#look you will have to show me how hard I spired when you were next door

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

Look, it says seed 44, not 45

[glitchy1938]

Murder Drones X Child Reader

Hi everyone I want to make this story, and it took me some times to make it, so let me know if you like it, olso, it's my first story so, hope you enjoy ! Just to let you know :

italic writing is thinking bold writing is the action

Part-1 : Pilot

Uzi : "We are Worker drones" autonomous Robots Helping Humans Mine Exo-Planets for our inter-stellar parent company JC jenson in Spaaaaaacee !!

"Yeah, We were Mistreated in the name of windex, but it's not like WE Revolted and killed all humans or anything"

"Mostly because…They handled that just fine all by themselves…"

"With Biological life wiped from the planet we found it pretty easy to pick up where they left off…"

"We finally had it all to ourselves…"

"Unfortunaly, our planet company didn't exactly love the concept 'Runaway A.I"

In the Distance, the Disassembly Drone will start Emerged from the pod and one of them throw a worker drones head on the ground and they start to laugh evilly and destroy the city with the other two Disassembly Drone.

"But what our parents done for the past forever ?! while those things Built a spire of corpses hide under the ice ?! TREE STUPID DROOS !! It's like we're wainting for them"

"Anyway, that's why MY project is… THIS Sick-as-RayGun !!"

Y/n watch her older sister and her RayGun and saw how cool it was, but.. They have a bad feeling about this… "Why do i get the feeling somthing bad is going to happend ?…"

When she took it out and showed it to them, everyone start to panic

Ramdom Worker : THAT'S SO NOT THE VIBES.. !

Uzi : Easy Morons, it's doesn't work… YET !! Who said it doesn't work ?! Maybe it does !!

Your sister flick the switch at the side of the Gun and laugh like a psychopath, the teacher rolled his eyes, annoyed by that.

Y/n saw the gun start to change color

Teacher : *Sighs* Uzi, the homework was about word problem about buying watermelons.

"OH, and this Magnetically Amplifed Photon Converger doesn't count ?"

"No" he said

-Y/n rise her hand-

Uzi : "What is it y/n ?…" She look at her younger sibling

Everyone in the school loves her little sister, and they nice to her because of how cute and small she was form everyone.

(If you are a boy, then pretend that you are a girl, for the story)

Y/n : "Is that supposed to make that color ?"

Uzi look down and see it starts to turn red and tehn explosdes the classroom…

Later…

Uzi was in the nurse's office, with a ice pack on her head

Lizzy : "Ew, it didn't kill her" she said, passing by

A few minutes later, a male worker drone came in with y/n and they both sat next to her

Thad : "Classic toxic masculinity Chad ! That's never gonna en up problematic… Oh wow ! Uzi ? I heard you uh…

Uzi : "i'm a anger teen thad, BITE ME ! Also, how do you know my name ? People willing talk about you."

Y/n : "I told him your name !" Uzi look at her

Uzi : "Y/n, what did i say about telling people about my name ?" Y/n : "…Not to…"

Uzi : "And you know what that means ?… YOU GET THE TICKLE MONSTER !!!" She grabs you and start to tickle you and you couldn't stop laughing wery hard

She loves you even though you are not complitly her sister, she promesed herself to keep you safe from harm

Thad : "And everyone knows khan's two daughters, but uh… Then, you might blow the other half of your face clapping daddy issues hilarious…"

She stop tickling you and look at him, wille you try to catch your breath.

Uzi : "What you're in for testoterole too hard ?"

Thad : "This can happend ?! Awseome !" Thad laid back in the chairbefore speaking again

Thad : "And hey, those bandages looks badass !" He pount out

Uzi : "Oh…" She brushed some of her hear back, before looking away as blush make it away to appear on her visor…

Uzi : "Ew, cross ! I hate you said that."

(Trust me, we KNOW you like it 😏~) Y/n : "Then, why are you blushing ?"

Uzi : "i'M NOT BLUSING !! SHUSH !!"

Y/n : "-.-"

Before he can finish, Uzi put down Y/n on the chair and pointed the Gun on Thad

Uzi : "Sick-Hell-Railgun si-fi Nonsense that SUPER words ! I'm going to the murder drones tonight, to get the last spare part I need to save the word with it, and earn my dad's respect ! But mostly save the world part"

Y/n : "Can i come with you ? PLEASE !!" you asked, with giving her puppy eyes

Uzi : "No, it's too dangerous for you to come, and you're too small"

Y/n : "Aww… [Then i will find a way to follow you >:3]

Thad : "Does your dad make awesome doors ? So we don't have to Uh… Do, scary-sounding emotionally redressed stuff you just said ?…"

Uzi : "NO MORE FEEDBACK ON MY REPRESSION TODAY !!" She pointed the gun dangerously on his cheek

Thad : "OW S-SORRY !! I-I-I Didn't think-"

Before he can finish, she left the room grulmbling with her little sister following her close behing

Uzi : "BITE ME !!"

As she left, she came back Uzi : "I'm not mad at you, by the way- It's just hormonal !"

Y/n : "Bye Thad ^^!"

Later, at home. 3:00…

Uzi smacked her self to turn off her alarm and snug to grab the master key that can open the doors, she saw Y/n following her

Uzi : "Y/n !! WHAT DID I TOLD YOU ?!" Y/n : "Come on…! You never let me do anything !" You said very sadly

Uzi : "Fine, but you stay close to me, i don't want to lose you, okay ?" She give you a smile

Y/n : "YAY !!"

You two were going out but when she open the door, your dad was there.

Uzi and Y/n : "OH MY ROBOT-GOD !!"

Khan : "And might I ask where you two are off to ?" he ask to them both

Uzi : "Mm.. Sneaking out with my boyfriend which i definitely have ?…"

Your dad start laughing at this, yeah… He's not buy it…-_-

Khan : "Seriously though"

Uzi finally give up

Uzi : "*groans* Okay, okay ! You caught us. We need to… measure the exterior hydraulic mechanisms of door, because that's…"

She paused and look at her railgun before responding y/n help her hide it…

Uzi : "The project i'm working on for school ? A big old door ! *laughs awkwardly*…Just like my old man build"

He look at the her, still suspisous

Uzi : "We really wanna join the WDF and hide behind for the rest of our life like a cowards and play cards and stuff."

Khan : "OHOH, well we don't just play cards.

The two doors open and there sat a few worker drones playing cards

Worker drone : "Hey Khan ! Can you grab a fresh pack ? We littlerally only play cards so much that the number are faded."

The same person noticed you and Uzi where they were. "Hey Y/n and Uzi !"

You guys both greet them, then your dad close the doors

Khan : "Well… When you build doors so good…"He turn and flattering himself against the door

"Good door, Gooood door" He crooned to it

Khan : "There's no need to fight Uzi, Y/n, This is great news !" He cried

He grabs a Wrench from behind him

Khan : "Here-- The Wrench i use to tighten blots on my first door prototypes-"

Then he took a murderous tone of voice

Khan : "And to put your mother out of her mystery, when the Murder drones got to her with their nanite acid !" He snapped before going back to normal

Khan : "I want you to have it !" He give it to Uzi

Uzi hardly smile at him while you thank him for that, even if, right now, your are hiding behind her because of how he say it

He open again the door behing him.

Khan : "GUYS ! My daughters are into doors !!"

Everyone at the table cheered as the door finnaly opened

Khan : "They gonna be outside for a bit to examine the exterior of door 1 !" He called out

He turns to hes daughters

Khan : "Your door specific destiny awaits !" He told to you two

Uzi : "Uh, wow, okay, me and Y/n are just going to leave then… 'cause this worked so weirdly well. Uh go doors !!*laugh awkwardly*"

The doors close and they both look ahead at the city, the only light was the plants in the sky

Y/n : "So now… What ?…" She ask Uzi

Uzi : "We look for the part, and then we came back"

They both start to walk to the Murder drones Liar…

Helloooo !! So this is th first part of "Murder Drones x child reader", it's inspired from @Exotic-Worker-Dron-Uzi-Says-Is very Sad and @Luna Hamato in Quotev

So i Hope You enjoy !!

[md-confessions]

Sorry if I sound rambly, but

For the story Liam wanted to tell, he needed N and V's relationship, also, Nuzi was the plan by episode 3 at the latest, the pilot/heartbeat at the earliest. V's treatment of N is required to why N and Uzi connected so much, both N and Uzi were disliked by pretty much everyone in their lives (especially J and Khan in the lives of the Disassembly Drone and the Worker Drone, the former is straight up an Abuser, both physically and emotionally, it's hard to deny it, while Khan says Uzi is a disappointment in public tv like it's nothing, which is kinda abusive IMO. Not even when N was a worker he was free of abuse, the Elliots and other humans aside from Tessa treated him like he was nothing but mere scrap) and they found comfort in each other.

While she cared for N and didn't wanna have him hurt, much less wanting him to remember how his life went downhill, she did it in the worst way she could, she pushed and neglected N for at least 2 decades if we're presuming the DDs were in Copper-9 back when Uzi was a pill baby. (Uzi is canonically 18-19, maybe 20)

V was a stepping stone in N's development, not only as a character but also his relationships, he originally was a traumatized man that was scared to stand up for others, I'd argue his feelings for V were partly due to him still having faint memories of the Manor days but also the fact V didn't abuse him physically like J did, it's sorta like an abused child. They might flock to their "less abusive" parent.

This changed when he met Uzi Doorman, a Worker Drone who had gotten into the corpse spire, while he thought he was some sort of Disassembly/Worker Drone hybrid thing made to blend in with the Workers, but when they got to talking, she wasn't like J or V, she showed him kindness and he showed her kindness back, it's something both have not had for pretty much their entire lives, we also get to see the scene with the heart gun during the V and N/J and Uzi fight, another example of how N still had feelings for V at this point. By the end of the pilot, N hasn't developed his personality much, but he at least has someone to rely on, Uzi.

In episode 2 we get to see N try to keep Uzi and V from fighting during the intro, with the scene where N drags Uzi behind him after V accuses Uzi of her backstory being bullshit, also with later context, V was the liar, she probably knows why the Solver sent them there yet she hid it, trying to act all cool and stuff.

By the end of the episode Uzi becomes scared of N, which causes N to become worried he might have lost his only friend, V just says she hates him normally but this is worse, the only concern is in her face, and it's mild concern. V looks at the broken chain, which leads to the next episode.

And episode 3 is a major part of their relationship, it is where it's revealed V still cares for N and her treatment of him was a way of trying to protect him from the solver stuff, she has a reason and justification for her actions now, it's not just "I don't care about him" V's role in this episode is as its secondary antagonist (just behind Doll) This episode has a very important moment for their relationship, At the start, V demanded N to get her and him suits for the Prom, and get Uzi to let them in and kill all the Workers, V makes fun of Uzi by saying she doesn't have any friends, and then shoot her in the head, N is against this plan, already a sign he's starting to learn to stand up for himself by refusing to free V for "Prom Murder" and he starts talking about his dreams, talking about how they possibly grew up in a haunted mansion, V shows actual concern for N (for the first time in the show, at least directly), asking him and Uzi to stop prying into the Solver business.

She tries to barter with N to free her, she promises she'll only kill if necessary, though she says "You and Me, N" implying she'll still kill Uzi. Before V flies off to go commit mass murder, N tries to get her to talk about her past and work together with him, though she decapitates him, she says she knows what's best for him, even if he hates her for it. This moment outright confirms that V definitely cares for N and just doesn't want him getting hurt, even if it means she has to do it by extreme means.

And then the whole main episode happens, Uzi discovers the plan, Uzi and N reconcile, Uzi's feelings for N probably blossomed here, yadda yadda yadda, Lizzy says V is hot, yadda yadda yadda, Doll fight, yadda yadda yadda, Chica-bow V shoots Doll.

Later while exploring Doll's home, the two Disassembly Drones find the corpses of Yeva and Adam (fan name for Doll's father, I am not calling him Doll's father everytime I mention him) and when V sees the corpses, after Doll used her powers to remind her of her actions, she doesn't care much and the most she says is "they didn't taste good" which leads to N saying "V, you kinda suck" this is something N would have never said in the pilot.

N finally starts to doubt his feelings for V, at this point he doesn't have his memories of the manor, so to him, he's pretty much only ever had those feelings due to the fact she was the least abusive to him, and she literally cut his damn head off, I get why he'd be doubting if he even actually loved V at all.

Episode 4 is also important, it's where N's completely learns to stand up for himself, pretty much part of the reason why Uzi went freaky deaky is because V pretty much gaslighted and antagonize Uzi into thinking N didn't care about her and how if she died he wouldn't care. (Something she for a fact knows isn't true, as seen with N between Heartbeat and The Promening and Uzi didn't even die, imagine if she did) V is still trying to keep Uzi and N away, since from last episode, V knows that Uzi has the solver and she's scared N might get killed by Uzi due to it.

At a later point Uzi turns an arrow into some weird fleshy homunculus and V for a second looked panic, she immediately drew her weapons as she saw that. V went to go chase after Uzi while N tried to stop V, the two argue, at this argument, N finally is honest about this whole thing where V is hiding shit from N and Uzi, it's scaring him, V uses cryptic language to refer to a certain "thing" that will leave them alone, N then finally stands up to V, he berates her about her treatment of him, asking what she's so afraid of, he explains how V keeping him in the dark about this is scaring him and Uzi, N reminds V that Uzi is a kid, like them, to him, V has no reason to fear Uzi. N doesn't know about Cyn and the Solver and stuff due to the Solver wiping his and J's memories.

This argument comes to halt when N asks "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" V's face goes from anger to worry, N tells V to look after the campers as he goes investigate what's going on with Uzi.

After Uzi murders 2/3rds of her whole class V comes into put down Uzi, the Solver Drone pleads with the Dissasembly Drone to let her live, V refers to Uzi as "Cyn" saying "New Body, same Horrors?" in V's point of view, Cyn is the one behind this, not the solver, for all she knows Cyn IS the solver itself. Uzi pleads with V, asking if she can talk with N, the only person that could calm her down, and as shown later, if V had allowed N to come and comfort Uzi, things probably wouldn't have gone as bad, some campers might still have died but V still got her ass kicked.

V gets her ass kicked by Uzi Yadda, Yadda, Yadda, N comes to the rescue and after Uzi stabs him with the nanite tail she goes back to normal, N throws her into the sky and the two Dissasembly Drones talk, N tells her "what did I tell you about antagonizing her" before he goes comfort Uzi, telling her they'll take baby steps, together. After V sees N and Uzi hugging, she goes from being on edge to calming down slightly, at this point she notices maybe N doesn't need her anymore, maybe he's fine with just Uzi supporting him.

At the end she looks at Uzi and N, worried, a lot of people think she's jealous but I don't think so, I think she's still got that worry that Uzi go haywire again and get N killed, but it could also be due to N and Uzi now looking into the Solver, together.

Episode 5 is mostly a flashback episode (technically) and it shows that N and V, at one point in the past had mutual feelings for each other, as throughout most of that episode N and V are their past selves, they're silly little teenagers who got a mutual crush on each other, I'd argue this is the closest eNVy ever got to being canon. The solver uses V to do weird robot surgery on N and turn him into a Dissasembly Drone, and N gives V back her glasses so she could grab the scalpel, V hesitates and slowly recites the Golden Retrievers have gentle mouths thing, cute moment, sadly the Solver decides to ruin this moment by slamming V into the wall and trying to give N a lobotomy.

Episode 6 is V's (presumable final episode) in this episode V seems to care for both Uzi and N, though there isn't a big V and N moment before the big one (there's more Uzi and V in this episode before the big one)

Ok now lets talk about the big one, AKA: V's sacrifice at the end of the episode, so pretty much throughout the entire episode the reason why V defended Uzi so much against the sentinels, Alice and Beau is because she noticed how much she mattered to N, and it's part of the reason for the sacrifice in my eyes, I wouldn't say she did it exclusively for that though, I feel like you could read it as a form of suicide (I know this took a dark turn but) V has pretty much lived a horrible life, form conception down to this moment, as said before, she has noticed that N needs Uzi, and from V's POV, she has done her purpose, she finally trusts Uzi, the reason she didn't get in the elevator wasn't just because she couldn't, it's because she didn't want to.

I think The Genius page on Eternal Dream is not only an amazing Breakdown of V's character but also the song itself.

N and V never directly do anything in episode 7 (as V doesn't appear herself aside from the Solver posing as her), when Nori tells him to hide the fact she's actually alive, N refuses, saying she won't hide anything from Uzi anymore. Not only is he hiding the fact "Tessa" wants him to kill her, but also, he doesn't want to do the same mistakes V did when trying to protect him.

.

[zrtranscripts]

Season 10, Mission 4: Can't Stop the Boss

Not My Apocalypse

~

[van creaks]

BRENT VALMONT: Alright, Five. Let’s hash this out. I really hate to show my temper, but you’ve left me no choice. Are you sitting comfortably in the back of that van? Got your Valmont headset tight? Good, because I know you’ll want to hear who I’ve got speaking next.

[tape recorder clicks]

SAM YAO: Five? Five, it’s me. It’s Sam. It’s going to be okay, Five. Everything’s going to be alright.

[tape recorder clicks]

BRENT VALMONT: Spoiler alert: it’s not.

[tape recorder clicks]

SAM YAO: Valmont said I have to tape this message. I... I don’t know how long it’s been since Tunisia. He showed me the footage of your last run to the Maghreb border. Oh, you were so fast, leaving the whole Red Scorpion Army behind! They never would have caught you... if he hadn’t have been waiting in that boat. Amelia always said we shouldn’t trust him. Of all the ways to find out she was right.

Valmont says he’s got a mission for you, Five. He showed me the brief. It’s just a simple item grab. I don’t have every detail, but nobody’s about, nobody gets hurt... and what they’ll do to you if you refuse... I think you have to do it, Five. Just this once, I think you have to do his run.

[tape recorder clicks]

BRENT VALMONT: I know you miss him, Five. I can see it on your face. Those Valmont headcams work both ways! So I’ll make this really simple for you. You turned down all my other jobs. The assassination in Bolivia, the firebombing in Berlin! But this one’s non-negotiable. Get it done within the hour or Sam loses a thumb.

[van door slides open]

Back of the trucks’ cracking open. Look at all that daylight spilling in! I know I’ve got you fighting mad, so let’s channel that rage! Down the ramp, full speed ahead, just follow the street, straight along the cobbles, under the big stone arches. Don’t think of it as helping me. Think of it as saving him. Here, I’ll even let Sam play you out!

[tape recorder clicks]

SAM YAO: It’ll be okay, Five. I know it will. Remember what Janine’s always saying? When things are at their darkest, a runner strikes a match. You keep the hope. No matter what, you keep that flame alive. And promise me, the first chance you get, promise me you’ll run.

~

[birds coo, wings flap]

BRENT VALMONT: Mind the pigeons, Five! But take in the sights! Italy, the Vatican, St Peter’s Square itself. Look at those grand colonnades on either side, the great Egyptian spire in the middle. Though the basilica’s looking a bit dowdy, isn’t it, the way the dome’s collapsed in? Head straight for its entrance, past the burned-out popemobile. It’s through those great big pillars where the tourists used to queue.

It’s been hard on landmarks, Five, the end of the world. The Eiffel Tower, Washington DC, poor old Red Square. Not exactly sitting pretty since Van Ark’s Armageddon did the renovators in. Oh, I know. I told you the apocalypse was mine. I didn’t mean it literally. It was Sigrid’s passion project, Van Arks’ silly plague. [sighs] He was such a stupid genius, wasn’t he? Took the blame for the disease to please that humorless wife of his. Invented immortality, but he couldn’t get the hang of spin.

ANNIE knew what they were planning, Five, long before it happened. I had her watching Sigrid, Van Ark, Moonchild, too. You don’t become a billionaire without probing your rivals. We caught their little scheme to end the world, and yes, I could have stopped it, it’s true, but I know a bargain when I see one. The whole world on fire sale! I’m not the one made the end, but I like to think I’m who it’s for.

[door clatters open] This is a grand old entrance, isn’t it? That distant gilded ceiling, the sunswept marble floor. All those saintly statues watching with white eyes. [building creaks] Careful! Sidestep to your left. The ceiling isn’t stable. Some of it’s coming down.

You, me, mortal peril! It’s just like the old times, eh? Admit it, I was quite the charmer, running with your Abel crew. You were all so wonderfully obliging. I always needed Sigrid gone, and V-types can be a pain, but I never lied about it being a good time, Five. As far as handy decoys go, your lot were the best.

See that body, beneath the fallen pillar? That’s Valmont Runner Sixty-Four. Last one in before you. I warned her that this mission was a risk, but still, she volunteered! It’s amazing, the loyalty people give you in a post-apocalyptic world. So much for so little. You dig them out of burning rubble, offer them beans and a bed, and suddenly their life is yours. I used to run orphanages on the same principle. Shame my finest runner’s busy on assignment. She’d have at least survived the masonry, unlike poor old Sixty-Four.

I know what you’re thinking, Five. How many have gone in ahead of you? Oh, I’ve lost count! There’s something I need in that city, something hard to find, but you’ve got an advantage. You’ve seen it before. We just need to be careful, with all that panacea in your blood. My doctors have been draining what, a pint of plasma at a time over the last few months? That’s plenty of samples. Your body’s a little panacea factory now, thanks to that injection you stole! But we’ve got big ambitions. Things will go much smoother if they can harvest a whole lot more!

[building creaks] Better get a move on, Five! That building really doesn’t like my people. The ceiling almost sounds upset! Turn right at the papal altar, take the tour guide passage to the Sistine Chapel. And ignore the fallen runners up ahead. There’s no point dwelling on them, Five. There’s no profit counting the dead.

~

BRENT VALMONT: Look up at the ceiling, Five! Soak that culture in. The Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo’s masterpiece! All those gorgeous frescoes painted on the walls. Saints, sinners, serpents. And Adam, on the ceiling, about to high five God! [sighs] I was planning to steal this, but ANNIE says it wouldn’t survive the airlift. [sighs] Follow the frescoes down the corridor, the one with all the maps. Try to find an open window. You need to get outside.

Moonchild used to say my collections were “bad karma,” that it was wrong to try to cage the world. This, from Lady Mind Control. She reminded me of my mother, Five. Ghastly, hippy-drippy woman. Stole my father’s fortune, frittered it on “charity.” Said the world was full of wonders, but not a single one was ours! A thing’s not beautiful until you own it, that’s the dirty, ugly truth. Knowing something might be taken is a spoiling blemish. I used to tell Amelia that. Maybe when I take her world, she’ll learn.

It’s hard to find people who understand, Five. I wake up every morning with this screaming hunger in my heart, the torture of ambition. No matter what I have, no matter who I own, I know I can do better. It’s like an engine in my belly. I know I can own more!

There, an open window. Climb out to the courtyard, quick! Have you heard much lately from that Moonchild in your head? I bet you haven’t. Maybe my panacea killed her. Maybe she’s finally dead. The Cortile del Belvedere A pope once paraded his elephant here. That’s my kind of style! Just parked cars and a broken fountain now. See that big beige building over there? That’s the Vatican library with the Apostolic Archives next door. Those archives hold the secret storeroom of the Catholic church, and what we want’s inside.

