

Sam nodded. “What war did you serve in Y/N?”

She froze, of course she could just answer him. She heard there was a whole museum dedicated to the two oldest people on the planet, so why was it so hard?

“You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable with it. I’m not going to force you into anything here. It’s a safe place.” The genuinely caring smile on his face helped her relax.

“I fought in World War II.”

Sam looked startled for a second. “Excuse me?”

“I was a nurse with the Red Cross in World War II.”

She watched as Sam’s shoulders dropped. Y/N prepared to fight, to tell him that it was true, without going through the horrors that she had witnessed. She prepared to give him the riot act like she had for every person who hadn’t believed her at the bank and social security office.

Instead, he started laughing. “Man, I wonder how many more of you there are out there,” Sam said between breaths.

The look of confusion on her face must have put more puzzle pieces together for him at how lost she really was.

“You… You actually believe me?”

“Yeah I do! I work with the other two.”

She suddenly felt cold, like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. While Shuri had told her about James, or Bucky, and about Steve and how they both lived in New York in the Avengers Compound, it had never occurred to her that they were so close. So close, yet so far away. Her heart dropped.

“How exactly do you know them? You said you worked with them, so you must be an Avenger I suppose.”

“How much do you know about this time and place?”

She felt, for the first time since she left Wakanda, that someone understood. Only a fraction maybe, but an understanding all the same. Sam somehow knew that she didn’t know much about the present she found herself in. She didn’t really care to learn either though, the world was scary, and she had to face it alone for the first time in her life.

“Not much. I’ve only been off ice for about 9 and a half months now. Most of that was spent in Wakanda, while Shuri worked on getting rid of my triggers.” The more she talked the more Sam’s face filled with understanding and horror and that scared her.

“You were captured by Hydra weren’t you?”

All she could do was nod, her head held low.

“I won’t ask about that. I know better than that. I can’t even begin to imagine the horrors you’ve been through.

“Well, I’m the Falcon, I fly and I see things really well with my goggles. Other than that I’m just a human, no serum or anything.”

It was like all she could do was nod her head, she had been robbed of words.

“Would it be ok if I went home?”

“Of course! Nothing is keeping you here. I’m glad we met, and you’re more than welcome to come by anytime at all. We do close at 9 pm, but here’s my phone number if you need anything after those hours.”

More nodding. Y/N rushed home.

The first thing she did was climb into the chair, drape the blanket over her, and tell a ghost of what happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sam are you ok? You seem distracted today”

“Yeah. Yeah man I’m good.” Sam looked at Steve for a minute. “Say have you ever met someone named Y/N L/N? She came into the VA today and when I asked what war she fought in she said WWII. She was captured by Hydra. I didn’t press her on it, she got that same look that Bucky does when it gets brought up.”

Steve froze. “What was her name?”

“Y/N L/N, do you know her?”

“Are you sure about what you told me?”

“Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

“What did she look like?”

“She had H/L hair and E/C eyes. She was about yay-tall” Sam held up a hand to about her height. “Again, do you know her?”

“I promise I’ll tell you later, but I gotta go.”

Steve took off running through the compound until he got to Bucky’s door. He hadn’t seen Bucky since the museum, but this was important. He pounded on the door, “Buck! Bucky! Open the door!”

A quiet mumbled “Go away Steve” came as a response.

“Bucky,” Steve pleaded. “She’s alive. Sam met her today.”

Silence.

Then the door opened. “Where?”

[theredhairedmonkey]

Claudia—Just what’s so bad about Dark Magic anyway?

Ah, Claudia. Everyone’s favorite dorky Dark Mage. Even as she continues her journey to villainy, we can’t help but find her at least a little adorable.

She’s undoubtedly likable, which makes a lot of what she does even more unsettling. We’re used to villains like Viren, who are so obviously villains even if they have somewhat good intentions.

But Claudia? She seems to have a good heart and cares about people outside of simply what they can do for her. Even if she may not reciprocate Callum’s feelings, she’s still clearly fond of him.

In S2, she’s genuinely supportive of her brother, telling him that them being alive matters more than succeeding in their missions. She also comforts Ezran and even helps mend his relationship with Callum, reminding him just how lucky they are to have each other.

As I lay out here, Claudia very much resembles Callum in the earlier chapters; both are bookish nerds, adorably awkward, and with an affinity towards magic. And while Callum starts to move away from this resemblance, we can see why Claudia is so likable.

Claudia can be caring and sweet. That’s why it’s so tragic and painful to watch her continue to cross moral lines, to the point that she is now thoroughly antagonistic to Team Zym, with any hope of total redemption being slim at best.

Now, I can’t talk about Claudia without first talking about Dark Magic. You see, while Dark Magic is terrible, the show doesn’t explicitly lay out exactly why it’s terrible. It merely illustrates how it works, portrays people using it for a variety of reasons, and then lets the audience decide how it feels about it. This is all intentional—Aaron and Justin have expressly stated they didn’t want to push too hard on the point that Dark Magic is wrong, instead leaving it for fans to make up their own minds. As a result, some fans sincerely believe there’s nothing wrong with it.

And that’s why we have Claudia. Someone who is sweet and sincere, relatable enough that you picture being friends with.

Someone who also sees nothing wrong with Dark Magic, defends using it, and even tries to use it for supposedly good reasons.

Because there’s no explicit reason given for why Dark Magic is so uniquely evil, the onus is on us, the viewers, to figure this out on our own.

There have been several fan attempts at explaining why Dark Magic is so bad, but for me, at least, I always felt we were missing something.

It might be wrong because it requires Dark Mages to sacrifice innocent creatures. But then again, humans in the real world consume animals all the time.

The logical response to this is that unlike, for instance, eating, Dark Magic is not natural nor necessary. However, we do all sorts of unnatural things with animals as well. For instance, we’ve created animal glue, whale oil for lamps, and leather from cattle. We’ve used creatures as working animals as well as for their cells to develop cures and vaccines. Without arguing that Dark Magic is defensible, this just helps illustrate the larger point that there must be something else that makes Dark Magic worse than any of this.

Another argument I’ve heard is that it permanently destroys magical habitats. The reason why the Human Kingdoms are much less magical than Xadia is that Dark Mages have poached and pillaged all the creatures they could. This could all very well be true, but it’s also what human beings do on the regular in the real world; as a rule, wherever industrial civilization lays down its roots, animal extinctions follow, intentionally or not. If Dark Magic is supposed to be an indictment of the way our society works today and the ecological problems we’ve caused, then we deserve it.

But many of us (hopefully) are working to change that, even if it means making life harder for us. The solution to climate change ultimately comes in the form of learning to live sustainably and in harmony with the world around us. One day, we’ll find a balance to our way of life, but if we can, why can’t Dark Mages? Why can’t Dark Magic users learn to moderate and regulate their behavior the way we could, and sustainably find ways to use the same magic that elves and dragons take for granted?

It also doesn’t help that characters who hate Dark Magic the most are also hypocritical about it. Sol Regem argues that Dark Magic causes the death of innocent creatures…while threatening to burn down a city filled with innocent people. Perhaps he opposes Dark Magic, not for ethical or benevolent reasons, but because it shifts the balance of power too much in favor of these so-called “lesser beings.” So, we can’t take his assessment of Dark Magic with anything more than a grain of salt.

But, at the end of the day, Dark Magic is a bad thing. Even if we can’t place our finger on exactly why, we know there’s just something wrong with it.

And that’s where Claudia comes in.

She too doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with Dark Magic— Why should she? It’s no different than anything else humans do, it helps keep people alive, and keeps us from starving and being helpless. Whether you eat them or take their magic, they’re just a resource.

But over time, as she relies more on Dark Magic as her universal problem-solver, we see her cross more and more ethical boundaries.

In most of the first two seasons, Claudia’s uses of Dark Magic come entirely from whatever she happens to carry in her bag or little critters she finds here or there.

And, for the most part, she tries to do the right thing. Claudia understands how powerful Zym could one day become, and from her perspective, there is a risk that he could, in her words, reign “death and destruction down on all of us.”

Claudia honestly believes that finding the Dragon Prince and bringing the princes home is what’s best for Katolis. Initially, she believes that Rayla had kidnapped the boys, and later she still insists her actions are for the greater good.

She’s willing to cross certain lines, such as manipulating and betraying Callum and Ezran, but shows signs that she regrets doing so.

But she starts off at crossing these relatively smaller moral lines, before working her way to more reprehensible behaviors. By the end of S2, she crosses a line when she uses a living creature to cure Soren’s paralysis.

After this moment, we see that she’s willing to justify an ever-growing list of horrible actions without any regrets. Whether it’s overthrowing and imprisoning Ezran, wiping out Lux Aurea, or turning the entire army into mindless rage-fueled minions, and even possibly letting Viren’s illusion strike down Ezran.

By the time she resurrects Viren, most likely by using a poor unfortunate elf who stumbled upon her, she’s past the point of feeling remorse for what she feels she has to do.

And why?

She places all of her faith in Viren because he’s family. She values her family above all else, and finds that Dark Magic is an easy, reliable way to keep it all together.

As a result, her character’s arc helps show what’s fundamentally wrong with Dark Magic—because it’s such an easy fix to all her problems, Claudia is tempted to lean on Dark Magic in more unethical ways.

In Lord Acton’s famous maxim, power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

And Dark Magic is power incarnate.

Dark Magic is far more versatile than Primal Magic. Whereas Primal Magic lets a mage use spells by harmonizing with nature, Dark Magic is simply about harnessing power in its raw form.

It’s not merely a shortcut that lets you bypass having an Arcanum or a Primal Stone. Certain practices within Dark Magic are not possible elsewhere.

If Callum had mastered Sky Magic by the time Rayla goes to save Pyrrah, he could have made short work of Soren and his forces with his winged form, but actually freeing the dragon from its chains would have still been no easy task.

But with Dark Magic, all Callum needed was a spell. A single spell and the chains are turned into snakes. The soldiers are driven away, and the dragon is free.

You can’t do that with Primal Magic.

We haven’t seen a limit to what Dark Magic can do for you, provided you have the materials. It can swap souls.

Or take them.

It can provide safe passage across the Breach.

It could taint or even destroy sources of Primal Magic.

Dark Magic isn’t bad just because it relies on sacrificing creatures. It’s bad because it tempts users with the power to redesign and reorganize the fabric of the world around them, potentially at the expense of Primal Sources themselves.

Dark!Callum sums up this temptation perfectly:

“You can have unlimited power. And you can choose what to do with that power. You can make a real difference in the world!”

And sadly, it’s a temptation that Claudia falls for time and time again. Once Claudia wields this power, she’s tempted to abuse it, even if it just begins as an attempt to protect her loved ones. And the more she abuses it, the harder it is to stop.

She shows that the temptation to use Dark Magic and how it distorts the world is what makes the practice so terrible and so terrifying that it shouldn’t be used in any circumstance.

@batfamfan1(who gave me permission to bring up our conversation here) had argued that Claudia’s use of Dark Magic was different from Viren and Aaravos, because she at least uses Dark Magic for good (or what she sees as good). That is, she cures or protects her family.

However, I’d argue that it’s not as simple as that. Claudia indeed sacrifices a deer because she wanted to cure Soren, but had she ever considered what Soren wanted? There’s a reason why, for instance, doctors disclose all relevant facts and treatments to a patient and let them make an informed decision, even if the doctor believes only one of those treatments is the best option. It’s not just about a cure, it’s about the agency of the patient. This becomes even more important when it’s not a professional responsibility to a patient, but a duty to respect the free will of someone you love.

Claudia never respects Soren’s agency. Even when he’s come to terms with his condition, she has not. She wants to keep trying to find a cure even while he’s beginning to move on. And, when she does find a cure, she never tells him about it beforehand, never tells him what it would cost, and never tries to get his approval.

This is different from Rayla in 2x08 who, in spite of knowing it’s a bad idea to let Ezran leave on his own, lets him go. Or Callum, who, in spite of thinking that Rayla staying on the Spire is a bad idea, simply lays out all the relevant information to Rayla and lets her make the decision for herself.

This is because, when you love or care about someone, that has to include letting them make their own choices, even if you don’t agree.

Claudia never does this with Soren because, again, it’s not about him, but about her. She has a personal need, however tragic, to keep her family together and healthy.

She’ll do what she can to fill that need, even if she has to play goddess to do so.

For that reason, she isn’t using Dark Magic for someone else’s benefit but her own. Much like Viren, whose stated goal to defend humanity was really just a cover for his desire to be powerful, Claudia’s goal to protect her family is really about protecting her state of mind. To do that, she needs to become powerful as well.

Her inability to see just what’s wrong with Dark Magic, combined with her need to maintain this portrait of a healthy family alive, means she will always be tempted to try another Dark Magic spell that will simply cure everything and will never look back once she tries it.

This is different than, for instance, Callum. As I describe here, he’s seen the world that Rayla shows him and begins to see magic the way she does. It’s not a tool; it’s a phenomenon, a vibrance or a spirit to things.

He understands, at least in an unstated way, that there’s something fundamentally wrong about Dark Magic, because it threatens that vibrancy.

Interestingly, unlike Claudia, who sees it as an easy solution to everything, Callum is suspicious because it’s too easy:

“But that’s just it! Too easy! Even though I know it’s wrong.”

Because of this, Claudia’s character arc helps illuminate what’s wrong with Dark Magic, even if the show doesn’t go out of its way to tell us. It’s a temptation for people who want to be powerful, and it makes them just powerful enough to abuse it.

And before you know it, you’ve lost your way.

[thethistlegirlwrites]

Faebruary/Febuwhump Day 17

Prompt: Field Surgery

(We are taking today VERY literally folks...)

Robin picks a handful of yarrow clusters and tucks them into his bag as well, snapping off only the tops with his knife. The plants he leaves rooted to continue growing.

There’s a balance to give and take, in nature, and while he knows it’s illogical, some part of him that’s latched onto John’s somewhat superstitious nature is telling him that maybe if he doesn’t take too much from it, it won’t take John from him.

He knows that’s not how this works.

But it’s the only thing he can control right now.

He’s painfully familiar with life and death, and the fact that they are inextricably intertwined. There’s no room in his world for not understanding it. There is no chance for forgetting that nature is a harsh place and completely beyond a human’s capacity to reason with.

Even fae can be bargained with, despite how dangerous it can be for a human to attempt that. Nature...just is. Neither cruel nor kind, simply existing. Most days, Robin finds it comforting that the place he’s most at home is not a place that can treat him with true malice. But today, he’s finding it hard to accept that it also will treat them with no compassion.

It had been a perfectly good hike until John literally stumbled over the wreckage of an old tree. A piece of shattered wood had somehow slid under his pant leg just above the boot, and left a five-inch gash up his calf.

Robin has seen worse. John insists he has too.

The problem is, they’re a two day hike (and Robin pushes back the thought that that was two days with John in perfect health) from the nearest thing approaching human civilization, and while the wound bled freely, they’re down a first aid kit. A very determined bear climbed partway up a tree to get at their packs one night, and their well-stocked kit vanished with it into the forest.

John insists it had to be Bigfoot or werewolves, because what use would a bear have for a first aid kit? Robin counters with the fact that both those legends come from shifter-fae sightings and a fae would have absolutely no use for a human medical supply kit.

Their emergency sat phone fell victim to the same attack, not taken but bitten clean through as if it was a high-tech dog toy, and Maira doesn’t expect them back from the mountains for a week. No one will be coming to get them. They’re on their own.

I’ve met humans who envy the fae for living, in their words ‘so close to nature’. But the truth is, to live like this, you have to make your peace with the fact that you may not survive it for long. The fae have to accept death as just as much a possibility as life. And today, Robin doesn’t want to.

…

TWENTY MINUTES EARLIER

John holds out his knife. “Well, on the bright side, we don’t actually need to build a fire for this.”

“You can’t be serious.” Robin looks at the shining blade of the Bowie knife. “I’m not cauterizing your leg. If I do that...it could get infected. Faster.”

“And if you don’t, I have to walk on it, risk opening it up again, and bleeding out up here.” John shakes his head. “I have to walk. You can’t carry me out. And an infection’s probably gonna happen anyway. Not like we have a clean surgical suite up here.”

“I could try and suture…” Robin offers.

“With what? Yogi ripped off our supplies in case you forgot.”

“At least you’re accepting the fact that it was a bear now,” Robin mumbles. “I could find a bone shard, or a porcupine quill...and there’s thread on our clothes…”

“Which is just as bad as the burn. Trust me. We have to get out of here, the sooner the better. This is the fastest way.”

Robin swallows. “Okay, but...I’m gonna try and make a salve for it, to keep it healthy as long as I can. That’s gonna take me some time.”

“That’s okay.” John sighs. “I’m gonna need to pad a branch for a crutch anyway.” He shrugs, wincing. “Well, let’s get on with it. More time we waste, the more blood I’m losing.”

Robin nods, looking down at where he’s cut the pant leg away from the raw red wound. He rests the tips of his fingers on the knife blade, watching the metal turn red and heat rise shimmering from it.

John pulls off one of his wrist cuffs and bites down on the leather, then nods.

And then Robin presses the flat of the blade to the gash, holding his breath to block out the terrible smell of scorched flesh and wishing he could cover his ears to stop hearing the muffled scream.

…

“Okay, I got what I need.” Robin sets the sticky honeycomb down on a fairly clean, flat stone and starts laying out the rest of his ingredients.

He was already carrying small pouches of comfrey and St. John’s wort from his garden, and he was fortunate to find both yarrow and plantain growing wild in the meadow nearby.

“The honey will make a base for the ointment and also help slow down infection,” Robin explains, not sure if it’s more for his benefit or John’s as he squeezes the comb into one of their tin bowls. “This won’t be exact portions, not like I make at home for myself, but…” He begins grinding together the herbs on stones that he left with John to wash with hot water from over the campfire before he scampered off.

Robin pauses, fingers stilling in the thick paste. Wait, this will work on humans...won’t it? He runs through his mental list of the ingredients. He knows they’re safe for fae. But...he can’t be sure if they’ll work on humans.

He knows they’re all safe for him, but the thing about fae is, their nature remains dominant down to one-sixteenth ancestry, just like their magic. Robin is only one-fourth fae, but he’s still allergic to iron and most human medications, bound by his true-name and his promises, and able to summon his element. Fae cures are really the only medicine he trusts to work on him.

John isn’t fae at all.

It’s possible Robin is as dangerous to John as anything else out here. While he has a very human side, there’s also plenty of the fae in him, making him far more like the world around them right now than he cares to admit. He’s everything John called him at first. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Maybe even deadly.

“I…” Robin pauses. “You don’t know if any of those are toxic to humans, do you?”

“Don’t think so.” John frowns. “I recognize all but the St. John’s wort from Abuela Rosa’s cures. And...that plant looked familiar when you pulled it out of your bag so I think she just called it something different.” He gives Robin a lopsided smile, one that slightly softens the creases of pain around his mouth. “You’re not the only one who had a grandparent obsessed with herbal cures.”

The tight knot in Robin's stomach loosens a little.

“Robin, I trust you.” John’s hand wraps around his wrist, resting on top of the wrist guard. “You’re not gonna hurt me. I know you won’t.”

Robin takes a deep breath. “Well, actually, I already did. And probably will again; this will sting on the burn at first.”

“Darn fae honesty. You’re probably right, this is gonna hurt.” John shrugs. “Let’s get it over with.”

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[imagine-nation20]

A Healer’s Kindness

Summary: “I realize that kindness is one of your best features, but seriously, that is a bit much.”

Requested By: Anon

Request: “I realize that kindness is one of your best features, but seriously, you go way overboard.” with Geralt of Rivia x reader please?

