#marianne defense squad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

semi-imaginary-place · 5 years ago

Text

fe3h blogging 2 because the post got too long

Edelgard Claude foiling. Both see that the world is wrong and that motivates them to make it better. Claude listens to people, Edelgard listens to herself. Claude reflects and introspects, Edelgard doesn’t.

I was going to write more but I realized I was just bashing Edelgard so I stopped. Anyways, the Gatekeeper has a backstory??? a younger twin brother and they’re from the empire?? Also wow Edelgard is REALLY into you (the light in the darkness pft)

I also want to comment how the Church of Seiros unlike some other fantasy religions really is like real life historical (and current) religious organizations. There’s a mix of people from the non believers but there to help, to those that believe this is the best way to help people, to those looking for power, to the people who are there because its a way to make a living. I want to make clear though that Sothis/The Goddess is dead and she can only act a little bit through Byleth. Before the game The Goddess has NO influence on Fodlan. Anyone praying is doing nothing in terms of reaching The Goddess.

Hilda: Tell me what I’m thinking about right now.

Ferdinand: Hmm... You want a snack.

Hilda: I DO want a snacc ;) ;) ;)

supports: Ashe Dedue, Sylvain Felix, Ingrid Dimitri, Hubert Ferdinand, Petra Claude, Marianne Ignatz

3h totally fooled me with the hair colors. I’m too use to JRPGs have rainbow haircolors so I think nothing of it but in this game the white/green hair are plot significant.

Somehow related to dragon shenanigans(white/green): Sothis, Lysithea, Flayn, Edelgard, Byleth, Rhea, Seteth

Plausibly a normal color with weird undertones: Ignatz, Shamir, Petra, Felix, Lindhardt,

That inexplicably JRPG colored hair: Bernadetta, Hilda, Caspar, Marianne, Ashe, Lorenz

Ch14 of Crimson Flowers has made me unfathomably sad. Claude hold himself so tightly, closed off with high walls. He always has a face on, doesn’t break composure. But in ch 14 in the face of losing his dream you can see the cracks in walls. And Claude may be closed off but he is in no way cold hearted or uncaring, he cares so much and you see that as the Empire gains ground. That battle is one of the few glimpses of Claude. Whether he is killed or spared, both are sad. The cut scene after Claude is spared is seemingly lighthearted and a tonal contrast to the serious battle right before it. Without knowing Claude better it seems like a breather before more plot happens, but knowing Claude that scene really breaks my heart. In contrast with the moments of honesty during the battle, Claude’s social mask has snapped right back into place, hiding all of his pain. Claude’s dream meant all to him, being able to walk side by side with his friends in a new world, and that dream just took a devastating blow. Claude is by no means dishonest during that scene, but knowing how devastated he is on the inside yet forcing himself to hold it all together... He’s sad and now I’m sad.

The Insurrection of the Seven is fascinating to me. Just because people keep saying different things about it. Was the Emperor seeking to consolidate power for the throne and the nobles stopped him or where the nobles always seeking to turn the Emperor into a puppet ruler? To my limited knowledge I think for a while Emperors had been losing power. Enough so that the experiments on Edelgard and her siblings could not be stopped. He then tried to expand his power and was crushed.

Crimson Flower is quite interesting. Edelgard and Hubert are walking a fine line balancing the church and the Agarthans. The Empire appears unified but its a shell for the Agarthans and Edelgard is betting on the appearance of that shell.

Wow Dimitri is surprisingly sane and not feral in CF. Does the purple clouds in Dimitri’s death CG remind anyone else of the S support CGs?

Lysithea and Edelgard can bond over shared childhood experiences and being short

Can you imagine Claude, Hilda, and Sylvain as a squad. They would radiate such chaotic energies just standing next to each other that Nemesis would leap out of his cyberpunk containment pod and start dancing to leek spin

How is Dimitri clean shaven post timeskip?? Most people in the grips find it hard to be functional and do basic tasks and your telling me he meticulously shaves everyday? I'm calling it. Dimitri is trans and can't grow a whisker

So the brits (and w europe really) went mad for tea and got it through colonization of india. Where does fodlan get its tea?? Its mostly too cold unless you want to convince me theres an extensive breeding program for hardy cultivars somewhere. Dagda?? We know coffee is imported. hot take: the empire started a war to get more tea

I dont talk about dorothea enough. I almost chose BE just for her. She hates nobles and its great. The voice acting is top notch too. Dorothea-Ferdinand c support is memorable to me because of the voice acting. The line delivery was so good. Especially the " I hate you " from Dorothea. She's so savage. She was the only one I considered S supporting after intsys robbed me of claude. Didn't go through with it though. It always feels wierd romancing fictional characters.I remember how P3 forced me on the harem route and wow that was uncomfortable. Dorothea is kind. I like kind people. She's so full of love (Manuela is the other character overflowing with love), and her compassion extends to everyone. She understands the grief of war. Contrast that to local manlet Caspar. Once he's decided someone is an "enemy" he stops caring. Oh Caspar... All of Dorothea's supports are so good too... Dorothea's backstory can get a little disturbing. She's 18 at the beginning of the game. She began singing with the company at 10 and gained fame at 13. What troubles me his how she talks about how after every show she was innundated with marriage proposals and such. The way she talks about it, it went on for a while, and while sure the letters and stuff could have been from other teenagers, that she was getting all this as a teenager is creepy. In addition, then she talks about the nobles fawning over her and it made my skin crawl. But the worst was that a noble possibly her father was coming on to her . Like Dorothea, I'm with you. Let's burn down the world. Despite the justifiable anger though, dorothea is so full of love. Until the last her heart never turns cold.

Thinking about claude and edelgard. On one hand their personalities, ideals, and ambitions complement each other. On the other hand Edelgard doesn't understand how people work and Claude is a manipulator, guarded, he never lets any one in(edited)Claude can totally read her, but Edelgard reacts poorly to criticism and dissent.... Claude has no faith. Not in his dreams and not in himself. With out a push, he's not proactive. Edelgard charges straight ahead while Claude takes the circuitous path. "Defensive" thats the word for edelgard, she so easily thinks people are out for her. Whereas claude deflects. Both are fuelled by a sense of justice. Edelgard thinks in terms of eliminating enemies, claude thinks in terms of recruiting allies. The point is the the tragedy that they would make great friends! But thats not happening in this universe! Because edelgard's bull headed and claude wont open up!

Watching s supports and anyone notice theres 3 variations on the ring. There 2 silver and green ones. At first I thought small green stone was from people with common origins and big stone from noble. But I just saw saw one with a gold ring.It could be that the character is just that extra. And yeah it is gold is from Ferdinand and Lorenz.

Ferdinand was so obnoxious at first. But hes such a good boy. He does his best. He's trying very hard. Also, existential angst is my jam.

I just remembered theres only 5 saints in the Church of Seiros and does that mean the tome of comely saints has erotica of... like... cihol??? And cethaleann????? Uuuuuuhhhhhh...I dont like my brain sometimes.

so that whole fuss that byleth's mom was rhea's daughter was because tons of "gamers" chose BE first and misinterpreted Edelgard's speculation. When in reality Jeralt was the one who Rhea gifted her crest (seiros) to, extending his lifespan. Rhea then cut out baby Byleth's heart and then replaced it with Sothis's crest stone hoping that Sothis would posses byleth. All we know of the mom is that she was a nun and died young. Flames crest stone joined to Byleth's heart (CF ending cutscene). Rhea placed Sothis' heart in baby Byleth to revive Sothis (VW ch 22 opener). She has done human experimentation on people to revive Sothis before (implication). Seiros/Rhea did so so that Sothis would posses the body (Rhea dialog consistently referring to Byleth as "Mother" or hoping that Sothis will poke through).

The only time Claude’s anger breaks through his composure is with Rhea. This is significant as Claude almost never loses his composure, and this highlights how Rhea in the only person Claude hates. Claude doesn’t hate Edelgard or Dimitri or any of the other people that may kill him, just Rhea.

question about the Black Eagles/Crimson Flower ending: why does Byleth collapse and then Sothis' crest stone break? I mean I will give it a break since its symbolic and thematically significant and all and it was a excellent touch that Sothis' heart and Byleth's heart have literally weaved together. Is reviving Byleth Sothis' last act?? Why did Byleth have to die to begin with though? ... well maybe Byleth didn't die since they didn't have a heartbeat to begin with. So far the writing in 3H has been pretty good though there have been weak spots. I think that CF final scene was put in more because it "felt right" than because it was logical. it fits with edelgard's goals and what the route's been about. its just if you really think about it. It doesn't make sense based on what is already known. I mean crest stones could have other powers but I haven't seen that anywhere else in the game. As for the story as a whole, the main acting forces in the game are Edelgard+Empire, those who slither in the dark, and Rhea+Church. Claude also has his own ambitions, but those 3 are more deeply entwined. Each faction has its own goals and past and a good chunk of the game is figuring out what those are. Its also ironic that GD despite how Claude is not enmeshed in ... that other mess, sheds so much light on the other factions.

The main theme is probably about Rhea since it plays a lot during Rhea scenes and the church is a central focus of the story.

the "M-metal gear?!?!?!" moment will always be hilarious for me. On par with dollar store Hitler

Why is it Jeralt's voice on the map even after he dies?

God Shattering Star: How Many Times Do We Have to Teach You This Lesson, Old Man?

