#like i thought his belt buckle was silver but no its Also gold

[todayisafridaynight]

todays unexpected question is 'is that a speck of blood or is that a mole'

[miraculouswolf99]

Silver Siren

Happy New Year!!! This is not a New Years story, but it is a story that I am using New Years as an excuse to post it. LOL

*****

Luka Couffaine was often described as the most relaxed and chill guy that anyone could ever meet. Often seen with his guitar on hand, playing what he would call a person's heart song. He was also described as a protective older brother to his sister, Juleka. Especially when it came to her friends.

The only ones that Luka really knew were Rose, Ivan, and Mylene as they were the ones that came over the most often. This was the first time that the entire class was on the Liberty. And if Luka was being honest with himself, he was most intrigued by Marinette, Lyon, and Adrien.

While he had not met Adrien personally yet, the things he had heard from the class made him curious about the model. Marinette also seemed really sweet and the type of person that could brighten a room just by walking into it. And Lyon seemed similar to himself, calm and easily just as observant.

Lyon and his sister had seemed almost like him and Juleka. They liked to be off to the side and observe. They also spoke of animals and plants like they spoke of music, that it relates to everything and everyone. Luka was amazed by their heart songs. So full of life, harmony, and with a slight sense of mysteriousness.

But most of Luka's cool, calm, and collected personality was thrown out the window when his mother got akumatized into Captain Hardrock.

"A treasure in return for freedom," Anarka says. "Ho, ho, ho then I shall be your pirate Hawkmoth."

Black and purple smoke covers the ship.

"Oh no," Luka hears Marinette gasp.

Captain Hardrock rose up. Captain Hardrock has long red hair that is spiked upwards and golden eyes. The upper half of her face is covered with a black mark edged with dark red and she wears a black bandana with a white spiky-haired skull on the front, along with gold circular earrings.

She wears a bodysuit that is red from the collar to the chest and black from the chest, the color separation looking like flames. Her suit includes three yellow buttons vertically on her lower body, three golden spikes horizontally over each knee, and a golden patch above each hip. She has two black belts, one going around the body diagonally and the other wrapped around the waist, that have golden buckles. Over her suit, she wears a black captain jacket with golden inner lining, golden spikes on the shoulders, golden edges, and golden buckles on the sides. Black fingerless gloves with golden edges around the upper holes cover her arms up to her elbows. Her knee-high boots that end below the knees are black and red in a flame-like pattern with black soles, golden heels, black inner lining, and black stripes with golden spikes above the ankles.

"Raise the mainsail, me deck hands let's get swashbuckling around here," his akumatized mom orders.

"Mom," Juleka asks, shocked and scared.

"What's going on," Luka asked, concerned.

"Your mom has weighed anchor, me lad," the akuma says. "I'm Captain Hardrock and today Paris's timbers are about to be shivered by my cannons."

The captain looks through a telescope. Luka took that second to make a quick headcount. He realized that the Greek twins were not on board the Liberty anymore. Remembering that the two were close to the gangplank when all this started, he figured that they had most likely had gone and went to get help.

"Westward ho, Liberty next stop," she orders. "Jagged Stone at the Eiffel Tower. Soon, there will only be one concert in Paris only one Music Festival. We will destroy all the others. Now, get to your instruments and rock those decibels!"

"Mom please, you can't ruin the Music Festival," Luka calmly pleaded.

"You can't force people to listen to your music," Marinette tells the villain.

"No way we're playing like this," Ivan yells.

"Mutiny," Captain Hardrock sounded offended. "On my ship! Liberty, seize these scallywags and throw them down into the hold!"

Chains shot out from different places on the ship. But before any of the teens could react, arrows started flying over their heads and hit the chains. Every chain that an arrow hit instantly froze into ice. Then the next thing that they knew, another weapon flew past them and shattered all the ice chains.

Floating near the ship, above the water, was Beautifly with her shield-sized razor blade flower. And looking over, back on land, was White Wolf. His bow was still at the ready. Luka was amazed that the two got there so quickly and figured that it was because of Lyon and Vallia. He had seen the two newest heroes of Paris on the news and the Ladyblog, but this was the first time in person.

"If I was Cat Noir, I would probably make a very bad ice pun right about now," Wolf smirked. "But I'll stick to freezing things with my arrows."

"And I am happy you are," Beautifly giggles. "I mean, Cat is a great hero and all, but I am very close to slapping him over those cat puns."

"Creatures of the land and air are not welcome on my ship," Captain Hardrock shouts, pointing her sword at the butterfly girl.

"Do I look like I'm on your ship," Beautifly floated around. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not even touching the ground let alone your ship."

"Lock this fly in the brig, Liberty," Captain Hardrock ordered.

Chains, once again, shot out from different parts of the ship. They headed right for the butterfly hero. But unlike Ladybug, Cat Noir, and even her own partner White Wolf, Beautifly is able to fly. But that is obvious at this point. It did give her an advantage over most akumas. The way that she was currently flying around to avoid the chains was one very good example of these advantages.

"I'm a butterfly, thank you very much," Beautifly put her hands on her hips.

She made a quick dive back toward the water, flying barely a foot above it. The chains would hit the water instead as she gracefully dodged them. But she soon made a quick shot upwards as she got close to where her partner had been standing. That allowed him to fire a volley of arrows at the chains following her. Each one of them was soon frozen into ice. She quickly shattered them with her razor flower.

"Nice try, Jackie Sparrow," Wolf smirked.

Beautifly facepalmed. "What you lack in puns, you sure make up for in pop culture references."

"What can I say," Wolf shrugged. "I love American movies."

The kids still onboard the Liberty, meanwhile, seemed to finally get out of shock over the heroes showing up so quickly.

"We need to get off this ship," Alya quickly says.

"How," Ivan asked. "Do you want us to jump into the seine?"

"Would you rather be chained up on this ship," Alya countered.

"All ashore that's going to shore," Ivan headed right for the edge of the boat.

"Never thought I'd have to walk the plank of my own house," Juleka says, surprisingly still as calm as she was during the Horrificator incident.

"Why is everyone in the Couffaine family so shockingly calm," Marinette whispered to Alya.

"Your guess is as good as mine, girl," Alya whispered back. "But they can't all be that calm. Captain Crazy, over there, is one example."

"I am suddenly very grateful for my normal mother," Marinette says. "Yet, I am also intrigued by everyday life in the Couffaine household."

"I hope my crew isn't planning on jumping ship," they were caught in the act by the akuma.

"Shoot," Nino swore.

With a slash of her sword in the air, Captain Hardrock sent another round of chains toward them. Only this time, White Wolf was not fast enough with his bow. He tried, but people need to remember that nobody's perfect. The group of teenagers was soon all grabbed by the chains and pulled below deck.

"Oh, Hades," Beautifly swore. "Now we're going to need a rescue mission. Where are that cat and bug?"

"Don't ask me," Wolf said, freezing another chain.

Meanwhile, Adrien had been in his room. He was watching the news broadcast about the music festival. His father had not allowed him to go to the Liberty and play the keyboard for Kitty Section. He was pretty salty about that. (AN: An ocean pun inspired by Captain Hardrock. hehe.)

"Breaking News," Nadja Chamack interrupted the fun stuff.

"Huh," Adrien knew what this most likely meant.

"Another akuma attack is in progress along the seine," Nadja reported. "This akuma's goal seems to be to take over the music festival with its rock music by taking out all the other musical acts in the city."

"Some people just don't appreciate good music when they hear it," Plagg says, munching on some of his cheese.

"Plagg, claws out," Adrien did not have time for his sarcasm since he knew his friends were at the same river.

His friends may not currently be in much danger, but they were being held prisoner.

While the room wasn't really a brig, but the teens were still trapped in it. Ivan and Mylene were chained together, as were Nino and Alya. Rose and Juleka were both alone in their chains while Luka and Marinette were also chained together.

"You don't seem very worried, Marinette," Luka noticed.

"I am, but this isn't really my first time being held captive by an akuma," Marinette says. "Even if the Evillustrator considered that situation a date."

"Alright," Luka accepted that.

"Alya, remind to apologize to Nathaniel later for bringing that up," Marinette said.

"Girl, I am pretty sure that he wouldn't mind," Alya says. "Nath is almost as forgiving as you. And that says something considering that you could forgive anyone for anything."

"Not anything," Marinette protested. "If anyone insults my parent's bakery, I'll open up a can of butt-kick of fighting techniques that my mother taught me."

The way that she said that so sweetly was enough to send shivers down most of their spines.

Marinette then looked down. She saw Tikki waving at her, having come out of her purse to silently aid her. The kwami phased into the lock on her and Luka's chain, taking a little bit before the lock opened with a quiet SNAP.

"Wow, how'd you do that," Luka asked her.

"Uhh, I, Uhm..." Marinette had to think fast. "With this."

She holds up a guitar pick.

"You're amazing," Luka praised her. "A real magician, Marinette."

"You think so," Marinette asks, going all nervous like how she does around Adrien. "Oh, it was nothing, uh, amazing, really?"

"Excuse me, but some of us are still chained up here you know," Alya says, rolling her eyes.

Before either of the freed teens could do anything, they heard Captain Hardrock walk downstairs and laughing.

"Marinette, she's coming," Nino warned them.

"We'll come back, I promise," Marinette says as she and Luka leave the room quickly.

The two ended up locking themselves in Luka's own bedroom. They had to work quickly as Captain Hardrock soon broke in.

"Run, Marinette quick," Luka yelled out the window.

"Seize him," Captain Hardrock some more chains to catch her son.

It all happened faster than Luka could blink. Chains shot through the open door in order to trap him again. But at the same time, a trio of arrows flew through the open window/porthole and froze all of the incoming chains.

Luka turned around and saw that White Wolf was hanging from an icy-looking rope outside the window.

"My outfit is bright white, how do people miss me," he joked.

"Uh..." Luka had no idea how to respond to that.

"Whatever," Wolf shrugged. "Move that fine-looking butt, handsome, you're getting off this Black Pearl wannabe."

Luka blushed, even if he hid it very well. He didn't have much time to really try and think of anything as his mother was currently breaking through the frozen chains on her way to capture him again.

Taking White Wolf's hand, he was just barely able to get through the porthole.

"Time to leave," Beautifly tells them, seen fighting more chains with the newly arrived Cat Noir.

Luka had to immediately tighten his grip around White Wolf's waist as the icy hero fired another ice rope arrow. The two swung away on the rope, landing on the shore of the seine.

"My sister and friends are still in there," Luka immediately tells him.

"I know," Wolf says. "We will try to get as many of them off of the boat as possible. But we might need to also rely on Ladybug's Miraculous Cure if we can not."

"I understand," Luka said.

"Stay safe, Mr.Couffaine," Wolf tells him, running back into the battle.

Luka couldn't help but get lost as he caught a glimpse of the hero's beautiful eyes.

"Flirt later, Wolf," Beautifly calls.

"Yeah, that's my job," Cat Noir jokes. "OW!"

Beautifly had hit him on the back of the head.

"Sorry, I'm late," Ladybug apologizes, swinging into the fray.

"All heroes are allowed to be late every once in a while," Beautifly stated, blocking a chain with her razor flower. "May I remind you of Cat Noir's late arrival to the fight with Riposte."

"He also told me you were quite late during an akuma attack by someone called the Evilistrator," Wolf said. "That name, by the way, is horrid."

Captain Hardrock, unfortunately, then made her reappearance on deck. She was already angry over her son escaping the Liberty and seeing the four heroes together did not help her mood. She raised her sword.

"Capture those pests, Liberty," she ordered.

The heroes started flipping, jumping, and flying in Beautifly's case to avoid the flying chains. White Wolf aimed another of his arrows at the chain, but Captain Hardrock was having it this time.

"Liberty, fire," she ordered her ship.

One of the cannons aimed at the icy teen. But instead of a cannonball coming out, the cannon fired a soundwave of rock music. It was almost like the soundwave effect that Black Canary causes with her canary cry. It washed over the Greek hero.

White Wolf covered his wolf ears on the top of his head, yelling in pain. The sound was loud and horrible, actually causing pain with his enhanced wolf hearing. When Captain Hardrock sent more of her chains his way, Ladybug quickly threw her yo-yo around his waist and pulled him away from them and the sound blast.

"Leave it to me to face an akuma with sound powers when I have enhanced hearing," he shook his head like he had swimmer's ear.

"Just be happy that you and Beautifly weren't here when we were fighting Guitar Villain," Ladybug said.

"There was seriously a villain with that as a name," Wolf raised an eyebrow. "Does Hawkmoth have no creativity at all?"

"That remains to be seen," Cat Noir comments. "His villain names range from weird, to good, to not very original at all."

"Jagged Stone ahead, Liberty fire," Captain Hardrock ordered.

The ship fired its sound cannons again, only this time entire speakers were shot out. The speakers landed and attached themselves all around Jagged Stone's music area at the Itfil Tower. The music was so loud that it caused cracks to spider all around where the speakers landed.

"Where's a pair of earplugs when you need them," Beautifly remarked.

"Are you the one with sensitive ears, I don't think so," Wolf commented. "My ears are still ringing from that earlier blast."

"What do you think her akumatized object is," Beautifly asked.

"It has to be something on the ship, otherwise she wouldn't be able to control it the way she does," Ladybug theorizes.

"I could Cataclysm the entire ship," Cat Noir offered, raising the hand that he uses to destroy things.

"No," Ladybug instantly shut that idea down.

"There are hostages on the ship, Cat," Wolf informs the hero. "If you sink the ship, they might drown."

"Myself and White Wolf only managed to get one of them off the ship before you two showed up," Beautifly says. "The rest of them are still trapped somewhere on there."

"I think he is Anarka Couffaine's son Luka," Wolf said. "He might know why was hit by the akuma. I'll ask him."

"Fire at XY," Captain Hardrock commanded, the Liberty shooting more of its speakers at the Justin Beiber wannabe.

"Well, do it fast," Ladybug told him, then swung away toward the ship.

"She knows that we're not her sidekicks and she doesn't have to order us around like that, right," Wolf crossed his arms.

"We can tell her off later, let's go, Cat," Beautifly ordered, flying toward the ship.

"We are around some seriously bossy ladies," Cat Noir commented, before using his staff to get to the ship himself.

"I am surrounded by weirdos," Wolf shook his head.

He took his bow in hand, notching another arrow. He aimed it to freeze one of the cannons closed when the akuma saw what he was doing.

"Fire," she ordered.

Another sound blast came right at him. He covered his wolf ears as the sound really hurt with his magical hearing. His bow and arrow fell to the ground. He could hardly tell when another person ran up and picked up his bow. Said person aimed it at the cannon, fighting the headache that the sound was causing. The arrow froze the shooting cannon, stopping the sound.

"I never liked rock music before, and I am most certainly not going to start now," Wolf says, getting up.

"Are you okay," asked the person that fired the arrow.

White Wolf looked and saw that it was Luka that had picked up his bow.

"I'm good now, Mr.Couffaine," Wolf says. "Thanks for the assistance."

"You can call me Luka, White Wolf," Luka tells him.

"Alright, then, Luka," nobody can say that superheroes aren't great actors. "It was very brave of you to use my bow. Very telling as well."

"Telling," Luka was confused.

"Most civilians would be afraid of turning to ice by touching one of my arrows," Wolf explains. "It shows that in maybe another life, you would have made an excellent fit for the wolf miraculous."

"Wow," Luka was still as cool as they come.

"Anyway, did you see what object the akuma landed on," Wolf asked the blue and black-haired boy. "Destroying it is the only way for Ladybug to de-evilize your mom."

"I didn't see exactly, but it is most likely her compass," Luka says. "She has always said that a compass is a sailor's most prized possession."

As someone that grew up near the water, White Wolf actually understood that. He wondered how much easier Odysseus would have gotten home if he had just used a map and compass instead of the stars and a lot of faith. As much as he believed in the gods, common sense is also a thing to believe in.

White Wolf noticed the ice on the cannon starting to crack. He quickly scooped Luka into his arms and ran away just in time as the ice shattered and the sound blast started up again. The two barely got away in time. The sound waves just missed them. White Wolf put Luka down a little way more away from the akumatized ship.

"Stay here, Luka," Wolf directed.

"I have to help," Luka tells the hero. "White Wolf, there has to be a way for me to help."

White Wolf looked at the blue-haired teen. He had shown great bravery when he picked up his bow. Not many people, let alone teenagers, would do such a thing. An image of a silver box flashed into his head, giving him an idea.

"Wait right here, Luka," Wolf instructed. "If any of the others ask, tell them that I went to get help. Beautifly will understand what I mean."

Luka nodded as White Wolf got out his bow again. Using an icy rope, the Greek hero swung away from the Seine. He had no idea what the wolf hero was up to.

The holder of the wolf miraculous landed in an alley on the other side of the street from a beautiful jungle-like flower/garden shop. He de-transformed and out of the alley walked Lyon Garden. The dubbed Ice Prince made his way to the flower shop, greeting his father on the way in. He quickly made his way up to his room, which from what his sister, Vallia, had told him was almost like Marinette's bedroom but made for him instead of her.

Lyon went over to the bookshelf he keeps in his room. He pulled back the one book on the shelf that did not have a title on the spine. In a bit of a cliche turn of events, the bookshelf slid tp the side to reveal a hidden compartment. From the compartment, he pulled out a secure but elegant silver box. It was in the shape of a large jewelry box with bright blue markings that looked like a cross between ice and vines. Silver roses also were dotted around the box.

Lyon opened the box lid, revealing several other pieces of jewelry inside of it. On a raised area of the box was a place for hour pieces of jewelry. The ones marked for the wolf and butterfly miraculous were empty. But there was a bluebird necklace in the space for the miraculous of the songbird and a stag brooch in the place for the stag miraculous. The other miraculouses at the top of the box were around the raised area. A deer head pendant for the deer miraculous, a black snake armband for the python miraculous, a black panther pendant for the panther miraculous, a brown bear cuff bracelet for the grizzly bear miraculous, a feather hair clip for the falcon miraculous, and a white bird hair comb for the dove miraculous.

"I know the perfect choice for this akuma," Lyon talks to himself.

He picked up a necklace before quickly sealing the box back in its hiding place and leaving.

Back at the battle with Captain Hardrock, the remaining trio was having a bit of trouble with fighting off the chains as well as trying to search for her akumatized object.

"I have never seen Pirates of the Caribbean, and this is not making me want to," Cat Noir comments, jumping out of the way of more chains.

"There is a reason why pirates have never been very recorded in Greek history," Beautifly says. "Because there weren't any."

"Seriously," Ladybug raised her eyebrow at that.

"I'm pretty sure," Beautifly shrugs. "I'm a butterfly hero, you really think I know much about pirates at all?"

"I agree with her, only replace butterfly with black cat for me," Cat Noir says. "Cats and water do not mix, in any form."

There was a reason why being surrounded by frost and ice weakened him so much when Lady Wifi locked him in that freezer. Cats and water have never mixed.

"Heads up," Beautifly warned, darting around in the sky to avoid the chains coming her way.

"Fire at Nightingale," Captain Hardrock commanded.

The Liberty shot out more speakers at the energetic pop star.

"Beautifly, where is White Wolf," Ladybug practically demanded.

"I don't know, but I do have a pretty good idea," Beautifly tells her.

"He just abandoned us in the middle of a fight," Ladybug snapped, using her yo-yo to fight off chains.

"Need I remind you that we are not your sidekicks," Beautifly snapped back, blocking chains with her razor flower. "We don't have to inform you of everything we do. I trust that White Wolf has a plan. I do not immediately go for such negative thoughts."

"If he has a plan, he should have told us," Ladybug did not back down. "Maybe he would have if he didn't stop with those ridiculous pop culture references every other sentence."

"Not all heroes have to be stern and serious to be good heroes, Bug," Beautifly did not take any crap if someone insults her brother. "Have you ever seen videos of the Flash? He never seems all that serious, but succeeds every time in his fights."

"I've seen news of his battles, and Beautifly does have a point," Cat Noir said.

But before the other female hero could try to find a comeback, one of the chains managed to hook itself to Cat Noir's left wrist.

"Oh crud," Beautifly swore.

Cat Noir was pulled up to the crow's nest and his hands were pulled to either side of him as he was chained down by his wrists.

"Cataclysm," Cat Noir shouted.

His right hand bubbled with black energy, signaling his power of destruction. With a twist of his hand, he was able to free himself from the chain holding him to the crow's nest.

"Great, because you had to act all high and mighty with trying to boss us all around, Cat Noir now only had five minutes," Beautifly snaps at the red and black hero.

"He should have been paying more attention to what was going on around him," Ladybug countered. "He was probably too busy trying to think up another joke or another lame pick-up line to focus on the fight."

"Or maybe you distracted him by treating us all like sidekicks," Beautifly did not back down.

"These two fight more than most would think me and White Wolf would," Cat Noir thinks. "The whole cats and dogs hate each other stereotype and all that."

That was when the icy hero finally made it back to the fight. He landed not too far from where Luka was trying to keep up with the ship.

"Are those two seriously at it again," he asked the teen in blue.

"It is quite ironic," Luka says. "But their music has no way to harmonize. It is too different and can barely even be in the same song."

"It's funny that you mention harmonizing," Wolf smirked.

"Pardon," Luka faced the hero.

White Wolf pulled out a small silver box from under his cloak. It was like a mini version of the Miracle Box in his room, only square-shaped.

"Luka Couffaine, this is the miraculous of the songbird, symbolized by the gift of heart," Wolf held the box out to him. "You will use it for good in this time of need. After the battle is finished, I shall return to retrieve it should you choose to accept it."

"I...I do," Luka was actually showing shock. "I accept the miraculous, White Wolf."

Luka opened the box, and a ball of light came out. It soon turned into a kwami, but this one was a cute bluebird one.

"Geia, young holder," the kwami greeted. "My name if Meloetta and I am your kwami."

"My kwami," Luka was confused.

"Kwami's are what give me and the other heroes our powers," Wolf explained. "They are also generally good friends and guides of sorts for us."

"Wow," Luka says.

He took the necklace out of the box, putting it around his neck. The color blended quite well into his natural style choice as well as the fact that he was a musician wearing a songbird around his neck. Part of him wanted to ask the wolf hero if that was part of why he had chosen this particular miraculous for him. But he shrugged it off as a coincidence.

"All you have to say is 'Meloetta, let's rock,' and you will transform," the kwami explained. "To de-transform, you say 'concert's over.' Your special power is activated by saying 'Harmonize."

Luka nodded at the kwami.

"You ready to be a hero," Wolf asked.

"I'd do anything for my friends and family," Luka says. "Meloetta, let's rock."

"At least my weapon isn't a children's toy," Beautifly shot at Ladybug.

"Yours is nothing more than an oversized daisy," Ladybug countered.

The two of them were back-to-back fighting off the chains while constantly trading insults back and forth. It also seemed that because of the two's constant fighting with each other, Captain Hardrock had basically forgotten about Cat Noir altogether. He was just watching from the crow's nest and also scanning the ship with his eyes to see where the akumatized object could be.

White Wolf soon landed next to him.

"And Ladybug calls the two of us annoying," he raised his eyebrow at the cat hero.

"I don't even pretend to know anything about girls," Cat Noir put his hands up in defeat.

"Good, because I know a few girls back home that would skin you alive if you tried to ever say that you were a girl expert," Wolf chuckled.

"Even with that little bit of information now permanently etched into my brain, I still would want to visit Greece someday," Cat Noir snickers.

"Not like we'd ever deny the help against the myth spirits," Wolf commented.

"So, was Beautifly right when she guessed that you were getting help," Cat Noir asked.

"When is she ever wrong," Wolf smirked.

Another flying hero then came out of nowhere, even if White Wolf did know where he came from. Moving so fast that he was basically a blur, he used his weapon to slice his way through all the chains until there were none left.

"What in the world," Ladybug was shocked.

"I should have known that Wolf was going to chose that miraculous," Beautifly grinned.

"What," Ladybug gasped.

The new hero finally stopped, and everyone was able to get a good look at him. He was in a silver jean vest with matching jeans. He was now also had a turquoise t-shirt with darker silver boots. On his hands were turquoise fingerless gloves. His hair was the same black with blue streaks. And to the shock of Ladybug and Cat Noir, he also had angel-like bird wings that were also silver. The bluebird necklace was still around his neck, matching the bird's eye-like mask over his eyes.

In his hand was an ax-like weapon that also resembled a hybrid of a guitar and a lyre.

"Hope I am not late to the party," the new hero comments.

"You're right on time," Wolf smirks.

"Who are you," Ladybug did not like another miraculous being out and about, as when she recruited Alya to be Rena Rouge was risky enough.

"You can call me... Silver Siren," the newly named hero smiled softly.

"Finally, another hero with wings," Beautifly giggles. "I was getting lonely up in the air all by myself."

"Happy to be of assistance to you, Beautifly," Silver Siren smiles at her.

"Guys, we may need to speed this up," Cat Noir shows his ring as it blinked to show he had three minutes left.

"Gottcha," Beautifly gives him a thumbs up.

"Luka said that the akuma is most likely in the compass," Wolf says.

"Once you freeze it, Beautifly and I can destroy it," Cat Noir said.

For once, Ladybug had to play catch-up as the other four heroes went back to battle Captian Hardrock. The akuma did not look happy that another hero had joined the fight.

"Another pest in the sky," she snarled. "Get them, Liberty."

Chains shot at the team from all angles.

"Nature's Heart," Beautifly called upon her power, throwing her flower up.

The gem on her razor flower released a blossom that came down with the weapon.

"Amaryllis," Wolf immediately figured out. "I always thought that was a beautiful flower."

"I know exactly what this flower does," Beautifly said.

Holding up the flower, it released a number of petal missiles. Each petal exploded on contact with the chains, destroying them. The move almost looked like a combo of the draco meteor and pin missile moves from Pokemon.

"My chains too easy for you," Captain Hardrock yelled. "Then I think it is time for you land-loving pests to face the music."

"Land-loving," Cat Noir raised an eyebrow. "She does know that two of us don't even touch the ground, right?"

"Akumas, big on destruction and not so much on logic," Beautifly says.

The ship rumbled as its sound cannons aimed at the five of them. White Wolf, in particular, did not want to have to hear that loud music again.

"Hit it, Silver Siren," he called out to the new hero.

"I'm on it," he responded. "Harmonize."

He strung his guitar ax, blue energy flowing from the strings to his throat. His eyes glowed as he started to open his mouth.

"Cover your ears," Wolf warned everyone.

Just as the heroes covered their ears, Silver Siren let out a loud scream as the akumatized ship sent out its own sonic blasts. Silver Sirens scream came out as powerful sonic waves similar to the Black Canary's canary cry. Only his seemed slightly more powerful and the sound waves were a bright blue color.

The two sound attacks met in the air, a loud BOOM resulting from the collision. It blew their hair and loose pieces of clothing back a little at the wind blast that also resulted from the collision.

White Wolf and Beautifly uncovered their ears as both sides died down their attacks. They had to move quickly.

"Winter's Touch," Wolf quickly called.

His hands started to pour out an icy mist with a slight blueish color to it. The wolf hero then jumped to where he was sure that the compass was on the ship.

"Stay away from my compass," Captain Hardrock yelled.

But with one touch, the piece of equipment was frozen into ice. With a quick jump back, he let Beautifly throw her razor flower at the compass. The weapon smashed right through the frozen compass as easily as it would be to shatter glass.

"Gotta love this thing," Beautifly smiles at her weapon.

A black butterfly soon flapped its way out of the rubble. That was when Ladybug stepped forward.

"No more evil-doing for you, little akuma," she said, opening her yo-yo. "Time to de-evilize."

She caught the corrupted insect.

"Bye, bye, little butterfly," Ladybug released the now white insect.

"That thing is definitely a moth," Beautifly comments.

Cat Noir snickered at the comment while White Wolf simply rolls his eyes playfully. Silver Siren smiled but Ladybug looked annoyed.

"She does seem like the perfect person to know a butterfly from a moth," Cat Noir joined in Beautifly's fun.

"You two give me headaches," Wolf said.

"You know you love us," Cat Noir winks in a flirty way.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Wolf waved him off, making him and Beautifly snicker. "You did great out there, Silver Siren."

"You think so," the new hero asks. "I was a bit worried about using my power against those cannons."

"If I didn't think you could help, I wouldn't have given you the miraculous," Wolf smiles at him.

All of the heroes but Ladybug all started to beep as their miraculouses flashed. Cat Noir had a minute left as his ring lost another piece of the paw. One of the wings on Beautifly's bracelet went black. A feather on Silver Siren's bird necklace went from blue to white. One of the wolf's teeth on White Wolf's medallion went black.

"You can handle the clean-up, Bug," Beautifly says. "We all have to go. Secret identities and all that jazz."

"No one likes smooth jazz, Fly," Wolf said, but then all of them separated.

[the-fae-folk]

After eating they were led to a room with stone pools filled with steaming water warmed from some natural spring. The pools were decorated with tiles that formed images of trees and flowers and wandering deer. Noticing Sam’s slightly red face, Ardri smiled and turned away to give him privacy. Humans were very odd with their concepts of modesty. Once the dust had been washed away they found that new clothing had been set out for them and that their other clothing had been taken away, possibly to be washed. Or burned, Ardri thought to himself. He hoped the Autumn Court wouldn’t go that far, the human clothing had been comfortable. But some Faeries simply refused to have anything to do with any humans or their things. Instead Ardri donned the loose fitting grey trousers and the slate blue tunic that was incredibly soft. At his waist he was given a leather belt with a brass buckle that was ornately designed to be in the shape of an inward spiral. They had also left him a cloak of some black material. When he lifted it he gasped softly. It was woven entirely of shadows, a rare gift. It would allow him to walk in darkness and shade where the eyes of most could not catch sight of him if he didn’t wish them to. He would assume it was a gift and not a trade, because he had nothing such as this to offer in exchange, though he would have to find some token to give to their host in thanks. Vaguely he wondered if the fae of the Autumn Court had seen the cloak he’d worn before and decided that he must be given one to replace its loss. When Sam coughed slightly to indicate that he was finished dressing, Ardri turned around. Sam was wearing a tunic as well. Soft reds and golds were mixed in with various shades of brown and the occasional hint of green as patterns followed the hem and sleeves of the tunic. The belt round his waist boasted of a brass oak leaf, and his trousers were a soft earthy brown. He looked, good. Handsome even. Like a prince of the Folk. A smile on his lips and his hands spread out in a “what do you think?” gesture. Ardri turned towards the door to hide the blush that had begun creeping up his cheeks while admiring Sam. “You look well. We should hurry. The Lord of Autumn is waiting and we do not wish to be rude.” Sam fell into step beside him, and it astounded Ardri how easily he seemed to adapt to Faerie. How comfortably he seemed to fit in to Ardri’s life, as if they had always traveled this way. “Why does everyone do that?” Sam asked curiously. “Call them by the titles. Don’t they have names?” Ardri shook his head. “The rulers of the four seasons don’t have names. Nobody can remember why, but my mothers always thought it must be because of how powerful they are. As for everyone else, names are dangerous to give out. Not as dangerous for us, but still important. I give my name freely, but that’s because I was given gifts of magic by a creature in a well to ensure it can’t be used against me. I didn’t give your name to Nod or our host because then they would have power over you, it’s best if you think of a suitable name to go by while you’re among other Folk here. Some, like Nod, are under the protection of powerful people and don’t mind if we know their names. It’s... a very complicated part of our culture.” Their host promised to have places for them to sleep upon their return, and Ardri thought again about what token he might give to this Elf. Nod had come again to lead them on. Past the city to where the forest closed in on the high ornately carved stone walls decorated with their repeated image of seven entwined blossoms, for the Empire that had fallen. Sam stopped short once, his mouth agape at the sight of the enormous turtle which bore the city of the Autumn Court on its back. But he ducked his head in embarrassment and hurried after when Nod made a noise of impatience. Ardri gave him a smile, and thought to himself that they ought to wander and see the sights once the others had joined them, so that the humans could safely see some of Faerie’s loveliest sights. It wasn’t to the turtle which Nod was leading them, but down a path, and not a great road either. A half overgrown and forgotten pathway that had once wound about the woods was where he took them. The Empire had been known for its roadways, connecting all of its great cities and richest towns. But this trail must have been older, long forgotten once easier ways were made. Ducking beneath a branch that hung out over the path, Ardri spotted a low stone building hidden between the trees. Another shrine. It was overgrown and had probably been abandoned by whatever Fae had once made it, or claimed it as their own. But there was someone there. Someone kneeling upon their right knee at the little shrine. As Ardri held the branch aside for Sam, he got a better glimpse of the human, for it was a human. A middle aged man wearing a black cassock and a little white cotton band that showed at the front but was mainly tucked beneath his collar. The shrine itself had been filled with candles, all flickering softly in the growing twilight. And the man appeared to be speaking softly to himself as he fingered a kind of chain with little knots and wooden beads. A brief snatch of what he was murmuring made its way to them as they were approaching. “Hail, holy Queen, mother of mercy, Hail our life, our sweetness, and our hope. To you we cry, poor banished children of Eve; to you we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears.” Was it a cry for help? Who was he asking? This man wasn’t dressed at all like any of the humans Ardri had met in his brief time to the human world, and he certainly didn’t seem to be suffering in any way that they could see. And where was the queen he was speaking to? Ardri looked to Sam, hoping for some kind of clue as to what to do. Sam was looking surprised. “That’s a priest,” he whispered to Ardri, clearly not wanting to interrupt. The priest’s voice lowered, obviously having noted their presence, and Ardri could no longer hear his words. A priest, that made sense. This must be a prayer of some kind or a ritual for this man’s deity. He had called the Queen an advocate as well as holy, so some figure who petitioned their deity? From the stories he’d always heard, humans had all manner of strange customs concerning their gods, rites and rituals, prayers and sacrifices. Some even tried to worship the Folk, though that never lasted. After a moment the man appeared to have finished praying because he stood up and turned to face them. It was then that Ardri saw the item he held very gently in his other hand. It was the Crown of Autumn. Silver entwined with hawthorn twigs, leaves of aspen and blackthorn, and rubies as deep and red as blood. “They told me you would be coming,” said the man with a calm smile. “I’m glad you arrived safely.”

[makeithappenandreal]

Even the Greatest Heroes Can Flip Out (Dark Percy!)

How will Percy be if he tries to be scary? -Piper Mclean

Dark!Percy trope:

Nico gulped as they waited for someone, someone very familiar to come out from the shadows in the hollow, deserted cavern they stood in. They had been expecting it. It didn’t mean he, or anyone else in the matter, was ready for it. Ready to face... face their once great, loyal friend and fight him. An army of campers, however, were standing ready with their weapons raised as they waited for him to come out so that they could fight him. Nico glanced at all of them. He knew that none of them wanted to fight their friend, but they had to. He exchanged a few looks with the one and only Thalia Grace, standing there in her silvery outfit and bow and quivers, her eyes at least as much as pain stricken as him, like she couldn’t bear the thought of fighting, fighting him. Just like Nico. 