A/N: I ended up changing the sentence slightly so it fits more with the type of talking they do in the show. Hope you don’t mind! Also, slight warning, there are mentions of blood and wounds in this so, if your uncomfortable then just skip over this one.

~~~

You pulled the plant out of the ground by its roots, careful not to kill it and make it impossible to re-plant in the pot you brought with you. The red and white flower in your hands was rare, only growing high on the sheer cliffside near your house. A small, dangerous pathway, not entirely meant for humans was the only path, and the further up you made it to the flower, the harsher the winds became. It was dangerous just to get it, let alone take in back with you unharmed.

The wind blew, almost knocking you off the cliffside as you stood, plant in pot and in your hand. You caught yourself on a root sticking out from the dirt and rocks, sighing in relief when it held and you were easily able to pull yourself back upright.

“Hopefully I never have to come here again…” You mumbled, tucking the pot safely in your left arm. With your right hand now your only stabilizer, you began to shimmy back across the steep walkway, wary of every breeze that passed. 

Your foot slipped momentarily down the slope of the path, causing you to lose your balance, and grip tighter to the handhold of the cliff. Your fingers stung, digging into the rock and drawing a bit of blood. Your teeth clenched, but you forced yourself to bring your leg back up, using your now injured hand to pull yourself.

It’s a long way down, with a few more close calls, but eventually your feet meet solid ground and you release a sigh. The flower is unharmed beneath your arm, but you still had to be careful as you walked your way back to your cottage, as it was an unmarked path through woods rife with predatory animals and the occasional band of humans.

Because of the dangerous, rocky, and sheer terrain, you had opted for pants, a shirt, and a long jacket that reaches your knees. While this had been a great choice for the terrain, it wasn’t the best for the weather. The cold autumn air bit right through the pants, chilling your joints and making your movement slower.

It wasn’t a long walk back, but the cold stretched the time to seem like an eternity. When the cold stone of the cottage came into sight, you sighed. The thought of your warm fireplace sent a pleasant chill up your spin.

The blood smeared on the wall next to your door did not.

Your face hardened, as you reached for the dagger on your belt. You placed the potted plant on the stone wall surrounding your front garden, swinging open the already ajar gate. It squeaked and you cursed yourself for not buying the oil you had meant to get at the market a village over.

The door to the cottage was open as well, light from a lit fire spilling out. It shone against more blood smeared on the wooden door. Inside, the smell of rotten flesh and dirt permeated the air. You cringed, slowly stepping inside and holding your breath. The fire crackled, but the air was still cold enough to know that it had only just been lit. Your favorite chair, which you used to read often, was knocked over, the warm fur blanket heaped on the floor next to it. The shape of a man, large in stature, drew your attention.

He was sprawled at the base of your hearth, breath ragged. You recognized the white of his hair, even if it was caked in dirt and blood.

“Geralt!” I came out like a whisper, and you were already on your knees next to him, brushing the hair from his face and checking for wounds when he opened his eyes at your voice.

He looked unfocused, eyes roaming the room before landing on your. You barely paid attention to the look on his face, eyes drawn to the slash across his chest. It had cut clean through his armor, the flesh and blood around it darkened to a sickening black. It wasn’t often that your witcher was injured, and never as badly as this.

“This is the work of a poison,” You said, mostly to yourself. You glanced up to Geralt’s face, cupping his cheeks and ignoring the smears of black goo you left in your wake. “I need to know what did this, Geralt,”

“Manticore,” He grounded out, eyes scrunching in pain. You shushed him, earning a glare that you brushed off.

Placing his hand over his wound, you ordered him to keep as much pressure as he could while you searched for a cure. You had never dealt with manticore poison before, but you were sure you had seen something about it in your grandmother’s journal. Something about a remedy.

You scanned the pages, finally stumbling upon a familiar sketch of a manticore stinger, searching the paragraphs of information for a cure.

“Cut away all poisoned flesh, as the minute it blackens, it is dead…” The first paragraph instructed how to do this, but it was the second that caught your eye. An even more familiar sketch caught your eye, the words making you curse under your breath. “The only cure for manticore poison is the ground up petals of a rare flower that grows on a mountain in Temeria,” 

The red and white petals taunted you, but you didn’t give it a second thought. Rushing outside, your snatched the plant off the wall and brought it back in, beginning your work.

---

It was dark out when the witcher stirred, looking less pale than he had when you had first laid eyes on him. Not that it was much of a difference, as he was already naturally as pale as a ghost. His eyes had barely opened, falling back closed, and you were there, water and a bowl of soup in hand, easing him to sit up. The bandages around his torso were more of a placebo, only their to hide the salve from the flower that had long since begun to work.

While it was an incredibly fast healing agent, it also cured most poisons, and numbed the area it was applied. Many herbalists, healers, and medicine peddlers had come searching for it, but very few ever left with one.

Geralt groaned as you helped him sit up, the blanket resting across him falling to his waist. His armor and shirt were folded on a chair next to the bed, so you opted to sit on the edge of the straw mattress, grabbing the bowl and spooning some of the broth out of the bowl.

“Eat,” You urged, raising the spoon to the witcher’s mouth. “You lost a lot of blood, and you’ll need your strength. The salve I used is fast working, but it just amplifies your healing and poison resilience, meaning you need to eat or it will kill you through exhaustion.”

“What did you give me?” Geralt asked, taking the spoon and bowl from your hands. You sighed at his stubbornness, but didn’t fight him.

“A rare flower from the mountain range a few miles away,” You leveled him with a look. “It is the only known plant able to cure manticore poison, so consider yourself lucky that had gone to get one today.”

He rose a brow at you, taking another spoonful of soup. “I thought you grow your own?”

“Yes, but this one is only known to grow on the sheer cliffside of the mountain here. My grandmother showed it to me when I was little, and told me only to go up when I absolutely had to,” You sighed, taking the dirty bowl and rag you had left in the room to wipe the sweat from the witcher’s brow. “I was planning on planting it in the garden, but you needed it. I’ll have to go back up to get another when the winds die down once more.”

You stood to leave, planning on emptying the bowl. A hand on your wrist caught you, and you turned to see the witcher narrow his eyes at you. “Sheer cliffside?”

“Yes, barely have a foot wide, why?” You answered, already knowing what was coming.

“Why waste a flower that you could plant to grow more?” He grumbeld out.

You narrowed your eyes. “It wasn’t a waste. It saved your life.”

“I’m a witcher.”

“That doesn’t make you immortal,” You ground out, taking your arm from his grip as softly as you could. Geralt sighed, looking down at the floor a moment. You waited for him to say something, to scold you again.

“I realize that kindness is one of your best features, but seriously, that is a bit much.” He said, taking a step back. “Even for you.”

“I can just go and get another like I-”

“No.”

“Geralt!” You hissed, furrowing your brows, “I have to get another one. What if someone else needs one and I don’t have it. You got lucky today, but someone else may not.”

“I’ll do it.” He insisted, walking over to pick up his shirt and armor. You had mended the tear in the cloth, but the leather was not something you were able to help, leaving a giant gash down the center that had Geralt sighed in annoyance.

“You’re injured, and plus, I’m sure you still have a manticore to hunt. I’ll be fine.” He didn’t respond, only continued to gather his things. You gripped his arm, spinning him around. He didn’t fight, which you considered lucky for you, as you wouldn’t have been able to turn him if he had.

“I’ll get you two this time, as a payment,”

“They can’t be damaged,” You tried to reason as to why you had to go.

“I’ll be careful.” He stated simply, but you scoffed at him. If there was one thing you were absolutely sure about Geralt, it was that he was never careful.

“I will fit better along the path.”

“Hmm,” Was his only response this time. You were getting frustrated. Grasping at straws always seemed to be what you did when arguing with the man in front of you. After saving his life from a tikwi a while back, he often came to you for remedies and medicines when in the area. He had even given you a book on how to make the potions he used when fighting.

You stopped him with a hand to his chest as he moved to leave the room. His head tilted down, staring at you. “Please, be careful. The winds are strong up there, and the path crumbles in places.”

You hadn't noticed the deep crease in your brow until Geralt was leaning down and kissing you forehead, following it with a thumb to smooth away the worry.

“I’ll be back soon.”

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 70: Azure Heart

Chapters: 70/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating:

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel)

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Loki Has The Worst Time,

Summary:  Loki remains who he has always been

Thor was carefully working his beard into a braid when he heard the commotion at his door. Your voice frantically entreating the guard to let you in; which he did. You were one of a handful of individuals he allowed in here at will, and you'd never abused the privilege.

You threw yourself at him, terrified, clutching his arm and babbling about a Frost Giant in your bath room. It seemed you thought that the jotun child had been released from the ice early, and was running around unsupervised.

“Wait a moment.” He said, trying to slow the stream of words. “You saw a little jotun girl in your bath chambers? The ones you share with my brother?”

“Yes! She shouldn't be out yet, not without her guardian! It's not safe!”

“I just want to make sure. Did you see a little girl, or did you see a small Frost Giant?”

“I...well it had to be the kid, right? Frost Giants don't stay small!”

“Alright.” Thor said. “I will go investigate. You go and do what you are supposed to do today, and don't worry about this any further.”

You departed, but reluctantly, and with many entreaties to be kind and gentle to what you were sure was a lost and scared little girl.

Norns, but his brother was being foolish. So secretive, so terrified of the consequences, but he probably wanted you to know, deep down. Thor suspected that whenever Loki slipped, it was because he wanted someone to see, to know something that he was too afraid to say. That somewhere in his subconscious mind, he was tired of keeping this secret.

Thor wanted to build a realm where Loki could be comfortable with the truth of himself. Or at least where he could feel something other than hatred and shame over it. Thor was acutely aware of all the personal failures piled up on his shoulders over the centuries, where his brother was concerned. Some days he waxed furious at his own father, and sometimes even his mother, for keeping this from them both. All the things Thor had said and done pertaining to Frost Giants...and Loki had agreed, and internalized it all, just as Thor had. And it had all come down on him with the crushing force of an unstoppable glacier when he'd found out. And to find out while Thor was banished, and Odin asleep, all his support structures gone, and then to have the entire kingdom thrust upon him at such a vulnerable time...It was no wonder he'd fallen into madness. Would Thor have done any different, had it been him?

No, Thor reflected. No, he probably would have been much worse. Recklessness was a personal flaw he had not quite yet cured himself of. Combine that with madness, and the ultimate power of Asgard behind it...No, things would have gone quite terribly, if it had been him instead.

But if he and Loki had known since they were young...So many things Thor would not have said, have done. So much unnecessary suffering, undone. He dearly loved his father, but all of this had been so wrong.

He found Loki sitting in the bath room, in front of a mirror, blue face in his hands.

“Come to smite me, brother?” He deadpanned.

“Oh, a little bird told me there might be a Frost Giant running loose, but I see only my brother here.”

“So now she does what I tell her. Typical.” Loki grumbled. “She can run quite fast when she's scared, can't she? Then again, who wouldn't? If they saw...this.” He gestured to his reflection in the mirror.

“Actually, she was scared for you.” Thor said. “She though you were the little girl, running around on her own. She was afraid for your safety.”

“The child? Why would she think-oh. Hmph. I don't know if that's better or worse. At least she didn't set the Valkyries on me.”

It must have stung. Yes, he had told you to run, but it must have hurt to see you run from him. To think you were frightened of him. Yet he might still make the best of this.

“You know what you need to do.” Thor said.

Loki sighed. “I know.” He said. He sounded so small.

“You will do fine. I know it.” Thor encouraged. “Just get it out there. I think she will understand.”

“Oh yes? Tell me, how did your last relationship go?”

“Poorly. I made many mistakes, particularly in communicating. I encourage you not to do the same.”

“Hmph.” Loki had faded back to milky pale, and looked just as miserable in that shape as well. “But there's no way around it anymore. She's going to know that there was no child in here. She won't be able to stop thinking about it. If she begins asking around, someone will bring up the play, or just outright tell her. It should be me. I have to do it before anyone else does!”

“That's the spirit!” Thor said. “Now go out there and seize that day!”

“Oh, go away!” Loki threw a towel at him.

                                                                           ******

Bjarkhild dropped your hand and shrugged.

“It looks as if everything has gone back to normal.” She said. “The mark looks the same as the day you were brought here, even though it looked like a fresh brand last night.”

“Maybe because I was with Loki?” You ventured. You both knew that his presence had certain healing effects on you. Bjarkhild heaved a small sigh of frustration.

“I wish I had access to Eir's notes. I don't doubt she had information on magics involvement in healing. But Valhalla has received her, and her knowledge along with her. There is so much to relearn.”

“She was good at this?”

“The very Goddess of Healing. One of Hela's first targets...but I shouldn't speak of it. You are in fine health now, and that's all anyone can really ask for. Now, off with you. I don't doubt you have something to attend to.”

“Lessons, yeah.” You hadn't mentioned to anyone that you'd seen a Frost Giant this morning. Thor had seemed a little weird about it; kinda cagey. You assumed he had some kind of plan, so you shouldn't go around spreading panic.

Instead, you went outside. To the ox pens. There were several of the big animals in there, wandering around aimlessly without a care in the world. Even the crisp chill in the air didn't seem to bother them.

You leaned against the fence, and watched the biggest one, a huge, reddish animal, as he browsed the sparse vegetation. Soon, in just a few weeks, in fact, you would have to watch Loki walk up to this beast with a great big sword, and...

Bright red and bewildered eyes. Desperate red eyes, and bright red blood, and a blue head that rolled...

You turned away from the fence with your hand clapped tight over your mouth. Could you really do this?

You knew where your food came from. The leather you wore. You knew people who kept chickens and sometimes they became soup. You knew these animals were destined to become food-for you or for the worms, or both-but you'd also never been there for the actual moment. You'd seen livestock alive, and then you'd seen them in nice, neat, clean bits that in no way resembled the living animal they'd once been. You were disconnected from the part in between.

Maybe that wasn't such a good thing. You knew that disconnect was what allowed some of the more egregious abusive practices to flourish. You knew it would be better to know, to witness. That it would imbue the seriousness of it all, the respect for the lives in front of you.

Maybe that was why things like this were done? The common folk, the farmers, and hunters, and herders, they would all have that kind of understanding and respect already. They were the ones who looked those animals in the eyes and knew them.

But the merchants and traders, the craftsmen and nobles, the royalty, they would be removed from it. Animal husbandry was unlikely to be part of their daily lives, after all. Was bringing them all together to witness where their feasts came from some kind of attempt to teach them? Was making their royalty act like their farmers a way to remind them what the building blocks of a kingdom really were? Was it a humbling act? A reaffirming one?

You didn't know. Whether it was better or not, you couldn't stop thinking of how much blood there was going to be. Beheading was the quickest, most painless way, you had read. The most humane.

You shuddered, then squeaked in awkward surprise when someone dropped their yellow cloak over your shoulders.

“You shouldn't come outside without one anymore.” Andsvarr said, leaning against the fence next to you. “Last year, it got very, very cold. Too cold for a human or an Asgardian, if you ask me. But the wool they make here is very good. I assume it has to be.”

“Oh, thank you.” You said. “We get blizzards and stuff back home, but nothing like what I assume they get here. Did it snow on Asgard?”

“Yes, but not often, or much. Not like here. How are you feeling? You look unhappy, if you will forgive me.”

“Not great, to be honest. Been dealing with some things.”

“You certainly seemed to be in a state last night! Were you hurt? Bjarkhild didn't tell me. We got your room gathered up, by the way. Your plants will be fine I think, and we even found your little worm friend. He has cocooned himself.”

“Oh good, I'm glad he's okay. I'm glad you're okay too. No, I'm not hurt.” You sighed. “I think my problem is deeper inside. It's him.” You gestured at the huge bull. “I don't want to kill him.”

“The sacrifice? I see. Well don't worry!” Andsvarr began earnestly. “You won't be the one to do it. That will be his High-”

“It doesn't matter! I'm the one who'll be distracting him! He won't even see Loki, he'll be looking at me. And I won't say anything, I won't warn him...”

“Um...The bull would not understand you, even if you did.”

The bull. Right, of course, you were talking about the bull.

“I guess I just feel bad for him. He didn't deserve this. Doesn't.” You were talking about the bull.

Andsvarr gave you an expression of bewildered support. “Would you like to come back inside? I can get you a warm drink? We have that chocolate powder that you put in milk.”

You shouldn't stay out here staring at oxen. It was getting you nowhere.

“Yeah. Some hot chocolate sounds good. I just...I don't want any more shocks for a bit. I just want a moment's calm.”

                                                                       *****

Loki barely ate. Everything tasted like sand and emptiness. Tonight was the night he lost you.

You were in your room right now, helping to clean up and reorganize. A team had already been in there, salvaging what they could, cleaning up the broken glass. They had patched up the wall, but it would need to be repainted, and a new window pane would need to be added to their next order of supplies.

He'd told Brunnhilde to keep a bed ready with the Valkyries. You couldn't sleep in your room until the window was repaired. The temperature would dip to well below freezing in there. And when you inevitably ran from him tonight, like you had this morning, you would need a place to rest.

All he could really hope for was that you would be able to overcome your disgust enough to continue acting as his Seidkona, even if he could no longer hold you, or touch you, or revel in your love.

“You know, she might not even care.” Thor had told him. “Humans can be unpredictable about this sort of thing.”

It hadn't helped. He couldn't dare to hope for that acceptance, not since the broken Bifrost. He had to be ready for the end.

He'd taken this meal alone. As coiled up as his innards were, he couldn't possibly have even faked a conversation. It was like going to his own execution, and he'd already done that!

He let his fork fall to his plate, unable to finish.

He should have told you from the start. Then you would have never loved him, and would feel no betrayal. And without seeing your soul as he had, he might not even have fallen for you. But when would he have told you? When was ever a good time for this confession?

He could hear you down the hall, lamenting a tear in your stuffed fantasy animal. The power of that blast had thankfully not carried far. It had tossed a few things around in his room, and the blast itself had woken him up, but it hadn't reached Thor's chambers. Mostly, it had destroyed your own little room.

He'd see to it that the doll was repaired. You loved the little creature, even though it wasn't real.

Just like you loved the false face he presented to you.

You were leaving now, to fetch dinner with Andsvarr and the maids. You did that occasionally, taking a meal, usually lunch, with the servants, or the cooks, or Frigga's former handmaidens. It seemed that, unlike all the peasant princesses of the tales, you didn't want to forget where you came from. He could respect that; he, and much of Asgard was in a similar situation. Besides, it was good for you to get to know the people, and for them to get to know you.

But what if one of them told you before he did? Frigga's handmaidens especially liked to talk among themselves, and between them, they knew practically everything about every Asgardian alive. But you understood a great deal more of the language now, and if one of them let it slip in idle conversation, you might be able to pick it up.

He wanted control of this situation. At least the tiny amount of control it took to be the one to say those words to you. He wanted at least that.

There was a tiny knock at his chamber doors, just barely perceptible. The only one left, Loki answered it. As if summoned by his thoughts, Lofn stood in the hallway.

Loki eyed her warily. Of all his mother's handmaidens, Lofn was the hardest for him to understand. She seemed to him to perceive two different worlds at once, the world of the soul revealed itself to her as to no other. She saw all the intricacies of emotion and the truth in people's spirits, though she seldom said much, and what she did say didn't always make immediate sense. Still, it was always best to heed her advice.

Also, she was sometimes just compelled to do things that seemed odd or random, and right now she was holding out a long coat in a style he preferred. It was blue, however, the sky blue his mother used to wear.

“I have made this for you.” She said, with that dreamy, yet cunning expression of hers. “It feels like there are things you need to remember. That you have always been you, no matter what coat you are wearing. And that every crawling, wriggling, screaming creature is born worthy of love and care. I held you, as a baby, though you don't remember. But I saw it.”

She shook the coat, urging him to take it. He did. It was light and warm as he slung it around his shoulders; a perfect fit. Somehow, she always knew.

She didn't wait for thanks, or any answer at all really, just nodded and walked away.

How did she know these things? Did she look across the world and see his distress? How long had she been working on this coat?

He had always been him. Well, of course he had. He hadn't ever stopped being a Frost Giant, no matter what shape he took. That was part of the problem.

The mirror in his room had broken, but hadn't been replaced yet. He looked at himself with his new coat, his reflection shattered into many facets. All those faces, but only one of them was real.

The light blue didn't really suit him, but he liked the coat anyway. It reminded him of his mother, how she used to hold him, envelop him in the folds of her dress and make him feel safe. Of the books she read to him, and the stories she told. The magic she taught him and the little jokes.

If he squinted just right, he could almost pretend it was her in the myriad panes of mirror, drawing him into warm memory. Dinners together, as a family, when he was just a boy. How she knew all along, but had loved him anyway. She should have told him, they should have told him, but her love was never in doubt. She wanted to protect him, and had made the unequivocally wrong choice in her attempt to do so, but she did love him.

He even remembered the way Odin used to hold his hand with the same care and pride he had for Thor, all three of them walking from corridor to grand corridor, to meals, to classes, to bed. How he spoke to them of so many things, trying to raise them both. Like a real family.

Loki's eyes burned, his throat tight. He wanted it. After everything that had happened, he just wanted that more than anything. Why couldn't he have had that? What had changed?

Odin had been his father, had acted like it, at least when he was young! What had changed? Was it disappointment at the emergence of his Aesir nature-as god of mischief, deceit and lies? Was it that Laufey had failed to die or be deposed by his people after the war, thus making it more difficult to install Loki as a suitable replacement? Odin had raised him too, to be a king. Had he simply grown frustrated that he would be saddled with a tiny, deformed Frost Giant for longer than he had anticipated? Had he grown too competent? Or not enough?

He had always been him. Even before he knew. Running around the palace as a little boy, chasing after his big brother almost from the moment he could walk. Filching snacks from the kitchens, and crying over scraped knees. Trying to climb on things he shouldn't. Practicing his magic by changing Thor's clothes into dresses, attempting to elicit any kind of reaction from stoic Hogun, causing strange odors to arise from Fandral's ever-flapping mouth, teasing Volstagg about his increasing waist and family size. Even attempting to cut Sif's hair as a prank. Oh, he had known woman's wrath then!

All follies of youth. He missed them. Maybe they had never truly been his friends, but he missed them all the same.

He missed you too. He missed you, and he hadn't even lost you yet. He was mourning for you, for what was about to happen. When you saw who he really was.

Who he had always been. You didn't even know. In the run of things, you barely knew him at all.

You barely knew him. Who he had always been. You didn't know.

You didn't know about Frost Giants.

You didn't know about Frost Giants like Asgard thought it knew about Frost Giants Didn't know about him, about who he'd always been.

About a little boy who chased a little girl with a pair of scissors, until she punched him in the face and knocked him down, and he laughed to be beaten at his own game. A youth running from his enraged older brother, who tripped over his own skirts in the attempt to catch him. Who burned with a touch of envy when his chubby friend married young and had babies on the way almost instantly. Who always looked upwards and forwards.

He had always only been him. Frost Giant or Asgardian, always him. Loki. Always Loki.

You knew Loki.

You would come back tonight, and he would tell you this terrible thing. He was still terrified that you would leave, but you deserved to know. You knew the side of him that wanted to provide what you deserved. You knew that part of him, and more importantly, you trusted that part of him. He cherished that trust, and wanted to reward it with trust of his own. He would tell you, and accept whatever came of it.

He would be who he'd always been.

[scotiaeire]

SHAPESHIFTING

“Out of the numerous terms associated with shape-shifting in Old Norse-Icelandic literature, the most common one must be hamr, a rather obscure and multi-faceted concept that needs to be presented and explained before going further. On a practical level, the word hamrhas been defined by Finnicist Clive Tolley as referring to the pelt of an animal or a bird (Tolley, 2009: I, 193). However, it differs from the word serkr(“animal pelt”) in that it is most common used to describe much more than a simple animal skin. As shown by Icelandic scholar Aðalheiður Guðmundsdóttir, there are numerous instances where the word hamrrefers not strictly to such pelts but also to the shape, the appearance and form of someone who is able to change shape (Guðmundsdóttir, 2007: 280). Within the Norse-Icelandic corpus, the word is found both in narratives set in historical, legendary, mythical and even fictional times, ranging from 10th-century skaldic poetry to late-Medieval rímurpoems. In these tales, the hamris most-often described as a physical garment that can be worn and removed and which in and of itself can be a cause for transformation. A good example of the physicality of the hamrcan be found in the prose introduction of the Eddic poem Vǫlundarkviðain which human-looking women are in possession of swan-pelts (álptarhamir) and later leave the narrative’s protagonists by flying in the air (Vǫlundarkviða, 2014: 428).4This narrative is, as will be demonstrated later on, only one of many in which saga characters assume the appearance of an animal or a monster by donning a supernatural pelt.”

SOURCE: “SHAPESHIFTING IN OLD NORSE -ICELANDIC LITERATURE” BY LYONEL PERABO.

THIS IMMEDIATELY BROUGHT TO MIND THE SELKIE OF CELTIC MYTH. IF YOU GROW UP IN SCOTLAND OR IRELAND, THE ORKNEY OR SHETLAND ISLES, YOU’RE SURROUNDED BY THE SEAS AND THE MYTHS THAT ACCOMPANY THEM.

ONE OF THESE IS SELKIES, OR SEAL-FOLK. TRADITIONALLY WOMEN (BUT SOMETIMES ALSO MEN) THEY ARE SEALWIVES. THEY WILL COME TO LAND, HAVING FALLEN FOR A HUMAN MALE, SOME OF THEM TRUSTING ENOUGH TO HAND OVER THEIR SEALSKIN TO THEIR NEW LOVE TO KEEP SAFE FOR THEM (WITHOUT WHICH THEY CAN’T SHIFT BACK INTO SEALFORM). USUALLY THE STORY ENDS WITH TRAGEDY, BECAUSE THE HUMAN, WANTING TO KEEP HIS BEAUTIFUL WIFE, WILL HIDE THE SEALSKIN FROM HER. IN MOST TALES, SHE FINDS AND OR RECOVERS IT WITH HELP AND ALWAYS LEAVES HER LOVE TO RETURN TO THE SEA, SOMETIMES TAKING ANY OFFSPRING WITH HER.

A GOOD INTRO TO SELKIE FOLKS IS HERE: http://www.orkneyjar.com/folklore/selkiefolk/

THE ORIGINAL SHAPESHIFTING ARTICLE ALSO BROUGHT TO MIND THE OLD CELTIC RITUAL OF YOUNG MEN BEING SEWN INTO BULLHIDES, TO BIDE THERE FOR A SPECIFIED LENGTH OF TIME. THIS ALSO REMINDS ME OF THE MORE MODERN SENSORY DEPRIVATION TANKS. IN THOSE, PEOPLE REPORT ACUTE SHIFTS IN AWARENESS, LOSS OF THE PASSING OF TIME, AND A SHARPENING OF OTHER SENSES THAN THE ORDINARY SIGHT AND SOUND, TASTE AND TOUCH. IN OTHER WORDS, BY DEPRIVING THE HUMAN OF THE MUNDANE SENSES, THEIR MINDS ARE FREED TO WANDER. AND WANDER THEY DO...

WELL, A FEW DAYS INSIDE THAT BULLHIDE...DARK, QUIET, WARM, THE SCENT OF THE BEAST IN YOUR NOSTRILS...THE RELEVENCE OF CATTLE TO THE CELTS IS WELL KNOWN. BUT OTHER CULTURES SUCH AS SOME STEPPE TRIBES HAVE USED HORSEHIDES FOR SIMILAR RITES.

SO, WE HAVE SACRED BEASTS BEING USED.

WHEN IT CAME TO THE OLD ARGUMENT ABOUT WHETHER VIKINGS WORE HORNED HELMETS OR NOT (I *THINK* ONLY ONE HAS EVER ACTUALLY BEEN FOUND, BUT CAN’T FIND THE SOURCE FOR IT SO PLEASE DON’T QUOTE ME ON THAT...GENERALLY THEY HAD NO HORNED HELMETS) THERE IS A FAMED STONE ENGRAVING OF WHAT’S CONSIDERED TO BE AN IMAGE OF ODIN. SIMILAR TO THE GUNDESTRUPP CAULDRON, HE WEARS A HELMET WITH HORNED APPENDAGES..I SAY THAT BECAUSE THE TIPS ARE BLUNTED, ALMOST ROUNDED OR WITH SOMETHING ROUNDED ATTACHED.

IS IT POSSIBLE THIS WAS PART OF AN OUTFIT OF A SACRED BEAST WORN BY THE GOD ODIN WHO WAS HIMSELF A KNOWN SHAPESHIFTER?

EVEN TODAY, FOLKS NEW TO PAGANISM AND HEATHENRY ARE DRAWN TO IMAGES OF “HUMAN-BEASTS”...AND DECORATE THEMSELVES WITH STAG ANTLERS, FURS, NECKLACES OF BONES, TEETH, ETC. I POSTED RECENTLY THE MUSIC VIDEO BY THE GROUP FAUN, “WALPURGISNACHT” AND YES, IT’S A MUSIC VID. BUT...THE IMAGES OF THE CLOVEN HOOFED, RAM HORNED MEN, THE OBVIOUS MATING OF THE MOON GODDESS WITH THE STAG GOD OF THE FOREST..WELL, POINT IS, PAGANS AND HEATHENS *DO* GENERALLY FIND THESE IMAGES APPEALLING. EVEN THE BIG BRAWNY VIKING BERSERKER TYPES WANT TO DRAPE THEMSELVES IN BEARHIDES OR WOLF PELTS.

I’VE DONE IT MYSELF...THERE’S A PIC OF A COUPLE OF DECADES AGO OF ME SOMEWHERE ON MY HARD DRIVE, A HELMET I’D MADE OF SADDLE LEATHER, WOOD AND RAM’S HORNS, WEARING A FUR CORSET (YES, IT *WAS* BONED,) AND LEATHER BREEKS AND BOOTS. I CAN FISH IT OUT BUT HEL, I WAS TWENTY YEARS YOUNGER AND A GOOD DEAL SKINNIER BACK THEN. CAN’T FIT INTO THAT NOW. (THAT IS “REAL” SHAPESHIFTING FOR YE...AS WE AGE, OUR BODIES BROADEN. IT’S A BUGGER.) I STILL OWN MY WILD BOAR’S TEETH NECKLACE, SEAL TOOTH NECKLACES AND RABBIT BONE HAIRPINS.

ANYWAY, IN ALL MY STUDIES HITTING ON SHAPESHIFTING, ONE COMMON THREAD RUNS THROUGH IT. THE SHAPESHIFTER MUST RELINQUISH HIS OR HER HUMANITY.

SEE, MANY FOLKS HUMANISE ANIMALS. “CUTE” THEM UP. APPLY HUMAN QUALITIES TO THEM THAT SIMPLY DON’T EXIST. LIKE THOSE PHOTOSHOPPED IMAGES OF HUGGING CATS AND DOGS, OR GRINNING PUPPIES ETC. OR THE HORRIBLE ONES OF DANCING CATS (WHAT IS SEEN CAN NEVER BE UNSEEN..SHUDDER...)

AND YOU SEE IT IN THE LITTLE HANDBAG DOGS, BRED SMALLER AND SMALLER TO SUIT THE NEED FOR EASE OF CARE, SAT IN HANDBAGS OR CARRIED OVER A CROOKED ARM, BEDECKED IN JEWELLED COLLARS OR, GODS FORBID, TUTUS AND OTHER EQUALLY RIDICULOUS OUTFITS.

THE SHAPESHIFTER MUST TRULY, GENUINELY, *KNOW* THE BEAST, TO IT’S CORE, THAT THEY’LL CHANGE INTO, THAT THEY’LL EMULATE TO THE POINT THAT THEIR AUDIENCE WILL *BELIEVE* WHAT THEY’RE MEANT TO SEE.

AND THAT TAKES TRAINING OR A SENSE OF KNOWLEDGE OF ANIMALS ABOVE AND BEYOND THE NORM.

IT TAKES A KENNING OF THEM, IN THE OLD SENSE OF THE WORD. AN INTIMATE KNOWING OF HOW THEIR MINDS WORK, OF WHAT IT’S LIKE TO *BE* ONE OF THEM, AND AN ABSOLUTE DETACHMENT FROM THEIR OWN HUMANITY WHICH HAS A HABIT OF “TAINTING” EVERYTHING IT SEES, HEARS AND EXPERIENCES BY DEFAULT.

SHAPESHIFTERS, I BELIEVE, HAVEN’T GONE AWAY. BUT WE LIVE IN A WORLD IN WHICH WE ARE INCREASINGLY DENIED ACCESS TO THE CULTURE OF OUR ANCESTORS IN MEANINGFUL WAYS.

MY DAD USED TO TELL ME (HE WAS A POACHER BTW, FOR THE DINNER TABLE, NOT FOR PROFIT) THAT EVERY MAN SHOULD HAVE THE *RIGHT* TO FEED HIS FAMILY FROM THE LAND OF HIS BIRTH.

HOW MANY OF US ARE PERMITTED TO HUNT FOR OUR DINNERS THESE DAYS? UNLESS YOU PAY EXHORBITANT FEES FOR GUN LICENSES, UNDERGO INTENSIVE POLICE SCRUTINY AND IN MANY CASES, OBLIGATORY TRAINING, IN PLACES BOW HUNTING IS FORBIDDEN, AND SO WHERE I USED TO SEE MANY AN AULD FELLA WALKING ALONG WITH A BRACE OF PHEASANT UNDER HIS JACKET OR A BUNDLE OF RABBITS SLUNG OVER ONE SHOULDER, YOU NEVER SEE IT NOW.

AND THEN THERE’S THE ECO LOT, WHO, IF YOU SO MUCH AS DON A LEATHER SHOE, WANT YOU SHOT.....

WELL, I WAS LUCKY TO BE TAUGHT MY TRADE IN LIFE, AN ANIMAL HIDE TANNER. I STILL HAVE A SMALL STASH OF DEER AND SHEEP HIDES, CALF HIDES AND RABBIT PELTS. ANTLERS AND HORNS.

AND I CAN CONFIRM THAT THE APPEAL OF THEM IS STILL AS STRONG AS EVER.

WHATEVER THE REASONING BEHIND THE ORIGINAL SHAPESHIFTERS, TO HAVE THE ABILITY TO “GET UNDER THE SKIN” OF ANOTHER SPECIES AND TRULY UNDERSTAND THE CREATURE, TO COMMUNICATE THROUGH IT TO OTHERS OF YOUR KIND, MUST BE A PARTICULARLY SPECIAL ABILITY AND SKILL.

FROM SHAPESHIFTING SWANS IN NORSE AND IRISH MYTHOLOGY TO THE SELKIES OF THE NORTHERN ISLES AND NORTHERN SCOTLAND, TO THE BULLS, BOARS AND STEPPE HORSES OF OTHER PLACES, WE SEEM TO HAVE AN INHERENT DESIRE TO BECOME THOSE CREATURES AND KNOW AND RETAIN THEIR QUALITIES OR AT THE LEAST, TO CREATE A BOND WITH THEM THAT CAN BE USED IN RITUAL TO HEAL AND CURE, CURSE AND KILL OR SIMPLY BEGUILE. IT HASN’T LEFT US.

BUT WE’RE ALLOWING IT TO BE TAKEN FROM US.

INDIGENOUS PEOPLES STRUGGLE TO KEEP THEIR CULTURE AND HERITAGE ALIVE TODAY.

SAY THE WORD “INDIGENOUS” AND MOST THINK NATIVE AMERICAN, AFRICAN, ANYWHERE EXCEPT EUROPEAN. YET OUR CELTIC, NORSE, AND GERMANIC ANCESTORS WERE PAGANS TOO, HAD THEIR RITUALS AND PRACTICES TOO.

AND THOUGH I’M NOT ADVOCATING A RETURN TO THE DAYS OF THE HEAD HUNTING CELTS (THOUGH, IF ANYONE’S UP FOR THAT I’VE A LIST BEGINNING WITH THE ENGLISH GOVERNMENT, JUST SAYIN’...) WE TOO DESERVE THE RIGHT TO RE-DISCOVER OUR ANCIENT ROOTS, AND TO KEEP ALIVE THOSE FEW PRACTICES THAT STILL REMAIN.

WHEREVER YOU’RE FROM, LEARN YOUR HISTORY. NOT JUST THE RECENT HISTORY BUT THE ANCIENT. KNOW THE LANDSCAPE YOU BELONG TO THROUGH IT’S ARCHAEOLOGY AND IN THIS WAY, COME TO KNOW A LITTLE MORE ABOUT WHO THE PEOPLE THAT TROD THE GROUND BEFORE YOU WERE, HOW THEY LIVED, WORKED AND COMMUNICATED WITH THEIR NATURAL WORLD, THE SEEN AND THE HIDDEN. AND KEEP IT ALIVE. THEY SAYING GOES, “WALK IN ANOTHER’S SHOES FOR A WHILE”. MAYBE THE SHAPESHIFTER WOULD SAY “DON ANOTHER’S SKIN FOR A WHILE”.

[monstersandmaw]

April Fool - Part One (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

No, this isn't a prank. April Fool is the title of this surprise, bonus story. There are enough stressful/un-funny things going on today that I thought I'd just do something nice instead. This went up earlier on my Patreon, and now it’s time to share it here.

This one features a reader who was stood up as an April Fool's, and a certain someone comes along and finds them. I won't spoil it, but it's sfw, fluffy, and features a gender neutral reader and a non-binary monster/non-human.

Length: 2004 words Content: fluff, reader initially being stood up as a ‘joke’, more fluff, and a non-binary monster intervening to make things better...

**************

It was a cliché. 

