#phoenix is so willing to take care of people even though he can barely afford to take care of himself

[godlytomatoes]

Do you ever think about how Phoenix took on Maya as an assistant when he could have easily sent her back to Kurain? About how he had Pearl channel Mia so that she wouldn't have to see him accuse her mother of framing her beloved cousin? About how despite only knowing her for a couple of days, he took in Trucy when everyone else in her life had abandoned her? How even though he's always broke, he doesn't hesitate to represent people pro bono?

Do you ever think about Phoenix Wright?

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a returning citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                     Lucas Walker, who is known by no other name;                                      a 30 year old son of Lei King.                                         He is a fighter at The Pits                                  and bartender at Visión / Ilusión.

FC NAME/GROUP: Christian Yu/DPR/Ex C-Clown CHARACTER NAME: Lucas Walker AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: September 6, 1990 | 30 PLACE OF BIRTH: Central, Hong Kong | Sydney, Australia OCCUPATION: Fighter at the Pits and Bartender at Vision HEIGHT: 5'10" | 176cm WEIGHT: 165lbs | 75kg DEFINING FEATURES: He has a large amount of tattoos, his most prominent being his full sleeve on his left arm that leads to a floral piece on his chest and shoulder blade. On the inside of his left bicep is the date 12.12.19 which is the birthdate of his daughter Jasmine. He has a few other small tattoos scattered on his body. His nose is pierced, on the left side and his septum is pierced along with doubles in both his ears.

PERSONALITY: Lucas was exposed to the worst things the world has to offer a child at a very young age. Leaving him a tough exterior and an injured idea of self-worth. He was forced to grow up very quickly and at a young age. Outside he portrays this “pissed at the world”, harsh, unpredictable, man but inside he’s just scarred and bruised from so many things that are always out of his control. His skin is tough but his heart is big, warm, and ready to love. The birth of his daughter kinda snapped him into reality and removed him from the land of self pity and dropped him right in the middle of acting like a responsible adult. He’s still getting the hang of this whole fatherhood thing, trying to act less reckless and uncaged so that he can be there for his daughter.

HISTORY: tw: death, loss, gang violence, gun violence, physical violence, torture, ptsd

Lucas was born in Hong Kong on September 6th, 1990. He was born to a very young woman who was barely 18 and couldn’t even afford to take care of herself let alone a baby. She left him outside of her local hospital after having him secretly at home. There was nothing the staff could do except take him in, take care of him and hand him over to the local orphanage. At six months old, he was adopted by a sweet couple from Sydney, Australia. He lived with them happily until he was eight years old when they were killed in a home invasion, the suspects left him there terrified at what he had witnessed. He was found by his aunt, his mother’s sister and the police left him in her care. Once everything was said and done, Lucas’ aunt was given custody of him and the perpetrators were still at large after almost a year of searching. After this, his aunt became his whole world, a young woman at only 24 now taking care of a nine year old boy full time. The two were each other’s rocks during the entire healing process.

Both sets of his grandparents tried suing for custody of him but, in the end his aunt won out as the best place for him. She didn’t live far from his parents so he didn’t have to change schools or make new friends. His aunt’s friends always questioned why she was willing to take in a primary school aged kid at such a young age but, the two were best friends even before his parent’s murder. She couldn’t imagine anyone else taking care of him or raising him.

As a child, Lucas was quiet and usually kept to himself. Not because he didn’t want to interact with other kids but, because he just enjoyed his alone time. He was quiet in school but insanely smart, yet when teachers tried putting him into more advanced classes he chose to stay with his same age classmates. His aunt Gabrielle tried to get him into sports, music, and the arts but no. He just liked to read on his own, spending time off in his own little world or playing outside in the woods behind their house by himself. Around his tenth birthday things began to go downhill for the dynamic duo. Gabrielle lost her job as the lead secretary of a law firm and she ended up stuck waiting tables at a local 24 hour diner - from 7pm to 4am.

Gabrielle did everything she could to give Lucas the life she felt he deserved after that, doing they best they could when they had to downsize into a small one bedroom apartment and her working more hours to keep food on the table. It was so bad, Gabrielle ended up having to take on a second job after her parents refused to help her saying “she got herself into his mess on her own, she had to get her and the kid out of this mess on her own.” Lucas felt awful watching his aunt struggle to make ends meet and he tried everything he could to help out at home. He kept the apartment clean, babysat their neighbor’s kids, walked dogs, mowed yards, sold newspapers, and just about anything he could as an eleven year old in the rough part of the city they lived in. The only thing he didn’t do was fall in with the gangs that promised to help him and his aunt if he joined up with them…

Eventually by the time was 13 almost 14, doing odd jobs just wasn’t cutting it anymore for him and his aunt wouldn’t let him get a “real job” because it was her responsibility has his guardian to provide for him or whatever. He didn’t understand the pride she held about the subject so he went around her. He started selling homework and test answers at school, stealing petty things and selling them to his classmates for inflated prices, and he even learned how to give stick n poke tattoos for a price. Lucas wasn’t a stupid kid, he just worked with the resources he had. This line of work he got himself into at school eventually lead to him making friends with a couple other kids that belonged to the gang that lived on his block.

Inevitably those friendships lead to him joining the ranks and getting him paid to do things that would probably lead to his aunt murdering him on sight for being an utter imbecile. He was smart though and knew how to get out of things that would get him in over his head. However, by the time he was 16 this group of “friends” are what caused him to discover one of his divine abilities. At first Lucas always just thought that his high pain tolerance was just a cool thing about him, he could get hit and keep going, stub his toe and not feel a thing, get shoulder checked and only stumble without wincing. It wasn’t until he got stabbed for the first time at 16 that he had a realization that what he could do wasn’t normal. He got stitched up and moved right along his day and the gang leader decided to use this to his advantage. Lucas was recruited to the fighting ring, when he got found out.