They turned when they heard footsteps, light but fierce, coming closer to them. Nico took a deep breath. The campers tensed and took their positions. Thalia inhaled audibly as she watched the person come out of the shadows.

There stood Percy Jackson, in all of his glory, holding his celestial bronze sword Riptide in one hand and wearing a whole Greek armor and a full black t-shirt underneath instead of his bright orange Camp Half Blood outfit. His jet black hair was longer and messier than always, and there was blood shining on his armor with a golden shimmering fluid...was that ichor? Nico gasped as he turned his eyes to meet Percy's. He grasped his Stygian Sword tightly and saw Thalia grip her silvery bow tighter beside him.

"Percy, we are your friends, we came here to help you. You just have to come with us, we don't wanna hurt you." Nico said, his voice strained. He flinched as an evil, sinister laugh echoed through the rocks of the cavern that chilled Nico to his bones. Percy, still laughing, turned to him with a really mocking expression.

"Oh, Nico, I think that hurt part would be the other way around." He said, and Thalia tensed beside him at the tone of Percy’s voice. Percy looked at the crowd standing before him ready to fight, like they were useless, belittled creatures, and raised an ironic eyebrow.

"Where shall we start, huh?" Percy said, an evil grin on his face, and he raised his free hand up. "Who wants to die first?"

Suddenly, Katie Gardner started choking and her sword fell out of her hand as she fell onto her knees. Before they could help him, two more campers also started choking and collapsed, and Travis cried out in pain from behind.

Nico turned frantically to his side, watching as Percy's endearing sea green eyes, now a whole different shade, darkened and frightening, shined with an evil and satisfied glint as he controlled the campers' bodies with one hand. Some were choking on their own spit, Katie was gagging on bodily fluids and Travis was coughing out his own blood.

"Percy, stop it!" Nico exclaimed, his eyes wide. "You are killing them, you are not someone like this, this isn't you."

"Oh, but it is now." Percy said, showing his teeth in a sly smirk, and Nico could see a smoke of red shading his eyes. Thalia growled beside him. She drew her bow and aimed it at Percy.

"Percy, don't make me do this." She said, voice angry but determined. Percy tilted his head a bit.

"I liked you more as a pine tree." He commented, and one more camper, an Ares kid, also collapsed in pain as blood started flowing out of his nose. Thalia made a sound at the back of her throat and shot the arrow, aiming at his arm but Percy expertly swung his sword and hurled the silver arrow away from him.  Thalia roared, throwing the bow away and a flash of lightning blinded everyone as she summoned it and sent it swirling towards Percy. Percy made himself a shield from water this time, but the lightning was strong enough to hurt him a bit. He looked at Thalia menacingly.

"You know what, now I realised I never got to drop that galleons of water on you back in our fight in the Canoe Lake." He said, and before Thalia could hurl another round of lightning, Percy's eyes shined dangerously and a big amount of water came with a WHOOSH sound from the top of the ceiling, right on Thalia's head. Thalia screamed, and Nico ran to her, eyes wide.

"Thalia!"

Thalia tried to recover from the water, gasping and trying to stay upright. Percy formed the water in the shape of an arm so that it wrapped around Thalia's neck applying pressure and she started choking.

"Thalia! Percy, drop it, stop that right now! You have to snap out of it!" Nico shouted. Thalia gasped.

"Nico, do 'mthing..."

Nico turned to Percy, eyes burning up.

"You wanted this." He said, and concentrated as he lifted both of his arms up in the air. Within seconds, a whole army of skeletons popped out from the ground, ready at his command.

“Bring Percy Jackson to me!" Nico shouted an order, and tens of skeletons charged at Percy at once.

Percy turned his head to the army of the dead running towards him but he didn't seem very impressed.

"Nice try." He said and raised his sword to meet one of them's attack and released the grip of the water on Thalia. Thalia fell to the ground gasping, and Nico looked at her concernedly.

"Are you okay?" He asked, and Thalia nodded, trying to come to herself. She pointed at the army.

"Just focus on that." She said and Nico nodded, turning to the skeletons. Percy was turning skeleton after skeleton to dust, so he summoned more. He smiled as he saw that Percy was struggling now. He was annoyed too. But his smile froze on his face as Percy made a disgruntled sound and raised one hand.

"Now I am getting sick of this." He said, and he directed a literal flood towards the skeletons and started wiping them out of the existence with his hold on water. Nico couldn’t control them anymore.

"How are we gonna stop him?" Connor asked with desperation. "He is too powerful!"

"Yes, Connor, you got that right." Percy mused, eyes shining with a visible sparkle of red in his eyes. "I am too powerful for you."

"Not so fast, buddy." A voice said from behind, and Percy frowned as he turned around. "Frank, Leo, now!"

Percy was startled as a fire tornado blurred his vision. Before his vision cleared, he felt claws on his back and he was thrown to the ground with an enormous bear sitting on top of him. On the right side of him stood Leo with a sarcastic grin and hands in flames, and directly in front of him was Jason with lightning dancing around his body.

"That's it, guys!" One of the campers shouted in relief. “Don’t let him go!”

Jason walked up to Percy, still covered in lightning and his demeanour seeming calm.

"I am gonna cut this one out short, Perce, you are going to come with us now and we'll handle whatever comes next together. I don't wanna fight you, don't make us use brutal force." Jason said, his voice controlled. Percy smirked, even though he had a bear sitting on top of his chest.

“What makes you think you, of all people, can beat me, Jason?” He said sarcastically.

Leo's eyes softened. "We are going to fix you up, man. I know you are not yourself. Once you get out of this place...”

"I don't need fixing." Percy snapped. "I am not one of your pathetic mechanical toys, Leo. Go play with your teddy dragon."

Leo’s expression turned a bit painful, the flame in his hands flickered. Jason took a deep breath.

“Percy, you don’t need to do this, we are your friends, we just want to help you, you gotta believe me. Now don’t force us into fighting you, you can’t fight all of us alone.” Jason said.  The bear growled in agreement. 

Percy smiled. His eyes were nearly all red now. He looked directly at Jason.

“You shouldn’t have come here tonight, Jason. I really wouldn’t want to be the one to kill you.” He said. And out of nowhere, something in Percy’s belt started to stir. Nico frowned. Suddenly, a bottle popped out free from his belt, filled with dark, bubbly liquid inside and Percy got the liquid out and tossed it to the bear’s eyes.

The bear howled in pain, and before they could understand what happened, Percy broke free of its  hold and pulled Riptide out to hit the bear. Frank transformed as he continued to rub his eyes and scream in pain, flying away from where they were standing. Percy, now free, jumped to his feet.

Before Leo and Jason caught up on what happened, Nico understood and shouted.

“It’s poison! Leo get away from there!” He cried out but it was too late as Percy hurled a river of water to Leo’s flaming body and sent him flying across the room. He groaned as he hit his head hard on the wall and passed out.  Percy turned to Jason with a sword on his hand and a maniac smile on his face. 

“You’re insane.” Jason said, his eyes wide as he watched what happened. Percy raised Riptide and Jason met his strike with his own Imperial Gold sword. He tried to hold his own, but Percy was the greatest swordsman in the last three centuries. Panic started to worm its way into his eyes and he jumped away from him to his side, leaving the sword and summoning lightning as he threw it towards Percy. Percy was caught to it, and his head started smoking a bit. Jason wanted to feel happiness but it dissolved into fear as Percy turned to him with crazy, complete red eyes like it held all the rage in the world. He threw Riptide too, and somehow, it didn’t relieve Jason at all.

“Let’s see how much blood runs through your veins, shall we?” Percy said, eyes on fire, and before Jason could do anything, he felt an immense burning in his stomach and he lifted his hands to hold his throat. Percy closed his fist and Jason buckled over, falling on his knees as he tried to breathe. 

“NO!” Thalia yelled out, but Percy shook his other hand dismissively and another wave of water hit Thalia again. She groaned as she tried to break free from the water’s pressure. Percy turned his attention on Jason. 

Jason was on the ground now, trying to stay upright as he gasped and gagged and choked. Suddenly, he started to spit blood, coughing up more and more every second. He started shaking violently as blood starting coming off his nose and eventually his ears.

“Jason!” Nico screamed, running towards them with all of his might but the water had created a hurricane around Thalia and the wind was too strong for him to get there in time. He watched helplessly as the greatest hero of their time, arguably the whole time, the person he secretly looked up so much to and had had a crush for years, killed his friends like flies without even hesitating. He didn’t know what could stop him. Percy let out another maniacal, evil laugh as he resumed drowning Jason in his own blood. 

“PERCY! ENOUGH!” A familiar, very familiar voice thundered through the cavern and Percy stopped in his tracks. He opened his fist a bit and Jason started breathing again desperately, gasping. Nico turned around to see the owner of the voice at the same time as Percy.

A very familiar girl with blond curly hair and stormy grey eyes stood there, with Piper and Hazel on both of his sides, looking worn out and wounded. She was looking at Percy with a look of agony and sadly, and Percy suddenly dropped his hand. The waters disappeared, the hurricane subsided, and Jason wasn’t choking on his blood anymore. The girl had tears in his eyes.

“Enough.” She said, her voice ragged and breathless. Percy’s red eyes flickered, and Nico could see a sparkle of familiar sea green fighting its way back in. Percy gasped.

“Annabeth? You-You’re alive?” He asked. 

[theflashdriver]

Trial by Flyer (A Silvaze AU)

The campus was dark and silent tonight, the wind wasn’t whistling through the trees and what little star and moonlight would have shone its way to her was being blocked out by a thick wall of clouds. Blaze the cat, age sixteen, shouldn’t have been out here at so late an hour. Midnight had just passed, the witching hour had arrived, and yet, this feline witch was supposed to be long in bed. Instead, where was she? Sat at the bottom step of the outdoor amphitheatre, fingers steepled and her right foot tapping uncontrollably as she awaited her best friend.

The Marble Garden School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a place of learning only for the chosen few and, as such, there were many serious rules that were mandatory to abide by. There were a multitude of simple rules that, if broken, could result in a severe punishment of expulsion; girls weren’t supposed to enter the boys’ dormitories (and vice versa), you weren’t allowed to cast nefarious spells on other students, there were to be no paid additional studies and, the rule that Blaze was currently breaking, all students had to be in their respective dormitory buildings before eleven at night. Just being out here was making her anxious, quadrupling her heartrate and making even the most minor of sounds all the more terrifying.

Blaze was a good student, well… a mostly good student; a good student as much as she could control being a good student. While she rarely raised her hand in class, only answering questions when she was called upon, she listened diligently to her lecturers, studied all she’d learned thoroughly every night, shirked social and extracurricular opportunities and took additional time at the library whenever possible. She put in more effort than any other student she knew of, that wasn’t a matter of pride so much as a fact that her teachers wouldn’t stop reminding her of. Whenever she did well on a test or whenever they wanted to give an example of a good student, her name would quickly fall from their lips followed by a heaping of praise.

Yet, despite all the praise she received and how good of a student she was, here the feline sat; so casually breaking curfew. It was as if she was trying to be caught even, a heavy bag sat beside her and she was dressed in the garb that she’d chosen as her uniform- a tall hat with a golden buckle and belt adorned her head ita long sleeved purple dress that frilled out at the cuffs and hem covered her body only to be topped by a purple-leather mantle, a set of thick purple tights with golden swirls decorating them and a pair of high heeled boots to match. The only aspect of her dress that wasn’t purple and gold were her gloves, stark white evening gloves that reached deeply into her sleeves. If she was seen, for a plain an outfit she’d tried to pick (from a very limited list of options) she’d be recognised on sight; a fact that was making it all the harder to not just run back to her-

A voice suddenly assumed the entirety of her mind’s attention, not entering through her ears but jumping directly into her brain, “Blaze! I’m so sorry, I’m running a little late. The groundskeeper was cleaning a mess outside the boy’s dorms, I had to sneak out through the window. I won’t be much longer!”

Quickly, Blaze raised her pointer fingers to the air and set their tips alight. Intricately, methodically, she traced a pair of intricate and overlapping sigils in the air and closed her eyes. The moment they were completed, she brought those fingers to her temples and thought in the loudest voice possible, “Silver. It is okay, I am glad you were not caught. I am waiting at the agreed location, please come quickly. Did you remember your notebook?”

A moment passed but no reply came.

Her fingers left her temples and her eyes flickered open but the symbols she’d cast had already faded from the air. A sigh slipped from her mouth as she recrossed her legs and resumed waiting, uncertain that her message had left her, let alone reached its intended reciprocate. He wasn’t that late, and the boy’s dormitories weren’t too far from the amphitheatre, but every second spent out her left more chance that they’d be caught. The moment he arrived, they could achieve the motive of their rule-breaking and quickly sneak back to their respective rooms.

Oh, who was she kidding; this wasn’t going to go nearly as quickly as she hoped.

It was as she had that thought that a twinkling of light, like a small cluster of stars had managed to split through the clouds, drew her attention. She looked up, frowning hard at the glow as she attempted to identify it; as it drew closer, she understood it to be the form she was awaiting. Silver the hedgehog, also age sixteen, was descending from the sky as though he was carried by a moonbeam; wrapped in cyan, psychic, light, his form was difficult but not impossible to distinguish. Before he arrived, the feline jumped to her feet and dusted herself off, quickly scanning their surroundings to make certain no one else had been watching them. He landed without a sound; standing next to her, still coated in energy, his height only just superseded hers due to the nature of his tall quills. If she wasn’t wearing heels of course, the different between them would be far clearer.

With the flaring of his fingers, the light faded from him but that new sight entirely perplexed Blaze. She’d noticed his lack of hat, thus being why she wasn’t presently taller than him, but not the lack of his other garb. Silver stood before her, dressed in a short-sleeved green t-shirt and a pair of baggy pyjama trousers.

“Silver,” She half whispered half grumbled, trying to keep her voice down but make it clear that she was perturbed, “Where are your robes, where is your notebook?”

His bright yellow eyes seemed to dance for a moment, looking to her before down to his own frame. As a realisation hit, his quills shot up straight and a hint of embarrassment overcame his muzzle, “Sorry, I forgot to drop the charm. I figured I’d be too bright if I tried to scout a path dressed normally, give me a moment.”

Like a chimneysweep dusting soot from his body, the symbols on his palms flaring, Silver began to pat himself down. With no more than those touches, he unearthed the outfit that he’d hidden- he wore open robes with flaring sleeves (cut with a keyhole window that exposed the upper portion of his chest fur), a set of baggy trousers and some thick boots with metal caps. That description made the outfit seem basic but, in truth, it was anything but that; head to toe, Silver glowed with a strange bioluminescence that matched the symbols on his hands. Scales and lines like mycelia flared additional light from seemingly random points on his person, forming jagged lines both across and up his visage. In some places it made sense, like on the buttons of his mantle and hemming his clothes, but in others it seemed nonsensical.

To conclude this transformation, he slicked his fingers through his quills and revealed what Blaze thought to be the most ludicrous cap worn by any student in this entire school. As if to compensate for the muting of his own overgrown quills, often having to be pulled back into a braid or ponytail, Silver’s choice of hat was so tall that its point had bent not three days beyond his arrival at this school. It was faintly glowing and cyan, alike the rest of his garb, but the underside of its large rim especially so. It looked as though his head was topped with a large, bioluminescent, mushroom cap with incredibly bright gills.

Reaching into his robes, he drew out his notebook and beamed at her, eyes still shining even while his hat tried its damnedest to obscure them, “There, is that better?”

Realising quite how intently she’d been staring at this magical display, Blaze quickly turned away and busied herself within her bag; though she’d thoroughly enjoyed the display, he was eating up their time. Under her breath, half hoping he didn’t hear, she murmured, “You’re so naïve.”

She pulled out her own notebook, flipping it open to her most recent writings. In a cursive, neat and elegant, font were two pages of heavily sourced notes pertaining to the history and practice of future prediction and other sorts of divination magic. She managed to walk beside him, still not looking to him, and show him the pages.

“These should help you start your essay, at the very least. All these books are available in the library but, if they’re taken out, I have my own copies that you can borrow,” She tapped one name in particular, “Look out for books and stories by and about her in particular, Amelia Rose. Her works are a lot older but, while I find them too flowery, they’re a very good source.”

She dared to throw a glance in his direction only to find him staring at the pages as if the several dozen names and notes were going in one of his ears and out the other. His words seemed to leave some kind of impact on him though as he managed to nod at them, “Amelia Rose, Amelia Rose, okay!” Blaze went to tear the two sheets free for him to slot into his own book, but a fumbling hand caught hers before he could, “Don’t worry about that, you need to write this essay too, right?” She looked to him incredulously only for him to start beaming again, “I learned a new spell, watch this!”

He shuffled his way just behind her, reaching around her shoulders. As if it was the most normal thing in the world, Silver plopped his notebook face town atop hers Almost immediately, Blaze felt her tail stiffen and bump against him as his arms came to rest atop his and his frame pushed so close to hers. Two of his fingers pushed against the back of both his pad’s covers and began to weave small circles. They traced from top left to right, gradually going along and down line after line after line. She watched as sparks of excess cyan energy, that which the book didn’t absorb, slipped from beneath his fingers and fluttered in the air before them. Quickly, the tenseness in her tail faded and she felt herself relax into his grasp, but she wasn’t thinking about that. She was simply enamoured by whatever it was he was doing.

So enamoured in fact that when he flipped his book in a single movement, uttering an overly pleased, “Tada!” It took Blaze a moment to come to her senses and realise what he’d done. Her words, her exact handwriting, had been copied onto the pages of his book. He’d learned this spell specifically so that she didn’t have to duplicate her notes for him, her notes could simply duplicate themselves.

“You’re so…” She went to reprimand for acting without explaining, for allowing his talent to swallow the entirety of her attention again, only to notice something comically foolish, “Your book was upside-down…”

“W-What? Oh, um…” He lifted it from hers, stepping out from behind her and squinting at the writing incredulously, “It’ll still work for studying though, right?”

“It should do,” She comforted him, but at the showing of his notebook a question rose to mind, “Did you get my message earlier?”

“Oh, yeah! You’re getting way better at telepathy Blaze,” He was smiling again, “You said it was ok and to come quickly, right?”

Ah, so the end of her message had been cut off. Her casting, even of that basic spell, was still far from perfect… unlike his.

While Blaze excelled at all things theoretical, she could easily write essay upon essay and was quick to learn that which she heard or could read, Silver was a master of practical magic. Without really understanding what he was doing, the hedgehog frequently found himself successfully casting spells on a whim and without particularly understanding their idiosyncrasies. To contrast this, despite putting in an equal amount of effort as her, Silver was especially bad at deskwork; he’d attempt to answer teacher’s questions and routinely be incorrect as well as, despite weeks of study, barely earn passing grades in written exams. Curiously enough, just as she mirrored his written ability, Blaze was lacking when it came to practical magical talent. When it came to offensive spells and fire magic, she was fairly adept at casting but anything beyond that seemed to be out of her reach. Telepathy was one of the first spells they’d been taught, and she still couldn’t transmit full thoughts, only brief fragments; abjuration, conjuration, transmutation and illusionary techniques, outside of only the most basic, were beyond her.

One would think that, for those reasons, the two wouldn’t get along but they’d formed a strong bond in their first year. It’d been very obvious to Blaze that the hedgehog was struggling, he wore his heart on his sleeve in such a blatant way, and she had taken some degree of pity on him. That pity had soon been corrupted by a mutual admiration of course, even during their first year (3 years ago) he’d shown such magnificent talent, and that admiration had forged the bonds of their friendship. They looked after each other, helped each other wherever possible and promised to come to the other for help… just as she had offered an exchange and asked him to break some rules tonight. She’d thought she’d have to beg but he’d agreed without hesitating.

“So, Friday’s test…” She led, knowing that day was only one more night away, “I know this is a little short notice, I thought I could maybe do this myself, but-

A pair of hands found hers, palm topped palm as her fingers held her tight.

“We help each other, Blaze. There’s nothing to worry about,” She caught his eye again and knew that he was being genuine, “Of course I’ll teach you to fly!”

Blaze’s gaze slipped from Silver. Her stomach was churning, it felt as though the world was spinning, the mere mention of that word and all it implied made her slightly sick. On Friday, they had their first real test of this semester- a flying obstacle course set up on the sports grounds, a small path that they had to complete. Even outside her difficulty casting a spell that would allow her to fly, Blaze had a rather significant fear of heights; when she’d arrived at her dorm room within the girl’s tower she’d almost panicked at the view from her window. For this reason, while other students had made the extracurricular effort to learn flight, Blaze had only just started to learn. She’d tried to find the right spell for her over the past few weeks, researching thoroughly, but none of them had worked with her specific type of magic.

“Alright, th-thank you Silver,” She managed to glance at him again, only to find that he’d leaned in closer, “What do you think the first step is?”

Silver’s hands slipped from hers, he fumbled with his chest fur in thought for a moment, “Well, it’s probably best to start at the beginning; you need to take off. From there, it’s just learning to control yourself; that gets way easier with practice!”

“Right, taking off…” She considered, still rather disgusted, “How would you recommend I do that? I don’t think your method will work for me.”

As if to exemplify why his method wouldn’t work, a gentle hue of cyan light overtook Silver’s frame and carried him into the air. He flipped to hover upside down, looking her in the eye as he sunk deeper into thought, “Probably not…” His eyes seemed to dance across her body, lingering on her hands before finishing at her feet, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, you can make fire come from anywhere, right?”

With no more than a thought, Blaze allowed a pair of flaming plumes to emerge from her shoulders and dance in the windless night before having them vanish and growing a set of vague flame-wings, “Anywhere on my body, as much as I can muster.”

“Well…” He looked like what he was about to say was foolish, “What if you made yourself like a rocket? What if you shot fire from the bottom of your feet and pushed yourself into the air?”

It was, it was very foolish, “Silver, even if I could do that, it’d be incredibly unstable and almost impossible to balance. If my top half leaned over then I’d fly in just about any direction, I could race to the ground like a falling star.”

“I thought about that too!” He beamed, “What if you used your hands to make almost… stabilisers? Like what people put on a bike so they don’t fall over, only for flying.”

For as ridiculously as he’d phrased it, that was a fairly succinct counter to her issue. There was however a magnitude of issues still both swirling in her gut and with his plan, “Ok, but that presupposes that I can even make enough thrust to lift myself, Silver. I really doubt that I can…”

“Oh, have you tried before? Darn, I really thought it’d work…” He went back to thinking, almost seeming to scan her body again, but those words had made Blaze’s mind even more of a mess.

Her gaze broke from his and she hesitated again, looking at her hands and conjuring small flames. The rate with which flame emerged from her was something she could control but she’d never truly thought to, “Not really, no.”

“You haven’t? Can we try it then?” Her uncertainty must have been showing because he flitted back around, looking her in the eye, “I’ll stay right next to you, I won’t let you fall, I promise!”

She gulped, “Do you?” It was a question she already knew the answer to but worry was brewing in her gut.

“Of course, I’m here to help you, Blaze!” He insisted, preparing her arms as if she was already about to catch her, “I would never let you down.”

“Ok,” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, “I’ll give it a shot…”

Blaze was rather unsure what to do with herself to become more aerodynamic, but she gave it her best. She pushed her heels together but kept her toes far apart, keeping her hands parallel but separate to her waist with her palms pointed towards the ground. Lighting a flame was easy, she had just done it with a thought, but producing a constant and controlled flame would be just a little bit harder. She focused her attention on the underside of her boots and centre of her palms, trying to pool all of her arcana evenly over those four spots.

A thought dawned upon her, “Should I I just let it go or should I jump and do it from the air?”

“T-Try just letting it go,” Silver’s voice cut through her focus, “It looks like you’re doing rea-

A single lapse in her concentration was all it took. As Blaze was trying to focus on his words, the seal keeping her flames from spilling free lapsed. A thunderous force, larger than any Blaze had tried to conjure before, burst from all of four of her extremities with an unrelenting roar and launched her straight up into the air. The moment she opened her eyes, Blaze was met with cloud but soon they passed and cracked to reveal an unending array of stars dancing around the moon. For a single moment, as her eyes lingered on the shining crescent above, she felt joy; she’d done what she thought impossible, she’d successfully taken off… but she was still soaring.

There was no ceiling to stop her and, much more terrifyingly, no safety net beneath her. She’d shot off without warning, she had no idea how fast she’d flown or what kind of noise she was making. It was possible she’d woken up the whole campus, it was probable that one of the nightguards had noticed! She was going to get them in so much trouble! As she glanced around herself in an attempt to find Silver, she forgot how important the positioning of her palms was and sent herself into an upwards corkscrew. Now spiralling, her hat having long fallen from her head, Blaze fought to regain control but soon found herself spinning on more than one axis.

Her focus and control waned, the fire at her limb’s ends snuffed and soon she reached the apex of her ascent. For the briefest of moments, she felt weightless, having tumbled up to mingle with the stars, but she very quickly found herself plummeting. With the wind rushing around her frame, Blaze couldn’t relight her form and, even if she could, her feet and hands were in such wrong positions.

She started to scream, the sound had just begun to leave her lips, when something soft found her back and hooked around the underside of her legs. She couldn’t have fallen for half a metre before that gentle touch had found her and brought them both to a standstill in the air. Lit by the moon more than his powers; Silver’s smile was huge and his eyes sparkled down at her. She’d landed in his arms; he was holding her back and beneath her legs, clutching her close to his body in an attempt to secure her. His face, his smile, it was all so close; she couldn’t recall anyone else ever looking at her like this, especially not after she failed.

“Are you alright? Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” He insisted, but before she could say a word his smile almost tripled, “You did it Blaze! You flew!”

“I-It was more like I exploded! Don’t be so naïve!” She tore her gaze from him only to be confronted by their current height. Despite her blush and false-fury, Blaze was forced to meet his gaze, “Don’t act like that was a success!”

“What’re you talking about, you took off!” He sounded so excited, “You managed to learn that so quickly, I was sure it’d be the hardest part, the rest should be a cinch!”

She felt him shift just a little, something popped into the corner of her vision; a certain black hat that’d been lost in her flight. Snatching it, simultaneously gripping him tight with her remaining arm, she used the garment to hide her face, “Stop being so naïve…it’s not going to be that easy.”

A brief silence overcame them and Blaze found herself shrinking further into her hat and, almost by mistake, deeper into his arms. Over the past handful of months, Blaze had been catching herself in these positions more and more often; every single time she had only herself to blame, though she’d usually berate him for his part in them. They’d be studying in the library, sitting side by side as they read, and her head would just so happen to find comfort on his shoulder, or they’d be walking across campus and she’d, eventually, notice that their fingers had intertwined. Prior to this year, Blaze hadn’t thought much of these occurrences, they’d just sort of happened, but idle gossip, fresh from the girl’s common room, had made her far more aware of these things.

Silver’s talent hadn’t gone unnoticed by their lecturers or, as Blaze had come to learn, their classmates. The bizarre bubbling sickness that Blaze had experienced when another student had expressed interest in the hedgehog and pried about their relationship was unlike anything she’d felt prior. Though she’d wanted to deny the rumour, she’d found herself entirely unable to.

Hesitantly, she flicked up the brim of her hat for a small glance at him. Despite her prior rudeness, he looked entirely unphased; the wizard in training was simply looking up at the sky and smiling, taking in the stars. The way the night-light seemed to colour his fur, let alone the expression it managed to put on his face, was just a little dazzling. It’d taken her a while to really understand it, but there was something rather… aesthetically pleasing about his form. Nothing she ever planned to admit aloud of course, especially not to him, but after that girl had mentioned it, the changes he’d undergone over the years and the way his eyes sparkled did make for a rather pleasing visage (even despite his silly robes).

Realising that she’d been thinking for much too long and noticing him turning back in her direction, Blaze quickly made a demand, “I want to try again.”

“Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready,” He affirmed, still smiling as his gaze returned to her, “You can stand on my feet if you want. That way you’d be up straight, it might help you get used to this.”

“It means I’ll be free of this embarrassing position, I’m willing to try anything,” She huffed but, moments later, caught herself and realised what she’d said. He was trying his best to help her, he probably didn’t even think this was embarrassing, “You’ll still… hold me, won’t you?”

“I won’t let go until you tell me too, I promise,” The hedgehog pledged.

She shifted in his grasp, clinging tightly to his shoulders, and, ever so gently, he slipped his hold from her legs. It took a little bit of fumbling but, eventually, she managed to perch herself on the tips of his boots. Despite how painful it’d surely be if they were on the ground, this change of position didn’t seem to bring him any discomfort as he glided his remaining free hand around her back.

The young witch peered over his shoulder and her gaze fell upon the thick cloud barrier beneath them. Up here, no lecturers or other students could see them; they were alone with the night’s celestial bodies. Though being above the clouds did frighten her, the fact that they couldn’t see the ground was making things a lot easier. She knew that Silver wouldn’t let her fall, she believed in his abilities, but having that a fluffy-fake ground beneath them was doing her a world of good. Gradually, she managed to shift some of the tension from her shoulders and hold him in a less life-or-death manner.

He seemed to notice the shift, “Alright, maybe you should start with your feet? That way we can keep holding each other.”

That made sense but, truth be told, letting go seemed a little easier than stepping off and into the abyss, “One foot at a time?” She hesitantly suggested.

“Try to use just enough energy to lift you but not to change how high you fly,” Silver recommended, “Once you’ve figured that out once, you should understand how it feels and be able to do it again.”

Blaze heaved a shallow breath and closed her eyes, “Okay… okay…”

She leant back just a little, allowing her left foot to depart from his frame. It took no more than a thought for her to produce a small flame but that would not provide enough thrust to keep her afloat. Slowly, gradually applying more power to her newfound thruster, Blaze felt precarious half of her body begin to shit up and away from the anchored half. Working down and up in smaller and smaller increments, she sought equilibrium for what must have been minutes before finally finding something close to it. She focused on the feeling of flames flowing freely from her heel, their exact measure and rate as well as the small pressure being put upon her knee and the greater one on the arch of her foot.

Once she’d held it for a few moments, she dared to open her eyes and look to Silver, “I think it’s time for the right one. Could you…” She hated the only way that she could think to phrase this, “Hold me a little tighter.”

Silver, without even hesitating, moved his hands to grasp the robes above her shoulder blades. The look in his eyes reinforced his prior promise and gave her all the motivation she needed. Her right foot left his boot and, though the shift in weight made her dip just a little, with its ignition, it was easy to make it match her left. Blaze found herself to be hovering, hanging in the sky by her own accord.

When she managed to tear her eyes from her boots, she found that his smile had tripled in size, “You’re doing it Blaze!”

“Sh-Shush,” She hissed, feeling herself grow redder as more flames sputtered from her soles, “I’m trying to concentrate.”

The feline took a moment; shifting the ball of her foot seemed to allow for a degree of dexterity on her part- if she angled her shoe correctly then the flames would correspond and allow her to drift. Slowly, gradually, Blaze managed to bring herself to circle the hedgehog and bring him to spin on the spot. Every time she dared to glance at him, she found an even greater look of amazement on his face. Eventually, finally, she decided to halt her practice.

“I think I’m ready,” She decided.

Silver simply nodded and, clearly trying not to disturb her, released the tension at his fingertips but did not shift his hands; he left that final move entirely up to her.

She slowly slipped from beneath his fingers but, just when as his arm were about to fall to his sides, dared to grasp his right hand, “I still want you to stay close though.”

Her movements were made more awkward and slow by her lack of an anchoring point but, soon, the two of them were gliding together. With each passing second of flight, as she acclimatised herself and grew accustomed to the movements, she felt the heavy iron ball in her gut gradually shrink. She refused to let herself think this was fun, especially not while she was holding his hand so tightly, but she did permit herself an internal admission that this wasn’t entirely awful. Skating over a sea of clouds, surrounded by starlight and hand in hand with her best friend? It was very difficult to think of this as awful, even if not seeing the ground was a huge part of it.

Tentatively, trying something new, Blaze managed to turn and face him while still flying in the same direction.

The shift came with a small increase in speed but Blaze took that in stride, “Is there anything you think I should try, Silver?”

“Well, the test is supposed to be fairly simple, it’s just a little obstacle course. It focuses on manoeuvring through the air…” He mused aloud before, in a serious tone, making a foolish suggestion, “If you’re alright with separating, we could play a game of tag?”

It was a childish proposition or, at least, that was Blaze’s first thought. Her second thought was far more positive though as she realised what his suggestion implied, his natural talent and experience flying meant that he could already soar to the academy’s standards. If she could even just follow his path then, surely, that meant she would pass too. There was only one problem- she’d have to separate from him.

Blaze brought herself to a halt, allowing her thumb to glide over his knuckles, “If I call out, I know you’ll come and catch me…” Something about this, assumedly the fact that her training had taken on such an embarrassing form, was rebolstering her blush, “But I’d like to hear you say it again.”

“If you fall, I’ll catch you, Blaze. I promise,” He swore, his smile totally vanished and his most serious face took its place, “You won’t even touch the clouds.”

Her fingers slipped from his, she was on her own in the sky, “So, how are we going to do this?”

“How about you fly away from me first and then, if I catch you, I’ll try to keep away from you?” He’d phrased it in such an honest way that, were it anyone else proposing it, she’d think they were being condescending. He really thought there was a chance that he wouldn’t be able to catch her and that he wouldn’t have to slow down so she could catch him.

Still, regardless of the difference between their skill, she was going to give this her best. Though it renewed that weight in her belly, even though she was certain that she would regret it mere moments later, Blaze pointed her toes skyward and rushed away from Silver, struggling to turn mid-air on order to see where she was going in this obstacle-less sky.

“W-Wait, Blaze, is that a yes?!” He called out and, by the sound of his voice, he wasn’t giving chase yet.

Deciding she needed this lead in order to make their game even remotely worthwhile, she didn’t answer him. Remembering the stabilisers she’d used for take-off, Blaze brought her hands to burn and, though she floundered for a moment, used their bonus thrust to shoot even further from him. That done, cloud after cloud vanishing beyond her feet, she dared to look over her shoulders and saw a cyan globule finally begin its shift towards her. Though she tried to fight it, a grin managed to wriggle its way onto her face as she looked forward. If she was bound to be caught and he’d surely gain on her soon, it was worth getting in a little practice… besides, he could surely use some training too.

With the simple quirk of her brow and through rolling her heels, Blaze feigned a movement left before shooting off towards the right. She didn’t even glance back at him after that, instead opting to try and alter her elevation; with a bit of effort, the young witch managed to align her body and crawl further into the sky as she flew away. Using her hands made all of this a lot easier, she could flare more energy into them to aid in adjusting elevation or simply increase the flames coming from one palm to force her path to bend.

“You’re doing great, Blaze!” A much too close voice called out, “I’m sure you’ll ace the test! You’re already so good!” It was getting closer by the second.