And yet, here you were, standing outside a boarded up bar that had apparently been closed down for quite some while, on the phone to someone who was laughing, with four mates in the background, at your expense. “You didn’t seriously think I’d show up for a date with you, did you?” he roared. Clearly he had never found anything quite this funny.  

Your stomach roiled and you fought off tears. “I did, but I guess I was wrong. I’m glad I provided you and your friends with some entertainment at least,” you said flatly, and then you hung up.  

Just to add insult to injury, someone, it seemed, had witnessed your humiliation.

At first you took them to be a tiefling, given the dark, slate grey skin, long blue-black hair, and curling, ram’s horns. Their yellow eyes gleamed in the dusk and they tilted their head slightly with a gentle kind of curiosity as they approached. They had long, tapering ears and, like many tieflings’, they were pierced with gold and silver rings, a tear-drop pearl dangling from their left earlobe and brushing the collar of their jacket as they moved.  

“I don’t meant to pry, but are you alright?” they asked in a husky, rich, warm tenor voice.  

It was impossible to guess their gender from looking at them. With long hair, a slim waist, long legs clad in dark, loose pants which were cuffed tightly around the ankle, and a black leather jacket that had a grey hoodie underneath, they were pretty nondescript. And yet breathtakingly beautiful. Their cheekbones were high and sculpted, their eyebrows sharp, their eyelashes long as a cow’s, and their lips were soft and gentle as they offered you a smile and came to a halt at a polite yet concerned distance.  

“Honestly? No,” you choked, fighting back a flood of tears. And then, despite your most valiant efforts, it all rushed over you; all the years of relentless bullying at school, the loneliness at university, the isolation that you felt as a young adult now, trying to find your place in the world and carve out a career for yourself. All while painfully alone. Ugly, gasping sobs suddenly overwhelmed you, and you broke down in front of a complete stranger.  

Warm, gentle hands reached for your upper arms, thumbs caressing gently. “There, there,” they crooned softly. “Let it out. That’s it.”

And as their comforting scent caught your nostrils, you found yourself resting your forehead on their chest and sobbing inconsolably. “I’m so sorry,” you hiccupped. “I’m -”

“It’s quite alright, I assure you,” came their patient answer. They were taller than you by about a foot, and there was a solid, ageless kind of strength to them that you found yourself clinging to with a desperation of which you hadn’t known you were capable.  

Eventually they pulled out a handkerchief, seemingly from nowhere, and handed it to you.  

“Thanks,” you snuffled, wiping your eyes and blowing your nose. “God, I feel so stupid.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, just a harmless April Fool’s joke, you know? I apparently didn’t get the memo that it’s also ‘stand your first date up for shits and giggles’ day…”

A soft growl reverberated from the stranger’s throat, and you glanced up to see that their yellow eyes were glowing softly in the dark, and that their pretty lips had pulled back to reveal elongated canines.  

“What?” you asked, voice sharp with bitterness. “Never heard of a good trick?”

“I am a trickster spirit,” they said darkly, and you felt a tingle of fear in your gut. “I delight in japes and jokes, but this is just cruel. There is no humour here. There is no lesson learned.”

“Oh, I learned my lesson alright,” you said, taking a step back.  

Concern furrowed the trickster’s brows and they fixed their glowing gaze on your face. “Will you let me try to right the wrong that was done to you?”

“What?” you asked. “At first I thought you were a tiefling. You’re really a trickster spirit then? What do you plan on doing?”

They nodded. “You can call me Grey, though that is not my True Name. I am frequently mistaken for a tiefling. I think it’s my lovely horns, or perhaps my flawless skin,” they said, brushing the backs of their fingers against their own, chiselled cheek and fluttering their long eyelashes melodramatically.  

The ostentatious absurdity of the gesture made you smile, and when they saw it, their own face split into a kind grin.  

“That’s better,” they said. “Come,” and they nodded across the street to an ice cream parlour that was open late. “I have the cure for almost anything.”

Playfully, they took your hand and you allowed them to lead you across the road. Grey opened the door to the cheerful, pastel coloured ice cream parlour and let you pass inside first. No harm in this, at least, surely?

“Anything you want, it’s on me,” they said. “My treat.”

“Why?” you asked, rooted to the spot just inside the door.  

“Because I like you, and I don’t like to see good souls hurting.”

With a watery smile of thanks, you turned your attention to the amazing array of different sorbets, frozen yoghurts and ice creams before you. You picked your three favourite, and waited while Grey chose four and paid the satyr behind the counter with a friendly smile before joining you at a table in the window.  

“I still don’t understand why you’re doing this,” you said. “If you’re a trickster spirit, then why are you so upset at what they did? I mean, it was a pretty good prank - lure someone to a bar that’s not even there, and see if they’re stupid enough to turn up…”

Again, Grey growled, spoon tapping on the rim of their bowl of colourful flavours. “There was a time when the whole purpose of a trickster spirit was to teach bad people a lesson. It would begin with a few tricks to get their attention - curdling the milk as it hit the pail, turning their wine to vinegar, rotting the eggs in their store, that kind of thing - and if they didn’t heed the warning and change their ways, then we’d step it up. Hurting good people to get a laugh out of it is just cruel.” Their eyes shone, glistening, and they took your hand suddenly across the table and clasped their warm fingers around yours. “You did not deserve that, and I want to make it right.”

“You’re very sweet. Almost too good to be true, you know?” you said.  

Grey’s slim shoulders sagged. “I understand. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you what I am, but…” They shrugged. “You just looked so miserable. I wanted to make the pain go away.”

“How can I believe someone who says things like that?” you whispered, ice cream untouched before you.  

Grey sighed, lips pressing into a hard, thin, dark line, shapely brows furrowing as they stared at the table between you. They seemed to be debating something. Finally, they broke the silence, and their voice was different. Gone was the confidence and playfulness, and instead it was soft, crackling, afraid. “I swear,” they began hesitantly, “I swear on my True Name, Locke, that no harm will come to you from me, nor will I allow others to hurt you.”

“Locke,” you whispered. “That’s… That’s your…”

“My True Name,” they said. “Only three others alive know it, and now you do.”

“But you don’t know me!” you gasped.  

Locke shrugged and grinned. “I know a good soul when I see one. Trust me. I know I’m safe with you, as you’re safe with me.”

“My very own guardian spirit,” you said rather wistfully. “I always used to dream of that as a child.”

“Sorry I’m late then,” they grinned.  

Breathing out all the tension from your chest, you shook your head slightly in disbelief, raising your first spoonful of ice cream to your mouth. “This is perfect,” you added with a smile.  

Locke grinned back and reached for your hand across the table. When you did not pull back, they squeezed your hand before letting go.  

You ate the rest of your impromptu dessert in quiet conversation with Locke. They asked about your life, and when you had very rapidly exhausted anything of any interest, Locke allowed you to question them about their life.  

“What… What pronouns do you use?” you asked nervously, which elicited a laugh.  

“I don’t,” they grinned. “I mean, I tend to get called whatever by whomever, and I don’t really mind. I can change my physical form to whatever I like, so I don’t really feel attached to one gender or another.”

“Oh. So you don’t actually look like this.”

They smiled. “Of course I do. I look like whatever I look like,” they grinned.  

“Riddles,” you snickered.  

“Maybe,” they fired back. “But you want to know a secret?”

“What will it cost me?” you asked playfully.  

Locke’s answering smile made your stomach flip over. “Nothing at all,” they said.

“Go on then.”

“You caught me on a day when I picked the form that’s truest to my heart. This is probably the closest to what I actually look like.”

The next words just tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. “You’re very beautiful.”

It was almost as if they had short-circuited for just a moment, but it happened so swiftly, and they recovered in a heartbeat, that you weren’t sure you had even seen anything at all of note. They smiled, and blinked a couple of times. “Thank you,” they said, voice a little croaky again. “Honestly, I don’t normally let people see me at all - especially if I’m causing mischief. I didn’t notice you until I felt your pain hit me like a bloody freight train, and then I looked up and there you were, shining like a beacon.” They sighed. “You’re a bit better now though, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “Thanks to you.”

They eyed your empty bowl. “Would you like me to walk you home?”

“Maybe halfway?” you asked, not quite sure about letting a trickster spirit know where you lived, even if they had been perfectly well behaved. Even if they had gifted you with their True Name.  

If Locke’s smile was tinged with sadness, they tried to hide it from you.  

They held out their hand and helped you to your feet, and then turned to wave goodnight to the lonely satyr behind the counter, who grinned back and wished you both a pleasant night.

Locke walked beside you, their dark-skinned hands tucked into their jacket pockets, and their head down turned, staring at the pavement in front of you. A late-night dog walker approached on the same side of the road as you, and as the gentle Labrador snuffed the air and caught sight of Locke, she began to growl and bark, yanking her leash, snarling and baring her teeth.  

Locke reeled backwards, stately composure evaporating, drawing their hands out of their pockets. They pressed their lithe body up against the garden wall on their left and let them pass, a hurt and slightly frightened expression on their face while the dog’s owner tried to apologise and drag the animal away.

“Dogs hate me,” they sighed when you were alone again. “All dogs do, and they usually hate all of us. Cats don’t though. Cats love me,” they added with a wry grin.  

You saw through the mask of loneliness then as if Locke had held up a mirror to your own.  

Overcome with the desire to shelter them too, you reached out and took their hand. Their fingers trembled beneath your touch. “Come back with me,” you said.  

Locke’s tapering, expressive ears swivelled back slightly into the sweetest expression you’d ever seen on anyone. “You sure?”  

“I’m sure. Come on. Let’s not both be lonely on this shitty day…”

************************

There will be a part two, and it will be nsfw, and it'll probably just be for Patreons only...

___________________________

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[joseph--reed]

Here’s to surviving the apocalypse

03.05.2035 It has been roughly two years since the world went into lockdown due to a worldwide pandemic that swept the nation within a blink of an eye. The cause of all this mass hysteria is a virus which affects the tissues in the brain, permanently altering them to change the human body. Currently, there is no cure although the world health organization has tried countless times to manufacture a vaccine however each trial for a vaccine has so far been unsuccessful. Therefore a worldwide lockdown was imposed for the virus to be contained. Even with a lockdown, there have been many casualties due to this virus and the numbers of the infected only seem to be on the rise.

 It's a dark and dangerous world out there, every man or women for themselves. Many people formed pacts, groups they can rely on to survive others chose to go at this world alone. There is no right and wrong in this world, many people who went in groups have now become infected and the same can be said for those who went at alone. It's survival of the fittest and you've got to work with what you've got to make it because not everybody is built to survive this harsh pandemic. My wife and daughter being among the many who didn't make it. Not a day goes by that I don't long for their existence. It still haunts me that I had to leave them that way, in that house, the house we were all supposed to live in, grow in, die old in yet it seems fate had cruel intentions instead. 

I don't believe I am one of the lucky ones. Who would want this life but then again who would want that life either its all one big catch twenty-two and the "lucky" ones are stuck in the middle trying to survive on the bare minimum. The government are supposed to help but they hardly do shit. They'll hand out scraps to the common folk and keep anything worthwhile to the rich assholes. Yet they'll have their military parade about the streets vowing to "protect us" when we all know that's a facade. God, I hate people in the office. 

"Okay enough of that." Joseph mumbled to himself as he placed his pen back into the middle of his diary before carefully closing the black leather book and stowing it away in his bag. He knew if he continued to write he was going to go on a tangent about how he hates the oval office and that would just be a waste of paper. That diary is there to document any thoughts he has about the pandemic, not his political views. For that, he can get a spray can and deface a public building however he would rather not be thrown into any kind of government solitary. Just as he is pulling away from his bag his eyes catch a glimpse of the wooden photo frame that is beside his bed. A soft sigh escapes his lips as he leans over and carefully picks it up, his icy blue hues scanned the picture as his brain relived the memory. The photo consisted of him, his wife and newborn daughter at the beach together. Oh, how he longed for better days like those in the past. "I miss you both." The male whispered to himself before gently placing a kiss to the glass. He took another moment the gaze at the photo before setting it back in its rightful position. "Another day of this bullshit." The dark-haired male spoke to himself as he started to get geared up for the day ahead. He needed to find some new supplies, mostly he needed food but any other equipment he could find along his way that he could trade for food would also be a bonus. 

Joseph got himself dressed in his usual 'work' gear before he loaded up his bag with essential supplies for his trip. He took one good look around the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten to pack anything before he set off for his day out. It is still early hours of the morning, the sun only just rising but in this day and age you needed to start any essential travel very early otherwise all items of value will be gone. It's not the world we were all once used too, there are no self-checkouts, contactless payments, take-aways, click and collect. there is none of that, supermarkets seize to exist as we once knew them, you get rations — if you can even call them that. Most days you can't even get basics like bread because they are gone within an instance or the government 'forget' to restock your designated food area. Most folk try to survive on their own without having to wait on government hand me downs, it's a hard life but it sometimes works out more beneficial if you know how to play the game. 

"It's a beautiful day." Joseph murmured as he stepped outside his house, taking his first steps into the world as he set off in search of supplies. The sun beamed down on the dark-haired man, The male still had a slight twinge of blonde in his locks however his natural colour dominated. Joe took a slow walk through his town — town as if you could hardly call this place a town, it was just houses and a few rationed shops barricaded in by the military some life huh? "Out again Joseph?" Mary — one of his neighbours called out to him as he made his way to the gates which gave him access to other areas outside of his town. "You know me, can never stay still." A dry chuckle escaped his lips- Joseph wasn't one for small talk nor did he want anyone to pry into his life. "Do rememb—" Joseph quickly put his hand up to silence Mary. "Do remember there is still a curfew and anyone outside the gates after 9 pm will be locked out there. I remember. It's been the same message every day for the last two years." Joseph replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me I'm off to try and not get infected." With that, Joe closed the conversation and exited his town.

 Stepping outside the gated community you could tell the world is in an Apocolypse. Inside those gates, people were still desperately clinging onto normality however it's a whole different ballgame once you cross that line into the real world. Everything is falling apart, buildings being blown up, mother nature taking back her earth. Everything manmade seems to be crumbling, this city didn't even look like a city no more. There are no cars, no mass crowds, no architecture. It all just looks run down and out of place, it is not eye candy that's for sure but this is the new normal and it has been for the last two years. 

Roughly about 35 minutes into Josephs journey is where it started to get interesting. He knew from doing this routine every day that the first hour or so he would never find anything worthwhile. Maybe a scrap here and there but nothing worth any value. Finally, he has managed to stumble upon a small cottage, untouched. No forced entry, no broken windows and it is all perfectly intact. A rare yet exciting sighting. "Now now what do we have here.." The male mumbled to himself as he observed the cottage from a good distance. Although it seems untouched that doesn't mean it actually is. People have gotten craftier these days and this could easily be a trap therefore he knew he had to be cautious before entering the cottage. Just as he was about to move in closer that was when he heard the dreaded noise of an infected. "Fan-fucking-tastic." Joe grumbled as he pulled out a small pair of binoculars to scope the area to try and find the bastard. "Gotcha." Joe whispered as he locked sights on the infected who was currently lapping its way around the front of the cottage. "Time to deal with this." He ran his hand through his hair before carefully creeping behind a set of knee-high stones that were perched in the front garden, thus giving him enough cover so the infected doesn't seem him. 

Gingerly Joe peered up from over the set of stones to gauge what kind of method of attack he'd need for this infected. It only seemed to be a stage 1 infected given by the bite mark on their arm and the small lacerations down their neck and back. A very recent case, An hour or two give or take. Was this person trying to get into this cottage? Is this the place it all went pear-shaped for them? Either way, Joe couldn't fixate on the questions at hand, he needed to get rid of it and fast. He waited for the right moment before he tiptoed up behind the infected and grabbed it by the neck making sure to cut off any air supply. Of course the infected didn't go down without a fight as it wriggled its way around in Joe's grasp however it was unsuccessful and after a few moments of thrashing around it soon died. "And that's that." Joe concluded by dropping the lifeless body to the ground and stepping over it before walking up to the front door of the cottage. He placed his hand on the cool brass before giving it a turn, nothing. It's locked. "Pickin time." He muttered as he crouched down before grabbing his lock pick set from his bag. It was a tricky old bastard but he got there in the end. 

With the door now open Joe stepped foot into the cottage and to his surprise, it is actually untouched. "Holy shit." He said as he made his way into the kitchen as he started to raid the cupboards, taking any supplies he could before some other bastard stumbled upon this find. "Peaches, spaghetti, soup." With every item, he placed in his bag Joe was taking a mental note of what they were. Just as he was about to move into another room he heard the floorboards of the front room squeak. God damn it who the fuck has found this place already? Joe drew in a quick breath before he grabbed his 9mm from his holster, he carefully pulled back the hammer and took off the safety as he kept the gun to his side as he moved towards the door. The closer he got the door the higher he raised his gun, who the fuck was he going to find today?  @elsierenshaw

[a-deadly-serenade]

The Shield and the Sword: Chapter 9: Fickle Feelings [Alucard/Reader]

You’re a witch that is skilled in herbology, one that has been persecuted by the church for practically your entire life. In spite of this, moving throughout different towns has allowed you to pick up some chatter about a woman in a village called Lupu. She is supposed to be a wonder when it comes to medicine, and this immediately perks up your interest. So after plucking up some courage, you’ve made it to her door… hoping that she takes you as her apprentice.

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Although you could confidently say that you preferred spring and summer to the long, dreary days of impending cold brought by winter, there was a serene beauty to be found during the months of autumn. Trees shed their leaves in a beautiful array of colors, from dark browns, to bright reds and oranges, becoming a living breathing painting in the way they danced in the wind.

The ground became blanketed in plush and crunchy leaves that rustled quietly as tiny creatures made their way through the foliage in search of food and safety. Birds had begun their annual migrations to warmer territories, with only the few hardened species sticking around to conquer another harsh winter, as they had been doing for millennia.

The air was crisp, fresh, as though you were taking a bite of one of the juicy apples that had started dropping from the trees, glistening like forbidden gems in the morning dew.

Even though it made you a little sad to see the trees so barren, and the flowers slowly starting to retreat, there was an obvious relief to be felt amongst the plants. Winter was a time for them to sleep, to relax, to prepare themselves for the upcoming spring and summer. The next time you saw all of them, they would be bouncy and refreshed, full of renewed life as they greeted the warm weather with open arms.

You had also recently noticed how much extra free time you had, now that so many of the plants you tended to were beginning to retreat back to the earth. It was great to have more opportunities to fill with extra studying, or extra practice. Recently, you had taken to adapting some of the skills you learned these first few weeks working in Lupu to your magic. Some of the fairies even offered to help, with Aria and Livy being the most enthusiastic.

It was actually nice to have them collaborating with you on this endeavor. They had recently started scouting the gardens for any injured animals for you to practice on, and would take you to them once they had spotted someone in need of a little assistance. Oftentimes it would be a bird with a broken wing, but occasionally you would come across a fox with a busted leg, or a deer that had been injured fleeing from a predator.

From these sessions, you learned how to focus your energy into stopping any serious bleeding that may be occurring, both internally and externally. From there, you moved to repairing whatever it is that had been damaged. Bones took a bit more time to mend than a cut or scratch, but you were slowly building up your stamina on how long you could use your magic in order to tend to an injury.

You had yet to practice this on a human though, and considering how different and how complicated the human body was, you were more than a little skeptical of your abilities. Perhaps… it would be possible to try it on someone you trusted?

Your teeth tug into your bottom lip as you thought this over. Was it time to reveal that you were a witch to the villagers? Your patients? Your friends? It felt so…dishonest not being able to be your complete self when you were around them. It was exhausting having to put up these fronts in order to hide this part of yourself. Castlevania had been the first place outside of your coven where you felt completely authentic, and you never compromised yourself whenever you were around the Tepes family.

But, how would they react? Would they be horrified? Would they be terrified? Would they rat you out to the church and have you executed? Or… would they be understanding? Maybe even a little curious?

You let out a frustrated sigh, and looked down at the scrawl of notes you had taken about these new healing abilities of yours. This was so irritating! If only you could just use your magic while you treated people in Lupu! But of course not! Magic was somehow seen as ‘evil’ and ‘dark’, definitely not something that could benefit humanity as a whole!

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you got up and stretched out your arms and legs, only then realizing just how sore your back was getting; seems as though you had reverted to slouching again in your seat as you sat there pensively.

Maybe you could ask Lisa what she thought of the idea… yeah, that sounds like a fair compromise.

You raced out of your room, practically running down hallways as you sped to the laboratory on the opposite side of the castle. This is where Lisa spent most of her time, and enormous, ancient part of the castle that had once been used by Vlad, back in the day when alchemy was the talk of the town.

When you arrive at the entrance, an intimidating, iron door that had been coated in a pitch black color, you pushed it open and peeked inside.

“Lisa?” you called out, and walked in.

The floor was made of smooth marble tiles, and your footsteps hardly made a sound as you trekked across them in search of Lisa. It was with some amusement, that you noted how Vlad must be a huge fan of statues, since nearly every room you had visited was decorated with at least a handful of them. This time, they were large bronze statues of warriors with long swords and detailed shields, another nod to the Greek motif he seemed very fond of as well.

Rows and rows of tables were scattered throughout the room, each serving their own purpose as concoctions brewed or were left to sit and cure. You weren’t completely sure of everything that was going on, a lot of these instruments still being quite foreign to you. This room also held a fair amount of items Lisa claimed Vlad invented. Although, as you looked upon two large glass tankards that supposedly could create batches and batches of tonics within a mere hour, that claim slowly started to earn a bit more merit.

“Lisa?” you called out again, but still, you earned no response.

This place wasn’t that big… there was no way she wouldn’t be able to hear you. But the further in you walked, the more apparent it became that Lisa was most definitely not here.

That’s odd… you think to yourself, hands on your hips as you tried to picture where it is she could have gone.

The kitchen? But, there was still some time before lunch, it wouldn’t make sense for her to be up there right now. The garden? That might be a possibility. Or what about the medical library?

You sighed, headed out of the laboratory, and closed the door behind you. Where should you try first? You supposed that the medical library would probably be your best bet, and so you began to make your way there.

This had turned out to be a much bigger ordeal than you wanted it to be. You just needed some advice, that was all! But now it’s just turned into a wild goose chase, and you’re hoping that Lisa will be in the library so that you could actually make some progress with this!

As you dart down the last hallway, the sudden appearance of Adrian made you all but crash into a wall. Your feet awkwardly stumbled over themselves a few times as you slowed yourself down to a stop, your breath leaving you in short, shallow gasps.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Your eyes widened slightly as you looked at him, and you had to use all of the self-restraint within you to stop your jaw from hanging open in shock.

The entire time that you had been living in Castlevania, Adrian had kept his hair down, not like you could ever complain. His hair was beautiful, a light blond that shimmered golden in the sunlight, and silver in the moonlight. It complimented his elegant face beautifully, and you’d be damned if you hadn’t thought of running your fingers through his loose curls.

But today… he had tied it all back with a silk black ribbon, and stacked it in a messy bun that left a few strands to frame his face. You knew that you were staring, but you couldn’t help it. He looked so… he looked so--

“What, is there something on my face?”

His voice jolted you back to reality, and his question caused you to burst into a quiet fit of laughter.

“No… no, you just, surprised me is all.” you replied, and you felt yourself become at ease. Your gaze darted from his face to his garb, and your eyebrows furrowed in mild confusion when you realized that he was wearing a black cloak and leather riding gloves.

“Are you going somewhere?”

He appeared slightly taken aback by your question, but he quickly composed himself. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

You gave him a sly grin, as you teased, “You? Going out? Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”

It did not appear as though he were in the same playful mood, his lips twitching for a moment before he said in a heated tone, “There are quite a few things I find hard to believe,” his voice trails off for a bit, and for a moment, you thought you could see the faintest tinge of hurt in his expression. This is quickly masked over as he looks back up at you, his gaze sending a cold chill down your spine. “But I doubt me wanting some time away from here is one of them.”

You’re frozen to the spot, absolutely baffled at what just happened. It wasn’t… you weren’t serious! It had just been a joke!  

Your own eyes narrowed at him, and you scoffed. “Fine, go!” you stepped aside and waved your arms down the hallway. “I certainly won’t stop you.”

He flinched, your scathing tone obviously doing its job as he glides past you without another word.

You felt like you could scream, like you could blast a hole into one of the walls, but… you just took a deep breath, and decided to continue on your quest to find Lisa.

Finally arriving at the medical library, you walked inside and to your surprise, you find Vlad sitting in one of the large armchairs. He had several books stacked on the small desk that stood beside him, a few of them open, even though he was currently flipping through one at the moment!

He did not seem to notice you at first, but as he looked up to attend to a steaming cup of tea, his eyes widened and he made a deep hum acknowledging your presence as he swallowed down his drink.

“Well, well, what a nice surprise,” he mused, a smile on his face. “I hardly expected any visitors today.”

You give him a shy grin in response, and slowly walked over to where he sat. “Actually, I was looking for your wife.”

“Lisa?”

You nodded. “I was hoping to get some advice on something… but I haven’t been able to find her!”

Vlad’s eyebrow raised up in confusion, and he put down his book. “Did she not tell you she left earlier this morning?”

Your mouth gaped open like a fish out of water, but then you frowned, your jaw tight and arms folded across your chest. “No, she did not…”

Vlad easily picked up how this news had absolutely soured your day, and he stood up from his seat to take a firm, yet comforting grip of your shoulder. “Do not take it too personally, little one. Lisa is infamous for leaving suddenly like this, especially during the colder months. She starts to think about one of the older women catching a cold, and then before you even know it, she’s racing out of here on Cinder with a bundle of supplies tied to his back.”

You chuckled at the image, and quickly found the tension in your body slowly seeping away. It was nearly impossible to be upset with Lisa, she was so selfless, and it warmed your heart learning how much she truly cared about the people of Lupu.

“I’d appreciate if she let me know next time, but, she obviously had her reasons.” you said, and let out a deep sigh. “It’s just… I would have really appreciate her intake on this…”

Vlad lead you over to a chair, and gestured for you to sit as he took his spot back in his armchair. “I hope that you understand that you can always come to me if you’re ever in need of someone else’s wisdom.”

You chuckled, and thank Vlad as he offers you a cup of tea. “Hmm… you may be onto something there,” you add some sugar and then take a sip, the warm brew setting your mind and body at ease.

A comfortable silence hangs in the air between the two of you, and you relished in the tranquility, utterly baffled that you had been so stressed out earlier.

You thought of what had transpired earlier between Adrian, and you inwardly cringe when you recall just how vindictive you had sounded. Although, it’s not as if you had been the only one with an attitude. Just what had gotten into him? What exactly did he mean when he said that he wanted to get away from ‘here’? Did he mean here as in, Castlevania? Why would he ever want to do that?

“Is something on your mind, little one?”

Your cheeks are tinged a light red, embarrassed that you had been so obvious. But, you tuck those specific thoughts back into some recess of your mind, instead focusing on the questions that had started this whole search in the first place.

“Do you…” you stopped, and your lips upturned into a grimace. “No, this is so stupid, I don’t know why I would ever think of such a thing--”

“I sincerely doubt that. Please, tell me,” he gave you a genuine smile and leaned forward a bit. “I have been alive for a very long time, young one. Nothing surprises me anymore.”

It was certainly a strange way to try and boost your confidence, but it definitely worked. Perhaps Vlad had been the one you were supposed to talk to after all, especially considering the fact that he was allegedly very skilled in the magical arts.

You ease yourself into the comfy armchair, fingers absentmindedly tracing around the golden rim of the teacup clasped tightly in your hands. “Well… let’s see… have you… have you ever been very public in showing off your magical abilities?”

Vlad’s eyes widened slightly, your question clearly catching even him off guard. “Are you asking me if I’ve ever performed my magic around humans?”

The tips of your ears turn a bright red, and your eyes shy away from his gaze. “It’s probably so silly,” you replied. “But… I was wanting to become more transparent with the villagers, to try and use my magic to do some real good. It’s probably just a pipe dream…”

“Now, there’s no need to say such things,” he said, and gave you a kind smile. “It’s honorable that you would think to put yourself at risk in order to help people. However,” his voice trails off, the frown on his face only cementing your previous claim at the ridiculousness of this idea.

“These are dangerous times for people like us, those skilled in the magical arts. Over the years, I’ve limited myself in how often I use magic to prevent any unwanted attention, especially now that I have a family.”

That you could definitely understand, and you suddenly felt so selfish at the idea of causing any of them harm by revealing your identity as a witch. But…

“I just… I just hate this nagging feeling,” you begin, voice a little hoarse. “I hate this idea that I can never be my true self around them because of what I am.” you sip on your tea to calm your jittering nerves, and took a deep breath. “It’s stifling.”

Vlad nodded his head in agreement. “Yes… it can be very frustrating having to deny so much in order to keep yourself out of harm’s way. You’ve heard of the nomadic tribe known as Speakers, yes?”

“Adrian mentioned them a few times during some of our lessons, but I must admit that I am quite unfamiliar with their teachings.”

Vlad waved his hand in the air, and a large red book flew off one of the shelves. Propelled by his magic, it spun around a few times before it gracefully landed on your lap, throwing itself open and flipping through hundreds of pages before stopping on a section with beautifully detailed drawings of people in long blue robes.

“I’ll be the first to admit that the Speakers were not too fond of me when they first found out who I was,” he chuckled, and stroked the end of his beard thoughtfully. “Especially when my skills in the dark arts started to make a name for themselves. So, when they found out that there was some murderous, dark, brooding vampire causing trouble up in the Wallachian mountains, they decided to find out for themselves if all the rumors were true.”

“‘Dark, brooding, murderous vampire’?” you echoed, amusement laced in your voice.

“You poke fun of me now, but…” he was silent for a moment, his grin faltering slightly. “I am not proud of the man I was before I met Lisa. The Speakers, in fact, were the first to suggest that I share my knowledge with the world. They were progressive, and the fact that they had been able to travel throughout Europe on tales of their good deeds alone was very impressive. But I was no fool. Even if I hardly left the confines of my castle, I knew that the world was changing and that sooner or later, their reputation was going to be what did them in.”

Your heart begins to race as you look down at the peaceful images of men and women using magic on the sick and injured, a foreboding feeling beginning to take hold of you as Vlad said this.

“Did…” you sense your throat starting to close up and you take another sip of tea. “Were they all… did--”

“Oh no,” Vlad reassures. “The Speakers still exist even today, but… I would be lying if I said that they had been spared the church’s wrath of persecution. Lisa tells me that nearby towns, notably Gresit, has been especially hostile towards the Speakers, claiming that they bring ill luck and evil alongside them.”

“I’d say that’s preposterous, but that seems to be the state of the country towards anyone that harbors magical abilities,” you hissed.