[laughs] I know what you’re hoping, Legs. You think my wife will come and save you, Amelia and the rest. But the truth is, they’re not even in the game. I’ve got decoys with your shirt on from Peru to Paraguay, corpses with your DNA slung into shallow graves. I’ve got moles in the Maghreb, spies in the UK. I’ve got Amelia spun in circles, always looking the wrong way.

Sigrid, Van Ark, Moonchild, they were all small fry. Couldn’t even keep their Armageddon to a timetable. ANNIE didn’t expect their gray plague to get loose so soon. I wasn’t quite ready to put the Ministry straight down. But I was miles ahead in stockpiling, and I’ve had eons to prep since. I knocked down half the satellites, razed the global village. No more cheap communications, no calling distant ears for help. The market should be nice and manageable, survivors stuck in isolated pockets. I’ve got bases like Red Scorpion all over the world, allies in armies you’ve never heard. I know what happened to the last aircraft carrier, why zombies scream on roads. I am a one-man superpower. Your friends don’t have a chance!

Uh-oh! Zombie priests crawling out of the cars, and those look like Swiss Guards lurching from the buildings, the elite protectors of the Vatican with feathered caps and halberds high. Well, that one’s got halberd sticking through his chest, but what can you expect from zoms? They’re closing in behind you, still guarding the library even in death. There’s a car crashed through the archive wall. That’s your way inside. Get into that building, then down to the basement. Do not let them catch you! Go!

~

BRENT VALMONT: That’s it, Five. Keep going straight. They call this part of the archive the Bunker, where the most precious texts are kept. Frankly, I’m disappointed. I expected flaming torches, spotlights, demons dancing around the Holy Grail, not just endless dusty bookshelves. [zombie growls] Careful, there are zombies crushed together between some of those shelves. Stay clear of the books. Their arms are clawing out between them.

Do you know what the worst part of this church is, Five? It’s that it isn’t dead. There’s a whole new pope in Istanbul readying teams to nab these treasures, and they’re not the only holdouts. There are still rabbis, and imams, Buddhist monks, Mormons, Quakers, Sikhs. People who believe in gods, or hope, or just each other, joining hands to cope. Little groups like Abel brightening the dark.

It makes me so damn angry! It’s... not the apocalypse I bought! I wanted Mad Max, the Walking Dead, the first bit of The Road! Ruins, misery, hopeless dread, and I’d swoop in with my hoarded cans and lift the peons up, have them rebuild in my image, grateful for the helping hand. ANNIE predicted overwhelming collapse, once the dust settled. You were supposed to get nuked offing Sigrids or implode like Sage. Those Last Riders had the right idea, until they turned V-type. But no, you had to flourish, didn’t you? All over the world. The groups that defy the odds. The Maghreb, Arcadia, Abel, Vashisht. That galling, glowing 1% like aniseed in the stew!

There, see that staircase behind the red cordon with a vault door in the bottom? That’s the hidden heart of this bunker. A room that’s not on any maps. If there were demons locked away, that’s where they’d be. It’s time for the big drum roll, Five. The reveal of why you’re here. Remember your trip to Moore Island, the [red god] and the cult? Amelia never let me read the Edda, but the church has another copy hidden in their vault. Moonchild stole a partial transcript before they upped security. My runners don’t know what it looks like, but you’ve seen it before.

[zombies moan] Damn! Coming up the stairs, are those - red robes and pointy hats. Oh no, lots of zombie cardinals, and they’re in your way. The others are closing in behind you, too. Swiss Guards, priests, tourists in backpacks. There’s no going back. Forward is your only shot. Those are halberds lying on the floor. The guards must have made a stand here. Quickly, pick one up. [metal clinks] You’re going to have to rush them straight down to the vault. I can hack the door with ANNIE. That blade looks blunt, but you can at least push them back. Move it, Five, get down the stairs! Not sure what a zombie bite will do with all those Valmont patents in your blood. Don’t let the cardinals grab you. Run!

~

[door clatters open]

BRENT VALMONT: Now this is more like it! Big, oblong chamber full of sealed glass cases. Ancient scrolls, mysterious parchments. No sign of the Holy Grail, but I bet it’s around here somewhere. Find my Edda, Five. You don’t have much time.

[alarm blares]

This room is pumped full of an inert gas to preserve the relics. We don’t have the proper codes. I can’t hold it open long. See those dead runners on the floor? They all thought they’d find my prize, and they all died choking anyway. Funny thing, Five. None of them blamed me. Now that’s lasting ownership, the kind that leaves them dying but still feeling the love.

Aha, you’ve spotted something. The big tome on the plinth. Smash the casing and grab it! Use that halberd, now! [glass breaks, alarm beeps, zombies growl] Those zoms are pouring in behind you, they’re blocking the way out. There’s another vault door straight ahead, right across the archive. Move it, Five, and hold the Edda tight! If you die of oxygen deprivation, Sam’s the one I’m sending in there next. Speed up, before the door snaps shut. Run!

~

[birds caw, wings flap]

BRENT VALMONT: You did it, Legs! You’re clear of the archive and clear of the Vatican, footloose on the streets of Rome. And you’ve got my Edda. Oh, I know what you’re thinking. Yes, you could destroy it, tear it up and run, but what would happen to poor Sam, and Janine, and Peter, too? That’s right.

[engine rumbles] My truck’s approaching. Drop the halberd, get inside. [metal clinks, van door slides open] There you go, Five. Straight into the back. I’ll see you get a raise for this. That means extra cushions in your cell!

The apocalypse hasn’t gone as planned, it’s true. But I’ve had a fix brewing for years. You pushed up my timeline with that scramble through Tunisia. I was worried we might not pull it off, but now I’ve got the panacea and the Edda. I’m all set for the apocalypse, take two.

The panacea, Five, that’s my little joke. You see, it is a cure, of sorts. The cure for all my ills. Soon, I won’t have any rivals. The whole world will be my orphanage. Amelia, Abel, and the rest, they’ll be swept away, or transformed, replaced by broken, helpless, loving people. Like Adam on the ceiling, Five. They’ll all be looking up... to me.

~

[thessalian]

Thess vs Horizon: Forbidden West Prologue

So a few notes from various bits of prologue. I'm not in the eponymous Forbidden West yet, mostly because one of the things I'm finding is that the low-level anxiety of jumping puzzle hits a little different with the fibro. I get tense, and lemme tell you, I feel it these days. So this is going to be a long, long game. But here are the notes from the Horizon: Forbidden West prologue ... more or less spoiler-free.

Ah, stealth kills, I have missed you. And I've very, very nearly hit the first achievement for those already. Not to mention the "knocking components off" achievement. Not there yet, but ... getting there.

In checking whether I'd actually reached any achivements yet, I note that various friends have got a lot farther than me in this game. Fucking fibro.

See ... this whole deal where it guides you on what actions you need to take to climb or grapple or whatever could be seen as annoying? But I honest-to-gods need a reminder if I'm taking it this slow. So it is annoying but it's also really helpful, so thanks for that.

Some of the new designs on these beasties are lit. Still hate being forced into armed confrontation with these things. Just let me hide and shoot them from the next post code over, damnit!

What's this thing? Can I scavenge it? ...Oh. I was supposed to kill Big Beastie with this. Sorry; I prefer precision. kthxbai.

...Well, if that isn't commentary on tech 'geniuses' and their bullshit, and on corporate greed. Also, it's actually a real shame that so many of the effective antagonists of both games have been dead for so very, very long, because they are all so very, very punchable and apparently they haven't worked out hard light hologram technology so I can't literally punch that smirking shithead in the face.

Aloy, you were raised agnostic and found proof of atheism. Varl has not. Chill the fuck out. You're equipped to see things as they are; your people view everything through a religious filter. So long as they're not exiling people or some shit, why do you care if they worship an AI construct?

Aaaaaaaaaaand we're back to Meridian. Cool. Wait, what the fuck now?

So ... why didn't we double-check the Spire before we went heading off on wild goose chases?

SYLENS YOU DICKWAFFLE. (Sorry, Lance Reddick; you gave really, really good dickwaffle.)

Not sure what to make of this "workbench" mechanic. It'll probably be better when I can fast travel to places.

Please, please tell me I can dump some of the vendor trash while I'm in what passes for civilisation in Horizon-world. Please? I have been so good.

Somebody want to please explain to me why those neckbeard arseholes think Aloy's ugly? Okay, sometimes they do not get her best angle in cutscenes, but mostly she's, like ... a realistically beautiful woman. Ah, right - it's the realistically part they object to. They want doe-eyed skinny waifu. Well, they can get stuffed, because I'm already struggling with how she manages to get the less dreadlocked bits of her hair moving like a shampoo commercial when she has no shampoo. Plus, those neckbeards are not exactly looking at the cover of GQ themselves, y'know?

I'm kind of interested in how they've set up this prologue. Both HZD and HFW start us with where Aloy has been and what she's done, but I guess you can't really turn "killed an invasion of war machines" into an easy prologue the way you can "finding a focus and training for Big Event". Plus, the whole thing makes me wonder exactly how many friendly faces from home we're going to have as companions. I mean, I know two - hell, even if I hadn't seen both in trailers, one I've already had as a companion, and when you get that many Oseram scattered around the place, you know who's going to show up in Horizon-world eventually.

No, seriously, let me offload vendor trash I HAVE BEEN SO GOOD.

So I stopped in and around Meridian before having to tell everybody, "Hey, I'm going to the place named in the title of this game because that guy you told me to look for is a dickwaffle but he could conceivably be a helpful dickwaffle if I help him with the problem he willingly dove into head-first by ... well, being a dickwaffle". I am at least supposed to be finding a workbench and hopefully someone I can throw vendor trash at, but I more or less stopped there because I do have some shit to do today. Not much shit right away - I mean, I do have D&D later this evening and we're still running a little earlier than usual because of Daylight Savings being weird this year, but that's still way later - but some shit. Specifically I need to go out for ground cardamom. Look, I need it to make apple pie spice, and all of my cardamom is in pods. Kind of wish that the recipes for apple pie spice I have looked up specified what colour cardamom needs grinding. I guess I'll just hope I get it right. I need this because I'm baking apple bread. I got buttermilk and everything! Also I want to make more apple turnovers and the homemade filling with only cinnamon ... well, it needs something. Maybe apple pie spice instead of just cinnamon is that something. Anyway, also means I need apples. So that means a shopping trip. So I guess I'd best prep for that.

And then home and more video games. Not sure if I'm going to do my shopping / crafting in HFW or if I'm going to go back to the Shadow-Cursed Lands in BG3 so that I can earn a whole lot of easy approval with Astarion and Lae'zel by making big lumpy bag of poison explode. I'll think about it as I do errands, I guess.

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Forging Ties - Chapter 35 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

"So," Hamish said after they were out of earshot of the others.

"How are you feeling now that you're back?"

"Better," Duran admitted as they reached the base of The Spire and continued on down the hill. "It's hard to even remember what I was feeling before and why. I felt so isolated and suffocated all at once. Now I think it was just… feelings. Not necessarily much to do with how things were."

"That makes sense. You had a lot to process."

"Hmm," Duran agreed. "And I still do. I know that. I just feel like… I don't know. Like I've built a bit of a base under myself. A sense of identity. I don't think I'll be as easily knocked off balance. The more I know who I am and the more comfortable I am in that, the more stability I'll have in my life."

"That makes sense."

Hamish gave the trunk of the first tree they passed a firm pat and they continued on into the sparse woods that bordered The Spire to the north.

"And honestly, that takes a while for anyone. I'm not saying the whole thing isn't a million times harder for you but trust me, at your age I just had no idea. I didn't even think about identity or any of that. Honestly, I barely had any concept of that deeper sense of self. Maybe that's just me, though. Simon's always been the more introspective one, even if he does let his emotions get to his head sometimes."

"I barely left my room for a year. I've spent more than enough time in my own head."

A narrow, gentle creek cut a path through the trees, meandering its way down to flow into the ocean beyond.

Hamish crouched to wash his hands and face in the clear water.

Duran knelt down on the bank next to him and drank the water.

There wasn't much danger of it making him sick like it might Hamish. Duran sighed and sat back on the pebbly bank.

"Can't believe you lured me into another conversation about my feelings by promising me dick."

"Why do you think I brought you out here? A private room's hard to come by but there's endless nature which is... mostly private."

"Well, Danya said he was going to go and round the kids up for school, so if they get an eyeful because they're dodging classes, that's their own fault."

"A fitting consequence."

"Half my classes were sex ed."

When Hamish made a face, Duran laughed.

"I'm kidding. Well, no, it was a factual statement but. You know."

"When I'm about to suck your dick isn't the time I prefer you to bring it up."

"Oh, you are, are you?" Duran gestured to his crotch. "Get to it, then."

"Hmm..." Hamish said, considering Duran and then their surroundings.

"Stand up. You can lean against a tree."

"My own tree?" Duran said as he stood and stretched his arms over his head. "You do know how to spoil a man."

"Shush. I'll spoil you just fine."

Duran picked a tree and folded his arms as he leant back against it.

"Show me, then."

Hamish let out a sharp exhale, grinning as he shook his head.

"That way you look at me sends a jolt right to my cock."

"Yeah, I figured that one out early when I was just legitimately fed up with you and I noticed you were suddenly looking at me with a whole lot more interest."

"What can I say?" Hamish said as he dropped to his knees in front of Duran. "I appreciate an assertive man."

Duran slid his fingers through Hamish's loose chocolate curls, slightly wet in the front from when he'd washed his face in the creek.

Hamish nudged Duran's crotch with the point of his nose, looking up at him with brown eyes with, Duran was only just noticing, just a hint of green in them.

Duran wouldn't have described Hamish as pretty or effeminate, not with his confident jawline that seemed in a constant battle with the stubble that wanted to overtake it that would quite happily grow into a thick beard if Hamish ever gave it a chance.

No, not pretty but he was more beautiful than most men.

"Take your shirt off," Duran murmured and Hamish held eye contact as he unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it over his shoulders, revealing swathes of caramel skin and well toned muscle.

Hamish's skin was like a tapestry with stories told in scars.

Duran's body told some stories of its own but he was looking forward to Fanner wiping that canvas clean.

Maybe one day Duran would lay down with Hamish and have him tell the story of every scar.

But not today.

Hamish was still using his nose to tease at the front of Duran's pants, a sly smile on his face and Duran's cock had started to take notice.

"I mean, it's a strategy," Duran commented. "Are we going to sit here and see how far you can get with that or are you going to get my cock out?"

"So impatient," Hamish said as he slowly popped the buttons open on Duran's pants.

He pressed his face against Duran's exposed underpants and breathed in.

"I love the smell of good, clean dick so much. Boner smell. A hard dick has a special scent to it."

"Hmm," Duran said. "And how about that taste, huh?"

Hamish snickered, his face still pressed close to Duran's crotch.

"You really are eager today. It hasn't been that long since our fun beach day."

"Long enough."

"True. I agree."

Hamish slid Duran's underpants down, finally freeing his cock from their confines.

Soft lips teased up Duran's shaft and then wrapped around the head of Duran's cock, gently exploring as they drew him deeper into Hamish's mouth.

"Touch yourself too," Duran said as Hamish swallowed him down. "You know I want more from you than just to get off."

ow about a kiss to help me out?"

[kat651]

totally random idea I got (sorry for the weirdness in advance)

ᵗʰˡˢ ˡˢ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ʷᵉˡʳᵈ ˡᵈᵉᵃ ˡ ᵍᵒᵗ ˢᵒ ᵇᵉᵃʳ ʷˡᵗʰ ᵐᵉ ᵃˢ ˡ ʷʳˡᵗᵉ ʷᵉˡʳᵈ ˢᵗᵘᶠᶠ

You never really felt like you were anything extraordinary, even thought you lived in the storm spire, as though you were Zubeia’s own child. Sure you were a human and you really shouldn’t have even been in Xadia, but you still felt like you didn’t deserve this life and to be honest, you didn’t. If you had been treated like how Avazandum treated all other humans you would be dead. But he was the one who convinced Zubeia to let you live in the storm spire as if you were one of them. That was (your age) years ago though and now Avazandum was gone and you lived off the grid (with the exception of a few people knowing where you were )

Once Avazandum had been killed, you left the storm spire, promising Zubeia you would return in time. That was a few years ago. 

You were currently at the peak of the cursed Caldera, watching Lujane and Allen (big sword guy) flirt with one another. You liked Lujane, and Allan was a quite agreeable man once you got used to the fact that he loved his giant swords. 

(They are actually a ship in the show, if you watch the end credits you can see Allan courting a disgusted Lujane in more than one of Callum’s sketches)

Allan had been a bit skeptical of Lujane when she revealed to him that she was actually a moonshadow elf, but he loved her nonetheless, and that made you happy. 

How you hadn’t come across team Zym when they came up here was quite simple, you had gone on a little (two week) adventure and had completely missed the events. You liked it up at the moon nexus, you spent hours relaxing near it when Allan an Lujane got to annoying. (Lujane loved to throw a party). Tonight was one of those nights. Half of the village was up here, partying. Tristan (guy with the sun forge dagger) often joined you. He had grown quite used to the fact that the cursed Caldera wasn’t actually cursed (and that it was all just a big hoax orchestrated by Lujane). 

Tristan sat with his feet in the water as the sounds of party music echoed off the mountain. You came up. “May I join you?” 

He nodded and made room for you to sit. Neither of you were interested in each other romantically, you had both made that very clear to one on other. You were just very close friends, people joked that the two of you were siblings separated at birth and honestly it wasn’t hard to tell why they said that. 

You looked over at Tristan. “I’m thinking about heading into Xadia,” you said quietly. 

“Why? You can experience all of Xadia in a day if you’re here!”

You shook your head. “That isn’t so, you can’t ride on the back of a Twin-Tailed Inferno-Tooth Tiger way up in the sky! Or play with baby dragons, oh! Or watch sparing matches between elven knights!”

He smiled at the excitement in your voice and face. “Maybe you’re right…” He said. 

You looked over at him. “I love it here and all but I’ve got family in Xadia and I haven’t seen them in a long time. I’ve got a brother I haven’t even met!”

“Wait! You have family in Xadia?!” He grabbed your shoulders and looked at your with wide eyed excitement. 

You sighed. You hadn’t told him about where your family was or the fact that they were all ferocious dragons. “Um yah about that… I have an interesting back story…”

“You told me all about it. How you were taken in when you were really young and-”

“No, I was taken by Avazandum, the king of the dragons!”

His face lost its color. “What?”

And so, you spent the next hour telling him the full truth of your past and who you were. 

You expected him to be angry for keeping it a secret but instead he just smiled. “I understand why you didn’t tell me the full story, it’s not because you don’t trust me it’s because you don’t want they information falling into the wrong hands.”

You smiled. It was crazy how well Tristan understood you. He pulled his feet out of the water and dried them before putting his boots back on. “Come on y/n, why don’t we head back to the party for a bit? Allan finally talked me into giving him a rematch, and a fair one.”

You smiled and took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “I bet he’s flirting with Lujane again.”

Tristan chuckled and shook his head. “Probably…”

The two of you headed back to the party and you stoped to talk to Lujane who was surprisingly not flirting with Allan. 

When you explained why you wanted to head back into Xadia she smiled. “Well the war is over and it’s probably for the best that you go meet your brother and let the dragon queen know you’re alive and well.” 

You looked over at Tristan who was having an arm wrestle with Ellis’ dad. “I think Tristan may end up going with me, he’s a good friend…”

Lujane smiled. “Indeed, you two are nearly inseparable, he’ll be by your side through just about anything.”

You smiled back. “He was my first human friend…” you admitted as Tristan rises his fists in the air with a smile of victory on his face. “But part of me wants him to stay here, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he really is a big part of this town, he brings life to your crazy parties.”

Lujane chuckled. “Indeed he does…”

Allan walked over and placed a hand on Lujane’s shoulder. “Hey moonlight…”

You rolled your eyes and walked off, leaving the two to flirt…

-.-.-

In the morning you set off to leave for Xadia, Tristan met you at the bottom of the cursed Caldera. “I’m coming with you.”

You smiled. “I thought you might say that…”

A few of the towns people, ones closer to you, came running up to bid you and Tristan farewell. You looked at Tristan. “You ready for an adventure?” 

He smiled and gave you a nod, “I’ve always wondered what Xadia looked like…”

And with that being said, the two of you headed off, entering Xadia by nightfall. 

“The trip to the storm spire is gonna be a long one…” you said as the two of you walked under the stars, searching for a safe spot to make camp for the night. 

“Look, these flowers are incredible smelling, come here!” 

You took a few steps back as Tristan bent forward to sniff the flower. He staggered back. “Ahhh, what is that?!?”

“There Toot-lips, Peri-stinkles, Flatu-lillies, actually there commonly just known as a fart flower.” You said as he fanned his face to get the smell to go away. 

“You’re so mean!” He said with a laugh. 

“Yah I know…”

The two of you set up camp in a small cave, both falling asleep almost instantly. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you had laid down. 

In the morning the two of you immediately began to walk again. You had a long journey ahead of you if you wanted to reach the storm spire. 

You came across many things on your walk. A farmer recognized you and gladly gave you his spare horse. The two of you traveled much faster that way and by noon the two of you could see the storm spire. “Isn’t it amazing?”

He nodded. “It really is…”

As the two of you rode across the plane, Zubeia leapt off the cliff and flew down to greet you. It took her only a moment to realize it was you and when she did she was overwhelmed with joy. Her child was finally home. 

You jumped off the horse and she lowered her head to get a better look at you. “Oh y/n, I’ve missed you so much!” She said with a joy filled voice. “Come, your friend too…”

You sent the horse back to its owner and you climbed onto Zubeia’s back, offering Tristan a hand. He skeptically climbed aboard and smiled. “I’d hold onto something if I were you…” you whisper as Zubeia tore through the sky and to the top of the storm spire. 

The two of you slid off and Zubeia immediately cast a spell so that the two of you could breathe the thin air. 

Tristan looked around with awe. “It’s beautiful…”

Suddenly, a little storm dragon came running up. “Y/n this is zym…”

You smiled and knelt down so you were level with the dragon. He sniffed your face before licking you. “It would appear Zym knows family when he sees it,” zubeia said with a smile. 

You smiled back and gently patted Zym’s head. It was good to be home. 

[bloodycassian]

reader x azriel - azriel takes reader to a bakery.

Azriel's cool charm filled the room, his shadows snaking the floor and receding as the meeting quieted. Without a word, he nodded in dismissal at the group and they continued debating again. He sat back, stone faced while the high lords discussed what there was to be done about The Middle. More specifically, the mountain and caverns underneath that had hosted the horror show for forty nine years. 

Guards stationed behind each high lord and their company, Azriel devoured the information his shadows brought back to him. There wasnt a single person in the room without at least two daggers on them. 

You leaned back in your chair next to Thesan, resting your chin on your hand. The plush amenities of Day court and their pastel colors had taken some getting used to over the last week, but you grew to appreciate the massive table in front of you. Large enough to fit all seven high lords and their company around it, along with a few extra chairs. If it wasnt for the lofty ceilings and open windows into several balconies you would have thought such a harty table to be gawdy, but in this instance it seemed utterly necessary. Especially when Rhysand's cousin slapped a giant map of Pryhtian down on it and the high lord's power shifted pawns throughout. Mapping each court's armies and defenses. 