He didn’t want to do it but, he’d make good money at the underground fighting ring. So he fought, and he did a damn good job at it too. Especially once he found out he could make his opponents keel over in pain that wasn’t physical. Lucas had no idea how he did it or why he could do it but, at this point he was just doing whatever her could to win because if he won he got paid and if he lost he’d get killed. Since beating him up wasn’t an option. Gabrielle was already suspicious of him when he started getting piercings, dying his hair, then getting tattoos but the real cherry on top of her anger was him pulling up to their apartment complex on a second hand motorcycle her got from a fight bet. His aunt went off on him that night and he had no other choice but to come clean about everything. However, he wasn’t the only one with a bombshell to drop…

His aunt admitted that she found his original adoption records when he was younger after the transfer of guardianship was complete and she needed all his documents. Apparently his birth-mother never listed a father on his birth certificate but his birth-father did contact his parents after his adoption. Leaving a letter to give to him when he either turned 18 or “got in trouble”. She’d read it out of curiosity and refused to believe the contents. It sounded crazy to her that his father was some old Chinese god, she only assumed he was on drugs or something and was delusional. Until Lucas admitted to what he could do and even showed her… Those things are just not possible for anyone human.

There was a return address in the letter, somewhere he’d never heard of but he responded anyways. Hoping to get some more guidance or some closure perhaps. Surprisingly, Lucas didn’t freak out with the news. Perhaps in the back of his mind he always had an inkling that he wasn’t the same as everyone else… like he was inhuman. He never received another letter from Lei King but he did receive a map that had a hand drawn picture of an island off the coast of Korea circled. He put the map away and chose to come back to it later.

When he was 18 his world crumbled underneath his feet. The underground fighting ring he was now the star of got busted by the police. The silver lining was that he was found not guilty by the jury of his peers. His defense attorney did well at convincing them that he only did what he did to survive and that he was coerced at a young age by the gang leader. He and many other members of the gang that were manipulated as kids came forward against the leader, landing him in prison for the rest of his life. Lucas didn’t know what to do with this new found freedom other than finish school. Once he was fully graduated he tried to figure out what to do with his life, he didn’t have many skills outside of crime and he honestly hadn’t planned on either being alive by now or not in prison himself. His aunt tried to convince him to go to university but he didn’t want to do that, there wasn’t anything he wanted to get a degree in that he cared about.

Instead, he chose to leave. He left Sydney and went as far as he could, landing him in New York City. He had enough money put away to get him a small apartment there to set up as a “base camp” of sorts. From there he began traveling all over the world, picking up photography and a pursuit of knowledge. On his travels, he met an interesting group of people. Shady people that reminded him very much of his old gang. They were in Scotland when he met them, and they were nice enough so he traveled with them a bit. One night, the “leader” got a bit too drunk and began to spill some secrets, secrets that Lucas just couldn’t stomach.

You see, this group he stumbled upon were the same people that murdered his adopted parents right in from of his eyes as a child - and they were proud of it. When the cocky leader spilled the beans while intoxicated, Lucas steeled himself and held onto that information like a lifeline. He integrated himself with these people slowly, over a few weeks while back packing around Scotland with them. Eventually, Lucas found the perfect time to strike. One night when they were all camping together, Lucas waited until they were all asleep and started them all awake with a gunshot. Over the entirety of the night, Lucas tied up the group, beat them all with only his bare fists, and tortured all of them mentally until they admitted to remembering him as a child. When all was said and done, the group was left mentally broken, unable to properly function as people. He cleaned up his things, called for help, told the police of their crimes and got the hell out of there and out of the country.

After that he went back to New York, cleaned out his apartment and headed back to Sydney. The things he’d just done changed him inside, a dark spot on his soul seemed to only grow bigger. He never told his aunt what he did, or why he was so broken when he finally came home. He hadn’t been home in almost six years and now here he was showing up on her door step, a broken and traumatized man. While he was away his aunt got married to a beautiful and kind woman named Erica. Lucas apologized immensely for missing the wedding, he was in Mongolia at the time he got the invitation and couldn’t get out of the mountains until after the event passed. They were understanding and easily took him into their arms and comforted him.

Now, at 27 years old with no idea what else to do with his life. He started going to therapy but even he didn’t know where to begin to heal from everything that had been nonstop traumatizing in his life. He started working as a bartender to pass the time and make a bit of extra cash, working as a photographer, and doing legal fights here and there. He’s eased into a pretty calm time of his life where he’d finally started to heal. Then to top it all off, he fell in love. It was a passionate and all encompassing kind of love, the kind where they were actively planning their future together, ready to be in it for the long hall. Less than a year together and they were married, it was the happiest they had ever been in their lives. She was an old friend of his and they’d known each other their wholes lives practically. Once they got closer while working together and the bar they both bartended at, that was it. They were head over heels.

They were happily married for almost a year when his wife got pregnant with their little girl in 2018. It was a huge accomplishment for the two of them, going from being the worst examples of humanity as teens to happily married and starting a family together. They were beyond overjoyed and Luke was more than excited to become a father. However, nothing could have prepared them for the struggle his wife would go through while pregnant. Her health continued to decline as the pregnancy went on but, she refused to end it and save herself. Luke begged her to not go through with it, the doctor’s told her she probably wouldn’t survive but she decided to chose her baby over her own health. In the end, on December 12th, 2019 Jasmine Elaina Walker was born, perfectly healthy. As happy as Luke was to hold his baby girl in his arms, nothing prepared him for holding his wife’s hand as she slowly passed away…

It was hard. Hard to act like he wasn’t dying inside everyday because his wife was gone, all while taking care of a newborn and trying not to have a full on breakdown. His aunts were his backbone the first few months as he got back on his feet. His wife’s family was practically nonexistent, leaving him and his aunts alone to raise a baby on their own.