Dawn is a recurring motif in Fire Emblem: Three Houses. “the dawn of a new age” is or such is

Claude, a child loved and lonely

i think blue lions was written first. 1 the two monthly missions that have to do with students’ families are both in BL (Ashe and Sylvain). 2 two fairly important side characters at the monastery are related to BL students (Annette and Mercedes). Chapter 3 actually provides a intro for all the lords in their respective routes. Edelgard’s scene is serious but not especially sad, instead you can feel te fire burning within Edlegard and the scene shows how she’s willing to sacrifice the lives of those under her if she believes she is doing the right thing. Claude’s is actually quite light hearted in tone after the first few lines and it highlights the mystery surrounding him and makes him seem very sketchy. Chapter 3 in Blue Lions though is really sad. Ashe my baby boy. Here there is a sense of tragedy in the post battle scene

oh there is another Claude loses his temper. Its when a bunch of thieves (badly) impersonate Almyrans and Claude is so offended they didn’t put enough effort into the act and that they’re weak.

Major Player Goals

Rhea: revive Mother

Edelgard: take down the Church and crest system

Agartha: vengeance on the Nabateans

Claude: usher in a new age of tolerance and prosperity for humanity

Dimirti: keep afloat???

CHURCH SKETCH AF. Rhea always raised the hair on the back on my neck. I mean even in ch3 the first real mission. We're being used as a personal assassination squad because Lonato threatens Rhea's power. and then she's like. This is a public execution to give an example of what happens when you defy the church. and I was like !!!!!!! let's mentally/emotionally scar a bunch of teenagers into fearing the wrath of the church. Rhea: prosecutor, defense, jury, judge

I remember ranting about revolution and society in fire emblem games before having played this one, and wow intsys made a game for me

Ignatz and Raphael. I must protect both of them. sweet sweet boys. Raphael has the biggest heart and Ignatz just wants to help. Team Protect Raphael's Heart. Raphs is pretty emotionally mature too. he gives warm fuzzy vibes. Ignatz takes on so many burdens and clams up about his own pain. He doesn't place any importance on himself. Let my boy be an artist! Raphael certainly has pain, but he doesn't want a life where that pain rules over all else. Raphael is a force of GOOD I would have love to meet Lorenz's dad. I don't have high expectations of him, but I'm curious. we've heard so many different things about him. And he's one of the major actors of the story. But we also know so little about him.

o both Mercedes and Emile have the Lamine crest. If that came from their shared mother, why did House Martritz fall since she was heir? Possible answer sexism or finances. The other option is that both Bartels and Martritz have the Lamine bloodline. Also, Jeritza is younger than I thought he was Modern Advances in Missile System Engineering Wade and Kruger 7e 2XXX

Schöner, Alexa, and ZaiCheng Jun. "Applications of Dymanic Systems Theory in Autonomous Bipedal Assault Units". Journal of Robotics 18.4 (2XXX): 157-170.

I think I'm hilarious. heh. Imagine though, While digging around Shambhala Claude finds these and everyone is just confused because it looks like their language???? and yet the words! they dont make sense!

I didn’t really care when hubert died in VW, but edelgard's death hit me you know. Because both claude and edelgards ambitions are to tear down the old system. and seeing edelgard in that armor. Its like the timeskip all over again. Part 2 begins and you relize how much all the characters have grown. And while you werent looking edelgard has been going through her own journey. When you fight her shes wearing armor with elements from both the flame emperor and her part 2 outfit yeah edelgard is yikes. i agree with her goals but her disregard for yhe lives under her concerns me. And between her tendency to brute force solutions, those who slither in the dark, and the empires situation, I think she was doomed to fail from the start

When Claude ... half jokes??? that Hilda can grasp his throat, is that connected to how Fodlan's Locket (in Fodlan's Throat) is under house Goneril control?

#Fire Emblem Three Houses #fire emblem #fe #fe3h

9 notes · View notes

eachainn · 6 years ago

Text

I will carry hell to your doorstep; I will make you pay

Alarms rung in every section of the administration building, the noise deafening. Beneath that was the shouts from the soldiers as they rushed up and down the hall. Julius almost wanted to snap at them to stop because he couldn’t think.

He winced at another sharp blast of the alarm, reaching up to press his hands against his ears. Julius swallowed and curled in on himself.

He knew that he shouldn’t be cowering in his office. There were plans to be done, orders to give. Marianne had run him through various scenarios and what to do. The problem was that he suddenly couldn’t remember anything she had told him amidst the ruckus. It didn’t matter that he had studied the books and what he had been told over and over again. He had expected to be somewhere else, somewhere at a distance. Princes commanded from a distance where they could watch the whole battle unfold. They didn’t put themselves in danger and they certainly weren’t left alone in it.

Julius looked up, giving his office a terrified look. He had been left alone by his guards, or he had ordered them out of the room, he couldn’t remember. All he knew was that he had to bring some of them back. And then…and then… Julius didn’t know how he would continue, but he would focus on that as soon as he was secure.

He stumbled to his feet, lunging for the intercom system. He slammed his hand on the button, shouting into the microphone. “Captain!”

He expected an immediate response, but it took a while. It left him with nothing but the sound of gunshots and shouts. Julius shuddered, almost retreating to his hiding place again. Then a voice came through, Julius breathing a sigh of relief.

“Your highness?”

“Captain, I need a guard.”

“I’m sorry your highness.”

Julius blinked, parsing his way through the almost refusal. “What do you mean?”

“We’re stretched thin, your highness. If we move from where we are, they’ll make it up to your level.”

Julius stared at the blinking red light, his stomach twisting. “They’re inside the building?!”

“Yes, your highness.”

Julius didn’t wait to hear their answer. He ran for the window, pressing himself against it to look down into the courtyard. There were Knightmares wheeling around, all of them aiming up at the building itself. All of them Knightmares that he wasn’t familiar with.

He pressed a hand against the window. “Where are our Knightmares?”

“It was the first place they struck.”

Julius pivoted to stare at the intercom, surprised that the captain was still on. He leaned heavily against the window, his heart pounding. “How? How did they do this?!”

“I don’t know. But I would – HOLD THE LINE THERE – I would say it was the old subway tunnels.”

“I ordered those closed.”

“Work is still being done.”

Julius cursed and looked back down, watching events play out. It was clear that the Black Knights controlled the area around the administration building. The Knightmares were easily holding the front and, by the sound of it, his soldiers were struggling. It was an unimaginable failure.

Julius curled his fingers against the window, the squeak of his fingers shaking himself out of his shock. He glanced out the window, watching the Knightmares come around for another shot at the defenses. He flinched away from the window at the pings of bullets against the building. Above him, he heard one of the machine guns cease to fire.

He cursed and pushed away from the window, moving back to his desk. He scanned over the mess of files as he tried to calm himself down. The soldiers in the administrative building were not the only soldiers that were in Area 11. The problem was that it would take them time to get to him. By then, the Black Knights would be in control and he would be a hostage. Julius muttered another curse, bracing himself against the desk.

He couldn’t be a hostage, it would mean that he had failed. Failure wasn’t an option, it had never been an option. It meant that he was weak. It meant that he was beneath his father’s gaze.

Julius pressed a hand to his mouth as the old fear came back, the same fear he had felt when he had watched Lelouch storm out of their father’s court. It was the feeling of being alone with no one to support him, and the realization that he would next. He curled his fingers in, hoping that the bite of pain would be enough to shake him out of his shock, but it did nothing but hurt. He was backed into a corner with no idea what to do.

He swallowed, glancing back over at the flashing light of the intercom. He couldn’t stand alone like this, he couldn’t be taken prisoner. They could lose the administrative building and set up a government somewhere else. His father might not like it, but he could win back that favor by winning back Area 11. That would be a heroic effort worthy of a prince, and his father wouldn’t withdraw support. He could be a favorite, he could be protected, and he wouldn’t be abandoned again.

He lunged for the intercom, glancing at the red button before speaking again. “Captain, I’m calling a retreat. Get your squad here and we’ll start to leave.” He took a breath to start his plan, frowning when there was no response. Julius leaned forward, his focus on the red light. “Captain?”

“Citizens of Britannia and Japan!”

Julius jerked as the voice echoed through the intercom system. It took him a moment to realize that it was being broadcast through the building’s speaker systems, which meant that they were deep inside the building. A moment later, he realized that the voice was familiar, hauntingly so.

He took a step back from the desk, staring at the nearest speaker as the voice continued.

“We are the Black Knights, knights for justice. As such we declare the rule of Viceroy Julius to be unnecessarily strict and detrimental to the sake of the people. As such we decree that it cannot continue. Furthermore, we demand justice for the citizens of Britannia. They have been betrayed and lied to.”

Julius shook his head, taking a step back from his desk. He pivoted, trying to get himself in motion. The building was lost, which meant that he had to leave before the Black Knights got to him. He didn’t believe for a moment that they were knights for justice as they claimed. They were just Numbers out for revenge. He’d retreat to the next closest city and try again. After all, the Black Knights couldn’t be everywhere. They would need everything that they had to take the administration building.

He made a lunge for the door, stopping short when he heard the voice coming not only from the speakers but from the other side of the door. Julius stared at the door, shaking his head.

They had gotten too close, and the damn voice was still going.

“Viceroy Clovis was wrongfully murdered and the blame placed on an innocent man. For his own glory, Viceroy Julius murdered his own half-brother and took his place. That he has gotten away with it is a slight on Britannia and should not be allowed. That is why we are here, that is why we cry for justice.”

Julius shook his head, making another run from the door. He doubted that there were any people in the vicinity of the administration building to hear what was being said. They were probably hiding from the battle. Besides, no one would listen to a terrorist, even if it was Zero. Julius ignored the nagging part of his mind that said it didn’t sound enough like Zero, something was off that turned it too familiar.

He swallowed, reaching for the door pad with shaking hands. He started entering the code, getting halfway through it before he jerked to a stop. The voice was on the other side of the door now, although it was out of sync with what was being said. The voice over the loudspeakers was carrying on with the charges against him, listing the things he had done in the EU and Japan. But the voice on the other side of the door was saying something else, Julius breath catching in his throat as he listened.