A few of the leaders adjusted pawns, moving a few troops from one side of their court to another. Azriel perked up from his darkened corner at this, stepping forward and taking a glance at the map. He glared in your direction, catching your eye. He was utterly breathtaking, even with such a malice filled look on his face. You broke his stare to glance at your court's pawns on the map. A moment's hesitation after each high lord had stopped moving their pieces made your stomach drop. You glanced toward Thesan, seeing if he would move.  Rhysand seemed to be waiting as well. Azriel slowly, threateningly moved two of Thesan's pawns further south. He crossed his arms and walked back to his corner, his shadows almost hiding him completely. You felt Thesan tense as he shot Rhysand a charming grin.

You met the dark eyes of the spymaster, and rose from your seat. Stepping between a Beron and Kallis to move two more pawns east. You met his eyes again and winked, turning and going back to your seat. Thesan had ordered you before you left for the meeting to disperse your forces throughout the land, so it would make sense that the spymaster didnt know if the extra changes.

The room was tense, each high lord looking to each other to see if anyone else was hiding their foces. Helion suddenly let out a booming laugh, makin you jump slightly. "Rhysand have you been keeping your spymaster too busy perhaps?"  Rhysand chuckled, leaning forward in his seat and purring his reply "I'll have to send them back to training camp." His general's wings flared slightly and you fought to hold back a smile. Azriel revealed nothing, and said nothing until the meeting was over.

You were cleaning the scattered pawns from the map when Azriel approached. He was silent, but pushed the figuines from his side over to you in a pile. You nodded thankfully, eyeing him as he moved to roll up the cloth map still laid out over the grand table. You felt your hands get clammy, the silence in the room was palapable. The only other sounds were the hushed rustling of the trees in the slight breeze outside. The balcony doors were still open, and a cool wind slithered into the room. You opened the cloth bag for the pawns, there was a sudden clattering against the marble floor. You sighed, setting the bag down. Before you turned to pick it up you noticed the darkened atmospehre of the room. Then bumped straight into Azriel's chest in your distraction. 

"Sorry I-" You felt your face turn hot and made to step back, only to find yourself slipping on the damned pawn. He caught your arm, stablising you. "Are you normally this accident prone?" He asked, a small smirk on his lips. You looked to where his hand held you, and noticed the textured skin there. He cleared his throat and lowered your arm. 

"I guess you could blame it on the wind." You stammered. What you meant to say was 'I guess you could blame it on the fine Illyrian shadow master in the room'. His smirk seemed to say he knew exactly what you were thinking. And maybe with those shadows he did know. His build seemed to fill the room standing this close to you, broad shoulders -t support the massive wings no doubt- and muscles and the hair was immaculate. He smelled of pine and leather, sea salt and something darker. Maybe that was the shadows themselves. 

"You dont like the cold?" He asked, head tilting slightly. 

"Should I really be telling a spymaster anything that I'm afraid of?" You challenged, smiling at him. His eyes seemed to light up. He nodded and stepped back. You forgoe the groan of displeasure at the empty space between you. 

"Have you ever really been in the cold before? Dawn court and all.." He trailed off, sauntering towards the balcony and motioning you to follow. You obeyed, dropping the cloth bag on the table. You took your time approaching him, marvelling at the wings he bore. How thick the outer edges were, and how delicate the inner folds looked. In the dull darkness you could barely make out the inky black forms of them as he stretched them out. They flared and tilted, and you understood why they were so hard to see. 

His shadows had melded into the darkness, shielding them and his lower half completely, Blending him into the night. Becoming a shadow himself. You felt a chill run through you at the sight. He was darkness, and all the whispers on the wind. The epitome of pure silence, but not pressing, a soothing darkness, silence and comfort. Liek a comfort of sleep. 

"Are you going to stare or come for a ride with me?" he asked, folding his wings in tight and turning towards you. He leaned back on the balcony confidently, the column of his neck exposing a few scars behind his ear. You shuddered to think of what kind of beast could make such an impact on someone who was mist and shadow. 

"If someone sees us Thesan will know immidea-" He cut you off with a stare, and you felt coolness begin creeping up your legs. You felt nervous, heart hammering in your chest as he stood so close to you, eyes knowingly glancing to your chest briefly. His shadows danced around you like a fog, asking permission to cover you further. And you were sure they were reporting back to him how badly he had riled you.

 "No one will see us." He promised, holding a hand out to you. You took a steadying breath and nodded nervously. As soon as you touched that scarred hand he had you covered in the snaking darkness, the tendrils weaving around you protectively. It felt like being in a heavy ocean mist, and it brought goosebumps to your skin. Azriel huffed a small laugh as he bent to scoop you up.

Before you could protest and come up with some sort of excuse, he had you cradled to his chest and he was summoning those shadows even more around the both of you. 

And then you were falling. Your stomach leapt into your throat, fingers clawing into Azriel's shoulders. You were sure you were dead when the feeling stopped. "Open your eyes." The shadow master squeezed you a bit extra, getting your attention. "I dont think I can." you muttered, but slowly peeked through your lashes to see the millions of tiny lights below. 

The breath was stolen from you as your eyes flew open, gazing in amazement at the city below. Dawn court was built more upwards than any of the other courts, so you were used to seeing castles towering above and lights shine from them. But you'd never seen the city from this high. You wondered how he had flown so high in such a short time but decided you didnt want to know the answer even if he could tell you. The enormous archways of the high lord's palace was visible from the sky. The stars above were dull, as usual in Dawn and Day court. You never found much pleasure or satisfaction at night in either  territory. It only made you wonder what Night court's stars were like. If the moon beckoned and blessed the land like the noon sun seemed to make everything in Day court shimmer. 

 "You can stop trying to claw me to death at any time." His voice rumbled softly, almost scaring you. You loosened your grip on him, only enough so he wouldn't complain. He banked slowly, you could only tell so because the spires coming closer to you as you approached the center of the city. The streets below were lit with clear bright lights that showed off all the boutiques of main street and the patio areas for bars all around. The stained glass windows of second story balconies reflected pastel lights on to the sidewalks, painting them in pastels. 

You could smell the bakery below, churning out different treats of pastries and breads for the late night drinkers. The sweet warm smell of it made your mouth water. "Would you like to stop in somewhere?" Azriel asked as he whisked you upward again, avoiding the tall lights as the city rose up hill. 

"I think you might be recognized a bit too easily." You chided, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. He was watching the sky, his face unlike any expression you'd ever seen him wear. At peace, it seemed. He didnt have the clenched jaw or stern eyebrow look anymore. His hair ruffled slightly at the small breeze that came through the shield he had placed around you. 

He considered his fame as Spymaster for a moment, then nodded. And plummeted you downwards into the city. You fought not to scream, only digging your nails into his skin again, hoping it hurt. He landed in a narrow alley, hidden from the blinding lights of the street. The smell of sweets hung in the air. You still held tight on to his arm after he set you on your feet. You then shoved him, palm straight into his shoulder and sent him a step back, his wings flared and balanced him before he could falter any further. "You could tell me next time!" You growled at him. A clever grin graced his features, smoothing out his surprise at the shove. 

"Only members of the night court get free flying privileges." He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. "I expect my payment with a side of cinnamon." He nodded towards the street. You glanced back and he was gone, likely shouded in the darkness somewhere. You whispered curses at him while heading to the bakery.

"Why do you like cinnamon so much?" You asked around a mouthful of sweet bread. Azriel had devoured his chocolate and cinnamon twist, along with the extra side of cinnamon. He still had evidence of it on his face and shirt despite the windy takeoff before he put his shield up. "Why dont you?" He retorted, his powerful wings gliding you around the east side of the tower where the week of meeting had taken place.

"I just wouldnt expect the Shadow master of the Night Court to have such a sweet tooth." You grinned at him, absently wiping the sugar from his face. His eyes went to yours in an instant, and your heart hammered being pinned by that stare. He landed gracefully on the balcony, eyes still locked on you. He merely stood there, holding you. Both frozen. 

[highladyluck]

Wheel of Time 01x08 liveblog

Teaser:

The R.O.U.S.es are a myth, but the Man-Eating Fungus is very real

ooops, the dark one's prison broke the nice china

HOLY SHIT [this response encompasses everything from 'that armor is awesome' to 'they really did ball gag the damane' to 'that tidal wave sure is symbolic']

I love hearing the Old Tongue!!! [in my notes I wrote "One Power" XD but this is what I meant]

Interesting... Latra Posae Decumae is Tamyrlin?

Oh, that hurts, LTT trying to make the world safe for his kids.

This is the crystal spires and togas I was promised! It gives me Star Wars vibes.

The R.O.U.S.es are a myth, but the Man-Eating Fungus is very real

An Educational Field Trip With Moiraine Sedai

I'm shipping Perrin/Rand again I'm so sorry

Moiraine cutting Rand dead in the Fire Swamp like "we're not friends"

I love that we get Nyneave's tracking skills

Oh that is a cool effect (of Ishy's fireface zooming into his eyeball)

Ishy is kinda sexy

Wow that is extremely homoerotic

This is very Star Wars- first the AOL, then the dream confrontation in the swamp

Holy shit, Rand. Suicide to wake up? hooooo boy

lol I see they know how sa'angreal were made in this turning XD (oh interesting... is that a saidin one? How would the tower know? I guess there is precedent for sa'angreal that use both halves of the OP.)

Nyneave's block appears to be... sort of a thing?

I feel like Rand and Moiraine both walk into traps deliberately

loool, that you, Elaida? Moiraine had a block? ooooof Moiraine :(

bad things afoot for Nyn (or she will explode again)

is Lord Yakota supposed to be Ingtar? Are we getting Ingtar?

COOL love a decorative pit

ah, the beginning of Rand's Complex

glad we got the shot of Lan and Malkier

Oh dear. Is... Lord Agelmar the darkfriend? or just... that specific brand of Borderland Masculinity? So hard to say

Darkfriends... in... the White Tower libraries? Are you going to unpack that statement, Moiraine? BLACK AJAH Y'ALL

my HEART when Rand touches the Ancient Aes Sedai symbol

lotta babies in this ep

YESSSSSSSS FLICKER FLICKER

ok, she got shielded, only shielded, phew... hopefully

I prefer this defense of Fal Dara to the book version (although I have to ask... are they cribbing from @asha-mage‘s work again? because this reminded me of parts of Of The Mountain Home.)

great music

Nyneave's significant glance at the Malkieri woman, heh

Perrin & Loial having a heart to heart

Rand like "this characterization is bad, Egwene would never give up her career"

Rand is so clever, but Ishy knows what's in his head

Moiraine is a stabby bitch and I love her

Wtf is buried under the throne?

ooof I hope the darkfriend isn't Amalisa

and this is where Rand is like 'shit, the list of people who can teach me channeling is very small and one of them might be the Dark One'

Ishy, tuck in your damn shirt

Aaaaaaay it's Fain

What? The fucking horn is there?

Circles!

Oh damn, Perrin the Hornsounder? They wouldn't... would they?

Saidin is clean! oh wait... oh, Rand

Amalisa, I hope you know what you are doing and that it isn't evil

Ok, that is some cool shit ...but Amalisa has gone power-mad, whoopsie Love how it kinda parallels the battle in Rand's head rn

This Rand drinks his respect women juice (for now, anyway)

awww sweetie

oh no, are they gonna make Perrin stab Lady Amalisa?

SHIT Padan Fain daggered Loial & Nyn is... hopefully not burned out

aaaaaaay it's gonna be the Hunt for the Horny next season

NO MY BABY MAT, stumbling drunkenly in a dark alley with a stab wound [like, typical, but not what I want for him, you know?]

Rand is off to brood and maybe grab Mat

Perrin is losing at head games, as per usual

Moiraine is staring at the pretty rocks & lying for her boy

SHIT. I was afraid of [her being stilled]. Nyn better be ok, because who else is gonna heal stilling? [Spouse thinks she's just got a tied-off shield since Lan isn't showing signs of the bond being actually broken]

Damn look at Egg with the fancy fixing [eyes emoji]

ooops, the dark one's prison broke the nice china

that's so many [ships] JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

THE SEANCHAN THEME

HOLY SHIT [this response encompasses everything from 'that armor is awesome' to 'they really did ball gag the damane' to 'that tidal wave sure is symbolic']

Post-show, me discussing how I wasn't expecting the taint: "I mean, the corruption. We can't call it the taint anymore." My spouse, immediately: "The Seanchan call it the taint."

[tunglo]

Jedi Apprentice: Deceptions - Jude Watson

Quotes:

There had been a time when he hadn't enjoyed swimming with Bant that much. He had felt clumsy in the water next to her. He hadn't liked that she was better at something. But his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had taught him that to value a friend's better ability was to be a true friend. Once Obi-Wan realized that, he had looked forward to their swims as much as Bant.

--

It is not all I need! Obi-Wan wanted to cry. He needed his Master's presence.

Qui-Gon sensed his dismay. "Tahl and I are very close to solving the problems here. The lives of Jedi pilots depend on us. I will try to make it, Obi-Wan. Now I must go."

Qui-Gon sounded rushed. Obi-Wan said good-bye and ended the communication. He looked out at the spires of Coruscant, then above to the upper atmosphere where Centax 2 was shrouded in clouds. Tahl had gone there alone to solve the base's problems. She had made it clear that she did not welcome Qui-Gon's interference.

Why had Qui-Gon made the decision to support Tahl instead of his Padawan? Tahl had always been more important, Obi-Wan thought bitterly. On Melida/Daan, she had been Qui-Gon's first priority. He had been anxious to get her off-planet and out of danger, even at the cost of leaving his Padawan behind. Tahl's evacuation had been more important than a civil war and a righteous cause.

He rested his hot forehead against the cool pane. He knew his thoughts were petty. He knew that his guilt about Bruck was tearing him up inside.

--

It puzzled and worried Obi-Wan how much time his Padawan spent alone.

Anakin had told him that he'd had good friends on Tatooine, especially a human boy named Kitster. He'd been at the Temple for three years now, but he hadn't made one close friend, although he was well liked and certainly got along with the other kids.

Obi-Wan had tried to talk to him about it, but the boy would just shut down. His eyes would turn opaque and the corners of his mouth would straighten into a thin line. He would seem very far away. Obi-Wan did not know how to reach him at such times, but they were infrequent and passed as quickly as a rain shower.

When they'd met, Anakin had been a warm-hearted nine-year-old boy with an open nature. He was twelve and a half now, and the years had changed him. He had grown to be a boy who hid his heart.

Obi-Wan had tried to show Anakin that friends he would make at the Temple would be his for life. Obi-Wan's friends from his classes- Garen, Reeft, and Bant--were now roaming the galaxy. He didn't see them very often. But that deep tie was still there. He wanted the same for Anakin.

--

"They don't want me," Anakin said flatly. He walked over and slung the legs of the protocol droid under one arm. "I'm not like them."

Obi-Wan couldn't argue. Anakin was unique. There was no question about that. He was an exceptional student, much more in tune with the Force than others his age. He had come late to the Temple. It wasn't that the other students disliked him, they just didn't know what to make of him.

--

"Why do they hate you?"

"Old history," Obi-Wan said. "Missions can leave grievances behind. I do not think it will affect the present."

Anakin nodded, but Obi-Wan could tell he was not satisfied; he believed that old grievances would affect this mission. The trouble was, so did Obi-Wan. It was not the first time that Obi-Wan found it inconvenient to have such an astute Padawan.

--

As soon as she was gone, Anakin turned to Obi-Wan. "Who is Xanatos?"

The question seemed to startle Obi-Wan. But Anakin had sensed something when Andra had mentioned the name. He had felt something from Obi-Wan, something he wanted to know more about.

"Not now," Obi-Wan said.

"Shortly?" Anakin asked, discouraged. "I keep hearing that word. Why won't you tell me now? Is there some reason I can't know?" Again, he felt frustrated. It was hard to penetrate Obi-Wan's reserve.

Obi-Wan studied him for a moment. "No," he said finally. "There is no reason you can't know. Xanatos was a former apprentice of Qui-Gon's. He turned to the dark side. He used the Force to build his own power. He was the head of the Offworld Mining Corporation and laid waste to whole worlds. Life meant nothing to him."

"Is he still alive?" Anakin asked.

"He died on Telos," Obi-Wan answered. "He preferred to take his own life rather than surrender to Qui-Gon." He studied Anakin for a moment. "Now let's clean up and go out for the evening meal."

Anakin went into his quarters. He felt a buzzing in his head, as if his thoughts were so numerous and confused that they could not register.

He could not take in what Obi-Wan had told him. He could not imagine that such a thing could happen. How could a Jedi turn to the dark side? How could a Padawan betray his Master? If he hadn't heard the story from Obi-Wan, he would have refused to believe it.

At last Obi-Wan had shared something real with him. There were times, especially early on, when Anakin questioned Obi-Wan's motive in taking him on as Padawan. He knew Obi-Wan had done it because it was Qui-Gon's wish. Was he a burden to Obi-Wan? Just a promise made to a dying friend? More than anything, Anakin longed to have the kind of bond with Obi-Wan that his Master had had with Qui-Gon. There were times when that closeness seemed very far away.

--

Anakin was soon engrossed in his food, which was fresh and delicious. Food meant less to Obi-Wan as he grew older. He had come to realize what a good Master Qui-Gon had been, in small ways as well as large ones. Qui-Gon had treated him as a Jedi, but never forgot he was a growing boy. If he hadn't had Qui-Gon's example, Obi-Wan wondered if he'd be as sensitive to Anakin's needs as he tried to be.

--

"Can you tell me you were not involved?" Vox sneered. He waved a hand. "Never mind. My son and I know firsthand how the Jedi order twists the truth--"

"We don't!" Anakin burst out. "Jedi don't lie."

Vox gave Anakin a contemptuous glance. "What do you know, boy? Has your Master told you how he killed another Jedi student and then lied about it? Ah, I thought not."

"That's not true," Anakin shot back.

--

Anakin gave him a sidelong look. "If I am so perceptive, why don't you trust me?"

Surprised at the blunt question, Obi-Wan sat opposite from Anakin. Memory flooded back. Qui-Gon had kept things from him, too. Now Obi-Wan understood his Master's caution. But he also remembered how Qui-Gon's decision to share his past had deepened their connection. It was what he wanted for himself and Anakin. It was time to tell his Padawan about Bruck.

He took his time, explaining the Temple sabotage, his history with Bruck, and the agony of seeing a boy he'd known die. He explained the hearing but did not tell Anakin of the guilt he felt. Anakin did not have to know every detail.

Anakin shook his head in disbelief when Obi-Wan had finished. "How could they suspect you?"

--

Obi-Wan knew his Padawan was right. He also knew that Anakin wanted to be a part of that fight. His need to protect Anakin and the knowledge of Anakin's extraordinary skills as a pilot battled inside him. Anakin kept his gaze on Obi-Wan. There was no pleading in it. It was the steady gaze of a Jedi, not a boy.

--

Anakin could tell by Garen's terse wording that the ship was in deep trouble. He could see it: The ship was listing to one side, and great plumes of smoke were rising from the engines. The BioCruiser was a death trap. The last thing Anakin wanted to do was stay out here while his Master was marooned on a failing vessel. He wanted to be by his Master's side.

--

"I'll be right behind you," Anakin said. He did not want to leave the loading platform just yet. His mind still teemed with questions and lessons. He longed to ask Obi-Wan, but he didn't think he would. Whatever was in Obi-Wan's past was a wound that went deep. He understood that. He had his own wounds. Maybe someday he would stand as a man, just like Obi-Wan, and feel the burden lift.

He thought again of Kad, cradling his father as he died, tears falling from his eyes. There were levels to compassion he still did not understand. How did a being go about transforming anger into mercy?

Frustration bit inside him. Obi-Wan tried to understand him. He loved his Master for that. But no one could understand. Not his fellow students at the Temple, not his teachers, not even Yoda, who seemed to understand so much. Would he always feel apart from the others because of his background? And would that feeling of separation mean that he would never become as great a Knight as QuiGon or Obi-Wan? It was his greatest fear.

Anakin turned back toward the shelter of the spaceport, toward friends, warmth, light, and his Master. The future would come, he told himself.

At that moment, all he felt was grateful that he had Obi-Wan to show him the way.

-----------

Thoughts:

Obi-Wan seems so much younger than Anakin at 13. There's this one line - 'Anakin pitched his voice high. He had an ability to seem younger than he was' - that kind of sums it up for me. Anakin knows exactly what he's doing, how to portray the front he wants, etc. Obi-Wan recognises this to some extent, eg. seeking out Anakin's opinions and perceptions of people as 'more astute' than his own. ('Sometimes, Anakin reminded Obi-Wan of Qui-Gon. He had the same mix of logic and emotion that Obi-Wan struggled so hard to balance.')

Which leads on to the other thing that jumps out at me: Obi-Wan's failure to establish any real boundaries with Anakin. Anakin is very put out that Obi-Wan won't tell him every detail of his past, like he has a total right to know whatever he wants. ('Why didn't Obi-Wan trust him enough to tell him the truth?') Anakin kind of hero worships Obi-Wan (how could a Padawan turn against his Master? how could they suspect you?) but seems to lack any sense of thinking he should obey Obi-Wan because he's his teacher / an adult.

And, again with the lack of discipline and boundaries: 'Obi-Wan knew that Anakin had found these things [tools / droid parts, etc] by sneaking out of the Temple and dealing in the thriving black market of Coruscant. He preferred to turn a blind eye.'

[writtenwyrm]

The Ascension

A Slay the Spire story, Part 23

All Parts

“I have no business with you.”

He took my words with the same calmness that he’d dismantled the automaton with. Standing over the bronze remains, he rested his hands on the golden belt around his surprisingly small waist. “You do. The moment you joined my show, we had business.”

“I had no choice!” I countered, a little louder.

“So it goes. Regardless, you were a part of the arena, seen by hundreds, and I do not believe I am mistaken when I saw you enjoying the attention.”

I bristled, the scales on my shoulders clattering slightly. He was right, but what had that gotten me? “No one was happy when I won.”

“More than you might think. But overall, you are correct. You were meant to lose, to die, to prove that we—the slavers and I—still had the situation under control, despite the loss of the Gremlins.” He said it all without a hint of remorse.

“The situation?” I left the question open ended.

“The defense of the City. Repelling the Ventures, you included. Managing the… uncertainty of our reality. Things used to be better. Now they are different.”

I was wary of this armored behemoth, but more than anyone so far he seemed willing to answer my questions. I pushed a little more. “Different how?”

His eyes were not visible in the slits of his helmet, the darkness shrouding my perception, but I could feel his gaze regardless. “You truly do not know, then?“

I shook my head, slightly.

“The City used to be full. The Gods, the ancient ones, were present around nearly every corner, giving blessings, healing the injured, starting squabbles and making deals. Big and small, mortal and divine, it was vibrant. I was and still am the Champion of the arena. The slavers were small and hidden, and the gremlins but nuisances.” His voice began to grow softer as he explained, until it was a thoughtful whisper. “And then they began to vanish. The gods were first, and quickest to go, but the people were next. Men and women, warriors and civilians. One of your friends might simply be gone one morning.”

“Where…” I started. This seemed wrong, somehow. The City looked to be hundreds of years in disrepair. How could he remember any of this?

“We do not know.” He answered before I could finish. “The Collector, despite her Library, can not find the answer. When someone goes, it becomes impossible to remember when you saw them last. Only a day ago? A week? But it feels like months, years.”