Luke has a very high pain tolerance but the pain of losing his wife was not something his divine abilities could help him with this time…

The first six months of Jasmine’s life was rough, Luke was dealing with both the grief of losing the love of his life while doing everything he could to be there for Jasmine. On the days he just didn’t want to get out of bed, when all he wanted to do was cry, Jasmine was there - always needing her father so he had no time to wallow in his misery. He had to get up, had to get dressed, had to shower, had to function. He had to go to work to keep her fed, to keep buying her diapers, to keep a roof over her head, and to keep her happy and healthy. Of course, his aunts helped out all they could and he couldn’t possibly explain how thankful he is for them. After Jasmine’s first birthday he was cleaning house and he found the map given to him by Lei King when he was a teenager, he did some research and found nothing until he one day got a letter from Hera who was supposedly on the City Council of this island he was skeptical even existed. She spoke to him and told him all about the city just for gods and other demigods like him.

Suddenly, Lucas go this overwhelming desire to go there. He needed to get away from Sydney, he needed to get them out of the house that he bought with his late wife. They needed a fresh start and this island seemed like a good place to give that a try. His aunts were worried about him leaving but, understood why he needed to go and why he needed to get away. They were worried about him obviously but, he got child care set up with Hera before he even moved. Having a barely one year old and becoming a full time single parent scared him but, he knew he could do it. By moving to this new city and finding new people to surround himself with, new places to explore, and new experiences to be had with his little girl. He was both terrified and excited to see what was in store with them on this fancy hidden island.

PANTHEON: Chinese CHILD OF:  Lei King POWERS: He has extremely high pain tolerance and can induce psychogenic pain in others. He also has the ability to call upon the sound of thunder at will. STRENGTHS: Intelligent, Adventurous, Creative WEAKNESSES: Impulsive, Stubborn, Reckless

[insecure-amphibian]

The end of a long chapter

On mobile, so of course cannot 'read more' my apologies to my friends.

This is an arc ending for Elliarie where I finally make her retired and half her really be happy. She'll be around more often, just in casual clothes and ready to share war stories with any fool willing to talk to her.

@olliehaldstan and @nyura-shadowstep since you seem to like my writing so much.

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The trek to Duskwood had been a long one. Not just for time, but emotionally. Every thought that crossed the graying woman’s mind was something along the lines of ‘Go home and forget it.’, ‘You aren’t worthy of their time any more.’.

‘You still get to see her when she comes to stormwind.’ She pushed on.

‘Don’t ruin that much.’ She resisted.

‘He never wants to see you again.’ Her heart ached as she walked further

‘Just go sit by his grave and wait for the inevitable.’ it shouted in her head.

‘Die with honor. Die with pride. Die on the battlefield like he did.’ Apart of her agreed with it. It was what she should have done. She’d been apart of this war for over thirty years. She should end it on the battlefield like her husband had. But she couldn’t do that. Not to her brother, not to his kids.

Apart of Elliarie’s mind looked at this cold, dark, ghostly forest as the beautiful and lush one it had once been. It still heard the birds that chirped in the healthy green trees and the many travelers who came here to look upon the legendarily beautiful part of Elwynn Forest. Another part looked at the forest and saw it for what it was, cold, dark desolate. It chilled her to try and recall what had happened. But she didn’t have to as soon as parts of the ruin of Darkshire started peeking through the overgrowth.

How in the world her brother thought it was safe to raise a family here, she could never understand. Had it still been the lovely forest and gorgeous town it once was, perhaps she could put it together. But it wasn’t. It was dangerous.

Stone rubble marked a place that had once been so incredibly important to her, the cross that once stood so tall acted more as a gravestone to the sacred place where she had learned to be a priest. It stood on the edge of town. It was a forgotten grave after thirty or so years, and honestly, it was fair. There was clearly no good in the light forsaken place. Otherwise it wouldn’t look the way it did. It broke Elliarie’s heart to look at it. But she hadn’t been there to stop it from happening, she shouldn't be there to grieve.

The ruins of the church marked the edge of town, beyond the fallen stones barely stood run-down wooden homes, likely crawling with termites. The stone pathway riddled with grass and cracks and all kinds of signals of wear.  The Tavern looked lovely though. Perhaps because it was the only place that was commonly used by the people of Darkshire. For a moment Elliarie wondered if her brother was often there. But she knew Alois would never want to be like their father was. Not to his children.

The streets were nearly empty, not even lurkers looking to steal and ‘bargain’ walked the paths. Only the occasional under-dressed guard from the Night Watch passed through, casting skeptical, untrusting glares towards the old woman. It chilled Elliarie to her core, how these people could change so much. But the last time she had been here, felt like forever ago.

Across from the Tavern was a small place. A home with light smoke erupting from the chimney. It was maintained much better than the other homes on the edges of town. Not by much but they clearly tried. Newer planks of wood were nailed on top of old ones clearly covering holes, a thick cloth tarp sat over the roof shielding it from the elements as they likely couldn’t afford a whole new roof. On the other side of the windows sat cute homemade curtains made out of various fabric, none of which matched. But it gave them privacy. It almost looked the same from when it did when she was still young.

A deep breath escaped Elliarie’s lips as she approached the rotting steps, logs carefully cut and placed to replace what had been lost to time.  Her hand raised next to her cheek in a fist, ready to knock on a door that for a moment looked like it would cave in when she did. But instead she stood there, fear shaking her bones.

Perhaps she would have preferred it if she were to drop dead right there, if the cruel hand of fate would finally unleash it’s hold on her and not make her face the consequences of her actions. But she was soon pulled out of when a shriek sounded from behind the wooden home, the shriek of a young child.

Elliarie had drawn her sword, not willing to traverse Duskwood without protection, she ran from the stairs and sprinted past a corner and along side the long wall of the house, coming face to face with a well maintained gate and on the other side of it short fields of wheat and picked berries, far on the other side stood a line of about a dozen or so trees with apples growing on the limbs and several ladders leaning on the trunks. In the farm a little boy sat curled up. Elliarie knew him, he was a sweet boy, but what had done this to him.

“Phoenix!” She called out, vaulting over the gate and running through the crops careful not to trample them as she went to comfort the boy.

He was small, only about four years old. He had thick ashy brown curls and skin that had the vaguest of purple tints to his otherwise pale white skin. His longer years drooped down as he slowly walked back and forth and his usually cheerful round face was stained with tears and flushed to an almost violet hue, even managing to hide the scar that adorned a good chunk of his left face. His otherwise soft brown eyes were closed tight as if he was trying to hide from something.