“Viceroy Julius vi Britannia is also charged with the murder of his brother in cold blood over the outcome of a foolish and cruel game. And then, he lied to Britannia to cover his crimes to further his own ambitions.”

“That’s a lie!” Julius didn’t know what spurred him to respond, but he regretted it a moment later.

The door started to open, Julius glancing at his own half completed code before scurrying backward. Zero’s voice still droned on in the background, but the words had lost their meaning. Julius could only stare at his brother walked through the door, dressed in Zero’s familiar outfit. Julius was distantly aware of someone else hovering behind Lelouch, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Lelouch.

He lifted up a shaky hand, pointing at the apparition. “Y-you’re dead. I saw you fall.”

Lelouch grinned at him, giving him a mocking bow. “I’ve come back from the depths of hell, brother. And I’m going to change everything.”

Julius stared at Lelouch before shaking his head. He had done so much and this ghost, this imposter was going to take it away. He could still win as soon as he got moving, as soon as he figured out how to leave.

His gaze jumped over to where Suzaku was standing by Lelouch. He shook his head, pointing at Lelouch. “That’s why you allowed yourself to be taken?! To serve this imposter?”

Suzaku just stared impassively at him. The stare was nearly as bad as the constant repetition of all of his crimes. Julius didn’t know if he wanted to snap that none of what he was being accused of were true or to confront the ghost in front of him. He stumbled back another step, his breath catching in his throat when Lelouch followed.

Lelouch came right up close to him, Julius lashing out only for Lelouch to catch the punch. The solid grip was enough to send a cold jolt of fear down his spine. That more than anything made it real. He wouldn’t have been able to touch a ghost.

Julius shook his head, trying to jerk his wrist away. “No. You can’t be alive. I-”

“Killed me?” Lelouch smiled at him, the expression making Julius shrink back. “You would have, if you were smart enough to finish the job. You just saw me fall.”

“But-” Julius flinched as he was jerked forward a step, Lelouch glaring at him.

“You left me for dead. I would have died, but the Japanese were more merciful than you were. You killed me because of a game.”

“You cheated!”

“How?! How was it cheating when it was Suzaku’s choice?!”

“HE DOESN’T GET A CHOICE! HE’S AN ELEVEN!”

Julius only realized when he had shouted when Lelouch let go of his wrist. He shot a quick look over at Suzaku, looking the man over to see if Suzaku was going for his weapon. Julius chuckled when Suzaku didn’t move. It was obvious that he was just waiting to see who would gain the upper hand. The Eleven was probably just waiting to see who won. He probably just wanted his position back. They were all like that, scrambling for position, and Julius had all the cards.

He reached out his hand. “Suzaku, help me. Help me kill him and I’ll give you your position back. I’ll make you Knight of One.”

Suzaku tipped his head to the side, his usual blank expression on his face. “Why? I don’t have a choice.”

Julius gaped at him. He expected something like that, but Suzaku had made promises to the empire. He was a Number, one bound to the empire.

He glanced over at Lelouch, watching as his brother gloated. Julius shook his head. “You’re a traitor. You worked with the Numbers against Britannia.”

To his horror, Lelouch just shrugged. Julius reached out for him again. “Father will never let you inherit.”

“Who says I want that?” Lelouch laughed, leaning forward. “When have I ever wanted Father’s favor?”

“But…but…”

“I don’t care what Father thinks, not when he approves of all of this. This is going to ruin Britannia.”

“No!” Julius started backing towards his desk, keeping an eye on Suzaku and Lelouch. “No, we’re going to save it. As long as we’re strong nothing can happen to us. Its ideas like yours that are going to destroy us.”

Lelouch recoiled, Julius taking the moment to lunge for his desk. He scurried around the desk, reaching for the drawer where his gun was. He managed to pull the drawer out and plunge his hand in before Lelouch came around the side of the desk. Julius looked up at him, sneering at his brother. “You’re just jealous that I won. For once in my life, I won and you lost.”

“No. You’ve lost.”

Julius puffed himself up, about to snap back at his brother when Lelouch trained his gun on him. Julius stared down the barrel before looking up at Lelouch. He grinned up at his brother, the brother who coddled Nunnally and Rolo. The prince who had tried to make a policy that wouldn’t lead to people getting killed in Area 11. “You wouldn’t. You’re too-”

Julius heard the bang of the gun going off and the flash from the muzzle.

And then there was nothing.

---

Lelouch’s breath was loud in his ears, Lelouch sure that it was the reason for the roaring there. It wasn’t the echoing retort of the gun, he wasn’t going to let himself believe that. He wouldn’t let himself slip that far.

He knew what he had done. He knew what he had been planning to do.

He’d been ready to do it as he had watched his own funeral and known the horrible truth. But that didn’t stop him from shaking.

Lelouch listed to the side, leaning against the desk. He stared down at the gun in his hands before letting it drop. That made it easier to brace himself against the desk. It was hard to feel anything when the sight of his brother’s ruined face was making his stomach twist and rebel. He pressed his head against the desk, using it to hold himself steady. It worked, at least to keep him off of his knees.

He gritted his teeth, grabbing at the edge of the desk. He wasn’t going to fall apart about this. It didn’t matter that there were other ways, this was the only way that he would be safe. He wouldn’t have been able to live with Julius alive, his brother wouldn’t let that happen. It would have all become one extended game, one that he didn’t want to play. Lelouch closed his eyes, taking deep breaths before he pushed himself away from the desk.

Lelouch tensed as a hand rested on his back. He turned his head to look at Suzaku, surprised when Suzaku reached out to brush a thumb over it cheek. It was only then that he realized that he had been crying. Lelouch gritted his teeth and viciously wiped at his face. He wasn’t going to let himself cry about Julius, not after everything.

He took a deep breath, hating the way it shook. He didn’t have time for this, he had to be in control of himself. The Black Knights wouldn’t last much longer. They had overwhelmed the Britannian forces, but it wouldn’t take them long for the shock to wear off and reinforcements to be called, if Julius hadn’t already done it. He had to look in control while he proclaimed himself Prince Lelouch vi Britannia and that he was taking control of Area 11. If he sounded like he was in charge then no one would question it before it was too late. And, when they did, it was bound to attract attention.

He bit his lip, clenching his hands into fists. He just needed another minute. It’s all he could have.

Lelouch shivered as Suzaku’s hand rested on his shoulder. It lingered there for a moment before sweeping down into the small of his back. He leaned back into it, closing his eyes. Still, it was hard to relax with his brother’s body still in the room.

He swallowed and reached up a shaking hand for his earpiece, surprised when Suzaku moved first. He turned his head to stare at Suzaku as the man spoke.

“Kallen, this is Suzaku. Things are under control here. The announcement will be going out soon. Tell the others to hold their position.” Suzaku paused, his head cocked to the side. “Yes, the Zero Squad can come up. Ask Tohdoh to organize the rest and…we might need to move. No, Kallen, his body is right there.” Another pause, which was just enough time for Lelouch to sneak a look at Julius’ body before Suzaku reached up to turn his head away again. “We’ll make the announcement somewhere else.”

Lelouch jerked his head away, stumbling back from Suzaku. He envied Suzaku’s calm at the same time as he resented it. He curled his hands into fists, holding himself together until Suzaku looked at him again. “I can do this.”

Suzaku watched him for a moment before reaching out. Suzaku stopped himself close to touching him, his hand hovering there before he dropped it back down. “Lelouch, you just killed your brother.”

“I told you I would! I told you that from the moment that I saved you!” Lelouch started to turn but he stopped himself. He swallowed, holding himself stiffly. “I promised myself that I would from the moment that I realized that he tried to kill me.”

“I know but-”

Lelouch shook his head and pushed past him. “We don’t have time for this. I can’t leave the Black Knights out there.”

He stormed out of the room, the tightness in his chest easing the further away he got from Julius’ body. He could hear Suzaku hurrying after him, and Lelouch was almost tempted to send him away, but another part wanted Suzaku close. The building still wasn’t cleared and he didn’t want this to end before it had started. If anything went wrong, they were all dead. Lelouch couldn’t allow that to happen, not when he was so close to the end.

Besides, Lelouch didn’t want Suzaku standing in the room with Julius’ body and coming up with more questions for him. Because he didn’t regret it. He’d had two years to think it over and get over his initial anger, except that he hadn’t. It had kept him going for this long. He might have no regrets, but he had never really thought about standing in the same room as his brother’s body.

It was a lot like it had been when he had discovered his assassination attempt, with Nunnally and Marianne on the stairs and Clara just below them.

Lelouch shuddered, stopping himself dead. His hands twitched by his sides as he fought the urge to hold onto himself. He didn’t need that, all of his affection for Julius was gone. It had to be because there was no way anything that Julius had done would preserve it. But that didn’t explain the detached horror.

There had been so much blood.

He turned at the sound of footsteps, Lelouch staring back at Suzaku. Suzaku kept a step between them, the distance proper but unimaginable. They had spent two years apart. It had been his fault, but for their safety.

Lelouch swallowed and looked up at Suzaku, feeling dread build in his chest. Suzaku might not have liked Julius, it was probably hard to like the man who condemned him to death. But he had been a Knight of the Round assigned to guard the family. He had known them. He knew how this would affect the family, and Lelouch could see Suzaku hating him for that. After all, Lelouch was his best bet to regain his title, and the killing of a prince wasn’t the way to do that.

Lelouch swallowed, tipping his chin up. He wasn’t going to send Suzaku away, or ask him if he would stay. Suzaku was still standing with him, but Lelouch was suddenly aware of the gap between them. He would have to work to close the distance. He had to, because it was partially his fault that this had happened to him.

He nodded at Suzaku, not trusting himself to come up with a suitable promise, but there were more important things to do first. As soon as he had secured things he would start thinking about ways to pay back Suzaku’s loyalty. The Black Knights were easy enough, but Suzaku was different.