We were silent for a moment, as he let me absorb this. It sounded like a nightmare, and yet oddly similar to my own situation.

Finally, I brought us back to the topic at hand. “And what do I have to do with this?”

“The vanishings began when the Ventures appeared. First the Ironclad, then the Silent. The Defect was identified later, once we realized they were not simply a rogue god-machine. And then you.” He lets out a chuckle, sudden and dark. “Personally, I would set the blame upon the Merchant as much as at your feet. He appeared around the same time, and has been frustratingly hard to deal with ever since. I do not see how the Ventures could be causing such disappearances, when the violence you cause is so straightforward.

“But the people believe it is your fault.” He continues. “And so if I am to retain their confidence I must not let you escape so easily. I’m going to take you back and put on a show. You will be crushed, and confidence will be restored.”

I held my staff before me, taking a step back. He was blocking the way up, but perhaps if I vaulted over his left shoulder I could avoid the sword and escape.

He must have seen me considering it, though, because he raised a hand to stop me. “Before we do this the hard way, allow me to offer you a deal.”

I paused to listen, but only enough for him to continue. Mentally, I kept planning my escape.

“You come with me willingly. I beat you, thoroughly, but we put on the show together. Make it exciting, compelling. You get to put up a fight, show off your power. And then I don’t kill you. Instead, you work for me.”

This made me hesitate for real.

“You get to be a hero. Begin defending the city from the other Ventures. Make some friends, build a reputation. Replace the slavers and gremlins as the new city boss, my right hand man. It’ll have to be a real beating, they will need to see you humbled to believe your reformation. But you will heal. I can hunt down Cleric to attend to you.”

He said it all so matter-of-fact, but the idea hit me like a boulder.

I could stop. I could stay, and discover the truth in my own time. It would hurt, but in the end… Perhaps I could repay the Collector for her book, and visit the Library again. Perhaps I could find Liss and apologize, convince her I was not a monster. Perhaps I could do more good here, than up there. Perhaps.

But the thought put a strange pit in my stomach, a sense of unease. The solution to all this, my memories, the collapse of the City, wasn’t here.

It was up.

“I can’t.” I murmured, almost ashamed to let the words pass my lips, though I wasn’t sure what for. “I won’t fix anything down there.”

“Then I suppose I’ll see you again.” He responded, drawing his sword. It left the scabbard with a scrape of steel. “And I’ll have yet another chance to convince you then. One of these days, you’ll listen to reason.”

I lurched to the side to avoid his sweeping sword, already beginning my battle hymn.

But the blade was just a distraction. I rolled directly into his waiting hand. He snagged me by the ankle with surprising speed, lifting me off the ground and sending the world spinning.

I struggled, and struck his armored fingers with my staff. He didn’t even seem to notice, lifting me up with ease and dangling me in front of him. “Now then. Let’s get back to the arena, and I can finish you off there.”

I was out of breath quickly, my head spinning as blood rushed to my head. My attacks did nothing, and I pushed my perception out, desperately searching for something, anything I could use. I was almost ready to speak the word of power, but part of me was terrified of what would happen if there wasn’t a path to victory.

Before I could take the risk, a sound caught both of our attention. The Champ turned toward it, carrying me with, and together we faced the incoming crowd.

They tromped up the wide stairs with torches and swords, vagabonds and thieves and people in ragged, dirty cloaks. They muttered and shouted, voices melding into an indistinguishable roar, like a rushing river.

And at their head was Romeo, holding his dagger forward like an arrow. “There she is! Together now, everyone!”

The cacophony of shouts and battle cries rolled over us both. They were approaching at speed, and would be upon us in moments. All the Champ had to do was hold me up above them like a toy at a child’s party, and I would be torn to shreds.

So instead, I craned my head toward him. “Fine.” I muttered, loud enough that he could hopefully hear me. “I’ll do it your way.”

In an instant, he spun, and hurled me at a distant wall. For a moment I flew, and some part of me was indignant. But it was a surprisingly gentle toss, and I managed to catch myself against the wall with only a little scraping.

“STAY BACK, FRIENDS!” His words were bellowing once more, the showmanship echoing up and down the tunnels beyond. The rushing crowd lost all momentum, their own cries nearly drowned out by his singular voice. The Champ placed himself between them and me, taking on a protective stance. “SHE IS DANGEROUS! I WILL TAKE CARE OF THIS FOR YOU!”

“For Bear!” Romeo cried, lifting his dagger once again.

“FOR BEAR!” He repeated without hesitation, lifting his own sword to copy the motion, though with considerably more drama. “FOR ALL THOSE THE VENTURES HAVE SLAIN! I WILL DEFEND THE SURVIVORS!” As he spoke, he pulled a shield off his back, large and seeming almost more symbolic than useful.

When he charged forward, I was already on my feet and building a battle hymn, ready to meet him.

Our weapons met, his sword against my staff, and for the briefest moment I thought I could match him. I pushed back, and the edge of his blade scraped down the length of my stave. I let it slide off the bottom, whirling in at close range to throw a whirling kick at his abdomen, followed by a quick punch.

And then he stopped holding back long enough to hurl me back across the room with a heavy slash. I flipped, and nearly caught myself again.

But my feet slid out from under me, and instead I rolled.

The crowd roared, and I could hear the vindication in their voices. Jeers, shouts, hateful and delighted. When I pulled myself off the ground, I found the Champ walking a circle in front of the spectators, soaking in the praise.

I dropped to my face again, to buy myself a little more time. He was putting on a show.

But I hadn’t been holding back at all. I’d put as much power into that kick as I could manage with my Calming mantra, and he had hardly reacted.

I needed all the preparation I could manage.

So I closed my Perception, and pulled into myself.

What had come first? I struggled to remember, but the calm whispers of my amulet, my reminder of who I was, helped soothe my ragged breaths.

Taste. There was blood in my mouth, had I bitten my lip? It was metallic, sharp, and clear. And if I was bleeding, it meant I was still alive.

Smell. You would be surprised at the smell that stone can have, and the rocks beneath me smelled dusty, and cold. They smelled old, strangely enough. The kind of ancient that only a place like the Beyond could have. My goal, where I had to get.

Touch. My staff in my hand, still clutched tightly despite the fall. It was a metal, of an unknown alloy, but not cold. Smooth as glass, somewhat tacky against my sweaty palms. My weapon, my companion of a sort.

Sound. It crashed down on me the moment I let myself hear it, howling voices and a booming laugh. My enemies, the obstruction between my goal and me. And yet it echoed into the tunnel beyond, sounding false and empty.

And then I opened my eyes and Saw, as best I could.

The Champ loomed over me, sword at the ready.

“Get up.” He growled under his breath.

So I got up, one foot under me at a time. My mind was orderly now, a mental fortress of calm.

I slammed into Wrath as fast as I could, shoving all my pent up anger into a single attack into his center of mass. The armor took the blow, but I used the rush of energy to crash into his knee, whirling around behind him. He could talk, but it would be to my hand, and to my staff.

And then back into Calm, right as he retaliated with a backhanded slap. It took me across the face, but I rolled with the blow and turned, so that it barely grazed me.

As I spun, I reached out to the foreign influence that had been with me since nearly the beginning. The now-familiar feeling settled into my mind, gifting me with a technique, an attack from somewhere else.

But instead of using it immediately, I held onto it. Calm helped keep my mind clear enough to recognize that I should do something else first.

I pulled at the dormant wrath in my body, preparing for my crescendo and then poured on the indignation, the burning in my blood fueling the technique. As it washed over him, he actually paused, sword slackening in his grasp.

Then I uppercut him in the chin.

His helmet rang like a bell, and the crowd gasped. The Champ slapped a hand to his head to stop the ringing, but his next steps were clearly disoriented. Even so, he kept up the banter. “WHAT A FIGHTER YOU ARE!”

I wasn’t going to respond, especially not when he was giving me openings like that, standing still and holding up his shield in a mock defense.

Except it wasn’t just mock, I discovered as I tried to close in. The shield was so big I couldn’t seem to find a way around it, no matter how I moved. He laughed, and the crowd echoed it.

Still in a rage, as controlled as I could be when fighting all out, I didn’t see it coming when he retaliated, pulling his sword out from behind his shield to hit me with the flat of the blade, hard.

I almost fell over, and my own skull felt like it rang the same way his helmet had.

I didn't wait until the pain was gone before leaping into the opening and hammering at his center, throwing everything I had into one small spot on his breastplate. I even used some of the Battle Hymn, a verse to make a point.

The armor cracked.

I saw it, a fracture running up his breastplate. He staggered backward from the blow, hunching over, letting his sword drag on the ground.

The crowd, hooting and cheering just a moment before, started to jeer. I could almost believe I’d gained the upper hand.

Then he straightened up, and I felt my emotional pressure slip off him like water. No longer stunned or staggered at all.

Faking it. Holding back, yet again, for the benefit of the crowd.

“YOU’VE DONE IT NOW!”

Rocks shook at my feet from the volume of his shout, and I had to adjust my stance to keep from falling over. A fair number of people in the crowd did slip and fall, one nearly tumbling off the edge into the City below.

He dropped his shield, and gripped his sword in both hands.

That was the sign I was looking for.

I needed to use the Word. It was the only way I could see this fight ending in my favor. Without that foresight, a loss was inevitable.

But part of me hesitated, fearful.

What if there wasn’t a way to defeat him? What if I reached for the power and it failed? I couldn’t hold it for too long, as my disastrous fight against the masked thieves had shown. If I beat uselessly against his armor for too long, it would backfire.

I needed an opening. But I had nothing. I backed up as he approached, trying to keep space between us, but I was approaching a wall of spectators with nowhere left to go. One hand rummaged around in my bag, searching hurriedly for something. The beast statue, the Akabeko…

I knew instinctively that he wouldn’t be holding back anymore. Desperate, I tore the chain from my waist and threw it at him right before he reached me. It wrapped around his arms and neck, trying to hold him, shackle him to himself and stop his swings. And it hindered him, noticeably. Just not enough.

I was forced to throw myself out of the way as his sword crashed down on me, throwing chips from the floor. Rolling between his legs, I put myself on the other side of him, using him as a barrier against the crowd.

The chain fell away, and he turned back to me. Silent. Focused.

My hand landed on a small vial. One that had been sitting there for my entire trek through the City, unused.

I still wasn’t sure what it did. The words distilled chaos wasn’t really a good descriptor.

But I could use a little chaos right now.

I popped the lid on the vial and downed the iridescent liquid in one mouthful, hoping it wouldn’t just kill me on the spot.

For a moment, it felt like it might. My skin rippled, twitching and lurching like there was something underneath it. The sensation was frighteningly similar to when the Word had turned against me, forcing my body to implode in on itself.

But when light burst through my skin, it wasn’t just a searing purple, but all colors of the rainbow.

Six shades. They looked like me, they were connected to me. Each holding a staff, each wearing my armor. But they felt hollow and empty to my Perception, just images.

When they attacked, it was perfectly real.

I recognized the movements from my own techniques. When one of them surged into Wrath I could feel the flicker in my own body. Another one spun, slamming into the Champ with its heel and driving him backward, powered by the stance of anger.

They battered at him, each a burst of movement that was quickly used up. One of them even used the same uppercut that I’d clocked him with earlier, a borrowed move of a borrowed move. Another followed up with a swing of the staff, swiping at his heels. He bellowed his frustration, stepping back again and again, the crowd parting hurriedly to get out of the way of his weighty steps.

The final shade, a cool blue, stood by me without attacking. It took a single, deep breath, and then entered Calm stance. The fire I sensed was immediately dampened, and then every single shade vanished, and the emotions crashed down on me in a chaotic swirl.

This was my opening. He was shaking his head, trying to clear the ringing.

I Vaulted forward, and spoke the Word in midair.

CLEAVE

To separate

I landed on his chest in full, glowing Divinity, and crashed into him with the full weight of my Battle Hymn, which had been building this whole time.

Even so, he still didn’t fall, and his armor didn’t break. It dented around my feet, and made a terrible noise, but didn’t break. He only took a few steps backward, to regain his balance, parting the crowd like wood around an axe.

And that was all I needed, because there was nowhere left to step but open air.

As his foot left the solid stone and met only void, he swung up toward me with his sword, a flailing, desperate move.

I was already gone, leaping backwards from his chest like a springboard, hurling myself toward the safety of the ledge.

“YOU IDIOT—“ He howled, teetering on one heel.

And then he was gone, plummeting over the edge into the distant City below.

The Divinity left me, satisfied.

Everything was quiet. The crowd stared at the spot where he had been, as if unable to believe that he was gone. Then they turned to me. Dozens of eyes, wide, narrowed, fearful, angry. Romeo was at the forefront, dagger still clutched in one hand.

Finally, he lifted it, pointing it at me. “Come on, then! Before she gets away!”

But only a few stepped forward. And they stopped, uncertain, upon seeing they were alone.

“What are you waiting for? She’s… she’s right there!” Frustration, desperation, creeping into his voice. “We can get her together, she can’t stop all of us!”

He even moved toward me on his own, ready to start the assault. But a hand grabbed his arm, keeping him back. Pointy, with a face full of terror.

He stopped too, then.

Suddenly, I felt very tired. “I’m leaving.” I said, surprised not to hear it in my voice. “I’m not coming back.”

“But you will.” Romeo retorts, spitting the words.

“I…”

I didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Then I wish you luck.” Was all I could manage.

And then I turned to walk away.

Nobody stopped me, nobody attacked. Nobody protested when I retrieved my chain, or when I stopped by the wreckage of the Automaton and picked up something that looked important, a little pyramid with glowing runes.

Nobody followed me as I walked into the tunnels of the Beyond, the land of the gods.

I remembered when I first walked into the city, how excited I’d been to see people, civilization.

Now?

Now I was just glad to be alone.

END OF ACT II

[nightowlwriting]

summary: caleb is not so sure that he deserves the kindness you've done for him. you're sure that he deserves so much more, and you plan to show him in small increments so that you don't scare him away. the shopping trip is only the beginning. (part 3/13 of the kindness series, a thematically connected series of c2/exu imagines)

word count: 2.1k

warnings: caleb's low self-esteem, mentions of political corruption, set early in c2

note: i am only on ep16 of c2 so that's where we're at folks, also my german is so so so rusty so uhhh hope it's right but any germans want to correct me feel free lmfao

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Caleb Widogast is a jumpy, jumpy man. You assume it’s for good reason - he’d confided in the group that he met Nott in jail and, well, typically people don’t go to jail unless they’ve done something.

(Although, the more that you adventure with the Mighty Nein you’re not so sure that’s true. It seems like corruption runs deep in the Empire, and you’ve only scratched the surface.)

Still, he is far jumpier than even Nott, and she’s a goblin in the Empire. You watch him, sometimes, and cringe when he flinches. It’s not pity that makes you start being nice to Caleb, but that does color your actions in the beginning. You are of the firm belief that he is a good person, that all of the Nein are, and that they deserve kindness. Caleb most of all. He is so hard on himself and no amount of coaxing from the rest of the group can get him to ease up. Not even Nott, and she functions as his pseudo-mother. But you want him to loosen up, want more of those moments where he makes a joke with a straight face, only to crack a small smile when the group looks away from him. (You try not to look away, craving those moments where you can see the smile light up his face.) When your group arrives in Zadash, you make it your mission to get Caleb to feel some sort of positive emotions about himself.

Or some sort of positive emotion that’s not scarred by whatever happened in his past. You want him to be happy, to heal from whatever keeps him held back from joking with the rest of you. It doesn’t even matter if he reciprocates how you feel about him - you don’t really care. You can love him from afar, be kind to him, and that will be enough for you. He doesn’t have to fall in love with you like you’ve fallen in love with him, really, that’s not why you’re doing this. This being stopping by Pumat’s shop to pick up some more spell scrolls for him with your gold. He had been muttering to himself the last time you were all in about not having enough money, but you hadn't wanted to embarrass him by purchasing them on his behalf, so a separate trip it is. Pumats, all of them, seem to know what you’re doing because they smile when you tuck the scrolls under your cloak and sweep out of the shop.

Your next stop is an ink shop, where you pick up some more ink and incense for Caleb. You’re not really sure how his magic works because it’s not something he was born with or given by a God, but you know that he’s always looking for good ink, parchment, and incense. Just because you don’t understand doesn’t mean that you can’t be supportive. You hope that’s what Caleb will get out of your gift, and not anything else. After you gather the magic supplies - you’d asked specifically for the things that wizards use just to make sure - you make your way to the Chastity’s Nook. Maybe Caleb was joking about wanting to be titillated while he learns, but you feel better safe than sorry.

The worker there is incredibly nice, if not shy, and helps you pick out something educational, historical, and terribly smutty. It makes you blush when you glance through it, but it seems to be the right balance of the things that Caleb has expressed interest in before. (Even if that might be fake - you’re not totally sure. Still, it can not hurt to try.) She even wraps it up nicely for you, offering to wrap your other gifts too. That might be too much, so you decline, but you still pass her a few more silver as a tip. You’ve never been so nervous as you are when you make your way back to the tavern where you’re staying, but it’s almost easy to keep your cool and mask the absolute terror you feel when Caleb is sitting with the group, eating dinner. You were kind of counting on him being in his room, reading, but you don’t let his sudden appearance stop you. Jester spots you first, patting the empty seat between her and Nott, calling your name. You slip into it, easily concealing your gifts behind your back. “Where did you go?”

A sly smile slips onto your face as you reach forward, taking a portion of the food they’d ordered, “Oh, you know, around.”

“You smell like perfume,” Beau leans over Nott and sniffs you, making a slightly disgusted face, “Why do you smell like perfume?”

“I went shopping,” You cut in before Jester and Molly can interject with salacious theories, “That shopping happened to be in the Tri-Spire, thank you very much.” Caleb raises an eyebrow, sharing a look with Fjord, but you ignore it. “What did you guys do today?” You don’t really listen - only enough to hum or nod as they’re speaking - because you’re focused on figuring out a plan to get your gifts to Caleb without the others noticing or making him feel like you’re doing it out of pity, or that he owes you. You just want him to be happy that he’s getting a gift. It’s later, when everyone has cleared out, that Jester shakes your shoulder lightly, calling your name.

“Are you okay?” Her dark blue eyebrows pull down over her eyes, incredibly worried, “You didn’t talk at all during dinner.” You take her hand in yours, squeezing it briefly.

“I’m fine, Jessie. I think I might head to bed, though.” You give her a hug before heading up to your room, looking over your shoulder just before you hit the stairs to see if Caleb had gone to bed when you had zoned out. He’s easy to find in the corner, nose deep in a book, and you grin. That makes everything so much easier, especially since Nott is tucked into the booth next to him. That means that their room is completely empty and a perfect place to drop the gifts without any of the unnecessary baggage that might come with giving them to him face to face. You don’t even think about the fact that he might have warded his room until it’s too late. (That being until you watch the string snap around your ankles when you make it four steps into the room.)

But, damnit, you have a mission to complete. There’s at least a minute before Caleb makes it to the stairs and perhaps another half a minute before he hits the door. You set the things up on what you think is Caleb’s bed a little messier than you wanted but you’re running out of time. The door is a no-go to leave, and you can hear Caleb bounding up the steps. You whirl, tugging your cloak tightly around you as you debate jumping through the window instead of opening it. In the end that will just draw an entirely different reaction than you want, so you settle for slamming the window up and slinging one leg over the sill. Caleb’s room is on the second floor, so the fall might hurt a little bit, but Caleb is right outside the door, so you don’t have any other choices-

“Was machst du in meinem Zimmer!?” He bellows, hands already engulfed in flame, when he kicks the door open. It startles you off of the window sill, luckily into the room instead of out. You pop up, hands raised and already talking.

“Okay, I don’t know what you’re saying but I didn’t know you had your room warded, I was just trying to give you the things that I bought you today, and then by the time I realized it was too late because I couldn’t just leave without giving you the stuff, because then you’d be scared-” Caleb extinguishes the flames that had started to crawl up his arms, shutting the door as he comes closer to the bed. You scramble to your feet, snagging your cloak in your hands to twist it nervously. “-I should leave now, excuse me.” You do your best to skirt around him but Caleb holds up a hand, eyes on the pile of loot you’ve left on his bed. He wraps a warm hand around your wrist to keep you in place as he tries to process what’s happening.

“What is on my bed?” Caleb finally looks toward you then, eyebrows furrowed as he watches you nervously fidget with your robe, biting your lower lip. “I am not mad, but what do you mean things you bought me?” He gestures loosely with the other hand and you take a step closer to him and the bed. You weren’t ready for being confronted with Caleb, despite how much you thought about what you might say to him in a situation like this. You almost swallow your tongue trying to figure out what to say to him.

“I bought you things,” You blurt, “Because you deserve it. I’m not sure if it’s all the right things, but I tried and even if you can’t use them for, you know, magic things you can use them for other stuff-” You watch as he makes his way over to the pile and begins rifling through it, mumbling to himself in Zemnian. “I’m not doing this out of pity, or anything,” You move to his side, peeking over as he skims through the book you bought, “I did it because I want to, I promise.” You wring your hands and look off to the side, avoiding watching the way he’s pouring over what you’ve bought, “You weren’t even really supposed to know they’re from me, honestly, I just wanted to do something nice for you because you deserve kindness-”

“-I am not so sure about that,” Caleb turns to you, catching your attention. He smiles, but it’s weak, when he looks at the small pile you’ve bought for him, “The spells will be useful for the group, but the rest… You are too kind.”

“I’m not!” Perhaps on instinct, you reach out and clasp his wrists in your hands, “No, Caleb, please. I didn’t do this to make you feel bad, I want you to feel good. You’re so bright, Caleb, and so amazing that I just want you to feel a fraction of the happiness you make me feel.” He hesitates so you press on, taking the chance to step closer to him as your heart takes off at a breakneck pace in your chest. “Please, don’t feel guilty. I did this because I want to, okay? I want to make you happy and make you smile, and make you feel good because it makes me feel good. You don’t have to do - to do anything and if you want, I’ll stop. You just say the word and I’ll stop, but I see you, Caleb.” Your voice breaks off as your eyes mist over. He looks awe-inspired at you, not stepping away or pulling from your grasp, “I see you. I see the way you bite back jokes, and sometimes they slip through. I see the way you care for us, for Nott. I see the way you sacrifice yourself in everything you do because you don’t feel like you deserve to be happy, but you do. Please, you are such a good man - I can see it. I can feel it, Caleb. You deserve the world’s largest kindness, but if I can’t give that to you I’ll give you small kindnesses, if you’ll let me.” Your lip quivers and your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper when you decide to fling yourself off the metaphorical cliff you’ve found yourself on, “Caleb Widogast, I wish to give you never-ending small kindnesses not only because you deserve them, but because I love you. I am in love with you.” The difference sits heavy in the air between you as you watch Caleb process everything that you’ve said.

“You… Are you in love with me?”

“Undoubtedly.” You confirmed, whispering. He’s stepped toward you a fraction of an inch, but it puts the both of you nearly chest to chest. “I have never been so sure of something, Caleb.”

“I enjoy the way you say my name.” He confesses. You watch in wonder as red begins to crest from underneath his facial hair, coloring his cheeks a rosy, pretty pink. He tries to look away, but you duck your head to try and keep some semblance of eye contact. Your hands tremble in his.