Elliarie had soon approached the young boy, skidding to a halt through the dirt and swiftly clambering to get to the boy’s side, wrapping her arms around him and taking him into her lap.

“Oh Phoenix sweetie! What happened?” Elliarie cooed, rocking back and forth slowly while the boy sobbed. He opened his eyes just the smallest amounts to realize who it was, turning to look at Elliarie as he launched himself upwards and wrapped his arms around her neck and hung on as if it was the last time he’d ever see her. And through heavy, snot-filled, sobs he explained the ever so dire and world ending story that he had just experienced.

“I was d-doing my job and scaring the.. The birds. And… and and one of them. One of them it was flying right at me and. I.. I was thinking it was gonna… that, that is, that it was gonna poke my eyes out!” He stammered into her shirt. Elliarie patted the hal-elves back a few times, struggling to control her laughter.

"Oh no! Baby…." She said affectionately, her laughter barely escaping with the phrase. "It's okay, auntie Ellie is here now." Elliarie spoke, comforting him.

It wasn't long after that a man came running from further beyond the farm. He was tall and built well and had a strong face complemented by the long stubble of a beard that was just beginning to grow back. His striking blue eyes were filled with worry as he rushed towards Elliarie and picked up the half elf from his arms. Cradling the toddler in one arm as he helped Elliarie off the ground.

"Sweetie are you okay?" He asked, his voice clearly raised an octave as he spoke the the child. But Phoenix was unable to respond through sobs. "Ellie what happened?"

"I heard a shout while at the front door and came to his rescue. Apparently one of the birds scared him." She informed, her voice soft as to not tell the child that she didn't relay his story directly as told.

"Thank goodness. We were all finishing up the north fields harvest when we heard him shout. I thought he was closer than that. Oh I'm so embarrassed. I must look like a horrible father right now." He laughed uncomfortably as he went to support his sobbing son with both arms.

"You're fine Lucan. I'm sure the town wouldn't let anything happen to him. Besides he's so adventurous, he might have been right behind you but got distracted with his scarecrow duty." Elliarie chuckled, wrapping an arm around Lucan and giving him a hug. Lucan laughed along, unable to return the hug due to the child that was still calling upon the protection of his big strong dad .

"Are you just in town on guard duty or are you here with that company again?" Lucan asked, looking her up and down, realizing something was off with her more casual attire.

"Actually…" she started, nervously rubbing her hands together. "That's what I came here to talk to you and Alois about." But she wasn't able to elaborate as soon two girls had jailed the woman between their arms. Both were much taller than her five-four. The one in front of her had bold blonde hair and rested her chin on Ellie's head, her blue eyes closed right as she and her sister rocked her from side to side a few times.

"Aunt Ellie! It's so nice to see you again!" The blonde declared stepping back.

"By the light Scarlett! The last time I saw you was just a few months ago, you shouldn't be this tall already!" Elliarie proclaimed, to which Scarlett laughed. Elliarie turned around to face the other girl, she was shorter than her younger sister. Her hair was a deep black color and her eyes brown in color. Her freckled cheeks turned up with a beautiful smile. 

"Oh Solei! You too! Can you both stop growing and be short like your aunt?" She asked, reaching up to put an arm around both of their necks and bringing them down to eye level with her in an affectionate way. Giving them a tight squeeze around their shoulders before releasing them.

The last member of their lovely family as finally showed up. Shorter compared to the family, about five-six. His blonde hair was fairly short all around but longer on the top. His face was similarly structured to Elliarie, in that while long it was still fairly round and his tanned skin was dotted in far too many freckles. He was about seven years younger than his sister, but looked even younger when compared to her war torn age riddled features. His warm brown eyes looked at Elliarie with a cold glare.

"Good to see you're okay, Elliarie." He spoke, a passive aggressiveness in his tone as he approached his sister, arms folded over his chest.

"You too Alois. Really good to see that the family is doing well!" Elliarie laughed uncomfortably as she went on. "How's the harvest going?"

"We're done with the north fields. Just need to grab the bags and start on this one."  Alois responded rather dryly as he motioned around him at the wheat.

Lucan butted in, handing the now, much quieter, yet still sniffling, Phoenix to his oldest sister.

"Well in that case, Solei, Scarlett? Can you both take Phoenix and grab what we picked? I think your father, Ellie and I are gonna go inside for a bit." He spoke as the two girls nodded, carrying Phoenix off past the wheat crops as the three adults disappeared inside.

The small tired home was quite cozy. The wooden floor covered in a cacophony of rugs and carpets. A nice couch and a few done chairs faced the now dying fire as Lucan rushed to revive the flames and continue the warmth through the home. Alois had taken a seat on the couch, his husband joining him soon after with an uncomfortable smile on his face.

"Why did you come back?" Alois started. His tone much more outwardly hostile than it had been in front of the children. "After everything you've done this past year? Why do you come back now!"

Elliarie felt his anger. He was so rightfully so. Last time she had sat down to talk to him it was after their march on Lordaeron. He had every right to be angry about that. She didn't blame him anymore.

"It's not about Solei this time, Alois. I came here because I had time to think-"

"Had time to think did you? I sure as hell hope you did!" Alois' body language spoke as if he wanted to lunge at his sister, but Lucan's hand was interlaced with his. It seemed to calm at least his physical temper slightly.

"You didn't talk to us for nearly a year! This was… this was an important year! Your own daughter turned sixteen! We welcomed Phoenix into this family, and he'll you turned fifty! We thought you'd come by for at least one of those. But instead you wish Solei a happy birthday when she's in town on her own time and only meet Phoenix when he's taken to visit! The least you could have fucking done was respond to the letter we sent you!"

Alois raged on, his brows furrowed as he ranted. Each word aimed into her heart as a personal attack, and she sat in a stunned silence contemplating as he went on.