He turned his attention back to the door, pressing the command to open it. Lelouch waited for it to slide open, only then realizing that he was hesitating. Two years had made him eager, but not enough to go rushing into the room. If he did this, then there was no escaping. He couldn’t just disappear with the Black Knights again, which sounded tempting. There would be another viceroy sent to Japan, and they might not be lenient. After all, Japan had taken two of their princes. Lelouch was sure that the reason didn’t matter, just the deaths did. Besides, he would be lying to himself if he thought he didn’t want to.

Lelouch took a step into the room, struck by a strange sense of surprise that he wasn’t struck down for his daring. He glanced around the deserted office, waiting for some last ditch attempt to be launched, but there was nothing. The silence was enough to spur him on. Silence meant that they were holding the building, which could only last for so long.

He reached back for Suzaku’s hand, relaxing when he felt Suzaku’s fingers brush against his. Suzaku stepped forward, holding his hand as he came to stand beside Lelouch. “Kallen will be up soon.”

Lelouch nodded, tightening his hold on Suzaku’s hand before pulling him forward towards the desk.

#my fic #Month of Code Geass #code geass #suzalulu

11 notes · View notes

junker-town · 5 years ago

Text

A tactical breakdown of the Democratic Presidential candidate soccer team

Intelligent and physical, but do they lack creativity?

Hello friends, I’d like you to check out this extremely good tweet about the next Democratic presidential debate.

Looks like the Dems will be playing a 4-3-3 in the next election. pic.twitter.com/THDwPquJc6

— Alex Baker (@baker_alex) October 1, 2019

This is a real soccer team now, in my head, and I’d like to break it down tactically for you.

Goalkeeper — Marianne Williamson: The above graphic has omitted the goalkeeper, but my pal Ben has an excellent idea.

Williamson is the wildly out-of-control sweeper keeper who shouts nonsense (that everyone else ignores) and desperately wants to be included in the build-up. And appointed herself team chaplain?

— Ben Crook (@TheBenCrook) October 1, 2019

Marianne Williamson is Rene Higuita.

Left back — Julian Castro: Your standard modern fullback. Decent defensively, decent going forward, can put in a cross with his left. No serious deficiencies, and no one has any problem with his inclusion in the team.

Right back — Joe Biden: An old-school, no-nonsense fullback. Thinks players like Dani Alves have ruined the modern game and bemoans the lost art of conservative fullback play. Like Gary Neville, but still around somehow.

Center back — Pete Buttigieg: Tiny for a center back. Intelligent and technical, he fancies himself a regular Fabio Cannavaro. In reality, he’s probably unsuited to this job.

Center back — Cory Booker: The more athletic center back you need to cover for having someone like Mayor Pete in your back line. Looks world class for several games at a time before making an embarrassing gaffe. Very similar to Dejan Lovren.

Defensive midfielder — Amy Klobuchar: A true enforcer. “When you play against Klobuchar, you know you’ve been in a game,” NBC analyst Lee Dixon loves to say. Klobuchar thinks Roy Keane was a wuss.

Central midfielder — Kamala Harris: A bit out of position, but there’s no one better to fill her role. She’d like to be a less physical, more technically savvy version of the enforcer, but she’s being forced into a more progressive role.

Central midfielder — Beto O’Rourke: Half the fans bemoan his inclusion. What does Beto even do, they ask? Does he have any elite skills? What does he add to the team? His supporters can’t believe the people who don’t recognize his quality, and say he does tons of things that don’t show up on the stat sheet.

Left winger — Andrew Yang: No flashy dribbling, no flicks and tricks, just cutting inside and smashing the hell out of the ball with his right foot.

Right winger — Bernie Sanders: The team’s most ambitious player, but also the one who commits the most turnovers. He’s not the MVP and his worst performances drive the supporters nuts, but given the lack of flash from the rest of the squad, he’s very necessary.

Striker — Elizabeth Warren: Maybe you’d prefer a No. 9 who’s a bit more ruthless in front of goal, but she’s unselfish and sets up Yang, Sanders and Harris to bang them in. This squad’s Roberto Firmino.

0 notes

be11atrixthestrange · 3 years ago

Text

Like It Never Happened

This is a crime story I wrote for The House Competition. Writing it stretched my creativity and deeply challenged me, but I’m extremely proud of how it turned out!

(Loosely inspired by the TV Show ‘Supernatural’ because Dean + Sam = Harry + Ron, and there’s no point in trying to change my mind!)

------------------------------------

Theme: Crime Prompts: 1 — [Dialogue (multiline)] "Trust in your gut." / "What's your gut telling you?" 2 — [First line] She never knew that a simple run in the morning could change her life, but it did.

Word Count: 3k

Read on AO3 | FFN

------------------------------------

She never knew that a simple run in the morning could change her life, but it did.

Marianne had sensed that something awful would happen that morning. It was a rock-solid pit of dread that sagged in her stomach as her husband Bill laced up his trainers. She would have tried to keep him from going on his morning jog, but he wouldn't have listened to her anyway. Instead, he'd have shrugged her off, paying no mind to her silly premonitions, which, according to Bill, were more of a reason for caution, not trust. Gut feelings couldn't hold a candle to facts and evidence.

He used to joke about it. "Trust in your gut? That's no way to live."

"Why? What's your gut telling you?" The corners of her mouth would curl in amusement; she secretly loved their playful debates. Challenging each other had become a flirtatious past-time over the years, and it was good for him too. As the lead investigator of the local detective squad, Bill had her to thank for his polished interrogation skills.

"My gut's telling me to eat more vegetables." He'd lean back in his chair and pat his belly, now round with memories of cozy movie nights spent sipping hot cocoa from matching mugs, their intertwined fingers slippery from the extra butter on their popcorn. "Now, why would I listen to that?"

To a certain extent, he was right. Marianne often relied too heavily on emotions, waving aside inconvenient facts. Her opinions and beliefs were always fast-formed and long-lasting. Bill encouraged her to take a step back; to get to know people before forming judgments, to 'sleep on it' before buying the shoes, and to consider her bias.

And in return, Marianne never hesitated to say 'I told you so' when a roundabout investigation led back to the first suspect, the one that 'seemed a bit off' even before the evidence came through.

What a mistake it had been to keep quiet that fateful morning. She nervously watched from the window as Bill picked up his pace, trotting along the pavement until he rounded the corner and disappeared from view. She should have listened to her gut.

Forty-five anxious minutes later, the front door reopened, and in walked a man. He had Bill's same sandy hair, his jolly round belly, and was even wearing his running clothes, but that's where the similarities ended. He was different. The way he bumped into the doorway looked like someone accustomed to riding a bicycle was trying to navigate a narrow alleyway in a truck.

Then she peered into his hazel eyes, and their sparkle was gone. That was when she knew — it wasn't Bill looking back at her, but an imposter.

So she did what she should have done before. She trusted her gut.

Where did that lead her? Gateway Home For The Criminally Insane.

Her diagnosis? Capgras Syndrome.

She had never heard of the condition before, not until Sullivan, her attorney, pushed a pamphlet into her cuffed hands.

"What is this?" she asked, pinching the paper between her two fingers like a dirty napkin.

"Your defense."

She eyed the pamphlet, scrunching her nose as if it smelled.

Capgras Syndrome, also known as Capgras Delusion, is the irrational belief that a familiar person or place has been replaced with an exact duplicate.

"No," she said, sliding the pamphlet across the table. "That's not what I have. It's not a delusion."

Sullivan tugged at his hair in frustration, which was becoming more and more unruly each time they met. He was beginning to look like a strung-out mad scientist.

"You have to plead insanity. It's your only shot. You killed your husband, Marianne."

"That man was not my husband," she stated.

"No one will believe that," he groaned. "Not unless you have some evidence."

Marianne frowned and tried to cross her arms in front of her chest, wincing when her handcuffs prevented it. She didn't have any evidence. She just knew.

Unfortunately, that wasn't going to be enough.

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "I'll plead insanity."

And that was that.

It was technically a stroke of luck that the judge believed her plea, but she felt far from fortunate as she sat on the lumpy twin mattress in her plain-jane hospital frock.

She opened the drawer of her nightstand to shuffle through cut-outs of newspaper articles that she'd collected for her own investigation. They'd taken away her pinboard — the thumbtacks and cotton twine connecting local catastrophic events back to William's passport picture were deemed too hazardous.

Not a problem; she had it all memorized. She couldn't understand how a plane crash, a mass hospital poisoning, or the collapse of a nearby dam could be written off as "accidents." Even Marianne, who so readily trusted her instincts, agreed that these cases had been closed too quickly. It appeared that the lead investigator for all of these crimes didn't bother with evidence at all.

Two airplanes don't just collide head-on unless it's planned, and there had been no investigation into the air traffic controller that was responsible for directing them that day. She ran her fingers over the headline — Local Detective Says Plane Crash Was An Honest Mistake.

Then there was the hospital event. Police Department Blames Mass Hospital Death On A Bad Batch Of Morphine. Marianne didn't know much about morphine, but she was pretty sure it didn't come in batches, and someone had to be responsible for contaminating it.

And the collapsed dam? Law Enforcement Responds To Dam Catastrophe: "Sometimes These Things Just Happen."

Reading further into the article made her stomach clench.

Det. William McCormick confirmed that although the dam passed a comprehensive inspection a few days prior to its collapse, there was nothing suspicious about the event. "It was a freak accident," he said. "Sometimes these things just happen." When asked what evidence he had to close the case, he responded, "A gut feeling."

She couldn't ignore the signs; Bill's imposter was incompetent and reckless, shrugging off these catastrophes as if he wanted planes to crash and dams to collapse. Someone needed to stop him, and when no one listened to her pleas, she took matters into her own hands.