She’d known this would happen, it was an inevitability, but the pyrokinetic found that a competitive spark had stolen the spot of that metal mass in her gut. Her pulse was pounding, she knew her magic could hold out for another hour at minimum; she decided that the best way to learn was a trial by fire. Alternating hands and kicking as she went, Blaze managed to form eight quick zigzags before shooting left with all her will. Flare after flare burst from her limbs as she darted further and further above the clouds.

Unfortunately though, just as Blaze thought she was reaching the summit of what she could stomach, there was a flash of cyan light above. Blaze didn’t even have to glance to know what’d happened, Silver’s experience flying mean he’d clearly understood plotting the shortest route. Being in the lead was difficult, every harsh turn meant traveling further for the lead and a shortcut for the one behind. Simultaneous to that though, Silver was (perhaps unknowingly) about to teach her a technique she hadn’t even attempted yet. The only way to avoid him was to descend.

Blaze tried to lessen her output, but that proved far harder than increasing their potency. Once her upward thrust was spent, she began to plummet like a stone and fall feet first towards the clouds. Her hands flickered and sputtered as she tried to balance herself again, she straightened her back and shut her eyes tight as ignition after ignition failed to fully take hold. Finally, she managed to light her ignitions again… only to overdo it and rocket right back up. She shot right past him, very almost being caught.

As he rocketed up to give chase, frustrated, Blaze chose to continue to practice altitude control. Rather than snuff everything, she focused and manage to mute the flames on her feet. The difference was clear and immediate, she was slower and a lot shakier but this worked far better than trying to calm both sets of flames. She managed to drop directly in front of him only to then relight her boots and blast forward. The feline must have gotten too greedy and drawn too close because she soon felt something pad between her shoulder blades.

“Tag!” The moment she’d registered the touch, he’d called out as if they were kids on the playground.

She swivelled around in the air only to find he’d raced off in the other direction so quickly that he almost looked like a star on the horizon. Leaning into her movement, Blaze found herself flying faster than she ever had before. In the time it took to catch up to the grey wizard, Blaze had a moment to contemplate the rather miraculous change she’d experienced. She’d gone from being terrified of heights to dancing across the sky just like he could. Admittedly, she was certain those fears would return if she was on the other side of the cloud barrier or flying alone but flying around the test course with the instructors watching would surely prove easy enough. It’d been an exchange of tutelage, she’d given him notes and he’d helped her practice, but Blaze couldn’t help feeling a little indebted to her partner.

Some of that feeling waned when she caught sight of him and how he was flying though. The hedgehog flying with his back to the ground and his eyes trained upon her, he almost looked like he was sitting up in bed. Blaze understood why he’d chosen that position, it meant he’d been able to keep an eye on her and that he’d be able to fulfil his promise, but that didn’t stop it from stoking a more competitive aspect of her psyche.

It was just naivete, he didn’t know how cocky he was being, yet it still fuelled her drive! Blaze closed her fists for a moment, allowing pressure and tension to build in them just as she had when first taking off. It was terrifying to be frank but, knowing the direction she was rocketing and that the closer she was to him the safer she’d be, Blaze managed to steady herself and focus on building energy. Containing her flames slowed her in the short term, so much so that the grey hedgehog’s head cocked and he seemed to slow down. At the perfect second, just as she saw his mouth begin to open and the gap between them lingered around four dozen metres, Blaze reopened her palm.

Like catching a surprise shooting star out of the corner of his eye, he must have blinked in bafflement when he saw her for the first time. By the time he’d started to move she was already almost upon him, carried by sheer momentum more than thrust at that point, gaining more than a metre with each passing second. Finally, almost too late, he realised that he stood no chance of overtaking her- Silver’s arms opened wide and, with more than a little magic bolstering effort, he both was caught and managed to catch her.

Willing it as she entered his grasp, her flames snuffed themselves as any lingering momentum was absorbed by a combination of his psychic aura and fluffy body. Blaze found herself lying atop him, their muzzles very almost touching and the rims of their hats bumping. If it weren’t for the adrenaline currently coursing through her, she’d probably have had a lot more to say or complain about this situation but, for now at least, she was content to be back on the equivalent of stable ground.

“H-Hi,” He stuttered, plainly surprised and impressed by her showing.

“Hello,” She hummed, grasping at his shoulders to better secure herself, “How was that?”

His arms found her back and his smile quickly returned, she felt their bodies begin to descend, “You were incredible Blaze! You took to the air so well! You probably didn’t even need me for this,” That thought seemed to take the wind back out of his sails, “I-I’ll make up for the notes some other way… I’ll-

“You’re so naïve,” She cut him off, propping herself up slightly, “I wouldn’t have had the guts to come up here without you. You don’t have to worry about making anything up to me.”

The cloud barrier obscured her view of him for a moment or so but soon, she found his face and could see the grounds beneath. Weirdly enough, as she lay in his arms, it didn’t feel like the ground was all that far away. Or, well, that she wasn’t at risk of meeting it at ludicrous speeds.

Gently, slowly, he shifted upright and lowered the young witch to her feet before himself landing back near the heart of the amphitheatre. Now on the ground, a hold that’d once been for the sake of survival and security had transmuted into one born of comfort and kindness. Blaze found herself lingering in his grasp and in fact deepening her hold, the witch’s right arm managed to slip down and hold the small of his back. While she had performed subtle in this shift from practicality to affection, he wasn’t nearly so subdued in his shift. Her feet left the ground again as he hugged her with all his might, chortling as he did so.

When she returned to the ground for a second time and their eyes met again, bristles of heat crept across her muzzle. Without the moonlight, he was the only light for-

“And what time would the two of you call this?” A voice, tired and deep, sounded from one of the amphitheatre’s high seats.

Both their heads swivelled like they were about to be knocked off and their gaze fell upon a very cross and prickly looking figure, sat with a book in his right hand and crackling green energy in his left. The individual’s red eyes and dark robes, entirely lacking the oh-so-common hat most students and lecturers wore, gave away who they were and forced their joy to give way to panic and fear. Shadow the Hedgehog, the very lecturer who would be conducting the flying test, had caught them.

“Um,” Silver stammered, letting Blaze to the ground, “L-Late?”

“How astute,” He seemed to sneer, “And what say you of your current position, Blaze?”

“It’s my fault professor, I asked Silver to-

“N-No, it’s my fault!” Silver cut her off, “Blaze just wanted help, she did nothing wrong!”

“Endangering both your own and each other’s safety and being out of your dorms at such a late hour,” He tutted, “What kind of punishment to give you both.”

Blaze couldn’t help but throw a glance to Silver, the hedgehog looked entirely stern. No matter how they were dealt with, Blaze knew he would try to take it all on himself, just as she had. She was certain there was no way around it, that they’d both be punished, but, following a long and drawn out sigh, the usually cruel lecturer took a bizarre course of action.

“Pick up your things, go to your dorms and pray that I forget this infraction before I settle on a fitting detention,” Their eyes clashed again, confused, but before they could ask, the hedgehog gave a demand, “Well, go on, hurry along before I change my mind.”

They stood frozen for a second but, seeing his brows furrow, the two threw a quick glance to each other before rushing to pick up their things. He’d leaned in close as he went for his bag, “S-See you soon.”

“Yeah…” She managed to mumble, slinging her bag over her shoulders and allowing her shoulder to graze his, “Th-Thank you, Silver. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They were forced to part ways with that as their goodbye, Silver walking

“And do remember, regardless of clouds, if you’re going to make quite so much light at night then people are going to notice!” The old man concluded his chiding, likely returning to his book, “We’re hardly in the right position to see an aurora…”

The walk back to the dorms was lonelier than her walk there by a wide margin. Though they’d parted so suddenly, or perhaps due to it, she could still see his smile in her mind. When they met again tomorrow, she’d try to make it up to him, try to engage first contact like she had in the sky, but the more that wizard’s grin lingered the more embarrassed she felt. While the pyrokinetic doubted Professor Shadow was the type to gossip, if word of their actions spread then the rumours would only get worse. Hopefully no one else had seen them tonight but, by the sound of it, they’d been rather hard to miss…

[dariadraws]

and my final piece so far for @geekinthecorner‘s @batfam-big-bang fic Bats Of The West, it’s Jason Todd! ngl i think this is one of the ones i had the most fun with, and also the one i crammed the most details into that no one but me will ever know exist, but i’ll share a few of them under the cut, along with the image description. plus, a list of all of Jason’s scars in this au, and how he got them.

also, like i said, this is my final piece so far but i fully intend to come back and round out the batfam, draw all the other characters i havent had a chance to get to yet, so keep an eye out for that, and in the meantime here’s some fun facts!

alright so. first off, just some general overall thoughts on Jason and some of the details i added here.

 his gun in the first pic is super expensive and pretty, but i imagine he doesnt use is as often as some of his other ones, simply because when he’s out in The Wilderness tracking down criminals for weeks on end, it’s not really the kind of place you want to bring your prettiest, most expensive gun. when he’s on the ranch or in town tho, or really just anywhere where he doesnt anticipate needing to rough it for more than a couple days (which isnt the same as not expecting the need to get rough), he’s probably got this gun.

his gun belt and holster are a whole other story tho. he spent exactly zero dollars and zero cents on them, just assembled them from some spare leather they had lying around, which is why theyre in such Not Great condition, and also why the belt itself ended up so long. he could cut it down to a more reasonable size, but it’s not like there’s anything else he could make from those scraps anyways, so why bother.

that big gun in the second image isn’t technically his tho, it’s the Communal Ranch Rifle. mainly it’s just used to scare away coyotes (or, yknow, actually hit coyotes) but it does occasionally see real action as well, tho not often.

also. does it even need to be said? his hat.. holder... bead... thing. with the turquoise inlay. is a gift from Dick

alright and now the fun part! i go through all of jason’s scars, and how he got them. there are quite a few and a lot of them are. Sad. so be warned, and take care of yourselves! (also just for the record, i promise the fic itself isnt actually as dark as this will make it sound. basically none of this shows up in the story, i was just given free reign to design whatever i wanted, and poor jason ended up paying the price)

ok so. scars. 

first off, the claw and bit marks on his arms and shoulders are from getting attacked by some coyotes back when he was still just a kid. to quote my explanation back when i pitched this to Em, “bc as a Young Human with minimal supervision and not necessarily having someone to call him inside once it gets dark, he was unfortunately Very Delicious, if somewhat scrawny, by coyote standards”

next up: a bullet scar on his abdomen, on his lower left side (our right), from some kind of shootout with a criminal. this one is middling-recent; after bruce adopted him, but before the joker thing. i dont really have anything concrete for that one but it was a through and through, and somehow, miraculously, missed hitting any bones, and any organs. just missed his lower rib by like. an inch. that one messed bruce up more than jason, honestly. if anything, he was just surprised it took him that long to get shot, with the life he's had

the ones on his cheek and on his chin were just Regular Childhood Shenanigans scars, no real story.

the one through his mouth is from his time with the joker though. there's also the J brand on his right bicep, also from the joker.

also joker related, hes got a lot of scars on his hands, especially his knuckles and fingertips, from trying to fight his way out of his captivity, and scratching his fingers raw trying to pry open the door to his cell/untie the rough rope he way tied with/whatever the specific situation was. also some minor rope burn scars on his wrists from the same deal.

also some blade scars across his palms from trying to stop/block knives. definitely with the joker, but probably at some point in his youth as well

a few faint lines across his neck from being a temporary hostage a few time while helping Bruce on cases when he was younger, but none of them ever went deep or caused any serious damage

oh and also, whip scars on his back from his time with the joker, which arent too prominent, and mostly cant be seen from the front, except for a couple of spots where they crest over his shoulders and the very tail ends of them can be seen, but they’re there 

and also some kind of straight scar on his left forearm, which was a carry-over from my usual Jason design, that i like but dont really have a story for, so that one’s purely aesthetic, lol

and that’s it! i think? that’s all my notes on that? either way this post is getting Way Too Long, and i still gotta do the image descriptions, so i’m calling it there. 

[IMAGE ID: two images of Jason Todd in old-fashioned cowboy clothing. He has red, curly hair with a streak of white running through it at the front. his skin is pale but sunburnt, has deep-blue eyes, many freckles both on his face and on the rest of his exposed skin, and his body is broad and muscular, and he has many scars. he has small round metal piercings in the lobes of both ears, as well as an additional two in the top cartilege of his right ear.

in the first image, he is facing directly at the viewer with his arms crossed, and a challenging look on his face. he is wearing a maroon cowboy shirt with checkered red accent at the chest and the sleeves rolled up to his upper arms. he has a dark blue polka-dot bandana tied around his neck, and over that pass two strands of red braided cord holding his tan cowboy hat, which is visible hanging off his neck behind him. the cords are tipped with small metal beads, and pass through a large, dark brown wooden bead inset with turquoise, which regulates their length. he is wearing dark-wash blue jeans with prominent yellow stitching, pulled over his cowboy boots up to the ankle until only the foot of each boot is visible. the boots are dark brown with pale seams and red stitching, and light brown heels and soles. fastened around each boot are embossed red spur-straps, with metal spurs extending from them behind the boots. at his waist are two cracked leather belts. one is dark brown, with a pale silver buckle stamped with vine designs, and it is threaded through his belt loops. the second belt is hanging diagonally over his hips and holds his gun and holster. this belt is a reddish tan with a pattern of darker brown, overlapping rings down its length, and has a darker silver buckle. it is long enough that the loose end of it wraps back around itself several times before hanging down. the holster is simple brown leather folded over the gun, with two straps to tighten it. the gun itself is an ornate and expensive-looking revolver, black metal with intricate gold detailing and a mother-of-pearl grip.

in the second image, he is facing slightly to the side, with a long shotgun propped over his shoulder with one hand and an unimpressed expression on his face as he looks somewhere to the right of the viewer. he is shirtless, and his torso is muscled, stocky, and as sunburned and freckled as the rest of him. his cowboy hat is hanging off his neck again behind him, once more held in place by the braided red cord and round wood-and-turquoise bead. he is wearing tan, high-waisted pants tucked into his cowboy boots, which are the same as in the first image but now fully visible, with red pulls at the top. the pants are attached to red suspenders, though they are not on his shoulders and hang down around him instead. his gunbelt is once more around his hips, but the holster is obscured behind him, and isn't visible. the hand not holding the shotgun is down loosely at his side, and has a red and white bandana wrapped around the wrist. END ID]

[theguythatdraws]

Teamwork Makes the Dreamwork!

Pt.6 of Lycidas' My Hero Adventures.

After the revelation made by Tetrax and Nezu, Lycidas was more than eager to learn all about aliens.

"All in good time, Lycidas. For now, focus on your school work. I promise you, we will meet again."

The next day, the students got acquitted to their general studies.

Present Mic taught the English class, and he was way too enthusiastic and loud for that early in the morning.

Present Mic is a tall, slim man with long blond hair, which he wears spiked upwards in a huge tuft behind his head, and a small mustache. He has rectangular eyes with concentric greenish-yellow pupils, which are hidden behind a pair of orange-tinted shades. His hero costume consists of a black jacket with a very tall collar with studs, matching black pants, and knee-high boots. Around his neck is a large directional speaker which is clearly used to assist his Quirk.

He turned to the class, and saw all their bored and tired faces. "Now which of these sentences contains a mistake?" Asked Present Mic

So, boring… thought Lycidas. It was hard to think that English was still boring even when a Pro Hero taught it.

"What's with those bored expressions?!" He swings his arm into the air with too much energy that is physically possible that early in the morning. "All right everybody! HANDS UP AND SHOW ME SOME SPIRIT!"

Too loud! Thought Lycidas, covering his ears.

After English, came Modern Hero Art History, which was taught by the "R" Rated Hero, Midnight.

Midnight is a tall, curvaceous woman with sky blue eyes, and red painted nails. She has abundant spiky dark purple hair with strands reaching down below her waist. Her hero costume is very similar to one of a traditional dominatrix. She wears a black leather breastless leotard over a white bodysuit, the leotard possessing red gemstone-like accessories in a vertical pattern from the collar to the midriff. She also wears translucent black thigh-high stockings and black knee-boots. She has a small, red mask outlining her eyes, a handcuff on each wrist, and a red utility belt decorated with gold studs around her hips, a matching pentagonal buckle in its center. And for some reason she's constantly whipping around a flogger-style whip.

Lycidas blushed almost the whole class, and whenever he was called on by Midnight, he tried to maintain direct eye contact.

Is that really appropriate clothing for a high school teacher?! He thought. He felt like that Mineta kid would've gotten a kick out of this class.

That's basically everything that happened until lunch. The students discovered that the food is to die for, even the cheap stuff; it's like it came straight out of a five-star restaurant! That's thanks to the Cook Hero, Lunch Rush's master craftsmanship! Lycidas never tasted such good cooking before.

Afterwards Class 1-A find themselves back in their homeroom class waiting in anticipation for what's bound to be their first ever true class of the Hero Course. Jiro leaned forward in her seat as to talk to Shoji who was sitting directly in front of her. "I wonder who our teacher is going to be."

Shoji turns to address her. "I heard they got someone new this year. But I'm not sure who it is."

Tsuyu overhears them. "Maybe Mr. Aizawa will be in charge of it, kero."

"I hope not." Mina said, leaning back in her seat. "He's a total downer."

Lycidas leaned to Izuku and said, "Who do you think it is, Izuku?"

"I'm not sure, but I bet it's a top tier Hero." Said Izuku.

"I. AM. HERE!"

Everyone turns their attention to the booming voice coming from the door.

"COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A HERO!"

It was All Might!

"It's All Might! He's really gonna teach us!" Said Mina.

"He's wearing his Silver Age costume!" Said Tsuyu.

"HELLO STUDENTS ARE YOU READY FOR," he pauses for effect.

"HERO BASIC TRAINING?!"

YEAH!" The class roars in excitement, their hearts are racing, making them even more pumped for what's to come.

Lycidas got pumped. Mr. Toshinori is teaching us?! Awesome!

THIS CLASS WILL PUT YOU THROUGH ALL SORTS OF SPECIAL TRAINING TO MOLD YOU INTO FINE HEROES!" Not to mention a ton of credits. "NO TIME TO DALLY. TODAY'S ACTIVITY IS THIS!" He flashes out a large laminated card with the word BATTLE written out on it in big bold lettering. "BATTLE TRAINING! AND FOR THAT, YOU NEED THESE!" All Might clicks on a remote that he must have been hiding away somewhere.

Four slots begin to rumble out of the left wall nearest the board revealing rows of silver suitcases with bolded numbers on them. Inside are undoubtedly their costumes that they specifically requested, the thought of showing off their unique and creative designs gets some of them so excited that they're already leaping out of their seats.

"AFTER YOU CHANGE, MEET ME IN GROUND BETA!" Said All Might.

Wow, I didn't realize we'd be getting our costumes so soon! I hope they got everything I sent them, thought Lycidas. He grabbed his suitcase, and followed the rest of the class to the locker rooms.

-——————————————————————————

Inside the locker room, Lycidas realized that maybe he should have trained himself a little better.

Compared to the other boys, he was still quite skinny. Even Izuku was ripped; he had abs!

Regina had taught him some basic knife skills, like blocking and slashing, but he never really considered training his physical body. In fact, his ribs were still showing a little.

He put on his Hero Costume, and felt like he was a little underdressed; Aoyama and Iida's costumes looked like suits of armour, Aoyama's even had a glittering cape!

His Hero Costume was a white T-shirt, with green accents on the ends of the sleeves, with the Omnitrix symbol in the center of his chest, a pair of blue jeans, held up with a utility belt with plenty of pockets, a pair of brown gloves, green boots, and a mask designed to look like the Omnitrix's symbol, with two small antennae on the sides.

But then again, he had made his costume practical; he requested that the T-shirt be lined with Kevlar, to make it a lot tougher, the blue jeans be stretchy to allow a wider range of movement, the gloves had enhanced grip, the boots had small propulsion rockets inside of them, so he could jump higher, or even hover in the air, and the mask was extremely tough, crack and scratch-proof, and had an HUD that could detect life signs and scan DNA. On the belt, he had a knife holster, with a custom knife made from one of his Diamondhead crystals, and in one of the pouches, he had canisters of Stinkfly slime, that was able to make things sticky, like people or the ground.

This is it, my Hero Costume! Thought Lycidas.

He walked outside, and saw everyone else's Hero costumes; they looked so cool! Izuku's looked kinda like a green rabbit, but he thought it was pretty cool, it reminded him of the Rabbit Hero, Mirko.

-——————————————————————————

"Dammit, we're late!" Said a girl with glasses, running to Class 1-A.

"Its not my fault there was a Villian attack!" Said a boy, with fangs and snake-like pupils.

"No, but you had to flirt with all the girls that were there!" Said the girl.

"Look, they're not even here! They must be taking All Might's class." Said the boy.

"Great, I can't imagine what's happening there." Said the girl.

-——————————————————————————

"Oh, hey, Lycidas, right?" Said a voice, catching the shapeshifter off guard.

It was Mina, the pink girl Lycidas saved during the Entrance Exam. Her Hero Costume was a purple and green bodysuit, with a sleeveless coat that had a furry collar, and boots that had holes in them.

"Oh, uh, yeah, and your Mina, correct?" Asked Lycidas.

"Yep! Look, I just wanted to say thanks for saving me back at the Entrance Exam, and also that your Quirk is pretty awesome!" Said the pink girl, patting his shoulder.

Lycidas blushed under his mask. "Thanks, your Quirks pretty cool, too! You can secrete acid from your skin, right?"

"Aw, thanks, bud! Yep, my Quirks called Acid, and I can control it's acidity and viscosity, as well as control where I secrete it from!"

"SHALL WE BEGIN, MY WARDS?!" That draws everyone's attention. "IT'S TIME FOR BATTLE TRAINING! YOU'LL BE MOVING ON TO STEP TWO! INDOOR ANTIPERSONNEL BATTLE TRAINING!" All Might eyes his students ensuring they don't miss his words. "VILLAIN BATTLES ARE MOST COMMONLY SEEN OUTDOORS, BUT…" His tone falls slightly taking a more serious vibe. "STATISTICALLY, THE MOST HEINOUS VILLAINS ARE MORE LIKELY TO APPEAR INDOORS. BETWEEN CONFINEMENT, HOUSE ARREST, AND BLACKMARKET DEALS… IN THIS HERO-FILLED SOCIETY OF OURS… AHEM. THE CLEVEREST VILLAINS OUT THERE…LURK INDOORS!"

Next, All Might explains the exercise. "YOU'LL NOW BE SPLIT INTO "VILLAIN" TEAMS AND "HERO" TEAMS AND FACE OFF IN TWO-ON-TWO BATTLES!"

Tsuyu decides to voice what's on everybody's mind. "So, no basic training?"

"PRACTICAL EXPERIENCE TEACHES YOU THE BASICS! THE DISTINCTION HERE IS THAT YOU WON'T BE FIGHTING DISPOSABLE ROBOTS." Said All Might.

He explains that the villain team will hide and protect a "fake" nuclear weapon in the building, and it will be the hero team's job to find the bomb and secure it. There is a time limit; the heroes have to either capture both villains or secure the bomb within the time limit while the villains have to protect the bomb until time is up or they too can capture the heroes.

All Might pulls out two separate boxes with holes cut out of them. "YOUR BATTLE PARTNERS WILL BE DECIDED BY DRAWING LOTS!"

That doesn't seem right to Iida. "Is that really the best way?!"

Izuku unwittingly speaks up, his hero nerd side temporarily revealing itself. "Makes sense because pros often have to team up with heroes from other agencies on the spot during emergencies."

Shoji also chimes in. "In other words, in a real villain situation we won't really get a say on who we get to team up with. So, we have to get used to adapting and cooperating with others."

"I see…!" Iida turns back to their teacher putting up a hand in solace. "I apologize for getting ahead of myself. My mistake!"

"IT'S FINE! LET'S JUST GET TO IT!"

And so, began the team pairs:

Team A: Izuku Midoriya & Ochaco Uraraka

Team B: Shoto Todoroki & Mezo Shoji

Team C: Momo Yaoyorozu & Lycidas McGarry

Team D: Katsuki Bakugou & Tenya Iida

Team E: Yuga Aoyama & Mina Ashido

Team F: Rikido Sato & Koji Koda

Team G: Denki Kaminari & Kyoka Jiro

Team H: Fumikage Tokoyami & Tsuyu Asui

Team I: Mashirao Ojiro & Toru Hagakure

Team J: Eijiro Kirishima & Hanta Sero

Lycidas decides to find Momo, and collaborate a plan.

"Excuse me, Momo, I think we should..."

He stops when he sees her Hero Costume, which he tries not to look at.

She was wearing a high-collared, sleeveless crimson leotard with silver lines at her waist and around her arms, which was open to expose her skin from her neck to just below her navel. She wore calf-length crimson boots with heels, which dipped sharply down in the center, and two gold utility belts around her waist, and another, thinner one around the top portion of her chest, just below her shoulders.

This costumes worse than Midnight's! Lycidas thought.

Momo looked at the boy trying not to look at her..."assets." At least he's averting his eyes, she thought.

"MOVING ON, THE FIRST ONES UP ARE…" He sticks his giant meaty hands into two separate boxes: one labeled as "Hero" and the other as "Villain". "THESE GUYS!" He withdraws two large bingo balls one labeled with the letter J and the other with the letter C. "THE HEROES ARE TEAM J! AND THE VILLAINS WILL BE TEAM C!"

"Aw, man!" Said Lycidas, disappointed. He really wanted to be on the Hero Team, but if being a Villain, if only temporarily, will further his goal of becoming a Hero, then so be it!

-——————————————————————————

The two 'Villians' made their way to the fake nuke, and discussed their plan; Lycidas was going to find Kaminari and Jiro, and battle them as Diamondhead, seeing as he wouldn't be cracked by Jiro's sound attacks, and also would be immune to Kaminari's Electrification. Meanwhile, Yaoyorozu, would barricade herself in the room and defend the weapon, should either of the Hero's get in.

He left the room, and searched for the two Hero's, and ended up bumping into Kaminari.

"Ouch!" Said Kaminari.

"Sorry about that! Oh, wait, I mean, HAHAHAHAHA! Stupid Hero! You are no match for the awesomeness of me and Momo!" Lycidas said, acting like a Villian.

"Wow, you're committed to this role, but I'll fry you all the same!" Said Kaminari, electricity crackling around him.

"Not if Diamondhead has anything to say about it!" Shouted Lycidas, dialing Diamondhead into the Omnitrix, and slamming it down, consumed by green light.

His body changed, but not the way Diamondhead did; his entire body turned jet black, and his eyes fused into one. His hands grew copper colored fingertips, and a tail grew from his back. And finally, two tendrils sprouted from his head.

When the light died down, a skinny black figure with two head tendrils stood in Lycidas' place, staring at himself.

"What the-?!" Said the form, who had a deep voice with a static effect.

"Hey, I thought you only had 10 forms, what the hell?!" Said Kaminari.

This must be a new alien, thought Lycidas. I wonder what it does.

"No matter, I'll still short circuit you!" Shouted Kaminari, releasing his electricity.

Suddenly, the tendrils on Lycidas' head shoot out towards the lightning, absorbing it all.

"Woah, electricity absorption, cool!" Said Lycidas.

"Aw crap," said Kaminari, backing away.

"Oh! Uh, come back here, my newfound battery! I need to feed on your power!" Said Lycidas, remembering the excercise.

Lycidas shot his tendrils at Kaminari, and when they were embedded in him, he absorbed all of his electricity.

"Thanks for the power boost." Said Lycidas.

"Yaaaay," said Kaminari.

Kaminari had a vacant expression on his face, and was giving two thumbs up, and started wandering around aimlessly.

"D-did I fry his brain or something?! Well, I'll worry about him later, now I gotta find Jiro."

He ran back to the fake bomb and found Momo fighting Jiro, countering her earphone jacks with a lead pipe.

Lycidas taps Jiro's shoulder, and she turned to look at him, shocked. He raised his arm, and a blast of electricity shot out, hitting Jiro and knocking her against the wall.

"I thought you were going to be Diamondhead?" Asked Momo.

"So did I," said Lycidas, twirling his tail in his hand. "Do you want to help me name him? I'm able to absorb electricity, and by the look of it, I can also repurpose it for attacks!"

"You feed on energy, then send it back... How about 'Feedback?'" Said Momo.

"Hey, I like that a lot! Feedback it is!" Said the newly dubbed Feedback, posing with his tendrils.

"THE WINNERS ARE YAYOUROZU AND MCGARRY! CONGRATULATIONS, VILLIANS! AND NICE NEW FORM, BY THE WAY!" All Might said, over the speaker.

"Hey, we won!" Said Feedback.

Momo smiled at him.

In the camera room, All Might stared at the screen, smiling. Way to go, Young Lycidas, he thought.

-——————————————————————————

After the rest of the teams went, the students of Class 1-A returned to the locker rooms, and changed back into their school uniforms.

"Lycidas, you and Momo did very well today! Why didn't you tell me you had 11 forms?!" Asked Izuku, his arm in a sling from his exercise.

"Well, to be honest, it was a surprise to me, too," said Lycidas to the greenette.

"It came as a shock to me as well," said Tokoyami, who caught up to the two boys.

"Thanks! You know, I saw your Quirk in action, too! What do you call it?" Asked Lycidas.

"My Quirk is called Dark Shadow. I can summon a living shadow from my body, and it aids me in battle," he said, as Dark Shadow manifested in front of them.

"Fumi thinks you're very talented!" It said.

"Sorry, Dark Shadow has a mind of its own," said Tokoyami, as Dark Shadow retracted into his body.

"It's ok, I think it's pretty cool you have a sentient Quirk. Like a friend that'll never leave you," said Lycidas.

The boy with red and white hair walked past them, his head down.

"Hey, uh, Todoroki, right?" Asked Lycidas. "You've got a pretty cool Quirk as well, great for combat and defense!"

Todoroki looked taken aback for a second, and said, "Thank you," quickly and quietly.

They got back to the classroom, and saw two people there. A boy and a girl, both in UA uniforms.

"Who are you two?" Asked Lycidas.

The girl said, "Aishwarya Mehra, Hero Name Elementa. And that's my cousin, Arjun Singh, his Hero Name's King Cobra. We're your new classmates."

"Wait a minute, you two are the youngest Pro Hero's ever! I had no idea you two were still in school!" Shouted Izuku.

"So noisy..." said Tokoyami.

"I bought your action figure!" Shouted Lycidas.

"Also noisy..." Said the bird boi.

The two mega nerds started asking a million questions, and the Pro Hero's tried to answer them all, while Tokoyami looked embarrassed to be seen with these two overgrown children.

These two are total fanboys, thought Aishwarya.

[shardweavers]

Chapter Fourteen - The Way Forwards

Shoto’s hands paused as she came to the end stages of folding her clothes for travel, her eyes drawn down towards the end of the bed where her big brown pack sat, already half-full…

It seemed impossible that it had only been this morning that the place was half-destroyed, scarred by combat like the war zones of Ala Mhigo. And yet it was spotless, now; everything restored to its proper place, not a sign of damage. She’d expected to have to go to the Crystalline Mean and recruit a whole team of people for repairs, but it seemed their local Ascian had had other ideas; he’d actually come to find her as she was heading there, and indicated that she should instead return to her quarters.

And so she had, and found them in this spotless condition! Shoto had wanted to thank Emet-Selch, but he’d sauntered off before she could speak a word, leaving her flummoxed--she’d taken up packing to occupy her scattered thoughts. He’d soon be back from wherever he’d been headed to, she reasoned; it was  he  who’d been insistent on joining the party, in the name of “keeping them out of trouble.” Ha! As though he wasn’t the cause of it!

She felt a brief flare of amusement, but it was rapidly chased away by recriminations that made her sigh, ceasing to fold the clothes and putting her chin against her fist. Everything that emotionally surrounded the Ascian was so Twelve-damned complicated.

It didn’t help that the idea of traveling with him brought up memories of the first time he’d accompanied them around Norvrandt--the odd intimacy she’d felt with him, even then, the closeness. The fury at his betrayal, a betrayal that hurt her so much more than it seemed to affect any of her friends and compatriots. And then, that moment, in the ashes of Amaurot at the bottom of the sea--

“Remember us. Remember that we once lived.”

Just thinking about it made tears come to her eyes, and she only half-understood why, even now. 

Because I’m like her, like Azem…

...Every time she thought that, it felt like she was so close to a memory and yet so far, like she had a puzzle in her mind very nearly solved, but the last piece was missing and no amount of scrounging could find it. It was maddening. 

Bah. Now’s not the time, the others will be waiting for me.   She finished cramming everything into the pack and fastened it up, buckling the straps that held it shut tight, then hoisted it onto her back and headed out of the room. Just outside, Sumire was leaning against a railing; when the Dragoon saw her, his ears flicked to alertness, and heterochromatic eyes met hers.

Shoto had to admit, she was a little surprised. “Hey! Is it just you, or is Yuki about…?”

“She’s not,” Sumire sighed, and the intense regret in his voice, the lilt of sadness, only served to increase Shoto’s level of flummoxed-ness. If she had previously been at “the moogles of Ishgard want a diplomatic liaison to the Twelveswood,” she was now at “the moogles of Ishgard want a diplomatic liaison with Feo Uhl, and it has to be a kobold for some reason.”

The confusion showed on her face readily enough that Sumire practically leapt to attention, waving off her concern with both hands. “Er, that is to say, she’s not ready yet! She’s still getting ready! She went for a walk to clear her head, and refocus, after that business this morning, with the Ascian, and the fight, and such!”

Shoto was absolutely certain that there was more to this; she was so certain she would’ve bet an exorbitant amount of gil, but her Scholar’s intuition said to leave well enough alone, at least for now. “Well, that’s alright, then. Um, do you want to wait for her? I can meet you both at the Exarch’s Gate when she is ready, there’s no rush.” Sumire flushed. “I-I promise, we’ll be right behind you, just…” Shoto smiled and shook her head. “Like I said,  no rush.”

* * *

Where Hades had gotten to was a tall tree near the gate of the Crystarium, where he sat beneath a curtain of lavender-colored leaves, his back nestled against the trunk quite comfortably, to the point the Ascian might be tempted to doze off.

He was certain the Warriors would find him soon enough; their suspicious natures wouldn’t let him go unsupervised for long, of course. Let them hurry to bundle up their things; it gave him time for contemplation, time alone with his thoughts, that he sorely needed.

First, and paramount, he had to process how far and how fast this...eighth Rejoining was coming along, for them. Every single one of them was taking to their shards with a speed and natural attachment that shouldn’t have been possible. It should’ve required a monumental effort, the fuel that a Calamity brought; everything the Ascians had learned said as much.

...How were they this far along, simply by linking themselves to the ghosts of this land’s heroes? 

By Zodiark, they were using creation magic! He’d managed to keep himself calm and collected while dealing with them because he didn’t want to show his shock. His fellow Paragons of the Red, all members of the Convocation, had taken years to regain that power…!