“I’ll say it forever, then,” You try to smile, but you really only manage an upward quiver of your lips, “Every day, if you’ll accept my kindness.”

“Es wird schwer,” Caleb says under his breath as he shuffles even closer to you, “Es wird so schwer, aber ich werde es versuchen.” You’re not totally sure what he’s saying, but when he presses a terrified, hesitant kiss against your lips the message comes across loud and clear.

[ask-fantasy-sanders-sides]

So, wait, toes Remus know that Virgil is a dragon too?? if he does, did Virgil tell him or did he just figure it out?

It wasn’t too long after their escape from the prison complex that Remus got irritated.

He didn’t regret dragging the strange assassin along — after all, Remus probably wouldn't have been able to escape without him — but he was getting more and more frustrated with his lack of response to...well, anything.

Remus has attempted more than once to scare and/or gross the stranger out with diatribes of gore and violence, but that hasn't phased him at all. Really, Remus thinks he probably should have expected that response from a dark-elven warrior, but it was a little jarring to have his usual monologues accepted with little more than a cursory glare. It didn't help that he had to speak to the soldier in the goblin language, which neither of them knew well enough to share many complex ideas.

Then, there were his rages. Remus wasn't really himself in that state, and he knew he was quite the sight to those who had never heard of a barbarian. He's pretty sure that if he had some foggy awareness of the assassin being disgusted or even mildly intrigued by his berserk mode, he would have remembered them. As it stands, nothing.

Then, there was his trump card: The first time Remus let out his true form and went berserk on a few guards, the assassin barely even noticed the difference. Remus dismissed it at the time, assuming they had just been busy doing their thing and hadn’t seen him do it. But, as they were sneaking away from the castle spires the next day and he had to dispose of some noble-looking witnesses, Remus definitely saw the assassin look at his wings.

Still he made absolutely no reaction! He doesn’t seem to react to much of anything, unless he’s being mad at Remus for yelling too loud or missing a swing. Admittedly, being able to spark annoyance in the stuck-up soldier is a little fun, but even his moments of anger are few and far between.

This is the first and only time someone has seen Remus’s kick-ass undead angel wings and not had a damn thing to say about it, and Remus can honestly say he hates it.

So, now that they’re finally outside of the Colony walls (and Remus doesn’t have to worry about the assassin chewing him out for making a scene,) Remus smirks deviously at the unsuspecting drow.

“Hey! Watch this,” Remus shouts, then closes his eyes to focus.

He reaches deep inside himself to connect with that boiling mass of discordant energy — a frothing core of divine light that’s spoiling rotten and necrotic, burning away the mold, healing, and then spoiling again, over and over with each beat of his two hearts. As he’s practiced ever since he was a child, Remus grabs that energy and pulls it out, dismissing a weight in his stomach that he hardly notices until it's time to let go.

The instinctual protective glamor that hides his true form dissolves in the firelight of his true essence, as bone-like angel wings, void-like eyes, and a tidal wave of smoke pour out of Remus like air from a popped balloon. A sickly green glow outlines his irises, his scars, and emblazons the emblem of a sword over his chest. He can feel it as the energy unfurls, how the world spins and sears into focus, how his senses grow sharp and breathing is suddenly so much easier than it’s ever been before. This is what he truly is, how he really looks, and it is a figure that strikes fear and awe in every creature who has the misfortune of seeing it.

All except one. Apparently.

The assassin simply stares at Remus, stone-still as Remus’s whole fucked up magical girl cutscene plays out point-blank in front of him. The fear-inducing necrotic gas rolls past the assassin's feet and into his lungs, but nothing happens. A few seconds pass, and he still hasn’t moved, but he’s clearly not gone into shock or anything of the kind.

Eventually, the assassin gets the impression that Remus is expecting a response. So, he cocks his hip out to one side and folds his arms, mimicking the facial expression that he’s gathered humans make when they’re confused: a pointed eyebrow raise.

(Given his usual glowering expression, it comes across more like sass.)

The minute passes, and though Remus feels the smoke dissipate and his eyes and scars return to normal with a sinking feeling in his gut, the wings remain. Instead of dismissing them, Remus throws his arms out wide with a growl,

“Seriously? That’s it? You’re not scared!”

“Scared?” The assassin parrots lowly.

A wide smile stretches across his lightly-freckled face. In the space of a blink he’s behind Remus, gently peeling the barbarian’s tattered shirt away to get a better look at the base of his wings.

He lays one ice-cold hand against the divot between them, touching him clinically, like he’s trying to figure out how solid Remus's wings are. His hand smooths gently across the stump where flesh gives way to semi-transparent bone before Remus's brain catches up. He shrieks and jumps away from him,

“What the shit are you doing?!” Remus squeaks, eyes wide as saucers. He would be more embarrassed by how absolutely unthreatening he sounds right now if he didn’t still feel the shape of that hand on him like a brand.

(He decides that this is more because of the supernatural nature of his wings, and not because Remus hasn't been touched that carefully by another person since he was like eleven. He doesn’t have time to unpack that feeling whatsoever.)

“You told me to look.” The assassin teases, openly laughing at Remus’s expense.

Then, — and Remus could swear he’s doing it slowly just to make sure Remus sees him — the soldier takes a deep exhale, and his purple eye flashes a soft glow. Suddenly, his body evaporates until he is a cloud of shadowy smoke. This smoke quickly blends in with the surrounding darkness of the cavern, and before Remus can get a word in edgewise, the assassin has re-solidified and is poking his back again.

“StoOOP TOuching me!” Remus yelps and spins around to face him, face red as blood and hands up in a defensive position, “Since when could you do that?!”

The assassin rolls his eyes at this, his hands falling to his sides. Now he takes a moment to think, before reaching down to untie his dagger belt and pull his tunic loose.

“What are you doing?” Remus protests louder, covering his eyes with his hands.

The assassin doesn’t respond.

Though he’s reciting curses in his head and trying very hard to respect this stranger’s privacy, Remus’s curiosity quickly gets the better of him.

He peeks out between his fingers to find the soldier shirtless, his white hair parted and pulled over his shoulders. He looks up at Remus with a completely unimpressed stare.

The assassin reaches out to grab one of Remus’s hands, then turns to show Remus his back.

Remus stares for a moment, eyes tracing the thin, ragged lines of a latticework of scars. They stretch across and around the assassin’s back, some older and some deeper. Most seem to have been inflicted by animals or monsters rather than weapons.

Remus feels no sense of pity at the display — he’s got his own patchwork of scars and his own complicated relationship to them, but over all he sees them more as a mark of survival, as stories to tell. But, he is definitely curious, and his mile-a-minute brain is already spinning outrageous tales to match each and every mark.

Then the assassin guides his hand up towards the top of his back, just alongside his spine. The skin there feels leathery, and significantly warmer than the skin of the elf’s hand, though the heat seems to be emanating from someplace lower on his spine. It’s also slightly off-color, a bit lighter than the skin around it. Whatever this is, this scar is old.

Remus traces the outline of it up, then off to the side as it tapers to a thin line between his shoulder and the base of his neck. The assassin’s ears twitch at the gesture, and Remus’s hand flinches away.

He turns to look at Remus over his shoulder, his neutral grimace returned.

“We are the same. Shadow and wings. You are kitrye'maelthra, right?”

“I don’t know what that is.” Remus frowns, always frustrated when the assassin sneaks an elven word or two into their rare conversations,

“I’m not super good at reading energies, but you don’t feel like an angel… You have wings??”

“No.” He frowns, his gaze becoming soft and distant, “Not anymore.”

“Oh.” Remus sighs, now reeling at the possibilities.

What sort of dark elf grows wings, and how can they be removed? He winces at the phantom pain to his own wings as he parcels through every guess. Did a monster tear them off? The scar was so smooth, it seemed more like they had been burned away with acid. Did he fall into the pit of a living ooze, or maybe it was a punishment from some cruel cultist—

“Yours are broken.” The assassin pries, still staring at him while Remus zoned out.

“Broken? No they're not!”

“You have no skin.” The assassin remarks, like that should have been obvious, “And you look like a ghost.”

“Wait, skin? Like a bat?” Remus laughs, imagining it. He shakes his head, “I’m not supposed to have skin! —Well, I mean, I am, but also feathers. Y’know, like a bird?”

“Bird?” The assassin repeats, like he doesn’t understand the word. He probably doesn’t, goddamn Underdark.

“...Ehh, forget about it. I’ll show you one when we get up there.” Remus shakes his head.

The assassin pulls his tunic back up and re-ties it. While he waits, a sudden thought knocks Remus out of his gruesome imaginings.

He thinks he probably shouldn’t ask, but it takes him all of three seconds to snap and say it anyway,

“Hey,” Remus hums offhandedly, like he’s not extremely invested in knowing the answer, “If you could ‘go ghost’ or whatever this whole time, why didn’t you just poof yourself out of that cell?”

(“And why did you stay to help me?” Remus refuses to add, because he is not that attached to his little stray-criminal monsterboy, goddamnit. He refuses.)

The assassin doesn’t answer or turn back to him, simply staring off in the direction of their path.

Remus huffs and rolls his eyes,

“Fine, damn, keep your secrets. Bet you just can’t hold it that long~”

“Don’t xhandal me, lotha mal'dhalaruk. Usstan orn da'urzotreth dosst et'zarreth.”

“Again, I do not know what the fuck that is.”

[kittyprincessofcats]

She-Ra S5 E09 - An Ill Wind

In which the Best Friend Squad’s back on Etheria and I’m back to writing up my thoughts about it. (The real question is whether I’ll manage to finish these posts before season 5’s one-year-anniversary.) I probably really don’t need to say this anymore, but there might be spoilers for the rest of the season in this post.

- I think it’s funny how Catra can’t stand teleporting, but what’s even more important is how visibly concerned for her Adora is each time. Have you seen how she touches Catra’s shoulders and looks at her with such a worried expression? D’awww.

- “Wow, you don’t trust the princesses? I am shocked.” No Glimmer, Catra’s 100% right. This has nothing to do with trusting the princesses; you really don’t know who’s chipped and which places are occupied by clones. Perfuma literally told you the rebellion was compromised.

- “Catra’s right.” THANK YOU, ADORA! (Also, I love Catra’s satisfied little smirk in the background when Adora says this.)

- I just paused the episode when they arrive in Erelandia and counted the Horde flags you can see hanging all over the town: 14, plus one giant Horde sign in the sky and a spire not too far away. Prime, are you compensating for something? (Also, Adora has an arm on Catra’s back again. Cute.)

- Is it a little disappointing that all the rebellions against Horde Prime on other planets got reduced to one brief exposition scene where a clone mentions they’re happening and a few quick images? Yeah. But I also get why the show just didn’t have the time for more and wanted to focus on Etheria.

- Speaking of, are those the magicats we see in the second image? Interesting… I’m not sure how I feel about the idea of Catra potentially being an alien as well. But then again, the show never clearly answers it one way or another, and there’s no reason magicats couldn’t have existed on multiple planets.

- Also, am I understanding this right: The Star Siblings started the intergalactic rebellion after meeting the Best Friend Squad? And now there are already rebels on several planets? Nice job, Star Siblings!

- “My heart aches for these misguided children.” I’m not sure if I’ve ever properly addressed the heavily religious symbolism around Horde Prime and his cult, but… that right there is *such* a Christian-extremist-coded line, holy hell…

- So Prime says he wants to use the Heart of Etheria “to bring peace to all the universe” and at this point I’m not entirely sure what his exact goal is. Does he just want to destroy all the planets with the Heart? Because I’ll be honest, I tend to find “I just want to destroy everything” a bit boring as a motivation in villains. What’s the point of him ruling the universe if there’s no one left to rule over? I mean, I know Prime had his whole “If there’s no one left, there are no wars, etc.” speech in an earlier episode, but that’s also just so dumb.

- Where did the Best Friend Squad even get those cloaks? Either way, Catra looks adorable with the outline of her ears showing under the hood. 🥺

- “I hope you, too, are full only of love for Horde Prime… and have no crippling doubt eating at your soul.” / “Brothers, there is nothing to see here!” Like I said in an earlier post, all of Wrong Hordak’s lines are absolute winners. Also, I love how the other clones just keep falling for his very obvious bluffs.

- Wrong Hordak learning to wink so quickly makes me jealous because I can’t wink. (No, I really can’t; I’ve tried. Whenever I try to only close one eye, I always end up closing both. If anyone has good advice on learning to wink, let me know.)

- I love the character designs of the mushroom people.

- Catra wasn’t wrong about the locals selling them out and not telling them anything useful. The others should listen to her more.

- Bow posing as the “average traveler passing though” is especially funny because I’m pretty sure there are no “travelers passing through” in times of Horde Prime.

Catra: “A town that hates princesses? Should I buy property here?”

Everyone else: *glares*

Catra: “Is what I would have said before I joined you. Go, team.”

😂😂😂 Catra’s quiet little “Go, team” in the end is what gets me most about this moment 😂. She’s adorable and trying her best, okay?

- I love how Wrong Hordak just calls everyone “brother” regardless of gender. Also, Adora’s little “Did you just wink at me?” / “That’s not how winking works!” moments are hilarious and adorable.

- “You’re wearing hooded cloaks, it’s highly suspicious.” Okay, mushroom lady’s not wrong, though. And I love how someone finally points this out, since hooded cloaks are so often used as “undercover” disguises in shows like this.

- That said, both she and mushroom guy earlier did try to sell the Best Friend Squad out super quickly. Like, I get that the locals are scared, but still… They could have tried to stay safe without running towards the clones to tell them everything right away.

- I’m just noticing that Erelandia has mushrooms everywhere. Obviously the people are mushrooms, but there are also mushrooms growing outside in the streets everywhere, and the shop they’re in is selling mushrooms and clothes with mushrooms on them as well.

- Both Bow and Glimmer blowing their covers almost immediately and Adora just quietly shaking her head at both of them in the background is amazing.

- Love Catra (and Melog) just casually stealing a mushroom from a mushroom lady.

- So Catra’s just chilling in a tree and eating stolen mushrooms and Entrapta wants to analyze samples that’ll be ready in 4-6 weeks – neither of them’s really helping right now. But then again, Catra wanted to leave in the first place because she thought the locals would sell them out (and she was right about that), so she probably thinks it’s not worth the effort.

- Also, you know who this scene with Entrapta and Catra is missing? Scorpia. If there is one problem I have with season 5, it’s that we didn’t get any Super Pal Trio reunion / moments with all of them on the same side now. (Or just in general, that we didn’t get to see Scorpia and Catra properly talking things out.)

- “That’s the windy one, right?” Okay, am I the only one who finds this line weird? Spinnerella literally has Adora, Bow and Glimmer trapped in a tornado as Entrapta says this. Obviously she’s “the windy one”? Entrapta can literally see that??

- “Lord Prime has given me peace.” Oh, I’m just realizing that’s just what Catra said when she was chipped. That’s got to be awful for Adora to hear again.

- Glimmer grabbing Bow and Adora’s hands and teleporting them out of the tornado was badass.

Adora: “How are we supposed to fight our own friends?”

Catra: “It never stopped you before.”

OMG. I love that Catra still considers their time as enemies as “being friends”.

- I really love Netossa’s entrance. What makes it really cool to me is that at that point the Best Friend Squad didn’t even know if there were any unchipped princesses left, so Netossa jumping in there with a casual “Welcome back, guys” was just an amazing moment.

- Also, I don’t know if I’ve said this before, but I really like that this season finally made Spinnerella and Netossa more important characters. (And I wonder how much network censorship of LGBT+ storylines had to do with them not being that important earlier on.)

- Hordak getting flashbacks of Entrapta again (while Prime looks at his older body’s memories) is just 🥺. I like how Prime talks about Etheria while Hordak slowly remembers more and more about his own life on Etheria.

- “So, the only person I’m fighting here is… my own wife.” I love the on-screen confirmation that they’re married! But also, Netossa wanting to attack Catra and Wrong Hordak at first was pretty funny.

- Catra and Glimmer’s respective expressions when they hear about Scorpia and Micah being chipped are a gut punch. Also, Netossa talking about how she has to get Spinnerella back is making me tear up.

- “Where are the rebels?” “Right beside you!” 😂😂😂 Amazing, just amazing.

- Love to see Catra taking out those bots. She’s so badass ❤️.

- “Be careful.” “Always am.” I wonder at what point Netossa started to realize what’s going on between Catra and Adora.

- Love Netossa whistling at She-Ra’s new look. Your wife’s right there, darling. But then again, who wouldn’t whistle at She-Ra’s new look?

- Honestly, why did anyone ever say Spinnerella and/or Netossa were weak? Their fight here really shows how powerful both of them are when they don’t hold back.

- “Stop holding back. She won’t.” Looking past how hard this must be for Netossa, this line really sums up why so many characters in shows like this seemingly become more powerful when they turn evil (or less powerful when they turn good): Because the bad guys have no reason to hold back.

- Adora firing a rainbow beam from her sword was amazing. I wish we’d gotten to see a bit more of She-Ra’s new powers this season.

- “Please. I love you. Come back to me.” I’m crying 😢. That’s a nice first taste of all the “I love you”s to come in the finale. And I love that it works (even if just for a bit). The whole “power of love helps you break free from mind control” thing might be a cliché, but it’s a cliché I love, so…yay, awesome!

- But also, and I’ll probably talk about this more when I get to the next episode (that I had a few problems with), I like how Netossa doesn’t only rely on the power of love, but still realizes she has to first fight Spinnerella without holding back to get her into a position where they can even have this talk.

- Yay, mushroom town is saved!

- Catra reassuring Netossa that Spinnerella will be okay was so sweet. She’s really trying to be nice and I think she’s doing great 🥺. (Also, Adora looks at her so proudly.)

- I just noticed that when She-Ra replaces the Horde symbol in the sky with her sword symbol, all the Horde flags around town are already gone, too. Did Catra, Glimmer and the others just like… take all of those flags down in between fighting the bots? Or did Wrong Hordak maybe walk around taking off the flags while the others were fighting?

- That said, the rainbow sword in the sky looks amazing.

- “I think Horde Prime is going to know She-Ra’s back.” “Good.” Love Adora’s determined expression here.

- Geez Horde Prime, no need to punch the screen. The screen didn’t do anything to you.

- Okay, so Horde Prime finally decides to go to Etheria himself, and when he announces that, Hordak looks at the crystal in his hand – it’s all coming together.

- “This is where the rebellion is hiding out?” “Yup. Why, have you been here?” The looks on Glimmer and Catra’s faces here are amazing. People have of course already written all kinds of amazing metas analyzing their expressions, but the short version is that Glimmer seems to remember their fight fondly, while Catra seems embarrassed.

- Perfuma trapping them all in vines and demanding to see their necks is not only hilarious, but also shows that the rebellion has learned from their past mistakes. 👍

- All of their reunions (Bow and Perfuma, Glimmer and Frosta, Adora and Swift Wind, Entrapta and Emily) were super sweet – I like big reunion scenes 🥺. Wrong Hordak meeting Emily was adorable. Perfuma clinging to Bow and crying about how she doesn’t want to be in charge anymore had me laughing so hard 😂.

- Okay so, I know Frosta’s punch breaks the mood a moment later, but I really think Adora wanting to officially introduce Catra to everyone after seeing her standing there alone while everyone else was having big reunions was super sweet. The way her face falls when she sees Catra standing there sadly, the way she asks her to come here so gently… it’s just so sweet. 🥺

- Also, unpopular opinion, but am I the only one who didn’t really find Frosta punching Catra funny? (And the same goes for Scorpia electrocuting her in the next episode, by the way.) I know these moments are meant to be cathartic “drag the former villain because some people are still mad at them” moments, but Catra’s whole story is largely about being a victim of physical abuse. Wasn’t there some way for the story to make fun of her without having other characters physically assault her? I like how Catra’s redemption was handled overall, but moments like those kind of rub me the wrong way. (Netossa trapping her in a net was fine though, because that didn’t actually harm her.)

- That said, Adora’s “Catra’s with us now. Okay? Hmm.” was hilarious. I love how she just gives the briefest explanation and then turns away from Frosta with a smile and little “hmm”, just completely expecting Frosta to be fine with this now.

- That ending shot of all of them together is epic.

So, what changed this episode is that Erelandia was freed, the space group has reunited with the remaining princesses, and Horde Prime is heading for Etheria. Good episode!

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[beauregardlionett]

star-crossed lovers and other tragedies made right

AO3 Link

One of Beauregard Lionett’s earliest memories was of her parents sitting her down and telling her she would one day be wed in matters of business rather than love. Her mother had taken Beau’s tiny hands in her own delicate ones and told her to never fall in love. Her father, with his eyes hard and unforgiving, warned her to always be on her best behavior. She could never remember what age she had been, but the lofty dollhouse from her fourth birthday still sat in the corner of her bedroom.

Perhaps that had been her harbinger, because not long after, her memories of Yasha began.

Beau’s family estate was in Kamordah, but four times a year, they made the brief trip to Zadash for business and personal matters alike. It was there, among the sprawling, weaving streets of the Pentamarket, that they met. Beau had ducked from her mother’s side to go exploring, rucking up her skirts with distaste as she went. Though she never got to explore on her own before, she was enthralled by the array of options before her. Pristine tents alongside ramshackle booths, steaming baked goods and glittering jewelry hawked with the same enthusiasm as mere trinkets. Her bones all but vibrated with the resonance and life that defined the market streets.

Rounding a corner, Beau’s eye caught on a stall selling trinkets and flowers and bolts of fabric. She trotted her way over, the tiny coin purse she had hidden at her waist jingling quietly. Beau eyed up the trinkets with interest, pushed onto her tiptoes to view the toys. As she stood inspecting the spread on the short table, a flash of white in Beau’s peripheral caught her attention.

Turning, Beau blinked wide eyes at the girl beside her. She stood several inches taller than Beau and looked a few years older. Her hair was shockingly white and her clothing rather plain in style and color. Beau envied that she got to wear breeches while she was stuck with her dress. The flowers assorted behind the table caught the girl’s attention, and Beau tried to return her focus to the trinkets. But they didn’t seem to have the same allure now as they had before the girl walked up.

“May I have one of those?” A soft voice spoke from the direction of the girl. Beau flicked a look sideways, surprised that for all her sturdiness, she sounded so sweet.

“Three copper,” the stall owner croaked, reaching for the stem.

“Oh,” the girl hesitated, catching her lower lip between her teeth and clenching a fist. “I only have two.”

“Here,” Beau spoke before she even thought the action through. She dug her neatly embroidered coin purse free of her belt and produced a copper piece. Holding it out to the girl beside her, Beau didn’t smile, just waited expectantly.

“Thank you,” the girl whispered, cheeks pink. “But I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” Beau shrugged, growing a little impatient. “It’s my allowance, and I want you to take it for the flower.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Beau sighed in a manner her mother would have a fit over. “My arm is getting tired, do you want the flower or not?”

With great hesitation, the white-haired girl reached out and took the copper piece from Beau. The stall owner flicked a look between the two before snatching the coin from the girl’s hand and passing over the bloom. Trinkets forgotten, Beau trot after the girl who had retreated a few shy steps from the stall.

“What’s your name?”

“Yasha,” the girl blinked down at Beau, confused rather than annoyed by her continued presence. “Thank you for helping me. What’s your name?”

Beau waved the girl’s gratitude away, unfamiliar with how she might accept it.