"I don't even care about the Solei thing anymore! I know that you know she's my daughter. I know that you would realize that I was right! That's not what I'm angry about anymore, I'm angry about the fact that you decided to be so goddamn petty about the whole entire thing that you cut me, my husband and our kids out of your life until it was convenient for you!" Alois had thrown his hands up and changed his tone to directly mock Elliarie.

"'Oh look at that, my nieces and nephew are in town! They can stay with me but as soon as they step outside the city gate, I don't know them anymore!' you got so wrapped up in a king that doesn't even know exist, that you forgot about your own fucking family Elliarie. You got so involved in grief for someone that died nearly sixteen years ago because you saw him when you should have been dead. You got so involved in a war that's killing our planet that you forgot about the only people you had left. And that is what I'm angry about Ellie. I don't care what need you have! I just want to know what went through your head to think that any of that was perfectly acceptable!"

Alois' speech had ended in a shout, his anger resonating through the room as he leaned back on the couch with a huff. Nestling next to his husband as he bravely kept his tears back. It broke Elliarie's heart. She had practically raised her brother for seven years after Grand Hamlet fell, and his stance… it felt like an adults. He was an adult. He wasn't the sobbing twelve-year-old he had been when she last really looked over him. He was an adult, with responsibilities, with a family and people that depended on him. He was right. What she had done was immature.

"You're absolutely right Alois. I shouldn't have done all that. You're my brother. I should have listened to you right after I told you about Lordaeron. I shouldn't have distanced myself as much as I did. But I can't take that back now. What I can do is come and make amends. And that's what I plan on doing." Elliarie paused, watching Alois' demeanor relax in the slightest of bits.

"That's why I came to tell you something." Elliarie paused, ruffling through a pocket on her pants and pulling out a detailed gorgeous pin in that of of a golden lions get with a silver and white banner draping from its mouth.

"Yesterday the rest of the royal guard thanked my for my years of service to Stormwind and I officially retired. I have the rest of my life ahead of me and that's why I want to spend it with you." Elliarie spoke with a smile on her cheeks, pinning the adornment to her left breast.

"But along side that I wanted to offer you two and your family a place in Stormwind. It's safer there, it's easier for your kids to get around, the people are lovely and there is this nice little place near the farm where the Kal'dorei stay. I've saved up so much from work and retirement and the odd jobs on the side. And I really, really want to make it up to you."

The two men seemed to be stunned for a moment. Lucan looked towards Alois and murmured something Elliarie tried very hard not to hear. Alois seemingly didn't respond to him, only turning to his sister and standing up.

"No. You don't get to do that Elliarie. Safer or not this is their home and we've gotten along just fine. You don't get to barge in here and suddenly try to be the good guy. If you want to repair this relationship, you're going to work. And the way you can start is by helping finish harvest." Alois spoke. His voice still the smallest bits cold towards his sister as he extended a hand.

"And you better believe if you're going to start making it up, you're living under my roof here in duskwood."

Elliarie took his hand, and with sudden strength was pulled into her brothers arms in a tight hug. Elliarie wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight.

"I'll do whatever it takes, I promise. I missed you Ali."

"I missed you to Ellie."

[artificialqueens]

Everything I Know, Chapter Two (Rajila, Hunger Games AU)

AN: not confident about my English writing skills, sorry :-(

“Breathe in,” said Phoenix, one of Manila’s prep team. “More. More. Really suck it in.”

“I’m trying,” Manila gasped, as the corset was drawn tighter and tighter around her waist. “Do we have to do this?”

“This shape is fashionable nowadays,” said Carmen, her stylist. “Very feminine. Beauty is pain, my love.”

The dress was white and padded in all the right places, making Manila look far older than she felt. A dark crimson stripe was splashed starkly across the front. She brushed her fingers over the material, repulsed by the colour, which they had also streaked into her hair. It was a look fitting for a ‘blood-stained queen’, as another member of her prep team, Mariah, had cheerfully called her.  Apparently, she had a whole group of supporters now, a subsect in the Capitol who called themselves ‘Fanilas’. They would be waiting with bated breath for her post-victory interview, Manila was sure of it. She had watched the Hunger Games every year for as long as she could remember, and every year, the Capitol threw a bigger celebration of the winner’s bloodthirstiness.

“I’m glad District One won,” said Phoenix blithely, tying off the ends of the corset ribbons and tucking them under. “We were all rooting for you, Manila.”

“Imagine all of the diamonds you’ll get to wear, coming from such a wealthy district,” said Mariah. “Oooh, I’m quite jealous!”

“Hurry up!” exclaimed Yara, pinning back a stray lock of my hair. “We need her on stage soon, ladies!”

Manila barely noticed as she was led out of the dressing room to yet another off-white corridor in the bowels of the training centre. It was almost time for them to be onstage, but she did not care. She did not even complain as she was chivvied into the elevator by Carmen, whose task it was to ensure that the traditional order was followed. First went the prep team, followed by the stylist, the mentor, and finally the victor. Manila noticed none of this. She felt as if she was floating roughly five feet above her own head, watching herself from above. Even when Raja, dressed in a sparkling crimson ballgown, squeezed her hand, she could not quite figure out how to respond in kind.

“You okay?” asked Raja.

It sounded like she was speaking from several metres underwater. Manila didn’t know how to reply, so she just shrugged listlessly. She could hear the heavy rumble of the crowd above as if it was a storm a couple of miles off, the moment before the wind and the rain hit. It was eerie, and a cold sweat broke out on Manila’s skin as the elevator began to rise. The anthem rang loud in her ears as she heard Michelle Visage greeting the audience. Nothing could prepare you for this. She couldn’t even muster up a smile as they reached the stage.

The crowd broke into applause as the prep team was presented. Phoenix, Mariah and Yara stepped out with huge smiles, taking ridiculous, bobbing bows. Carmen came next, sedately smiling and waving at the shrieking crowd. Of course they would love her, Manila thought. It had been Carmen’s idea for her to wear nothing but diamond dust and a corset at the opening ceremony, an image which had been burned into the public’s memory ever since. Raja’s appearance prompted several wolf whistles as she took her seat at the side of the stage. She had always been a fan favourite. Strangely, it was the one thing that brought Manila crashing back to herself, fully aware for the first time in over an hour.