Now that she was at Gateway, Sullivan told her to stop speaking of such things because her murder case was 'over' and she'd 'freak people out.'

That was the reason she was hesitant to talk to the two strange men who stopped in for an unexpected visit. When they knocked on her door and peered into her room, she motioned them in because, honestly, what choice did she have?

One of the men was tall, freckly, and had blinding red hair. Maybe it wasn't that vibrant, but against the asylum-white walls of her tiny cell of a bedroom, it made her wish she had sunglasses. But alas, she wasn't allowed any. Too pointy.

The other man had a messy black mop of hair, a ghastly scar on his forehead, and wore round, crooked spectacles. He was a bit shorter and scrawnier than the other but still had a look of confidence — a gleam in his eye that suggested he had seen some horrors. Marianne wondered what traumas he could have possibly experienced at such a spritely young age. It couldn't be worse than sharing a bed with a stranger claiming to be her husband, going to trial for his murder, or living in a mental institution.

"Mrs. McCormick?" asked the shorter man when they entered her room. "I'm Agent Potter, and this is my colleague Agent Weasley."

The men stood stiffly as if trapped inside their suits. It caused Marianne's skin to crawl and reminded her of the man she'd killed. Unlike her husband, "William" had hated wearing smart clothes. He'd waddle in a blazer like a penguin wearing a turtle shell, his tie knotted around his neck like a noose because he couldn't remember how to fasten it.

"Whatever information you want, you're not getting it from me," said Marianne. She gestured to the half-empty bottle of antipsychotics locked in the safe on her bedside table. "They say I'm not a reliable source."

"Well," said the ginger, wincing as he adjusted his necktie. "We think you are."

The sleeves of his jacket were too short, and Marianne caught a glimpse of swirly scars on his arms. She wondered what caused those.

"Agent Weasley?"

"You can call me Ron."

She narrowed her eyes at the man. Ron. The way he said his name sounded natural, slipping from his lips like an exhale. It was nothing like "William" introducing himself — pausing before saying his name as if to make sure he used the right alias, over-emphasizing each syllable.

"Ron. Is that short for something?" asked Marianne.

He shrugged, and a lopsided grin spread across his face. "Short for Ronald. But 'Ron's' more me."

Just like her husband didn't much like William. 'Call me Bill.'

The imposter, however, didn't seem to mind it. He wouldn't even answer to "Bill."

"What do you want to know, Ron?" she asked, her eyes shifting between the two, "and Agent Potter?"

"Call me Harry. We want to know why you killed the man who called himself William."

Marianne froze, her mouth agape. She was the only person to phrase it that way. No one "official" had ever believed her. "You're… you're not agents, are you?"

The two men exchanged a knowing glance, engaging in a silent conversation, the kind only two close friends could have. Then Harry let the door close behind him, and Ron took a step closer. "No, we're not really agents."

"Then who are you?"

The men briefly met each other's gaze and nodded. Ron pulled up a chair from the corner and took a seat. "We're called Aurors. We investigate crimes that might have a…" he trailed off, unable to find the correct word.

"Paranormal aspect," Harry finished for him. "We think there's something sinister going on."

"Well, I could have told you that," said Marianne. "So, Aurors, huh? Is that a fancy word for Ghost-hunters? Demon-exorcisers?"

"Something like that," grinned Harry.

Marianne waited, but the men did not provide any more information. She wasn't surprised, as she knew better than to expect it, but still, something about the men seemed trustworthy, even after admitting they were imposters too. They believed her.

So, she told them the truth.

"I killed him because he wasn't my husband. He was part of a network of imposters, and he was using my husband's position in law enforcement to cover up their crimes. They were trying to wreak havoc on our society." She slid open the drawer containing relevant headlines, fully aware of how unlikely her proposal sounded, and handed them over to the men.

Marianne then lowered her voice to a whisper, fearing that Gateway staff might overhear her and increase her medication dosage. Again. "I thought he was working with the dam inspector, the air traffic controller, and someone in charge of quality control at the hospital. Maybe the crime reporter too. But no one believed me, and now I'm stuck living in this hell hole."

There it was, all of her trauma, simplified and watered-down into a bite-sized tablet. It was an easy enough pill to swallow but an impossible one to believe, at least while still maintaining a facade of sanity. It made the judge pity Marianne enough to recommend a Clozapine prescription over a prison sentence. How lucky for her.

She wondered if the judge had truly believed that Marianne was insane or if she simply feared ending up in the empty cell next door, wearing her very own hospital gown. When Ron and Harry's eyes grew wide in shock, she momentarily wondered the same about them.

"You did the right thing," said Ron. He beamed at her, and her shoulders relaxed in relief. "And we thank you for it. We've been trying to track down that bugger for ages."

Marianne felt a rush of something warm but couldn't name it. She could only hide so many pills under her tongue during med-checks, and emotional clarity was the first thing that disappeared with each dose.

"Well, if not my husband, who was he?"

"His name was Walden McNair, and he was a murderer."

Marianne didn't even bother feigning surprise. "Huh. Never heard of him. Did you find Bill?"

Ron and Harry smiled at her. "We did. He's back at home, and you're getting out of here today."

Marianne shot up to a seat. "Bill's alive?"

The men nodded.

"And I'm going home?"

They smiled and nodded again.

Marianne narrowed her eyes. "How are you going to convince them to let me leave?

Ron fiddled with a stick in his pocket. "We have our ways. You just have to trust us."

She crossed her arms in front of her body and cocked her head to the side. "Only if you tell me what's really going on."

Ron reached into the small knapsack on his belt and pulled out a pile of folded clothes. Marianne peered at him curiously — the bag surely wasn't big enough for that. "Fair enough. Here's a change of clothes. I'll cause a diversion, and Harry will bring you home."

She looked down at the clothes. They were hers, so the men had definitely been to her house.

They weren't lying. She could tell. But something strange was happening.

"Where did you find Bill?" she asked, watching as Ron fished in his too-small bag for something else.

"In a dungeon," said Harry. "He was taken hostage with a dam inspector, an air traffic controller, a hospital lab technician, and a crime reporter."

"I was right?!"

"Don't act so surprised," said Ron. "But you do need to change into normal clothes."

"Right." The men averted their eyes while Marianne shimmied out of her hospital gown and into a pair of trousers and a jumper. It smelled like home.

"Here's what's going to happen," said Harry, once Marianne was fully dressed. "Ron is going to throw something, and the whole floor will go dark. When that happens, I will grab your hand, and you have to hold on as tightly as you can."

"Wait, what? I don't understand. We're not driv—" started Marianne.

"One, two, three, GO!" interrupted Harry, and multiple things happened at once.

Ron threw what looked to be a grenade, and as soon as it hit the floor, a cloud of black smoke engulfed the room. They were immersed in darkness less than a second later.

That was when the screams began — people were surprisingly terrified of the dark.

Then Marianne felt Harry's hand grasp hers, heard a deafening crack, and was jolted backward into a different dimension, like a fish flailing from the water on a hook.

A few seconds and a whirlwind of nausea later, Marianne tumbled onto solid ground, panting.

"What the BLOODY HELL—" she started, but she cut herself off when she realized where they were. A stately white house with blue shutters stood before her, and she could hear Bill's favorite Beatles' album reverberating from his living-room record player. The comforting smell of dinner sizzling on the stove leaked from an open kitchen window.

She was home.

Marianne scrambled to her feet and turned toward the door, but Harry's grip on her wrist tightened.

"Hold on," he said with a surprising amount of authority. "Let's talk about this first."

She shuddered when she met his gaze, unsure if she should continue to trust Harry or give in to her sudden, overwhelming fear of him. Who was this man, anyway?

A better question: What was this man?

They had just defied physics by vanishing from the hospital and appearing at her home. Either something supernatural was happening, or her Clozapine prescription was a placebo. It didn't seem possible. Imposters were one thing, but this?

She recalled Harry's introduction, "We investigate crimes that might have a paranormal aspect." She had believed him without question. Maybe everyone was right, and she was insane.

"I need to see my husband. NOW," she said through clenched teeth. "I need to know what he went through—"

Harry kept his grip on her wrist. "I know you want him to tell you everything, but I'm afraid he won't be able to. He doesn't remember."

"What? How is that possible?"

"Marianne, listen. I need you to go inside and act completely normal. Can you do that?"

"How the hell can I act normal after all that's happened to me?"

"Trust me. Please."

She stared into his pleading emerald eyes, once again conflicted. Act normal? She couldn't possibly.

"Okay," she told him. It was clearly what Harry wanted to hear.

When Harry nodded and let go of her hand, Marianne pivoted toward her doorstep. She was fully aware that he was watching her, and it made her shudder.

As soon as she reached the front door, the shudders ceased, and she was overcome with euphoria. A loud crack sounded behind her, and she whipped around to find the source, but nothing was there.

We really need to trim the hedges, she thought to herself, scanning the overgrown greenery lining her front yard. How did we let it get so wild?

With a shrug, she turned back toward the house. It would be nice to see Bill after such a long day.

"Bill?" she called as she stepped inside.

"Marianne! I'm in the kitchen!"

Marianne smiled and followed the hearty, mouth-watering scent to reunite with her husband, completely oblivious to the trauma of the last few months.

Like it never happened.

#Ron and Harry BrOTP #auror ron #auror harry #supernatural #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #muggle world #Ron Weasley #Harry Potter #harry ron

1 note · View note

ramrodd · 5 years ago

Video

youtube

How to Become a Christian

COMMENTARY:

Visualize Whirled Peas

Once again, Marianne Williamson is the only national figure, including Bible-thumping, Pro-life Evangelical Jesus freaks, who is actually relevant regarding the tools mankind has been given to exercise dominion over the physical universe. In regards to the Holy Spirit, she is exactly correct, to wit:

@marwilliamson The Bahamas, Florida, Georgia and the Carolinas...may al be in our prayers now. Millions of us seeing Dorian turn away from land is not a wacky idea; it is a creative use of the power of the mind

That has been my theme in this series of comments on this video with the headline Visualize Whirled Peas.