“It was just a copper piece,” Beau said, noticing now that Yasha had two different colored irises. “I’m Beau.”

“I suppose,” Yasha agreed, weaving the long stem of the flower between her fingers. “I forgot my coin purse at the inn, so I only had a few on me.”

“Where are you staying?” Beau inquired, keeping pace with Yasha as they strode through the bustling market streets. She wondered briefly if her mother was frantic over her missing daughter yet or not.

“The Lodge of the Eclipse,” Yasha’s voice pulled Beau back. “My parents are in town for business.”

Lips twisting, Beau kicked a loose stone in her path, tracking it as it skittered between patrons’ feet. “Mine too, but we’re staying at the Pillow Trove.”

If Yasha understood the implications of her family’s wealth and status by that comment, she didn’t show it. The girl continued weaving the flower stem through her fingers and trudged alongside Beau. She was never very good at conversation with others, one of the many reasons Beau lacked any friends back home. Thankfully, the lively chatter of the market streets filled the silence between them as they walked.

Eventually, they happened upon a small group of children playing a game with a tattered leather ball on a small off-shoot path. Perking up, Beau turned to Yasha and pointed with excitement.

“Do you want to play? We should ask them!”

Yasha looked at the flower in her hands and pressed her lips together in a thin line. Beau looked down at the bloom and then back at Yasha’s face.

“If you’re worried about it, I could put it in one of your braids.” While Beau’s mother had styled her daughter’s braids with great care into a firm, intricate bun, Yasha’s hair was mostly loose. There were braids and twists scattered throughout her mess of white hair, and Beau envied the freedom she could see in the style. She was never allowed to wear her hair the way she wanted to.

But Yasha handed over the flower and crouched for Beau to weave it through one of the older girl’s braids with clumsy fingers. Once it was secure, she grabbed Yasha’s hand and dragged her over to the other children. They eyed Beau’s skirts with hesitation at first, but when she proved the awful dress didn’t hinder her dexterity, they were eager to add more players.

She reveled in the freedom of being able to play with other children, laughing with abandon and working to help her team maintain their lead over the other. Even Yasha’s timid uncertainty vanished after a few minutes, her multi-colored eyes sparkling as she laughed along. A few adults paused their errands to watch them play, cheering one team or another on before going about their business. Others wove hastily through their game with a sneer and without a backward glance.

For once in her life, Beau didn’t care.

As they played, the sun passing on its journey above them, Beau’s foot caught on a loose cobblestone and she went tumbling to the ground. With a loud oof of impact, Beau lay stunned for a moment. Blinking against the disorientation, she winced and hissed at the sharp sting of pain on her knee. When she tugged her skirt up enough to see what happened, Beau found a jagged shard of stone pressed into her skinned knee. She tugged it free with a flinch as Yasha knelt in front of her, very obviously concerned.

“I’m okay,” Beau reassured her, voice shaky with fading adrenaline. “It just stings.”

Yasha caught her lower lip between her teeth before reaching out to place her hands on either side of Beau’s knee. With a deep breath and a low pulse of light, the blood vanished to leave behind the faintest outline of broken skin. The stinging faded rapidly, and the sharp pain replaced with a mere dull ache.

“Whoa,” Beau breathed, blue eyes wide. “How did you do that?”

With a shrug, Yasha helped tug Beau to her feet, looking bashful. “I’ve always been able to do it.”

Before Beau could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps against the cobblestone reached them over the hum of the market.

“Beauregard!” Her mother’s voice made Beau’s little shoulders tense. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick! What happened to your dress? Young lady, you are in so much trouble.”

Clara’s soft hand clamped around Beau’s arm and yanked her away from Yasha. The woman knelt to inspect her daughter with fitful motions and sweeping hands, attempting to brush the worst of the dirt from the dress. Moments later, satisfied that Beau seemed at least in one piece, the frustration and anger returned to her expression.

“I was just playing, mom,” Beau grumbled, twisting her fingers through her ruined dress. “You were looking at boring stuff.”

“Beauregard, you—” Clara cut herself off with a strained sigh, shaking her head. She shoved to her feet and held out an expectant hand. “Let’s go, young lady. Your father is expecting us for dinner.”

Beau knew better than to keep her mother waiting, but she twisted to look over her shoulder at Yasha and the other children, anyway. The street kids were many steps back, eyeing Clara with hesitant distrust in the way children often do with harried strangers. But Yasha stood exactly where Beau left her, eyes flitting between mother and daughter. The hum of the market never ceased around them, but Beau felt distinctly detached from that buzz now.

“See you later,” Beau said with a wry quirk of her lips, waving shortly as her mother took firm hold of Beau’s hand. Even as Clara dragged her back through the Pentamarket toward the Tri-Spire and their hotel, Beau looked over her shoulder at Yasha until she could no longer see her new friend.

--

The next time Beau found herself back in Zadash with her parents, she slipped away yet again. And by chance, ran into Yasha once more. Beau had eagerly rushed to her, happy to be recognized in return, and they spent another day in the market together. This time, however, Beau was smart enough to plan for eventualities. Before they parted ways, she and Yasha agreed on a place to rendezvous anytime they were in the city. She also got Yasha’s address so they could write letters to each other. After all, Beau’s mother had been stressing the importance of keeping in contact with people as of late.

A few years passed this way, Beau and Yasha keeping correspondence and planning meetings in Zadash around their families’ trips. They would roam the Pentamarket and forget their troubles for a while. When they were still children, Beau and Yasha traipsed through the winding aisles of Zadash, peering into stalls with curious fervor and chasing each other through the busy streets. Every time Beau stepped onto the worn cobblestone of the Pentamarket, that undercurrent buzz rushed through her veins. She didn’t know a thing about magic, but Beau figured it was comparable to this.

When Beau was thirteen and Yasha just gone sixteen, they met in the Pentamarket on yet another family trip to Zadash. Beau knew that both of their families were here on business, but she and Yasha remained blissfully ignorant to the inner-workings of their inheritance.

On days she could escape her mother and father, Beau donned her breeches and sleeveless tunic and fled to Yasha’s company. They spent their time in the city together doing whatever pleased their whims, and Beau reveled in the simple pleasure of not having to wear a dress.

On a warm autumn afternoon, after spending their morning meandering, the pair sat just outside a small bakery. They had spent a great deal of time in a shop called The Invulnerable Vagrant. Beau’s former tutor Bren mentioned it in one of his recent letters, and Beau convinced Yasha they should check it out. Of course, they hadn’t the coin or the need for anything in the shop, but the shopkeeper seemed more than happy to have a pleasant conversation with them. Once Beau mentioned she was a friend of Bren’s, the shopkeeper – Pumat – had gone on quite the tangent about how wonderful he was.

With the promise to return the next time they were free and about the Pentamarket, Beau and Yasha had journeyed to the bakery. With warm drinks in hand, they sat across from each other at a small table and shared laughter over their daily adventures.

“Wait, wait,” Beau managed around her ceaseless giggles. “So you’re telling me that a bunny did all that?”

“I think it was a family of bunnies,” Yasha chuckled, turning her drink with idle intent in her hands. “Somehow they got into the grain stores and just...ate way too much. Dad was furious.”

“That’s fucking hysterical,” Beau snorted, leaning back in her chair. “My dad’s lost a lot of his crop to a mudslide before. But we don’t have a lot of forest animals that go after grapes. I’d love to see his face if a bunny did something like that.”

“At the time it was a bit of a problem,” Yasha said with a grin. “But now it’s just really funny.”

As they fell into another fit of giggles, Beau opened her mouth to respond, only to be cut off.

“Beauregard!” Thoreau’s voice reached her, the buzz of the city freezing in her veins. Beau went rigid, jaw clenching, and watched the mirth fade to worry in Yasha’s eyes.

Her father sounded horrendously angry.

Twisting to glance over her shoulder at her father’s approach, Beau couldn’t help but flinch at the expression on his face.

“What have I told you about these escapades of yours? When are you going to grow up?” Thoreau snapped, coming to tower above where Beau sat.

“We’re just talking, dad,” Beau replied, tone clipped.

“With our rival’s daughter, no less,” Thoreau spat. “In public, as if you are friends.”

“Rival?” Beau said, incredulous. She twisted to look at Yasha again, but she seemed as confused as Beau. They barely ever spoke of their family when they were together, because they wanted to forget all that. But Beau knew the von Brandt family had adopted Yasha when she was very young. The details were sparse, but it was something about owing a debt to Yasha’s late parents. Without a biological heir, the von Brandt’s warden was now their next in line.

But as far as Beau knew, the von Brandt family dealt in the trade of ale, so there was hardly any reason for them to consider each other rivals.

“What are you talking about?” Beau spun back to her father, rapidly growing annoyed at her lack of understanding.

“Your family,” Thoreau spat the word at Yasha as if it were a curse. “Has encroached upon my territory as they delve into wine making. Whatever amicable relations we had before are void now. You can make sure your father knows that well.”

Thoreau then reached down to grab Beau’s arm in a bruising grip and yank her to her feet. Stumbling as she did, Beau struggled, peering over her shoulder at Yasha with wide eyes. This couldn’t be happening. The city buzz now entirely lost, the hopeless confusion on her only friend’s face, and her father’s steely grip around her arm…this couldn’t be happening.

“We will no longer associate with the von Brandt family,” Thoreau said firmly, gaze pinned on his daughter. “And I expect you to uphold that, Beauregard. I have tolerated a lot of misbehavior from you, but do not cross this line.”

He glanced pointedly at the breeches she was wearing, as if it proved a point. Thoreau dragged her away from the table, from Yasha.

“Dad!” Beau protested, snapping back into her body at the realization, struggling against his iron grip. “Dad, stop it! This is ridiculous!”

“Do not fight me on this, Beauregard,” Thoreau hissed as he ignored her attempts to get free. “We have an image and a profit to maintain, and those people have betrayed our trust and our companionship by making this choice. If I ever catch you corresponding with their daughter again, you will not like the consequences.”

As a distinct and familiar feeling of desperation settled in her stomach, Beau twisted to look back at Yasha. Her friend stood beside the table, fists clenched and expression pained. This was the second time one of Beau’s parents forced her to leave Yasha behind, neither of them girls able to do anything to stop it from happening. Her stomach clenched unpleasantly at the thought. Beau hoped that the reassuring smile she tried for conveyed everything she wanted to say.

Don’t worry, I won’t let this come between us. We’ll find a way.

--

Beau’s mother had sent her to the Pentamarket alone with a list of errands to complete. The only reason Beau accepted the task was for the slim chance she might find Yasha somewhere in the chaos. That, and so she could catch just a taste, a faint hint of that lively high, the city seemed to collectively breathe.

She couldn’t have been there for more than ten minutes before she spotted a familiar shock of white hair emerging from the Lodge down the street. Sometimes, luck was on Beau’s side.

They had still been sending letters to each other in the months since Thoreau declared they were to never interact. But they had been far more discrete about it all. Moreover, they hadn’t seen each other in person since then either. For Beau, it was torture – stuck with limited contact with her best friend.

From a distance, Beau watched Yasha pause outside the hotel, and decided – fuck it. Her father wasn’t here.

Abandoning her errands, Beau wove hurriedly through the crowded thoroughfare toward Yasha. As she reached between passersby, Beau caught Yasha’s wrist just before the other could walk away. Yasha pivoted, eyes wide and only growing wider when she saw who had grabbed her.

“Beau?” Yasha whispered, taking a step closer. “What are you doing here?”

“Disobeying my father, what else?” Beau grinned, breathless. “Come on, Yash. Let’s spend the day together, like we always do. Our parents never have to know.”

“I don’t know, Beau,” Yasha said slowly, eyes flicking around like someone might see them. “What if we get caught?”

“And what if we don’t?” Beau countered. She felt the nervous thrum of Yasha’s pulse at her wrist where Beau still clung to her. “Yasha, people of our parents’ caliber don’t go to the market themselves. The chances of running into someone who might snitch on us are next to nothing! Are we really going to let our parents and their feud come between us?”

Yasha caught her lower lip between her teeth, but even that didn’t stop the slow smile that grew and made her eyes crinkle. She grinned wildly up at Yasha and pulled her along into the messy livelihood of the Pentamarket, throwing themselves with familiar, childlike fervor into the curiosities that Zadash offered. They stopped to play a ball game with some local kids, laughing freely the way they had when they first met. Yasha bought them both a trost to drink and Beau turned around and bought them both warm pretzels to soak up the ale.

Beau dragged Yasha to a stall that was selling absolutely ridiculous looking hats, both of them trying a few on until they were in stitches. The stall owner chased them off after a minute, looking amused despite sounding annoyed. Beau helped Yasha pick out a hair ornament from another stall, the gems and beads crafted into the shape of a flower. They stopped to catch their breath outside a tavern and Beau helped Yasha pin the ornament among her braids, the scene reminiscent of their first meeting.

“There,” Beau declared triumphantly. “That should hold. It looks beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Yasha murmured, reaching up to brush careful fingers over the hairpin. Some of the gems caught the sun just so as she did. “I still think you should have gotten that necklace.”

“I’m not much one for flashy jewelry,” Beau said, waving away Yasha’s comment as she sat beside her friend. “Plus, the last thing I need is more jewelry, what with how much my mother has stashed away for me. She keeps hoping I’ll have a change of heart.”

“My parents keep hoping I’ll wear dresses more regularly,” Yasha sighed, plucking at the fabric of her breeches at her knee. “But they’re so…impractical for everyday life.”

“That’s what I keep telling my parents,” Beau heaved an exasperated sigh. “But then they keep telling me I shouldn’t be doing things that require breeches. Which is absolute bullshit, if you ask me.”

They sat together outside the tavern for a while longer, watching patrons pass. Beau was acutely aware of the way her shoulder brushed against Yasha’s, the warmth that radiated from her. It was comforting, a sensation that she never wanted to lose. Her veins sang with the slow thrum of Yasha’s warmth intermingling with the hyper hum of Zadash. The heady taste of combined sensations in Beau’s mouth left her feeling high, lightheaded.

“Thank you, Beau,” Yasha eventually spoke up.

“For what?” Beau turned her head just enough to look at Yasha sideways.

“For bringing me with you today. I admit I was...afraid of seeing you again. I didn’t want to get you in trouble. But this was fun, and I’m glad we did this. So, thank you.”

“Yeah,” Beau managed, surprised at the depth in Yasha’s voice. “Of course.”

Beau knew how much Yasha meant to her personally, but it seemed now that she had underestimated how much she meant to Yasha. The thought pulled at something not quite painful behind Beau’s ribs. She decidedly ignored it and looped her arm with Yasha’s when they started walking again. If the warmth of Yasha’s skin on her own felt a little more like home than it had earlier, if the high in her veins only grew, Beau pushed the thoughts aside for a later date.

--

Breezing into the vaulted entryway of her father’s house, breathless and grinning, Beau met no resistance. Her skirts were stained with mud and dirt, the hem frayed and torn in places. Cheeks blotched pink from the biting wind of her horseback ride, Beau kicked her boots to the side, scattering mud across the wooden floor. Gathering her skirts up in a bunch, Beau rushed up the stairs in her stockings, gleeful with the feel of freedom pounding in her veins.

As she tripped into her room, closing the door soundly with a nudge of her hip, Beau set about removing her skirts. She was stripped down to her underclothes, halfway out of her stockings, when the small stack of letters upon her desk caught her eye.

Hopeful that at least one might be from Yasha, Beau hastily tugged her stockings off as she tumbled toward her desk. A quick flip through the letters revealed that they were all from people she knew to be acquainted with her parents. Brow furrowing, Beau placed the unopened letters back with slow confusion and caution.

They were all very clearly addressed to her, not her parents.

Beau turned away from the desk and gathered up her clothing, setting it aside in a basket to deal with later. On her bed was a simple yet elegant evening dress, likely picked by her mother since Beau could sense the impending conversation. It was a deep blue, accented with silver embroidery and clasps on the bodice, the skirts few in layers and the sleeves a proper length.

Beau’s lip curled in distaste at the garment. But she hardly had another choice. If she wore breeches to dinner, the meal would be even longer than Beau already wanted. With a heavy sigh, and her back purposefully to the letters across the room, Beau dressed and headed down to the dining room.

Her mother sat at her father’s right, the man skimming through a leaflet of parchment as servants set the table. One maid noticed Beau’s entrance, and she pulled the chair to her father’s left out. Giving the woman a shallow nod of thanks, Beau slipped into the seat and dug her bare toes into the carpet beneath the table. She could rebel in small ways, after all.

“Did you have a good day, Beauregard?” Her mother asked from across the table, eyeing Beau’s windswept hair.

“Yes,” Beau said, picking up her fork and stabbing her cut of meat rather ruthlessly with it. Her mother’s lips twitched with obvious displeasure, but she didn’t scold Beau.

Setting down his papers, Beau’s father steepled his fingers and leveled a look his daughter’s way. Beau stared back for a moment before sighing and setting her fork down.

“Alright, what?”

“Beauregard,” Clara scolded quietly, but Thoreau held up a hand to his wife and didn’t take his eyes from Beau.

“I trust you found the letters in your room,” Thoreau said, not a question.

“I did,” Beau measured her voice, arms folded across her chest.

“They’re invitations from Zadash. I want you to look them over and take them seriously. You’re at an age now where our business partners and friends are looking to you to enter the social scene of trade. These galas and parties are to keep relations maintained and for you to survey potential suitors.”

Beau’s mouth abruptly tasted sour, the mention of marriage banishing her appetite. She was just gone sixteen and already her father and his friends expected her to carry this mantle.

“There’s no need to look as if you’ve swallowed a lemon,” her mother chided gently. “All we’re asking, Beauregard, is that you keep face with our colleagues.”

“Sure, mom,” Beau scoffed, pushing the food around her plate. “That’s all.”

“Now, Beauregard,” her father’s harsh tone began. “This is hardly a matter to throw a tantrum over.”

“Who’s throwing a tantrum?” Beau affected innocently. “I’m just taking in the fact that two days ago I couldn’t be trusted to help balance your books after a deal. But now you want me to woo the Stassman’s over champagne and finger sandwiches!”

“Beauregard!” Thoreau said, voice rising to the point that all the servants in the room froze with it. “That’s quite enough!”

“That we can agree on,” Beau snapped, pushing back from her seat and storming from the room. She ignored the calls from her mother and father back in the dining room as she stomped up the stairs. Slamming the bedroom door for good measure, Beau angrily got out of the blue dress and tugged on her nightclothes. Soft linen pants and a sleeveless tunic that were loose in their cut brought Beau some measure of comfort as she flopped into her desk chair. Staring down at the four letters left for her, Beau picked absently at the corners of the envelopes.

With a resolute tug to her desk drawer, Beau dumped the letters inside its confines and went to bed. The invitations were a problem she could deal with another day.

--

Four days after the letters arrived, Beau was perched in her window seat, leafing through a book as mid-afternoon sunlight dappled through the leaves of the tree outside her room. The sunny days in Kamordah were few because of the unfortunate topography, so Beau took full advantage of the warmth. She had gone walking and riding through the nearby fields earlier that morning, and now with the window thrown open beside her, took the quiet afternoon for what it was.

Her parents both pestered her about the letters every day. She kept her answers annoyingly vague because the truth was they hadn’t seen the light since she put them in her drawer.

Beau knew she would have to do something about them sooner rather than later.

A knock at her door drew Beau’s attention away from her book (something about a man who had traveled Wildemount and Tal’dorei in splendid adventures).

“Come in,” Beau called permission, perking up when she found a familiar face opening her door.

“Bren! What are you doing here?” Beau grinned at the elder boy as she set aside her book and pushed to her feet.

“Do I need a reason to visit?” He chuckled, his accent a memorable drawl that tripped through his Common and warmed Beau with nostalgia. Bren drew Beau into a quick, firm hug when she reached him. His time in the capital hadn’t changed his sweet, dorky nature like Beau had feared.

Bren stood just a hair taller than Beau, shoulders broad and with a slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes. His red-orange hair fell in a loose ponytail over one shoulder, and the uniform from his school all but glowed with prestige. He had been Beau’s personal tutor when she was younger, traveling from his home in Blumenthal with his mother once a month. Bren had always been bright with books and was the only one who could understand Beau’s attitude. They had a strange understanding of one another, so Thoreau used that to get Beau educated with as little struggle as possible.

About two years ago, Bren had been scouted and selected to attend the Soltryce Academy in the capital. He sent Beau letters whenever he could since moving to the capital, keeping her up to date with his studies and making sure she was continuing her own. To see him here so suddenly was quite the surprise.

“Of course not,” Beau said as she swept a look at him. “But I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I’m on my way to visit my parents back home,” Bren confessed. “One of the higher up professors, Master Trent, retired rather suddenly a few days ago. I only took a few classes with him, but the staff has given us days off while they fill his position. So, I thought I would stop for a visit on my way home.”

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here.”

A flash of understanding flickered across his face, and Bren clasped a hand to Beau’s shoulder. She didn’t make any move to confirm or deny his silent question, but Bren didn’t seem to need it.

“Why don’t we take a walk?”

Bren led her from the manor and out into the nearby vineyards, the day hot and bright, the grapevines buzzing as insects flit about the leaves. The removed location and her old friend’s undemanding company let Beau’s walls crumble. She told him everything her letters didn’t. About how she passed her days outsmarting her new tutors, pestering her father with ideas for the business he didn’t care to hear. She told him how she drove her mother mad by ruining almost every dress she put Beau in. He seemed amused by all of this, laughing along with her as they walked.

She told him everything about Yasha, about the letters that came almost biweekly, and her replies sent nearly as frequently. Told him about the rivalry between their families that made public interactions risky. But she also told him how those letters were a bright spot in Beau’s days, something to look forward to among the dreary trudge of her family’s expectations.

Their trips to Zadash were what Beau looked forward to most. Yasha’s company was like freedom.

“It sounds like you like Yasha quite a bit,” Bren commented when Beau had paused for breath.

“Of course, she’s my oldest friend,” Beau scoffed.

“That is not the context I meant,” Bren muttered, but breezed past the topic as if it meant nothing. Beau couldn’t keep her thoughts focused on that long enough to parse his meaning out. Her old tutor instead turned the conversation towards the happenings at the capital, entertaining her with his stories now.

When they finally made it back to the manor, the sun was near the horizon and the day cooling with dusk. Stood at the gate of her family’s estate, Beau hesitated to return. She gripped Bren’s hand and turned pleading eyes his way.

“Stay for dinner,” Beau tried not to sound too desperate. “You can leave for home in the morning.”

Something like regret sparked to life in Bren’s eyes as he gently cupped Beau’s hands in his own. His fingers were warm to the touch, and Beau could have sworn they buzzed faintly. She almost asked him if his magic felt the same way Zadash did for her.

“I sent word to my parents that I would return tonight. But I will visit on my way back to school, if I can.”

“How are you going to make it to Blumenthal before dark?” Beau asked, incredulous.

Here, Bren grinned, looking like the excited child she had once known him as. He was still excitable; it was just more amusing for her to see him this way as a nearly grown man. Pulling her into a firm hug, Bren held onto Beau for a long moment, letting her soak up as much comfort as she needed. After a moment, he pulled back and grabbed her hands once more. Giving Beau’s fingers a squeeze, he took a few steps back and turned to the masonry leading up to the gate of the manor.