Second, of course, there was--once again--the issue of her.

...Of Shoto, he mentally corrected himself. 

...It felt strange, didn’t it? To call her by her name? 

For so long, he’d thought of her as just Warrior of Light , as that Warrior of Light, their leader, the prime amongst them with the soul that shone the brightest and with a troublingly familiar golden color. The Hero. 

She’d told him her name, then, of course, but…It hadn’t seemed important, at the time. 

Indeed, the familiar color of her soul made her company, frankly, difficult, because when he looked, and he couldn’t stop from looking, he remembered what he’d lost. He ceased to be here, on the First, and he was in Amaurot again. It was the Final Days, again, and he was desperately promising Persephone-- I’ll protect you. Always.

His last oath. His greatest failure.

Being around her cut his soul to the metaphysical bone, back then. Just short conversations had made him feel a combination of longing and hatred so intense he thought he’d go mad. The moment he had an opportunity to betray her, to taunt her, to assume the role of the villain, had almost been a relief.

...So…

Why was it so different now? Her presence now was...almost friendly. Comforting. The glow of her soul was like a familiar lamp, a lantern that imitated the sun, but not to mock; rather to pay homage. He’d been telling himself it was gratitude for her selfless acts on his behalf, but…

He’d lived a thousand years and more, witnessed eras rise and fall. This wasn’t something so simple. He was Emet-Selch, the Angel of Truth, with all that that implied; he could not be deceived, even by himself. There was something deeper, some root to their connection. It would be so simple if I believed she was…

But that’s ridiculous. I’d know, he reasoned with himself. His beloved, his Azem, would have known better than to trust in the world-shattering Mother, ever--not that he judged Shoto for it, necessarily. And wasn’t that proof she was a different person? Moreover, if he’d antagonized Persephone the way he’d antagonized Shoto, he could never forgive himself. Obviously.

...It was still so strange, though. 

How soul-wrenching it had been to walk beside her before, and how nice it seemed now. It was almost freeing to even think her name-- Shoto. Shoto. Shoto.

A response came back to him, confused and rather harried. “Emet-Selch…?”

The Ascian leapt up and almost hit his head on a low-hanging tree branch. 

Zodiark’s actual wings of shadow damn it, how had he forgotten--if he could hear her thoughts, she could hear his! 

“Is something wrong?”  he felt her think, and he hastily shook his head, pushing his bangs out of his face and straightening his garments.

“No! Nothing’s amiss, good hero! I am completely fine! I was...extremely...bored.” He tried to radiate the appropriate level of detachedness. “Had you and yours taken any longer, I might’ve fallen asleep against this tree.”

Exasperation radiated from her, but there was an odd warmth to it, like he could feel her roll her eyes. It was…kind of cute.

...He managed to shield this thought from her and also to drop it down a metaphorical abyss forever. 

“Well, we’re here now. Look to your right.”

And there, indeed, she was, radiating that warm yellow-orange color off her, her soul dancing like tamed fire; he couldn’t help but smile as she approached, though he let it slip to his usual smirk as her companions followed close behind--the Dragoon and the Summoner. The Viera folded her arms and her lips curled into a small frown as she saw him. “I’m surprised,” Yuki grumbled. “I would’ve thought you’d dismiss yourself and teleport away to Eulmore to do whatever it is you want there, by now.”

“My dear,” Hades replied breezily, “I have no need to deceive any of you, as I thought you understood. I said my intention was to travel with you, and keep your leader here from any...reckless acts, and so I’m going to do that.”

The Viera gave an angry “hmph!” and looked away; the Ascian merely hefted his bag with a shrug. Shoto blinked as she realized he wasn’t wearing his normal, regal attire of a Garlean Emperor, but rather a long, black robe appropriate for a mage of rank, with metallic trim that put one in the mind of dark steel rather than silver; it had two pauldrons that were practically an afterthought, white-gold utility belts that held a variety of small items, and a massive cowl that looked like a gigantic religious collar when it was down, trimmed with fur. 

...It was simplistic, but it fit him; in fact, he looked quite good in it, a thought the Ascian caught and allowed himself a slightly saucy smirk to. “I do hope my new attire is appropriate? I felt that traipsing about looking the part of Imperator might be a little gauche, given our destination and the Leveilleur boy’s delicate sensibilities.” Shoto couldn’t help but blush. “It’s, it’s nice. It’s quite appropriate, yes, and probably better than explaining the glory of Garlemald to everyone you meet.” “Dear hero, that would get boring for me, too! I’d mix it up,” he teased. “I’d talk about the glory of Allag, too, and there’s a lot more material there.”

...This conversation had deepened Yuki’s frown to a “seething” level, which Sumire took notice of and loudly cleared his throat, interrupting. “While we’re on the road,” he put in, “I...I know it’s early days, but I’m still curious about the basic concepts of this...Creation Magic.”

Emet-Selch gave the Dragoon a mildly nonplussed look, shrugging. 

“It is, as I tried to emphasize before, chiefly a matter of focus and will. You have to hold the image and the structure in your mind’s eye, consistently, and channel the aether towards the end of willing it into being--not requesting it to be, willing it to be.” He lifted one hand, clasping it into a fist, and paused for a moment, a shadowy aura swirling around him as he concentrated visibly; when he unfurled his fingers, a small white blossom was in his palm, which blew away into petals in a breeze.

Sumire cocked his head to the side, nodding and biting his lip, unsure quite how to respond; Yuki, for her part, half-audibly scoffed.

So it’s just that simple, huh?

Fine. She could do that much, the Summoner reasoned; closing her eyes, she called her own aether around her, the world seeming to flex and seethe with its glowing aura. She cupped her hands and stood there. 

...And stood there.

...Her brow furrowed tighter and her grimace deepened. 

What am I thinking…?

This is just...just childish nonsense! It’s the Ascian’s version of a prank! It’s foolishness!

Her concentration finally broke and she dismissed her aether when she heard the Paragon chuckle, her expression furious. “Th-this is ridiculous! I didn’t feel even the slightest ripple of actual magic, you--!”

Hades couldn’t help his smirk, though he did try to cover it, to his credit. “Well, I did say it was chiefly about those virtues, my good Viera--it also has to do with the center of one’s focus, with what feels most natural to you. A sort of creative paradigm or talent, unique to you and connected to your soul; in Amaurot it was something everyone came to by intuition. Alas, less so in these shattered worlds.”

Sumire’s ears flicked; he remained silent, but he looked even more thoughtful than before; this much was actually a familiar concept to him, a legitimate one. He’d had to learn how to use the aether to “see” with his right eye, after the Dravanian attack on his home--it wasn’t something you could force, you had to naturally let the aether flow into the eye and follow what it sensed. At first, the sensation had been totally alien, but once he learned to relax and incorporate it, it was second nature.

...So everyone had a separate focus, then? I wonder what mine would even be …

Concentrating on the idea for more than a moment, though, nearly made him nod off where he was standing, a huge wave of sudden tiredness washing over his body. He shook his head violently, even as another breeze blew over the group.

Better consider that later.

Shoto, finally, who’d been absorbing the conversation herself, had also closed her eyes, but the Scholar was recalling the moment of an errant flower’s arrival in the vase. How it had looked, how it had smelled, the shape of its blossom and its stem. She imagined its rootwork...the bright red of the petals, so vibrant, like flame. The softness of its round leaves…

She felt the sudden urge to flick her wrist outward, and didn’t stop herself, caught up in the moment and remembering in the back of her mind what Hades had just said about the focus coming naturally…

Her aether swirled, spiked, crackled. She heard her fairies shout tinny alarums as her eyes opened…

A flower’s thin stem had burst from the earth in front of her, with familiar flame-red petals, still emitting a golden wisp of aether. As her concentration broke, it dissipated, but it left all four of them staring in awe, before Emet-Selch’s face became a genuine smile, applauding.

“You see? Not a completed creation, not solidly anchored, but a fine attempt! Well done, my dear.” Shoto’s cheeks burned in a blush, but she couldn’t help her own small smile of pride, and Sumire looked impressed, applauding a little himself; Yuki crossed her arms and bit her lip, turning away slightly, though she too looked almost amazed.

“Th-thanks,” Shoto said. “I feel a little...light-headed, though…”

“Keep in mind that it  does  draw on your aether, though,” Emet-Selch reminded her, not unkindly. “And as yours is already depleted, further practice should, potentially, wait...but for a first conscious attempt, it was quite impressive. Why, we’ll be progressing to advanced lessons in no time.”

Shoto’s cheeks got even redder, and yet...her smile didn’t leave, and something in her felt warm at the praise. “B-be that as it may, we’ll have to explain those lessons to Alphinaud before long. Let’s get going, it’s nearly midday!”

* * *

Nearly a bell passed in silence as the group made their way towards Sullen. 

Emet-Selch had ended up in the lead of the party, entirely by accident; perhaps it was some quirk of Ascian bodies, as the Angel of Truth seemed not to tire at all with each yalm, and his strides were quite long. Behind him followed Sumire, whose training under the watchful eye of the Holy See had served him well athletically...and then was Shoto, who was valiantly trying to keep up, despite being visibly drained. Yuki brought up the rear, mostly to keep watch over her struggling friend...and also due to her own foul mood, expressed in haphazard kicks to the ground as she went, errant stones tumbling into the Lakeland weeds.

The Viera kept her eyes on the two men in front of them...well, the man and the Ascian. She was glad that Sumire hadn’t inquired further into her...admitted overreaction from earlier, and that he seemed to be his usual self. That was good. They could put all that silliness behind them, where it belonged, and where it would definitely never bother her again, no sir.

...Never. Bother. Her. Again.

Her eyes on Emet-Selch, of course, were for totally separate reasons involving her completely justified suspicion. He was nothing but trouble, and that little...light show with the flowers had only solidified that notion. She knew he was up to something. She couldn’t figure it out with the evidence she had now, but she knew it in her bones.

So she’d watch, and wait, and when he slipped up she’d call down the wrath of every elemental force she knew a name for on his head.

Her general seething was interrupted as Shoto nearly tripped over a larger-than-usual rock and swayed under the weight of her pack, grimacing and trying to re-hoist it with obvious difficulty, but it looked like without help she’d fall over. She was valiantly attempting to stay balanced when Sumire almost leapt back to her, gently taking the pack in his hands.

“Shoto? If you'd like, I could help carry your pack for now?”

A sad, half-smile appeared on her face, she was not about to argue, as she knew her strength was waning. She really had taken too much of a risk with her aether; she felt so drained, so weary. 

Emet-Selch had stopped as Shoto almost tripped, too--he looked like he’d been going to render aid, but Sumire had got to her side first, and so the Ascian simply observed with crossed arms and a carefully neutral expression, trying to focus on her aetheric levels and making sure they were still safe. For the moment, they seemed so.

As Sumire hoisted the pack, a small piece of dark fabric fell from it; caught by the wind, it nearly fluttered off to become lost in Lakeland, but Yuki saw it and snatched it out of the air before this could occur. Neither of the Miqo’te seemed to notice.

Yuki looked curiously over the fabric. It had originally been quite richly woven, made of some rarefied fabric, but it had become a little threadbare; Shoto must’ve kept it with her throughout her travels. A keepsake of some kind? 

She tilted her head as she examined the image on it; the sigil of a crimson unicorn’s head, lined with gold, surmounting some sort of laurel wreath, it looked like, in the same colors. It looked like the heraldry of some noble family...a High House of Ishgard, perhaps? She vaguely remembered a familiar description from one of Sumire’s tales. She shoved it into her pocket; this had to be returned to Shoto at the earliest possible opportunity.

* * *

They had nearly made it to the Source’s edge, and the docks of the Weed were within sight, when Yuki got her opportunity; Shoto, even without her burden, had paused in the middle of the road, bent over, her hands on her knees and her breathing labored. 

Sumire looked back at their friend with concern, and Hades practically went over to hover at her side. 

“Perhaps... we should... take a short break...?” the Dragoon ventured. 

“I’m sorry.” Shoto huffed before she found a spot to sit; atop a nearby rock. Yuki sat down beside her, biting her lip.

“Are you sure you're alright? We could've waited in the Crystarium for at least another day.” The Scholar simply shook her head, “No, I'll not hold us back.”

“Shoto…” Yuki sighed and shook her head, but she supposed there was no point now. “Alright. Oh, though, before I forget any longer, this is yours--it fell from your pack when Sumire was picking it up.” Her eyes met Shoto’s as she pulled the fabric out and laid it in the Scholar’s hand. “It looked as though it might be important…?”

Shoto gasped audibly when she saw what it was, and quickly took the fabric, holding it to her chest as she closed her eyes tightly; Emet-Selch blinked as he felt the swirl of emotions the keepsake raised in her, the sudden wave of feeling enough to even bowl over the Ascian, emotionally speaking. Longing...nostalgia...grief...It was almost an echo of when he thought too hard about Persephone.

“...Thank you,” Shoto managed after a moment. “If I lost this, I’d never have forgiven myself...I’ll be more careful from now on.”

Though he wanted to comfort her, the keepsake piqued the Ascian’s curiosity to a point that he almost craned his neck to see the item, like the shoebill he’d disguised himself as. “What is it, exactly? If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”

Shoto’s smile in reply was sad enough he almost regretted the question. “Ah. It was a memento from a dear friend of mine...One I’ve not forgotten.” She unfurled the fabric almost shyly, letting them see. Though Yuki looked no wiser, Emet-Selch’s eyes went a little wide in recognition, and Sumire actually gasped himself.

“That’s a High House’s symbol,” the Dragoon said. “If I remember...House Fortemps’, isn’t it?”

Shoto nodded, silently.

Yuki blinked and looked to the Dragoon with a light smile. “Well, that’s wonderful, isn’t it? Maybe we can go visit them, soon, and you and Sumire can make introductions.” 

“W-well, hold on, I’d need introducing too! I never knew you were a friend of--,” Sumire began, but then his voice died, along with Yuki’s smile, as they saw the tears in the corners of Shoto’s eyes.

“Heh. ...I...I think he would’ve liked that, but…”

Yuki bit her lip as the realization overtook her. It wasn’t that Shoto hadn’t seen this friend in some time; rather, if they visited, all they’d be visiting was a gravestone.

“...I’m sorry,” she said, laying a gentle hand on Shoto’s shoulder.

“You couldn’t have known,” the Scholar said, shaking her head, but Emet-Selch interrupted with a soft question.

“...What was his name?”

Shoto blinked, surprised at the identity of the questioner. “...Haurchefant. Haurchefant Greystone, of House Fortemps.”

Sumire gave a slightly sad smile of his own. “Ah. Lord Haurchefant of the Silver Fuller...I met him, once, I think. He was...larger than life, I recall.”

Shoto couldn’t help but giggle. “Y-yes, yes. He was...very extravagant, I’d call it, but in a wonderful way.” A memory of the Elezen’s excited cry upon meeting her at Camp Dragonhead crossed her mind, and she couldn’t help but smile broadly. How she missed him; his excitable nature, his infectious smile, the way he called things “splendid!” that was quintessential to him... 

...How he’d gazed at her and her alone, the lilt in his voice when he’d told her how tempting her well-trained body was, resurfaced as well, to the point she had to shake her head violently to clear it.

...Was it her imagination, or had that last thought made Emet-Selch look jealous??

“I think,” the Ascian said with gravity and import, his face smoothly melting back to his more neutral, world-weary affect, but his voice surprisingly kind, “that it’s only natural you treasure his memory. Never regret that, hero.” He cleared his throat. “However, if you truly mean to reach Kholusia before nightfall, perhaps we should make it to the ferry sooner, rather than later.”

Shoto, beet red, nodded and all but sprang up. “Y-yes! Let’s keep going. I’m rested, now, and besides, the boat isn’t far.”

...Something about how fast she sprang up almost made the Ascian feel a bit guilty.

...Surely he hadn’t projected any odd feelings about her...feelings…

Whatever. He could make up for it later!

* * *

It was, indeed, not even half a bell more before they found themselves on the creaking planks of the Weed’s plentiful docks, seeking after the ferry to Kholusia; as they made their way over the first bridge, Shoto noticed a grizzled old Hume who looked to be taking inventory rather than hauling in fish, and waved for his attention. “Ah, excuse me!”

The grizzled old fellow blinked and looked up from his writing, brow wrinkling in confusion at the party of travelers before him; his confused expression only served to pronounce a scar across his nose and left cheek, his dark brown eyes searching them.

“Eh? What business do I have with ye, lass?”

Emet-Selch unconsciously bristled beneath his large cowl, though the hood shrouded his face and hid his scowling expression from the Hume; Shoto, for her part, gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry to bother you, but...we’re seeking a ferry to Kholusia, and we’re hoping you could point us in the right direction.”

The old Hume’s look became more affable, and he nodded. “It’ll be Dadfort ye’re wanting, aye; he sails th’ route ‘twixt here and Stilltide, from time to time.” “Wonderful!” said Shoto brightly. “Can you tell us where to find him?”

“He frequents a li’l tavern on Brick, th’ Drunken Eel. This time o’ day he’ll be out front, probably nursin’ his first pint and still lookin’ for custom. Look fer the big Galdjent with th’ white hair.”

The Scholar bowed in thanks, and the group hurried over the next bridge, departing Weed for Brick and finding, after peering at the signs of several taverns, the Drunken Eel; indeed, under the signpost of the establishment, leaning against a wall, was a massive Galdjent fellow with slate-grey skin and white hair.

Silently, Hades wondered what Shoto planned to do about the gap between Stilltide and Eulmore, a gap that would take them nearly as long as the walk here, and that was if things went well. The Crystarium’s soldiers had done a fine job of keeping most beasts and errant, remaining sin eaters from encroaching on the road, but he knew Kholusia to be much wilder, given its prior ruler’s...proclivities.

“Hello,” Shoto greeted the Galdjent. “We’re looking for Dadfort, are you--”

“Aye, I’m he,” the oversized fellow said, grunting a little as he pushed himself up from the wall. “I suppose your party here is lookin’ for passage?”

“Yes,” said Shoto. “We’re bound for Kholusia. I know you usually only go as far as Stilltide, but we’re hoping to hire you for a trip to Eulmore.”

Ah, so that was what she planned to do about it. Unfortunately, the very name of the city made the Galdjent’s expression darken and his arms crossed. “Nothing doing, then. You want a different vessel, and like as not a different port. I only sail to Stilltide.”

Shoto’s face fell. “But…”

“We might be at peace,” Dadfort said, “and aye, there’s rumors enough that Vauthry’s dead and gone, and the aristos have repented of their ways. And here’s what I say--it’s all sin eater’s dung.” He spat on the docks to his side. “If ye want passage to Stilltide, then I go there and not a yalm further.”

“Is there really no way we might change your mind?” It was Hades who said this, his voice almost a purr. Dadfort’s eyes narrowed, but the Ascian went on smoothly.

“You see, the dear young scholar here is quite frail of body and we know that the Eulmorans haven’t quite cleared up the roads. If you could stop at Eulmore’s docks, for just a moment, it would do us a service we’ll well remember. And you’ll be quite fairly compensated,” he added. A coin pouch was suddenly in Dadfort’s hand, and judging by the big man’s expression, it was quite weighty. 

“...I’m not stayin’ a second more than I have to, nor lettin’ ‘em write my ship’s name on no cursed rich man’s roster, y’hear? And I won’t be takin’ ye back. Find other passage to return.”

“Not a problem at all, my good man,” Emet-Selch replied, bowing amiably. Dadfort chewed his lip, but then pocketed the coin pouch and cracked his knuckles, and extended a hand to the Angel of Truth, who shook it firmly.

“Deal’s made, then. Meet me at th’ docks in fifteen. My ship’s th’ Ondo Princess, ye can’t miss her.”

And off he went, leaving the group almost shocked. Shoto looked at him both gratefully and at a loss for words.

“So you’re a businessman, as well as an emperor?” she offered. 

Emet-Selch merely laughed, pushing his hair back, and allowed himself a triumphant grin.

“Oh, there’s much you don’t know about me yet, my dear hero.”

_________________________________________________________ Writers’ Note: Hope you enjoy the new chapter and Thank you for your support! We will have a new chapter of  “In the Tower’s Reflection” as well!

[artemis-entreri]

[[ Sculptor: MD Dragons

I commissioned this awesome piece of art from MD Dragons/Maga in October 2019. In less than a month, she’d finished it, and sent me pictures for approval. I was astounded by the quality -- I already knew she does great work as I’d been following her for some time, in fact I’d originally planned to commission her for an Artemis and Jarlaxle sculpture back in 2017 after seeing her Drizzt and Artemis sculpture for a different client. Unfortunately, I couldn’t decide on the commission details back then, so I ended up relinquished my slot.

Although it was totally serendipitous, I’m glad that I waited, because the improvement in her skill really shows. Maga’s work has always been impressive. Her sculptures are almost always made entirely from different colored clay, with no usage of paint. Her attention to detail is nothing short of superb. Yet, what I received now I believe has greater, finer and more details than what she would’ve made me two years ago.

Maga makes several different styles of sculptures. I think dragons are definitely her specialty, with how each of their scales are individually sculpted and carefully put into place. As this piece shows, she’s no less adept with humanoid subjects. I ordered my commission in what she calls the “big nose chibi” style. She worked from both reference images and descriptions. For Artemis’ outfit, I provided Todd Lockwood’s paintings, but for Artemis’ weapons and Jarlaxle Maga had to rely primarily on text descriptions. The information I gave her for Charon’s Claw was a direct quote from the novel’s text. For Jarlaxle, I did show her the Waterdeep: Dragon Heist official art of him, but I wanted him to look like how he does in the novels, with his high-cut vest that shows off his abdomen and his rainbow cloak. I did want his fancy Dragon Heist rapier however, but since that, just as Artemis’ dagger, lacked specific description, I left them to Maga’s artistic interpretation. I actually left a lot to her artistic interpretation, and she blew me away, even noticing aspects that I hadn’t noticed of Artemis, a character whom I am extremely particular about. 

Without further ado, here are some closer looks at this masterpiece.

While Jarlaxle’s cloak doesn’t contain all the colors of the rainbow in a gaudy way, Maga went with iridescent clay to achieve a classy effect that’s still true to the concept of a cloak with shifting multi-hues.

It’s a bit hard to see Charon Claw’s pelvis-shaped crosspiece here, but the way the two little skeletal legs curves down the pommel is visible.

The dagger bears a characteristic emerald. Blurry in the background can be seen the black blood trough that runs down the middle of Claw. Also note Artemis’ lips; the scowl is more than a simple line drawn through the clay, there is just enough shape to his mouth to accentuate the expression. 

I normally depict Artemis with two belts running down along his cuirass, but I don’t mind Maga’s interpretation because of the sheer amount of detail on his body. I don’t even miss Artemis’ unique triangular belt buckles as depicted by Lockwood because of how much else is going on here. There’s so much life to it too, with how the ends of the belt curves off and away from his body.

I should point out here that Artemis’ stubble is entirely sculpted on as well. At first, I thought it was painted on, but no, it’s actually a very fine layer of gray clay sculpted onto his face. 

What’s also really neat is that Maga gave Artemis and Jarlaxle different head/face shapes. Artemis has a more square jaw, while Jarlaxle’s is slimmer. 

I can’t imagine how long it must’ve taken to shape and place each stand of Artemis’ hair. Note also the vanes of Jarlaxle’s feather and the texture on the flap of his hat. 

For the background, all I’d requested was “city setting”. It was entirely Maga’s decision to do the barrel, the wheel, the shattered crates and the spilled fruit.

The environment really adds to the dynamism of the piece, as though the two figures were caught in an unexpected confrontation in the streets of a busy medieval-esque city. In other words, perfect to the setting.   

Another cool feature is that Jarlaxle’s boots are shiny, while Artemis’ are not.

There was only one thing that I’d asked Maga to change, namely, her rendition of Artemis’ earrings. Originally, she had him with only earrings on his left ear and in silver.

I asked her to add another pair of earrings to Artemis’ right ear and to change the original ones to gold. That was the only bit of paint that I’m aware of, as the sculpture was already baked and removing the silver ones risked damaging Artemis’ ear. It took her less than a day to make the change, and then the sculpture was on its way to me.

Unfortunately, due to the timing of the shipment, the parcel spent more time in transit than it would’ve normally, and as a result of being subjected to shipping longer, it arrived like this:

Ouch, talk about a bad breakup! >_>

Thankfully, Maga was there to provide support. She gave me detailed instructions to repair the damage, even offering for me to ship it back to her to fix if I wasn’t satisfied with the results. I didn’t think it was really feasible to ship it back as I didn’t want more breakages to happen, so I did my best to repair it. Unfortunately, due to the compromised structural integrity to Jarlaxle’s body from his head falling off, his entire collar broke off as I was trying to glue back the pieces. That was delicate work, but it was nothing compared to trying to glue back the tip of one of Artemis’ hair spikes. My hand just couldn’t stop shaking as I was holding the tiny point in place, and once again I was awed by how Maga had apparently done this but many many more times to shape Artemis’ hair.

All’s well that ends well though, and the chibis are ready for combat once more. I even ordered a display case for them, but...

Hopefully the new one will come in soon. >_> ]]

[shenlongshao]

GGS Redesign Analysis: Zato=One

Hello!^_^  Welcome to the continuation of my redesign analysis of the Guilty Gear characters. Here is the links to the previous ones if you haven’t seen them. https://shenlongshao.tumblr.com/post/189263935197/gg-strive-thoughts-part-3 and https://shenlongshao.tumblr.com/post/190417510842/ggs-redesign-analysis-faust The latest trailer for Guilty Gear Strive reveals two legacy characters; Millia Rage and Zato! Most of us aren’t really surprised when thinking about the past character reveals. Since Tumblr is a bit weird with image posting for me, I’m doing the pair separately instead of together starting with Zato. ZATO=ONE ----------------- The reactions for Zato’s reveal has mostly been positive with saying how handsome he looks and his extra muscles. Although there’s still the comment of “just like Potemkin, he looks exactly the same.” He didn’t receive a huge redesign, but there are some noticeable tweaks to his look, especially when compared to the past, starting with GG: The Missing Link.

Zato’s design has the mixture of being timeless and mysterious with a hint of style. His long blonde hair is sleeked backward with the exception of a single strand that lays on the side of his face. A red blindfold with a black belt covers his eyes, which is the most unique aspect of his look, since it perfectly displays Zato doesn’t have his eyesight. A leather choker is worn around his neck and a sleeveless, spandex bodysuit that conveys of his alluring charm and his occupation as the leader of the Assassin’s Guild. His form-fitting leather arm warmers displays his dandyism philosophy while his combat boots creates an air of a commanding presence. Finishing the look is a simple black belt around his waist.  This fits his storyline of how in the past, Zato’s harsh upbringing forces him to adapt the traits of being shrewd, ruthless, and cunning. In exchange of being recognized as a valuable member of the Assassin’s Guild, he performed a life-threatening ritual in exchange of a great power called a Forbidden Beast. For Zato, he gained the ability to manipulate shadows(a.k.a his partner Eddie). There is still hints of his caring and compassionate side, especially to those like Millia and Venom. But Zato’s pride and greed for power lead to his demise with Eddie taking over his body. Although his design isn’t as detailed as many of the other characters, I still think it’s iconic. The style of his clothing reminds of the 90s Marvel style of designing characters wearing spandex in 1 or 2 color schemes. In GGX, his look didn’t really change except for an additional hair strand resting on the other side of his face. The biggest story development is in GGXRD SIGN when the Conclave used the art of resurrection on him(as a test subject since their true purpose was to revive Justice), but has almost no emotion except for wanting to protect Millia. Thus, he received some minor tweaks to his design.

The first is the belt securing his red blindfold is no longer a standard one. This time it’s a clip buckle type belt, which gives a more stylish look. In the center of his chest and on the hand part of his arm warmers is a decorative, light gray emblem that shows some elegance. There’s another small, but noticeable change; the belt around his waist.

There’s more detail like the holes around the strap and the center of belt having a hint of silver along with the yellowish-gold trim. The belt itself is also a bit larger as it rests around his hips instead of the waist. Zato’s primary colors is black with some red. But this time, there’s some gray added so let’s look at the color personality for each. Color Personality for Black: https://www.empower-yourself-with-color-psychology.com/personality-color-black.html Prestige and power are important to you. You are independent, strong-willed and determined and like to be in control of yourself and situations. You may appear intimidating to even your closest colleagues and friends, with an authoritarian, demanding and dictatorial attitude. With a personality color black, you may be looking for protection from any negativity that surrounds you. You may wish to create an aura of mystery and intrigue, as in the sexy black negligee. You are methodical in your work, making sure everything is completed as required, down to the last detail. Color Personality of Red: https://www.empower-yourself-with-color-psychology.com/personality-color-red.html You are action oriented and physically active - sex is a necessity to you - you have strong survival instincts.With a favorite color red, you like to be the center of attention - in fact all reds crave attention - other people are drawn to the vitality and sense of excitement you emit.  You are ambitious and competitive and like to be the winner - you are achievement orientated and second place is not good enough for you. With you it is all or nothing. You usually gain the respect of others quite easily with your practical and grounded attitude and ability to set boundaries. Lovers of red are the explorers and pioneers of the world, the entrepreneurs and builders who like to be first in discovering new physical realms. You do not procrastinate - you never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.You are a hard worker when you have a personality color red, and you specifically enjoy physical labor and working with your hands. Red people can be aggressive and easy to anger, often exhibiting a violent temper - this is negative passion and energy. You flare up instantaneously but calm down quite quickly once you get it out of your system and then forget it ever happened - you do not hold a grudge. You have a strong need for power and control which is connected to your basic survival instincts. Color Personality of Gray: https://www.empower-yourself-with-color-psychology.com/personality-color-gray.html If this is your favorite color, you are neutral about life, often to the point of being indifferent. If you love gray, you are trying to protect yourself from the chaotic outside world, even to the point of isolating yourself from others, leaving you with the feeling that you don't really fit in or belong anywhere. Being a personality color gray, you are attracted to this neutral, non-emotional color as it controls and contains your energy - you just don't show excitement or enthusiasm about anything much in your life. With a personality color gray you may be a self-sufficient, unemotional dedicated worker in your business life and a lonely indecisive person in your private life. These describe Zato well, especially in his current state of how gray applies to him. Now to look at his GG Strive design starting his face.

Zato’s hairstyle is asymmetrical instead of sleeked back like in the previous GG games, enhancing his already handsome features. The design of the blindfold and belt concealing his eyes is the same, though there is the engraved emblem on its center. Here is a link to see the image bigger to see it along with other details.   https://i.imgur.com/z0tlG4I.png You can also see in closer view how Zato’s attire is a tactical stealth bodysuit instead of the traditional, sleeveless spandex from before. There’s brown straps acting as the trim of where the sleeves would begin along with some armor panels on his body. His choker is replaced as a buckle that connects the tactical bodysuit and the collar is slightly loose. Now to see a full body of his design.

This also better illustrates how what he’s wearing is a tactical bodysuit because the lines present on his upper thighs, the belt straps, the detail added on his arm warmers, and his new belt resting on his hips. Besides it also being brown, there’s the addition of pockets on each side. There’s also something written in the back from this next picture below.

I added arrows to point his belt, the detail on the back of his bodysuit, and his boots. Due to the picture quality, it’s currently somewhat hard to see what it says. But some of the letters are obviously “Mill-X”(not sure of the letter after M, but looks like an “i”). His boots is also a different style of it having straps instead of red shoe strings to tie the combat boots in the front. Although Zato always have been combat ready, the tactical stealth bodysuit conveys extra preparation of whatever will happen next along with his role in the Assassin’s Guild.  I notice there’s some brown added to his color scheme, so let’s look at the meaning of it.~ Color Personality of Brown: https://www.empower-yourself-with-color-psychology.com/personality-color-brown.html If you are a personality color brown, you are sensual, warm and supportive. Others are comfortable in your presence and find it easy to open up to and confide in you. You are hard-working, industrious and reliable. You take life seriously but have a subtle dry sense of humor. You tend not to be carefree and spontaneous. You prefer to know exactly what is going on before you commit - no surprise parties for you! You feel uncomfortable about losing control but will work hard to change a situation that seems unjust or unfair. You have a strong need for security and a sense of belonging, which is why your family is so important to you. You can be quite contemplative, working out problems and becoming quite absorbed until you find a solution. Considering what Zato’s character development may lead to and the path of regaining and renewing his emotions and himself as a person. Despite seemingly lost all sense of feeling, his love for Millia triggers the part of him that’s caring and protective so I think more of Zato’s traits may be shown. Brown perfectly displays this aspect of him along with complimenting black. Zato’s redesign is mainly a tweak to his established look rather than a complete change. Although I’m surprised he didn’t wear the coat like in Revelator, I’m glad the essence of his design is kept. Sometimes, a radical redesign isn’t necessary, especially if it’s not going to be as good or better than the original. I think his look is perfect. Rating: S + + +(Dandy!~) Honorable mention is his Forbidden Beast name “Eddie”. Although Eddie’s form is typically a demon, he is a shadow parasite that can shape-shift in various forms. So instead I think it’s more accurate to say he morphed into his current look rather than “redesigned”. This post is super late, but next time will be the redesign analysis of Millia Rage!^_^

[stark-web-warriors]

Stark Contrast [CHAPTER TWO]

Masterlist | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word count: 7464

Warnings: Swearing, Threat of NC (but no NC)

Chapter Summary: Y/N goes to the Back-To-School party with Peter to meet up with Ned and MJ and ends up meeting the members of Pai’s club, MISA when things turn for the worst.

A/N: So I’ve been working diligently and am getting Chapter Two out early!!! I’m so excited for Chapter 3 y’all have no idea! So as I was writing this I saw several of y’all comment about how wholesome it was and I was like —am I gonna ruin it? But this has been the story from the start and I’m so glad to see it taking to life. If you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, Inbox me and I‘ll add your username. Members of the tag list MUST reblog. I look forward to your feedback, friends!

Chapter Two

The one condition Tony insisted on was that Peter Parker must go to the party with Y/N. It was embarrassing, to say the least, when the man called Peter’s Aunt May to make sure of that. So here Y/N was, sitting in her running Audi as the rain came down and made the empty street gleam navy. She leaned over to try to peak out the passenger window for any sign of the boy coming out of the apartment complex. She was anxious and growing self-conscious in her new outfit and how much of her body it exposed. That was Tony’s compromise. Y/N could miss their “bonding time” and go to the party instead, but Tony would help her get ready for the party, and the man knew parties.