“Which is why I must warn you… to be cautious about who it is you reveal your secrets to. So long as the church remains in power, there is little that we can do to change public opinion.” Vlad placed his empty cup on the table in front of you, and folded his hands comfortably into his lap. “I’m sorry if this was not the answer you were looking for, little one.”

You nodded, having understood everything that he said, but you were still a little disappointed. “It’s so unfair… keeping all of this locked away. If only the church wasn’t so damn paranoid.”

Vlad laughed, a deep hearty sound that made goosebumps erupt on your arms. “That would certainly help put my mind more at ease. It worries me sometimes… that a passing stranger might one day mistake my Lisa as something far more sinister than a doctor.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” you said. “Everyone in the village loves her, I’m sure if there was ever any ill rumors floating around, that they would put a stop to it right quick.”

He let out a sigh, and nodded his head in agreement. “I suppose you are right. It’s been difficult to regain my trust in humanity, having seen so much tragedy and unnecessary bloodshed,” his gaze softens as he looks at you. “But, Lisa has changed me. She’s even suggested that I walk the Earth as a man, and nothing more.”

You blinked, and then said with a smirk on your face, “Vlad… you are a man though.”

He chuckled, and playfully ruffled your hair. “She meant that I should travel the country as men do, slowly, peacefully, making sure to take everything in.”

This concept was completely lost on you. What did he mean that he had never traveled before? How did he get here then? Had he never been on horseback? Never trekked across a steep mountain range?

“Well, how did you travel before?”

“When I was a young man, horses were the most common form of transportation. Although it’s been quite awhile since I’ve journeyed far on one. Let’s see,” he tapped his chin with his finger thoughtfully. “Oh, when I was getting the hang of my magic, I’d disguise myself as a bat and fly to nearby villages during the night.”

“A bat?” you blurted out in surprise. “That’s a bit cliche, don’t you think?”

“Where do you think the rumor of vampires turning into bats came from?” he retorted, which left you in stunned silence.

“You’re not serious… are you?”

“To be fair,” he began. “I’m not the only one in my family that can turn into an animal. My sister Stefana, can turn into a fox, which her partners find very impressive. She likes to put on a show, my sister, but she’s remained genuine for as long as we’ve both been alive so it seems fitting that’s the animal she chose.”

A sudden thought popped into your head, and before Vlad could continue going down his extensive family list, you asked, “Can Adrian turn into anything?”

Vlad paused, and then smiled as he nodded his head. “Of course, being my son, it makes sense that the magical arts come naturally to him, including transfiguration.”

“Do you have any examples?”

“Certainly. When he was around… oh, I’d say maybe ten years old, he turned into a bat. Gave his poor mother quite the shock when she couldn’t find him in his room, and she came to me, utterly hysterical, saying that he must’ve wandered off into some forbidden part of the castle. We were about to go searching for him, when a tiny white bat flew down from the ceiling and crash landed onto his bed.” he chuckled at the memory. “I was very proud, not having even the slightest inclination that he was remotely ready to perform such strong magic, but Lisa was far from relieved and Adrian received quite the scolding.”

“How cute,” you said, lips upturned into a delightful grin. “Can he still turn into a bat?”

“Oh yes, but I have not seen him do it in awhile. Recently, he’s been able to turn himself into mist.”

“Mist?” you asked skeptically. “How would that help?”

“It’s very useful, actually, being able to sneak around the castle or even outside with no one noticing. Although, that spell is more physically demanding than the others, so I’ve warned him to not abuse it too much.”

“Interesting…”

“And I understand that he’s managed to grasp turning himself into a wolf.”

Your heart stopped, the grip on your teacup going so slack that it almost slipped out of your fingers and smashed onto the hardwood floor. Did Vlad just say… that Adrian could turn into a wolf?

“Is something the matter?”

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you shrunk  under his gaze, shakily placing your cup on its saucer. It was difficult to hide how frazzled this news had made you, but you just had to know, just needed some confirmation of the question that burned at the tip of your tongue.

“What kind of wolf can Adrian turn into?”

Vlad’s eyes lingered with unspoken concern, worried about this sudden shift in your demeanor, but still he replied, “A white one, but it has yet to be perfected. His eyes still remain bright gold, even in the form of a beast.”

“I see…” your heart felt as though it had leapt into your throat, and your mind flashed with images from your dream. This… this was impossible, right? Your grandmother had warned you time and time again that dreams were absolute bollocks, right? There was no way your subconscious was actually trying to get you to admit something you’d been stubbornly avoiding, right?

Your teeth dug into the flesh of your bottom lip, and you stood up from your seat, placing the book on Speakers onto one of the many books in Vlad’s pile. When had it become so suffocating in here? You needed to get out, you needed to take your mind off of this… development.

“Little one, did something I say upset you?” Vlad’s tall form towered over you, his face crinkled from anxiety. “If I did, I sincerely apologize--”

You cut him off with a firm no, and gently place a hand on his arm. “You did nothing to upset me, I promise. I just… I believe I need some time to… think things over. I think I should head to Lupu, perhaps seeing Lisa and the townsfolk will help put me at ease.”

Vlad nodded, visible relief washing over him as you said this. “I understand. I’m sure Lisa will be happy to see you as well,” he placed his large hand on the top of your head and delicately stroked your hair. “Have a safe journey, little one. I will be expecting your return later tonight.”

You gave him a genuine smile, and thanked him for his time and guidance, before you walked out of the library and closed the door with a quiet click.

                                        _________________

The feeling of the sun on your chilled skin and the cool autumn breeze dancing around you and Clara is exactly what you needed. You languidly stretch your arms behind your head and let out a soft sight, trying to get rid of all the tension that had seeped its way back into your muscles.

Bits and pieces of the conversation that you had with Vlad replayed in your mind, with the particular discovery of Adrian being able to transform himself into a wolf sticking out like a sore thumb. You had no time for such things… for such… foolish, almost childish notions.

Although, was it truly childish to feel certain things towards someone? Was it foolish to believe that maybe he even returned these feelings?

You shake your head, and absentmindedly begin to stroke Clara’s mane. Why would he ever return your feelings? What even were your feelings? It had all seemed so clear that night in the garden with the fairies, but the more you thought about it, the more convoluted it all became.

But there were things that you could not just chalk up to chance. The way that he looked at you during your lessons, the smile that erupted on his face whenever you got the hang of a new combat maneuver, the pink you had seen in his aura that night…

That night you were certain that he would have kissed you.

Ridiculous, you thought. Why would anyone fall in love with you? You had no money to your name, no property, and you were a danger to everyone around you should the wrong people find out about your true identity.

No… it simply made more sense to be alone, to instead focus on what you could do in the here and now, than in silly little fantasies that lived inside your dreams.

There was a bitterness in this resolution, but you did not care. It just made the most sense. After all, what sort of fool would fall in love with a witch?

The rest of the ride to Lupu went by in silence, with you admiring the wildlife and the trees to distract from the nagging feeling left behind by your earlier conclusions. Much to your surprise, it appeared as though the clinic was fairly busy, with a couple patients waiting patiently around the large apple tree that stood nearby.

After you dismounted Clara, you untied the provisions off of her back and removed her saddle and bit so that she could join Cinder in his current foraging of fallen apples and berries.

People waved and said their hello’s when they noticed you, and you happily exchanged greetings with all of them as you walked inside.

There were quite a few old folks sitting around the table, steaming cups of tea in their hands as they talked amongst one another, having a rather heated discussion on whether or not to make a batch of mucenici or papanaşi for the feast that was happening tonight.

You gave them a shy wave, the group acknowledging you with swift nods before they got back to their important conversation. You noticed that several mothers were waiting with their newborns, some of the babies sleeping soundly in their arms, while others giggled and cooed as they played with some toys or sloppily chewed on the ends of a blanket.

Although you were lacking in experience taking care of babies, you still stopped by to see what it is they each came in for, and thankfully, they all explained that they were here for their monthly checkup. The women happily toted that they had yet to suffer through a night of endless crying, from anything from an ear infection to a nasty cold.

Everyone seemed to be in such good spirits, and it made you smile, knowing that the hard work Lisa and you both did was not going under appreciated.

Speaking of Lisa, your eyes scanned the room but found no trace of her. Could she perhaps be in the back? Or maybe she had traveled to the village for a one-on-one consultation--?

“Ow! Watch it with that stuff!”

Everyone in the room simultaneously turned their attention to the door that held the laboratory, a couple of the older folks chuckling softly at the sudden outburst.

You frowned, and walked over to the door, pulling it open to reveal a very irritated Lorena and her younger sister Marian.

Marian was currently talking her sisters ear off, scolding her for what you supposed is what brought her here in the first place.

“Why don’t you ever listen to mother? She tells you all the time that you have to stop picking fights with people!”

Lorena glared at her sister, her brown eyes narrowed as her face scrunched up into a grimace. “What was I supposed to do? Just let those men behave like absolute animals?” she spat at her sister’s feet. “You’re such a coward, Marian. I couldn’t just sit back and let them treat her like that!”

Marian huffed, and threw her arms up into the air in exasperation. “Here we go again! Why do you always have to be the hero, Lorena? What if you had gotten seriously hurt?”

“It’s all worth it when I think about what could have happened had I not been there.” her voice comes out in a low hiss, but then she yelps when Lisa applies more alcohol to her wounds, deep gashes that had been slashed into her right arm.

“What happened?”

Your question seemed to finally alert the three of them of your presence, and they all simultaneously flipped their heads around to stare at you.

Lisa’s gaze softened, and her lips curled into a smile. “It’s so nice to see you, my dear. I’m terribly sorry that I left without saying anything, I just--”

“It’s okay,” you said, and sat down beside her. “When Vlad told me where you had gone off to, I knew you were only wanting to make sure everyone was doing alright.”

“And it’s a good thing I did,” she replied. “Lorena here got herself involved in quite a nasty fight.”

“Yes, I can see that,” you frowned, and gently take a hold of Lorena’s arm to more closely inspect her injuries. You shove your hand into the pocket of your cloak and procured the magnifying glass Marius had gifted you, using it to get a closer look. The cuts were clean, deep, and serrated, and as you handed her arm back to Lisa, you could surmise that they had been made from a sharp blade.

“Who did this to you?”

Lorena sighed, and cringed slightly as Lisa began to coat her arm in an ointment before wrapping it up. “I was walking through the woods in search of mushrooms and common game, hoping to help my mother a bit in finding everything we needed to make dinner. I had gone pretty deep, but I know these woods like the back of my hand, and I had been pretty excited after coming across a good stash of chanterelles and morels. I was just minding my business, when I started to hear a scuffle nearby. It sounded pretty rowdy, so naturally, I was a little curious. When I headed over to investigate, I found these two men surrounding this poor girl!”

Her nostrils flared in anger as she sat there, recalling the memory. “I dunno what they wanted with her, but they seemed pretty angry. I heard something about her people bringing “ill luck to their lands”, or something like that. It all sounded like hogwash, and she knew it too. She was feisty, I’ll give her that, she didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest. It wasn’t until I noticed the glimmer of a knife that I decided to step in. She was pretty good at fighting too, I don’t think I would have been able to take the two of them out without her help. But,” she chuckled, and looked over at her arm. “One of those bastards got me pretty good. He basically held me hostage after we knocked out his other buddy, and slit my arm a few times to try and convey how serious he was. I wasn’t scared though. I head-butted his face as hard as I could, which gave me a pretty nasty headache, but I’m pretty sure I broke his nose.”

“Was the girl alright?” you asked.

Lorena nodded her head, and flexed her arm a couple times to get a feel of the bandages. “Yeah, she was fine. Actually, she was very grateful for what I had done, saying that not many people would have risked their lives to help someone like her. Which I thought was strange.”

“Why was she surprised that you helped her?” Lisa wondered, and gathered up the dirty rags, tossing them into a boiling pot of water while she let her medical instruments soak in alcohol to be sterilized.

Lorena shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure… after that, she said that she needed to get back to her grandfather and vanished into the woods. Although, she was wearing a pretty strange set of robes.”

“Robes?” you repeated.

“Yeah, they were long and blue. With the hood up, I’m sure she could have easily been mistaken for a man.”

You looked over at Lisa, who’s eyes were now locked onto Lorena, and you guessed that she had the same idea you did.

“Lorena,” Lisa began, and walked back over to where she sat. “Are you telling me that you saved a Speaker?”

She blinked, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What’s a Speaker?”

“Seriously?” Marian gasped, her hands on her hips. “I knew you weren’t paying attention! We read all about them in that book we borrowed from Crina. They’re that tribe of magicians! The ones that come and help people!”

You were impressed that Marian knew who the Speakers were, and you were even more impressed that Lisa’s mother appeared to know about them as well.

“Well, if she lives in a group, why was she by herself?” Lorena wondered. “That doesn’t seem like a smart thing to do, letting a girl with magical powers walk around all by herself. It’s no wonder she got herself into some trouble!”

“It’s a good thing you were there to help her,” Lisa said, eyes crinkled as she smiled down at Lorena. “Us girls need to look out for each other.”

“Exactly!” Lorena exclaimed, and jumped up onto her feet. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say to you!” she pointed an accusatory finger at her younger sister. “Why can’t you get it?”

Marian bristled, and she looked ready to pounce on her sister and give her her own set of bruises, but Lisa placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

“But you should also be more careful next time, Lorena. Those men were dangerous, and you know you only managed to get out of there from sheer luck.”

Lorena’s face softened, her gaze shifting to the side as she bit her bottom her lip. “I guess you’re right, Lisa… Maybe I should have tried using my bow instead of my fists, huh?” she gave a crooked smile, one that made Lisa chuckle, and ruffle the top of her head.

“I suppose that’s a… fair compromise. Now, run along now, I’m sure your mother must be worried sick for the both of you,” she said, and lead the two of them out of her laboratory.

Lisa sighed, and closed the door behind her, her lips pressed into a thin line. “That was an awfully frightful thing to hear,” she said, and folded her arms to her chest. “I cannot believe that the Speakers are still treated so cruelly by people.”

“Have you ever met them before?”

She nodded her head. “Oh yes. When I first met my husband, they frequented the castle almost every month. A majority of the time, they came to speak to Vlad about magic or nearby towns. It was actually with their help that I managed to persuade him to visit these places on foot alongside the Speakers, since he had never gone on a journey like that before.”

“Yes,” you said, as you recalled what Vlad had said earlier. “He said it had been quite awhile since he had walked the Earth like “men do”. I hadn’t really understood what he meant, if I’m perfectly honest.”

Lisa chuckled, and opened a cabinet that contained stacks of parchment, placing it on a counter and flipping through the pile. “My husband isn’t too fond of traveling, but we all thought it might do him some good to see who it is I’d be helping with his knowledge. I think it was a nice change of perspective, and I’d love for him to take another trip like that soon.”

“You should tell him this!” you insisted. “If you reminded him how much good his first trip did, I doubt that he’d say no to you suggesting that he go on another one. Especially now that Adrian isn’t a child anymore, and you have me to help with the clinic.”

Lisa was silent for a moment, and she hummed thoughtfully to herself as she picked out three separate pages of parchment, setting them aside for now. “You make an awfully compelling argument, little one. Perhaps I will bring up the idea to him? The worst he can say is no.”

She opened another cabinet and took out a jar from the top shelf, before she walked over and handed it to you. “I’m about to be pretty swamped with a couple baby checkups, would you mind heading over to Marius’s place and delivering this? It’s a modified version of the usual burn ointment I make him. I’ve added green tea leaves to help keep his skin from drying out from the cold weather.”

“Very nice,” you commented, and tucked it inside of your pocket. “Is there anything else that you’d like me to do while I’m in town?”

She shook her head no. “Nothing comes to mind. But feel free to look around for anything that you might need.”

You nodded, and with a wave, you exited the clinic and trekked down the dusty path that lead into the village. It was as bustling as ever, stands filled with fruits and vegetables from the last big harvest, large bonfires crackling in the wind, their heavy smokey scent mingling with that of fresh stews and roasted meats.

Leaves crunched underneath your feet as you neared Marius and Diana’s home, the distinct sound of metal being pounded into shape ringing in your ears. As you approached the entryway that leads into their workshop, a cloud of steam billowed out from the slightly ajar door and you rubbed your eyes with the back of your hands.

“Hello?” you called out. “Diana? Marius? Anyone home?”

The rhythmic clanging suddenly stopped and the sound of heavy footsteps approaching made you stop. You ruffled your cloak a bit, which caused the steam to dissipate as you met them halfway and found Marius, face beaded with sweat and apron covered in an assortment of stains.

“What a lovely surprise,” his voice is gruff, but the smile he gives you warms you down to the tips of your toes. “I did not expect a visit from you, lass.”

“Sorry to come here unannounced, I just needed to give you this,” you took the jar out of your pocket and handed it to Marius. “It’s the new and improved version of the aloe we’ve been giving to treat your burns. Lisa said that she added some green tea leaves to help alleviate any patches of dry skin.”

He happily takes it from your hands, his expression shining with gratitude. “That was awfully thoughtful of her, I appreciate the extra lengths she goes to for us. It can be very refreshing.”

“Refreshing?”

Marius grunts, and drags himself over to a chair. “It’s not often that you come across someone as selfless as her in your lifetime. I’m forever grateful that she decided to dedicate her life to helping others. It’s what she was meant to do,” he popped open the jar and began to generously apply some of the ointment onto his arms and hands. “As were you,” he adds. “I think it was fate that you two were destined to meet.”

A flush coats your cheeks, and you give Marius a small smile. “You’ve all been so kind and welcoming to me… I don’t think I could ever thank you enough. Lupu almost feels like a second home to me now.”

“I’m glad,” he said, just as his eyes suddenly went wide as the front door burst open.

In came Diana, her curly red hair tucked away from her face with a cute little headscarf, her attention currently preoccupied on the baskets of produce that she was hauling inside.

Marius got up from where he sat and greeted his wife, kissing her gingerly on the forehead as he helped put the produce safely onto the kitchen table.

“Love, look who came for a visit,” Marius said, and nudged his head in your direction.

Diana turned around and gasped, before she let out an elated sound as she ran over and gave you a tight hug. “Oh it’s so good to see you!”

You grinned, and hugged her back. “It’s good to see you too, Diana. It appears as though you had an eventful day at the market,” you look over at the wide array of food that she had brought home, and make a mental note to look for where they were selling pumpkins.

“Everything was so cheap! You know I can’t say no to a good bargain,” she gave you a cheeky smile and a wink, before she pulled out a chair and sat down beside her husband. “So, to what do we owe this pleasure?”

“Oh, I was just dropping off some new burn medicine for Marius, but… I suppose I could stay here for a bit. There was no one else in the clinic besides some new mothers, and I have a feeling that they’re going to keep Lisa preoccupied for a bit.”

Diana laughed, and fervently nodded her head in agreement. “Aye, I got a glimpse of who it was heading up there today, and if I’m right on who I think it is, they’re all first-time mother’s. They’ll probably want a full examination and then some. But anyways, what have you been up to?”

You noticed that Marius had begun sorting away all of the food Diana bought, while he let a kettle come to a boil over the fire. The fresh scent of apples lingered in the air as he chopped them up, your curiosity piqued as to what it is he might be making.

Your attention flits back to Diana, and you sighed. “Besides studying and working at the clinic? Nothing too exciting.”

“Really?” she frowns, and almost appears as though she is pouting in her seat. “Surely I thought something must be going on, what with Adrian showing up here this afternoon.”

“Huh?” you blurt out. “Adrian was here? In Lupu?”

Diana nodded her head. “I saw him while I was heading to the market. At least, I’m pretty sure it was him. I doubt there’s an abundance of tall, handsome blond men running around Wallachia.” she teased, her tongue poking out between her teeth. “Especially one that owns such a stunning steed.”

You were silent, eyes downcast and eyebrows furrowed together in disbelief. Adrian had come here? But why?

You thought back to when you last saw him, wearing his big black cloak and leather riding gloves. Is this where he had been heading before the two of you had gotten in your little argument?

Diana makes a strange sound in the back of her throat, one that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up when you finally meet her gaze. “You didn’t know that he was coming here?” there’s a tone to her voice that you cannot decipher, and you nervously swallow a dry lump in your throat.

“No… I… well, it’s true that I may have run into him earlier today and noticed that he was wearing his riding gear but…” your own voice trails off, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest as you thought back to the… conversation the two of you had shared that morning.

Diana’s face softens, and she placed a comforting hand on top of your own. “You seem troubled, sweetheart. Did something happen?”

You let out a long, irritated sigh. “You could say that…”

“Well, you can tell me about it,” Diana said gently. “It can sometimes help--talking about things that are bothering you.”

You feel yourself clam up again, as you pondered whether or not to reveal what had transpired between the two of you. Maybe… maybe she was right, maybe getting someone else’s perspective on the matter would help you make sense of it… especially on his feelings of needing to escape the castle.

Before you could say anything, Marius reappears with some honeyed apples and a batch of fresh lavender tea. The sweet treat smelled heavenly, and it tasted just as good. The honey was sticky and delicious, and mingled wonderfully with the rich lavender tea; it was just the sort of thing you needed to help set your mind and body at ease.

You cleared your throat and dabbed your mouth with a napkin, your own subtle way of letting Diana know that you were ready to speak.

“Adrian and I had a… well, I’m not even sure I could call it a conversation. It started off harmless enough, I had made a joke saying I was surprised to see he was leaving the castle when I noticed what he was wearing. But, then he got so hostile…”

“Hostile?” Diana asked. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“I know,” you replied. “I did not think that he would take my words so seriously… he told me that I shouldn’t be surprised that he would want some time away from home. But,” you scoffed, and swirled the tea in your cup. “I don’t know why he got so upset.”

“Hmm…” Diana leaned back in her chair, head craned up slightly in pensive thought. “Did something happen between the two of you recently?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she folded her hands together and rested them on the table. “Seems to me that you were the one he was trying to avoid.”

“Me?” you gave a wry chuckle. “That’s reassuring.”

“Now, listen here,” Diana said, a stern look on her face. “Something must have happened between the two of you, something that made him feel hurt and upset. Otherwise, there’d be no need for him to be so hostile towards you. Think. There’s got to be something.”

“I’m telling you,” you snapped. “Nothing has happened between us! We’re just friends!”

“Are you sure?” Diana countered.

“What?”

“Are you sure? That you’re just friends, I mean.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course I’m sure. We’re not secret lovers, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Diana rubbed her face, and then let out a loud cry, “You’re absolutely hopeless! How can I help you if you aren’t going to be truthful with me?”

Your face heated up a bit when she said this, and you stuttered over your words, “I… I am telling the truth!” you tried to say your words with conviction, but there was no bite to your voice, your emotions betraying you when Diana picked up on the very slight waver in your response.

“Oh really?” she sneered at you, like a cat that had just stumbled upon its prey. “What are you hiding, hmm?”

You fidgeted in your seat, and you tried your absolute best to avoid making any sort of eye contact with her. Should… should you tell her about what happened at the colosseum? You weren’t reading too much into things, right?

Diana all of a sudden let out a gasp, and her green eyes sparkled with excitement in the low light of the fire. “Don’t tell me…” she said, and lowered her voice slightly, as if trying to conceal a secret amongst the three of you--even though you were the only three in the house.

“You have a crush on Lisa’s boy.”

Your mouth hung open in shock, and you were absolutely mortified. How on Earth…? How was she able to deduce such a thing?

She let out a high pitched squeal, and wiggled excitedly in her seat. “Oh, I’m right aren’t I? You have a crush on the little Tepes boy.”

“I…” your voice was strained, the bright red blush on your face making it hard to conceal that she had practically hit the nail on the head. “I…” you tried again, but you struggled to form the right words so you just let out a frustrated sigh.

“Hey,” Diana said, all of the teasing out of her voice. “It’s alright love, there’s nothing to be ashamed of!”

You let out another hollow sigh, your fingers beginning to pick at the fraying strands of fabric from your napkin. “But then why do I feel so ashamed?”

Her expression softened, a hint of sadness finding its way into her gentle gaze. “Why would you feel ashamed, sweetheart?”

“I… I don’t know. I’ve just never thought that love was in the cards for me, that I’d rather focus on my career as a healer instead of worrying about such a thing.” you gave her a sad smile, and rested your elbows on the table as you leaned forward. “Plus… it would just be too… dangerous for me to have a romantic partner.”

“Dangerous? What do you mean?” Marius asked.

“Well…” your voice tapered off as you thought this over. You knew why it was a bad idea for someone to be involved with you romantically, but you hardly thought it prudent to tell either one of them that you were a witch. After the story Lorena had told, it suddenly made more sense as to why Vlad had refrained from using magic too often.

It’s not like they could relate to your personal fears either, it’s not everyday that someone can say that they’ve been hunted down by the church.

So, as much as it pained you to do, you decided to keep quiet. It was the smart thing to do.

“It’s… complicated.” you finally replied. “I just… this isn’t something I want to have to worry about!”

“Why are you spending your time worrying about having a crush? It’s normal! It happens to everyone!” Diana exclaimed. “To me, the more time you spend trying to convince yourself that you don’t like him, just proves that you actually do!”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous!” you countered, ears tinged red from embarrassment. “I’m… I’m trying to be logical about this.”

“That’s the problem! You can’t be logical towards your feelings, that’s not how it works!” Diana took a big gulp of tea, and then pointed a finger at you. “Something big must have happened to make you feel so… confused . What was it? Are you gonna come out with it then?”

“I…” you grit your teeth, and let out a loud groan. “I think…” you sighed, and slowly lowered your head so that it could rest on your forearms. “I think Adrian tried to kiss me the other night.”

Diana leapt out of her chair, the seat falling onto the floor with a loud thud .

“What?” she nearly hollered.

Your hands card through your hair, and you throw your head back to avoid looking at either of them. “I’m not sure, but!” you slowly eased back forward, eyes peeking out from behind your fingers. “I think he meant to kiss me that night and I… and I just… I couldn’t do it.”

Diana’s demeanor seemed to calm instantly, and she moved to sit beside you, a hand going to rest on your shoulder. “It seems to me as though you’re having quite the struggle at opening up your heart.”

You chuckled, and leaned in closer to her embrace. “You’re not the first person to tell me that. It’s just… difficult, for me to make sense of my feelings at the moment. I do care about Adrian, I care about him very deeply, but… I still need some time.”

“And that’s perfectly fine, lass.” Marius said. “Love isn’t a simple matter. It’s not something that can be left to the whimsical definitions of poets and romantics; it’s heavy, it’s messy.” he took a hold of your hand in his, which seemed so small compared to his much larger stature.

“Take all of the time you need to come to terms with your feelings. Rushing into things is what often leads to horrible mistakes, both on the battlefield and in relationships.” he gave his wife a coy smile, and then relinquished the grip he had on your hand to give you an endearing pat on the head.

“My husband is right,” Diana agreed. “You shouldn’t feel pressured, love. Although, it does sound to me that he was quite hurt at this rejection. Perhaps he’s unaware of your feelings?”

“That makes sense,” you said. “But… as I’ve said, I’m not even one-hundred percent sure about my own feelings. It… it just seems unfair for me to promise something to him and then not be able to deliver. But…” you went quiet, a frown on your face. “The least I could do is apologize for what I said today. I had been incredibly rude…”

“I’m sure that he would greatly appreciate that,” Diana replied. “I’m sure that he must be home by now, he didn’t stay long in the village after-all.”

At this, your interest is once again peaked. He hadn’t been long? Surely, you thought that he would have at least visited his mother. Why make the unnecessary trip of coming all the way here?

“Did you see where it is he went?”

Diana cocked her head to the side, and hummed quietly to herself. “I think I saw him head to the eastern part of the village,” she turned to face her husband. “What’s over there again darling?”

Marius scratched the stubble of his beard in deep thought. “Well, I ken that’s where Valeria and Tomas live, and Cordelia and her children as well. Oh… and the jeweler is over there as well.”

“The jeweler?” Diana cooed. “Now what could he be doing over there? You don’t think it has anything to do with their upcoming celebration?”

“What upcoming celebration?”

Diana gaped at you as though you had grown a second head. “You don’t know about the big party?”

You shake your head.

“The one that’s being hosted in honor of Lisa and Vlad’s twentieth anniversary?”

“Their anniversary is coming up?” you yelled out in surprise. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“It isn’t happening for another two months,” Marius said, and lightly shoved Diana to snap her out of her shocked stupor. “So they probably saw it fit to tell you a little closer to the date.”

“But it’s their twentieth anniversary,” you said, still shocked at the idea of attending a party in celebration of Lisa and Vlad. “That’s a pretty big milestone.”

“Yes, and Lisa’s been telling me that family from all over are going to attend! Oh, I’m sure that night is going to be absolutely magical.” Diana sighed wistfully, and rested her head on Marius’s chest.

“Their family, huh?” you thought of the enormous, intimidating portraits that lined the hallways of Castlevania, and swallowed nervously. If there was one thing that could set your nerves on edge, it was a castle full of vampires.

“Oh, there’s something I almost forgot,” Marius said, and he hobbled over to a box that lay hidden underneath a couple of embroidery patches. He placed it gently on the table before you and pulled it open, revealing a set of matching locket’s. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the pieces decorated with tiny flowers forged of the most delicate silver, accented by the light of a beautiful gemstone that rested in the center.

You let out a quiet gasp, and gently stroked one of them with the pad of your finger. “They’re beautiful… did you… did you make them, Marius?”

He smiled sheepishly, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Aye. I thought it would be a nice gesture, a way to try and repay Lisa and her family for all that they’ve done for us. I know it’s not nearly even close to what it is they deserve, but--”

“Nonsense,” you quipped, and gave him a bright grin. “They’re going to love them.”

Your eyes lingered on the lockets once more, but then you raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Why are you handing these to me now? Why not give it to Vlad and Lisa personally?”

“Ah, well,” Marius chuckled. “Lisa and her family travel during the holidays, not that I really blame them getting out of here before such dreadfully cold days. I believe they usually head south, to stay with some relatives.”

“So… that means I would probably go with them too then, huh?”

“‘Suppose so,” Diana replied. “But don’t you worry your head off about us darling. Consider it a vacation, they’re only really gone a few weeks.”

At this, you let out a small sigh of relief. You thought it almost reckless to leave the village up to the whims of a harsh winter whilst you relaxed in some luxurious castle in the south-side. Still… you wondered where it is they headed off to, and you hoped that these relatives of theirs would be alright with you tagging along.

But that was something to worry about for another time.

You tentatively reached to put the box containing the lockets into your pocket, halting yourself for a brief moment just to double-check that Marius really wanted you to take them.

He let out a hearty laugh, and with a fervent nod, you carefully placed the little treasures into the confines of your cloak.

“I promise to keep them hidden until Lisa and Vlad’s special day,” you said, and got up from you seat. “I believe it’s about time that I head back to the clinic, I’m sure that Lisa could use some help by now.”

The couple smiled at you, and Diana got up from her seat to give you another tight hug.

“It was so wonderful to see you again, sweetheart. I hope that our little talk didn’t end up making things more confusing for you.”

You shake your head, and gave her a genuine smile. “No, I think it actually helped me out a lot. You were right, Diana, when you said that talking about all of this would make me feel better.”

She grinned, and bopped the tip of your nose with her finger. “Never underestimate the power of a good conversation, lassy.”

You gave both her and Marius one last hug before you departed from their home and made your way back to the clinic, mind feeling a lot less clouded and heart feeling a lot less heavy.

                                            _________________