“Oh, before I show you, I nearly forgot,” Bren’s hand dove into his pocket and produced a letter. He held it out to her with a sheepish grin. “I meant to give this to you before, but we got caught up in conversation. One of the maids had it and asked me to deliver it to you.”

Taking the worn envelope from her friend, Beau’s heart skipped in her chest at the familiar scrawl across the front.

To Beau.

She pressed the letter from Yasha to her chest with breathless excitement. Beau then watched as Bren began a long process of drawing an intricate rune circle on the ground. After a few minutes of this, he paused and looked up at her, grinning.

“This is transportation magic, and will get me home in a flash. Maybe one day, I could take you with me somewhere.”

“Show off,” Beau grumbled, but her eyes must have been sparkling and excited, because Bren just laughed at her warmly and shook his head.

“I will see you soon, Beauregard. Good luck.” Bren drew a last line, and the circle pulsed with pale orange light. He gave her one last wave before stepping into the circle and vanishing. When the light faded, the circle was gone, and Beau stood at the gate alone.

After dinner that evening, Beau sat in her nightclothes at her desk, the letter from Yasha open before her. By candlelight, she read eagerly.

The first half of the letter was in response to Beau’s previous message. Yasha told Beau all about the happenings at her adoptive family’s estate and reassured Beau that she would go to Zadash in two weeks. She informed her of how boring the von Brandt household was without Beau there to keep her company.

The second half of the letter, however, was something Beau hadn’t expected. Yasha informed her she was extremely nervous about the trip to Zadash because of the party invitations she had received. The list of names she provided matched Beau’s exactly, and Yasha wrote that she didn’t know where to begin, as neither of them had done anything like this before. She asked if Beau received any similar invitations and inquired if she would attend any of the events as well.

Setting the letter from Yasha aside after she had finished reading it, Beau quickly opened the drawer beside her and pulled out the letters. She ripped them open one by one, scanning the contents. Though she cared little for this aspect of the family business, Beau knew quite a lot on each family involved. She liked to use that information against people, in quiet and ruthless fashion. It was extremely fun for her to watch from afar as things spiraled after her intervention.

Now, though, she could use this knowledge to ensure she and Yasha had most interesting evenings.

Grabbing paper and her quill, Beau penned a return letter for Yasha.

--

When Beau walked into her first gala as the heir to the Lionett estate, she was entirely underwhelmed.

It was beautiful, of course, but in such a gaudy way that flaunted wealth she couldn’t help but sneer at it. Ostentatious bouquets of flowers spilled over every surface and tables overflowed with foods that seemed far too posh to actually be consumed. Bubbling alcohol filled crystal glasses held in dainty hands, lending to the atmosphere. A quick sweep of the selection told Beau it was all far too expensive and hardly even the best selection.

A social event, catering to boot-licking rather than actual taste.

With a gusty sigh, Beau was at least grateful that she had ditched the dress her mother tried to palm off on her. Bren had come through for her and sent her the attractive grey suit she commissioned from the capital. It had been far too easy for Beau to sneak it into her luggage for this trip. The dress her mother thought Beau was wearing currently sat stuffed at the bottom of a chest in Beau’s room at the Pillow Trove.

Beau swiped up a glass of sparkling white wine from a server’s tray and tucked herself away near a pillar to survey the ballroom. Yasha would be here soon, so until then, Beau had to occupy herself with whatever everyone else was up to.

They had exchanged a few letters in the two weeks leading up to their trip to Zadash, debating which parties would be best to attend. Some nights overlapped, so they were not expected to accept every invitation. Beau knew her father would have loved to pick which galas his daughter should attend himself, but he seemed at least satisfied that Beau put interest into picking any at all. Thoreau probably thought that Beau was finally taking him and the business seriously.

She laughed into her wineglass at the notion.

“You seem happy,” a familiar voice spoke from over Beau’s shoulder.

Twisting to find Yasha behind her, Beau beamed at her oldest friend, smile bright and genuine. Yasha looked stunning in the fitted, floor-length black dress she wore, all but glowing in the party lighting. Beau blamed the sparkling wine for the bubbly feeling that overtook her. Stood beside Yasha, however, was a new face – one Beau instantly distrusted.

“This is Mollymauk,” Yasha said, seeming to read the flicker of confusion in Beau’s eye. “I met him last time we were in Zadash after you left.”

“Charmed,” Mollymauk said through a Cheshire grin, extending a tattooed hand her way. “Call me Molly.”

Beau grasped Mollymauk’s hand hesitantly, flicking a look to Yasha. She supposed that if Yasha trusted this stranger, he must be alright. Beau was surprised that a bright purple Tiefling, tattooed and in loud clothing, lived so plainly and unbothered in the middle of Zadash. From what she heard and read, Tieflings had quite the prejudice against them in the Empire. His starch white silk shirt and bright red embroidered coat that swept the floor did him no favors for blending in.

“Oh,” Mollymauk crooned, his solid red eyes narrowing at her with interest. “You’re the curious type, aren’t you?”

Beau felt her cheeks flush, and she yanked her hand back. “Fuck off.”

“You can really pick ‘em, Yasha,” Mollymauk cackled.

Yasha’s cheeks went pink as she nudged Mollymauk’s shoulder, muttering something to him under her breath. Whatever she said left Mollymauk grinning cheekily.

“Well,” Mollymauk said, clapping his hands together. “Shall I fetch us some drinks?”

Beau, her glass empty, shrugged as Yasha nodded and shooed the Tiefling off, her cheeks still flushed. With a sarcastic wave and a promise to return soon, Mollymauk was off. The baubles pierced into his horns clinked gently as he did.

“Yasha,” Beau groaned.

“He’s nice, I promise,” Yasha whispered. “He’s just...like that.”

“I noticed,” Beau grumbled, setting her empty wineglass on a passing server’s tray. “But I trust your judgment.”

Mollymauk returned with drinks for them all, and they threw them back rapidly, as party goers were wont to do. Beau knew there was no way she could get through this pompous event without copious amounts of alcohol and Yasha at her side. However, they had an image to maintain for their families so they could keep attending these parties. Mollymauk and Yasha traipsed off to a nearby cluster of individuals to make small talk while Beau headed another way.

“Truly, Lord Baumbach,” Beau sighed as she took a delicate sip of her wine. “The depths of the von Brandt’s betrayal have shaken my father’s faith. It’s hard to believe that they would do this after the years of friendship. It’s rather unfortunate their daughter is here as well. I was so looking forward to enjoying myself, but now I have to skirt her presence for fear of causing a scene.”

Beau sighed gustily and rubbed at her temples in faux distress, casting a dirty look at Yasha’s back for good measure. Thoreau had drilled Beau on numerous occasions regarding which families had taken their side in this whole ridiculous affair. She knew who to pander to in order to make it seem like she gave a shit. Beau also knew that Yasha was not one for starting or maintaining conversation with strangers, especially convincing false conversation. Instead, she let others around her bring the topic up and nodded along with them, letting them fill in the blanks.

As they reached the portion of the evening where everyone else seemed properly drunk, Beau ducked from the main ballroom to meet Yasha and Mollymauk out in the rear garden. In the privacy of the trellises, they fell into each other with laughter. Mollymauk had swiped two bottles of the better wines in attendance, and they had each brought their own glass from inside. When she was three drinks in, Beau let Yasha drag her to her feet and clumsily lead her through a waltz. As they stumbled through the assorted flowerbeds, Yasha grinning broad and brilliant, Beau let her lead as she stared in awe.

Yasha was radiant in the moonlight, the flowers woven into her white braids looked more alive as she spun Beau in circles. The moon caught against the gems of Yasha’s hairpiece and her skin near radiant in the dim. Beau could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips. She figured it was probably the alcohol, but she could have sworn she tasted Yasha’s joy on her tongue from proximity alone.

When Yasha was satisfied with their dancing, they collapsed into each other on a nearby bench, breathless and giggling. By the time they were five drinks deep, Beau let down her defenses enough to get to know Mollymauk.

As it turned out, he was the co-owner of a small tavern on the outskirts of the Pentamarket. He directed the performances the establishment put on for entertainment and did tarot readings on the side. Readings which Beau promptly told him were bullshit to the melodic giggling of Yasha’s agreement.

“You wound me, both of you,” Mollymauk sighed dramatically, swirling his drink around in his glass airily. “Neither of you have even gotten a reading from me.”

“It’s still bullshit,” Beau chuckled, emptying her glass with a quick toss of her head. The carbonation burned up into her nostrils as it slid down her throat. She grit her teeth against it and scrunched her nose.

“Well,” Mollymauk said as he stood with far too much elegance for someone who had consumed as much alcohol as he had. “Me and my bullshit tarot have to be heading off. Some of us actually have to work for a living.”

Beau flipped him off as he gallantly waved goodbye to her and Yasha, a cheeky, wicked grin on his face.

“He’s very nice,” Yasha said, repeating herself from earlier, after he left. “It just takes some time for him to trust people.”

“He’s not that annoying, I guess,” Beau admitted, pouring the both of them another glass of wine.

“I expected this would be a lot more unbearable,” Yasha confessed after they were both halfway through their glasses. “But having you and Molly here made it kind of fun.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Beau said with a lazy grin against the rim of her glass. “I thought I was going to be trying to gouge out my eyes with the dessert spoons from boredom. Plus, pretending to hate you was vastly amusing. You should have seen Lord Baumbach’s face when I was putting on the dramatics.”

Beau mocked his expression, being as over-dramatic as possible to make Yasha laugh. Sure enough, Yasha tossed her head back with a loud laugh, the one that Beau was convinced only she got to see. As they settled more comfortably into the bench they had found hidden among the hedges, still laughing, Beau felt her breath catch in her chest when she looked at Yasha. Moonlight shone down on them from above, the sky cloudless and glittering with stars. The silver beams seemed to favor Yasha, highlighting her skin as a stark, gorgeous contrast to the rich darkness of her dress. The hair ornament Beau had helped her choose years ago still glittered in Yasha’s hair as she moved.

Yasha’s shoulder pressed against Beau’s as they fell in together. She was just as warm as Beau remembered from those years ago in the Pentamarket. Yasha still felt like home, a pleasant hum lingering in Beau’s veins.

That pull between her ribs, right beneath her heart, tugged to life again. Beau’s mouth went dry with the realization that she might be in love. She drained the last half of her glass, trying to ignore it.

--

As time marched on, Beau continued to attend parties in Zadash under her family’s name, and Yasha under her family’s. They made a game of sorts out of their public interactions. It became a source of entertainment for the pair, acting like they gave a shit about the well-known rivalry between their parents. They would glare at each other from across the room and make shallow remarks on each other's outfits, Mollymauk often goading them on. Once the party goers were too drunk to remember half the night, Beau and Yasha would sneak away to unoccupied portions of the party and laugh themselves silly. Sometimes Mollymauk would join them, somehow worming his way into Beau’s heart with his stupid charm.

The letters continued, all but a lifeline for Beau throughout the dreary days in Kamordah. Yasha never put her own name on the envelopes, merely addressed them to Beau and sent them on their way. Beau knew the familiar scrawl of Yasha’s hand by heart and always caught the mail at the door before either of her parents laid eyes on it.

As they grew and aged, that night of their first party together lingered in Beau’s memories. The feeling that had fluttered to life behind her ribs aged with her. Most days, any thought of Yasha sent the pattern of her heart into a flurry. Beau wasn’t so naïve that she was unaware of her blooming affection for Yasha, but she knew well enough to keep it under wraps. No matter how difficult that task became as time went on.

Aside from her correspondence with Yasha, Beau occupied her time siphoning and smuggling her father’s wine. She endured one too many rejections from him regarding how he might do better business – so she took matters into her own hands. It was working rather well for her so far; she just had to make sure she wasn’t caught.

It was far from what one might call a happy existence, but Beau made do with what she had at her disposal. She was running on luck and hoped to keep the charade going for a little longer.

Less than a week after her twenty-second birthday, however, her luck ran dry.

“Beauregard!” Thoreau’s voice echoed through the halls of the manor. “Come downstairs, now!”

There was an edge to his tone that Beau had learned to be wary of, so she sighed and put her things away. The letter she had been finishing was folded and tucked safely into the pocket of her dress. She stood and made her way downstairs, steps slow in an effort to delay the inevitable conversation looming.

The parlor was warmed by a large fire crackling in the hearth, but it did nothing to banish the heavy atmosphere. Her father’s expression was stony where he stood behind his tall-backed chair, hands planted on the crown. Her mother sat in her more modest chair, hands folded on her lap and back ramrod straight, the picture of dignity and grace. Beau could see her mother’s white knuckles, though, and was not fooled.

Sitting slowly on the edge of the chaise lounge, the rustle of her skirt too loud in the terse silence, Beau eyed her father across the coffee table. The tip of his nose was discolored, the corners of his eyes pinched, fingers tight against the top of his chair – all signs he was not in a good mood.

“Did you think you would get away with this stunt forever?” Thoreau’s voice was even, cold, and removed. “Did you think word wouldn’t get back to me, Beauregard?”

Her stomach twisted unpleasantly, and Beau fought to maintain a mask of innocence. He knew. She wasn’t sure if he knew about Yasha, about the parties, about the letters, or the wine – but either way, this was bad.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play games with me, Beauregard!” Thoreau snapped, coming round his chair with menacing strides. “You’ve been stealing product from me and making profit off it behind my back! I know you think you’re smart, but you aren’t. You’re clumsy and reckless. You’re lucky you haven’t gotten hurt, Beauregard! I don’t understand how you could be so selfish!”

Beau felt her jaw creak with the amount of force she clenched her teeth. She had expected her father would be upset if he ever found out what she was doing, but that didn’t mean his words hurt any less. These were all things she had heard before over the years for her petty rebellion. But at this age, trying desperately to make her own way, leave her own mark on the world, it stung more than usual.

“I had planned to send you to a monastery in the hopes they could whip you into shape. However, your mother has presented an alternative I think would be far better suited for grounding you in reality.”

“What are you talking about?” Beau repeated, her teeth grinding as she spoke.

“After the stunt you pulled with the Stassman’s a few years ago, we’ve been on even worse footing with them than ever,” Clara butted in, her tone firm. “But, graciously, and after much discussion, they’ve agreed that an alliance of union might benefit both our companies. Their son is only two years older than you, and endearingly polite and well-mannered.”

Beau stared at her mother, trying to piece together how the Stassman’s son had anything to do with her, before it clicked.

“You want me to marry him.” Beau’s mouth went dry, her ears ringing faintly with disbelief. Her parents said nothing, but their expressions made it clear she had guessed correctly. “I’ve never even met him!”

“Nonsense, you met him before,” Clara began, but Beau wasn’t having it.

“I was six years old, mother! He’s not the same person and neither am I! Can’t you just punish me like normal people instead of marrying me off because you don’t want to deal with me?”

“Beauregard!” Clara cried, expression crumpling with horror.

“How dare you speak to us that way!” Thoreau bellowed, taking a step closer to where Beau had lunged to her feet. “We have done nothing but provide the best for you, Beauregard. It is hardly our fault you decide to throw it all back in our faces and have a tantrum every time something doesn’t go your way!”

“It is so much more than that, and you know it!” Beau yelled back. “Don’t you dare try to make this all my fault!”

“The decision has been made, Beauregard,” Thoreau said venomously, glaring at his daughter over the coffee table between them. The short distance seemed like miles pulled taut over their furious tension. “Whether or not you like it, you will meet the Stassman’s son the week after our next trip to Zadash. I implore you to be on your best behavior, otherwise we will be forced to execute my solution instead.”

Beau went to retort, but found herself unable to speak. Rage and betrayal and incomprehensible hurt clogged her throat, eyes burning as she fought not to cry in front of her parents. With a mighty huff of exasperation, Beau turned and stormed back to her room. As she climbed the stairs, the letter she had written for Yasha, an attempt at baring her heart and affection for the woman, burned like a leaden weight in her pocket.

--

Perhaps it was not her parents’ wisest idea to let Beau go to Zadash after the explosive conversation they had. But above everything – even their daughter’s well-being – they prided themselves on maintaining face in the social scene. So Beau went to Zadash with her father and mother as planned. She was scheduled to attend a party halfway through their stay under the Lionett name while her father did business and her mother made house calls to old acquaintances.

Beau had written to Bren, begging him to spare a day for her and come visit in Zadash. She needed him now more than ever.

Yasha was to arrive the night before the party, and the last letter Beau had sent Yasha was before the disastrous conversation with her parents. It was strange walking into all of this, knowing Yasha didn’t have all the details.

Bren arrived the day before Yasha, looking worried and confused as he swept into her hotel room, but bearing what Beau had asked for. He pulled Beau into a fierce hug the moment they met and let her cry against his shoulder. When they finally parted, he asked her quietly for details.

Beau told him everything, her throat burning with a lump of emotion the entire time. He hugged her again when she was finished, firmer than before.

“So, is all of this why you asked me for this potion?”

“Yes,” Beau confessed as she rolled the bottle between her hands. It was warm to the touch, the thin red liquid sloshing easily within the confines. “It’ll work, right?”

“My colleague and his wife are the best alchemists I know,” Bren reassured her. “Yeza and Veth have been working with the Assembly and the Academy for years. If they say it will work, it will work.”

“Thank you, Bren,” Beau breathed, eyes wet with tears she was tired of shedding. “I owe you everything.”

“You owe me nothing,” Bren replied with a firm shake of his head. “You are my dearest friend, Beauregard. I would, and I will, do anything for you. Just promise to keep in touch, ja?”

“Always,” Beau swore immediately. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I would think not,” Bren chuckled. “I expect you to bring Yasha around to the capital sometime so I can actually meet her.”

“You’ll be a big shot by then,” Beau scoffed as she wiped at her eyes. “Will you even have time to spare for little old me?”

Bren laughed along with her, but drew her in for yet another hug. His hugs were warm, solid, and reassuring. Beau had never known her parents to hug her like this, let alone hug her at all. She soaked up every ounce of comfort she could get from Bren.

When he leaned back to cup her face in his hands, planting a quick kiss to the center of her forehead, Beau knew this was goodbye. Not forever, but for a while. If everything went according to her plan, they would be farther apart than they had ever been before in their lives. She would miss him more than anything. Beau had never been to Blumenthal, but her childhood was filled with memories of what it smelled like because it had always clung to Bren’s clothing. There were so many pieces of her scattered joy that connected back to him. To leave him behind would be one of the hardest things Beau ever had to do.

“Good luck, Beauregard,” Bren murmured. “I will see you on the other side.”

--

Beau corralled Yasha and Mollymauk hours before the party. She hustled them off to the Pentamarket, relying on the bustle of everyday life to provide them the cover they needed. If anyone overheard this plan of Beau’s, everything fell apart. She must have looked as frantic as she felt, because both her friends were eyeing Beau with obvious concern. Even the familiar buzz of the city underfoot failed to soothe her frazzled nerves.

“I’m going to die to tonight,” Beauregard said in hushed tones to her friends as they sat in the corner of a tavern. Not the greatest conversation starter, but to the point.

Mollymauk raised his brows in surprise, and Yasha immediately grabbed Beau’s hand, looking sick.

“Not, like, actually,” Beau rushed to amend. “But I just...I have this potion and—”

“Beau, darling,” Mollymauk interrupted. “Start from the beginning, why don’t you?”

He flicked a pointed look at Yasha’s haggard expression and Beau nodded, swallowing hard.

She explained the underground business she had been running with her father’s wine, the explosive conversation that had happened recently, the marriage her parents had planned without her. Beau told them about how tired she was of living like a lie and a disappointment, how she longed for freedom. She told them about her plans to run away to the Menagerie Coast, away from the clutches of her parents and the Empire – toward freedom.

“As impressed and proud as I am that you’ve orchestrated an underground smuggling chain,” Mollymauk said, leaned in close over the table. “How does all of this relate to you dying tonight?”

Beau unearthed the potion from Bren from her pocket, showing it to them briefly before tucking it away again.

“It will make it seem like I’ve died,” Beau explained. “The effects last for a day. My parents won’t travel with my body, I know that. If anything, they might try to find a cleric willing to attempt bringing me back if they’re desperate enough to see this marriage through. There’s a small catacomb just outside the city where people can either bury or hold their deceased until they’re ready to return home for a formal burial. I’ll likely be there when the potion wears off.”

“That’s a lot of ‘ifs’, Beau,” Mollymauk warned, his solid red eyes concerned. “This seems very risky.”

“It is,” Beau agreed, twisting her fingers together on the table. “But I’m willing to try. Especially if it means freedom, if it means I get to live my life the way I want to live it.”

“Alright,” Mollymauk said after a pregnant pause. “So in true dramatic fashion, you’re going to collapse at the party tonight?”

“My parents can’t claim I’ve run off and ruined their legacy if I have a ballroom full of witnesses to my demise.”

Mollymauk tapped his nose, looking begrudgingly impressed.

“I’m assuming you want Yasha and I to be at the catacombs to help you out of the city after, yes?”

“Only if you want to,” Beau breathed, offering them the chance to be as uninvolved as possible.

“How dare you assume I wouldn’t want to be involved in something as dramatic as this,” Mollymauk simpered. “Especially since I could drop hints and started a rumor about a certain family, one I happen to be well-acquainted with, who manages a graveyard. A family that, say, might provide enough time to get into contact with to let you slip away under cover of night.”

“You’re an asshole and a genius, Mollymauk,” Beau grinned, reaching over to punch his shoulder.

“Thank you, darling,” Mollymauk chuckled. His eyes subtly flicked to Yasha before he stretched and sighed overtly. “Well, I’m off to prepare for a dramatic night of festivities. I’ll see you two at the gala, then?”

With that, Mollymauk swept from the bar, and Yasha and Beau were left alone. Beau’s thoughts were slightly off-kilter, swirling with the ‘probably’ and ‘maybe’ to every thread of her plan. Her head was a messy jumble of attempting to find any detail she might have not considered.

“Yasha?” Beau asked after a heavy moment of quiet, forcefully pulling her mind back to the moment. “Are you okay?”

Yasha drew in a shaky breath, held it, then pushed it out in one, great puff.

“I understand why you’re doing this, why you have to do this,” Yasha whispered, reaching out to grab Beau’s hand again. “But...what if something goes wrong? Beau, what if you don’t wake up? Is this really the only way?”

“No,” Beau shook her head, turning her hand so they could braid their fingers together. Her veins were buzzing like they might catch fire between the hum of the city and the warmth of Yasha’s skin. She fought to stay sane and steady. “There are definitely other ways. But this is the one that guarantees I won’t have my parents after me for the rest of my life. I know it’s...a lot. And I know it’s risky. But I think I’m desperate enough to try.”

“What about...?” Yasha trailed off, biting her lip and looking away. Beau squeezed her hand and thought, fuck it.

“I know it’s scary, Yasha,” Beau whispered. “And I know this is probably the worst timing ever, but...” Beau pulled the letter from her pocket and held it out to Yasha. Her fingers were trembling.

“You don’t have to read it now,” Beau was quick to say, acutely aware of the moment her cheeks flushed pink. “Or ever, actually. I wrote that before everything went to shit, and now it’s just a letter full of things I want you to know after tonight.”

Yasha stared at the letter for a long moment before she looked up at Beau again. Beau fidgeted under her stare before gusting out a great sigh and moving to get up.