Blinding light was the first thing that she registered. Manila blinked desperately, and Michelle cracked a few jokes about a ‘rabbit in the headlights’ before it was time for the show to begin in earnest. Manila stumbled blindly to the Victor’s Throne, unused to the extra height her heels afforded her. There would be no post-games showreel this year, thank goodness, the short duration of the games had saved her this humiliation. No one wanted to rewatch children dying of thirst, it just wasn’t exciting enough. Instead, Michelle plunged on with the questions. She was wonderful, teasing, joking, a true show-woman who had the entire programme under her thumb.

 “Well, Manila, what a ride for you…”

“I know,” Manila cut in with a fake laugh. “I’ve come on quite a journey.”

Raja gave an approving nod from her chair across the stage, so slight that only Manila could see it. District One victors had to be strong and resilient, as hard as diamonds. Manila was not going to break this stereotype. She just wanted the whole damned pretence to be over but she was not going to break character.

“You’re eighteen years old,” said Michelle cheerfully, “how does it feel to have won on your last chance of being in the Hunger Games?”

Most Careers would have felt jubilant, but Manila just felt numb.

“Brilliant,” she replied, giving a wide, empty smile. “I never dreamed I would get this far. It’s an honour, I am so proud to be serving my district in this manner and hope I can be an inspiration to any kids at home who dream of winning the games. If I can do it, then so can you!”

“You are already such an inspiration,” purred Michelle, obviously pleased with the direction the interview had taken. “What a story! I think that the thing that some people won’t remember is that Raja, your mentor, actually volunteered in your stead just four years ago. How does it feel to be working with the person who took that chance away from you at such a young age?”

Michelle thought she would be angry with Raja? Angry, that Raja hadn’t let her enter an arena of death at the age of fourteen? Manila’s hands began to shake but she maintained her icy smile.

“I was so annoyed when she volunteered for me all those years ago!” It was a lie, but the crowd ate it up. “However, it inspired me to do better, to be better, just to improve, you know?”

“I can imagine,” said Michelle, “and Manila, we were all impressed by your consistent performance in the games. That said, there’s one death with a whole heap of controversy surrounding it…”

“Yeah?” Manila’s mouth was dry.

“What did you think of fellow tribute, Latrice Royal?”

“Please, Manila, make it quick.”

Manila stiffened, eyes unfocusing. She could barely hear the audience begin to chatter amongst themselves as images of Latrice flashed across the screens around the room. She wasn’t ready for this. It was all too soon. She could still feel the cloying blood on her hands, though a quick glance at them showed them to be as polished and smooth as they had been since that morning. Where was the blood? She could feel its dirty corruption bleeding into her very pores. Still, somehow, she managed not to say a word, merely rubbing her hands together in an attempt to feel something that wasn’t crushing guilt.

“Maybe, if we were in a different situation, we might have been friends.”

Is that the type of friend Manila would be? The type of traitor who would stab someone in the back? She shuddered, bile rising in her throat. Short clips of Latrice’s performance in the games were playing now, her trident soaring through the air whilst her dark skin shone in the punishing sun. Manila couldn’t look at it. She couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t she breathe? The world seemed to spin around her, the faces of the waiting crowd blurring into a smudged mess of colour as she gasped for air.

“Stop!” she cried. “Stop it!”

Michelle raised a hand and the room grew deathly silent. “Manila, what’s wrong?”

“Stop!” Manila pressed her palms into her eyes, willing the image of Latrice’s bleeding corpse out of her mind. It didn’t work, and she felt bitter tears stinging her cheeks. “STOP IT!”

“Nothing is happening, Manila,” said Michelle calmly, a slight edge to her voice. This was not part of her plan. “Why don’t we move on with the interview?”

Manila could live with the stress of Career Training, she could deal with the fear of the arena, but she couldn’t live with this awful, painful guilt. It felt like her heart was being ripped in two. She kicked off her heels and got unsteadily to her feet, looking for any available exit. Naturally, there wasn’t one. No—no—she had to get out! Her gaze alighted on Raja, who was half-out of her chair with a worried expression on her face. Career Tributes simply didn’t lose it like this. Was Manila going mad? She staggered desperately towards her mentor. Raja was safe, Raja would help her…

“Raja… I—” she sobbed, before she stumbled, and her view faded to black.

                          *                           *                           *

District One were all crowded in the town square, divided into sleek units of boys and girls for Reaping Day. Manila was wearing the required white uniform, but she kept fiddling with a loose button on the cuff that she had meant to sew on last night. She had been too busy, she guessed, not really worrying about it. She had three ballots in that bowl, nowhere near as many as some of the older kids, who were now dying to be picked for the games.

She laughed a bit to herself at the irony of that. Dying. Hah.

The Career districts knew how to do a good reaping, though. This would not be the miserable hodge-podge of terror and desperation that the lower districts suffered through each year. No, this was an honour. Manila had only been trained for four years but she knew she would be able to kill, if the situation called for it. She’d done it four times before, after all.

“The male tribute for District One is…” The announcer paused, and the boys all drew a collective breath, hoping against hope to be picked. “Robbie Turner!”

Robbie Turner, a tall eighteen-year-old, smirked and lifted his arm in victory – much to the jealousy of several of his peers, who threw their pristine white hats to the ground. Their chance was gone. Robbie almost danced up onto the stage, shaking the announcer’s hand and grinning cockily into the camera. Manila shuddered, remembering how highly he had scored in the summer exam last year. That poor boy he had been up against… no one had expected Robbie to use a machete to do… that.

“And the female tribute for District One is…” Another long pause. Manila played absently with her cuff button, thinking of the celebratory dinner back at school that evening. She hoped it was spaghetti and meatballs, a treat they sometimes got on Reaping Day. “Manila Luzon!”