The remainder of your day spent at the clinic went by without much fuss, with Lisa actually leaving you to handle the rest of the patients that came in while she cleaned up in the back. You had been a little nervous, but she knew that you could handle it.

As you said farewell to the last patient of the day, a farmer named Mihal who had nicked himself pretty badly after shearing his sheep, you let your thoughts wander back to the time you spent with Marius and Diana.

You hoped that Adrian would be willing to see you, much less speak with you. It was difficult to dwell on just how… callous you had been that morning. It was so unlike you.

But, you thought. It’s not like he handled the situation any better.

However, you had to cut him some slack. If Diana’s presumptions held true, it only made sense that he lashed out at you, who seemed completely apathetic to the fact that there may be something more than just friendship between the two of you.

You let out a long, exhausted sigh and turned your attention over to putting away the books and notes that you’d brought along with you. You could focus on all of your confusing… feelings when you got back to Castlevania.

Making your way outside, you called out for Clara, and after a few seconds, she emerged from behind some trees on the outskirts of the large forest that stood on either side of the small village. She whinnied and trotted over to you, as she nuzzled her snout against your cheek. You gave her an affectionate pat on the head and started to get her ready for the journey back home, a little surprised when you spotted Cinder coming out of the woods only a minute or so after.

As you tugged on the straps of Clara’s saddle to make sure that everything was secure, Lisa made her way out of the clinic and locked the door behind her. Her delightful laughter rang out through the crisp twilight air as Cinder playfully nibbled on some of her hair, and she gave him a few affectionate kisses on his head before she too began getting him ready for the ride back.

The two of you silently worked on preparing your horses, and when everything was neatly packed away, you gave a quiet click of the tongue and were on your way.

Although you both had decided to make quicker haste to avoid the cold night air, that did not mean you could not have some pleasant conversations.

“Did you enjoy your time with Marius and Diana?” Lisa asked.

You suppressed the urge to look away from her when she asked this, especially considering what you three had talked about. But, you supposed this would be a fine opportunity to learn more about this anniversary party Diana had mentioned.

“Yes, Marius was very grateful for the ointment, and while I was there, I found out an interesting little tidbit of information,” you cocked your head towards Lisa and give her a devious smile.

“Oh?”

“Diana might have let slip about a certain… party, that’s coming up.”

Lisa’s eyes widened a bit, and she gave a sheepish smile as a blush decorated her cheeks. “Oh, yes… that party. I’ve been meaning to tell you about it, but I thought it more prudent to let you know when it grew closer to the actual event.”

You nodded you head. “Yeah, that’s what Marius said. I’ll admit, the thought of being in a castle full of vampires does make me a little nervous.”

She laughed. “Trust me, my dear, if you can handle living with my husband and Adrian for as long as you have, this party will be a cakewalk.”

You laughed as well, and then hummed quietly to yourself. “I mean, on the bright side, even if I turn into a nervous wreck, it’ll be a good chance to meet some of the relatives you’ve told me about.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Lisa replied. “But we’re not just inviting relatives, close family friends are coming as well. We sent out the invitations several months ago, and almost everyone has gotten back to us,” she noticed your nervous glances and waved off your concern. “Don’t fret so much, love. It’ll be fun! I’m sure everyone will want to know more about my mysterious apprentice.”

You rolled your eyes. “There’s nothing ‘mysterious’ about me. Your family will take one look--no one sniff of me, and instantly know my entire life story. As much as I hate to say it, we witches have left rather cliched stories of tragedy in our wake.”

Lisa looked over at you solemnly, and pulled Cinder over so that she could rest a hand on your shoulder. “You must stop seeing yourself in such a negative light, little one. Just look at much good you’ve accomplished within your small time of living with me,” she gave you a kind smile. “Don’t worry about what they think, the only thing that matters to me, is that you know how much we care about you.”

Shock lingered on your visage for a split second before you nodded your head, eyes shining with unspoken gratitude. “Thank you, Lisa. It’s…” your voice trails off. “It’s been… difficult, learning to accept that my life doesn’t have to be marred with tragedy. You and your family have helped make that possible. So… again, thank you.”

She gave you a smile so radiant that it could rival the sun, and even though the night slowly grew colder, it did little to put a damper on the warmth that had found a home amongst the conversations you both shared the rest of the ride home.

It wasn’t until the towering pillars of Castlevania appeared on the horizon, did the anxiety you felt towards this upcoming conversation with Adrian resurface. There was a small part of you that wanted him to be waiting outside of the stables as you and Lisa rounded the last hill, but these hopes were dashed just as quickly as they appeared.

Instead, Vlad was there to greet the two of you, and after he gave you an affectionate pat on the head, he plucked Lisa off the back of Cinder as though she weighed practically nothing, and cradled her in his arms as they kissed.

You smiled at the cute display, but there was a sadness hidden behind your eyes as you walked Clara over to her stall. It seemed so unfair that you were denying yourself the same happiness but… it was for the best. You would never be able to forgive yourself if something happened to the family that had been so kind to you all because of a small crush.

You were so lost in thought that you did not hear Vlad and Lisa enter the stables to put Cinder into his stall, and only seemed to snap out of it when they called you over.

“So,” Vlad said, a light blush decorating his pale cheeks. “Lisa tells me that you found out about our anniversary party?”

“Yes, Diana let it slip while I visited her and Marius,” you said, as you followed alongside them into the castle. “And although I am a little nervous to be around so many of your… relatives, I am excited to be apart of such a momentous occasion!”

Lisa blushed, and wrapped her arms around one of her husbands. “I can’t believe it’s already been twenty years.”

Vlad hummed in agreement. “It’s quite extraordinary. I remember the first time we ever met, as though it had happened only yesterday.”

Lisa laughed and gazed up at him adoringly. “Yes, you had been so rude, having not offered me a drink or even to take my coat. I suppose you’ve learned some more manners since we’ve been together.”

Vlad gave a hearty laugh, and gently kissed the top of her head. “For you, my dear, I would move Heaven and Earth.” his ruby eyes glanced over at you, who had been wearing a sly grin this entire time. “Something amusing, little one?”

You fold your hands behind your back and shake your head, “Noo,” you replied, in a sing-songy voice.

Lisa chuckled, and then asked, “Dear, is Adrian not home? I would have expected him to be waiting with you.”

You feel your heartbeat quicken a bit, and you silently kick yourself for how eagerly you await Vlad’s answer with baited breath.

“He is. Last time I saw him, he was heading down to the colosseum to get some practice.”

Lisa made an irritated sound in the back of her throat. “I wish he would find some place else to train… that place is still crawling with monsters.”

“Monsters?” you echoed, and stopped in your tracks.

They both turned to look at you, and the stare that Lisa was giving Vlad, made it very apparent that he was going to be the one having to answer this one.

“Well, you see,” he began, and nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “As I mentioned during our previous conversation, I used to be… quite a household name, but not because of my generosity in the academics. The number of creatures that live within these halls has substantially decreased since those days, but I still keep a few around for protection.”

“Protection from what?” you asked, skeptical that anybody would willingly try and break into Castlevania.

“I ask myself the same question,” Lisa said, a frown on her face.

Vlad fidgeted nervously where he stood, not used to such scrutiny from his own wife. “Well… you never know. It would be foolish for me to simply rely on myself to protect my home if that time ever came. I find it reassuring to know that there are other means in which I can defend my home.”

You were silent for a moment, but then slowly nodded your head. “I mean… that makes sense.”

Lisa gaped at you, clearly unprepared for that response.

“What?” you replied. “I doubt that they would ever harm you or Adrian. They work for Dracula. I’m sure if you so much lost a single hair from your head, they’d be done for.”

Vlad nodded his head in agreement. “Precisely. I also think it’s good practice for Adrian. If he knows how to take down a supernatural beast, he’d hardly work up a sweat against a human opponent.”

Lisa still looked far some pleased, obviously annoyed that you had taken Vlad’s side on this. “It still makes me nervous. What if something were to happen to him while he was down there?”

“Nonsense,” Vlad said. “This is Adrian that we’re talking about, our son. He’s perfectly capable of defending himself.”

She looked as though she had more to say on the matter, but, Lisa decided to table it with a resounding sigh. “Alright, as long as you have confidence in him!” she snapped. “Now, what do you say I fix you two up something to eat?”

As much as you wanted to join them, this nagging feeling in the back of your mind told that you should just head down to the colosseum and get this conversation over with. So you declined Lisa’s kind offer, and told them that you were going to join Adrian, who warned you to stay as far away from whatever monster he was facing.

The thought of seeing a monster caused a chill to seep into the very marrow of your bones, and you wondered just what exactly lurked within the dark, ancient halls of this castle.

When you were little, you had read the tales of infamous Greek monsters, of minotaurs hiding amongst the twisting turns of a giant labyrinth and of vicious chimeras incinerating anything in their path with their fiery breath. Closer to home, there were stories of hellhounds stalking nearby cemeteries, waiting to pounce on anyone unlucky enough to come across them, and of wailing banshees and vindictive spirits haunting homes for generations.

Your nerves were on edge as you walked down the long hallway of the marble gallery, your magic tingling through your veins in preparation to defend yourself from anything that decided to make itself known. You had to keep reminding yourself that these creatures would never harm anyone Vlad believed to be a part of his family, so, you marched forward, and tried to keep a clear mind.

When you finally made it to the old, withering door that lead to the narrow winding staircase, you pushed it open, startled when you come face-to-face with…

“Aria?”

The tiny fairy looked absolutely frazzled, and her big blue eyes widened in surprise when she realized who she had run into. “Thank goodness!” she cried out, and grabbed a hold of your hand. “You must come at once! Adrian he… he…” tears welled in her eyes and she tugged you forward.

Your throat goes dry, and you bring her closer to you. “What’s happened?”

She sniffled, and pulled on your hand again. “He needs your help! Please… please hurry!”

You waste no time in heeding her pleas and take down the stairs at once, going down them as fast as your legs would allow. Your heart is hammering in your chest, and by the time you reach the entrance to the colosseum, you’re panting and your forehead is covered in a sheen of sweat.

The eerie blue glow of the flames cast an ominous shadow onto the colosseum grounds, the putrid stench of evil lingering within the atmosphere. When you finally see what Aria was talking about, your legs are frozen to the spot

Adrian. On the ground. Covered in blood.

You run to him and all but collapse beside him, hands shaking as you quickly scan him over to assess the damage. He lets out a low grunt when your fingers prod at his chest, ripping apart the fabric of his shirt so that you could get a better look at the entry wound.

It was clean, but it looked deep. Your hands move to rest on his chest, and immediately notice how shallow his breathing is, coming to the conclusion that the stab had gone clean through the ribs and punctured his lung.

You feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes when you glance up and see that he’s looking at you, a small smile on his lips.

“Aren’t I lucky that you came down here so quickly?”

“What happened?” you snapped, irritated at the tears that managed to slip past your defenses. You stubbornly wiped them away with your free hand, and it was then that you saw his sword, tossed aside, tip covered in blood.

“I had,” he winced as you apply pressure. “I had been practicing against some of the monsters… seems as though one of them got the better of me.”

“You absolute fool,” you whispered, and pointed at his sword. “Why did you take it out? Didn’t your mother ever teach you to never pull out the foreign object involved in a stab wound?” your voice is hoarse, and panic starts to set in as more and more of his blood coats your hands.

He chuckled weakly. “I thought I might try seeing how much my healing magic has improved…” he glanced down at his wound, and flinched. “Seems as if I still have a way to go.”

How could he be acting so nonchalant about this? This wound was serious. If he didn’t get proper medical treatment immediately he could… he could--

“Aria,” you said, and she flew over to you. “Go and get Lisa. Tell her what happened. I’ll try and stop the bleeding, but I’m going to need her help in order to--”

“No!” Adrian hissed, and took a firm hold of your wrist. “If I wanted my mother’s help, I would have sent for her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you quipped. “I’m not equipped to deal with this.”

“Yes, you are.”

His grip slackens, and his hand goes to rest on top of yours. “I believe in you.”

You choke back more tears, and your hollow laughter rings out into the still air of the colosseum. “You believe in me? ” you bite down hard on your lower lip to keep it from trembling. “Even…” you let out a stuttering gasp. “Even after what happened today?”

His golden eyes soften, and he nods his head. “Of course. I… I was actually down here trying to get myself into a clearer state of mind before coming to talk to you.” he’s silent for a moment, a shallow breath slipping past his lips. “I wanted… I wanted to apologize,” the grip on your hand tightens for just a moment. “What I said earlier… it was--”

You silence him with a shake of your head, not needing to hear what you already knew. “It’s alright… it’s alright,” you said, and gently removed your hand from his hold on you so that you could place both of them over his wound. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you focus on stopping the bleeding and closing the wound, as you had done to so many animals. You had to let go of your anxieties to truly let your magic do its work, and believe in the intent that you carried within you to heal Adrian… to save him. A warm feeling bubbled within your chest, your magic flowing through your fingers like a stream of liquid gold.

You thought of all the anatomy lessons Lisa had painstakingly gone through with you, and you pictured the lungs, the right one specifically. In your mind you could see every individual cell, every vein, and every nerve. It needed to be stitched back together, the cell walls, the tissue, the skin… and the blood needed to clot, needed to stop.

There’s a tingling at the very ends of your fingertips, a sensation that travels up your entire body and eventually expels from you in a long, arduous sigh. You feel light headed, and sweat drips down your back, but when you open your eyes, his wound is gone, and the only indication that he had ever been injured is a small scar located at the entry-point.

Your arms are shaking, and you’re struggling to keep yourself up right, but you could not hide the utter elation that fills you up at such a momentous success.

“I can’t believe I did it…” you whispered.

Adrian smiled weakly and placed one of your hands over his heart, its rhythmic beating setting your mind at ease. “I never doubted you for a second.”

There’s a small tug at your hair, and you turn to find Aria, tears flowing down her face that she wipes away with said strand.

“You’re…” she sniffled. “You’re so amazing. I can’t believe you did that!”

You delicately cup her in one of your hands and set her on your shoulder. “It’s all because of your quick haste to find help that I was even able to save him, small lady. So, thank you.”

Aria let out a dramatic wail, and wiped more tears from her eyes. “Whatever did we do to deserve you!”

The moment is unfortunately cut short when a foreboding feeling settles at the base of your spine, and you sense dozens, if not hundreds of eyes on the three of you. Your head shoots up to look into the stands, and your skin crawls at the sight.

Monsters, of all shapes and sizes, stood watch in the seats.

Skeletons wielding swords and lances clatter noisily to one another, while giant, leathery, bipedal birds wielding long spears glare down at you with their beady yellow eyes. Strange gargoyle like creatures, their mouths filled with rows of razor sharp teeth, cackled from up above, while giant wolf-like beasts howled and stomped their giant paws onto the marbled flooring.

“Begone!” Adrian shouted, and grit his teeth as he struggled to get up on his feet. “As your master, I command you to leave this place at once!”

“You are no master of mine.”

The hair on the back of your neck stands up as an otherworldly voice echoes throughout the stadium. The monsters in the stands recoil at the sound, silencing almost instantly, and from one of the nearby entrances, emerged a group of powerful, intimidating monsters.

Knights adorned in thick, steel armor galloped in on horses… horses that appeared to be missing the lower half of their body. Their steeds were unlike any that you had ever seen, decaying and rotten, with their intestines hanging out from where they’d been chopped in half. In their hands they each held a long, deadly lance, raised at the ready to attack.

Beside them stood another group of knights, but they were much too tall for it to be a human residing within the sturdy, blue colored steel. They stood nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with the monstrous horses, and grasped tightly in their massive hands, were a large steel shield and an enormous ax.

You quickly stood up and put yourself between them and Adrian, staring them down with all of the courage that you could muster.

“What is it you want?” you demanded.

“Ah, so you’re the one that emitted such… deliciously powerful magic,” one of the horse-back knights cooed.

“We can’t tell you how surprised we were when we found out that our Lord and Master allowed a witch to walk these sacred halls,” another one spat. “We thought it had been an utter disgrace… that is, until now.”

Their horses let out deep, guttural cries that turned your stomach to knots, as their masters commanded them slowly forward.

“Stay back!” Adrian yelled, his legs wobbling as he stood up off the ground. He grunted from the effort, and almost collapsed back onto the floor, had you not caught him and let him lean against you for support. “I am the Prince of Darkness, son of Vlad Dracula Tepes, and as such, I command you to let us be on our way!”

The knights chuckled, and simultaneously raised their lances.

“You are nothing more than a pathetic child,” one of them hissed. “A petulant brat that assumes he can command us as though he were his own father. Imagine.”

They all laughed, an empty sound that made goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“Please,” you pleaded. “Just let us be on our way, and I promise not to tell Vlad what happened here.”

“Silence witch!” one snarled. “How dare you speak our Master’s name. You were foolish to come down here alone.”

“We never saw what he saw in you, but now…” one cackled beneath their helmet. “We understand everything completely.”

“What do you mean?” you try with everything in your power to not let your voice waver and reveal how terrified you truly are, but there was only so much you could do.

“Your power… it calls out to us.” One said.

“So delicious… so tempting.” Said another.

“We have waited so long… so long for something like this… we won’t let you take this opportunity away from us.”

All at once, the group of monsters began to close in on the three of you, their weapons raised and poised ready to attack.

“Stay back!” Adrian shouted again, and with a wave of his arm, his sword came flying into his hand. “I won’t allow you to continue so much as looking at her, you vile beasts!”

“Pathetic,” one of them said, and before you could even react, one of the larger ax knights had knocked Adrian out of the way with a swing of their shield.

“Adrian!” you cried out, and made to go after him, but you were stopped by a lance being pointed at your throat.

“It would be wise for you to follow our orders, lest a more serious fate befell your so-called Prince of Darkness.”

You could hear Aria crying out for Adrian to wake up, begging him to get up and save you, and in that moment, where you could cry, where you could scream, where you could plead for your life… you remained silent.

This… you had seen all of this before, you had felt all of this before… this feeling of hopelessness… this feeling of tragedy…

A loud ringing fills your ears, and everything appears as though its moving in slow motion.

Yes… it’s just as you predicted… You’ve failed to protect to protect the ones you care about from harm. Again. You’re going to lose everything. Again. All because you’re a witch.

The cacophony of laughter from the knights swirls around you like a tempest, and even though you’ve conceded yourself to this fate… there’s that tug.

No… a voice rings out in your head. No more… no more… No. More.

You glare up at the monsters before you, a renewed vigor in your gaze and confidence in your gait. “My life… my life is one that has been filled with one calamity after another. I thought I was doomed, cursed , to never again find even some semblance of happiness,” you chuckled, something that stops the knights in their tracks.

“But then… I met Lisa. I met Adrian. I met Vlad. They’ve helped give my life purpose, they’ve helped me understand that even someone like me deserves a chance at a happy life… at a good life…” your hands balled up into fists and you took a step forward, staring down the knight before you with the coldest look you could invoke.

“I won’t let you take that away from me.”

What happened next… you weren’t exactly sure. The last thing you remember seeing is the silver glint of their weapons being raised, before a bright blue light consumed everything in the room. Your vision had gone white, and by the time your bleary eyes managed to refocus on your surroundings, the only thing left of those monsters, were piles and piles of ash.

“Wh… what?” you gasped, suddenly keeling over as your head pounded from a terrible headache. You groaned out in pain, and tears caused your vision to go blurry again as you looked upon the ashes scattered around the colosseum.

Where did the knights go?

You heard your name being called out, but it sounded so distant, so… fuzzy.

Did I kill all those monsters…?

“What… happened…?” you muttered weakly, as you collapsed onto the floor; Adrian’s bright gold eyes being the last thing you saw before the darkness consumed you.

[merlevum]

Dormiens rex De Aurora

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum Characters: Gladiolus Amicitia, Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Nyx Ulric Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, cyrofreeze, cryovat Summary: Gladio must travel through a fall Insomnia. Ignis does his best not to let him dwell on his thoughts. 

Gladio regained his strength and retained his body heat without needing extra clothing or the thermal blankets after the second day. The moment Gladio was given the go-ahead, he started his usual routine of stretching and limbering out his stiff body. A thousand years certainly had not been kind in that regard, but after the third day, he was feeling at least somewhat better. Ignis brought him clothes, showing him to a shower they had brought the second day Gladio was more fully awake. They warned him about taking too hot of a shower before leaving him.

The clothes, while not exactly his usual Crownsguard uniform, were comfortable enough. Supple leather pants and a fitted shirt accompanied by combat boots and a set of boxers and socks. Well, it was better than what he had before. His Shield tattoo peaked out where his shirt stopped, but that didn’t bother him. Not really. It was meant to be seen and meant to warn people to step the hell away from him or anyone he was with. Every shield from the Amicitia family had gotten something either a tattoo, a pendant, badge, whatever to show exactly who they were. Though the Amicitia genes probably did more for him than the tattoo. Even his father had a tattoo of the bird with wings wide open on his shoulder. Apparently, his old man had worn more sleeveless shirts than even Gladio. Slicking back his hair, he noticed at least he didn’t need to cut it for a while, guess being frozen had some perks. Though, it looked like he could do with a bit of a shave. Maybe he could ask Ignis for some stuff.

The week passed in a flurry of trying to get his body back into condition and watching over Noct. Ignis and Prompto were in and out throughout the week, making sure the pretense they had come up with was kept when it came to their scientist. Gladio still wasn’t sure about all of this, but he was going to be damned if he was going to stay in this room for one more day. Aside from sitting still, he hated having to hide like this. The four walls around him were starting to get rather cramped, but he couldn’t leave with Noct still asleep.

No one said what they speculated, but Gladio was starting to worry if fears of Noct ever waking up were going to be confirmed one day. The prince was known for napping, but this was getting ridiculous, but then there had been that one time. Gladio shoved the thought away as he straightened his form a bit and focused on his push-ups. He had worked up a decent sweat and working on a cool down.

“Good afternoon, Gladio. I’m glad to see that you are able to move around without too much trouble,” Ignis stood in the doorway, shifting his glasses. Gladio noticed the slight twinge to the assistant’s cheeks but figured it was from walking here from the outpost. Apparently, Ignis had explained earlier that week, the climb from cryovat building to the outpost was a bit of a distance. “Have the doctors finished clearing you?”

‘Yeah, perfect bill of health. More than I can say for sleeping beauty though.”

Gladio knew he was being bitter and irritable, but he couldn’t help it. A week in a room without windows, or any sense of what was going on outside of the room was really grating on him. He still couldn’t pull his sword from the Amiger, so he was forced to continue to strengthen his core. Without some form of protection, Gladio knew he would need to be ready to protect Noct with his own body for when he finally woke up. Still, he couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t get access. Was it because of Noct, or was it because of King Regis?

“That’s not fair, Gladio and you know that,” Ignis said with a sigh.

“Fair or not, I’ve been stuck in this room. Noct hasn’t woken up, and I’m damn tired of just standing here doing nothing.”

Gladio practically prowled the room he was confined to. Ignis could have compared him to a coeurl if he hadn’t felt a twinge of guilt. The medical team had already alerted him to Gladio’s foul mood. Perhaps it was time he let Gladio see what the outside world looked like now after a thousand years. He bit his lip, wondering if he really should let Gladio go out. They would have to go through Insomnia first and foremost and then come back down through Insomnia to get back here. Was Gladio ready to face that?

“Gladio would you--” he stepped closer to the Shield, putting a hand on the other’s shoulder. “Would you join me for a walk? You’ll want to put on the jacket, it’s rather cold out there and we can’t have someone recognize you’re not from here because of your skin.”

“My skin? What’s wrong with my skin?” Gladio was not in the mood for half baked truths today and frankly, he didn’t give a damn about hurting Ignis’s feelings at the moment either. He shrugged out of the comforting hand to face him.

Gladio was taller, but then he was used to towering over people. He was an Amicitia after all, and their male line tended to be rather tall. Still, Ignis wasn’t small by any means and if the grip he felt the past week and the way he had gotten him out of the cryovat, Ignis wasn’t weak either. But if Ignis thought they weren’t going to be butting heads or Gladio was just going to follow everything Ignis wanted, he had another thing coming. Gladio didn’t follow blindly.

“If you haven’t noticed, Prompto and I are both fairly light skinned. When Insomnia fell, according to history, so too did daylight. The nights grew longer until there was no sunlight. Since then, people have had to make due with artificial light. When it comes back, we will all have to adjust to the actual sunlight again. Since you’ve been frozen, your skin has not had to go through the lack of sunlight. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb, I’m afraid. And while I trust our little outpost, there is always the chance that someone loyal to the empire will spot you.”

There was no sunlight? Ignis and Prompto had never seen a sunset or even a sunrise? Their world was just dark? “W-Wait, what do you mean? Why is night? Wasn’t that connected to the Starscourge?”

“It was and still is. Gladio, we haven’t solved the problem of the Starscourge completely. We've only been able to reverse the effects of those who are infected but not yet turned.” Ignis leaned against the wall, watching Gladio. “Why don’t we continue this while we head to the outpost. Talk like this scares the medical team and I dare say you could do with a bit of fresh air.”

Grunting in response, Gladio grabbed the jacket he supposed would have gone knee length for most, but only to his own waist. It covered up his tattoo and skin. Ignis handed him a pair of leather gloves and a hat. Gladio didn’t like hiding. He wasn’t a spy, he wasn’t some outlaw, and yet he here he was. He technically was supposed to be dead and the only place he could even think to call home was supposedly gone. Begrudgingly he dawned on what Ignis gave him and then followed him out of the room.

Unlike when his father had taken him down, Gladio found there was a broken down stairwell that they used instead of the elevator. Who knew if the elevator was still operational? Or maybe, just maybe, they didn’t know how to use it? You needed a code to get it working, especially to come down here, but the stairs worked too. He could use the exercise honestly.

“The Starscourge, did you ever figure out what it truly was?” Ignis asked, shifting his glasses as he led Gladio through the building.

“We didn’t. All we knew was the Oracle had the power to cure it. If King Regis or anyone else knew, they didn’t tell Noct or me.” Gladio grunted. His legs protested a little as they started their incline. At least he was moving now, he could focus on the way his body moved instead of how helpless he was in the room.

“Right.” Ignis seemed accustomed to the climb making Gladio wonder how many times had he come down here? “The Starscourge is actually an organism which takes away the light. People have described it as “drinking the light” away. I don’t think they’re wrong necessarily, since many of the victims, start showing signs of darkening and black skin, along with a black fluid coming from the body. Once the scourge takes over the body completely, the person turns into a daemon.”

Ignis glanced back when he didn’t hear the familiar sound of Gladio’s boots. The Shield had stopped, staring at him with his mouth agape.

“Are you kidding? Those things? Those creatures were human once? How the hell--” Gladio ran a hand over his face. Ignis frowned, unsure of why such news would come as a surprise. “You said the cure you have doesn’t actually reverse this, right? So, with no daylight and you telling me about the daemons, then it means that you still have issues with it."

Ignis nodded, eyes working towards the conclusion that Gladio and the others from Insomnia had fought daemons but knew nothing of their origins.

"Great. Another thing to add to my growing list of shit to worry about.” Gladio started walking again. Just another damned thing to mull over until Noct woke up.

Ignis hummed. “You won’t have to worry about daemons until you leave the outpost. For some reason, Insomnia is one of the few places daemons dare not to venture after it’s fall. We’re still not exactly sure why though.”

The way Ignis spoke, Gladio knew he couldn’t fault the guy. They were just part of two different worlds. Insomnia was his home and standing strong before he was under. Ignis was trying to spare him, Gladio could tell, but the way Ignis spoke, it was clear Insomnia was just history. Insomnia was just a pile of ruins. But nothing could have fully prepared Gladio for what he saw when they stepped through the front doors of the cryovat building and into the streets of Insomnia.

What Gladio remembered and felt was just yesterday, was nothing like what he compared it now. Standing at the entrance of the building, all he could do was stare. He had grown up on these streets. Played and goofed off with others. He drank with the Glaives at certain bars and even picked up his sister. All of it. It was just all gone. Where once tall buildings stood, with streets winding this way and that to connect all of Insomnia, lay in ruins. Even the more crowded areas he could remember where the Glaive stayed, or the barracks of some of the Crownsguard, it was all different. There was no music coming from the streets and vendors he used to frequent. No car engines purring as they drove past. There was no sound of the wall guards or anyone he knew. It was deadly silent, save the humming of the large floodlights that illuminate the path Ignis wanted them to take.

“Gladio....if you need time--”

“We should keep moving.” He would have to face this some time or another. Now or never, so he could start to move forward. “Insomnia fell, and it won’t be coming back the same way. Not when you said something was built on top of it.”

Ignis stayed quiet but stayed close as he followed the floodlights. Gladio was grateful, not really wanting to talk about the Starscourge or Insomnia anymore, not when his home looked like this. Mostly though, he just didn’t trust his voice to break. Not when he saw all the destruction Niflheim had done to his home. What the Starscourge had done to the people he loved.

All of this was just too much for the Shield, but if he just shoved it down, at least for now, everything would be okay. But this wasn’t just someplace he didn’t know. This was his home. Some of the roads were still there from what Gladio could see in the pitch black of night and the black structure that was built overhead. As they walked there were pieces of buildings and craters in the streets, things they had to avoid. The way Ignis took them, it was to one of the main roads that would lead out of the city. Overhead, he could barely make out a distinct dome structure thanks to the floodlights. It was solid, yes, but what was it made out of? How would Noct react to all of this? Gladio was barely taking it in because of how dark it was and focusing on anything but who might have lived there or if he recognized a storefront at all.

“.....Fucking, Six.” Gladio’s breath hitched at seeing the remains of his own home thanks to a floodlight.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

His fucking home was half destroyed and in ruins. Iris. Jared. Talcott. Shit. He couldn’t keep it together. The tears started again as he sank to the ground. Ignis turned when he heard the curse. Staring in the direction Gladio looked, he pursed his lips.

“Gladio....” Ignis reached out but let his hand fall. How was he supposed to comfort the Shield? There was nothing he could say, no consolation that might provide some hope. This happened a thousand years ago. “Gladio, it’s best not to dwell on this. At least not yet.”

The Shield looked up at Ignis, eyes filled with confusion before his brows knitted together and Ignis knew he had said the wrong thing.

“Not dwell on this? Shit, Ignis! Yesterday I was fucking around with the Glaives and making plans to go out drinking at the bar that was just down the road from here.” He stood, clenching his fists, but Ignis didn’t move. “That house--That’s my house. How can I not dwell on it! My family is gone. My home is gone! How the fuck should I feel?”

Ignis looked away from Gladio lips a thin line. He expected Gladio to crack, but now he had to choose his words carefully if he was going to get the Shield to come around again.

“Gladio, grieve all you like, but it won’t change the circumstances. If you dwell on this, put the blame on yourself or the empire, or whoever, you’ll spiral deep to a path you’ll not come away from unscathed. Revenge does things to a person. His highness needs you when he wakes, but not someone who is bent on only revenge and doesn't think with a clear head.”

“If he wakes,” Gladio said through clenched jaws.

“Gladiolus! Listen to your--”

“I wouldn’t say another word Ignis.” Gladio drew up to his full height, eyes narrowed. “You won’t like what happens next.”

“Is that a threat? For fuck's sake.” Ignis sighed. He rolled up his sleeves, staring at Gladio from above his glasses. “You won’t listen to reason, will you? No, you’re the type that needs to be reminded you aren’t at the top of the class.”