“Well, I’ve got a few things I need to get in order before tonight. I’ll see you at the party, okay?” She waited for Yasha to nod, but she looked so worried and pained that Beau paused. Putting her hands firmly on the table, Beau leaned in close until Yasha looked her in the eye. The magnetic shock when Yasha’s mismatched irises locked on Beau nearly took Beau’s knees out from under her. The buzz in her veins sparked and caught fire. She swallowed against the smoke that dried out her throat and kept her voice as steady as possible.

“Yasha, remember. No matter what happens, or what it looks like, I’m going to be okay.”

Asymmetric eyes bore into Beau for a suspended moment, somehow both weightless and grounding all at once.

“I believe you, Beau,” Yasha whispered. For all that she still looked terrified, Beau trusted her.

--

The party was just like every other gala Beau had attended over the years. It was entirely too pompous, populated with Wildemount’s snootiest, and perhaps one of the most tedious events Beau could possibly imagine wasting time at. She was so nervous about everything planned that she barely had the leftover presence of mind to keep up her act with Yasha. They exchanged only a handful of false distaste, and Beau could only hope it added to the idea that she wasn’t well before she collapsed.

At some point in the evening, when she surfaced from her worrying for a moment, Beau really took Yasha in from across the room. She wore a deep, midnight blue dress, fitted and long and accented with silver. As always, Yasha looked stunning.

She also had the flower hairpin among her braids. For some reason, that fact left Beau choked up.

Mollymauk – bless his dumb heart – stuck near Beau most of the night, keeping idle conversation. It served as a temporary distraction, but Beau was too on edge to do more beyond nod every now and again.

The night was about half over when Beau decided she had drawn this out long enough.

She exchanged a look with Mollymauk, and something far more serious than she was ever used to seeing crossed his expression. He gave her a nod, a quick squeeze to her elbow, and then she excused herself to the bathroom.

A horrible, ornate mirror hung above the sink, and Beau stared at her reflection for a long moment. Her mother had powdered Beau’s face before she left. Some of it hadn’t entirely blended in and now clung to the tip of Beau’s nose. Her hair was styled neatly, a tight braided bun sitting high on her head. She hadn’t put up a fight when her mother helped her into a pale blue dress with a lace-up back. In any context, Beau was beautiful – the perfect picture of a young heiress poised in a social scene. There was a pinch around Beau’s eyes, however, that betrayed her stress. She hoped it made her look like she was sick or in pain to further sell her act.

With a brief hesitation, pushing down all of her inhibitions so she didn’t back out, Beau produced the bottle from her dress pocket. With a sound pop, she uncorked the bottle. Beau toasted her reflection and muttered under her breath, “to freedom.”

She downed the contents in two quick gulps.

With quick motions, Beau washed out the residue in the bottle under the faucet and hid the bottle beneath the vanity. She didn’t want any evidence on her person later.

Emerging from the bathroom, Beau made her way back toward the ballroom. She had just walked up to Mollymauk when her throat started feeling dry. Coughing into her elbow, trying to clear her throat, Beau waved away the concerned looks she got from the couple Mollymauk was speaking to. Her reassurance came out hoarse and did nothing to persuade anyone.

After a minute of barely tracking conversation, Beau registered the discomfort in her chest. Her heart felt too big for her ribs and her lungs too small. She struggled to draw in enough air. There were spots dancing in front of her eyes, and coughing did nothing to help. Even Mollymauk looked genuinely concerned as one of the surrounding party goers flagged down a server for water. Instinctually, Beau started to seek out Yasha, eyes flitting with wild panic.

Mollymauk wrapped a careful hand around her elbow right before the potion truly kicked in.

Her stomach and throat seized as one, and Beau couldn’t hold back the strangled gasp that fled from her. The edges of her vision quickly faded to grey, her heart pounding in her ears with a rapid ringing. Beau was frightened for a horrible, conscious second that she might actually be dying. But she trusted Bren. Through the haze in her head, Beau tried to reassure herself she would be okay. The thought didn’t do much to comfort her when it felt like her lungs were disconnected from her throat.

Mollymauk’s face loomed above her in tunnel vision, his expression pinched with worry and panic as he called Beau’s name. She couldn’t hear him over the pounding in her ears, but she watched his lips shape the word.

Beau fumbled for his hand, fell short, and rapidly succumbed to darkness.

--

 Yasha.

 When we met as children in the Pentamarket, I never could have imagined what our friendship would become. You’ve been a constant companion, a loyal pen pal, and my most trusted friend.

 Lately, you make me nervous. My heart starts racing when you look at me, when you smile at me, when you laugh, when you reach for me. Everything about you brings me joy and makes me feel like I’m flying.

 Truthfully, I think I realized I had feelings for you when we went to that first party in Zadash together. You were wearing this beautiful black dress and you had flowers in your braids, and that hairpin we picked out. We pretended to hate each other, and then slipped away to laugh our asses off about it. I remember the way you looked in the moonlight, and I think that’s when I figured it out.

 I know my father said we should never interact with your family again, but you know how much I like to piss him off. Someday soon, if this letter of mine doesn’t scare you off, would you like to go on a proper, public date with me?

 If you would rather just continue our friendship, you can toss this letter and forget you ever read it. But these secrets were building up in my heart, and getting too heavy to carry on my own. If I ever find the courage to give you this letter, I hope you’ve read this far. Maybe it means I have a chance.

 Always yours,

 Beau

--

The first thing that registered was a distant murmur of voices from nearby. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, her brain feeling as if someone had stuffed it with cotton, but she heard them. Her mouth was unbelievably dry, her tongue like weighted sand paper for how much effort it took to move it.

She must have made some noise or movement, because suddenly a pair of hands pressed against her cheeks.

Her ears rung faintly, scarcely able to hear past it, as the murmurs turned into muffled tones. She needed to tell them she couldn’t fucking understand them.

Beau thought she grunted, or she tried to. It registered finally that she needed to open her eyes.

Blinking against the dry, grittiness that all but glued her eyelids shut, everything appeared blurry and dark at first. She kept blinking, trying to clear her vision and wondering just how long she had slept. The hands on her cheeks were warm, familiar, and gentle. Beau grasped for a memory, a reason she felt like this.

It all clicked back into place moments later. Terror seized her chest, and she fumbled for the hand at her cheek. There was a horrifying moment she worried it belonged to one of her parents – that her plan failed.

“Beau,” a quiet voice, warbled with emotion. “I’m here, you’re okay.”

Her vision finally shifted into focus, the ringing in her ears subsided enough that she made out some words. Every movement registered as sluggish and disconnected, but she was awake. Beau knew she was alive, and Yasha leaned over her – real and whole. Her beautiful, mismatched eyes shone wet with tears but sparkled brightly with relief.

Beau burst into sobs.

Yasha levered Beau upright and gathered her to her chest. Beau all but melted into Yasha’s embrace, desperate for any sort of validation that she was alive, that she almost had her freedom.

When they both regained some composure, Yasha filled Beau in on the past twenty-four hours. Over Yasha’s shoulder, Beau saw Mollymauk keeping careful watch at the mouth of the catacombs. The stone chambers were freezing, Beau dressed only in a white funeral gown. Yasha turned her back for Beau to change into the breeches and cotton shirt they brought for her as she spoke.

“You were right about your parents,” Yasha murmured as Beau tugged the shirt over her head. Someone had removed Beau’s braided up-do from the party, because her hair now fell in brushed out waves over her shoulders. “They’re trying to get in contact with the family Molly knows. They’re trying to bring you back.”

Yasha didn’t tell her what her family’s reason was, she wasn’t even certain Yasha knew. But Beau guessed it probably had something to do with her impending marriage to the Stassman boy. Beau resolutely stopped thinking about it.

“Did anyone say it was poison?” Beau asked as she wound her hair up into a loose bun.

“No,” Yasha shook her head. Beau caught sight of the flower hairpin still tucked among her braids. Her heart pulled weakly in her chest. “Most don’t know what to think. From the outside, it looked like you choked on air.”

There was a tremor to Yasha’s voice that Beau decided she hated. She finished tugging on her boots and moved to place a hand on Yasha’s arm. The taller woman turned to face Beau, her expression pained.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Beau whispered. “I’m sorry I put you through it.”

Yasha reached out and brushed the backs of her fingers down Beau’s cheek, slow and reverent.

“You looked right at me before you collapsed…and then you just went limp in Molly’s arms.” Yasha pushed out a shaky sigh, flipping her hand around to cup Beau’s cold cheek in her warm palm. “I’m just glad you’re alive. I knew you weren’t really dead, but you looked it.”

Yasha paused as she caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I read your letter.”

Beau’s heart skipped a beat. Oh gods.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Beau,” Yasha whispered, her other hand coming up to cup Beau’s other cheek. “I would love that more than anything.”

“Really?” Beau’s voice came out strangled.

“Really,” Yasha promised, her eyes drinking in every inch of Beau’s face. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Beau pressed from her lungs. If she didn’t know any better, she might think she was about to black out again.

Yasha stooped to press their lips together, Beau wrapping her fingers in a clinging embrace around Yasha’s wrists. It did little to ground her, but Beau felt she might float away if she let go. She thought the hum under her skin from mere proximity to Yasha had been unbearable, but actually kissing her left Beau feeling like she was dissolving. Every new, desperate press of Yasha’s lips against Beau’s only stoked the flame building behind Beau’s ribs, only magnified the buzz. One of Yasha’s hands slid to cup the base of Beau’s neck, tugging her closer as Beau released Yasha’s wrist to wind an arm around her waist instead. Beau leaned her weight into Yasha and trusted her to not let Beau fall.

This was a kiss years in the making, a confession built in the secret cavity beneath their hearts. This was a forbidden embrace, a love story banned by families too petty and proud to have a conversation. Yet they persisted and persevered against all odds.

This sensation was like stepping into the hum of Zadash for the first time again, then dialed up until it consumed her senses.

Yasha moved her other hand to wrap around Beau’s waist to all but pick her up. Beau wrapped both arms around Yasha’s neck and pressed up to her toes. She felt like she would never need to breathe air again with the way Yasha’s attention to her lips made her feel alive.

Distantly, Beau heard Mollymauk say something about needing to leave. She ignored him, and Yasha did, too. Yasha’s arms only tightened around Beau’s waist, and Beau couldn’t help the way she smiled into Yasha’s kiss. She didn’t feel like she was on fire anymore – Beau felt like she was fire.

Mollymauk’s hand was on Beau’s arm, insistent. But Beau wasn’t finished with Yasha yet. This was probably the last Beau would see of Yasha for who knew how long. She was going to get every second possible out of this kiss if it killed her. She was going to memorize every last dip and divot of Yasha’s frequency even if it drove her mad. Beau wanted to take the imprint of the city and this woman with her when she left.

Her chest was flush against Yasha’s by the time they broke apart, gasping for air. Beau’s toes were still barely on the ground for all that Yasha was clinging to her. Molly stood a few paces away, a bag on each shoulder and looking fond but impatient.

“If you’re quite done,” he drawled. “We shouldn’t linger much longer.”

“Fuck off, Molly,” Beau groused. But Yasha released her with gentle motions, pressing a lingering kiss to Beau’s forehead. Beau hugged Mollymauk fiercely for all they both acted annoyed and whispered her thanks to him against his shoulder. He didn’t reply, but Beau knew he heard her by the way his arms tightened around her waist.

They fled the catacombs in the darkness, breathless and giddy with their success. The catacombs were on the outskirts of the west end of the Innerstead Sprawl, the grassy slopes surrounding it giving way to winding cobblestone. Mollymauk lead them as they went, keeping to shadows with their heads down and eyes roaming for signs of others who might see them. The hour was late, however, and this part of the city was quiet. Despite the sleepy crawl, Beau could still sense Zadash’s energy buzzing underfoot.

As they came upon the Outersteads, Yasha split off down a wide alley and unhitched two horses from a post. Mollymauk reached into one pack and produced a dark cloak. He stepped up to Beau and tossed it over her shoulders, fastening the clasp when he noticed her trembling hands. As he reached to pull the hood over Beau’s head, Yasha grabbed the second pack from Mollymauk. Beau’s confusion must have been obvious because Mollymauk chuckled at her fondly.

“Yasha, are...” Beau looked between Mollymauk and Yasha. “Are you coming with me? What about your family?”

Yasha pressed her fingers to Beau’s cheek beneath her hood. “I’m coming with you. After the party…I gave it some thought, but I realized I already knew what I wanted. I want to go with you. The world is out there and I want to see it, too. I can’t think of anyone better to do it with.”

“Yasha...” Beau’s voice came out wobbly, but she didn’t care.

“You two are so cute it’s going to make me sick,” Mollymauk sighed. But he pulled Yasha down to press a kiss to her forehead, then turned and did the same to Beau. “Take care of each other, send me lots of letters.”

“As annoying as you are,” Beau grumbled through the tears on her cheeks. “I’m going to miss you, Molly. I’ll write as often as I can.”

Yasha placed steadying hands on Beau’s waist, helping her swing up into the saddle of one horse. She handed Beau the reins before turning to give Mollymauk a firm squeeze of a hug. He held Yasha’s horse steady as she mounted, turning to Beau as he passed off the reins.

“You shouldn’t have any trouble getting out of the city. There’s guards posted at the main gate on the south wall, but they’re more concerned with people entering than leaving. Once you’re past the gate, urge the horses to run. You should have enough distance between this city and you by dawn. Keep your hood up and you’ll be fine.”

Beau and Yasha nodded, thanking Mollymauk quietly as they pushed their horses into a slow walk. He went alongside them for a while, still keeping an eye out.

“You said you were thinking about heading to the Menagerie Coast?” Mollymauk asked, to which Beau nodded. “I’ve got friends there, so I sent a letter ahead of you letting them know you might come find them. Jester and Fjord – both of them are good people. Look for a place called the Lavish Chateau in Nicodranas, you can find Jester there. They’ll help you get settled.“

“Thank you, Molly,” Beau said, looking down at the purple Tiefling who had grabbed hold of her heart. “For everything. We owe you.”

“Just invite me down to your seaside manor sometime and we can call it even,” Mollymauk grinned, patting Beau’s knee.

With a final, whispered farewell, Beau and Yasha left Mollymauk to wind his way back to the streets of the Pentamarket. Keeping their horses set at a brisk walk took all of Beau’s self-control. She wanted nothing more than to dig her heels in and take off into the night. The city still buzzed through her veins, as did the lingering fire brought on by Yasha’s kiss. But she held back as the southern gate loomed before them. As Mollymauk had said, the Crownsguard stood on the outside of the open gate, keeping silent sentinel. They scarcely spared them a second glance as the horses trotted out of the city.

It felt anticlimactic for all of Beau’s previous planning – but she forgot about it all as she took in the sprawling landscape before them.

They got about a hundred feet away before Beau exchanged a breathless, giddy grin with Yasha.

“Ready?” Yasha asked, her fingers visibly tightening around the reins of her horse.

“Ready,” Beau breathed.

She kicked her heels into her horse’s side, calling out an adrenaline tremulous, “hiyah!”

The horses took off into the night. The wind pushed Beau’s hood from her face, the air a rushing embrace billowing through her cloak. Her horse’s hooves pounded with a rhythmic thud against the earth, reverberating through Beau’s bones. It sounded like freedom and felt like flying. The buzz was still pulsing through her, but it was different now. Yasha’s distinct humming presence still lingered beneath her skin, but Zadash’s buzz was gone. This new feeling was a thrum, a steady rhythm she could only compare to the heartbeat of Exandria, welcoming her. This truly felt like magic.

Yasha’s delighted laughter reached Beau’s ears over the rushing wind. Beau tipped her head back, closing her eyes as she breathed in deeply.

The rest of her life lay ahead.

[gem-rewatch]

SU rewatch- S1E11- Arcade Mania

Hey, long time no see!

I’m desperately bored in solitary quarantine at university right now, and decided to try and pick this SU rewatch series up again for fun. It’s been a while since I’ve watched through the show in order. Plus, now that this show is completely finished, there’s plenty more connections to make. I can’t promise I’ll be consistent with this, but at the very least I can have fun trying to make a few more posts at my leisure.

Anyways. With that business out of the way. Let’s get right on to the show!

We begin with yet another mission Steven’s guardians have brought him along on! I believe this is the fifth mission we know of that he’s accompanied them on so far. (Lunar Sea Spire, Inverted Pyramid, the unknown mission he returns from in Tiger Millionaire, the desert, and now this one.) It’s really sweet seeing the Gems begin to trust him tagging along more often. There will come a day in the near future where missions become routine for Steven, but in these early episodes, you can really tell that each and every one is a brand new adventure.

In terms of plot, though, this episode is honestly Future Vision: The Prequel.

We learn a lot about Garnet’s abilities and her role in the team here, even if all of these details aren’t spelled out word-for-word quite yet. Hints towards her future vision we see this ep include:

Garnet moving ahead of the group to be in the perfect spot to catch Steven when he falls.

Her flawless moves while fighting and dodging the monsters.

Her becoming a master at the rhythm game later in the episode.

Like, damn. Look at this.

Look at her go.

My Q U E E N!

I had to gif all of this just because it’s such a beautiful and smooth sequence of animation.

If there’s one thing all of the Crystal Gems can 100% agree on, it’s that Garnet is friggin’ amazing.

Garnet: “Let them go. They’re just parasites. If they want to be a problem, they’ll have to answer to me.”

So, does this statement mean that- at this present moment- her extended stay at the arcade was entirely beyond her future vision? That the only futures she saw were ones where she was actually present to deal with containment of the Gem parasites? Given that later scenes insinuate she’d never been to the arcade before, and would have no “data” about its games to factor into her internal understanding of the world, this seems likely.

I adore the gradual palette change here, from shadow, to setting sun. It’s a nice detail that adds so much more life to what could otherwise be a rather mundane transition scene. It seems like unique palettes were more common in early SU- I wonder why Crewniverse stopped implementing these as often later on?

Pearl, entering the arcade: “Humans find such fascinating ways to waste their time.”

Thanks, Pearl. Love you too. <3

This sequence of Pearl failing at playing a car chase/road rage game hits so much different knowing what happens in Last One Out of Beach City. It’s genuinely radical how far she grows in confidence from this point, because here, she seems so shackled to rules and guidelines. Now that we know about her rebellious past, it might be tempting to write this characterization off as “early series weirdness,” but... I don’t think that’s what’s happening here.

Instead, I wonder if she’s working through grief-related regression.

Think about it... the pain of Rose’s passing is still so fresh for her. She was a rule breaking rebel once, yes, but she spent all of those days at Rose’s side. And I get the sense that she’s poured so much of herself into keeping Rose safe, into the rebellion against Homeworld, that without those, she’s caught in a vacuum. What IS her purpose now, when the very person she rebelled for is gone?

So she slips back into old pearl-like habits. Chronic rule following, and a fear of deviating from norms. How familiar. Thankfully, much of her arc throughout the show is her directly growing beyond these habits to live boldly as her own Gem.

The friggin video game when Garnet knocks its head off: “TELL MY WIFE I’M SORRYYY!!!”

Yo, what the fuck. This line is both hilarious and messed up, all at once. Please tell me the game isn’t sentient.

Aaaand here we finally introduce Garnet to the video game sensation that is Meat Beat Mania! This game is perfectly suited to her and her power of foresight because its patterns are algorithmic and not vulnerable to spontaneous deviations, and thus easy to predict, with enough input. She’s probably getting a quick rush of satisfaction with every correct move, and she barely has to exert any energy with her future vision to get that rush. After years and years of wading through endless possibility at every avenue, this video game’s patterns must be a rejuvenating breath of fresh air.

It’s addicting.

...Kinda makes me think of how I get sometimes when I play solitaire on my phone for an hour straight. After a while, I barely even think, I’m just shuffling through my deck and moving cards almost on automatic. I don’t have to use much energy to play, and it gives me animated fireworks every time I finish a match. It’s a win-win.

Amethyst: “I’MMA WIN AN AIRPLANE!”

I don’t know what it is about the way Michaela Dietz says the world “airplane,” but this makes me laugh every time. Does... does she think she can win a genuine airplane here because she saw Onion win a tiny motorbike from the ticket booth?? Amethyst, oh my god. XD

She’s got the spirit, this wild child.

So, moving on- we meet up with our crew later the next morning, Garnet nowhere to be seen. There’s an interesting exchange I’d like to highlight real quick-

Pearl: “If we’re supposed to fight a giant foot, Garnet would let us know.” Amethyst: “Yeah, Garnet’s the boss!” Pearl: “Well, we’re all a team. Garnet just has heightened perception that guides us towards our mission objectives.”

Considering the specific phrasing Pearl uses here- “heightened perception” instead of “future vision-” did Garnet outright tell the two of them to not explain her powers, just like she told them not to mention she’s a fusion? Because I’m pretty sure no one ever uses the phrase “heightened perception” again in reference to her powers.

Given the fact that Garnet chose to keep the knowledge of Ruby and Sapphire under the table until she felt Steven could understand her better, my guess is that this is a similar scenario.

Ahah, I genuinely can’t tell if this is Steven being gullible, or just impulsively playing along with Amethyst’s antics. Still- gross, kid. Don’t wipe your wet cereal face on your shirt! Ew! :O

When he goes outside and starts to use a kiddy metal detector to scan for quarters... so THAT’S where he finds his arcade money! Because I can’t imagine Greg is financially able to give him that much to spend on non-essentials at this point in the show.

Okay, so... I just want to bring light to the fact that Garnet has literally been in this arcade ALL NIGHT LONG.

It was evening when she first arrived here- the sun was visibly setting in the background, and when Steven, Amethyst, and Pearl left, the sky was dark. But now it’s morning. Steven was just seen eating breakfast. And Garnet is STILL HERE.

Does this mean Mr. Smiley locked her IN? I have so many questions... Did he try to get her to leave, only to be intimidated by her complete lack of response? I would kill to know more about this interaction. Poor Mr. Smiley. That man deals with so much bullshit in this town, huh?

Geebus, is Garnet a solid wall. Previous episodes have shown Steven forcibly shoving whole tons of food, and swinging a mini-freezer over his head, and yet he can’t get her to budge even an inch.

I absolutely adore how he climbs up her frame like a koala, though, ahah. Cute.

Meat Beat Mania announcer: “That’s rare!!” Steven: “Oh my gosh...!”

I take these two lines as evidence that this is the first time Steven’s ever seen Garnet’s eyes. Specifically, the fact that there’s three of them. Which, makes sense- since Garnet is still really reserved emotionally at this point, and is only begins to get in the habit of taking her visor off to show Steven her full face later on in the show.

This expression deeply hurts me.

Steven’s so distraught here- because the others are in danger, the town is in danger, and he doesn’t have his trusty, dependable guardian who catches him when he falls and beats up scary monsters for him. Without her, the whole team is vulnerable and blind.

He feels alone. He feels... powerless.

And so he responds to that confusing, powerless feeling by trying to compensate with his own power. When all other routes he can think of fail, he smashes the video game console.

It... uh, it works... but once again, Steven entirely fails to consider the consequences, huh? He experienced a little bit of character growth in this regard in the episode Serious Steven, but even past that it’ll remain an recurring issue for him. Hell, his impulsiveness is a general character flaw even stretching into SUF.

In summary, though:

Poor Mr. Smiley. He works so hard, and doesn’t deserve this BS. ;-;