The issue isn't so much that this power should be employed OR that, in the wrong hands, it can be used for evil purposes, it's that we are already using this power, inadvertently, in America due to the amplifying power of the internet and mass media to create a great deal of the dangerously violent weather in all the Red States with a dominant MAGA hat population. I've been watching it since the run-up to the 1998 Olympics at Nagano, when the spiritually toxic campaign of Governor George Bush arising from his demonstration of his Christian manhood by staging 180 executions in Texas drew violent we ather from El Nino into Texas every time an execution was announced, culminating in a weather system that went all the way up the Atlantic Coast to paralyze New England in an ice storm on New Years Eve 1997.

The Spirit of the Lord feeds on emotion and particularly enjoys the blood lust of the Evangelical lynch mob. Every time Donny Duck Ass tweets one of his hate-mongering, fear-mongering and race-bating tweets, it is amplified in Pro-Life churches and congregations all across Red America and the twisters and floods follow.

For example, Hurricane Katrina was headed on a direct line across the Gulf of Mexico towards Bush's Midland ranch in 2005, where a Gold Star mother was holding a protest at the gates to the Ranch, when a bunch of crypto-Nazi Bush supporters held a Pro-Iraq Invasion rally somewhere in Tennessee that Bushtail attended and Katrina, sensing the lynch mob, altered its course and ran up the Mississippi to New Orleans.

You can trace this timeline for yourself.

Or, in 2004, during the political agitation in Florida during the 2004 presidential campaign, with all the Swift Boat astro-turfing of people like Karl “Turd Blossom” Rove set in motion, there were 4 hurricanes that made destructive land fall on Florida, 3 of which formed a triangle of destruction with Rush Limbaugh's broadcast location at it's epicenter, and Hurricane Ivan crossing the panhandle in a graphic representation of 1 and 3, the numerological Finger of God.

The Holy Spirit caused this to happen so that I could witness to exactly what Marianne Williamson is talking about. Among other things, Jesus gave humankind the Holy Spirit so that we could optimize the weather patterns on Earth and, in the fullness of time, employ the Spirit of the Lord in fulfilling our destiny in space established by Genesis 15:5.

Now, I've already provided commentary on this them accompanying this video in regards to Hurricane Dorian in regards to Visualize Whirled Peas, so you can review the progress of the storm up until this instant, Friday, 0116 hrs, but there has been further events.

On Wednesday, when the Holy Spirit ended the 51 hour stall over the Bahamas and the storm began to turn up the coast, it dropped down initially to Cat 2 storm, but then took aim at Sandbridge, VA and spooled back up to a Cat 3 storm. The reason why it took aim at Sandbridge is because Pat Robertson's 700 Club is located there and this is one of those broadcasters who can be relied on to faithfully amplify the hate-mongering, fear-mongering and race-bating of the Conservative wing of the GOP, generally, and Donny Duckass' tweet storms, in particular

If you check the timeline, the storm began to spool up to Cat 3 just after Donny Duckass tweeted his “Alabama storm warning” defense, which, of course, the entire MAGA hat universe picked up. As of 1900 Thursday, the storm has subsided to a Cat 2 but was still projected to make landfall at the Outer Banks on the way to Sandbridge (which, for no particular reason pertinent to this commentary, has one of the few nude beaches in Virginia).

As 2330 Thursday, the track had evolved to missing any landfall and headed off into the Atlantic, which might seem to refute my thesis, but there is a history here.

In the '80s or '90s, I can't remember exactly when, a huge hurricane was projected to hit Virginia Beach head-on and Pat Robertson mobilized his Pro-Life Evangelical Bible-thumping congregation of Jesus freaks to pray to alter the track of the storm, which, in fact, happened. Pat Robertson took credit for it and, of course, the media, like The Onion's ridicule of @marwilliamson, dismissed the claim.

I, on the other hand, believe it happened exactly like Pat Robertson said it happened and I think the same thing is happening with Dorian even as I write this. The Spirit of the Lord is invested in Hurricane Dorian, but the Spirit of the Lord is subject to its own appetites OR to the direction of the Holy Spirit, In this case, the people of Virginia Beach (which is also the home of the Edgar Cayce Institute and neigh unto the Dismal Swamp, an acient loci of spiritual power) is combining with the 700 Club to shuffle Dorian off to Buffaloo without making landfall and producing more damage,

Time will tell the final chapter of the Dorian epic, but, for the future, @marwilliamson is the only person running for the Oval Office who is actually relevant when it comes to the spiritual health of America and the world. For the Pro-Life Evangelical MAGA hat nation, it would be Christian of you to repent from your Pro-Life heresies as they tend to amplify the hate-mongering, fear-mongering and race-baiting coming out of the Oval office that has contributed directly to the violent weather patterns everywhere in America since at lease 1997. It may feel good to mock AOC and the Squad for being brown, but your homes and communities are being devasted by wind and flood as a consequence.

And until Donny Duck Ass repents of his life time of criminal behaviors by shaving his head (which will lead to the end of the Korean War), the economy is headed for a replay of the 2008 economic crises, but without the adult leadership of Bush and Obama to fix a mess Moscow Mitch is ideologically incapable of avoiding.

Visualize Whirled Peas

0 notes

eachainn · 6 years ago

Text

I will find you through it all

Suzaku flicked the switch to unlatch the cockpit. He sat back as the chair slid back, Suzaku shutting his eyes. He could feel his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. The cockpit usually got warm during operations, but he hadn’t been expecting the heat. The Lancelot was better off than some of the Knightmares that had been painted darker, but it was made of metal all the same. Suzaku opened one eye to look at the Lancelot. He didn’t dare touch the sides of the Lancelot, not after being out all day. He’d probably burn himself.

His fingers twitched, Suzaku not sure what impulse drove them. All he felt was exhaustion.

He was tempted to close his eyes again, but he spotted Kanon lingering by the end of the walkway. Suzaku sighed and pushed himself out of the seat.

His first step onto the walkway was wobbly, Suzaku stumbling over to the wall and catching himself. Behind him, he could hear the other officers doing the same, a few of them cursing as their legs gave out. Suzaku didn’t look back at them. He was sure that they wouldn’t appreciate it, not when they were sure to think that he was laughing at them. It was better to head right for Kanon, the man giving him a nod when he got closer.

“Sir Kururugi.” Kanon offered him a smile. “You did well out there. His majesty predicted that it would take a few more hours to break through those defenses.”

Suzaku just nodded. There was nothing else to say, not when he was sure that it didn’t matter. It was more important to keep breaking up the pockets of defenses before they could fully form. It was the only way to win back the treaty.

It had come relatively easy the first time, but now they were having to work for it. Ashley Ashra and his squad had crashed into a Polish town to causing havoc and making everyone involved step out of the treaty. Ashley insisted he had legitimate orders. He had insisted up until the moment Julius had shot one of his subordinates for insubordination.

Suzaku shivered at the memory. It was the look on Julius’ face that had stuck with him, the jubilant look paired with excitement. Julius had enjoyed it, and it had made him wonder if this was the last thing Lelouch had seen before he died.

He was grateful that Schneizel had chosen that moment to hand Julius’ guard over to the rest of the Knight of St. Michael and had removed himself. Ashley had left with his squad too, but no one knew where. Every once and a while Suzaku would hear about orders to search out the traitor to Britannia, but they were usually mixed in with rumors of the ghost of Hannibal. They were both smoke in the wind.

“Sir Kururugi?”

He looked back up at Kanon, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.”

Kanon gave him a long look that said the man didn’t believe him. Suzaku had gotten used to it. An aid-de-camp had to be smart to keep up with Schneizel. What he appreciated was the fact that Kanon didn’t push him for more.

Kanon tipped his head to the side, Suzaku taking the suggestion as an order. He fell into step beside Kanon as they walked back into the building. Kanon was occupied with looking though documents on his tablet. “Consider yourself on leave until called for, this will throw our schedule off. Schneizel will have to readjust things, but that can be done with local troops.”

Suzaku made a sound of agreement, not caring that it was probably rude. He’d apologize for it later, after he’d had something to eat and a shower. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but it was part of the pattern that Cecile had established when he had first started training with the Lancelot. Report, shower, food and then he was free to do what he wanted.

Kanon cleared his throat, Suzaku glancing over at him. The man flicked through a few more documents before he tucked the tablet under his arm. “In the meantime, I think I’ve found things that may help you in your search. It’s not much, especially over a year out, but it’s all that Prince Schneizel and I could gather together. It may not be enough but…” Kanon took a deep breath. “It’s the best we can manage for your services.”

“My…services?” Suzaku felt like his brain was running too slowly. He stared at Kanon, watching as the man’s expression softened.

Kanon twisted to rest a hand on his shoulder. The pressure brought him to a stop, Suzaku staring up at Kanon. The man nodded. “We know what it took to ignore an assignment given by Lady Marianne, especially with how she must have asked you. We just regret not reining in Julius before…” Kanon huffed, but let the subject drop. “And you have been acting above and beyond what was called for.”

“I am a Knight of the Round.”

“And answerable to the emperor, not a prince and his aid.” Kanon patted his shoulder. “Besides, we know where you’d rather be. And, for what you have done here, we can spin things for a reward. The family deserves that much.”

“What…”

Kanon pulled his hand back. “We have materials waiting in your room, everything that we could find. I’m sure you have your own sources, but this is all we can offer.” Kanon went to walk off, pausing in the middle of the hallway to look back at him. ��Prince Lelouch was Prince Schneizel’s favorite brother. If he could be brought home…it would help him.”