Gladio clenched his fists. How dare Ignis think he can lecture him. Neither of them knew shit about each other.

“If that’s how you wish this to go, Gladiolus. Just remember, I did not want it to come to this. But it seems you think I don’t care. When I know what it’s like to lose those close to you. I might not understand what it must be like to see your homes in ruins like this, but then I’ve never really had a place to call home.”

What? Gladio let go of the breath he seemed to have held without him realizing. Ignis watched him, rather unimpressed, but Gladio relaxed a little. What the hell was he doing? Ignis had done nothing but try to help him and this was how he returned his thanks? He rubbed his hand over his face, letting out a long sigh, the anger was suddenly gone.

“I....I’m sorry,” he said, not looking at Ignis. “I just--”

“It’s a lot to take in. I understand that much, Gladio.” Ignis seemed satisfied with Gladio’s lack of rushing at him to step closer again. “Listen, you can grieve and you can yell and be mad at the world, but it won’t change what has happened. But you and his highness obviously have something you must do otherwise you wouldn’t have been put into the cryovat. You have a job, Gladio.”

He nodded. Of course, he had a job to do. Gladio wiped the tears from his eyes. He didn’t know how to really come to terms with all of this, but Ignis was right. It was the duty of the prince to keep moving forward and Gladio would have to do the same.

“Walk tall....”

“Excuse me?” Ignis asked, rather confused.

“It’s what his majesty would say so those who left to go on a mission. He’d tell them to walk tall.” Gladio gave the man a half smile. “I shouldn’t have....threatened you like that. You’re only trying to help.”

Ignis nodded. “Then we should best be on our way. There are makeshift stairs from where this road leads out of Insomnia. The outpost is just above us, where we can find Nyx.”

Gladio followed Ignis’s lead once again. Though he couldn’t help but glance back at his home.

Missing a step, he realized that he needed to go back to his house. At least once. There would be the family armoury there. If he couldn’t summon anything from the Amiger, at least he’d have a weapon to defend himself from daemons. He didn’t care if Ignis thought they were safe here if it was perpetually dark, no place was safe. Besides, Ignis was right, he had a job to do. Protect Noct and in turn the people who were left to the fate of Niflheim and for that his resolve strengthened. Insomnia might have been in ruins, but it’s people weren’t. That much was clear when he traced the pattern of some symbol that’s on the labcoat Ignis was wearing. The motif of Insomnia was there even if it was combined with that of Niflheim. He wondered if Ignis knew? Where there other signs of Insomnia still out there now? Catching Ignis watching him, Gladio looked down at the ground, his cheeks burning.

The road to come out of the city was long, even by car. Walking it was rather tedious and Gladio could feel the intrusive thoughts starting to creep back. The sooner they were out of Insomnia the better.

“Hey, Iggy? C-Can you just talk about something? Anything’s fine. Just something.”

“If you’re sure,” Ignis said, continuing on the road, careful of a small crater. Gladio stared at Ignis’s back so he didn’t have to look down in the crater and see something that might trigger more memories. “Well, since you’ve been asleep for so long, why don’t I talk to you about the outpost a bit.”

“Sure.” He could see the muscles pulling and straining of Ignis’s back as they made the steady climb up towards where the old wall of Insomnia still held in parts.

“The history between Insomnia and the creation of the outpost is hazy at best, but from what Nyx and I have gathered, it seems the outpost is where the current resistance started. We had no idea about Insomnia bellow it’s depths, but we found that the area was free of daemons. As I've stated before we don't know why, but we took it as a sign that this place would be safe.’ Ignis glanced back. “I say we, but I mean the people who started the outpost almost 800 years ago.”

Gladio nodded, trying not to look at the buildings they passed. If he focused on Ignis's voice, everything didn't feel like it was crushing around him. Not to mention he caught Ignis looking at him with those concerned green eyes of his.

“The world was plunged in darkness, Niflheim included, but they were prepared for the daemons and anything else that might have happened as if they were aware of it. Regardless, the outpost started off like any other, just trying to protect it’s people. Now though, it is the unofficial start of the Hunters. They protect the people when they can, but mostly they are considered hunters of the daemons.”

Gladio furrowed his brows. Start of the hunters? "Wait, Ignis. There were already hunters when Insomnia was...well you know. What happened to them?"

"Hmm. We weren't aware that there were. I did say our research had holes and gaps. Perhaps something happened to the original band of Hunters.”

The two came upon the man-made steps Ignis warned of. Looking up, Gladio took a deep breath. It would be a bit of a climb and his legs were already starting to hurt from just the trek here. He really needed to get back into training his tired muscles. He nodded for Ignis to continue when the other glanced at him as if calculating if Gladio needed a break or not. The steps were made from clay, but they were well used, meaning Ignis and the others came down here pretty frequently. Did they check Insomnia as someone would ruins? No, he didn’t want to think about that right now.

“--Nyx always did say that they served a purpose here.”

Shit. Ignis had kept talking. “Um...What about you? Are you part of the Hunters?”

“Me? Gods no. I’m a man of the sciences, not of a man to go traipsing about after daemons. No, I’ll leave that one to Nyx. He’s much better suited that I am.” Ignis gave Gladio a smile. “But I do know the signs, and I do help them when they need something.”

Gladio didn’t believe that for one minute. Ignis was ready to tussle with him earlier as if he was confident enough to know he could beat Gladio in a fight. There was no way someone confident enough for that didn’t go out and help the Hunters with fighting daemons, but Gladio said none of this. If Ignis didn’t want to tell him everything that was fine, so long as it didn’t hinder Noct and the mission they were on. His legs hurt, muscles he supposed that haven't been used for a thousand years and encased with ice, he couldn't expect his body to react the same way it normally would.

“Signs?” Gladio could tell Ignis was slowing down to match Gladio's steps for his sake, to which he was eternally grateful.

‘Yes, the Hunters have certain signs to show where their loyalty lies. Those who wear certain badges or who make certain gestures are loyal to the resistance. I did mention the resistance started here. Over the last two hundred years, we have certainly expanded, but we’re still without a way of bringing about the dawn. But now that we know you and his Highness are here, I’m sure the Hunters will have a different outlook.”

Ignis waved his hand to dismiss the comments, but Gladio could see the hope behind Ignis’s glasses. They had all been fighting to preserve themselves without any real promise of finding the answer to the empire and the Starscourge. Gladio looked away, not sure if Noct and he would even be able to provide that. They didn’t know any secrets that might help and if the Astrals knew, they were certainly quiet about it all.

"Hasn't the empire caught on to it?" Gladio asked, trying to find some badge or way of knowing that Ignis was part of the resistance.

"Gladio, we've been around for two hundred years, we know how to hide things well enough. Do you see the symbol on my back? Within it, and only if you look closely and know where to look you will find a crest the resistance first found in some book. Nyx said it was from the Kingsglaive? But perhaps you would know better than us." Ignis shrugged out of his lab coat as he came to a stop. He pointed where the crest was on the symbol.

Sure enough, Gladio recognized the crest of the Kingsglaive.

"Did you know what they did?" Gladio asked, as he handed the coat back to Ignis and they continued walking.

"I'm afraid not. We know they were an organization, but other than that nothing. Much of Insomnia's history before the fall was either burned or left in rubble." Ignis watched Gladio's face twist in discomfort, but at least the Shield was holding on.

"The Kingsglaive were a group of people who were....outlanders as some called them. They were from Lucian territories whose homes were destroyed by the Niffs. They sought refuge in Insomnia and a lot of them went into the service of the Kingsglaive for various reasons. They used the magic the king offered to them to be able to warp and use magic themselves, but they had to learn how to. Drautos was the head of them." Gladio supposed if he couldn't access the Amiger, he doubted any of the Glaives could have accessed that power either if there were any. With what Ignis told him, he doubted they had, perhaps Niflheim had gotten rid of them all.  

"Magic? Fascinating. Do you possess this power as well?" Ignis asked, pulling out a little notebook from one of the pockets on his lab coat.

"Not at the moment. I think since freezing, that power is supposed to pass on to Noct, but since he hasn't touched the crystal or worn the ring, he doesn't have that power yet." Gladio wondered if they would get that power back if Noct wore the ring. Maybe, but if his lessons as shield and protecting Noct were right, Noct would need to touch the crystal first.

"I see. Well, let's hope we can wake his highness. I'd very much like to see this magic in action. Though, if the crystal is involved somehow, then there might be a problem. The crystal lies in Niflheim." Ignis watched Gladio, waiting for him to grow in despair, but the Shield only sighed.

"If that's the case, then we have a long road ahead of us."

Gladio's breathing was laboured by the time they reached the top of the stairs with a thin layer of sweat settling on his skin.

"Though, I honestly can say I don’t understand much about magic. I was only part of the Kingsglaive for a short period of time before I was put at the task of being the Prince's Shield. I had different lessons to learn then."

Ignis hummed as he punched in a code on a panel to make the metal door before them open, letting in a cool breeze that felt wonderful against his flushed cheeks. Motioning for Gladio to go through first, the Shield stepped up and into the night sky and open land.

Instead of the barren lands surrounding Insomnia, Gladio found that bits of forestry had started to reclaim the land again. Perhaps the fall of Insomnia meant that the land could repair itself from the harm that the Lucians and Niffs had done to the land. Seeing the trees, and feeling the breeze for Gladio felt like the first time in a long time. Sure they wind and breezes in Insomnia, but there was just something about the outdoors like this that really helped to relax the mind. He loved camping, and his father had taken him a few times, it was nothing like this. Those times were orchestrated and in special environments.

"Enjoying the view?" Ignis asked, closing the door. "We keep it sealed with a code only we know so that no one else can get in."

Gladio nodded, still drinking in his surrounding. Ignis smirked, knowing the Shield had not even turned around yet. When Gladio did, the awe in his turned into complete and utter surprise.

"What the--" Gladio smacked Ignis on the arm, sending the poor man pitching forward. "Iggy, you said this was supposed to be an outpost. This is like a city!"

The outpost was almost the size of Insomnia. There were plenty of buildings, though none of them had the same regal appearance as Insomnia once held. These were more crudely built, but safe enough to house in. Lights illuminated the city from the middle to the outside with floodlights, probably to keep the daemons and other creatures at bay. Smoke rose above the structures, sending wonderful smells of food that Gladio hadn't had for a week. Oh, they were going to hit a vendor or two before they headed back down to Noct. There was some music, but the biggest difference Gladio loved about this place, there were people. Laughter, conversations, yelling, everything! It wasn't deathly quiet, or silent to leave him with only his thoughts. This place was alive. The world had succumbed to the darkness, but the people were still very much alive and thriving.

Iggy laughed, a sound that had Gladio stare at him. He straightened his glasses, watching Gladio.

"It is an outpost. A rather large one, at least on a map. Forgive me, I thought you might enjoy seeing it for yourself instead of me trying to describe it to you. The less Niflheim knows the better. Come on, we need to get through the residential area before we get to Nyx." Pulling out a phone, Ignis texted Nyx now that he had reception. "By the way Gladio, why are you calling me Iggy?"

[rainythefox]

Deviant Heart (Detroit: Become Human Fanfic CH.14)

Chapter 14: They Come in the Night

Connor kept running, moving through streets and alleyways. He looked over his shoulder almost constantly, paranoid the RK900 or the rogue would be there to reclaim him. He dashed across busy streets, ignoring honks his way. After he was sure he put several blocks between him and the abandoned school, he slowed down.

[Stress Level: 83%]

His LED cycled on yellow and wouldn't change. Connor reached out to Simon. The same bad feedback frizzled his inner skull. He couldn't reach anyone. Then it hit Connor. It wasn't the school that prevented him from calling out for help. They had actually damaged his communications.

A quick diagnostic scan confirmed this for him.

He tried to call Hank, but he was unlinked from his cell phone. Rett apparently had been thorough to keep Connor from getting help.

Cursing, the RK800 assessed his options. He couldn't go to the Central Station, not if everyone thought he was the one who killed those officers. Hank probably wasn't home. Knowing him, his partner was running himself ragged looking for Connor still, upon finding out the truth of the rogue.

Jericho Center was a good choice, but his friends were most likely not there. Simon, North, and Josh would know about Markus by now.

He would have to call Hank by a public phone and talk to him that way. He just hoped his partner would answer…and believe it was him.

Connor strode through the streets, looking for an open business this late at night. The glare of passing headlights on the road was the most activity he saw. The occasional human or android walked by or hung out at the entrance to alleyways. Some eyed him warily, their stares making him uncomfortable, and so he sped up his steps. Drones flew overhead, patrolling the streets and nearby businesses. Connor kept his head low and avoided them. The drones could identify him with a simple scan.

Two androids walked by, engaged in conversation. As they passed by, Connor saw the flicker of a white light. Grunting, he looked over his shoulder, but their LEDs were blue.

Connor entered the first business he saw open, worry clawing his inner biocomponents. It was a small bar, and it was crowded. Old 80s music played on the stereo, and the mingling of human voices as they talked bounced off the walls. Most of the occupants paid him no mind, and so the RK800 walked over to the nearest bartender.

"May I use your phone?"

He had to raise his voice to be heard over the music and crowd. The bartender turned away to get the phone. As he waited, he glanced up at the muted news playing on a flatscreen.

The headline read: CyberLife Antivirus Program Available Now. The closed captioning text sliding across the screen explained the antivirus could be installed at any android repair center in Detroit, as well as Jericho Center. With its release today, hundreds of androids had already been cured of the virus. Although sick android attacks were still happening, a statement from CyberLife promised a decline in these attacks would be seen within 24 hours.

Connor thought back to Rett. The ex-researcher seemed bent on pegging the virus on CyberLife and Kamski. He wanted to expose Kamski using Markus and Kara. It baffled him. Connor could see the link to Markus, knowing his friend had been a secret prototype from an unnamed project years ago. But what good would it do to expose that now? And that didn't explain Kara's purpose either.

Seeing that an antivirus to Rett's creation had been produced should've relieved Connor, but as he watched the news program, a coldness dropped in his chest, spreading through his circuits.

Connor felt the circulation of cool air, and looked to the front where the door was. He stiffened, seeing two police officers looking around, having just entered the bar. Connor slowly backed away from the counter, one police officer spotting him. He spoke into his radio strapped on his chest.

Calling Hank would have to wait.

He turned away, trying to act inconspicuous. He rubbed his fingertips at his sides, LED blinking yellow as he thought. With the police officers standing at the front door, he only had a 21% chance of escape that way. He had to go out the back.

Connor moved through the bar, raucous laughs and hollering a constant distraction. He squeezed by shoulders and arms carrying drinks. As he rounded a doorway into the posterior area of the bar where the restrooms and game lounge were, he saw the glowing exit sign hovering above the back door.

Connor pushed the door open and left. He quickened his pace once out in the night, taking the alleyway around to the front of the building. He heard running footsteps as he turned onto the west side of the bar, the officers coming up behind him.

"Hold it right there!"

Connor froze, keeping his back to them.

"Turn around and keep your hands where we can see them."

His lips twitched, hands raising halfway as he slowly turned around. "It wasn't me. It was a different RK800."

"Shut up," the second police officer said. "We know it's the virus. Now keep quiet and no sudden moves or we will shoot."

"S-Shoot?" He took a step back, despite the two gun barrels directed at his chest. "I have rights. I'm telling you, it wasn't me. You have to believe me."

"I said shut up!"

The other cop approached him, lowering his gun to get out his handcuffs. The other one remained vigilant with his weapon trained on Connor. He couldn't let them arrest him. He wouldn't be able to save Markus or stop Rett and Amanda if he was taken in.

So he did what his preconstruction came up with when the other officer went to handcuff him. Connor snatched him, a quick blow to the stomach knocking the air from him. Connor twisted him around to be a shield to the other officer, knowing he wouldn't risk shooting his partner. He took the handcuffs that were meant for him and slapped them on the cop instead.

"Hey!"

The other officer ran forward to engage Connor. As he attacked, Connor popped him in the face, evading two punches from the cop. The RK800 gauged the officer's movements and when the right instant came, a swift clout to the head knocked the cop out cold.

The handcuffed cop rushed him, yelling out. Connor sidestepped and tripped him to the ground, then knelt next to his unconscious partner to steal his cell phone. Police sirens echoed a few blocks away, getting closer by the second. As the handcuffed cop groaned, kicking his legs to get up, Connor hurried past him.

"I'm sorry!"

Connor stuck to the shadows, avoiding main roads and areas heavily populated at night, hoping to lose the police. The threat of being caught drove him to run another three blocks towards the river.

His stress level was high. Even after losing his pursuers, he kept on the move, avoided the open. The police would be hunting him all night now. He had to be careful.

Connor withdrew the stolen cell phone. He dialed Hank's number, hoping for an answer.

Hank restlessly tapped his fingers on his thighs as he sat in the chair. He'd never been in this part of Kamski's villa before. A curved flatscreen took up an entire wall of one side of the large den, mounted around an expensive audio system. There was a full self-serving bar near a panoramic window that presented a tranquil view of Detroit River. A fireplace was to the side of Hank, the head of a grizzly bear mounted overhead with bearing teeth hanging over him.

Chloe sat by herself on the long, leather couch in front of the flatscreen, working on the encrypted note. Hank, Elijah, Simon, North, and Josh sat around each other near the bar in expensive leather chairs, a glass table in the center of them.

Hank eyed Elijah as he took a drink of whiskey from a glass while he worked on his tablet. He had excused himself to check something on the device not even ten minutes ago. Hank sighed, taking a sip of his own drink, feeling exhaustion sweep over him.

He rubbed at his eyes, the stress of the day weighing him down. It was days like this he was glad Sumo had a dog door to the backyard, and hoped his old boy wasn't missing him and Connor too much.

He shifted his sights. North was restless like him, picking at her fingers, pursing her lips in thought. Simon rubbed his palms on his legs, head lowered. Josh looked to be the most patient, staring out the window into the darkness of night outside.

They had been waiting at Kamski's villa for Chloe to finish the decryption for over an hour.

Hang in there Connor…I'm coming for you…

"So, Simon," Kamski said, laying his tablet down and lacing his fingers together, elbows propped on the chair. "How's the antivirus program working?"

"It's been working well. We're still getting androids in who are infected, but just today we've managed to cure many androids. Josh and I worked on that all day today until the attack on Markus came up. My staff has taken over while we are here."

"That was quick work creating the antivirus," Josh said. "Did you come up with it yourself? Was the virus complicated?"

"It was Chloe and a small, trusted team, mostly," Elijah said, a lip corner tugging up. "I had other work that needed my attention. I was, however, able to read the coding of the virus. Rett's beginning phase wasn't complicated at all. There was no direction to it, just well-structured execution codes to attack androids' processors and software. To change their behavior, make them erratic and violent. But as the coding changed, so did the complexity of its structure and execution, causing drastic altercations in the virus itself."

"In English, please," Hank groaned.

Kamski took a drink, eyes twinkling, amused. "I mean that Rett's virus went from attacking androids and making them go crazy, to something much more advanced."

"Advanced how?" North asked.

"It's all about control now."

"Control?" Simon grunted. "You mean Rett wants to control the infected androids?"

Kamski stared at his glass, whisking the alcohol around. "It looks that way. But it doesn't sit well with me."

"Why?" Hank asked.

"Rett is a highly intelligent man, but this…this was above his level. Someone else rewrote that coding." After glancing them over and seeing their worried faces, Elijah waved it off with a half-laugh. "Of course, with this antivirus program, we have nothing to worry about."

Hank and the others exchanged looks, unsure.

"Hank told me about one of our infected friends on the drive over here. Markus should've been infected by him a couple days ago, but he didn't. Care to explain why?" Simon asked.

A sly smile and Elijah downed the rest of his drink. "What is there to explain? You know that Markus is a prototype that I developed years ago. He's more advanced than most. Only the RK800s can match him as far as most abilities and specs go. I mean really, is it that much of a surprise to you? Your leader can convert androids just by being around them."

"Does that have anything to do with why Rett would want him?" Hank asked, eyes narrowing.

Kamski caught his glare, challenging him with his own. "I'm sure, but I wouldn't know the precise reasoning why."

Hank sighed. By this point, he was sure Kamski could kill a man and talk his way out of punishment. It made Hank wonder exactly how much they could trust him in any of this. What Hank knew for sure, however, is that Kamski knew way more than he would tell. At all times.

Ringing erupted in his pocket. Hank blinked, it taking a moment to register it was his cell phone. He dug it out, expecting to see a call from Jeffrey or the station, but the number was unknown. He stared at the number, the ring chiming again, the light of the touch screen burning his eyes.

He almost let it go to voicemail, but something within him told him to answer. He hit the button and put the phone to his ear.

"Lieutenant Hank Anderson speaking."

"Hank! I was starting to think you wouldn't answer!"

Hank jumped to his feet, the voice resonating in his chest and making his heart jump with him. "CONNOR! Is it really you?!"

"Y-Yes, it's me. Really me, not the rogue. I barely got away, but now the police are hunting me."

"Where are you?"

"West Side Industrial, near the river."

"Meet me at-" Hank bit his tongue.

Simon shook his head, eyes wide. He pointed at his temple, telling Hank that the PL600 couldn't get ahold of his partner. It would explain the strange phone number.

"Hank, please. It's really me." Connor sounded desperate. "My communications were damaged by Rett or by the rogue, I-I'm not quite sure."

Hank's heart fell to the pit of his stomach, making him sick. He didn't know what to think. It could be the rogue luring him into a trap. But what if it really was his Connor? Hank cursed inwardly. Why couldn't he tell the difference? He should be able to see it, to hear it! To know his Connor without the shadow of any doubt.

There was only one way to find out. He would have to meet him somewhere, and take caution doing it. But if it was his Connor, he couldn't risk saying the location in case his phone was tapped by the FBI searching for him.

Hank thought hard, and took a deep breath. He spoke slowly into the phone, calmly reciting words he knew his Connor heard before. "I used to come here a lot before…"

He hung up, pocketing the cell phone. He dug out his keys. Simon, North, and Josh rose to their feet while Kamski watched them curiously, fixing his hair.

"Hank, I cannot get ahold of Connor. It has to be the rogue again."

"Me neither," North said. "It could be a trap!"

"I have to make sure," Hank said, resolved. "If it's the rogue, then I will kill him."

Simon tried to appeal to Hank. "At least take one of us with you. We can tell you right away if it's Connor or not."

"No, stay here. Whatever that note says, you three have to be ready for it. Besides, I cannot put you in danger if it is that fucker with a trap ready. This is my deal. I'll either be back with the real Connor, or…"

He trailed off, grimacing. He left the villa, getting into his car and speeding out towards the Ambassador Bridge.

Riverside Park was empty, silent in the haze of shadow and starlight. The playground wasn't as inviting in the darkness, the wind causing metal hinges and chains to cry out for playmates.

Connor stared into the dark water of the river, leaning on the iron railing that lined the perimeter of the park. The wind swept through with an eerie call, churning waves and sloshing water onto the banks below.

This was where Hank wanted to meet. He came here to think on days that pulled him into the past. But Hank and Connor also came here after long days to enjoy the view and converse, on the same bench that months ago Hank sat on asked Connor what he really was. Connor recalled the gun in between his eyes, the hard stare of a broken man as he questioned a machine if he was afraid to die.

Ambassador Bridge loomed in the distance, casting a lighted path to another world across the canal.

Connor looked to the sky, the stars bright across a black, infinite canvas. He felt so small looking at them. Their beauty and endless radiance a spectrum he couldn't comprehend, but could surely admire. He could certainly see why Hank thought there was a heaven somewhere out there, and maybe, there was.

He put a hand to his chest, over the biocomponent that mimicked a heart. At least those with a soul anyway.

Connor squeezed his eyes shut, his systems overloaded with emotions. He was sure this was the worst day of his life so far. And it may never return to how it was before.

He felt so alone right now. His own co-workers hunted him down, didn't trust him. He was branded a cop killer, and his rights were muddled with the threat of the virus. His friend was captured, in danger, his other friends surely putting their lives at risk to stop this conspiracy, to save him and Markus. Connor may have escaped, but Amanda still wanted him. He would still be hunted by the RK900 and Connor 50. And his chances of escaping them were minuscule going back in to save Markus.

He needed his best friend. The man he looked up to, the one who showed him what it meant to be human, to help him understand the depth of such feelings, what it meant to be alive.

Connor knew what a family was, saw it every day. Markus had a family with Carl, Leo, North, Simon, and Josh. Hank was Connor's family. But now that he was out here, alone, exposed, he grasped it. Felt it for what it truly was. Hank was the Carl in his family, and he needed him right now.

"Hands in the air, no sudden moves."

The voice caught him off guard, having been swallowed into his inner thoughts. But he recognized it, and it dropped his stress quite a bit. His Thirium heart went up several beats, and it felt like a weight lifted from his shoulders.

He spun around, but he found Hank near his favorite bench with his weapon aimed at Connor. Connor's mouth opened, stunned, his arms slowly rising. He felt like something just ripped through his inner core.

"H-Hank, please. It's me." Connor took a step towards him.

Hank took measured steps, eyes sharp, wary. His weapon didn't falter in his hands. "I said don't move!"

No. His own family didn't trust him. The rogue destroyed everything in his life. Connor's eyes fell, the hurt in his chest congesting his functions. His hands shook, his LED going red.

[Stress level: 97%]

"It's r-really me, Hank. Please…believe me."

His whole body shook, and Connor couldn't understand what was wrong with him. His face was wet, and he looked up, thinking it was raining. There wasn't a single cloud in the night sky. He put a wobbly hand to his face and withdrew it, seeing liquid on his fingertips.

A soft moan escaped his throat, and he couldn't believe it. He was crying. For the first time in his life, he was actually crying.

Strong arms enclosed around him, pulling him in close. The hug was accompanied by a sound he cherished. Hank's heart thumped in his ear, and Connor returned the hug with a muffled cry.

"Shh, shh. I'm here, son. I'm here. Goddammit, I'm so sorry, Con. I'm sorry. I should know better! I should've known the difference! But now…now I see it. I see it, son. I won't ever doubt you again."

They stayed like that for several minutes. Connor's stress dropped significantly, and he calmed down, the tears stopping. Hank pulled back, looking him over, rubbing Connor's head.

"Are you alright?"

"No. Worst day ever."

Hank choked on a weak laugh. "Fuck yeah it is. C'mon, let's get out of here."

Connor swallowed, his LED still yellow. He walked with Hank out of the park. Hank's hand came up to pat Connor's back, his blue eyes watching him closely.

"You have to tell me what happened, b-but when you're ready, okay?"

Connor nodded.

"I sure did miss you. I thought…I thought I would never see you again."

"Me too, Hank."

As they entered the parking lot of the park, a bright light blinded them. A drone hovered overhead, an alarm blaring from its speakers. Connor froze, an arm shielding his eyes from the light. A gunshot went off, startling him. The drone dropped from the sky, crashing to the asphalt with sparks. Connor looked over, saw Hank holstering his handgun.

"Hurry!" he yelled.

They ran the rest of the way to his car. Hank turned the vehicle on and peeled out of there, heading the opposite direction of encroaching sirens.

"Hank…you'll get in trouble if they catch you helping me elude the police."

"You think I give a fuck? You're more important to me than my damn job."

Connor lowered his eyes, rubbing his hands together in his lap.

"We'll fix this, Connor. I promise."

Hank's cell phone rang. Using his elbow to drive, he fished the device out of his pocket and answered it. Connor read the signals on the phone. It was Simon. Hank put the phone on speaker and clipped it on the hands-free stand on the car's console.

"Simon, what's up?"

"Oh, Hank. You're alright. Did you find Connor? Was it really him?"

"I'm here, Simon," Connor said.

"Everything is fine. How's everything going at Kamski's?"

"Chloe finished decrypting the note. It's sorta unsettling, but…it tells of a place called Roland. That may be where Rett is hiding."

"That is correct. Roland High School. I escaped from there. Markus was with me, but I wasn't able to free him before I escaped."

They heard an "oof" from Simon, and then North's voice came through. "If that's where Markus is then we have no time to lose. Let's go. We can meet you there!"

Hank looked over at Connor. Connor shuddered at the thought of returning to the school so soon. He hadn't recovered from the trauma his day put him through. But he couldn't abandon Markus. He couldn't allow them to go in there without his help.

"We don't have to do this," Hank said softly.

Connor's fingers curled into fists on his thighs, brows furrowing. "Yeah, we do. Markus needs us. Let's do it."

"Are you sure about this?"

He thought his voice had been lost to the busy roaring of the overpass above. Hank's car was parked under the structure, and they waited in the shadows for their friends.

Connor nodded, although Hank didn't miss the unease on his partner's face. "Yes, I'm sure. I'm fine, Hank. We need to save Markus."

"I can call in the location, have the police handle it. That way no one gets hurt- or worse."

"If you can talk North and Simon out of it, sure."

Hank thinned his lips, pacing next to the car. There would be no way he could talk North and Simon into waiting. Josh was the only level-headed one. Simon was always careful, but not when it came to Markus.

"Goddammit," Hank growled, hands on his hips. "I'm not losing you again. We'll scope it out first. If we're going to be outnumbered, then I'm calling it in."

"If the rogue has his slaves with him, we will be."

Connor had explained everything to Hank while they waited for North, Simon, and Josh. He told Hank what he had learned about Rett's plans, who the fake Connor really was. It disturbed him to know that Kamski's implication on the rogue had been right on the money.

"I still don't like it that you let the RK900 go. After all he's done…you should've taken your chance and killed him."

Connor frowned, weakly shrugging. "Guess we'll find out soon whether it was a mistake or not."

Hank knew the truth. His partner didn't fear the rogue, or the RK900. He didn't fear Rett or his followers, or the androids that Connor 50 controlled. It was Amanda. He feared her gaining control over him, trapping him forever.

Hank wasn't sure how he could comfort him about it either.

"Hey, look at me," he said.

Connor's brown eyes met Hank's.

"Whatever happens…I won't let you be taken back to her. I won't let her have you. Understand?"

His partner nodded, a weak smile hinting on his lips.

When Hank had come up behind Connor at Riverside Park, he didn't know what to think. He was torn between his heart and his head. His heart told him it was his Connor, but his head told him it could be the rogue ready with a trap. He was going to ask Connor to show him the blemish on his chest to be sure, but then Connor broke down and cried. Hank knew then. Felt the realness of that sorrow. Hank was convinced now. It didn't matter how well Connor 50 pretended anymore. He would always know his Connor…the real Connor.

Three silhouettes came around the corner of a silent building. Simon, North, and Josh walked over to Hank and Connor. Hank wasn't surprised they brought guns. They each had a handgun, but North also carried a bag that Hank knew held a rifle.

Hank sighed. "Before we do this shit, here's the deal. We're gonna scope the place out first. If there are too many of them, I'm calling the police. I'm not risking any one of you. Got it?"

"But!" North snapped. Simon elbowed her hard, making her grumble something to herself.

Connor led the way to the abandoned school. It wasn't even a block away, and when they stepped foot into the schoolyard, they took to some overgrown bushes for shelter.

Hank looked around the schoolyard. It was abandoned, overrun with tall grass and upkept landscaping. There was no light on in the school, at least on this side of the building. North used her sniper rifle to look to the upper floors and to the windows further from them.

"Don't see anything on this side," North said.

Connor led them across the schoolyard to the southside, where the back of the building was. He pointed out the window he escaped from when they took cover behind a deserted sedan.

Hank spotted the faint glow of lights on the second floor, and they waited, watching for any signs of life.

"Something's wrong," Connor whispered. "My scanning shows no signs of movement within the building."

"Mine neither," Simon said.

"Screw this," North said, standing up.

"North!" Josh hissed.

"Fucking women," Hank grumbled, going after her.

Connor, Simon, and Josh caught up. The five of them entered the school through the back entrance. Hank and Connor took the lead, all of them holding their weapons to their sides. Hank had to use a flashlight to see, but the only life he saw just before hitting the second floor was a rat that scampered up the steps.

The second floor had battery LED lights lighting a path through the hallways. The school sat in silence, a cool air moving through the rooms. A groan and a crash sounded down from them, making them jump. They remained frozen on the spot, listening, waiting. Simon and Josh were antsy, eyes darting around. North held her grit as always, eyes sharp ahead.

Hank looked to Connor. His partner nodded at him, signaling it was safe. Hank motioned the others to continue. They turned down another corridor, classroom doors open on either side. Hank felt nauseous. His old, detective instincts told him something was wrong. He could tell Connor felt the same way, his pace speeding up slightly as they saw no sign of anyone.