After school Thursday he took Y/N to a fancy store she’d never heard of where the price tags didn’t dip below $500, which was probably why she’d never heard of it. The moment they walked in two women, who looked like they’d probably been supermodels in their younger days, hurried to assist. One led Tony away and sat him down on a chaise lounge by the fitting room with a cold glass of sparkling water. The other whisked Y/N away toward the clothing in the boutique, speaking about what they were looking for as if she were going to the red carpet. It was all very overwhelming at first, but Y/N caught a glance at a mesh shirt she liked. It was simple and looked like her style which made her comfortable. The woman was very nice when Y/N pulled it out and brought a black bralette and classic pair of black skinny jeans to match, as well as a silver chained purse and matching belt to accessorize. It was nice to know that she was willing to let Y/N make decisions for herself and still it was strange when she knew how to make that decision better. The whole “accessorizing” thing wasn’t anything Y/N had entertained much before, and she never thought of a belt as anything more than a tool and a purse a pocket-extender. Still, she put the ensemble on behind the lavender curtain for the changing room and slid it open to reveal Tony ready to approve or disapprove.

He choked on his water and sputtered, “Absolutely not,” the moment he caught a glimpse. The shop assistant rushed toward Tony as he coughed, but he held up a hand to hold her off and stood up. “That is too risqué and I can’t allow you to go out in public in that.”

“I mean, when you think about it, you saying that is like saying that I, a minor, should be sexualized, and if I wear revealing clothing it’s my fault if a man sexualizes me, and is that really the message you want to send your only daughter?” Y/N rambled, knowing Tony well enough to know he’d see right through the speech, but would also appreciate the effort.

“Why don’t you go ahead and run that,” Tony said to the supermodel who had styled Y/N, handing her his gold card and walking toward Y/N.

“I thought you said it was too risqué?” Y/N mocked as the man stepped up to her. “What do you even think is gonna happen at a party jam-packed with a hundred teenagers?” The girl asked, trying to give a more justified reason for her to have the outfit that she’d grown so attached to in a matter of minutes.

“You happened, didn’t you?” Tony quipped.

Y/N smiled at how much she appreciated this version of parental interaction. He was parent enough to take responsibility and care, but he was childish enough to be satisfied dissing the teen and then giving her the benefit of the doubt. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. It was a fun experience, even if it was weird, and she appreciated the bonding time.

Y/N was uncomfortably adjusting the mesh top when Peter hurriedly opened the passenger door and climbed in. He began to apologize as he buckled in, “Sorry I’m lat-Holy fuck.” The boy hadn’t really changed in demeanor but lost his thoughts when he looked at Y/N clad in all black. “You look like a million bucks. Like, I mean, actually. Is that a Coach bag? Aren’t those things like a thousand dollars each?” Y/N giggle at Peter’s innocent surprise. He seemed more shocked by the branding than the serious skin Y/N was sporting, and it was relieving.

“Tony wanted to take me to this one fancy boutique,” Y/N explained with a giggle as she shifted into drive.

“Okay yeah, okay, that makes sense, yeah,” Peter mumbled to himself as they drove off into the neighbourhood.

“Are you nervous, Peter?” Y/N inquired, glancing away from the street to peek at the panicked boy. “I mean, I’m no party expert or anything, but what’s the worst case scenario, someone double dips in the guac?”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Peter trailed off. He clearly didn’t really want to share too much. “The last time I was at a school party, something bad happened and I had to leave very suddenly, and I was already worried about something like that happening again, and now its like, I get in and you look super hot, and I mean, I’m not into you like that or anything, like we just met, but-“

Y/n laughed, “Peter!” Anything to get the boy to stop spiralling off into infinity. “I’m flattered that as my friend you think I look bitchin’ and if anything happens, it’s okay. You can find me and I can drive you home right away.”

“It’s not-“ For the first time, Peter paused to take a breath and rephrase, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“You know you don’t have to be so jittery around me,” Y/N insisted. “Clearly you’re good at communicating or you wouldn’t be Tony’s intern, or have such good friends. Don’t be a rambling mess around me. I want a friend, too.” Y/N saw a large amount of cars parked on the street and heard the loud bass of the music pumping down the street and decided it best to park where she was at the end of the block, where she had room. She moved the gear shift into park and looked at the seemingly calmer boy beside her.

“I’m sorry. I have a lot of responsibilities and I still try very hard to have a personal life and you make me nervous because you're kind of really close to both realms. Like, you’re the center of the Venn-diagram, and it makes me worry that the space between is getting smaller, and I’m not ready for that yet,” Peter explained calmly, finally holding his composure.

“Thank you,” Y/N sighed. “I’m glad you told me that… AND we still barely know each other. Everything you’re afraid of hasn’t happened yet. Can we please cross that bridge when it actually starts experiencing structural integrity wearing and needs maintenance?”

“That was a very specific metaphor,” Peter commented, making the young girl smile and push her way out of the car into the barely-there rain. As expected, Peter followed suit, and the two walked in the front door with their dignity fully stocked.

The moment they opened to door it was absolute fucking chaos. The music was booming, the voices were blaring, heat rushed out to be released into the night for only a moment before the door closed behind Peter and Y/N. The two teens felt lost for a moment looking at all the sweaty high schoolers crammed into one house, albeit very large. Peter spotted Ned and MJ leaning against a wall in the corner and began navigating Y/N through the crowd toward them. Of course, this entailed him getting cut off by someone and consequentially Y/N stumbling into Peter’s back. Miraculously, however, they managed to cross to the corner Ned and MJ were taking cover in.

“It’s very loud,” Y/N yelled, unsure how she was supposed to make friends over the sound. She glanced around nervously, wondering what she’d gotten herself into.

“You look hot,” MJ shouted back, nonchalantly as she gave a cool backwards nod. Y/N was thrilled to have MJ’s approval, and still, she smiled at her shuffling feet insecurely.

Finally, Ned mentioned, “It’s quieter out by the pool,” before leading the group away to the back yard. This, of course, involved travelling through the dense crowd around the DJ stand, which all but blasted their ears off, but it was worth it. They travelled to the far side of the strangely shaped swimming pool. It was lit up for the night, making the entire backyard light up with an aqua glow. It was clear why there were so few people outside. It had just rained, everything was damp, the pool had some stray leaves floating in it. It wasn’t exactly party central, and that felt just perfect to the group of misfits.

“I can’t believe they’re letting Flash DJ again,” MJ complained, kicking a nearby branch into the pool for no apparent reason outside of impulse.

“Because of what he did to Peter last year,” Ned agreed solemnly with a sad nod, only to be immediately contradicted by the tiny girl beside him.

“No, because he’s a crappy DJ,” MJ groaned inconsiderately. She was a confusing person who never quite did what you expected of her. Before the conversation could continue, she’d plopped down on the cement and was wading her feet in the pool, converse and all.

One thing stuck in Y/N’s mind that she really wanted the answer to. “What did Flash do to you, Peter?” the teen inquired concernedly. As far as she knew, Flash was just some smart guy in a couple of her classes. She didn’t have the social context to think anything ill of him, and the hint made her apprehensive for a number of reasons.

Before Peter could respond, Pai was running up exclaiming, “You’re here!” before wrapping her arms around a very stunned and rigid Y/N. It was weird how silky the girl's hair was falling off of Y/N’s shoulders, and she wasn’t quite sure how to engage in this fake-y femme behavior. She’d seen girls do this with each other—the high pitched squeak, the hug, the small talk, and then they would finally admit what they wanted—It wasn’t anything she’d ever encountered herself. Awkwardly, Y/N tried to hug back but wasn’t sure how to do it without tearing out that impossibly slick and long hair. “I’m so glad you could make it. You know, Liz used to throw this bash, but she had to move last year because her dad went to jail. So sad,” Pai put forth a small pouty face, clearly not stopping to think about the fact that Y/N didn’t have the first clue who Liz was. “Hey, Peter. Ned,” the bubbly girl greeted, looking across the group to find MJ on the ground. “Michelle, you’re gonna get your shoes wet!” Pai warned with a wave of a hand and a smile, causing MJ to shake her head and look up confusedly, then turn to look at the oblivious girl with a face that begged how she even missed that point. “Anyway, Y/N, there’s someone I wanted to introduce you to,” the skinny girl explained as she slid a boney arm under Y/N’s and began dragging the girl away. Y/N looked back at the group, trying to make an apologetic face as Pai continued, “His name is Amadeus Cho and he’s the president of MISA. Korean guy. Super smart and super hot. He’s the host of the party this year. Anyway, he wanted to meet you and so I told him I’d introduce you two.”

Y/N sighed. While she wasn’t used to the girl-y social behavior, she could tell Pai’s heart was in the right place. She was just trying to help Y/N make a new friend, and that was sweet, even if it did entail dragging the helpless girl back toward the daunting house. Pai led Y/N through the large crowd of the party and around the corner where she’d previously been with Peter, Ned, and MJ to a flight of carpeted stairs, briefly mentioning, “Some of us are hanging out upstairs to get away from everything,” before pulling Y/N all the way up and into what appeared to be a second living space. There was a kitchenette on the back wall, and in the center of the room was a floor pit with some modern art-looking furniture. A white couch and chair of oblong shape cornered around a purple rug on a black tile floor. The whole place looked so rich, and Y/N worried when she caught the judgmental eyes of the 5 teens scattered across it. There was a girl sitting on the purple rug going through magazines, one guy bringing a bowl of chips over from the kitchenette, which seemed strange at a party where there was literally a kitchen full of food set out downstairs, there were two teens laying on the couch together, cuddly enough for Y/N to assume they were a couple, and finally, there was the only person who could have been Cho, sitting on the artistic white chair like it was a goddamn throne. Y/N felt so far out of her element all she could do was follow Pai’s lead.

“Y/N. Nice to finally meet you. I’m Amadeus Cho,” the composed boy offered a hand.

“Oh really? So people actually call you by your first and last name, that is to say you go by your full name,” Y/N could hear Peter’s rambling coming out her mouth as she shook the kid’s hand, and quickly pulled away, stopping herself while trying to recover with a string of, “Cool, cool, cool. Very cool. That’s very cool that you do that.” She wanted to facepalm her head back into the womb at the way she was acting.

Amadeus looked at Y/N strangely, and with the subtly of a K-Pop star, and elected to ignore her stance behavior in favor of introducing his friends. “This is Mercedes,” he gestured to the girl sitting on the rug. The girl who waved was fashionably dressed in a bright cyan that complimented her dark, pigmented skin tone. Her hair was bleached blonde and clearly had spent a couple of hours in the flat iron. Her outfit was gaudy, but modest, which made Y/N miss the likes of Peter and MJ who, although very awkwardly, made her feel killer to wear it. “On the couch is Sam and Noah. They’ll probably be too infatuated with each other all night to notice you’re here, so you can pretty much ignore them,” While this sounded like a jab the boys would be offended by, they didn’t so much as wince, which was odd, but Y/N shrugged and took a seat next to Pai on the raised floor, dangling her feet into the floor pit. “I’m Aleksi, by the way,” the last boy in the studious glasses introduced himself bitterly as he returned with the bowl of chips and joined Mercedes on the floor.

“So word on the street is that you’re Tony Stark’s daughter,” Cho implied as he leaned forward in his chair to his half-open hands like he was Sherlock Holmes. The motion pulled down his sleeve just enough to reveal a very expensive looking silver watch.

In her discomfort, Y/N’s sarcastic side immediately responded, “Oh really? Because I thought it was pretty well hidden…”

“Hey, hey,” Amadeus slowly held his hands up in surrender, “if you don’t want to talk about it you’re in the right place. Unlike the party animals downstairs, most of us up here are the members of MISA. That is to say, we understand sharing only what of your background you’re comfortable with revealing.” He smiled like a fucking romantic interest in a K-Drama, and Y/N couldn’t tell if she found it charming or it made her want to punch him in his perfect teeth. Clearly, he thought of himself as elite, and she could see why, but being oblivious didn’t make him a bad person. He could be a charmer and still be a super nice considerate person, and she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“No, no,” Y/N began. “It’s just-” she caught a glimpse of how hopeful Pai looked introducing Y/N to her friends and felt her soften her resolve for the sake of the kind girl who’d been so nice to her since her first day. “I mean, it’s alright, I guess. There’s just not much to tell. I’m more interested in what you all are getting up to up here, anyway,” Y/N said in an attempt to change the subject.

“Mostly just hanging,” Mercedes responded casually, setting aside another magazine from the stack. Y/N was impressed by how easily she could handle the paper with the bejewelled stiletto nails the girl was sporting.

“What’s with the magazines?” Y/N asked. Her interest was peaked because even Steve Rogers didn’t mess around with paper magazines these days.

“Planning out a ransom note,” Mercedes mentioned nonchalantly as she flipped through another magazine. “On a completely unrelated note, do you spell Stark with one ‘R’ or two?” IT was such dead delivery Y/N wasn’t sure if she was really supposed to laugh at that joke until the stylish girl on the carpet glanced up with a playful smile. Y/N grinned back and let out what was more a huff of air than a laugh.

“Mercedes is trying to find an issue that features more than two races. She’s trying to make a point about whitewashing and how damaging it is when magazines will make sure to have their one ‘token black model’ and call it diversity,” Amadeus Cho explained, the cheeky smile still plastered to his face.

“I’m writing an opinion piece about the appalling lack of racial diversity because it’s always a line up of white people and then one person of a different race so it's 'not racist’,” Mercedes elaborated passionately. “Look around this room,” she gestured, “We’ve got at least 5 ethnicities at the same party. That not what the world looks like and they need to acknowledge that, and if they don’t my letter to the editor, I’m going to take that rejection letter and send it to their competitors to publish.”

This felt huge. This girl was proudly doing loud work of her own volition for a cause that would make it seem like a whisper. Mercedes was doing it anyway just to have a voice in her cause. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a mix of intimidation and inspiration. “That is honestly so cool,” Y/N admitted, earning a wink of Mercedes’s deep brown eye. The girl turned to the group excitedly and opened it up to the floor. “Anyone else have an obscenely awesome social project they’d like to tell me about?” 

“Amadeus Cho has one!” Pai piped up immediately. It was honestly sweet how much she wanted to be involved in the group, but it was also slightly hard to watch her trying to get approval from such intense people. The first day Y/N met Pavitra she had mentioned MISA and how much it felt good to have people of untraditional backgrounds to share the experience with, but she never seemed the type to chain herself to a pole for the sake of racism in America and that was okay. She was entitled to try to live her life as normalized as possible. It was so clear that Pai was working twice as hard, as a result, to feel included. It was sad because Y/N liked Pai. She thought Pavitra was a kind girl with a grounding in where she came from and ambitions that would fly her into another galaxy. So to see her trying to be involved by boasting her friends' success was conflicting.

“I’m working on a drone with reflective panelling that I can send into North Korea airspace to expose the absolute horrors that reside there,” Amadeus mentioned like it was yesterday’s math assignment, causing Y/N to drop her jaw. So he was a science guy with a social justice cause all packaged into the body of a member of BTS. She now understood why Pai was so infatuated with the guy. “I’m not done just yet, but I have it in my room along with some pictures from the test run if you’d like to see,” Cho offered.

“Oh my god, absolutely,” Y/N responded. She took Amadeus Cho’s hand and allowed him to lead her further away into the large house. By the time they reached to door frame, she felt miles away from the party going on downstairs. Cho led her into the dark and tidy bedroom, over to his desk, which was littered with parts, but right in the center was the shining glory of a genius mind. Y/N noticed a stack of photos printed out and stacked up on the left side of the drone and mindlessly picked them up and glanced through. They were all pictures of building that she couldn’t quite understand, but she was too intimidated to say that she didn’t know what they meant, so she set them back down and sat down on the nearby bed as Cho picked up the drone.

“She took a hit during the test run and needs some repairs, but the reflective panelling should still work if I just-” Amadeus forced way for a switch that was stuck and the thing disappeared, peaking Y/N’s interest. “Wanna see something cool?” Cho asked, earning a shy nod from Y/N. He flipped the drone so that the panels were facing away from him, and Y/N watched his torso visually disappear.

She furrowed her brows as she said, “The panels broadcast the signal of the room behind you as if you weren’t there. How do they do that?”

“Memory,” Amadeus explained as he placed the drone back on the desk and began walking toward where Y/N sat on the bed, “Think of it like Google Maps, but good. There are audio sensors that help it locate itself and it can tell where things are in a space as it correlates to a 3D rendering of the space. Every second it’s piecing together that map. It knows the wall is behind me, but I’m not supposed to be there, it knows that from its maps and the sensors, it can still tell that wall is behind me, so that’s what it projects.” The bed sank beside Y/N as the attractive teen took a seek so close she could feel the seam of his jeans brush her leg.

Y/N could feel her heart beating louder and faster, wondering if she was really okay with what this was leading to. “You seem very proud of yourself,” Y/N managed to tease nervously. She knew she wanted to maybe kiss him some, just some good old fashion dumb teenager acting out kind of thing.

Amadeus Cho leaned in close to Y/N’s ear and near-whispered, “Maybe I am.” His warm breath made her ear tingle as the boy pulled away with that sly smile.

Y/N looked up to Cho curiously. She wasn’t sure his endgame, but she had come to the conclusion that she wanted to play. Amadeus took a steady hand and brushed back Y/N’s hair. The cold of his watch roused her flesh as it brushed across the back of her neck. Their foreheads touched and Amadeus moved his face so that Y/N felt the tickle of their noses just barely touching. The next thing she knew, those beautiful lips were against hers. Before she knew it, Amadeus was leaning back onto the bed, and Y/N’s thirsty lips stayed attached to Cho as she leaned forward over him, desperate for the hydration. He began to massage her sides through the mesh shirt, grasping tighter and tighter as they continued. Y/N placed her fingers in his perfectly thick black hair as the boy beneath her trailed a hand up her back and onto her head. She felt a slight pressure at first, but then she felt a shove that left her looking at the boy's stomach. She knew she didn’t want to do that, and she wasn’t about to submit.

“Let’s just keep doing this,” Y/N suggested, placing a sensual kiss below the boy’s ear. He pulled her face right back in, smashing a violent kiss onto her lips. Cho carefully slid his hands up the back of Y/N’s Mesh shirt, tickling the exposed skin. His hands began fiddling with the bralette and Y/N immediately reached back to gently push his arms away, only to be ignored as he continued to play with the band of the bra. Her heart was beginning to flutter, and not in a good way. Y/N pulled away and embarrassedly but firmly told him, “Please don’t.” Amadeus nodded and smiled, pulling his hands out of the girl's shirt and showing them like he was trying to prove he wasn’t holding a weapon. Y/N took a deep breath to remind herself that he listened to what she said and didn’t push it any further before leaning her face back down to the beautiful boy laying below her. She was about to lean in for another kiss when she felt a powerful shove to the top of her head and found herself face to face with the budge in his jeans. “Okay, I thought I made it pretty clear I didn’t want to do that,” Y/N said, anger heating up quick, struggling to gain her ground as she continually sank into the marshmallowy mattress.

“Where are you going?” Cho investigated frantically as he pulled himself into a seated position once again.

Y/N finally managed to stand and trying to keep it together she stated curtly, “I’m going back to my friends-“

“Bitch!” The next thing Y/N new her forearm was burning with how tightly it had been gripped. 

“What the fuck?” Y/N screamed. Tugging at her arm was a mistake. It was a million pins and needles, like when kids used to give each other ‘snake bites’ on the playground. “Let go of me,” she mustered the lowest her voice could go.

“Why the fuck would you lead me on like that, huh?” Cho argued back, tightening his grip. “After all that you say you’re leaving, like hell you are.” Y/N struggled more, beginning to really panic, knowing that no one could hear the encounter over the party, that Amadeus was just getting more aggressive. An involuntary tear left her eye at the pain of a particularly hard tug on both their ends and suddenly at that moment he just let go. Y/N knew that should have been the moment she booked it out the door, but she was so confused by the behavior should couldn’t help freezing and looking at Cho, who was quite horrified and starring at the doorway.

“Y/N,” the scared girl spun her head around to see Peter Parker standing in the doorway with a hand held out. Peter took a hard swallow, and she could see he was uncomfortable with the situation, but still trying to help. “We’re going,” Peter told her seriously.

Y/N took a deep breath to compose herself and then casually strolled toward Peter as if nothing had happened, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her quickly down the stairs. When they got to the main floor, Flash at the DJ stand shouted, “Where are you going, Penis Parker? The party’s not over yet.” Peter didn’t so much as wince as he rushed Y/N out of the house and straight into the middle of the street, suddenly lit up by headlights. The car laid on the horn as Peter pushed Y/N out of the way, the two now huddling between two parked cars across the street from the party. The two hadn’t realized they were panting until it had already started slowing down.

“How did you even know I was up there?” Y/N asked. Peter huffed, out of air from rushing out of the place, and simply tapped on his Stark Wrist Communicator as he continued to catch his breath. “I don’t understand,” Y/N admitted. She still didn’t know what the damn thing did and had no idea why he’d be using it to figure out she was up there in the first place.

“Mr Stark called me. He said he’d gotten a notification that your vitals spiked and asked me to make sure you were okay. The moment I hung up with him I got a distress signal-“

“I didn’t send a distress signal,” Y/N mentioned in her confusion.

“No, of course not. Jarvis did,” Peter explained, beginning to walk down the street toward where they’d parked. Y/N looked at him blankly and shook her head, still not understanding this strange world she’d been thrown into. “My guess is the yelling and the grabbing set him off, so the distress signal got sent to the nearest com-link wearer, me, and I pulled up the building schematic to trace the signal,” the small boy explained like it were elementary quantum physics.

Y/N shook her head hopelessly, “but it all happened so fast.” It terrified her that things could fall apart so quickly. That she could feel so unsafe in a situation she chose to put herself in. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Peter offered as they reached the Audi.

She really didn’t want to bring it up ever again, but she wanted to clarify something with this boy. “I don’t think he would have ever done it.” Peter cocked his head. “I mean, yeah he was angry and aggressive, but I don’t think he’d go that far. Fight a little sure, get a little too angry yeah. I just… he’s the kind of person who, about a month ago, would have been afraid I was gonna mug him because I was living in a poor, crappy city. The fact that now he thinks I’m a prize to be one because of my background I’m worth pushing around… It just seems so backwards and confusing, Peter! And that’s my whole world right now. I don’t understand any of it.” Quickly Y/N climbed into the car, trying to leave her embarrassment at the door. That was more than she had intended on sharing. So as Peter climbed into the passenger seat, Y/N apologized, “I’m sorry, Peter, I’ll just take you home. Don’t you worry about little old me. I just need the night to regroup.” 

“No. After everything, I’m making sure you get home safe. If that means I need to drive then, hand over the keys. I’ll do it.” Peter’s voice raised in nervous pitch, but he maintained his composure. 

“Peter, even if I wanted you to drive me home, I live at the Avengers Facility. Security is impossible and I’ve basically accepted that I will never be able to have friends over,” Y/N explained hopelessly.

“Except…” the boy encouraged, turning over his hand for her to go on. It was actually the glimpse of the comlink on his own wrist that actually allowed Y/N to process why Peter was special.

“Except you have security clearance because you're Tony’s intern.” Y/N disappointedly threw her head around in a circle as she put together the rather obvious information. “Fuck it,” Y/N responded, aggressively opened the driver’s door she’d only just entered, standing to look at Peter over the roof of the car. “You licensed?” She asked casually.

“I just passed my test last weekend,” Peter responded proudly.

The doors hadn't even closed when Y/N abandoned ship. “Yeah, no. Get back in the car,” the girl commanded, ducking back in head first.  She simply said, “Jarvis?” as she climbed back into the seat and buckled up. She knew his perception and memory protocols were intuitive enough that he’d know what she was asking.

“Routing you to the Avengers Facility, Miss Y/N,” the car responded as it roared to life. The interior began to glow blue from all the lights throughout the dash. Rapidly, the car backed up and pulled out of the parking spot, startling Peter enough that he grabbed the ceiling for stability.

“You can do that?!” the frantic teen wheezed. Y/N decided that was a rhetorical question, and simply smiled at the funny kid. He was so unpredictable—or maybe she just didn’t know him that well yet. 

Y/N reached down the left side of her seat and held the button back until her seat was as far back as it could go. She wasn’t exactly mindful of why she did it. Just to relax Y/N supposed. She just felt really closed off, and as thankful as she was for Peter, she wanted to be alone for a bit to sort her thoughts. The best she could do to indulge that was to rotate her body some to face away from the boy. She didn’t want to talk, she wasn’t sure what to talk about, she hadn’t really put together her whole feelings on the matter. The first couple minutes she felt guilty like she was ignoring Peter, but after several, it seemed normal. She could hear was the quiet engine and the wind on the windows lulling her.

“This is so sad. Jarvis, play Desposito.”

Peter had delivered the line absolutely deadpan, and in the silence, both teens immediately froze to anticipate what Jarvis’s response would be. Y/N’s interests were perked enough that she peeked over her shoulder at the boy. She wasn’t even sure if Jarvis was programmed to respond to him. Peter, as a favor, had shown Y/N a bit more about how the com-link works over lunch during the week and his AI was named Karen, so the J.A.R.V.I.S. system was clearly anchored on the Stark name. It had been silent too long, like Jarvis was deciding. Y/N rotated in her seat back toward Peter so she could get a good look at the console. A flamenco-style guitar flourish resonated through the speakers. Shocked, Y/N turned toward Peter who’s jaw drop said he was screaming on the inside. A slower guitar riff continued as Y/N moved to sit her seat up in pure shock. The notes descended into the song, the meme, the legend and Y/N lost it. She felt laughter bubble up from her throat as she looked at the kid who instigated it. His jaw slowly closed, but the wide surprised eyes stayed. Y/N was loving the reactivity Peter had and wanted to keep it going, so she began dancing with her arms and her torso as the verse built close to the chorus. She was surprised at how easy it was to do a body roll in a car seat. It felt sexy in the suggestive outfit she was wearing, and in this situation, she felt safe to wield that power. It was just Peter, and he was her friend.

“Come on, Peter,” Y/N urged, grabbing the hands of the boy who’d been too thrilled watching her to join in himself. She made their hands dance together, turning Peter’s hands over and pulsing waves through them, before letting go for him to dance on his own whims. She wasn’t a dancer, but the pulsing waves she sent through her body in the car seat felt amazing. She looked over at Peter who was more tentatively head bobbing and swaying side to side, but she was satisfied. It was the kind of song you participated in, and she wanted to share this experience with him until the last line.

The car returned to silence. Putting her arms down, Y/N could feel the beginnings of sweat forming on her back where it was stuck against the leather interior, but it was refreshing. She felt a renewed energy by building a positive experience, and it didn’t make the other one okay, but it made her feel like she was refocused and could better sort out her feelings about what happened, without the depression of them being that last impact. “Thanks, Peter. I needed that,” Y/N admitted in the silence that had returned as the car pulled up out front the Avengers Facility.

“Don’t get me wrong, I was just making a joke to tease you—as a friend of course. Jarvis did the rest,” Peter defended with his hands up in innocence.

Y/N smiled and shook her head as she got out of the car. Peter behind her. The moment both doors were closed the car drove off to perform its parking protocol. Y/N had gotten used to that one small perk of her new life. Never having to park in the garage when she got home was a lifesaver. She turned around to look at Peter, now standing alone on the driveway. “We’ll ask Tony if Happy is still around for the night and see if we can get you a ride home that way,” Y/N suggested, otherwise inviting the boy to follow her in.

She found Tony sitting at the bar in the room she had waited in for so long that first night. He had a drink in his hand, but it was full and the ice inside was but slivers, so Y/N could tell he’d been sitting there for a while not drinking it. She figured maybe even just the action of pouring a drink felt better than doing nothing. He hurried over from the bar at the sight of the kids, worried expression. “What happened?” the man begged.

Y/N thought about what she’d be saying and licked her lips, knowing what she needed to have this conversation. “Peter?”

“Yeah,” the diligent boy stepped forward ready to care for her, and this was the kind of coddling she didn’t need.

“Do you know where the mess hall is?” She turned to face the boy.

Peter Parker assessed her for a moment with those deep chocolate brown eyes and understood, “Yeah, I do,” he answered before quickly walking out of the room.

As soon as the boy stepped out of the room, Y/N began, “Now don’t freak out.”

“What do you mean don’t freak out?!” Tony responded all high strung. “All I know is you sent out a distress signal, of course I’m going to freak out!”

“Well don’t freak out because then I’m gonna freak out!” Y/N rigidly explained, “And I’m not freaking out about it, are you?!”

“No! Are you?” Tony asked tentatively.

After a pause, Y/N insisted, “No.” It was a strange rollercoaster of 4 sentences, but Tony and Y/N were still trying to get used to this whole ‘Parent-Child’ dynamic. They didn’t know how to gauge these situations and it made sense that this would be a little bumpy. They were both scared. Both began waiting for the other to make the next move, and they ended up staring at each other for an uncomfortably long time. “Why’d you call Peter at the first sign of trouble?” Y/N asked finally, careful to start with something relatively explicable.

“I wanted to make sure everything was okay. I wanted you to go with him because I asked him to keep an eye on you,” Tony explained, making Y/N start to heat up.

“Okay, you realize that’s not his job, right? I’m not exactly sure what he does around here, but I know watching me isn’t in the job description.” Y/N felt offended that Tony would waste Peter’s time with tasks like that. Peter was her friend, if he was going to look out for her, he was going to do it because he wanted to, not because he was told to.

“And where would you be if I hadn’t called him, hm?” Tony quizzed, his lips beginning to disappear in reciprocated frustration.

“Right here!” Y/N yelled, throwing her hands up in the air. “There’s clearly something you’re not getting here, so here’s what happened,” the livid teen started listing off on her fingers, “Party. Guy. Bedroom. I said no. He got angry.” She had run out of fingers and decided to continue on anyway. “He wasn’t trying to force anything on me, he just grabbed my arm in a hissy fit. He wouldn’t have hurt me. He wasn’t going to rape me. So if you hadn’t called Peter, the guys hissy fit would have fizzled out on its own, I’d have left, and I would be RIGHT—FUCKING—HERE!” The girl gasped for air and dropped to the ground. She had run herself out of air in her aggression, and she was scared at the high-level emotions she was having. It was making her wheeze.

“Oh, kid,” Tony spoke softly, stepping forward and kneeling down on the floor next to her.

“I just…” she mustered herself. “I don’t know how to feel right now. It was nothing. I know that, but then everything around it makes me feel angry one moment, and fine the next, and I’m sad, but it’s not because of what happened. I don’t know how to feel.” Without another word, Tony sat down on the floor next to the girl and hesitantly wrapped his arms around her. Over his shoulder she continued to mumble, “It’s just so confusing because he’s not a bad guy and he didn’t really do a bad thing. Like he was responsive when I asked him to stop. But it made him angry, and I guess that makes me angry.” Tony pulled away, and lead Y/N to the couch so she could continue. “I think what bugs me the most is that a month ago that kid wouldn’t have looked my way, and now because you’ve slapped a name on me I’m desirable enough that he wants to fight for it. Like a possession.” Y/N stopped speaking and began chewing on her lip as she thought further.

Tony tapped her knee and stood up. He began working his way toward the bar and asked, “You want anything, kid?” as he swiped the watered-down drink off the counter and dumped it out.

“You realize that sounds wrong because you’re not supposed to be asking me that, right?” Y/N quipped back without missing a beat. She knew he never meant it in the first place, but it felt good and made the girl smile to herself. This was their relationship. He wasn’t her dad, and she wasn’t going to call him that. That didn’t describe their relationship. He was her senior, and she respected that, but that didn’t mean she had to conform her behavior around the associated social rules of Father-Daughter. So Tony and Y/N made quips at each other all the time. It felt nice to have that one note of stability. “Could you bring me a glass of water?” Y/N called over to Tony. Thinking nothing of the man’s lack of response as she heard the clinking of glasses and the sloshing of liquid being poured.

Tony returned, taking a seat on the couch with a single drink in his hand. “Where’s mine?” Y/N mocked offense. She did want the drink, but she much more enjoyed the game of verbal ping pong she and Tony played.

“I’m sorry, but this bar does not serve any underage gods, superheroes, or normal people,” Tony joked with a smile, earning an eye roll from his daughter. “So what are you gonna do if you have to see this kid at school?” Tony inquired earnestly.

Y/N furrowed her brow and shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t hate him… I just hate what he did.”

It was Monday when the girl calmly walked across the lunch room and smashed Amadeus Cho in the face with a lunch tray.

@ace-ingthroughlife-jk @just4muggles @i-alyssa @bravest-at-heart @bookgirlunicorn @really-lucas @loud-binch @alextheodd @avoirlu @tumbleerrtrash @amazingficsthatididnotwrite @superspideyparker @whatevsmels @niteshines-on @royal-sunflower @spiderman-masterlists @goldenrose1099 @fav-fan-ficccs @iamburdened @justalittlecrazybutimok @coonflix @takenbymyfandoms @elioelioeli0 @potterheadbbc @-thatgirloverthere-  @tomshufflepuff @peter-spider-parker-man @maddie-laufeyson @jackiehollanderr @mariah-danielle-winchester @hortonhearsahoeblr @lokimercuri @loxbbg @justanothermarvelfanaccount @darkblueeyedperson @faloncarington @creativedogs @cosmicparkerr

[aliciameade]

Fade Into You - Ch. 4

Title: Fade Into You (Chapter 4 of 5) Author: aliciameade Rating: T (...still kind of a hard T) Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: Tip for newlyweds: send a wedding invite to every billionaire whose address you can find because it's a 50/50 chance their assistants just send you a perfunctory gift without ever wondering who the hell you are. Or: Beca had a really good terrible idea when she got tired of being broke in New York.

Also on AO3 and FFnet, but I probably can’t link there idk.

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)

Note: To fasten your seat belt, insert the flat metal end into the buckle until it clicks. Tighten the belt by pulling on the loose end of the strap. To release your seat belt, lift the tab on the buckle. We suggest that you keep your seat belt fastened throughout the journey as we may experience turbulence.

“That’s what you’re wearing to the rehearsal?”

Beca looked down at her dress, a champagne-colored V-neck mini-dress with silver and gold beading and flowy sleeves that stopped above her elbows she’d paired with strappy silver sandals, and she frowned. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing!” Chloe said quickly as she flipped her hair off her shoulder so she could put on her other hoop earring. “It’s gorgeous. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” Then she winked. “Maybe in a jealous way though; people won’t be able to take their eyes off you.” She turned around. “Zip me up?”

Beca was quick about the zipping and moved her hand to play nervously with her hair only to remember she’d tied most of it back into a low, purposely messy ponytail. She’d given up trying to conquer the humidity and was starting to embrace the underlying natural curl of her hair. “Wait, jealous of who?”

Chloe turned back and only smiled wider.

“Shut up,” she huffed in reply and then gestured emphatically at her friend. “I mean, look at you.”

“What about me?” Chloe said with another smile, hand on the counter to lean against it as she struck a deliberate and dramatic pose with plenty of batting eyelashes.