Kanon turned away before he could say anything else, leaving Suzaku to stare after him. Suzaku felt his mouth go dry, his heart pounding in his chest. The admissions were telling, but not at all important compared to what Kanon had offered him.

He had done his own looking in between missions, but he had always run into the same problem. No one knew what happened that day at Babel Tower. The only things he could find were the cameras from the soldiers - none of whom were on the scene at when Lelouch had been killed– and what Clovis and Julius had said. He couldn’t take anything Julius had said as the truth and Clovis often just parroted his younger brother. Suzaku had contented himself with wading through the accounts of soldiers and various hospitals around the city. But if Kanon had found something different….

He broke into a run, all thoughts of a shower and food disappearing as he sprinted for his room. The hallways were still clear, the other pilots still stumbling away from their Knightmares. They would have to debrief, which left him free and clear.

Because of his status his apartment was further into the building, and he regretted it. He wanted to be looking through what Kanon had given him now because he needed an end to this. Prince Julius might never see justice for what happened, but he could at least focus on one goal. He could at least find out where Lelouch’s body ended up. He could bring Lelouch home and bury him beside his younger sister. Maybe that would help everyone at the Aries Villa. Maybe it would help him.

He stumbled around a corner, breathing heavily as he sprinted the last feet to his door. His fingers felt clumsy as he input the code, Suzaku failing the first two times before he managed the right code.

He didn’t wait for the door to slide open all the way, Suzaku scooting through the door and turning towards his desk. Everything was where he had left it, save for the tablet that was set carefully to one side.

Suzaku stumbled across the room, picking up the tablet and pausing as something fluttered to the floor. Suzaku leaned over to pick it up, freezing in a crouch as he stared at the note. If he hadn’t been told who the information had come from, he wouldn’t have recognized the handwriting. It was shaky and jagged, nothing like what he expected from the second prince.

‘Find him.’

Suzaku nodded at the note, sinking the rest of the way to the floor. He turned his attention to the tablet, Suzaku opening it with shaky fingers.

The display was relatively simple, a few folders organized by topic and a series of videos labeled ‘BABEL TOWER – SECURITY FEED’.

Suzaku opened his first one, his heart pounding as he saw the casino floor. It was a view aimed towards the tables, but his gaze went right to the two sitting at the bar. His gaze settled on Lelouch, watching as the prince looked around the room. Lelouch didn’t look particularly interested in anything or even that lively, but it was back when he had been alive and that hurt

Suzaku took a deep breath, wrapping an arm around his middle to hold himself steady. He couldn’t back away from this, not when he had an order to focus on this, not that he needed and order. Suzaku swallowed and watched the screen, steeling himself to watch through the last moments on Lelouch’s life.

---

C.C. crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the guards that had been put on her. The two were doing a very good impression of Jeremiah when he was offended, not that they knew about him. Still, it was amusing, but she didn’t dare smile too much. Everyone was suspicious enough. A Britannian woman wandering on her own through the ghettos was strange enough. But one asking about Zero was enough to cause a panic. C.C. had never been rushed away from a place faster. They had even beaten some of her mother’s best efforts.

She sighed, raising her eyes to the ceiling of the warehouse that she was in. It wasn’t the kind of stylish thing she expected of the Black Knights, but that was probably the point. She was being treated as a threat, although CC. wasn’t sure how that would go. If word got all the way up to Zero then she might have a chance to get in. She would even take a second-in-command because the word would eventually get to Zero.

It had taken her months to look through everything that pertained to Zero and the Black Knights. It had been hushed up in Britannia, not that she had been surprised. To them Zero was a flash in the pan and nothing to be worried about. It’s what they needed to hear. If they searched deeper, they would be very worried because Zero was winning. C.C. was sure that it what most people would fixate on, she was more interested in how he had done it, and it was very telling.

She had watched the princes grow up, watched their games first with each other and then with their half-siblings. There was a flair for dramatics that they both had, but Lelouch had seemed to absorb more of Schneizel style of planning. Julius was much more likely to use a subtle plan and then barge in after it, using his skill and brute force. Lelouch was slightly more cautious. Either way, it was the way Zero went about things that had drawn her attention.

It was methodical, a specific pattern that mirrored what Lelouch had been working on. She had hung around Lelouch sometimes when he had been working, somewhat to annoy him but mostly to keep an eye on him. It was the same thing that he had been planning to do to the resistance if negotiation hadn’t worked. Target the stockpiles of supplies and the lines themselves before moving in on their center. It was a wonder that no one in Britannia had recognized it. Then again, they had been busy, and Clovis had been crumbling so helpfully under pressure.

One of her guards shifted, C.C. perking up. She frowned when she realized that they were just getting nervous, which was easy enough to ignore. She was just one Britannian woman, and not a threat no matter how many questions she had asked. She might need to know where Zero was, but she wasn’t stupid enough to make too big of a ruckus. Clovis was looking for Zero too, and it probably wouldn’t take much for the Black Knights to get jumpy enough to start killing the wrong kind of people.

Her gaze darted to the side as the door to the back opened. She expected the same dour man who had led her into the warehouse to come out. He would give her excuses and send her on her way. If that happened C.C would have to make herself scarce for a few days. She would go somewhere else and ask her questions, and she would continue her search until she had to lay low long enough for the pressure to move away. Even that time wouldn’t be wasted, because the word would spread around. A Britannian noblewoman was looking for Zero. Enough people would have seen her to describe her to him and, if she was right, he would come looking for her.

C.C. turned to face the doors, frowning when a young woman walked out. It was nothing like she expected, which made her wary. Maybe she had miscalculated how they would react, and it made her wish that she had brought her gun. Wandering around unarmed wasn’t the smartest choice, but it was the best way to get them to trust her, at least enough to leave her alone.

She relaxed her arms slightly, watching as the girl turned and spoke with the two guards. Her Japanese was rapid fire, C.C. catching every few words but not about to figure out what they meant. She could hear anger in the girl’s voice, but it didn’t seem to be directed to her. That didn’t stop the bit of worry in the back of her head.

If she was honest with herself, she hadn’t thought the plan through much. She had been driven by the relentless march of time and her own growing irritation with how Marianne was. Her friend was in pain and suffering, and all for a son that could still be alive. C.C. didn’t know if she would be glad to see Lelouch or yell at him, but she was sure that she would decide that in the moment. The more important thing was surviving until then.

The girl made an annoyed motion at the guards before turning to look at her. C.C. raised an eyebrow as the red-head looked her up and down. The girl stared for a long time, long enough for C.C. to consider snapping at her.

Finally, the girl shook her head and walked forward. “You’re the Britannian looking for Zero.”

“One of them. I can think of a few.”

That got the girl to hesitate for a moment before she shook her head. “You’re flippant.”

“I don’t know what else to be considering the circumstances.”

“A little respect would be nice.”

C.C. shrugged. “I’ll pay you back in kind.”

The girl didn’t seem to know how to take that. She tensed for a moment before shaking her head. She turned to snap out what sounded an order before turning around. C.C. watched her start to walk away before the girl stopped. She was treated to an annoyed look before the girl motioned at her. “Come on.”

C.C’s eyes widened. She had expected to get told off and sent away. She had expected to work at this for months before she was given any answer.

She had expected this to be a wild goose chase that she could wave off as something that she had tried.

“Britannian.”

C.C. bristled at the address. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked forward, ignoring the looks from the others. C.C. fell into step behind the girl, trying not to look like she was memorizing the layout of the place. She didn’t care what the Black Knights were doing, not when she got down to it. She wasn’t there for Britannia, she was there for Marianne and the others. Still, she wanted to know the way out if she needed to run.

“Hey.” C.C. looked up at the girl in time to catch the annoyed look that the girl threw over her shoulder. “Keep up.”

C.C. sped up her pace a bit, but it was deliberately just behind the girl’s. The girl grumbled under her breath and kept going, C.C. catching a few words in Japanese, but she ignored them. She settled for quick, darting glances around her.

The warehouse was not what she was expecting for the hideout of the Black Knights, it seemed too obvious and not enough for the kind of operations that they did. If anything, it was a staging point that she had been shuffled to. There was nothing to defend from her wandering eyes here, but they would do so anyway, maybe to keep her from suspecting anything.

If that was the case, they would have to do a better job at it, because the warehouse was barely populated with people or equipment.

She hummed to herself, cutting the sound short when the girl glared at her. C.C. raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “So, am I going to meet your illustrious leader, or have I asked too many questions?”

“Yes.”

“To what?”

The girl’s shoulders twitched, but she didn’t respond.

C.C. pressed her lips together, not surprised by the girl’s attempts to keep silent. It was all going according to her plan, but that didn’t mean she would stop pressing. If her suspicions were wrong, then she might as well ask the Black Knights and Zero about what had happened to Lelouch. Everyone had told her that they were plugged into the ghettos and the country itself. That sort of reach could find one prince, especially if he was dead. Bodies didn’t tend to move much.

Her attention moved away from a pile of scrap metal towards one side of the room to the parts of the warehouse that had been divided up into small rooms.

The girl reached out for the door of one of them. She opened the door, making an exaggerated motion into the room. “My lady.”

The words came out as a sneer, but C.C. ignored it. It was nothing less than she had gotten in Britannia. Besides, the girl had gotten her title wrong.

She tipped her head in thanks before stepping into the room. As she expected, the girl was quick to swing the door shut, C.C. turning at the sound.

She stared at the door, debating the odds of this whole thing being a trap when she heard someone chuckle. C.C. turned, her hand automatically reaching for where her weapon would have been. Her fingers slid across the pocket of her skirt, seeking out the familiar shape. She quickly jerked her hand back, her fingers curling towards her palm. Her gun had been the first thing they had taken, along with her carefully sharpened stash of hairpins. She hadn’t cared then, because part of her had been surprised that they had thought that far into. Now, in the semi-darkness of the room, she regretted it.