Manila’s name cut into her consciousness like a hot knife through, well, anything really. They’d learnt that in class last term. Manila knew she wasn’t ready. She was fourteen, five foot nothing, and had passed her last summer exam by a whisker. She wasn’t cut out for the games, let alone against Robbie Turner. Still, she fixed a shaky smile onto her face and walked through her classmates, heading for the stage. This was a death sentence, but that didn’t mean she had to crumble.

“Stop.” As Manila reached the older tributes, a calm hand pulled her back. “I volunteer as tribute.”

The volunteer did not even raise her voice, but the whole square heard her. Manila looked at her saviour, mouth slightly open. She wouldn’t have to compete? Raja smiled back at her reassuringly, her soft demeanour a far cry from what Manila had seen at Career Training. Everyone knew Raja was ruthless, a set of solid tens across the board. She was just waiting until she was eighteen to compete, as some were wont to do. Why had she volunteered now?

Raja did not answer this. She patted Manila gently on the shoulder and made her way to the stage, her gait smooth and fluid, oozing pure sensuality. Manila just stared at her, captivated. Raja was already playing a part, but it was one that she suited well. The older girl took the microphone from the announcer and gave the cameras a cheeky wink, eyes sparkling.

“My name is Raja Gemini, volunteering in stead of Manila Luzon, and I am seventeen years old. Happy Hunger Games.”

Manila fell for her then and there.

                              *                           *                           *

She woke in the hospital, again. This was a bad habit, Manila thought dully, trailing her hand over the duvet. At least they had dressed her this time, swapping the blood-dress for a soft cotton nightie the same colour as the sky on a summer’s day. Did this mean that she was not going to be punished for having a nervous breakdown on national television.

No, that would never happen. Divergence must be punished.

A single tear rolled down Manila’s cheek and splashed onto the white sheets. She looked away from the damp mark and, once again, met the eyes of her mentor as she sat by her bed. Another tear fell and Raja leant forward to brush it away with her thumb, a relieved expression plastered over her features. Manila looked away. She could not bear to have Raja angry with her, not now of all times.

“That was eventful,” Raja eventually said, though her tone was not angry. “You gave them quite the show.”

“I’m sorry,” Manila replied, chastened.

“You’re sorry?”

“It was weak,” she explained. Surely Raja could see that? “I made a mockery of myself on television. Moreover, I made District One look weak. I should be shot, or imprisoned, or something.”

“What?” Raja’s voice was hesitant. “What on Earth do you mean?”

“District One tributes are as hard as diamond,” said Manila, slowly and clearly. “I… wasn’t.”

“So?”

“I should be punished!” she exclaimed, frustrated. “You know this, Raja! Divergence must be punished.”

Raja looked at her for a long minute without saying anything at all. Manila bowed under her judgement, looking steadily at her blanket. Death, imprisonment, public flogging, she knew some punishment was in wait for her. No one shamed District One and got away with it, not even a victor. However, Raja did not pass judgement. Worst of all, she did not even seem to be judging Manila’s basic inability to control her emotions. She just sat there, quiet and sad.

“What can I do to convince you that you did nothing wrong?” she asked softly, clearly trying to get Manila to look at her.

“Nothing.” Although she hated it, Manila’s eyes filled with tears as she stared at her lap. “I know that I’m a fucking failure, alright? I would never have survived the games had I not been a career. All the other tributes died of thirst, but I was sent bottles and bottles of water from the very start. They never stood a chance against me.”

“Manila. Don’t say that.”

Manila looked up as Raja laid a warm hand on her shoulder. Raja’s dark eyes were softer and kinder than she had ever seen them. She remembered how frightened she had been of the older woman back in Career Training, not that it wasn’t deserved. Raja’s games had been the bloodiest in modern memory, culminating in the final four being forced to tear each other apart barehanded in a barren mountain setting. But that wasn’t her Raja. Manila’s Raja wasn’t the type of person who could do such a thing. Her Raja was sitting cross-legged on the edge of her hospital bed, all dark hair and bright eyes and glowing copper skin. Her Raja didn’t make her heart thud loud and scared in her chest. Her Raja made it feel like her heart… no, like the world… had stopped.

“But it’s true,” Manila whispered.

Raja’s eyes grew brighter, welling with tears. “God, Manila, it breaks my heart that you think like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Raja shook her head. “You don’t have to apologise to me, ever.”

“Ever ever?” Manila tried, and failed, to keep her voice steady.

“Ever ever,” repeated Raja, pulling Manila into a fierce hug.

A few things happened then, in such short succession that Manila would not for the life of her be able to remember in what order they happened. Firstly, she leant into Raja’s comforting warmth, her mentor’s slender arms somehow feeling more protective than any boyfriend she had entertained back in District One. Second, their eyes locked for one long second, somehow conveying something that both knew but neither had the courage to say. Finally, in one swift motion of ylang-ylang perfume and flowing silk, Raja’s soft lips met Manila’s.

[katymacsupernatural]

A New Life Chapter 1: Your Story

Dean Winchester x Reader

1500 Words

Story Summary:You're a Demon who is trying to erase all the bad you've done, by helping the Winchesters. But the price to be good can be too much, even for a crossroads demon.

You hadn't always been a bad person, a Demon. Once upon a time, or a long time ago, depending on how you wanted to start your story, you had been a very kind person. The type of person everyone looked up to and admired.

When you said a long time ago, you had meant it. You had been born in 1880, to a wealthy railroad tycoon and his trophy wife. Raised with the best things money could buy, you should have been a spoiled brat. Instead,  your parents raised you with manners, showing you kindness is more important than greed.

Straight out of boarding school, you had fallen in love with an up and coming stage actor. He was handsome and suave, and made your knees buckle with his beautiful blue eyes, and dashing personality.  Your parents had been disappointed, and in the end, eventually cut you off from your inheritance.

You didn't cared too much, a lovestruck fool. At first it was hard, going from a life style of ease, to living in a tiny flat with barely enough food to survive on. Steven wouldn't let you work, he wanted you to dress the best, looking pretty hanging off his arm. Steven, the love of your life, tried hard to find good work, but for an actor it wasn't always easy to find.