“You’re...” And if Chloe was going to pose, Beca was going to look. And look she did at the layers of cream-colored lace that hugged every inch and curve of Chloe’s body from the sweetheart neckline to the middle of her thighs (Beca could still remember how the left one looked clutched between Chloe’s fingers) and the way she’d swept her hair up on her left side with a clip to show off the length of her neck that Beca so desperately wanted to kiss. “...stunning.”

Her response seemed to startle Chloe, the playful pose breaking until she was blinking at Beca for a few seconds before coming back to herself with a bright smile. “Thank you.” She reached for Beca’s hand and Beca gave it willingly.

They made their way out and down a path through the rainforest toward the wedding grounds. She knew they both saw a few of the girls not too far ahead, but it was nice that neither of them called out to get their attention.

Beca liked living in their little bubble.

“So, is it new?”

“Is what new?”

“Your dress,” Chloe replied.

“Oh. Yeah, I didn’t really have anything for a wedding rehearsal, so…” She knew full well she didn’t have to buy a dress for the rehearsal when she bought it. Just like she knew neither of them needed to buy a dress for a wedding ceremony that was never going to happen.

And yet she’d done both of those things.

“What about yours? I feel like I’d remember seeing you wear that.” She smiled at Chloe when she said it and gave her hand a squeeze.

Chloe giggled and nodded. “Yeah, it’s new.”

~ ~

“Oh, wow,” Beca said when they rounded the final bend. She should have been more mentally prepared for this specific event, not solely what was coming after it. Because coming around that curve and seeing the dense rainforest give way to a clearing lined with rows of benches hewn from trees and an arch fashioned from bamboo adorned with flowers and vines as though the forest was reclaiming it, and all their friends and parents milling around and Aubrey and a minister chatting in the middle of it…

“Are you crying?”

“What? No,” Beca said hurriedly as she turned her eyes up to the sky and away from Chloe’s inquiry.

“Hey.” Chloe’s voice was quiet and she felt a hand touch her cheek to bring her face back down and around until she was looking at Chloe. She seemed as moved as Beca felt. “It’s going to be okay. Okay? I love you.”

That wasn’t what Beca needed right now. She didn’t need gentility and Chloe telling her she loved her in that voice. It only made the tears well up more quickly and she closed her eyes and nodded, trying to agree that it was going to be fine.

What she really felt like was that she was agreeing to put her heart through an extremely cruel prank.

Talk about a masochist.

“There they are!” Aubrey called out and Beca felt Chloe’s thumbs brushing away the few tears she’d let escape.

“Shit, is my mascara running?” she said with a sniffle as she tried quickly to pull herself together.

Chloe shook her head. “Still perfect. But you should have thought to wear waterproof like I did.”

Beca opened her eyes to see Chloe still looking at her, eyes watery but not spilling, and for one full second, she was sure Chloe was going to kiss her.

“Oh, don’t you two look beautiful,” Aubrey’s voice was louder now and Chloe turned from her, sucking the air out of Beca’s lungs.

“Thank you,” Chloe said as she wrapped Aubrey up in a hug. “For everything.”

Beca knew what that hug really was; it was Chloe apologizing for what would come next.

“Beca,” Aubrey said over Chloe’s shoulder, “you clean up nicely.”

“You clean up nicely,” Beca mocked before deciding to act like as much of an adult as she could. “Sorry. I meant thank you. So, we’re at your rehearsal. Are we here to learn Ace of Base’s latest hit?”

Her wisecrack was to help herself relax more than anything, but Chloe and Aubrey laughed, too.

“No, this is your rehearsal. Nothing major. We’re here so everyone knows where to stand and when to walk.” Aubrey turned to stand between them and she started pointing. Whether or not her use of their two-finger flight attendant gesture was on purpose, it still made Beca smile. “So. Beca, you’ll be on the left and Chloe will be on the right.”

“Why?” Chloe asked. “Just curious.”

“Because every time I see you, Beca’s always holding your left hand. Is that okay?”

Chloe glanced at Beca behind Aubrey’s back and Beca nodded, finding it odd that she’d never noticed that habit herself. “That’s fine.”

“Okay. So, Beca, your parents will be seated in the front row on the right side—”

“You just said I’m on the left side.”

“You are. Your parents will be on the right side so they can see your face instead of the back of your head.”

“Oh.”

“So mine will be on the left side,” Chloe surmised.

“Right. And am I correct to assume your fathers will be walking each of you down the aisle? Or did you have something different in mind?”

“Yes.”

Beca paled. “Shit.”

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Chloe asked, taking a step back so she could see around Aubrey.

“I didn’t ask my dad to give me away,” she whispered harshly as though Aubrey couldn’t hear her from a foot away. “Did you ask yours?”

“Of course I did,” Chloe whispered back.

“Shit,” she whispered again. “Um, hey, Aubrey, I need—”

“Go ahead,” Aubrey said with a quiet laugh as she waved toward Beca’s parents sitting on a bench on the right side of the aisle.

“Thanks. Sorry. Shit, shit, shit,” she repeated to herself as she hurried down the aisle until she was arriving with an awkward two-handed wave in front of her father and Sheila. “Heeey, guys!”

“Beca! Don’t you look lovely!” her dad said as he stood and hugged her.

And she let him. She needed all the comfort and support she could get today. When he pulled away she noticed what he was wearing and frowned. His shirt might have been something Quagmire from “Family Guy” would wear and his...well, she supposed his shorts were fine given they were on an island. And his flip-flops were...passable. “Really, dad? A Hawaiian shirt?”

“I think it brings out my eyes,” he said as he popped its collar a little. “Tell her, Sheila.”

“He thinks it brings out his eyes,” Sheila dead-panned. She wasn’t so bad, Beca was learning after all these years. “Your dress, however, is gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” she said, and then remembered why she’d come over in the first place. “Um, Dad, I need to ask you something.”

“Of course, Beca. What is it?”

God, she was such an asshole. What they were doing was going to hurt every single person she cared about.

“Will you—will you walk me down the aisle?” She couldn’t believe she was asking her dad that question. “Tomorrow? Well, today. And tomorrow.” And she couldn’t believe she had to experience the look of pure joy and pride on his face before he hugged her again knowing it was all for naught.

“Of course I will!”

“Okay, cool. So, I guess...come with me because we have to practice...walking.” She felt his hand on her shoulder and hated herself a little bit more with each step. “Got him,” she announced through her guilt when they’d returned to where Aubrey and Chloe were waiting.

“Did she forget to ask you?” Chloe said to her father with a wink to Beca.

He laughed. “I knew she’d get around to it eventually. Are you surprised?”

“Not one bit.” She smiled at Beca again and then shouted, “Daddy! I need you!”

Beca watched Chloe’s father turn in surprise and make his way hurriedly to their small group. She always did like Roger. He was full of dad jokes, but ones that were actually funny, unlike her own father’s.

“Bellas! We need you, too!” Aubrey called out.

Beca had had many internal reservations about Aubrey assigning herself the role of Wedding Planner; Beca had envisioned Bridezilla-levels of control and militant precision, but she’d been remarkably—and thankfully—flexible and low-key about it all. She wielded a clipboard, but not a whistle like Beca expected, and she didn’t bark orders or pile group activities onto them.

It was actually...really nice.

She did assume her role as a natural leader as soon as the rest of the girls joined them, standing in front of the formed semi-circle to run through what she’d told Beca and Chloe about who would be sitting where once down the aisle.

She was about to say something else when she stopped and leaned over to whisper to Beca, “Did you ask anyone to be your Maid of Honor?”

Shit. Again. She wasn’t really getting married; she hadn't thought to go through all the perfunctory motions! Her face must have answered the question.

“It’s okay if you didn’t. I just need to know before I pair off the girls.”

“No, I didn’t,” she admitted, feeling like a lousy bride. “Could you do it for both of us?”

She hadn’t expected it to be a big deal; Aubrey was already standing up for Chloe so what was the big deal about being there for both of them? But Beca was, of course, wrong in her assumption and Aubrey was instantly in tears which she tried to hide as she nodded and rejoined her previous conversation to pair off the girls by height and line them up: Flo and Cynthia Rose, Lilly and Amy, Jessica and Ashley, and Emily and Stacie. Then herself, and Beca and Chloe and their fathers at the rear of the line, quickly deciding amongst themselves the two of them would enter together.

“Okay everyone, we’re just walking. I don’t want any of that step-together-step business. It’s not 1987 and the music is going to be a traditional Fijian choir so no ‘sick beats.’ We’ve all seen how this works. Split off once you pass the front row, Flo and Cynthia Rose, you’re going to have to go wider than you think to let everyone fill in toward the center. I’ll stand on Chloe’s side. Warren and Roger, you will part ways with your daughters at the first row and take your seats. Chloe and Beca will take the last few steps together, and that’s it.”

“And that’s it,” Beca heard Chloe murmur next to her and she glanced over. She seemed pensive, her hold on her father’s arm visibly tight.

“Move out!” Aubrey called toward the front of the line.

Beca watched their friends walk down the aisle in practice for the wedding she would never get to have. She watched until Chloe and she and their fathers were the only ones left waiting.

She’d have forgotten to walk if her dad’s departure hadn’t pulled her along with him. She was pretty sure he was talking to her but her ears were ringing and she tightened her hold on his arm in case she decided to faint. Then he was hugging her and leaving her and she felt Chloe’s hand take hers to lead her the last few steps until they were at the center of their friends, facing a minister neither of them had met.

“Hello, friends,” the man said with a warm smile. He was short, barely Beca’s height, and stout, and she estimated probably in his fifties. “My name is Seru. May I ask which of you is Chloe and which is Beca?”

“I’m Chloe,” she said with a little wave and Beca felt a squeeze on her hand.

“Beca,” she said after clearing her throat.

“Wonderful. We won’t be going through the full ceremony today, because we don’t want to spoil tomorrow’s fun,” he said with a wink. “But once you’ve joined hands here, I will greet everyone and read a passage Miss Posen has asked me to recite. Then we will recite your vows; would you like to follow the traditional statements or have you written your own?”

“Traditional,” Beca answered. She wondered what Aubrey had asked him to read.

“We wrote our own,” Chloe said right over her.

Beca looked at her in shock; she didn’t want to have to write fake vows for her fake wedding and now their mismatched answers looked bad.

“Someone’s going to be cramming tonight,” she heard Amy mutter behind her followed by a few quiet chuckles.

She had instant anxiety over it—that is, until she remembered there wouldn’t be a wedding and she didn’t actually have to write anything.

“Right, I forgot,” she said with an eye roll and a forced chuckle. “You all know how I am. I need to do my homework tonight I guess.”

“That’s perfectly okay,” Seru said with a laugh. “I will have you exchange rings with your vows, invite you to share your first kiss as a married couple, and the ceremony will conclude. Would you prefer Mrs. and Mrs. Beale? Or Mitchell? Or something else, perhaps?”

“Mitchell-Beale,” Chloe answered so quickly Beca had barely processed his question.

It’s what Beca would have chosen, too; she’d thought about it a lot in her imaginary notebook covered in their initials in hearts and all the times she mentally practiced her signature in different variations of her possible married name.

He jotted something down in the book he was holding and nodded. “That’s everything. Do you have any questions?”

The mention of a kiss reminded Beca that Chloe had said people were going to expect them to kiss. It had filled her with trepidation and dread and a fair dose of excitement.

But their friends hadn’t harassed them about it. And, Beca supposed, it was kind of weird if you thought about it. Who bugs their dating friends to kiss in front of them? That’s just...weird. No one had said anything and no one had questioned their legitimacy as a couple. They hadn’t had to kiss to keep up their ruse.

Part of Beca wished they’d had to, though.

She’s been waiting and wanting to kiss Chloe for roughly six years.

But it was probably for the best; all of this was hard enough on her already fragile emotions. Having to kiss...she’s not sure if she’d recover from the fallout.

“Seems easy enough,” Chloe said as she swung Beca’s hand a little. “What about you?”

“Uh no. I’m good. I get it.”

“Great! I’ll let you rehearse your exit and meet you in the back so we can take care of signing your wedding license.”

“Wedding license?” Beca said, looking at Chloe in alarm.

“Of course, dear,” Seru replied. “It’s required for all ceremonies performed in Fiji.”

“Oh, we took care of that in New York,” Chloe lied with a placating wave of her hand.

“Unfortunately, it is required to obtain one here as well. We cannot perform the ceremony without it.”

“You were supposed to go to town to pick one up yesterday,” Aubrey hissed. “It was on your itinerary. They closed at 4:00 and it needs to be issued at least one day before the wedding.”

This was...this was absurd. She was starting to panic over not having a marriage license for her fake wedding that was going to be called off in the next few hours.

“Not to worry,” their officiant said with another warm smile. “Exceptions can be made. And we’re allowed to issue them here with a little extra paperwork that we’re happy to take care of for you. We’ll take a walk to my office.”

“Great, thanks!” Chloe said and Beca could only look at her again and try to convey the level of alarm she was feeling. But all Chloe did was smile at her and squeeze her hand again.

“Okay, you two will depart first,” Aubrey said, apparently forgiving their legal misstep though Beca had a hunch she’d bring it up again. “Then the rest of us will follow in the reverse order we entered.”

At least that was easy. Chloe bumped their shoulders a couple times as they walked up the aisle. She was probably trying to convey that it was going to be fine, but all it did was make Beca want to scream that none of this was fine.

As soon as the group was back at the top of the aisle they broke out into excited, happy chatter. Everyone, that is, except Beca who kept her mouth shut so she didn’t scream.

Seru followed a few paces behind and touched her elbow to remind her of his presence and their little errand. “If you’d come with me? And you’ll need two witnesses to sign with you.”

Oh, my God. They were going to have to call this off in the next five minutes, not the next few hours.

“Bree!” Chloe said with a wave and a grabbing of her hand to pull her into a hug, though her other hand stayed locked on Beca’s. “Be our witness? Beca, who else?”

Beca stared at her for a minute willing and waiting for Chloe to read her mind that they need to end this literally right now, to no avail. “Uh, Ames?”

“Yaaaas!” their loud roommate said with a victorious pump of her fist. “Call me Katy because you can all witness my greatness.”

Beca frowned at her and chose to ignore her ridiculousness. How she was Beca’s best friend, Beca really didn’t know.

“Okay, follow me.”

Seru walked in a slow shuffle and as she and Chloe followed him, it felt a lot like some kind of a death march. At least the initial announcement of the bad news would be to their best friends. It would be a good barometer for how badly it would go when they told the others.

Once in his nearby office, Seru pulled a document from a filing cabinet and placed it on the desk in front of Beca and Chloe where he’d invited them to sit and handed them a pen with a good deal of pageantry.

They were literally staring at a marriage license and Chloe was holding a pen and Aubrey was taking photos on her phone and Amy was humming “Here Comes the Bride” but kept confusing it with “Pomp & Circumstance.”

“Uh, Chloe…?” she said and desperately hoped Chloe would do something, anything to help her figure out what to do. She couldn’t just blurt out that this had all been a joke. They hadn’t even worked out what they were going to tell everyone later as they’d planned to. She looked to her right to see Chloe holding the pen and staring at the paper until Chloe turned to look at Beca.

She was crying.

There were tears running down her cheeks as she smiled at Beca and reached to hold her hand because they’d let one another go when they sat down.

And then she leaned forward and filled in her information on the form.

Beca felt light-headed and confused and hot and cold and then Chloe was holding out the pen to offer it to her with a nod.

She stared at her again, almost smiling in shock, but Chloe just raised her eyebrows and wiggled the pen. It felt like a challenge or a question, but Beca didn’t know what that question was.

“Your turn,” she finally said and Beca took the pen.

Beca took the pen and leaned forward to put her name and birthdate and address and her parents’ names below all of Chloe’s.

And then she signed it.

“We just need your witnesses to sign and you’ll be all set.”

“Uh, here. Amy,” Beca said thickly as she handed her the pen to watch her scribble her name on a blank line before passing it to Aubrey who did so with much more care.

Then she watched Seru sign it. And stamp it. And emboss it and make a copy of it and fold it and put it in an envelope and offer it back to them with his congratulations.

It was Chloe who finally reached out to accept it.

“So that’s...that was legal,” Beca said, feeling like every nerve in her body was ready to break down.

Seru smiled widely from the other side of his desk. “Yes, my dear. Legal and will be recognized in the United States as it is here.”

She turned to look at Chloe again but she was too busy staring at the envelope in her hands to notice.

“Oh, you’re both so happy,” Aubrey said as she paid some kind of a fee to Seru. “I can tell you didn’t know how this would feel. I’m so happy for you.”

“Yeah, what blondie said,” Amy said with a loud sniff.

“Chloe?” she tried again and Chloe finally turned to look at her for a second before darting forward to hug Beca as hard as she could.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered so quietly Beca knew no one else would hear. “I will fix this. I promise.” Then she kissed Beca’s cheek and said, “I love you so much,” at a normal volume.

All Beca could do was nod and hug her back and say, “I love you, too.”

Because she did. She loved Chloe with every fiber of her being.

And now she was married to her. She was married to her and she couldn’t even enjoy it.

“Can we eat now?”

“Yes, Amy, we can eat now,” Aubrey said with a sigh.

~ ~

All Beca wanted was five minutes alone with Chloe. Or maybe ten to be able to scream and cry and ask what the hell they just did. Beca had no idea how to undo a marriage. Divorce? Did they have to get divorced? She didn’t want to be divorced at twenty-four. Or did they get an annulment? When was it an annulment and when was it a divorce?

But she didn’t get ten minutes alone with her. She didn’t even get five, because Aubrey and Amy walked with them to the Matakau restaurant where she knew they had a private room reserved. She had read that in their itinerary. She had definitely missed the part about the license, however.

Everyone else had arrived before them thanks to their detour to take care of a little legality and cheered when they entered.

It made Beca want to cry.

Instead, she smiled and let Chloe lead her by the hand through the room to what were clearly meant to be their seats, two empty chairs at a table for six where their parents also sat. So that’s where she sat, growing increasingly numb to the buzz around her. She was vaguely aware that someone was pouring her a glass of wine. She went through the motions of eating the salad someone put in front of her. She smiled when it sounded like someone was talking to her.

The ringing in her head was starting to become unbearable when Chloe leaned over and touched her shoulder to get her to move closer.

“I’m going to bring up your job and how your boss treats you.”

Beca had to think for a minute to catch up. “What?”

“I’m going to say your boss treats you badly and that I don’t want you to work there anymore. Start an argument with me about it and I’ll ask you to step outside to talk. Then we’ll come back and explain that it’s been an ongoing point of stress for us and it’s clear we’re never going to get past it and I can’t get in the way of your career.”

“Oh.” She took a deep breath and nodded. “Right, that’s good.” That’s all it was going to be. They were going to have the spat that broke the camel’s back and it would all be over. Tomorrow they would be on their way to their extended vacation for their non-refundable would-be honeymoon on a neighboring island where they wouldn’t bump into anyone they knew and she could wallow in self-pity as much as she wanted.

They could go back to normal.

Chloe patted her knee and sat back, though she left her hand to rest on Beca’s knee.

Now all she had to do was wait for it all to end.

~ ~

“Raise your hand if you were surprised to find out these two were an item,” Chloe’s father was saying as he stood addressing their small party, glass in hand. It was the fourth speech they’d had to sit through, kicked off by her own father and followed by Amy (who mostly cracked jokes about having to share an apartment with them and how much sex they had which was as embarrassing as it was funny—and false) and Aubrey (who was barely understandable due to her blubbering but there was a lot in there about sisterhood and family).

Everyone laughed but no one raised their hand.

“Beca.”

She looked up at Roger Beale and smiled, feeling Chloe’s fingers tracing back and forth at the base of her neck where her hand had come up to rest on the back of Beca’s chair.

“I’ve never seen my little girl so happy around anyone. I’ll be proud to call you my daughter. To you both,” he finished with a raise of his glass that everyone followed with a chorus of “Cheers!”

When things died down again, it was Chloe who took up her glass and stood and said, “Okay, my turn,” while everyone clapped and whistled.

This was it. This was going to be it.

“I want to thank you all for joining us here. I know it wasn’t easy, but it really means the world to us that you came.” She glanced down at Beca so she smiled and nodded in agreement. “You didn’t have to, but you all pitched in to make this a really, really special time for Beca and me.”

“That’s what pitches do,” Amy shouted, her hand to her mouth like it was a megaphone. “We pitch in!”

Her joke was received with groans by everyone except Beca’s dad, who guffawed. Because of course he would.

“We’ve been through a lot together,” she continued, smiling down at Beca. “I know moving to New York wasn’t easy for you.” Here it comes. “It wasn’t where I thought I’d end up either. But being with you makes up for anything I thought I was missing because you’re everything I need. I love you, Beca.” She lifted her glass. “To you.”

Beca watched her drink and heard everyone coo at the sweetness.

Chloe sat down. “It’s bad luck not to drink after a toast. Especially one for you,” Chloe said as she set down her glass and nodded at Beca’s as though she hadn’t skipped over one very important plot point of their evening.

She reached for her glass slowly, still staring at Chloe. “What about—”

“Beca, oh, my gosh!”

Beca barely had time to lift her arm and glass of wine out of the way before Emily basically fell into her lap to hug her.

“I can’t believe you’re marrying Chloe! It’s like a fairytale!” She was borderline wailing.

She caught her around the waist with her free arm to keep her from tipping backward. “Uh, Legacy, how much have you had to drink?”

“Maybe a little,” she stage-whispered before giggling. “Oh, it’s so romantic! You sang and Chloe found you and it’s like you were a siren singing her song and you fell in love and now here we are!” She hugged Beca again and she felt her starting to lean forward to stand up.

“That’s not what happened,” she said as she gave Emily a nudge.

“Well, you were singing my song,” Chloe teased from beside her. “And I did fall in love with you.”

Beca almost did a spit take as she finally took her toasted sip.

She didn’t have a chance to say anything about it because Emily had moved on to fawn similarly over Chloe and her dad was asking her to dance and they were pulled away from each other.

Her dad was asking her to dance?

She looked up at his proud smiling face and proffered hand and...she guessed she could dance with her father at her very real rehearsal dinner for her very fake wedding.

She let him help her to her feet and lead her to an open area in the room and into a slow dance to the tropical music being piped in.

“Don’t worry; I’m not going to say anything sappy. I have a feeling you’ve had your fill of that by now.”

She laughed to herself, still trying to step over what Chloe had said to her, and nodded. “Yeah, that quota’s been filled.”

“But I do have to say, Beca: your mother would be so happy. I wish she could be here to see this.”

That...that wasn’t fair. She’d made it this long without thinking about her mother who would have been the very first to RSVP if she hadn’t...if she hadn’t. The tears snuck up on her, making her choke for a second before she hid her face against her dad’s chest, trying to not let him see.

“You’ve been pretty quiet tonight,” he said after a moment, thankfully ignoring her crying if he noticed it. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

Understatement of the century. Nervous? In a constant state of low to moderate panic. Wondering how the fuck she ended up in this position. Wishing she wasn’t a dirtbag who thought up a way to scam people out of gifts. A general emotional trainwreck.

“Different question,” he said before she could answer. “Does Chloe make you happy?”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. That was an easy question to answer.

“Then you don’t have anything to be nervous about,” he said with a smile before lifting his arm to twirl her like he used to do when she was a little girl.

It gave her a full view of the room again and she saw Chloe and Roger swaying, too, a few feet away. Chloe looked over just then and smiled at her.

So she smiled back.

~ ~

“May I cut in?”

Beca looked to her left, surprised for some reason to see Chloe smiling up at her father.

“Of course, be my guest.”

Her father stepped away and Chloe took his place, a hand on her waist and the other taking Beca’s hand to rest it between them against Chloe’s shoulder.

“Hi,” Chloe said softly as she subtly led them.

“Hi?” Beca was pretty sure her tone said all that was needed.

“I promise we’ll talk about it tonight. Can we just enjoy this for now? Please?” Chloe’s face was a heartbreaking combination of chagrin, fear, and hope.

Beca looked at her until she couldn’t bear the uncertainty in her eyes any longer. “Fine,” she said with a sigh as she settled into their dance.

She always did like dancing with Chloe, though slow dancing wasn’t something they did.

It was nice.

Beca kept quiet, not trusting herself to say something she’d regret so she chose to say nothing at all. She wanted to ask Chloe why she was doing this, how she thought they could ever explain it away at this point. Beca didn’t want it to go so far as one of them leaving the other at the altar, or saying, “I don’t” instead of, “I do.”

But she also really needed to ask Chloe why she felt it necessary to say something as meaningful as, “I fell in love with you,” at that moment. It wasn’t needed to sell anything. Emily assumed it to be a fact already; there was no reason to have to reinforce it. Those words weren’t to be thrown around lightly if you asked Beca. They weren’t to be used as a joke or as a lie or as anything but the absolute truth, and she never would have thought Chloe to be someone who thought anything different.

She focused on Chloe’s eyes that didn’t want to let hers go, and sometimes she looked around to see their guests, some of them talking at tables, a few of the Bellas dancing with the staff instead of allowing them to clear the tables. Her dad and Sheila were dancing, as were Roger and Marie.

All the important people in her life were there, together, happy and celebrating her life with Chloe.

It didn’t feel all that false once she set aside the not unimportant label of marriage. She did love Chloe. And Chloe loved her. She knew that implicitly. And they did have a life together and would continue to. She had been there for Chloe in sickness and in health and Chloe had definitely been there for richer or poorer...which was how they got into this whole mess to begin with. Beca didn’t need anything else to be happy. Everything she needed was in that room. Whether it was an island paradise or a cramped illegal sublet in Red Hook, there was nothing missing from her life.

“Hey, Chlo, I—”

“Okay everyone, these two have a big day tomorrow so it’s time to call it a night!”

Beca closed her eyes and silently cursed Aubrey’s timing. She wasn’t sure what combination of words was about to come out of her mouth, but she knew she’d spent a good portion of her life gathering them.

There was a groan of disappointment and Beca watched Chloe lean in closer until her lips grazed her ear. “Walk me home?”

“Yeah.” She smiled at Chloe when she pulled back. “Of course.”

~ ~

Their walk was quiet. Aubrey had the thoughtfulness to allow the two of them to leave the party first and hold the others back for a few minutes and Beca was eternally grateful to not have to walk the length of the resort surrounded by everyone’s frantic, if positive, energy.

They walked along the path hand in hand until Beca had to let Chloe’s go so she could unlock their villa and hold the door for Chloe to enter.

Chloe didn’t bother to turn on a light, so Beca didn’t either. There was plenty of light from the moon’s reflection off the water and the outdoor lighting to see well enough to move through the house. Beca saw Chloe put her handbag down on the table in the sitting room, the long envelope containing their very legal marriage license sticking out of it. Beca set her own clutch down there, too, and followed her.

Chloe was doing her silent thinking thing again and while Beca had a thousand questions to ask, especially to gain clarification on one important thing Chloe had said at dinner, she couldn’t bear to interrupt the silence.

Instead, she kept following until they were in the lounge on the lagoon-side of the house. She watched Chloe step out of her wedges and then reach toward the back of her dress, only to stop and instead gather her hair to lift it off her neck.

She just stood there, her back to Beca and holding her hair up like she was expecting Beca to—

Oh.

Beca took the few steps forward necessary to be able to reach out with embarrassingly shaky hands to unhook the eyelet at the base of Chloe’s neck and then draw the zipper down until it stopped at the curve of her lower back. She took half a step back. How many times had she seen Chloe’s smooth, strong back? She’d lost count years ago. But every time felt like the first. She ached to reach out and trail her fingers down the strip of skin she’d revealed so instead she curled her hands into fists.

Chloe was still holding her hair up and she turned her head slightly. What she said next made Beca forget her own name.

“I said you could take it off the next time.”

Beca inhaled so sharply she knew it was audible but Chloe only glanced at her sidelong before facing forward again.

What was she getting at? Was she actually asking Beca to undress her? And if so, why? Where was this going? Today—the last three days—had been a confusing, agonizing, chaotic mess and, frankly, she was mentally and emotionally exhausted. She didn’t have it in her to question it. Or contest it.

She stepped closer and lifted her hands again and hoped they didn’t feel as hot as her face did as she slipped them under the cap sleeves of Chloe’s dress to guide them down her arms.

She tried not to touch her but it was inevitable as Chloe lifted her arms a little to slip the sleeves past her wrists.

Beca had noticed it before when she’d unzipped it, but there was nothing else under the bodice of the dress. Chloe’s back was as bare as it had been at the spa.

She had to swallow at the subsequent understanding that that meant her chest was bare, too, and she took her hands back once the dress hung from Chloe’s hips. She knew it could slip down easily if Chloe moved or twisted, but she was stone-still. Beca could see her breathing, the slow, steady breaths expanding and relaxing in her back and shoulders. She was close enough that she could smell the moisturizers and oils Chloe had used that afternoon. She was close enough that if she dropped her chin a little, she could kiss her shoulder.

Chloe was waiting.

Beca held her breath as she reached out again, this time slipping her fingers between the dress and Chloe’s hips to nudge it down.

It fell easily and she heard Chloe’s steady breathing stop in the silence of the room.

Beca didn’t know what she should do. She didn’t know what was okay, or what was even happening. All she could do was what she wanted to do, so she left her hands where they were, holding Chloe’s hips, bare except for an undergarment that Beca could only feel the edge of beneath her hands. All she could do was lean in and touch her lips to Chloe’s neck that was still bared and on display.

She instantly felt dizzy and hot so she stopped and waited out the silence, her lips barely touching Chloe’s skin.

Then Chloe sighed and dropped her hair to reach back until she was guiding Beca closer with a hand to the back of her head.

Beca heard herself whimper as she pressed a bold kiss to Chloe’s neck.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. Never in a hundred thousand years—

“Beca…” Chloe said through another sigh and Beca felt a hand at her waist reaching blindly and pulling until Beca was flush against her back.

God, she felt amazing. Beca started to lose herself. She kissed her again. And again. And again, drawing a slow line down until her lips were on Chloe’s shoulder.

That’s when Chloe broke out of their embrace and strode forward toward the balcony.

She was out and down the ladder out of sight before Beca had even taken a much-needed breath. She heard the soft splash of water next and that’s when she moved.

She ripped at her sandals, fighting with the straps until she was kicking them off to slide who-knows-where. Her dress was next and she was sure she was going to rip it in her haste as she pulled her arms out of her sleeves and yanked the whole thing up and over her head to toss it aside to follow her.

She climbed down the ladder until she was slipping into the lagoon behind their villa. It was darker there than it had been in the house, away from the path lighting. Now it was just the moon and stars and it took a couple seconds of glancing around until she found Chloe a few yards away standing in chest-deep water looking out past the breakwater toward the ocean. Her hair was wet; she’d dove under, and Beca could see the droplets of water clinging to the skin of her arms and shoulders.

The water was a welcome coolness. It might have even been cold, but she was so overheated she wouldn’t have noticed if it was.

Beca pushed off the ladder to swim the few strokes over to her to right herself next to Chloe. She didn’t touch her. She didn’t know if she should, or even if she could. She didn’t know what was going on anymore. And if she couldn’t touch her ever again, she would learn to be content with what had happened. It was more than she could have ever dreamed of.

She finally saw Chloe turn to face her out the corner of her eye so she turned, too. Chloe still looked pensive, but a lot of the fear she’d seen in her earlier that evening was gone.

“I promised I’d fix it,” Chloe finally said.

“I know you will,” Beca replied. She didn’t think they were going to talk about this right this second but—

“I don’t want to fix it.” It was barely above a whisper.

Beca blinked and then squinted at Chloe through the darkness. “What?”

“I don’t want to fix it.”

Beca felt her heart start to give out. Or go into overdrive. Or both.

There was a quick sound of hands lifting out of the water and that’s the last thing Beca registered before Chloe kissed her.

There was a lot about her life Beca didn’t understand. Why she was the way she was. Why some people were dicks and why other people were angels like Chloe. Why she made dumb decisions and why she rarely seemed to learn from them.

There was one thing, however, she always understood, even if she didn’t know what to do with it.

She understood, without a doubt, that she was in love with Chloe.

She may have whimpered, or moaned, or made no sound at all. She did finally realize she should kiss her back.

She reached for Chloe under the water and wrapped her arms around her waist to pull her closer as she kissed her like she’d waited to do for years. She felt Chloe’s arms around her neck, water dripping shiver-inducing rivers down her back, though it might have been the way Chloe’s tongue slipped across her lip that made her shiver.

She tasted like wine and Beca pulled her closer still, her mind finally registering that what she felt against her own chest was Chloe. Nothing but the softness of Chloe pressing against her own and just as she had a fleeting thought that she should have taken off her bra when she took off her dress, she felt Chloe’s fingers pull and twist at the band and then it was gone.

She didn’t know where it went. It would probably sink or drift out to sea.

She didn’t care.

She let her hands start to roam, then. Because if Chloe was going to do that, then Beca could certainly run her hands up her back.

And if Chloe was going to—

“Shit,” Beca breathed against Chloe’s lips and she might have felt guilty about breaking the silence with something so crass if Chloe hadn’t hummed a laugh and ran her fingertips across Beca’s nipples again.

Beca was about to return the favor when Chloe squealed and wrapped her arms around Beca to hug her.

Just to hug her.

But it was everything.

Then Beca had to gasp because Chloe grabbed her shoulders and used her own weight to dunk Beca right under the surface.

“Dude!” she said when she came up sputtering. The full-body soak had rung life and clarity into what had been Beca’s muddled, foggy mind. Chloe wanted her. Chloe had asked Beca to undress her. Had kissed her and touched her and didn’t want to fix this godawful mess they’d gotten themselves into.

“You weren’t nearly wet enough,” Chloe said as she hopped backward a few paces until she was swimming toward the ladder.

“Yeah, that’s…” Beca stopped and considered her response, and then decided to fuck it. All bets were off now. “That’s really not a problem I’m having right now.”

“Ooh,” Chloe sing-songed with a smile. “Beca Mitchell-Beale. You minx.”

That made Beca pause for a second, but only a second. She didn’t want her surprise to come across as anything negative so she grinned and started swimming to catch her, but Chloe was already up the ladder by the time Beca was climbing.

Her heart was pounding.

She felt positively alive.

She thought she’d find Chloe waiting for her in the lounge but she wasn’t there. So, Beca went looking but didn’t have to go far.

She was in their bedroom with two towels in her hands, one of which she held out to Beca as soon as she entered.

“Thanks,” she said as she took it and wiped off her face before heading to the bathroom so she could wring out her hair before it dripped everywhere. She ruffled the towel through it as she padded back to the bedroom right away; she didn’t want Chloe to think she wasn’t coming right back or something and leave.

But Chloe was still there, now bent in half as she dried her legs and feet and stomach and chest until she tossed her towel onto the chair near her side of the bed.

She was naked.

Completely, totally naked.

Beca tried not to stare but she was staring. It was almost impossible given the fact that Chloe was walking toward her until Beca’s towel was in Chloe’s hands.