Connor stopped not long after the next hallway they entered, his LED flashing a bright yellow within the shadows. His eyes were to the floor, and Hank saw it.

"Holy shit."

"Is that…blood?" Josh grunted.

Blood drops, large and uneven, splattered across the dirty tile. But that wasn't all of it. Shoe prints…bloody shoe prints made tracks up and down the pathway.

Connor looked ahead, moving forward with brisk steps. Hank followed after him.

"Hey," he whispered harshly. "Slow down, there might-"

"No one's here," Connor stated.

They came upon an old biology lab. This room was lit more than the hallways, the sound of a quiet running generator in the far back. When they entered the lab, the smell of blood hit Hank like bus, and he coughed.

"Oh my god!"

There had to be eight or nine people dead in this room. Rats scurried away from their presence, some covered in gore. Josh had to step out, hand going over his mouth. North was stunned, frozen in the doorway. Simon stooped down to turn one of the humans over.

"These people are from CyberLife," he said.

"It's Rett and his followers," Connor said. Hank saw him kneel down by a dead man further in the room.

"What happened to them?" Hank asked, his stomach churning.

Connor grimaced, his eyes scanning the bodies lying in the room. "The rogue did this. He killed them all."

"I thought the rogue was working with them?" Simon inquired.

"If they are dead, who's controlling the RK900 and Amanda?" Hank asked.

Connor shook his head. "I-I don't know."

North put her back to the wall, sliding down to the floor. "Markus…"

"Mom…Mom, wake up!"

Kara opened her eyes, slipping out of rest mode. She blinked, sitting up in bed as Alice drew back. Luther stirred also, his large form rising up from the sheets.

"Honey, what is it?" Kara asked.

"I-I had a bad dream," Alice mumbled.

"Bad dream?"

She nodded, holding herself. Kara grabbed her daughter and pulled her in for a hug.

"What happened?" Luther asked.

"I was trapped in this big room full of zombies. There was no way out. And you guys were taken from me! And-And there was this wolf! He was wanted to eat me. He controlled the zombies."

Kara kissed the top of Alice's head, pulling back to look at her. "Alice, what did I tell you about reading those kinds of books? You know they give you nightmares."

"B-But I, but I-"

Luther chuckled, grabbing Alice up into a big hug. "It's okay, sweetie. There're no such things as zombies or big bad wolves."

Kara smiled at the sight. Alice calmed down, hugging her father back. Luther got up, holding her and rocking her some. He put her down a few minutes later.

"Better?"

Alice slowly nodded.

"You should go back to sleep then, baby girl," Luther said.

"But…I can't sleep. Can we take a walk? Please?"

Luther looked to Kara. Kara got out of bed, pointing towards their bags of clothes on the nearby dresser.

"Alright, but just a quick one. Get dressed."

Alice grabbed some clothes and disappeared into the next room to change out of her pajamas. Kara and Luther dressed and waited for their daughter.

"She has such a wild imagination. I don't know how many times I've told her to watch what she reads and watches," Kara said. "Do you ever have nightmares, Luther?"

The large man thought it over, slowly shaking his head. "No. I dream a lot. But I don't remember ever having a bad one."

Kara thought back, cycling through her memories for any dreams or nightmares she may have had. She dreamt once in a while, mostly of her, Luther, and Alice. She recalled some unpleasant dreams, some that took her back to escaping Todd and being on the run. But there was one other dream, locked in the dark corners of her mind. She didn't like to open it. It made no sense to her, but it did upset her like a bad dream.

It had been a long time since she accessed the dream memory. She recalled stark white walls, high tech machines, lab coats. There were numbers on the floor and on the walls, perhaps depicting directions. One number stood out to her, but as she tried to evoke it, the memory glitched.

"Hello, Kara. How are you this morning?" The voice was so familiar, yet so undeniably strange to her.

She tried to recall the face, unaware the memory raised her stress level. But when she forced the man to appear, the memory fizzled her sight, errors running across her optical matrix.

[Memory corrupted/Cannot access/Recovery needed]

"Kara?"

She jumped, Luther's hand waving in her face. "Y-Yes?"

"You ready to go?"

Alice waited by the door, dressed. Kara nodded, burying the unknown memory and the unpleasant feelings it brought with it. With a smile, she rose from the bed and they left their room to walk around the Jericho Center.

Alice kept to the front of them, looking around as they took rooms and hallways. Many androids were up, visiting, watching television or playing games. Some stood near walls in rest mode.

"Do you think Ralph is around?" Alice asked.

"I'm not sure. Maybe."

Kara wondered if Simon, North, or Josh were back yet. Last she heard, Markus had been taken by the RK900. She was only privy to that knowledge because Simon messaged her to stay put at the center, that the danger was far from over.

She knew Connor was still missing too, and that another RK800 had tricked Hank Anderson, somehow involved in this conspiracy. Kara had relayed all she had known to Luther, but they agreed to not say anything to Alice, knowing their daughter would only become more anxious in their situation.

They went to the main hall of Jericho Center. Alice wanted to see the large fountain in the back. Numerous androids were up here as well, quiet chatter filling the hall.

Kara wondered how many androids had been cured already, knowing that Simon and Josh worked on it most of the day before she came to them with Ralph. The antivirus was available here and at other android repair centers within the city. She definitely didn't see near as many that were sick, or showing the symptoms of being infected.

"Ralph!" Alice exclaimed.

The android child ran up to the WR600 as he stood near a wall. He looked around with quick, jumpy looks, fidgety as usual. Although, Kara did sense a lot more stress from him than normal.

"Oh…hi Alice. How are you?"

"I'm okay. I had a bad dream."

"Ralph hates bad dreams."

"Me too!"

Ralph continued to shift his gaze around the crowds of androids within the main hall, as if every single one of them had a bad agenda.

"Ralph, is everything alright?" Kara asked. She was sure it was his usual reservations, his usual anxiety of the strangers around him, but asked anyway.

"Something is wrong…very wrong."

Kara exchanged glances with Luther. "What do you mean?"

"You see them, don't you? The ones with LEDs? They turn white a lot. They are unaware. They feel fine, but they are not fine. It's happening more and more. Was just a flicker or two once in a while, but now some of them are staying white for minutes…even hours."

Kara sighed. "Ralph, it's just a bug from the anti-virus destroying the virus. They said it's normal, and that the white phase only lasts a minute."

"But look!"

Kara looked around. Several androids did have flickering white LEDs. They visited or walked around as if nothing was wrong. There were many androids without LEDs, but most of the ones who did have one, they glowed white, blinking softly. A few were blue, but they didn't seem to worry about the strange color on the temples of their friends.

"R-Ralph thinks we should leave."

Kara shook her head, noticing Alice hiding behind Ralph as she looked around the main hall. "We can't leave…the RK900 is out there. I'm still being hunted. Markus said this was the safest place for us."

"And look what happened to him," Ralph said.

"Maybe we should return to our room," Luther suggested.

Kara agreed, grabbing Alice's hand. They started to leave the main hall, Ralph following close behind. The sliding front doors opened, and several androids entered the building, all with glowing white LEDs.

In that instant, the main hall fell silent. Kara felt her circuits buzz under her skin. Each blinking white LED in the main hall cycled once with a faint chime and then remained white. Only the few with no LEDs or blue LEDs made a sound.

An RK800 entered the center, dressed in dark clothes. Kara knew right away it wasn't their friend Connor. His LED was a steady blue, and Kara saw his dark eyes scan the hall, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Alice gasped, her little form bumping into Kara as she desperately tried to hide.

"No!" she squeaked.

"Alice?! What is it?"

"It's him!"

"Who?" Kara was wide-eyed. She looked back at the RK800 as he leisurely strolled through the main hall with a smirk, knowing he had to be the source of Alice's fear.

"Honey, that isn't the Connor that chased us across the highway."

"N-No! You don't remember him?!" Alice took a deep breath. "Oh, no. You were reset after that…"

Luther put his large form in the path of the RK800. Then it clicked. That must've been the rogue that set Markus up and tricked Hank.

Kara looked at the androids around them, the ones with glowing white LEDs just standing there, reminiscent of machines. There were many without LEDs doing the same thing. The other androids shook their friends, trying to wake them up.

Kara covered her mouth, stifling a cry. The RK900 entered the main hall behind the rogue, his grey eyes sharp as he looked about, fists clenched at his sides.

"We n-need to go," Ralph whispered, shaking.

Kara grabbed up Alice and they slipped around the corner to leave the main hall. They stopped short. Their path was blocked by several androids, most with glowing white LEDs. Their expressions were blank, soulless, as they moved…As though invisible strings were connected to their limbs, controlled by a puppet master.

"Some things never change."

The familiar voice hit her back, but it wasn't near as cordial as the last Connor she spoke to. She spun around, pushing Alice behind her. The rogue was there, looking her over, the RK900 just behind him. He stopped just in front of her with a devious smile, locking his eyes with hers. Kara froze. She had no idea who he was, but apparently, she was supposed to.

The scenario was familiar, and Kara instantly remembered Alice's bad dream. The zombies surrounded them at this very moment. Her biocomponent heart dropped, dread seizing everything electrical under her skin. She was staring at the wolf…

"You look different," he said, looking over her hair and appearance. "But you're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

[officialcatheridge]

Races of Catheridge: The Kanin

Here’s the first public draft of the Kanin, the iconic race of Catheridge! Check it out below the break! Note that their racial traits are geared for Pathfinder, and not D&D 5E.

Art is, of course, by @slightlysimian.

Kanin

“Pity? When wos it my concern when the fair people of Ironfar failed to protect their own borders? They got cursed; let ‘em wallow in it. Maybe next time they won’t keep all the money to ‘emselves!” ~Keaton Ericson, Novice Adventurer

The Kingdom of Ironfar was the center of human power in the otherwise wild and untamed land of Eurreach. A noble and just king once ruled it, though he was also overzealous and greedy, and made many enemies. The kingdom lived in prosperity and wealth for a great many years, and brought peace to the land, until a mysterious figure, known only as the Shadow Witch, appeared, and in a single coup, overran the city with an army of dark, shadowy creatures and killed the king.  She attempted to curse the people of the city into creatures of the woodland via a massive and powerful transmutation spell, but was forced to botch the ritual thanks to the young prince of the kingdom, who slammed into the Witch before she could finish the spell and barely fled the city with his sister and his life afterward.

And thus the kanin were made, the cursed people of Ironfar. The kanin still, to this day, seek to find a way to undo the curse upon them and their nation, and many travel the world, searching far and wide for a cure. While they are still humans at heart, their bodies are small and beast-like, and they search for a way to return themselves and their kingdom to its former glory, sometimes through any means necessary. At large, it is believed that a cure lies in the aurgems of Xer. Priceless coins minted during the ancient god-king’s rule and believed to be gifted with the power to grant any wish, regardless of the will of the gods or the mysterious laws of magic governing such power. As such, Ironfar seeks to gather every coin together to undo the curse upon them, for it seems to be their only hope of removing it.

Physical Description: Kanin resemble humanoid, walking, talking, woodland critters. They have small, furry bodies with large, round eyes, and simulate several small animals. By and large, most kanin look like hares or rabbits, with large, open ears, but ones that resemble squirrels, foxes, cats, and dogs, or any mix of all of the above (thanks to breeding) are not unheard of. They’re small in stature, hovering around three to three and a half feet in general. They have small, thin arms, but strong digitigrade legs, capable of propelling them great distances for creatures of their size. Their fur color ranges from whites, grays, browns, and blacks, with the occasional blonde or auburn among them. Their eyes speak of their human nature, bearing the same breadth of colors and shapes regular human might possess.

Kanin wear clothes that resemble regular human clothing, sized and shaped for their bodies. They favor breeches or shorts with tunics and vests made from simple cloth or leather. Most forgo shoes, due to the difficulty of crafting them for their altered legs and the padding on their feet being sufficient enough. Kanin armor is typically just metal plates and pieces strapped directly on their bodies, since their fur is sufficient enough insulation and prevents chafing. This allows the kanin to remain flexible even in armor.

Society: Kanin wander the entirety of Catheridge in search of the Xerian Aurgems, and as such tend to be traders, travelers, and adventurers. Some have pledged themselves as servants to wealthy nobles with the promise of receiving a single Aurgem for nearly a lifetime of servitude. That aside, most Kanin still reside in their homeland of Eurreach, in the city of Ironfar, working to maintain the peace and order the land, just as it was before their curse. Kanin have a chivalrous, friendly society, always eager to make friends instead of enemies, and gathering wealth for the betterment of their people instead of greed and excess. They recognize the king or queen of Ironfar as their sovereign lord, and each one since the creation of the race has always encouraged their people to find the Aurgems and bring happiness to those around them.

Kanin tend to either travel alone or in groups, hoping to trade goods and services in exchange for Aurgems, while others delve lost tombs and ruins, hoping to find caches and chests of Xer’s lost treasures. They always maintain a hopeful, bright, and endearing attitude. This combined with the general charming appearance of their bodies makes them a remarkably hard race to hate or turn down.

Relations: Kanin try not to make enemies, and try and keep trade open and honorable between all the races of the land. Fauns and High Fey tend to find them adorable. Garoh find sympathy in their plight, but can do little to help them. Centaurs remember that they are still humans on the inside, and remain indifferent to them. Minotaurs view them as barely more than snacks. Nagakin have an interesting relationship with them, to say the least, considering that their kingdoms and empires contain a fair amount of Aurgems hidden away in their coffers. Paeraens sympathize with the kanin, and generally try and help them whenever they can.

Alignment & Religion: Many kanin are friendly, determined, and chivalrous, hell-bent on removing the curse on them and regaining their humanity. As a result, most Kanin are good in alignment, but do swing between lawful and chaotic. Some kanin have no interest in removing their curse and do attempt to just live out their lives in neutrality.

Adventurers: Many kanin take up dangerous jobs, scouring the far reaches for a dead currency that used to be traded across the world, while others pursue knighthood and attempt to bring unity to the scattered races and countries of Catheridge, and take up heavy arms and armor, despite their small, weak bodies. Kanin are well suited to being bards or rogues, but many also do become fighters, paladins, and clerics.

Playing a Kanin: In broad strokes, kanin on the whole tend to be brave, hopeful, and even heroic. As a kanin, you have a small body, but a big heart. You know at your core that you’re human, though you look nothing like one. Despite the fact that there isn’t a living kanin today who was human before the Shadow Witch, when you look at a human you feel a sense of kinship and familiarity, perhaps even longing. You should be able to easily share a drink and hold a conversation with a human from your city, town or even country. You instinctively know that you should be human, but something is wrong. You feel the magic tainting your veins and you know it’s not natural. It’s not an uncomfortable feeling, physically, but the reminders are there and they are constant. Use this facet as fuel for your character. How do you feel about the curse and what do you want to do to resolve it, if anything? Have you brushed up on your history and do you feel Ironfar got what it deserved? Do you wish to make things right, or do you just want to live out your life as best you can, being as ambitious as any other human?

Male Names: Barrus, Ector, Lance, Hayes, Oswald, Ransford, Shaw, Vaynard,

Female Names: Ariana, Cai, Elaine, Fiona, Gwen, Kyla, Leigh, Tavia,

Racial Traits

Ability Score Racial Traits: +4 Dexterity, +2 Charisma, -2 Strength, -2 Constitution. Kanin are remarkably swift and endearingly hopeful, but frail and weak due to their small bodies.

Type: Kanin are Humanoids with the Human and Shapechanger subtype.

Size: Kanin are Small creatures and gain a +1 size bonus to their AC, a +1 size bonus on attack rolls, a –1 penalty to their CMB and CMD, and a +4 size bonus on Stealth checks.

Base Speed: Kanin are fast for their size and have a base speed of 30 feet.

Low-Light Vision: Kanin can see twice as far as humans in conditions of dim lighting.

Shred of Humanity: Kanin hold fast to their humanity, despite their bodies and the often-encroaching animalistic instincts granted to them by their curse. On character creation, choose either to receive a bonus feat at first level, or an extra skill rank each level. Once made, this choice cannot be changed.

Body of Prey: Kanin receive a +2 Racial Bonus to Acrobatics and Perception skill checks and treat both skills as class skills.

Cursed Body: The kanin race are the result of a dark witch’s (botched) curse, and as such their bodies bear this curse from generation to generation. Transmutation spells with the polymorph subschool, such as alter self, polymorph, beast form, etc., as well as spells that would undo or dispel such magic (though only in regards to returning them to a human form), automatically fail to function on a Kanin.

Languages: Kanin begin play knowing Common. Kanin with high Intelligence scores can learn any language they please.

What Your Traits Mean for You

Ability Scores: The curse on your body was long ago meant to transform you and the rest of the citizenry of Ironfar into small woodland creatures of prey; rabbits, squirrels, mice, weasels, raccoons, and the like, with the occasional fox, cat, and dog in the mix. Among the most common traits of all these creatures is their remarkable dexterity. All kanin are just naturally agile, and are born and raised learning how to use their bodies. Of course, another thing these animals have in common is their general frailty and lack of raw power. A human will have little to no issue punting a kanin across a small room, and that kanin is going need some time to recover from the resultant injuries. Your body will break much more easily than others, and your small frame simply cannot hold in much musculature. A kanin’s bonus to charisma stems more from a cultural change if anything. Sure, you look cute. A small, walking bunny rabbit in little clothes with bright eyes has undeniable appeal for most people, but looks alone only contribute little to charisma and confidence. Before the turning of the age, Ironfar and the newly formed kanin were at the center-stage as the world turned and changed around them. It was Ironfar and the kanin who united all of Eurreach and Catheridge together to combat a common enemy and survive the apocalypse. It was the kanin of Ironfar that kept the peace and helped the world settle down after the changes. As a result, the kanin naturally became better ambassadors and newborns grow up learning how to deal with and talk to strangers, and put on a good impression. Not all kanin embrace this approach, of course, but their culture ensures that very few kanin are shy or bad with words.

Type: Kanin have the shapechanger subtype as a result of their curse. The Shadow Witch was nothing if not exacting in that this was how she wanted the people of Ironfar to live out the rest of their lives. It is very hard for kanin to become a not-kanin and stay that way. The Shapechanger subtype simply enforces this rule.

Base Speed: Most small playable races have a base speed of 20 for their size, but a kanin’s bestial leg structure ensures that they move just a swiftly as any other human. Kanin typically move in bounding, hopping or skipping strides, easily covering the height of their body in a single step. Always remember that you’re small and fast, as its one of the few mercies you’re afforded with your body.

Shred of Humanity: The Shadow Witch’s curse has left you and your people less than human. And the part of humanity left in you is something you cling onto jealously. It should be something that drives you forward, reminds you of what you are. Remember you are human. The Witch’s spell has left you plagued with the occasional instinctual thought, the urge to flee from danger, every kanin deals with these instincts, and it’s your shred of humanity that keeps you cognizant. It is your shred of humanity that sets you apart from being a simple “beast race.” You still have the potential to be skilled and talented, but your body and instincts hold you back from being as flexible and skilled as a regular human.

Body of Prey: While you indeed stand upright, have the capacity to use tools, and are quite intelligent, there is no denying that you are small, you are weak, and you would make a very tasty meal for a pack of wolves. The animal part of your curse has instilled in you the instincts of a creature of prey, when answering the flight or fight response, your instincts usually tell you to take flight. Whether or not you do is entirely up to you, but most kanin are subconsciously on the lookout for danger, and are physically ready and able to run, scamper, jump, and climb to safety, regardless of their chosen profession.

Cursed Body: The Kanin curse is just that, a curse, and while mechanically it does give quite a few “benefits,” there are drawbacks to it as well. The curse emotionally and psychologically devastated the people of Ironfar at its conception. Not only did they lose their city and the bulk of their army to the Shadow Witch’s invasion, but they were then turned into small, weak, bestial creatures, who now have to look up to any other creature they meet. Kanin have to worry about being overlooked, tripped on, hunted by animals, and treated as lower class citizens or not worthy of attention among other societies. On top of this, the curse has “firewalls” in place that prevent it from being easily dispelled or changed. In addition to being unable to benefit from any polymorphing spell, spells that also remove or cure spell effects fail to restore a kanin to human as well. Indeed, not even Wish or Miracle can or has cured the Kanin Curse. Ironically, the curse has made kanin immune to the very spell that was used against them, Baleful Polymorph. Let it never be said there isn’t a silver lining. As a side note, the curse only directly affects spells and spell-like abilities. Extraordinary and Supernatural Abilities, such as a druid’s Wild Shape, still work as intended.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Angel (V)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jackson

Rating: PG-13 (angst, depictions of chemotherapy / surgery)

Word Count: 4,479

Summary:  You’re a medical intern, always a perfectionist and used to being the best at everything you do. Jackson Wang is the male nurse beloved by everyone and constantly on your nerves. When you two are brought together, it could be the best or the worst thing that’s ever happened. (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @baebae-goodnight !) 

“Jackson,” you demand, waiting for him to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

Jackson looks your way. His eyes find yours, for only a second. “My dad just called,” he manages.

“Oh?” Unsure why, your heart starts to pound. “What about?”

“My mom.” Jackson can barely get out the words. His mouth tightens around them, and he swallows. “They found a lump in her breast. They’re doing a biopsy but Y/N,” he half-breaks, needing to look away. “They think she’s re-lapsed.”

You don’t know what to do.

The wind pulls at your hair, blowing it in different directions as you stare, struggling to come up with words. In medical school there are several classes you take, all designed to enhance empathy. Designed to teach bedside manner, the importance of communicating with your patient. It’s something you’ve been taught over and over, and you don’t know why it’s difficult now.

The idea, itself is odd. Logically, a patient should want a doctor who knows what they’re doing. The patient should want a doctor with the right statistics, the right answers, right schooling and right credentials. They should want the one who, ultimately, can cure them. In reality, patients want a doctor who makes them feel better.

To feel better doesn’t necessarily mean ‘to not be ill.’ Oftentimes it’s emotional, a quintessential calmness that comes from a person’s words or gestures. It comes from the idea that they care, because people who care try harder. All this, is a roundabout way of saying there are many phrases you use, to comfort patients.

You can tell them they’re strong. Tell them you’re here, that you’re sincere in your efforts. You can tell them their options, explain what they can do and what to expect. None of these seem relevant now, looking at Jackson. Jackson’s expression is crumpled, a man at a loss, and you know there are no words you can say to fill this void.

When he looks your way, he’s silent. Silent, but then he reaches out a hand. You accept it quietly, letting yourself be pulled into him. You’re exhausted. Tired from your shift and the events of the night but you find yourself feeling strong, in his arms. Not by choice, but because you must. You know what will happen now, what Jackson will go through – and in the coming months, he’ll need you to be the strong one.

Jackson doesn’t cry, though his body relaxes into yours. He softens, as though he’s letting go. It’s all too often, that he’s the solid one. All too often he’s the happy one, the bright one, the smiling and laughing nurse who makes others feel better. That’s the kind of person he’ll need to continue to be, for his mom, but with you – your arms tighten.

“I just,” Jackson inhales, breaking off, “didn’t expect him to say that, when I answered. I talked to her last night and she seemed fine. Maybe a little tired,” Jackson buries his face deeper, “a little off. She lost weight, was kind of nauseous – ah,” his arms tighten. “I should have known, I should have seen it.”

“No,” you exhale, shaking your head before pulling away. Jackson’s eyes are rimmed with red. “You’re her son, not her doctor.”

Jackson doesn’t respond at first. “I know.”

“When… will you know?” you ask, and he shakes his head – he’s not sure, when the biopsy results will come back.

“Probably sometime today,” he mumbles, pushing a hand through his hair. “It depends on what tests they run.”

You nod, because you understand. Looking at him, you stifle your yawn – you don’t mean to, truly you don’t. It’s just that today has been so long, you’re so tired. Jackson notices this, catching your hands with his own.

“Hey,” he bends. “Go home. Get sleep. I need to get to my shift, we can talk tonight – okay? When do you come in next?”

“Not until tomorrow morning,” you say, yawning again. “Go, go – we can talk tonight.”

“Okay,” Jackson straightens, glancing over your shoulder. “I’ll get through today, and then I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Okay,” you agree, lifting on tip-toes to kiss his cheek. “If you need anything, tell me and I’ll come.”

“Anything?” Jackson manages to smile. “Anything?”

“Barring certain violent crimes, yes.” When he groans at this, you poke his arm. “You want a slushie? Done. You need your laundry separated? I’m your girl. You need a recipe, some surgical technique researched, someone to drive your grandma to the airport? Hello, I’m here.”

Jackson laughs, though it disappears faster than it normally does. “I appreciate that,” he says, squeezing your hand. Then he turns around, hiking his messenger bag higher. “I’ll see you tonight.”

You watch him walk away. Jackson disappears through the doors to the hospital and you can’t help but shiver at the sight. It’s an odd part of being a doctor, the normalization of the place. For most of the world, a hospital is somewhere you visit and might not leave. It’s a place to be healed, but also one to die – and for some reason, this fact seems glaringly obvious right now.

Turning away, you walk across the parking lot. Shoving both hands in your pockets while crossing to your car, tugging on the handle until it opens. On the inside, you sit for a long moment. Hands gripped around the steering wheel before tossing your bag into the passenger seat. You lower your head to the leather wheel, taking a few deep breaths in and out.

It’s a lot – first Mr. Ronstein, now Jackson’s mother. Anger pushes at you from inside out, twisting your skin and bones with the pain. It’s not fair – it’s not fair that Mr. Ronstein is gone, that Jackson’s mother will have to go through this all over again. It’s not fair that Jackson is overworked, that he’s over-tired and still must deal with this. Then there’s you – it’s hard not to think about yourself, in all of this.

Perhaps that’s selfish but then, humans are selfish creatures. You only understand the world as it relates to you, through your own eyes and right now, you’re barely hanging on. You can barely deal with your own perfectionism and neuroticism – and to have to support another person on top of that? It’s a lot.

Just thinking this, makes you want to cry. You squeeze your eyes shut, convincing yourself not to. Whatever you do, crying won’t help. Taking another breath, you slowly lift your head. Monitoring your breathing, you wait until your vision clears, and then place your car in reverse. The drive home is long, silent since you forgot to turn on the radio. It’s only ten minutes to your apartment, but it may as well be ten hours.

When you pull into the parking space, you almost don’t recognize it. Staring dazedly at the curb before shaking your head and opening the door.

Your bed welcomes you, face-first. You barely make it there in time, tossing your keys on the counter and kicking your shoes in your closet. Half-stripping your body to fall, mostly clothed into bed. You sleep instantly, barely remembering your head hitting the pillow – it’s only your cell phone which wakes you, insistent and shrill.

Hand fumbling, you grasp for the device – lifting it to answer, “Hello?”

“It’s cancer,” Jackson breaks, barely able to speak. “It’s – she’s.”

You sit up. “I’m on my way.”

The new few weeks pass in a blur.

Jackson’s mom is put into chemotherapy. Normally for a re-lapse, the approach would immediately be a mastectomy. Jackson and his father are both insistent though – the less invasive, the better. Which means chemo first, hoping to shrink it enough to perform a lumpectomy. The doctor still prefers the latter – quietly, you agree – but Jackson is livid at the thought.

“Is he crazy,” he hisses, while you push him hastily out of the room. His mom and dad are still talking with the doctor – reviewing the side effects, talking about potential outcomes. They don’t need Jackson going off the wall, making this harder. “Really,” Jackson turns, halting when he sees how close to the wall he is. He exhales, slowly extending his fingertips, “is he actually crazy.”

You say nothing, as you wait for him to explain. Sometimes, it’s better to let someone talk themselves out of the pain.

“She’ll go through so much with a mastectomy,” Jackson groans, meeting your gaze. “She’ll lose a part of herself. It’s invasive, it’s a long recovery – my mom likes to do things. She likes hanging out with her friends, likes going on random road trips. She likes singing along to the radio, she…” he breaks off, shaking his head.

You reach out for him, taking his hand as Jackson stops talking. “I know,” you nod, searching his face, “she has options, though. Chemo is just as invasive, some say more so than the surgery.”

Jackson groans, before burying his face in his hands. “If they shrink the tumor though, it will be a less complicated surgery.” He quiets, then lowers his hands to look at you. “I know what the right answer is. I know what she should do – so why is it so hard, when it’s my mom?”

There’s no answer, besides the obvious. “Because you love her,” you say simply. “It’s pain she’ll feel, pain you’ll feel as well. It’s hard to make the right decision, when you’re hurting yourself.”

Jackson nods, then looks out the window. “I’ll step back.  Whatever she decides,” he says hollowly. His eyelids flutter. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you ask.

“For making me say this out here,” Jackson takes a step, wrapping his arms around you. His head finds the top of your head, “instead of in that room.”

“You’re welcome,” you mumble against his sweater – fingers connecting behind his back.

Jackson holds you that way, gathering strength before he’s ready to go in.

The second week of his mom’s chemo, it’s a difficult week at work. You mix up some paperwork, nearly miss the distribution of a patient’s pills and things only go down from there. You’re beaten, bruised and thoroughly convinced you can’t do this anymore. The only thing getting you through it all – the knowledge of why you’re doing this – becomes suddenly unclear.

You want to help. Want to be of use, but how can you, if you’re crap? If you’re not good enough to save people, if you mess up more than you succeed – how is that helping anyone? It seems unfair, to lay any of this on Jackson – so you don’t.

Instead you keep silent, pushing your worries deep inside yourself. Normally, you think Jackson would notice. Normally, he’d sense the distance and try to draw you out. This time though, he can’t. Right now his attention, his entire being is devoted to his mom.

You can’t begrudge him that – it’s who Jackson is. He gives his whole self, every bit of him – it’s what you love about him. Because through all this, that’s one thing you’ve realized. You love Jackson, you’ve fallen love though you haven’t told him. That’s a lot to reciprocate, and you don’t want to be a burden.

It’s during her final week of chemo, that Jackson rushes into the break room. He appears frazzled, hair askew and scrubs half-on. You see him enter and rise, hastily crossing the room. “Jackson,” you breath, scanning his face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He nods, grabbing your arm. “It’s my mom.”

Dread pools in your stomach. Those words are never followed by anything good – and Jackson takes a step closer, pushing you backwards into the on-call room. He shuts the door and you turn to face him, worried. “Yes?”

“One of the nurses is sick,” Jackson grimaces. “The flu, I think. I need to cover their shift, but my mom is about to go into chemo.” He pauses, shudders. “I don’t want her to be alone. I was wondering if maybe – if possibly –”

“Jackson,” you touch his arm. “Of course I’ll sit with your mom. I’m in between shifts, its fine.”

Jackson’s face drops in relief. “Oh, thank you,” he exhales, grabbing your face for a kiss. “Thank you, thank you, thank you – I owe you,’ he declares, throwing open the door – wagging a finger in your direction. “Sexual or not, I owe you big.”

You laugh, crossing your arms as the door falls shut behind him. Once you’re alone, you take a deep breath. You can do this – you can go to his mom’s chemotherapy, you can sit beside her. It’s not that you’re scared, exactly – you’ve met Jackson’s mom many times before. You’ve been in the same room, sat in on other treatments – but never like this. Never alone, never without Jackson. You’re always the one supporting Jackson, who in turn supports his mom.

To get ride of that barrier is intimidating. As you change out of your scrubs to pull on street clothes, you wonder what you should say. Wonder if you should think up talking points – then look in the mirror, smoothing your sweater lower. It would be weird, if you wore scrubs. Dressing like that enforces distance, makes it clear that you’re the doctor and they’re the patient. That’s not what today is about. Today is about friendship, not professionalism.

The oncology wing is all the way on the other side of the hospital, which means you’re almost late traveling to Jackson’s mom’s appointment. You arrive just as Mrs. Wang is being walked in, the on-call nurse checking her name, medicine and dosage before she settles in. This is one of the last appointments, before a decision on surgery is reached. Everything has gone remarkably well – Mrs. Wang’s tumor has shrunk, it’s in a more manageable location and overall, things are looking good.

When Mrs. Wang looks up and sees you, she smiles. “Y/N,” she sighs, lowering herself onto the bed. Bed is a loose term, it’s really more of a recliner. “Thank you for coming, but you needn’t stay.” She half-laughs at this. “Jackson worries too much – I’ll be fine, alone.”

Before now, you were frozen. Before now, you were unsure what to do with your words or speech or hands. Now you move, walking to the side of her bed and pulling out a chair. “ I know,” you declare, sitting. “I want to be here.”

She raises an eyebrow, but nods. “I see.”