She tipped her chin up, staring at where she thought the chuckle had come from. “Do I have the pleasure of addressing Zero? Or are you an imposter? I’ll warn you, I don’t have the patience for games.”

The room was quiet for a moment, C.C. narrowing her eyes. She doubted that she could just walk out of the room, the girl would be waiting, as would be the guards. C.C. didn’t like her chances of getting out of the warehouse. She hadn’t exactly seen Zero, but they were right to be cautious, just as she had every right to fight her way out. She was not going to leave Marianne to drift through the Aries Villa on her own. The rest of her children would be leaving soon, even Rolo might drift away, and Charles was always busy with other things. His wars, the empire.

Younger women.

C.C. pushed her annoyance down. It was something that she had lived with. She was the one who had seen the pattern first, back when Marianne had been too involved in the first rush of infatuation. She had been with Marianne before and after, and she planned on being there for a while.

C.C. stared into the darkness before shaking her head. “If you are Zero, I’m told that you know everything that goes on in Japan.”

She heard a sharp intake of breath, a sign that she had surprised them. She didn’t bother to smirk, wanting to push on while he was still in shock. “I don’t care what you’re doing here and I’m not going to turn you in, if you would believe it. I just have one question for the man who knows everything.”

There was a moment of silence before she heard the scrape of a boot across the floor. C.C. adjusted to face the sound, watching at the man walked out of the shadows.

It was suitably dramatic for him, C.C. giving the outfit a quick scan. It was just as ostentatious as on television. It took everything she had not to roll her eyes. It was not that time for criticism. She could do that later and when she was safely away.

The mask turned to look at her, C.C. not sure if Zero was even paying attention to her or listening for something outside. She didn’t care either way, because she was at least sure that she was seeing Zero. Or A Zero. It was hard to tell if it was the one who was making the plans or making the announcements.

The mask regarded her evenly before nodding slightly. “Your question?”

C.C. raised an eyebrow, only allowing herself that much surprise. She had thought that she would be turned away, but apparently she amused him enough to be heard. That or he recognized her.

She straightened her shoulders, evenly meeting where she imagined his gaze to be. “I want to know where the body of Prince Lelouch vi Britannia is.”

He sucked in another quick breath. Zero was silent for a moment before speaking carefully. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because is body was never returned. You may hate Britannia, but I’ve paid attention. There’s no revenge to be gotten from a dead body.” C.C. shook her head. “And I know his family. Having something like that would help them. And I doubt that you withhold the bodies of the dead from their families here.”

That made Zero tense. “I wasn’t involved in that.”

“But you know everything.” C.C. smirked. “It’s a simple thing to ask. Spread the word, find the body.”

“Give it to you?”

C.C. shook her head, turning around. “Make it an offering. You’re about to offers terms, right?”

“How did you-”

“It’s the only logical step.” C.C. shrugged, giving Zero a teasing smile. “And I watched you plan this campaign. The next step is offering terms, if I remember correctly.”

For a moment, she thought that she had talked herself into a desperate guess because Zero had gone still. C.C. held herself still as well, waiting for conformation.

She wanted her theory to be true. If she was honest with herself, she was almost desperate to be true. Charles might have been their father, but he barely spent any time with them. That had been her and Marianne. She wouldn’t admit many things about the children, but C.C. would allow herself a sense of protectiveness.

She took a deep breath, looking Zero squarely at where she thought his eyes were. “Isn’t it time to give up this game?”

Zero sighed and ducked his head. She watched his fingers twitch against his side before he reached up and practically ripped off the mask.

C.C. took a step forward as he turned and looked at her. Her heart pounded as she stared into Lelouch’s familiar face.

She had wanted to be right, but she had never expected to be.

“Lelouch-”

“What are you doing here?”

C.C. frowned, her elation disappearing. “Finding you, to bring you home.”

“No.”

She stared at him before taking a step back. “And why not?”

“Because I’m busy here.” He gestured towards the door, clearly meaning the Black Knights. “This isn’t something I can stop.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Without telling any of us.”

“Yes, for your own safety.”

“And what will a bunch of Japanese terrorists do to your family?”

Lelouch shook his head. “It’s not what the Black Knights would do. It’s what my family would do.”

C.C. stared at him for a moment before turning away. It was a strange thing to worry about, but the situation was a strange one. She couldn’t imagine Lelouch staying away from his siblings. But she also could remember the way that Julius had snapped at Rolo and the way he had strode around Aries Villa like he had been given allocates by the emperor himself. She remember how he had come home declaring that Lelouch was dead.

She turned back around, watching as Lelouch stared at the mask. “How are you here?”

Lelouch glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before shaking his head. “The others. They found me after.”

“After you and Julius got separated?”

“After he tried to kill me.”

Lelouch’s hands clutched at the mask, C.C. staring at the motion. It was easy to react with numbness, it was how she had dealt with everything before. Even then, she was aware of her hands shaking. “Julius did?”

Lelouch nodded, although he looked distracted. “All for a game.”

To her horror, it made sense. Julius had always sulked when he was beaten, but he had always gotten over it. But before there hadn’t been the pressures of what he didn’t have and what he wasn’t accomplishing. It must have seemed like a failure after he hadn’t secured anything his first time out as a representatives of Britannia. Not allowed to leave the country and not allowed to secure a knight by any other means would make a childish contest to win Suzaku’s attention mean more. She had just never thought how far he would go when pushed.

C.C. stared at Lelouch. “So you’ve been here.”

“Yes.” Lelouch shrugged. “It was either that or go back and let him try to kill me again. Besides, I owe these people for what they did. Freeing Japan feels like enough repayment.”

“Is that all?”

Lelouch shook his head, but deflected her next question with a quick, “I have my reasons.”

C.C. breathed out slowly, torn between agreement and reaching out to hit him. It was something that she had come to expect from Marianne’s sons. Still, it did nothing to help the situation.

She had promised herself that she would bring back Lelouch, either a body or the prince himself. She was sure that she could spend hours arguing Lelouch down, but she didn’t feel like making the attempt. But she had promised Marianne to contact as soon as she had any information.

C.C. tapped her hand against her leg before shaking her head. “You’re asking me to lie to Marianne.”

Lelouch turned to look at her, his eyes wide. “I’m not asking you to do anything!”

“Except leave you here, which I can’t do.”

“I don’t need someone watching me!”

“And I don’t intend on going back and watching your mother mourn.” C.C. strode forward, glad that Lelouch was still in shock because it meant that he was staying still. She stepped up so they were chest to chest, C.C. glaring at him. “After you pull this off and free Japan, what then? Are you going to hide forever?”

Something flickered across Lelouch’s face, the expression moving too quickly for her to follow. He tightened his hold on the mask, C.C. looking down as it practically twisted out of his hands. Lelouch fumbled for a better hold, his breathing speeding up momentarily. It didn’t slow down when he had a good hold of it again, Lelouch staring at it.

He was uncharacteristically silent, and it was only when she had stared at him for a while that she realized that he was shaking.

She took a step closer, reaching out for him before pulling her hand back. “Lelouch?”

“I want to go home. I want to see them all again. But I have to do this.”

C.C. tipped her head to the side, two questions coming immediately. It was just a matter of which one was more important. She pressed her lips together, looking over Lelouch before shaking her head. “Why?”

“It’s the only way I’ll be safe. At least until Julius is dead.”

C.C. jerked back, opening her mouth before snapping it shut. It was typical royal family behavior, and something that she wanted to discourage. But she didn’t have a good enough reason for him to not do it, not with the way that Julius had been strutting around. That and Lelouch had kept himself away for a year. If that didn’t prove his mettle, she didn’t know what else did. It wasn’t like he was completely without information about what was going on, but he had stayed.

She frowned, swaying in place. Technically, she had found what she was looking for so she could go back to Britannia, but that felt irresponsible. And she hated that it felt that was. But this was one of Marianne’s children. This was Lelouch.

She rolled her eyes, staring at the ceiling for a moment before shaking her head. “Am I allowed to leave?”

Lelouch shot her a surprised look. “Of course, as long as-”

She waved the rest of whatever he was going to say away. “It won’t be for good, just long enough to tell Marianne that I’ll be longer than I thought.”

“You’re staying?!”

“I’m not leaving you alone, not to do this.” C.C. looked at him, sighing when she realized how young he looked. She had always been impatient to have the children grow up so she could have Marianne back. Now she wasn’t so sure, at least not with Lelouch talking about his plan. She had to stay, for her own sake as much as Marianne’s.

Lelouch stared at her, C.C. watching him open and shut his mouth before giving his head a shake. “Fine.”

She grinned at him, glad that he’d had the sense to give in. She didn’t think that he would manage to come up with a good argument, not after staying away from them for a year.

She lifted her chin, giving him a long look before waving him on. “Go work out the details, and I’ll inform Marianne.”

Lelouch paused with the mask raised. He gave her a sharp look. “Don’t tell her anything about me.”

“I already promised you that, didn’t I?”

Lelouch glared at her before putting his mask. C.C. thought she caught the word “witch” before the mask was firmly in place. She turned to watch him walk out of the door, already issuing orders.

She watched him go before her knees quivered. C.C. stumbled to the nearest wall, leaning heavily on it to keep herself from falling over. She pressed her face against the drywall, taking deep breath as she resisted the urge to laugh at it all.

It was absurd in a strange way. She had gone out to find a body and ended up joining a terrorist group. If Marianne had been there, she would say that it was exactly the kind of trouble that C.C. would get into. And C.C. found that she couldn’t disagree.

#Month of Code Geass #suzalulu #code geass #my fic

7 notes · View notes