“Let me,” Chloe said quietly as she started patting it over Beca, starting at her neck and then down her left arm and right, down her chest which made Beca’s breath catch and Chloe wink. Over her stomach and then Beca felt Chloe’s thumbs catch the waistband of her underwear and meet her eyes.

As if she needed to ask?

Beca nodded and Chloe bent a little to slip them down her legs until Beca stepped out of them.

Then the towel was back, brushing down her legs until Chloe moved it behind her to dry the backs of her legs, higher until she was on Beca’s ass which made her wink again, and across her back. She gave the ends of Beca’s hair one more squeeze in the towel and then tossed it aside to take Beca’s hand to lead.

And Beca followed.

She followed as Chloe led her to their bed and up onto it until they were side by side, smiling at each other.

“Did you mean it?” Beca finally said. At this point, she might as well ask all the questions.

Chloe’s fingertips trailed along Beca’s arm, back and forth from wrist to shoulder. “Which part?”

“Um, specifically, first...what you said at dinner. About the siren thing?”

Chloe bit her lower lip and nodded.

“Is that why you haven’t called this off?”

She nodded again and Beca’s heart thumped in her chest.

“Can you—” she swallowed and took a breath “—can you say it? Again?”

Chloe’s smile grew until her lip slipped from her teeth. “I fell in love with you. A long time ago.”

Beca exhaled so hard she was embarrassed. “Okay,” she said after a moment. “Cool.”

“Cool?” Chloe said, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Beca said with a shrug she knew did not come across at all ‘cool.’ “Because...I am kind of...seriously in love with you, too.”

“Yeah?” Chloe said with an adorable laugh. She looked on the verge of tears and Beca understood. She was probably already crying; she didn’t know and didn’t care.

“Yeah, dude,” she said as she reached up to rest her hand against Chloe’s neck, fingertips drawing small circles on the back of it.

“I’d hoped so,” Chloe said with a small smile.

“Tell me about it,” Beca said with a roll of her eyes. “This week has been fucking agony.”

Chloe seemed shocked for a second until she burst out laughing, and crying, and nodding as she rolled onto her stomach and closer to Beca. Beca swept her hand down her back, then, finally able and allowed to do that. To touch.

She could feel Chloe crying and she didn’t try to shush her. She could cry as much as she needed to. It gave Beca time to think and process and start putting the pieces of their six-year-long puzzle together until she was sure in her conclusion.

“Hey,” she said after a few minutes when she knew the tears were subsiding.

Chloe rolled back a little to look at her and despite the tears and towel-smudged makeup, she’d never looked more beautiful. “Hmm?”

Beca reached for Chloe’s left hand where it was tucked between them and laced their hands together, making sure to run her fingers across the pearl Chloe was wearing. “I don’t want to fix it either.”

Chloe stared at her for a solid minute before she burst out laughing again. She laughed so hard she rolled away and onto her back and Beca sat up, smiling but a little unsure what the hysterics meant, to look down at her and appreciate everything about the moment.

“Oh, my God, this is crazy,” Chloe groaned as she wiped more tears off her cheeks. “Hey, Beca?”

“Yeah?”

Chloe turned her head so she could look up at her and she smiled. “Will you marry me tomorrow?”

Beca didn’t know she’d waited her entire life to hear those words until they were on Chloe’s lips.

“You’re such a nerd,” she managed to say despite being unable to breathe. “Yeah, I’ll marry you.”

She leaned down to kiss her fiancée. Her real fiancée.

“Wait,” Chloe said after a few seconds and Beca pulled back.

“What?”

“We’re already married.”

Beca laughed and laid down again, this time as close to Chloe as she could be without being on top of her. “Yeah, I guess we are.” She ran her fingers along Chloe’s stomach and felt her suck it in at the tickle so she smoothed her hand over it instead. “Does that make tonight our wedding night?”

She was teasing. Mostly.

Chloe looked at her for a second before leaning in to kiss her. It was soft this time, and slow, and gentle, and her hand came to rest over Beca’s on her abdomen to pull Beca’s arm around her waist. “No,” she said when they parted. “That’s tomorrow night.”

“Oh.” Beca wasn’t totally sure why that made her breathless. They were in love. And married. And engaged. And naked in bed together. But there was a lot about her life Beca didn’t understand. “Okay.”

“Tonight,” Chloe said as she shifted onto her side until she was the one almost on top of Beca, “we just do this.”

Beca sighed as Chloe’s lips touched hers.

There was no “just” about it.

It was everything.

~ ~

(Chapter 5)

[daedriclorde]

Krent Mon Do Akatosh

Humle Beginnings; A Series of One-Shots

Read it here on my AO3!

An Old Friend

Aerisif was walking with her head down, a foolish thing to do anywhere, but particularly so in the Thieves’ Guild. So engrossed was she in the book she was reading, she didn’t see the Guild Second until she ran into him.

“Brynjolf!” she scolded. The red-headed rogue smirked.

“Whatcha doing, lass?” The thief’s brogue always seemed to send a pleasant chill down her spine. He stood relaxed and confident.

Aerisif raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Well you see, Brynjolf, this is call a book. And what intelligent people do with it is called reading. I wouldn’t expect you to know about it, though.”

With a smooth motion, Brynjolf pulled the book from her hands.

“That’s mine!” Aerisif protested.

“And now I have it. Funny thing, it is. We down here call it stealing,” he smiled. “I wouldn’t expect you to know about it, though.”

So he wants to play THIS game, Aerisif mused. A warm feeling bubbled in her gut. She rolled her eyes at him and brushed past him, allowing their bodies to touch for an instant as she continued walking toward the Flagon.

But Brynjolf was apparently not yet done. “I’ve read a book once, you know.”

“A truly astonishing achievement.”

“Don’t you want to know what book it was?”

“Learning your letters doesn’t count as a book, Bryn.” She nervously stole a sidelong glance at him. She hadn’t dared to use that nickname with him yet.

She found her glance returned, but Brynjolf’s gaze had a devilish tint to it. He paused to hold open the door into the Flagon for her.

“The Lusty Argonian Maid,” He grinned.

Aerisif felt herself flush and hoped the shadows of the Cistern hid it. “Well, we’re all very proud of you,” she teased.

No sooner had she cleared the threshold into the Flagon when there was a commotion and the sound of chairs scraping against stone. A figure ran toward Aerisif. She instinctively pulled her dagger.

It was just a courier.

“Got something for you,” he panted. “A letter, from Markarth.” He handed her a folded piece of parchment. “Looks like thats it, gotta go!” And he turned and took off again, seeming to take no notice of his threatening surroundings.

Delvin, who had also prepared to fight the intruder, shook his head and sheathed his weapon. “Damn couriers, always buttin’ in where they have no business.” He craned his neck to look at the parchment. “Whatcha got there?”

Aerisif unfolded the parchment and scanned the lines quickly, her mouth creeping to a smile with every word.

Aerisif the Quick, Shadow of the Stone City, Highest Among Beggars, Aer Bear,

How’s the other side of Skyrim? Manage to get far enough away from me and this blood soaked silver? You’ll have to try harder than that, because I’ve decided to come visit. I should arrive in Riften on Sundas, the 8th of Heartfire. Hope you’re prepared for a good bender and probably some jail time, its been too long.

Yours,

Yngvar The Singer, The Strong, The Retribution of Markath, Yngvar Silver-Tongue, Yngvar the Handsome…

Aerisif burst out laughing at the list of self serving names that followed.

“Well? What’s the news, lass?” Brynjolf asked with curiosity.

“Yngvar’s coming!” Aerisif was smiling from ear to ear, nearly jumping with excitement.

“Yngvar?” Brynjolf thinly veiled a frown and worry in his voice.

Aerisif didn’t hear him. “Delvin, could I get him one of our protection amulets? Just while he’s in town?”

Delvin scratched his chin. “I suppose, we have a couple left. Who is this fellow?”

Aerisif danced away again. “Tonilia’s got them, right?”

“Who is Yngvar?” Delvin asked again. Brynjolf was hanging on every word.

“Oh, we had so much fun in Markarth! Ah, I can’t believe he’s coming here!”

“Who the fuck is Yngvar?!” Brynjolf nearly shouted.

His raised voice broke Aerisif’s reverie. “Shit, I haven’t mentioned him before? Yngvar and I sort of grew up together in Markarth.”

“Did you now?” Delvin asked. “And this friend of yours—he’s not going to cause any trouble for the Guild?”

“Not at all. He also lives on our side of the law, if you know what I mean. Not a thief by any means, I can tell you that. The big brute nearly got himself killed when he tried. It’s like…Yngvar is to the Silver-Bloods what the Thieves Guild is to the Black-Briars.”

“Sounds like our kind of company!” Delvin chuckled. “Yeah, he can have our protection. Tell Tonilia I said you can use one of our amulets for your friend. Just see that he doesn’t make any trouble for us, or for Maven.”

“Thanks Delvin!” She bounced off to find Tonilia.

Grew up together? Brynjolf was tossing Aerisif’s words and glee around in his head. Big Brute? Did I see him sign that as Yngvar the Handsome? Brynjolf had an uneasy feeling in his gut about this.

***

Sundas came, and Aerisif had put on a fine, red, quilted tunic that she had just had made. She had washed in the lake the night before, and put some sort of ointment in her black hair that made it shine and smell enchanting. She wore an elegant gold necklace and some delicate rings, all of which she had commissioned from Madesi.

Brynjolf tried his best to ignore the fresh, flowery smell about her as she had some breakfast in the Flagon. He swung himself over a chair at her table.

“Hardly recognized you, lass. Why so dressed up?”

“Want to show off,” Aerisif said through a mouthful of sweet roll.

Brynjolf’s brow furrowed. “Show off?”

Aerisif swallowed. “Yeah! Show Yngvar that I’m making so much more money than he is. Really rub it in.”

Brynjolf nodded, understanding the desire to strike jealously. “So what do you intend on doing to entertain this friend of yours?” Brynjolf tried to ask casually over his mug of mead.

Aerisif’s face lit up. “Oh, the usual. We’ll start with a hefty round of drinking—I’ll take him to the meadery, of course— then I’ll show him around Riften. Ooh, I’ll probably take him out on the lake! There really isn’t a lake like this near Markarth, just rivers. And then of course, more drinking. Maybe here in the Flagon!”

Brynjolf tried to hide his disappointment. “Ah, yes. Well, have fun with your friend, lass.”

She took no notice of his tone. Aerisif stood and buckled her leather belt with her dagger over her new tunic. She reached for the protection amulet Tonilia had procured for her, but Brynjolf snatched it from her fingers.

“A protection amulet for your friend?” Brynjolf cooed. “This lad must be important to you.”

“Okay, I know that isn’t technically mine, but come on, Bryn,” she teased.

Brynjolf gathered his nerve and stood close to Aerisif, handing her the amulet. “The finery suits you, lass,” he whispered.

Aerisif looked at him quizzically for a moment, then smiled. “Thanks Brynjolf! We still have that tunnel out of the jail, right? Might be needing that.” She downed her tankard and bounced out of the Flagon.

Brynjolf couldn’t help himself. Mercer was out meeting with clients across Skyrim, and the Guild was running pretty smooth. He could disappear for a while. Brynjolf waited until Aerisif had left the Flagon, and then slipped out to go topside himself.

Brynjolf watched from the shadows as Aerisif waited impatiently by the North Gate, trying her best to look cool and collected. Lass is anxious to see this fellow, he thought with a pang in his gut.

The gates opened for the morning and a small crowd of merchants, travelers, and mercenaries came lumbering in.

Aerisif squealed and ran towards one of them. Brynjolf watched a burly, brown-haired mercenary pick her up and hug her tight. Gods, “big brute” is right. The man had biceps as thick as tree limbs, and looked to be a few years older than Aerisif. He wore dark Orcish armor and carried a hefty battle axe on his back.

“Yngvar! You’re here!” Aerisif giggled as she tightly embraced the mercenary.

“In the flesh!” Yngvar set her back down, and gave her an appraising “Gods, look at you! You’ve come a long way from the burlap rags you wore when we met.”

Aerisif modeled her finery. “What can I say? Better market for my line of work out here. And you! Have you actually finally replaced that leather armor you lived in?”

“Well, you know what I always say,” he grinned. “Blood and Silver are the only things that run through Markarth. And finally some silver flowed my way, to prevent my blood from running through the streets!” He laughed.

Aerisif grinned back up at the mercenary. “Come on, I want to show you around!”

Yngvar gestured outward. “Lead on!” He then placed his hand on Aerisif’s shoulder.

Brynjolf felt his heart race. Clinging to the shadows, he followed them all through their tour of Riften.

***

“So tell me, why are you really in Riften?”

“To visit my favorite street urchin, like I said in my letter.”

“Come on, the truth.”

Yngvar waved a hand. “Silver-Bloods have me running damn errands for them. Wanted me to deliver a message to someone out here.”

“Who?”

“Maven Black-Briar.”

“Maven?”

“Yeah, you know her or something?”

Aerisif laughed. “Yeah Yngvar, I know her. Everyone knows her. The Black-Briars own Riften like the Silver-Bloods own Markarth.”

“Oh shit, then this is important.”

“Yeah, troll brain, this is important! What’s the message?”

“You’re kidding, right? Like I would break a sealed message from a Silver-Blood.”

“Okay, good point. Here, let’s find her. Trust me, she’ll be more welcoming to you if I’m there.”

Maven received the pair with no more than her usual disdain, and rewarded Yngvar handsomely for his delivery.

“Divines, this’ll be fun to drink off.” He said after they’d left Maven’s company, appraising the coin purse she had given him.

“We’ll drink it away at the Ragged Flagon later,” Aerisif chirped.

“That’s where you live, right?”

“Yeah, it’s in the Ratway.”

“The Ratway?”

“Under the city.”

Yngvar stopped. “Under the city?”

“Yeah? Is that a problem?”

“No, not for me. But for you! How do you do it? You love to be outside, Aer! The mountains were always your home. Or at least, they used to be.”

Aerisif stopped and thought for a moment. “They still are, in my heart. But I live here now, in Riften. With the Guild. And it’s good, Yngvar.”

He considered her. “Did you find your people? This Guild, they treat you okay?”

She smiled. Always trying to protect me. “Yeah, Yngvar, they treat me okay. They were rough at first, but they’re always like that with the new ones. I’m part of the family now.”

He clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Good.” For one that was so skilled with words when singing or writing out a poem, Yngvar wasn’t so loquacious when he spoke. And that was okay by Aerisif.

“And you! The Silver-Bloods have you doing more than just playing guard dog, I see.“

Yngvar puffed out his chest a bit. “Yeah, it seems so. They pay me more now, and Thongvor is actually listening to me now. Sometimes, he even sees out my advice.”

Aerisif smiled and squeezed his arm. “I knew you had more to offer them! I’m so proud of you.”

“For better or for worse, I’m in even deeper with the Silver-Bloods now.”

“Hey.” She was whispering.  “If things start to go belly up? The Guild has contacts in the Dark Brotherhood. So. You just let me know.” Her face was grave.

Yngvar stifled a giggle. “Okay Aer, I’ll let you know.” Always trying to protect me.

“Or I can just steal something from them. I’ve gotten pretty good at that.”

“So you say,” he gave her a little shove.

“I have. So good that you didn’t even notice me steal the gold Maven gave you.” She held up the purse with an evil grin.

Yngvar swiped it back away from her. “Hey, I thought you said this dumb necklace you gave me protects me from the Guild!”

“I gave it back, didn’t I?” Aerisif smirked.

They continued to walk through the market.

“That’s Madesi, he’s the one who made my jewelry,” Aerisif pointed out the Argonian, who nodded respectfully at his new favorite client.

“Shor’s Bones, you had that all made? I assumed you stole it.” Yngvar looked shocked.

“And the tunic, too. I had all of this made.” Aerisif beamed.

Yngvar stopped and smiled. “Look at us now, Aer.” He turned to her. “We’re not the poor starving orphans we used to be.”

She smiled back. “Now we’re rich, drunk, lawless scoundrels!”

They laughed and continued walking through the city. Aerisif thought she caught a shadow move in a funny way, but when she looked again, there was nothing there.

***

That night, Aerisif brought Yngvar into the Ragged Flagon. He was forbidden from the Cistern proper, of course, but Delvin decided letting him share their mead in the tavern was just fine. Much of the Guild had turned out, to see this man that Aerisif had brought. Just like her, to find a way to bring this lot together, Brynjolf mused.

They sat and drank for hours, sharing stories and hurling insults across the tables. Mead and conversation flowed smoothly. Someone procured a lute for Yngvar and he played and sang. His voice was surprisingly agile, and had a soft, nostalgic quality about it, to Brynjolf’s dismay. Yngvar The Singer he was, and seemed to captivate the attentions of many a thief in the Flagon.

Even Vex came and joined the reverie. Yngvar’s eyes latched on her as soon as she walked in,  clearly enthralled. Aerisif coughed to get his attention, and with wide eyes shook her head no, and waved her hand across her throat in warning. Yngvar raised his eyebrows and sighed, but got the message. Aerisif had always kept him safe, and here in this pit of thieves he knew he needed her guidance.

“So, how do you guys know each other?” Vex asked as she sat down.

“Well. After my parents died, I lived on the streets in Markarth. I begged for a while, and once that stopped working, I stole. I’d been doing that for a few years when Yngvar moved to Markarth, straight from the Bard’s College.”

“You were a bard?” Tonilia gushed. She had not taken her eyes off of Yngvar since she had walked in with Vex moments ago.

Yngvar scoffed. “Am a bard. Just because I make my coin wielding an axe and spilling blood doesn’t mean I’m no less skilled with a lute. Or my tongue.” He grinned devilishly, spurring guffaws and laughter from the others. Aerisif could practically see Tonilia’s heart flutter.

“Anyways, here was young Yngvar, head full of ideas and songs from the college, ready to make his way plying his arts.”

Vex snorted. “How’d that one work out for ya?”

Yngvar swallowed his mead. “Not so good.” He smiled sadly. “Turns out there was about as much coin in Markarth as there was in my home village, only spread across more people. And the ones that had the coin, weren’t spending it on music and poems.”

“So before he lost all his morals, Yngvar would try to sing for his supper in the streets and tavern. Too honest of a lad for Markarth.” Aerisif sounded a little sad. “One night, I watched him from an upper level of the city—“

“Upper levels?” Sapphire asked.

“You haven’t been to Markarth? It’s chiseled out of the mountainside. Whole city is carved in stone, with so many tiers and bridges and towers its hard to keep track.”

“Must be grand,” Sapphire said dreamily. It seemed Yngvar’s charm caught her too.

“It’s not,” both Aerisif and Yngvar said together, bursting into laughter after.

“Anyway, I was watching him beg every last person who walked by to pay him for a song, and no one even gave him the time of day. It was getting dark, and I hadn’t seen him eat anything for days.”

“You were watching me?” Yngvar said, surprised.

“Of course I was. Had to decide if you were a threat.”

“Ah, true thief’s instincts, that,” Delvin boasted. “Always destined for the Guild.”

“If I can get on with it,” Aerisif said exasperated. “I had done pretty well that week, with the coin. I went down to the Inn, put all my septims on the counter, and bought one hot meal and an ale. Frabbi looked suspicious of me, but the coin was there so she gave me the meal. Took it right outside and told Yngvar I’d share it with him.”

Brynjolf felt his heart fall into his stomach.

“But I insisted on singing for it!” Yngvar laughed. “After that, I looked after her. Not a week later, Aerisif got caught redhanded by this really twisted merchant that would come through the city every so often. He wasn’t bothered to call the guard— he was gonna settle it himself. As soon as I saw him draw his sword, I ran in there and bashed his head with my lute. Didn’t have so much as a butter knife on me, but I was bigger than him, and he backed off and let her go.”

Brynjolf felt his stomach twist itself into tight knots. Ah, forget it, lad! Drop it, she’s taken.

“From then on, we worked as a team. I made sure we stayed fed, and Yngvar made sure we stayed alive. We made a good team.” She smiled across the table from him.

It felt like a hot knife was ravaging its way inside Brynjolf.

“We sure did. Once I gave up the lute and picked up the axe, if I couldn’t shake it out of someone, Aerisif would steal it from them. Earned our meals that way.”

Is there something wrong with this mead? Feels like I drank a skeever, Brynjolf thought.

“Well, you’re awfully cute together,” Vex made the words so sugary it was sickening.

Brynjolf squinted. Did she say that for my benefit?

Aerisif and Yngvar both erupted in laughter. Yngvar shot the mead he had been drinking out through his nose, which made Aerisif laugh even harder. Her laughter rang across the tavern, and she gripped her sides from it.

Wiping her eyes while Yngvar wiped his face, Aerisif managed to speak between breaths. “NO. We are. Absolutely. NOT. A couple.” She exhaled, trying to regain her breath.

Brynjolf lifted his head.

“You’re not?” Delvin asked.

Yngvar shook his head. “Nope. Aerisif here is the only family I’ve got. She’s my little sister, as far as I’m concerned.

The knife turned to a sweet, bubbly feeling. It’s the mead, Brynjolf told himself.

“You never even thought about it?” Tonilia tried to hide her hope.

“No. Yngvar, I love you, but you aren’t really my type.” Aerisif smirked.

“And you’re not mine, Aer.”

“I know, you prefer the blondes,” She teased. Tonilia and Sapphire frowned and shifted at this remark, and Vex let a dark and threatening look settle into her features.

“And you…Wait. There’s not really been a pattern!” Yngvar was puzzled. “For all the men I’ve seen you take—“

“Excuse me, SEEN ME?”

“No! I meant— I meant—“ Yngvar blushed and got flustered.

“I know what you meant,” Aerisif punched his shoulder. “And I’m glad you can’t figure out my type. I prefer it that way. Keeps my air of mystery.” she raised her tankard to her lips.

All the men? Brynjolf took a long drink to hide his features. Ah, don’t be daft. You’ve been around a few times yourself.

***

Hours later, Yngvar had excused himself for the night. He left for the Bee and Barb, where he had rented a room. Aerisif hugged Yngvar and sent him on his way, the pair to reconnect in the morning.

The other thieves had already dispersed, to run jobs or to get some sleep. Brynjolf had held back, and suddenly the Flagon held just him and Aerisif. She began to walk to the common sleeping area, when Brynjolf blocked her path.

He put on that charming grin of his. “Well, that was very, educational, lass,” he drawled. “Learned more about you in those few hours than I have in the months I’ve known you.”

Aerisif flashed a smile back. Her face was flushed from the mead she had been drinking. “I’m sure that watching normal social interactions would be educational, for you.”

“But you know, there’s a few things I still didn’t learn.”

“Oh Bryn, there’s many things you didn’t learn.”

He ignored the playful jab. “You never did reveal your type, lass.”

Aerisif cocked her head. “My type?”

“Yeah, the pattern for all of these supposed men you’ve bedded.”

“Since I’m tired I’ll ignore the ‘supposed’ part you just dropped. You want to know my type?”

His emerald eyes twinkled. “Indulge me, lass.”

Aerisif took a step forward. Brynjolf could still smell that flowery scent on her, but it was mingled with the honey of the mead she had been drinking. She looked up at him with those wide, silvery eyes. She moved forward again and he could feel a whisper of her body brush his, just enough to send a chill down his spine. Aerisif got right up next to him and murmured in his ear:

“My type? Is the type that’s brave enough to speak up.” She winked, slid around him and walked off to her bed in the common area.

Brynjolf watched her walk off and shivered. “I’ll be in my bunk,” he whispered to no one.

[coffee-scribbles]

A Kingdom of Ash

Chapter Five, The End of the Beginning

Guess who’s finally back from hiatus!! :D

(Ao3)

The broad crown of his father glinted in the limelight as a five year old boy giggled madly, the pilfered ringlet of gold held tight in the vice-grip of the prince’s tiny hands. His father would definitely be searching the castle for both his son, and his precious crown. But Bruce had decided his father could not have it.

Prince Bruce, in all his five year old wisdom, had decided that he did not like his coronet. It was small and silver, and his parent’s matching pair of bright gold always seemed to garner so much more respect!

So, he’d decided that for this gala, he would be the king, and Dad would be the prince!

The five year old smirked triumphantly at his plan, not noticing his mother enter the room, nor that she noticed the crown almost instantly, as he tried to set it atop his head.

Unfortunately, he had not accounted for the fact that this crown would be bigger, to suit his father, who was also bigger.

So, from the top of his small head to around his collar, the golden circlet fell, hanging loose around his neck.

He blinked, baffled.

This had never happened to Dad before.

His mother barely stifled her laughter.

Bruce tried to once again place the crown on his head, only for it to hang down around his neck once more.

He pouted.

His mother gave a slight, gentle laugh that Bruce had not expected at all; whipping around at the sound, his tiny legs stumbled, and fell to the shock. The golden ringlet clattered around at his neck.

His large blue eyes met the matching gaze of his mother.

Even so young, Bruce always had a flair for the dramatic.

Thus, is pout grew deeper.

“Mama!” The little boy exclaimed, extremely indignant.

Martha failed to hide her giggles as the sound spilled from her hand.

“Oh my darling,” his mother knelt before him, flowing gown curling around her with the etherial grace of a weightless petal, drifting from it’s blossom.

“I don’t think that fits you, just yet.” Queen Martha spoke just as sweetly as she smiled, even as her son’s pout deepened somehow further.

But she could tell he was simply acting by how the edge of his pout twitched, and by the smile that broke just a second later, falling into his own set of childish giggles, that turned to hiccups, that turned to a simple smile; to match his mother’s.

Martha lifted her husband’s crown from her son’s small neck, and placed it to the side, expression falling forlorn at the day she knew would come, someday, where her little boy would wear his father’s circlet and bear it’s tremendous weight.

Bruce seemed to sense the shift in moods for his mother, and did not do much else but wait, head steady and eyes concerned, as his mother revealed his own smaller crown. The familiar ringlet of silver, incrusted with sapphires and emeralds alike, replaced his fathers, settled gently upon his head.

Far smaller, the weightless ringlet stayed.

“My darling,” Martha whispered, voice willowy and faded, hands drifting from the crown to her child’s shoulders, she pulled him close and tight; she whispered.

“Don’t you ever become king.”

She pressed a feather-light kiss to the six year old’s forehead.

“Promise to stay my little prince forever.”

Into his mother’s shoulder, the small boy nodded, arms reaching out to hold as much of his mother’s warm, steady form as his little arms could grasp.

In a young, gentle voice, he replied.

“I promise.”

Bruce awoke to the nothingness, which, for him, was quite odd.

The dream, or memory, or whatever might lie in the blurred absence between truth and thought, still flickered, visceral and steady in his mind.

Bruce threw the covers from his form with purpose, and slid out of bed, an elegant movement that was only slightly hindered by his broken and bandaged ribs.

In two steps he’d grabbed his robe from it’s hook on the wall, tying it’s matching blue sash around his waist, the thick soft fabric combatting the chill of the morning air.

He threw back the deep mahogany curtains, greeted by the tail end of the rising sun. Wincing, his hand moved to block the light.

A moment later, with eyes adjusted, he watched out over the horizon, toward the dance of light beyond.

God, he hadn’t seen the sunrise in years.

A good few minutes later, a familiar sound caused him to turn from the sight.

“Master Bruce,” the familiar voice spoke in time with the large, mahogany door sweeping mostly open.

Alfred turned from where he had pushed the door with his hip, the tray holding Bruce’s morning tea clinking ever so slightly, and his charge’s event clothes folded over his arm.

“It is time to-”

Alfred took pause at the sight of his charge, still dressed in his bedclothes, seemingly contemplating the view from his bedchambers.

A view he had surely gotten used to… though, its majesty never failed to awe Alfred, so he supposed he should not judge with such haste.

Still, it was very unlike Bruce to not sleep in at least another hour or so.

“Oh, hello Alfred,” Bruce said, his voice was… melancholy, which was an odd sight on him.

Bruce was not one for casual emotion. It was either open sadness, or cold nothingness.

Quite honestly, Alfred was unsure if this was an improvement.

“You are awake.”

Alfred still stood in the doorway.

“I thought I was supposed to be the detective here,” Bruce said, his joke flat and smile low.

Alfred quirked an eyebrow, but little more.

“Of course you are, sir,” Alfred moved as if he had not missed a beat, kicking the door closed with his heel and strutting inside, tray of hot tea set to his bedside, and laying Bruce’s clothes out onto the sheets.

“This morning we have an earl grey imperial, two sugars, just as you prefer.” Alfred spoke, turning from the clothes and lifting the tea cozy from the pot of tea.

He lifted the top, gulfs of steam rising into the slightly chilly air, wafting with sweetness and gentle flavor. He added two spoonfuls of sugar, before replacing the top with a gentle clink, and in the same motion, he poured the tea through the strainer, and lifted the now full tea-cup to Bruce.

Or, where Bruce should have been.

Alfred blinked again, meeting the eyes of his charge.

“Come, sit,” Alfred spoke slowly, evenly.

He set the tea down onto the side table.

Bruce moved with an odd trepidation, taking a moment to untie his housecoat and hang it on its hook, before taking his normal seat at the edge of his bed.

Alfred held out his dress-shirt to him, which he took and slid over his shoulders, adjusting the cuffs as Alfred lifted his tea; Bruce took it, inhaling the aroma in movement that was far less unsure.

“Thank you,” Bruce whispered, voice gentle and oddly… young.

Alfred simply nodded, grabbing Bruce’s plain white stockings from where he had set them on the bed, kneeling down in front of him.

“As to your schedule for today; this morning you have been requested to meet with the council, concerning the state of your knight, or lack-there-of.”

Bruce’s expression soured. Alfred pulled the second sock over his knee, and gestured to the bandages wrapping his torso.

“I have already declined on your behalf, stating excuse of illness,” Alfred took Bruce’s tea just as he held it out, moving to sit back for a moment as Bruce grabbed his trousers and pulled them on, buttoning them.

“As per usual, they send their regards.”

“I’m sure they do,” Bruce muttered distastefully, handing Alfred the shoes as he grabbed his cufflinks and fitted them through the small holes.

Alfred smirked slightly and rolled his eyes, holding out one boot as Bruce stepped into it, following the second one, he buckled the belts across the dark leather.

“Commander Gordon, as per monthly routine, he will be here at eight to discuss kingdom affairs.”

Alfred stood, brushing off his knees.

“Normally we would be sharing breakfast with the commander,” Alfred lifted his waistcoat from the bed, Bruce turned to help him slide it over his shoulders, “but as we are running a tad early-“

“No, no, I can wait to have breakfast with Jim,” Bruce smiled as Alfred came around to his front, clasping the jacket closed. “Besides, it’s only an hour or so. I have a few files I can busy myself with until then.”

“Ah, more on this ‘Red Jack’ character?” Alfred asked, handing Bruce a pair of short, white gloves, before grabbing the last item from the bed, a half cape, that he then pulled around Bruce’s broad shoulders.

“Last night I ran into him again; or rather, his handiwork.”

Bruce’s expression turned to a dark grimace; one more befitting Batman than himself.

Alfred hummed as, using a pin with the engraving of the Wayne crest, he pinned the half-cape in place.

“It just doesn’t make sense.” Bruce adjusted his gloves, glaring at the poor cloth as if it were this mysterious ‘Red Jack’.

“Looking at it, these scenes; they look like an open autopsy preformed at gun-point. There’s no rhyme, no reason behind them. The deaths seem completely random as well.”

His eyes narrowed, Alfred straightened his jacket.

"It's causing a great deal of panic; no one knows who could be next. No one knows why."

“Well, I suppose you will be in your cave, then?” Alfred asked.

Bruce nodded, lifted his cup and took his last swig of tea.

“Alright, I shall alert you when the Commander gets here.”

Alfred bowed, and bruce nodded; seeming bright with purpose, his half cape flittering as he strode from the room.

Alfred sighed.

At least his charge was feeling more like himself.

Alfred moved to the curtains to draw them more fully open, watching the skyline for a long moment.

He was proud of Bruce, of all he had accomplished, all he had saved.

Quite frankly he hated the reasons it had to be done. He hated the city that needed him so.

He hated, not what Batman didn’t, but how he, how the world had failed Bruce, such that the Bat was forced to rise.

Alfred pulled the curtains closed.

WOW that took a long time, sorry for the wait :/ Classes kinda grabbed me by the throat and refused to let go - hopefully I’ll have more out soon,,,,, hopefully :)

[jayyyykayyyyyy]

Beorgan - to save and protect

Word Count: 4.5k

Pairing: Na Jaemin/Reader ft. the dreamies

It had been a very long night and you didn't realize that until the first few rays of sun began to illuminate the sky. Squinting your eyes, you looked past the lush green canopy of the forest as the shrill noises of various birds filled your ears. The leafs crunching underneath your boots as you followed the hidden trail back to what you called home.

The story hadn't always started with a grassy path; you had lived a first few years of your life in an orphanage but as much as it was advertised to be a nourishing environment for children without a roof on their heads, the reality was far from it. The below par accommodations, half working washrooms and the little to no rations of food was the reality you had to face.

The environment was not a pack of rainbows but you had managed to make a tight knit of friends; the mischievous Donghyuck, or Haechan as he was mostly known, who regularly got into trouble for stealing bread from the pantry. Then there was Chenle who was always friendly with you since you got to know him and even sometimes snuck you some treats he had hidden. And lastly there was Jisung, shy and reserved but always accompanied you to the rooftops where the two of you counted stars for hours, relishing the cold wind on your faces.

But after deciding that it was enough, the four of you ran away. Gathering all the little possessions, all of you just took off into the night with the adrenaline carrying you as far as you could, not sparing a breath to worry about what the future holds.

The beginning was rough, food was hard to come by and the four of you would just wander around the small town in order to find a place for the night. Until finally the lot of you stumbled upon a shelter hidden away in the outskirts of town, a barricade of vines protecting it from prying eyes. Soon you learnt how to use a a knife to your benefit, upgrading yourself to a sword and learning about the art of trap making. The skills got the food you needed directly from the neighbouring forest but money was still of need and so came in pickpocketing. All of you were pretty efficient in that department now but you figured that raiding small caravans of thieves was much more thrilling and produced valuables other than cash.

House roles got assigned on their own as time went on. Haechan felt more comfortable with handling the house finances and utilising the food being brought in to set up the dinner table. You brought in the main income by carrying out solo raids and food from hunting. Chenle and Jisung would help you out from time to time in the forest, otherwise they would spend time in the town's market either pickpoketing or making use of the money.

Finally seeing the entrance to your hideout, you trotted there carefully ensuring that no one had followed you. The small maze of caves was very accommodating with its living space, an office room and an ample of bedrooms. Making your way to the kitchen, you saw Haechan sitting at the table with a steaming cup clasped in his hands. He raised his face towards you, smiling in greeting. "Long night?"

You hummed in agreement. "Got good returns though." You reached at the belt around your waist and produced two pouches, plopping them on the table with a jingling noise. Haechan immediately set his cup down and opened the pouch, whistling in marvel as he brought out a fat biscuit of gold. "This is enough to last us months. What poor bastard had to face your wrath?"