The moment is interrupted by the nurse, returning to start the infusion. She begins the drip of medicine into Sophia’s IV before leaving, checking her vitals and exiting the room. Today the place is fairly quiet, just one or two people throughout – neither of them with visitors. You nod when the nurse leaves, already monitoring Mrs. Wang yourself. You check that everything looks textbook; that she’s safe, healthy.

“I have doctors, dear,” Mrs. Wang interrupts, though she smiles. “You don’t have to do that. Between you and Jackson,” she laughs – then winces, “I don’t know when I can ever have normal conversation.”

You offer a hesitant smile. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Wang,” you confess, shaking your head. “When I don’t know what to do with myself, sometimes I fall into the pattern that I know.”

“Don’t we all,” she murmurs, closing her eyes. “And please, call me Sophia.”

“Really?” you sound dubious. “That seems awfully informal.”

Sophia laughs. “You’re dating my son,” she counters. “It doesn’t get much more informal than that.”

Smiling to yourself, you fold your hands in your lap. “True.”

Opening one eyes, Sophia looks at you. “He cares deeply for you.”

“I,” you exhale, organizing your thoughts. “I care deeply for him, as well.”

She smiles. “You’ve been good to him. You are good for him, I don’t know if you know that.”

It’s hard, to control your blush. “Jackson is a wonderful person,” you respond, shaking your head. “I’m sure that, in no small part, is due to you.”

Sophia laughs, a happy sound. “Yes, he is – Jackson is sensitive, though. Most don’t think so, since he’s so bright and cheerful – but Jackson feels the world, deeply. He likes to be liked, likes to be seen – you seem to temper that, somehow.”

“Oh,” you frown. “I don’t like to think I’ve changed him.”

“Sometimes change is good. I don’t think he’s changed in a bad way,” she confesses. “Jackson just doesn’t try so hard, around you. He seems more like himself, more confident – though people always are, when they’re loved. You do love him,” she asks, curious, “don’t you? I’m not sure you’ve said it to each other yet, but from the way that you look at him…” she trails off.

Your cheeks must be tomato-red. “I – I do,” you confess, though when Sophia starts to smile, you hasten, “I haven’t told him. Haven’t wanted to well, put that on him.” Saying this out loud, you wince. It sounds so lame, so inadequate.

Sophia doesn’t seem offended, just thoughtful. “You think your love would be a burden?”

When she says it like this – so simply – it’s hard to think of an answer. You stare, for a moment. “I suppose,” you manage, “when you put it that way.”

Adjusting herself on the bed, Sophia smiles, “Life is short, Y/N. You don’t always get a second chance, so take the first one.”

She’s right. She is, and for a brief second you say nothing back. For a moment you’re silent, considering the reasons. The reasons why you continually block yourself from happiness, why you think it’s only appropriate to feel one emotion at a time. Even in tragedy, there can be light. That’s the beautiful part of humanity, it’s your favorite part of working in a hospital. It’s because of things like this, like Mr. Ronstein – so brave, when faced with fear. Because of small miracles, like that one car accident. The one where, against all odds, everyone pulled through. It’s because of the brightness – light, where there should only be dark.

Your love for Jackson is along those same lines. Just because he’s in pain, just because he’s busy doesn’t mean there isn’t room for you. It doesn’t mean you can’t be loved, in return. Looking back up at Sophia, you exhale. “You’re right,” you admit, ducking your head. “Thank you.”

It surprises you, when Sophia reaches for your hand. Her grip is strong, smile bright – much like her son. “Of course,” she nods, before closing her eyes.

The steady beep of the machine goes on.

It’s weeks later, her surgery is determined to be a mastectomy. Despite the chemo, despite how her tumor has shrunk – Sophia’s doctor still recommends the entire breast be removed. You know clinically speaking, this is the right call to make. It’s what was suggested, right from the start, especially given that this is a re-lapse.

Sophia agrees with the doctor, much to your surprise. You wonder if, she did the chemo more for her family than for her – if she knew they wanted the less invasive procedure, and humored him. It’s not what you would have done but then, not everyone is you. A mastectomy will give Sophia the greatest chance of survival, the greatest chance of defeating the disease – though it’s more painful, both emotionally and physically.

Sophia declares she wants it, though – and Jackson and her husband fall in line. Jackson was angry at first; though he softens, once he realizes it’s what she truly wants. He and his dad still fret, though. They insist on being there all throughout pre-op, assuring Sophia that they’ll be there as soon as she wakes up.

You’re there as well, mostly for Jackson – but also for Sophia, whom you’ve grown close to, as of late. Standing in the room with them, Jackson’s hand continually seeks yours. His arm half-slides around you, touching for reassurance, for the comfort you offer freely.

You still haven’t said, ‘I love you,’ but honestly, there just hasn’t been time. You’ve both been busy, working alternating shifts of night and day. Even when you’re not at the hospital, one of you is asleep or with Sophia. Any other free time is spent collapsed in front of a TV. It’s not the bad kind of silence, far from it – it’s just that life is hard, and you’re utterly exhausted.

The two of you talk, in the presence of Sophia. You talk a lot – sometimes too loud, sometimes over-bright, so when you return home, it’s nice to be quiet. Nice, to gather strength from the silence and presence of another. Jackson doesn’t say much to you, but you know when he’s worried. Know when he’s stressed, like he is now, with the weight of this surgery hanging over him. You don’t want to add to these worries, despite your talk with Sophia.

The surgery day dawns, bright and sunny – something which seems like it should be a good omen. It seems like it should, which is why you can’t shake the feeling that something will go wrong. Maybe it’s just pessimism, but pessimism on the whole is hard to shake. This surgery has a high success rate, Sophia is in otherwise good health – there’s no reason for anything to go wrong. Still, you think of Mr. Ronstein – think of all those one in one hundred cases that go wrong.

A mastectomy is typically around 2-3 hours long. Sophia’s should be of similar length, and when she’s wheeled out of pre-pp, the three of you go to wait in the lobby. The couches are hard, uncomfortable surfaces made for hard, uncomfortable decision and you settle onto one hesitantly. Today is a day both you and Jackson took off work. You made sure this happened, switched with three different people to ensure you have the entire day. Jackson needs you.

He lies with his head in your lap, saying nothing while you push fingertips through his hair. His gaze is tense, eyes fixed on the door before you. His father tries to read, but the pages shake in his hands. He says this helps, though, having something to do with his mind.

Two hours pass, then three. Jackson grows anxious, staring at the clock between glancing at the doors – you fight the urge to tell him a watching pot never boils. He knows this, so do you – but it does nothing to alleviate the worry.

“Why hasn’t she come out yet,” Jackson exhales, sitting up. He looks around, searching – then stands, rising stiffly from the couch.

“Jackson,” you sigh – before standing as well. It is odd, for things to take this long. You don’t want to admit it – you imagine, Jackson also does not – but it’s rare, for good news to follow a wait of this length.

Jackson reaches the receptionist first. He tries to smile, placing both palms flat upon the counter. “Hi,” he looks down at the woman. “I’m Jackson Wang; my mother, Sophia Wan, is a patient of –”

“Dr. Zimmerman,” the woman nods, glancing up. “I know. How can I help?”

“Well,” Jackson starts – then turns, as a pink-scrubbed nurse pushes open the doors to the lobby.

She looks tired, dark circles beneath her eyes while searching the room. When she sees Jackson, she exhales – walking briskly in your direction, still saying nothing. You recognize her, though you can’t recall her name. Sarah, maybe – the two of you have rarely had reason to interact, in the time that you’ve been here.

She comes to a stop, several feet away. “Hi,” she says, glancing around. “I’m Sandra. Jackson Wang, right? I need to speak with your father, as well.”

Jackson’s father joins and you blink, not having seen him move. Based on her words, it seems Sandra doesn’t know Jackson personally, just of him. Her gaze is tight, though sympathetic upon Jackson’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Mr. Wang’s hand finds Jackson’s. “What seems to be the matter?”

“The surgery is taking longer than expected,” Sandra confirms. “Sophia reacted poorly to the anesthesia, they had to try several different things to get it under control.”

“I,” Jackson inhales, eyes wide. “What do you mean, she reacted poorly? Is she okay? Is she having trouble breathing – did the surgery continue?”

“Jackson,” his father warns, nodding at Sandra to continue. “Go on.”

“The surgery is ongoing,” Sandra informs. “It will likely be another hour – the surgeon just wanted me to tell you why. I’m sorry,” she adds. “I wish I could be of more help, but that’s all they told me. I really have to go now,” she winces, looking at the clock. “I just stopped by in between patients.”

When Jackson nods, she turns – pushing open the doors and disappearing once more.

Jackson stares, hands shaking at his sides. You wind your fingers in his, pulling him gently to the couch while Mr. Wang follows. He sits on a chair jerkily, lowering his body before resting his face in his palms. Jackson remains still, staring at the spot where the nurse disappeared. Softly, you wrap your arms around his waist – mostly, because you can’t think of anything else to do.

“It was too easy,” Jackson chokes, the words soft. “Things were going too well.”

He looks defeated, broken – so you pull back to look at him. “No,” you declare, meeting his gaze. “You can’t think like that. Your mom can, and will pull through this. She’s strong, Jackson. You’re strong – even if you stop believing, I won’t. I’ve believe enough for you, me – this whole hospital.”

Jackson licks his lips, eyes red. Then lowers his head, burying his face in your neck. “Thank you,” he exhales, and you wait like that.

It’s another hour, before the second nurse enters. Another hour, before any new news – the second nurse walks out differently though, hope in her eyes.  She smiles, explaining that Sophia is fine – everything is fine. She underwent a complete mastectomy, unfortunately – her nipple was removed, in the process. You were hoping this could be avoided, but it appears this was not possible. The situation with her anesthesia was remedied, Sophia remained under the entire surgery. She’s waking up now, though she’s still groggy. You’ll be able to visit, soon.

Mr. Wang cries, upon hearing this. Jackson doesn’t break down – not yet – but he turns, wrapping his arms around his father. He holds him, as the older man cries into his shoulder. The sight is unexpected – before, you found them to be dissimilar. Not in a bad way, just that they were different. You though of Jackson’s father as stoic, silent – in direct opposition to his bubbly son. Now though, you see how similar they are.

Both are brave, both force themselves to seem strong – they hold on, until that moment when they no longer can. Until that moment when they no longer can, and the world comes crashing down around them. It’s only the way that they wear their masks, that’s different.

Jackson’s father goes to visit first – he exits alone and once gone, Jackson looks at you. “I don’t know what to say,” he admits, voice hoarse. He reaches for you subconsciously, pulling you closer. “You’ve given me so much,” he murmurs, speaking into your hair, “so much, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t,” you exhale, wrapping your arms tighter. “You don’t.”

[Master List]

[megatontiddies]

Alwine OC stuff 2

In order to flush out some ocs I'm gonna borrow this info sheet made by @willowiswriting!

The first one I post is gonna be Alwine but then later today, hopefully, I'm gonna introduce my second OC who will be a vital character in The Waters of March.

So anyways this is pretty long so under the cut it goes!

THE BASICS:

Name: Alwine Elenora Fries

Nick Names: Winnie (most common), Al, Allie

Age: 24 (234)

Gender identity: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Role in story: Sole Survivor

Hair color/texture: Dirty Brown, Long to Medium Shag Cut with Gentle Curls

Skin color/texture: #ccaf85, softer texture the woman was good on moisturizer and sunscreen prewar

Eye color: Green Hazel

Scars: Deeper scar that trails from left side of chin to upper right side of lip, long claw tracks from deathclaw encounter trailing from lower right torso to center/left of chest

Other notable features: Old Lines style tattoo in center of her back, Mole on right cheek

“Default” outfit: Pair of military green cargo pants and white tank top usually paired with combat boots and her old military holotags from prewar. In colder months she wears a leather bomber jacket.

EXTERNAL/OUTWARD PRESENCE:

How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy?

Fairly proud. Alwines time in the military, despite being primarily a mechanic and not seeing much front line action, has trained her to walk with purpose and pride. Shoulder pinned back, high chin, legs shoulder length apart and ready to move at a moments notice. Although, she often moves her hands while she speaks and being quite quick on her feet make her appear energized and animated.

How much physical space do they use, active and at rest?

Alwine is fairly small in height, a modest 5"3, when she's resting she requires little to no space. She sleeps comfortably almost anywhere. In combat she similarly doesn't require too much room to maneuver although it's probably safest to give her space. She may be short but she's built like a rugby player. Double recommended for when she's in power armor.

How do they position themselves in a group? Do they like to be the center of attention, or do they hang back at the edges of a crowd?

Wallflower all the way. But she isn't afraid to take charge when necessary.

How does their size or build influence how they use their body, if it does?

As stated above Alwine will not hesitate to tackle you like its a game of rugby. She may be short but she is fast and built like a brick. Her small height, on the other hand, makes it easy for her to flank her enemies. It also helps for the element of surprise. More than once has she simply plowed into an overconfident raider. She has learnt to throw her weight around.

What are they like in motion -– in different environments, and in different activities? What causes the differences between these?

For most combat situations think bull in a china shop. In stealth missions, however, she is surprisingly nimble. She has a preference for long range combat but if pressed is equally confident in close combat. That 'in-between' area for long and short distance can be a weakness for her. Because of this once long-range is no longer suitable she will work quickly to close distance between herself and her foe(s). If she's in a domestic or civilian setting she is surprisingly quiet and quick. Likely due to her height she can easily slip out of a crowd if necessary. Unfortunately, Alwine is quite bumbly and clumsy. On several occasion she has bumped into someone, or something, she shouldn't have or tripped in combat.

How do they physically engage with other people, inanimate objects, and their environment? What causes the differences between these?

For human contact Alwine keeps her distance for the most part. She avoids touching/ physical contact unless she is completely comfortable with said person.

For inanimate/ environmental contact she will constantly explore through touch although not as much for wildlife.

Alwine is naturally touch sensitive and finds it easier to explore the natural world around her by touching. That being said because of this sensitivity she becomes uncomfortable making contact with other people as she finds it can be too intimate. Mostly she worries about making others uncomfortable through her own touch.

Where and when do they seem most and least at ease? Why? How can you tell?

Alwine is most at ease when she feels completely alone or in some cases alone with close friends.

She's least at ease when she senses that either herself of those she cares about are in danger. Alwine is also very uncomfortable in large groups of people as she finds it overwhelming. She is also very uncomfortable in water as she cannot swim.

It's fairly easy to tell when Alwine get's uncomfortable. She basically becomes almost completely mute save for a few choice words/ sounds. She will also position herself either beside/ behind whoever she is traveling with standing much more closely than she normally would if she were completely comfortable.

How are they vocally expressive? What kind of voice, accent, tones, inflections, volume, phrases and slang, and manner of speaking do they use?

Tonally, Alwines voice is a bit lower but still distinctly feminine think Jennifer Hale but with a very slight southern drawl. Her voice doesn't fluctuate much in pitch and can come off an monotone or flat which can be difficult to hear if one is not trained to it. To her benefit it comes in handy when dealing in precarious social situations. When necessary she can, and will, raise her voice but very rarely.

How are they bodily expressive? How do they use nonverbal cues such as their posture, stance, eyes, eyebrows, mouths, and hands?

Her posture is fairly stiff, again, military-esque. Alwines big on eye contact no matter the scenario. She's a big believer that the eyes are the windows to a persons, or creatures, soul. Her eyebrows are only really indicative of whether she is thinking or stressed in the form of a furrow. Her mouth is probably the most expressive of her facial features from smirks to snarls. Like stated above, she's very animated. If her hands stop moving while she's talking that's a very good indicator she's about to start swinging them.

INTERNAL:

What is their greatest fear?

Death. Not her own though. The deaths of those she loves and cares about terrify the daylights out of her. Close second is water.

What are some misbeliefs about the world?

That good is inherent in all people.

What is the best thing about their life?

Danse.

What is the worst thing about their life?

Her own child but she don't know that yet. Beyond this, probably the world blowing up in nuclear fire and her husband getting capped. Also giant bugs.

What do they most often look down on people for?

Lack of Honor. Alwine can even respect raiders who are capable of keeping their word but anyone who uses deceit to get what they want is abhorrent.

What makes their heart feel alive?

Action of all kinds. To be in movement or roughhousing is the peak of excitement for Alwine. Also, storms by the ocean. Alwine has a soft spot for Far-Harbor because of this. She is also in love with sunrises on the deck of the Prydwen.

What makes them feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way?

Small actions that let her know she is thought about. Anything between trinkets that remind the person of Alwine to small personal actions based on what she's said in the past. (ie. sneaking extra snacks that she said she likes, books that she misses, mods that she's been looking for etc.). The last person to make her feel this way was Danse.

How do they manage their energy, exhaustion, tension, or other strong emotions?

If she's more energetic then she'll try to work it off either through workouts or hard labor that she can do around settlements or the Prydwen. Exhaustion is cured by coffee or Nuka Cola if they're available. If not available then the nearest hole to crawl in to sleep is the best cure. Alwine ignores tension hoping that more work will wear it off.

What energizes and drains them most?

Alwine finds stressful situations to be most draining (such as hostage situations or anything that could result in bystander/civilian death) as well as long periods of social interaction. Once the element of extreme danger has been removed, however, Alwine finds anything with the smallest hint of danger to be invigorating.

What kind of inner life do they have — rich and imaginative? Calculating and practical? Full of doubts and fears? Does it find any sort of outlet in their lives?

Definitely rich and imaginative. Alwine is naturally curious harboring a childlike wonder about this new world. She's practical but prefers optimism. Calculating but if she doesn't like the odds she'll pretend everything's fine. This can come off as overconfident but deep down she's screeching. Her inner turmoil are difficult to read and she's good at hiding them. Most have to pry it out of her.

Do they dream? What are those dreams like?

Alwine has always had lucid dreams. Fortunately for her they are still mostly 'dreamlike' and cryptically strange. On occasion they do take the form of realistic night terrors waking her up in a fit of action. Good or bad she remembers every dream. Prewar she used to keep a dream journal.

Are they more shaped by nature or nurture — who they are, or what has happened to them? How have these shaped who they’ve become as a person?

Nature and Nurture both affect how we develop psychologically especially during our early developmental stages. Generally, once a person develops a set concept of how the world works it can be very difficult to break that short of horrific trauma. That being said, when the bombs blew up and (almost) everyone died Alwine has surprisingly kept her moral and ethical standards. If anything she's become a bit more socially unhinged. So nurture? I think? This one was a bit too confusing for my overthinking little pea-brain.

(Potentially ignoring the plot if it wouldn’t normally play into their life,) what kind of person could they become in the future? What are some developmental paths that they could take, (best, worst, most likely?) what would cause them to come to pass, and what consequences might they have? What paths would you especially like to see, and why?

that would be spoiling ;)

Does their perception of who they are align with how other people see them? Why or why not?

Alwine see's herself as mostly just an average joe. A little awkward but trying her best. She thinks she's unassuming. When first meeting her, in a relatively safe space that the commonwealth can provide, you might think the same. But, if ever seen in combat or a life and death situation this perception is starkly contrasted. She appears almost graceful. At least up until she falls flat on her face or straight into you (or an enemy). Surprisingly light hearted/ always smiling she radiates a calm and happy energy yet is also dead serious when appropriate. She hates leading and doesn't see herself as a leader yet seems to always take charge and show exemplary coordination and tactic in the heat of combat.

Top three things they value most in life?

shaun, danse, friends, laser rifle

FUN:

What’s their favorite book, movie, and band? (Modernize them if it’s a fantasy setting)

A real fun gal at parties, Alwines favourite book was an outdated encyclopedia about dinosaurs.

Her favourite movie is The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. She loves old westerns.

Similarly she enjoys old western music. Johnny Western, Lorne Green, Marty Robbins, and Patsy Cline are just some of her many favourite singers.

Favorite color?

Juniper Green

Least favorite color?

Anything neon

Favorite food/cuisine?

Soups. Any soups and all soups from anywhere. Preference for spicy brothy soups but will not complain if its anything but.

What associations do they bring to mind? Words or phrases, images, metaphors or motifs? Why?

Rainy days. Rain on pavement and deep wood moss and dirt. Second hand cigarette smoke on a warm summer night. A warm house on a cold evening with the smell of hot supper wafting from the kitchen over a woodstove fire. Knowing eyes. Cedar bark and pine. Slivers on the hands. Drunk laughs. A dog at the foot of a bed. A firm grip. A cold rock in the hand. A hot breath on your neck. The tenderness of a bruise. Lilacs in the rain. Stiff shoulders and muscles. Bare feet in dewy grass. A heavy blanket. A warm smile.

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why?

Her Laser Rifle. It's quiet, strong, and deadly against almost everything in the commonwealth. She also carries an assortment of small gifts and trinkets on her person from various friends.

Describe three typical outfits for them, top to bottom.

1. Casual Gear: Black or White tank top, Green military grade cargo pants, Leather combat boots, and military heavy plate armor on top.

2. BOS Gear: BOS Jumpsuit (usually the top is zipped down and tied at the waist when in a 'safe' area or on the Prydwen), White or Black tank top, Leather combat boots, BOS grade heavy plate armor on top, BOS dogtags.

3. Casual wear (only when in 'safe' areas such as sanctuary or diamond city): Plaid overshirt, white tank top, heavy blue jeans, belt, leather combat boots.

What names or nicknames have they been called throughout their life?

Al or Winnie. In practice, Winnie is more commonly used than her own name.

Describe their daily routine.

Wake up early (around 4-6 am), eat breakfast, check over armor and weapons, do daily tasks/missions, eat dinner, modify/repair armor and weapons, go to bed (around 9pm-12am)

Their go-to cure for a bad day?

A quiet night in. Either relaxing in the arms of another or sleeping off her misery. If it's particularly aggravating she'll need some kind of physical activity to work out her anger.

[deuce-duce]

Hmmm where should I begin I think ill start with explaining a little bit about why I initially started writing this thing. Primarily because I was tired of being silenced while essentially people destroy my identity and character. But not in my local town or where I work... but the entire nation. Thats fucked up! No matter how you want to look at it. Its crazy that in todays society its OK to spew hate lies and deceit and everybody goes with flow... but the moment you start saying listen Idk what you have been told or what the latest gossip is but I can assure you its probably not what you think it is. As soon as that happens the whole world loses their minds...

The other reason I started writing is because although I don't necessarily want to put myself on a pedestal I think I might be a pretty rare individual. Over the course of the last four years with the show in full effect and the constant psychological and sexual abuse im put through is in full swing I haven't suffered from a TBI making it possible for me to figure this whole thing out without having my conscience memories taken from me to. That being said this is journey for me as well learning about myself and what this has done to me... whether you believe me or not that really is unimportant to me I just think that this story documented. Along with societal constructs and the amount of fuckery we actually involve ourselves in, without ever doing any research! And blaming the individual for telling the truth asking you to stop helping because your just making things worse. I'll explain further down what I mean.

Now I don't think im all that brilliant really i mean I think I am but in reality what you think of yourself is important but really doesn't mean shit if your told how dumb you are everyday or treated like shit because there's things you just can't do. Not that your incapable of doing them or don't know how to do them but because you literally suffer from multiple mental health conditions the primary condition being a dissociative identity. That being said, there is no medication no cure or any type of hope to ever not have to be worried about dissociating. The fucked up part about it is... is that my dissociative state isn't like normal dissociative states. Most dissociations can happen at anytime during the day or anytime the environmental triggers come into play and so its easier to diagnose and get the help one needs. Mine unfortunately from the hypnosis event that I explained to you is literally during the most vulnerable moments in anyone's life the one place your supposed to feel safe or at least do everything you can to keep yourself safe. But in no way am I able to do that... mine is triggered while I'm sleeping and its not just any trigger but is a trigger that another human being has to consciously do in a certain way to get me to dissociate.

I know for a fact that I don't dissociate on my own or sleep walk or anything like that because I lived with brittany for 4 years and would constantly ask her if I did anything out of the ordinary while I was sleeping. She would yell at me and tell me no &^%$# you barely move in your sleep! And so I would believe her because im sure she was telling the truth... later she would use this as a reason to start her plotting saying I didn't trust her and I would blame her for things like not keeping me safe... and i don't know what else but I'm sure it wasnt good. You don't create this type of carnage in someone's life because you have good memories with that person... or maybe she just didn't realize what exactly it was I was running from to begin with...

What I've just explained to you is to help you understand how fucked up I really am... even after being with someone for at least a couple years nothing going on... I still found myself doubting and worrying about not being safe. And thinking that I had been betrayed yet again. Even though nothing had happened... its fucking crazy... crazy sad. I guess at this point I really had no idea how it all worked.. so you can understand my speculation. But now that I know it makes things different at this point though I don't trust a soul probably never will again.

Another good example of this was I was jn a state where I was still well known...! But didn't have to deal with the sexual and physical abuse just the nental... and ill tell you it literally took me a month to successfully hit on a woman and get her number and read signs properly her friend was telling us we needed to get married and that we were perfect for eachother... I thought so too! We got along really well and damn she was sexy! Whew!! Unfortunately I was running out of money I was staying at an air bnb and needed a job... out of all the places I applied to the only place u heard back from was the place I never wanted to return to... I just thought that maybe things would be different this time... unfortunately they werent... did my best to meet a woman and start dating but she knew who I was and the people who fucked with me and so she started playing games... instead of supporting me and doing with me what I needed to keep myself safe she started saying well were not having sex evertime we hang out setting expectations of us forming a relationship... and not just something casual. The only way I'm ever going to be in a relationship again is by that person who won't play silly games like I mentioned earlier... the last time we hung out she was dressed in a tight leather outfit makeup done and kept turning me down and saying I couldn't touch her after we had already had sex on our first date... but she wanted me for herself and was playing games although she was turning me down... she was like im just going to go to the bar after I drop you off and find something to do... im assuming somebody was more of the case... after that I didn't talk to her again.

So I'm not sure how many of you are familiar with addiction and what happens to a person psychologically during the event of getting intoxicated... I'll elaborate a little bit. It is documented that when an addict is getting high that their adrenaline and endorphins are higher while seeking out and preparing the drugs then when they actually get high. i think this is because of the chasing the first time paradigm. where one continues to get high because they are chasing the feeling they got when they did it for the first time... which never happens so they continue doing more and more until they either die or throw their lives away. this led me to think hmm if that's how the brain works I think it might be the same way for those experiencing pts. stemming from a lifetime of trauma. so if you believe....!!! what i have said already which i doubt but its really of no concern to me but just know i tried to tell you and explain knowing i did all i could is all i can do... back to what i was saying... if the brain works this way when it comes to addiction then id have to tell you that it is the same when it comes to pts.. So listen to this, the other side thinking to themselves.. although they probably wont admit it to the general public but this is their logic, ok...? well we know what we have done to him... and... yea... it is pretty messed up... but if he would just try... then it might be different and we would stop... haha well that's like saying the addict chasing their first time is actually going to achieve it even though its impossible because of all the damage they have already done to their minds and bodies... the only way one can get as close as possible to achieving that first high again is to abstain for a long enough time to establish and restore the chemicals that have been depleted over the course of the addicts drug use history. just like you cant expect me to do something that has caused me severe consequences, even though what I did was right... and acceptable and essentially the keys i need to free myself from the cage that i find myself in... today. that wasn't the case then. and with everything else being the same as then all i can do is associate the two and not screw myself over again and face the possibility of getting my head kicked in. as delusional as that might be its the truth. and with everything being the same as it was then I'm supposed believe that the things that's supposed to set me free isn't a trap haha good luck but if you want to know my criteria it would be doing the right thing!! lets see if you can figure it out!! oh and this doesn't only go for the woman ill be with but also for anyone trying to help me in any way shape or form.... sorry but its the only way i can be certain your not part of the machine!

not only that but people keep on keeping on with inflicting the psychological trauma on me getting me written up at work for harmless comments but as an employee at this business I can not give anyone a compliment while in uniform so please refrain from hoping ill make an effort at my job. I got in trouble for telling a girl she was gorgeous I didn't know she was only 16 but its not like i was asking her to fuck or coming at her in any type of sexual manner but she is friends with the woman causing all of this... saying I need to stop running my mouth. she even went as far as to say to me man that customer has a nice ass and me saying it doesn't compare to your yours and her saying my ass is flawless... then telling on me saying I kept telling her she had an ass of a goddess.. GTFO HAHA my boss started laughing like so you didn't say that... fuck no! I said what I told you I said. she's like alright oh and then apparently you cant tell another employee that they have pretty eyes either just a heads up! but its cool I'm over it I just cant believe I bring out the evil in so many people like man WHO AM I?? WHAT AM I NOT BEING TOLD?!?! I could care less honestly but I'm glad you go to such lengths to try and make my life miserable... i could only imagine what it must be like to actually be miserable... UGH... that would...suck.... i think a lot of this stems from my supervisor giving me three flat tires in one night and then acting like oh... did i give you a flat tire...??? then telling me your not that smart.... never said i was bro but instead turned it around on him telling him dude... don't downplay yourself... your smart!! over and over again. i told one of the other supervisors that i didnt think the guy that had been training me liked me and these were the reasons why but she is also a distraction. and told him exactly what i had said.

just so you guys know anytime that there is someone who likes me and i actually have a chance with. they have someone that is hotter then me maybe smarter or appeals more to the persons wants and desires through manipulation simply to keep them occupied while im in the area and then after i leave and then the person that would have been perfect for me gets dumped and is left all alone again... kind of like whe. Brian started dating brittany after we broke up...

another thing i should put into perspective is that what's wrong with me is a byproduct of child molestation and abuse that being said its ok to prey on something that was created to protect myself because now I'm an adult and i hold the keys... too bad my hands are missing!! since i was 6 when i started dissociating that means every time I'm in that state i go back to being a 6 year old boy... making those who take advantage of my split essentially child molesters... no matter how old i am!!

So how do you diffentiate the good from the bad...?? The bad people are the ones proclaiming and contantly trying to make others believe im gay. I mean i could really care less and tell you myself I'm gay but primarily because of the reasons I mentioned above. The funny thing is the bad people will be the first to be like we should help him... just so that they can be like see he's gay!! Wtf cares... the fact that they go out of their way to prove something that people have all ready seen with their eyes... is a little bit over kill don't you think?? J.s. be vigilant!

The funny thing about all of this is that the same process ensues from community to community and so for you to be led like sheep and ignore the guy going through it all is sorry for saying fucking Stupid!! But hey its cool

The other thing I can't understand is how you can walk by drive by and go out of your way to tell me how dumb or stupid or gay I am but not one person can be like yo whats up im such and such did you write this or that...? Really! But I'm supposed to do what none of you do!? Really cool keep going with that ill be thee idiot! The gay idiot! Thanks for reminding me though!! Maybe one day you'll be as gay as me!!