Then came the news, Steven was sick with the consumption. You worked hard to make him comfortable, but he wasn't the easiest patient. In one of his bouts of anger, he turned on you, telling you that it should be you dying, not him, he was too important to die this soon. That he still had roles he had to portray. For the first time in your short relationship, Steven raised his hand to you.

Upset and hurt, you ran, through the muddy streets, towards the end of town, where tents stood instead of houses, and men with missing teeth smiled at you lustfully. Ignoring the crude looks, you fled to the last road, falling on your knees in the middle, not caring that your favorite dress was ruined from the mud and the muck. Tears poured down your cheeks, your heart shattered.

It took you a moment to notice you were at a crossroads, four ways to chose where to go. Straight led into the dense, uninhabited forest full of danger. Behind you led back to town. Back to Steven who had grown cold and cruel while being sick. On each side of you, the unknown, which was no place for a gentle raised lady.  Sobbing, you begged, for anyone listening, to help. You were so lost and broken. So different from the girl  who had grown up so sheltered and loved just a mere two years ago.

You were shocked when someone answered your plea, and accented voice coming from above you, dark brown eyes staring down at you with what you had thought was compassion at the time. He was dressed in a dark black suit, fancier than anything you had seen in years. Pulling you to your feet, he offered you a deal, knowing facts that a simple stranger shouldn't know.  Stevens life for your soul. At first you had laughed, knowing there was no way this was plausible. However, when the man flashed his eyes your way, the black sending shivers to your soul, you found out that Demon's were real. And this Demon was willing to barter with you. At first you were scared, ready to turn and run, but he gently held your hand, assuring  you he wasn't there to hurt you. That he was there to help you, to give you the thing you craved the most.

Not knowing what else to do, you agreed, giving your soul up for Stevens health. You had already given up your life, and your wealth for Steven, how big of a deal was your soul?

The Demon promised that Steven would be okay, that his illness had completely vanished. Reminding you that someday, someone would be collecting your soul. Nodding your head you agreed, stiffening in his embrace when his lips were sealed to yours. Confused, you had asked how long you had before collection, but the Demon just laughed before vanishing. In the wind, like he had never been there in the first place. His voice echoing in the wind, calling out soon as shivers raced upon your arms, your heart heavy with your decision.

Still reeling from everything that had just happened, exhausted from the whirlwind of emotions, you trudged back to your flat, ignoring all the intrigued stares of people you passed. You were curious and scared, wondering what you would see when you returned. Would Steven be as you had left him, angry and sick? Or was the Demon real and Steven would be healthy and happy once again?

Leaning against the splintered wooden door, you took a deep breath before stepping inside. Your flat was miniscule, big enough for a table and a bed, along with a stove to heat and cook upon.  At once the smell of stale whiskey, and sickness wafted towards you, but the sight in front of you brought tears to your eyes. Steven was back to himself, standing up straight, his blonde hair once again silky. His once sunken cheeks were now rosy and plump, and he was no longer coughing. He was back to the vigourous, dashing man you had first fallen in love with.

Jumping into his arms,  ecstatic that he was healed, but he shoved you away. In shock, you tried again, wondering if he had been confused. This time, instead of pushing you away, his hand came up, hitting you square in the jaw, knocking you to the ground. Staring up at him in horror, you curled into a ball as his foot continued to connect with your middle, and you screamed out in agony. Crying, you kept asking why, but it was as if he couldn't hear you. Kicking again and again, before finally stopping, you had no strength to stop him as he took all of your valuable possessions before striding to the door.

Before leaving, he laughed in your face, saying the only reason he had been with you was because of your connections but they hadn't worked out, and now he was tired of you. Tired of being held down by you.

Watching as he left, you curled in even farther, your entire body aching. Wondering what was to become of you now. The last of your money had left with Steven, you couldn't afford to stay in this flat on your own. Your parents had moved to the country side for a year, so you couldn't ask them to take you back, and you feared they would never forgive you.

As you sat there contemplating the lack of your future, you heard a familiar voice. The Demon was sitting at your table, smoking a cigar. Clicking his tongue, he stubbed the cigar out before crouching down next to you. "It had to be this way," he muttered in that accent of his, explaing that he was being kind, collecting your sould so soon. Saying that it was much better than become a prostitute.  Heartbroken, you agreed, knowing you had no choice.

___________________

Shaking your head, you cleared the thoughts of your past from your mind. There was no use remembering what had happened, wondering what you could have changed. It had happened so long ago, over a hundred years, and even though you weren't happy with the way things happened, you knew things could have been worse.

The Demon, whose named turned out to be Crowley, was a crossroads demon, one higher up in ranking. He had taken a liking to you straight away, which had been a blessing in disguise. With his tutoring and support, you had been able to skip most of the torture and torment that new souls had to endure. Instead he offered you the task of being his intern, following in his footsteps. As the years passed, the evilness of hell had managed to sneak slightly into your soul, turning the once kind and compassionate girl into one of the best crossroads demons in hell. Even though you still wished for the days before Steven, and the kind of life you could have had.

When Crowley became the King of Hell, he had begged you to follow him to court. Promising you everything you could want.  Instead, you stayed where you were, content on making deals and taking souls. And that's where you met the Winchesters, who would change your world.

Dean/Jensen Tags:@acreativelydifferentlove​ @a-girl-who-loves-disney​ @akshi8278​ @anokhi07​ @aubreystilinski @bebravekeeponfighting​ @brindz30​ @colette2537​ @crusadedean​ @darthshreydar​ @deanwinchesters-impala67-deacti​ @haelyn​ @horsegirly99​ @ikeneasul11 @its-not-a-tulpa​ @just-another-winchester​ @lady-phoenix-of-tardis​ @librarygeekery​ @msimpala67​ @love-charmer-sketch​ @ria132love​ @ruprecht0420​ @shadowhunter7​ @sizzlingbearpolice​ @sleep-silent-angel​ @sortaathief​ @superseejay721517​ @torn-and-frayed​ @wonderfulworldofwinchester​

A New Life Tags:@biawol @heartsaved  @edgaralllenpoop @kiranagoya @suckystoryteller

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