"Another ring of thieves although I think they were trying to smuggle a hoard of young girls from town so had to take care of that as well." You unhooked the belt and set it down gently on the table alongside your sword.

Haechan clicked his tongue in annoyance, glaring to and from the sword to you. You rolled your eyes at his action and snatched up your belongings, sashaying to where the hooks were made. "Alright mother jeez. Relax! Also where are Jisung and Chenle? It's eerily quiet."

"They're back down at the sparring field, working with the wooden swords you brought." Haechan swooped up the bags of gold and proceeded to walk towards his office space. "You may want to check up on them before they stab each other or something."

Silently agreeing with him, you made your way down to the little enclosed grassy field and soon enough you could her the whacking noise of wood together. As the two boys came into view, you saw them engaged in a match which Jisung was currently losing. And when you stepped into the ring, Chenle had managed to disarm him and sweep him off his feet, the sword clattering in your steps.

"You're getting better Chenle," you remarked, picking up the fallen sword. "Jisung however, you need to better your stance."

Chenle swiveled around, a smile radiating off his face. "Y/N! You're back! You were gone for longer this time."

You ruffled his hair and helped Jisung up, dusting off some dead grass. "Big caravan with even bigger cockroaches."

"Why not take us with you next time?" Jisung asked innocently, his hooded eyes sparkling.

You sighed at the question you had to listen to a dozen times everyday. "You guys know the answer to that very well." You handed the sword back to Jisung. "Besides you can't even hold up on your own against Chenle of all people."

Jisung smiled at that as Chenle let out a sound of protest. "Anyways here," you continued bringing out some goods from your pockets, "A silver dagger for Chenle and a pendant for you Jisung."

Chenle snatched the dagger from you, excitedly saying a thank you and zooming past you to the dummy to try it out. Jisung looked at the pendant in his hand, tracing the circle with a cross in it with his finger, marvelling it's craftsmanship. You pryed it from his hand and put it around his neck.

"I didn't buy this from the market or steal it from a thief," you said in a low voice only for him to hear. "This is one of the very few things I've always had with me and now I want you to have it."

Jisung smiled at you, giving you a quick hug before trotting off to where Chenle was. Sighing, you stretched your back already anticipating a good days sleep. Turning on your heels, you went back to the living area where Haechan was waiting for you, his face clearly showing he wanted something.

"I know you just got back, but we're running a little low on fresh produce-" he handed you your belt and sword "-so you're gonna have to go out again."

"And I can't say no?"

"Pretty much."

You looked at Haechan's blank expression for a few seconds before accepting the sword. Placing it around your waist, you left the hideout muttering that you'll be back in a little while. You trailed off into the forest, delving deeper and deeper. The air got muskier and the amount of sunlight lessened even though it was bright and early. The music of the forest creatures became more loud as the background noises of the town faded away. The scent of fresh moss was ablaze as you knowingly twisted and turned in the familiar territory.

Every time you came here, you set up traps near rabbits nests and areas where you knew deers came for grazing. And now it was time to check if something had been caught. But something was off, you could sense it; a few broken twigs and branches signalled that someone had been here or maybe they still were. Your hand immediately went to the hilt of your sword, ears perking up as you heard laughter coming from where you had laid the traps.

Lowering your height, you sneaked past the opening and hid behind one of the gigantic trees. Listening to the uninterrupted laughter and exchange, you assumed they didn't know you were here. Not yet.

You suddenly jumped out into view, kicking the back of one of the boy's knee who was closest to you, causing him to buckle as you held him in a headlock, brandishing the sword forward. As the adrenaline cleared your view, you noticed two very familiar boys who were now also pointing their swords at you.

Your eyes flickered towards the raven haired boy, his angular jaw set and eyes narrowed. Only rarely had you seen the harshness now possessed in them as most of the time they would be in the shape of crescents as a smile would tug at the edge of his lips, putting his pearl whites at display. But now there was nothing gentle about his presence; the lean body covered with drab light blue garments, a silver short sword carefully aimed towards you. Lee Jeno; beauty so sharp that it could cut you.

Beside him stood another boy of a similar build and height but with a very bright peach coloured head. You always wondered how that came to be. He was still like you remembered him, a cheerful face with warmth radiating off of him. You always swore that if it ever snowed in this damned town, he could melt more than half of it. He too had been holding a sword but was now lowering it as his eyes were filled with amusement upon seeing who had jumped out to give them a scare. Na Jaemin; a star so bright that he could blind you.

Confusion washed over you as you thought why were there only two of them since they always moved as a trio. The realization hit you as you felt a hand smacking your forearm, pleading to let go as the person in your grasp nearly passed out due to lack of oxygen. You immediately let go and took a step back, sheathing your sword as you took in the violently coughing boy.

Guilt came over you as you saw that he was still petite, narrow shoulders and even a more narrower face. Granted he was glaring at you enough to start a hell fire, he never really was physically intimidating. But you knew him enough to know that his tongue was razor sharp and behind those glaring eyes was a cunning brain which could cook up a plan to destroy you within seconds. Huang Renjun; a delicate crystal which could easily fool you.

These boys lived at the brothel situated in the town. Fiersome protectors of all those who worked there, it was foolish to cross the line with them present. You had heard stories of broken noses and jaws of those who had tried and you doubted that they were just stories. You had obviously crossed paths with them in the market and they were by no means any trouble unless made to be.

Interactions were always limited but they always stuck with you. Especially of that with Jaemin; he just always intrigued you. Maybe it was his not-so-discreet hair, or maybe his blinding smile, you couldn't be sure.

"Was that really necessary?" Renjun snapped at you, still rubbing his throat where you had held him.

You simply shrugged as Jeno chuckled as he put his sword away, "It was finally nice to see someone hold you in a chokehold for a change."

Renjun muttered a small shut up as your eyes gravitated towards Jaemin who was still silently watching you. "You boys shouldn't be around here. You're scaring away the game."

"Well that's why we came as well," Jaemin explained. "Didn't mean to cause any trouble for you." He pointed at one of the traps behind him which now held a dead rabbit. "I assume this is yours."

You nodded, moving past them to collect your catch. You straightened up, looking between the three of them and let out a sigh; striking up an argument with them was just something you didn't have the energy for at the time. "Alright stay if you want, I don't own the place. Just don't mess with the traps I've laid down and absolutely do not wander off North too much. I very much doubt you lot want to become wolf treats."

"Duly noted madam," Jaemin said bowing a little and tipping his non-existent hat.

And without a backward glance you hurriedly put distance between yourself and them, wanting nothing more but to return back home.

♤

It had been a few days since the encounter in the forest and you found yourself there back again but this time in search for some delicious berries; Chenle and Jisung had eaten your ear off whining for some blueberry pie.

You had collected enough and the harvest laid safe around your belt in a pouch and you were about to leave when you heard a soft thunk noise near you. It would have probably been a good idea to simply ignore it and move along but you just couldn't help yourself. So you started to scale the tree near you to see what originated the noise.

Without making a sound, you carefully perched yourself on the tree branch, settling comfortably with your legs swinging freely underneath you. Much to your surprise, you saw the familiar peach head. But this time with a bow.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion until you noticed the target hung up on the tree trunk a few yards away from him. An arrow was lodged a few feet down which you assumed had made the sound you heard before.

Your eyes fell back to Jaemin who was busy concentrating trying to nock an arrow. His shoulders tensed as he brought the bow up, aiming the arrow straight ahead, his breath steadying. And right as he was about to let the arrow fly, you decided to open your mouth. “You're not gonna make it.”

Jaemin jumped in surprise, altering the angle of trajectory which caused the arrow to completely miss the tree as it flew to God knows where behind it. His mouth quickly resembled that of a sailor as sweet words serenaded the air. He whipped around trying to look for the source of disturbance.

You waved your fingers at him as his glare softened at your sight. “What do you mean i wasn't going to make it? You could have been wrong.”

“Well-” you jumped off the branch landing softly beside him “-did you?”

He opened his mouth before closing it, appearing flustered. “I've only just started practicing. Cut me some slack.”

You looked at him with confusion. “Why? You're perfectly proficient with a sword. I've seen you use it to disarm men twice your age and size.”

“Someone's very observant,” he softly said, noticing the flash of pink on your cheeks. “No, I uh saw you use it...to-” he mimicked shooting an arrow upwards “-knock down some fruits and I thought it was really cool. So I decided to give it a try.”

You studied him for a while and he looked a little bashful; eyes repeatedly shifting with his feet shuffling. You looked at his bow and set of arrows, thinking if you should share your knowledge with him. “Okay, I'll give you a few tips. Pick that bow up and nock an arrow.”

Jaemin immediately sprung into action, pulling an arrow taught against the string, pointing towards the target. You inspected his posture already noticing what he was doing wrong. You put your foot against his, dragging it so stance widened. As you put your hand on his chin to straighten his face, a bead of sweat trickled downed his forehead despite the cool wind. Circling around him, you placed your hand tentatively on his chest pushing slightly to make him stand straighter. What surprised you was the rapid beating you could feel underneath your fingers and you were glad that he couldn't feel the same intensity of your heart.

“Okay,” you strangely said, jumping back from him a little bit. “Now breath in and release when you breath out.”

Jaemin’s adams apple bounced up and down as he swallowed hard, letting go of the string. The arrow whirled in the right direction this time, lodging itself a little left to the centre. He let out a whoop of victory, turning excitedly towards you. “I didn't miss this time!”

You laughed at his sudden outburst of energy. Cute, you thought. “Well just practice more and you'll hit centre in no time.”

“Watch out Y/N.” He looked at you smugly. “You may have competition soon.”

You rolled your eyes at him, smacking him lightly on the back of his head. “Don't forget who taught you in the first place.” You turned your back to him, taking the route back home. “Don't stab yourself.”

Just at that moment, the bow slipped away from Jaemin’s hands with the arrows scattering everywhere. “I won't!” he was ever so glad that you couldn't see the furious blush on his cheeks.

♤

The weather had been unforgiving for the past week with its howling winds and unstoppable rain. Haechan had expressed how grateful it had been that there was a good storage of food and supplies as the forest had become impossible to access. But after the bad weather passed, there was a serious shortage of food and money. You had been trying to forage the forest or any passing caravans but always returned with no luck. So there was no place to turn other than the marketplace. You, Chenle and Jisung took turns per day so as to not raise suspicion; today was your day.

The marketplace was buzzing with life as hoards of people kept moving from stall to stall with vendors yelling out deals to attract more customers. The royal guards were patrolling the stalls and markets, in search for any trouble and also stowing away some goods in their pockets. You could hear the slight bleating of goats with hens running everywhere, clucking annoyingly that you had to stop yourself from kicking them far away. The sky was still drab, lined with dark clouds threatening to spill any second.

You sploshed around the muddy streets of the marketplace, pulling the hood of your robe near to your face so it would be well hidden. You eyed a few people in the crowd, trying to figure out who would be stupid enough to carry a fat bag of gold with them. Your eyes fell upon a rather flashy couple dressed in silk with giant feathery hats covering their heads. Newcomers, you scoffed to yourself.

You looked over your shoulder to see if any guard was around to catch you; not seeing anyone you started to walk towards the couple who were now inspecting a decorative piece. You accidentally collided with the woman, causing her to drop her purse unceremoniously on the wet ground. You immediately began to apologize profusely as she paraded your ears with various curse words, bending down to pick her purse while slipping away the gold in your sleeve.

You stood back up to hand her purse back which she snatched away harshly raising her hand behind her. Before she could swing it forward, you felt a hand come at your waist pulling you away from the woman. You couldn't see who had just pulled you away but your eyes caught a little peach tuft peaking out from under the hood. The woman looked at the boy before sinking back in fear clutching at her husband's arm trying to get his attention.

The hand at your waist tightened, ushering you towards a small empty alley before any guards could be alerted. “What in the world were you doing?” Jaemin frowned at you, pulling his hood away. You blinked at him in surprise noticing his split lip and a purple bruise under his eye.

“What was I doing?” You pointed at his bruise. “What have you been doing!?”

He touched his bruise, wincing in pain like he just got reminded that it was there. “Oh this? Nothing it's just a few men came down the house yesterday and misbehaved. It was not well taken.”

You nodded knowingly how protective he is. You lifted your hand and lightly traced his busted lip, feeling his hot breath against your fingers. “Hey,” he said, enveloping your hand in his, “I'm alright you know.”

You coughed awkwardly, pulling back your hand and suddenly you didn't know where to look. “So you didn't answer my question. What were you doing?”

“We've been running low on money so I was just making us some.” You pulled out the little pouch which was now jingling.

“There has to be a better way than almost getting slapped you know.” He mused, folding his arms.

“What hey,” you protested, “I had it under control!”

“Do pray tell what you would have done.”

You puffed out your chest. “I would have slapped her back.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes, smacking his forehead. Before he could get a word out to chastisize you, the sound of thunder paraded the sky, signalling that it was time to rain. Wordlessly, he made a grab for your hand and began to drag you far away from the market. And you let him.

You watched the back of his head in confusion as he zig zagged between the crowd, feeling the slight pitter patter of rain against your robe. As your view cleared off the people, you realized that he had brought you to the path which led to your home. “You know I could have walked myself right?”

Jaemin stopped in his tracks, letting go of your hand which caused you to immediately miss the warmth. “I know but I just had to be sure. You were about to slap a woman few seconds ago so I don't trust you as much.”

You chuckled at that, shaking your head and turning around to go home. You then felt fingers circling your wrist, pulling you back. You stumbled back as Jaemin grabbed your arms to stabilize you. You opened your mouth to protest but instead felt a pair of lips on yours. Before you could even register what was happening, Jaemin pulled away while blushing furiously. He turned on his feet and nearly scrambled off while muttering that he would see you around.

You stood there frozen in a daze as you got wetter by the second. You weren't sure how but you made it back home safely; ignoring Haechan's questions about why you were drenched and Jisung's inquisitive looks, you shut yourself in your room. Did Jaemin really kiss you? Or was it a hazy dream? And why did he kiss you? Did he feel the same way about you?

Cursing loudly, you pushed the thought of him aside and resumed your normal day. You helped Haechan in the kitchen, then taught Chenle how to use his dagger properly, you showed Jisung how to make a good enough noose to trap a deer and helped around the house as much as you could. But your efforts were in vain. Jaemin's smiling face kept popping back in your head, blurring your vision.

So after dinner as you were snuggled in your bed, you let your mind wander and think about him. And strangely the more you thought about it, the more angry you got. How dare he kiss you and then not offer an explanation? Did he think you were that easy? Blood boiling in your ears, you found yourself snatching your robe and sword off the hook near the door and storming out towards the brothel.

It was the middle of the night and everyone by this hour was most probably far away in dream land but you couldn't care less right about now. Throwing your fists out, you banged against the door sending a thunderous noise throughout the building. A few more bangs and then finally the door opened with a boy not so older than you at the helm. His dark hair was sticking up in all the places as his thin body was shrouded with a blanket. Mark Lee, the caretaker. “Can I help you?”

You were about to reply but saw a familiar face making a bee line for the main door. “It's okay, I know her! I got it from here thanks.” Mark lazily shuffled his feet, shooting a knowing glance between you and Jaemin before disappearing, leaving you two alone. Even though you had just walked all the way here, you weren't quite sure what to say. Jaemin pulled you inside, securely shutting the door behind.

“What are you doing this time of the night? Is everything okay?” He asked, concerned, in a hush voice.

“Is everything okay?” You hissed. “Are you honestly asking me that right now?”

Jaemin simply shrugged, his doe eyes looking innocently at you. His hair was disheveled, almost like he had been rolling his head in a pillow with sleep lines caressing one side of his face. You cursed yourself silently for getting distracted, forcing yourself to focus. “You kissed me? Or was that just a weird dream I had?”

“Oh.” Jaemin averted his gaze as he started to fiddle with his fingers. “That.”

“Yes that,” you lightly poked his shoulder, “What did you think that I wouldn't notice? Or do you think of me as someone you can just kiss and forget?”

“No No!” panic surged in his eyes as he tugged you gently towards him. “I swear it's not like that. I...wanted to court you properly. I even have written up some poems for you, and thought about where I would take you but I just couldn't resist.”

At the mention of that, you felt your irritation melt away as adoration replaced it. “You wrote poems?”

He chuckled lightly. “Yeah but they're all shit. I showed Mark a sample and he said to me that no one would be stupid enough to fall for me after that.”

“Joke’s on him, I already fell for you long ago.” Your eyes twinkled as a light blush formed at your cheeks.

Jaemin grinned at you, hesitantly bringing his hand up to caress your face. Your breath hitched as his face grew closer to yours, eyed focusing on his lips. Just as your lips were about to meet his, a loud bang pulled you apart causing Jaemin to jump and pull you behind him. Peeking out from his shoulder you saw a sheepish looking Jeno with a heavy book in his hand as Renjun was shaking his head. “We weren't watching!”

Jaemin rolled up his sleeve as he started towards the boys causing them to run in the other direction as you doubled over in laughter, awaiting for his return.

-Charlie

[whispersafterdusk]

The Master’s Apprentice - ch 15

For what felt like an eternity Onmund's feet were frozen to the ground in terror; whatever this thing was he'd...he had no name for it, he'd never seen even a sketch of it before, and he was fairly certain he'd never heard a warning tale about anything like this beast.  There was no knowledge in his head regarding it and he had even less of a clue on what to do now than he had previously -- for a wild moment he prayed this was a bad dream, that someone had hit him with some sort of hallucination spell...but, no, everyone else was pressed to the walls and on their knees (whether it was actual terror or deference on their part was anyone's guess).

The ground began to shake again as the creature stalked toward him; Onmund was several steps out the door and onto the bridge before his mind registered that he'd actually moved, and in a split instant decision he turned and ran.  There was another roar behind him and the shaking of the ground intensified as the beast picked up speed to chase him, and he heard the explosion of stone as it simply plowed through the doorway and stomped after him; the bridge beneath him vibrated and thudded with each step, and with a crackling noise that sent his stomach plummeting out through the soles of his feet he realized that the bridge wasn't as structurally sound as everyone thought (or pretended) -- when the massive storm that had crashed into the mainland - that had sent most of the city of Winterhold collapsing into the sea - only the College had truly weathered it, and despite repairs the bridge had always been missing bricks and chunks (at least for as long as Onmund had been here, anyway).  He'd always assumed that it was just cosmetic damage that they'd never bothered to mend but now...with all the weight of this creature on the structure he could feel beneath his boots how the stone was beginning to rattle and shift, punctuated with cracks and popping noises. ((Continued below cut))

He spent a single instant to scan the bridge below him and confirmed what he'd desperately hoped was not the case mere seconds before the stone under him started to tilt backward and give way.

If he'd had more time he was relatively certain he could have stopped the collapse; Kestrel had taught him how to meld and shape stone, and he could have simply fused everything around him together (at the very least, fused it together long enough for him to get OFF it).  With a noise that was half grunt, half whimper, Onmund launched himself forward and scrabbled for any handhold he could wedge his fingers into as even more of the bridge beneath him began to crumble away.

A shadow passed over his head and he looked up in horror as the creature sailed over him to land on a section of the bridge ahead of the part that was crumbling, and its massive sudden weight shattered the rapidly weakening stone; immediately Onmund's handhold snapped loose and began to fall.

The creature was falling too now but by some small miracle they were too far apart for it to reach him with its talons; that massive mouth opened and a gout of flame washed over him however and in the same breath he raised his ward and sent the strongest rush of wind into the heart of the flames to try and divert them around his falling form.  The flames encircled him and roared around the ward, and the wind gust had the added benefit of blowing him backwards and even further away from the terrifying beast.

It also spun him around and he could see the ground so very far below and rapidly approaching, but he could ALSO see a snow-covered ledge that was on the way down as well.  A fall from the full height would absolutely kill him but if he could hit that ledge, maybe-

Onmund let the ward drop and frantically sent a blast of air out of both hands - one off to the side to propel him toward the ledge and one at the ledge to hopefully slow his descent.  He didn't seem to slow but he did move in the air, and slammed into the ledge and into darkness as the snowdrift there swallowed his unconscious form.

----------------

The snow was stained bright red in places and there was a man-sized hole in the crust about ten feet above his head.  Breathing was nigh impossible - every lungful was agonizing and there was a disconcerting bubbling noise in his throat each time he inhaled.  Neither leg seemed to want to obey his commands to move but he was...mostly convinced they weren't broken, just very badly banged up, and he WAS convinced his left arm had shattered.

All around him were steep walls made of white snow and he'd certainly compacted quite of a bit of it beneath him when he'd landed; the cold was seeping in and he was very tired -- that the huge monster was probably still out there was only a distant worry in his mind right now. He would need to climb or burrow out of here but just didn't have the strength to do so...and trying to mend himself up also proved to be more than he had the will to do.

Cedrore came to mind again -- he wondered how the man had felt as he'd lay there dying.  Alone.  Had he truly known, in that exact moment, that was the end?  Onmund couldn't really tell if he was dying or not, he was just...tired.  Done.  He didn't want to move or think anymore -- not so much a desire to let go as a desire to stop existing briefly, to give himself time to sort out his thoughts, his emotions, and to examine this pathetic shell of a body and see for himself if he was able to be saved.

It took an immense effort just to roll over from his side fully onto his back to stare up at the gloomy sky, and somewhere in the distance he heard a bellow.

...so the beast HAD survived the fall too.  It just seemed so unfair.

It was a small comfort that it didn't sound anywhere near him but he pitied whoever came across it -- the guards that remained in Winterhold were too few in number now to stand any chance of defeating it...  It was an end for many things, not just his own.

He let his eyes droop shut.  

 Please just let Kestrel win.  

For a time he lay there, acutely aware of the chill seeping into his very being.  He heard and felt nothing - even the pain was receding beneath the cold's effects; if this was his time at least he would go peacefully.  That was a nice thought.

"Get up apprentice - you are needed."

Onmund's eyes fluttered open again -- he'd heard a voice and it took a few moments to latch on to what he'd heard.  A man's voice, telling him to get up; it had called him apprentice, just like Kestrel did...but it wasn't her voice or the voice of anyone he recognized.

Above him the sky seemed brighter -- had Kestrel won?  Maybe she'd won and someone had come looking for him.

As he watched the brightness of the sky narrowed and formed into a point - an orb of light; it was a soothing light blue and he watched it curiously -- what was it?  Why was it here?  A silhouette of an arm materialized in its glow then and Onmund felt the snow around shift and draw in close to his body. He had a fear that the snow was somehow going to collapse in and crush him but instead it flowed under him and began to gently lift him back up toward the hole in the crust above; the closer he came to the light the brighter it grew, searing his eyes and leaving bright afterimages that soon blinded him, and by the time he could feel the harsh winds of Winterhold on his face he had his eyes squeezed shut.

A rush of warmth filled him, and he opened his eyes to see the bright blue of the light mingling with the familiar golden glow of restorative magics; for a long moment he eyed the swirling lights in confusion then noticed that in the heart of the light there was a man standing there.

His hooded robes hung open and were a slightly darker gold than the magics he wielded, with red and silver designs at the sleeves, along the hem, and across the epaulets he wore.  His clothing beneath the robes were muted grays with a wide cream-colored sash belted together with an odd buckle -- it sort of reminded him of the shape of the dragon's head that he'd seen long ago under Saarthal, and there was a brilliant blue gem set in its center.

The man was an Altmer with a thin face partly hidden by his hood that betrayed no emotion as he looked Onmund over.

As the cold left him he felt strength surging back into him -- it wasn't much but it was leaps and bounds more than what he'd had only moments ago and with each passing breath (he could breathe again!) he felt better.  "Who are you?" Onmund managed to ask.  

"An ally. You must be in place to assist your master when the time comes.  Do you understand?"

A spike of pain shot through his head and just as quickly disappeared; seemingly floating in the middle of all this restoration magic was doing wonders for him overall but each time a new injury mended itself by snapping back into place he felt a jolt of pain that made him sick to his stomach.  "I... I under...understand THAT.  But I don't understand who you are."

The man eyed him silently a moment, expression never changing.  "-we guided your companion to success before.  I had a feeling it was too soon to turn our attention from your College however.  The others despise me for my direct action but it bothers them more that I was correct twice about such dire circumstances."

"Wait - you knew Cedrore?"

"It was I who guided him in staving off total disaster."

Onmund stared at him as a sudden chilling thought came to him at the man's words - Cedrore had had outside help...was that why the Archmage had tasked him with so much?  And if this man had guided Cedrore...   "You... You stole the Eye and let him die, didn't you?"

A flicker of something - it was too quick to identify - crossed the elf's features.  "His death was not intentional.  But, knowing who your master is I'm sure she's instilled in you the depressing reality of making choices based on priority."

"-what happened?  Where's the Eye?  Who are you?"

"My name is Quaranir, of the Psijic Order.  We will not meet again so there is no need for further introduction.  All that concerns you is being in the correct place at the correct time."

"But-"

The altmer cut him off with a sharp gesture, then craned his neck to look upward.  "What remains here will be contained - you must hurry down the coastline.  You will know what you must do when you are where you are meant to be."

The blue orb floated over to come to a rest in the man's outstretched palm and the light it gave off began to steadily increase; Onmund was forced to again shield his eyes from the glare, and as he squeezed his eyes shut he heard a final "and tell your master the debt is considered paid" from the altmer before he was plunged into the darkness behind his own eyelids.

Cautiously Onmund opened his eyes and found himself standing alone off to the side of where he'd fallen into the snowdrift; he was very slowly sinking into the snow - it was halfway up his calves already - and yet there weren't even footprints to suggest where the altmer man had been or where he'd gone.

His wounds were closed, his arm and ribs mended.  He was still exhausted but was no longer on the brink of death, and was greatly confused as to what had just happened along with feeling a bit of anger toward the man who'd admitted he'd allowed Cedrore to die.  Had that Quaranir USED Cedrore?  Used him to obtain the Eye?  For what purpose? The thought of some other overwhelming threat somewhere in the world turned his stomach but the man's other words echoed in his mind: Kestrel needed him, and that some debt between her and...the man?  The aforementioned Psijic Order? Whoever the debt was actually attached to, the man had said it was paid...Onmund had no idea what that might mean but he did understand clearly that he needed to find Kestrel and do whatever it was that was required of him to help her end this.

It took him ages to climb down to the ice-and-mud covered beach; he saw the massive craters caused by the falling pieces of the bridge above, as well as the crater where the giant creature had landed and clawed its way out of.  There were tracks that led away and to the northwest and as Onmund glanced that way his eyes widened at the carnage along the beach.

--it wasn't just the creature's giant footprints here: there were scorch marks, frozen pillars, places where the sand had been blasted away in a shower of glass shards, glowing places where a spell had struck and seared itself into the ground.  A tremendous amount of magicka imbued the place as well and it burned a bright path in Onmund's mind heading northwest -- standing and focusing himself he could make out a much thinner path of residual magicka that wound its way down the cliffs behind the College and curled around the rocky shore until it reached here and veered away.

Kestrel and Varea had no doubt fought through this area and kept going; Onmund began to plod forward along the beach, fighting with each step as the mud and sand sucked him down.  Trudging through this magicka-infused area had its benefits though -- with each step taken the magicka rushed to fill him until his head was buzzing, and he began to fill himself with restoration magics to burn some of it off only to have it rush to fill that void again.  His skin felt hot and almost vibrating, and he had the urge to take off at a run just to rid himself of this overly-empowered feeling.

He it was difficult but tried to ignore it; any additional power he could pull upon would only benefit him.

...well, not JUST him.  If HE felt this then he'd no doubt Kestrel and Varea would be drawing from everything they were suspending and infusing into the land even in the midst of what looked to be a frightening high-skilled battle between two master mages; the further he went the more destruction he came across - there were holes in the ground filling with water, cliffsides were demolished and laying in piles of rubble, and there were more scorch marks and spots of glass as well as frozen patches here and there (Onmund used one of the bigger, thicker ones to cross one of the newly created "ponds").

The magicka path led him to the edge of the beach where, across a channel that looked to be about twenty feet wide (and who knew how deep) was an imposing island made of one very towering, sheer mountain crag. They'd crossed from here...to there...and around to the opposite side, it felt.

Swimming in water this cold would easily kill him and even wading (assuming it was shallow enough) would be just as terrible an idea; pulling from the magicka around him Onmund began to freeze the channel over.  It didn't take as long as he thought it would (all this excess power in the air definitely helped) and soon he was carefully striding across and stepping off the ice onto a very narrow stretch of sand at the base of the crag, turning to circle around to its north side.

The wind was beginning to blow and on the horizon over the sea Onmund could see a storm coming in; as he picked his way among the driftwood it began to snow and the weather rapidly worsened as the storm rushed in on him.  In the swirling white he could make out a tall and claustrophobic pass between the crag he'd seen from the other shore and yet another tall and pointy crag.  He hurried away from the churning seawater and ducked into the shelter of the pass, shaking snow from himself and catching his breath.

The crumbling of rocks from above was the only warning he had before the creature dropped down on him.  Its massive bulk was stopped short from completely flattening him by the narrow rocky walls but it was close enough to swing its tail down and catch Onmund from head to thighs, sending him flying further into the pass to land awkwardly on his back between two large stones.  All the air was blasted from his lungs and he blindly scrabbled to stand as the monster leaped from its perch to land off to Onmund's right; the ground was slick with ice here and a second after he got his feet under him they shot out and dumped him onto his backside, sending him sliding backwards down an incline behind him that he hadn't noticed was there in his panic.

Onmund twisted as he slid and landed in ankle-deep water on his hands and knees, growling as his fingers immediately went numb at the chill. He launched himself off the balls of his feet and across the shallow pool, finding himself sprinting up the steps to a stone platform on which a statue to Talos stood -- a forgotten, lonely shrine on an island in the sea.  He would have been pleased to find it if the circumstances were different but at the moment it gave him solid ground to stand and fight on (and if Talos saw fit to help a poor mortal fighting at his feet, all the better).

The creature was charging down the incline after him and Onmund was grimly pleased to see it too was sliding on the ice-slicked stone. In a surge of inspiration Onmund fired a (admittedly overpowered) spray of frost over the tide pool; the top layer immediately froze and the creature slipped down to a knee on its first step onto it, and then the ice cracked under its weight.  It gave Onmund the wild idea of luring it out into the sea on ever-thinning ice, but then that would leave HIM stranded (or worse: it would dump him into the water too).

The monster was quickly recovering from its slip and rather than slide across the ice it was dragging its taloned feet to shatter it with each step; Onmund sent several bolts of lightning at it and frowned when it didn't slow the beast in the slightest.  He sent an icicle (it deflected off the hide) and then a few fireballs (that also deflected and didn't even leave a mark) and the creature still kept coming; there HAD to be some way to keep this thing slowed down and away from him if his magic wasn't strong enough to even scratch it.

 Think Onmund...THINK.

He ducked and nearly slid off the stone platform as the creature leaped for him; as it floundered on the ice again it spun and managed to keep its wide mouth aimed in Onmund's direction, and he was able to see the glow in the creature's throat a moment before a massive spray of flames erupted from it maw.  His ward split it to either side of him and when the creature stopped to take a breath he was dismayed to see just how large of an area it had cleared of the ice.

Onmund quickly began to spray down those spots with frost -- he couldn't allow this damn thing to burn away the one small advantage he currently had.

He had to stop and dodge aside, flailing his arms to keep his balance as the monster lunged and swiped at him; his momentum carried him toward the far eastern corner and the monster slid toward the southern. Beyond the monster Onmund could see the little tide pool.

 If only that was deep enough to drown this thing...

...hang on a moment.

The little pool had a very narrow gap in the rocks that led out to the sea - maybe two feet wide - and Onmund knew how to move and shape the earth.  That pool might not be deep NOW, but--

It was a stupid idea, likely impossible to manage while this thing was chasing him around, and yet it was the best thing he could think of as he watched the monster again shrug off three more lightning bolts and a fireball.

Mentally he reached out to feel around the bottom of the tide pool; it felt like...sand, and a lot of it, sitting on top of stone far below.  Sand wasn't hard to move like stone was - it was slightly easier than packed soil even - and he shifted a foot or so on the side nearest him and watched as the water rippled...then immediately dove and rolled off the platform as the creature lunged for him and very nearly clawed one massive hand down his chest.

He risked using one hand to hold up his ward and the other to direct and dig at the sand, and paid for it with a searing blast of flames across the left side of his face before he managed to get the ward angled correctly.  The tide pool rippled again and began to froth as he haphazardly forced the sand to move away and out of the water and more water from the sea began to pour in.  Once more he was forced to dance away as the reptilian beast charged for him; it seemed to be getting a feel for the icy ground and didn't slip near so much as it was before, and of course once its talons sank into the sandy area that surrounded that stone platform of the shrine it gained the traction it needed to chase Onmund in a circle, almost driving him back to the narrow gap he'd come through to reach the shrine.

In desperation Onmund ducked into that little pass -- the beast followed after and tried to wedge itself into the opening to claw at him.  It did manage to rake its claws down his hip, tearing the waistband and gouging deep cuts into his left hip and thigh; Onmund staggered and fell to the ground on his knees, hissing in pain and feeling his head spin.  He reached out to the magicka in the area and rapidly pulled it to and into himself, casting what was quite possibly the most powerful spells he'd ever managed; the restoration spells immediately closed the wounds but as he clambered back onto his feet and backpedaled away from the creature the gouges were pink and discolored at the edges, as well as stiff and painful as he moved -- he'd healed them too quickly for them to have mended correctly...and the only way to fix that would be to cut them open and do it again (which was something he definitely did not have the time to tend to).

Pain surged down his leg with every step but he kept backpedaling, and there was the awful noise of claws on bare stone as the beast climbed up and over the gap and scaled the cliffs to continue following him.

There was the sandy, muddy shoreline to either side of him, and open sea at his back.  Onmund looked longingly in the direction of the tide pool...could he make it back through that gap and continue trying to deepen it?

He paused to glance down at his bloodied and aching leg -- it was too risky.  With this monster chasing him there just wasn't the time needed to focus on what he was doing and it'd likely get him killed instead.

With a deep breath Onmund spun on a heel and charged down the small hill that led from the pass back down to the shoreline; the snow was blowing even harder and the waves looked deadly - a shower of frigid mist, snow, and wind pummeled him as he ran forward.  

Mere steps before he reached where shore met the pounding waves Onmund sent the strongest, coldest blast of frost magics he could muster ahead of him and into the churning sea, and it was a small comfort that he didn't fall through or slip when his boots hit the edge of the ever-growing sheet of ice forming under his spell.  The ice beneath him grew wet as the waves washed over it and three steps from the shore had him soaked from his chest downward but with the sound of pounding feet charging after him Onmund tugged his hood down further to shield his eyes from the water and the wind, and forced himself further out into the storm and the sea.